Oh To Be Loved By This Man

wallpaper (≧▽≦) pjs

s you see jay's wallpaper for the first time g fluff p jay x reader

you rested your head against jay's shoulder while he flipped through tons of movies. it was a rainy day, which meant nothing to do. jay suggested a cuddle time and you immediately agreed.

you closed your eyes and listened to the rain hit the windows and hit the floor. it was quite soothing.

jay had finally found a movie to watch so you opened your eyes. the movie started off kind of slow so you closed your eyes again. suddenly jay shifted and started to move away from you.

"what are you doing?" you asked. "i'm going to pop some popcorn, i'll be right back." you nodded and layed your head back on the couch.

you watched the movie for a couple of seconds but then jay's phone started ringing. you quickly searched for his phone until you found it. you didn't recognize the number so you declined the call but when you did you noticed jay's wallpaper.

you stared at it for a moment. a smiled crept on your face as you looked at the picture on his screen. it was a picture of you. it was your birthday the day the picture was taken. jay had put icing on your face and took a picture of you.

you stared at his screen for a while. joy and happiness spread through your body. you didn't expect him to have you as his wallpaper but knowing he did had you feeling very loved.

GIVE ME ONE MORE KISS 𖥔 PSH

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬──── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽

❪ 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐶𝑖𝑆 ❫ ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 11O4wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ── 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 愛 ／ 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

する ܃ sorry for da late upload, practicals this week was too hectic :< for silly hoon girlies :0

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

“sunghoon— what are you doing? my parents will see us!” you hiss at him, giving him the look over your shoulders as your hands are already busy with the dishwashing.

sunghoon doesn't look the least bit fazed by your words. instead, he leans casually against the counter, his sharp features illuminated by the warm glow of the kitchen lights. his lips curls into a mischievous smirk as he tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“and if they do?” he teases, his voice low and smooth like velvet.

you shoot him another glare, but it lacks its usual intensity. sunghoon was insufferable when it came to obeying you, it's almost as if your instructions fall on deaf ears. “they won't like it if we're too… close,” you whisper urgently, glancing toward the doorway.

“that's unfair, and stupid,” sunghoon whines, he steps closer to you, standing just behind you. leaning forward, he whispers back, “can’t their future son in law be close to their daughter?”

your cheeks burn at his boldness, and you immediately turn back to the sink, furiously scrubbing a plate as though it had personally offended you. “stop being so cheeky,” you hiss, but your voice waver ever so slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.

“relax, princess,” he chuckles, the sound of his laughter making your heart skip beats. but what he does next, sends a shiver down your spine. he moves even closer to you, ultimately wrapping his hands around your lower abdomen, resting his chin upon your shoulder.

“sunghoon!” you shriek, “can you let me work in peace?”

“shh,” he murmurs, leaning down so his lips were near your ear. “i’m just helping.”

before you could finish, sunghoon reaches around you, his long fingers brushing yours as he picks up a wet plate from the drying rack. “drying,” he said simply, his tone far too innocent for someone who had you blushing like this.

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he shoots back without missing a beat, making you groan in exasperation.

although you want to get used to this moment, to sunghoon holding you within his embrace and warmth, you want the clock to stop itself and freeze the time around the both of you. he brought smiles and giggles to your face so effortlessly each time, and it made you wonder if he'd like to do that the rest of your life.

but that's a question for tomorrow, for now, all you could tense about is your parents hustling in at any moment.

in an instant, you turn the tap water off, move the washed plates to the drying racks and turn to your annoying, yet lovely boyfriend. all the irritation that you prepared in your speech evaporates in the air like vapour, as soon as you meet sunghoons mellow eyes.

“enough now,” you gather yourself, softly pushing his hands away from your waist, “my parents will come in at any minute.”

he rolls his eyes at your statement, you both know it doesn't make any difference to park sunghoon, he just wants to cling to his girlfriend.

“so?” he cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, “im not going anywhere.”

you groan in frustration, your hands now resting on your hips as you face him, but the corner of your lips betrays the smile you’ve been trying to hold back.

“sunghoon…” you start, but his hand is already on your cheek, gently turning your face toward him.

“you don’t want me to go?” he asks, his voice low, teasing. and before you can even form a response, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

you gasp in surprise, but he doesn’t give you the chance to push him away. his lips move slowly against yours, and he pulls back just enough to whisper between kisses.

“you don't want me to go, do you?” he repeats, pulling you closer by your hips, once again snatching your next sentence to press the softest kisses on your lips. once, then twice, then scattering them all over your face.

you try to find your words, but the only thing that comes out is a breathless laugh. “i... i—”

he kisses you once more, his lips gently pressing against yours along with his body as he wraps you to himself, he moves his lips tenderly, before pulling away to leave you dizzy. “i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” another kiss follows, and your thoughts scatter.

“sunghoon, stop it.” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper as he moves in again, kissing you once more.

but his playful smirk only deepens as he kisses you again, this time even more passionately. “stop? why would i stop when you’re so cute when you try to resist?”

your heart races, and you’re almost overwhelmed with how good he feels against you. Every kiss makes your mind blank, and the tension in your body melts away, but your thoughts struggle to hold on. you want him to let go and go away, but at the same time, you want him here with you forever “my parents… they’ll—”

“they’ll deal with it, love,” he whispers back in an urgency. within a split of a second he’s back on your lips, arms holding you close like a fragile doll made of glass. you hold onto him as well, smiling into the kiss, as you feel sunghoon smile back into it.

you almost lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, your hands instinctively moving to wrap around his neck. but just as you begin to give in completely, the faint sound of footsteps echoing down the hall snaps you back to reality.

you pull away just slightly, breathless, and look toward the door. “sunghoon… seriously, they’re coming.”

he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but there’s something tender there too. he leans forward again, kissing you once more, and then pulls back, his forehead resting against yours.

just as the footsteps intensify and stop outside the kitchen door, almost like magic sunghoon stands beside you, normally, without any part of him lingering on your body or face. “good evening, sir!” he greets your dad with a coy smile.

“evening, young man,” your dad says in an uninterested tone, eyes narrowing, he asks, “i suppose your behavior towards my girl was apt, in the time we were gone.”

“of course,” he grins, taking a glance at you and then at your dad, before he blurts out, “nothing you need to worry about, sir.”

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission . div ctto

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---

hyunjin’s boyfriend habits !

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn!reader wc: idk oops genre: fluff lots of fluff warnings: none!!

©yyx2

kisses all over

hyunjin loves kissing you, it’s like his lifeline. he really loves kissing your lips, claiming that he can’t get enough of your taste. if he wants to tease you he’ll nibble at your bottom lip or your neck. he loves watching how flustered you get just from his kisses. oftentimes when hyunjin greets you, he’ll slowly kiss your fingers then your forehead.

drawing you

hyunjin gets his some of his inspiration from romantic things, so it’s no surprise that you have become his muse. usually he does little sketches of you, quickly and cartoon like. although sometimes he likes to take his time, making a portrait to catch your beauty. hyunjin likes to say that he is never able to perfectly catch his stunning you are in only a painting.

spa nights

spa nights

hyunjin basically forces a face mask on you some nights if he wants to stay in. he loves to give you back massages and looks forward to his own since he claims you have to “repay him”. hyunjin ends up taking a lot of photos of you (most you would like to delete off his phone) and photos of each other to savor the memory. the two of you will sit in your bathrobes while watching a movie— sometimes you even braid hyunjin’s hair.

squeezing you to death in his sleep

hyunjin loves when you sleep over or vice versa, mostly so he can have someone to cuddle with. hyunjin is a very heavy sleeper, and a crazy one so typically the two of you wake up with either no blanket, at least one pillow on the floor or both. 99.9% of the time hyunjin latches onto you like a leech, wrapping his long legs around you and making an escape impossible. it’s nice when it’s cold outside, but not so nice when he accidentally elbows you in the face.

reading/singing you to sleep

hyunjin knows how much you love his voice as you’ve told him many times before. because of this, hyunjin occasionally sings to you or even reads to you before bed. he typically does it when you’re not feeling well or have had a bad day. hearing his voice sing a sweet tune or reading your favorite book always makes your sour mood disappear or distracts you from whatever pain you may be feeling.

being your hype-man

hyunjin always wants you to feel good about yourself, and he’ll make sure to do whatever he can to help with that. he loves taking photos of you, kneeling in extreme positions just to capture the best photos of your figure. and of course you can’t forget the multitude of compliments spewing from his lips as he snaps a bunch of shots.

being very kind and considerate of your feelings

i know this is the bare minimum but— hyunjin is truly the sweetest. he always wants to make sure that you’re comfortable with him, whatever it is. he never wants to cross any boundaries and he always wants you to tell him if there’s ever anything wrong. hyunjin values your trust and never wants to do anything to break it. if he notices that something is off, he never waits to address the issue, only wanting the best for you and your well-being.

WHY ARE THESE SO ACCURATE IMCRYINF

୨୧ u gave them a plushie

pairing: enhypen x reader | genre: fluff

cw: no warnings!

[notes] hi everyone! i wanted to try and do this for the first time so i hope that yall note it! im trying my best to post 2-3 this week so if i cant, i apologise. enjoy reading and please show support. thankyou! 🤍

[heeseung] he would come home and see a random plushie on his bed with a note on it saying that it's a gift for him from you and a smile would beam from ear to ear. he would find you in the house and when he sees you, he would give you a backhug and wont let go. he would pepper kisses all over your neck as a form of his appreciation. both of you know that you dont have to say thank you as a sincerity, you have to show it.

[jay] he will probably start bawling his eyes out since he feels very thankful and very grateful for having you as his girlfriend. (also bc he's dramatic) he would go up to you and give you a big hug and continuously say thank you and will tell you that he's going to buy you an even bigger and nicer gift. (bc yk jay's 💸)

[jake] he will of course get startled by the random plushie on the bed and seeing layla playing with it but he'll start to hold the plushie and hug it. he would go to you and ask you why you bought him a plushie, when you did it, why did you do it, which store you went to and how did you manage to do it. he'll ask you all sorts of questions because he's excited and happy that he had gotten something from you. (such a jake behavior)

[sunghoon] he will be so unfazed when he reaches the room after work or something, then get back to his senses and see that there is a literal plushie on the bed. he would pick it up, show it to you and say, "who got you this?" and be so possessive to you then you tell him that the plushie is actually for him and he'll start laughing and showing his fangs a little. he'll thank you, kiss you all over the face and go back to the bedroom to put back the plushie and go change. (correct me if im wrong but i feel like this is such a sunghoon coded tho)

[sunoo] he'll literally squeal like at the back of his lungs and take the plushie and start hugging it due to how cute it looks and naming it. he'll kiss it all over and then go over to you and start hugging you and being so lovey dovey to you. he'll play with the plushie and bring it around in the house as if the plushie's his pet or his child. he'll eat with it, sleep with it etc.

[jungwon] he'll get startled by the plushie from afar thinking that it's an animal. he'll go closer to your room slowly and when he sees the plushie, his dimple smile will be shown and he'll be so grateful for it. he'll go to you and say, "so, you got that plushie for me babe" and hug you by the waist. he'll admire you and ask himself how did he get such a thoughtful, beautiful and caring girlfriend. he'll be the most whipped whenever it comes to you.

[ni-ki] he'll start smiling and already thinking about his next gift for you. both of you will compete for the most cutest gift for each other that yall had gotten. he'll say that the plushie is cute in his heart because he doesnt want to admit these type of things and he'll say that you look like it. he'll compliment you whenever you're around and also because he's clingy after getting something from you. he'll let bisco play with it because the plushie's from you, not a stranger. he's a big baby when it comes to you giving gifts. to him, gifts is not necessary, your pure love and existence is.

;; hoodie season. ⎯⎯ ♡

pairing ! yang jungwon x reader

genre ! fluff

wc ! 0.3k

song rec. ! hoodie season — stray kids

“take off your hoodie.”

jungwon looked at you, puzzled for a moment at your sudden order.

“what?”

“take off your hoodie,” you repeated casually.

“why?”

“because i’m cold,” you smiled innocently.

jungwon sighed, rolling his eyes lightheartedly.

even though he knew you were just being playful, he adored you, especially in times like these—because truth be told, he loved seeing you in his hoodies.

you watched as he removed his hoodie from his body, something which was always so attractive to you. that was one reason you loved receiving his hoodies, though you’d never admit it.

being the gentleman of a boyfriend he was, he helped the hoodie onto you, your head quickly popping out from the fabric, and jungwon’s eyes crinkled into a smile of adoration for you.

once you got the piece of clothing on, you sighed with a grin, more than happy to be in one of his extremely comfortable hoodies.

jungwon quickly looked you up and down, butterflies erupting in his stomach at the sight of you in his clothes, a feeling that never seemed to fade even after all this time. he couldn’t help but lean forward and place a soft and short kiss on your lips with a smile. and once he pulled back, it left you wanting more. you frowned.

noticing your sad state, jungwon chuckled before bringing you closer and kissing you more.

as he pulled back, he continued to leave a few last pecks, not only on your lips again, but also some on your cheeks, nose and forehead.

lost in the moment, even after jungwon pulled away, you were snapped back to reality when his voice started, “better?”

your eyes immediately met his, slightly out of it, “hm?”

“are you still cold?” he clarified.

you paused for a moment as you smiled, “no, i feel much warmer now.”

“good,” he sighed happily with a smirk before adding, “you look cute in my clothes.”

a/n. i’m unfortunately going through a major writer’s block rn for the first time in literal years,, but i managed to push this out. it’s not much but at least i got smth out finally <//3 likes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! thank u! <3

Happy New Year to me and my lonely ass

𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬

☆ Genre: Fluff, slice of life

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 1.6k

It was quiet inside of the car.

Uncharacteristically quiet.

Bar the sudden downpour of rain that escaped from the late night sky and fell upon the vehicle in a steady battering, all passengers in the car were either fighting to stay awake as their eyes drooped, or were already asleep, their heads pressed against the cold windows. Blankets were strewn over them all, and heating pooled from the seats in slow, steady waves. The group of friends were completely and utterly exhausted; they had spent their day coaxing out their inner children as they wrecked havoc in a theme park far, far away from their homes. Awake at a golden dawn, they had long passed the violet hues of dusk, and it seemed they would witness another dawn before they made it home.

It was so dark inside the car that Y/N could barely see her own hands in front of her. If it wasn't for the faint light spilling onto Minho's lap from his phone, Y/N wouldn't have been able to differentiate him from Felix who was slumped beside him, either. They were amongst the rows of seats in front of her; Chan was sat beside her, Changbin on his other side. Chan had insisted he sit in the middle. As much as he loved sitting by the window, he would much rather have his friends sit by them instead.

Y/N traced her finger over the window, following the path of a fat raindrop that danced over the glass. Her touch left a path in the condemnation and opened a clear line that illuminated the deep darkness outside. She moved her face closer to the window slightly despite shivering at the wet on her fingers. Y/N's eyes widened in mild awe at the colours of the night, the reds and yellows and oranges of the lights that flashed by her, the way they seemed to melt into the roads as rain created ripples over the gravel. It was a sight that Y/N would never get tired of, and she was completely unaware when Chan swivelled his gaze to her, watching her quietly.

The car soon rolled to a halt. It bumped forward every now and then; Y/N moved her gaze to the front of the car. There was a long line of cars in front and she sighed quietly, leaning back into her seat again, suddenly seeking the comfort of the heat at her back.

Y/N looked to her side. Changbin's face was smushed against the glass of the window and the shape of his lips was pursed extravagantly, giving him the appearance of a rather glamorous duck as the car passed a set of tall lights.

Stifling a giggle at the sight of him, Y/N peered up at Chan. The man in question had his head back against the seat, the small sliver of his irises that escaped from his narrowed eyes shining under the shadows. His shoulder pressed up against Y/N's in a way that ensured a fire-like feeling to seep into the thick fabric of her sweater and through her skin. It was the sort of feeling she couldn't ignore either, her cheeks sporting a permanent flush and her breathing hosting a continuous hitch. It was as though she was hyper aware of his presence; from the way his heavy boot was aligned with the rim of her own shoe, to the way his breathing had slowed down with fatigue, and the way the faded cologne on his jacket kissed her nose in a deep, vanilla kiss.

Y/N swallowed thickly. She wasn't sure she ever wanted the journey to end if it meant she got to be this close to him. With the rest of the car asleep, in Y/N's mind it felt as though it was just the two of them, the night belonging to them and them only.

Chan turned his head towards Y/N once he felt her gaze on him. Y/N was able to make out the way his lips curved up into the softest of tired smiles before he leaned a little closer to her. He stirred the air around her and infiltrated it further with his scent accompanied with his body heat, and Y/N felt her heart flutter.

“What?” Chan whispered.

Y/N nodded towards Changbin. “Look at his face.”

Chan turned to look at his friend. He soon covered the lower portion of his face with a hand to muffle the laughter that caused his body to shake.

“Do you think it's painful?” Chan chuckled under his breath. “I don't want to move him … he might wake up.”

Y/N leaned forward a little to peer at Changbin again. “I think he'll be fine. There's a pillow under his neck.”

Chan looked towards Changbin again. He smiled. “Oh. You're right.”

They fell into quietude again, Y/N's eyes drooping ever so slightly as she peered out of the window. A yawn rose inside her and her nostrils flared in her attempt to stifle in it, her face contorting.

Chan started to laugh again. Y/N whipped her head to the side in alarm, her eyes landing on the crooked smile and pair of uneven dimples that adorned the angles of Chan's face.

“Tired?” Chan hummed.

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Don't laugh at me. You look like a panda yourself with those rings around your eyes.”

Her comment only made Chan's smile deepen. She blinked. She was sure there was a tinge of burgundy painted across the tip of his nose and the ridges of his ears.

“Go to sleep,” Chan whispered. “I'll go to sleep if you go to sleep.”

“Why? So we can meet in our dreams too?” Y/N joked. She hoped her bad humour would mask the tremor in her voice that always seemed to occur when he looked into her eyes the way he was now.

Biting his lip, Chan's voice was even lower when he spoke again. “Well … maybe?”

Y/N's eyes widened. She stared at him but Chan had turned his head again; he was looking out of Changbin's window, and Y/N turned to look out of hers as her heart started to race.

A moment later, Chan shifted his position. He shuffled down the seat a little and Y/N turned to look at him just as he turned his gaze onto her.

“You can lean on my shoulder if you want,” Chan murmured. “It's not the most comfortable shoulder ever … but it might be better than the window.”

Swallowing slowly, Y/N moved her eyes from his face to his shoulder. He was wearing a soft knit sweater, and the fabric draped in gentle folds around his arm. It had dropped slightly to one side, and tiny moles kissed his skin like dark stars. She could feel the heat rolling off of him from here, sweet, heavy, and increasingly intoxicating.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to rest her head against Chan's shoulder. She also couldn't bring herself to, nerves bubbling inside of her that only seemed to grow with every second that Chan watched her with his soft eyes.

“I don't mind,” Chan hummed again. He moved his shoulder a little almost in invitation, and Y/N couldn't help but smile. “You'll feel better.”

“My head is heavy,” Y/N said.

Chan smiled. He responded by leaning closer to her and used his opposite hand to pat the slope of his shoulder twice as he looked ahead of him.

Y/N exhaled quietly. She then let her head dip to the side a little; once she was half way towards his shoulder, she sat back up again, suddenly nervous.

Chan started to chuckle. “Just lie down.”

“Okay, okay … “ Y/N's breath shuddered before she lowered the side of her head again.

His sweater was soft against Y/N's cheek, and his scent stronger and sweeter against the side of his neck. She felt him shift ever so slightly again, and the slope of Chan's shoulder almost moulded to the side of Y/N's head perfectly. Her cheeks felt like they were burning and as if her skin was dissolving into stardust. She didn't realise she was holding her breath as she looked towards her hands resting on her lap.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Chan's hand twitch. He moved it towards her and then stopped, his fingers curling into a loose fist before unfurling again. As Y/N watched in a trance-like state, Chan inched his fingers towards her. His pinky finger brushed Y/N's ever so slightly. Y/N froze at the contact, her eyes widening when Chan's fingers moved even closer. He caressed her fingertips with hers before sliding his fingers into the gaps of hers; his hand was trembling against the palm of Y/N's, and Y/N finally exhaled slowly as she comprehended what just happened.

She turned her head to look up at him. The man's skin was a deep crimson, his bottom lip caught in-between his teeth. He wouldn't look at her, shyness trickling from his eyes like falling stars as he shut them slowly. His own body melted under Y/N, almost as though he let go of a breath he had been holding in too.

Y/N smiled slowly. She dropped her head against his shoulder again and carefully folded her fingers around Chan's. Their hands fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, the grain of Chan's palms slightly calloused and rough, but strangely soft nonetheless. It was a reassuring feeling against Y/N's hand, and when Y/N felt Chan's cheek fall against the top of her head, she couldn't help but clench her eyes shut with joy. Perhaps her mind hadn't been wrong after all. Perhaps this moment really was theirs, and theirs alone.

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Help for Venezuela. REBLOG PLEASE.

Help me spread the word about what is happening in my country.I don't want to cry anymore thinking about what is going to happen to my family, or my friends. Many in my generation have committed suicide due to the desperation of the current crisis, others have left their university careers to go to work at an early age for a starvation wage. Please, I just want to stop suffering, I don't want to cry anymore, I just want a normal adolescence for all young people. My people need FREEDOM.

stop, this is the cutest ni‐ki imagine I've ever seen 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

plushies and pouts ☆ riki nishimura

☆ non-idol! boyfriend! riki x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time that riki punched your plushie and you got mad at him. ☆ genre: fluff!! riki has beef with your plushies #loser ☆ warning(s)? n/a!! ☆ word count: 1.2k ☆ can't get bf! riki outta my head good lord

"Look, Babe, I'm sorry—"

The silence was piercing. You didn't even spare him a glance, only ignoring Riki as you quietly snuggled up into your pillows (and not him, who was laying mere inches away from you).

Riki wet his lips. 

"I didn't mean to," he continued, reaching for your hand. You shot him a glare and jerked your hand away before he could even touch you. 

"Don't say that to me," you snapped, your tone harsh and cold. "Say that to the person you hurt."

With that, you turned back to your phone, scrolling away and ignoring your boyfriend, you lips painted with a small pout.

Riki sighed.

Just minutes ago, the two of you were all over each other, lips connected as you hungrily kissed each other. 

Today was supposed to be one of your lazy days spent with Riki. The moment that Riki texted you that he was here, you pounced on him, crashing your lips against his almost immediately. He loved it when your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling it gently as your plush lips pressed soft kisses along his jaw.

Riki hadn't seen you in a week or two, courtesy of grueling schoolwork. 

How was he supposed to stop himself from getting too eager?

Riki eyed the Strawberry Rilakkuma (aptly named Kkumi) plush strewn across the floor, its round body faced down.

You had two policies for Riki when it came to hanging out in your room.

Policy #1: Respect all your plushies. That means to not hit them, to not call them mean names, and to treat them with kindness. 

Policy #2: If you and Riki were going to do anything on your bed, whether it be making out or cuddling, you had to turn every plushie around so that they wouldn’t have to watch. According to you, you and Riki were your plushies’ parents, so it would be traumatizing for them to watch you and him make out.

Listen, Riki usually followed your rules perfectly. He treated all of your plushies with kindness.

But with his hoodie draped over your shoulders, with the way that your perfume was filling all his senses as you pulled his hair, with the way that you were all pressed up against him giggling into his ear while pressing sticky kisses against his neck— How could you expect him to stop all of a sudden just so that he can cover your Rilakkuma plush’s eyes?

"Riki—" you had murmured against his lips, your hands sliding down to his shoulders to give them a squeeze, "Riki, wait—"

He had ignored you, only gripping your waist to pull you even closer. 

"Ri—"

Riki cut you off with his lips, relishing in the way you let out a squeak. You melted at his touch, rendered completely helpless, something that made him grin against your lips.

And just as he thought he successfully shut you up, you swiftly pulled away from him. You were breathless, your pupils blown out yet filled with desperation. 

"Kkumi's watching," you breathed, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip as if that didn't make Riki's stomach do flips. Who was Kkumi again? Oh, it was your Strawberry Rilakkuma plush.

Riki clutched your chin, leaning in to kiss you, but you pushed him away. 

"Kkumi is a plushie," Riki rasped, bringing up his large hand to cup your cheek. "He can't see a damn thing."

"Kkumi is our child," you furrowed your brows, poking him in the chest. "Imagine if you saw your parents making out."

Riki shrugged.

The next moments were a blur.

Riki reached across your lap and grabbed Kkumi the Strawberry Rilakkuma plush. With one hand, he threw the plushie into the air, and with the other, he smacked it down to the floor, sending the plushie across the room. 

A shrill scream ripped from your throat as you watched in horror, your beloved Rilakkuma plushie wallowing on the floor below you. 

"Riki, how could you?!" you immediately jumped to your feet, picking Kkumi off the floor and cradling his poor face against your chest. 

"He's a stupid plush," Riki murmured, frowning when you shot him an offended look.

You scoffed. "He's not stupid!"

"He is."

And that's how Riki found himself you-less, all cold now that you were ignoring him.

Fine, maybe he went too far throwing and punching your plushie, and maybe he shouldn't have called it stupid, but it simply wasn't fair! Your plushies got to see you everyday and sleep with you every night, and he didn't.

He glanced at Kkumi the Strawberry Rilakkuma, his eyes hardening at the darn thing. Was he seriously going to apologize to it?

Riki's eyes flickered over to you, the upset pout on your lips. Oh, how much he wanted to kiss them right now. You'd whine and push him away, but Riki knew that you'd melt. Still, he knew you were serious. You took every and all matters related to your plushies very seriously.

Riki sighed. Making sure that you were looking, he got up to his feet, stalking over to Kkumi on the floor. He grabbed the plush's face and held it by the ears, taking a good look at its fabric face.

"I'm sorry," Riki said through gritted teeth, (not-so-)sneakily peeking to see if you were watching. "I'm sorry for hitting you and calling you stupid, Kkumi."

He waited a few seconds. Surely you'd let him kiss you again after this, right?

"Kiss his forehead," you ordered, your arms crossed over your chest.

"W-What?"

"You heard me," you rolled your eyes. "You've been a bad father. That's your child there."

Riki stared at you incredulously. You only stared back with a quirked brow, almost as if you were testing him. Riki sighed once more.

The things that he did for you.

Riki brought the bear's forehead to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. Riki could hear your judgy eyes, so he took it a step further. 

Awkwardly petting the plush's head, Riki robotically, though gently, said, "I'm sorry for being a bad father. I'll do better in the future."

Riki whipped his head over to you for approval. You narrowed your eyes quizzically, before you took in a deep breath.

"Do you forgive me—"

"Fine," you muttered, opening your arms. "I forgive y— Ack!"

The moment that those words came out of your lips, Riki jumped on you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I missed you," he murmured against your skin. 

"It's been ten minutes," you flicked his forehead gently, though your hands took their place in his hair.

"Well, it was the worst ten minutes of my life."

You didn't say anything else, so Riki took that as a sign to snuggle up even further against you, his large body draping over you. You were so warm, and soft, and comforting, Riki couldn't imagine living another moment not close to you. He felt so calm. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he just closed his eyes a little bit, after all, you were with him, engulfing him with your warmth.

Slowly, Riki drifted off, with nothing but the image of you in his head.

(Though, a few hours later, when the both of you woke up, you went to grab a glass of water for the both of you. Riki made sure that you were nowhere to be seen as he raised his fist towards the many plushies lining your bed, punching them square in the face. Sorry, he loved you, but his beef with your plushies would be endless.)

hyune fics are so ??? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

---

missing them