Jongin is a sullen waiter and Kyungsoo a lonely genius. When they become neighbors, they awkwardly bond by tiptoeing the fringes of friendship. The closer they get, they reignite each other’s miserable lives as they try to heal their own scars.
//’singer’ and ‘single’ share four letters. there’s a reason why. au.//
Whether you would like to admit it or not, coffee is your muse. So when it is the first thing you smell in the morning, you can feel it entering under your skin and gently tickling the mind awake as your nerves spark and creaky bones awaken.
When your eyelids open, you wipe the blurriness away to find a face smiling down on you. You smile back, stretching your arms and pushing the warm blankets on top of you away.
“I knew that would wake you up,” Howon laughs, landing a quick kiss on your cheek before handing you a warm cup of coffee. It’s a light brown with the milk and sugar and hot enough to warm your insides but not to burn.
“Thank you,” you mumble with a content sigh. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be around often this week because our debut is soon, so I came super early today to make up for it.”
You give him a small smile before wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m going to miss you…but try to come home every day, okay? Don’t tell me you just fell asleep on the rehearsal room floor again.”
“Um, there’s another thing,” you hear him mumble as he smooths the hair on top of your head.
“Um, they told me yesterday that I was going to move in to a dorm…with six other guys.”
Sungyeol has no idea what the hell he is doing. This he belatedly realizes as he is in midst of tying his tie (for the fortieth time.) His sweaty fingers fumble around his suit collar as he panics and he messily makes a grab at his phone. In a moment of desperation, he calls Woohyun.
“Maybe I should get her flowers, like lilies, or lilacs, or what-what is it- arachnids?”
“Those are spiders, Sungyeol,” he sighs. “The word you’re looking for is ‘orchids.”
Sungyeol groans. “I’m screwed.”
“Get her something, yeah, but whatever you do, do not get her flowers. Flowers express commitment, attachment, loyalty.” Woohyun shudders. “That is not how I roll. Woohyun is fierce. Independent. Woohyun goes through ladies like—”
Sungyeol hangs up. (When Woohyun starts to refer to himself in the third person, he is a lost cause.)
Howon hates nothing more than springtime. He’s allergic to half of the flowers that are blooming, dislikes both birds and bees, and thinks that Vitamin D coming from sun rays is a myth.
He is comfortable in the chill of January and the grayness of February, but feels like he’s choking underneath the light breezes of March, drowning in the green. Summer can burn out the pain that is set inside his skin, and the winters of New York freeze him back into a shadow of the person he used to be.
He hates springtime because it reminds him of you.
// au, in which kyungsoo thinks he’s endearing but is actually quite awkward. //
The first time Kyungsoo met you, it was the first day of his senior year of college, in a Psychology class he dreaded to take. You sat in the desk directly to the right of him, tapping away on your phone. He first noticed the sea green color of your nails, the same color necklace around your neck, the green laces of your shoes. He didn’t talk to you for the entire lecture, as he was trying to concentrate on his work and definitely not trying to sneak peeks at you the entire time, but he couldn’t help but turn a deep red when he continued to see the crinkle of your eyes when you smiled, the way your brows furrowed when you were concentrating, the curve of your lips…
At the end of the day, all he knew was your name. (And not from asking you directly, but asking a friend to ask his friend what your name was.)