“Glad to see you’re doing well,” Kyungsoo chuckles as you stumble out of a classroom. “Didn’t get any sleep?”

“Freaking Kim Jongin was watching a loud action movie at one in the morning,” you yawn. Kyungsoo grabs you before you can trip over a crevice in the cement. “I couldn’t get any sleep.”

“I heard you’re opening up now,” Kyungsoo smiles. “Jongin told me you actually go to writing club with him.”

“Only because he drags me there every Saturday.”

“And I heard you actually talk to people there,” Kyungsoo continues.

“I only talk to Minseok,” you say, almost arguing. “He's the only reliable person there.”

“Jongin told me you talked to Baekhyun.”

“That's only because the guy bothers me all the time,” you sigh. “The only way to make him shut up is to talk to him. And that's not reaching out- that's just being foolish. He talks too much and obviously has no idea what he's getting into by talking to me.”

“You're right about Baekhyun being talkative,” Kyungsoo chuckles. The male looks to you with amusement, lips curved in a diverting smile. “Why do you try denying it?”

“Denying what?” you ask as you quirk an eyebrow.

“You say Baekhyun bothers you all the time, and you say he doesn't know what he's getting into,” Kyungsoo explains. “You tell me how you can say these cold things to him, but you never actually have.”

“That's because I don't want to deal with him,” you groan.

“You’re denying it again.”

Kyungsoo laughs at your flustered countenance, slender fingers ruffling your messy locks as you desperately try to pay them down.

“Stop it,” you whine, Kyungsoo’s affability and affection stirring a sort of annoyance in your tired mind.

“You going back to the apartment now?” Kyungsoo asks.

“No, I told you I started going to that club on campus,” you tell the male. He stares at you blank, lips slightly agape in thought. “Business Students Association?” you remind him.

“Wait, you weren't kidding about going to that thing?” Kyungsoo splutters.

“You’re a business major too, you know the club is pretty reputable.”

“It is,” Kyungsoo hisses, “but the club leader, Oh Sehun.”

“What about him?”

“Everyone says he’s intelligent and nicely groomed, but he was in one of my classes and seemed more sly and scheming to me,” Kyungsoo hisses between clenched teeth. You haven’t been quite prone to laughter after steeling your heart and mind, but you must admit- Kyungsoo’s agitated expression is quite funny. His eyebrows are furrowed and anger forms in his eyes like sharp daggers. “Don’t be tricked by his good looks. I swear, he was even trying to pick up this girl using his authority as club leader.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t even seen him,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m telling you-”

“I’m going to be late because of you,” you manage to groan. Kyungsoo’s nagging has always been a motherly kind of nagging. Nagging that pulls at the strings of nostalgia and resurfaces childhood memories. “Goodbye, mother.”

Kyungsoo’s voice hitches in his throat as he watches you walk away, blood still broiling at the thought of Oh Sehun and his dispassionate countenance encountering you.

Kyungsoo lets out a sigh.

If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed about you, it’s your unwavering ability to dismiss his nagging like a useless summer breeze.

Laughter echoes through the room as the guest speaker pacing with a certain prowess in front of the white board cracks a joke.

Your lips are pursed, diligently watching without once cracking a smile.

You scribble a few notes into your frayed notebook, murmuring things under your breath without having to worry about anybody hearing.

Why?

Other students would always leave the seats beside you empty. Perhaps your indifferent expression seems more condescending than cold, or perhaps you simply give off an unfriendly aura.

It’s after another twenty minutes that loud applause rings, and the guest speaker is finished talking to the students about unrealized potential and the future outlook for business majors. Students quickly shuffle out of their seats and squeeze through unreasonably small doors. You quickly toss your stuff in your bag and head for the doors as well, until a rather familiar figure mistakenly steps in your way.

Her elbow knocks slightly into your bag and she swiftly turns around in shock. Your face mirrors a similar expression of surprise when you recognize her as none other than Jongin’s best friend.

Jinhee.

“You’re Jongin’s roommate, right?” Jinhee asks, feigning kindness.

“Yeah,” you simply respond.

“You’re in Business Students Association, as well?”

“I am.”

There’s a tense silence that follows, until Jinhee speaks.

“There’s actually something I’d like to speak to you about,” she says, her words just as strong and clear as her well-defined features. “I know you and Jongin are roommates, but Jongin and I are best friends. We both attend writing club and BSA, so it’s almost definite that we’re going to see each other all the time. There’s just some things I want to say to you, because I really do want to be friends.”

Jinhee notices how you begin walking towards the door, listening rather vaguely to her words.

“Are you paying attention to me?” she asks.

You’ve always been fierce, even before the incident, so you are pretty much the expert at not letting others bring you down.

It’s after her squabbling becomes rather annoying do you speak.

“I don’t really care about what you’re going to say, because I know it is not going to be anything particularly nice. In fact, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say, alright?” you state coldly, stopping abruptly in your tracks to observe her befuddled countenance. “You and Jongin have been best friends for years, and you like him, meaning I should back off.”

You can see the red fluster crawling across her cheeks and the surprise at your harsh tone.

“But you don’t have to worry,” you tell her. “Jongin is my roommate, and that’s all I’m going to ever see him as. It wasn’t even my idea to have a roommate in the first place. You have no interest in befriending me, so I would rather you not talk to me at all.”

You’re about to talk away, but she catches you at the door, a hand unwelcomingly gripping onto your arm.

“It’s rude to walk away without hearing the other person out till the end,” she says, eyes determined and unwilling to back down until she’s made her point. “Jongin has a tendency to become attached to anyone, and he’s already told me about how he’s made it his mission to help you or whatever. But you don’t know Jongin as well as I do, and you probably never will. You’re probably going to get attached to him, too, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You part your lips to say something, but Jinhee continues.

“We don’t have to like each other, but I don’t want us to absolutely hate each other,” Jinhee sighs. “Just know that Jongin likes affectionate people. And if there’s one difference between us, it’s that I continue caring about others, even if I’ve been hurt by them.”

She walks away quickly, and you feel heat burning your cheeks an angry red.

“Jongin has a tendency to become attached to anyone,” she had said.

But you are not just anyone.

And you are not going to fall for Kim Jongin.

Spring inches closer, and you can tell from the diminishing of cold winter winds into soft breezes, numbness of limbs relaxing in a warm sun, and the scent of rain and flowers. And no matter how many times the weather reports and Kyungsoo remind you about sudden showers, you never carry around an umbrella.

Hence, you find yourself at a cafe, a good eight blocks away from your apartment, trapped because of rain pouring almost torrentially outside.

It’s after long moments of pressing your phone to your ear in desperation that Kyungsoo finally picks up.

“What’s up?”

“I’m at a cafe because I was working on some papers here,” you sigh, “but now it’s pouring outside.”

“Let me guess, you didn’t bring an umbrella with you.”

“Can you just skip the scolding and come pick me up?” you hiss.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. I have classes to get to.”

You feel agitation curling your fingers into your already disheveled hair when Kyungsoo’s chuckling echoes through the phone.

“Are you laughing at my misery?” you ask.

“Alright, I won’t laugh. But why don’t you ask Jongin to pick you up? Doesn’t he have a car?”

“He sometimes borrows a friend’s car,” you say, “but I am not going to call Kim Jongin.”

“He’s probably your last hope at this point.”

Kyungsoo is right.

Minseok is probably working in the library, Kyungsoo is attending classes, and there aren’t any others who you are as close to.

“I gotta go, but I’ll call you back later,” Kyungsoo chimes. “See you.”

Kyungsoo hangs up, and you’re left with a small headache and an uneasy feeling coiling your stomach. Your fingers unwillingly search through your contacts to find Jongin’s name, but you can’t seem to call him.

After all, it would be your first time reaching out to the male for help.

Your eyes look to the window, and when you see the rain is pouring relentlessly, you squeeze your eyes shut and press the call button. There is a small part of your mind that hopes Jongin doesn’t pick up, but relief overwhelms that hope when he does.

“Hello?”

“Jongin,” you stammer, “it’s me. I need your help.”

“Did you actually just call me because you need my help?” he gasps in disbelief. “This is the first time you talked to me first. This moment is going down in history.”

“You’re speaking too much again,” you sigh, pressing two fingers to the bridge of your nose, as he murmurs a small apology. “I’m stuck at the cafe eight blocks away from the apartment. You know, the one next to the bookstore. Can you pick me up?”

“Sure, my friend lets me borrow his car all the time. Just give me five minutes, your majesty. Your royal is coming.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesy comment, and you wonder if he’s gotten that joke from Kyungsoo. “Just hurry,” you sigh, before disconnecting.

Jongin arrives not five but ten minutes later, making a grand entrance as he swings the door to the cafe open and steps in, water dripping from his black coat in a downpour similar to the rain outside. He smiles when he sees you, hand swatting the water out of his hair as he approaches you.

“Why are you soaking wet?” you ask. “Where’s the umbrella?”

“About that,” he chuckles, “I came right from the campus. I realized after coming here that I should’ve stopped by the apartment to get an umbrella before coming but I forgot.”

Your fingers run through your hair in frustration.

“Just where did you park?” you ask.

“Down the street,” he responds. “The spots right outside the cafe were taken. But hey, walking down a street in heavy rain is better than walking eight blocks, right?”

He watches as you wordlessly stand up, holding your bag with precious papers as close as you can to your body. It’s only when Jongin opens the door to the cafe do you realize how bad the rain actually is.

“Let’s make a run for it, alright?” he says.

“I’m going to get soaked,” you spit, eyes glaring angrily at the male.

“No, you won’t,” he smiles. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He brings your body closer to his, and you’re rather surprised when he takes off his coat and holds it above both of your bodies. He counts to three, and you bolt down the street as small pellets of rain fall like daggers and wet cement passes under your feet. His coat is held more over your body than his, and his arm wraps around your frame.

There’s a nostalgic feeling stirring in your heart as you run in the rain, images of you splashing into dirty puddles with a bright smile stretched across your face as child flickering in your mind. The moment ends too quickly as the car comes into view.

He swiftly opens the door to the car and you step inside. You feel content, seeing how your bag isn’t dripping and you’re hair is only slightly damp. Jongin, on the other hand, enters the car with water dripping freely from his locks.

“I smell disgusting,” he groans, “and I feel like a wet dog.”

You hate to admit it, but you actually felt exhilaration as you ran down the street with Jongin, something you haven’t felt in months, maybe years. A small chuckle escapes from your lips as Jongin continues to complain about the wet car and how he feels like a soaked dog.

He immediately turns to you.

“Did you just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” you defend.

“You did, didn’t you?” he smirks. He speaks with grandeur in his voice, “I just made you laugh. I can't believe the whole world isn't here to witness this.”

Jongin blabbers the whole ride, until you arrive at the apartment.

It's after you shower and step out that you see Jongin resting on the couch, clean and dry. With one hand sleepily rubbing his eyes and another holding a book, he murmurs under his breath with deep concentration.

“Jongin,” you call. The male looks up from the book, a playful spark glinting in his warm eyes. “Thanks for picking me up. None of my papers got wet because of you.”

Your features are still, there’s no smile and no sign of any emotion, but you try to force the gratitude into your voice nevertheless.

“My pleasure,” he smiles.

You turn away to walk to your room, until he calls your name. You turn slowly to face him.

“You look pretty when you smile,” he says.

Your lips purse and you walk wordlessly to your room.

You had promised Jongin you would trust him as he helped you to open up.

Nothing else.

He’s a roommate maybe an acquaintance but nothing more than that, you remind yourself.

You are not going to fall for Kim Jongin.

~~

Note: I think this is the longest chapter so far, but I'm getting excited since the storyline is advancing into the interesting part! Another member is going to be introduced to the fic, and I hinted at who they are in this chapter. Can you guess?