➳ genre: summer vacation au, fluff
➳ pairings: reader x changbin
➳ word count: 6,323
➳ description: Your best friend sees Changbin as the quiet kid from high school, but you disagree. Call it biased, but perhaps there's more to him than a facade.
⇒ a/n: happy birthday, changbin — you're my ☼, my ☾, and all my ☆'s ( check out my Tumblr @/changbeanie for changbin related gfx, gifs, and edits)
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Early junior year, you met him, sitting in the second to last row of your guitar class with his signature Vans and head to toe black attire. He was very quiet, only speaking when he was called on in class, but even then, he intrigued you. You often stole secret glances at him from your seat in the back row — even if it was just his back profile, his presence made your heart flutter.
Late junior year, you were assigned to an ensemble with him. Boy, were you excited.
However, no luck. What a bummer.
There were two other people in your ensemble group, a total of four, with one being your best friend and the other being his "admirer". Perhaps they had a thing going on, but they've never gone past the whole hand-holding phase. Sure thing, when you saw them hold hands in the narrow school hallways, your heart clenched. Why couldn't that have been you? What was so special about her?
To your liking, Changbin broke it off with her near the end of junior year, and according to your best friend, it was because she was a bit emotionally unstable and possessive. You observed Changbin the next few days, and he seemed fine. He was still his same mellow self, cracking a smile only when your best friend told some lame joke during your ensemble practices. Although the year had ended, it ended on a rather bittersweet note.
Senior year, the two of you didn't have any classes together, but he did have the same statistics class a period before you. During passing period, your eyes would "accidentally" wander towards him, a sheepish smile on your face as he brushed past you. In your hand was your statistics textbook, in which the edges of the book cover were frayed because you kept picking on them due to nervousness.
Last day of school, you saw him one last time under the willow tree near the west entrance. The two of you were going to separate colleges; you were attending a university a few hours away from home, and he was staying for a local community college. You regretted junior year. If only you could have mustered up a bit of courage to engage in some sort of conversation with him, you would have. Obviously, it was all too late now.
That was your last goodbye.
Or so you thought.
Summer of freshman year college, you saw him once again, and your feelings hit replay.
»»————————««
"What's so good about him? He doesn't even talk. You're the one constantly telling me not to like guys who I've never even spoken to. Plus, it's been how many years? Like two? And you're still not over him? Ridiculous." Your best friend, Brenda, rambled continuously, not giving you a chance to voice your bubbling thoughts.
You sighed and stuffed a french fry in her mouth, attempting to shut her up. The usually demure girl was surprisingly chatty today, and you didn't know whether to be happy or annoyed.
"Are you going to let me answer, or are you just going to answer your questions yourself?" You relented, throwing a glare back at your friend, who was currently seated on your bed as she immersed herself in the latest episode of whatever drama she was watching. You could care less to be honest; she skipped around so much that there were barely any parts left of the drama to watch.
