A/N: Because @Pearlliy asked, and I can’t seem to let this couple go and say no :-)

I watch as the redness in Kyungsoo’s face goes from zero to 100 in .01 seconds. “Uh—I—Sorr—Wai—Wha—My—” he stutters. If I wasn’t so desperate to put as much distance as possible between myself and my occupied apartment, I would have found his response highly comical.

“Pleeeeeeeeeease?” I plea, “We don’t even have to go back to your place! We can go to a coffee shop, karaoke, an arcade; literally anywhere else besides right here would be excellent.” I make a grab for one of his hands and if possible, his face gets even redder. “Please don’t make me go in there!”

Kyungsoo gently pulls his hand out of my grasp and links his hands behind his back. Rocking back and forth from heel to toe, he furrows his eyebrows, contemplating his options. After what seems like forever he says slowly, “Our apartment isn’t exactly...in a condition to be entertaining guests.”

I resist the urge to punch him in the face. “We are 10 feet away from being able to hear our roommates going at it and you think I care about the cleanliness of your apartment?” I ask incredulously. Not wanting to be in the vicinity any longer, I take off in the direction of, well, anywhere else, and hear Kyungsoo trailing a few steps behind me.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be walking around alone at night, dressed like that,” he comments bluntly. What a smartass.

Without stopping to look at him, I respond, “Yeah, well, you walked me home already, so don’t feel obligated to stick around.” I mentally scold myself for being so mean to him. It’s not like it’s his fault that my roommate failed to consider that I might need to come home at some point tonight. Maybe this was her plan all along, to make me spend the night with some handsome stranger. Before I can apologize, though, he beats me to the punch.

“It’s not my fault your roommate invited Jongin home,” he snaps, “And don’t flatter yourself, I am not chivalrously accompanying you as you wander the streets aimlessly. I live in this direction.” I exhale slowly through my mouth and slow my pace so Kyungsoo can catch up. We walk side-by-side in silence for a couple blocks before he speaks up again. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t come over, I just wanted to give you fair warning not to expect too much.”

I stop walking and turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not being fair…I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. You really don’t have to invite me over; I’ll just hang out at Starbucks or something.” I motion towards the coffee shop up ahead.

He shakes his head in refusal and lightly grasps my wrist to get me to start walking again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he reasons, “my roommate is making it difficult for you to go home, so it’s only fair that we open up his home to you.” I crack a smile as I make the observation that it seems he is ultimately the losing party in this situation, and he shrugs it off, saying, “it could be worse—you could be annoying.”

We reach Kyungsoo and Jongin’s apartment a few moments later, and I can’t help but ogle the scene in front of me. It looks like a tornado vomited in their living room, but was only able to cover half. The long leather couch has jackets and sweats strewn all over it, while the matching loveseat is clear of any clothing. Half of the coffee table has soda cans, empty chip bags, and ramen cups littered about, while the other half only holds a neat stack of coasters and looks recently shined. Half of the DVD/video game cases are neatly lined up, while the other half are carelessly spread all around. Kyungsoo nervously scratches at the back of his neck, apologizing for the mess, “So, as you can see…not really in a condition to be entertaining guests…”

I spare him a glance and notice that he looks nervous. Like really nervous. Nervous in a “this is the first time I am bringing a girl here” kind of way. Suddenly, I feel even worse that I more or less forced him to bring me home. Kyungsoo toes off his shoes and carefully places them on the rack by the door before shuffling around the living room to clean up the mess. I continue to stand in the entryway awkwardly, still unsure of whether I should cross the line into his personal space or flee. It isn’t until he speaks that I realize I spaced out watching him move about. “You can come in, you know,” he says as he quirks a heart-shaped smile, “I’m not going to pass out or bite you.”

Humming in acknowledgement, I squat down to unbuckle the straps around my ankles before kicking off the pain-inducing shoes. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow as I walk towards where he stands. “Dang, are your shoes 10 feet tall? You are such a shorty in real life,” he quips. This time, I don’t resist the urge to hit him. “Who are you calling shorty? You are barely taller than I am!” I protest. Because who is he kidding, there’s no way he is that much taller than I am.

He turns so he is facing me toe-to-toe and my nose brushes the bottom of his chin. “Ha!” he proclaims, not bothering to step away, “I can barely even see your head! You are way shorter!” I can feel my cheeks flush and my heart rate increase as I find myself entranced by the movement of his lips in front of my eyes.

“Pfft,” I scoff to cover up my nerves, “Don’t exaggerate. Two or three inches hardly makes me ‘way shorter.’ Besides, I am a perfectly normal height for a girl. You, on the other hand…” He sputters and pushes me away by the forehead with his pointer finger. With a victorious smirk on my face, I wander away to peruse the boys’ collection of movies and games as Kyungsoo disappears down a side hallway. I have to admit that I am mildly surprised to see “Prince of Tennis” and “One Piece” among (presumably) Kyungsoo’s DVD collection—Jongin doesn’t really seem like the anime type.

Kyungsoo clears his throat to announce his return and says, “Sorry, my collection is kinda… ”

Without turning to look at him, I continue to browse and reply, “Dude, you don’t have to apologize for liking anime. Although, I have to say I am a bit surprised by your shows of choice. I pegged you as more of a Death Note, Higurashi, and Hell Girl kind of guy.”

“Uh…” he drones, not quite sure how to respond. “So I exude a creepy, serial killer kind of vibe? I’m not sure how to take that…” I can’t help but to laugh loudly and mutter, “Something like that,” under my breath. I hear him situate himself on one of the couches when a game on the shelf catches my eye. “SUPER SMASH BROTHERS!!!” I exclaim, louder than intended, “You still play the N64 version?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes dramatically, “Player please; Brawl and Melee got nothin’ on the original.”

I look over my shoulder at him with a glint in my eye, “Keep this up and I might just fall in love with you.”

He chuckles as he starts rewiring cables to hook the N64 up to the TV. “Hypothetically, what would a man have to do to have you fall head over heels?” he asks nonchalantly.

Staring him straight in the eyes with a smirk, I give him a one word answer, “Win.”

He narrows his eyes as he presses the power button. “Oh, it’s on.”

“Like Donkey Kong,” I respond, smiling.

While the game is booting up, he points to a stack of clothes that he apparently had retrieved from his room when he disappeared earlier. “I figured you would want to change into something more comfortable if you were going to be spending the night here. It might not fit you perfectly, but it’s probably better than lounging around in…that,” he briefly glances at my attire. “The bathroom is around the corner if you want to go change.”

“I see your judging eyes,” I chide, as I gather up the clothes into my arms. Just for good measure, I call over my shoulder, “I didn’t pick this!”

Kyungsoo’s bathroom is spotless, as expected. All of the accessories are monochrome: black, white, and shades of gray. I quickly change into the basketball shorts and loose t-shirt that he picked out for me, noting that the clothes smell like fresh laundry or a recent shower. I loop my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and meander back to the living room.

He looks at me with his wide owl-eyes when I come into sight and wordlessly hands me a controller.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I , and he quickly shakes his head a few times to get back to reality. It takes a few minutes for us to select our characters and a random map. During the final countdown to the start of the match he looks over at me and says, “I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

I send him a look out of the corner of my eye. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

To be honest, I am terrible at Super Smash Brothers; like God awful. I can’t win a match to save my life, unless my opponent is a total noob that doesn’t know how to play. Unfortunately for me, Kyungsoo is no such noob. It feels like the match is over as soon as it begins, and he raises his arms in victory.

“I win!” he proclaims, “Although, this feels like an unearned victory because you kinda . I thought you said you are good?”

My lower lip juts out and my brows furrow before I respond, “I never said I was good, okay?? I just wanted to play because it reminds me of being a kid. And I have my own special technique!”

“Oh really?” he asks, obviously trying to rile me up. “I didn’t realize that button mashing was a special technique.”

I wail and flop over on the love seat, “I never had the patience to learn how to do combos!” Kyungsoo also doubles over on the couch, due to gut-wrenching laughter.

“I didn’t know it would be so easy to make you fall in love with me,” he starts to say, “If I would’ve known before, I wouldn’t have tried so hard; my thumbs hurt.”

Propping myself up on my elbows, I shoot him a death glare that quickly shuts him up. “Might,” I clarify, “I said that I might just fall in love with you. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’ll be fine! I’ll just kick your at some other game.”

He’s laughing again, a melodic trill that has revealed itself more frequently in the last hour than in the past 6 weeks combined. It didn’t take long for the sound to become addictive to me. “You know,” he says, “I don’t think you are really in a position to be making threats about kicking anyone’s . Not after that display of skills.”

“You mock, but I bet there’s a game I can beat you at,” I retort defensively. I swear I am not actually this bad at video games. I just made a poor choice for the sake of nostalgia.

“Too bad next game pick is mine!” Kyungsoo claps his hands in glee. He stands in front of the media shelf, hands on his hips as his head swivels back and forth in search of the perfect game. “Ah, yes, this is the one,” he announces, as he selects a case from the masses. He holds up Perfect Dark for N64 and looks for my approval before inserting the cartridge into the console. It has been a while since I played, but as soon as the dual maulers are back in my (virtual) hands, it’s like no time has passed at all. For the next hour, we fill the apartment with sounds of loud laughter, trash talking, and complaining.

“THERE’S NO WAY MY GUN IS OUT OF BULLETS. I HAVE UNLIMITED BULLETS.”

“YOU ONLY GOT ME BECAUSE YOU RESPAWNED RIGHT BEHIND ME. THAT DOESN’T COUNT!”

“HOW COME YOUR GUY RUNS FASTER THAN MINE?!”

“YOU JUST SHOT ME THROUGH THE WALL! THAT’S BS!”

“STOP LOOKING AT MY SCREEN! THAT’S CHEATING!”

“WTF. MY LEFT TRIGGER DOESN’T WORK!”

The game ultimately ends with 52 vs. 50 kills—my victory. “Woooohooo!!!” I holler, jumping up from my seat and punching my fist into the air. “Ah yeah, ah yeah, ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah!” I imitate EXID’s dance while singing the song. Kyungsoo chucks a throw pillow at my head, which I catch just in the nick of time. I chuck it right back at him, and unfortunately he does not possess the same ninja-like reflexes that I do, so it hits him square in the face. He looks murderous.

He hugs the pillow tightly as he whines, “Owwwwwwwwwwwww, how dare you hit me with my own pillow?!” I flounce over to sit next to him on the couch and ruffle his hair to even it out.

“It was self-defense, you understand, right? Besides, I earned that victory! Your win was unearned, so of course I get to do a victory dance,” I try to console him. He looks at me with those doe eyes and all resolve to rightfully claim my prize melts away. Sighing loudly with resignation, I draw back and return to my spot on the love seat. “Fine, you can still pick what anime we watch now,” I offer dejectedly.

Faster than I can even register what is happening, Kyungsoo mutters “er,” his face morphs from an innocent young boy to a devilish grown man, and he has already queued up the first disk of “Prince of Tennis.” He smirks at the blank expression on my face and cozies back into the cushions on the large couch. “Careful,” he deadpans, “your feelings are showing.”

That is enough to kill the mood for me, and I huff as I curl up on my side to face the TV, ignoring his comment. He presses play, but my attention is not focused on the show at all. Hundreds of thoughts are running through my head, most of them thinking about how Kyungsoo’s personality has completely opened up since we arrived into the comfort of his own home. He was definitely more quiet and reserved whenever we met up at the club, which is understandable given that he hates it there and it makes him uncomfortable. It makes sense that he would be more willing to show his true personality when in a familiar environment. I think I like this side of Kyungsoo. It isn’t long before the fact that it is 2 in the morning hits me like a brick wall, and these thoughts of Kyungsoo lull me to sleep.

*~*~*~*

I wake up the next morning to the beeping sound of someone punching numbers into the door’s keypad. I stretch my legs out expecting to kick the armrest of the 5-foot-long loveseat but am surprised to feel nothing but air. I open my eyes a crack and see that instead of the love seat I fell asleep on, sometime during my slumber I migrated over to the 7-foot-long 3-seater. Additionally, when I am unable to stretch my numb left arm above my head, my eyes trail down my arm to see that it is hanging off the edge of the couch. And furthermore, it looks like my fingers are intertwined with a certain male’s, as it looks like he made a makeshift bed on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. “Idiot,” I whisper, unable to keep a grin from spreading across my face.

At that time, the front door finally swings open and Jongin walks in with disheveled hair. He snorts and brings a hand up to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle his guffawing, “Fancy seeing you here!”

I shoot him a death glare and snap, “Shut. Up.”