Chapter Text
When you imagined being Yeosang’s girlfriend, you didn’t think anything would change. After all, it was just a title, a word that wouldn’t change any of the dynamics that existed before.
But what you didn’t imagine was just how awkward things were going to be.
Because even a blind man could see the implications that come with jumping into a new relationship only two months after leaving another one. You and Yeosang were never big on public displays of affection at school, but the stares and whispers came anyway, regardless of if the two of you were holding hands or simply standing within a 10 feet radius of one another.
The little moments you and Yeosang had alone, in his apartment or in his car as he drove you home from school, felt fake. They felt like little stolen pieces of happiness from a life that didn’t belong to you.
But as soon as the two of you left the safe haven of your privacy, you’re reminded all over again why you were so apprehensive about this whole thing in the first place.
What’s ironic is that Yeosang is the reason why you’re going through all of this, but he’s also the only person you can go to for solace, the only person who can understand how you’re feeling. He’s the sickness, and the cure.
Yeosang tries his best to practice optimism. Because while the way you came into his life wasn’t exactly…conventional, things ended a lot better than he could have hoped. He's got the best girlfriend he could’ve asked for, and at the very least, he and Wooyoung are hanging out together again.
For once, he hopes that things can go back to normal.
But not being able to share one of the biggest and most important parts of his new life--you--makes every conversation feel fake and every interaction feel forced. It’s like he’s constantly skirting around this giant elephant in the room, and as much as he hates to make things awkward, it’s only inevitable that a few tidbits of his last few weeks with you slip out from time to time.
“Woah.”
Wooyoung almost wants to gasp when he walks into Yeosang’s studio apartment for the first time, stunned and maybe even speechless by just how...not Yeosang the place is. After knowing the boy for all of his life, it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch to expect something like a hospital, clinical and cold and a reflection of its inhabitant’s personality. But instead he’s walked in on the opposite, homey and even a little bit messy, a surprising but welcomed change.
“It’s weird. I feel like I’m at my grandma’s house, but without the musk, you know?.” Wooyoung remarks before delivering a heavy handed, albeit playful slap to Yeosang’s back. “Look at you, being an adult and shit!”
Yeosang reaches behind his back to rub his now tingled spine, muttering a low, “Thanks,” as he twists the door locked with his free hand.
Wooyoung sticks his head into almost every area of the apartment with a curious glint to his eyes, becoming more familiar with the place he expects to be hanging out at a lot more often. The more he looks, the more he falls into a state of disbelief; the color coding, the hung up picture frames, and the little trinkets that cover every surface couldn’t possibly be the work of who Wooyoung knows to be a very unorganized Yeosang.
“No way you did all of this by yourself.” Wooyoung deduces as he plays with the leaf of a potted plant, it’s existence further contributing to his theory.
Yeosang watches Wooyoung bounce around the apartment, his disposition going from playful amusement to now nervous anxiety. You’re responsible for just about every item in this place, and the last thing Yeosang would want to bring up right now is you, the perfect way to ruin what was otherwise supposed to be a pleasant evening.
“I didn’t. I got help.” Yeosang replies blankly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and bouncing on the tips of his feet in a way that would signal obvious nervousness to Wooyoung if he was even paying an ounce of attention.
But instead, Wooyoung’s suddenly become an interior designer, thoroughly investigating the apartment like a cadaver dog who got a sniff of your underwear and is on the search for a dead body. Yeosang holds back a sigh of relief when Wooyoung finally retires to the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking for drinks like he owns the place.
His moment of relief is only temporary. Because just last night, it was you in Yeosang’s kitchen, cooking with him and discussing all sorts of everything and nothing as you sat at the counter island and ate together.
Just as quickly as Yeosang realizes this, Wooyoung turns around and is faced directly with the stools that sit underneath the counter island. And there, draped over the seat, is a varsity cheer jacket--one that has your name printed unmistakably over the back in glittery letters.
The only way Wooyoung could possibly describe this feeling is by comparing it to getting your shins kicked in by a heavy boot. Not many people can say that they’re ever gotten kicked there, sure, but a lot of people know what it’s like to get hit in a spot that they thought was healed. A spot that’s already heavily scarred by wounds from the past, but hurts even more now because weren’t expecting it to get kicked.
Now imagine that happening everyday, a feeling of intense emotional sadness that comes in waves and happens at the worst moments, like right now when Wooyoung is standing in front of his best friend/owner of the heavy boot.
“Oh.” Wooyoung mumbles, just barely audible but enough for Yeosang to hear the bitterness clouding the word.
Yeosang watches Wooyoung from his spot a few feet away, unsure if he should explain, pretend he didn’t see the jacket, go and grab the jacket, or if any of these options are even appropriate or appreciated right now.
“S-sorry about that.” is what Yeosang manages to stutter out, frozen in the way he doesn’t move from his position on the hardwood floor. “I probably should have cleaned up before you came.”
Wooyoung forcibly upturns the corner of his lips into an unbothered smirk, trying to appear like this is all some big joke that they can laugh about now and not something that is still deeply affecting him in ways he didn’t even know about before today.
“Forget about it, man.” he says, more of a subtle demand than it is a request, moving away from the jacket and over to the couch where it’s not visible. “Let’s just start on that project.”
“He tried to play it cool, but he was pretty quiet for the rest of the day after that. He’s more upset than he lets on.”
Yeosang relays the interaction to you later as he drives you home from school and listening to it makes you cringe with that familiar guilt, the type that pools in your stomach and makes you feel
sick.
“This is the stuff that I hate.” you mumble, resting your head against the window as afternoon rain droplets cover the tempered glass. “It’s like we all have to walk on eggshells around each other.”
You already knew that the relationship between the three of you wasn’t going to resemble any definition of ‘normal’ after what’s happened, but the weight of knowing that your actions have directly affected such an important and long friendship between Yeosang and Wooyoung feels especially heavy at the moment.
Yeosang feels terribly as he watches you slide further into your seat from the corner of his eye. He knows you both made a joint decision that day when you decided that a kiss was worth the trouble, but the urge to take on all of the responsibility for it hits especially hard when he sees how sad you look right now.
He reaches a hand out to rest on your thigh in the same way he always does when he’s driving, but this time you can tell he’s trying to offer you comfort, a small gesture but still appreciated nonetheless.
You play with his fingers mindlessly as your street starts to come into view. “Did you hear about the prom thing?”
You’re reminded of ‘the prom thing’ as Yeosang passes by Somi’s house, your closest friend who's been tossing around the idea of a joint prom pre get together for months now. You’re not exactly sure what it means or what it will entail but according to Somi, it’ll involve a lot of illegally procured booze and a chance for you and your friends to convene before you inevitably get washed away in the crowd of loud teenagers during the actual event.
You weren’t very excited about it when it was initially brought up, and you’re certainly not excited about it now. Because of course, when the idea was first conceived, none of you would have factored in the possibility that you’d now be in an entirely different relationship with the best friend of your ex.
“That?” Yeosang sighs, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he recalls the idea. “Not looking forward to it to be honest.”
You hum in agreement because truly, the idea of having to hang out casually with Wooyoung for the first time since you started dating Yeosang feels like a specific form of torture catered entirley to your anxieties and fears. Prom is supposed to be one of the most exciting nights of a person’s life, but you’ve been dreading it not only because of this little get together, but because of the idea of going to an event with your peers who will surely find lots of delight in seeing the three of you walk in together.
Yeosang’s parked in front of your house and you don’t even notice it, your rational mind wrestling with your irrational anxieties, tangled in too many thoughts of prom and Wooyoung for you to even register your surroundings right now.
But you’re brought back to Earth when Yeosang cups your cheeks and steers your attention in his direction, his touch familiar in the way that it grounds you.
“We don’t have to do the whole pregame thing if you don’t want to, okay?” he reminds you, his warm eyes searching yours for any sign of dissension. “We can go straight to the venue, or skip the whole thing altogether if that’s what you want.”
You hate how much your heart leaps at the idea of avoiding this whole ordeal, the thought of staying home or maybe even planning a date with Yeosang more comforting to you right now than anything else in this world.
But you know that avoidance is a tactic that could come off as attention-seeking, maybe even borderline victimization in this situation. The last thing you’d want to do is ruin the night for all of your friends by making a big deal out of a minor, albeit extremely awkward, inconvenience.
“It’s fine.” you assure to Yeosang, raising your lips into a half-smile like it’ll prove that you’re happy about this. “Everyone else is excited about it, and I don’t want to make things more awkward than they have to be.”
You can tell by the way that Yeosang simply stares at you for a few seconds without dropping his hand from your face that he’s thoroughly unconvinced by your attempts at sounding okay about this. All he ever wants is for you to be happy, and he certainly isn’t too keen on the idea of putting you in a situation where you’d be miserable when he knows he could save you from it.
But you’re stubborn, a trait of yours that he’s learned intimately over the past few months of you. If you really are determined to do the whole prom thing, the least he can do is follow you through the shitstorm and offer you whatever comfort he can in the process.
He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before unlocking the passenger side door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Y/N.”
On the night of prom, you’re not nearly as agreeable or excited as you tried to come off to Yeosang in his car. Because now you’re in Somi’s chair, eyes closed as she presses various sized brushes into your face and wondering why you didn’t take Yeosang up on his offer to stay home tonight.
She’s finishing the final touches on your makeup, matching eyeshadow palettes to the color of your dress and causing pieces of glittery dust from the product to fall into your sweetheart neckline.
“There. Finished.”
Somi moves from her spot in front of you, giving you your first look into the mirror where you almost gasp at how unrecognizable you look. It’s a surprisingly comforting realization.
“You look hot.” Somi compliments, snaking her arms around your shoulders in a hug. “We’re gonna have a kickass time tonight.”
She says that last part so confidently and you have almost the opposite prediction about what tonight will be like. “Honestly? This pregame idea is really stupid.”
If Somi wasn’t so used to your attitude about social situations, she might’ve been offended by how easily you trash what she considers a great idea. But instead, she simply brushes you off with a wave of her hand, procuring up her easiest excuse to try and dull your worries.
“It was Changbin’s idea!” she blames, rolling her eyes to appear scorned. “He said Wooyoung was acting really sad, and hanging out with friends would make him feel better!”
But you know Somi loves Changbin, and she’d never blame him like this if it wasn’t a lie or an excuse, another tactic to calm your nerves that seems to fail.
“Even if his ‘friends’ include his cheating ex-girlfriend and the best friend she kissed?” you fire back, seeing right through the holes in her excuses.
Somi sighs, turning away from you to begin painting her own bare face. “Look, I know you’re determined to hate this. And yes, it’ll probably be chaotic. But maybe it’ll be chaotic in like, a good way.”
You open your mouth to tell her that no, there is no such thing as good chaos, but suddenly, a knock coming from outside of her bedroom hushes up whatever empty complaints you were about to let out.
“Go get the door for me babe, I’m in the middle of something.” Somi barks in your direction, her hands occupied with a pair of tweezers she uses to position her eyelash.
You get up out of your chair and walk out of the bedroom slowly, your movement stifled from your long dress in addition to your existing feelings of dread that made you not want to open the door in the first place. San and Changbin arrived over an hour ago, the two boys waiting downstairs in the basement for you and Somi to finish getting ready. It means that either Wooyoung or Yeosang will be waiting for you on the other side of the door, one of them sure to shower you in compliments while the other might just run when he sees you.
The only option that you didn’t take into consideration was that Wooyoung and Yeosang might just arrive together, and unfortunately, that’s exactly the sight that you’re greeted to when you twist open the doorknob and find both boys staring down at you with dark eyes.
It was completely accidental that Wooyoung and Yeosang came in at the same time, Wooyoung walking up from the street and Yeosang pulling in with his fancy car, just seconds apart from one another. And now they stand on the porch together, the awkwardness palpable as you greet them from your side of the door.
They both look handsome in their suits and slicked back hair, everything identical about them except maybe their smell. Most probably wouldn’t recognize it, but you’ve spent enough time with both of them to pick up on the subtle details. Two different colognes that evoke two different feelings and memories, making it hard for you to greet them in any coherent way.
“Uh, hi, guys.”
You feel extremely exposed when you’re caught in between the sights of both your ex and your current boyfriend, both of them looking you up and down with widened eyes. Staring at your dress and your hair and your makeup, doing a terrible job at hiding the attraction that laces their stare.
“Y/N, you look…”
Wooyoung and Yeosang say the three words at the same time, the two boys sharing similar looks of embarrassment that stop them from getting out the rest of their sentences.
“Thanks.” you interrupt preemptively, trying to save yourself and them from blurting out anything else.
After standing in the doorway for what feels like centuries, Yeosang takes initiative and walks in first, his body brushing against yours slightly as he makes his way inside. He’s unsure of how he should greet you, whether it be a kiss like he normally would, or a hug that would probably be more conservative considering your audience.
But when Wooyoung walks in behind him and he watches as you click the door closed, he decides it’s best to play it safe for tonight, keep his distance from you as best as he can to avoid any conflict.
“San and Changbin are already here.” you inform them, ushering them inside of the house like a good host. “So I guess we can join them while Somi finishes getting ready.”
“Cool, thanks.” Wooyoung mutters lowly, bypassing you and Yeosang and beelining straight for the stairs. The way he hurries to get away so quickly has you and Yeosang swapping equal looks of worry and apprehension, reason #5342 of why neither of you wanted to come tonight.
“I guess I should go down there too, then.” Yeosang says once Wooyoung’s left, peering over the stairs nervously, like there’s a dungeon awaiting him and not a basement full of his friends.
“Yeah.” you agree with a limp nod, shyly avoiding the gaze of Yeosang whose eyes burn so intensely when it’s just the two of you together.
He’s even more intense when he finally touches you, reaching out for your wrist and pulling you into him so that he can give you the proper greeting you’ve both been waiting for.
“You really do look beautiful, Y/N.”
He gives you the kiss he was holding back from earlier, quick for the setting that you’ve currently found yourselves in, but enough for a trace of your lipstick to stain his bare lips.
“Thank you.” you reply in an almost breathless whisper, holding his hand and wishing that the two of you could just stand here in each other’s light for the rest of the evening. But you look around his shoulder and down the stairs, where everyone has already arrived for tonight's hijinks. It’s too late to go back now.
“And uh...play nice down there, okay?”
Yeosang raises an eyebrow, coy like he doesn’t know exactly what you’re alluding to. “What do you mean?”
You bring a hand up to wipe the remnants of your lipstick from Yeosang’s lips, the action serving as yet another reminder that the two of you really need to do a better job at keeping your relationship on the low if you’re going to survive tonight.
“I just don’t want things to be any more awkward than they have to be, alright?” you assert, finishing your work on his lips and allowing your hand to rest on his cheek instead.
“I get it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” he agrees, taking two fingers and locking his lips closed with an imaginary key.
You sigh in relief at his cooperation. “Thank you.”
Walking behind Yeosang, the two of you begin your march down the stairs and into the basement, unsure of what type of environment you’ll be heading into. You’re already sure that things must have been prickly with only San and Changbin in the basement by themselves, stewing about their respective connections with Somi. You can only imagine the type of conflict cocktail that will arise by adding you, Wooyoung and Yeosang into the mix.
You’re not surprised when you walk in and see that the room is relatively quiet, so much so that the sound of you and Yeosang coming in has all 6 eyes training themselves in your direction. There are couches backed into the walls, but the 3 men still seem to be standing away from each other--Changbin inspecting an old record player, San checking out his suit in a foggy mirror, and Wooyoung twisting the knobs of a foosball table. You and Yeosang mutter low greetings of hello before finding a spot together on the peeling leather couch.
Seeing the two of you come in together like a good little pair makes Wooyoung also question why he came here tonight. The choice to accept Somi’s invitation was yet another tactic of trying to retain a form of normalcy, push past the pain and surround himself in the familiar environment of his friends that might make things feel like they used to.
But nothing is familiar anymore. You’re not wearing the dress that you and Wooyoung picked out together, back when he was your prom date and you were daydreaming about suit colors. It’s Yeosang that’s you're with now, on your arm like a really expensive accessory and it makes Wooyoung wonder why he ever thought he could measure up.
Ever thought that he could come here tonight, act like everything’s okay when he’s still harboring the same old resentments.
The 5 of you spend the next 30 minutes engaging in minor small talk, nothing deeper than the usual topics that are breached when no one really knows what to say--grades, graduation, college plans. It’s all just some fluff to waste time while you wait for Somi to come down the stairs, the girl taking an exponentially large amount of time to finish her makeup.
Eventually Wooyoung, Changbin and San get tired of rummaging the different artifacts stacked against the wall of the basement and retire to the couches, their expressions tired and their words bored.
“What...is taking...Somi...so long?” Wooyoung drawls like a sloth, not speaking to anyone in particular as he picks at a piece of the couch.
Changbin frowns, looking up the staircase like Somi will magically appear. “Maybe I should go up there. See what she’s doing.”
It’s a reasonable suggestion, and maybe even a predictable one considering their status as a couple, but the remark causes San to let out a dry scoff.
“Does she need your help with everything?” San quips, speaking in a way you’re sure is meant to come off as playful but instead sounds covetous to your ears.
Changbin turns his attention to San, rightfully taken aback by the offhand comment. “Huh?”
“I’m just saying.” San shrugs, refusing to look Changbin in the eye as he speaks. “The two of you can’t do anything apart from one another. It’s fucking gross.”
Changbin opens his mouth to say something back in his deep, grumbly voice but now it’s Wooyoung that’s laughing, letting out a hyena-like chuckle that makes it clear he’s taking amusement from this whole interaction.
“Are you fucking agreeing with him, Wooyoung?” Changbin asks, feeling betrayed because Wooyoung’s never taken sides in the course of their conflict.
Wooyoung shrugs, his smirk palpable like he’s fighting back a laugh. “Hey. I’m not saying he’s right, but I’m also not saying he’s wrong.”
Changbin even glances at the couch with you and Yeosang, searching for any sort of defense or backup from San’s comment. But you both avoid his gaze, remaining silent and feeling incredibly unsure of what to do in this tense environment.
Desperate to avoid conflict, your eyes zero in a stack of board games that lay messily in the corner of the room. You get up from your spot on the couch to rummage through the collection, pulling out anything at random just so that everyone’s attention will be on something else.
“How about we play something while we wait?” you say in an unnaturally loud way, holding up a game of Monopoly that seems suitable and long enough to keep everyone subdued.
No one really responds to your call, everyone exchanging looks that aren’t particularly enthused about the idea of a game, but also aren’t particularly against the idea. So with a few disgruntled sighs, the 3 men gather around the floor where you set up the board and it’s pieces.
The game goes by routinely for the next few minutes, properties getting snatched up and dice getting flung around everywhere. And as monotonous as the rounds go, at the very least it achieves its trick of shutting everyone up for a bit, with the only comments being frustrated complaints of being sent to jail or shouts of triumph when a chance card goes well. For the first time since you came down here, the mood finally seems to approach a level of calm in the face of mountainous tension.
But there’s one particular comment made by Wooyoung that puts everyone back on edge.
It happens when Yeosang does a little bit too well at the game, buying up property after property until almost the entire board belongs to him. Wooyoung was just unlucky enough to consistently land on Yeosang’s properties, forced to give up almost all of his fake money to pay for imaginary rent until ultimately going bankrupt.
Yeosang’s face is painted with a smug grin as Wooyoung is forced to give up what little properties he possesses. Wooyoung is rational, and he knows that this is all just a game, but he can’t help but notice it’s parallels to their real lives: Yeosang excelling, winning everything with little to no efforts while Wooyoung is forced out of the game early, rendered a non-player before he even had a chance. This sentiment combined with his existing resentments fester until he lets the next few words slip from his lips:
“You always seem to want what’s someone else’s, don’t you?”
All it takes is one little comment for everyone to look up from the board, eyes flitting from Wooyoung to Yeosang and back like they can sense a fight approaching.
All of your attention is locked towards Yeosang, silently willing him to ignore the comment with pleading eyes that he doesn’t look at. Because his eyes are trained on Wooyoungs, both of them unwilling to look away like it’s a battle of ego.
Yeosang lets out a forced laugh, one of those laughs someone lets out as a precursor to punching someone rather than because they found something funny. It’s enough of a warning sign for you to reach your hand out and place it over his, a public display of affection that you’d normally shy away from but something that feels necessary considering the circumstances.
The action seems to communicate something to Yeosang because to your relief, he looks away from Wooyoung and down to your hand. He sighs, thumbing your palm in gratitude because you pulled him out of a place he really didn’t want to tap into tonight.
The only problem is that Wooyoung looks down, too. Sees the way you two subtly palm each other, his body coursing with anger and disgust. And before you know it he’s gritting his teeth, opening up his mouth to say something else biting before--
“Sorry I’m late, girlies!”
Somi’s loud introduction comes at the perfect timing because now everyone’s eyes are on her, her goofy way of speaking easing what might’ve become a violent environment.
She strolls into the basement with at least 4 bottles of liquor held clumsily in her arms, barely able to keep them upright in a way that makes you wonder if she’s been taking shots already. Changbin gets up from his spot on the carpet first, taking some of the weight off of her hands and helping her set them down. He mutters something to her that’s unintelligible from your vantage point, but loud enough to make Somi laugh and San turn away.
They set up the drinks on a little wooden table by the stairs, creating a makeshift bar completed with some old gas station shot glasses.
“Why are you guys just sitting there?” she questions, surveying the Monopoly board and almost taking offense at just how bored you all look sitting around it. “Let’s get wasted, yeah?”
“Sadly, I have to drive.” Yeosang replies with a sigh, getting up from the rug and extending a hand out for you to do the same.
“Since you’ve already helped yourself--” Changbin notices in a rather scolding tone as Somi throws down a shot. “--I guess I’m in the same boat.”
Wooyoung opens his mouth to accept the offer of a drink, more than ready to throw himself into the sweet embrace of alcohol right now with the way his thoughts are currently spinning wildly in his brain.
But San, who Wooyoung was planning on riding with, gets up first, practically running for the bar and making himself a drink before Wooyoung can even get a word of protest out.
As if this night could get any worse, now Wooyoung has to watch you and Yeosang together completely sober. Great.
You try to ignore the sour look on Wooyoung’s face and the way it makes your heart pull at your chest, instead focusing your attention on the record player where you search for anything to listen to.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” Yeosang asks, looking down at you as you play with different buttons in an attempt to work the device.
You almost don’t hear him with the way you’re frantically twisting knobs on the record player, becoming somehow determined to turn the thing on. “Uh, no thanks. I think I’ve had my fair share of alcohol.”
Yeosang notices the way your hands shake with every movement and it causes him to course with worry, knowing that you weren’t particularly enthused about coming here in the first place and knowing that less than 5 minutes ago you were caught in the middle of yet another potential conflict.
“Hey.” he calls out to you softly, reaching for your wrists and stopping any movements. “I got it.”
He sets your hands aside and puts all of his attention on the record player, managing to turn it on with relative ease.
You sigh, grateful yet again for the little ways he offers you support. “Thank you.”
“You know we can leave here whenever we want, right?” he reminds you, and it makes you laugh because you didn’t realize just how obvious you’ve been showing your discomfort. “Say the word, and we’ll be gone.”
“Let’s just...get through the rest of the night, okay?” you decide, hoping that with just a little more fake smiles and board games you can get through the evening without bringing any more attention to you and Yeosang.
Yeosang’s frown remains unwavering, his displeasure in your answer obvious, but he isn’t able to voice any rational concerns before Somi grabs everyone’s eye.
“Should we play a game or something?” she prompts the group, the slur in her words making it evident that the alcohol has hit her bloodstream.
“We already played Monopoly while you were taking forever to get ready, Somi.” you inform her, but your words seem to fall on deaf ears because she’s already rushing over to the stack of board games.
“Monopoly? Is this a senior citizen’s home?” she jeers, rummaging through the cardboard boxes. “Let’s pull out the real shit.”
By ‘real shit’, she’s referring to a dusty old pack of Truth or Dare cards. It's the easiest game to play for someone looking to get into some trouble, which is why you aren’t particularly jumping for joy when Somi lays the stack of cards out on the floor.
But more than half of the group is sober and bored while the other is drunk and willing to do almost anything, which is why no one questions Somi or the game.
You all get down on the carpet to surround the cards, Changbin on your left, Yeosang on your right, Wooyoung directly across from you and San and Somi filling in the gaps. You didn't realize how relevant seating arrangement would be until the first two cards are pulled; Changbin goes first, pulling a card that reads:
“Dare: Hug the person directly across from you for 60 seconds.”
From Changbin’s position on the floor, you could argue that the card is referring to either San or Wooyoung. But for the sake of entertainment, all of you convince a very grumpy Changbin and a tipsy San to hug it out for all of you to watch. They do so begrudgingly after a few minutes of convincing and it’s just as entertaining as you all imagined, two people who clearly aren’t on good terms with one another forced to embrace in the middle of the group.
When it’s over, Somi picks the first real risqué card from the bunch: “Dare: Kiss the person on your left,” she reads. Luckily, that person happens to be Changbin, who gladly accepts the lipstick stains that cover his lips after Somi kisses him shortly. The rest of you vocalize groans in feigned disgust.
But even while the first two cards seem to bring a relatively lighthearted, playful atmosphere into the room, it’s Wooyoung’s turn next, and the card he picks seems to once again cause that same tension that darkens and tightens and the air in the room, the type of energy you’ve been trying so hard to avoid.
“Truth: Have you ever hooked up with anybody in this room?”
Immature, ninth grade you probably would’ve gotten a kick out of this question, finding it scandalous and a little bit funny, even. But now, you simply watch Wooyoung silently, hoping that he won’t put you in a difficult spot by giving the answer everyone else is thinking, anyway.
The answer he finally does give after a few seconds of heavy anticipation is just as mysterious as the sky being blue or the grass being green:
“I plead the fifth.” he replies, staring directly at you when he says it.
A few of your friends erupt in nervous laughter, probably trying to lighten the mood. But it does nothing for your now warming cheeks and the frown you’re trying your best to hold back. Yeosang slowly snakes his arm around your waist; you think it’s a clear show of possessiveness, but it’s comforting to be close to him right now nevertheless.
San’s turn to pick a card is luckily more innocent than intense: he’s asked to tell his most embarrassing story, which happens to be the time when he asked his teacher on a date and was rejected.
“She gave me an A at the end of the semester, though. I think she was scared I was gonna tell the principal or something.”
“Okay, I think we’ve heard enough of that.” Somi interjects with a wry giggle. “Yeosang, your turn.”
Yeosang apprehensively reaches into the deck, pulling out a card that feels ironically spot on considering who it’s directed to:
“Dare: Punch the person two seats away from you.”
All eyes seem to count away from Yeosang at the same time, everything biting their lips or letting out little exclamations of worry when they see that it’s Wooyoung on the receiving end of the card’s dare.
Yeosang decides to play it cool, not allow a measly dare to mess up what’s been a somewhat agreeable game thus far.
“I think we’ve done enough of that, yeah?” he throws to Wooyoung, eliciting a few giggles from the group.
And even if the boys aren’t going to be passing blows like the card instructs, Wooyoung still won’t miss out on an opportunity to throw a few verbal jabs masked by jovial humor.
“How’s that nose doing?” he quips, mouth upturned in a smirk and you seem to be the only one that notices the underlying resentments in his tone.
“Better than your ego, I’m sure.”
That last little comment from Yeosang was unexpected and now everybody is once again on edge, anticipating another argument that has been plaguing the night so far.
“I told you to play nice.” you whisper in Yeosang’s ear, scolding him in a way that sounds dangerously close to how your mother would reprimand you when you were younger.
“What?” Wooyoung glances at all of your serious faces with a wry smile, acting like you all are the instigators here. “We’re just joking around! You guys are too serious.”
Yeosang nods in agreement, once again letting out one of those forced laughs that make it obvious that he’s holding back how he really feels. And something about the death stares that they both send each other masked in good will seems to confirm that there's something more serious behind these jokes.
But the flares of repressed anger and resentments ultimately don’t result in anything, at least not yet. Because now it’s your turn to pick a card, something you do hurriedly in an effort to move on to something else.
“My card says…” you read, clearing your throat slightly before continuing. “Truth: What has been the happiest moment for you in the past year?”
This question is probably one of the more innocent ones of the bunch, but it still leaves you feeling a bit taken aback, knowing that your past year wasn’t exactly one of triumph. It’s hard to answer a question like this when the first thing that pops into your mind is Yeosang, the trophy of your happiness that you received only after hurting the heart of someone else you cared a lot about. It’s not really something you’d like to publicly celebrate or announce at the moment.
So instead, you answer the question as vaguely as you possibly can, laying the card down and looking at the wall when you say, “Clarity. I’m grateful for the clarity this past year gave me.”
It only takes a few snickers and groans from the group along with a scathing eye roll from Wooyoung for you to know that they know you’re full of shit.
“Come on, stop it with the boring answers.” Somi teases, reaching over to poke you in the arm. Normally, she’s good at picking up the subtle expressions of dread underneath your fake smiles, good for knowing when not to push it. But tonight, she’s drunk and looking for a good time, making it easy for her to provoke you for more answers.
But you refuse to feed her desire for entertainment, not right now when it’s at the expense of your own sanity. “I answered it, okay? It’s Changbin’s turn now.”
Changbin seems to sympathize with you because he quickly grabs at another card, quelling his girlfriend’s complaints with a weak, “shhhh”, before carrying out his dare.
And for the next 10 minutes you all go another few turns around the circle, grabbing cards and performing a collection of bold dares and scathing truths until there’s only enough cards left for one more go around.
It’s Wooyoung’s turn now, the last card he’ll get to pick before the game is over. With every card he’s reached for in the past few minutes, you’ve silently prayed that it isn’t anything involving you, and it’s no different this round. Wishes that don’t leave your brain, pleas to the universe that you’ll get through this game without having to do anything awkward or embarrassing together…
“Dare–” he reads, slowly like he either wants to create suspense or doesn’t want to read the card at all. “Seven minutes in heaven with the person directly acr—”
“Oh shit!”
All of a sudden, Yeosang erratically jumps up from the floor, staring down at his watch like it just spoke something important to him. “Look at the time. You guys ready to head out?”
Everyone on the floor looks up at Yeosang like he’s crazy, wondering why he’s become so impassioned to leave in the middle of the game. But it’s obvious to you why he’s had this reaction–he’s been trying to get you to leave all night, convince you to do what you’ve been wanting to do. This time, after hearing the first half of that dare, you’re finally ready to relent.
“Wait!” Somi stops him, looking down at her own phone and realizing that there’s still another 10 minutes before anyone has to go anywhere. “Let Wooyoung finish reading it!”
You stand up only a few seconds after Yeosang, smoothing out the fabric of your dress as you move towards him. “I think that’s enough, Somi.”
Wooyoung watches as the two of you stand up and get ready to leave, not even realizing that he’s unconsciously crumpled the card in his hands. He doesn’t think he would've followed through with the dare even if he wanted to, but he still doesn’t like that the two of you get to just walk away, decide to leave the kitchen when it gets too hot.
Maybe that’s why he’s been angry all night, throwing little jabs and insults even after he promised the two of you that he was over it: unlike you and Yeosang, Wooyoung doesn’t get to just opt out of the pain whenever he wants to. You two get to be happy, to walk away from it all while Wooyoung’s left behind, stuck with these lingering feelings of anger and heartbreak.
He wants to vocalize this, shout and make a scene and call the two of you out for your behavior. But you and Yeosang always seem to get your way, and now Changbin, San, and Somi are following suit. Standing up and smoothing out their fancy outfits, getting ready to head out like Yeosang instructed. Forcing Wooyoung to do the same.
Everyone gets in their respective vehicles–Somi with Changbin driving, Wooyoung bregudinly driving alongside San, you with Yeosang–heading to your school gym where the real event will begin.
You almost forgot that prom was the main focus tonight, that getting through Somi’s little pregame get-together was really just a practice for the real test. 20 minutes ago, you were more than ready to leave that crowded basement, escape the awkwardness and tension that brought down the entire room. Only now do you begin to realize that you’re about to enter a place even more uncomfortable and sour than the one you came from.
If there was never not a time for you to be ruminating over these things, it would be now. Now, when you’ve already gone through the trouble of buying a fancy gown and plastering your face with powder. Now, when Yeosang’s already parked in front of the gym, waiting for you to get out.
But emotions don’t tend to operate on divine timing, and now, as you watch all of your classmates through the window of your boyfriend’s car, looking so nice and dolled up as they enter the gym, there’s only one thing you can think about.
If someone were to shine a blacklight over the concrete, would they see the old remnants of blood left from Valentine’s Day?
Do they know that if they just move a few feet to the left, they’d be standing on the exact spot where everything happened? The spectacle and the betrayal and the confession that caused so many bad memories you’ve been trying to forget?
“Are you okay?”
You look over at Yeosang, nodding your head almost out of habit even when you don’t really feel that way. “Yeah. I guess.”
But this is probably the 50th time you’ve lied about being okay tonight and this time, Yeosang won’t let it go. “Why are you lying?”
You sigh, feeling embarrassed and guilty for even dragging Yeosang here tonight when you knew that things were going to end up like this. “Because I wanted us to have fun tonight. To act like normal, well-adjusted teenagers for once in our lives.”
“I’m not gonna have fun if you’re sad, love.” he answers honestly, because all night he’s been on edge trying to make sure that you were okay.
Your lips twitch into a limp smile at his words as you look off into the distance, behind him where brick walls that encase the gym come into view. “I guess it’s just…being here reminds me of what happened on Valentine’s Day.” you confess, your words wet with shame. “When Woo found out that we…kissed.”
Yeosang slumps back a little in his seat, sighing as he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get those same reminders, being parked in the same lot that he got his nose broken in.
“Does that bother you?” you ask, looking up at Yeosang to try and read his expression. “That I feel that way?”
You’re relieved when he immediately shakes his head in confusion. “No. Why would it?’
“Because I still care about the whole situation even though it ended a few months ago?” you answer meekly, biting your lip in worry. This relationship means a lot to you, and the last thing you’d want to do is create fractures of insecurity by continuously bringing up Wooyoung.
“I’m not gonna hate you just because you’re still affected by it.” he replies nonchalantly, his sense of ease sending peace and assurance to your heart. “Those feelings don’t just go away.”
He reaches over to grab your hand, swinging it around until it lands on his heart. “And I know the way we got together wasn’t exactly…traditional.”
You probably shouldn’t laugh but you do, mostly because of the shy way he says it, but also because this whole thing is just so absurd and dramatic for two eighteen year olds. Yeosang joins you until you’re both erupting with light laughter, laughter that ends with him staring you into silence.
“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” he asks, playful smile still plastered on his face but his voice serious.
“Where?” you ask innocently, not knowing if he’s really being serious or if this is all just a conversation to stall until you’re ready to go in.
Yeosang shrugs his shoulders, truly willing to go across state lines right now if it means you’ll be more comfortable. "Anywhere that’s not here?”
Once you register just how serious he’s being, you glance back through the window, watching your peers exit their own cars with their lush gowns and excited faces. This is the night they’ve been looking forward to their entire lives. You’d be lying if you said you felt the same, but the sight still makes you wonder if you’re being crazy to not want that.
“It's our prom night.” you remind Yeosang, absolutely zero conviction in your tone. “We only get one of these, you know.”
But Yeosang makes it feel okay to be crazy. Preferred, even. Because now he reaches down to grab ahold of your legs, swiveling them so that they’re on his lap. And now, you’re fully confident that there’s nowhere you’d rather be than here.
“Prom night can be wherever we want it to be,” he argues fervently. “It could be in this car…” he says, voice lowering as he pops a heel off of your feet. “...on my lap…”
His reasoning sounds sarcastic, but the impassioned look on his face doesn’t leave at all even when you’re keeling in laughter.
“I’m so serious about this.” he asserts, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips. “Tell me where you wanna go and I’ll take you there.”
You take a few seconds to think, considering all of the places you’d want to be right now. You could go out to dinner, stuff your face full of that sushi you both like. You could go to the movies, see an art exhibit, visit an amusement park–you could quite literally go anywhere that’s open at the moment and still have an amazing time together.
But eventually, you decide that the only place you really want to be is alone, with him. It’s how you end up at Yeosang’s apartment, all dressed up but not even feeling an ounce of regret about your decision to leave. As soon as you hear the clicking of the door closing behind you, it's like you immediately feel at ease, knowing that you’re going to be spending the night with one of the only people who you can truly be yourself around without the chatter of the outside world.
The first thing Yeosang does is help you take off your dress. You almost think [and maybe even hope] that he has an ulterior motive by trying to strip you down, but he only does it so that you’ll be more comfortable, throwing you one of his big t-shirts to change into while he does the same.
“What do you wanna do tonight?” you ask Yeosang as you stand in front of his dining room table, feeling suddenly energized and invigorated knowing that you have a whole night to do whatever you want with each other.
Yeosang’s still folding up the mess of your gown that you left on the floor, looking up at you with his eyebrow quirked suggestively. “I had a few ideas.”
HIs voice is relatively tame and he hasn’t even said anything major, yet you can already feel excitement and nerves bouncing around in your stomach, a feeling he’s able to evoke so easily without so much as a stare in your direction.
“L-like what?” you ask, the question coming out way less confident than you intended. But that bit of curiosity and innocence that lies in your voice causes Yeosang to advance a little closer, throwing your dress somewhere on the counter island so that all of his attention is on you.
“We could do some…” he stalks closer to you with a teasing glint to his eyes, backing you up until your hips hit the edge of the table.
“...redecorating, if you’d like?”
You’re not entirely sure what he means by that until, very suddenly, Yeosang reaches his hand behind your back. In one sweep, he pushes aside all of the silverware and trinkets that cover his wooden table until they fall onto the floor with a dramatic bang.
You’re giggling when Yeosang hoists you up onto the edge of the table, pushing you backwards until your back hits the cold surface. He follows you, crawling onto the table and over your body until he’s hovering over you with a hand on either side of your face. It’s bizarre and it’s one of those things you’ve only ever read about in books or seen on TV shows, but somehow Yeosang pulls it off while looking incredibly sexy.
You were laughing before but now the seriousness is setting in, the reality of what you’re about to get into and the excitement of it overwhelming you when his lips meet yours. Kissing you in a way that is so charged and passionate and hard so that you don’t have to question how much he wants you.
A tongue that finds it’s way past your lips and into your mouth, moving against yours as your heart beats faster inside of your chest.
Hands that settle between your legs, moving back and forth along the skin of your thighs that grow warmer with every passing second.
You start to think that he’s taking this redecoration idea a little too seriously because he eventually drags you off the table and into the living room, once again making a mess of his own house by throwing pillows and tossing blankets. It’s all so he can clear space on the couch, but instead of sitting on it like you assume, he instead props you against the side of the loveseat.
Yeosang holds you against the arm of the couch, bending you over it until your face falls softly onto the cushion below. You can’t see him from this angle but you can most certainly feel him–the bulge that presses against your ass and the fingers that trail up your thighs and hips until they’re pushing your t-shirt up across your torso.
“You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven't you?” he questions with a lazy tone of mocking, fingertips dancing all over the waistband of your underwear. “Couldn’t wait to get home so I could touch you?”
“Y-yes,” you answer shyly, but your quiet voice sounds merely like a repressed groan with your face pressed up against the cushions. It’s the type of noise Yeosang imagines you’ll make once he gets you where he really wants to, flustered and unable to form a sentence.
His eyes zero in on your underwear, a darkened spot of wetness staining in a circle over the cotton fabric. His hands take flight almost unconsciously at the sight, fingers drifting from your hips down to your thighs where he pushes it to the side.
“Spread your legs a little for me, love.” he commands, furrowing his eyebrows as he attempts to get more access to you.
You follow embarrassingly quick, even offering a little wiggle of your ass that makes his dick twitch in his pants. But he couldn’t care less about his own needs right now, because the way that you squeeze around the first finger that he slips inside of you is all consuming. His second finger fits in nicely next to the first, sitting and adjusting inside of you until he finally begins his movements.
The way he works and scissors them inside of you is like something you’ve never really felt before, his digits long and his use of them intentional like he knows exactly how to get you off. He’s focused, making barely any noises besides low grunts that seem to be in response to your whiny moans. Moans that make him rock against you slightly, make his pants feel like they’ve suddenly shrunken two sizes smaller.
It’s so good that you’re practically crying into the couch, juices dripping down and darkening the armrest of the couch that you bought for him.
“You need to be quiet before the neighbors hear you.” he scolds, his voice tight and strained as his digits increase their speed. “Or are my fingers so good that you can’t keep your mouth shut?”
You immediately reach for a pillow off the floor to bury your face in, an act that makes Yeosang laugh and also thrust his fingers harder like you’ve just given him a challenge. A challenge that he’s excelling at with tremendous skill.
You obediently hush the whine that threatens to slip out, but when his fingers briefly graze your g-spot, your thighs shake and now any previous desires to be quiet are rendered impossible. He seems to notice it because now he makes it his mission to drill into that spot, putting all of his focus and attention on delivering you the orgasm you so badly deserve.
And you don’t know if it’s a combination of his words on top of his fingers, but you’ve never felt this close off of penetration alone and now you’re reeling, thrusting your hips back into him for more friction. You squeeze and release all over his two fingers, biting the pillow below you as little shocks of pleasure travel throughout your entire body.
You can still feel Yeosang’s painfully hard erection pulsing against you which is why you’re surprised when he gets on his knees and slides your panties off fully. Lets his breath waft over your bare pussy, licks his lips like he’s prepared to get you off again. It’s exactly what he wants to do, what he’s thought about doing for a long time–drag his tongue through your folds, let his mouth taste what his fingers previously explored, lick your clit into his warm mouth.
But you surprise even yourself when instead, you stand up completely, shirt pooling down to cover up what Yeosang was so ready to taste.
You turn around, looking down at Yeosang with eyes darkened by lust. “Please, just fuck me.”
You don’t have to ask twice. In a blur of movements he’s hoisted you up on his shoulder, walked you into his room and dropped you down onto his bed as he rids himself of his own clothes. He strips down to just his boxers and meets you on the freshly washed sheets, surprised at just how eagerly you jump onto him.
His lap is the only place you want to be right now and the spot feels exponentially better when his dick presses against your naked folds. He has a lazy hold on your hips that gives him an illusion of control when really, your movements are entirely self directed, hard rocks against him that are powered by so much lust that you can barely see straight. So overwhelmed that you don’t even know what to touch or where to go next.
“You can feel it, can’t you love?” Yeosang prompts as his hands begin to squeeze and caress any piece of skin that’s available. The sides of your torso, your hardened nipples, the skin on the back of your neck. “You wanna ride it?”
“Mhhhm.” you hum in response, and it’s the direction you need to start peeling off his boxers, freeing him from the fabric until his cock springs against his stomach and into your hand. Veiny and a little bit red, thick enough to make you drip in anticipation.
For a few seconds you just stare at it, jerking him lazily like you’re entranced until Yeosang’s hand moves up to your cheek. His touch, bringing your attention back to his beautifully lined face.
“Take your time. I’m all yours ” he assures you, his self control sexy but also kind of annoying right now because the last thing you want to do is go slow.
“What if I want it fast?” you quip, slipping into that banter that is just as easy during sex as it is in casual conversation. “Or is that too much for you?”
The last thing you see is Yeosang’s wolfish grin of satisfaction before he pulls your shirt up and over your eyes, both of you now at your most vulnerable and naked but also your most comfortable and intimate, doing and acting on the desires that used to feel selfish but now feel so fucking right.
“Oh really?” he quips back, throwing your shirt somewhere onto his floor. “Take a seat, then.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. You’ve talked about birth control before and now that you’re on the pill, there’s nothing to stop you from moving yourself onto Yeosang until the tip of his cock slowly pierces into you. His eyes flick with little glints of desire that burn especially bright as he looks down at you, watches the way you take him and feels the way you squeeze around him.
It’s easy for him to fill you up with just how wet you are, the work he put in earlier coming especially handy now with just how big he is. The thrusts come easy too; he’s got lean, muscular arms that palm your ass and almost throw you up and down his cock over and over again while you moan into his neck. Grunts of praise that include, “You’re so fucking tight,” and, “Good girl, taking me so well.” fill your ears and add to the mounting amount of pleasure that builds in your lower stomach.
But 2 minutes of this position starts to strain your thighs, and now you’ve practically collapsed onto Yeosang’s chest, sweaty body colliding with his as you weakly lift yourself halfway up his shaft and back down. He notices that you’re getting tired and slides a hand down between your legs, tweaking at your clit just to offer you some relief as you moan tiredly into his ear.
“Are you tired, my love?” he asks, teasing you but also checking in genuinely.
You hum weakly in response, eyelashes fluttering and Yeosang playing with your clit in a way that brings slow and purposeful jolts throughout your body.
Both of you could probably lay here forever, but it’s more important for him to get you to cum a second time. It’s why he pulls out of you abruptly, your little exclamation of surprise going unheard because he quickly manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. Bent over for him once more, legs spread open so that he can easily fit behind you.
“Lay back and let me take care of you.” is what he promises through his deep voice, gripping his cock and feeding it back into you until you’re comfortably full again.
He pushes into you with thrusts that are just relentless as they are satisfying. Loving as they are dominant. Hard as they are soft. He reaches around your hip to play with your clit while the other hand holds you steady, keeping you in place as he fucks into you.
“God, you’re so good.” he exhales the words into the skin of your spine like prayers, leaving offerings of kisses there that make your hairs raise. “I could fuck you like this forever, pretty girl.”
In this position you’re forced to relinquish control, lay back and sob into the sheets as his cock repeatedly pushes into a spot that makes you feel pleasurably lightheaded. You’ve never been more happy to be powerless in this moment because he knows exactly what to do, exactly what buttons to push, exactly how hard and how fast and how soft and how to say what he says to make you come.
“Come all over me. Wet me. Show me how much you love this.”
Those words are the last thing you hear before your release is finally triggered. Blood rushes to your ears and it’s the most intense thing you’ve ever felt, broken cries of Yeosang leaving your lips until you finally collapse onto the bed.
You’re dazed, breathing hard and only having enough strength to roll around until Yeosang comes into view. It’s not until you’re faced with his painfully hard cock hanging in between his legs that you realize he didn’t come inside of you.
“I thought I told you, I’m on the pill.” you state in a quiet, questioning tone, wondering if this wasn’t good for him and feeling all types of insecurities flooding in at once.
“I know,” he states plainly. “We still have to hit the showers.”
You almost wonder what he’s referring to but he doesn’t give you a second to think before he’s pulling you up on his shoulder and leading you into his bathroom, never one to abandon the redecorating that he promised you earlier tonight.
And so, in the last room of his house, he holds you up against the tiles of his shower as he fucks into you. Grunts and groans that leave his hoarse voice are muffled by the running water that flows over your bodies. You’d probably come a third time if he wasn’t already so close, coming inside of you with long strokes and stripes of white that drip onto the marble floors.
Everything about that night was perfect, and nothing like a first time. Both of you know each other’s bodies surprisingly well, like there’s a synergy that’s developed from the strong emotional connection you’ve built together. That type of pleasure is wordless, something you don’t have to teach or instruct because he just knows, and you just know. You go to sleep that night draped in fresh clothes, clean blankets, and Yeosang’s arm, knowing that no words or actions have been left unsaid.
The last few weeks of your senior year seem to evoke just about the same feelings of nostalgia and bittersweetness one would expect from their final days in high school. The hallways feel different now, the air just a little bit warmer, the cafeteria food just a little bit more pleasant. Everything only feels nicer because you’ll never see it anymore, and that realization brings about a sense of both freedom and fear.
There’s also of course an air of stress that clouds the nostalgia. Thoughts of your valedictorian speech, which, admittledy is an achievement you haven’t really felt the gravity of in light of other pressing events in your life. The feeling of urgency when it comes to deliberating your next few years after high school, where exactly they’ll take you. A future with Yeosang that you haven’t really discussed with each other yet, a future that’s certain but mistiful nevertheless.
But if you wanted a chance to talk to Yeosang about these things, it won’t be now. Because for the first time in a long time, he isn’t here to guide you through your every life decision. He’s not even in the same state as you right now, for reasons he let slip to you only a few days after prom.
“Ughh. Why is it so hard for me to write this damn speech?”
You bury your head into a pillow, groans of annoyance getting muffled by the fabric as you sprawl out against your bed, laptop now discarded onto the floor. You’re complaining to yourself, more than anything, because Yeosang’s sitting across the room at your desk, looking focused as he scrolls through his laptop.
“Val speech again?” Yeosang replies mindlessly, throwing you a sympathetic look over his shoulder. “Miss Perfect can’t write down a few words of farewell?”
You lift your head from the pillows, throwing a scathing look against Yeosang’s back like the fury will burn through his t-shirt. “First of all, fuck you. And second of all, you’re no help.”
Yeosang swivels around in his chair to face you, lips upturned into a smug grin. “I’m making fun of you because I know you’re going to do great.”
“Plusss,” he draws out the word, pulling on your feet that hang off the bed until his seat rolls closer to the edge.“I think we have a little history to prove that the more I challenge you, the better you’ll do.”
You roll around on your stomach until you’re faced directly with Yeosang’s handsome face, the increased height from his chair forcing you to lift your chin to face him. “If that’s the case, keep the insults coming.”
“Degrade you?” he quips in scandalized whispers, lifting your chin with his long fingers. “Is that what you like?”
You slap his hand away, rolling back into your previous position as he does the same through deep chuckles of amusement. “You’re so filthy. You know, I was gonna mention your name in my speech, but now, I think I’ll pass.”
After throwing a few more weak insults at your boyfriend, you finally return back to your laptop, staring at a hauntingly white document with no inspiration to fuel the myriad of disjointed ideas that bounce around your head. So instead, you turn your attention to the axis that seems to always pull you back–Yeosang, who still mysteriously scrolls away at a laptop screen concealed by his broad back.
You get up from the bed, strolling over to his space at the desk wearing his own t–shirt and socks because you seem to live in these things now. He freezes up a bit when you wrap your arms around his neck, softening when your head finds its way into his shoulder until you’ve comfortably gotten a view of his laptop screen.
“What are you looking at?” you question, surveying the screen with lazy eyes that turn wide when you see different priced plane tickets illuminating the screen.
Yeosang clears his throat, probably seeming a lot more nervous than appropriate for what is actually an innocent act. “I’m…going to New York. To see my sister’s grave.”
You angle your head and your eyes meet his, eyes that don’t seem nervous or guarded like they usually do when he talks about this. It feels more comfortable for him to talk about his emotions and things like this with you now, and that fills you up with pride.
“Do you want me to go with you?” you offer, wanting him to feel supported in these matters wherever you can.
You’re slightly surprised when Yeosang shakes his head almost immediately, pressing his hand over yours that guards his heart. “I think this is something that I need to do alone, Y/N.”
You don’t question this at all, confident in him and confident that he knows what he’s doing. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and planting kisses on the sides of his face are the only way you decide to respond to him, trying to relay your pride in a way that feels better than words.
Yeosang reaches over to shut down the laptop, his way of giving all of his attention to you. “Are you gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
In one swift move he swirls around in his chair and pulls you onto his leg, leaning back and giving you all the space to crawl over him.
“Eh.” you mumble blandly as you lazily pull at his darkened hair. “I think I’ve had enough of you. Maybe a break is needed.”
He closes his eyes and sulks in a pretend pout, acting like he’s offended and not admitting that he really, really loves you, even in your most attitudinal moods.
Because even when you sarcastically lambast him, you’ll always walk it back. It’s his favorite things, because you’re so predictable in the way you immediately lean down and kiss his pout away, giggling as you proclaim, “I’m kidding.”
“I could never get tired of you.”
Yeosang’s eyes reopen and the two brown dots expand like little fireworks. He lights up at the most innocent of compliments from you and it makes your heart burst in your chest.
It also makes lust build in your stomach, which is why you don’t protest when he tackles you onto the bed in an act that has you limping on the way back home that evening.
But that’s about the last time you get to experience Yeosang before he’s on a flight to New York City, the distance forcing you to face some social settings that you weren’t entirely looking forward to without him by your side. One of those social settings most notably being the Senior Breakfast, an event hosted by your student government association that really is just a fancy excuse to dress up and eat stacks of waffles under the guise of solidarity and fundraising.
You walk into a rented out hotel ballroom that’s been draped in white, pillow-y decorations that seem to mimic an imagined heaven. And for a person that’s committed quite a few choice sins, you ironically fit right in with your matching white dress and empty stomach that is barking at the smell of fresh fruits of maple syrup.
But you can’t do anything until you find a seat, and it happens that your little group of mismatched friends–Somi, Changbin, San, and Wooyoung–are already here, stretched across a circular table with full plates and open mouths. Somi’s been texting you directions since you were in the car and she immediately finds you when you walk in, dramatically waving her hand to get your attention.
“I made you a plate.” Somi announces when you walk over, pushing it into your direction before you can even get a word out. “Thank me after you’ve tried these pancakes.”
You slide in between her and Wooyoung, giving the latter a shy smile of greeting before reaching for your fork. You find out after a few bites that these pancakes are surprisingly pleasant, but what’s even more surprising is that the vibe of the table isn’t nearly as tensiosness as you might’ve expected.
It might have something to do with the fact that San and Changbin are cool now, the two boys having their own conversation after prom that seems to have smoothed everything out. Now, the two argue across the table like old friends rather than sworn enemies, filling the space with loud conversation that eventually loops you in as well.
“Y/N, did you hear about our band?” San boasts, his plate now completely cleared and his lips smudged with light remnants of syrup.
You look around at the table and are surprised to see that no one seems particularly piqued at the mention of a band, something that makes you raise your eyebrow in curiosity. “What band?”
“Me, Changbin, and Wooyoung.” San points out each individual at the table, all who seem a lot more humble at this announcement. “We’re forming a band.”
When your face is still lined in confusion, Changbin steps in to clear up any misconceptions. “I’m on instrumentation, San’s on vocals, and Wooyoung’s on lyrics.” he explains, rolling a wooden pick between his teeth as Somi beams at him. Your friend’s mentioned potentially traveling with Changbin after high school, but you certainly weren't expecting that she’d be a groupie to a full fledged band.
“We’re still working out a name.” Wooyoung chirps next to you, his voice almost surprising you because you haven’t spoken in such an agreeable environment for what feels like a long time. “Maybe you could help with that.”
“A name?” you repeat, dismissing the idea. “No, I’m not really good at writing things like that.”
“I suggested, ‘Boyz with Fangz’, but everyone acted like I was crazy.” San relays in frustration.
Changbin rolls his eyes at San’s admission. “Because we’re a mature indie rock band, not a teeny bop embarrassment, you idiot!”
And just like that, Changbin and San are back to bickering, luckily innocently this time, with Somi there to chime in with innocently random remarks.
“I’m not really good at writing things like that. Don’t you have a speech you’re supposed to be working on, Miss Valedictorian?”
You look over to Wooyoung, considering the possibility that he’s being mean spirited only to notice the goofy smirk on his face. It causes you to roll your eyes, making him laugh softly.
“I noticed you guys weren’t there.” Wooyoung brings up once he’s finished laughing, shifting the conversation to somewhere you weren’t expecting. “At prom.”
You nod, confirming his observations with a slight shrug. “Yeah. Not really my crowd, I guess.”
He doesn’t make any judgments or assumptions but he does give you a slight pat on the shoulder, maybe because he thinks it’s his fault that you didn't go.
“You didn’t really miss much.” he assures you honestly. “Just some spiked punch and a lot of terrible dance moves.”
“I could imagine.” you chirp back to him, his words a confirmation that you made the right decision by avoiding the whole thing entirely.
Wooyoung pokes at his plate with his eyes downturned in something that looks like shame, the type of expression that starts to make sense once he lets the next few works come out of his mouth.
“I hope you didn’t come because of me.” he vocalizes apologetically, genuinely feeling bad knowing that he may have ruined your night. “I meant to tell you I’m sorry by the way. For how I acted at the pregame thing.”
You shake your head, having already made peace with that night in the days that followed it. Wooyoung could probably say or do anything mean to you and you’d forgive him solely because of your own guilt, knowing that his feelings are ultimately a reflection of what you did to him.
“No worries.” you respond with a shake of your head. “I didn’t really want to go, regardless.”
Wooyoung nods awkwardly, slightly relieved by your assurances but now feeling like this conversation has landed in unsure territory with the subject of prom filling both of your minds.
It feels like all of your conversations with Wooyoung are like this now, eyes that avoid each other and constant apologies being issued back and forth that seem to bring down the entire mood. The thing that you miss the most about being with Wooyoung is the conversations you used to have, the playful way you used to swap back comments that made every interaction feel lighthearted and fun. You almost felt a remnant of that energy at the beginning of your conversation, but now that layer of tension has reared it’s ugly head again, making it hard to know how to continue.
But you’re tired of keeping all of these thoughts in your head, tired of walking on eggshells and treating every word and sentence with extreme care like you’re afraid of blowing up a bomb. Honesty is difficult, but if there’s anything you’ve learned over the past few months, it’s that the truth is always the best thing to lead with in tricky situations.
“Can I be honest with you, though?”
Wooyoung seems intrigued when he looks up at you, sitting a little higher in his chair like he needs to prepare himself for whatever you have to say. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
“I’m just so…sick of all of this negative energy.” you confess tiredly, impassioned like the words have been sitting with you for a while now. “Of all the apologies and stuff. I just want us to be friends and hang out with one another without feeling like…like I’m talking to a stranger, you know?”
You recognize that it’s a bit of a selfish expectation to want everything to go back to normal after something you did, which is why it’s no surprise when Wooyoung looks back at you perplexedly.
You sigh, hitting your head on the palm of your hand as you become increasingly aware of just how self-centered you sound. “I’m sorry. I probably sound like an asshole right now.”
“I think you just broke your own rule.”
You’re surprised at the way Wooyoung’s voice sounds light instead of angry, something you didn’t expect after his initial reaction of puzzlement. And the way you slowly realize that you just apologized after previously condemning an environment of constant apologies makes you laugh in embarrassment.
“You’re right, though.” Wooyoung agrees, sharing your desire and desperate need for things to feel normal again. “I don’t really want to have hard feelings. It’s just…difficult.”
It’s frustrating when both of you want so badly for things to go back to how they used to, yet no idea on how to achieve that after everything you’ve gone through and every emotion you’ve shared. It’s so damn hard that the two of you slump in your seats, minds turning as you think of ways to somehow ease this invisible wall that has come down between the both of you.
“Maybe…we can start by talking about something normal.” you suggest, turning in your seat to face Wooyoung as you attempt to start up what would typically be a normal conversation. “Like…I don’t know…what do you want to do after high school?”
“Well, cats out of the bag now,” he says, turning his attention to the other boys that sit around the table who are oblivious to your side conversation. “The band thing seems pretty cool to me. Gives me a way to use my poetry.”
It’s something you’ve admittedly never imagined Wooyoung doing, but it also fills you with a sense of pride, knowing how good of a writer he is and pleased that he’s found a positive way to use his talent. “That’s really cool, Wooyoung.”
He humbly shrugs his shoulders in gratitude, nodding in our direction next. “What about you?”
You’ve been asked this question by friends and teachers alike over the last semester, all of them conveying with their eager eyes and hopeful smiles that they want to see something great from you. It would be easy to do something expected, maybe go to one of the Ivy Leagues you’ve already been accepted into and graduate Summa Cum Laude. Become a doctor, lawyer, something safe that will make your entire town and family proud of you.
What you haven’t told anyone yet is that the future that feels most freeing and satisfying to you right now is the idea of a fresh start. Starting new in a big city somewhere, going to an artsy college and doing the writing and journalism you’ve always loved and had the most fun doing.
You’ve given the idea more thought than you’d like to admit out loud, pondered and researched a school that seems perfect for the life you’d like to carve out for yourself.
A school in New York City, the same place that your boyfriend is currently staying in right now, the city he already has pretty weighty ties to and has mentioned offhandedly before that he misses.
“Of course, I’d like to go to college.” you express, getting the obvious out of the way first. “At first I wanted to stay in state, be around family. But…sometimes I think I want a fresh start.”
You certainly never vocalized these things when you were together, and now Wooyoung’s leaning forward in interest, wondering what exactly you’re implying. “And where would that be?”
“To be honest…New York City.” you admit, verbalizing the idea out loud for the first time. “There are good schools up there, and Yeosang would be closer to his sister, you know?”
The mention of you and Yeosang’s names together would normally make Wooyoung’s skin crawl, but now he finds himself foreignly touched, touched at the idea that you’d even consider accommodating Yeosang like this. “Yeah, that’s actually pretty amazing.” he nods in approval.
“Have you told him yet?”
You sigh, honestly a little bit overwhelmed by that question because you haven’t given much thought to actually informing Yeosang of your plans with him. It’s not exactly that you’re scared of being rejected, but more so because moving to a different state together feels like an entirely giant leap for what is a relatively new relationship. What you have fostered with Yeosang has brought so much new joy and purpose to your life, but it also comes with this newfound pressure to not mess things up, ruin a good thing with your anxieties and fears and weird ideas.
“Not really, no.” you admit, looking down at your feet that you tap out of nervousness. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot going on right now.”
“Well, you love each other don’t you?”
Wooyoung shocks the both of you with the way he just says that so candidly and unabashedly. It’s not something that he was previously comfortable acknowledging, but it feels surprisingly freeing to say the words out loud and realize that he’s not as emotionally opposed to the idea of you and Yeosang loving each other as he thought he would be.
“Um…well we haven’t really gotten to that point with one another…” you admit, feeling like you’re in unsure waters because it’s weird to talk about this kind of stuff with Wooyoung. “But yeah…I do.”
“Then there’s no reason why you should be scared to tell him.” Wooyoung states, plainly like it’s an easy solution to a simple problem. That’s one benefit of being out of a relationship: you get that sort of clarity, these sort of ahhh moments where you realize the issues that used to plague you were really just immature and thoughtless. Love--strong, real love--can outlast any sort of problems. And even if Wooyoung may not have experienced it in its most ideal form, he still wants that for you and Yeosang.
“Plus, I think we both know the dangers of not telling people things…waiting until the last minute…having them find out in a parking lot….”
When you realize what Wooyoung’s referring to you start to giggle, reaching out a hand to slap him on the chest in feigned annoyance. “Shut up.”
It’s so strange that you can joke about these things now. Even stranger that he’s giving you relationship advice. It’s the most peculiar that you’re sitting here as friends, zero bad blood in the air after everything that’s happened.
Things aren’t normal, and they never will be. But this kind of new normal is something you can learn to appreciate, especially if it means more laughter and more jokes with a person you still care a lot about.
“I wanna laugh, too!” San projects over the table in pout, ripping you and Wooyoung out of your little moment. “Don’t keep all of the conversation juice to yourselves!”
And so, the rest of the afternoon is spent at that little circular white table with your friends, laughing and telling stupid little jokes that make all of the arguments and negative emotions from the past feel stupid. If you knew that life would now end up like this, you’d never have questioned anything in the first place.
Things are finally ending how they should be.
Graduation comes quicker than expected, another ending that seems to fill you with an equality of happiness and sadness, fear and triumph as you stand behind the stage, prepared to give one last speech.
You’ve never been more nervous, weighed down by the cords that hang around your neck and a pressure to do well that makes you feel like you’re stuck to your spot behind the curtains of the stage.
But Yeosang’s here now, back from New York and standing in front of you with his hands on opposite sides of your head. What’s surprising about this picture is that Wooyoung is standing next to him, smiling and flinging around your braided cords around your neck in an attempt to hype you up.
“I don’t even know why you’re acting like this.” Yeosang says with a light shrug, rolling his eyes as he squeezes both of your shoulders. “You know you’re going to do great.”
“Yeah!” Wooyoung peps up next to him, jumping up and down like a boxer preparing himself for a fight, almost as if he’s the one who’s about to go on stage in your place. “Stop worrying and go up there!”
Their form of tough love makes you laugh, the type of hard–talking that you know comes from a place of support rather than sternness. And it's exactly the kind of ease you need right now as you peek through the curtains, greeted by the sight of hundreds of graduates that sit eagerly in their chairs.
“Are you guys sure that I can do this?” you ask the two best friends, giving them both equal looks of unsureness. “That’s a lot of people.’
“You’re also the greatest writer I’ve ever known.” Wooyoung chimes in, patting you on the back in a firm way that makes you push forward but also seems to give you a jolt of energy. “You could go up there and recite the ABCs and they’ll still clap for you.”
“And now, we will introduce your class Valedictorian…” booms Principal Park into his mic as he stands behind the middle podium.
“This is it, Y/N.” Yeosang reminds you, giving you one last squeeze of the shoulder and looking at you with so much faith that it’s hard to even consider what messing up looks like. “Go out there and make us proud.”
Seeing Wooyoung and Yeosang together, both of them pouring an equal amount of love and support into you, is something you don't really feel like you deserve. But just the fact that things are like this now, that the two are still best friends, that you’re in a relationship with someone you love, that Wooyoung hasn’t given up on you, makes you feel so happy that there’s no space for worries anymore.
So with a deep breath, you advance through the curtains when your name is called and make your way to the front of the stage with Yeosang and Wooyoung cheering behind you.
“I think I speak for everybody when I say that this was a difficult year.” you begin, voice steady and calm as you read off of a tiny sheet of paper below you. “Academically. Physically. Mentally.”
“I know I haven’t built the strongest reputation here, and I have some regrets about that. There are some people I could’ve treated nicer. People I should’ve been more careful with. In these 4 years, I lost myself in the pursuit of chasing perfection.”
Wooyoung listens you speak from the side of the stage, hearing the sincerity in your words and feeling affirmed by the way you take responsibility in this vulnerable environment of hundreds.
“I understood intimately this year what it’s like for things to not go by plan. I realized that you can try your best at something and still fail. You can try to not hurt someone, and ultimately, do the opposite.”
It feels like the stadium has gone silent and it’s just you, sitting alone with your words and contemplating the year that’s passed by in currents of sadness, happiness, anger, and ultimately, triumph.
“But I think if there’s one thing I learned this year, it’s to be sincere in my sense of self and my relationships with the people I care about. Be honest with yourself, and therefore be honest in your interactions with others. Lead with truth, and you’ll find that contentment will follow soon after.”
Once you’ve gotten those first few sentences out, the rest of the speech seems to go by in a blur of cheers and claps that ends with you standing on stage again. Only this time, it’s with your diploma, leather and sturdy in your hands as it’s handed to you by Principal Park. It’s a symbol, a symbol of all of the hard work and sacrifice that has led to this humongous moment.
But the waves of goodbye don’t end there. It’s later that week when what seems like the entire senior class and their families are packed into a jazz bar, prepared to watch a highly talked about performance from an up and coming band that was booked for tonight’s graduation party.
Everyone’s dressed in their regular clothes now, saved for Wooyoung, Changbin, and San who are dressed in dark shades of gothic maroon and black as they begin to set up their instruments. You approach Wooyoung on the stage when he’s by himself, fiddling with a drum set that he looks impressive in front of.
“Wow, Woo.” you call out his name, eye widening in pleasant surprise as you look over the array of instruments. “Your setup is super tight.”
“Thanks.” he nods in appreciation, sitting down on the little stool behind the drum set to look up at you. “You know Yeosang got us this gig, right?”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t wondering how an amateur band of fresh high school graduates somehow scored a performance at one of the most popular places in your city, but the last thing you would have assumed is that your boyfriend somehow had a hand in this.
“Always has to interfere with my life, doesn’t he?” Wooyoung chides, his sarcastic way of talking making you giggle rather than assume that there’s any real malice behind his words.
“I thought about what you said.” you bring up, bouncing on the tips of your feet as you inform Wooyoung of your plans. “About telling Yeosang about the New York thing.”
Wooyounds nod along to your words, multitasking as he continues to adjust the screws on his drums.
“And….I think I’m gonna tell him tonight, actually.” you decide, figuring that Wooyoung deserves to know considering he gave you the courage to even consider what you’re about to do tonight.
Wooyoung looks up at you with a grin of satisfaction, happy to hear that something he said may have influenced you positively. “That’s…good for you guys. Have you decided what you’re majoring in?”
You nod excitedly, eager to get a chance to explain these things to a non-judgmental Wooyoung. “Journalism, of course. But with a special focus on sexual assault victims.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.” Wooyoung praises, happy to hear that you’re using your talents for something so vital and paramount.
“Thanks.” you reply, looking behind you where Yeosang sits at the bar. “A special person inspired me.”
Wooyoung’s quiet before he suddenly widens his eyes, frantically looking around his area as if he’s forgotten to find something. “Oh yeah! I have something I wanted to give you.”
You watch as he hurriedly searches his pockets, sighing in relief when he reaches his hand into the side of his cargo pants and pulls out a folded piece of paper.
“Remember that poem?” he jogs your memory, hoping that you’ll recall it in the same way he does. “The one I was writing at the lodge? I said it was about you, but never let you read it?”
“Oh.” you reply, remembering the moment at the beginning of the year that feels like such a distant piece of dialogue now. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I finished it.” he announces, handing you the unremarkable piece of paper that you hold in your hand uncertainly.
“I turned it into a song, and we’re performing it tonight,” he explains, finally clearing up why he thought to gift you the old relic. “I figured you should get a chance to read it before.”
When he senses the bit of apprehensiveness you’re radiating and the way you shakily hold the piece of paper in your hand, he immediately attempts to clear up any assumptions you’re sure to have. “It’s not a diss track, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just…listen to it, okay?”
You nod, nervous to hear it but also rationalizing that your brief love story is just as much as Wooyoung’s to share as it is yours. “I will."
"Good luck tonight, Wooyoung.”
“Thanks, Y/N.”
You walk off the stage just as Changbin and San make their appearance, both looking like they’re about to throw up and scream simultaneously as they stand behind their separate instruments.
You find Yeosang at the bar, smiling when he sees you coming and even more smiley when you plant a greeting kiss on his lips. He wraps his arm around you just as the band begins, the trio introducing a song that you now know is going to be about you. As San begins to sing, you brace yourself, fully prepared to feel emotional as you’re confronted with the words of the past.
But you’re pleasantly surprised at just how optimistic and full of hope the song is. In the lyrics, Wooyoung speaks of heartbreak and tenderness existing in coherence, the fears and triumphs that illuminate all human relationships, not just the romantic ones.
Even if the words are coming out of San’s mouth and not Wooyoung’s, you feel the emotions just the same, San’s melodious voice a vessel for the words and feelings of his friend. Changbin and Wooyoung’s instrumentation casts light upon and gives room for the heavy lyrics, bringing joy and rhythm to a situation that didn’t feel that way when you were living in it.
Yeosang turns to you when the song’s over, clapping and watching the band finish in oblivious awe. “Wow. That was actually really good.”
Maybe it’s from hearing the song and internalizing it’s message of a strong love and hope that outlasts any sort of problem, but something comes over you when you turn to Yeosang and blurt out–
“Move with me. To New York.”
Yeosang almost doesn’t hear you at first, the loud whoops and cheers of the crowd making it difficult for him to discern whether he imagined you asking him that or if you really did just say you wanted to move to New York with him.
But then he takes a double take and looks down at your face and slightly open mouth, confirming that he really did just hear that. And the recognition of that fact makes his own face beam with shock.
“What?”
Saying that first part was easy, but now you're opening and closing your mouth, struggling to figure out what to say next and carefully picking words because you don’t want to mess this up.
But no matter how hard you try to explain this to him in a way that says clean and coherent and smart, there’s never been anything clean or coherent or smart about your feelings for Yeosang. It’s just pure, raw emotion, the feeling that guides you as you begin to speak next.
“I don’t know. I want to be with you, and I want to start a future with you, and I love you, and I want to–”
You stop in the middle of your sentence when Yeosang’s lips suddenly spread into a smile, taking you off guard because you still haven’t recognized what just came out of your mouth.
“What?” you question him in confusion, wondering if he’s laughing at you or if you’re just that bad at explaining your feelings.
“You said you love me?” he repeats, trying not to get excited in case he misheard you or received the proclamation on accident.
Once he informs you of what you just told him, your face flares warm in embarrassment, forcing you to look down at Yeosang’s chest. Because while you meant every word you said, you definitely didn’t imagine it coming out like this, rushed and totally unromantic.
“I–well, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but…”
You take a deep breath, stopping yourself before you can get caught in another jumble of incoherent apologies and explanations. Because sometimes, there doesn’t need to be a mountain of complicated words to explain an emotion that is as simple as this one.
There is no emotion that's as easy to feel as this. There is no other phrase that encapsulates how you feel about Yeosang more than the one you’ve just accidentally spewed out of nervousness.
No truth that has been pulling at you as much as this one has.
“Yeah. I love you, Kang Yeosang.”
Yeosang hears you say this and thinks that you were foolish to feel like you needed to do any convincing to get him to agree to this plan. Because right now, he’s reeling, wondering what he’s done in a past life to ever deserve this. Ever deserve to feel like this, like he’s on top of the world even when he’s in the middle of a cheap bar.
“Yes. Yes, I wanna go to New York, Yes I love you too, Yes yes…yes.”
Yeosang doesn’t see how you react to his proclamation but he hears you squeal happily when he rushes to pick you up. Hold you in his arms, float you up even with a small audience of people watching the two of you strangely.
He doesn’t need to see your reaction. He doesn’t have to question anything with you, doesn’t have to question such a big decision such as this one because as long as it’s with you, it’s right.
Wooyoung is watching from the stage as you and Yeosang embrace, and he knows exactly what just happened, even if he didn’t hear any of it. And for the first time, it feels okay. He doesn’t feel sad that you’re no longer his. He feels free, because he’s found happiness in other things. The pain isn’t gone, but strangely, it feels like it isn’t his anymore. It belongs to the music now, stitched into the lyrics of his songs that will hopefully help someone else who ever felt as bad as he once did.
Endings. What a loaded, fucking up word that means absolutely nothing. How can there be endings when nothing never disappears? Feelings don’t end, and memories don’t fade–they morph, becoming something dark or something beautiful that will live on to influence the lives of others. For now, you, Wooyoung, and Yeosang are choosing to take what’s happened between the three of you and use it as a way to create something stunning.
Now, all that’s left for the three of you is a big future and a giant world to take.