sorry this is late as heck :] it also ended up being over 2k oops

6. I love you, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, with the late sunlight glowing in your hair

↳ haechan x reader

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The first time he says “I love you” you think nothing of it.  At six years old, Donghyuck still has round rosy cheeks and stands a couple of inches shorter than you.  He says it with great sincerity when you hand him the red color pencil which he had been diligently waiting for you to finish using.  His mother had told him that he was to say “I love you” to people that he really really liked, and the moment you handed him the pencil he knew you would become fast friends.

So it was really quite easy for him to say.  Toothy grin and eyes crinkling, he tells you, “I love you,” in gratitude.  And you say it back just as easily with a smile on your face to match his.

In seconds you go back to coloring your own picture of a farm and Donghyuck goes back to his flowers.  He makes sure to hand you back the red color pencil once he’s done with all the rose buds.  And though no more words are exchanged that day, he makes sure to sit next to you every single day after and tell you those three words after you hand him the glue stick, compliment his pictures, and help him with addition.  And you always made sure to say it back.  

…

By the time you reach middle school, “I love you” has become a part of your vocabulary when it comes to Donghyuck.  The both of you are starting to grow a little taller, limbs gangly and far too long for your bodies.  “I love you” is said a little faster as “love you” often with “bro” tagged on to the end.  Just so everyone else knows it’s purely platonic, of course.  But the both of you know what it means.  It’s still reserved for someone he “really really likes” as his mom told him all those years ago and you’ve followed the same metric, reserving the three words for Donghyuck and your family.

But it’s still just as easy to say to each other.  When you’re in history class where Donghyuck sits next to the girl he likes and his breath smells from lunch, you hand him a stick of gum when the teacher’s back is turned.  He pops it into his mouth and whispers “love you” between chews.  You say it to Donghyuck loudly, groaning in happiness when you’re out of pocket money and he decides to pay for ice cream on your walk home from school.

He says “I love you, you’re my best friend” earnestly during a Saturday night sleepover when it’s nearing three a.m. and neither of you are accustomed to being up this late.  You’re talking together about the future in ambiguous terms, words slurring as exhaustion catches up to you.  

“I love you, too,” you tell him and promise him that you’ll be best friends forever.  Donghyuck holds his pinky out to you at the utterance of forever and you clasp it with your own.  Sunday morning, you wake up to the smell of pancakes wafting up from the kitchen and your pinky still interlocked with his.

…

“I love you” gets a little harder to say in high school.  Donghyuck gets his first girlfriend in sophomore year and he stops saying the three words to you.  Apparently, she didn’t like that he was saying “I love you” to someone other than her.  

Three months in he tells you at your biweekly sleepover, “I don’t know if I love her yet.  I really really like her.”  You sit in your desk chair, shoving handfuls of frosted flakes into your mouth directly from the box, listening to his turmoil.  Donghyuck lies on your bed in a crisis state.  “I can definitely see myself loving her.  I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to anyone other than you and my parents.”

You roll your chair over to him and offer him the box of cereal.  He reaches in and grabs some of the sugary flakes.  As he’s chewing, you tell him, “Being vulnerable with someone isn’t bad.  I get that feeling this way is new and scary, but you should embrace it.”

“Thanks,” he tells you and sighs, pondering your advice.

It feels like the right time for one of you to say “I love you” but it never comes.  Instead you tell him, “That’ll be two hundred dollars and I’ll see you for your session next week.”  That gets a smile out of him and you’re satisfied.

In another four months, she dumps him and Donghyuck is left heartbroken.  He’s moping on your couch for the third weekend in a row as The Office plays on the TV, both of you ignoring the screen in favor of conversation.  “I loved her, Y/N,” he tells you, and you’re shocked, because that’s the first time he’s ever told you that.  “But I could never say it to her.  Maybe she would have stayed if I told her.”  Something in your chest tightens.  Hesitantly, you reach over to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” you tell him, not knowing how else to console him.

…

Senior year yields less time together as both you and Donghyuck hold your first part time jobs.  “I love you” is no longer commonplace in your conversations and you’ve gotten used to it, though you do miss the ease of saying such loaded words that came with being middle schoolers.

Seeing as it’s Donghyuck’s eighteenth birthday, you decide to save up for a pricey longboard for his gift, especially since you’re finally earning your own money.  He turns eighteen the day after graduation and you’re in his room at two a.m.  It’s technically not his birthday anymore, but he only managed to kick out all his party guests at one.  You sit across from him on his carpeted floor clad in pajamas.  His face turns to shock when you pull a large, hastily wrapped box from under his bed.

“How long was that there?” he asks you, accepting the package.

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” you tell him.

“You’d think that you’d be cooler now that we’re college students,” he says, tearing the wrapping paper away.  But he has no snide remarks when the box underneath the paper reveals a picture of a longboard.  He doesn’t even bother to open the box, instead leaping forward to envelope you in hug.

“I love you!” he shouts and you can practically feel him vibrating with happiness.  In response to the words that you haven’t heard in years, your heart flips in an unfamiliar way, and you’re not entirely sure what to make of it.  And though you don’t know, the moment he said those words, Donghyuck felt the same unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

…

As luck would have it, the two of you are attending the same college in the fall.  Even after you arrive on campus, not much has changed from high school.  You still spend all of your free time with Donghyuck.  But at some point, Donghyuck realizes that you’re the reason he doesn’t feel homesick and he can no longer ignore the thumping in his chest every time he sees you.  So on a weekend in November when you’re watching anime with him on his loft bed, he tentatively tells you, “I need to ask you something.”

You turn to him, and suddenly Donghyuck is glad that his roommates are never home.  Progressively turning more and more red, he asks you on a date, ending with, “Maybe we should give this a go.”

You imagine he can hear how loud your heart is beating when you whisper, “Yes.”

As first dates go, this one isn’t that awkward.  After all, Donghyuck is your best friend and having a meal with him isn’t out of the ordinary.  The only thing that changes is the way he slowly reaches for your hand on the walk back to your dorm.  His palm is a little sweaty, but it’s a welcome weight in your own hand.  When you reach your building, Donghyuck goes in for your routine hug, but pauses, “Can I—” he hesitates, “Can I kiss you?”

You can feel your heartbeat screaming in your ears when you nod yes and he leans down to press the smallest of pecks to your lips.  “Goodnight,” he tells you and turns and walks in the direction of his own building.  You step through the glass door of your building and turn to look at Donghyuck as the doors close behind you.  Outside, he jumps in the air, pumping his fist in happiness.  

…

Your second date happens when you find Donghyuck waiting for you outside your history lecture.  “Let’s go to an arcade,” he tells you.

“It’s Wednesday,” you remind him.

But he responds with, “So?” and you can’t really argue.

The arcade is mostly empty save for some middle school kids, a very bored looking teenager behind the counter, and the two of you.  “You know skeeball is my hidden talent, right?” you tell him.

“Yeah? Then how come I haven’t seen this talent in twelve years?” he asks, eyebrows raised dramatically.

Wordlessly, you lead him to the nearest skeeball machine.  “Watch and learn,” you tell him, grinning.  You swipe the arcade card and the machine lights up.  You pick up the first skee ball and behind you, Donghyuck crosses his arms, still skeptical of your so called “talent”.

You take your time with the first one, one eye closed and lining up your shot.  Winding your arm back you step forward and release the ball, and it lands squarely in the hole that reads 100.  Donghyuck’s mouth falls open behind you and it remains open as you send each ball into the 100 point hole, occasionally landing a few in the 50 point hole.  When the timer rings, the red lights reading your score replace the machine’s high score display and you turn to face the dumbstruck boy.

“Told you.”

The machine spits out three hundred tickets and you bunch them up and hand them to Donghyuck.  “I love you!” he exclaims, trying to neatly fold tickets, only to freeze when he realizes exactly what he said.

You don’t even process the words at first.  After all, at one point they were commonplace in your conversations.  But it hits you when he stutters out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean like I love you— I mean like I do love you but not like—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off.  “I get it.”

Donghyuck looks like he’s out of breath and it’s suddenly extremely awkward.  But he still grabs your hand and pulls you to the counter to cash in your tickets.  He still buys you a teddy bear and pouts when you point out that technically you were buying that teddy bear yourself with your skee ball winnings.  But nonetheless it still feels different from before Donghyuck accidentally let three words slip between his lips.

He kisses you for the second time ever outside your building at 6 pm and wishes you a good night.  He walks away that day wishing he hadn’t said I love you.

…

Your third “date” is on a Tuesday.  Your fridge is running low on milk and you promised your roommate that you would do a grocery run, so you call Donghyuck, hoping he’ll give you company.  The walk to the grocery store is a short fifteen minutes of Donghyuck pointing to every sign and mispronouncing the words on it.  You’re giggling loudly and you barely acknowledge the greeter when you finally reach the store.

The checkout line is short and within minutes you are making your way out of the store clutching a bag with two gallons of milk to your chest.  Donghyuck walks beside you with his own grocery bag holding yogurt cups and oranges.

The bag in your arms slowly slips down and you periodically hoist it up with a little grunt.  From beside you, Donghyuck looks a little concerned at the sweat beading on your forehead and the slightly pained expression on your face.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, I got it,” you cut him off, the words coming out a little strained as you re-adjust the bag once again.  Donghyuck knows you are not one to show weakness, so he doesn’t do much in the way of protest other than glancing at you every once in a while to check that you haven’t collapsed.

You make it four blocks before you’re short of breath and Donghyuck can hear you practically panting beside him.  When he turns to looks at you, the wind is knocked out of him too.  Your brow is furrowed in determination, your eyes are focused straight ahead, and your mouth hangs open as you take in quick breaths.  You look ridiculous.  And you look even more ridiculous when you try to hoist the bag up again and nearly drop it.  Yet somehow, Donghyuck is still struck by the beauty of the steel in your gaze and the afternoon sunlight illuminating your hair.

Wordlessly he takes your bag from you.

“Hey! That’s my—”

“I love you,” he says, interrupting your protest.  He looks straight ahead, fighting the color rising to his cheeks, before finally giving up any semblance of composure and turning to look at you again.  “I mean it this time.  And I meant it at the arcade the other day, too.”

It’s your turn to look away and hope your cheeks don’t look as warm as they feel.  “I love you, too,” you tell him.  His smiles so brightly it outshines the afternoon sun.