White Chocolate Mocha (CrushXReader One-Shot)

• 6:34 am

Stepping out of your gray Lancer, the chilly December air sweeps against your flushed cheeks as you sneeze for the third time today. Your shoes crunch in the somewhat thin blanket of snow, forming a rather long trail of footprints with every step. You're very aware that you're catching a cold, but right now, you couldn't care less, merely wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck.

Determined to turn in your last project for the year, you enter the building, also known as your so-called "second home", quite hastily.

At such an early time of day, you're surprised to see a large amount of students circling around something - or someone - drawing much attention. Your heart picks up its pace as the realization sinks in.

You struggle through the crowd, eyeing past shaking heads and craned necks. Unease settles in your stomach as you register the situation presented before you.

You widen your eyes. "Oh my God."

One of the boys you've been discreetly attracted to for the past few months, presumably with the name of (Y/C/N), is being battered and bruised by a bulky guy, who you've seen once in your English class.

You've only spoken to your suspected crush a few times, but there's no denying the amount of fantasies you've created with him at this point. This kind of bruising was quite far from what you generally had in mind, you had to admit.

Seeing the blood trail from a split in (Y/C/N)'s puffy lips down to his exposed neck causes your vision to blur slowly.

"Fuck off!" You yell carelessly, along with the other shouts of "Stop!" or "Quit it!"

One of the stronger women step out of the crowd, a look of dread spread across her face. Attempting to hold back the bully, she signals for you to pull (Y/C/N) out of the circle.

You try your best to carry the broken boy without malice, taking care not to brush against his cuts and accidentally hurt him more than he already is, with a certain sense of foreboding.

Knowing that the clinic won't do much to help the boy's fresh scars, you're unsure what to do at the moment.

"Can you stand?" You whisper as gently as you can to (Y/C/N). "Because I might be able to bring you to the hospital."

"I… I can stand." He croaks, holding onto your wrists to pull himself up, weight shifting between both his feet to balance himself in the process.

"I just need first aid, not a hospital." He breathes. He releases his grip from your wrists. "But I don't think the clinic would bother enough to care."

You grin. "Exactly."

"But… y'know… if you don't have first aid, I'll just pay for the hospital bill." He manages a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid a nosebleed.

You softly shake your head. "No, I think I have enough supplies for this mess."

×

• 7:11 am

"This is gonna hurt."

(Y/C/N) laughs loudly at the innuendo. "I'm sure that that's supposed to be my line."

You roll your eyes and support him up the stairs, every step seemingly painful for him. He sends a lopsided grin to your direction, his blood-stained teeth ruining the bright gesture immensely.

Once at the top of the stairs, you shift uncomfortably underneath the boy's touch. It had been a bit of a long time since the last time you had physical contact with someone outside of your family, and the fact that your speculated crush was inside your house and alarmingly close to you at the moment was something you would have never planned in the first place.

"Why did it have to be me?" You think silently.

"Can you take care of yourself in the bathro-"

What you're going to say is cut off as (Y/C/N) swiftly tugs you in the room, closing the door behind you. Your heartbeat picks up as you forcibly cover up your tainted cheeks with a poker face.

He sits on the toilet seat expectantly. "Go on, you're the doctor."

"I'm not a doctor." You huff, taking out your first aid kit along with a pack of bandages. You get a face towel and put it under warm water, taking some soap as well.

"You look like you know what you're doing." The boy says, wriggling on the seat.

You lift his chin up and gently dab his bruises with the towel, his eyes never leaving your focused gaze.

"I have a question." You state, rubbing some soap onto his face to wash away the dried blood, as well as to disinfect the wounds.

(Y/C/N) swipes his tongue over his lips. "Shoot."

"Why the hell were you being beaten up in the first place?" You ask, trying your best to keep your tone steady, considering the fact that your faces are merely inches apart.

"Eh…" He shrugs. "…he was shoving a kid against a locker, yours I think, which gave me double reasons to punch his lights out."

Your heart stops.

Double reasons?

With shaky fingers, you place the last band-aid on the boy's cheek. "W-Well, it looks like you were the one who got beaten up."

"At least you were there."

You bite back a squeal, chewing on your lip as (Y/C/N) starts humming something out of a Disney movie.

"Of course I was there."

×

• 7:46 am

(Y/C/N) is now resting peacefully in your queen-sized bed, sunlight streaming in from the windows as you place a vase of daisies and a scented candle in a jar on the bedside table. You hold a glass of water out for him to drink.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed carefully, sniffing from the forgotten cold. "Do you want anything? Say, hot chocolate or something?"

"Now you're spoiling me. You need some water too, it seems." He chuckles, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard, ignoring the excruciating pain behind it. "No thanks."

He takes the water, his fingers brushing against yours momentarily.

"That was scary, y'know." You mention softly. "I don't think I'm very fond of seeing you in that kind of state, especially in the early morning."

The boy gives the glass of water to you and reaches for your hand, delicate fingers intertwined with yours.

He pouts. "Can I have a hug?"

An expression portraying shocked, puzzled, and giddy flashes across your features as you take a sip of the water. You're very still for God knows how long, barely moving as you register what your crush had just said to you.

To you, of all people.

"Fine, I'll be one." (Y/C/N) grumbles jokingly, pulling you in and setting the glass aside. You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing in his vague scent of mocha and white chocolate, being in the most comfortable position you've been in for the past few years.

He sighs contently, once again ignoring the pain in his abdomen. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

Time will pass and you will eventually have to admit your feelings for him and vice versa, but right now, the atmosphere is sweet and your feelings are hazy, so you smile and avoid all kinds of complicated shit at the moment, because you can and you will.

"No," You whisper, hugging tighter. "Thank you."