Stray Kids one shots || honeyndwild

Jeongin | crush

The back aches unpleasantly, and Jeongin straightens up in his seat with a low groan. The finals are in a week, he still needs to make 2 more jackets, add a rose embroidery on the sleeves and find models for the photoshoot.

His neck is sore, and he massages it, disinterested. He needs coffee and sugar in his system. He also needs your attention.

Jeongin isn't the one to think a lot. To analyse? To run through his own brain just to find the "answers"? Who the heck cares about that when he can just live. Go with the flow of this messed up life, taking everything this life suggested.

So, when he noticed that the need to glance at you became more palpable, the need to "accidentally" brush his fingers over yours while handing you pins or chalk became too strong, Jeongin just sighed and admitted that. Them, those needs and sudden desires that were now clouding his mind every time he had a chance to work with you.

But time goes by and things change. Now he glances at your table without the usual butterflies in his stomach. He's too tired and too used to the fact that you both work in the same room and breathe the same air. It doesn't excite him anymore.

Now Jeongin wants more.

You're tired too. Your flashed cheeks and bitten out of nervousness lips say it all. The mess on your table, the fabric's scraps under your feet and crumpled chocolate bar wrappers mixed with random patterns. Jeongin wants to kick you out of this room, make you walk around for a few hours and clean your table until it will be white and shining again. He's so tired, he doesn't even care what you will think about this, his intervention.

"Hey," he frowns at the way his voice sounds, low and broken, too quiet for you to hear. "Y/n."

You look up at him only when he calls your name three times in a row, and smile exhaustedly.

"Want to take a break?" Jeongin stretches showy, his knuckles crunching, and you shrug at that, disgusted.

"Later, I can't right now."

"Please?" He knows it won't do a damn thing, but still tries. Sadly, you're immune to his "charms".

"Not now, I need an hour to end this blouse," you demonstratively turn the sewing machine on, preparing to sew on the collar. Jeongin rolls his eyes at that and gets up.

He doesn't ask himself whether he likes you or not. He doesn't think much about his obvious crush on you. He just admitted it with the head hanging low and moved on.

Well, "moved on".

Jeongin waits until you will put the last stitch in, knows pretty well how bad it all will end if he will be the reason you'll make a mistake. And when you take your foot off the pedal, he releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and rests his hands on your shoulders.

"Can you help me?" He pats your shoulders lightly, trying to stop them from tensing. He doesn't like the fact that you might feel uncomfortable because of him.

"What do you want?" You sigh exhaustedly, leaning your head on his stomach.

You? And feeling uncomfortable around him? Nonsense.

Jeongin knows that too, but still can't help but worry a little.

"I want to rest, and I don't know, how," he smoothes the folds of the fabric on your shoulders, noticing how soft your shirt is.

"Oh, shut up..." but your shoulders do relax, and the weight of your head on his stomach becomes heavier.

Jeongin's mind blows away because of his hate for the skinship and the way his fingertips tingle just because they're touching your shoulders mix together, making Jeongin.exe stop working.

He calls those moments "moving on"s. When he freezes and drifts away from this world just because you're around, he moves on from everything. From his mind, especially. Because in the moments like this he loses half of his brain convolutions and does some really stupid things.

Kisses, for example.

On your nose, by the way.

He leans in quickly, not quite understanding what he's doing, and plants a kiss in the crease between your eyebrows.

The second kiss falls on your nose bridge.

The last one glues to the very tip of your nose.

"I think I will just go out to the convenience store and buy something to eat," he doesn't know where to look when you silently eye him up. "Message me if you need something."

He squeezes your shoulders once again and then runs away from the studio. Again, "moves" on.

Sadly, he doesn't notice how, behind his back, you scream soundlessly into the nearest piece of fabric, flustered and out of breath.

One day he'll be the death of you, you know that. Because who. The. Hell. Kisses. Your. Classmate. Like. This?

And what. The. Hell. Does. It. Mean?