Maroon

title: for lovers who hesitate author: jia_yang rating: teen wordcount: 19889 pairing: ot7 summary:

namjoon is the leader and seventh wheel of bts.

link

summary - girls like you aren’t normally seen with guys like him, but he’s nothing like what you think

pairing - stoner!yoongi x good girl!reader

side pairing - taekook

genre - fluff, tiny drama; college au, stoner au

fic type - social media

status - completed

playlist - here 

part zero 🍃 profiles

part one 🍃 good for it

part two 🍃 scouts honor

part three 🍃 pregame

part four 🍃 wanna try?

part five 🍃 only curious

part six 🍃 friends now

bonus 🍃 man of the hour

part seven 🍃 as a feminist

part eight 🍃 not my girl

part nine 🍃 whipped already

part ten 🍃 just coffee

part eleven 🍃 bad influence

part twelve 🍃 movie maybe

part thirteen 🍃 assigned partners

part fourteen 🍃 later angel

part fifteen 🍃 working on it

part sixteen 🍃 stupid cheesy

part seventeen 🍃 long enough

part eighteen 🍃 hoodie thief

part nineteen 🍃 pick me up

part twenty 🍃 okay, baby

part twenty-one 🍃 proper date

part twenty-two 🍃 formal introduction

part twenty-three 🍃 over yet

part twenty-four 🍃 my boy

bonus 🍃 touch up

part twenty-five 🍃 lose you

part twenty-six 🍃 want to talk

part twenty-seven 🍃 wrong chat

part twenty-eight 🍃 respect that

part twenty-nine 🍃 ready to talk

bonus 🍃 dumb not stupid

part thirty 🍃 happy circumstance

party thirty-one 🍃 lucky you what

part thirty-two 🍃 here goes nothing

part thirty-three 🍃 groceries to run

part thirty-four 🍃 not yet but soon

part thirty-five 🍃 you’re happy

bonus 🍃 excited for dinner

part thirty-six 🍃 tell my baby

part thirty-seven 🍃 i love you

end 🍃 epilogue

bonus 🍃 my good girl (m)

Maybe This Time; COMPLETED

(pls ignore time stamps)

disclaimer: spelling and grammar mistakes included ♡ 

↳ warnings : swear words, derogatory name calling, panic attacks

yoongi x reader au; idol!au

Stealing songs, and marketing them as your own is the worst thing you could do being in the music industry. You’re fake, lazy, unprofessional, a thief, and a liar. Being accused of something so serious, y/n didn’t know what to do. Y/N thought she could rely on her best friends but they turned their backs on her. With no evidence in her favor, she ran. Now a year later, she’s ready to live the life that she lost and clear her name. Will she be able to handle facing those who betrayed her? Will she be able to trust them again after everything they did to her? Maybe this time, she’ll gain back the friendships and love that she lost. Maybe this time, she’ll find a new love to carry her through her hurt and pain.

prologue

1 - she’s back

2 - missed me?

3 - secret

4 - g*m

5 - ugly crying

6 - so we drink

7 - little do you know

8 - princess

9 - i’m mad

10 - isn’t that funny?

11 - pork belly

12 - awkward

13 - make his pockets hurt

14 - yeonjunie

15 - ain’t nunya business

16 - murder case

17 - accident

18 - inner demons

19 - i’m ready

20 - DONE

21 - too late

22 - service error 409

23 - 140624

24 - deserve.

25 - celebrate

26 - even when

27 - i wish

28 - long overdue

29 - apologies

30 - eggs and flour

31 - that’s… intense.

32 - elegantly pretty

33 - panda express???

34 - it’s been awhile

35 - womenphobic

36 - logging off…

37 - government name

38 - pardon me?

39 - not jealous my ass

40 - what is a lil meow meow?

41 - i know the code

42 - was there tongue?

43 - that’s baby to you

44 - maybe this time, the end.

epilogue

➳ ROSES

╰ life was a lot easier for seokjin before the crackhead who moved in above his flower shop accidentally kidnapped his daughter… but he had to admit; meeting you definitely made things a hell of a lot more interesting

pairing: single dad!jin x photographer!reader

genre: sm au, crack humor, fluff, angst, smut

status: completed

series: hobiverse masterlist

a/n: yoooo y’all already know wtf is going on lol we back and thiccer than ever with a new au!! bls enjoy clueless single dad Jin getting his shit turned upside down by chaotic good y/n!! x

💐 part 1 - profiles

💐 part 2 - die hard

💐 part 3 - shrek

💐 part 4 - lizard person in a child suit

💐 part 5 - the sacred law of dibs

💐 part 6 - bird watching

💐 part 7 - friendship flowers

💐 part 8 - in a totally chill friend way

💐 part 9 - hold that canoe

💐 part 10 - math

💐 part 11 - frozen

💐 part 12 - the word that shall not be named

💐 part 13 - jolly green giant

💐 part 14 - over and out

💐 part 15 - exposed

💐 part 16 - psychic powers

💐 part 17 - zoinks scoob

💐 part 18 - smirgins

💐 part 19 - this is a case for the FBI

💐 part 20 - family night

💐 part 21 - lesbians

💐 part 22 - second chance

💐 part 23 - petals (m)

💐 part 24 - peachy

💐 part 25 - crying at the cinnabon stand

💐 part 26 - lasagna

💐 part 27 - bigfoot kink

💐 part 28 - Feelings™️

💐 part 29 - mario and luigi

💐 part 30 - everybody say sausage

💐 part 31 - code red

💐 part 32 - flower daddy

💐 part 33 - i do

💐 part 34 - skittles

💐 part 35 - epilogue

:: bonus part - postlogue 4

spin-offs: breathe (jjk) || finding bigfoot (myg)

Stain Me

Summary: Hooking up with the most popular wizard of your college should be no big deal. Well, unless he summons a demon who is more than eager to join you.

Pairing : Wizard!Namjoon x Witch!Reader x Demon!Jimin

Genre : Smut. Fantasy.

Warnings : Explicit sexual content, Threesome, Demon summoning, Overstimulation, Swearing, Switch!Namjoon, Dom!Jimin, Switch!Reader, Dirty Talking, Oral Sex (f. & m. receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Light choking, Drunk Sex, Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), Rough sex, Deepthroating

WC : 5.3k

Member : Rid || @taegularities

A/N : I struggled a little with this - but in the end, it worked out well! This fic is the third part of the group prompt “Hell of a Ride” - stay excited, there’s more to come! Also, some parts are inspired by the show “Supernatural”, the similarities are not coincidental. Thank you very much @biaswreckme for being such a talended beta!

taglist: @lurejoon @mimikookie​ 

—————

This was not meant to happen.

Not that you didn’t enjoy it – but if someone had told you this morning when you’d woken up that you’d find yourself in your current situation in less than twelve hours, you would’ve sarcastically thrown your head back and walked away with a wave of your hand.

Keep reading

NOW WE’RE EVEN

“good luck trying to get rid of me”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: crack; enemies to lovers; fake dating au; sm au.

warnings: explicit jokes; some angsty realizations about feelings ; mentions of stalking

summary: in which in a serious of unfortunate events a piece of paper promising jungkook she'd do anything to return a favour comes back to haunt y/n. who would've thought jungkook would actually ask her to return the favour and expect her to be his fake girlfriend. oh well, accidents happen and jungkook never forgets promises.

— masterlist

part 1. explicit brain

part 2. pure poison

part 3. real girlfriend

part 4. explaining to do

part 5. shower thoughts

part 6. min devil

part 7. bully on main

part 8. dinner?? together??

part 9. locked INSIDE

part 10. enemies since birth

part 11. shaking in fear

part 12. elevator talk

part 13. same person

part 14. it’s ART

part 15. only threats

part 16. accidents happen

part 17. ugly scream

part 18. say goodnight

part 19. ugly words

part 20. strange feeling

part 21. jealousy is a disease

part 22. baby??

part 23. accidently confessed

part 24. ITS A JOKE

part 25. poisonous cake

part 26. heartfelt behaviour

part 27. accidently matching

part 28. that's my girl

part 29. intentional confession

part 30. now we're even

end.

by popular demand I rewrote this au and here it is 😽 I hope u enjoy it

your knight to the rescue

pairing: dick grayson x gn!reader

WC: 1.8K

warnings: cursing, creepy older man, sexual tension? i think thats it.

summary: being a plus one has its perks and downsides.

A/N: i wrote this for @alecmores​ my editor and friend since they did a fic for my birthday this year. a little reward for having to read all my stories and listen to me talk nonsense in chat.

also tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. so if theres something that comes off as fem presenting just let me know and ill fix it!

also used two prompts from @urfriendlywriter​ , forced proximity numbers 3 and 4 

in the drafts since may13

masterlist / dick grayson

“please, y/n! you’ll be doing me a solid!”

“if you get on your knees and start begging i might consider throwing myself to the wolves.”

you were just joking, you would’ve done anything dick asked of you. but he got on his knees with his hands clasped in front of his face and put on his best puppy dog eyes. oh! he really didn’t want to go.

Keep reading

                      ❪  💜  MASTERLIST :  ❫  not your fairytale

What do you do when you’ve called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother’s grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing.  myg x f!reader.

genre + rating.  non-idol!au.  pretty angsty with some warm and fuzzy fluff thrown in.  general.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, hurt, comfort, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends, best friend’s sister. 

wc.  8.9k.  complete.

author note.  n/a.

chapter 01

chapter 02  

chapter 03

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

Hii! Its me again! The anon who requested the Jihoon x perfect reader. I perfectly understand and I don't blame u at all! It's ok if u don't want to write it anymore. But if u ever decide to finish writing it, here are some of the parts I requested (Tbh, I don't remember much of what I requested):

- Jihoon and the reader are academic rivals

- They get paired up for a project (because they are the top of the class)

- The project makes them closer. Close enough for Jihoon to crush on the reader

- Because he saw her (or them. Depends if u want to write it in a gender neutral pov) with another classmate, he sorta gets jealous

- This leads to him exposing his crush hehe

Tysm for taking the time to read this! <33

Green Tea Latte

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader (ft. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, mentions of the rest of Seventeen, mentions of Red Velvet's Joy aka Park Sooyoung :))

Synopsis: Jihoon is not the jealous type, but you make him green in more ways than he can handle.

Genre: Fluff, crack, more angst than I was intending, jealous!jihoon, perfectionist!jihoon, hardworking!reader, kind of E2L?, high school!au, FACS class, mild baseball!au

Warning: Use of profanity, mentions of parents passing away 😕 (reader lives with her older brother), food, one joke about polyamory, improper childcare of a doll, jealousy, insecurities, unedited (I apologize . . . I couldn't find a beta reader and I wasn't gonna go back and read all of this because my own work makes me cringe - I'll fix it some day T^T), inaccurate portrayal of high school, jihoon is quite crass at the beginning - I think that's it? Please lmk if there's more!

WC: 9.7K

Permanent taglist: @nanamioo @bibinnieposts

A/N: Anon who requested this 😭😭😭 My sincerest apologies for finishing this so dang late! Thank you for requesting Jihoon btw! Initially, this plot was set out for Jeonghan, but I figured. just maybe I could spin it for Jihoon :) I've struggled for a long time to find a good concept for him, but alas, here we are! I hope it lives up to your expectations 💙 I also apologize in advance - I'm a tad of a masochist, so if the ending isn't what you were expecting, I'm sorry 😅

“And last, but not least, we’ll have one group of three: Y/N, Jihoon, and Wonwoo,” Ms. Choi announced, quickly slapping his roster shut with one hand. His eyes scanned the classroom for any signs of confusion. “If there are no other questions, please find your partners and come check out one of the infant dolls. I’ll also give you the packet that contains all the instructions and worksheets for this final project – please review it tonight and have questions ready for class tomorrow.”

With the clap of her hand, students all around you started shuffling around the room to make way to their partners. You, on the other hand, remained seated in your desk in the third row by the open windows, eyes trained on your hands clasped in front of you. The spring humidity seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable and no amount of fan or breeze could stifle the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead. Was your uniform jacket always this itchy and heavy?

Slowly, you craned your neck to look to the other side of the room to see if he was making his way over. When you caught a glimpse of him, Jihoon was sitting sideways in his seat, one arm resting on his desk and the other slung over the head of his chair. His facial expression, his eyes narrowed at you with the slightest crinkle in between his brows as if he was glaring at you. 

His backpack slung loosely over his shoulder, Wonwoo collapsed lazily into the seat in front of you. Despite the loud scraping of the chair against the white tiled floor, you paid no mind to him. A heavy sigh left Wonwoo’s lips as he leaned back against the window and glanced over, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses to better follow your line of sight. 

Wonwoo already knew: The final project for Family and Consumer Science was going to be interesting. 

Lee Jihoon hated you and he never tried to hide it. The whole senior class, even some of the teachers, knew that he had a strong distaste for you. Jihoon was never really a people person; he was stoic and kept to himself. If not in school, most of his hours were spent on three things: studying, baseball, and music. His only true friend was Soonyoung; everyone else, he was either acquaintances with or good teammates at best. Even then, Jihoon and Soonyoung’s friendship was questionable as the former seemed annoyed half the time they’re spotted together. 

You were special, however – to put it nicely. Ever since you skipped the latter half of your first year of high school and joined their class, their second year of high school, Wonwoo had never seen Jihoon so peeved by someone before. Wonwoo had an inkling it had to with the fact that you persistently knocked him off the podium as the number one student in all the courses you shared. 

Calculus? If Jihoon got a 98%, you got a 99%. 

The competition for Mr. Jung’s creative writing class? If Jihoon got second, you got first for best story – granted, only the two of you and Joshua had entered for extra credit. 

Ms. Park’s impossible biology lab practical? Jihoon was happy with his A, until he heard you aced it. 

To put it simply, the two of you were academic rivals and never had to work together on group projects until now – with Wonwoo, of course. 

“Hi,” Wonwoo cleared his throat. This was his first time interacting with you. He had always seen you around in classes the two of you shared, but never made an effort to befriend you either. It wasn’t that you were cold, most of their classmates got along with you well – similarly to Jihoon, Wonwoo preferred keeping to himself as well. People watching high school students was a rather fun pass time. 

“So,” Wonwoo awkwardly tried again when you didn’t respond. He glanced over to see if you were paying any attention to him yet. He frowned and nudged your hand when he noticed your eyes were still lingering on Jihoon. You perked at the brush of his finger against your knuckles. 

“Hi,” Wonwoo greeted you again. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

Wonwoo scratched the back of his head, “Class is going to end soon – should we go talk to him?”

“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” you muttered. Robotically, you slipped out of your desk and began walking down the aisle, weaving in between desks to get to Jihoon. Wonwoo followed in suit, though not as gracefully, jutting his hip into the edge of a few brown desks every now and then. 

You didn’t even have a chance to greet Jihoon, however.

“I’m going to ask Ms. Choi if I can do this assignment individually,” Jihoon deadpanned. Shoving his hands into his pants pocket, he stood up in front of you. His eyes flitted between Wonwoo and you. “You guys can be parents to your own stupid doll – I don’t have a problem being a single dad.”

. . . .

“This is stupid,” Jihoon spat, tossing the packet across the table. Wonwoo slowed the chewing, nervously lowering his red bean bread bun into his lap. He shared a knowing glance with you. 

“It is,” you sighed, nodding once. You reached over to the packet and flipped it open a couple pages. “But we have to do it to graduate.”

Jihoon paid no mind to your comment, still clearly upset that Ms. Choi wouldn’t let him do this final FACS project on his own. 

“The purpose of this assignment is to introduce you to the challenges and collaboration of parenthood and raising children,” Ms. Choi insisted sternly. 

“There are single parents out there, you know?” Jihoon had shot back.

“Lee Jihoon,” Ms. Choi warned. 

He lowered his guard and cleared his throat. 

“I well-aware that there are single parents out there, but there are not enough infants–”

“They are dolls,” Jihoon interrupted. 

“There are not enough infants for students to do this assignment individually,” Ms. Choi continued, ignoring the teenage boy’s snark comment. 

“Can I at least trade partners then?” Jihoon asked. 

“It’s important for you to learn how to work with others,” Ms. Choi straightened a stack of papers, clacking the short edge against her desk. “Even if you don’t get along with them. You do not exist in a void, Mr. Lee. Wonwoo and Y/N are good students – give them a chance, you might be surprised.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes when Ms. Choi turned back around. 

“Is there anything else you want to clarify about this assignment, Jihoon?” Ms. Choi asked, a stern hand on her hip when she turned around. 

“No,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then,” she dismissed him. Her eyes flitted to the awkward pair of students standing in the doorway behind Jihoon. “I believe your partners are waiting for you.”

And that’s how Jihoon found himself here: Sitting at a cramped table in the dinky convenience store down the street from school that is always out of Diet Coke because the three of you didn’t get time in class to discuss the project. 

“Essentially, we just have to take care of this baby for a month,” Wonwoo fingered through the packet, his eyes skimming over the thick of words, “Do the things on this checklist, discuss our experience as a group, and then turn-in a paper or diagram of our choice documenting our experience?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You twiddle your thumbs, your eyes occasionally flitting to Jihoon sitting kitty corner to you. You were well aware he didn’t like you and that made you nervous. 

“Our experience should be interesting,” Wonwoo commented. He reached for his banana milk and took a long sip.

You furrowed your brows together in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it’s a polyamorous parenthood, duh,” Jihoon answered for Wonwoo. The former choked on his banana milk, coughing up a fit. 

You blushed, shrinking back into your seet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable between the boys. Wonwoo eyed you nervously, noticing the way you clasped your thighs together, sticking your hand underneath your thighs, and shifted nervously in your seat. 

“Dude,” Wonwoo warned.

Jihoon shrugged. “Am I lying?”

Wonwoo sighed. Indeed Jihoon disliked you, but did he have to be borderline harassing you like this?

“Don’t say shit like that – It makes it uncomfortable for all of us,” Wonwoo chastised him, not trying to single you out. His gaze flickered to you briefly. You gave him a small smile in thanks for trying with Jihoon. “It’s just a group project – let’s get this done, graduate, and get out of here.”

“How do you want to split up the work?” Jihoon ignored Wonwoo, asking the group instead. His eyes flashed down to his phone. “I gotta get to baseball practice soon, so hurry.”

“We can just switch every day in a pattern? Me for one night, Wonwoo for the next, then Jihoon?” you offered. “We don’t have to worry about the baby during the school day since Ms. Choi said we can return them to her room.”

It was a reasonable suggestion, but it still bothered Jihoon. 

“First of all,” Jihoon started, “It’s a doll, not a baby. Second, that’s dumb and inconvenient.”

You winced. Your patience was suddenly running thin. He didn’t like you, but did he have to be so crude? What the hell was his problem?

“I don’t think so,” Wonwoo frowned, also starting to get annoyed with how stubborn Jihoon was. 

Jihoon glared at Wonwoo – why was he suddenly siding with you? Did the shy anime-like boy have a crush on you?

“I’m busy,” Jihoon said as if it was obvious. “I have baseball practice nearly every day after school as we’re getting closer to the end of the season, which means sections? Competition is hot – I can’t be hauling that thing around the field.”

“Then you take it during the weekend,” you blurted, finally having enough of his crap. He was the one being unreasonable – as if you and Wonwoo weren’t busy either. 

“That’s not –”

“Isn’t it though?” you challenged. “If you’re too busy to do your part during the weekday, the weekend is the least you can do? Wonwoo and I can split the work during the week.”

“We have to spend time together too – as parents with the baby,” Wonwoo piped up, reminding the two of you about the other requirement he spotted. “At least once a week.”

Jihoon groaned, muttering a few curses underneath his breath. 

“Let’s just meet on Fridays then and use that time to discuss and gather info and do the reflection,” you suggested. 

“Why are you making all the scheduling decisions here?” Jihoon asked accusingly. “You’re not the only one here, Y/N. We have lives outside of school, you know? Fridays are usually baseball games for me.”

“Fine,” you relented, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you propose?”

Jihoon mirrored your posture, leaning back into his seat. “There’s three of us and seven days of the week. One day, we’ll meet together, so that leaves six. You take the stupid doll for first two days, I’ll take him for next two days, and Wonwoo the other two.”

Your phone buzzed in your lap. 

Sooyoung: Where are you?

Sooyoung: Hyun is starting to wonder where you are – hurry!

You quickly shot your co-worker a text that you would be there soon and glanced up at Jihoon and Wonwoo who were still in discussion – though it was more of Jihoon talking at Wonwoo. 

“Two days for each person with a third for us to meet together sounds fine to me,” you announced when the chatter died down. You pointed towards the door, rising out of your seat. Your hand wrapped around the navy blue and yellow carseat, holding the infant. “I need to go – I’ll take the baby today and tomorrow, and hand it off to Wonwoo on Wednesday. Text me if you need anything.”

“‘I need to go’,” Jihoon mocked you. He scoffed and sank down into his seat. 

Wonwoo frowned. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

Through the convenience store's glass window, he watched you cross the empty street. Your ponytail swung back and forth behind you like a horse’s tail, the keychain of the white character with the glistening eyes and pink cap clipped to your black backpack mimicking the same motion. 

“I . . . don’t know,” Jihoon muttered. 

. . . .

“What if it’s because you’re jealous, my friend?” Soonyoung pointed his dripping cherry red popsicle at Jihoon. The sun was already setting after a long three hours of baseball practice. Rather than going home right away, Soonyoung somehow convinced Jihoon to go hang out at the park, where the latter ended up venting and recounting his day, updating his best friend on the situation with the FACS final project, finally ending with Wonwoo’s incredibly stupid question. 

“What? Am not,” Jihoon protested.

Soonyoung smirked, his tongue, a matching shade of red, flicking out to lip the droplet that was about to drip onto the pavement underneath the swings they were sitting on. “Are too – literally, you were top of the class since middle school until she came along and stole your thunder.”

“Impossible,” Jihoon refused to believe his best friend. 

“Justin Bieber said, ‘never say never,’” Soonyoung glanced over at Jihoon and nodded, knowingly. 

Jihoon refused to believe though – he knew himself best, right? And he knew he wasn’t the jealous type. He never cared about competition and winning. He was the type to just do his own thing, worked hard, and ended up at the top – until you, obviously. 

“Well, why else would you dislike her so much then?” Soonyoung probed. The last small chunk of cherry popsicle slipped off the stick and splattered on the blacktop underneath him. It melted quickly into a puddle on the hot surface.

“What if I don’t dislike her?” Jihoon proposed. 

Soonyoung gasped – Jihoon assumed it was just a delayed reaction from dropping the last of his frozen treat, but his next words took Jihoon by surprise. 

“Does this mean you like her?” Soonyoung asked, eyes wide. “You’re pulling a tsundere – like, like . . . Kyo Sohma from Fruit Basket or Tsukishima from Haikyuu!”

“What the – no!” Jihoon exclaimed. In his swing, he pulled away from his friend trying to loosen his grip on his arm. “That’s not what I meant, Soonyoung. I don’t like her, but I don’t dislike her – she’s just a person . . . who I find annoying.”

Soonyoung sat back down into his swing, letting out a brisk ‘tsk.’ He slumped his shoulders forward, his hands wrapping around the rusted chains. His lips placed in a pout, his eyes flickered quickly to Jihoon before they turned back to focus on the black top underneath them. “She’s not really though . . .?”

Jihoon’s face hardened, furrowing his brows together, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. What did Soonyoung know about you that Jihoon didn’t know?

Shifting uncomfortably under Jihoon’s intense glare, Soonyoung started pushing himself back and forth on the swing with the toe of his sneaker. “Y/N’s . . . She’s actually . . . uh, really nice? And helpful.” Soonyoung nodded, content with his description. 

“And I’m not?” Jihoon asked bluntly. 

Soonyoung pointed a finger at his friend. “I didn’t say that – see, you’re being jealous right now.”

Jihoon shook his head. “No, please – just enlighten me. What’s so nice and helpful about her?”

“One time, walking into school, I tripped and spilled my papers everywhere,” Soonyoung straightened his shoulders. “No one helped me pick up my stuff, but Y/N saw and helped, and asked if I was okay.”

How pathetic, Jihoon thought to himself. Soonyoung was such a soft person – so easy to please. 

“Soonyoung, that could’ve literally been anyone –”

“But no one helped me, did they?”

“It’s one incident.”

“She had chemistry with me that semester,” Soonyoung continued to explain, hoping Jihoon could see the better side of you. “I messed up my experiment and she stayed behind to help me.”

“Okay,” Jihoon tilted his head, “I guess that’s kind of nice.”

Soonyoung let a beat pass, carefully observing Jihoon’s reaction. 

“If you weren’t so peeved by her, I might’ve . . . tried to be her friend more,” Soonyoung sulked. 

“Are you blaming me, right now?” Jihoon asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah – a little bit. She’s cute.”

“Cute?” 

Soonyoung straightened his spine in the swing, refusing to look at Jihoon out of embarrassment – And Jihoon knew. Jihoon knew that sulking, childish look better than anyone. It was that look Soonyoung gave him when Jihoon made fun of him for being a SHINee fanboy when they first met. It was that look that Soonyoung gaven when Jihoon came to pick him up from detention their third year of high school and didn’t talk to him the whole bike ride home. It was that look Soonyoung gave when Jihoon didn’t pay enough attention to him and ignored Jihoon for a whole week. 

He was annoying, but Jihoon couldn’t help but cave in because that damned look made his heart ache a little. And as much as he hated to admit, high school was a little lonely when Soonyoung wasn’t around. Jihoon didn’t have that many friends, frankly. Taking in a deep breath with his eyes closed, knowing he had to calm down and approach this carefully before Soonyoung threw another fit. 

“D-do you . . . did you . . . like her?” Jihoon finally choked up. He side-eyed his best friend who was hiding his face in the shadow of his baseball cap. 

Eventually, Soonyoung gave a small nod that if Jihoon wasn’t watching him like a hawk, he would’ve missed it. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon whispered under his breath. “Do you still like her?”

“I dunno,” Soonyoung shrugged in defeat, “She’s cute and she was really nice, but I haven’t talked to her long enough to know.”

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Jihoon got up from his swing and awkwardly made his way over to Soonyoung. His hand hovering over his best friend’s shoulder, he hesitated for a moment, eventually clamping down. 

“There, there,” Jihoon muttered. 

“Give her a chance,” Soonyoung said after a moment, “For me?”

He peered up at Jihoon again – those damn shining eyes. 

“Fine.”

. . . .

So . . .

Maybe Soonyoung was right. 

You weren’t that bad. 

Most importantly, you did your part of the project and you did it well. Unlike most of his peers he had been in groups for projects, not only were you diligent, but you were thorough – even if it was just FACS class. You paid attention in class and took notes on how to care for infants. You studied them after class and put the skills you learned into use. He watched you swaddle Haeyoung, the name the three of you, mostly Wonwoo, decided to name the doll, with care and feed it the plastic bottle with white-colored fluid that didn’t come out of the rubber nipple as if it was your own child. You didn’t even grimace when you had to change its brown diaper (yes, this doll was programmed to poop – wild). When Wonwoo almost dropped it on its head, it was you who saved it and placed it properly back in his arms. You didn’t even get mad at Wonwoo as Jihoon almost did – you just . . . laughed and told him it was okay. 

You were never friendly with Jihoon as you were with Wonwoo, but at the very least, you were courteous and professional. That was enough for Jihoon. He wasn’t expecting the three of you to be best friends at the end of this project anyhow. The things the three of you decided to do was starting to become . . . fun – kind of. Jihoon wasn’t big on ‘going out,’ but morning walks in the park, afternoon coffee shop hangouts, and dinner at Wonwoo’s house were becoming bearable. Jihoon had always chalked this up to Wonwoo being present and serving as a buffer between you and Jihoon. However, one particular afternoon in which your third member couldn’t join the two of you, made Jihoon question the reality of your situation. 

Sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair of the coffee shop, Jihoon played with the straw of his iced coffee, waiting for your arrival. He peered at his watch wondering where you were. It was almost 5PM – you had agreed to meet up half an hour ago. 

The bell hanging above the entrance of the cafe clanged as a new customer walked it. Shortly after your voice, a little breathless, called out to Jihoon from afar, “Hey!”

Jihoon looked up, tilting his chin in your direction as you made your way over to his table. You looked rather frazzled. Your hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and you sported a white t-shirt with faint, but questionable splotches of yellow and brown. 

“Took you long enough,” Jihoon muttered. 

“Sorry for being late,” you cleared your throat, not hearing Jihoon’s snarky remark. You adjusted Haeyoung’s car seat in the chair next to you. “Um . . . family stuff came up.”

“Sure,” Jihoon replied. He leaned over, setting his elbows on the table. He watched you unzip your bag and pull out a red spiral notebook. Fringes from paper being ripped out of it stuck out on the edges. “Did you want anything to drink before we start?”

You stared at Jihoon blankly. You were thirsty admittedly, but you also knew you probably couldn’t afford anything here. Knowing your situation, Wonwoo had usually offered to buy you something, even if you refused. 

“No,” you shook your head and flipped open to a fresh page. 

“You sure? You don’t want to get your usual green tea latte?” He pointed at the cashier counter.

You froze in the middle of uncapping your blue pen. “H-how . . . how did you know that was my go-to order?”

Jihoon shrugged like it was no big-deal. “Wonwoo always buys it for you when we come here – and I remember you said once you don’t like caffeine.”

“Uh . . . I’m good – I don’t need any today,” you cleared your throat, positioning your pen over the blank piece of paper. “Let’s just get this over with and go.”

“Okay,” Jihoon replied, repositioning himself in his seat. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn’t shake off the weird turbulence swarming in his chest. 

. . . .

With some time before dinner, the two of you opted to walk around town with Haeyoung to make up for “family time” that your group didn’t spend last week. Indeed it was awkward, you were two enemies walking around with a fucking doll for heaven’s sake. However, it was oddly comforting walking around mindlessly without feeling the pressure to talk or listen constantly.

Unfortunately, his peace was interrupted sooner than expected. 

“So,” you started slowly, “What were you doing before the meeting today?”

Give her a chance.

Soonyoung’s word echoed in Jihoon’s head as he walked with you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Just . . . some conditioning,” Jihoon grunted. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “For baseball?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon replied. He cleared his throat. 

“That’s . . . some intense training – no rest,” you commented. 

“If you want to be good, it’s what you gotta do.”

The conversation fizzled out pretty fast afterwards as neither of you were sure where to go from there. 

“How about you?” Jihoon managed to croak as the two of you crossed the street. He shoved his hands into his black joggers. 

“Hm?” you hummed in confusion. 

“W-what . . . where were you before the meeting,” Jihoon clarified, “You were . . . uh, late, you know?”

Annoyed that he had to bring that up, you side glanced at him before answering. “I was at work.”

Jihoon raised his brows in surprise. “Oh? You work.”

“Yeah,” you replied curtly. 

“Where at?” 

“M-my . . . older brother’s restaurant.”

“Your family owns a restaurant?”

You shook your head, swallowing your saliva nervously. “J-just . . . my brother.”

“Do your parents work there too?” Jihoon asked bluntly. Genuinely, he was confused. Assuming your older brother wasn’t that much older than you, most young adults didn’t have enough money to own a restaurant at this age. 

You stopped walking altogether, your chin dipping into your chest as your gaze fell onto the pavement before you. 

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asked curiously, dragging out each word. 

“I . . . don’t . . . my parents aren’t around anymore,” you finally answered him. 

Shit. 

“Oh,” Jihoon scratched the back of his head, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered immediately, “Don’t feel bad . . . they’ve been gone for a while – it’s w-whatever. I just . . . try to help out my brother when I can and he pays me some so I can . . . have money . . . for stuff.”

Jihoon let out a soft hum. His stomach flipped out of guilt. The two of you continued to walk in silence a little longer, the afternoon sun casting a shadow across town. It was almost supper time, most of the streets empty as people have lingered into nearby restaurants or driving home. The soft hum of engines sounded in the distance. Did Jihoon try to make conversation with you? Does he just keep walking in silence? If he talks to you, what does he talk about? Certainly not your parents. 

Thankfully, however, you seemed to answer his questions for him. 

“So . . . um, baseball,” you started, your grip tightened on the stroller. It was now Jihoon’s turn to side glance at you. “H-how’s the season going?”

“Good,” Jihoon replied simply, “Ish.”

“Ish?”

“I mean, it could be going better, but we’re working through it and nothing is set in stone yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a fair amount of wins, but also losses,” Jihoon explained, “I’m . . . not sure if we’re going to make it to sections.”

“Um . . . what are . . . sections?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t play sports – not competitively at least. You didn’t have the time nor money for it. 

“They’re like . . . when you play against teams from different cities, not just other schools in your district,” Jihoon nodded, satisfied with his explanation, “So like . . . we played Bangtan High, but in sections, we might play a team from Anyang.”

“Oh,” you hummed, the pieces starting to come together. 

“You don’t play much sports, do you?” Jihoon found himself chuckling. 

You shook your head. 

Give her a chance. 

Soonyoung’s voice echoed in the back of his mind again. An idea started to form in Jihoon’s mind. You were making an effort to talk to Jihoon, perhaps not as friends, but . . . acquaintances – and perhaps this was a good chance for Soonyoung. Admittedly, Jihoon did feel bad for preventing him from being friends with people he wanted to be friends with. 

“You should come to one of my baseball games,” Jihoon suddenly offered. 

Heat traveled up your back and colored the tips of your ears. You felt warmth spread across your cheeks, immediately, tearing your gaze away from Jihoon. You thought he hated you; now, he was suddenly offering you to come to one of his games? 

He didn’t seem to notice, however, his mind still lingering on Soonyoung. 

“You should come,” Jihoon repeated himself, “The next one’s on Tuesday – I can get you a ticket. First experience on me.”

Jihoon turned to you, the corner of his lips twitching up ever so slightly. 

Jihoon was smiling at you. 

Lee Jihoon, your unintentional rival, your arch nemesis, was smiling. At. You.

When his single dimple on his left cheek peeked through, it sent your heart in a flutter. 

What the actual fuck was happening. 

. . . .

Soonyoung was ecstatic to see you. 

He was nearly bouncing off the walls of the dugout when he saw you in your bright blue t-shirt, sitting in the front stands. Typically, the boys weren’t allowed to leave the dugout before the game started, but a few members have already stalked off to the audience to greet their significant others. Since it was your first game and Soonyoung would not stop gushing about your presence, Jihoon decided to go greet you, indeed raising a few eyebrows. 

“Hey,” Jihoon called, catching your attention. He raised a hand to wave at you, Soonyoung trailing not too far behind. “You made it.”

You got up from your spot on the bleachers to meet him at the fence. With a nervous chuckle, you replied, “I did – didn’t want a free ticket to go to waste.”

“Where’s Haeyoung?” Jihoon asked. Typically, you took the doll on Mondays and Tuesdays. 

“I handed her off to Wonwoo,” you told him, “We traded days – figured a baseball game wasn’t quite the place for an infant.”

“Plastic infant,” Jihoon corrected. 

Surprisingly, a soft chortle escaped your lips. Prior, these kinds of comments annoyed you whenever Jihoon referred to Haeyoung as fake. 

“Hi Y/N!” Soonyoung interrupted. 

You turned to the excited and lanky boy. You smiled, “Soonyoung, right?”

“You remember!” the said man exclaimed. 

“Long time, no see,” you greeted him, “How have you been? You play?”

“I do,” Soonyoung replied, “And I’ve been doing pretty good.” He eyed Jihoon for a moment. “I heard you and Jihoon are working on a project together – I hope he’s not giving you too hard of a time.”

“Hey!” Jihoon protested. 

Your smile transformed into a grin as your gaze traveled down to your shoes. “He’s . . . quite alright actually.” You nodded. “He does his part.”

“I’m glad,” Soonyoung smiled. He stared at you a while longer. Though you didn’t seem to notice, Jihoon could’ve sworn there were stars shining in his eyes. 

“This is . . . my first baseball game,” you told the both of them shyly. 

“Oh?” Soonyoung replied in surprise. “Jihoon didn’t tell me that.”

Said boy grit his teeth and elbowed his friend in the ribs. “I . . . got her the ticket.”

“Oh?” Soonyoung said a little louder this time, surprise lacing his voice.  

“He did,” you confirmed nervously. You gripped the canvas strap of your satchel. 

“Boys!” their coach called. Jihoon looked back to see him gesturing for the ones at the stands to return. 

“Well,” Soonyoung shrugged, “Enjoy the game, Y/N – I’ll . . . see you later?”

Jihoon tugged at his elbow, carefully watching your reaction. Eyes wide, you blinked twice, a look of surprise gracing your face. He wasn’t sure if it was just the sun or if you were blushing at Soonyoung’s request.

“Uh . . . yeah,” you replied softly, “See you later.”

Soonyoung’s face immediately lit up, his lips curling into a pleased smile – the kind that caused his eyes to disappear. Jihoon and him jogged back to the dugout, though it was only Soonyoung who excitedly waved back at you. 

. . . .

“It’s a homerun! Kim Mingyu saved Sebong High with a winning homerun in the last minute!” the sports announcer exclaimed. The crowd around you erupted into a loud cheer as the ball soared out of the field. Boys dressed in white and blue streamed out of the dugout onto the fields, hugging the tall batter.

Never been at a baseball game before, you assumed it was a good thing. Awkwardly, you got up from your spot in the front and joined the crowd in standing, though you weren’t cheering – you weren’t the type to celebrate loudly.  Your eyes flickered at your classmates and a few parents hugging one another and jumping up and down, hard enough you could feel the vibrations through the metal bleachers. You were so lost, you failed to notice the enthusiastic player running in your direction. 

“Kwon Soonyoung!” you heard some girls nearby squeal. They rushed to the fence, grabbing on tightly to the black railing, waving at him. 

He didn’t pay any mind to them, however – his eyes were trained on you. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Hey!” he called, jumping up and down. The girls threw you a dirty look as you carefully made your down closer to him. 

“Congratulations,” you greeted him. 

“We won! We won!” he cried cheerfully. 

You let out a hearty laugh at his child-like excitement and nodded. 

When he calmed down, he smiled shyly and let out a sigh of relief. He took off his cap and placed it back on his head so it was backwards. “Hey, if you aren’t busy,” he looked back at the team, now throwing Mingyu up in the air, “We’re going out to pizza after if you want to join.”

The smile on your face fell. 

“Only if you’re comfortable though,” Sooyoung added, noticing your nervous expression. 

“I . . . uh, that’s sweet, Soonyoung, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you replied softly. 

“You won’t be!” Soonyoung protested, “The team members bring their significant others all the time.”

Your cheeks grew aflame immediately. 

“Not that we’re dating or I’m interested in you in that way or – err, I mean!” Soonyoung ran a frustrated hand over his face, “Uh . . . I mean, I am, but also . . . I just want to . . . it’s your first game and I wanted to invite you along – as a friend.”

“I . . . are you sure?” was all you could croak out at this time. 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replied in a small voice. He pointed at a black-haired beauty in the crowd. “Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s friend and he tags along all the time – albeit, I’m not sure if it’s because he actually wants to hang out or he just wants free food.”

Being the weirdo who skipped a grade, you never quite fit in anywhere. You hardly had any friends your age because you didn’t have classes with them. The older kids you did have class with didn’t quite welcome you either. It was the first time anyone from school was asking you to hangout for fun and you did take the evening off from work to come to this – and Soonyoung mentioned free food?

“Please?” Soonyoung begged. “It’ll be fun.”

With your hands clasped in front of you, you sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. “Sure,” a nervous chortle escaped your lips, “Why not?”

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself wedged in between Jihoon and Soonyoung in a tight booth at the local pizza parlor. Nibbling on the tip of a slice of sausage pizza and your cheeks puffed and full, you while carefully the rest of the baseball team run loose. The boy that Soonyoung had pointed out to you earlier, Jeonghan, had challenged Mingyu to a pizza eating contest, the two disgustingly stuffing their faces. Seungcheol, the team captain, sat at the edge of the booth opposite to you, watching the two with an uncomfortable expression on his face – somewhere between a grimace and a grin. In the booth behind you, you could hear the younger members of the team, Chan and Seungkwan, bickering about whether or not frozen yogurt was the same thing as ice cream. 

“Sorry,” Jihoon grumbled next to you.

You gulped down the remnants of pizza in your mouth. “It’s fine.”

He slumped over, resting his head on his hands. “They’re . . . usually this loud. You get used to it.”

“Yeah?” you asked, dabbing the corner of your lips with a napkin. 

“But . . . it’s kind of fun, you know? To watch,” Jihoon continued to explain. “Are . . . you doing okay?”

You nodded while taking a sip of your Coke. Shyly, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Jihoon ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the small gesture. “I’ve never been out like this before,” you admitted in a small voice. 

“Huh?” Jihoon got up from his position on the table, supporting his chin with his fist. 

“Yeah,” you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I don’t really . . . ‘hang out’ with people from school.”

“Oh,” Jihoon frowned. “That sounds a little lonely.”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You get used to it.”

“What do you like to do for fun then?” Jihoon inquired further.

You opened your mouth as if you were going to say something, but then closed it right away again. Peering down your half-eaten pizza, you curled your shoulders forward and trapped your hands in between your thighs, and muttered, “I don’t really do much outside of school and work to be honest.”

Jihoon remained silent for a moment. Before he could register the words that were coming out of his mouth, he asked, “You wanna watch a movie with Soonyoung and me this weekend?”

. . . .

For the next few weeks, you find yourself spending more time with Jihoon outside of your group project – the movie was just one of many hangouts to come. Typically, you spent your lunch hour by yourself, doing work in the library rather than in the crowded cafeteria with the few acquaintances you knew. It was quieter and it gave you a little extra time to study. It was also less claustrophobic, giving you more room to breathe and be comfortable, not always on guard. Before you knew it, however, according to Jihoon at least, upon Soonyoung’s insistence, the pair of friends started joining you in the library for lunch. It was certainly weird at first because you weren’t used to someone talking to you so much, but you grew accustomed to their company. Listening to Soonyoung babble was fun and admittedly, his banter with Jihoon every now and then was entertaining. Through these talks, you found out Soonyoung lived only a block away from you, and Jihoon a few blocks away from Soonyoung. You never thought you would be one of those girls, but you found yourself bathing underneath the spring afternoon sun on the white bleachers at the baseball field, waiting for them to finish practice to walk home together. Indeed, the many admirers who came to watch them regularly eyed you curiously, but you pretended not to mind, opting to read your textbooks or work on the calculus homework instead, while they did their thing. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite understand the game despite the number of times Jihoon tried to explain it to you. 

Sitting in the library in the early morning, earbuds plugged into your MP3 (yes, you still had one of those), trying (key word, trying), to revise your final paper for your modern literature class, you wondered how the last few weeks of high school came down to this: Hanging out with your high school rival and his best friend. At this point, were the three of you acquaintances? Friends? Gripping the red pen in your hand, you shook your head of such thoughts, reminding yourself to focus on the missing commas in the paper in your hands. Suddenly, sweet guitar strings started playing through your earbuds, Justin Bieber’s voice coming through, “One touch and you got me stoned, higher than I’ve known . . .” 

You smiled softly to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek at the sound of the song. It was yet another change you weren’t expecting: You actually liked Justin Bieber’s music now because of Jihoon. Had it been just a month from now, you would’ve rather eaten bricks than listen to his music. The memories of the walk home when Jihoon introduced you to the artist trickled into your mind. 

“What do you mean you don’t like Justin Bieber?!” Jihoon exclaimed. Immediately, his hand already flew to his back pocket, searching for his phone. 

“Here he goes again,” Soonyoung chuckled. 

“C’mon,” you rolled your eyes, “The last time I listened to him, the lyrics of Baby weren’t that deep.”

“He’s evolved – grown,” Jihoon defended childishly. His eyes were glued to his phone, scrolling through his Dotify playlist. “And admit, as terrible as the lyrics were, Baby was legendary.”

“He’s a big fan,” Soonyoung leaned over and whispered. You nodded in acknowledgement. 

Jihoon paused in his stride and unzipped a side pocket of his bag, digging for his earbuds. Pulling out a tangle of white wires, he ran his hand through a loop and straightened it, plugging one end into the audio port of his phone. Placing one bud in his ear, he offered you the other side. 

“Here,” Jihoon insisted. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna–”

“Just listen!” he protested, already trying to shove the piece in your ear. 

“Okay! Okay!” you giggled. You adjusted it and crossed your arms, waiting for him to hit play. 

The look on your face was priceless. You winced back in surprise, the devilish grin wiped off your face. You had stopped walking altogether, Jihoon and Soonyoung watching you curiously. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jihoon sniggered. 

You nodded slowly. “He’s definitely . . . grown since Baby.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Admit it! It’s good!”

You shrugged and handed the earbud back to Jihoon. “It’s not what I expected from Justin Bieber, but yeah –”

“Sucker!” Jihoon screeched gleefully. 

The memory was interrupted with the loud plop of a plastic cup in front of you. Green liquid filled the clear container, condensation forming droplets on the outside,  the clinking of ice sloshing against one another seeping through your headphones. You looked up to see Jihoon waving at you. 

“Ice green tea latte with oatmilk because you’re lactose intolerant – just like you like it,” Jihoon announced when you pulled out your earpiece. 

Hesitantly, you reached for the cold drink and brought the straw to your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes. “T-thanks.”

He pulled out the wooden chair across from you and collapsed into it with a loud groan. “You’re welcome. I figured you might need it,” he pointed at the paper, “You said you were still working on the paper when I texted you last night at 11.”

The heat that creeped up your spine came faster than you could register. Had it been anyone else, you might have not thought much of it, but this was coming from Jihoon. He remembered you were working on your paper, remembered your drink of choice, and bought it for you knowing you would be tired. It was Jihoon. You shouldn’t be this flustered. 

“Thanks,” was all you could muster to say again. 

Jihoon nodded and reached for your MP3. Eyes wide, you lunged for it, but he snatched it before you could get to it. A smirk spread across his lips. 

“Justin Bieber, I see?” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, ripping the device out of his hands. 

“I’m culturing you, Y/N,” he sang. 

“It’s one good song,” you retorted, “Does not mean I like Justin Bieber as a person.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Jihoon shrugged, “He just has nice music.”

“You just like sad boy music,” you shot back. 

“And if I do?”

“What are you doing here, Jihoon?” you asked, starting to get annoyed by his presence. 

“Oh right,” Jihoon sat up in his chair, “Soonyoung was wondering if you wanted to come to the baseball game on Friday.”

“Oh?” you perked up, setting your drink on the table, “I was planning on it anyhow.”

Jihoon held up his finger. He ignored the nagging voice at the back of his head telling him to do something different than Soonyoung asked. “It’s the last game before sections.”

“Sections . . . playing other cities?”

Jihoon nodded. “Which means it’s an important game.”

“Okay,” you dragged out the last syllable, not sure what he was getting at. 

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s tradition to ask someone special to wear their jersey to the last game.”

Your mouth fell agape slightly, the heat returning to your face. 

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon continued slowly, carefully observing your reaction, “S-soonyoung wants you to wear his jersey.”

When you awkwardly agreed, Jihoon couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to the pits of stomach. 

He was supposed to dislike you, not feel like this. 

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself standing at the front of the bleachers wearing Soonyoung’s jersey, his last name printed in large white block letters, ‘KWON’ and the number ‘05’, on the back. You tucked it into a pair of jean shorts, a matching blue cap covering your face upon your co-worker and friend, Sooyoung’s insistence. She had also tagged along for today’s game. 

“You look cute,” Sooyoung commented, holding onto the railing. 

You tugged at the front of the jersey. “Thank you.”

She linked arms with you. “Don’t be so nervous.”

You couldn’t help but be with all the fans staring holes into the back of your head sitting behind you. “I-I’m just . . . not used to this.”

“Soonyoung asked you to wear it for a reason,” she reassured you, “Wear it proudly.”

“Sooyoung,” you started slowly, “W-why did he ask me to wear it though? And . . . not Jihoon.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Wait –”

“Y/N!” Soonyoung’s cheerful voice cut off your friend. 

You both turned your attention to the tall boy running and waving your way, this time Jihoon trailing behind him. You and Sooyoung clambered down to the black railing. 

“Soonyoung,” greeted him softly. You gestured to your friend next to you, “This is my friend Sooyoung – she goes to a different high school, but wanted to tag along today.”

Sooyoung waved cheerfully at the pair of friends who returned the gesture. Soonyoung let out a small chuckle. “Wah, our names are almost the same – different by one letter.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jihoon snorted. 

Sooyoung frowned at the shorter boy. 

Nevertheless, A satisfied smile graced Soonyoung’s face. “You look nice.” He was looking at you.

“Thank you for letting me wear your jersey,” you told him. Your eyes flickered momentarily to Jihoon who was standing silently behind Soonyoung. He paid no mind to you whatsoever, looking off in the distance, perhaps at the score sign. 

“Thank you for wearing it,” Soonyoung replied. “To be honest? I was kind of worried you wouldn’t.”

You knitted your brows together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Soonyoung let out a nervous chortle and looked away. “Y/N . . .”

“Let’s go back,” Jihoon grumbled, tugging at Soonyoung’s arm. The latter frowned, but Jihoon returned it with a stern look. “Focus on the game, Kwon.”

Soonyoung turned back to you momentarily. “I’ll see you – y-you guys after the game?”

You nodded. 

“Win or lose, pizzas on us,” Soonyoung smiled. 

“Good luck,” you told them, though Jihoon didn’t seem to acknowledge you. 

When they stalked off, your friend turned to you, her eyes wide as if she was about to explode. 

“What?” you asked dumbly. 

“You seriously don’t know why he asked you to wear his jersey?” Sooyoung deadpanned. 

You shook your head slowly. 

Sooyoung collapsed into your side, burying her face into your chest. “Oh you, sweet summer’s child.”

. . . .

It had been a week since the baseball game and a week before graduation. 

Since then, Jihoon has been extra bitter around you. He was curt and short with answers. When you asked him to study together for other classes, he was quick to turn you down, explaining that he had to practice even more for sections. You had chalked it up to him just being stressed with baseball and the end of the year coming up, but you couldn’t help but he was avoiding you. Thus, you did what any rational, young adult would do: you confronted him. 

Jihoon had invited you and Wonwoo over to finish up the reflection for FACS class. Wonwoo had curfew and headed home early. He had left Haeyoung behind with the two of you since it was Jihoon’s to take the doll anyhow. Seated at his desk, Jihoon was bent over his phone tapping away at a game of SUPERSTAR Pledis. 

“Hey,” you called, pushing yourself from your lying position on his bed. 

Jihoon let out a nonchalant hum. 

“Are you . . . mad at me?” you asked. 

Jihoon paused his game and let out a scoff. He spun around in his desk chair, irritated. “Not everything’s about you, Y/N.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jihoon continued with a roll of his eyes, “Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “You’ve just . . . been kind of distant.”

“Maybe because I have other things to do that don’t involve you?” 

That’s when the mechanical cry of Haeyoung started to sound. 

“Look what you did,” Jihoon grumbled. Using the toe of his sock-covered foot, he reached over and began rocking the car seat. 

You couldn’t give a damn about the doll at this moment, absolutely taken aback by Jihoon’s rudeness. “That was uncalled for . . . Look, I don’t know what happened or what I did, but if you could just, I don’t know, be mature, and tell me, maybe we can talk it out and work it out? You’ve been upset since the baseball game and I’m just trying to understand why. I thought maybe it was the end of the year coming up, but that clearly doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Despite the doll’s cries, Jihoon stopped rocking the car seat and turned to you. “Mature? I’m older than you, Y/N. What do you even know about me?”

“Does that matter when you’re acting like a child?” you exclaimed. 

“Do you always have to be better than me?” Jihoon exploded. He stood up from his chair, unable to contain his discontent anymore. Truthfully, he knew you were right about him being cold towards you, but it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. 

He didn’t realize it then, but the more he dwelled on it, Jihoon was jealous. And what made it worse was that he wasn’t just jealous of you this time, but he was jealous of his best friend, Soonyoung, when that should’ve never been the case. As much as he wanted to deny it, Jihoon had feelings for you and he was sure Soonyoung did too – he wouldn’t have just thoughtlessly asked you to wear his jersey at the last game. It was a tradition reserved for couples, or couples who were to be. Unlike Soonyoung, Jihoon didn’t have the guts to ask you to wear his jersey, and when he finally did, it was already too late. He was always like this: one step behind in everything he wanted, you included. 

“Y/N wins this, Y/N got the highest score that,” Jihoon mocked, continuing out of fury, “You’re so irritating, you know that? Ever since you joined our class, you know how annoying it has been trying to compete with you? I tried to keep my distance, but you slowly started seeping into my life with this project – fuck, even my best friend is whipped about youn now. What’s so great about you, anyways?”

You shrank back in his bed as each and every word pierced you. You had thought just maybe high school wouldn’t end so terribly after all. These past few weeks with Jihoon and Soonyoung were fun. Even if it was fleeting, for once, you had friends: People who get you and enjoy your company. But alas, you were wrong; everyone was the same. Like you feared, you got too attached to what was a façade, trusted too much, and got hurt. 

“Do you really think I enjoy being in this . . . this made-up competition with you?” you started. Standing in the middle of his room, you clenched and unclenched your fist, boring holes into Jihoon’s forehead as he leaned awkwardly against his wooden desk with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand clutching the elbow. His narrow eyes watched you carefully, his expression was blank and unreadable, as it always has been. 

Only then did Jihoon finally notice that Haeyoung had finally quieted. It was quite ironic. The silence was all the two of you desired after hours of the stupid doll child crying, yet it made the air thick and suffocating.   There was no hint of relief or relaxation like he had imagined - the tension was like a rubber band pulled taught on the verge of snapping to its separate ends. All the words he wanted to tell you at the tip of his tongue had evaporated into thin air. He didn’t have to be told to know he really went too far this time. 

Your lips crumpled into a bunch, your chin wrinkling in the process. Jihoon was truly frustrating. A man of few words, holder of the best poker face you’ve seen, he hid his heart hidden in the depths of school uniform. You tried to be understanding - not everyone was as honest about their feelings as you. It didn’t mean he made you any less upset, however. All you wanted was him to communicate with you clearly. You just wanted one word from him. You just wanted him to answer your question. One minute his actions were pulling at your heartstrings, the next he was throwing you under the bus to be rolled over. Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as he had led on. 

One flutter of your lashes and the first tear escaped your lower lid and rolled down your cheek. You let out a small cough to hide the whimper in your throat. You’ve had enough. You couldn’t do this anymore.  

“I’m done, Jihoon,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper. “When this assignment is over tomorrow and after we graduate this weekend,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “I hope we never meet again.”

Jihoon had half-expected you to storm out of his room in a dramatic fashion. Instead, you silently dug into your bookbag and fished out a clear plastic case covered in blue and pink stickers, ‘Jihoon’s Sad Boy Mixtape’ written in bold black marker across the front. His heart sank as you dropped the cassette onto his navy blue sheets and turned your back to him.

Your hand rested on the cool stainless steel door. You pulled it open a crack before you paused. You knew it was unrealistic, but you had a sliver of hope he would come after you. Yet Jihoon stayed put by his desk. Alas, it was only a moment for the films. 

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you said. 

The shake in your voice was the last straw for him, but Jihoon was too late. As he lunged after you, hand outreached, you stepped out of his room. He could hear your footsteps rushing down the hall, then slapping down the stairs of his home. 

Jihoon was always one step behind you. 

Today, he was one hundred steps behind. 

. . . .

Graduation was anything but fun. 

Standing out in the overgrown grass of the football field, the blades tinkling their ankles, with the sun beating down on them in their black gowns absorbing every ounce of heat – it was unbearable. Yet, for Jihoon, it was worse with you sitting next to him throughout the whole ceremony, not a single word falling from your lips. Your expression was unreadable: From the principal’s introduction to the class president’s fruity speech to tossing your caps in the air. At the end of it all, you silently left in search of your brother while all your classmates cheered and hugged. 

Jihoon knew better than to chase after you today, but he did anyway. He wanted to make things right – he couldn’t bear the thought of you having a grudge against him moving into the next chapter of your lives. His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist just as you neared the parking lot, Jihoon jerked your back. 

“Hey,” he greeted you. 

Your gaze only hardened, though you didn’t fight back. 

“C-can we talk?” Jihoon asked.  

“I can’t imagine what you have to say to me, Jihoon,” you said coldly. 

He didn’t either. He didn’t prepare for this, but here he was. 

“I’m . . . sorry,” Jihoon muttered. His eyes dropped to the asphalt burning under his leather shoes. “I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things to you – y-you’re . . . my friend, b-but . . .” He let out a frustrated sigh, unable to say what was on the tip of his tongue.

I like you.

It wouldn't make sense to tell you - at least not now after he told you you were annoying.

Your heart sank. As much as you wanted to forgive him then and there, your desire to save yourself from the pain of disappointment was greater. You cleared your throat and pulled your hand from his grasp. Jihoon peered up at you, melancholy clouding his eyes. 

“Congratulations, Jihoon,” you said, you pressed your lips into a tightline and looked away briefly. You saw Sooyoung and your older brother searching for you in the distance. “Good luck in college – I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Those were your last words before you walked out of Jihoon’s life. 

. . . .

Or so he thought. 

College was never a topic that either of you discussed, choosing to talk about lighter things from complaining about your math teacher to the kind of music you liked to listen to. Jihoon did not expect to see you here in the flesh, standing in front of the university student union, let alone holding hands with Wonwoo. 

“W-what are you guys doing here?” Jihoon stuttered, unable to keep his eyes off your intertwined fingers. He noticed the way you adjusted your hand to hold Wonwoo tighter. When did this happen? You and Wonwoo didn't even seem close when you did the project together. Were you friends with benefits? Dating? For how long? So many questions ran through Jihoon's mind.

“Jihoon - hey,” Wonwoo started. He tucked his free hand into the pockets of his jeans. Briefly, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered to you as if to silently ask if you were doing okay. “You go here too?”

Jihoon nodded, his eyes traveling up to your face. Though, you refused to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the pavement instead. “I do . . . uh, aerospace engineering major . . .”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise. He pointed at you. “Y/N is too.”

You already knew. You just decided to keep your distance, in hopes you could go through college without having to interact with him. That would not be the case as fate would have it. 

“Hi,” Jihoon raised his hand slowly to greet you. The corner of his lips twitched up into an awkward smile – that damned dimple on his left cheek that made your heart flutter all those months ago made an appearance, still sending your heart surging through your chest. “It’s been a while.”

Instinctively, you inched closer to Wonwoo before replying to him. “Yeah – long time, no see.”

Silence, then a beat. 

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Uh, well, we’ll see you around then, Jihoon? We have a class soon.”

“Course,” Jihoon replied softly. Wonwoo waved 'goodbye,' while you quickly jogged to his side. A pang shot through his chest as he let out a heavy sigh.

“See you around . . . Y/N.”