Drunk Words.

—drunk words.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader, it's complicated kinda relationship

word count: 8.8k (my apologies once again)

summary: there is a saying about drunk words being sober thoughts. tonight, you really wish that applies to hyunjin.

warnings: drinkingggg (alcohol lol), cursing, one mention of throwing up (no one actually throws up), sexual comments as usual, MINORS DNI!!!!

a/n: so... i can't write anything short for shit when it comes to watercolor apparently 💀 but i've been away for a good while so let me just be self indulgent for my return lmao. anywayyy, this is part 46 of watercolor, i hope you guys enjoy and please, please, pleaaaaase let me know your thoughts and come gossip with me about it, i've missed doing that :')

Hyunjin was not happy.

Although his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you the moment he spotted you in between the crowd, it did not take a genius to notice he was not his happiest right then.

And how could he? You had been gone for nearly two hours now with no other than the guy you used to have a friends with benefits dynamics going on with. Granted, Changbin was one of his best friends and he trusted him, but that did not mean he would jump up and down with excitement every time the two of you made plans together, much less if said plans involved the two of you alone, without him.

So, it was fair to say, seeing the two of you arrive together at the bar, although he had seen it coming, did only add fuel to the fire that had been growing inside him that night.

"What took you two so long?" Chan asked, and Hyunjin could only internally thank him for saving him from having to ask you that question himself.

"We just got a bit caught up" Changbin admitted, taking a seat on the empty spot in between Lix and Minho.

"Doing what?" Hyunjin couldn't stop himself from bitterly asking, eyes focused on the drink he was currently swirling in his hand.

"Talking" you answered the obvious, catching his attention as you sat beside him on the booth.

And maybe, just maybe, the way you had leaned slightly in against his body and your arm had wrapped around his bicep, the next second taking it one step further by intertwining your fingers with his very receptive ones, was enough to make him feel at ease.

"So?" your eyes moved back to your friends, not without first having given Hyunjin's hand a reassuring squeeze. "What did we miss?"

"Not much," Minho shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "Just lots of drinking".

"That's it?" you laughed.

"Yeah, we played truth or dare for a while, so you guys missed out on some pretty spicy stuff" Han filled you in with a playful smirk.

"Oh, and Felix hyung got a girl's number" Jeongin informed with a proud yet teasing smile.

"No way!" you excitedly covered your mouth with your free hand.

"Yah, don't make it sound like an impossible occurrence now" Felix whined, earning laughs from all of you. "She just came up to me and, well…"

"Are you calling her?" Bin moved his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

Felix shrugged, a small smile curving up his mouth as he stared into his cup. "Maybe…"

You and Chaeryeong squealed in excitement, not missing another second to start talking Felix into it and managing to get everyone else involved in the conversation, as everyone seemed to have a say on whether Lix should hit the stranger up or not.

Everyone but Hyunjin, you couldn't help but realise.

While all your friends went on and on about their different points, he remained quiet next to you, only listening to what they all had to say, if even that, since he looked more spaced out than anything — his mouth opening every now and then only to take a sip of his drink, as words seemed to be something he refused to let out of it.

"I'm sorry I took too long with Changbin…" you apologised when you guessed what must've been going through his head, speaking low enough for only Hyunjin to hear.

He shrugged, not finding it in him to look up at you. "You wouldn't answer my texts".

A small sigh escaped your lips. "My phone was in my bag, I wasn't paying attention to it. I should've known you'd try to contact me and keep it next to me, I'm sorry".

Hyunjin nodded, yet as expected said nothing.

Biting on your bottom lip, you reached your hand up to cup his cheek and make him look at you. When he didn't protest and his face was now only a couple of centimeters from yours, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"I'm really sorry, Jinnie" you apologised once more, this time looking into his already softening eyes. "I promise nothing happened, we were just talking while having dinner and got a bit too caught up in the conversation. It won't happen again, hm?"

You could tell he was not entirely convinced yet, but the small nod and the weak smile he gave you was enough for you to start smothering him with kisses all over his face.

You managed to get a giggle out of him right as your eager lips had been pressed under his chin and reached down to his neck, being stopped by his hand cupping your cheek and guiding you back up, right onto his lips.

It didn't take you long to react and wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss by simply touching his bottom lip with your tongue — that being all he needed to gently pull at your hair and have you tilt your head back, so he could slide his tongue into your mouth and softly meet yours.

"You guys go get a room" Seungmin's disgusted voice had you two faintly pulling away.

"Leave them, they're cute" Cherry pouted.

He shrugged, nonchalantly bringing his cup up to his lips. "We're cuter".

"Ew, and you have the audacity to tease us?" Hyunjin called him out, smoothly resting his arm around your shoulders and letting his hand fall loosely over your chest.

"At least they're not sucking faces right in front of us" Han joined in.

"Not today, maybe" Lix mumbled, earning a glare from Seungmin.

"In Y/N's defense, she hardly ever makes out with Hyunjin hyung in public" Jeongin took your side.

"Oh no, I've seen them" Minho shut his argument down immediately.

"Can we all just agree that both couples are disgusting?" Chan proposed, getting instant affirmation from everyone but the couples in question.

"You guys are just mad that you don't get smooched every day" Chaeryeong childishly stuck her tongue out.

"Then can Y/N go smooch Hwang somewhere else since they get to do it everyday anyway?" Minho asked with a cynical smile.

"Nope," you mirrored his feigned cheerfulness, leaning into Hyunjin's chest as your hand went up to intertwine with his. "I'm asking for forgiveness here".

"Go ask for your boyfriend's forgiveness in his bedroom then" Changbin taunted.

Hearing everyone laugh, you played off the burning feeling in your cheeks with a roll of eyes. "He's not my boyfriend".

The whole table erupted in laughter once more, as they called you out on not believing shit of what had just came out of your mouth.

Everyone knew you were joking, for the lack of label in your relationship did not make any difference when it came to the way the two of you acted around each other — and that was, like an actual, established couple.

But although everyone laughed, not everyone was amused.

So you knew the moment Hyunjin's hold on your hand loosened up and his body tensed up against yours.

You weren't sure why, but suddenly it felt like you had just managed to beat an obstacle only to stumble with another one.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

A part of you wanted to believe you were overthinking. The part of you that would always overthink everything and come up with scenarios that would only make you anxious wanted to believe you were doing just that now. The sight of Hyunjin right next to you, however, told you otherwise.

You had physically felt his mood drop the moment you said he was not your boyfriend. You had felt his hand loosen up its hold on yours.

He had carried on with the conversation all of you were having like nothing had happened, laughing and joking around just like he would always do, but you could feel him distant from you. And now that some of them were at the bar and some others at the dance floor, leaving the two of you oh-so-conveniently alone at the table, not a word had been spoken.

He was avoiding eye contact. He was avoiding your touch. Playing the lack of them off by drinking and staring into the dance floor like it was the most interesting sight ever.

You were not making all of that up, you were sure.

What you couldn't fully grasp your mind around was the reason for the sudden drop in his mood. You were not lying. In fact, you were sure you two had joked around like that before and everything had been just fine. Or maybe you had been too blind to realise it had bothered him all along.

Whatever it was about your remark that had managed to touch a nerve of his this time around, you needed to find out so you could make it better.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked, leaning closer to him so you could be soft-spoken and still be heard.

"Why would I be mad?" he answered dryly as ever, no eye contact at all.

You felt your heart sink.

"Was it something I said?" you carefully asked once more.

His unamused eyes —finally— fixed on you. "You know what you said".

"I don't get why you're mad about it, though?" you mumbled, unable to find the right words. "We're not official yet…"

"I know that, Y/N," he snapped. "Trust me, I know we're not official, it's not that I'm mad about".

"Then?" you pushed it.

"Why did you have to go and remind Changbin hyung about it?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "I wasn't reminding him… if anything, he knows already".

"Yes, but it's just," he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. "It's the entire situation, Y/N. Like, you went to our place and stayed there with him alone—"

"I went to see you and you weren't there" you corrected him.

"But you decided to stay there with him when I asked you to come here and even offered to go get you. And then you went out to eat with him, wouldn't reply to my texts, got here way later than expected, and then proceeded to tell him I'm not your boyfriend?" he recriminated, and it finally hit you how wrong it had looked in his eyes and how upsetting the whole thing was.

Your heart sunk once more, this time over knowing you had hurt the person you loved the most, even if you had not meant it.

"Hyunjin…"

"Can you try and understand how fucking shitty that felt?"

"I know, and I'm s—"

"Like, how would you feel if I told Yerim you're not my girlfriend right in front of you".

You stayed still, that name alone being enough to feel like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over you.

"What does she have to do with this?"

"Nothing, it's just an example".

"Why is she the first example to come to mind, then?"

"She just is," he blurted out, growing more frustrated by the second.

"So you still think about her?"

"No! That's not—it's just the closest to your situationship with Changbin".

"There is no 'situationship' between me and Changbin" you made it clear. "We're friends".

"With benefits" he bitterly remarked.

"We were friends with benefits" you corrected. "That ended as soon as you kissed me. We're friends now. Just friends. And he's one of your best friends too, we would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. It's very different to you and Yerim".

"Right, it is very different" he agreed. "Because I never actually got to fuck her".

"And you regret not doing it?" both your words and the venom they held caught him off guard.

"What?"

"The way you said it made it sound like you would've liked to actually get to fuck her" you couldn't help the small crack in your voice and the annoying gloss in your eyes. "Because if that's the case then be my guest".

"No," Hyunjin shook his head accusingly. "No, you don't get to turn this around and get all defensive and jealous, this isn't about her".

"Well, you just made it about her, Hyunjin" you backed slightly away. "And I do get to be jealous of the girl you wanted to get with so bad that you didn't want her to see you with me".

"It was once, Y/N" he pointed out. "I pushed you away once because of her and then I chose you over her every single time".

You remained quiet, staring at the table as you were unable to look him in the eye right then and let him see the tears that you were hardly holding back.

"Baby," he called you, leaning in to try and make you look at him but with no success whatsoever. "I don't regret not getting with her. Anything I ever wanted with her was gone the moment I kissed you, too. I don't want her, I only want you…"

You said nothing.

"Y/N…" he softly called you once more.

You nodded in response, still not looking up at him.

Hyunjin sighed, feeling his chest tighten painfully at the beaten up sight of you. Suddenly, you felt distant, as if you had built an invisible wall in between the two of you and he could not get through it to save his life.

"It was just an example…"

"And you brought your point across. I would feel very shitty if you ever told Yerim I'm not your girlfriend, whether you said it right in front of me or not. Happy?"

"Baby, that's not—"

"I had already realised I was at fault and was about to apologise, though, because I really do hate that I put you through that with Changbin today and I am really, really sorry about it" your eyes went up to meet his, and although they showed how genuine you were being about being sorry, they also showed just how hurt you were, all because of him. "But oh well, thank you for the eye opening scenario, I guess".

"Y/N…"

"Everything okay?" Cherry's careful voice snapped both of you out of it, bringing your eyes up to be met not only with her worried expression, but Seungmin's right next to her.

You were fast to nod, sneakily wiping a tear that was about to fall, which did not go unnoticed by Hyunjin. Not sparing him another glance, you stood up to go to Cherry, snatching your hand away from his grasp the second he tried to hold it and make you stay.

"I'm getting a drink, come with me?" you asked Chaeryeong.

She nodded immediately, helping you out of the booth. "Of course, let's go".

On the other hand, Seungmin stood there, eyes scanning the heartbroken expression on his friend's face as he watched you leave towards the bar.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked.

Hyunjin shook his head no in frustration, leaning his head back against the seat and shutting his eyes close as he tried to contain the tears that had just started forming in them.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

"Okay, you need to stop drinking" Seungmin stated, placing his hand on top of Hyunjin's glass before taking it away.

Hyunjin glared at him, but ultimately said nothing. Instead, he focused on you from afar.

It must've been a little over thirty minutes since you and Chaeryeong had been sitting down by the bar. He could only see your back from where he was sitting, but he felt at ease when he watched you throw your head back and let out what he could tell was a throaty laugh of yours — one of those genuine ones he loved hearing so much, even more when he was the reason for it.

At least your friend had succeeded at making you feel better after your previous argument.

He, on the other hand, had been sulking next to Seungmin for the past half an hour. Drinking his feelings away had seemed to be the way to go, and although Seungmin had initially decided to just let it slide and keep him company during his self-destructive ways, he could tell when enough was enough.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" he questioned.

Hyunjin shrugged, leaning back against his seat. "I don't think she wants to hear me out right now".

Seungmin sighed. "What even happened for it to get that bad so fast?"

"I brought Yerim up".

Seungmin blinked in disbelief, feeling astounded to say the least. "What could possibly have happened for you to bring her of all people up".

"I'm an idiot," Hyunjin lamented, reaching for the drink Min had previously taken from him and downing it in one go. "That's what happened".

"And all of this because she got here later than she said she would?"

"No, it's not…" a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "It's much more than that. Mainly about her and Changbin hyung".

"They're just friends, Hyunjin".

"Now they are," he nodded, not being able to let go of their past together. "I just hated that they were alone for so long tonight, and that she felt the need to make it clear I'm not her boyfriend to him".

"So that's what this is about," Seungmin sighed, finally understanding the core of your argument. "You do realise she was just joking, right? Like, we all laughed because it was just that obvious".

"Was it?"

"Come on, man" he nudged him. "Even if you guys are not official, you two are exclusive. Do labels really matter when you both know you're together and serious about each other?"

Hyunjin stayed silent for a moment, trying to process his friend's words.

"We never established we're exclusive…"

"It's Y/N we're talking about" Seungmin reminded him. "She was faithful as hell to you even before you even made a move on her, why would it be any different now that you actually are head over heels for her? And you haven't even looked at someone else all this time, so…" he shrugged. "Some things are just unspoken, it doesn't mean they aren't there".

"I just… got insecure".

"More like jealous" Seungmin mumbled.

Hyunjin smiled weakly. "Insecure, genuinely. Sure, I tend to always get jealous, and I admit there was a bit of jealousy in there, too, but… I just got so fucking insecure when she corrected him, because yeah, she was faithful to me before and whatnot but Changbin hyung was the one exemption to it, and at the end of the day she's the one who gets to make the call and she can realise she'd rather be with someone else and choose Bin hyung over me any time".

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that" he shrugged. "I'm in this kind of trial, trying to prove to her that I'm serious about my feelings for her, and I… if it were up to me we would already be official as hell, but she's the one who gets to decide that, and until then I'm just… hand tied".

"I don't think you are, though?" Seungmin's words got Hyunjin tilting his head in confusion. "I mean… you guys are an actual couple by now, you're pretty much only missing the labels, and I'm sure Y/N would say yes in a heartbeat if you asked her to be your girlfriend".

Hyunjin sighed, nervously biting his lip as he looked in your direction once again.

Maybe you would've before. After your argument, however, he was not so sure anymore.

He just kept fucking up over and over when it came to you, and he was scared all the progress the two of you had made so far, all the proof he had given you when it came to showing you he was serious about you this time, would come crashing down just because of this one slip up of his.

He should've kept quiet. Fuck, he should've shut his mouth the moment you had open yours to apologise. Everything would be so much different now if he learned to just not say the first thing that comes to mind without thinking about it first.

Then again, he had never been good at expressing himself, that you knew very well. Especially when it came to this kind of moments when he felt put on the spot.

He wished he could just turn back time and shut his fucking mouth.

Seeing Seungmin take the bottle of soju away from the corner of his eye, he gave up on both talking and drinking altogether, folding his arms over the table and resting his head on them, as he could feel all the alcohol he had drunk finally begin to hit.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Hyunjin didn't know how long it had been. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe ten. Maybe an hour, or even five minutes? All he knew was that he had passed out for a bit.

He didn't even know if his friends were around anymore or if Seungmin was still by his side, as he could not hear anyone near him. Well, anyone he knew, for the various unknown voices chatting —if not yelling— over the loud music around the bar were already invading his ears from all over.

Stretching out over the table after a good minute and almost knocking down a glass of soju, he finally sat back up. Much to his surprise, nearly all your friends were back at the table. Everyone but Cherry, as she kept chatting with you by the bar.

"Good morning there" Chan greeted with a teasing smile, having the rest join in in a second.

God, he knew he would never hear the end of it now.

"Good morning," he joined them, cynically. "How long was I out for?"

"Like fifteen minutes?" Han answered. "I don't know, I just got here like five minutes ago but I saw you sleeping from the dance floor".

"Yeah, fifteen minutes is a good guess," Minho laughed under his breath. He was probably the one enjoying this the most. "Right, Seungmin?"

All eyes on Min, they were met with his rather distraught expression staring intently at the bar.

"Seungmin?" Minho pushed it.

"Huh?" he snapped out of it.

"How long was Hwang out for? You were with him the entire time".

"Like two bottles" he answered incoherently as his eyes travelled back to the bar.

Chan snorted. "That's not what we were asking but holy fuck, Hyunjin".

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, later focusing them on Seungmin by his side. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I just…" his eyes squinted. "Who are…"

As if on cue, everyone followed his stare. And suddenly, Hyunjin knew exactly why his friend felt so distraught.

You and Cherry seemed to have company, and not precisely the kind of it he was okay with. Two guys around your age he had never seen before in his life, who were getting way too close to you, were most definitely not the kind of company he ever wanted for you. Especially not the one dude who was coming awfully near your ear to try and properly speak to you.

"Aw, just like the old days" Minho pretended to wipe a nostalgic tear, earning himself a snort from Han and a small shove from Jeongin next to him.

"Hell no" Seungmin mumbled under his breath, not letting another second go by before rushing towards Chaeryeong.

That was what Hyunjin wanted. To be able to just go up there, grab you and make sure that any other guy knew you were his. For every single person in the world to know you were with him.

Instead, he sat there — watching from afar how Seungmin reached Cherry's side and pulled her to him, glaring at the stranger that had tried to hit on her and telling him something Hyunjin could not quite decipher yet could perfectly guess what it was. Something along the lines of 'she's taken', of course.

Exactly what he wanted to be able to do with you.

He could've sworn Seungmin had told the guy who was trying to hit on you off, too, and although it was not quite enough to make him feel at ease, he did feel thankful to his friend.

Boyfriend or not, there was only so much he could take, however. So, when the very same guy who had invaded your personal space did not seem to care about Seungmin's words nor about your polite rejection —as he could tell by the way you had taken a step back from him and awkwardly motioned with your hands for him to take a hint—, Hyunjin found himself standing up from his spot and sprinting towards you.

"What's going on here?" he asked, towering over you the moment he reached your side.

"Um, n-nothing," your words sounded just as nervous as you looked, eyeing Hyunjin up before you focused on the stranger in front. "This is—"

"I really don't care who he is" Hyunjin shut you down, eyes glaring at the guy. "Back off".

"Now why would I do that?" the man —whose name you had learned to be Junghee a minute ago when he tried to buy you a drink—, replied rather smugly.

"Hyunjin…" you grabbed his hand, stopping him right as you felt him move forward.

"She's clearly not interested, leave her alone".

"Why don't you let her speak for herself then?"

Hyunjin turned around to look at you, silently demanding for an answer, yet simultaneously begging you with his eyes alone not to challenge him this time around — not to do anything that would hurt him any further.

He should know better by now, though. Because although you looked taken aback and anxious even, your eyes were on him. Only him. Not once during all those seconds the two of them had been expecting an answer from you had you merely even glanced anywhere but him.

And that was enough to let him know what you wanted, if not who you wanted.

"She's taken," Hyunjin spat after having turned back around. "Back off".

"That's what that other dude said, but—"

"Dude, I'm her boyfriend. Now go".

Raising both arms in defeat, not without first eyeing you up and down in a way that could easily have earned a punch from Hyunjin, he backed away for once and for all.

Hyunjin shook his head in both disbelief and annoyance, making sure the dickhead actually left before turning around to lock eyes with your cold ones.

"You're not my boyf—" you fell quiet the moment he cornered you against the bar and firmly placed his hand on your nape.

"To some random dude who's trying to make a move on you, yes I am".

You didn't have time to protest, for his mouth on yours had prevented you from doing so before you even had the chance.

Not like you wanted to protest to begin with, as his lips trapping your bottom one in them and sucking on it the way you loved it was all you had needed that night after your fight.

For him to reassure you once again that he was serious about you was everything you needed and more.

You grabbed him by the collar at the same time you wrapped one arm around his neck, feeling like you would die if you didn't have him the closest you could right then. Thankfully, Hyunjin seemed to get the memo, bringing his hands dangerously down to the lowest of your back so he could pull you to him and get rid of every possible centimeter that was left between your bodies.

Somehow backing you up harder against the bar and making sure your bodies wouldn't lose the closeness he had put in between them, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, smiling into the kiss after you had massaged his tongue with yours.

"You don't get to let other guys hit on you just because of a stupid argument we had" he mumbled against your lips, getting a soft hum out of you when he pulled at your bottom one.

"I wasn't…" you whispered.

"No?" he pulled away for a second. "Is that why you were about to introduce me to him like it was nothing?"

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "I panicked, I didn't know what to say".

"Mhm… that better be it" he trapped your lip in his once more. "Because you're mine".

"I'm n—"

"Shhh…" he hushed you with a kiss, making you smile against his mouth. "You are".

"You're an idiot," you chuckled, endearingly looking up at him and gently cupping his cheek. "And you're drunk".

"M—not," he whined, more cutely to your ears than he had intended.

"You sure?" you teased, holding his face now with both hands as he rested his forehead on yours. "You do taste quite drunk to me".

He laughed under his breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leaned down to rest his forehead on your shoulder — arms wrapping tightly around you as he tiredly nuzzled the crook of your neck.

"I may or may not have drunk my feelings away" he admitted.

"And the alcohol is finally starting to hit?"

He nodded, a quite heavy sigh of his tickling your neck.

"You wanna leave?" you asked, gently running a hand up and down his back.

Another silent nod was his answer. "Yeah, just wanna be with you right now…"

You smiled blissfully, planting a small kiss on his temple before your hand held his. "Okay then, let's go tell the rest we're dipping".

One look at your table was all it took for you to realise the two of you had been the main attraction back there. You didn't even notice the moment Chae and Seungmin had left your side and gone back to sit down with the rest, yet there they were, shamelessly gossipping together as they watched you walk towards the table.

The closer you got, the clearer you saw their teasing smiles — and the more you wanted to just turn around and get out of there with Hyunjin already.

"Glad to see you guys are on good terms again" Han teased as soon as you reached the table, motioning with his head towards your intertwined fingers.

"Didn't really appreciate the sight of you two exchanging saliva again, though" Minho pointed out.

"No one told you to look" Hyunjin shrugged.

Minho scoffed. "You were all up in our business, how could we not?"

"As if you weren't shoving your tongue down that one girl's throat minutes ago" you bit back, getting nothing but a proud smirk from him. "Anyway, we're leaving now, so…"

"Are you guys going to Hyunjin's dorm?" Jeongin asked.

"Mhm…" you nodded.

"You're staying there?" Cherry wondered.

You shook your head no. "I'm just d—"

"You're not?" Hyunjin asked in a pout.

You laughed under your breath. "I mean…"

"You guys can always figure that out later, but can I leave with you?" Innie drew your attention. "I'm tired and my dorm is on the way, we could split a taxi".

"That sounds great" you agreed. "Let's go then".

"If that's the case, I'm going with you guys, too" Changbin stood up as well, walking up to you right as Jeongin did.

"Why?" Hyunjin's eyebrows furrowed.

"Because you will probably pass out in the car and there is no way Y/N will be able to drag your drunk ass all the way up to our floor alone".

Hyunjin shrugged, pulling you closer to him by the waist. "Whatever, but Jeongin is sitting with us in the backseat".

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Changbin agreed to his friend's conditions. Maybe you had already been forgiven, but he was clearly not on the clear just yet for having kept you from him earlier that night.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

The ride home had been easier than you had initially thought, mainly because Hyunjin passed out on your shoulder the second you got in the taxi, and just like that he was no longer able to glare at Changbin like he had done right before getting in the car, even though his wishes of having Jeongin join the two of you on the backseat had been complied with.

He had also been able to walk up the stairs just fine — a bit slow, but just fine. Although he did trip once when there was only one floor left to theirs, and if it weren't for Changbin, who was walking behind the two of you just to make sure, then probably the story would've been very different.

All in all, it had not been that bad. Hyunjin wasn't wasted, to be fair, but all the alcohol he had drunk during that one moment of sulkiness had hit the hardest in the span of his confrontation with the pushy guy at the bar and the ride home.

By the time the three of you reached his room, he didn't think twice before letting go of your grasp around his waist and slumping down face first on his bed — a muffled whine reaching your ears and earning a smile from you that had Changbin shaking his head in disbelief over how head over heels you were for his friend.

"Well, seems like my job here is done, so…"

Reluctantly taking your eyes away from your passed out beloved on his bed, you turned around to look at Bin. "Thanks for coming with us," you smiled. "The trip up the stairs could've been hell if you weren't here".

He chuckled, taking a step towards you. "Yeah, to be honest he wasn't that bad tonight. There have been times when Seungmin and I have feared for our lives trying to drag him up those stairs".

You rolled your eyes in amusement. "I've heard the same kind of stories but with you being the one that has to be dragged upstairs".

"Now who was the snitch" he playfully squared up.

"You guys literally all snitch on each other" you laughed.

Hyunjin unconsciously tossed in bed, making both your heads snap in his direction, and as if on cue, both your stares turned softer — the mood suddenly dropping.

"He was really upset tonight…" Changbin was the first one to bring the topic up.

"Yeah…" you mumbled, intently staring at Hyunjin sleeping. "Maybe we shouldn't…"

"Hang out alone anymore?" he finished with an obvious tone.

You nodded, slowly. "At least until things are more clear between us and he feels okay with it".

"You mean until you guys put a label to what very clearly already is an official relationship" he smirked.

"Stop…" you lowered your head to try and hide the shy smile that had just curved up your lips. "Things are still a bit messy between us… and I hated knowing that I hurt him today and I would hate to hurt him again" a small sigh abandoned your mouth as you looked up to him. "I really love him, Binnie".

"I know you do," he smiled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Let's just hang out while the others are around from now on".

"Yeah, let's do that" you agreed with a smile.

"Does this count as hanging out alone when Hyunjin is passed out in front of us?"

You couldn't help a throaty laugh from escaping your mouth, finding yourself having to cover it with one hand not to risk waking Hyunjin up, which seemed to be highly unlikely yet never impossible.

"You're staying the night?" he changed the topic, still not being able to erase the smile that had formed on his face over your laughter.

You shook your head no. "I'm just staying with him for a bit".

He snorted. "That's just calling to fall asleep on the floor next to him".

"I just want to make sure he stays sleeping on his side in case he throws up".

"Ew, I knew you were in love as hell but not to the point of being willing to clean his puke up".

"Shut up," you squinted your eyes at him, causing him to hold both hands up as he backed towards the door.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it now. I believe his pyjamas are in the second drawer," he motioned. "Although I guess he could sleep in his underwear alone, I don't know".

"What?"

"You're changing him, aren't you?" Changbin raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No, you change him".

He scoffed. "You're the one dating him, that's your problem now".

"But you're a boy..."

"What are we, twelve?" he laughed. "Don't act like you've never seen him naked before".

"Okay first, you don't know that" you pointed an accusing finger at him. "And second, he's drunk".

"So?"

"I don't want to overstep…"

"Trust me, he won't be mad that you changed him to sleep" he smirked.

"Changbinnnn," you begged in a whine.

"Ugh, okay" he gave in, realising there was no changing your mind. "Just go wait outside. And when he gets mad at me for changing his clothes, I'm throwing you under the bus".

"I'll take the risk" you laughed.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Pulling down the white oversized t-shirt of Hyunjin's that Changbin had given you after having successfully convinced you to spend the night before he could leave to his room for once and for all, you couldn't help but feel all giddy. You hadn't worn them many times, maybe one or two, but still, you could never grow used to wearing Hyunjin's clothes. And a part of you couldn't help but not feel like ever giving it back.

The way it had his particular scent you loved so much all over, the way it was long enough to cover just a little under your thighs, the way it felt almost like being in his arms, the way it was his.

Snapping out of it when you heard a heavy sigh coming from the bed, you were met with the cutest sight of Hyunjin tucked into it. Changbin had gone through the trouble, since he knew for a fact you would have a hard time trying to tuck him in if not.

The sheets were pulled up to his chin, in a way you could only see his uncovered face as he laid on his back and how the covers moved slowly up and down with each breath he took.

His eyes remained closed and his breathing calm. You couldn't help but feel bad for the hangover you knew he was waking up with the next morning, although that itself wasn't enough to erase the smile from off your face as you stared at him.

It was ridiculous how soft you were for him, not to say weak. You were so mad earlier that night, so hurt that he had brought up the one girl you were insecure about when it came to his past, that you thought the two of you would go your different ways that night and take a couple of days to make up.

But then there he was, telling a random guy who was trying to hit on you to back off and calling himself your boyfriend, kissing you like you were the only people in the bar, and that was all it took for you to feel at ease again — for you to know you would be alright regardless of the pending conversation you still needed to have.

Physically shaking your head as you were unable to mentally shake off his voice repeating the word 'boyfriend' over and over, causing your heart to soar with every memory of it, you went up to his drawer by the bed.

You took out the face wipes you knew he kept in there and went to the mirror next to it so you could take off your makeup. This wasn't your ideal night routine, but it would have to do for tonight.

"Mm…" Hyunjin's tired voice had your head snapping in his direction, only to be met with his visibly heavy eyes staring at you. "Sexy".

You snorted, feeling your face burn yet refusing to show how flustered you were over his sudden comment. Instead, you shook your head in amusement and threw the wipe into the small trash bin under his desk before you took a clean one out of the package.

"You're awake" you pointed out the obvious, sitting down by the edge of the bed.

"Yeah…" he sighed, eyes unconsciously closing for a moment there. "You looked too good for me not to wake up".

"That makes absolutely no sense" you laughed, leaning in to pull the covers slightly down to his chest.

"Yes, it does" he fought back, grimacing when the cold wipe came in contact with his face yet not protesting as you gently cleaned him up. "You should wear my clothes more often".

"I will take you up on that offer" you smiled, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead before going to throw the used wipe in the bin, too. "I'm borrowing a pair of sweatpants to sleep in".

"Noo, come here," he protested, stretching his arms out of the covers for you to go over there. "I meant you should wear my t-shirts with nothing else more often".

"Oh? You like the sight, Hwang Hyunjin?"

"You know I do" his eyes squinted accusingly.

"And what if I wanna go to the bathroom or the kitchen?" you taunted, folding your arms over your chest.

"If the guys are here then you put a pair of sweatpants on before leaving my room" his dead serious semblance got you grinning. "If we're alone, then it doesn't matter".

"Gatekeeping, I see" you came closer to the bed, enough for him to reach his hand out and grab your wrist.

"Of course," he proudly stated, pulling you down onto the bed with him — his hand resting against your back to pull you closer, later travelling down to the back of your thigh and guiding it over his waistline. "Only I get to see your pretty thighs like this".

This time, you could not hide the prominent heat in your cheeks, having to look down for a second to try and collect yourself, only to be met with his fingers holding your chin up and his lips pressing softly on yours.

Although it had begun tenderly, almost innocently, it was only a matter of seconds before Hyunjin's tongue was opening its way into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine as your hand went to his nape and your fingers were entangled in his brown locks.

It wasn't until his fingertips traced their way up from your thigh to your hip and his hand dug inside the t-shirt of his you were wearing, reaching dangerously close to the curve of your breasts, that you pulled away.

"So you're a horny drunk…" you smirked, almost as if having found his weakness. "Should've seen it coming".

"I always wanna touch you" he pouted.

"Something tells me it's different this time" you let out a breathy laugh, holding his wrist and gently removing it from underneath your top. "So I'm stopping you before we get too caught up".

"But I need you…" he whined, burying his face in your chest.

"You're literally half asleep, what would you be able to do anyway?"

"Don't underestimate me, baby girl".

You felt him smile against your chest in response to the small laugh that had just escaped your throat at his threatening words.

Considering your little banter to be done with after his last statement, Hyunjin's arms snaked around your waist and pulled you somewhat closer to him — as close as the covers in between the two of you allowed him to.

"You okay?" you whispered when you felt him take a heavy breath, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

"Everything's spinning" he managed to let out as he exhaled.

You chuckled, pressing your lips down on the crown of his head. "That's what happens when you down two bottles of soju in half an hour".

He pouted. "I was… feeling very shitty…"

Your heart hurt at his words, and you were met with his heavy-looking chocolate eyes after he had pulled slightly away from your chest.

Silence filled the room for a minute, words somehow not being needed as you quietly looked at each other.

Wetting his lips, he reached a hand up to cup your cheek, drawing small circles on it with his thumb and smiling when your hand reached up to do the same with his wrist.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he apologised. "I shouldn't have brought Y—"

"I really don't wanna talk about her anymore" you softly cut him off.

He nodded, tenderly grabbing your hand in his and caressing the back of it with his thumb. "I'm really sorry, baby… I never wanted to hurt you".

"Hey, it's okay" you hushed him. "I never wanted to hurt you either. I'm sorry too, Jinnie".

He smiled, tiredly yet ever so blissfully — eyes closing once again right as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a sweet kiss to it.

"I only want you. All to myself. No one else".

"You don't want me with anyone else or you don't want anyone else but me?" you couldn't help but tease.

"Both," his confident tone got a giggle out of you. "But you're the one who gets to decide whether you want to be with me for real now and I just keep fucking up an—"

"Baby…" you called him softly as ever, lovingly running your thumb over his bottom lip and managing to make him open his eyes once more. "You haven't even fucked up".

"I just did tonight, though…"

"Not in a way that will stop me from wanting to be with you" you reassured him with a smile.

"You promise?" he whispered.

You nodded, answering his question by briefly pressing your lips against his. "Remember what I told you the morning after we got together?"

"You told me many things that morning" he smirked, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement.

"About not feeling like you have to watch your every move around me" you reminded him. "I said that as long as y—"

"I don't go to someone else or start feeling trapped again we would be alright…" he completed for you.

"And you haven't done any of those, have you?"

"No, of course not" he sounded almost offended by that question. "If anything you might start feeling trapped with how clingy I got".

A throaty laugh escaped your mouth at that, snuggling closer to him and feeling your heart melt when his hand was naturally placed on the curve of your waist.

Fuck, you loved him.

"What are you saying, I love clingy" you admitted. "And since you haven't done any of those two things I don't really consider that you've fucked up… couples argue here and there, it's okay".

"Are you saying we're a couple now?" he smiled.

You bit your bottom lip, looking away from his eyes as you were at a loss of words and felt your face burn under his stare.

"Go to sleep, Jinnie".

"You haven't answered my question".

"You're drunk" you pointed out. "We'll talk about this some other time".

Hyunjin pouted, but ultimately decided to let it go. "You're staying the night?"

You nodded. "How else am I supposed to take care of your drunken ass tonight?"

"That is very girlfriend of you" he smirked.

You couldn't help the giggle that had just ran past your lips, just like you couldn't help the backflip your heart had just done. "You're going to regret this so much in the morning".

"I won't" he stood his ground.

"We'll see about that tomorrow" you chuckled. "Now go to sleep".

"At least get in here with me," he tugged at the covers for you to get inside. "You're practically naked, don't want my baby to catch a cold".

"Shut up," you laughed under your breath, embarrassed, yet complied with his wishes.

Helping him pull the sheets up, you got inside them with him, who wasted no time to tuck you in with him and tightly engulf you in his arms.

You sighed contentedly when your face rested on his chest, throwing a leg over his waist.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mhm…" your body snuggled closer to him. "This was very boyfriend of you" you couldn't help but tease.

Feeling him smile against the crown of your head, you were greatly surprised by his long fingers pushing your chin up to be met with his plump lips.

"That's what you should've told that one idiot that was hitting on you".

"And who says I didn't?"

He pulled back from your mouth, staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to process the words that had just come out of it. "Y-You did?"

You nodded, quite amusedly.

"You told him I was your boyfriend?"

"Well, I told him I had a boyfriend. He didn't know who you were, so…" you laughed at his cute expression right then.

"And even then he still wouldn't back off?" he scoffed. "God, I should've punched him".

An amused giggle escaped your mouth. "It's fine, I was actually about to just walk away when you got there" you confessed, tenderly running your thumb up and down the corner of his mouth. "You really underestimate how bad I don't want to be hit on by anyone but you, Hwang Hyunjin".

The smile that had just curved up his lips right then could easily be one of your favourites he'd ever given you. There was something about his crescent moon eyes and his dimples that had your heart soaring.

You didn't get to stare at it for long, though, for those same lips that were holding the most beautiful smile you had ever seen were soon to be pressed on yours, somehow managing to show you everything he felt for you yet did not have the right words to express.

Feeling his hot breath tickle your wet lips after the lack of oxygen had broken you apart, you found yourself smiling against his mouth, pecking it ever so lightly and having him do the same the next second.

"Be my girlfriend?" he whispered against your mouth.

Your eyes opened wide, and you were sure they looked elated as ever — for you were elated as ever.

You could scream. You could cry. You could laugh. Everything at once as you were hit by the one question you had at some point believed Hyunjin would never let himself ask you.

You could do so many things right then as you stared into his tired yet genuine eyes, and your heart screamed for you to answer with the 'yes' that had gotten stuck at the back of your throat the second his question reached your ears.

At last, though, you let the rational part of you win for once.

Leaning in to steal a soft, lingering kiss from his cloudlike lips, you looked up at him with a small smile. "Ask me again when you're sober".

Letting out a breathy, defeated laugh, he rested his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes. "Will you say yes?"

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. "Go to sleep, baby".

Although not entirely satisfied with your answer, he gave it up for once and for all, pulling you back to his chest as he closed his eyes and found comfort in the way your limbs were loosely wrapped around him. You were lucky the alcohol kept dragging him into a slumber, otherwise you would not have heard the end of it until you gave him a proper answer.

In less than a minute, he was fast asleep all over again.

You, on the other hand, were left wide awake while almost inaudible snores abandoned his lips every few seconds — unable to conceal your sleep as everything that happened that night kept replaying in your mind over and over. More precisely, images of your last conversation right before he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

With your heart pumping hard against your chest to the point you were scared it would wake him up, you could only wish he would not change his mind once he woke up. That if he even remembered everything that had left his mouth that night.

Wide awake, you were left thinking of every possible outcome following this night.

Whatever happened, though, drunk words were sober thoughts, and although conflicted over the circumstances they had been spoken on, you could not help the overwhelming happiness taking over your mind and body now that you knew Hwang Hyunjin wanted to make things official with you.

tag list: @blaaiissee @hyuneytoast @staysuki @tardiscompanion @princehyun-jin @hyuka-luvbot @halesandy @nattisbored @qnjayn @hibuki-chan @purenjuniverse @seungly @suhnnyskiess @midsoulz @kwanisms @esme-ordaz @perriwiinkle @firnze @soobin-chois @moon-320 @multifandomizer @elviransworld @valewoos @ktttwwn @hazzaloveschopsuey @hannahdinse8 @zoe8stay @leechanniee @phenomenalgirl9 @aeminju @threevracha @laryisthinking @wolfietara @iam2out @kingggjaay @cosmic-railwayxo @straykidsficsrecsbaby @marsophilia @choibeomgogi @ddaengpotate @oceanyocean @rinsdesires @jhslmhbtsskz @lixlovesworld @keenlampponyclam @yerimselgi @mal-lunar-28 @littlestarhyun @mingiholic @euphroseia

Aspen, my friend.

i know we spoke privately a lot and you have expressed a lot with me, but i just want you to know despite it taking me so long to finish this chapter today. it's so beautifully done. so full of emotions, descriptions that are beautifully done, perfect in their words alone, and i will forever be here to give you that peace if need be. my heart breaks for both mc and hyunjin. for mc is in pain, struggling to see the good in things and healing from a loss greater than any artist can understand. the feeling of wanting to create, a hyperactive mind that craves and thrive in the peace of it, and not being able to execute it in the way the mind and heart wants. it's a pain no one wants to experience. i hope mc can come to a place where she can find a different form of art for her art even relearning too. if warranted, my heart absolutely breaks for mc. for hyunjin, the poor boy who is looking at the person who helped him find confidence in doing his dream but not aware of it. i know things will come out sooner than later i'm sure but i hope he finds a place to be more patient with mc somehow. he seems as if he is gonna be good for mc. both seem to be good for each other. my heart is absolutely broken with the ending of this chapter in so many ways words are failing to come to me at this moment. i genuinely can't wait to read the next part my dear friend.

Part Two

prev | masterlist | next (soon)

warnings: ptsd/nightmares after an accident, general depression, ANGST, self-imposed isolation, themes of guilt/self doubt, swearing

wc: 8.99k

“You sure know a lot about color theory…” he mused as he added thin spokes between sections of the wheel, tilting his head at the canvas. “Mhm,” you said simply, chest already feeling heavy as you predicted what he’d say next. "You don’t just know it for fun, though, right?” he continued, still carefully adding the finest of lines to his piece, “You paint.” Your prediction was correct. “No,” you said quickly, any hint of softness you’d forced into your voice expelled the moment that question left his lips. Your lips were set in a hard line, though your heart thumped furiously against your ribs, “I don’t.”

a/n: hello, lovely readers. I'd like to start by apologizing profusely for how long updating this has taken me. I won't bore you with the details of my health - physical or otherwise - and will simply leave it at this; life is ROUGH sometimes. Thank you to those who have patiently waited for this release. I hope that it was worth the wait. I'm doing my best to get back into writing, and I assure you that updates will start coming for my other fics soon, too. I hope you enjoy this second installment of Desderium.

with love and forehead smooches (if you consent),

-Aspen

taglist: @findingjieunn @hyynee @hyunverse @dreamstarsandskz @linaliann permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

“Mother knows best.”

You’d never quite understood why that particular phrase had become so popularized. You’d assumed up until now that it was simply a scare-tactic that adults tried to drill into pliable, adolescent minds. A way to remind them to listen, even if they didn’t understand, even if they didn’t like it. 

Standing in front of the mirror dressed in clean clothes, hair still damp from a shower, you began to understand. 

Though you never would have chosen to pass along your knowledge of your own volition - and as much as you hated to admit it - teaching Hyunjin had forced you to take better care of yourself. 

You had no desire to impress him, by any means. If anything, it was the opposite. You’d found yourself beginning to hope that he’d grow weary of trying to communicate with you, as your company was far from being considered anything close to pleasant, and that he simply would not show up for the next session. 

Yet, here you were, brushing your teeth and tying back your hair. Not ‘just in case,’ or out of anything close to it, but simply because you knew better now. 

You knew better than to hope.

The day was a stark contrast to your permanent melancholia. It was beautiful, uncharacteristically warm for mid-May, with a breeze just cool enough to soothe any discomfort from the sun. Clouds straight out of a children’s book, fluffy and broad, were sparsely littered across the expanse of blue. Birdsong accompanied the scent of the nearby blossoming trees, filling the air with a whimsy you could imagine being a work of fiction.

However, you weren’t that lucky. 

The day, despite how perfect it seemed, still carried with it its own share of hardships. Flowers could bloom all they wanted, and the sun could continue to shine, but what did that really change? 

Nothing, because this was not a work of fiction.

You still had to go to the art school, you still had to teach Hyunjin, and you still had an angry pink scar atop your hand. Indeed, today was real - and, you’d go as far as to say it really wasn’t that beautiful at all. 

If you looked at the sky for long enough, those fluffy clouds would dissipate into amorphous blobs. If you listened harder, past the birdsong, you were sure to hear a couple fighting or a parent scolding their child. If you sat beneath the warmth of the sun for too long, you would burn. 

Today really wasn’t all that beautiful. Not at all. 

You watched the world move around you as you took a seat on the bench, waiting for the bus to take you to your choice of hell. The sun had lured more people than usual from their homes, the park across the street filled with more life than you’d seen in a while. 

Two children chased after each other, giggling and shouting in excited voices under their parents’ watchful eyes. You wished you had as easy of a time as they did, playing make believe. If you could, then maybe today could be beautiful. 

But you couldn’t. And it wasn’t. 

The scent of diesel in the air foreshadowed the bus’ arrival, urging you to your feet just as it appeared atop the hill. The bus driver, a man in his fifties whose name you’d never learned, gave you a curt nod as he opened the doors. He grumbled something resembling a greeting as you stepped up the two steps to the aisle, earning a tight-lipped smile in response. 

The bus was packed today - you blamed the day’s masquerade as lovely for this, too - and you found yourself having to choose which patron to sit next to for the next ten minutes. You quickly crossed off the snoring man with his head against the window and the heavily pregnant woman across from him - you didn’t want to end up a pillow for the former, your hesitance for the latter stemming only from good manners. 

You scanned the remaining seats, contemplating if it would be too terrible to sit next to a woman in business attire chattering away on the phone, until a gentle voice called out to you. 

“You can sit here if you want.” 

Your eyes darted to the source of the invitation, a man around your age with a comforting smile and welcoming aura. He held an earbud between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out likely to hear your reply should you have one. 

He didn’t seem like a terrible companion for the ride, likely returning to his music as soon as you answered. That was ideal, truth be told, not having to engage in conversation. Your decision was rushed, though, by the driver clearing his throat impatiently. 

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, sliding into the seat before sitting, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he urged with that same gentle grin, “Wouldn’t want you to end up drooled on,” he jutted his chin towards the man you’d decided against before, earning a scoff and a smirk from you as you settled into the leather.

He seemed disappointed that you hadn’t laughed, but that was likely because he hadn’t the slightest clue that he’d gotten closer than anyone else had in months. 

This kind-faced stranger must not have been too terribly broken up over it, though, putting his headphones back in properly and tapping play against the cracked screen of his phone. You found yourself strangely comforted that you could hear bits and pieces of the song - it gave you something to focus on without having a window to stare out of. 

You shut your eyes, then, as you tried to recognize what he was listening to based solely on the thumping of bass obscured by his ears. The man with the reassuring smile was humming along now, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to be bothered. You instead listened, not particularly invested though you welcomed the occupation of your mind. 

Squealing tires brought you to full attention, though you couldn’t open your eyes. Horns blared over the sound of crunching glass, screams overtaking the crunching of glass. The whooshing of your pulse in your own ears left the distinct groan of bending metal as nothing more than background noise. 

Your heart began to race, bringing an all-too-familiar panic to the forefront of your mind. You wanted to call out as the sound of sirens drew nearer, but you couldn’t speak. 

It was as though you were frozen in time whilst the world spun out of control around you. You wanted to call out, to tell someone that you were there, to beg someone to find you and pull you from the dark. 

“Can you hear me?” you could feel pressure against your shoulder, though the ability to form a response was nonexistent. 

You wanted to respond, to tell them that you could. To tell them that you were in there. To tell them not to leave you in the chaos - in the dark. 

You hadn’t realized the stranger next to you had stopped humming, nor that you’d dozed off, until you realized that it was his cautious hand patting your shoulder. 

You felt your eyelids shoot open, a pair of concerned eyes and furrowed brows staring down at you bringing you quickly back to the surface of consciousness. You felt sick, a thin sheen of sweat rising to your face quickly cooling the burn of the embarrassed heat that had crept up your cheeks. 

“You okay?” he asked then, the fear in your features registering with him the longer he looked at you.

You nodded, blinking hard as the look he wore pierced through your chest.

You had seen that look before - it was the same look your mother wore when she’d run out of tears to shed at your bedside. The same look Felix and Changbin would send your way when they dropped off their weekly bouquet - after they’d given up on trying to get any conversation out of you. The same look Ms. Park had as the nurse escorted her out as you screamed and cried.

The pity only felt worse coming from a stranger. 

You cleared your throat, finding your voice to be much smaller than you remembered it being, “I’m fine,” you assured him quickly, “Sorry if I bothered you.”

“Hey, no worries,” he spoke quickly, as though the thought of you feeling like a bother were something of importance to him, “Are you sure you’re okay, though? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” he wore that same carefree smile, though his eyes carried something akin to worry. 

Why did he care? He was nothing more than a stranger you’d met on the bus, someone who shared his seat with you out of courtesy. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hoping your voice would come out with a more believable strength this time, “I’m really okay.”

Not quite as confident as you’d hoped, but it would have to do. Less lioness, more housecat - but at least you weren’t a mouse. 

“If you say so,” his eyes darted to the driver, then back to you, “This is my stop.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ as it finally clicked in your brain that he’d been standing this entire time. You looked out the window, noticing that you were outside of the campus, “Mine, too, actually.” 

His brows shot up before he chuckled, gesturing grandly with the hand not holding his spare headphone towards the aisle, “Well, then, ladies first I s’pose!” 

You gave him your best attempt at a smile, though a grimace would be a much more accurate descriptor, before rising to your feet and walking towards the door. You mumbled a thank you and waved to the driver, who simply grumbled under his breath in reply. 

You didn’t blame him for that, though. You’d managed to hold up the bus twice in one day, effectively lengthening his workload. If you weren’t in such a haze from what you now knew was nothing more than a dream, you may have felt the need to call him out for his rudeness.

You ignored the irony of having such a dream, seeing as you’d wished your reality were just that - an unfortunate nightmare. You ignored the way your heart sank when you caught a glimpse of your hand when you waved to the grumpy driver, plunging deep into your stomach at the sight of your scar. You ignored the clamminess of your palms and how cold the once pleasant breeze felt against the moistness of your skin.

“You sure you’re alright? You really are a little pale,” your kindhearted seatmate spoke again from behind.

You wished you could justify ignoring him, too. 

“Yeah,” your voice quavered as you answered, turning around to witness that look - the look you hated, the one everyone seemed to send your way.

You weren’t surprised at the disbelief on his face, certain that you couldn’t have sounded less okay if you tried. You expected him to press the issue, forcing you into either running away or losing your temper - fight or flight, one could say. You expected him to act entitled to your story - your trauma. You expected him to push. 

“You in a hurry?”

You hadn’t expected that. You pulled your phone from your pocket, brows wrinkled in confusion as you noted the time - 9:30 - before shaking your head.

“C’mon, there’s a cafe on campus,” you knew that, of course, being alumni. The kind stranger, however, did not - and you were still too shocked to burst his bubble, “Want a coffee? Or tea? Whichever you prefer,” he rubbed the back of his head, visibly stiffening at his own awkwardness, “My treat, of course!” 

You hesitated, considering the possibilities. On the one hand, he was a complete stranger. Someone who you’d only just met moments ago, someone who could see how vulnerable you were right now. Someone who looked at you with that look you hated. On the other, he’d shown compassion and left you alone until he’d needed to wake you to get off of the bus. He seemed genuine in his concerns, though you wished he’d not noticed your distress in the first place. 

“You’re paying?” you reiterated, finally coming to the conclusion that one cup of tea wouldn’t hurt. 

He threw his head back then, a bellowing laugh coming from deep within his stomach before he got a hold of himself. He wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning from ear to ear, “Yeah, I’m paying. C’mon.” He tilted his head in the direction of the cafe, waiting until you started towards that direction to fall into step next to you. 

Hyunjin had taken extra precautions to ensure he would not be late today.

He hadn’t predicted just how annoyed he’d become with his past self, however, until he found himself reaching out of the shower to snooze an alarm - the third of five he’d set - interrupting his playlist. His irritation was short lived, fizzling out nearly as soon as it started. After all, how could he possibly stay upset by something so small? 

Today was a beautiful day. 

Hyunjin turned down the volume of the song that played, content to allow the trilling call of the sparrows outside to overwhelm the gentle melodies he’d chosen. Despite his earlier frustration, he found himself oddly at peace with the replacement.

As he packed his bag of supplies, his thoughts began to drown out the symphony coming in through the windows. His mind was on you - just as it had been ever since the two of you parted ways last week. Hyunjin wasn’t obsessed, at least not in a way worth any concern, but he did have questions. 

Why was someone who’d volunteered as a mentor so visibly discontent with their pupil? Was it because of Hyunjin himself? Had he done something to bother you? To accidentally offended you somehow? Why did you all but run from the art room? Why weren’t you painting alongside him to show him the way? Did you even paint? You had to, seeing as you were capable of fixing an issue Hyunjin had been dealing with for weeks in a matter of minutes. Right? 

Hyunjin shook his head, damp blonde strands tickling the apples of his cheeks. After his first alarm, he’d debated on whether or not he should even attend the session today. If he made you that uncomfortable, was learning a few pointers really worth it? Your pursed lips and glossed-over gaze were burnt into his memory and - after the initial joy of fixing the issue with his painting had worn off - he couldn’t shake the mounting curiosity they brought with them. 

In the end he’d decided that he couldn’t pass on whatever advice hid behind your icy exterior, though. He couldn’t pass on scratching that itch, the one your venom-laced words had given him. The one that could only be relieved by answers - answers which his intuition told him would not come easily.

He zipped up his bag, considering the routes he could take to get you to open up. His ideas weren’t terrible; asking the standard questions about family and friends, debating favorite artists, bringing up his own interests in passing…but all of these ideas held one thing in common that made Hyunjin feel very, very small.

They required you to actually want to speak to him. 

He glanced at the clock, then - it was only 9:45 - noting that he had enough time to swing by the cafe for an americano. Caffeine was, for all intents and purposes, a great way to sharpen his focus and lift his spirits. He could definitely use the boost. 

His mind was swimming with thoughts, worries even, about today’s session - about you - and for a moment Hyunjin wondered if you felt just as unsure about today as he did. 

Sliding a black cap over his slicked-back hair, Hyunjin slung his supplies over his shoulder and made his way out of the dorm building. He barely registered the waves and smiles his classmates sent his way as he walked across campus, responding to them in kind with a slight delay. His mind was too busy trying to unravel the tangled enigma that was you.

The birdsong was louder without his walls as a buffer, lightening the weight he’d been carrying by a little. He looked up to the sky, a soft smile tugging at his features at the way the clouds bloomed against the sky. 

The sight made his heart feel light, forgetting for a moment about his concerns regarding his new mentor. The sky felt like the joy he’d feel at the fair as a child, and he found himself comparing the clouds to cotton candy as they melted against the brilliant sky. 

Hyunjin knew what he would paint today. Before he could paint, though - coffee. In a matter of minutes, he was walking through the heavy mahogany door of the campus’ coffee shop. Passing through those doors always felt like an entirely different world to Hyunjin; the warm-toned lights mounted in metal, industrial-style brick with exposed pipes, and the scent of cinnamon and coffee grounds immediately seemed to cancel out the surrounding environment. The choir of birds was replaced by the clattering of ceramic and overlapping chatter, the gentle breeze now thick bursts of warm air from the kitchen door swinging on its hinges. Though this was definitely more man-made than the beautiful spring day he’d left outside, Hyunjin quite liked it here.

Stepping forward on the worn-down wood floors, he stopped at the counter and ordered his typical iced americano. He paid, leaving a tip before scooting to the side to allow others to place their orders as he waited for his own. He’d started to zone out slightly when he heard a familiar name called from an employee’s mouth.

Your name, followed by another that he recognized.

His head snapped up, scanning the room so suddenly that it was a wonder he hadn’t managed to give himself whiplash. His eyes landed on the carefree smile of Han Jisung approaching the counter from a booth in the corner - at which you were seated.

Hyunjin felt a pang of something akin to jealousy in his chest as he watched Han accept the drinks, surprised to see a soft smile on your face as the boy carried the drinks back to the table. His mind raced, out of his own control, as his eyes fell to the floor.

Up until now, Hyunjin had assumed that you simply just…didn’t like people, as a general consensus. Though seeing your calm smile as Han handed you a tea, he felt himself shrink. It wasn’t that you hated people as a whole, you just for some reason hated him. What had he done? Had he accidentally offended you in some way? Was his art not good enough? Were his aspirations annoying you? Was it just…him, as a person? The insecurity ran rampant as he peeked back up at the two of you, his chest aching. He’d truthfully been hopeful, hearing he’d have a mentor that had survived the same art program he was a part of now. He’d even spoken to his friends about how cool it would be to have a friend who could fully comprehend the pressure he was under.

It wasn’t that he had any problems with his current friends, it was the simple fact that all of them had majored in a different department. None of them were artists in the same sense as Hyunjin was, opting for theater or music rather than traditional art methods.

He was so excited to meet someone like-minded and artistically inclined. Beyond excited, even, his friends having called him out on how annoying he’d gotten as he counted down the days to meeting his new mentor. And, now, he felt stupid.

As he watched you sip your tea, your eyes alight with inaudible laughter at something undoubtedly stupid Jisung had said, he felt stupid. As he realized that, despite having so much in common, you’d so easily warm up to his friend; that this may actually be the first time he’d seen a ghost of a smile on your face, he felt stupid.

If he had to feel this way, the very least he owed his bruised ego would be the privilege to act the same way he felt.

Without a second thought, Hyunjin left his position against the countertop and strode with false confidence over to your table, plastering a grin on his face that he hoped would hide his distress, before sliding in next to Jisung. “Jisung,” he greeted warmly before casting his eyes towards you, watching as the light slowly left your eyes, “I see you’ve met my mentor.”

You imagined this is what crashing through thin ice during a leisurely skate would feel like. One moment, you were focusing on the offhanded quips coming from your new companion, the now-unfamiliar sensation of contentedness lulling you into a sense of security. You’d stopped thinking about what happened to you, not even noticing the slight tremble in your scarred hand when you’d lifted your tea. 

You’d been about to laugh, though perhaps out of pity for the awkward jokes Jisung had been spouting, but still…for the first time since the incident that had stripped away your joy, you were about to laugh just as you would before. Until your blood ran cold, nearly knocking the wind out of you. Before you now sat Hyunjin, staring straight into your eyes with a nearly imperceptible curiosity. Along with Hyunjin came the memories. Along with Hyunjin came the pain. Along with Hyunjin came the truth. You would never be the same. You felt your features fall into absolute blankness as you held his gaze, eyes darting to Jisung briefly before returning to Hyunjin. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Hyunjin continued, casually tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His statement seemed to pull Jisung out of his shock at his sudden arrival, the clueless grin he often wore finding its way back to his face. “Ah, we just met today!” He said cheerfully, pulling your attention away from Hyunjin momentarily, “On the bus.” You nodded, the air having not quite returned to your lungs enough to provide an auditory response. Hyunjin was looking at Han now, which helped greatly in your quest to find your breath, but your chest still ached.

Hyunjin looked puzzled as he turned to Jisung, a brow raised as he cocked his head to the side. He wore his disbelief plainly enough that the other man had no trouble understanding what the look meant. “She had time before a meeting,” Jisung looked between the two of you now, his expression shifting back into one of comfortability as he put together the pieces in real time, “With you, I’m guessing?” Hyunjin nodded, his brows still knitted together despite the small smile he wore whilst listening. You could tell, despite your short time knowing him, that the wheels were turning behind his calm facade. About what, you were unsure, but something about the neutral position of his features felt completely fabricated.

That alone was enough to keep your voice at bay.

“Small world, huh?” Jisung continued, his cheerfulness a welcome - though temporary -  distraction from the tension you felt radiating from Hyunjin. “Yeah, very,” Hyunjin replied, turning to face you once more. As his dark eyes met your own, it felt as though you were shrinking. If you could dissolve into the plush booth seat, you’re sure you would have. 

You should say something, right? Certainly, you knew that you should. Of course, engaging in conversation with him was something a normal person would do in this moment.

You, however, simply could not.

Despite the way Hyunjin looked at you expectantly, not much differently than a child waiting for instruction, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say hello. You felt smaller and smaller as your mouth ran dry, clutching your cup of tea tightly enough to indent the thin plastic cup.

You were saved as the barista called Hyunjin’s name, watching helplessly as he slid out of the booth. 

“Lesson’s in five minutes, we can walk together.”

Though you were sure he meant it innocently, the way he phrased it as a certainty rather than an offer nearly sprang you into a panic. Had Jisung not been present, you’d be searching your mind for any believable excuse - not wanting to spend more time alone with Hyunjin than was required of you. But Jisung was there, and Jisung was far from able to understand why, exactly, you had an aversion to spending time with his friend.

“Sure,” you managed, barely a whisper as you pulled yourself to your feet. You still held your tea, now in both hands, as you turned to Jisung. “Thank you, for the tea. And the bus.”

The man grinned up at you again, “Yeah, no problem. Have fun!”  You felt guilty at the fact that, despite his genuine encouragement, you knew you would be doing anything but. Regardless, you gave him your best attempt at a smile - though you wouldn’t be surprised if it came across as more of a grimace - before turning towards Hyunjin.

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, his expression still pleasant - if he’d sensed your mood shift along with his presence, he wasn’t showing it.

You simply nodded, casting one last glance to Jisung before following Hyunjin out of the building. He didn’t look back at you, not even once, as his long legs carried him effortlessly towards the studio. You quickened your pace to keep up, though it didn’t seem that Hyunjin noticed. The last thing you wanted to do was thicken the already awkward air - it was much easier to just half-jog behind him.

Even as he held the door open, his gaze still wouldn’t meet yours. It was impossible not to feel a bit grated by his sudden attitude. He’d interrupted your prior conversation, pulling you to the lesson alongside him, just to all but pretend you weren’t there.

Not that you were really complaining, seeing as you hadn’t the slightest intention of being buddy-buddy with the stark reminder of your own misery, but his sudden shift from the vibrant persona he’d exuded at your previous lesson still left an odd taste in your mouth.

Perhaps he’d finally gotten the message? Maybe, after your less-than welcoming attitude on day one, Hyunjin had given up on trying to weasel his way into your life aside from lessons? It didn’t seem as though that would be the case, though. Despite your sharpness, he’d still chosen to attend the lesson today…

Then, why? Why was his face lacking the blissfully ignorant smile he’d worn last time, even as you’d made it clear that you had no desire to befriend him? Why was the silence he’d once found absolutely necessary to fill left alone?

You hadn’t expected your questions to be answered so quickly, but as  you approached the door to the studio, pulling it open and stepping inside, Hyunjin finally spoke.

“Did I do something?”

It was such a simple question. Four words that, on their own, didn’t hold much weight - but spoken in such a small, genuine voice from your once-enthusiastic pupil felt like a punch in the gut.

Is that what this was about? You were teaching him, weren’t you? What else did he expect?

“What are you talking about?” you asked him, voice sounding filled with more disinterest than you’d intended as you set down your bag, having a seat on an empty stool.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He repeated again, remaining frozen in the doorway. He still wouldn’t look at you, studying his own shoes against the floor as though they were the biggest point of interest in the room.

It was painfully obvious that Hyunjin truly believed there was something he’d done to warrant your offputting behavior; from the way his shoulders hunched up to his ears to the way he shuffled in place. He looked like a child that had been scolded in front of his friends as he awaited your answer, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“No.” Your response held much less weight at first glance than his initial question had. A single word, simple enough for an infant to claim as their first. Though, paired with the way it cut through the air - terse, leaving no room for debate - you didn’t doubt that Hyunjin had felt a sting. Hyunjin nodded, flinching at the word as if it were something much less innocuous. He swallowed hard before stepping forward, sitting on the stool opposite of you and pulling a blank canvas from his messenger bag. He set it on the easel with delayed movements, his eyes appearing glazed over - as if he were in a trance. “If I didn’t do anything,” he started, pulling out his paints and setting them up on a small table, “Then it must just be me in general, hm?” You raised a brow, ignoring the pang of jealousy you felt to the best of your abilities as he pulled out his brushes, twirling one around his finger delicately as he stared at all of his color options. How were you supposed to answer? It wasn’t as though you could tell him that your innate dislike for him came from his ability to do what was taken from you. It wasn’t as though you could simply say that you were sure he was a great guy, and that your quiet rage came from a place of envy. You simply couldn’t. Hyunjin already made it real enough, speaking aloud what had happened would only serve to twist the knife. He must have taken your silence as an affirmation, a laugh escaping his lips in the form of a whisper as he shook his head. He lifted a tube of vermillion before pulling out his palette, filling one of the divots with the rich shade before setting the tube down - letting it clatter noisily amongst the others. His foot tapped against the floor as though he were physically holding himself back from speaking, dipping the brush into the paint carefully. His body language was screaming anything but calm yet, despite this, his hand was steady as he raised the red-tinged bristles to his canvas. You watched as the single line he painted was joined by another, forming haphazard, angry angles. Scarlet against white. The heartache watching him create with such effortless movements was different than any you’d felt before. You averted your gaze as the dull ache grew into something bigger - something quietly furious, intimidating in its sheer density as it took up each crevice of your mind. Your attention seemed much less volatile as you focused in on your own hands, guiding your vision from your fingertips to your palm before turning your hand over. Your heart plunged into your stomach before you glanced back at Hyunjin’s canvas - now blended with different shades of orange and pink alongside the aforementioned red. You looked back down at your own angry, red line. 

Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, there weren’t any complimentary colors that could be added to lessen its impact. There was no gentle pink to soften it, no comforting orange glow.  Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, the angry red you’d been cursed with could not be changed into a sunset. The mood could not shift into something inspirational, it could not become something soothing on the eyes. It could not, and would never be a sunset.

Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, you could not blend out the rough edges. You couldn’t simply feather out the red until it looked like it belonged. You couldn’t add or take away anything, there was no camouflaging the puckered evidence of loss that you were forced to wear.

Hyunjin’s words rang in your mind once more; it must just be me in general. It wasn’t that you necessarily felt bad about your feelings - those were your right, the only thing you’d earned from your tragedy. You did, however, feel a bit guilty about the collateral damage sitting alongside you, moving his brush along the canvas wordlessly.

You were right before. You couldn’t tell him why you felt this way, he definitely wouldn’t understand. Nobody would, after all, unless they’d been forced through what you had endured. There was, however, one thing you knew you could do.

“It’s not you.”

Hyunjin paused, moving his brush away from the canvas as his back stiffened. Your words weren’t soft, weren’t sweet, weren’t meant to be reassuring whatsoever. You’d stated them plainly, as if they were simply a fact you’d decided to share. As dark irises flitted over to you, curiosity filling their chocolate depths, you held your breath.

“No?” he asked before looking away, resuming his work after the initial shock of your voice had worn off.

“No,” you echoed, looking anywhere but his palette as he squeezed a bit of yellow into an empty space.

“Then what?” he asked, still focusing on his work. Though you weren’t looking, you could hear the whisper of bristles against vinyl. It was a beautiful sound, or at least it was before.

“I…can’t tell you that,” you mumbled, looking out the window at the students wandering campus. Two girls running into an embrace that nearly convinced you they could be lovers, a couple of boys doing that odd, handshake hug that men had somehow decided unanimously meant they weren’t in love, a girl beneath the shade of the old ginkgo tree sketching away.

Even absolute strangers held the power to remind you of loss, it seemed.

You looked back towards Hyunjin as he blended daffodil yellow into the sky he’d created, wondering if you’d be better off watching the girl outside.

“You can’t?” he hummed, setting his brush aside before grabbing one with thinner bristles, tucking it behind his ear as he reached for a tube of black paint.

“No,” you reiterated.

Hyunjin simply hummed in response, supposedly deciding against pressing further as he dipped the thin brush into the inky black.

He was bringing it towards the canvas when you sucked in a sharp breath, coming to a realization about what he may be about to do.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, causing Hyunjin to stiffen once more before turning his head towards you.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make a black silhouette,” you said simply, still shocked that you’d corrected him at all. It was almost funny that you’d startled yourself - you were supposed to teach him, after all.

Hyunjin slowly set the brush down, a single brow raised as he waited for you to explain.

“It’ll contrast too heavily with the backdrop, and it won’t look natural,” you mumbled, looking away from his expectant gaze as though you feared he’d read your mind otherwise, “Blend black into one of the shades you used for the sunset until it’s dark enough to mimic a silhouette.”

Hyunjin nodded, finally peeling his eyes off of you long enough to slowly add a bit of black to the purple tone he’d used before. He seemed almost scared as he held the palette out towards you, tentatively speaking in a voice so soft it was a miracle you heard him.

“Like this?”

You took a glance and nodded, looking away again right after. Hyunjin pulled the stained palette away slowly, setting it down before dipping the brush into the handmade indigo and beginning to add a shape against the glowing backdrop.

You looked up as he worked, fighting against your instincts as you watched him carefully craft a circle, the shape of a ferris wheel slowly coming alive against his beautiful skyline.

Hyunjin continued to work, and you continued to watch, the sounds of breath and brushstrokes filling the otherwise empty air of the studio. The discomfort was still there, still pushing against your lungs with every inhale, but it was no longer suffocating as you watched Hyunjin focus in on his work.

He looked so absorbed that you were a bit taken aback to hear him speak.

“You sure know a lot about color theory…” he mused as he added thin spokes between sections of the wheel, tilting his head at the canvas.

“Mhm,” you said simply, chest already feeling heavy as you predicted what he’d say next.

“You don’t just know it for fun, though, right?” he continued, still carefully adding the finest of lines to his piece, “You paint.”

Your prediction was correct.

“No,” you said quickly, any hint of softness you’d forced into your voice expelled the moment that question left his lips. Your lips were set in a hard line, though your heart thumped furiously against your ribs, “I don’t.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, sour enough to burn your throat.

How did Hyunjin manage to endlessly remind you that things were not the same?

You wouldn’t pick up a brush with a joyful smile again, creating to your heart’s content. The images and ideas that flew around your mind now destined to wither away there, never to be given life against a stretched canvas.

“But,” Hyunjin continued, painfully oblivious to the rising levels of envy and rage radiating from you, “There’s no way you’d know this otherwise,” his almond eyes stayed focused on his work as he spoke, never leaving the canvas even when he dipped his brush back into the deep purple shade.

You would no longer lose track of yourself - of time - as you became absorbed in manifesting images from your mind’s eye. Unique sights were no longer subject materials. Flowers were simply flowers, sunsets simply sunsets, ferris wheels simply ferris wheels.

“I said no,” you repeated, clenching your fists at your side as if you could physically hold the facade of being calm in place, “I don’t.”

And you meant it. 

You did not paint, not anymore. 

You would never again need to brush off complaints that you smelled of paint at parties, and your mother would not tut disapprovingly at the colors caked beneath your nails. You would not fill a mug with water to clean brushes. Coffee cups were just coffee cups, glasses just glasses, and jars just jars. “And last week,” Hyunjin added, almost as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “With the oil paints, that wasn’t common knowledge.” Your nails dug painfully into your palms now, sure to leave an indent when you let go. Your balled up fists trembled slightly with the sheer force you’d squeezed, your lips parting to reiterate your point until it happened. The white-hot sting, sudden and overwhelming, radiating from the marred flesh atop your hand. You hissed, pulling it quickly to your chest and covering it with its unsullied counterpart while you opened and closed your fingers quickly, chasing relief desperately. Hyunjin turned to face you now, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of your scrunched up features. He set his palette down hurriedly, not bothering with grace as it clattered against the table - a tube of paint falling to the floor in the process. “Are you okay?” You hated how genuinely he’d asked this, concern written across all of his features as he reached towards you carefully - as though you were a cornered rabbit he’d decided to help, despite its skittishness. Considering the evasiveness you’d insisted on keeping behind every word you’d said to Hyunjin thus far, you supposed that would be an accurate assessment. Teeth metaphorically bared at every opportunity, subliminally warning him to stay back - letting him know that you wanted him gone. Hyunjin didn’t seem to care, though, as his brows creased together - his eyes shooting to the hand you were cradling. He took a sudden step back when you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes with a ferocious mixture of rage and shame.

“I’m fine,” you snapped before grinding your teeth together, pulse whooshing in your ears as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. You didn’t want to discuss this with Hyunjin. You didn’t want to explain to anyone ever again what had happened to you. In that moment, you truly were the injured animal Hyunjin had approached you as - hissing as you were slowly backed further into a corner. Your only hope being that he would simply drop the matter - leaving you to lick your wounds alone. Of course, Hyunjin did no such thing. “Are you sure?” he asked, taking a single step back after registering the harshness of your tone. His widened eyes, brimming with genuine compassion and worriedness, quickly faded into nothing as you zoned in on a splash of red against his cheek. Red paint - cracking as it dried - against his pale skin. He’d likely wash it off later, perhaps even laughing about how clumsy he’d been to manage staining his skin in the first place. The red paint - blended beautifully with concise brushstrokes and complimentary shades - against white canvas. A gentle yellow that radiated warmth, peeking between periwinkle clouds to illuminate a perfectly captured carnival ride.

An angry, red scar - cradled desperately against your chest as it throbbed incessantly, ensuring that you would always remember your loss. Always remember your pain.

Your red couldn’t be cleaned off, washed down the drain and forgotten. Your anger could not be softened by colors more delicate, could not be blended into something beautiful. This line would not turn into a sunset, would not become the backdrop for nostalgia, would never become pretty.

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, causing Hyunjin’s face to pale. He backpedaled once more, only stopping when his thigh brushed the stool he’d been sitting on. Without uttering so much as another syllable, Hyunjin simply picked up his brush - continuing to paint.

The air was heavy with a wounded silence as Hyunjin worked on his piece. Your pain had dulled from a scream to a soft hum, searing heat turning into more of a prickle. You found yourself wishing your internalized wounds would settle as quickly as your hand. Certain broken things, it seemed, couldn’t be reset to heal accordingly.

It wasn’t until Hyunjin broke the silence, barely above a whisper, that you’d realized how much time had passed. “You’d be good at it, I think,” he’d said, setting down his brush as he eyed his work carefully, “Painting.”

You didn’t respond, not trusting your tongue at his sudden proclamation. 

You were good at painting once. You were really good. He couldn’t know that, enough people were aware of your loss. You often found yourself wishing that you’d simply stayed asleep, comatose after the accident. At least that way you wouldn’t have to deal with the pity-stained faces of those who loved you. It was strange, now that you thought about it. 

You weren’t sure you remembered what their eyes looked like before. Before you were broken. Before they felt sorry for something far beyond the reach of their own doing.

Before everything had changed.

“I actually didn’t start painting until recently,” Hyunjin continued, almost as though talking to himself, “I switched majors at the start of this year.”

You listened to his monologue, though you weren’t looking at him. You were watching out the window once more. The girl was no longer beneath the gingko tree sketching, and the groups of friends were nowhere to be seen. The campus was quiet as the sky melted into a replica of Hyunjin’s canvas - warm and soft, casting a golden glow on everything it touched.

It bothered you - it bothered you a lot - that Hyunjin hadn’t been serious about painting for longer than a few months. He didn’t realize how lucky he was, to be allowed to dream. To be allowed to pursue something you’d loved with your whole heart on a whim. 

You bit your tongue, not wanting to end up saying something you’d regret - something you couldn’t take back. You couldn’t control your past, of course, but you could make an effort to control your effect on the present.

Hyunjin continued on despite your lack of input - you were nearly convinced he’d have continued talking even if you’d left the room. 

“I’ve always liked art, though,” he insisted, adding a few highlights to bits of the wheel before chewing his lip in thought. He added a dash of a muted turquoise to the indigo silhouette as he continued on.

“I guess I was just inspired recently,” he mused, seemingly unbothered by your silence, “I actually tagged along to a gallery exhibit with my aunt. There was a piece there…” he took a deep breath as he painted, his lips parting into a fond smile as he recalled what must be a precious memory for him.

“It was so delicate,” he said quietly, setting his brush down to examine his piece, tilting his head at nearly a ninety-degree angle, “A hand holding onto a flower so loosely that I truly wouldn’t have been surprised if I watched it fall down the canvas.”

Your heart stopped before jumping into your throat to race uncomfortably.

No.

“The flower matched the pink of the knuckles and palm so perfectly,” he hummed, tilting his head in the other direction, “Everything was so muted, yet so…believable.”

You knew the exact pink he was referring to. You knew that the flower was a Chrysanthemum, and you knew that the petals alone had taken ten painstaking hours to complete.

No, no, no, no.

“It wasn’t inherently happy,” Hyunjin’s voice stayed level as he rambled on, “It wasn’t inherently sad, either…” he grabbed his brush again, adding bits of a golden highlight to the cool clouds.

You knew exactly what he meant, the loose grip on the stem chosen specifically to depict apathy - uncaring of whether or not the delicate bloom fell to the ground.

This cannot be happening.

“But, for some reason, it made me feel lonely to look at,” his brows furrowed then as he focused harder on his application, ensuring he wouldn’t muddle the colors as he added contrast, “I decided to switch majors so I could do that, too.”

You felt a knot in your stomach, the air becoming increasingly more difficult to pull into your lungs.

What the fuck?

Hyunjin stood from his spot then, taking a few steps back to look at the canvas from afar, “So I could tell an entire story without words or gestures. So I could make people feel.”

Even if you’d wanted to reply at this point, your mouth had gone dry long ago. Your hands began to tremble at your sides as he spoke.

What the actual fuck?

“I was kind of disappointed that the artist wasn’t there,” his lips were pulled into a frown now, his reminiscing cut short by visible displeasure, “I had so many questions…” he trailed off as he stared at his canvas, searching for anything he could alter to give it the exact feeling he’d sought after during its creation.

You already knew that the artist hadn’t been there. That the artist had been in a hospital bed, hooked up to machinery, with their hand wrapped in a bright white cast. You knew that the artist was surrounded by people who loved them, yet had never felt so empty and alone in their life.

How is this happening?

“Apparently, they go by Eclipse, so I’ve asked the gallery owner to contact me if another piece is put on display,” he approached the painting again now, sitting in front of it with a studious expression on his face, “Even if they wouldn’t answer my questions, I want to thank them,” Hyunjin picked up his brushes, one by one, and made his way over to the sink to wash the acrylic from their bristles.

This is actually insane.

Your breathing became ragged as you struggled to maintain your composure. It was your art that had inspired the very person you envied to begin to chase after your dream. It was because of your art that he’d even chosen to take painting seriously. How fucking ironic was it, that the event that had changed everything for you had done the same for another? 

You had lost, he had found.

“It’s thanks to them that I’ve discovered something I love so much, after all,” he mused, setting his brushes on a towel to dry neatly. He turned to face you, then, his eyes alight from his recollection. It wasn’t until his face dropped that you realized there was something hot running down your face.

Your vision had blurred the moment he’d mentioned the pink in the hands you’d painted, though you hadn’t noticed until just now. There were no tears falling, no - that would indicate singular, controlled drops. Emotion poured from your eyes in streaks, unending as they dripped down the edges of your jaw.

Hyunjin appeared panicked as he hurriedly dried his hands off, though he didn’t approach - not that you’d expect him to after your earlier outburst.

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” he asked, brows furrowing together as he recognized the trembling of your breath. 

Words evaded you as your throat began to close, your shaky hands gripping the sides of the stool as if that could somehow steady you. You shook your head, hoping that the dark bits of his outline you stared into were his eyes.

How could you blame him for being confused? “We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he said softly, his voice shifting from the calm and enraptured way he revealed his inspiration to a quiet, almost guilty tone.

“Okay,” you exhaled more than actually spoke, but Hyunjin seemed to hear you clearly as he nodded his head.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t think you’d –” he cut himself off as you held up your hand, signaling for him to stop.

“Don’t,” you managed between uneven breaths.

“But –”

“Don’t,” you repeated, finally releasing your vicegrip on the stool to wipe your eyes with your sleeves.

“I’m sorry, I just thought maybe…I dunno, I really thought you’d wanna give painting a shot…”

You shook your head, giving him a barely audible, “I’m not a painter,” before turning your head away, still wiping helplessly at the wetness on your cheeks.

“I–” he cut himself off, simply to nod once more. The atmosphere felt heavy as you sniffled quietly, doing your best to regain composure - hoping to at least be able to look him in the eye and speak clearly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated himself, voice still laced with regret, “I won’t bring it up again, okay?”

You pulled your bag up onto your shoulder, stepping towards the door as Hyunjin watched, the frown remaining etched between his brows giving away just how taken aback he’d been by your reaction. To anyone else, it would’ve been a nice, heartwarming story about a boy who fell in love with painting.

But you were not anyone else.

You were an inspiration to the boy who’d picked up your dream, claiming it as his own and thanking you for it with the same breath.

You were Eclipse, the one who’d painted the noncommittal hand and the carnation dangling from its fingers.

With your broken pieces Hyunjin had become whole. 

In any other circumstance, you’d have told him that you’d created that piece. You’d have asked him what questions he had with a smile on your face. You’d have felt honored to have inspired someone else to pick up a brush and create.

But this wasn’t any other circumstance.

And you did not feel happy, or honored.

You felt hollow.

You looked at Hyunjin then, his face not too different from how you’d imagine a deer caught in the headlights to appear. His full lips were parted, as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words he’d been searching for. 

You stopped with your hand on the doorknob, shifting your focus from Hyunjin to his canvas. Collecting yourself enough to give him critique was the least you could do - unwilling or not, you were supposed to be teaching him. You did your best to push back the pain, at least for long enough to do your job.

Nostalgia hit you in waves as you studied his piece, a comforting and child-like wonder encouraging your eyes to stop their leaking. The canvas as a whole felt warm like summer. You could swear you could hear children’s laughter and the crashing of waves in the distance the longer you looked. 

He’d done exactly as he said he wanted to. His work made you feel something, even amidst the confusing swirl of emotions you were experiencing. His work, because of you had stopped the flow of tears, at least for now. You pulled your still-watery eyes away, meeting Hyunjin’s. The clarity and calm your voice now held was a surprise - to you and Hyunjin both.

“It’s a beautiful piece, Hyunjin,” you said truthfully, casting a glance over your shoulder at the shell-shocked boy still stood by the sink, “Really beautiful.”

You meant it, too - his piece was beautiful.

A part of you had wanted to say more - to tell him in detail how it had made you feel.

But that part of you was gone.

That part of you had been broken off, picked up by Hyunjin himself.

And despite your desire to pretend it was still there, to thank him for the warmth of his work, you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t there, it belonged to him now.

With one last glance at his unchanged, startled expression, you stepped out into the hallway. You didn't know if he could hear you as you spoke your parting words - and you honestly weren't trying to be heard.

Yet, the words left your lips with an unlikely conviction - softened only by the thickness your tears had left in their wake.

"I'll see you next week, Hyunjin."

---

DON'T LET ME LOVE YOU | Chapter 2

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«I’m fucking done with your teasing.»

CONNECTION 📜10.3k | Approx. 44-min. read 🚨Refer to series masterlist for general themes & warnings of this story: Heavy sexual tension and horniness galore, mentions of food, risqué behavior, rendezvous shenanigans, consensual filming of sexual acts, mentions of free use, narratophilia (mc talks about a cnc fantasy, it's not acted upon), aggressive semi-public sex (feat. marking, groping, spanking), sex toys, nipple play, spitting, cumplay/cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

This chapter features NSFW audio purely for the sake of an immersive story experience. Should you choose to listen to it, please proceed at your own risk.

When the clock turned from PM to AM, it was time for your demons to run loose. 

You uncaged them and allowed them to say whatever the fuck they wanted into your ears. Sometimes they would be so mean, whispering things to remind you of what a terrible human being you were, and you let them. You knew you deserved that punishment every once in a while for everything you had done with complete disregard for anything other than yourself.

Some other times, however, they would just sit next to you and relentlessly tempt you. Persuade you into doing things you knew were wrong by an average person’s moral compass. Then again, you were no average person, and your compass was long broken, so you let them coax you, cajole you into turning into an absolute menace. To society, to the people around you.

To yourself.

Much like that night as you were wrapped in a blanket on the swing on your balcony with your peach vodka in your hand. 

The cold, delicious drink was awfully reminiscent of Chris. So sweet. Refreshing. You fucking knew it needed to be consumed in moderation, but the buzz wouldn’t even set in until you downed a couple of glasses, conveniently giving you the false impression that there wasn’t even any alcohol in it. You would only realize you were completely smashed when you attempted to get up, and by then it would already be too late. 

There you were, on your balcony, wrapped in your blanket, thinking about Chris again. You were never not thinking about Chris.

It was a terrifying thing to notice, but ever since the dinner party at his place, something had shifted inside you. You wished you were making it up, but you knew something had changed for him, too.

You darted your eyes from the tar-like night sky to your phone when you heard the notification sound.

Chris I can’t stop thinking about you How the fuck am I supposed to go back now that I know what your skin on mine feels like?

No ‘Hey’, no greeting, nothing—he just got straight to the point. Little did he know, you were pondering the exact same thing while very much drunk. You weren’t even sure if you were drunk on the vodka or Chris at this point, and it was driving you insane that you didn’t know why this was happening to you. He could have very well been a patron in one of the clubs you used to dance at. Would you feel this intensely about him then, too?

You Who says you need to go back? Chris I’m serious You So am I Chris [Typing…] Then where do we go from here?

Where would you go from here? You had already crossed a line, and it seemed like both of you had picked up an instant addiction. To be fair, it was most likely a very strong infatuation for both of you. Maybe it was the fact that he was taken. Maybe it had been just too long since someone else made him cum. And maybe things just got lost in translation afterwards.

Then why the fuck were you instantly excited just thinking about him?

You Are you familiar with the term ‘free use’ Dr. Bang? Chris As in [Typing…] With benefits? You All the benefits you can think of I think we both know your stroker can’t make you cum as hard as I can Just come over whenever you wanna blow off some steam Chris [Typing…] Can I come over right now?

What?

At this hour? Was Casey away? You were already trapped between the blurry lines of tipsy and drunk; you wouldn’t even be able to live up to the expectations you set for yourself.

But you really, really, really wanted to see Chris. Everybody had a weakness, and maybe he had become yours.

You Sure

In about thirty seconds, you heard a faint knock on your door. You almost trampled yourself on the way over how excited you were. You were acutely aware of how ridiculous it was for you to feel this way, but still…

When you opened the door and locked eyes with Chris, neither of you said anything for five seconds. Seeing him in the flesh felt like a cold splash of water on your face, and for some reason, he looked like he instantly came to his senses, as well.

“I have no fucking clue what I was thinking. This looks really bad I know, I swear I’m not actually like this. I just…” Chris let out a defeated sigh, “I really wanted to see you.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach shapeshifted all of a sudden. You were overcome with an intense surge of affection and endearment towards him.

“I know,” you spoke with a smile.

Chris could be many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a bad person. He wasn’t like you. He wasn’t like most people you had known for that matter. He was a human being with flaws, but you knew his heart was in the right place.

Because he was not like you.

“Just so you know, the benefits involve unlimited talking privileges,” you flashed your car keys at him, “How about we go for a drive instead?”

He broke into a smile and nodded. Meanwhile, you grabbed your jacket and handed your keys to him.

“You’re driving,” you instructed him while closing your front door, “Can we stop by a drive-thru? I need me some trash food to sober up.”

You didn’t even give a damn if you were seen or not. If anybody fucking asked, you just called a friend to take you to your beloved burgers because you were in no state to drive by yourself and the damn place wouldn’t deliver at this hour. End of story. 

You cruised on the empty streets for a while. With your head resting on the passenger seat window, you watched Chris’ silhouette as he drove with all his attention on the road. Neither of you talked, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was needed, actually; it enveloped the two of you in a soothing bubble of serenity. Judging by the way he was comfortably sprawled behind the steering wheel rather than assuming his usual tense posture, Chris seemed to be able to breathe easy. It put a smile on your face.

“Do you really know five languages?” Chris asked in the parking lot before munching on his burger. You looked at him with a judgmental ‘I beg your fucking pardon?’ look while slurping on your drink, and responded.

“多分。”

“Was that Japanese?”

“Yyyup.”

He let out a very entertained giggle and continued his questions like he was interviewing you.

“So what are your favorite places around here so far?”

“Librerías y papelerías. Son muy bonitas.”

“How did you even decide on which languages to study for?”

“Qui cherche, trouve, chéri.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m a little turned on right now.”

“야 그만해라.”

His giggles turned into their final and most devastating form, and you laughed along with him. At that empty parking lot, Chris felt like he was making his first genuine connection with someone after what seemed like several forevers. For once, there was no hidden agenda to be in his good graces. No underhanded motive. Nothing about money, power, influence, or whatever the fuck else these people loved around here. Just two people enjoying each other’s company, talking about the most random things they could think of while scarfing down burgers and driving back home at some godforsaken time of the night.

All this time you two were alone. You could have done things if one of you so much as insinuated something, but you didn’t even kiss. It felt like both of you were in dire need of something much more humane than an animalistic impulse. 

And it felt nice for a change.

“Whenever you wanna blow off steam,” you quietly uttered as Chris was about to leave, having considerably sobered up by then, “Just talk to me, okay?”

He gave you a smiling nod and made his way back to his own prison. Talk to you. Talking to you was the easiest thing in the world.

One trip to some fast food joint at 2 AM. That was all it took for you both to form a new habit.

Your night drives with Chris became somewhat regular. Granted, you had much more ulterior motives when you first brought up free use, but this version seemed to be just as nice. One of you would shoot a text to the other, you would meet, and drive to some parking lot to grab a bite, watch the sea, or just talk. That confined space of your vehicles turned into somewhat of a bootleg therapist’s office where you got a little bit closer to each other every time. You were both a little too experienced with reading between the lines, so no excruciating details needed to be depicted. You talked about your love for thistles. He talked about growing up with his grandmother, and how he decided to leave the country for good no postcards from his mom later. 

“Is there a reason you came to Sunderland specifically?”

“The commercials looked really nice,” you shrugged, “I’ve always been a nomad. Wanted to take a stab at settling down by myself for a change. My ex husband didn’t seem to understand the concept very well.”

“Your… your ex husband?”

“I used to be married.”

Even though his eyes spelled “Really?” he didn’t say anything out loud.

You were sort of baiting Chris with moderately outrageous facts about yourself to assess his reactions. Just to confirm whether your intuition about him was true. He was never once judgemental like the most people populating this town. He didn’t shame you. Didn’t break into monologues about morals, or doing the right thing, or whatever. Even when you told him what you used to do for a living.

You were lowkey hoping he would do or say something to disappoint you because otherwise…

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive,” he shrugged instead, “Don’t expect the people here to understand you, though, because they can’t.”

The first commandment of being a nomad was not to get attached. To anything. Anywhere. Anyone. All you did so far was rental exchanges with strangers for your own entertainment, pleasure, or personal gains, and that was it. You didn’t give a fuck about the other person because you were only supposed to look out for yourself. It had always been that way.

That was exactly why connecting with Chris to this extent made you panic for your dear life because you didn’t know what you were capable of doing if you actually fell for someone. You were trying your hardest to tread with caution, but it felt like trying to find your way in pitch-black darkness by only touching the things around you, not knowing what they were or where you were even going.

One night as you were on a quest for the donuts he wouldn’t shut up about, Chris went on and on and on about the beaches back home. The way he talked about it like a kid on a sugar high endeared the crap out of you. With each word he uttered, you felt something swell in your chest.

Something was indeed happening to you, and you fucking hated that feeling.

“Damn, man, did the Ministry of Tourism commission you to be their ambassador or something?” 

“I wish,” he widened his eyes, “That would have been the dream. I love the sea.”

“You surf?”

“I used to.”

“What else do you like?”

“I mean… donuts,” he held up the half-bitten piece of pastry in his hand. You giggled.

“What do you hate then?”

As he was swallowing his bite, Chris creased his brows. He took a long while to come up with an answer, but he was still empty-handed by the end of it.

“No one’s ever asked me that question before.”

“How about I go first then?” you shifted in your seat, “For example, I hate olives.”

“Oh,” he quickly scanned the index of his strong dislikes, “In that case, I hate pineapples in my burger.”

“What the hell do you have against pineapples? They’re delicious!”

“Hey, I’m a pineapple juice lover, okay?” he dramatically emphasized, “There are some things you just should not put in your food is all I’m saying.”

“Fair enough,” you punctuated the pseudo-argument with a smile.

After his laughter faded, Chris’ aura changed colors. He looked way too somber all of a sudden and put the donut back into the box, seemingly having lost his appetite. You examined his face trying to understand what was wrong, but before you could even ask a question, the words spilled from his lips on their own.

“I hate that I have to pretend.”

You grabbed the box, shoved it into the glove compartment, and scooted a little closer to him. You held his chin and turned his face towards yours to look into his eyes.

“Pretend what?”

He finally locked his eyes with you and responded in a tone stuck between angry and sad.

“That I don’t hate things.”

“If you don’t mind me observing,” you rolled the words in your mouth for a little while and finally spat them out, “You’re not sleeping with your wife, are you?”

The only reply you received was a silent shake of the head as he was looking away.

“Because?”

Chris heavily exhaled and leaned into his seat.

“You can’t really bring yourself to touch someone you detest with your entire being.”

“Then why are you even married to this person?” you questioned, “Unhappy people getting a divorce is not unheard of, you know?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He brokenly smiled and turned to his right to look at you so that you knew how sincere his wish was.

“I really hope I can tell you someday.”

You reflected his broken smile back at him and wiped the Bavarian cream clinging to the corner of his mouth. Chris inadvertently flinched when you touched him out of the blue and immediately sat up straight.

“I– I don’t think you understand my frustration levels,” he cleared his throat, “I’m one minor contact away from having an accident, so please…”

You chuckled, “If you’re one minor contact away, how do you deal with your clients every day?”

“You know the profile of my clientele, right?”

“Oh, come on! Surely some hot piece of ass walks into your office every once in a while to rejuvenate her vagina or something.”

“I mean, occasionally, yeah,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “But they’re my patients. I’m not attracted to them.”

“You have a type?”

Chris couldn’t help his smile at your incessant mischievous questioning with that grin slapped on your face, and brazenly responded.

“Yes, I do.” 

Only silence ensued as he was looking at you intently. After several seconds, you pointed your finger at yourself questioningly, and when he nodded, you bust out a cackle.

“So you like ‘em flirty and promiscuous.”

“No, I like ‘em fearless and dangerous.”

Your mutual giggling eventually died down, and you were just looking at one another, attentively examining the little details on each other’s faces. His eyes eventually darted to your lips, reminding him of what they looked like wrapped around him not too long ago, and he felt a warm sensation rapidly spread in the pit of his stomach.

Goddammit…

He was doing so fucking well up until that moment. Chris was beyond frustrated, not because he didn’t get laid, but because he couldn’t touch you. Sexting or masturbating to you wasn’t enough anymore. Feeling you just once wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough for quite some time. He needed to fuck you. He needed to fuck you right here right now. Hard. Fast. Sloppy. Into his backseat. Fuck you until you fogged all the windows of his car. Choke you until you begged for some air. Grope you until you had bruises on you in the exact shape of his fingerprints. Kiss you until your skin was healed. Finger you until your eyes rolled back. Eat your pussy until you arched into his mouth. If only he wasn’t able to smell how wet you were between your legs because now that he could, it was getting way too hard to restrain himself with each passing second.

Just why the fuck did your scent have to be so… fucking… delicious?!?!

He closed his eyes, licked his lips, and took a very deep breath to seemingly calm himself, which was to no avail because as much as he was able to sense you, you were able to notice the strain under his pants, too. You scooted even closer to him and placed your hand on his thigh to gently caress it.

“Should I take this as a compliment then?”

Chris was embarrassingly hard already, and your touch was not helping his situation at all. Why, yes, you should take that as a goddamn compliment because were you even aware how many times he had to touch himself in a single day because of you?

“Please…”

You weren’t able to hold back anymore either. Once the spark from that match was alive, there was no turning back. It immediately turned into an uncontainable fire. You leaned into his reddening ear which looked like smoke was about to come out of it any second now.

“I want you, Chris.”

“Please,” he couldn’t dare open his eyes, “Don’t… Don’t prey on my weakness like that.”

But how could you not when he specifically told you not to in that desperate voice of his? Having had a knack for languages for so long, you knew exactly what that translated into.

Keep going and I will not take any responsibility for what happens.

“Your weakness?” you started sliding your hand up his thigh, “Is that what you call being touch-starved?”

“No, it’s– it’s you,” he thickly gulped, “Please.”

His words said Have mercy, but the fine print said something else. If you stopped right then and there, he was probably going to go back home and wreck everything in his garage into a pile of debris out of sheer frustration. Then wouldn’t having mercy be the complete opposite of what his lips were saying?

“I want you bad,” you placed a kiss on his earlobe, “I know you want me, too.”

“Please.”

You brushed your nose on his cheek, and when you spoke against his skin, your warm breath carried your words right to the pit of his stomach.

“You keep thinking about us, too, don’t you?” you loosened the button of his jeans, “You touch yourself to how incredible it felt in my mouth, don’t you handsome?”

“Please!”

“It’s just you and me. Just two people who deliriously want each other. Nothing more, nothing less.”

And when you finally touched his neck and whispered loudly in his ear with that much air—

“Fuck me, gorgeous.”

“ENOUGH!”

Chris jolted in his seat like he was electrocuted and grabbed your face.

“I’m fucking done with your teasing.”

Ironically enough, your first kiss came way later than the first time you made him cum. It was a kiss. A goddamn kiss, but by god, you had never experienced something this erotically charged before. The way he kissed you felt like he was trying to invade the void in your soul. When you touched his torso under his shirt, you almost charred your skin for his temperature was a million degrees. You were scared he was going to suffer a seizure or something due to acute fever.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Who the fuck told you to be this fucking hot?”

Chris lowered your seat all the way back with one pull of a lever, and you started stripping each other a little too roughly like your life was at stake. He actually managed to rip off several buttons of your shirt and tore the lace of your bra, immediately latching himself to your nipples on sight. He was way too enthused for his own good, and you could feel him gently biting on the pebbled skin while getting rid of your pants in the meantime.

Why the fuck did you love getting tossed around by him this much?

“I want you,” Chris breathed into your neck, “Endlessly.”

You’d had your fair share of steamy encounters. Well, you’d had a lot of people’s share of steamy encounters for that matter, but you were aware of what those entailed. Both parties were always a placeholder. Temporary. Disposable.

Nobody had ever wanted you before.

“Gosh, you’re soaked,” Chris brought his thumb dangerously close to your clit and ogled you with his lips parted.

You were so goddamn slippery and on edge that the way he kept denying you contact annoyed the shit out of you. When you attempted to buck your hips for a little bit of friction, he groped your thighs and pinned you down.

“Behave.”

Sunkissed friendly guys who would get you soaked just with their filthy mouths. 

Well-behaved guys who were into kinky shit behind closed doors. 

Considerate guys who would mark their girls in their beds. 

Laid-back guys who fucking lost their shit when someone else touched what was theirs. 

Turns out, Chris was one of them.

“Don’t fucking act like you don’t wanna bury your face there,” you grabbed his wrists, “Now I’m gonna soak you.”

With one quick reflex, you straddled him and started grinding your clit against his rock hard cock. A throaty groan ripped from his throat. You felt him grope your ass as he made out with your neck. He was gasping for air against your skin. You inadvertently moaned when he landed a spank on your hips. The moment you locked eyes with him again, you saw how content he was with your reaction, biting on his lips with a twisted smile.

“God, you’re into some messed up stuff, aren’t you?”

“What are you gonna do if I am?” Chris shoved his fingers into your mouth, “Do you mind if I use this real quick?”

He loved the way you started swirling your tongue around his fingers, letting out sharp exhales each time you sucked on them. The deeper you took them in your mouth, the louder he moaned.

“I wanna do so many things to you,” you pressed your forehead against his.

“Do fucking everything to me.”

“You said everything,” you slithered your hands behind his nape, “No takebacks.”

“But I can’t wait that long.”

“Fucking use me. I know you’re sick of it,” you grabbed him by his neck, “Eat me alive.”

“Stop talking like that!” he grunted almost in the form of a whine. Meanwhile, you just shamelessly grinned at him.

“Why? Because treating me like a cumdump is disrespectful?”

“STOP!”

He turned you around in his lap, aligned his leaking length with your entrance, and pressed you closer to him so that your back was flush against his chest.

“Sit on it,” he firmly instructed you, “I wanna disappear into you.”

As you lowered yourself, Chris also pushed you down from your thighs, and you almost imploded for the sensation was way too overwhelming.

“Fucking—!”

“I can feel how creamy you are on my cock, fucking christ,” he rested one hand on your breast and spread your thighs further apart with the other, “Ain’t no way I’m not cumming inside.”

Chris felt fucking incredible inside you. He was pounding into you so hard and fast that pornographically sloppy sounds accompanied the echo of both your moans in the car.

“How does it feel sitting on me? As good as you imagined?”

“Fucking better.”

“Feel every inch,” he kissed your neck, “Every… fucking… inch. You did this to me.”

You threw your arm behind you to hold onto his nape and rested your head on his shoulder. Not too long after, he started rubbing your clit with his wet fingers while marking hickeys on your neck.

“Harder! I said eat me alive.”

“The fuck are you doing to me?”

He started thrusting into you with sharper movements, and when you started contracting, it basically spelled his impending doom.

“Don’t clench. Don’t… clench!”

“But I’m gonna.”

“Don’t— FUCK!!!”

Chris barely lasted five minutes. The way he violently spurted inside you, the way he clenched his teeth and moaned against your skin, the way he rode out his orgasm… It was all so hot to witness that you didn’t even give a fuck you didn’t get to cum.

“I’m– I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, “Didn’t that feel really good just now?”

“It really did,” he rested his head against your temple, “I’d forgotten what fucking feels like.”

You carefully got off him and laid down in the backseat as Chris hugged you. You kept caressing his unruly hair until he caught his breath. Unfortunately for you, right at that moment that swelling feeling in your chest tightened, and you felt something click like it got permanently locked inside.

Please don’t let me love you, gorgeous. Otherwise, we’re fucking doomed.

Ever since that day, you started observing Casey a lot more closely whenever you saw her. What she was doing, what kind of a person she actually was, the fucking front she was putting up, and tried to understand the reason why. Chris didn’t say he didn’t want to get a divorce. He said he couldn’t, and you just fucking knew this bitch had something to do with it. 

It was somewhat tolerable when you watched her doing some domestic shit in her garden from afar, waving at each other with fake smiles, but it was straight up making your skin crawl whenever she was right in your face.

“Oh my god, your garden is a mess!” she shrieked pointing at the thistles, and scared the crap out of you, “Do you need a gardener? I can give the number of ours to you. He does a fantastic job weeding out our yard.”

“Oh, this is very much voluntary,” you replied all unfazed, “I’m growing them myself.”

“Really?” she contorted her face in mild disgust, “Why would you grow thistles when you could have beautiful roses and jasmine shrubs instead?”

It took everything in your willpower not to smack her with the pruning shears in your hand.

“I’m a little busy. Did you need something?”

“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to say hi,” Casey flashed a disgustingly sweet smile and waved, “Toodles!”

The second she was at a safe distance, you mumbled to yourself through your teeth.

“It’s not like I’m growing cannabis here, you Sharpay Evans looking-ass cunt.”

“You’re not gonna believe what happened the other night,” Nathalie appeared out of thin air, giving you your second heart attack within a span of two minutes, “Inside. Now.”

She looked somewhat distraught, so you immediately dropped everything and followed her to the kitchen area.

“Is everything okay sweetie?” you took out the gloves from your hand and brought out a pitcher of sangria from the fridge, “Did those bitches do something again? Whose ass do I have to kick?”

“It’s not like that. Sit,” Nathalie fervently patted the couch and went off, “You know the Lees down the street, right?” 

“I think?”

“I was at the farmer’s market on Monday morning, and I ran into Chaeryong.”

“Oh, right, I remember her,” you snapped your fingers, “Contrary to her counterparts, she seems like a nice lady, actually. All quiet and everything.”

“I know, right?” Nathalie widened her eyes and flapped her hand quickly, “Anyway, we sort of started shopping together and then she invited me for brunch.”

“Bitch, you’re brunch-cheating on me?!”

“Will you fucking listen?” she slapped your thigh, “We get to talking, and then all of a sudden she asks me if Jisung and I would be interested in an exclusive party they’re hosting. Apparently, they get together every month.”

“Something like Casey’s pretentious-ass dinner party?”

“I thought so. I say ‘Sure’ and Ji and I drag our asses to the address she’s given me. It’s like this big-ass mansion, right? We’re greeted by a butler. A fucking butler!”

“Whose house even was this?” you furrowed your brows and refilled your glass.

“I don’t know!” Nathalie squealed with gigantic eyes, “I thought it was going to be a restaurant or something at first. Almost everything inside is marble, and then we’re escorted to what I thought was going to be a dining room.”

“It– it wasn’t?”

“Oh, there was some eating going on alright,” she took a very deep breath and punctuated her story, “Bitch, it was a whole-ass swinger party going on inside!”

Your jaw dropped all the way to the floor so fast that there was surely a dent in your hardwood floors now. A swinger party? In fucking suburbia galore? You started to die laughing.

“What the fuck did you guys do?!”

“We freaked out and went home!” Nathalie downed her entire glass, “But somehow that whole scene… It unlocked something for us.”

“How so?” 

“When we got back home Jisung seemed a little too… riled up,” she uttered somewhat bashfully, “Talking about how he would knock a bitch out if they dared touch his girl and shit.”

“And? Did he finally hit that like you wanted?”

Clearly replaying her memories in her head, she melted into the couch.

“God, it was the best sex of my goddamn life.”

You started laughing even louder, but at the end of the day good for your friend, right? Effective proof right there that disasters were indeed salvageable. 

“It’s always the quiet ones, I swear,” you wiped the tears from your eyes, “See? Instead of waiting for the neighborhood deviants to point shit out to you, you should talk to each other more often.”

“I didn’t know how I would ease into it, but I guess anything I bring up will be way too tame compared to this now,” she leaned back into her seat, “So yeah. What have you been up to lately?”

Well, I finally fucked Chris, and it blew my goddamn mind, was what you wanted to say, but for some reason, you couldn’t really bring yourself to reveal this piece of information to your friend yet. Technically, you weren’t lying to her; you just... didn’t bring it up.

“Nothing much,” you smiled at her, “Sangria?”

Nathalie hung out with you until the evening hours, and once you saw her off, you briefly questioned yourself regarding why you chose to hide the whole Chris situation. Were you feeling bad about it? No. Would you do it again? Hell, yeah. Were you aware that it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do?

Well, technically…

Right before a whole-ass debate broke out inside your head, your phone screen lit up with a notification from Chris.

Chris Since I’m kinda bored at the office Bets open How many times did I cum to that ass since the last time I last saw you?

Boom! Your logic? Gone. Common sense? Gone. Immediately. You sprawled on your couch and responded to him.

You Four Chris Eleven I keep replaying it in my head I can still feel you under my touch

You involuntarily bit into your smile because samesies. You were sort of scared to bring it up again, especially after that weird post-sex feeling, but you never stopped thinking about that night, either. It was under control when you were just relying on your imagination, but now that you had actual evidence of what Chris felt like in all your five senses, you were the one who was one minor contact away from having an accident.

You Did I ever tell you That your voice drives me fucking crazy? Let me hear it again [IMG304.jpeg] Here’s a little motivation 

Right after you sent the text involving a picture of your breasts squeezed together, you started waiting for the indicator to change with bated breath. After what felt like hours, there it was again, exciting you way too much on cue.

Chris [Recording audio…]

Your hand reached inside your underwear, and you started caressing yourself with very gentle touches. Just the thought of Chris jerking off to you right now was so fucking hot you didn’t even need to hear the audio itself to get wet.

Then you finally got the notification you were waiting for.

The way he kept hissing, the wet sounds of him stroking himself, the little whimpers he let out every now and then, panting and moaning to an image of you… It was fucking customized porn. Unadulterated, top-notch, cutting-edge, state-of-the-art quality porn made just for you.

Oh, you’re fucking killing me with this.

But the important question was why were you touching yourself all alone in your living room when he could be touching you?

Your wits spectacularly lost the battle against your urges. Shortly after, you found yourself getting ready as fast as you could and driving to his clinic. 

Between you leaving home and arriving at his building, the sky lost complete consciousness and turned from dusk to pitch-black. Even as you were riding the elevator eighteen floors up, your rationality was still nowhere to be found. You caught a glimpse of Chris taking out his white coat through the open door to his office. Very casually. As if he didn’t indulge in some shameless acts not too long ago. Seeing him in the flesh looking like that, your sanity peaced out for good. You watched yourself push the glass door open and walk into that lobby with a ridiculous amount of confidence.

“Good evening, Dr. Bang,” you called out to him.

Chris was stunned to see you right before his eyes as though he somehow manifested you there out of sheer willpower. Before giving him a chance to speak, you continued.

“I apologize for the last-minute consult. I’m aware I don’t have an appointment and it’s late, but I really need this resolved as soon as possible. You see, my boyfriend’s coming to town.”

“Dr. Bang, I’m taking off for today.”

“Uh– Thanks, Stacy. I’ll see you on Monday,” Chris saw the woman behind the information desk off and called you in, “Please come in.”

You followed him into his office, your heart thumping in your ears for some reason. 

“Your boyfriend?” Chris raised his brows questioningly. You, on the other hand, were entertained out of your mind.

“Your receptionist needed something to chew on, no?”

His relief was so obvious from the way he deeply exhaled. It was quite endearing, actually.

“You’re crazy,” he started laughing.

“And you get a kick out of it,” you started walking towards his chair, “Actually, there might really be something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told you’re the best doctor in town for this, so I think you can really help me with my problem,” you sat on his desk and spoke with a solemn voice, “Do you also happen to specialize in sexual health, Dr. Bang?”

Chris was sort of caught off-guard as he was expecting a legitimate consult on his professional opinion. He did his best to try to suppress his laughter and responded as seriously as he could manage.

“I’d like to assure you all my clients leave here figuring out what works for them, and they carry on enjoying a healthy sex life.”

“Oh, I’m not here to figure things out. I know what works for me.“

“Then what’s the purpose of your visit?”

You got up from the desk and made yourself comfortable in his lap. The way you brushed your fingers against his neck gave him goosebumps.

“I have a problem getting enough.”

“Insatiability,” a shadow of a smile passed through his lips, “Well, that’s a first.”

The second you took his full lips between yours, you started melting into each other again. You kept teasing one another with little touches here and there, scared to lose complete control if you did anything more than that.

“Did you miss me?”

“A lot,” Chris spoke against your lips, “You’re like bad drugs I swear to fucking god…”

“Touch me,” you brought his hands around your waist, “I don’t care where. Just touch me.”

The way you started moaning into each other’s mouths gradually more loudly was the signal that this was about to get out of hand pretty quickly. You broke the kiss before either of you started doing something earthshatteringly stupid.

“Down for a little escapade with me?”

“H-here?”

“One of these days, I am gonna fuck you in your office, and you’re not gonna be able to look at this place the same,” you chuckled and fixed the collar of his shirt, “but today is not that day.”

“Where do you wanna go then?”

“Somewhere only we know. Just to be safe,” you started explaining the little plan you concocted, “Come to the parking lot in ten minutes and follow my car. We’ll drive separately. I’ll go in first. You’ll come sometime after me and ask for a single room with a single bed. Just to cover our bases. I’ll be waiting for you by the elevators, Dr. Bang.”

A thirty-minute drive later, there you were. In the lobby of The Ritz in Mayweather. 

You checked into a suite with a sea view and started going through your phone mindlessly until your person of interest stood right next to you to call for an elevator. He didn’t even have to say anything; his sandalwood scent made you keenly aware of his presence anyway.

The second those elevator doors closed behind you you were all over each other. Tongues clashing, bites on lips, tugs of the flesh. You felt his hand slithering up your thigh.

“Finger me.”

Chris hastily turned you around, spat on his fingers, and slid his hand inside your underwear.

“You got twenty three floors to cum,” he pressed your body against the mirror, “Show me what you got.”

He was quietly moaning while making out with your neck as he fingered you. You could feel how hard he was getting on your hips, and you were both fogging the mirror with how heavily you were breathing. 

“Just give it to me.”

“Faster. Right– right there!”

If you had a little more time you could actually cum on his fingers maybe, but you were severely cockblocked by the sound telling you you’d reached your floor.

“Tsk, this won’t do,” Chris licked his fingers, “I told you you got twenty three floors.”

When you walked into the spacious room, the first thing Chris did was pour drinks for both of you to chug. You could feel that his aura was a little different. There was a delicious flicker of danger emitting from him. When you attempted to unbutton his shirt, he stopped you.

“You know what, I have an idea,” he poured himself another drink and pointed at the bed, “Sit.”

You had no clue what it was about him that night that made you want to follow each and every instruction, but you just did. Chris dragged a chair right in front of you and leaned back with one ankle resting on his other knee. Then he took his phone out.

“Do you mind if I get a souvenir?” he playfully smirked, “I think it’s only fair if you returned the favor.”

“Go ahead,” you reciprocated his smile.

“Strip for me.”

He sipped on his drink as you undressed, licking his lips with every piece of clothing you took off.

“Spread your legs wide.”

He zoomed in to get a close-up of your pussy and smiled to himself.

“Lay down,” he continued his instructions, “Now you’re gonna touch yourself and let me watch you,” 

“Can I use aids?”

“Why, of course.”

You reached out for your purse and took out the bullet vibrator you were carrying in your wallet because fuck a lipstick, this was a girl’s best friend.

“Close your eyes,” Chris started speaking in a huskier tone, the giveaway sign of how turned on he was, “I want you to tell me everything you want me to do to you.” 

“Everything?” you softly chuckled, “Sure you’re not gonna get scared?”

“Try me. I haven’t always been a suburbia guy,” he nonchalantly uttered, “I have some conditions, though.”

“I’m listening.”

“If you can do those things to yourself, you’re gonna manifest me on your body,” he savored the taste of the gin on his tongue, “Wanna get your pretty pussy eaten? I’d better see you dripping.”

You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the sense of freedom that transformed Chris into this, but you absolutely weren’t complaining. You made a mental note of each and every thing he said like a meticulous student.

“Want me to make you scream? You’d better stop it with those quiet moans. You act like you don’t actually want me to drill you into that mattress? Just lazy rubs on that clit? That’s all you’re getting from me.”

His voice was commanding. Enthralling. Categorically tantalizing. You couldn’t even remember whether anybody else was ever able to get you this worked up.

“But if you can show me what you exactly want?” Chris carried on with his directions, “Then I’ll show you I can do it way better than you can ever do to yourself.”

He downed half his glass in one go and pressed record.

“You may begin.”

May. He said fucking may like he was giving you goddamn permission to entertain him for his viewing pleasure. 

You wished you didn’t salivate over this cocky side of Chris.

“You and I are out, having drinks. Away from anybody we ever know. Just the two of us,” you started fondling your breasts, “I look a bit too good, and you’re not so bad yourself.”

You felt the soft sound of his amused chuckle tickling your ears. Your hand started sliding down your torso, and you started caressing your pussy with gentle movements.

“There’s a guy in the corner ogling me. He seems like he doesn’t really care that you’re there with me. I excuse myself to the restroom. When I come out, he’s right there, asking for my number,” you dragged your fingers on your tongue to get them wet and started playing with your nipple, “I tell him I’m not interested and come back to the table. Unfortunately for me, you see this exchange.”

You applied more pressure on your pussy, which elicited a moan out of you. Per your instructions, you didn’t try to suppress it. You started rubbing your clit to get yourself wetter.

“You ask me what the hell that was and I tell you it’s nothing. Because it is nothing. I only have eyes for you. Even when you’re not with me, I can’t stop thinking about you. You know that, but you act like you don’t believe me. You’re so gone with jealousy that you see red. You grab me by my wrist and drag me to an alley outside. It excites the fuck out of me.”

“Pay attention to how your clit is throbbing,” Chris spoke with a low voice, “Keep caressing yourself.”

You grabbed the vibrator sitting next to you, clicked on it, and started dragging it on your pussy.

“You shove me against the wall and slide my dress up. It angers you that I have underwear on. You rip it off me and tell me to arch my ass. I say I don’t want to, but you know I do. You know I want you to do completely disrespectful, borderline illegal things to me,” you spread your legs wider and began fucking yourself, “If I told you what I really want you to do, I would sound like an absolute masochist that needs to be institutionalized. You awaken the worst parts of me and I fucking love it.”

Chris let out a loud groan indicative of how he was about to pass a precarious threshold, and it pleased you more than you were pleasing yourself.

“Lick your own juices,” he firmly ordered you, “Then finger yourself.”

You turned off the vibrator and sucked on it as if you were sucking on him to get him to cum. Then you pushed two fingers inside you while pinching your nipples.

“I love the way you fuck, gorgeous. I love how mad you are. I love how you’re overcome with this urge to put me in my place. I fucking love the way you ruthlessly take it out on me.”

You were panting and moaning to this make-believe scenario you depicted for him, and Chris couldn’t really calculate that this sight was going to cause him to cum untouched if he let you keep going. It was just too hot to handle.

“Stop.”

You halted your movements and waited for further instructions while catching your breath.

“Sit up. Look at me.”

You did as you were told and locked eyes with him. He was still filming you.

“How much do you want me?”

“Endlessly,” you echoed his haunting declaration back to him. 

He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. The sight of his precum induced an intense desire in you to just lap at it.

“Open up,” he guided his cock into your mouth, “Suck it deep for me.”

You looked right into the lens while blowing him to give him his ultimate personal porn. The way he was reacting to you with his loud groans was fucking everything.

“My pretty girl,” he placed his hand on your head, “That’s it, choke on it.”

Your enthusiasm suddenly tripled when he called you that. You took more of him down your throat while swirling your tongue around him.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at this,” he threw his head back in pure ecstasy, “Deeper. Take it deeper.”

As he was guiding your head, Chris got a little too excited and started fucking into your mouth. 

“Do it again,” his voice came out as a desperate plea, “Make me cum hard in your mouth again.”

When you started moaning on his cock, that was simply the last straw for him. You felt the warm, bitter liquid shooting down your throat, and once his tremors died down, he stopped the recording.

“That was for me. Now we’re gonna make something for you,” he handed you the phone, “Give me your vibrator.”

“Damn, no ‘please’ or anything?” you sarcastically laughed.

“Did I sound like I was asking? Because I wasn’t.”

Good fucking god, who the fuck was this man because you were losing your whole entire shit over him. You watched Chris strip and nestle himself between your legs.

“No cumming until I tell you to.”

“Because?”

“Because I fucking said so.” 

At this rate, you would jump off that window if he asked you to because it was getting impossible to say no to him.

“Now film me.”

He started caressing your nipples with his thumbs just to watch the way the skin hardened. Zero hurry. Compared to some of your other erogenous zones, your breasts weren’t that sensitive. At least, you had always thought so.

That night you learned what would happen if someone actually took their sweet time working you.

“It’s a shame, really,” he let out a disappointed sigh, “It would be fucking amazing if your cum also squirted out of your nipples.”

Since WHEN are you this forward, my guy?

Chris was paying so much attention to your breasts with excruciating gentleness, kissing them, taking them into his mouth, and drawing slow circles on them with his tongue. He was treating your nipples no different than your clit. Every single movement of him was so unrushed that you felt yourself gradually shift to a realm of pleasure that you didn’t even know existed. He wasn’t doing anything else. No aids. Nothing. Just hyperfixating on your chest area to make you aware of how good this could feel.

After some time, the teasing reached such an unbearable level that you simply started oozing between your legs. You needed him. On you. In you. Behind you. Everywhere. 

Right at that moment, he started descending from your chest with kisses to your ribcage, your stomach, all the way down to your crotch, and stopped in front of your cunt. He wasn’t touching you—his eyes were glued on your folds, admiring it, gawking at how glossy they were because of him. It was like he was waiting for you to snap or something.

“Spit on it.”

You didn’t even know where those words came from; they just forced themselves out of you. Chris paused for a brief moment while looking into your eyes with a knowing smile and then fulfilled your request. 

It indeed pushed you a little closer to snapping.

“Fucking god, eat me. I need to feel your tongue on me,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, “Just lick me. Suck me. Slurp on me until I cum in your mouth.”

He was beyond content with how impatient you were getting, and promptly got to work. You almost lost your fucking mind watching this through the screen, and it was going to be on record forever. This absolute perfection of a man between your legs making out with your pussy. You were instinctively grinding against his face and with every roll of your hips, you were five steps closer to your orgasm. Your legs started shaking not long after.

“Ah, yes. Yes, just like that. Nice and slow,” you felt yourself dissolve on his tongue, “Who the fuck told you to eat pussy this good, my GOD!”

“Told you I’m gonna drive you insane,” he placed a wet kiss on your thigh, “Hold it. I’m not done eating yet.”

That prompted a heated push and pull of who was in charge. You pulled on his hair, he shoved his tongue into your entrance. You scratched his back, he squeezed your thighs. You loudly moaned, he moaned louder into your pussy.

“I wish I could stimulate you from everywhere all at once,” he softly chuckled, “You should see this. You’re soaking the sheets.”

You spread your pussy lips to expose your clit to him and zoomed in on the way he lapped at it with his eyes closed, completely basking himself in your taste.

“So wet,” he pecked your pussy, “Come on, you can give me more.”

At long last, Chris finally grabbed the vibrator, but didn’t turn it on. He just dragged it from your clit down to your entrance and pushed it inside with no pressure, yet it still met resistance.

“You feel that?” he demonstrated how he wasn’t able to go further with a few more pumps, “You’re so aroused, your walls are all swollen.”

He pulled the toy out of you and dragged it back up to a very dangerous zone.

“Clitoris is such a fascinating part of the body, you know,” he started speaking in a beguilingly calm voice, “It’s like there is this annihilate button right out in the open. Who wouldn’t wanna press that?”

He clicked on the vibrator to turn it on, but he still wasn’t pressing it against your clit very much on purpose. All you could feel was the very very faint, feather-like vibrations around it.

“Interesting things, bullet vibrators,” he continued with the same tranquil tone, “They’re supposed to make you feel good, but they don’t have very strong motors. Not to mention you can’t properly fuck yourself with it because of their size. They don’t reach very deep.”

Then he locked eyes with you, and the way he smiled at you was simply demonic.

“That’s why in the wrong hands, they become straight up torture devices, don’t you reckon?”

You were dying. Chris was killing you with his words and ruthless teasing. He kept dragging that damn thing you were cursing yourself to bring out in the first place, and he suddenly discovered a critical spot.

“CHRIS!”

“Oh, found it. Right here under your clit, isn’t it?” he lightly poked his target once, “Want me to work that?

That was a very much rhetorical question because of course he wasn’t going to. He slowly glided the small device currently drenched in your sweet arousal just to bring it down to your entrance again. He pushed the very tip through your swollen hole, fucked a few shallow pumps, and when he met resistance, he moved it back up. His other hand started playing with your nipples again while teasing you to death. You had brought this on yourself—you were the one initiating this arson on your body. You were so sensitive by then that you could feel everything he was doing, and threefold more intensely for that matter. The way he made out with your nipples like he was munching on your clit. The way he contently hummed against your skin like he was getting his dick sucked. The way he slowly slid down the vibrator to that sweet spot right under your clit. Everything.

Then you said the one thing you absolutely shouldn’t have.

“I’m g– I’m gonna cum!”

Chris halted all his ministrations immediately and clicked on the bullet to turn it off. Then he stared you down with a threatening look. 

“I think the fuck you’re not.”

“Chris, please!” you were about to rip your hair out due to unadulterated frustration, “Fucking stop this torture!”

“I don’t think you heard me,” he adamantly declared, “I said no.”

With that, he went back to work you all the way from the top as if you had messed up a one-take shot. Just your breasts again. Just kisses. No contact with your cunt whatsoever. He turned on the vibrator and used it to get your nipples wet with your own juices while pressing the tip on the hardened skin. You wondered if he was trying to see whether you would actually squirt your cum out of them. When your whimpers became too much, he turned the device off and channeled his attention to somewhere else.

He very carefully touched your folds with his thumb, just lightly caressing and avoiding your clit at all costs. He started drawing very slow, languid circles around your clit with the toy as if it was a pen and proceeded to fuck you with very very shallow thrusts again. He kept alternating between the two, but the second your breathing got labored he stopped.

“Stop this!” you pleaded on the brink of tears, “Please stop edging me!”

“But I’m gonna,” he kissed the soft skin right above your pussy, “I’m gonna edge you. I’m gonna edge myself. I’m gonna keep on edging until one of us fucking loses it.”

He turned the vibrator on and swirled the faint vibrations on your outer labia first. Then your inner labia. Then around your clit. Then finally… 

Fucking finally he pressed it on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

“Hold it.”

“Chris, yes!”

“Hold it.”

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“I… said… hold… it.”

His lips might have been saying one thing, but Chris forced you to cum very violently by aggressively fucking you with the toy and sucking on your clit, knowing damn well there was no way in hell you would be able to hold it. That wasn’t an orgasm you experienced.

You fucking combusted and shattered into a million pieces.

“What did I just tell you?” he disapprovingly tsked, “You don’t know how to listen. There should be consequences for what you’ve done, don’t you reckon?”

Your brain completely reset. You didn’t know who you were or where you were anymore.

“What– what consequences?”

“Shh, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Chris hovered over your body, “I just want a kiss. Taste yourself on me just like you wanted.”

This was the consequence? Why, by all means, you could give him all the kisses he asked for. 

He placed the phone that slid from your hand on the nightstand, still recording for that matter, so that you were both in the frame, then shifted you on top of his body. He was kissing you long and deep while playing with your tongue and sucking on it. You were feeling yourself slowly resurrecting.

“I’m not gonna do anything, I swear. I’ll only grind against you,” he started moving his hips, “I just want some friction for myself.”

Chris continued with his kisses while grinding, but that didn’t last very long. When he aligned his cock against your entrance, you chortled.

“That feels like more than just friction.”

“Just the tip, baby. Come on.”

Oh, hell no.

This was supposed to be a sweet escape. You were doing extremely obscene things to each other, but when he uttered that damn word, the dynamics suddenly changed. 

The lock in your chest was trapped under a deadbolt now.

“A little more,” he moaned into your mouth, “I only want a little more.”

He turned you around and engulfed your body under his, then you felt him completely sink into you with one sharp push.

“Chris…”

“Fucking need you,” he threw your legs on his shoulder, “I won’t cum inside, I promise.”

He could feel how thick your walls still were, still slightly contracting from your earlier orgasm. Warm. Wet. Perfectly wrapped around his cock like a custom-made sleeve. Then at long last, what he was doing finally hit you and you started laughing.

“You’ve been after making a cum-filled wreck out of me all along, haven’t you?”

Chris looked deep into your eyes with an absolutely maniacal grin and whispered.

“Bingo.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“You should manipulate me more often.”

“You should fuck me more often,” he caressed your cheeks, “You should fuck me all the time.”

“Then fill me up. To the brim. I wanna feel your cum leak out of me.”

“No leaking. You’re gonna keep it inside, yeah?” he kissed you again, “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

He started fucking you with a much faster rhythm and shoved his fingers into your mouth. When you started sucking on them in the exact same way you sucked on his cock, Chris let go and squirted his load all over your walls. 

“Inside, baby. Keep it inside,” he grabbed his preferred assault weapon one last time, “Look into my eyes.”

Without driving you up a wall this time, he pressed the vibrator right on target, under your clit to make you cum on his cock. You were still pretty sensitive from earlier, so it didn’t take long for him to hit the nail on the head. Chris stopped the recording and collapsed right next to you. When he pulled out, as much as you wanted to keep it inside, you leaked a little. He brushed his finger on the white liquid to taste it.

“It’s much better when we’re mixed together,” he brought his finger in your mouth, “See for yourself.”

It was indeed much better. The aftercare involving lots of hugs and kisses was very much worth almost passing out.

“Do you think I should get this mole removed?” you pointed at the freckle on your chest.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It looks so sexy on you,” Chris placed a kiss on it, “I love it.”

“Did you know our pristine neighborhood has a swinger’s club?”

“A what?”

You bust out laughing at his reaction and turned to your side to face him.

“Yeah, Nat told me.”

“Who knew? maybe this town isn’t so boring after all.”

“So they never asked you to join, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Would you have been interested at all if they had?”

“God no,” he furrowed his brows, almost slightly nauseated, “Certainly not in my current situation.”

“What do you mean current?”

He heaved an annoyed sigh, “Even if we were both willing parties, such a scenario wouldn’t be a turn on with Casey.”

“Why not? You don’t find her sexually attractive?”

“Sexually, morally, as a human being overall.”

You couldn’t help the snort that came out of you because samesies. Then all of a sudden, the way he worded it caught your attention and you pulled yourself closer to Chris.

“So it’s not that you wouldn’t wanna do it, but it’s who is involved,” you knowingly smiled, “Would you want to share me with someone else?”

There was a total blue screen on Chris’ face. No thoughts, head empty, just thinking about the lewdest scenarios you just sparked in his mind. What if people were in the room to watch him please you beyond humanely possible? What if they listened to your screams of pleasure when you begged him to give you more? Or stop stimulating you anymore? What if you fucked all night long and people touched themselves to the hottest fucking sight they’d ever witnessed? What if it was so damn seductive that they started fucking each other?

His throat got super dry all of a sudden.

“What uh– What did you have in mind?”

“We can talk about it,” your smile grew wider, “but I have different priorities. I was promised twenty four hours of fucking.”

You straddled him and lowered your body on his. Even though neither of you fully recuperated yet, you didn’t want to be away from him for one second.

“Spend me, gorgeous.”

“I think I enjoy your insatiability problem a bit too much,” he smiled into your lips.

Right when you started another round, your phone screen flashed in your purse with a text notification.

Minho Call me when you can This bitch is sus af

«TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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OH MAN..

the words i have to say, the thoughts, times i had to stop reading to collect myself... oh man. oh fuck. Aspen, my friend i know we were joking and all but that bonus chapter of me kicking San's ass may need to be a thing because what the fuck? a whole ass married man supporting his ex girlfriend? no woman would allow that? i'm sure there may be one but me? oh no buddy. that screams something else to me and that would be enough due to my trauma to want to be done. second san? sir? you better unhand her? like? you lost the right to be mad after you cheated and chose to be a complete an utter dumbass over someone who loved you for someone who is gonna cheat on you now cause karma is a thing buddy and man i would PAY to see that. absolutely. (i swear i will do anything to see that happen) but also Felix? you literal angel. the sweetest angel ever. San can kick rocks and shit.

Part Five - Bitter

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl​ @propertyoftoru

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

"To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently." "He simply couldn’t pick one over the other."

🌹warnings: borderline cheating mention, embarrassing interactions between friends, alcohol (casual mention, though hinted at as a potential coping mechanism), intimidation as abuse (merits is grabbed), verbal abuse/name calling, general angst, unprocessed rage and unresolved trauma, general anxiety

🌹w/c: 7.5k

🌹a/n: Not only have I returned with an update on Prove Me Wrong (and our beloved Sunshine boy), but wowee I was NOT skimping on the heavier topics/angst this go around. I hope that despite it being not as lighthearted of a chapter, that you still enjoy this update. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled sweetness eventually. Promise.

I also couldn’t help but include bestie Jisung more in this chapter because I’ve lowkey been neglecting this lil rascal. xoxo -Aspen

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender with a smile full of sunshine and a heart made of gold, had carried you to bed last night.

And, as expected, your best friend had not shut up about it all morning.

“I was not drooling!” Your squealed, landing a firm smack to Jisung’s arm - though, despite the force with which you’d struck him, his shoulders still shook with laughter.

“You definitely were,” he managed between gasps, his eyes wrinkled shut as he threw his head back, “I can text Felix right now and ask him if his shoulder was wet?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, burying your reddened cheeks in your hands.

Jisung hadn’t stopped teasing you about your unexpected slumber - or the subsequent events - from the moment you’d woken up. You groaned as he continued cackling next to you on the couch, tears welling in his eyes from just how funny he’d found the entire situation.

The humor, however, was lost on you as your skin flushed deeper into a concerning shade of crimson.

“Fine, fine,” Jisung said, still grinning from ear to ear as he waved his hands in front of himself, signaling his temporary surrender, “But you were definitely drooling.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rubbing your heated cheeks in an attempt to urge them back into their former, pre-Jisung fueled embarassment shade.

He chuckled again, winking as he stood up to fill a mug of coffee and leaving you alone on the couch - a frustrated pout on your lips. You sighed as you planted your chin atop your palm, elbow on the armrest, and Felix on your mind.

Had he really carried you up to the apartment as Jisung had claimed? You weren’t sure what all was true of his recollection or how much was simply an exaggeration at your expense. You should probably thank Felix, regardless of how you’d gotten into the apartment, after he’d managed to handle your unconsciousness with a gentleness that never once roused you.

Though you were a bit too ashamed at the prospect of the potentially true, humiliating contents of the latter half of your evening.

It wasn’t too terrible, though - at least, from what you remembered before your little catnap, things had gone well for Felix and Ryujin.

There it was, your opening. The way to reach out without being completely awkward. You pulled out your phone, shooting Felix a quick text to ask if he’d heard from her yet. 

As you waited for a response, Jisung returned with a steaming mug of coffee - with an added splash of cream, just as you liked it - holding it out to you carefully with both hands. “Peace offering,” he explained as you took it from him, rolling your eyes as you read the statement on the side.

World’s Okayest Author.

It had been yet another gag gift from Jisung after you’d initially discovered your love for cringey, cheesy statements on ceramic cups.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know that right?” you murmured, raising the slightly-bitter drink to your lips before sipping it slowly.

Jisung beamed, obviously doubting that you’d ever stop loving him at this point, “Yes, I’m so unbelievably lucky my beautiful, smart, clever, best friend who definitely drooled on Felix’s shoulder loves me.”

Coffee got caught in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you held the mug out for Jisung to grab. He did quickly, shifting from poking fun to fussing over you in an instant.

“Breathe!” he commanded, his brows shooting up high enough to be obscured by his bangs. He set the mug down on the table in a rush, patting your back as though you were a baby that needed burped.

“Jesus, Ji,” you sputtered, residual throat-clearing interrupting your words as you slammed your fist against your sternum, “Peace offering, my ass.”

“I’m sorry!” he whined, firm taps shifting into gentle circles being rubbed between your shoulders, “It was just right there, I had to!” 

“Had to?” you croaked, swallowing hard to soothe the sudden scratchiness your choking episode has caused.

“C’mon, sweets,” he pleaded, “If I were the butt of these jokes you’d still be laughing.”

You hated just how true, and just how fair his statement was.

With a disapproving shake of your head, you let out a long sigh in lieu of an answer. Jisung simply grinned before singsonging out a satisfied, “I knew it,” placing the mug back into your hands and ignoring the daggers you shot his way.

You shook your head, saved from admitting defeat by the chime of your phone. You picked it up with one hand, the other holding your mug to your lips as you took a long sip and relished in the way it soothed the irritation from your near-suffocation.

Felix☀️: yeah, she messaged me to ask if i’d gotten home alright!

Felix☀️: i told her i did and then we said goodnight. 

Felix☀️: wait…should i have done that? did i mess that up?

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh that escaped your lips, Felix’s doe-eyed expression of panic materializing so vividly in your mind that you barely even noticed Jisung announcing he’d be right back. 

You shot him a small wave, still smiling as you replied quickly to the messages, hoping to avert the crisis that was a spiraling Lee Felix.

You: Felix, deep breath. It’s fine, goodnight is definitely not dealbreaker.

The three dots appearing and disappearing as the spirited boy second, third, and fourth guessed himself had become something of a signature in your conversations - evoking a certain fondness - completely certain he was chewing his lip and running his hand repeatedly through his fluffy, blonde locks. You: Whatever it is, you can just say it Felix.

The dots disappeared one final time, before waving along for a solid thirty seconds. You felt your shoulders sink as you read his words, feeling every shred of your dignity evacuate your being.

Felix☀️: did you sleep alright?

Felix☀️: sounded like a rough dream for a bit there

Felix☀️: I stuck around until I thought you were settled, but i was pretty worried

Your heart dropped in your chest, a surge of guilt mostly to blame, though gratitude was taking the small remainder of that accountability. You: You didn’t have to do that, Felix.

You: But, thank you. I’m okay, sometimes my subconscious just…hurts.

Explaining these recurring dreams to Felix was harder than you’d have imagined. He was so gentle and soft - radiating joy and peace. You didn’t want to dim his shine, especially not as he basked in the glow of Ryujin contacting him.

Felix☀️: you sure?

Felix☀️: you can talk to me if you want to

Felix☀️: but no pressure!!!

The small smile that seemed to accompany conversations with Felix crept back onto your face, pushing the anxiety over explaining yourself far into the background. His messages were so…him. Prone to rambling, yet thoughtful and well-meaning with every tangent he went off on. If only he knew that you were the one feeling nervous about how you were affecting him this time around.

You: I’m really okay, but…noted, thank you. 

Not even in the furthest recesses of your imagination would you have figured Felix for the intuitive type, his bumbling nature giving off much more of a clueless vibe than one capable of such inferences.

Yet, here you were, so shell-shocked you nearly dropped your phone - and your coffee - before you’d gathered yourself enough to even attempt to formulate a reply.

Felix☀️: does it involve how you feel about love?

Attempt had been the key word in your mental monologue, seeing as your fingers flew across the keys in the most avoidant, juvenile way imaginable.

You: I don’t wanna talk about it.

Less than a second later, Felix had responded. You could picture him staring at his phone, overthinking the fact that he sent a message so personal. Realizing the troubled thoughts he must’ve been having made you feel a bit ashamed of your own terseness.

Felix☀️: that feels like an answer

Felix☀️: but i won’t push, okay?

Felix☀️: just know i AM here for you, if you ever change your mind

The fact that he still managed to be so understanding, so comforting so…Felix about it all, only served to make the way you’d answered him feel even more shameful.

You: Thank you.

It was all you could think of to reply with, setting your phone beside you before leaning your head back against the couch - staring up at the ceiling blankly. You couldn’t stop cursing yourself internally, wishing you’d met Felix’s softness with something a bit less abrasive.

At least he didn’t seem too terribly torn up over it - you seemed to have that covered on your own at this point, anyways.

Right on cue, with true chaotic-best-friend energy, Jisung barged back into the apartment, his face pale as he held a bright-blue flier in his hand. “Ji?” you asked, sitting upright on the couch to search his eyes for anything that could explain his offputting silence.

He stepped forward, blinking rapidly before handing you the innocuous paper, barely managing to whisper, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot…”

“What are you talking about, Ji?” you asked, keeping a nervous smile plastered on your face as if it would change whatever he was going on about into something unworthy of his atypical quietness.

You flipped it over, bold black text sending an immediate chill down your spine. 

Bi-Annual Author’s Gala.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up at Jisung with genuine fear in your eyes, his own expression softening into worry - it was probably best that only one of you were in crisis at a time, and you definitely took precedence when it came to this particular event.

As the name stated, the Bi-Annual Author’s Gala was a party hosted by popular publishers all around the region once every two years - serving both as a social mixer and an award ceremony for authors from all different publishing houses. 

And it was tonight.

This, on its own, wasn’t much cause for concern. You were, in fact, an author and it would be far from your first time in attendance of the Gala. The biggest concern each year was typically finding a dress that suited the occasion in time, or making sure that your makeup wouldn’t photograph poorly should you be given an award.

This year, however, the hurdle you needed to overcome was something you’d never had to face before; attending alone.

You’d attended last year’s event with San.

You’d purchased a plus-one ticket in advance, because you certainly hadn’t predicted San leaving you before the next Gala.

There were going to be two seats saved under your name, and one body to fill them.

“Ji, fuck, you gotta go with me!” you whipped your head up from the flier, ignoring the painful sting that always came along with remembering anything at all about San.

Jisung couldn’t look you in the eye - the surefire tell that he was about to tell you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“Honey, Minho and I are leaving for Jeju in like…two hours, remember?” he spoke in a startlingly soft and serious voice, still unable to meet your eyes, “It’s our first vacation as a couple, I can’t cancel on him…” he chewed his lip, finally sparing you a fleeting moment of eye contact.

You understood, of course, but that didn’t stop your veins from running cold at the prospect of explaining to everyone there why you had two seats, and no plus one. 

Understanding did nothing for the fact that you had less than eight hours to find not only an appropriate dress for such an event, but a date who could also dress accordingly. You must have been wearing your dread in every facet of your being, because Jisung was quick to start spouting suggestions.

“Would your publisher let you skip out? Claim any award on your behalf?”

You shook your head, recalling how she’d reacted when you’d tried to call out of a book signing, let alone an actual award ceremony.

“I highly doubt it, Ji. You know how she is…” you trailed off, your lower lip trembling as you took a shaky inhale.

“Oh! Ask Felix, maybe?” he chirped, tilting his head to the side with the first shadow of a smile he’d worn since reappearing with that cursed, blue paper.

That…wasn’t a terrible idea.

You pulled your phone out, typing and retyping your message until your shaky fingers spared you any typos.

You: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

You wondered if Felix would find amusement in knowing you were nervous on the other end of the phone, just as his through-text stammering tickled your funny bone. Such thoughts were quickly cut short as your heart leapt into your throat.

You finally understood what people meant when they’d complain about how nervous appearing and disappearing typing cues made them.

Felix☀️: was gonna go out for some drinks with ryujin

Felix☀️: why? is everything okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself that encroaching on his first actual outing with - as he oftentimes called her - the love of his life was acceptable. That your personal emergency outweighed the potential of his happiness.

The thought itself felt like poison, making you nauseated at the fact you’d even considered it. It felt almost as wrong to lie to Felix, but it was for the future of the relationship you’d promised to help him secure. 

You were sure that, should he ever find out the truth, he’d forgive you. Felix was certainly the type to brush something like this off if he knew your heart was in the right place.

You: Yeah, all good. Have fun, be yourself. Tell me all about it later?

You sighed as you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Jisung’s expectant eyes before shaking your head. His expression fell instantly back into one of guilt and concern. The way his jaw clenched showed you that he was wracking his brain for any other possibility.

You didn’t need him to say a word to know that he was likely out of ideas.

There was no ill will towards Jisung, just as there was none towards Felix. Plans with someone you loved were important to those who still believed in it’s magic, after all. The only bitterness your heart held was towards San, and towards love itself.

None of this would be a problem if you simply had never loved San in the first place.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jisung asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

Your best attempt at a smile likely appeared more tight-lipped and forced than reassuring, though you did your best to come across as much more composed than you felt.

“Yeah, I’ll survive, Ji,” you nearly whispered, nodding your head before lightheartedly pushing him away, “Now, go pack. I don’t want Minho to blame me if you’re late for your departure, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, giving a half-hearted grin at your attempt to diffuse the tension, “Okay, sweets. Send me outfit photos? I can at least help with that.” 

With that, Jisung leaned forward and pecked the top of your head affectionately, casting a melancholy glance over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the apartment.

All there was to do now was tear apart your closet, put on your makeup, and try not to cry.

You were only confident in the first two.

Time was of the essence, so exhausting your wardrobe was the only option in order to find suitable attire for the Gala. It would be so much easier to head to one of the boutiques uptown, allowing one of the overly helpful employees there to play dress-up-author-Barbie with you.

But you only had two hours, and couldn’t risk being late and alone.

So, you’d spent ten minutes pulling every article of clothing resembling formalwear from the closet, spreading them out on your bed before snapping photos to send to Jisung for approval.

You sat at your vanity, pulling your hair back from your face to apply a thin layer of foundation and a generous layer of bronzer to your cheekbones, a necessary effort to combat the washout due to cameras flashing. A bit of a dusty-rose blush, simple flicked eyeliner, and a shock of red lipstick topped off the entire look.

You had to admit, you looked at least ten times more put together than you felt.

The chiming of your phone brought you to your feet, nearly jumping across the room to check what you had rightfully assumed was Jisung’s verdict.

Dumb Squirrel: honey, are you serious?

Dumb Squirrel: that pretty black dress and you considered other options?

Dumb Squirrel: I taught you better than that???

You rolled your eyes, not quite appreciating his humor as much as you would whilst under such immense levels of stress.

You: Unprovoked???

Dumb Squirrel: Minho wants to see your makeup before he agrees with me.

You snapped a quick photo, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression despite how pointless it felt to waste time with selfies, but you knew better than to argue with Jisung after asking him for advice.

Dumb Squirrel: first of all, i am offended

Dumb Squirrel: you hide this bad bitch in pajamas every time we hangout

Dumb Squrrel: rude

You groaned, brows furrowing as you replied to him quickly. You: Help me now, compliment me later.

Dumb Squirrel: yeesh, grouchy.

Dumb Squirrel: i get it though, so i forgive you

Dumb Squirrel: Minho said, quote, “black dress, match some heels. sleek, sexy and professional”

Dumb Squirrel: he also insists that i apologize because “this isn’t a time to joke” and to inform you he called me an idiot on your behalf

For the first time since your seemingly endless panic, the ghost of a true smile appeared on your face. You had always known there was a reason you approved of Minho outside of Jisung’s happiness. You: Thanks, both of you. Gotta finish up now, message you when I arrive?

Dumb Squirrel: you got it sweets. good luck!

You set your phone down on the vanity, picking up the elegant black number from your bed. It was a simple dress, enough to look dressed up without overdoing it. The sleeves were full length, clinging tightly to your arms despite exposing both of your shoulders. The neckline was modest, resting in a slight curve against your sternum, the skirt floor length - flaring out just enough to flow - with a slit up to your mid thigh. 

After slipping it on and struggling with the zipper alone, your reflection told you that Ji and Minho had been absolutely correct in their recommendation - your resolve only solidifying as you took Minho’s advice about a pair of black pumps. A few pieces of dainty silver jewelry, and an understated black clutch were all that was required to give you an air of poise that - until now - you weren’t sure you were actually capable of.

You’d have no idea this was a last-minute effort if you weren’t, well, you.

Sitting down once more at the vanity, slipping your phone into the clutch, you twirled a piece of hair around your fingertip. You didn’t have the time to do anything fancy, but knew that your unstyled hair would definitely not blend in with the aura of sophistication you’d managed to exude with everything else adorning your body.

The time restriction may have turned out to be a good thing, you thought to yourself. Straightened hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail tied the whole look together in a way that you were sure Jisung would gush about for weeks after seeing the photos from the event.

Date or not, you looked absolutely fantastic - and you knew it. That confidence exuded from your features, even when you’d simply gaze blankly into the mirror. It was that same overwhelming aura one would get watching perfume commercials; despite how disinterested the actress may appear, your attention was always pulled for at least a moment.

You gave yourself one last glance, spritzing on a light perfume before making your way to the door. You’d had the sense to call a cab in advance, thanking whatever deity may have been watching over you as you spotted it pulling up from halfway down the stairs.

Another quick prayer of gratitude as the interior of the cab didn’t smell horrible, though this was likely due to the extra fee you’d paid to have a nicer, newer model pick you up.

The driver politely greeted you, nodding as you prattled off the address quickly. He seemed to be a man of few words, yet another thing you could only accredit to a guardian angel or impossible luck.

The ride was rather uneventful, save for the occasional bit of traffic at stoplights, and you’d managed to arrive at the venue with five minutes to spare. You snapped a quick photo outside of the venue, sending it to Jisung so he’d know you’d made it safely.

You: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

You shut your phone off then, not wanting to risk it going off during any announcements for the awards, slipping it back into your clutch to avoid the temptation to distract yourself with messages or social media. 

Your publicist spotted you from the entrance, waving her arm above her head to draw your attention. You stepped towards her, plastering on your best smile as you greeted her warmly. “Nari, good to see you,” you spoke softly, ghosting your lips above her cheeks rather than actually greeting her properly - the alternative being to stain her makeup red.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed, audibly relieved as she returned the gesture, “I hadn’t heard from you all day and had honestly begun to worry you’d forgotten.”

“I would never,” you lied, turning your head as your name was called by one of the photographers.

You let the corners of your lips raise as you parted your lips, the look Nari had taught you under the name pleasantly surprised to be photographed. It sounded dumb when she’d first told you about it - though the shots, and how gentle and candid you ended up looking in them, quickly won you over to her side.

“You came alone?” Nari asked quietly, speaking through her teeth behind her own gentle smile. “Mhm,” you hummed softly, turning towards a different photographer to allow them all the shots they wanted. It wasn’t as it would be as an actress or musician - there weren’t really paparazzi to speak of. This was more…documentation for online profiles, potential headshots for book covers, and coverage for the sake of equal representation amongst the arts.

Despite your hopes that Nari would leave the topic alone, it seemed you’d used up your luck reserves for the day.

“Didn’t you book a plus one?” she mumbled haphazardly, trying to keep her expression calm as she wondered how, as your publicist, she’d explain away the empty seat.

“Two years ago, yes,” you reminded her, hoping your discomfort wouldn’t be apparent in any of the photos.

“You couldn’t have canceled?” she asked, sounding more and more urgent despite speaking through a closed jaw.

“Didn’t cross my mind,” you dodged, allowing your face to shift from pleasant to neutral as the photographers gathered around the next author to arrive, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Nari sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head, “In general, no. As your publicist, yes.”

You frowned, turning your body to face her. You did your best to hide your displeasure - it was embarrassing enough for you without Nari reminding you that she’d have to field questions about your dateless award show from fans of your books.

“Nari, I really don’t see what the problem is, people show up to events without an escort all the –”

You were cut off by a blossoming smile on Nari’s face, visible relief in her eyes as she stared behind you.

“That wasn’t funny, you really had me going,” she scolded, glancing at you only momentarily before allowing her focus to return somewhere behind your shoulder. “Nari, what are you talking about? I meant it when I said I came –” you were cut off by an all too familiar throat clearing behind you.

“-- alone…” you trailed off, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rising as a heavy feeling of dread made itself at home from head to toe - though it seemed to constrict your heart in your chest. “Hey,” a familiar set of sharply angled lips spoke quietly. His jaw - one that you could vaguely recall pressing your lips against once upon a time - clenched awkwardly, the man attached shuffling in place. His sheepish eyes landed upon yours, holding a strong uncertainty that only seemed to increase the contrast with the blatant shock you wore.

You swallowed hard - fight and flight playing the highest-stakes game of chicken you’d ever considered in your mind. 

Both of these options felt like a nightmare. 

Punching him in front of cameras? Tempting, and Jisung would probably ask you to sign a copy - probably even treat you to a fancy and expensive dinner after bailing you out on an assault charge. Though, as far as PR went, it was a horrible decision - having an angry publicist was never a smart choice.

Running off was just as enticing, the desire to head home without looking back - finishing a bottle of wine alone in a pretty dress - sounded absolutely cathartic. Though, Nari would have to explain your sudden disappearance - which also translated to having an angry publicist. You asked the only question you truly felt like you needed answered in that moment, though you couldn't quite recognize your voice's newfound hollowness as your own.

“San, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Lee Felix was not the type to check his phone on a date. If anything, he was the type to leave it in his truck, devoting the entirety of his attention to the person sitting before him. 

That had been his intent this evening - to sit across from Ryujin and finally engage in meaningful conversation. To smile and laugh with her as he filled in the blanks he’d so desperately craved the answer to as he’d crushed from afar. To lose himself in her eyes as she spoke about her passions.

Yet, completely out of character, Felix had forgotten to take his phone out of the pocket of his tight slacks. He, of course, had apologized when it interrupted their small talk, quickly silencing the ringer before returning to his previously enraptured state.

Even further from his typical behaviors, Felix’s curiosity about what awaited him beyond his lockscreen had stuck in his mind. So much, in fact, that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at the screen whilst Ryujin was in the restroom.

Confused only slightly covered Felix’s reaction when he opened your text, swallowing hard to prevent his jaw from dropping at the sight of the photo attached;

#1 Love Hater💔: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

He was at least 99 percent certain that he wasn’t the intended recipient, yet everything about your message sparked question after question in his mind. What Gala were you referring to? If he were to glean anything from your attire and more-glamorous-than-usual makeup, it was some sort of formal event. Was this why you’d asked him about his plans for tonight? He felt his stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of you alone at something so…so utterly not like the you he knew. So formal and gaudy. 

Felix had grown accustomed to seeing you dressed comfortably in oversized sweaters, a messy bun or completely unstyled hair framing your barely-made-up face. 

Felix had only ever seen you in casual settings; your apartment, his truck, the food court, and the art studio. You looked beautiful, and Felix could acknowledge and appreciate the effort you’d put into your appearance for whatever this “Gala” was. 

He’d always found your features to be pretty, though, even with your face smooshed against the window of his truck as you slept soundly.

To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently. He simply couldn’t pick one over the other.

Ryujin still hadn’t returned, allowing his mind to continue questioning every aspect of the message you’d sent. He could only put so many pieces together on his own, though, and found himself increasingly antsy as he wondered how you were holding up - out of your element, and alone.

He’d shot you a quick text, trying to see how you were doing. He couldn’t help but frown as the checkmark stayed faded, not even registering as delivered. Was your phone dead? If it was, how could you call anyone if you needed something? He quickly scrolled his contacts, finding Jisung and typing out a message before he could even consider other options. Felix: what’s the gala?

Ryujin came back out then, giving Felix a brilliant smile that instantly made him wish he’d never seen your message. He was truly happy to have this time with her, finally getting the chance to become more than the guy who makes her drinks, yet here he was - worrying about you.

“Sorry I took so long, there was a line,” she explained before sliding back into her chair, lifting her wine glass to take a small sip.

“No worries,” Felix assured, his typically shining grin dimmed significantly as he tapped his foot subconsciously beneath the table. 

If Ryujin noticed a change in his behavior, she didn’t let on, launching right back into where she’d left the discussion.

Though once enamored by every word that left her lips, Felix barely registered Ryujin’s recollection of her previous job as a secretary before moving on to her current position as an executive assistant. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Felix was doing his best to nod and smile attentively, despite the way his fingertips were twitching with the desire to pull up his phone and get the answers he craved. 

Ryujin finished her story, looking at Felix expectantly as she took another sip of her wine. Shit, did she ask me something?

His palms began to sweat, another buzz against his thigh only serving to worsen the clamminess. He gave his best attempt at a remorseful smile, standing from his seat to give her a slight bow of apology.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?” His eyes were wide, and it seemed to suddenly register with Ryujin that something was going on with him - that his attention had been elsewhere for the last several minutes. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her kind expression barely faltering as she read the look in his eyes as concern, “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” Felix replied with uncertainty, half of his mouth upturning into a crooked smile. Ryujin nodded, seeming to understand fully that this was something important to him - why else would his mood have shifted so suddenly?

Felix bowed again, though this time from gratitude, before hastily walking off in the direction of the outdoor patio. He pulled his phone out so quickly that he’d nearly dropped it, his level of worry causing him to mess up his own lock code not once - but twice.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): howd you know about the gala?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its some fancy writing award thing i think tho?

Felix’s brow furrowed so deeply into his head that there would likely be residual wrinkles for a few minutes after he finally relaxed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Felix: and she went alone? 🙁 what if she wins?

Felix: accept an award alone? 😭

Felix’s guilt from earlier was on the fast track to evolve into unadulterated shame. He wondered why she’d have kept this from him…sure, he was busy, but her secrecy almost gave him further cause for concern.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): yeah…i’m on jeju with Minho rn

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she said you were busy but if you arent?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she’d appreciate someone there, i think

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): at least to save her from her publicist’s wrath

Felix sighed hard enough that it could’ve easily been mistaken as a frustrated groan. He was far from being irritated though - uneasy due to his lack of understanding, maybe, but not frustrated.

Felix: why would her publicist hound her?

Felix: was she not supposed to be alone?

Felix’s confusion only grew stronger, every answer to his questions revealing at least two more things he didn’t understand. 

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its not really my place

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): all i can say comfortably is that she’d planned on a plus one

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): and some shit happened

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): emphasis on shit

Felix’s heart sank. On one hand, you hadn’t shared this information with him yourself. If he acted on it, would you be upset with him for prying? Upset with Jisung for sharing? On the other, from what he gathered, tonight might be painful for you - especially if you’d planned on someone special being by your side for it.

Felix: you really think she’d want me there?

Felix decided to double check, despite Jisung’s earlier statement that you’d likely appreciate a friendly face. If anyone would be able to predict your reactions closest to complete accuracy, it would be your best friend.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): i know she would.

That’s when Felix made arguably the toughest decision of his adult life, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he reapproached the table - Ryujin’s momentary happiness fading as she recognized the look on his face.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to remain casual despite the sudden intensity in Felix’s gaze.

“Please forgive me,” he started, though his voice sounded much more resolute than a plea for forgiveness should, “There’s an emergency with one of my friends, I really have to go.”

Ryujin blinked a few times, nodding her head before giving him a sweet smile - disappointment barely visible as she responded calmly, “I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Felix asked hopefully, pulling his blazer from the back of his chair with a raised brow before slinging it over his arms.

“Of course,” she replied softly, watching as he tossed enough cash for their meal and tips onto the table before handing her a few bills to pay cab fare to get her home.

She blinked at the money in her hand before looking back up at him, her brows creased together. Sure, she hadn’t known Felix long…but his entire demeanor looked different somehow. Gone was the awkward, shy, fumbling man she’d arrived with - in his place stood a man completely sure of himself, confident in his choice to cut their date short in the name of a friend in need.

As she watched Felix race back to his truck, turning the keys in the ignition before he’d even buckled his seatbelt, Ryujin wasn’t quite sure if she was more puzzled or besotted by this brand new side of Lee Felix.

As you stood face to face with San you became certain of two things.

Firstly, he was exactly the same. From the way he parted his hair, to the slight lean to the right in his posture, San had not changed - even a tiny bit. No sign of new fine lines or wrinkles. No difference in the offhanded way he’d addressed you. The only difference, in fact, was a glittering gold band on his left ring finger.

That had led you to your second revelation; any love you had for him was - in fact - gone. The tentative smile he offered you that used effortlessly placate even your largest irritations only served to give you an uncomfortable case of the goosebumps, chilling you to the very core. The way he tilted his head, once something you’d found precious now only infuriated you. 

How dare he look at you so calmly after what he’d done? How dare he show up at an event that wasn’t even for him in the first place? How dare he show up with the audacity to escort you wearing a wedding ring after breaking off your engagement to marry the woman who’d likely slid that onto his finger?

How dare he do this in front of your publicist, who now wore a relieved and excited grin on her face at the notion of having the seat next to you filled.

How dare he waltz up to you with absolutely no warning, uttering a casual hey as if you were somehow friends? 

How fucking dare he?

Your teeth were clenched following your less-than-amicable question, jaw set in a tensed position as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“Don’t act this way,” he started, his brows knitting together before he pursed his lips.

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, eyes widened with a rage that, until just now, you believed had been abandoned in favor of grief.

“I –” he cut himself off, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he took a sharp breath in through his nose - the telltale flaring of his nostrils showing just how hard he was working to keep himself gentle, “I was supposed to be your plus one. I’m not so shitty that I’d let you sit alone at the Gala.”

“I beg to differ,” you deadpanned, “You’re exactly that shitty, and nothing would make me happier than if you’d never shown up here.”

San’s jaw clenched as he took in your quiet anger. He’d experienced different sides of you before, but this was new. 

You’d had jealous anger before, resulting in tears and long monologues of your insecurities - coating everything you did like a cold drizzle, sinking you into yourself as you’d seek warmth in any way possible.

You’d had explosive anger, too. Raising your voice and refusing to listen to reason, certain that exactly what you believed to be happening was strictly fact - down to every last detail. Like an earthquake, threatening destruction on anything not secured tightly in place.

Now, though? Your face was blank, save for the slightly widened state of your eyes and the hard line your lips had formed. Your words were clear and concise, as if you had been waiting to say these very words to him for your entire life. You sounded sure. You sounded calm.

You were the eye of a hurricane, a single spot of calm amidst the raging sea. Moving in any direction too quickly could plunge him into the chaotic, swirling depths.

“Unfortunately,” you continued on, not once shifting your steely gaze away from his, “It seems that in order to be rid of you, I’d need to do something my publisher will absolutely disapprove of.”

San swallowed hard, “I didn’t come here with the intention to upset you –” his eyes bulged as you laughed - as though his attempt at reassurance was actually the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“That’s fucking rich, Choi San, considering you’re planning to walk at my side as though you’ve done nothing wrong,” you took a step closer, despite how sick the proximity made you feel, just to ensure that no prying eyes or gossip-hungry ears could pick up on a thing you said.

“You want to come here, to an award ceremony for my profession, wearing the ring given to you by the woman you swore to me I didn’t need to worry about?” you scoffed under your breath, every bit of your body language screaming discomfort and volatility.

You whispered the last sentence, the audacity he had to appear shocked, requiring you to push back against the urge to spit in his face, “But, I guess since you didn’t come here to upset me, it’s all fine I suppose.” 

If it hadn’t been for Nari, you’d have definitely caused a bigger scene. 

If you didn’t know for a fact that she’d have several choice words, if not threats on your career should you turn San away, you’d have simply called him a cab and told him to get fucking lost.

You had to be escorted by the man who ruined your entire concept of love for the night. There was no other option. You suddenly found yourself wishing you’d simply not been reminded by Jisung about the event earlier, simply missing it and facing Nari’s wrath.

That was better than forcing yourself to pretend to be fine next to San.

If you had to be escorted by the largest reminder of your heartache, you refused to do it with an agreeable demeanor - so you turned away from him suddenly, making a beeline for the outdoor bar, hoping to get a couple of drinks to coax you into spending the evening next to the devil. 

You’d expected him to perhaps follow you, at least having the decency to be as close to invisible as he could be in the seat next to you for the evening.

You’d expected him to let you get a drink, maybe to even understand why you wanted to dull your senses around him.

What you hadn’t expected was his sudden, tight grip around your wrist - stopping you in your tracks.

“I showed up for you,” he whispered with accentuated sibilance, a noise more closely associated with a feral cat than a man. His grip tightened on your wrist as his eyes grew wide, “I left my wife home to escort you at this stupid fucking gala,” he spat that bit bitterly, his nose wrinkling with anger, “that I’ve never actually liked attending, just so you don’t feel fucking embarassed, all alone.” San’s voice had morphed into one filled with venom, it’s sole intent to mock you and make you feel small.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to,” you hissed back, ignoring the stinging in your eyes at his words. You didn’t love him anymore, this was true. You didn’t care about his opinion, and that was true, too. 

It was also true that he knew you well enough to know exactly where to prod, exactly how to hurt you.

You barely noticed whispers of a few passerby as the two of you exchanged your hushed, turbulent stabs.

You barely noticed the familiar sound of an engine thrumming beneath the hood of a red pickup truck.

His grip grew tighter, making you wince slightly, “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” San continued, running his free hand through his hair - as he’d always done when he’d grown frustrated with you - before shooting his darkened eyes back towards you, “All you’ve ever done is complain about everything I do for you, no matter how fucking much I hated doing it.”

“I didn’t want you here,” you insisted, trying with futility to pull your wrist from the constraint of his fist, “This isn’t for me,” you swallowed the thickness growing in your throat, ignoring the way your voice quivered as you spoke - determined not to break where he could see you, “If this were for me, you’d be gone. In fact, you’d never have shown up here in the first place, San.”

San grew red in the face as he pulled you closer by your wrist, hissing whatever the opposite of sweet nothings were directly into your face, “You stupid, selfish, spoiled little –” he suddenly stopped, his gaze focusing behind you reminding you eerily of the way Nari had spotted him before.

The smell of a summer’s rain and wildflowers flooded your senses, prefacing a warm hand resting against your bare shoulder. 

San’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the hand, his eyes slowly making their way up to the face attached.

It was then that a familiar, comforting bass voice met your ears - soothing you despite the intimidating closeness San maintained with you. 

You turned your head to confirm your suspicions, relief overpowering the bewilderment you felt seeing the last person you’d expected to show up this evening.

“So sorry I’m late,” he whispered just loud enough for San to hear as well, stepping close enough that he hovered directly over your back.

Felix.

“I’d appreciate if you’d unhand my date." He nearly growled, the look on his face completely foreign to the gentle, fluffy haired boy you'd grown so accustomed to. "Now.”

---

Aspen my dear friend,

this chapter absolutely had me one on the edge of my seat and absolutely ready to swing at San with anger (for reasons you know privately to some extent), i relate so much to mc with San and the whole belief of love not being a thing despite me being a very obvious hopeless romantic. my heart hurts and is soaring all at the same time for the fact Felix truly does care about mc. truthfully. the way he is written in this series is just how imagined he would be in person too. a beautifully written character with a good heart. i am rooting so hard for these two. truly. as someone who sees mc as themselves, please my friend give them a happy ending. ❤️

Part Six: Accolades

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"You weren’t usually the type to accept comfort, denying even Jisung’s offers of solace when you’d been upset in his presence. There was something, though, about the way Felix’s arms held you steady, the way his voice soothed your wounded heart, the gentleness with which he was handling you that - combined together - instinctually made you wrap your arms under his, gripping onto the back of his jacket as if it were the sole thing keeping you afloat."

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, themes of guilt, physical violence (non-deadly), angst, insults/verbal abuse, blood/bruises, unrecognized feelings, some excessively sappy fluff because our protagonists deserve a break

wc: 6.8k

a/n: I did not intend for this chapter to surpass 4k words, but almost 7k happened. I'm sorry/you're welcome. I cried real, ugly tears writing this chapter. Holy heck. I don't have much to say this go around, but I hope you enjoy the developments this chapter brings. Thank you, as always, for reading. If you enjoy my series, please consider reblogging and leaving feedback <3

xoxo

-Aspen

There had been a time during your friendship with Jisung where he’d been obsessed with National Geographic documentaries. A particular scene has always stuck with you, burned into your mind’s eye. Two tigers circling around an injured antelope, teeth bared whilst neither broke eye contact, silently daring the other to make a move.

Jisung had been so excited, finding a thrill in the suspense of which cat would lunge first - which cat would claim the meal for their own. You, however, had been absorbed in the visibly distraught antelope as she froze. It had always confused you that, despite her injury, she hadn’t at least made an attempt to flee.

Now, standing between Felix and San, you understood perfectly. There was a certain intensity that came along with being caught in the midst of a stand-off - an intensity, which despite your better judgment, would be best left uninterrupted.

Your focus remained on Felix. The comfort that his hand against the bareness of your shoulder provided, the quiet anger hidden in the tightness of his jaw, the way his typically joy-brightened gaze had given way to an anomalous darkness as it darted between San’s eyes and the rough fingers entrapping your wrist.

Maturity had replaced the boyish charm you’d grown accustomed to and, for the first time since meeting him, you came to an important realization.

It turns out that Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, was more than the fumbling, awkward boy you’d believed him to be.

Much, much more.

The Felix standing behind you now showed no sign of the uncertainty that had so frequently coated his words and actions as he reiterated his deceptively polite request.

“My date’s hand, please?”

His voice was double-edged and firm. He did not stammer, he did not hesitate. A single arched brow accompanying the tight line his lips were pressed into. 

San’s face was contorted into a twisted marriage of incredulousness and rage, lips drawn back into a sneer as he questioned Felix. Feigned innocence in his tone did nothing for the cruelty of his words, however.

“Your date? How funny,” he’d finally broken eye contact with Felix simply to look at you blankly, ensuring maximum damage from his barbed verbiage, “I could’ve sworn her publicist was in the middle of scolding her due to her lack thereof when I’d arrived?”

As your wrist was finally released, you wasted no time in pulling it against your chest. You cradled it limply with the other, a brief numbness ensuing at the sudden rush of blood back into your fingertips.

Felix didn’t miss the way you tensed beneath his palm. He tongued his cheek, glaring at San whilst squeezing your shoulder - reminding you that he was there, assuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“A simple misunderstanding,” Felix didn’t miss a beat with his rebuttal, keeping his words civil despite the obvious way San was trying to crawl under his skin.

“I could’ve sworn,” San chuckled darkly, the spiteful leer he’d been sending your way remaining unbroken. Though he was addressing Felix, he didn’t spare him a single glance, “I heard the beginning of an attempt to explain why nobody would accompany her.”

You felt yourself shrink back at the brutality of his words. Though San had spoken in a deceptively calm tone, there was absolutely no mistaking his intent. He wanted to hurt you.

“As I said,” Felix growled through gritted teeth, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively, “A misunderstanding, I was just running late.”

San’s smirk was radiating maliciousness, animosity lacing his next words as he finally directed his glower at Felix, “If you were convincing yourself to show I wouldn’t blame you,” San mused, tilting his head at Felix’s increasingly deep scowl, “Having to put up with her isn’t for the faint of heart.”

San, it seemed, was the tiger who lunged first. You were just defenseless - unable to run away despite the way he toyed with you. In that moment, it truly was as though you were his prey.

“Strange,” Felix deadpanned, cold eyes fixated on the man before him, “Nobody else seems to have a problem with her,” he tapped his chin, a semblance of his warm smile finally revealing itself - though it appeared more mocking than genuine.

The casual way Felix delivered his next words - paired with the subsequent reddening of San’s face - nearly made you choke on your breath.

“Must just be narcissistic, insufferable pieces of shit she doesn’t get along with.”

Felix had lunged now, too. 

Unlike San, however, he wasn’t playing. 

From the ease of which the insult had fallen from his lips to the bemused twinkle in his eye, the confidence in his stance and the sureness of his supportive touch, along with the newfound hostility you could feel coming off of him in waves.

Everything about Felix in this moment screamed sanctuary and wrath. Safety and determination. Refuge and strength. 

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, was not radiating sunshine. Now, he was the glowing coldness of a crescent moon peeking from behind dark clouds, providing just enough visibility in the dark of night to keep you from being afraid.

Lee Felix and his unplanned arrival was your salvation - a clear path providing an escape from what had been an impossible situation. A much needed breath of fresh air when you felt as if you were suffocating.

Lee Felix, in spite of his innate gentleness, was defending you in your brokenness. His claws were out - not for a hunt, not for a meal, but to fight for your honor.

Lee Felix was out for blood.

“What the fuck did you just say?” San’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but that didn’t change the animosity you felt rolling off of him.

“I said,” Felix immediately answered, slowing his words as if worried San wouldn’t understand them, “That it must just be narcissistic, insufferable pieces of shit –” 

Felix didn’t get to finish his recantation, San’s fist flying past your face towards him, connecting against his jaw - the sudden crack of knuckles against bone bringing a startled cry up from your throat.

“San, don’t!” you shrieked, jumping to get between the two. A staggering Felix held up his hand, effectively stopping you before swiping a bead of sticky crimson from his lower lip with his opposite thumb. He chuckled breathily, staring down at the blood for a moment before balling it up around his fingers.

Felix looked wild, a snarl adorning his bloodied, bow-shaped lips as he reared back, launching himself forward with impressive speed. His fist landed square against San’s nose with a nauseating crunch, forcing the man to stumble backwards. 

Scarlet streaks made their way down San’s face, dripping from his chin and staining the stark-white collar of the dress shirt he’d worn with blurred vermillion splotches. Staring at the ever-growing ink-blot test around his neck, the first word that came to mind would be brutality.

You watched as the shock from the blow wore off, a guttural roar parting San’s lips to reveal red-stained teeth as he stepped towards Felix once again. You shut your eyes tight, covering them with your shaking hands. You didn’t want to see the violence unfold before you any more than you already had. You held your breath, bracing yourself, and waited to hear him make contact.

This time, however, there was no grunt following the sound of skin hitting skin.

This time, the sound seemed muted. Less, somehow.

You parted your fingers, peeking through your lashes as curiosity overpowered your previous desire to block it all out. Your hands dropped to cover your mouth, astonished by the sight before you.

San had definitely swung at Felix, as evidenced by the upraised fist less than a foot from his freckled face. That wasn’t what had you gawking, however. 

Around San’s balled-up hand was Felix’s - holding it in place.

Both men’s arms were trembling as they fought silently against the other. You could see Felix’s knuckles turning white as he gripped San’s fist harder, his neutral expression a stark contrast to the feral look San wore.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn’t help but notice the rest of the contrasts between the two. Felix’s delicate, full lips, parted to allow heavy breaths to pass in and out. San’s thinner, sharper ones, drawn up into a crooked grimace. 

The lightly wrinkled navy silk beneath Felix’s blazer, versus the ruined purity that San’s white linen shirt bore as it soaked up his blood.

A scrape, no longer oozing red on Felix. A continuous flow dripping from San. 

“I’m giving you a chance to walk away,” Felix uttered through gritted teeth, clenching San’s hand hard enough that his fingers straightened down, out of a fist, “I’d suggest taking me up on it.” San’s eyes were alight with fury, darting between you, Felix, and his own hand - still held in place by Felix’s. He jerked his hand away with a grunt, balling both of his fists to his sides. He stepped back, turning his head to spit bloodied saliva dangerously close to Felix’s shoes before locking eyes with you.

“She’s not fucking worth it, anyway,” he hissed, once again addressing Felix despite the obvious way he was targeting your emotions. You swallowed hard, ignoring the stinging of your eyes as San turned away, walking off down the street without so much as a glance back.

As soon as Felix was sure the other man had gone, he rushed over to you - looking you over with a panicked expression on his face. Gone was the brief glimpse of a stoic, intense version of Felix - his kindness back in full force as he searched you for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?! Oh my God, who was that guy?” He prattled on, finally meeting your watery gaze, voice dropping to a whisper as he recognized the signs of distress, “Oh, God, are you hurt? Should I call Jisung?”

“I’m fine, Felix,” you squeaked, inwardly cringing at just how unconvincing and pathetic you sounded.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Felix frowned, brows furrowing together as he stared so intensely that he may as well be peeking straight into your soul. His voice softened, caressing your ears and serving to somehow lower your own racing pulse, “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

You stared right back, pulling in a shaky breath. You could see worry swirling in Felix’s warm eyes, tainting what was usually a whimsical shine. Guilt overtook you in waves as you felt the concern radiating from him, despite his own bloodied face. It was that very guilt, not the encounter with San, that finally brought a sob from your lips.

Your name tumbled from Felix’s lips in a soothing and soft lilt, his lips pursing as he watched emotion overtake you. 

Just as you felt for his injuries, Felix felt shame for letting you come here alone in the first place. He watched helplessly as your shoulders shook, each breath you took happening as labored gasps. His heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest as he did the only thing he could think to do.

Before you could even register that Felix had moved, you were engulfed in his arms with your face buried against his collarbone - held there by an unexpectedly firm hand against the back of your head. 

His voice was thick as he softly murmured reassurances towards you, showing hints of joining you in your sniveling. He shushed you patiently, absolutely zero signs of irritation or inconvenience behind the gesture. 

You weren’t usually the type to accept comfort, denying even Jisung’s offers of solace when you’d been upset in his presence. There was something, though, about the way Felix’s arms held you steady, the way his voice soothed your wounded heart, the gentleness with which he was handling you that - combined together - instinctually made you wrap your arms under his, gripping onto the back of his jacket as if it were the sole thing keeping you afloat.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he intoned, barely above a whisper. As you shook your head against his shoulder, a word as simple as ‘no’ proving to be too much in your current state of mind, he simply rested his chin atop your head with a hushed, “Okay.”

Felix didn’t push, didn’t try to pry any information out of you. You were taken aback for a moment, sure that anyone else in his situation would be demanding answers after exchanging blows on your behalf. 

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Felix wasn’t insistent. His sweet temperament was the exact opposite of the type that would continue trying to pull forth information. Pressuring you was something you simply couldn’t picture the kindhearted soul who held you close even considering.

Felix didn’t move until you did, allowing your hands to loosen their hold on his back. He released you with the slowest movements he could, as though giving you a chance to return to his hold if you changed your mind.

He didn’t speak, simply taking your hand in his to examine your wrist - reddened from the vice San had put you in. He turned it over delicately between his fingers, doing his best to avoid touching the inflamed areas.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, a near imperceptible tremble to his voice as he glanced at your face - swollen and flushed from the weeping you’d done moments prior.

You gave him a halfhearted smile, shaking your head with a fond incredulousness, “Felix, you literally got punched in the face,” you wiped the wetness from beneath your eyes, trying not to worry about the smeared mascara that now lingered on your fingers - figuring out how to get cleaned up for the event was an issue for later.

“And?” he raised a brow, tilting his head to the side as though he were genuinely baffled at the relevance.

“And you’re asking me if I’m hurt?” your brows were sky high as you looked at his face for any hint that he wasn’t being serious.

“Yeah, of course I am!” he insisted, lips pursing as he looked back down at the mark San had left, “Look at you! It’s all red, what if it bruises? We should get you some ice,” he tutted, turning your wrist over in his gentle hands once more.

“But, Felix, you got punched in the face. You were bleeding,” you insisted, earning you a mock-offended look from the boy.

He gently released your hand, stuffing his hands in the pockets as he casually replied, “So? I’d do it again if it meant keeping that guy away from you.” 

He seemed insistent, brows knitted together as he subconsciously pressed his thumb to the gash on his lip. You could see the questions lingering behind his troubled stare, surprised once more as he didn’t press for a single tidbit about San.

For that, you were more grateful than words could describe.

“May I?” You gestured to his lip, earning a cocked brow in response. His thumb slowly fell as he nodded, still looking a bit puzzled by your request. 

You brushed your index finger gently against his swollen, velvety lower lip, thankful that the heels you’d worn had put you at an equal height. He winced as you ran the pad of your finger over the open gash, spurring you to murmur a rushed, “Sorry…”

Felix shook his head, silently telling you not to worry - though, in his effort to stay still, it was really more of a twitch. You pulled your hand back, feeling the beginnings of a frown between your brows as you reached into your small purse - rooting for the small packet containing a couple of makeup wipes. 

“Ah,” you sighed, finally feeling the smooth packet against your roaming fingertips, pulling it out and splitting it open quickly. You pulled one of them from the packaging, leaving the other in the foil, “Hold this for me?” 

Felix took the half-empty packet from you, wordlessly following your instructions as he watched you wrap the wipe around your fingertip. His head slowly made its way into an inquisitive angle, staring as you raised your now-swathed finger towards him.

“I know it’s not medical grade, but it’ll at least wipe the blood off, yeah?” you hesitated before pressing it against his wound, wanting to be sure he was okay with your makeshift first aid before continuing. 

“Oh,” his chest rumbled with his answer, a bright smile that could melt even the coldest exteriors planting itself onto his face, “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing the cool wipe to his bloodied lip with as much gentleness as you could. You swiped delicately at the swollen flesh, feeling the warmth of his breath against your careful hand. You took your time to remove every bit of dried crimson that remained, adjusting the wipe as needed so you weren’t simply spreading it around. 

Despite your tenderness, however, Felix still hissed sharply through his teeth when you’d press a bit harder to get the stubborn bits. You gave him an apologetic glance before pulling back, staring at his now-clean face. 

The flash of red belonging to the wound itself was all that remained, contrasting greatly with his otherwise peony-pink lips. When he graced you with a grin, typical crookedness increased by the swollenness of his lip, your heart ached. Such a violent mark had no business being on the face of such a softhearted person.

You wished it was possible to wipe the entire thing away.

“My turn,” he stated, lifting the metallic packet containing the remaining wipe in front of his face. He nearly went cross-eyed as he stared at it intently, tugging it from its home with an unnecessary level of care. You stifled a laugh as he proudly held it up, stuffing the empty package into his pocket.

“Really?” you questioned, a bemused smirk teasing the corners of your lips as he stepped closer. He tried to mimic the way you’d enfolded your finger, brows furrowing with concentration as he swaddled his finger in the damp cloth. 

“Of course,” he answered, again treating the kindnesses he frequently showed you as if they were obvious - the only correct answer.

“Okay, then,” you mused, trying not to laugh at the caution he took bringing it close to your face. He dabbed at your cheek lightly, pulling the wipe back to ensure he’d actually picked up some of the black streak that cut through your once perfectly made-up face.

Content that he was doing it correctly, Felix resumed his work with brows remaining drawn together due to the sheer amount of focus he’d put into cleaning you up. His lips were parted slightly, warm breath fanning your face on occasion as he worked with the lightest of touches. 

“Can you look up for me?” Felix whispered, breaking what had been an extremely comfortable silence. You followed his direction, lashes tickling your brow bone as you lifted your irises upwards, keeping your head otherwise still. 

You stared at the stars as Felix gently swiped beneath your lash line, distant chatter accompanying the sound of his slow, calming breaths. The sky looked beautiful tonight, littered with what seemed like more pinpricks of light than usual. Living in the city, it was rare to see a sky so clear. Perhaps this was a reward for surviving your encounter with San.

“Done,” Felix announced proudly, pulling your attention back down to Earth. You smiled softly as you brought your gaze back towards him, unable to stop the connection your mind had suddenly formed. 

Felix’s freckles were just as bountiful as the stars, it seemed. Just as comforting. Just as mesmerizing.

“I hope I did okay,” his nervous rumble interrupted your intrusive thoughts, your ears feeling hot. Had you been staring? You hoped not.

“I’m sure it’s better than I looked before,” you assured him, feeling your eyes soften at his worried expression.

Felix beamed, obviously proud of his work after your affirmation, and gathered both of the wipes - putting them back into the foil before slipping it back into his pocket, “I think you look gre–”

“There you are! Jesus, I thought you’d left!” Nari’s voice interrupted, irritation filling every syllable.

“Oh, Nari,” you peered over Felix’s shoulder at her reddened face. She was visibly flustered, likely having been searching for a while, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just hurry! They’re seating everyone now,” she sounded like a strict mother scolding her child as she gestured for you to follow her, though her stony expression shifted into one of shock upon realizing your companion was not, in fact, San.

“Who’s this? Where’d San go? Don’t tell me you were serious about attending alone?” Nari rapid-fire questioned you, not allowing you a single second to provide her with answers.

“Um…” you started, palms sweating as you looked over to Felix, your eyes pleading with him to help.

“I’m her date,” he immediately stated, directing his bright smile at Nari. The woman visibly stiffened - bringing you to wonder if it was simply Felix’s contagious grin or the red split in it that gave her pause.

“San –” she began, likely planning to press further about his whereabouts.

“Got a nosebleed,” Felix finished for her, sending you a small, humor laced glance before continuing with false concern in his tone, “All over his shirt, I’m afraid.”

“I see…” Nari mumbled, lips set in a firm line as she crossed her arms.

“Seeing as I was free,” Felix continued, explaining the situation as if it were some sort of heroic tale, “I figured I could escort her just as well.”

Nari hesitated before sighing deeply, “A date’s a date I suppose,” she begrudgingly admitted, “Come on, then, let’s get you seated.” 

You shot Felix a grateful smile the second Nari turned around, mouthing a silent ‘thank you.’ He simply waved his hand dismissively, grinning brightly at you as he linked your arms together at the elbow.

You would say he was playing the role of a perfect gentleman, but that would be a lie. There was no acting involved in Felix’s actions.

He was a perfect gentleman.

Despite the comparatively small following the event had, the Gala had always been overwhelmingly lush. 

Crystal chandeliers hung from the venue’s ceiling, casting a dim golden glow on everything the light touched. Tables adorned with creamy silk tablecloths and lavish floral arrangements were staggered across the marble floors, even the chairs surrounding them ornately carved with matching velvety cushions. 

“I feel underdressed…” Felix murmured, wide eyes reflecting the glittering lights above as he absorbed the surroundings.

You looked him up and down, stifling a giggle at how nervous he looked. 

His worries were baseless, seeing as he was dressed well; fitted blazer with matching dress pants, the deep blue sheen of his button down bringing out the warmth in his complexion. 

“You look amazing, Felix,” you assured him in earnest, not unaware of the way his arm tightened around yours at the compliment. He shot you a small smile, shaking his head.

“Have you seen yourself? In comparison, I’m a bum,” he insisted, though you could notice the way your encouragement lessened the strain in his tone.

“Hush,” you frowned, bumping into his side lightly. He smiled softly, still visibly unnerved, but didn’t press any further.

Felix unlatched your elbows to step in front of you, taking long strides towards the chair accompanying your nameplate. He shot you a bright grin as he pulled it out, “Milady?” he joked, a grand sweeping gesture of his arm bubbling up a laugh from your throat.

“Why, thank you,” you crooned, another small giggle leaving your lips as he pushed the chair back in.

Felix took his seat next to you and grinned, matching your lighthearted tone in kind, “You are very welcome,” he chimed, scooting in closer to the table just as a waiter came by with champagne. Felix gently took two flutes in both of his hands, extending one towards you.

You smiled, accepting it before sipping at the drink - dense carbonation tickling your tongue. You sat in yet another easy silence with Felix for a while, chatting with a couple of colleagues as they’d pass by your table. Midway through discussing a new storyboarding technique with another author, the dimming of the already faint lighting signaled for your attention to go towards the stage.

Bidding a curt goodbye to your colleague, your attention was pulled towards the stage. The evening’s host began by introducing the event - as if most present weren’t aware of what they’d shown up for - before listing off the categories for this year’s awards. You tuned out most of it, content to sip at your drink.

Felix seemed completely enraptured in this brand-new world, though, with his wide, bright eyes reflecting the spotlight from the stage. You couldn’t help but feel affectionate towards him in that moment, his childlike wonder only serving to cement your opinion of him - light, in human form.

You clapped politely as awards began to be handed out, though you’d have preferred not to be in attendance. The event had lost its magic for you after you’d ceased believing in what you wrote about.

The waiter dropping by after the third announcement, replacing your empty glass with a fresh one, was a welcome reminder that at least the event wasn’t all bad. 

Complimentary, expensive champagne was hard to complain about.

Felix’s eyes finally left the stage, staring at you with anticipation in his eyes as your name was called amongst the nominees for Best Romance. You felt the corners of your lips tighten and twitch in an attempt not to laugh amidst the otherwise silent crowd, finding it increasingly precious just how into this Felix was.

You gave him a warm smile as he nearly vibrated in his seat, shaking your head before looking back towards the host. 

“The award for Best Romance goes to…”

Felix took an audible, sharp inhale and held it, reaching over the table to grab your hand whilst staring expectantly at the announcer. You weren’t sure if it was because he’d assumed you’d be nervous - or because he was on your behalf - either way, you allowed him to lace his fingers between yours and squeeze - hard. 

Felix’s legs were bouncing impatiently beneath the table as the host opened the envelope containing the results with painfully drawn out movements. You could’ve sworn you heard a frustrated, “Come on, already,” leave his lips as the paper was pulled from its sleeve.

It wasn’t until your name came through the speakers that Felix’s brow unwrinkled, his lips parting into potentially the biggest smile you’d seen from him to date. He instantly released your hand to clap furiously, jovial expression not once faltering as his eyes followed your ascent to the stage. 

You put on the Nari-approved facial expression once again as cameras flashed, hoping that you appeared genuinely excited. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for a victory - sales of your novels would certainly rise following a win - nor was it the fact that you’d won an award before that dampened what should’ve been an ecstatic moment.

It just felt wrong, somehow, to accept an award for a book you’d written about love - seeing as you thought it was complete and utter bullshit.

Regardless, you approached the announcer with a dazzling grin, shaking his hand when prompted as the crowd’s cheers slowly died down. Despite the bright lights blotting out the faces of the crowd, you were sure the single, lingering applause as you took the shining, silver plaque from the host was Felix’s. 

You were expected to make a speech which, had it not been for San’s unexpected appearance, would’ve been the most dreadful part of this evening. You had no trouble with words - obviously, being an author - but this wasn’t like the last ceremony.

You didn’t have a lover to thank for inspiring you this time around.

Still, though, you found yourself standing before the microphone, drawing in a deep and steadying breath as you forced your voice to form words.

“Thank you all so much,” you started, remembering Nari’s firm insistence that addressing the crowd was essential. 

“I know it may seem odd,” you continued, laughing breathily at yourself, “But I’m at a loss for words right now.” The audience tittered, their good response to your honesty lightening the weight on your chest significantly, “I have a few people I’d like to thank. My publicist, Nari, for always ensuring I write to the best of my abilities,” you figured after the several heart attacks you’d given the woman today, sucking up couldn’t hurt.

“My best friend and rock, Han Jisung, for bringing me coffee during late night writing sessions, and putting up with me while I sulk over writer’s block,” despite Jisung’s absence from the event, both this time and the last, you’d never neglected to acknowledge the role he played in keeping you sane. 

You waited for the scattered laughter to dissipate before carrying on. There was one more person, despite not knowing him during the writing process or having prepared any words on his behalf, that you felt was certainly owed some thanks.

“And Lee Felix,” you proudly smiled, looking in the general direction of the table. You couldn’t see his face, yet you were certain he’d straightened his posture and that his cheeks were bright pink.

“For being invested enough in me to challenge my beliefs,” you were, of course, referring to your deal, “For defending my mug collection,” you laughed before you continued, the smile on your face becoming more and more genuine as you proclaimed your gratitude.

“For just defending me in general…” you trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath so as not to get emotional recalling the events of earlier. You swallowed a lump in your throat, blinking rapidly so as to chase away the prickling warmth behind your eyes. 

“And for giving enough of a damn to show up for me tonight. Thank you.”

You bowed your head then, the thunderous applause sounding farther away than it should have as you fought harder and harder against your emotions. 

You weren’t sure what it had been about thanking Felix in particular - whether it was the moment you’d shared tonight or an accumulation of the time you’d spent growing closer with him - but as you made your way back to the table, you were very choked up.

At the sight of a watery-eyed Felix waiting for you - still standing from the ovation he’d no doubt given you - with his lips parted into a dumbfounded smile?

It took everything in you not to give in and let your composure shatter.

Felix once again pulled your chair out for you, quickly retaking his spot at your side, his voice cracking as he addressed you, “That was–”

“I don’t have any more wipes, do not speak and stop looking at me like that,” you tried to joke, but the thickness of unshed tears and the resulting breathiness in your voice made it sound much more like a plea.

Felix simply nodded, sniffling only once before giving your shoulder a single squeeze. 

Your heart had remained tight in your chest throughout the next award’s announcement, beyond grateful for the arrival of a brief intermission. You rose from your chair, prepared to excuse yourself to the restroom to cry, only to be stopped by Felix’s soft touch on your forearm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, still sounding quite emotional himself as he stared up at you worriedly, “Do we need to go?”

You caught yourself preparing to tell him you were fine, only to instantly shake the notion off. 

What was the point in lying to the man who likely still had your snot and tearstains on his collar?

“Let’s get out of here,” you laughed weakly, wondering how exactly he’d been able to read your mind so easily.

Nari be damned.

Felix grinned, his eyes still glossy with the emotions he’d kept to himself after your speech, before rising to his feet next to you. He offered you his arm again, which you gladly accepted, allowing him to lead the two of you back to the entrance.

Stepping out into the cool, evening air instantly served to lessen the uncomfortable heat that had been lingering beneath your skin. You filled your lungs with the fresh air as Felix guided you carefully through the parking lot, weaving between the rows of cars until his candy-apple truck appeared in your view. 

Felix uncurled your arms to jog ahead, pulling open the passenger door for you. You thanked him with a soft smile, climbing in as he walked around to the driver’s side. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life reassuring you with the promise of leaving this place - and, hopefully, the urge to cry - behind. 

After ensuring that the two of you were both buckled, Felix didn’t waste another second. He pulled out into the street, casting you a concerned glance here and there as he navigated to your apartment building. He pulled into the parking garage, taking up the spot Jisung typically would have had he not been out of town with Minho. 

“I wanna give you something,” Felix blurted, turning to face you, his dark pools containing an excited glimmer.

You tilted your head at him, wondering why he’d waited until now to say anything.

“I picked these up before going out with Ryujin,” he started to explain, beaming from ear to ear as he reached behind his seat to grab two white boxes, “It’s our pottery, from our first not-date.”

Your face soon mirrored his, confusion replaced with giddy anticipation as he handed you the box labeled with his name. 

“I was gonna see if you were free tomorrow, so we could open them together, but seeing as we ended up seeing eachother tonight,” Felix drew out the word, setting the box containing his gift from you in his lap, “I figured why wait?”

You nodded excitedly, feeling much lighter than you had all evening, “You wanna open yours first?” you questioned. You weren’t sure what you were looking forward to more- seeing his reaction to the set of shot glasses you’d painted for him or to see what he’d done for you.

“Can I?!” he nearly shouted, his grip tightening on the lid of the box as his smile somehow grew wider.

You laughed, gesturing to the box he was now clutching so tightly that the cardboard was getting dented, “Go ahead, Felix.”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Felix had torn the lid from his box and carefully stuck his hand inside. He rummaged through the tissue paper, visibly buzzing in his eagerness. You knew the very moment he’d found one of the glasses - an audible gasp leaving his now-purpling lips.

As Felix lifted the tiny cup you’d painted a minty green from the box, his eyes widened. He cautiously tilted it in every direction. You watched him intently, your pulse quickening as you awaited his reaction to your choice. He continued to inspect it, a smile of pure joy crinkling his eyes into glittering crescents as he finally peered inside at the tiny daisy you’d painted in the bottom.

“This is so cute!” he cooed, holding it close to his chest, directing his shimmering stare right at you now.

“There should be two more,” you informed him, resisting the urge to laugh as he scrambled to root through the box for the remainder of the set. He eventually managed to fish out the pale pink and baby blue companions for the first glass, looking back up at you with a pout.

“I love them,” he crooned, hugging the trio to his chest affectionately.

“Really?” you inquired hopefully, “I didn’t know much about you yet, but I knew that you were a bartender,” you started explaining, hoping that Felix wasn’t secretly thinking that shot glasses were too on the nose, “And I guessed on the colors, because of that pink hoodie you wore when we first met.”

“And the daisies?” Felix pressed, eyes round and filled with wonder, “How’d you know I loved daisies?”

“I didn’t,” you admitted, blinking rapidly, actually a bit shocked at the revelation.

“What? Seriously, you just guessed?” Felix’s surprise mirrored yours, his head flopping to the side like a curious cat.

“Well, sort of?” You suddenly felt self conscious of your reasoning at the time, uncertainty over if it would sound strange making your words sound hesitant as they left your lips, “Daisies have the same feeling that you do. I dunno, like, they’re happy and soft, and they mean innocence and new beginnings in the language of flowers, and –”

It was almost funny having Felix be the one to stop your rambling rather than the usual, opposite way around.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me,” he deadpanned, the ghost of a smile remaining on his features, despite the seriousness with which he delivered his statement.

Felix’s words stopped you in your tracks, heat rushing to your cheeks not only from his genuine gratitude, but the realization that you’d been mildly garrulous in your nervousness.

“Thank you,” he continued on, seemingly oblivious to the crisis you were undergoing following your long-winded explanation, “Really…thank you.” 

After gently placing the trio of glasses back into their box, Felix gave you an expectant stare - eyes flicking down to the box in your lap. 

“My turn?” you asked, earning more of a vibration than a nod from Felix as he bobbed in his seat. You felt the warm smile that always seemed to appear for the mild-mannered boy stick itself onto your face as you looked down at the box, pulling off the lid and setting it aside.

It was easy to find your gift beneath the cushioning of tissue paper, feeling the cold clay against your fingertips in only but a second. You wrapped your fingers around what felt like a handle, pulling it slowly from the packaging obscuring its nature.

As you stared down at the cerulean ceramic, you began to laugh. 

“I know it’s not some fancy plaque,” Felix started, lighthearted humor coating every word he uttered as he shot you a playful grin, “But I hope it’s still an honor.”

Against the gemlike blue were yellow letters, written in the same handwriting as the rainbow set of rules on your far-from-professional contract. They read:

#1 Fake Girlfriend.

“And, if not,” Felix’s jovial tone hadn’t shifted in the slightest, his eyes seeming to sparkle with unreleased laughter, “It’s another mug for your collection.”

Your mirthful gaze landed on his, an unencumbered smile stretched upon your lips, “Thank you, Felix,” you hummed, staring back down at the mug affectionately before placing it carefully back in it’s box, keeping it safe until you could get it up to your apartment, “I love it.”

And you did. It was almost unsettling just how much a simple mug could mean to you, but you weren’t going to question it. It was far more pleasant to bask in the glow of the gift that you instantly grew attached to.

You moved to get out of the truck, stacking your award plaque atop the box as you opened the door, only to be stopped by Felix calling your name from the cab.

You looked back at him with a curious expression, waiting for him to continue.

“After what happened tonight…” he hesitated, watching your face to make sure you weren’t upset with his broaching of the topic, “If you want, I could stick around? Or you could come to mine? Either way, I’ll take the couch!” he quickly inserted that, as if predicting you’d have something to say about sleeping arrangements, “We could test out these neat little shot glasses if you want? We don’t have to talk about it or anything, but if you don’t wanna be alone –”

“Felix,” you cut him off, a breathy laugh on your lips. The bashfulness written in the way his brows simultaneously furrowed and raised nearly caught you off-guard as you interrupted him.

“Yes?” 

“I’d appreciate the company,” you smiled at the visible relief, his posture relaxing entirely, “Let me go change, gimme five minutes?” 

Felix nodded, getting comfortable in the driver’s seat, “Take your time,” he assured you gently, “I’ll be here.”

Those words were so simple, yet the way Felix had said them made them feel like the most comforting three word phrases you’d ever heard. 

You left Felix in the parking garage to switch your glamorous dress out for sweats and a hoodie, and your heels for a comfortable pair of sneakers. You glanced back inside your apartment, beaming at the box containing your new mug sitting atop your counter - almost oblivious to the shiny silver plaque next to it.

You locked the door behind you, quickening your pace so as not to leave Felix waiting. As his face lit up upon spotting you, beaming happily at you as he leaned over in his seat to shove the door open for you, you were certain.

Out of every accolade you’d ever received, #1 Fake Girlfriend was by far your favorite.

---

so ya girl read over on ao3 and i figured i'd just add my thoughts and keysmashes here

Herbie (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Mechanic!Chan x F.Reader Themes: Smut | Some Fluff | Strangers to Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~10k | AO3 Synopsis: Chris was the best mechanic you’d ever met. He was good at his craft, capable of bringing your dingy car back to life time and time again. He was, also, excellent at riling you up just by existing, which wasn’t the best when you were absolutely convinced he just wanted to be friends with you. But maybe, just maybe, he’d prove you wrong. [You can find part two here]. Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · reader is clueless · personification of an inanimate object (the car is referred to by name and male pronouns sometimes) · improper use of car related vocabulary probably (author is clueless on the topic, they don’t even know how to drive) · discussions of weight and usage of the word fat (in a very neutral manner) · Christopher is Stronk · special guest appearance: Jisung.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: mechanic!chan was suggested by an “anon” (👀), after they watched this performance, and i felt inspired by the suggestion, so i decided to write a little something for it. a little something that somehow managed to gather more words than i ever expected, as usual. anyway, hope it doesn’t disappoint :^)

fun fact: i dreamt once that i wrote a fic called herbie, so i guess the prophecy has been fulfilled now.

Smut Warnings: the reader has an oral fixation · the reader has sexually charged thoughts (i can’t blame her) · pet names (baby, babe, gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, etc) · lots of praising (it’s a staple in my chan fics at this point, oops) · praise kink · strength kink if you squint? · oral [M&F.Rec] · deepthroating/mouth fucking · protected penetration [piv].

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Christopher Bang. 

The man who’d saved your ass countless times in the past handful of months. The man who’d been plaguing your thoughts since the very first moment you entered his repair shop.

And to think it was your older brother’s fault. ‘Get a second-hand car’, he said. ‘It’s cheap and super reliable’, he said. ‘Yes, of course it’ll be fine’, he said. Your brother was, ultimately, full of bullshit. You’d never trust his opinion ever again.

Getting a second-hand car was quite possibly the worst financial decision you’d ever taken.

At first you’d been incredibly excited. You even named it Herbie, after the famous car that was… Well, called Herbie. 

With Herbie, you’d be able to get to work faster, you’d no longer have to stay in uncomfortable social situations just because you were waiting for your ride for the night to take you home, you’d no longer have to balance grocery bags on your tiny bicycle, you’d be independent. 

For two months, you were living your best life with Herbie. But then he started showing The Signs.

It started with the AC not turning on, then, the wipers wouldn’t wipe, until eventually, he shut down completely. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, had it not happened while you were driving on the fucking highway. To say you were pissed was an understatement. That day, when that happened, you were fortunate enough to be with your friend, Jisung. 

Not only did Jisung calm your fit of rage, but he also told you he had a friend who fixed cars for a living. ‘He’s very reliable. He won’t overcharge you, really. I vouch for him, trust him with my life at this point’, which, honestly, finding a mechanic these days that wasn’t trying to find problems that weren’t there to overcharge you was hard, so you took Jisung’s advice and took Herbie to Wolfgang: Repair Shop.

That was where you saw Chris the first time.

You could still remember the exact moment your eyes landed on him. Although, to be fair, the first thing you saw were his boots peeking out from below a car.

“Hello?” You heard a thud after you greeted the pair of legs, followed by a very graceful ‘fuck!’.

“Just one second!” He slid from under the car, and when he stood from the creeper, you honestly weren’t prepared.

Broad shoulders, strong, defined arms, a mess of curls on his head, plush, pink lips, and that nose. Jisung had forgotten to give you the most important detail about his friend, the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the oil coating his exposed arms, hands, and the smudge on his cheek, he was probably one of the finest specimens you’d ever seen.

“Can I help you?” He smiled, and God, he had dimples, too. Of fucking course he had to have dimples…

“I’m–I–” You were embarrassing yourself, barely even capable of forming a coherent sentence, all as he looked at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. So you got your bearings, taking a deep breath. “My car keeps dying on me. I’m a friend of Jisung’s, he told me to come to you”.

“Oh!” His eyes widened and he honestly looked beyond surprised. “You are Jisung’s friend?” There was a slight tone of disbelief in his voice, and the way he looked you up and down honestly confused you a bit. Was there a problem with your outfit? It was a bit warm out and this was a nice, comfortable dress… Maybe you were supposed to wear something different to a car repair shop? Maybe it was one of those social rules no one talked about but you were supposed to just know they existed. 

Regardless, you decided to ignore the thought altogether, because he started talking again. “I’m Chris. I’d offer my hand, but I don’t think you’d like to get yours covered in motor oil”, he chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag that hung from his belt, and it genuinely made you smile. “C’mon, let’s take a look at your car and see what we can do. Hm?”

That was how it all started. Chris was polite, he certainly knew his way around these things, and every time you had a problem with Herbie you went to his shop. At some point, you became well acquainted with him, it was impossible not to when Herbie kept dying practically every other week, and when Chris was just so friendly.

You enjoyed spending time at the shop with him, and sometimes you wondered if you were being weird or annoying by staying a bit longer than any customer probably would, but Chris seemed to be just as engaged in the conversation as you were every time, so that spark of doubt in you always died very quickly. 

After a couple of months, Chris simply handed you a piece of paper. ‘Here’s my number. Text me whenever you need’.

And you did. Although, you took a while to text him. You finally did it only because Herbie had started to leak water; after all, that was what he had given you his number for. But it seemed like after that Chris and you just… Started to talk about other things, completely unrelated to Herbie.

“You slut, who you texting with that smile on your face? Did you finally get yourself a man?” Jisung teased you one day when you were hanging out with him, supposedly watching movies.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “As if. You know the only thing I attract are mosquitoes, and it’s only because they want to suck my blood. It’s just Chris. He sent me this funny video of Wolfgang, wanna see?”

Wolfgang was Chris’ dog, an overly excited husky that seemed to be a walking disaster. You told Chris once in passing that you liked dogs, that it cheered you up whenever you saw them do their Dog Things, and since then he started to send you pictures or videos of his dog regularly, which you highly appreciated, they did bring up your mood every time.

Jisung blinked at you. “Christopher Bang? My friend Chris?”

“Yeah? Which other Chris do we both know?” You returned your eyes to your phone, chuckling at a meme Chris had just sent you.

“What’s he sending you? Lemme see”, Jisung grabbed your phone out of your hands, ignoring your protests altogether. “Huh… Would you look at that…”

“Why are you scrolling? Stop that, it’s a private conversation”, you lunged at your friend, trying to get the phone out of his hands. After a bit of jostling he finally relented, and you huffed as you diverted your attention back to the chat with Chris.

Jisung called your name, and you looked up from your phone to your friend, seeing his confused face. “You… You do know he’s flirting with you, right?”

“What?” You laughed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous”.

“I’m being serious”, Jisung turned to face you fully on the sofa, looking at your face very intently. He was quiet for a moment, but then he was gasping–rather dramatically, if you might add. “Oh my God! You haven’t noticed!”

“There’s nothing to notice, Jisung. Chris isn’t flirting with me, don’t be silly”, you chuckled just at the thought. As if the Christopher Bang would be flirting with you.

“You seriously can’t be this dense”, Jisung scoffed, turning back to the movie. “You do you, then. I’m telling you, though. He’s one hundred percent flirting with you”.

How ludicrous. Chris had shown zero interest in you for as long as you’d known him. You were sure he only saw you as a friend at best, and that was only because you were on ‘sending memes’ basis now, before you were just his customer with the dingy car that kept needing repairs. 

You’d admit, though, that after a handful of months, Chris had become a really close friend. He’d text you every morning without fail. Most of the time, he’d send you a picture while he was walking his dog. It could be a picture of Wolfgang, or a picture of the sunrise, or a selfie–those were the hardest ones to look at, to be honest. 

At some point, you realised you had developed a crush on him, and looking at his face in those selfies, still a bit swollen with sleep, with his hair a bit tousled, or with a beanie over his head covering his eyebrows, looking incredibly cuddly, wasn’t helping you cope much.

Sometimes he’d text you while he was in the gym, too. Which would’ve been fine, had he not also started to send you selfies when he was there. They were never anything too revealing, he’d always be fully clothed, but the sight of his reddened hands, his bulging veins after lifting, his flushed face, and just overall sweaty form was just something you didn’t need. It always heated you up, made you suddenly feel like your mouth was just too empty, it’d made your mind wander into very dangerous, and very horny territory. 

It was already hard enough to watch Chris work on Herbie. Whenever he did and you were at the shop, you’d start to fixate on the way the muscles of his exposed arms moved, or how his ass looked when he was bending over the motor to do whichever magic he needed to do, it always made you wonder if he’d be able to perform that magic on you, if his hands would touch you as delicately but as precisely as they did with Herbie’s components, or how it’d be like if you were the one bending over the bonnet, preferably with him just right behind you… Regardless, seeing him also at the gym through his pictures was just too much. He’d sometimes ask you weird questions while he was there, too, which always left you a bit confused.

‘mind if i ask what’s your weight? you dont have to tell me if you dont want to, i’m just curious. i’m trying to bulk up, you see. mine’s…’ You didn’t particularly have a problem with the question itself, you just found it odd that he asked you that out of the blue, and for a brief moment you wondered if he’d been trying to say you were fat–which wouldn’t have been the first time that happened to you, having lived most of your life as person with extra fat on their body for what was considered ideal in this society’s standards had already numbed you to questions like these.

You hadn’t told him right away, you simply sent him a ‘why? are you gonna tell me to lose weight? lol’ to which he replied a string of messages in quick succession ‘oh god no. far from that, you’re perfect just as you are honestly. i’m just curious cuz i want to get to…’ He’d go on about his goals and what-not, and you decided to humour him, since it genuinely didn’t seem like he was trying to make fun of you, he actually never brought up the topic again after that.

Chris wasn’t just handsome, he was also cute, and a bit of a dork. A dork with extensive knowledge in cars and each of their components, but with even more extensive knowledge in pokemon and each and every single type.

‘Ice is strong against dragon and ground, you see? So I have to fight this Garchomp with a pokemon that can do ice attacks, but that can also withstand his attacks, like Gyarados, you know?’ The first time Chris pulled an explanation like that, while he was still covered in Herbie’s oil, you understood why he was friends with Jisung. They were both just dorks. Gym rats and dorks. The oddest combination you could possibly think of, but somehow it just added to their charm. To Chris’ charm specifically.

That balance of his technical knowledge, his hotness, and his dorkness, coupled with just how good of a person he genuinely was–always willing to help, always ready to stand his ground for things he believed in–only made you fall stupidly deeper for him. But you decided to keep these feelings to yourself, you liked having Chris by your side, not only because he was the only one who seemed to be able to bring Herbie back to life, but also because he was just a good friend, and you were sure that if you confessed your feelings things just wouldn’t be the same.

Taking Herbie out these days was always a gamble. You never knew when he was going to break down, but sometimes you really had to take a leap of faith. Most of the time it all went fine, but today, it seemed like he wasn’t in a mood to cooperate. Herbie had decided that breaking down in the middle of nowhere at twenty hours on a Friday was the best idea, which left you on the brink of frustrated, angry tears. 

So, obviously, you called the only person you knew could help you in this situation.

“You alright?” Chris asked as soon as he arrived and stood in front of where you were leaning on your car. “Oh, God. Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“I’m just so fucking done with this car”, you brought your hands to your face, sobbing once the frustration that had built inside of you couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Hey…” You felt Chris’ body heat practically envelop you when he moved into your space, and, had you not been crying like a baby, you’d probably feel a bit flustered about it. “Are you– Can I– Do you want a hug?”

You just nodded–still covering your face with your hands–because of course you wanted a hug. You were trembling with your quiet sobs, so a hug sounded like absolute heaven at this moment, and when Chris finally leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you to him, the fact that Herbie had left you stranded in the middle of nowhere seemed so insignificant now.

Chris was so incredibly warm. The way he softly caressed your back helped ease your trembles, and, eventually, the tears stopped, too. So you finally moved your hands away from your face, bringing your arms around his waist to hug him as well, just as you buried your face on his shoulder–probably leaving small puddles of tears on the fabric of his boilersuit.

That was when you noticed his attire. Similar to how he dressed when he was at the shop, but clearly completely clean. His boilersuit even smelt like his fabric softener still, and… Was he wearing perfume?

You pulled yourself a bit from him, and his calloused hands cradled your face immediately to wipe your tears with his thumbs. You could feel heat spread on your cheeks as he did.

Chris was so close to you still, the heat of his palm on your cheeks seeped into you, shooting straight to your fluttering heart. He truly was incredibly handsome, and as you looked him in the eyes the words left your mouth before you could even think twice about them.

“Wow. Your eyelashes are so pretty”.

A look of surprise crossed Chris’ features, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob, right before he pulled his hands away from your face and opened the driver’s door of your car, giggling. Giggling in that utterly Christopher way he always did.

“Well, yours are, too”, he said while he pulled the lever near the wheel to release the safety latch so he could open the bonnet of your car.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn his ears were red, and you wondered briefly if he might’ve been feeling warm with his boilersuit on, since it was warm tonight, which was why you had decided to wear a dress in the first place. “Were you at the shop when I called?”

“Was on my way”, Chris rounded your car, finally standing in front of it and opening the bonnet. “Ahh, Herbie. You’d certainly seen better days, haven’t you, buddy?” He took his phone from his pocket, switched on the torch, and handed it to you. “Could you hold this for me? Please?”

“Why were you going to the shop this late?” You asked as you pointed the light towards Herbie’s insides.

“Was gonna work on the bike. Angle this a bit, please”, Chris took your hand, angling it however he needed it so he could see whatever it was he needed to see–for you he might as well had been doing dark magic on your car. You saw him push cables around like he knew what each of them was for, which he surely did, this was his livelihood, after all, but it all just looked the same to you, so you were immensely relieved that he was able to help you out tonight.

“You fix cars all day and still have the drive to work on your bike in the evening?” You chuckled, just as Chris moved your hand to point the light somewhere else.

“You’d be surprised how much drive I can have when I’m doing something I like”, there was a smile on his face as he said it, and honestly you couldn’t help but believe him. Just like you couldn’t help but wonder what else he could like that’d fuel that drive of his… “Alright, we’re gonna have to jumpstart it. Gimme a sec”.

Chris left your side for a moment, and he returned almost immediately after with a jumper cable in his hands. Once he had attached it to his 4X4’s and Herbie’s battery, he instructed you to go back to the driver’s seat and to turn the ignition at his signal.

You did as asked, and as soon as you did Herbie came back to life, making you heave a sigh of relief. Chris appeared by your door a few seconds after. “Let’s go to the shop, yeah? I don’t think he’ll make it much further, to be honest”.

And honestly, you didn’t think your car would make it far, either. So you followed Chris’ 4X4 out of the area and through the familiar roads to his repair shop. You couldn’t help but feel immensely grateful, not only because he was helping you now, but because he always did it. Whenever you’d needed him, he’d always been there, which did nothing to appease the ever growing feelings you had for him.

When you made it to Chris’ shop, he simply opened the gate to the garage and signalled you to come in. You got off your car as soon as it was parked, just as Chris was unzipping his boilersuit, revealing his black vest top underneath and his admittedly mouthwatering arms as he tied the top part of the garment around his waist.

“Thank you, Chris. Really”, you told him as soon as he stood in front of you, handing him Herbie’s keys when he opened his palm.

“Oh, please”, he waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought, as if what he did was something not even worth thanking him for. “I’m glad you called, I would’ve felt really bad if I couldn’t have helped you with this”, he gave you a smile, one of his blinding smiles that made his dimples appear on his cheeks and his eyes disappear, and you suddenly felt your cheeks warm up and like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

Chris made sure to place a wedge behind each of Herbie’s wheels just so the car was secure in place, and then turned to you. “Come with me”.

He guided you to the sink by the corner of the shop. Pumping some soap into his hands and opening the tap, he started to generously lather the suds all over his hands. 

“Come here, you need to wash your hands, too”, Chris took your hands in his, getting them all soapy, making sure to spread the soap between each of your fingers, going as far as to rub your hands between his, or lace his fingers with yours to fulfil the task.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Chris, I didn’t touch anything”.

“You sure?” He chuckled, but his motions didn’t stop. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, no?”

“I guess”, you didn’t think your cheeks could’ve felt any hotter. You seriously hoped it wasn’t that noticeable.

After thoroughly rinsing your hands under the tap, he gave you a clean rag to dry them on just as he motioned for you to follow him again. So you did, walking past his half restored bike and into his office.

Chris placed Herbie’s keys on the designated case that corresponded to the number in which you had parked your car, and then turned to the minifridge. “You want a soda?”

“Sure”, you took the glass bottle from him as soon as he opened it and handed it to you. You always found it odd that he had glass bottles and not cans, considering how little space he had in that fridge. When you asked him about it once Chris simply went on about how ‘cans just don’t taste the same! The soda tastes so much better when it’s drunk from a bottle’, and as soon as he said that you just couldn’t untaste it anymore. Glass bottles were, ultimately, superior.

“‘Suppose I’ll get an uber”, you sighed after you took a sip of your drink, walking a bit so you could lean against the wall.

“An uber? Nonsense, I’ll drive you home, don’t worry”, Chris took a sip of his drink, just as he leaned on his desk.

“Aw, c’mon. You already went out of your way to rescue me. I don’t wanna take more of your time”.

Chris scoffed. “Don’t make me beg”.

“I wouldn’t dare”, you chuckled, although you were suddenly curious of what would happen if you did make him beg… “But what about your bike?”

“The bike won’t be ready anytime soon. The only reason I was coming here was because I was restless at home. Now I’d much rather spend some time with you, to be honest”, Chris took a sip of his drink again, and suddenly holding his gaze felt like too much, but the way your eyes decided to focus on his Adam’s apple moving with every sip he took wasn’t that much easier.

“You know…” Chris said after a few moments of silence, pulling your eyes back up from where they had been glued to his neck. “I think it might be time for you to consider letting Herbie go. It’s been months, and I honestly don’t think I can save him”.

You sighed. “I know… But I fear I’ve grown attached to the damned thing. Besides, wouldn’t you lose your most regular customer?” You added the last part with a chuckle, taking a sip of your drink right after.

Chris chuckled. “So you’re saying you only talk to me ‘cause of Herbie?”

You almost choked on your drink. “N–no. Of course not. You’re a good friend, Chris. Truly”. 

He placed his drink on the desk, and a smirk made its way onto his face. “Just a good friend?”

“Uhh… A great friend?” You laughed softly, drinking some more of your soda.

Chris went silent for a moment. As you saw him worry at his bottom lip and looking anywhere but where you were standing, you wondered if you had said something wrong. That was, until he chuckled.

“I don’t think I’m a good friend, to be honest”, he crossed his arms over his chest, bouncing his leg a bit. “Good friends don’t secretly hope for their friend’s car to break down so they’d call them for help”. 

You were just bringing your bottle to your lips, but his words made you stop in your tracks. “What?”

Chris looked at you for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but then he was tipping his head to the side and laughing. “God, I seriously didn’t believe Jisung at first, but you really are dense for some things, aren’t you?” 

“I am… So confused right now”.

Chris shook his head a bit, and he walked closer to you. “Let me tell you a secret…” He got into your space, close enough that you could smell his perfume, and the proximity made you swallow the saliva that seemed to have suddenly pooled in your mouth. Leaning into you, he brought his mouth to your ear, whispering. “I really, really like you”.

You blinked, and you honestly felt like your brain had short-circuited. “You… What?”

No way was Christopher Bang telling you he liked you. There was just no way. You would’ve noticed… You would’ve, right? You definitely would’ve… Wouldn’t have you noticed?

Suddenly you remembered Jisung. How he’d tried to tell you multiple times throughout the past few months that Chris was flirting with you, that you should shoot your shot, but you honestly had never believed him, because it seemed just so ridiculous to you that Chris could even look at you in that light.

“I’ve, uh… Liked you for a while. A long, long while”, Chris pulled himself away from your space completely, and he looked at your face for a moment. A moment that you stayed completely silent, still trying to process the fact that Chris liked you… And for a while now.

You saw his brows furrow as he chewed on his bottom lip. Then he was speaking again. “I just… Couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore. When we hugged earlier I realised I wanted to do that more, and that I should probably grow a pair and tell you already. I’d like to take you on a date, if you want, but I can understand if you don’t want to…”

He was rambling. A lot. Saying a lot of things. This was the Nervous Chris you’d only seen a couple of times, the Nervous Chris whose coping mechanism was just to jump to conclusions and talk in a single breath. Suddenly, it all seemed to click into place. The good morning texts, the selfies, the late night talks at the shop after Herbie had died on you time and time again, it was so clear to you now.

“If you don’t like me back that’s fine, you can just say so, I won’t take it to hear–”

You kissed him.

It was barely anything. Just a peck on the lips, but it was enough to shut him up, enough to make his eyes go wide in surprise, and, to your own selfish delight, enough to bring a delicate blush to his cheeks.

“I like you, too”, you said simply, still a bit shocked by his confession, a bit shocked by your confession coming out of your own mouth. You honestly never thought you’d be able to say that to him out loud, but you did. Just like he had.

Chris looked stunned for a bit. But that stunned look didn’t last long, it quickly turned to something else, something raw and incredibly alluring. Stepping into your space again, he brought a hand to the back of your head, holding you in place just as his other hand took the bottle from your hands to place it on the tool cart next to you, right as his lips found yours.

This kiss was nothing like the peck you’d given him. It was loaded with need and want and lust. So much of all of it you couldn’t even believe how blind you’d been. Every press of his lips against yours kindled the fire that started to burn in the pit of your stomach. When his hand joined the other cradling your head, you just couldn’t help the small whimper that came out of your mouth, and that tiny noise seemed to have spurred Chris on, enough to press you flush against the wall as his tongue made its way inside your mouth, as your arms wrapped around his waist.

Heat was spreading quickly inside of you, and you were starting to feel lightheaded–whether it was due to the shock, or due to how Chris was pressing you against the wall, or due to the motions of his kiss and the lack of oxygen, you weren’t too sure. One of your hands laid palm flat on the small of his back, while the other pressed between his shoulder blades, and the hum that came out of his mouth seemed to have travelled all the way to your heart, making it beat even faster in your chest.

Chris detached his mouth from yours, only for a moment, enough to talk. “Does this mean…” He pressed another kiss on your lips. “That you’d like…” And another. “To go on a date?” This kiss lasted a bit longer than the others, it lasted until you nodded your head.

“Yes”, you pressed a kiss on his lips, just as your arms moved to loop around his neck and his wrapped around your waist, keeping you impossibly closer to him. “Would love to”.

He hummed again, and he immediately resumed the soft movement of his lips on yours. Keeping you tight against him for a while. Until it seemed like his brain had caught up with him. 

“We should probably stop”, but he didn’t stop kissing you, just like you didn’t, either. You just couldn’t get enough of his full lips on yours, of his tongue pushing against yours.

“Do you want to?” Your fingers made their way through the curls at the back of his head, holding the strands between them just how you’d dreamt to do so many times throughout the past handful of months.

“God, no”, and you believed him, not only because of how desperate he sounded when he said it, but also because he just kept kissing you, talking in between quick pecks of his lips. “But I don’t want… To make it seem… Like this is all I want… You know?”

You knew. You knew because you were thinking exactly the same thing. You could feel him against your pubic bone, hard, warm, and it all made you incredibly wet, maybe embarrassingly so. But this was Chris, it was hard to feel embarrassed with him, which was part of the reason why you had developed feelings for him in the first place.

You hummed, just to let him know that you understood what he was trying to say without removing your lips from his. As you kissed him, as you felt him and his warmth, your mind started to cloud a bit. The mix of his motions, of the months and months of pining for him, and the even more months of self-inflicted celibacy clearly made it so logical thinking wasn’t your strongest attribute at this time.

“Would you still… Take me on a date… If I sucked you off right now?” The words flew past your mouth between kisses, too fast for you to even think twice and stop them.

“Shit…” Chris pulled himself away from your lips completely, looking you in the eyes. As you took in the flush on his face, his plush, kiss-bitten lips, and his blown pupils, you couldn’t help but think just how incredibly beautiful he looked like this. “Are you being serious?”

“Dead serious”, your chest was heaving, and your fingers carded through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails, making Chris bite his lip and take a deep breath.

“Of course I would. I’d take you to the fucking moon even if I got it wet right now”.

You chuckled at that, and pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “A date is enough, babe”.

“Babe, huh?” Chris took a deep breath, just as you pushed him away from you a bit, enough to have space so you could drop to your knees, uncaring of your bare skin touching the floor. All you could care about was the outline of his length against his clothes when you pressed your hand on it.

“Sorry, you don’t like ‘babe’?” You looked up at him, right in the eyes, just as you untied the sleeves of his boilersuit from around his waist.

“I like it a lot, actually”, there was a bit of a smug smirk on his face, and it had you licking your lips.

Just as you were about to pull the bottom of his suit further down, he brought a hand to one of yours, diverting your eyes back up to his. His gaze had softened, and the smile on his face coupled with that look in his eyes made you flush further. “You don’t have to, seriously. Don’t feel obligated to do it”.

“I don’t”, you reassured him. “I want to do it. Badly. But only if you want it, too”.

“Fuck… I do. So bad”, he licked his lips, and he moved his hand away from yours to place it on your head instead. “You’ve got no idea how much, shit…”

So you resumed your motions, tugging his bottoms along with his underwear, enough for his length to spring free of its confinements. You weren’t surprised with the sight, honestly. A pretty face like his surely came with a pretty cock, too. So of fucking course it was pretty, especially so as precum pooled at its tip, especially when it looked just so delectably hard. It was a bit on the girthier side, but nothing too crazy, nothing you couldn’t handle. If anything, it just made your mouth water, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

“Shit…” You took him in your hand, spreading around the bead of precum that had collected on his tip to give him a couple of tentative pumps, making him swear under his breath and bite his bottom lip. “How do you like it?”

“Fuck… Sloppy. Make it as wet as you can, the messier the better”, the words flew past his lips, completely shamelessly, almost as if he didn’t even need to think about them. Chris seemed to be transfixed on the sight of your hand working his length, and you took that opportunity to spit on it, making him groan while you started to coat him in your saliva.

So you delayed no further, dying for a taste, and a taste you got. As soon as your lips wrapped around his tip Chris swore. Loudly. He threw his head back and his fingers seemed to tighten a bit on your head, but he didn’t move you, he let you keep the pace as you saw fit. You started slow, holding him by the base and just bobbing your head for your lips to repeatedly catch on the ridge of his head and for your tongue to rub against the frenulum on the underside, taking him deeper into your mouth with every other stroke.

The moment you opened your eyes and your gaze found his, your inner walls involuntarily clenched around nothing, and suddenly you felt like you needed some relief. But you ultimately decided to keep your focus on Chris, on his lustful gaze, on his furrowed brows, on his gentle hold on your head, and the grunts and groans threatening to come out of his mouth, dampened by the way his teeth trapped his bottom lip.

He wanted it messy and sloppy, so you were ready to give it to him messy and sloppy. It’d been a while since you’d done this, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. With a deep breath, you took him in deeper, breaching past the initial resistance for him to ease into your throat.

“Oh, fuck… You’re kidding… Shit…” Chris threw his head back, letting the most delicious noises out of his mouth, almost making you lightheaded with how aroused his heavy cock in your mouth coupled with his blissed out sounds got you.

You took your time slurping him up, uncaring if saliva dribbled out of your mouth as you worked against your gag reflex, feeling tears quickly collect in the corner of your eyes. When you felt confident enough with your motions, you brought your hand to his that held your head in place, while you placed the other on his hip, holding him tightly. 

“You want me to move, pretty? Fuck your perfect little mouth?” You nodded in response, humming around his length.

Slowly, he started to thrust into your mouth. Chris was being extremely careful, being mindful of every controlled push of his hips, but even with his slow pace, you couldn’t help but moan as soon as he started moving, making him groan in response. That was when you finally gave into your own desires, moving your hand away from his that lay on your head to bring it under your dress so you could press circles on your clit over your underwear, eliciting broken whimpers from your mouth.

“Shit, look at you…” Chris looked fucked out of his mind already, with his heaving chest and the increasing pace of his hips. You were sure you weren’t looking any more collected than he was, especially when you started to feel tears finally fall from the corner of your eyes every time you blinked.

With one particularly precise thrust of his hips, Chris’ length went in further than you were used to, essentially choking you on his cock, making you gag harshly. Chris pulled his length out of your mouth, and you gasped for air immediately.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, so fucking good with that mouth… Come here, beautiful”, Chris helped you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist once you were standing on your feet and pressing kisses all over your cheeks. You were still panting a bit, flushed from exertion, but Chris kissed you anyway, and you kissed him back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Need to taste you”, he mumbled between pecks of his lips. “Please, please, please let me eat you out”.

You just nodded, very eagerly if you might add. But you honestly couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed about it, not when Chris begged so fervently for it. Just the thought of seeing him between your legs had you already clenching with need.

While you kissed, Chris removed his arms from your waist. You felt him fumble with his underwear and his boilersuit, hastily wrapping it around his waist, and before you could even register what he was doing, he was taking a hold of your ass and scooping you into his arms.

“Chris, fuck, wait. I’m heavy as hell”, you were slightly alarmed, but your legs wrapped around his waist for stability anyway just as you held onto his shoulders.

“Heavy?” Chris chuckled, moving towards his desk. “Baby, I can lift almost thrice your weight”.

“You, what?” You asked, a bit confused–and also aroused, because, fuck, how strong was this man…–Chris pushed away some of the items on his desk to sit you on it, close to the edge. After all the revelations that had come to light earlier, it finally dawned on you. “Is that… Why you asked what my weight was all those months ago?”

“Of course! Needed to make sure that if I ever got a chance I was able to do everything I wanted”, he dropped to his knees, starting to press tender kisses up your shins. “Must admit I had to stop whole hip thrusts sets sometimes because I’d get so fucking hard halfway through, fuck”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a hearty, and slightly incredulous laugh. “Holy shit. I genuinely thought you would tell me I had to lose weight at some point”.

“What? I’d never”, Chris chuckled, bringing his hands to your thighs, squeezing them. “I mean, it’s your body, you can do whatever you want, but know that I find you incredibly attractive however you look”, he moved his hands further up, right under the hem of your dress to finally hook his fingers on the waistband of your underwear. “Can I take these off, gorgeous?”

“Yes”, you giggled, feeling yourself heating up further just by his words and the feeling of his hands on your skin. With your hands on the desk you lifted your hips enough for him to slip the garment down your legs and off of you. He threw your underwear on the desk, and they landed somewhere behind you.

Bringing his hands back to your thighs, Chris rubbed circles with his thumbs for a second, only to finally move them further up, catching the hem of your dress and bringing it with him as he went. You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden. That was, until he finally pushed your legs apart. With the way he swore under his breath and the way his eyes seemed to get impossibly darker as soon as he took sight of your seeping core, any nervousness seemed to have been obliterated, and you couldn’t help but feel just so incredibly wanted.

“Fuck… Even here, huh?” He threw your legs over his shoulders, and you felt yourself heat up in anticipation. “Plump, pretty… Shit…”

Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach, it was honestly almost pathetic how affected you felt just by the things he was saying and the sight of him between your legs.

“You know…” Chris pressed his lips to your inner thigh, sucking harshly, leaving marks on your skin, making you inhale a shaky breath. “This is the exact same dress you were wearing the first time you came into my shop”.

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise. “You remember what I was wearing?”

“Hm, ‘course I do”, he moved his attention back to your eyes, just as he pressed a chaste kiss on your inner thigh. “I’ve been dreaming of you in this fucking dress for months, baby…”

“You have?”

“I have”, one of his hands came to grip your thigh, while the other moved to your hip, giving you a hefty squeeze. “How do you like it, pretty? Or how do you not like it, for that matter?”

You licked your lips, suddenly transfixed by the sight of his lips brushing your skin. “Gentle sucks go a long way. I’m a bit, uh… Sensitive”.

“Sensitive, huh? ‘Course you are… Hold this for me, hm?” He took a hold of your hand and brought it to one of your thighs, just as he spread you open further, propping your foot on the desk. So you did as asked, keeping your legs open as he diverted his attention back to your heat. “Good girl… Just like that…”

As soon as he spread you with two of his fingers, and he dived, landing soft, tentative licks on your clit, you knew you were done for. Your whole body jolted a bit, and a soft whimper escaped your mouth. “Oh, fuck…”

Chris just hummed, moving to lick at your entrance, getting a taste of your essence with his brows pulled together, looking just so fucking delighted. Just the thought that he was genuinely enjoying himself got you moaning a bit louder under the quickening movements of his tongue, and as soon as his lips pressed on your clit, giving you those gentle sucks you had asked for, your mind just disconnected completely.

He took his time working you up, turning you to a whimpering mess just with his lips and his tongue, gradually increasing his tempo to build your upcoming release. Whenever he dipped lower to lick at your entrance, his nose would bump your clit with every movement of his head, he was essentially making out with your cunt and you would gladly let him do whatever and however he wanted. Your nerve endings were on fire, your toes curled with need, and your walls clenched with his unrelenting pace.

When he detached his mouth from your core you almost wanted to cry, but he only did it for a second, enough to ask a “Fingers, baby?” only to press his lips to your sensitive skin again, sucking your clit into his mouth and licking it with his tongue.

You weren’t sure if the ‘yes’ actually came out of your mouth, you vaguely only registered your eager nodding and the soft moan that escaped your lips as soon as you felt one of his digits at your entrance. Chris groaned against your skin as soon as he inserted the first finger to the knuckle, the vibration of the sound further fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach. He pumped his finger in tandem with his tongue on your clit, touching and prodding and gauging your reactions to his every move.

One particularly sharp nudge of his finger on your walls had you moaning a bit louder than you were before, and Chris seemed to have picked it up immediately, because he plunged a second finger right after and started pumping his digits in and out, hitting that sweet spot over and over while his lips gently sucked on your clit. You needed to have a hand on the desk to keep yourself up, to maintain some stability, so you shuffled your foot a bit and simply let go of your thigh to bring the hand that was holding it to his head, burying your fingers in his hair and pushing him further against you with a whimper.

Chris groaned as soon as your fingers threaded through his hair, immediately picking up the pace of his fingers and his tongue, bringing you further and further towards the edge, and God if you needed to tip over that edge… With how well he was working you up you felt your lower belly tighten with exertion, and your walls spasm more frequently around his fingers.

“Chris… Fuck, fuck, I’m so fucking close, please–” You almost choked with the moan that came out of your mouth after you spoke, since Chris immediately started ramming his fingers into you harder, faster, just as his plush, now swollen lips kept sucking that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

He was absolutely determined to give you your relief, and as soon as you were able to open your eyes and look at him, the look in his eyes, lustful, greedy, was enough to finally push you over the edge. Searing heat spread all over your body with your release, pure pleasure overflowed each and every one of your senses, making you perceive nothing but Chris, Chris, Chris, and his lips between your legs, and his hair between your fingers, and his fingers inside of you.

Chris’ motions didn’t relent until you were thoroughly satisfied, until you weakly pushed on his head with a ‘shit, baby, enough, please’ when he had you on the brink of oversensitivity. As soon as his mouth detached from your heat, he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean before he finally stood up and caught your mouth in a heated kiss. The fact that you could taste yourself on his lips only seemed to spur you on further, making you whimper while you brought a hand to the back of his head and took a handful of his curls to finally get completely lost in the motions of his kiss.

“So pretty, fuck…” He mumbled when his mouth disconnected from yours, cradling your head in his hands as he smothered your face with kisses. “So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, shit…”

His borderline adoring words had you feeling tingly all over, somehow both making your heart swell in your chest and your walls involuntarily flutter even when they were still sporadically spasming from the after effects of your orgasm. When Chris kissed you again, you looped your arms around his neck just as his hands found your hips, pulling him flush to you, heaving chest against heaving chest, getting lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands kneading your flesh.

“Holy fuck”, you chuckled as soon as Chris’ lips parted from yours, and he followed suit, chuckling while he made his way to your neck, to press kisses all over your skin.

“Mmm, I know, right?”

Chris hugged you close, leisurely kissing and licking your neck and shoulders. His soft, lingering touches seemed to shoot straight to the deepest areas within your heart, and even though you’d just had a mind-numbing orgasm, you certainly wanted more. More of him.

“Chris?” You mumbled, hugging him a bit tighter.

“Mm?”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then moved to take his earlobe between your teeth, tugging gently before you whispered, “want you”.

Chris took in a shaky breath, and he pulled himself away from your neck to look at your face. God, you wanted to kiss him, his flushed face and his swollen lips would be a sight that’d haunt your wettest dreams from now on, you just knew. 

He licked his lips. “We don’t have to, pretty”.

“Mm… You’re right, we don’t have to”, dragging one of your hands from his shoulders, down his chest, his abdomen, all the way to his length, you pressed your palm firmly, feeling him still hard under your grasp. “But do you want to?”

“Fuck, yeah, I want to”, Chris held your hips tighter, and you wondered if you’d see bruises tomorrow just as he placed a kiss on your lips. “I want you so bad”.

“You have me. Right here, baby. You can have me right here”, you mumbled against his lips, pressing a kiss there right after, just as Chris swore under his breath.

“Shit… Gimme a sec”, he detached himself from you, rounding the desk and pulling one of the drawers open, muttering to himself. “There were some here, I’m sure…”

You turned to look at him, oddly amused by the way he carelessly moved things around in his drawers. “What are you looking for?”

“Aha! These”, he pulled a three piece box of condoms, and he turned it around a few times in his hand with a frown on his face. “I seriously hope these aren’t expired…”

You chuckled at the sight of his focused face, amused, but also incredibly curious. “Why do you even have a box of condoms in your desk’s drawers? How many girls have you had in here?”

“Believe it or not, you’re the first one”, he chuckled, opening the package and taking one of the foil packets out, examining it closely for a moment, only to finally heave a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Not expired”.

With a smile on your lips, you quirked a brow at him, just as you watched him round the desk again to stand in front of you. He shrugged to your silent question, taking the foil packet between his teeth so he could untie the top of his boilersuit from around his hips and tug the rest and his underwear down enough so his length was free again, and you’d admit you got a bit distracted by the sight.

With the corner of the condom packet still held in place by his teeth, he finally tore it open, and you took the bit of foil that was still in his mouth to drop it somewhere on the desk while Chris carefully slid the condom down his length.

“You’d be surprised how many things a condom can be used for when working with cars. They’re always useful when you need to get creative and use whatever you have at hand”, Chris stood between your parted legs, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing.

“What kind of MacGyver bullshit is that?” You chuckled, but the sound quickly turned into a surprised yelp when Chris held you tightly and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk.

“They’ve always been helpful when I’ve needed them”, leaning into you, Chris placed a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a kiss just as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your slit, spreading your juices around and teasing your clit in the process, making you whimper into his mouth. “But I’ll be honest, I’ve never been more happy to have them at hand than I do right now”.

You brought a hand to play with the hair at the back of his head, pulling him for a brief kiss. “Put them to good use, then”.

“Demanding, are we?” Chris chuckled, but he lined himself with your entrance anyway, slowly easing his length into your heat. “Oh, shit…”

It was a stretch, alright, but he was being just so incredibly careful, and you appreciated it, you really did. But you were also incredibly desperate to be filled, so you wrapped your legs around his torso and pushed on his ass with your heel, urging him on, making him jut his hips further forward.

“Shit… Have mercy on me, will you?” He mumbled against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss on your skin while his now free hand made its way to your hip again, holding you tightly.

“Want you”, you replied simply, probably whinier and less demanding that you were trying to sound, but Chris complied with your request anyway, finally thrusting all the way in, making you gasp with just how incredibly full you felt.

“Want you, too”, he pressed his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin. The thought of waking up tomorrow and seeing his marks on your neck or your hips made you flush impossibly further, even as he moved along to press kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “Want you so bad I’m genuinely about to burst just by being inside you right now. Need a second”.

Bringing a hand to his cheek, you made him turn away from your shoulder to look at you, and the way he bit his lip before he leaned in for a kiss had you involuntarily clenching around him, eliciting a choked groan from his lips.

“Fuck, driving me nuts… Seriously, we’re gonna have… The best fucking date ever… You’ll see…” He mumbled his words between kisses, and it genuinely had you laughing, because of course he was still thinking about your future date. “C’mon, beautiful. Hold on to me”.

So you did, bringing your arms to rest on his shoulders, burying one of your hands in his hair, all while he placed one hand on the small of your back, and the other on the desk for stability. Finally, Chris moved, starting a rhythm with precise thrusts, making you gasp at the sensation of his length dragging against your walls, making him groan.

“Fuck, shit… That’s good. So good. Feel so fucking perfect around me, baby. Perfect”, with the increase of his tempo you could barely register the words coming out of his mouth, all you could do was whine while you nodded in agreement, hoping that he, too, would know how just incredibly good he felt inside of you.

The way Chris kissed you, almost desperate, the way he started to ram into you, stretching you so deliciously you were already starting to feel lightheaded, all combined had that little bit of sanity you had left in you leave your body entirely, finally letting you succumb to just your utmost primal need for pleasure. But more specifically, for pleasure you could share with Chris.

You honestly couldn’t tell how long you spent getting pounded to that desk, you could just feel Chris’ cock repeatedly splitting you open and his lips on yours and the words that he’d occasionally mumble against your skin, his words of praise and encouragement that had you once again feeling tingly all over, words that fed that pool of arousal inside of you, threatening to spill it all over. You vaguely registered words of your own leave your mouth, too. Words that seemed to spur him on, that seemed to pull blissed-out sounds from his lips and yours nonstop. 

“Lean back a bit for me, gorgeous”, and you couldn’t help but comply, removing one of your hands from his shoulders to place it behind you to lean on it, leaving just enough space between your bodies for Chris to sneak his hand between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing fervent circles on your already oversensitive bud, eliciting a moan from your lips as soon as he did. “Fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby. Just like that, milk my cock just like that, huh…”

“Chris–” You honestly weren’t sure what you were even going to tell him, you could just feel your next high approaching increasingly fast, and you needed it. You needed it badly.

“It’s fine, pretty. Whenever you’re ready, just let go”, he mumbled the words against your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss on it, a complete contrast to his sharp thrusts and the fast movement of his fingers between your legs. “Want to feel you so bad, fuck…”

“Shit–” With a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, you finally got that sweet, sweet relief. The feeling spread all throughout your body, dragging sounds of pure, unadulterated pleasure out of your mouth, making your legs shake from exertion as you tried to keep your hold around Chris’ torso.

Bringing both of his hands to your hips for leverage, Chris chased his own release, his grunts and groans getting lost in your mouth while he kissed you again. One, two, three thrusts and he was flush against you, shooting his load into the condom while he was buried as deep as he could within your warmth, a mix of his groans and your name and a colourful string of swears flying past his lips as he rode the waves of his ecstasy with minute rolls of his hips.

“Holy fuck”, he cradled your face in his hands, pulling you in for one more heated kiss while he came down from his high, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“I agree”, you were panting a bit, breathless, leaning back on both of your hands as you tried to catch your breath.

Chris laughed, a hearty laugh that had a smile appearing on your face immediately. Taking a hold of the condom by the base of his length to make sure it was secure in place, he finally pulled out, carefully sliding it off of him, tying a knot and throwing it in the bin by his desk. You missed his warmth inside of you immediately.

Taking a roll of toilet paper from one of the tool carts nearby, he quickly cleaned any remnants of his release from his length before he was tucking it back into his briefs, finally wrapping the top of his boilersuit around his waist again. With more paper in hand Chris asked you to ‘please open up those pretty legs for me, hm?’ so he could clean you up, helping you back into your underwear right after.

As soon as you were standing back on your–admittedly unsteady–feet, Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a quick kiss on your lips only to move up and press another on your forehead. “You okay?”

“I’m more than okay”, you chuckled, melting into his embrace. “Everything hurts, though. How’re you?”

“On cloud nine”, he replied simply, giving you one of his blinding smiles, making your heart race with the sight.

When Chris finally detached himself from you, he reached for the soda he’d taken out of your hands earlier, giving it back to you once you told him ‘I still want to drink it. Even if it’s not cold anymore, seriously’, and after a bit of back and forth he simply relented.

“Would you…” Chris started to ask, while he bent down to take the bag out of the bin. “Would you like to come to my place? I mean, I can take you to yours, too, that’s fine, but I figured, you know, you could stay over, and we could have dinner, and I can make you breakfast tomorrow, and I’m sure Wolfgang would love to see you, and we could cuddle to sleep, you know? But if you don’t want to, it’s fin–”

You took a hold of his hand, squeezing it in yours to stop his rambling. “I’d love to”.

Chris just giggled a bit, pressing a quick kiss on your lips and tugging you out of his office back to the garage once he’d switched off the light. When you were outside, you made your way to his 4X4, watching him chuck the small bin bag from his office into the bigger bin out in the garage and going through the motions of switching every light off in here, too.

As you watched him, your eyes drifted to Herbie, parked in his–by now–usual spot. Maybe Chris was right, maybe it was time you considered letting him go. He’d served you well for those two months at the beginning, and when you were in a pinch he was very forgiving, but his condition was unsustainable at this point.

As soon as Chris was by your side again he gave you a kiss for good measure, opening his 4X4’s passenger door for you. You just smiled at him, pressing one more kiss on his lips before you finally hopped in. Chris rounded the bonnet and started to very animatedly talk about a funny thing Wolfgang had done just this morning, gesturing with his hands while he recounted the event, making you laugh.

While Chris drove you two to his place, with soft music playing on the radio, with his hand occasionally shifting from the gear lever to squeeze your thigh, all while a light, easy conversation flowed between you two, you figured that Herbie might’ve been the worst financial decision you’d ever made, but at the very least, he’d brought you to Chris, so you really couldn’t hold a grudge against him, not when you felt so incredibly light and couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

You can find part two here

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