Paradise Lost ; 01

『paradise lost』 ; 01

❝ do you ever wonder? ❞

↳  finding out about one of your friends spending a night with your best friend changes the trajectory of the way you view him…forever and for always.

⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : friends to lovers, romance, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 10k

『 warnings 』 : drinking, smoking, sexually explicit content: unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (f rec), (nice) dirty talking, light possession play, light humiliation play.

“Have you ever done it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Definitely not.”

An admission of complete truth: you hadn’t.

That was, of course, until you had.

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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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ꜱᴋᴢ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

warnings : food, break up

HOLD ON TIGHT — (18+!)

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his voice pronouncing those four letters.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me, doll.”

🎮 SYNOPSIS: You can't believe your eyes when you spot your rival at the video game convention that you have been looking forward to for months. You want to be furious, really, but what happens when he's suddenly totally kind and a little too flirty with you, after he realises the both of you are unintentionally attending the event in matching cosplays?

🍭 CONTENT INFO: felix x afab reader, enemies to lovers, rival felix, best friend hyunjin, smut/a little fluff, they are all gamers and nerds lol

👾 CONTENT WARNING: reader is cosplaying in a dress and wearing makeup, jealousy (reader), topics of unrequited feelings (not between felix and reader), smut tags under the cut

🔮 WORD COUNT: 8.5K

💜 SMUT: semi-public sex (bathroom), slight dom/sub dynamics, breast play, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, choking, praise kink, voice kink, name calling (doll, darling, baby, good girl, good boy)

“Hyunjin, pay fucking attention.”

You’ve had it today. Usually, you try to stay calm during games but your best friend has been harassing your last nerve for the past thirty minutes. The fight at work some hours ago adds to your tense aura, technically close to snapping by now.

“Chill, dude.”

His voice is quiet but sincere, traveling to you from across the room. Although you teamed up in an online match, it is nothing unusual for the both of you to meet up on Friday evenings, celebrating another end of a hard week of work with your favourite games, some delivery food and beer.

Since your job has been even more exhausting than your best friend is behaving right now, he allowed you to choose today’s dinner—pizza from your favourite place down the street.

“Watch out, it’s five_star_m1chelin at it again,” Hyunjin adds to the conversation, for once giving you a useful hint.

You’ve been thrown into games with this user tons of times before, it’s getting ridiculous. Sometimes he’s part of your team, sometimes he starrs in the rival group—just however AI decides to place him. Perhaps, he’s one of the few who has a similarly high elo rating in comparision to Hyunjin and you but nonetheless he annoys the shit out of you constantly.

Unfortunately, this has to happen on top of all bad things occurring to you this week—your boss yelling at you for something that your clumsy colleague did wrong, your heater acting up and making you sit here under four blankets in April since temperatures decided to drop down to five degrees again and Hyunjin going on a date with a cute girl he met in an art gallery. Yes. You may have a tiny little crush on your longtime friend but you have gained level platinum in hiding your feelings for him.

And additionally to that big lump of shit making your everyday life harder, user five_star_m1chelin is occupying your free time now with his stupid comments. The words stay written, until one of the other mates of your team decides to switch to voice chat—including the opponent group.

There is one tiny problem about it.

You feel pathetic even admitting it.

But apart from his absolutely disastrous behaviour and persistence in winning—even if it meant he had to betray his own grandmother—your rival’s voice has an addicting charm to it. You could listen to it twenty four hours, seven days a week. If it wasn’t filled with so much bullshit.

You have no idea what he looks like, most times of the day you don’t even care about it—but the deepness in the words spilling from his lips make your head spin around in circles.

“You good, bro?” Hyunjin asks when he notices you zoning out, after he makes sure to hit the mute button.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Just the usual.”

“They are annoying, I know. Do you wanna play something else?”

What Hyunjin can’t achieve voice-wise, he makes up with so many other factors—his plump lips basically draw your eyes on them, his bleached messy hair makes you want to tousle the peach-coloured strands, his pretty elegant fingers create unholy scenes inside your head–

“Earth to Y/N.”

His words are followed by a snapping sound, his middle finger colliding with the palm of his hand.

“No,” you start, needing another second to reminisce what Hyunjin asked mere moments ago until the information floods into your mind again.

“Let’s play one last round.”

Hyunjin chuckles and you hate him for that. You do. For two main reasons—you are in a bad mood right now and everyone experiencing opposite feelings automatically turn into your enemy thanks to your hot-headed nature and, apart from that, it reminds you of how adorable you find your best friend all over again.

“Ah, yeah. The famous promise that no gamer has ever kept.”

You don’t even pay attention to your best friend’s words anymore. Your head is a mess. Threatened by all the overwhelming thoughts running speed marathons in there. Nice. What was supposed to be a fun, chill Friday night turned into another episode of stress.

But today the one last round quote actually becomes true, when your rival’s comment turns into your final straw that makes the tower of annoyance crash down into a million tiny pieces.

five_star_m1chelin: why does this game always let us play against a bunch of noobs lmao

The audacity this guy has is unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve had enough,” you say immeditaly before the screen darkens, only enlightening eight letters in a bright purple reading GAME OVER.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just a game.”

Hwang Hyunjin, you better shut your mouth or the rest of the pizza will be flying into your beautiful doll face.

You, somehow, manage to regain sanity once you take a deep breath and turn off the computer in front of you. A large sip from your beer, as you empty the bottle, eases your mind further.

“Y/N, listen,” your best friend starts again. “I know it’s been some rough days for you. Let’s just take it easy and make the best out of this weekend, okay? You have been looking forward to the video game convention for months now.”

Yeah, until Hyunjin decided to invite his new flame from the art gallery date and include her in your longtime planned schedule.

This saturday was supposed to be filled with bestie-time—overpriced, greasy fast-food, sneaking in liquor in your bra, dressing up in matching costumes and getting as many free goodies as possible, all whilst test-playing the new DLCs and versions of your favourite games.

Hyunjin has noticed that your mood has shifted to something else—where once was anger, there is a shade of disappointment and sadness decorating your face now.

“Hey, angel, why don’t you show me your costume, hm? Did you manage to make the last adjustment?”

A smile welcomes your mimics now, especially when Hyunjin gets up from his assigned seat and takes a few steps towards you. His hand finds your own, fingers entangled with each other, as he helps you get up.

“Yeah, I did. I can show you.”

He softly nods, while his body disconnects with yours again when you walk towards your wardrobe. You get hit with a wide selection of clothes—all unorganised. Skimming through the different fabrics, your fingers catch the material they have been searching for—a dark, deep purple dress, shimmering even in the dim shade of your fairy lights that are shrouding your room in a warm colour.

The dress feels both so soft on the inside and a little scratchy on the outside, thanks to the billion particles of glitter attached to it. Hyunjin’s eyes widen, once you pull the costume out and carefully lay it on your bed so it doesn’t get creased.

“Woah, the colours are astonishing,” Hyunjin whispers as he takes in the full glance of the dress.

“Should I put it on?” You ask then, finding his gaze.

He nods, hastily, eager to see what it looks like, before he rushes towards the door, “Just tell me when you’re done.”

Oh, you get the hint now. But it feels very weird making Hyunjin leave your bedroom when the both of you have seen each other in swimsuits plenty of times. There’s no difference to underwear, right?

“Don’t play dumb. I’ll be quick. Besides that, I need someone to tie the strings at the back, I can’t reach them.”

Your best friend nods, before he turns around on his feet again but decides at the last minute to direct his head in another direction—out of respect.

Little has he realised that, now in front of the wardrobe, he can see your reflection very clearly thanks to the large mirror. But luckily, you’re standing the other way around, so he only has to withstand the picture of your bare back and your bottom covered in your panties, granting him a good view.

Fuck. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, physically. But, unfortunately, that’s all there is for him. You’re his best friend and he wants the connection to stay this way—sadly, his emotional desire for you isn’t strong enough for something serious to happen and according to the suspicions your shared friend Minho has (that you may have a little crush on the tall, peach-haired guy) makes him feel uncomfortably awful.

The more he thinks about it, the more he is drifting off in his own thoughts, regretting having invited Eunji to your long awaited convention weekend. He wasn’t really aware of it, not really taking it seriously and he hopes it’s not as deep as Minho makes it seem.

But all his doubts, all those contemplations vanish away when you turn around and he copies your motion. The glitter fills his whole vision and Hyunjin is at a total loss for words—the fact you’re cosplaying one of his favourite characters out of the game you have been playing for years makes this even better.

“You look… unbelievable.”

A smile finds your face, as you thank him for the compliment. You try everything to not let his words get to your head. Especially when you catch a glimpse of your own figure in the mirror, realising you really look as beautiful as ever.

Hyunjin’s eyes stay glued on yours, until a vibrating sound echoes from across the room. Your best friend walks towards where his phone is located, catching it between his fingers as his view lingers on the bright screen.

Your heart breaks a little when you grasp that the smile that’s on his face now seems so much realer. Fuller. More meaningful.

“It’s just Eunji asking where and when to meet tomorrow but I will just pick her up and we can collect you at the subway station. Is that alright?”

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

“Sure,” you exhale, taking a few steps towards your wardrobe again.

Once you’re out of Hyunjin’s sight—his whole face attached to his display—you get changed again, hovering the thin fabric over your head but struggling at the task of untying the strings at the back.

“Do you need help?” Hyunjin offers when he hears your grunts, turning around in the process.

“No, I don’t. I can do this myself.”

Your words leave your mouth harsher than intended and necessary. A well deserved scoff hits you next, followed by your best friend mumbling, “Jesus Christ, you’re extraordinarily bitchy today.”

This time you don’t answer.

“You should get going, Hyun.”

He gets the hint this time. Although, not completely. He simply believes it’s the piled up stress taking over your last nerve as he doesn’t realise what big role he plays in this chaos—unintentionally.

So, he walks towards the door of your room, softly laying his hands on your half-naked back, untying the strings in one swift motion and you let him.

“See you tomorrow afternoon,” he says, while his palm collides with the door knob. “Sleep well.”

A few minutes pass by, as you clean up the space in your bedroom—getting rid of the empty beer bottles and paper boxes. You have toned down the intensity of your fairy lights by a few levels, before you rush to the bathroom to begin with your nighttime routine.

Once you’re back in your usual habitat—in front of your computer—with a nice, hot cup of herbal tea, your eyes witness an unread private message from a few minutes ago.

When you take in the letters of the username that sent it to you on Discord, your eyes widen.

No way.

You gasp. Then you scoff.

And then you reread the text once more.

five_star_m1chelin [23:17]: sorry for the message earlier, this wasn’t supposed to be sent to the group chat

What is his intention behind that? On one hand it’s not that deep—it’s just a game as Hyunjin says—but on the other hand you feel like he owes you way more than this.

So, you decide to reply.

you [23:31]: and this makes it better?

The guy behind the other display really didn’t mean it this way—even though it’s absolutely hard to believe. But, well, as cliché as it sounds for a gamer and young guy working in IT business, his interactions with the opposite sex are rare. He always thinks that teasing gets him somewhere but he leaves out the misunderstandings texting generates in his calculations.

A quick sound tells you he sent another message.

five_star_m1chelin [23:32]: no, no but I still wanted to apologise in general. I can be a bit rude sometimes.

Oddly enough you relate to this a lot—especially on days like these when the glass is half full, waiting to be spilled all over the surface it’s standing on, once another droplet gets connected to the liquid inside.

You hesitate. You don’t really get where this conversation is supposed to get you. But, probably, it’s not even that deep. He just had the decency to apologise for something he did. You should really stop overanalysing every word people use around you. It’s not that deep, you are totally sure.

Until the screen reads ‘incoming voice call’.

For fuck’s sake, what does he want now? This is getting weird.

However, you pick it up without batting an eyelid.

“Hi. It’s me,” the deep voice echoes from your speakers.

“Yeah, no shit,” you reply impulsively.

The guy takes a few seconds, before a shy, almost embarrassed chuckle escapes his lips.

“Ah, yes. I’m already regretting this.”

You roll your eyes at his words.

“So you confess that you just called to annoy me more?”

He snickers once more, this time a little less timid.

“N-No, I wasn’t really thinking if I’m honest–“

“–nothing new.”

He lets out a breath, poking his cheeks from the inside with his tongue but you can’t see him. Fuck, there’s something about you being so direct, not thinking before you speak sometimes that makes him lose his mind.

“I deserved that a lot,” he says.

But you’re not in for a nice chitchat, especially not with him. Although it’s not a secret that you could listen to his voice on repeat, like a new song you are obsessing over, destined to shoot to the top of your most played tracks on Spotify.

“Listen,” you begin again, this time actually trying to sound nice, “I had a rough week and I really need to get some rest. I also have plans with my friend tomorrow and have to get up early.”

“That Jinnie guy?”

Yeah. Your bestie has the cringiest username out there. Jinnie_piscesboy. He created this account when he was thirteen years old, though, so he is excused.

“Yeah, him.”

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the male voice says. For some reason it fits him. You start wondering what he looks like again, until you regain power over your brain and you tell him your own name.

“Y/N…” he repeats with a husky whisper, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud and forgot to mute his speaker for a second.

Fuck. You’ve never expected a sound so pretty to spill from his lips. The way he repeats the syllables makes your head dizzy. If there is such a thing as being attracted to someone’s voice, you sure are when it comes to him.

“Well then, Y/N,” he speaks again, making you absolutely insane just with a few words. “Sweet dreams.”

Not quite in favour of the last piece of sanity in your body, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice this night, as the deep melody still lingers in your ears.

🎮

As expected, you wake up a little too late but still manage to meet Hyunjin and Eunji at the subway station on time. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they are already holding hands, expectantly waiting for you at the platform. Well, Hyunjin at least. Eunji has a very bored expression on her face. Although you can’t lie, she is very pretty. You get why Hyunjin might find her attractive.

“Oh, we brought this for you,” your best friend says, as he pushes the plastic cup of fresh iced coffee into your hand. You don’t question that he decided for a cold drink during these temperatures.

“Thanks,” you say, before your gaze switches towards the girl beside him.

“This is Eunji,” Hyunjin says then, pulling her towards him as he places his big hand on her shoulder and she whimpers a little at the sudden contact.

That’s when the spirals of absolute bullshit start running around in your head. You wonder if he has touched her like this before, if they shared a kiss or if his name spilled from her lips when he was possibly deep inside–

“You good?”

You hastily nod at your friend’s question, as you correct the way your long coat is sticking to your figure. The combination of iced coffee and a costume revealing so much skin underneath that thin jacket isn’t the best idea of the century, you must admit.

“Yeah, sure. Should we go?”

It’s once you’re inside the cramped wagon, that you realise that neither Hyunjin nor Eunji came in a cosplay to the event. Sure, your best friend never agreed on putting on some outfit like you did, but something tells you he didn’t do it because of her.

You saw the look on her face when she took in a glance of your glittery makeup. You’re not judging her, she seems like a decent girl but you’re not entirely neutral here. At least you notice your emotions before they can be set free this time.

It is definitely called luck that you purchased the full-day tickets in advance, when you spot the ridiculously long line of people waiting in front of the venue. Once you're inside, the three of you rush towards the cloakroom, letting the employee stuff away the clothing you don’t need.

And that’s when you notice the look on Eunji’s face—an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and judgement, as if she’s both admiring you for your bold outfit choice but is silently evaluating how her respect for you decreases with every square centimetre of skin that you are showing.

What a pity. You really wanted to like her.

“You okay, darling?”

If she wants to play this game her way, you are happy to adapt.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just… aren’t you cold?”

Translate as you look like a slut.

“Nah, I’m feeling quite hot, if you ask me.”

Hyunjin suppresses a chuckle. You, on the other hand, celebrate the mischievous smirk this situation causes to appear on your glittering face.

“Should we check out a few games?” Your best friend asks once the conversation comes to a stuck.

Eunji nods but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to say more.

You’re soon learning she’s not a girl’s girl. She is not here for support and it’s nothing personal towards you. The way her eyes travel down the form of so many other cosplayers, especially female ones in tight and revealing outfits.

Maybe you’re not doing her justice and creating an opinion too soon, but everything about her makes you uncomfortable.

This is beyond being jealous of her. If you think about it, you don’t really care about Hyunjin dating her anymore.

But what is a real thorn in your flesh is her general behaviour and attitude.

You wonder how Hyunjin picked her up at an art gallery when she has to make stupid comments on everything that crosses her vision. But maybe that’s just another cliché that fits. An hour may have passed by now, but the tension grew so much thicker, you want to cut it with a knife.

Although, the annoyed look on her face and the proud one on Hyunjin’s, whenever someone greets you and asks for a picture—probably adoring the same character of your favourite video game—gives you an intense confidence boost.

“We wanted to check out the merch counter, Eunji is searching for gifts for a few friends,” Hyunjin announces then and you wonder if that’s a hint that they need some time alone.

You don’t feel angry anymore, not even disappointed. It simply leaves you… sad. As if he is betraying you which he technically isn’t.

“Sure, I will get in line for the new DLC then. Whenever you’re ready you can just look for me and save some time this way while I’m waiting for you guys.”

Hyunjin pulls you into a quick but still tight hug, as he whispers, “You’re the best.”

And you want to combust at the furious look Eunji is throwing your way with a thousand tiny splinters. This is some kindergarten bullshit here. It’s getting ridiculous. You may have a small crush on your best friend—although you start doubting it more and more as if the feelings are slowly fading away—but you don’t have a chance with him anyway.

She should notice by now. It’s so incredibly obvious how deep you are in the friendzone, if there was one.

But for once you try to ignore all these thoughts since they aren’t getting you anywhere. You’ve waited for the video game convention for so long, she is not gonna ruin it.

Luckily, the line subsides faster than you expect, probably because the organiser put some logic in it, when they decided to create two of them. You’re getting so hyped up that you have completely forgotten about your two companions, when it’s finally your turn.

A little later you sit down next to the person who has been waiting in the other line, now occupying the computer next to yours, both at the same table, chairs mere centimetres apart.

You admire the look of his face and it sounds ridiculous but it’s as if his beauty is shining through the whole room, enlightening the venue in a warm light. His long blonde strands cling to his neck and the hairstyle reminds you of Hyunjin, although you have to admit it looks a little better on this guy. You take in every particle of his charms and elegance.

Until he opens his mouth to do some smalltalk with you, while the screens are loading.

“Finally, it’s been such a long time since they announced the DLC. I seriously can’t wait for the new version in a few years.”

The odds are so small. So pathetically small.

But out of all people, you are sure it’s five_star_m1chelin sitting next to you now.

You would recognise that voice out of a million others.

“Also, your cosplay is extremely beautiful.”

Yup. It’s his definitely voice. Doing parkour in your silly little head.

“Thank you, Felix.”

He stares at you.

You look back at him.

Until it clicks.

Felix.

Felix.

You dumbass said his name out loud.

“Y/N?”

Of course he recognises your voice in an instant as well. Not surprising.

But, however, what does surprise you is his next sentence.

“Excuse my choice of words but you’re even hotter than I have imagined you.”

There’s a part of you that wants to react in a way that shows him how annoyed of him you are. Until you realise… that his weird type of compliment actually does something to you. It boosts both your mood and confidence. And you’re done judging people on small little aspects.

“Thank you. You too.”

It’s just now that you realise, when taking a closer look at his own costume, that he is cosplaying the character that is being shipped with your own.

Oh, what a coincidence. This all feels as if you’re suddenly part of the video game—unreal and too good to be true. So good, that you almost forget who is sitting next to you here, until one of the organisers tells you your turns are over.

“Do you… maybe wanna grab something to drink together?”

He scratches the back of his neck while proposing his idea, getting all shy for a moment and you almost find him adorable. Almost.

🎮

It’s been a few hours now, the venue gets emptier and emptier with any minute but due to it being Saturday, the convention will at least be going on until midnight and Felix and you still have so much to explore.

By now, you are a team that works well together when it comes to other fans of your favourite video game wanting to take pictures of the couple you’re cosplaying. You could basically get hired for an acting job for the next version they will publish in a few years.

And from time to time even—you are sure it’s not the gin tonic that Felix paid for telling you this—it feels as if he is looking at you a little too long to solely blame it on your marvellous makeup skills…

“Look,” Felix exhales once you enter the next hall of the convention, as he points at a wheel of fortune, shining in all the colours the rainbow has to offer. When you spot the purple part, you realise it’s the exact same shade like your costume.

“Let’s go, we should spin it.”

Unfortunately, you’re never really lucky when it comes to games like this and today isn’t any different. So, Felix’s turn follows after. He positions his finger at the edge of the plastic surface, before pushing once and watching the colours spin at lightning speed. Your eyes follow the motion attentively, until it comes to a halt.

“Oh, we’ve got a first price winner!” The employee squeals, either indicating this hasn’t happened that often yet or she’s simply overdoing her job. In your opinion.

Felix gets handed a stuffed animal in the form of a baby chick. The way too big eyes are basically staring right into your soul but for some reason, you find it absolutely adorable. Almost as adorable as–

Wait, what?

“It’s for you,” Felix says then, dragging you out of your daydreams.

“Oh– thank you.”

He is cute. You can’t deny it anymore. In a way that is so opposite to how he has behaved online it makes you doubt they are the same person.

“No need to thank me, doll.”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually throws the nickname into the conversation. God, that guy has so many facets it makes your head spin all over again. Almost as fast as the fortune wheel when he spun it a few minutes ago. Almost.

Your face heats up so much but you’re sure, if Eunji was here she wouldn’t be able to accuse you of being cold again.

Speaking of the devil, it’s at this second that her and your best friend decide to come around again, showing up after what has been a few hours.

“There you are, Y/N. We have been looking for you,” Hyunjin says, relieved, as he pulls you into a hug. You can bet that Eunji has the same expression on her face again.

“It’s a big venue, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin nods, as he lets go of you, now standing beside his little fling again.

“Oh, sorry,” you speak, realising you haven’t introduced the guy next to you yet.

“This is Felix.”

The blonde men look at each other but you notice that Felix’s face is filled with a little more friendliness. Hyunjin isn’t judging him or anything, it’s rather as if he hasn’t… expected you to go and find someone else which is very weird considering he is here with Eunji and has basically ignored you for half of the day.

“Nice to meet you,” the smaller one says to your best friend, a smile being shooted his way.

It’s as if something in Hyunjin’s head clicks but the Hyunjin that he is, he needs another second to jump to a conclusion.

“You have a voice that… sounds so familiar. Do we know each other?”

Felix chuckles then, squeezing his lower lip between his teeth like on autopilot, before he finds the gaze of the other one again.

“Yes. It’s five_star_m1chelin. Nice to meet you.”

You can practically see a lightbulb shining above Hyunjin’s head now, as he puts two and two together.

“I’m Hyunjin– oh, this is Eunji,” he introduces his girlfriend or whatever then.

She just waves in his direction and you can read it in her expression—she’s impatiently waiting for your best friend to grant all his attention to her again and leave the both of you alone.

But Hyunjin’s mimics have changed a bit, too. You’re done reading too much between the lines, drawing conclusions where there aren’t any but when Felix lays his hand around your hips—which he has already done before, when waiting in line for your drinks—your best friend’s eyes shoot down to the spot where your bodies connect so innocently.

You get aware of it for a second, until Felix pulls you even closer and you almost drop Bbokkari—the plush chick—in the process. But he catches it, giving it back to you before his lips align with your ears, as he whispers, “Be a little more careful, doll.”

You instantly nod, until you realise again that you are still very much in public and very much standing right in front of Hyunjin and Eunji.

“Actually,” Hyunjin suddenly announces, “we were thinking about leaving. We’ve seen everything around here and we’re getting a little tired.”

You nod, once again, a little surprised about the abrupt plan of your friend.

“Sure, I guess… we will stay a little longer,” you say as if it’s a question but, luckily, Felix is on the same page as you.

“Okay, then I will bring Eunji home. I’ll call you, Y/N.”

There’s something in Hyunjin’s face as if he wants to say more but he can’t because the presence of his girlfriend or God knows what is holding him back from it.

Nonetheless, you exchange a hug—a little more rushed than usual—and tell them to stay safe and text once they’re home. You watch them leave the hall until they are out of sight.

“It seems as if you’re a little jealous, doll,” Felix says then, nonchalantly reaching for your hand as if he has done this a thousand times before.

You have learnt by now that the freckled boy is very touchy but you don’t mind at all—even though you usually don’t like it. It just feels so natural with him.

“But not as jealous as he is.”

You decide to ignore the second part of his sentence. It may seem weird and unforeseen, but after today it doesn’t really matter to you anymore. Hyunjin can go and spend as much time with Eunji as he wants—you’re glad to be here with Felix.

He’s actually giving you a good time and he’s listening to you. Felix doesn’t make you feel like a second choice and you would have never expected that the guy that used to get in constant fights with your last nerve would ever make you feel so… safe and wanted.

The last thing you want is Felix to think that there is something going on between you and your best friend. Yes, until twenty four hours ago you were convinced that Hyunjin is the man of your dreams but the more you spend time with Felix, the more those feelings seem to vanish.

Of course it’s a little early to jump to any emotional conclusions.

You may be delusional, but that’s where you draw the line.

However, you can say that Felix brightens up your mood a lot more than Hyunjin has achieved in all these past weeks.

Maybe, and just maybe, you have never had a crush on the latter but just fell in love with the idea of it—driven by familiarity.

Or maybe, and really just maybe, the chemistry between Felix and you is much more intense. You’re like two opposites finding each other, completing each other without being two halves. You may be wired differently—the sunshine boy (that is grumpy online) and the grumpy one (that is—mostly—a sunshine online)—but this only makes the attraction stronger.

But, again. There’s no need to interpret every detail now. What you are sure of is that Felix is making you feel good and that’s a reason enough to be honest with him.

“I am not jealous.”

He chuckles a little. As if he doesn’t believe you but also as if he doesn’t really care. Felix is here with you and the fact you have been spending the whole afternoon and evening with him, is enough he needs to know.

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his deep voice pronouncing those four letters so sensually, you’re embarrassed. After all, you’re still in public and he basically has you wrapped around his fingers with one stupid syllable he has used a few times tonight.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me.”

God, Felix, stop. You’re close to shattering the world record in developing a crush on someone within a few hours.

Calm the fuck down.

“I have never expected that you are capable of saying nice things from all the things you have said online,” you reply then, somewhat gaining control over both your thoughts and the conversation.

“I only say nice things when I truly mean them.”

Yeah. You have lost said control again.

But there’s no time to think anyway, when Felix grabs his hand and guides you towards another hall, finding something that amuses him.

“Another wheel of fortune,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction like a child.

“The odds for you winning again are so low,” you challenge him unintentionally. Maybe you are just not neutral regarding your bad luck with games like these.

“Don’t underestimate me, doll.” Felix counters then. He looks at you, pretending to be hurt until the both of you start laughing.

“How about a bet?”

“Sure,” you answer. “What shall we bet?”

Felix acts as if he is contemplating what to say but something in his expression tells you he has already got an idea.

“If I win the first price again, I’m taking you home tonight. How’s that sound?”

Oh, God.

You remember you are still very much in a public place and there is no reason for him to make your face heat up like fire just with a simple, not so innocent proposition.

But why should you play pretend when that’s all you have been craving this whole day?

“I’m all in, pretty.”

You swear you can see him blush at the nickname, his freckles almost hidden behind a pink layer. Almost.

“Good luck,” you say before Felix positions his hand at the wheel again, giving it a little nudge as he watches the colours merge into one another. When the spinning motion comes to a halt, the both of you have your eyes practically glued on it, patiently waiting for the result.

“What a pity,” Felix says when he realises it wasn’t enough. The employee gives him some type of candy as a consolation prize.

“I would have loved to take you home,” he adds.

Felix unwraps the plastic around the lollipop, before he guides it towards your mouth. As if he has flipped a switch on you, your lips part obediently, inviting the sugary treat in. When the flavours hit your tongue, they turn from sour to sweet.

The tension between the both of you grows thicker within half a second. Felix watches the way the candy disappears inside your mouth, until you open it a bit, entangling your tongue around the blue confectionery. He pulls the lollipop out, as it leaves you with a loud ‘plop’.

“What a pity indeed,” you say, licking over your sugar coated lips with your tongue that still has the blueberry taste on it.

Felix tries the candy then, squinting a little when it turns from sweet to sour.

“Hm, I guess those are the rules of the bet.”

His gaze is still fixated on your lips and the thin layer of sweetness on them.

And then the realisation hits you.

It’s not as if anyone is holding the both of you back anyway—you can decide how tonight will end regardless of what you agreed on two minutes ago.

“Well,” you start then, snitching the candy out of his hand, as you place the candy between your lips again. This time it doesn’t taste as sour. You guide your mouth somewhere else—right beside his ear.

As if you could get caught for what you’re about to say.

As if the venue isn’t getting emptier with each second.

As if the both of you have cared for the past hours in case someone sees you shamelessly flirting all in public.

“You simply said, you will take me home if you win,” the words leave you in whispers, although still audible for him.

“You can still take me somewhere else.”

Felix can’t help himself but blinks his eyes repeatedly when your sentence registers in his head. Then, the freckles hide behind a pink curtain again.

“Are you real or are you a dream?”

The little chuckle that follows from him is absolutely cute.

“I mean, there aren’t as many people here anymore. We can probably search for a more quiet place.”

That’s how you find yourself in one of the more spacious bathrooms a few minutes later, after you practically sprinted there and hastily locked the door behind you.

But before you’re able to start with anything, Felix reaches for your hand—as if he is about to make the most romantic gesture but it turns out he is just guiding you towards the bathroom counter this way.

He aligns his lips with your ears, just how you had been doing mere moments ago. His breath lingers on your skin and it feels as if this is already enough for every cell in your body to scream for more.

“A quiet place it is,” he purrs, “just so you know—I want you to be anything but quiet, baby.”

That’s it. With a single sentence—and everything that has happened so far—he makes sure you are one hundred percent ready to be ruined by him.

The next thing you sense are his lips attached to your bare neck, sensually drawing kisses on them, sucking roughly on your skin. You let out a moan then, out of reflex covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

But Felix has different plans. He carefully pushes your fingers away, while he is meeting your gaze with his own.

“Didn’t I tell you to not be quiet, doll?”

You nod, looking at him like a fawn that has been caught doing something forbidden.

“Words, yeah? Where are you hiding your boldness now?”

“Felix… don’t tease. Please just keep going.”

His eyes darken, playing in harmony with the mischevious smirk that is appearing on his face.

“That’s my good girl.”

Within a second, he hovers his lips all over your jaw, as his hand comes to help—in other words seizing around your throat all so slightly.

It’s ridiculous and you don't know what to blame it on—the gin tonic you had four hours ago that is probably not even working in your system anymore, the wickedness of being in this semi-public cramped space with him, the matching costumes clinging to both your bodies destined to be taken off.

Or a combination of all of the above.

Nevertheless you are sure about one thing: Felix is making you struggle to catch your breath, whenever his hands explore another part of your body—your waist, your hips, your ass, your tits. Unfortunately still all through the fabric of your cosplay.

You’re so deeply hypnotised, totally occupied in the way he is granting your body so much attention with so little effort.

Until a vibrating sound echoes through the room, coming from your back pocket.

At first you ignore it—concentrating on the pretty boy in front of you instead—but the noise repeats itself a few more times and you’re getting worried it’s important.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick.”

“No worries, darling,” Felix says, as he plays with your hair, watching you touch the screen of your phone.

“It was just a quick text from Hyunjin. I’ll turn it off,” you let him know, as you press the button on your device, before storing it in your back pocket again.

“What does he want?”

Felix wouldn’t usually ask such things but the fact you were practically bombarded with texts from your best friend creates an uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach.

Chill, dude, he tells himself. She isn’t your girlfriend or anything, slow the fuck down with your emotions.

“He says they are home and put a weird emphasis on the fact he is staying at her place.”

Felix scoffs. “No offense but that guy is weird.”

You’re getting second guesses now. Not because of Felix but because of the way this situation might appear to him.

So, you have to come clear about something first.

“I don’t want to make the impression that I’m thinking of you as a rebound.”

Felix’s face softens, as he brushes over your cheek with the back of your hand.

“I know that you don’t. Please don’t worry about it.”

You nod, “So, where were we?”

“Take a seat, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your waist and places you on top of the counter.

And in less than a second he has got you right under his spell again, when he this time aligns his lips with your own.

You can clearly say—apart from being drunk on arousal—that this is the most passionate kiss you have ever received in your life. Truly hypnotising like a hyperfixation on a video game release you have been impatiently waiting for.

Especially, when he carefully—in order not to wreck your cosplay—pull the part of your outfit aside that is covering your breasts. Well, not anymore. Felix’s lips are wrapped around one of the sensitive buds now, the other once pinched between two of his fingers.

But he doesn’t stay in this position for that long—he wants to explore every inch of your body, all of it. So, in a swift but sensual motion he sinks down to his knees, his head on the same level as your lower stomach now.

Felix’s hands are attached to your upper thighs, as his face is wandering upwars again to be squished between your tits for one last time before he slowly creates a path of kisses, going south.

He looks insanely beautiful like this. Perfect, almost. A really pretty boy between your legs, excitedly taking in the view of your body in the costume of his favourite character. This is truly a gamer’s wet dream come true.

“You’re so breathtaking,” he says then, as if he has been reading your mind and decided to turn the compliment towards you.

You could swear his voice is even an octave deeper now—if that’s physically possible—and you’re melting in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you cry out, when his hands slide underneath the skirt part of your costume. They brush over your clothed core next, applying soft circling motion at a steady speed that’s making you unintentionally say goodbye to all logical thoughts that are left in your brain.

“You like that, baby?”

You can’t do much more except for letting out a high-pitched moan, nodding to the rhythm of his movements. Felix uses both his hands to let your underwear glide down your thighs then, revealing your glistening cunt that is waiting to be devourt by him.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

He’s not really waiting for an answer this time. He has indeed been waiting too long. Instead of wasting any more second, Felix dives right in, as the tip of his tongue collides with your clit, before he adds a long, sensual stripe to it.

“You taste so good, doll,” he hums, as his saliva mixes together with your precum, making you even wetter than you already are.

“You like my voice, don’t you?” Felix asks and you’re very much surprised he’s only now dropping that question.

“Y-Yeah– a lot,” you chuckle, feeling caught.

“Hm, I’ve noticed, baby.”

His tongue can’t only be considered heavenly when it comes to speaking, he is in fact more than talented when it comes to those unholy circling motions he provides right where you need them the most.

And as if that isn’t already enough—enough stimulation, sensation, satisfaction—he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside your hole, feeling your walls immediately clench around them.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises when he witnesses your head falling back in pleasure, your hands holding onto the slippery counter for dear life. It doesn’t take you that much longer to fall apart—especially, when he curls his fingers inside you as his tongue keeps flicking over your sensitive bud, driving you over the edge completely.

Felix’s pace decreases then, while he helps you ride out your high and in an instant he is standing on his feet again, capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself but you don’t mind, particularly once his moans are transferred towards you and that deep growl makes you almost see stars again, untouched.

“If you were mine, I would make you walk around in this costume every day, fuck–“

Felix’s words are straightforward and you adore it, so you waste no time and find the hem of his pants, pulling them down with the underwear in one swift motion, freeing his hardened length.

“I wanna call you a nerd but I was just about to say the same.”

He chuckles and then kisses you one last time, before he spits in his hand and wraps it around his throbbing cock, smearing the saliva all over it. Felix watches you spread your legs for him and he almost cums there and then but manages to hold himself back.

“You ready, doll?”

His eyes find your own again, putting you into another scene of trance.

“Definitely.”

The tip of his cock grazes over your sensitive, almost overstimulated clit. Liquids get mixed together, combined into one, just like your bodies when he finally pushes himself into you. You need a second to adjust to the feeling and Felix pulls out, just to go all in this second time—now bottoming you out so deliciously, you’re afraid you might drool all over the costume.

“Better hold on tight, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your hips and starts thrusting into you with a slower, steady pace.

And it seems as if he can’t only go deep with his voice.

You decide to position your arms around his neck, pulling him closer from time to time so you can align your lips with his—the kisses mostly consist of teeth and tongue but you don’t mind.

The scene is so wild, so overwhelming in a good way, you’re for sure you will be thinking of this moment for the rest of your life. A shitty weekend doing a one hundred and eighty degree turn and transforming into the best time of your life anyone has ever granted you sexually—and emotionally, considering how well the annoying gamer of the rival team and you seem to get along in real life.

And, God, the way he is filling you up so deliciously, the way he is playing with your tits again and the way his other hand is drawing those addicting circles on your clit—he’s bringing you closer to that sweet relief within seconds if not less.

“Give me another one, baby, you can do it,” Felix orders, as if he is able to read your mind when in reality he simply feels you tightening around his pulsating cock.

You hastily nod, following his command. Your vision gets filled with stars and the sensation rushes through your body, this time even more intense and you cry out his name over and over again.

“Good girl, what an obedient doll you are,” Felix praises you once again, never stopping with pounding into your aching hole, although you notice him getting sloppier.

“I wish you’d let me cum all over the dress but I think that’s not the smartest idea, baby.”

You chuckle, “Hmm. I-I have nothing to change into here.”

“What a pity,” Felix says, picking up his pace as he is now fucking into you so mercilessly, you keep screaming out syllables that sound like his name.

“What a pity indeed,” you exhale.

“You can cum on my tits, though.”

Felix’s eyes roll back and he is questioning yet again if this is reality or just some fantasy that has been playing in his mind so many times before.

“But only if you ask nicely,” you add, when you notice his fucked out face.

“Fuck, you’re s-something e-else, doll,” he stutters, dangerously close to the verge of snapping.

“But please– let me– let me cum all over your tits.”

You’re done torturing him, Felix has earned everything he wishes for.

“Go on, be a good boy, baby.”

At the very last second, he pulls his cock out of you, directs it towards your tits as he leans over. In an impulsive moment, you reach for his length then, replacing his hand with your own, as you stroke him a few more times until he can’t take it no more.

Hot spurts of cum land on your bare skin then, painting your body so beautifully, Felix reminds himself to take a mental note of the view, storing it in his head to relive this sight whenever he feels the need to.

However, once the both of you have remembered how to breathe properly again, Felix helps you clean up as best as possible and gets the both of you dressed again. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, making you heart skip a beat.

You thought you were wired differently and maybe you are but that’s what makes the both of you complete—physically, mentally, spiritually and you can’t wait to learn more about him.

Felix pulls out his phone from his jeans pocket, unlocks it and basically holds it right under your nose.

“What’s this?”

You are a little perplexed, that’s your excuse for the rhetorical question.

“My phone, duh. You can give me your number, if you like. So I can invite you on a date.”

Felix is glad you can’t hear his heart racing as if it's doing a marathon and trying to win the gold medal.

But the anxiety fades away in an instant, when you smile at him.

“A very odd order of dating events but sounds like a great idea.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I swear I blame aespa’s song for this, it has been on repeat for the past week for me 💜 thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going.

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

"online friends" - bang chan x stay!reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ stray kids social media au ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

˗ˏˋ pairing ˎˊ˗  bang chan x stay!reader

˗ˏˋ description ˎˊ˗ chan likes to know what stays are up to; he likes to read their tweets, their comments dedicated to the group, and to just look at the content they post in general. one day, after the new album is announced, chan takes it a step further by creating his own twitter account and posing undercover as a stay. his unique username makes him go viral and with that, he meets y/n - a stay who's just looking for fellow stay friends. ! minors + ageless blogs dni

˗ˏˋ tags ˎˊ strangers to friends (?), comedy, angst, with a happy ending (?), not sure how to tag this one tbh, but i have things planned, just trust me with this one, yn doesnt have a face claim

: ̗̀➛   start: 12.04.2023    : ̗̀➛  end: ?

: ̗̀➛   updates: wednesdays + saturdays

: ̗̀➛   taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist, fill this out !!

a/n: hi hi hello !! all chapters are already planned out and the plot is already set! i am only updating the titles as i go, that's why not everything has a title yet! have fun reading + please don't spam like !

˗ˏˋ profiles ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ chapters ˎˊ˗

◛ introduction.

◛ c.one: play it cool.

◛ ch.two: the bang chan allegations.

◛ ch.three: oomf famous era.

◛ ch.four: [coming soon]

◛ ch.five: [coming soon]

◛ ch.six: [coming soon]

◛ ch.seven: [coming soon]

◛ ch.eight: [coming soon]

◛ ch.nine: [coming soon]

◛ ch.ten: [coming soon]

◛ epilogue.

💌 you got a new message!

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."