Calmer, calmer, calmer...
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@3rachachanie
Calmer, calmer, calmer...
THE HEIST ── k.ys & j.wy
"please don't leave me." you murmur quietly with a shaky voice. "don't say such stupid things." yeosang grumbles from above your head. "wherever we go, you're goin' with." wooyoung confirmed, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder before burring his face in your neck, his warm breath making you shiver.
what started as a normal day quickly turned into a life or death situation when you and your best friend are caught in a hostage situation during a bank heist. however, when you're taken with the men you find out that there is a lot more that awaits for you behind the walls of their hideout and you slowly find yourself not wanting to leave... especially not when wooyoung and yeosang treat you so kindly.
premieres may 7th, 2026
taglist open
© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮
I.N Snap! Cuteness! What an Idol!
Wonhui….
[260206] Fansign Yunho
A Hotteok gifted yunho a notebook “10 things i like about yunho”
All the days you missed
Pairing: Idol!Yunho x non-idol!fem!character!
Genre/AU: Childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn, second chance romance, lots of fluff and chaos, smut, attempts at comedy (sorry I’m not that funny)
Wc: 14k
Summary: Childhood best friends Yunho and Naomi never got to confess their feelings before his sudden rise to idol stardom pulled them apart. Years later, Naomi attends his concert, expecting nothing more than nostalgia— until Yunho spots her from the stage.
One backstage reunion leads to dinner and a confession years in the making… and a heartbreaking fear that loving him could destroy everything he’s worked for.
Naomi wants to protect him. Yunho wants to choose her.
Between fame and first love, fear and longing, they must decide whether the heart they’ve shared since childhood is strong enough to survive under the spotlight.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. This is just for fun, nothing more. You are responsible for the content you consume.
Warnings/Ratings: 18+ MDNI!! Use of pet names, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, multiple orgasms, public sex (no one is around so they aren’t seen). I think I’ve got them all! Please let me know if I missed anything!
Reading begins under the cut :)
────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────────
Age 10 | The park “talent show”
It started as a joke.
Hongjoong climbed onto the park bench, lifted a plastic toy microphone, and declared, “Welcome to the First Annual Talent Explosion, starring… us!”
The rest of their group scattered across the grass as the sun set behind them. Naomi, Angel, Savvina, and Nabi sat cross-legged on the ground, pretending to be judges.
Yunho nudged Naomi. “Score me high, okay?”
“Only if you don’t trip this time,” she teased.
San was first. He flipped, jumped, and cartwheeled across the grass like he’d been waiting his whole life to show off. Wooyoung followed, dramatically ripping off his jacket before doing a messy but enthusiastic dance routine.
Yeosang played a soft melody on his violin; Seonghwa sang gently along with it. Mingi freestyled a rap that made the girls snort with laughter, and Jongho— the youngest— belted out a note so clean and powerful that birds literally flew out of a nearby tree.
“Okay, okay,” Angel laughed. “I think we get it. You boys are ridiculous.”
Hongjoong bowed deeply. “Ridiculous… or iconic?”
Naomi looked at Yunho after his turn— a silly but charming dance number that made her cheeks warm.
“You’re really good,” she said.
He shrugged shyly.
Age 12 | The school festival
Their class had been assigned a performance for the school festival, and the teachers had foolishly let the entire group work together.
Chaos followed.
Hongjoong composed an overly dramatic theme song.
Seonghwa tried to keep choreography simple, but San and Wooyoung turned it into a full acrobatics routine.
Mingi kept rewriting rap lines, and Yeosang insisted on matching outfits.
Jongho was handed the high notes because… well, no one else could hit them.
During practice, Angel, Nabi, and Savvina made props, while Naomi organized everyone like a strict stage manager.
The day of the performance? It went… strangely well.
The crowd cheered. Their teacher cried. Parents clapped.
Afterward, Yunho tapped Naomi’s shoulder. “Thanks for keeping us from falling apart.”
Naomi scoffed. “You did great.”
He smiled softly. “Only because you were watching.”
She pretended not to blush.
Age 14 | The first snow of winter
The first snow that year fell quietly, covering the streets in soft white. The whole group met outside Naomi’s building, breath puffing in the cold air.
Jongho started it. He scooped up snow, shaped it poorly, and tossed it at Mingi’s back.
San gasped dramatically. “A betrayal!”
Wooyoung shrieked, dodging imaginary attacks. Yeosang took cover behind Naomi and Savvina. Angel and Nabi tried to stop everyone— and failed. Hongjoong surrendered immediately.
Naomi formed a snowball, eyes narrowing at Yunho.“Don’t you dare,” he warned.
She hit him square in the chest.
His shocked expression sent the girls into laughter.
A full-on snowball war broke out, ending with everyone soaked, freezing, and laughing until their stomachs hurt.
Later, while the others walked ahead, Yunho draped his scarf around Naomi’s neck. “You’ll get sick if you don’t wear something warm.”
She wrapped it tighter, smiling. “Won’t you be cold?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine. You’re more important.”
Her heart skipped.
Age 15 | Rooftop birthday surprise
It was Naomi’s 15th birthday, but she expected nothing big— everyone was busy with school, part-time jobs, and extracurriculars.
Still, when she climbed the stairs to her building’s rooftop, the familiar voices erupted:
“Surprise!”
Lights twinkled. Balloons bounced. A makeshift banner (handwritten by Hongjoong) hung crookedly behind them.
Angel brought cupcakes. Savvina and Nabi decorated. San and Wooyoung handled the entertainment (too enthusiastically). Mingi and Jongho carried the snacks like proud but chaotic waiters. Yeosang handed her a small wrapped gift. Seonghwa fixed the crooked decorations.
Yunho lit the candle. “Make a wish,” he told her.
She looked at all of them— her world— and closed her eyes.
Her wish was simple: Please let us all stay together. Always.
The irony would only hit her later.
Age 16 | A confession that never happened
The boys were talking more and more about auditions, training programs, and opportunities. Everyone felt the tension— change was coming.
One evening, Naomi sat in an empty dance practice room, waiting for the group to finish rehearsing.
She watched through the window as Yunho practiced alone after everyone else left. He poured everything into each movement, determination etched into his features.
He didn’t notice her until he stopped to catch his breath.
“Naomi?” he asked, startled. “How long were you there?”
“Not long,” she lied.
He walked over, towel draped over his shoulder, cheeks flushed from effort. “You shouldn’t stay late by yourself,” he said gently. “It’s cold out.”
“I wanted to see you practice,” she admitted.
He blinked— surprised, maybe hopeful.
For a moment, the air shifted. It felt like one of them might finally say something more. Something real.
But then Wooyoung burst into the room yelling, “GUYS! WE FOUND A VENDING MACHINE WITH CHEAP SNACKS!”
The moment shattered, replaced with laughter. Neither of them brought it up again.
Age 17 | A promise before goodbye
The group met in the park as dusk settled. It felt… different. Heavier.
Hongjoong held the call letter. “Training starts next month. All of us.”
Nabi covered her mouth. Angel looked away. Savvina wiped her eyes. Naomi just stared at Yunho. He stepped closer, voice quiet.
“We’ll come back. We’ll debut. We’ll make you proud.”
“You already do,” she whispered.
He hesitated— then brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, soft and warm.
“I’m scared,” Naomi admitted. “What if… everything changes?”
Yunho shook his head. “It won’t. Not us.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to tell him everything. But the words got caught in her throat.
Their friends moved around them— hugging, laughing through tears, trying to be strong— but Naomi and Yunho stood still, suspended in a moment neither wanted to end.
Age 17 | Till’ we meet again
The sky was still dark when Naomi stepped outside, the early morning air biting against her skin. Her breath formed soft clouds as she hurried toward the bus terminal— the place the boys chose to meet before leaving for their training dorms.
She wasn’t late. But her heart was already pounding like she was.
As she approached, she saw them— Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San, Wooyoung, Yeosang, Mingi, Jongho, and Yunho— clustered together with suitcases at their feet. Angel, Nabi, and Savvina stood nearby, eyes red from crying.
It felt surreal.
Like a moment she’d been dreading for years was finally happening… too fast, too soon.
Wooyoung spotted her first.
“Naomi!” he called, waving brightly despite the tears in his eyes.
Everyone turned.
But Yunho locked eyes with her instantly.
He took a step toward her. Then another. And another. Until he was standing right in front of her, close enough that she could see the faint tremble in his hands.
“You made it,” he whispered, relief flooding his face.
“Of course I did,” she breathed. “I had to.”
They stood there, neither knowing where to begin.
Behind them, the others hugged the girls one by one— tearful, noisy, chaotic— but somehow, Naomi and Yunho’s moment felt suspended outside of time.
“You’re leaving today,” she said softly, though she already knew.
Yunho nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah… we all are.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m… proud of you. Of all of you.”
Yunho’s expression softened, but there was a sadness in his eyes she had never seen before— something raw, something vulnerable.
“Naomi,” he said gently, “can we… talk? Just us?”
She nodded.
He led her a little away from the group, toward a quiet corner of the terminal where the faint glow of streetlights painted everything in soft gold.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Yunho exhaled shakily. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Training could take years. It could be hard. We might not get breaks. I might… not be able to call much.”
His voice wavered.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.
Naomi blinked back tears. “You won’t,” she said— but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
He reached out, fingers brushing hers hesitantly, like he was memorizing the shape of her hand.
“You’ve always been the person I wanted to come back to,” he said. “Always.”
Her heart ached at the weight of his words.
“Yun…” she breathed, struggling to speak around the tightness in her chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”
For a moment, the truth hovered between them— all the years of unspoken feelings pressed into the space of a single breath.
Naomi felt the words rising in her chest: I love you. I always have. Don’t go.
But she swallowed them back. He was leaving for his dream. She refused to be the reason he hesitated.
A bus engine rumbled to life nearby. The manager called for boarding.
Yunho’s eyes filled with panic. “I have to go,” he whispered.
Naomi nodded even though her vision blurred. He leaned closer— not quite a hug, not quite more— just close enough that she could feel his breath against her temple.
“Promise me,” he said softly, “that you won’t forget me.”
Her voice broke. “Never.”
Yunho closed his eyes, like her answer hurt and comforted him all at once. “Goodbye, Naomi.”
He turned to leave.
But after three steps, he spun back around and wrapped his arms around her— tight, desperate, full of everything he couldn’t say aloud.
Naomi clutched him back, burying her face in his shoulder as her tears finally spilled.
“Come back to me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
He held her tighter.
“I will.”
Then— he let go.
He walked toward the bus without looking back, because if he did… he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave.
Naomi watched him climb aboard. Watched the doors close. Watched the bus pull away, taking eight pieces of her heart with it. That day, she felt what it truly meant to let someone go.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The bus engine rumbled beneath Yunho’s feet, but all he could hear was Naomi’s voice echoing in his head.
He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, watching their hometown shrink into watercolor shapes— the old convenience store, the small park where they used to race, the corner where Naomi always waited for him after school. Every landmark pulled at him like invisible string.
His phone buzzed in his hand. A message from her.
Naomi: Make me proud, Yun.
He swallowed hard. Proud.
She had no idea how much he wanted her to say Don’t go. The bus lurched forward. His chest tightened.
I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell her. I should have told her.
San and Wooyoung were chattering loudly behind him, full of excitement, but Yunho barely heard them. Whenever he blinked, he saw Naomi’s eyes shining under the faint glow of the light, holding back tears.
He clenched his jaw and whispered under his breath so no one else could hear. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
But the fear lingered.
What if she didn’t wait for him? What if she moved on? What if he came back as someone completely different?
He pressed his lips together and turned away from the window— because watching their town disappear felt too much like losing her.
11:47pm
The trainee dorm was colder and smaller than Yunho imagined. Five bunk beds squeezed into one room. Boxes everywhere. Noise. Laughter. Complaints.
But all Yunho could feel was absence.
He lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling while Hongjoong and Seonghwa argued quietly over where to put their equipment. San was already snoring. Mingi was humming. Wooyoung was still buzzing with energy, talking nonstop to anyone who’d listen.
The whole room felt alive but Yunho felt… alone.
He pulled out his phone again, opened Naomi’s message and reread it for the tenth time. “Make me proud.”
He typed out a dozen replies. Deleted every one.
What was he supposed to say? That he missed her already? That her absence hurt more than he thought it would? Or maybe how the city felt too big without her?
His fingers trembled slightly as he typed something short:
Yunho: I made it to the dorm.
He hovered over the send button. No, too distant. He erased it and tried again.
Yunho: I can’t stop thinking about you.
His breath caught. Too honest. He deleted it, locked his phone and let it drop onto his chest.
Across the room, Hongjoong finally settled into his bunk. “Big day tomorrow,” he murmured into the dark. “Practice starts at six.”
Six.
Yunho exhaled.
Training. Schedules. Choreography. Persona. Debut— if he ever even made it that far. For the first time, he understood that this path was going to take everything.
Time, sleep, possibly… her. His throat tightened at that.
He turned onto his side and buried his face into the pillow.
“Naomi…” He whispered her name because it grounded him. Because it hurt. Because it felt like the only familiar thing left.
He wished she could see him now. Not the rising idol he hoped to become— but the scared boy in a strange city missing the girl who knew him better than anyone.
If she were here, she’d scold him for not eating dinner, then shove half her snacks at him.
He smiled weakly at the thought. Then the smile faded.
She’s not here.
And she won’t be for a long time.
Don’t think about her too much.
Don’t make it harder to let go.
He pulled his blanket over his head and forced his eyes shut. But the truth seeped out anyway, soft and painful: he wished he had told her.
2017 | Early trainee days
Naomi: How was practice today? Did you eat? Don’t forget to stretch.”
Yunho smiles at his phone but doesn’t reply right away— the boys collapse around him, exhausted.
He means to answer.
He really does.
He falls asleep with his phone in his hand.
Her message remains “Read.”
2018 | First phone call in weeks
Naomi sits on her bed, hugging a pillow, earbuds in.
“Yunho! It’s been forever.”
He laughs softly on the other end. “I know… I’m sorry. The schedule’s no joke.”
They talk for fifteen minutes— but half the time he sounds distracted, managers calling him, the boys shouting in the background.
“Call you tomorrow?” he says.
“Of course.” She answers, understanding.
Tomorrow never comes.
2019 | Pre debut stress
Naomi: “Good luck today!! You’ll do great!!”
Yunho: “Thank you. I’ll text after.”
He doesn’t.
Three days later she gets:
Yunho: Sorry, things were crazy.
She types:
Naomi: It’s okay.
Then deletes it and tries again:
Naomi: I miss you.
But she deletes that too and sends nothing.
Late 2019 | Ateez debut
Naomi watches the debut stage alone in her room. Her heart swells with pride. There he is— the boy she grew up with— shining brighter than she ever imagined.
The group bows. Yunho waves at the camera.
She whispers, “Yunho… you guys made it.”
She wants to text him, but thousands of comments scroll on the screen. Her message suddenly feels too small, too insignificant, so she closes her phone.
Across the country, Yunho checks his notifications after a long schedule. Dozens of messages… But not one from Naomi.
His chest sinks, but he tells himself she’s just busy.
2020 | Rising Fame
Naomi: Congrats on your win!! I’m so proud of you guys.
Yunho: Thank you :)
A smiley face. That’s it.
He starts typing more… then stops.
Staff calls for him.
Time’s up.
2021 | Naomi’s birthday
Naomi wonders if he’ll remember.
He doesn’t.
At midnight, she laughs it off with friends, saying, “He’s busy. It’s fine.”
But she still checks her phone before bed. Nothing.
Yunho ends practice exhausted.
San nudges him, “Dude, you look down.”
Yunho sighs, “I feel like I forgot something important today…”
But he can’t place it. And saying it out loud makes his stomach twist.
2022 | Tours, albums, fame
Yunho scrolls through his photos on a rare night off.
He stops at one picture— a blurry shot Naomi took of him years ago, laughing with too much sunlight in his eyes.
He should delete it.
He should move on.
But he doesn’t.
Instead he locks his phone and stares at the ceiling.
Naomi meanwhile sits on a bus home from work.
An Ateez billboard passes by the window. For a moment, she imagines his voice saying her name. She smiles sadly and looks away.
She doesn’t reach out. Neither does he.
2023 | Almost strangers
Their messages now look like this:
Naomi: Congrats on the comeback.
Yunho: Thanks.
Naomi: Stay healthy.
Yunho: Will do.
A full year passes without a single phone call. Both of them stare at their phones more times than they’ll ever admit.
Both think the same thing: does the other even need me anymore?
Neither of them realizes the answer is yes.
Present day
Naomi steps out of the office building, rubbing her temple. Work was long, draining, and endless— emails, reports, a supervisor who kept breathing down her neck.
She exhales into the cool evening air. Just get home, shower, and sleep. That’s all you need.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out before glancing at the caller ID: Angel 💫
Naomi smiles weakly and answers, “Hey… what’s up? You sound excited.”
She can hear Angel bouncing. “MIA—YOU—WILL—NOT—BELIEVE—THIS.”
Naomi winces, pulling the phone from her ear. “Whoa— Angel, please. My soul is tired.”
“But your soul won’t be tired in a second!” Angel shrieks. “Put me on speaker— Nabi and Savvina are here too!”
Naomi stops walking and complies. “Okay… what is going on?”
There’s chaotic muffled yelling, someone shushing someone else, and finally Savvina’s calm voice breaks through.
“Naomi… Ateez just added a surprise date.”
Naomi blinks. “Okay? And?”
“It’s here.”
Nabi screams, “THEY’RE COMING TO OUR CITY!”
Naomi nearly drops her phone.
“What?! No— are you sure? Is this legit or one of those fan rumors again?”
“It’s real!” Angel yells. “It’s on their official page! Tickets drop tomorrow morning and we’re going whether you like it or not—”
Naomi feels her heart pound against her ribs. Yunho… here? After all these years? She grips the strap of her bag tighter, her breath stuttering.
Savvina adds, “We’re already planning. We’re buying four tickets. You’re not arguing.”
Naomi tries to steady her voice. “But… guys… what if we don’t even get them? The queue will be crazy. They’re huge now.”
Nabi laughs, “Okay, but we’ve never missed a drop before. Trust the team.”
Angel whispers dramatically, “This is fate. This is your sign.”
Naomi snorts, trying to play it off, even though her chest tightens. “My sign for what? He doesn’t even remember me.”
The line goes completely silent. For a full beat, all she hears is the hum of cars on the street and her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Then, in perfect unplanned harmony, all three of her friends say: “Naomi.”
Savvina speaks first, gentle but firm. “He remembers.”
Angel follows, sounding like she’s stating a fact, not an opinion. “Of course he remembers.”
And Nabi, never one to sugarcoat, goes straight for Naomi’s heart. “You were his favorite person. That kind of thing doesn’t just disappear.”
Naomi stops walking. Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around her phone.
She starts walking again, slower this time.
“That was a lifetime ago,” she murmurs. “We barely talk anymore.”
Angel softens, voice gentle now. “Which is exactly why you should go. You deserve to see him shine. Even if that’s all it is.”
Naomi swallows hardly. Her heart aches with old memories, old smiles, old almost-confessions. “…Yeah,” she finally whispers. “I… I want to go.”
Her friends cheer so loudly she thinks people on the sidewalk can hear them.
Nabi practically explodes through the speaker, “GROUP CALL TOMORROW MORNING?!”
Savvina adds with her usual calm authority, “No, let’s just meet at my place. Bring coffee.”
Angel chimes in like she’s announcing a battle cry, “And optimism!”
Naomi bursts into a laugh she didn’t know she still had in her. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there.”
They hang up.
Naomi stops at the foot of her apartment steps, staring at the sky as if it’s suddenly brighter.
Her chest feels warm— hopeful— something she hasn’t felt in years.
The Next morning
Savvina’s living room looks like an operations center.
Nabi has three browsers open, tabs flipping like she’s hacking into a government database.
Angel stands behind her doing deep breathing exercises, shoulders rising and falling like she’s preparing for war.
Naomi sits in the middle of the chaos, curled on the couch with her knees drawn up, clutching her iced coffee with shaking hands. She’s not sure if the caffeine is making her jittery or if it’s pure nerves— probably both.
The timer on the table counts down the final minutes, each sharp beep tightening the air around them like a suspense soundtrack.
A digital clock flashes: 12 minutes until ticket drop.
Savvina stands at the front of the living room like a commander prepping her squad. “Okay, everyone synced?” she calls out, pacing with authority.
Browsers refreshed. Check. Fan accounts monitored. Check. Payment info saved and triple-saved. Check.
Angel leans in dramatically, lowering her voice as if delivering the final line of a spy movie. “We only need three tickets. If we fail…” She pauses, eyes narrowing for effect. “…we blame Nabi.”
Nabi gasps, offended. “Why me?!”
Angel shrugs. “Someone has to carry the burden.”
Savvina sighs. “Focus, people.”
But despite the jokes, the tension hangs thick— because they all know this is their best chance to get Naomi to that concert.
Naomi laughs nervously and takes a shaky sip of her coffee. She barely slept last night— every time she closed her eyes, her stomach flipped, reminding her exactly whose concert she was trying to get tickets for.
Just thinking his name makes her heart trip over itself.
Savvina claps loudly. “Alright! Ten minutes!”
7:54 AM
Angel plops down beside Naomi and nudges her knee. “You okay? You look like you might pass out.”
Naomi exhales shakily. “I’m fine. Just… nervous.”
“About the tickets?” Nabi asks.
Naomi hesitates. “…Yes. And no.”
All three of her friends exchange a look— the kind that says they already know exactly what’s going on.
Savvina smirks. “It’s okay to admit you want to see him.”
Angel tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically, flashing a playful grin. “Yeah. And I can’t wait to see Seonghwa.”
Naomi snorts at Angel’s theatrics before hiding her face in her hands with a groan.
“I just… I don’t know what I’ll feel. Or what he’ll feel. Or if he’ll even look—”
“If he sees you,” Angel cuts in, leaning forward “he’s going to short-circuit on stage.”
Naomi drops her hands and covers her face again. She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t disagree. That little truth, quietly terrifying, is the worst part.
9:58 AM
Naomi’s vision tunnels. For a split second, all she hears is her own heartbeat— loud, uneven, frantic.
The ticket site reloads… then freezes… then reloads again all while her thumb hovers, trembling like it’s about to give out.
Savvina is practically wrestling her own computer. Angel is chanting half-coherent prayers to whichever fandom gods might hear her. Nabi is on the floor, tapping her iPad like CPR might make it work any faster.
Naomi inhales sharply— finally remembers how— and forces the air out through clenched teeth. Her screen flickers. Something shifts. A green button appears.
Her breath stops all over again.
“…guys?” she whispers. Her voice is so small none of them hear her over the chaos.
The button brightens. “Select Tickets.”
Naomi’s coffee nearly slips from her hand. Her heart rockets into her throat.
“GUYS—” she tries again, louder this time— and that’s when her thumb taps the screen. Almost by accident. Almost out of instinct.
The page loads.
She’s in.
10:00 AM
Naomi’s chest finally loosens.
She lets herself imagine it. Not just the stress, not just the frenzy, but being there: the lights, the sound, the impossible closeness of someone she swore she’d never get to see again.
Nabi is already sprinting in circles like a golden retriever. Savvina collapses into the nearest chair, hands trembling from the adrenaline crash.
Angel has dropped flat on the carpet, starfished, whispering, “I’m spent. Don’t revive me.”
Naomi laughs, wiping the last warm streak from her cheek.
Her phone buzzes— a tiny vibration that feels like a spark in her palm. Email: Ticket Confirmation.
She stares at it for a few moments. A soft, quiet smile curls at the corner of her mouth— so different from the scene swirling around her.
Nabi flops next to her. “Naomi, breathe. You’re turning red.”
“I am breathing,” Naomi answers, but her voice is too light, too airy for anyone to believe her.
Savvina points at her knowingly. “You’re thinking about him.”
Naomi tries— fails— to hide her blush.
“I’m… thinking about the concert.”
Angel sits up like a bolt. “LIAR.”
They all dogpile her instantly, shouting and laughing, limbs everywhere, the kind of joy that feels like summer and friendship and victories you never forget.
Somewhere under the chaos, Naomi presses a hand over her heart.
It’s still racing.
But it’s not from fear anymore. “Front section,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
“He might actually see me.” And this time, the smile that follows is unstoppable.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The rehearsal hall is quiet in the late afternoon, except for the hum of the LED lights and the soft thump of Yunho’s sneakers as he moves through the choreography again. One more run. Just one more. He tells himself that twice… and then a third time.
Hongjoong finally calls out from the speakers, “Yunho, that’s enough, you’re going to burn a hole in the floor.”
Yunho freezes mid-step, chest heaving. “Sorry,” he says, even though he knows he isn’t. His body keeps moving when his mind won’t settle.
Mingi saunters in with a water bottle and raises an eyebrow. “You’re nervous,” he accuses with zero hesitation.
Yunho scoffs, grabbing the bottle like it might shield him. “I’m not nervous.”
“Uh-huh.” Mingi makes a show of stretching. “So the reason you’ve repeated your solo eight times is… cardio?”
Yunho looks away. He doesn’t answer, he can’t. Because the truth is loud in his chest. There’s a chance she might be there. He doesn’t let the thought form fully, doesn’t let himself picture her in the crowd— but it’s there, hovering like static under his skin.
Naomi. The one person he didn’t expect to see again. The one person he hasn’t been able to forget.
A staff member walks by, waving a tablet. “Final ticket counts came in. Front section sold out in minutes. Fans were fighting for those seats.”
Yunho’s heart stutters— ridiculously, embarrassingly— because he knows exactly where she’d want to be. Close enough to see him and close enough that he’d see her.
Mingi watches him carefully. “She really meant that much to you, huh?”
Yunho avoids his gaze, grabbing a towel from the bench. “It’s not about that.”
It is. They both know it is. He weighs the sweat from his face, but his hands are shaking slightly, betraying him.
He imagines stepping on stage, the blinding lights, the roar of the crowd— and somewhere in that sea of people, her eyes finding his. His pulse kicks hard. He doesn’t know what would happen or what either of them would feel. If anything would show on his face before he could stop it.
Hongjoong calls rehearsal back to order. “Positions!”
Yunho exhales and walks to his mark.
For the first time in months, maybe longer… there’s something electric beneath his nerves. Not fear or pressure but hope.
He rolls his shoulders back, takes his stance, and lets a small, private smile tug at his lips. Ifhe’s really coming— he wants to dance like she’s the only one watching.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
Later that evening, Naomi sits on her bed scrolling through fan edits, heart pounding as she stops on a clip of Yunho smiling on stage. Her chest twists painfully— he looks so different, so grown, yet somehow the same. She turns her phone face-down, pressing it to her chest, breathing shallowly. Across the city, Yunho sits before a camera for a vlog, rehearsing lines but pausing, staring into the lens. “We’re visiting a… meaningful city soon,” he says softly. “I’m nervous. And excited.” He stops recording, letting the thought linger.
Naomi tries on outfit after outfit, questioning herself in the mirror. Cute? Casual? Not noticeable enough? Her friends bombard her with advice and teasing. Her heart feels tight, her stomach fluttering like it did all those years ago when she first realized she liked him. In a fitting room miles away, Yunho’s stylist adjusts his jacket. Seonghwa studies him silently. “You look good,” he says, smirking. “Someone important might think so too.” Yunho goes red, tugs at the zipper, and looks away shyly with a small smile.
The night before the concert, Naomi walks home through a soft wind, streetlights painting the pavement gold. Her steps slow as memories rush through her— him laughing in the sunlight, his hand brushing hers. Under the same night sky, Yunho leans on the rooftop railing, night air pressing against him, the same wind stirring his hair. He imagines her in the crowd. His chest tightens.
Their phones glow almost simultaneously with a countdown reminder: 1 day.
Naomi whispers, “I’m not ready.”
At the same moment, Yunho exhales, “I hope I’m ready.”
And somewhere between the city streets and the hotel rooftop, anticipation hums like electricity— two hearts unknowingly drawing closer, destined to collide.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The line to the venue buzzes with energy. Fans chatter, wave lightsticks, and shout in anticipation. Naomi tightens her grip on her ticket, feeling her pulse thump against her ribs. Angel and Nabi chatter nonstop behind her, practically bouncing on their heels, while Savvina keeps a hand on Naomi’s shoulder like an anchor.
“Front section,” Angel whispers excitedly, nudging Naomi. “You ready for this?”
Naomi swallows hard. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her voice is steadier than she feels. Her stomach flips, a mixture of nerves, hope, and excitement.
The security guard scans their tickets, and the gates swing open. The roar of the crowd hits them immediately— a wave of sound, light, and energy. Naomi blinks, momentarily overwhelmed, her friends’ hands brushing hers for reassurance. They weave through the crowd, following the signs to their section. Angel practically drags them forward, weaving through excited fans while Naomi’s gaze flits nervously to the stage. When they reach their row, Naomi’s eyes widen. These are the seats they fought for: front section, almost center. She takes a deep breath, letting the sight of the stage sink in. The buzz of the crowd mixes with her own rapid heartbeat.
Nabi whispers, gripping Naomi’s arm. “This… is insane.”
Savvina nudges Naomi gently. “Go ahead. Take it all in.”
Naomi hands clutch her ticket as she gazes at the stage. Her chest tightens, her pulse racing as she imagines the boy she hasn’t seen in years, standing there somewhere, ready to perform.
Angel leans over her shoulder, grinning. “Don’t faint before it even starts, okay?”
Naomi laughs softly, though her voice trembles slightly. She glances around at the screaming fans, the glowing lightsticks, the stage, and allows herself a single thought: he’s really here.
Her stomach twists, a mix of anticipation and fear. And then the lights dim. The first notes of music pulse through the arena. Naomi holds her breath, knowing the moment she’s been waiting for is finally about to come.
Her eyes scan the stage, catching each member as they move with precision, charisma, and fire. Hongjoong’s commanding energy, Seonghwa’s striking stage presence, San’s infectious grin— every familiar face sparks memories of their childhood.
And then… Yunho.
Naomi freezes, stomach twisting as he steps into the spotlight. The way he moves, confident yet effortless, pulls her gaze instantly. His hair falls just right, the lights catching his profile, the smile he flashes at the crowd so practiced but undeniably genuine. Her chest constricts, and she presses her hand to her mouth, afraid she’ll scream and give herself away.
She can’t look away. The years fall away— the memories of shared laughter, the afternoons of silly games, quiet talks in the park— flooding her mind all at once.
Her friends notice. Angel nudges her elbow. “Naomi… you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“I’m… fine,” Naomi whispers, voice tight. “It’s just… seeing him. I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
Nabi leans in, eyes wide. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Naomi nods, though her attention is fixed entirely on Yunho. Every move he makes, every gesture, draws her in further. She feels an ache in her chest she doesn’t quite understand— pride, longing, and a pinch of fear.
The performance ends with a dazzling flourish. The crowd roars, and Naomi joins in automatically, shouting, clapping, feeling alive in a way she hasn’t in years.
Yunho’s eyes catch a movement in the crowd that makes him pause, ever so slightly.
She’s cheering— laughing, shouting, waving her light stick like every other fan, but something about the way she’s alive in that moment stops him. Her hair catches the lights, her eyes wide and sparkling, she looks… exactly like he remembers.
Yunho freezes mid-step, heart hammering in his chest. For a second, the world tilts sideways— the screaming fans, the blinding lights, the pounding bass— none of it matters.
She looks up.
Their eyes meet.
A shock run through them.
She blinks, realization dawning in her expression, her mouth parting slightly as she grips her light stick, barely breathing. His chest tightens. Years of distance, words left unsaid, and feelings never confessed compress into that single instant of connection.
The music continues. He forces himself to move, to finish the song, but every step, every gesture is sharper, charged with a new energy. She’s there. She sees him.
The world hasn’t changed as much as he thought. She’s still her. And he can’t let this moment slip away.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The dressing room explodes with noise the moment the members tumble inside— laughter, heavy breathing, clothes hitting the floor, Wooyoung yelling about a zipper mishap for the fifth time.
Hongjoong tosses his mic pack onto the counter. Seonghwa’s already getting his hair fixed in the mirror. San and Mingi are wrestling over who gets the fresh towel.
It feels normal— until Yunho shuts the door behind him, chest rising and falling, eyes wide.
Wooyoung notices first. “Uh… why do you look like you just saw a ghost? Or worse— your middle school report card?”
Yunho swallows. “I saw them.”
Everyone freezes.
“Who?” Jongho asks, mid-sip of water.
Yunho licks his lips. “Naomi. And Nabi. Angel. Savvina. Front section.”
The room erupts.
Mingi almost drops his towel. “NO WAY— really?!”
San lights up instantly. “Nabi’s here?!”
Seonghwa presses a hand to his heart dramatically. “My babies… I haven’t seen them in forever.
Hongjoong grins at the mirror. “They actually came? Wow. After all these years…”
Wooyoung is already pacing. “Did they look the same? Are they taller? Did Naomi bring snacks like she used to? Why didn’t she throw them onstage? I would have caught them—”
Yunho steps in, “They looked… good. Happy. Older. Different, but still themselves.” His voice dips when he reaches one name. “Naomi looked…” He trails off.
San shoots him a knowing smirk. “She looked amazing, didn’t she?”
Yunho doesn’t answer, which is the answer.
Hongjoong claps loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen. We’re bringing them backstage after the show.”
The members cheer like they just won tickets.
“Finally!” Mingi laughs. “I’ve been waiting years to see them again.”
Seonghwa nods, smiling warmly. “It’ll be good. They were a part of our life before any of… this.”
Yunho fidgets, tension running through him. “Yeah. I really do want to see them— all of them.”
Hongjoong drapes an arm around him. “It’s fine. I’ll sort it out and get their names cleared with security.”
Wooyoung’s smirk turns mischievous. “Yunho, fix your hair before she sees you. Naomi never liked when your bangs were—”
A towel smacks him mid-sentence. Laughter fills the room again, but it carries a new weight— something tender and full of memory.
They aren’t just prepping for their next performance… they’re preparing to face the people who knew them long before the spotlight, the ones who made saying goodbye the toughest part of chasing their dream.
And for Yunho, the thought of seeing Naomi again makes the next song feel like it can’t end fast enough.
The bass drops for the next hype song, flames shooting up at the sides of the stage as the boys get into formation. The crowd is electric, screaming the opening lines…
And the boys? They are instantly, unmistakably not okay. Not when four very familiar faces are somewhere in the front section.
It starts with San. He charges in too confidently, too energized, and when the beat hits— he goes left instead of right. Yeosang is right there.
They collide like two NPCs with bad programming. Yeosang stabilizes himself, before he shoots San a vicious whisper.
San just grins, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking toward Nabi’s section as if that explains everything.
From there the chaos spreads.
Mingi attempts his iconic jump in the chorus— and nearly kneecaps Hongjoong.
Hongjoong yanks his head back, gripping the mic like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth.
His eyes lock onto Mingi’s with a silent warning so powerful it might as well be telepathic. Mingi gulps and nods— fast, frantic, like a man who has seen the afterlife and come back changed.
Wooyoung is waving at the wrong person. Again.
He thinks he sees Naomi?.. No, Savvina?. He definitely does not see either of them.
He is enthusiastically waving at a teenage boy in a bucket hat. The boys try not to laugh every time they pass him. They fail.
Seonghwa completely misses his cue.
The camera zoom in on him for the big screen. He’s supposed to wink. Instead he squints into the crowd like a suspicious grandpa.
“Is that Angel…? Or a girl with similar hair?” he mutters, lips barely moving.
Fans scream anyway, unaware he is visually malfunctioning.
Jongho forgets a harmony.
Just… forgets. Because he’s whispering urgently to Yeosang between steps: “Point them out again. I lost them. I LOST THEM.”
Yeosang doesn’t even look at him. “You’re in their direction right now.”
Yeosang freezes mid-move and stares way too intensely at the crowd.
Even Hongjoong breaks.
He fights for professionalism— he fights for his life. But the moment he spots Savvina belting the chorus like she owns it, Angel dancing like she’s in a survival show, Nabi waving her banner like a weapon— that does it. His whole face explodes into the goofiest grin known to mankind. He misses his cue so hard Wooyoung actually chokes on air.
And Yunho… Yunho is completely undone.
He tries to play it cool, tries to focus. But then he sees her. Naomi. Cheering, light stick waving, smiling in that soft, bright way he hadn’t seen in years.
And Yunho stops. Mid-dance. Mid-beat. Mid-everything. He just stares.
Wooyoung bumps his shoulder on the pass-by, not even subtle “UM— HELLO? MOVE!”
Yunho jerks back into formation like someone just hit his internal restart button. A full, wide-eyed, system reboot. And the worst part? He’s smiling. He can’t stop.
To the crowd, the show looks extra fun. To the boys, it feels like trying to perform while their entire childhood sits ten feet away.
Professionalism? Gone. Training? Out the window. Cool image? Dead on arrival.
They’re boys again. Excited, overwhelmed, and performing like absolute menaces because the people who watched them grow up are finally watching them shine.
Savvina tilts her head, analyzing like she’s reviewing battlefield footage. “Hongjoong keeps checking our section. That’s.. very suspicious.”
Nabi bites the inside of her cheek, eyes darting between members. “Wooyoung is literally grinning at nothing. Something is absolutely happening.”
Naomi tries— tries — to act unaffected, but her heart is pounding so hard she can feel it in her fingertips.
On stage, Yeosang is attempting to execute a perfectly cool turn… and then accidentally meets Angel’s eyes, freezes for half a beat, and abruptly spins the wrong direction.
Angel clasps her chest dramatically. “Oh my GOD he malfunctioned. Did you all see that? He LOOKED at us and GLITCHED.”
Savvina snorts. “Classic.”
Then Jongho starts his powerhouse high note— normally unshakeable— but his voice cracks the tiniest bit when he spots Nabi grinning up at him.
Nabi covers her mouth. “No way. Did I just break him?!”
“Guys,” Angel hisses, grabbing Naomi and shaking her by the shoulders. “They know we’re here. They KNOW.”
Naomi swallows hard, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t think they’d actually notice us.”
Savvina laughs under her breath, almost proud. “Naomi. Yunho hasn’t looked anywhere else since the chorus. If he stares any harder he’s going to fall off the stage.”
Naomi hides her face in her hands— again. “I can’t do this. I can’t breathe. Why does he look like that?”
Before anyone can tease her, the lights shift and the choreography moves the boys closer to the front of the stage.
Yunho passes their section. And he smiles. A small, stunned, real one.
The girls collectively lose all structural integrity.
Angel screams. Nabi smacks Savvina’s arm. Savvina grips the barricade like she’s about to ascend to another plane. Naomi feels her knees buckle, heart completely unspooled.
“He SMILED,” Angel howls over the crowd. “HE SMILED AT YOU, NAOMI—”
Naomi is absolutely, completely gone.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The lights flare back on, the music erupts, and the boys burst onto stage in fresh outfits. Polished. Confident. Every inch the global idols they’ve become.
But the girls can tell.
They’re flustered. Trying— and failing— to act normal.
Nabi is bouncing in her seat. “Yeosang is messing up his timing! AGAIN! This is HILARIOUS.”
“JONGHO’S HIGH NOTE IS A CRIME,” Savvina yells.
Angel slams her hand on Savvina’s thigh. “If Seonghwa keeps looking over here, I’m going feral.”
“PLEASE don’t,” Savvina deadpans, fanning her with her hand.
Naomi tries to keep her focus on the stage, but her heart is racing. Every time Yunho dances near their side, her pulse jumps. And then— he does one move wrong.
Small. Barely noticeable but she sees it.
Angel gasps like she witnessed a murder. “He SAW you! HE SAW YOU AND HIS BRAIN CRASHED!”
Naomi covers her face. “No—stop—he didn’t—please—”
Her cheeks burn.
Savvina shoves a water bottle at her. “You’re overheating.”
“I can’t drink water,” Naomi whispers, horrified. “What if he looks at me WHILE I’m drinking?”
All three scream-laugh at that.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The boys line up and bow in unison. The entire arena roars.
Confetti swirls like snow. The lights bloom gold. The music swells dramatically— as if the universe itself wants to slow the moment down.
Naomi watches Yunho rise, smiling at the crowd… but he glances toward their section one more time.
Just once. Just enough for her to feel it. Her chest aches in that nostalgic, beautiful, terrifying way. And then the boys run off backstage laughing right before the stage goes dark.
The venue empties slowly, the excited roar fading into scattered conversations and the rustle of fans heading toward the exits. The stage lights have dimmed to soft blues, casting the arena in a peaceful afterglow.
The girls remain in their seats for a moment, catching their breath.
Angel smooths her hair, still a little dazed. “They were… amazing.”
Savvina nods, hugging her jacket around her shoulders. “Every time they smiled, it felt unreal. Like they weren’t real people.”
Nabi exhales shakily. “I still can’t believe we were that close.”
Naomi doesn’t speak yet. She’s staring at the stage, replaying Yunho’s lingering glances— subtle, soft, nothing dramatic, but enough to set her heart trembling.
Angel notices her expression. “You doing okay?”
Naomi nods once, quietly. “Yeah. Just… taking it all in.”
They gather their things and join the flow of fans heading toward the stairs. The energy is calmer now, everyone pleasantly exhausted from the show.
Near the lower concourse, when the crowd thins, a staff member in a black headset steps to the side— just enough to get their attention, but not enough to draw any.
“Excuse me,” she says gently.
The girls pause.
Her approach is respectful, almost careful, as if trying not to startle them.
“Are you four together?” she asks.
“Um… yes?” Savvina responds cautiously.
The staff member checks her tablet, then gives a small, professional smile. “I was asked to find a group matching your description and bring you backstage.”
The girls freeze, but much quieter this time. No screams. Just four girls looking at each other with widening eyes, stunned silence, and barely contained nerves.
Naomi swallows. “T- They… want to see us?”
“Yes,” the staff member says. “If you’re comfortable with that, I can escort you.”
Nabi’s fingers curl around her bag strap. “Right now?”
“Yes. After the venue clears.”
Angel nudges Naomi gently, seeing her stunned expression. “Naomi?”
She exhales slowly, steadying herself. “…We’d like that,” she says softly.
The staff member steps aside and motions toward a quiet hallway marked Authorized Personnel Only.
A security guard joins just behind them— not imposing, just guiding.
The girls walk together. Quiet, nervous, hearts pounding in their chests.
Angel whispers, barely audible, “This is really happening.”
Nabi’s voice shakes in response. “It feels like a dream.”
Savvina keeps her arm lightly linked with Naomi’s, grounding her.
And Naomi… she walks forward with small, careful breaths— because somewhere behind those backstage doors waits someone she hasn’t stood in front of in years.
Someone who looked at her tonight with the softness of an unfinished story.
Meanwhile the dressing room is buzzing, but not loudly. Makeup artists pack up their kits. Stylists fold discarded stage jackets. A few staff members move quietly in and out with water bottles and towels.
But the boys? They’re not calm. Not even close.
Hongjoong keeps checking the clock on the wall, pretending he’s just tracking schedule notes. Seonghwa sits with perfect posture, hands folded neatly, but his knee hasn’t stopped bouncing for ten minutes. Wooyoung keeps fixing his hair even though he’s already styled for photos. San has rearranged the same pile of bracelets on the counter four times.
Yunho sits on the edge of a small armchair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white. He keeps watching the door and not subtly.
Wooyoung throws a towel at him. “Stop staring. You look like a puppy waiting for its owner.”
Seonghwa gently covers for him. “He’s nervous. Let him be.”
Yunho opens his mouth to deny it— then closes it again. Because he is nervous. His heart is pounding fast enough that he can feel it in his throat. He’s rehearsed a dozen things he might say when he sees Naomi again, but now every word feels too small.
What if she doesn’t want to talk? What if the moment onstage meant nothing to her? What if he’s read everything wrong?
“Mmm?” Hongjoong nudges him from where he’s leaning against the counter. “You’re quiet.”
Yunho forces a breath. “I just… want to make sure she’s okay.”
Hongjoong smiles knowingly. “You’ll see for yourself. Soon.”
A soft knock comes from the hallway and their manager pokes his head in. “They’re on their way.”
The room goes silent. Not tense— just full of something that feels like hope, and nerves tangled together.
The boys straighten up instinctively. Some stand. Some adjust their clothes. All of them hold their breath.
Footsteps approach from the hall— soft, hesitant, familiar.
Yunho stands without realizing it, heart thundering.
The knob turns.
And in that split second before he even sees them, Yunho feels the years collapse into this one moment, like the past is finally walking back into his life.
The door swings open.
Naomi, Angel, Savvina, and Nabi step inside, blinking against the bright backstage lights. Their eyes immediately find the boys— and the boys instantly lose any semblance of composure.
Yunho freezes mid-step. San chokes on his own breath. Wooyoung almost trips over his own feet. Seonghwa’s perfectly calm face cracks into a grin that could melt steel.
“OH MY GOD,” Angel bursts out, launching forward like a missile and nearly tackling Seonghwa.
Savvina attempts to hold her back, laughing. “Angel— CONTROL.”
Naomi hesitates, standing frozen for a heartbeat… until Yunho’s eyes lock with hers.
Time slows.
Then everything explodes.
Yunho bolts forward, barely restraining himself from hugging her immediately. Naomi stumbles backward, laughing and crying at the same time, as the others cheer, scream, and almost tackle each other in excitement.
Nabi is already hugging Jongho and San simultaneously.
Yeosang is giving high-fives to everyone like he’s won a championship. Wooyoung is dramatically kissing his hands to the girls, bowing, twirling… performing his own chaotic fan service routine. Seonghwa carefully grabs Angel in a hug, trying to stay elegant, but even he ends up laughing mid-embrace.
Yunho’s still embracing Naomi. Their hug is tentative at first— like a balancing act between all the pent-up years of feelings and the awkwardness of being back together after so long.
Then it collapses into something chaotic and beautiful.
Yunho squeezes her like he can’t let go, finally whispering only for her. “I’ve missed this… I missed you.”
Naomi swallows hard, eyes glistening. “I’ve… missed you too.”
Wooyoung dramatically yells. “CAN YOU TWO STOP STARING AT EACH OTHER AND JOIN THE CHAOS?!”
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The reunion is still loud and messy when Hongjoong suddenly claps his hands like a dad gathering overstimulated children. “Okay! Before we all pass out from emotions— dinner. Now. Everyone, move!”
Angel cheers instantly. “YES, FEED ME!”
Wooyoung throws an arm around her. “See? She understands priorities.”
Savvina lifts a brow. “Wait— like… actual dinner? With you guys?”
Mingi looks personally offended. “Uh, yeah? You think we’re letting you leave after ten minutes? No way.”
Nabi laughs, adjusting her bag. “Are we even allowed—?”
“Allowed?” San gasps dramatically. “Nabi. Sweet Nabi. Baby, we are the rules.”
Naomi snorts. “That’s definitely not how that works.”
Yunho grins and nudges her shoulder gently. “Just say yes.”
“I didn’t say no!” she fires back, flustered.
They end up in a cozy, dimly lit Korean bbq place the boys swear by, the kind that stays open until sunrise and knows them so well they don’t even blink when eight idols plus four women tumble inside like a storm.
The staff leads them to a big private room in the back.
The moment the door closes— chaos, immediate and unfiltered.
Wooyoung dives into a seat. San slides into the booth like a baseball player stealing home. Angel tries to sit next to Seonghwa, but Mingi scoots in so fast he traps her on the end.
“I—I didn’t agree to this seating arrangement—” she protests.
Mingi beams. “Too late! I’m starving!”
Nabi tries to sit between Hongjoong and Jongho, but Hongjoong moves her like a chess piece. “Nope. You’re here. I need peace on this side.”
“HEY!” San shouts from across the table.
Naomi ends up beside Yunho, somehow, without anyone forcing it— which makes both of them a little too aware of each other.
Wooyoung notices and wiggles his eyebrows. Yunho kicks him under the table.
They eat, passing plates and laughter back and forth. They tease, poking fun at old habits and new quirks alike. They catch up, filling in years of missed moments with words, gestures, and stories that make the past feel alive again. They laugh— so hard that their sides ache, voices overlapping in a happy bubble that could only belong to them.
Somehow, amid the noise and movement, the years melt away. The table feels suspended in time, a space where the familiar and the new blend seamlessly.
And in the middle of it all— just for a heartbeat— Yunho looks at Naomi. Softly. Almost reverently. Like he still can’t quite believe she’s really here, really in front of him.
Naomi catches his gaze. Her cheeks flare, warm and tingling. She looks down, shy, but can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
Nabi leans toward Savvina, whispering conspiratorially, “We’re going to tease her about this for the rest of her life.”
Savvina grins. “Oh, absolutely.”
Across the table, a few of the boys glance their way. And then slowly, knowingly, the smirks begin.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The elevator doors glide open, releasing all twelve of them into the hallway with the kind of chaotic energy that can only come from childhood friends who haven’t been together in years.
Angel practically skips beside Seonghwa, still starstruck. Savvina gently pushes Mingi forward when he slows down to inspect a vending machine like its art. Nabi is half-listening, half-smiling as Wooyoung animatedly retells a story she’s already heard twice.
Naomi walks quietly near the back, just beside Yunho.
Every laugh and footstep around them feels warm, familiar— but the space between her and Yunho feels charged in a way it never did before.
Hongjoong leads the way to the suite at the end of the hall and taps his keycard.
The door clicks open. When they get inside the whole scene is loud and ridiculous— but in a nostalgic way, like the grown-up version of their chaotic teen hangouts.
Naomi stands in the doorway, laughing softly under her breath as she watches everyone scatter around the room.
Then— a gentle touch on her arm. She turns to find Yunho beside her, closer than she realized, eyes warm despite the dim hallway light.
“Um,” he says quietly, voice softer than anything happening behind them. “Would you… walk with me for a bit? Just us?”
The world slows. Not dramatically— just enough that she feels her heartbeat rise into her throat.
Her instinct is to look back at the group. Angel is already giving her the ‘don’t you dare say no’ face. Nabi’s eyebrows curve into a go, girl arch. Savvina is giving double thumbs-up like a proud little league coach.
Naomi exhales a tiny laugh and nods. “I’d like that.”
Yunho doesn’t visibly react— but his entire posture loosens, like he just let go of something heavy.
He steps aside, holding the door for her as she slips into the hallway. The noise of their friends fades behind them— the laughter, the teasing.
The door closes with a soft click. And suddenly, it’s quiet. Just Naomi and Yunho. A hallway washed in warm hotel lights. Footsteps soft against the carpet. Years of silence walking between them, finally ready to be broken.
The walk to the rooftop is wrapped in a quiet that isn’t awkward— just full of things neither of them has said yet. Their footsteps echo softly in the stairwell, and every few steps their arms brush, gentle and electric. And each stolen glance says more than either of them dares to speak aloud.
The door creaks softly as Yunho pushes it open, a faint rush of cool night air brushing past them.
Naomi steps out onto the rooftop and pauses. The city stretches out beneath them— warm lights, distant traffic, the hum of nightlife drifting upward. Above them, the sky is clear enough to see a scattering of stars.
It’s quiet. Still. Private. The kind of place where truths feel easier to say.
Yunho watches her for a moment, hands tucked nervously into his pockets. They walk to the railing, side by side, gazing out at the city. For a moment, neither speaks.
Naomi grips the railing gently. “You were amazing tonight. All of you. I’m… really proud of you.”
Yunho’s voice is quiet. “It meant more seeing you there than you know.”
She turns to him, surprised. He’s already looking at her. Not with confusion but with clarity.
The wind lifts her hair, brushing it across her cheek. Yunho hesitates— then gently tucks it behind her ear. His fingers linger.
Naomi swallows. “Yunho… why did you bring me up here?”
He exhales, shakier than he intends. “Because if I said this in front of the others, Wooyoung would scream, San would cry and Mingi would tell everyone on live.”
She snorts softly, but her breath hitches. Because she knows where this is going— because she’s terrified of where this is going.
Yunho steps closer. Just a little. Just enough that she feels the warmth of him.
“When I left,” he says slowly, “I thought I could come back one day and tell you everything. I thought I’d be brave by then. I thought… I’d have the right words.”
Her chest tightens.
“But then training happened. Debut happened. Time just—” He swallows. “It slipped away.”
He looks down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But my feelings didn’t.”
The rooftop feels too quiet. Her heartbeat feels too loud.
“Yunho…”
“I loved you,” he says, voice trembling with sincerity. “And I never stopped. Not once. Not for a single day.”
Her breath catches hard. The city lights blur.
He steps closer again, careful but certain, his voice soft but full of everything he kept to himself for years. “I don’t care how complicated it is,” he says.
“I don’t care about rumors, or timing, or what anyone thinks.”
His thumb brushes over her skin, warm and steady. “I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t lose you again.”
Naomi feels her eyes burn, the rooftop lights blurring softly. She squeezes his hand, whispering, “Yun… I wanted to tell you and I regretted it for so long.”
He freezes. “What did you want to tell me?”
She breathes shakily. “That I loved you too.”
Silence. Beautiful, breathless silence.
Yunho’s eyes soften in a way that almost breaks her. Very slowly, he lifts a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushes the corner of her eye, catching the tear that escapes.
“Can I…” His voice cracks. “Can I kiss you?”
Naomi nods— once, small, trembling. Yunho leans in gently, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t.
Their lips meet in a soft, careful kiss— the kind that feels like years of unsaid words melting into one moment. The kind that feels like a beginning long overdue.
Naomi’s hands curl lightly into his jacket. Yunho pulls her closer, breath shaking as he kisses her deeper, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go.
When they separate, their foreheads rest together, breaths mixing, hearts racing.
She looks up at him with eyes still shining, lips parted, cheeks flushed by the cold air and the confession and the kiss they finally shared. That look— it undoes him. Completely.
He leans in again, this time without hesitation, one hand cupping her jaw while the other slips to her waist, pulling her against him.
Their lips meet harder this time— a kiss that isn’t careful or tentative, but hungry with all the years they lost, all the feelings they buried, all the moments they never got to have.
Naomi rises on her toes, fingers threading into the back of his hair as she kisses him back just as fiercely.
Yunho’s breath stutters, and he deepens the kiss, mouth moving with hers in a slow, passionate rhythm that sends warmth rushing through both of them despite the cold rooftop air. She feels the tremble in his hands. He feels the trembling in hers.
When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless— faces inches apart, chests rising and falling in sync.
Yunho rests his forehead against hers again, but this time his smile is different. Softer. Happier. A little wrecked, in the best way.
“Years,” he whispers, voice warm and unsteady. “I’ve waited years to kiss you like that.”
Naomi swallows, cheeks burning, lips tingling, heart racing. “Me too,” she whispers back.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Yunho says, eyes full of hope. “I’m not losing you again.”
“Then you’re not.” She smiles softly.
Yunho’s expression shifts— something relieved, something overwhelmed, something impossibly tender.
He leans down and kisses her once more— gentle, lingering, full of gratitude and affection. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise rather than a question.
“We should… probably go back,” he murmurs, though neither of them moves.
Naomi laughs softly. “We should.”
“After one more,” Yunho says.
And he kisses her again, quick and sweet, stealing her breath and smile all at once.
Finally, fingers intertwined, they turn toward the stairwell door.
Still holding hands, smiling like they’re stepping into a future they both finally get to choose.
Naomi smooths her hair with shaking hands. Yunho tries to fix his hoodie. Both of them are still flushed, lips a little swollen, hearts absolutely not recovered.
By the time they reach the door, they both try to look normal. Straightening themselves as if they hadn’t just been making out like they were starving for each other.
When Yunho opens the door the boys are loud, mid-story, mid-teasing, sprawled all over the room— until they see the couple step inside.
Holding hands.
Flushed.
Avoiding eye contact like they’ve committed a crime.
The room goes quiet. Not loud-shock quiet. Not dramatic-gasp quiet. Just… knowing.
Hongjoong looks up first, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. Seonghwa’s lips twitch into a soft, graceful smile like he’d been expecting this moment for years. San nudges Mingi with the most obvious “I told you so” face on the planet.
Jongho tries to act normal but fails immediately, biting back a grin. Yeosang crosses his arms, smirking to himself as if he solved the final piece of a puzzle.
The girls are no better. Angel spots their linked hands and inhales sharply, eyes gleaming like she’s discovered hidden treasure. Savvina’s grin is slow, delighted, knowing. Nabi’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and she leans forward just a little, like she’s watching a drama play out in real-time.
Not a single word is spoken but everyone sees everything.
Yunho tries to look casual, but his flushed ears and soft smile betray him instantly. Naomi’s fingers tighten around his, her cheeks warm, eyes shy but glowing.
Angel leans toward Wooyoung, whispering behind her hand, “They kissed.”
Wooyoung snorts. “No duh. Look at them.”
Hongjoong finally breaks the silence— not with a question, not with a tease, but with a simple, warm, “Welcome back.”
The room settles again, conversations slowly resume. But the air shifted— softer, warmer. Like everyone silently agreed: something changed on that rooftop.
And they’re all quietly, overwhelmingly happy about it.
They stayed close for the rest of the night, orbiting each other like gravity had quietly pulled them back together. Every glance lingered a little too long. Every smile came with a blush neither of them tried to hide. It felt easy, familiar, like slipping back into something they never truly lost.
When Hongjoong offhandedly mentioned they had a week of free time before the next round of preparations began, Yunho didn’t let the moment pass.
He asked Naomi out before the night could end.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The park is quieter than usual.
Most families are gone, the crowds thinned to couples and small groups lingering under glowing lights. Music drifts lazily through the air, rides humming, neon reflections shimmering across the pavement.
Naomi takes it all in, eyes bright. “An amusement park?” she says, amused. “Very bold choice.”
Yunho shrugs, pretending he’s calmer than he is. “We figured you’d like it.”
She arches a brow. “We?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Okay— everyone knew. But this part is just us.”
She laughs, then steps closer, slipping her fingers into his belt loop instead of his hand.
Yunho freezes.
“Oh,” she says innocently. “Is this okay? Or is this too distracting?”
His ears immediately turn red. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he says.
Naomi grins. “Absolutely.”
They start with rides. Naomi insists on sitting next to him every time— leaning just a little too close, laughing too loud in his ear, gripping his arm during drops even when she’s clearly not scared.
On the roller coaster, she screams dramatically— then presses her mouth close to his ear mid-drop.
“Don’t worry,” she shouts over the rush. “I’ll protect you!”
Yunho laughs breathlessly, adrenaline and her closeness doing dangerous things to his focus. When they get off, his hands are still warm where she held him.
“You having fun?” she asks sweetly.
“You’re evil,” he replies and she beams.
By the time they reach the Ferris wheel, the park lights feel softer, the night deeper. They sit alone in the car as it begins its slow ascent, the noise of the park fading beneath them.
Naomi swings her foot lazily, eyes tracing the city lights below. “This feels dangerous,” she says.
Yunho glances at her. “Because it’s high up?”
“No.” She turns toward him, smile slow and knowing. “Because you keep looking at me like that.”
His jaw tightens— just slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying very hard to behave.” She scoots closer. The Ferris wheel creaks gently, swaying just enough to be noticeable.
Yunho exhales, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“I waited years,” she says lightly. “I think I’ve earned it.”
She tilts his chin up with her finger and kisses him— slow, deliberate, testing his restraint. His hand goes instinctively to her waist, firm but careful, like he’s grounding himself.
When they pull back, his voice is lower.
“Naomi…”
She smiles, pleased. “Yes?”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
“I know.”
They’re walking slowly now, ice cream cones melting faster than either of them expected. Naomi has mint chip. Yunho has double chocolate.
She takes a bite, hums dramatically, and then without warning, leans over and taps her spoon against his cone.
“Trade,” she says.
He blinks. “What?”
“I want to try yours.”
“You could’ve just asked—”
Too late. She takes a neat bite from his cone, lips closing around the edge just long enough to make Yunho’s brain short-circuit. She pulls back, eyes sparkling.
“Mmm,” she hums. “Sweet.”
Yunho stares at the cone. Then at her. Then back at the cone. “You...”
Naomi smiles innocently and licks a bit of chocolate off her thumb. “Hm?”
He exhales slowly through his nose. She laughs and bumps her shoulder into his as they walk.
They pass beneath a string of lights, the park glowing softer now, quieter. Naomi drifts closer, pressing her side into Yunho’s arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world— because it is.
She tilts her head up at him.
“You’ve been really well-behaved tonight.”
He lifts a brow. “Have I?”
“Yes,” she says easily. “Very patient, very polite.” She pauses, lips curving. “I wonder how long that’ll last.”
Yunho stops walking. It takes her one more step to realize he’s no longer beside her. Naomi turns.
He’s looking at her like she just dared him.
“Sweetheart,” he says quietly as he steps closer, voice dropping, “you keep testing me.”
She backs up just enough to keep space between them, smile slow and knowing. “I told you,” she says. “I waited years.”
She lifts her ice cream and deliberately takes another lick— eyes never leaving his. Yunho’s grip tightens around his cone.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and honest, “I’m trying really hard to respect you.”
Her smile softens, just a little. “I know.” Then, playful again, “That’s why this is fun.”
She reaches up, swiping a small smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
Yunho’s breath stutters.
She doesn’t pull away right away. “Messy,” she murmurs.
His hand comes up instinctively, catching her wrist— not rough, just steady. Grounding. His thumb presses lightly against her pulse.
“Naomi,” he warns softly.
She meets his gaze, eyes warm, teasing, and a little daring. “Yes?”
He leans in— not kissing her, not yet— just close enough that their noses brush, close enough that she feels his breath against her skin.
“If you keep doing this,” he murmurs, “I’m going to stop being patient.”
Her heart jumps. The words send a shiver down her spine. She hides her smirk badly, then slowly pulls her hand back.
“Good,” she says lightly, resuming their walk like nothing happened. “I was starting to worry.”
Yunho follows, shaking his head, laughing under his breath— his mind already made up. He reaches for her hand again, fingers lacing with hers this time, firm, like he’s reclaiming control.
They keep walking, ice cream finished, lights glowing overheard, tension humming between them like electricity.
They don’t stop at the booth this time. Yunho guides her farther— past the dim lights, past the last wandering couples— until the noise of the park fades into a low hum. They reach a quiet overlook, shadows stretching long, the city glowing softly beyond the gates.
Naomi turns, already ready with another teasing remark— but Yunho closes the distance. He backs her gently against the railing, the cool metal meeting her spine as his presence surrounds her.
Not rushed. Not rough. Just intentional enough to make her pulse spike. Her fingers curl behind her, gripping the railing as she looks up at him.
One of his hands braces beside her, palm flat against the metal. The other settles firmly at her hip, thumb pressing in slow, deliberate circles that make it impossible to forget where he’s touching her— or why. He doesn’t kiss her yet.
“Look at me,” he says, low.
She does.
There’s no teasing in his expression now. No playfulness. Just focus. Heat. The kind of restraint that’s been stretched thin far too long.
“You’ve been pushing me all night,” he murmurs. “Seeing how far I’d let you go.”
Her lips part. “And?”
“And I needed to be sure,” he continues, thumb pressing more firmly at her hip, grounding her, “that when I stop holding back… you’re ready for it.”
Her answer doesn’t waver. “I am.”
That’s all it takes. Yunho kisses her. Deep, slow, and confident— like he’s been waiting years for permission to lose himself in it.
It steals the air from her lungs, making her knees buckle as she leans into him without thinking. His hands tightens at her waist, pulling her closer until there’s nothing left between them.
Naomi gasps softly into his mouth as she melts into him, hands sliding up his chest, roaming— feeling the heat beneath his jacket before gripping the fabric hard, like she needs it to stay upright.
He breaks the kiss only to murmur against her lips, “Good.”
Then he’s back on her again— harder. Hungrier. Still controlled, but just barely. His hand moves, sliding from her waist to her lower back, keeping her pressed close. She feels the pressure, the intention, the unmistakable want behind it.
She makes a soft sound into his mouth. “Yunho—”
He doesn’t stop. His lips trail along her jaw, down to her neck, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch before he kisses her again.
He smiles— barely— against her lips. “You okay?” he asks, voice rougher now.
“Yes,” she breathes, already chasing him. “Don’t stop.”
So he doesn’t. The next kiss is slower, deeper, like he’s savoring her— mouth moving against hers with deliberate intensity. Naomi arches into him as her fingers find his neck, then his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into her mouth.
“Yunho,” Naomi whines, “Please.” She reaches lower, hands now roaming over his chest.
“Look at you,” His own hands roam at her sides, thumb pressing in just enough to make her shiver. “Begging already and I’ve barely touched you.”
“So do something about it.”
Yunho chuckles lowly before slowly kneeling, she watches him, his eyes never leave hers as he spreads her legs.
One hand wraps around the back of her thigh, hiking it up just enough to expose everything underneath her skirt to him. Her panties are already soaked. Naomi gasps softly when the cool breeze hits her core just as Yunho pulls the thin fabric aside.
Yunho groans at the sight. Loudly. “Fuck, look at you all ready for me,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, making her breath hitch.
Without warning his mouth was on her. The first swipe of his tongue is soft— just enough pressure to taste her. But the second swipe? Firm, flat, right against her clit.
Naomi’s legs nearly buckle but Yunho grabs her thighs, holding her open. His breath is hot against her as he devours her like it’s his last meal, tongue flicking and stroking with expert precision, all while moaning like it turns him on— because it does.
“Yun, I’m close.” Naomi moans gripping the railing for dear life.
“Cum for me, doll. Make a mess on my face.” Yunho’s chuckle turns into a groan of pleasure as he dives back in, his tongue lapping at her folds with renewed enthusiasm. Her hips rock forward, pushing into his face. His grip tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin as he pushes her over the edge.
Naomi cries out his name as her orgasm crashes over her, her body shaking from the intensity of it. The male laps up her juices, his grip on her never falter as she comes undone on his tongue. Her legs are trembling and her grip on the railing is the only thing keeping her upright. He pulls back, his mouth slick with her essence, a smug smile on his face as he looks up at her fucked out expression.
Yunho stands slowly, hands now gripping at her waist, holding her up firmly. Naomi can feel his body pressing into her and his hardness through his pants. She looks up at him, glazed eyes, bottom lip caught in between her teeth, as she palms his bulge.
He groans at the sight, at the feeling. His voice is gruff, eyes dark with need. "Come here."
She nods eagerly, stroking him through the fabric of his pants, her cheeks flushing as she helps him undo his belt. “I need you,” she murmurs, her voice a soft invitation.
Yunho kisses her hard, stealing the air from her lungs, letting her taste himself on his tongue. She moans breathily into his mouth. When they pull apart he turns her around. The railing is cold against her thighs as her palms brace against the edge. Namoi feels his warmth from behind, as Yunho comes up behind her, undoing only enough to free himself. He lifts her skirt, pulls her panties to the side, and slides into her with one slow, deep thrust.
He waits a few moments, letting her adjust to the impossible stretch of him. Naomi inhales sharply at the way he filled her— aching, perfect, deliciously deep. Yunho groans low from behind her, head falling back as his hips began to roll in deliberate movements.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, one hand stays braced on her hip, the other sneaking under her shirt and bra, pinching her nipple while he fucks her hard enough to make her thighs tremble. His thrusts are brutal but controlled, his rhythm punishing but intimate.
Naomi arched for him instinctively, ass pushing back, trying to take every inch of him. He growled as he snapped his hips forward. “Is this what you wanted?” he panted. “To be bent over like this in public? Soaked and shaking for me?”
Yunho’s pace quickened, wet, filthy slaps echoed out into the night, her cries rising with every stroke. “Say it,” he demanded, another thrust rocking her body. “Tell me you wanted this.”
“I wanted it,” she cried out, “I wanted you. Yun, please!”
One hand found her hair, tugging her up and flush against his chest, while the other kept her hips in place. “So take it,” he started pounding into her like a man possessed making her cry out again.
The new angle let him to reach deeper, his cock kissing the spot that had her seeing stars. “Oh my god—” Naomi gasps, the sound breaking into a shaky moan. “It’s too much— I can’t.”
“You can. You’re already taking me like your made for it.” His grip on her tightened, holding her there, unable to do anything but take every punishing thrust and moan his name like a sinful prayer. “So good for me,” he growled. “So fucking tight… fuck, baby…” his voice cracked.
“I’m gonna cum,” Yunho grunted deep as his thrusts turned frantic. “Gonna let me fill you full?”
“Yes, yes, fuck— please,” Naomi nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut, voice low and unsteady. She can feel another orgasm building as he hits her sweet spot over and over.
Yunho whimpers at her plea. He dips his head to her neck, lips pressing there with intention, teeth catching just enough to mark the moment as his. That was the final blow that sent Naomi over the edge— she cried out as she shattered around him, squeezing his cock so tight his hips faltered for a second.
With a few more devastating thrusts he came, hard, hips pressed deep, still rolling as he painted her insides.
“Take it… fucking take every last drop, fuck” He moans broken, desperate— his whole body trembling with the force of it.
They don’t move. Not yet. Both of them breathe hard, pressed together, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Just melded to each other for a couple of minutes until he carefully slides out of her and adjusts their clothes.
Yunho lingers behind Naomi, forehead pressed to her shoulder, hands firm at her waist like he’s afraid she might disappear. Hair wrecked. Cheeks warm with the afterglow of what they’d just done.
Naomi exhales slowly, shoulders easing beneath his touch. Skin warm. Hair undone. Cheeks flushed. Still catching her own breath from everything.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly, voice gentler now. “You okay?”
Naomi nods at first, then exhales slowly. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need,” he says immediately.
His hands loosen, thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles at her sides. Not demanding. Not urgent. Just there. When she shifts slightly, he adjusts with her, keeping her warm and steady.
After a moment, he reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing once— soft, reassuring.
“Still with me?” he asks quietly.
She smiles, tired and warm, leaning back into his chest. “Yeah. I am.”
He presses a gentle kiss to her temple, then another to her hair, lingering. He doesn’t want to rush this part. It matters just as much. Yunho stays close, one hand still warm at her waist, the other brushing lightly along her arm like he’s checking in without asking again.
After a moment, he tilts his head, glancing toward the path leading away from the overlook.
“I saw a restroom just around the corner,” he says quietly. “Back when we walked past earlier.”
Naomi hums softly, nodding. “That sounds… really nice right now.”
He smiles faintly, relief easing into his expression. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He takes her hand again, slow and steady, and leads her away from the railing. They walk close enough that their shoulders brush with every step, the quiet between them comfortable now— settled.
The restroom is empty when they step inside, the lights low, humming softly overhead. Yunho lets the door close behind them, locks it, then turns back to her.
“Sit for a second,” he says gently, guiding her toward the counter. “I’ll grab some paper towels.”
She does, leaning back against the cool surface, watching him move around with an almost domestic ease— careful, attentive, still very much focused on her.
His hands are steady as he cleans her, gentle and attentive, eyes focused like this is the most important thing in the world. He murmurs soft reassurances under his breath, checks in with quiet “Is this okay?” and “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
When he’s finished, he presses a soft kiss to her temple, then her forehead, before tossing the towel and grabbing one for himself.
“Better?” He asks.
She nods, “Much. Thank you.”
“How do you feel?” he whispers. Not the careful check from before— this one is softer. Personal.
Naomi hums, “ I feel… good— amazing actually.”
His shoulders ease, like he’s been holding something there this whole time. His hand slips to her waist again— not gripping, just resting. Familiar. Protective.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I was worried I might’ve—”
She cuts him off with a small smile, shaking her head. “You didn’t.”
Her fingers curl lightly around the hem of his sleeve, grounding him the way he’s been grounding her. “If anything,” she adds quietly, “I’ve waited too long for that.”
Yunho chuckled lowly, a soft sound that feels like relief. He smiles just a little, nose brushing hers. “So have I,” he admits, barely audible. “More than you know.”
There’s a pause. The kind that stretches, heavy but warm.
He dips his head, voice even lower now. “You done teasing me?”
Naomi laughs under her breath, eyes bright. “Absolutely not.”
He laughs, thumb brushing once at her waist like a warning he doesn’t actually mean. “Dangerous,” he whispers.
She leans in, lips just grazing his cheek. “You love it.”
He doesn’t deny it because he absolutely does love it. Instead, he presses a soft kiss to her temple— lingering, careful, full of things neither of them are ready to say out loud yet.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s go before someone notices we’ve disappeared.”
She nods, squeezing his hand once before letting him lead her back out.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The rest of the week passes gently, like it doesn’t want to rush them.
They find time in quiet pockets— late-night walks, shared meals, laughter that comes easy. Somewhere between soft conversations and unspoken understanding, they talk about his schedule, the distance, the reality of his life on the road. It’s never heavy. Just honest. They decide, together, to try— to choose each other without overthinking the future, to take it one day at a time.
The dates become something steady and sweet: fingers laced under tables, inside jokes whispered just for them, Yunho learning every small thing that makes Naomi light up. Every goodbye is met with a smile instead of dread, promises exchanged with the certainty that this isn’t ending— just continuing differently.
And when the week draws to a close, it doesn’t feel like an ending at all. It feels like the beginning of something they’re willing to grow into.
A year later
Life hadn’t slowed down, but it settled. Schedules blurred into routine, distance became familiar instead of daunting. Calls happened across time zones, voices softened by exhaustion and affection. Some days were long. Some weeks were harder than others. But they learned— how to wait, how to trust, how to hold space for each other even with miles stretched between them.
They grew— not apart, but around each other. And without either of them realizing exactly when it happened, they made it work.
They had carved out time to plan two weeks of summer vacation together, knowing the boys would have another break soon. The girls cleared their schedules without hesitation, buzzing with excitement for the trip. And before they knew it, the days had arrived— sooner than anyone expected.
By the time they pulled up to the villa, laughter was already spilling from the van. White walls, sun-warmed terraces, and a view of endless sand and sparkling ocean made them pause for a moment, taking it all in. No neighbors. No staff. Just the twelve of them— finally free to be loud, messy, and completely themselves.
Yunho stayed just behind Naomi, watching her with that familiar, quiet intensity, hand brushing hers whenever the wild energy pushed them close. She caught his gaze and grinned, leaning into him with that teasing energy that always made him lose his focus for a second.
As soon as they reach the sand, chaos takes over.
Wooyoung has taken it upon himself to start a sandcastle competition, dragging everyone into ridiculous alliances and alliances-breaking betrayals.
Jongho sneaks a water gun into the mix, aiming it at Mingi, who retaliates by tackling Seonghwa into the surf. The girls are laughing, shrieking, and occasionally joining Yunho and Naomi’s private little battles— flicks of water, brushes of hands, stolen glances.
Amid all the mayhem, there’s a rhythm. Laughter echoing over the waves, shouts blending with the ocean, flirty nudges and playful pushes— like the beach itself is alive with them.
At some point, Yunho catches Naomi in his arms mid-splash, laughing as she squirms and smacks his chest. “You think you’re safe now?” he teases.
“I am not!” she yells, though her grin gives her away. “Not until I’m soaked too!”
And the next minute, she’s dragging him into the surf, yelling at everyone to watch them “get each other back,” while the rest of the group explodes into shrieks, cheers, and mock commentary.
By the time the sun dips toward the horizon, the sand is trampled, everyone drenched, sun-kissed, and laughing until their sides ache. Hair is wild, cheeks flushed, and the air hums with playful energy, stolen touches, and quiet, heated moments. There, on the sun-soaked beach, surrounded by friends, waves and each other, everything felt endless.
Guys my bff wrote this for me ilhsm pls check it out it’s so 🥹🥹🥹
Where The City Can’t Reach Us
Chapter 1: The Contract
Next; Ch. 2
Pairing: Bodyguard!Hongjoong x fem!reader!
Genre/AU: mafia, arranged marriage, soulmates, bodyguard, slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, angst, love triangle (subverted)
Wc: 5.4k
Summary: A marriage meant to control you becomes a shield instead. Seonghwa offers protection without possession. Hongjoong is assigned to guard you and becomes something far more dangerous.
At your first public gala, a warning shot proves you aren’t fragile and your father no longer holds the reins.
The city watches.
The lines shift.
And the game begins.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. This is just for fun, nothing more. You are responsible for the content you consume.
Warnings/Ratings: 18+ MDNI!! Cussing, violence, mention of weapons (guns, knives, etc), threats, toxic behavior (from y/n’s father), kidnapping, reader gets held captive, use of pet names, multiple orgasms, praise, oral (both give and receive), aftercare. I think I’ve got them all! Please let me know if I missed anything.
Reading starts under the cut :)
The city learns your name before it ever learns your face.
It learns it in rooms where men speak softly but mean violence. In places where deals are written in ink and sealed in blood. In whispers that treat daughters like currency and marriages like leverage.
Your father sits at the head of the table like a man who has never doubted his own importance.
You sit to his right.
Still. Silent. Smiling.
“She understands her role,” your father says, gesturing vaguely toward you without looking. “I made sure of that.”
Across the table, Park Seonghwa listens.
He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t react. His presence fills the room without effort— composed, unyielding, quietly terrifying in a way your father mistakes for politeness.
“And what,” Seonghwa asks calmly, “is her role?”
Your father chuckles. “Don’t pretend this is unfamiliar territory. She’ll marry you. Give you legitimacy where you need it. And eventually”—he shrugs —“an heir. Preferably a son.”
Your fingers curl slowly into your palm.
Seonghwa’s gaze flicks to you— not appraising, not dismissive.
Curious.
“I don’t require an heir,” he says evenly.
Your father scoffs. “Everyone does.”
“Influence,” Seonghwa replies, “is not inherited. It’s maintained.”
A pause.
Your father’s smile tightens. “Careful.”
Seonghwa doesn’t blink. “I am.”
The contract stretches on for hours— shipping lanes, access points, arms supply routes, political insulation. Your father attempts to slip clauses into the margins like hidden blades. Seonghwa catches every single one.
“No,” he says softly at one point. “That benefits you disproportionately.”
“You insult me.”
“I observe you.”
The room goes cold.
You don’t look at the papers when they’re finally signed. You look at the man standing behind Seonghwa instead.
Kim Hongjoong doesn’t look like a bodyguard.
He’s too alert. Too alive. His posture is loose but ready, eyes constantly moving, cataloging threats before they exist. When his gaze meets yours, something sharp and unfamiliar twists low in your ribs.
Heat. Recognition. Wrongness.
Hongjoong stiffens.
For half a second, his expression cracks— surprise, confusion, something dangerously close to understanding.
Then it’s gone.
⸻
Seonghwa’s estate doesn’t feel like your father’s house.
There are no gaudy displays of wealth, no reminders of power carved into every surface. Everything here feels… deliberate. Thoughtful.
“You’ll have autonomy,” Seonghwa tells you that night as servants melt quietly into the background. “Your movements won’t be restricted unless there’s a threat.”
“And if I become one?” you ask lightly.
A pause.
“Then we’ll discuss it,” he says.
It almost sounds like a joke.
You’re not sure what to do with that.
Your room feels like a guest space rather than a cage. When you comment on the neutral decor the next morning, Seonghwa pauses.
“If you want changes,” he says, “you don’t need permission.”
You test the truth of that statement carefully.
Two days later, a dance studio appears.
No explanation. No expectation of gratitude. Just a room built for movement, mirrors gleaming, floors polished smooth.
You dance until your muscles burn.
⸻
You don’t see Seonghwa often, but you feel his presence constantly.
He checks in without hovering. Asks questions without prying. Apologizes— quietly— when work pulls him away again and again.
One evening, you find him alone in the study, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, city maps scattered across the table.
“You don’t look happy,” you say.
He exhales. “Happiness isn’t a useful metric.”
“And contentment?”
A pause. “Rare.”
You step closer. “Then why marry me?”
He doesn’t evade it.
“Because your father is dangerous,” Seonghwa says calmly. “And because marrying you was the fastest way to get you out from under him.”
You blink. “That wasn’t part of the negotiation.”
“No,” he agrees. “It was part of my decision.”
Something tightens in your chest.
“I won’t touch you,” he says suddenly. “Unless you ask. This marriage doesn’t give me ownership over you— only responsibility.”
No one has ever said that to you before.
Later that night, after a nightmare you won’t remember, you find Seonghwa standing outside your door.
“You don’t have to be strong here,” he tells you quietly. “You’re allowed to rest.”
You believe him.
⸻
Hongjoong becomes a constant.
Your shadow. Your shield.
Officially, he’s assigned as your personal protection. Unofficially, he learns you too quickly.
Your habits. Your moods. The way you mask discomfort with humor. He notices when you haven’t slept. When you’re pushing yourself too hard.
“You don’t blink much,” you tell him one afternoon.
“With you? I’m always on duty,” he replies.
The pull between you worsens.
A hum beneath your skin. Heat when he’s too close. A sharp spike when your fingers brush accidentally in a hallway.
One night, a distant gunshot echoes from the perimeter.
You flinch.
Hongjoong moves without thinking— hand closing around your wrist, pulling you behind him.
The contact hits like lightning.
Both of you freeze.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, releasing you. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” you whisper, breath unsteady.
The pull surges, dangerous and undeniable.
Seonghwa notices.
He notices the way Hongjoong positions himself closer than necessary. The way your eyes find him in every room.
“Be careful,” Seonghwa murmurs quietly to Hongjoong one night.
“Yes, sir.”
“With your heart.”
Hongjoong swallows. “Understood.”
Later, sitting together in silence, you ask Hongjoong, “Why does it feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not allowed to want?”
He looks at you— steady, honest.
“Because you are.”
Meanwhile somewhere across the city, your father begins to realize he no longer controls the outcome.
⸻
The first public appearance is deliberate.
Seonghwa doesn’t parade you. He positions you.
The gala is held in a restored opera house downtown— marble floors, velvet balconies, chandeliers dripping with money old enough to pretend it’s clean. Politicians mingle with crime lords pretending not to recognize one another. Everyone is watching.
Including your father’s allies.
Including his enemies.
Including men who will decide whether you are a weakness or a warning.
Seonghwa offers you his arm. You take it. Not because you have to— but because you choose to.
Hongjoong walks half a step behind you, eyes sharp, presence suffocating in the best way. He’s dressed in black, tailored to disappear into shadows if necessary, earpiece barely visible.
“Stay close,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.
“I always do,” you reply.
The night is a choreography of restraint.
Seonghwa speaks softly, smiling politely while making promises that sound like favors but feel like threats. You learn quickly how to stand beside him— when to speak, when to stay silent, when to let your gaze linger just long enough to unsettle someone.
You’re good at this. Too good.
Hongjoong notices.
So does Seonghwa.
“You’re handling this well,” Seonghwa says quietly during a lull, handing you a glass you won’t drink. “Better than I expected.”
You glance at him. “Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an apology,” he replies.
Before you can ask what he means, a hand closes around your wrist.
Your father’s lieutenant.
“You look lovely,” the man says, smile oily. “Your father misses you.”
The room seems to tilt.
Before you can respond, Hongjoong is there— smooth, fast, deadly calm. His hand closes over the man’s wrist, pressure precise.
“She’s occupied,” Hongjoong says pleasantly. “You should let go.”
The lieutenant scoffs. “And who are you?”
Hongjoong smiles.
The man lets go.
Seonghwa’s voice is mild. “If my wife wishes to see her father, I’ll arrange it. Through proper channels.”
The emphasis is unmistakable.
The lieutenant retreats.
Your pulse doesn’t slow for several minutes.
“You okay?” Hongjoong asks quietly as you move away from the crowd.
You nod. “I’m used to worse.”
Something dark flashes across his face.
The gunshot comes without warning. Not inside— outside. A sharp crack that slices through the music like glass snapping.
For half a second, no one reacts. Then the room exhales all at once. Screams ripple. Bodies shift. Security voices cut through earpieces. The orchestra falters but doesn’t stop.
Hongjoong’s hand is on you instantly, firm and unyielding, pulling you behind a marble pillar as Seonghwa’s voice carries— calm, absolute.
“Evacuation protocol. Now.”
Another shot. Closer.
You don’t freeze.
You adjust.
Weight shifts. Sightlines map themselves in your head. You step where Hongjoong pulls without resistance, already angled to move again if needed.
He notices.
A flicker of surprise— gone just as fast.
“You know how to handle yourself,” he murmurs, more statement than question.
“You don’t grow up with my father without learning,” you reply under your breath.
A man rounds the corner too fast.
Not security.
Not panicked.
Wrong.
The gun is already rising.
You move first— not to fight, but to disrupt.
You knock his aim wide, shoulder slamming into his chest just hard enough to break his balance. The shot goes wild, shattering a chandelier crystal instead of a body.
Before he can recover, Hongjoong is there.
So is security.
The man is on the ground in seconds, restrained, weapon kicked away, face pressed into marble. Efficient. Silent.
No spectacle.
No blood.
Hongjoong looks at you once— sharp, assessing, something fierce behind his eyes.
“Noted,” he mutters.
They usher you out through a side corridor, cars already waiting, the gala sealing itself behind you like nothing happened.
The music resumes. Laughter follows. To the world, it was a disturbance. To the people watching closely, it was a message.
Back at the estate, tension hangs thick in the air.
Seonghwa dismisses everyone except you and Hongjoong.
“You didn’t tell me you were trained,” Seonghwa says quietly.
“You didn’t ask,” you reply.
A beat.
“That was intentional,” he says.
You nod. “I know.”
Hongjoong remains silent, gaze flicking between the two of you.
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says calmly. “Walk with me.”
They speak in low tones down the hallway.
You catch only fragments.
“…careful.”
“…attached.”
“…dangerous.”
Hongjoong returns ten minutes later, expression unreadable.
“You should rest,” he says.
You don’t.
Instead, you find yourself on the balcony later, city lights flickering like warnings. Hongjoong joins you without a word.
“That shot wasn’t meant to kill,” you say softly. “It was a test.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “And it won’t be the last.”
Silence stretches.
“If things get worse,” you ask, not looking at him, “will you still stay?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”
The pull between you flares— hot, undeniable. You turn too quickly. You’re too close.
For one breathless second, you think he might kiss you.
He doesn’t. He steps back instead, fists clenched at his sides.
“If we cross that line,” he says hoarsely, “there’s no undoing it.”
Your chest aches.
“Then why does it feel like it’s already been crossed?”
He has no answer.
⸻
The estate hums with activity long past midnight— guards repositioned, perimeter scans doubled, hushed voices bleeding through hallways. The city has shifted, and everyone can feel it.
You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands.
They’re steady.
That’s what frightens you.
There’s a knock— quiet, deliberate.
Hongjoong.
“You should have someone with you tonight,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “After what happened.”
You study him. The tension in his shoulders. The way he’s holding himself back with sheer will.
“Are you asking as my guard,” you ask softly, “or as yourself?”
He exhales through his nose. “Both.”
You nod once. “Then stay.”
He positions himself by the door at first, respectful distance intact. You lie back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Minutes pass.
“You weren’t scared,” Hongjoong says eventually.
“I was,” you reply. “I just don’t show it the way people expect.”
He hums. “You moved like someone who trusts her body.”
“My father made sure of that.”
There’s anger in Hongjoong’s silence— sharp, protective, restrained.
“You shouldn’t have had to,” he mutters.
Something warm twists in your chest.
⸻
Across the hall, Seonghwa stands alone in his study.
He replays the night over and over— the way you didn’t freeze, the way Hongjoong moved without hesitation, the way something unspoken passed between you during the chaos.
He’s not a superstitious man. But he knows what soulmate bonds look like. And he knows what they cost.
When Hongjoong finally checks in, Seonghwa doesn’t look up from the city map.
“They’ll escalate,” Seonghwa says calmly. “Your loyalty will be tested.”
Hongjoong’s voice is steady. “It already is.”
Seonghwa finally looks at him.
“Be careful,” he repeats. “I won’t order you away from her.”
Hongjoong stiffens. “You know?”
“I suspect,” Seonghwa replies. “And I am choosing not to interfere.”
A pause.
“She deserves a choice,” Seonghwa adds quietly. “Something neither of us had.”
Hongjoong bows his head. “Thank you.”
⸻
The footage has no sound.
Your father prefers it that way.
The screen is divided into six angles— marble hallways, velvet staircases, the exterior plaza, the private corridor leading to the service exit. Time stamps blink in the corner. Red dots mark live feeds, though the event is already over.
He watches anyway.
Again.
The first gunshot registers only as movement. Heads turning. Bodies reacting. Panic blooming in predictable patterns.
You disappear behind a pillar.
Good instincts, he thinks distantly.
Then he rewinds.
Slower this time.
Frame by frame.
There— the moment before it happens. The man rounding the corner. The angle of his arm. The weight shift that means intent.
And you.
You don’t freeze.
You don’t scream. You don’t look for permission.
You move. Not sloppy. Not desperate. Efficient.
Your father leans forward slightly as you knock the weapon off line— not a strike meant to win, just enough to ruin the shot. Just enough to survive.
He exhales through his nose.
So you learned something after all.
He watches Hongjoong next.
How fast he reacts. How little hesitation there is between recognition and action. How his body places itself between you and the threat without conscious thought.
Too fast for training alone.
Interesting.
Security swarms in. The attacker is neutralized. The moment ends. Order restores itself like nothing happened.
Your father pauses the footage on a single frame.
You— half-turned, breath high, eyes sharp.
Hongjoong— already angled toward the next possible threat.
A picture of alignment.
He doesn’t smile.
He reaches for another feed.
Interior. Ballroom. Seonghwa.
Calm. Issuing orders without raising his voice. Not touching you. Not panicking. Watching everything.
Protecting without possession.
That, more than anything, irritates him.
Seonghwa didn’t pull you from the floor. Didn’t lock you away. Didn’t parade you as a shield.
He let you stand.
A mistake.
Your father leans back in his chair, fingers steepled.
“So,” he murmurs to the empty room, “you chose him.”
He taps the screen once, right where Hongjoong stands.
“And you,” he adds quietly, “chose wrong.”
He signals for the footage to loop again.
Not because he needs to understand what happened.
But because he’s deciding what to take from it.
Outside the room, plans begin to shift. Resources are reassigned. Names are circled in red.
The gala was not a failure.
It was confirmation.
And next time, he won’t test.
Next time, he’ll collect.
Taglist: @xlxvlylunax @3rachachanie @calmyourtitts7 @ydissac9
just a reminder that NOBODY is doing it like them!!
dream fest 251101
All the days you missed
Pairing: Idol!Yunho x non-idol!fem!character!
Genre/AU: Childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn, second chance romance, lots of fluff and chaos, smut, attempts at comedy (sorry I’m not that funny)
Wc: 14k
Summary: Childhood best friends Yunho and Naomi never got to confess their feelings before his sudden rise to idol stardom pulled them apart. Years later, Naomi attends his concert, expecting nothing more than nostalgia— until Yunho spots her from the stage.
One backstage reunion leads to dinner and a confession years in the making… and a heartbreaking fear that loving him could destroy everything he’s worked for.
Naomi wants to protect him. Yunho wants to choose her.
Between fame and first love, fear and longing, they must decide whether the heart they’ve shared since childhood is strong enough to survive under the spotlight.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. This is just for fun, nothing more. You are responsible for the content you consume.
Warnings/Ratings: 18+ MDNI!! Use of pet names, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, multiple orgasms, public sex (no one is around so they aren’t seen). I think I’ve got them all! Please let me know if I missed anything!
Reading begins under the cut :)
────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────────
Age 10 | The park “talent show”
It started as a joke.
Hongjoong climbed onto the park bench, lifted a plastic toy microphone, and declared, “Welcome to the First Annual Talent Explosion, starring… us!”
The rest of their group scattered across the grass as the sun set behind them. Naomi, Angel, Savvina, and Nabi sat cross-legged on the ground, pretending to be judges.
Yunho nudged Naomi. “Score me high, okay?”
“Only if you don’t trip this time,” she teased.
San was first. He flipped, jumped, and cartwheeled across the grass like he’d been waiting his whole life to show off. Wooyoung followed, dramatically ripping off his jacket before doing a messy but enthusiastic dance routine.
Yeosang played a soft melody on his violin; Seonghwa sang gently along with it. Mingi freestyled a rap that made the girls snort with laughter, and Jongho— the youngest— belted out a note so clean and powerful that birds literally flew out of a nearby tree.
“Okay, okay,” Angel laughed. “I think we get it. You boys are ridiculous.”
Hongjoong bowed deeply. “Ridiculous… or iconic?”
Naomi looked at Yunho after his turn— a silly but charming dance number that made her cheeks warm.
“You’re really good,” she said.
He shrugged shyly.
Age 12 | The school festival
Their class had been assigned a performance for the school festival, and the teachers had foolishly let the entire group work together.
Chaos followed.
Hongjoong composed an overly dramatic theme song.
Seonghwa tried to keep choreography simple, but San and Wooyoung turned it into a full acrobatics routine.
Mingi kept rewriting rap lines, and Yeosang insisted on matching outfits.
Jongho was handed the high notes because… well, no one else could hit them.
During practice, Angel, Nabi, and Savvina made props, while Naomi organized everyone like a strict stage manager.
The day of the performance? It went… strangely well.
The crowd cheered. Their teacher cried. Parents clapped.
Afterward, Yunho tapped Naomi’s shoulder. “Thanks for keeping us from falling apart.”
Naomi scoffed. “You did great.”
He smiled softly. “Only because you were watching.”
She pretended not to blush.
Age 14 | The first snow of winter
The first snow that year fell quietly, covering the streets in soft white. The whole group met outside Naomi’s building, breath puffing in the cold air.
Jongho started it. He scooped up snow, shaped it poorly, and tossed it at Mingi’s back.
San gasped dramatically. “A betrayal!”
Wooyoung shrieked, dodging imaginary attacks. Yeosang took cover behind Naomi and Savvina. Angel and Nabi tried to stop everyone— and failed. Hongjoong surrendered immediately.
Naomi formed a snowball, eyes narrowing at Yunho.“Don’t you dare,” he warned.
She hit him square in the chest.
His shocked expression sent the girls into laughter.
A full-on snowball war broke out, ending with everyone soaked, freezing, and laughing until their stomachs hurt.
Later, while the others walked ahead, Yunho draped his scarf around Naomi’s neck. “You’ll get sick if you don’t wear something warm.”
She wrapped it tighter, smiling. “Won’t you be cold?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine. You’re more important.”
Her heart skipped.
Age 15 | Rooftop birthday surprise
It was Naomi’s 15th birthday, but she expected nothing big— everyone was busy with school, part-time jobs, and extracurriculars.
Still, when she climbed the stairs to her building’s rooftop, the familiar voices erupted:
“Surprise!”
Lights twinkled. Balloons bounced. A makeshift banner (handwritten by Hongjoong) hung crookedly behind them.
Angel brought cupcakes. Savvina and Nabi decorated. San and Wooyoung handled the entertainment (too enthusiastically). Mingi and Jongho carried the snacks like proud but chaotic waiters. Yeosang handed her a small wrapped gift. Seonghwa fixed the crooked decorations.
Yunho lit the candle. “Make a wish,” he told her.
She looked at all of them— her world— and closed her eyes.
Her wish was simple: Please let us all stay together. Always.
The irony would only hit her later.
Age 16 | A confession that never happened
The boys were talking more and more about auditions, training programs, and opportunities. Everyone felt the tension— change was coming.
One evening, Naomi sat in an empty dance practice room, waiting for the group to finish rehearsing.
She watched through the window as Yunho practiced alone after everyone else left. He poured everything into each movement, determination etched into his features.
He didn’t notice her until he stopped to catch his breath.
“Naomi?” he asked, startled. “How long were you there?”
“Not long,” she lied.
He walked over, towel draped over his shoulder, cheeks flushed from effort. “You shouldn’t stay late by yourself,” he said gently. “It’s cold out.”
“I wanted to see you practice,” she admitted.
He blinked— surprised, maybe hopeful.
For a moment, the air shifted. It felt like one of them might finally say something more. Something real.
But then Wooyoung burst into the room yelling, “GUYS! WE FOUND A VENDING MACHINE WITH CHEAP SNACKS!”
The moment shattered, replaced with laughter. Neither of them brought it up again.
Age 17 | A promise before goodbye
The group met in the park as dusk settled. It felt… different. Heavier.
Hongjoong held the call letter. “Training starts next month. All of us.”
Nabi covered her mouth. Angel looked away. Savvina wiped her eyes. Naomi just stared at Yunho. He stepped closer, voice quiet.
“We’ll come back. We’ll debut. We’ll make you proud.”
“You already do,” she whispered.
He hesitated— then brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, soft and warm.
“I’m scared,” Naomi admitted. “What if… everything changes?”
Yunho shook his head. “It won’t. Not us.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to tell him everything. But the words got caught in her throat.
Their friends moved around them— hugging, laughing through tears, trying to be strong— but Naomi and Yunho stood still, suspended in a moment neither wanted to end.
Age 17 | Till’ we meet again
The sky was still dark when Naomi stepped outside, the early morning air biting against her skin. Her breath formed soft clouds as she hurried toward the bus terminal— the place the boys chose to meet before leaving for their training dorms.
She wasn’t late. But her heart was already pounding like she was.
As she approached, she saw them— Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San, Wooyoung, Yeosang, Mingi, Jongho, and Yunho— clustered together with suitcases at their feet. Angel, Nabi, and Savvina stood nearby, eyes red from crying.
It felt surreal.
Like a moment she’d been dreading for years was finally happening… too fast, too soon.
Wooyoung spotted her first.
“Naomi!” he called, waving brightly despite the tears in his eyes.
Everyone turned.
But Yunho locked eyes with her instantly.
He took a step toward her. Then another. And another. Until he was standing right in front of her, close enough that she could see the faint tremble in his hands.
“You made it,” he whispered, relief flooding his face.
“Of course I did,” she breathed. “I had to.”
They stood there, neither knowing where to begin.
Behind them, the others hugged the girls one by one— tearful, noisy, chaotic— but somehow, Naomi and Yunho’s moment felt suspended outside of time.
“You’re leaving today,” she said softly, though she already knew.
Yunho nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah… we all are.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m… proud of you. Of all of you.”
Yunho’s expression softened, but there was a sadness in his eyes she had never seen before— something raw, something vulnerable.
“Naomi,” he said gently, “can we… talk? Just us?”
She nodded.
He led her a little away from the group, toward a quiet corner of the terminal where the faint glow of streetlights painted everything in soft gold.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Yunho exhaled shakily. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Training could take years. It could be hard. We might not get breaks. I might… not be able to call much.”
His voice wavered.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.
Naomi blinked back tears. “You won’t,” she said— but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
He reached out, fingers brushing hers hesitantly, like he was memorizing the shape of her hand.
“You’ve always been the person I wanted to come back to,” he said. “Always.”
Her heart ached at the weight of his words.
“Yun…” she breathed, struggling to speak around the tightness in her chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”
For a moment, the truth hovered between them— all the years of unspoken feelings pressed into the space of a single breath.
Naomi felt the words rising in her chest: I love you. I always have. Don’t go.
But she swallowed them back. He was leaving for his dream. She refused to be the reason he hesitated.
A bus engine rumbled to life nearby. The manager called for boarding.
Yunho’s eyes filled with panic. “I have to go,” he whispered.
Naomi nodded even though her vision blurred. He leaned closer— not quite a hug, not quite more— just close enough that she could feel his breath against her temple.
“Promise me,” he said softly, “that you won’t forget me.”
Her voice broke. “Never.”
Yunho closed his eyes, like her answer hurt and comforted him all at once. “Goodbye, Naomi.”
He turned to leave.
But after three steps, he spun back around and wrapped his arms around her— tight, desperate, full of everything he couldn’t say aloud.
Naomi clutched him back, burying her face in his shoulder as her tears finally spilled.
“Come back to me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
He held her tighter.
“I will.”
Then— he let go.
He walked toward the bus without looking back, because if he did… he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave.
Naomi watched him climb aboard. Watched the doors close. Watched the bus pull away, taking eight pieces of her heart with it. That day, she felt what it truly meant to let someone go.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The bus engine rumbled beneath Yunho’s feet, but all he could hear was Naomi’s voice echoing in his head.
He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, watching their hometown shrink into watercolor shapes— the old convenience store, the small park where they used to race, the corner where Naomi always waited for him after school. Every landmark pulled at him like invisible string.
His phone buzzed in his hand. A message from her.
Naomi: Make me proud, Yun.
He swallowed hard. Proud.
She had no idea how much he wanted her to say Don’t go. The bus lurched forward. His chest tightened.
I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell her. I should have told her.
San and Wooyoung were chattering loudly behind him, full of excitement, but Yunho barely heard them. Whenever he blinked, he saw Naomi’s eyes shining under the faint glow of the light, holding back tears.
He clenched his jaw and whispered under his breath so no one else could hear. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
But the fear lingered.
What if she didn’t wait for him? What if she moved on? What if he came back as someone completely different?
He pressed his lips together and turned away from the window— because watching their town disappear felt too much like losing her.
11:47pm
The trainee dorm was colder and smaller than Yunho imagined. Five bunk beds squeezed into one room. Boxes everywhere. Noise. Laughter. Complaints.
But all Yunho could feel was absence.
He lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling while Hongjoong and Seonghwa argued quietly over where to put their equipment. San was already snoring. Mingi was humming. Wooyoung was still buzzing with energy, talking nonstop to anyone who’d listen.
The whole room felt alive but Yunho felt… alone.
He pulled out his phone again, opened Naomi’s message and reread it for the tenth time. “Make me proud.”
He typed out a dozen replies. Deleted every one.
What was he supposed to say? That he missed her already? That her absence hurt more than he thought it would? Or maybe how the city felt too big without her?
His fingers trembled slightly as he typed something short:
Yunho: I made it to the dorm.
He hovered over the send button. No, too distant. He erased it and tried again.
Yunho: I can’t stop thinking about you.
His breath caught. Too honest. He deleted it, locked his phone and let it drop onto his chest.
Across the room, Hongjoong finally settled into his bunk. “Big day tomorrow,” he murmured into the dark. “Practice starts at six.”
Six.
Yunho exhaled.
Training. Schedules. Choreography. Persona. Debut— if he ever even made it that far. For the first time, he understood that this path was going to take everything.
Time, sleep, possibly… her. His throat tightened at that.
He turned onto his side and buried his face into the pillow.
“Naomi…” He whispered her name because it grounded him. Because it hurt. Because it felt like the only familiar thing left.
He wished she could see him now. Not the rising idol he hoped to become— but the scared boy in a strange city missing the girl who knew him better than anyone.
If she were here, she’d scold him for not eating dinner, then shove half her snacks at him.
He smiled weakly at the thought. Then the smile faded.
She’s not here.
And she won’t be for a long time.
Don’t think about her too much.
Don’t make it harder to let go.
He pulled his blanket over his head and forced his eyes shut. But the truth seeped out anyway, soft and painful: he wished he had told her.
2017 | Early trainee days
Naomi: How was practice today? Did you eat? Don’t forget to stretch.”
Yunho smiles at his phone but doesn’t reply right away— the boys collapse around him, exhausted.
He means to answer.
He really does.
He falls asleep with his phone in his hand.
Her message remains “Read.”
2018 | First phone call in weeks
Naomi sits on her bed, hugging a pillow, earbuds in.
“Yunho! It’s been forever.”
He laughs softly on the other end. “I know… I’m sorry. The schedule’s no joke.”
They talk for fifteen minutes— but half the time he sounds distracted, managers calling him, the boys shouting in the background.
“Call you tomorrow?” he says.
“Of course.” She answers, understanding.
Tomorrow never comes.
2019 | Pre debut stress
Naomi: “Good luck today!! You’ll do great!!”
Yunho: “Thank you. I’ll text after.”
He doesn’t.
Three days later she gets:
Yunho: Sorry, things were crazy.
She types:
Naomi: It’s okay.
Then deletes it and tries again:
Naomi: I miss you.
But she deletes that too and sends nothing.
Late 2019 | Ateez debut
Naomi watches the debut stage alone in her room. Her heart swells with pride. There he is— the boy she grew up with— shining brighter than she ever imagined.
The group bows. Yunho waves at the camera.
She whispers, “Yunho… you guys made it.”
She wants to text him, but thousands of comments scroll on the screen. Her message suddenly feels too small, too insignificant, so she closes her phone.
Across the country, Yunho checks his notifications after a long schedule. Dozens of messages… But not one from Naomi.
His chest sinks, but he tells himself she’s just busy.
2020 | Rising Fame
Naomi: Congrats on your win!! I’m so proud of you guys.
Yunho: Thank you :)
A smiley face. That’s it.
He starts typing more… then stops.
Staff calls for him.
Time’s up.
2021 | Naomi’s birthday
Naomi wonders if he’ll remember.
He doesn’t.
At midnight, she laughs it off with friends, saying, “He’s busy. It’s fine.”
But she still checks her phone before bed. Nothing.
Yunho ends practice exhausted.
San nudges him, “Dude, you look down.”
Yunho sighs, “I feel like I forgot something important today…”
But he can’t place it. And saying it out loud makes his stomach twist.
2022 | Tours, albums, fame
Yunho scrolls through his photos on a rare night off.
He stops at one picture— a blurry shot Naomi took of him years ago, laughing with too much sunlight in his eyes.
He should delete it.
He should move on.
But he doesn’t.
Instead he locks his phone and stares at the ceiling.
Naomi meanwhile sits on a bus home from work.
An Ateez billboard passes by the window. For a moment, she imagines his voice saying her name. She smiles sadly and looks away.
She doesn’t reach out. Neither does he.
2023 | Almost strangers
Their messages now look like this:
Naomi: Congrats on the comeback.
Yunho: Thanks.
Naomi: Stay healthy.
Yunho: Will do.
A full year passes without a single phone call. Both of them stare at their phones more times than they’ll ever admit.
Both think the same thing: does the other even need me anymore?
Neither of them realizes the answer is yes.
Present day
Naomi steps out of the office building, rubbing her temple. Work was long, draining, and endless— emails, reports, a supervisor who kept breathing down her neck.
She exhales into the cool evening air. Just get home, shower, and sleep. That’s all you need.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out before glancing at the caller ID: Angel 💫
Naomi smiles weakly and answers, “Hey… what’s up? You sound excited.”
She can hear Angel bouncing. “MIA—YOU—WILL—NOT—BELIEVE—THIS.”
Naomi winces, pulling the phone from her ear. “Whoa— Angel, please. My soul is tired.”
“But your soul won’t be tired in a second!” Angel shrieks. “Put me on speaker— Nabi and Savvina are here too!”
Naomi stops walking and complies. “Okay… what is going on?”
There’s chaotic muffled yelling, someone shushing someone else, and finally Savvina’s calm voice breaks through.
“Naomi… Ateez just added a surprise date.”
Naomi blinks. “Okay? And?”
“It’s here.”
Nabi screams, “THEY’RE COMING TO OUR CITY!”
Naomi nearly drops her phone.
“What?! No— are you sure? Is this legit or one of those fan rumors again?”
“It’s real!” Angel yells. “It’s on their official page! Tickets drop tomorrow morning and we’re going whether you like it or not—”
Naomi feels her heart pound against her ribs. Yunho… here? After all these years? She grips the strap of her bag tighter, her breath stuttering.
Savvina adds, “We’re already planning. We’re buying four tickets. You’re not arguing.”
Naomi tries to steady her voice. “But… guys… what if we don’t even get them? The queue will be crazy. They’re huge now.”
Nabi laughs, “Okay, but we’ve never missed a drop before. Trust the team.”
Angel whispers dramatically, “This is fate. This is your sign.”
Naomi snorts, trying to play it off, even though her chest tightens. “My sign for what? He doesn’t even remember me.”
The line goes completely silent. For a full beat, all she hears is the hum of cars on the street and her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Then, in perfect unplanned harmony, all three of her friends say: “Naomi.”
Savvina speaks first, gentle but firm. “He remembers.”
Angel follows, sounding like she’s stating a fact, not an opinion. “Of course he remembers.”
And Nabi, never one to sugarcoat, goes straight for Naomi’s heart. “You were his favorite person. That kind of thing doesn’t just disappear.”
Naomi stops walking. Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around her phone.
She starts walking again, slower this time.
“That was a lifetime ago,” she murmurs. “We barely talk anymore.”
Angel softens, voice gentle now. “Which is exactly why you should go. You deserve to see him shine. Even if that’s all it is.”
Naomi swallows hardly. Her heart aches with old memories, old smiles, old almost-confessions. “…Yeah,” she finally whispers. “I… I want to go.”
Her friends cheer so loudly she thinks people on the sidewalk can hear them.
Nabi practically explodes through the speaker, “GROUP CALL TOMORROW MORNING?!”
Savvina adds with her usual calm authority, “No, let’s just meet at my place. Bring coffee.”
Angel chimes in like she’s announcing a battle cry, “And optimism!”
Naomi bursts into a laugh she didn’t know she still had in her. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there.”
They hang up.
Naomi stops at the foot of her apartment steps, staring at the sky as if it’s suddenly brighter.
Her chest feels warm— hopeful— something she hasn’t felt in years.
The Next morning
Savvina’s living room looks like an operations center.
Nabi has three browsers open, tabs flipping like she’s hacking into a government database.
Angel stands behind her doing deep breathing exercises, shoulders rising and falling like she’s preparing for war.
Naomi sits in the middle of the chaos, curled on the couch with her knees drawn up, clutching her iced coffee with shaking hands. She’s not sure if the caffeine is making her jittery or if it’s pure nerves— probably both.
The timer on the table counts down the final minutes, each sharp beep tightening the air around them like a suspense soundtrack.
A digital clock flashes: 12 minutes until ticket drop.
Savvina stands at the front of the living room like a commander prepping her squad. “Okay, everyone synced?” she calls out, pacing with authority.
Browsers refreshed. Check. Fan accounts monitored. Check. Payment info saved and triple-saved. Check.
Angel leans in dramatically, lowering her voice as if delivering the final line of a spy movie. “We only need three tickets. If we fail…” She pauses, eyes narrowing for effect. “…we blame Nabi.”
Nabi gasps, offended. “Why me?!”
Angel shrugs. “Someone has to carry the burden.”
Savvina sighs. “Focus, people.”
But despite the jokes, the tension hangs thick— because they all know this is their best chance to get Naomi to that concert.
Naomi laughs nervously and takes a shaky sip of her coffee. She barely slept last night— every time she closed her eyes, her stomach flipped, reminding her exactly whose concert she was trying to get tickets for.
Just thinking his name makes her heart trip over itself.
Savvina claps loudly. “Alright! Ten minutes!”
7:54 AM
Angel plops down beside Naomi and nudges her knee. “You okay? You look like you might pass out.”
Naomi exhales shakily. “I’m fine. Just… nervous.”
“About the tickets?” Nabi asks.
Naomi hesitates. “…Yes. And no.”
All three of her friends exchange a look— the kind that says they already know exactly what’s going on.
Savvina smirks. “It’s okay to admit you want to see him.”
Angel tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically, flashing a playful grin. “Yeah. And I can’t wait to see Seonghwa.”
Naomi snorts at Angel’s theatrics before hiding her face in her hands with a groan.
“I just… I don’t know what I’ll feel. Or what he’ll feel. Or if he’ll even look—”
“If he sees you,” Angel cuts in, leaning forward “he’s going to short-circuit on stage.”
Naomi drops her hands and covers her face again. She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t disagree. That little truth, quietly terrifying, is the worst part.
9:58 AM
Naomi’s vision tunnels. For a split second, all she hears is her own heartbeat— loud, uneven, frantic.
The ticket site reloads… then freezes… then reloads again all while her thumb hovers, trembling like it’s about to give out.
Savvina is practically wrestling her own computer. Angel is chanting half-coherent prayers to whichever fandom gods might hear her. Nabi is on the floor, tapping her iPad like CPR might make it work any faster.
Naomi inhales sharply— finally remembers how— and forces the air out through clenched teeth. Her screen flickers. Something shifts. A green button appears.
Her breath stops all over again.
“…guys?” she whispers. Her voice is so small none of them hear her over the chaos.
The button brightens. “Select Tickets.”
Naomi’s coffee nearly slips from her hand. Her heart rockets into her throat.
“GUYS—” she tries again, louder this time— and that’s when her thumb taps the screen. Almost by accident. Almost out of instinct.
The page loads.
She’s in.
10:00 AM
Naomi’s chest finally loosens.
She lets herself imagine it. Not just the stress, not just the frenzy, but being there: the lights, the sound, the impossible closeness of someone she swore she’d never get to see again.
Nabi is already sprinting in circles like a golden retriever. Savvina collapses into the nearest chair, hands trembling from the adrenaline crash.
Angel has dropped flat on the carpet, starfished, whispering, “I’m spent. Don’t revive me.”
Naomi laughs, wiping the last warm streak from her cheek.
Her phone buzzes— a tiny vibration that feels like a spark in her palm. Email: Ticket Confirmation.
She stares at it for a few moments. A soft, quiet smile curls at the corner of her mouth— so different from the scene swirling around her.
Nabi flops next to her. “Naomi, breathe. You’re turning red.”
“I am breathing,” Naomi answers, but her voice is too light, too airy for anyone to believe her.
Savvina points at her knowingly. “You’re thinking about him.”
Naomi tries— fails— to hide her blush.
“I’m… thinking about the concert.”
Angel sits up like a bolt. “LIAR.”
They all dogpile her instantly, shouting and laughing, limbs everywhere, the kind of joy that feels like summer and friendship and victories you never forget.
Somewhere under the chaos, Naomi presses a hand over her heart.
It’s still racing.
But it’s not from fear anymore. “Front section,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
“He might actually see me.” And this time, the smile that follows is unstoppable.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The rehearsal hall is quiet in the late afternoon, except for the hum of the LED lights and the soft thump of Yunho’s sneakers as he moves through the choreography again. One more run. Just one more. He tells himself that twice… and then a third time.
Hongjoong finally calls out from the speakers, “Yunho, that’s enough, you’re going to burn a hole in the floor.”
Yunho freezes mid-step, chest heaving. “Sorry,” he says, even though he knows he isn’t. His body keeps moving when his mind won’t settle.
Mingi saunters in with a water bottle and raises an eyebrow. “You’re nervous,” he accuses with zero hesitation.
Yunho scoffs, grabbing the bottle like it might shield him. “I’m not nervous.”
“Uh-huh.” Mingi makes a show of stretching. “So the reason you’ve repeated your solo eight times is… cardio?”
Yunho looks away. He doesn’t answer, he can’t. Because the truth is loud in his chest. There’s a chance she might be there. He doesn’t let the thought form fully, doesn’t let himself picture her in the crowd— but it’s there, hovering like static under his skin.
Naomi. The one person he didn’t expect to see again. The one person he hasn’t been able to forget.
A staff member walks by, waving a tablet. “Final ticket counts came in. Front section sold out in minutes. Fans were fighting for those seats.”
Yunho’s heart stutters— ridiculously, embarrassingly— because he knows exactly where she’d want to be. Close enough to see him and close enough that he’d see her.
Mingi watches him carefully. “She really meant that much to you, huh?”
Yunho avoids his gaze, grabbing a towel from the bench. “It’s not about that.”
It is. They both know it is. He weighs the sweat from his face, but his hands are shaking slightly, betraying him.
He imagines stepping on stage, the blinding lights, the roar of the crowd— and somewhere in that sea of people, her eyes finding his. His pulse kicks hard. He doesn’t know what would happen or what either of them would feel. If anything would show on his face before he could stop it.
Hongjoong calls rehearsal back to order. “Positions!”
Yunho exhales and walks to his mark.
For the first time in months, maybe longer… there’s something electric beneath his nerves. Not fear or pressure but hope.
He rolls his shoulders back, takes his stance, and lets a small, private smile tug at his lips. Ifhe’s really coming— he wants to dance like she’s the only one watching.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
Later that evening, Naomi sits on her bed scrolling through fan edits, heart pounding as she stops on a clip of Yunho smiling on stage. Her chest twists painfully— he looks so different, so grown, yet somehow the same. She turns her phone face-down, pressing it to her chest, breathing shallowly. Across the city, Yunho sits before a camera for a vlog, rehearsing lines but pausing, staring into the lens. “We’re visiting a… meaningful city soon,” he says softly. “I’m nervous. And excited.” He stops recording, letting the thought linger.
Naomi tries on outfit after outfit, questioning herself in the mirror. Cute? Casual? Not noticeable enough? Her friends bombard her with advice and teasing. Her heart feels tight, her stomach fluttering like it did all those years ago when she first realized she liked him. In a fitting room miles away, Yunho’s stylist adjusts his jacket. Seonghwa studies him silently. “You look good,” he says, smirking. “Someone important might think so too.” Yunho goes red, tugs at the zipper, and looks away shyly with a small smile.
The night before the concert, Naomi walks home through a soft wind, streetlights painting the pavement gold. Her steps slow as memories rush through her— him laughing in the sunlight, his hand brushing hers. Under the same night sky, Yunho leans on the rooftop railing, night air pressing against him, the same wind stirring his hair. He imagines her in the crowd. His chest tightens.
Their phones glow almost simultaneously with a countdown reminder: 1 day.
Naomi whispers, “I’m not ready.”
At the same moment, Yunho exhales, “I hope I’m ready.”
And somewhere between the city streets and the hotel rooftop, anticipation hums like electricity— two hearts unknowingly drawing closer, destined to collide.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The line to the venue buzzes with energy. Fans chatter, wave lightsticks, and shout in anticipation. Naomi tightens her grip on her ticket, feeling her pulse thump against her ribs. Angel and Nabi chatter nonstop behind her, practically bouncing on their heels, while Savvina keeps a hand on Naomi’s shoulder like an anchor.
“Front section,” Angel whispers excitedly, nudging Naomi. “You ready for this?”
Naomi swallows hard. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her voice is steadier than she feels. Her stomach flips, a mixture of nerves, hope, and excitement.
The security guard scans their tickets, and the gates swing open. The roar of the crowd hits them immediately— a wave of sound, light, and energy. Naomi blinks, momentarily overwhelmed, her friends’ hands brushing hers for reassurance. They weave through the crowd, following the signs to their section. Angel practically drags them forward, weaving through excited fans while Naomi’s gaze flits nervously to the stage. When they reach their row, Naomi’s eyes widen. These are the seats they fought for: front section, almost center. She takes a deep breath, letting the sight of the stage sink in. The buzz of the crowd mixes with her own rapid heartbeat.
Nabi whispers, gripping Naomi’s arm. “This… is insane.”
Savvina nudges Naomi gently. “Go ahead. Take it all in.”
Naomi hands clutch her ticket as she gazes at the stage. Her chest tightens, her pulse racing as she imagines the boy she hasn’t seen in years, standing there somewhere, ready to perform.
Angel leans over her shoulder, grinning. “Don’t faint before it even starts, okay?”
Naomi laughs softly, though her voice trembles slightly. She glances around at the screaming fans, the glowing lightsticks, the stage, and allows herself a single thought: he’s really here.
Her stomach twists, a mix of anticipation and fear. And then the lights dim. The first notes of music pulse through the arena. Naomi holds her breath, knowing the moment she’s been waiting for is finally about to come.
Her eyes scan the stage, catching each member as they move with precision, charisma, and fire. Hongjoong’s commanding energy, Seonghwa’s striking stage presence, San’s infectious grin— every familiar face sparks memories of their childhood.
And then… Yunho.
Naomi freezes, stomach twisting as he steps into the spotlight. The way he moves, confident yet effortless, pulls her gaze instantly. His hair falls just right, the lights catching his profile, the smile he flashes at the crowd so practiced but undeniably genuine. Her chest constricts, and she presses her hand to her mouth, afraid she’ll scream and give herself away.
She can’t look away. The years fall away— the memories of shared laughter, the afternoons of silly games, quiet talks in the park— flooding her mind all at once.
Her friends notice. Angel nudges her elbow. “Naomi… you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“I’m… fine,” Naomi whispers, voice tight. “It’s just… seeing him. I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
Nabi leans in, eyes wide. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Naomi nods, though her attention is fixed entirely on Yunho. Every move he makes, every gesture, draws her in further. She feels an ache in her chest she doesn’t quite understand— pride, longing, and a pinch of fear.
The performance ends with a dazzling flourish. The crowd roars, and Naomi joins in automatically, shouting, clapping, feeling alive in a way she hasn’t in years.
Yunho’s eyes catch a movement in the crowd that makes him pause, ever so slightly.
She’s cheering— laughing, shouting, waving her light stick like every other fan, but something about the way she’s alive in that moment stops him. Her hair catches the lights, her eyes wide and sparkling, she looks… exactly like he remembers.
Yunho freezes mid-step, heart hammering in his chest. For a second, the world tilts sideways— the screaming fans, the blinding lights, the pounding bass— none of it matters.
She looks up.
Their eyes meet.
A shock run through them.
She blinks, realization dawning in her expression, her mouth parting slightly as she grips her light stick, barely breathing. His chest tightens. Years of distance, words left unsaid, and feelings never confessed compress into that single instant of connection.
The music continues. He forces himself to move, to finish the song, but every step, every gesture is sharper, charged with a new energy. She’s there. She sees him.
The world hasn’t changed as much as he thought. She’s still her. And he can’t let this moment slip away.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The dressing room explodes with noise the moment the members tumble inside— laughter, heavy breathing, clothes hitting the floor, Wooyoung yelling about a zipper mishap for the fifth time.
Hongjoong tosses his mic pack onto the counter. Seonghwa’s already getting his hair fixed in the mirror. San and Mingi are wrestling over who gets the fresh towel.
It feels normal— until Yunho shuts the door behind him, chest rising and falling, eyes wide.
Wooyoung notices first. “Uh… why do you look like you just saw a ghost? Or worse— your middle school report card?”
Yunho swallows. “I saw them.”
Everyone freezes.
“Who?” Jongho asks, mid-sip of water.
Yunho licks his lips. “Naomi. And Nabi. Angel. Savvina. Front section.”
The room erupts.
Mingi almost drops his towel. “NO WAY— really?!”
San lights up instantly. “Nabi’s here?!”
Seonghwa presses a hand to his heart dramatically. “My babies… I haven’t seen them in forever.
Hongjoong grins at the mirror. “They actually came? Wow. After all these years…”
Wooyoung is already pacing. “Did they look the same? Are they taller? Did Naomi bring snacks like she used to? Why didn’t she throw them onstage? I would have caught them—”
Yunho steps in, “They looked… good. Happy. Older. Different, but still themselves.” His voice dips when he reaches one name. “Naomi looked…” He trails off.
San shoots him a knowing smirk. “She looked amazing, didn’t she?”
Yunho doesn’t answer, which is the answer.
Hongjoong claps loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen. We’re bringing them backstage after the show.”
The members cheer like they just won tickets.
“Finally!” Mingi laughs. “I’ve been waiting years to see them again.”
Seonghwa nods, smiling warmly. “It’ll be good. They were a part of our life before any of… this.”
Yunho fidgets, tension running through him. “Yeah. I really do want to see them— all of them.”
Hongjoong drapes an arm around him. “It’s fine. I’ll sort it out and get their names cleared with security.”
Wooyoung’s smirk turns mischievous. “Yunho, fix your hair before she sees you. Naomi never liked when your bangs were—”
A towel smacks him mid-sentence. Laughter fills the room again, but it carries a new weight— something tender and full of memory.
They aren’t just prepping for their next performance… they’re preparing to face the people who knew them long before the spotlight, the ones who made saying goodbye the toughest part of chasing their dream.
And for Yunho, the thought of seeing Naomi again makes the next song feel like it can’t end fast enough.
The bass drops for the next hype song, flames shooting up at the sides of the stage as the boys get into formation. The crowd is electric, screaming the opening lines…
And the boys? They are instantly, unmistakably not okay. Not when four very familiar faces are somewhere in the front section.
It starts with San. He charges in too confidently, too energized, and when the beat hits— he goes left instead of right. Yeosang is right there.
They collide like two NPCs with bad programming. Yeosang stabilizes himself, before he shoots San a vicious whisper.
San just grins, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking toward Nabi’s section as if that explains everything.
From there the chaos spreads.
Mingi attempts his iconic jump in the chorus— and nearly kneecaps Hongjoong.
Hongjoong yanks his head back, gripping the mic like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth.
His eyes lock onto Mingi’s with a silent warning so powerful it might as well be telepathic. Mingi gulps and nods— fast, frantic, like a man who has seen the afterlife and come back changed.
Wooyoung is waving at the wrong person. Again.
He thinks he sees Naomi?.. No, Savvina?. He definitely does not see either of them.
He is enthusiastically waving at a teenage boy in a bucket hat. The boys try not to laugh every time they pass him. They fail.
Seonghwa completely misses his cue.
The camera zoom in on him for the big screen. He’s supposed to wink. Instead he squints into the crowd like a suspicious grandpa.
“Is that Angel…? Or a girl with similar hair?” he mutters, lips barely moving.
Fans scream anyway, unaware he is visually malfunctioning.
Jongho forgets a harmony.
Just… forgets. Because he’s whispering urgently to Yeosang between steps: “Point them out again. I lost them. I LOST THEM.”
Yeosang doesn’t even look at him. “You’re in their direction right now.”
Yeosang freezes mid-move and stares way too intensely at the crowd.
Even Hongjoong breaks.
He fights for professionalism— he fights for his life. But the moment he spots Savvina belting the chorus like she owns it, Angel dancing like she’s in a survival show, Nabi waving her banner like a weapon— that does it. His whole face explodes into the goofiest grin known to mankind. He misses his cue so hard Wooyoung actually chokes on air.
And Yunho… Yunho is completely undone.
He tries to play it cool, tries to focus. But then he sees her. Naomi. Cheering, light stick waving, smiling in that soft, bright way he hadn’t seen in years.
And Yunho stops. Mid-dance. Mid-beat. Mid-everything. He just stares.
Wooyoung bumps his shoulder on the pass-by, not even subtle “UM— HELLO? MOVE!”
Yunho jerks back into formation like someone just hit his internal restart button. A full, wide-eyed, system reboot. And the worst part? He’s smiling. He can’t stop.
To the crowd, the show looks extra fun. To the boys, it feels like trying to perform while their entire childhood sits ten feet away.
Professionalism? Gone. Training? Out the window. Cool image? Dead on arrival.
They’re boys again. Excited, overwhelmed, and performing like absolute menaces because the people who watched them grow up are finally watching them shine.
Savvina tilts her head, analyzing like she’s reviewing battlefield footage. “Hongjoong keeps checking our section. That’s.. very suspicious.”
Nabi bites the inside of her cheek, eyes darting between members. “Wooyoung is literally grinning at nothing. Something is absolutely happening.”
Naomi tries— tries — to act unaffected, but her heart is pounding so hard she can feel it in her fingertips.
On stage, Yeosang is attempting to execute a perfectly cool turn… and then accidentally meets Angel’s eyes, freezes for half a beat, and abruptly spins the wrong direction.
Angel clasps her chest dramatically. “Oh my GOD he malfunctioned. Did you all see that? He LOOKED at us and GLITCHED.”
Savvina snorts. “Classic.”
Then Jongho starts his powerhouse high note— normally unshakeable— but his voice cracks the tiniest bit when he spots Nabi grinning up at him.
Nabi covers her mouth. “No way. Did I just break him?!”
“Guys,” Angel hisses, grabbing Naomi and shaking her by the shoulders. “They know we’re here. They KNOW.”
Naomi swallows hard, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t think they’d actually notice us.”
Savvina laughs under her breath, almost proud. “Naomi. Yunho hasn’t looked anywhere else since the chorus. If he stares any harder he’s going to fall off the stage.”
Naomi hides her face in her hands— again. “I can’t do this. I can’t breathe. Why does he look like that?”
Before anyone can tease her, the lights shift and the choreography moves the boys closer to the front of the stage.
Yunho passes their section. And he smiles. A small, stunned, real one.
The girls collectively lose all structural integrity.
Angel screams. Nabi smacks Savvina’s arm. Savvina grips the barricade like she’s about to ascend to another plane. Naomi feels her knees buckle, heart completely unspooled.
“He SMILED,” Angel howls over the crowd. “HE SMILED AT YOU, NAOMI—”
Naomi is absolutely, completely gone.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The lights flare back on, the music erupts, and the boys burst onto stage in fresh outfits. Polished. Confident. Every inch the global idols they’ve become.
But the girls can tell.
They’re flustered. Trying— and failing— to act normal.
Nabi is bouncing in her seat. “Yeosang is messing up his timing! AGAIN! This is HILARIOUS.”
“JONGHO’S HIGH NOTE IS A CRIME,” Savvina yells.
Angel slams her hand on Savvina’s thigh. “If Seonghwa keeps looking over here, I’m going feral.”
“PLEASE don’t,” Savvina deadpans, fanning her with her hand.
Naomi tries to keep her focus on the stage, but her heart is racing. Every time Yunho dances near their side, her pulse jumps. And then— he does one move wrong.
Small. Barely noticeable but she sees it.
Angel gasps like she witnessed a murder. “He SAW you! HE SAW YOU AND HIS BRAIN CRASHED!”
Naomi covers her face. “No—stop—he didn’t—please—”
Her cheeks burn.
Savvina shoves a water bottle at her. “You’re overheating.”
“I can’t drink water,” Naomi whispers, horrified. “What if he looks at me WHILE I’m drinking?”
All three scream-laugh at that.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The boys line up and bow in unison. The entire arena roars.
Confetti swirls like snow. The lights bloom gold. The music swells dramatically— as if the universe itself wants to slow the moment down.
Naomi watches Yunho rise, smiling at the crowd… but he glances toward their section one more time.
Just once. Just enough for her to feel it. Her chest aches in that nostalgic, beautiful, terrifying way. And then the boys run off backstage laughing right before the stage goes dark.
The venue empties slowly, the excited roar fading into scattered conversations and the rustle of fans heading toward the exits. The stage lights have dimmed to soft blues, casting the arena in a peaceful afterglow.
The girls remain in their seats for a moment, catching their breath.
Angel smooths her hair, still a little dazed. “They were… amazing.”
Savvina nods, hugging her jacket around her shoulders. “Every time they smiled, it felt unreal. Like they weren’t real people.”
Nabi exhales shakily. “I still can’t believe we were that close.”
Naomi doesn’t speak yet. She’s staring at the stage, replaying Yunho’s lingering glances— subtle, soft, nothing dramatic, but enough to set her heart trembling.
Angel notices her expression. “You doing okay?”
Naomi nods once, quietly. “Yeah. Just… taking it all in.”
They gather their things and join the flow of fans heading toward the stairs. The energy is calmer now, everyone pleasantly exhausted from the show.
Near the lower concourse, when the crowd thins, a staff member in a black headset steps to the side— just enough to get their attention, but not enough to draw any.
“Excuse me,” she says gently.
The girls pause.
Her approach is respectful, almost careful, as if trying not to startle them.
“Are you four together?” she asks.
“Um… yes?” Savvina responds cautiously.
The staff member checks her tablet, then gives a small, professional smile. “I was asked to find a group matching your description and bring you backstage.”
The girls freeze, but much quieter this time. No screams. Just four girls looking at each other with widening eyes, stunned silence, and barely contained nerves.
Naomi swallows. “T- They… want to see us?”
“Yes,” the staff member says. “If you’re comfortable with that, I can escort you.”
Nabi’s fingers curl around her bag strap. “Right now?”
“Yes. After the venue clears.”
Angel nudges Naomi gently, seeing her stunned expression. “Naomi?”
She exhales slowly, steadying herself. “…We’d like that,” she says softly.
The staff member steps aside and motions toward a quiet hallway marked Authorized Personnel Only.
A security guard joins just behind them— not imposing, just guiding.
The girls walk together. Quiet, nervous, hearts pounding in their chests.
Angel whispers, barely audible, “This is really happening.”
Nabi’s voice shakes in response. “It feels like a dream.”
Savvina keeps her arm lightly linked with Naomi’s, grounding her.
And Naomi… she walks forward with small, careful breaths— because somewhere behind those backstage doors waits someone she hasn’t stood in front of in years.
Someone who looked at her tonight with the softness of an unfinished story.
Meanwhile the dressing room is buzzing, but not loudly. Makeup artists pack up their kits. Stylists fold discarded stage jackets. A few staff members move quietly in and out with water bottles and towels.
But the boys? They’re not calm. Not even close.
Hongjoong keeps checking the clock on the wall, pretending he’s just tracking schedule notes. Seonghwa sits with perfect posture, hands folded neatly, but his knee hasn’t stopped bouncing for ten minutes. Wooyoung keeps fixing his hair even though he’s already styled for photos. San has rearranged the same pile of bracelets on the counter four times.
Yunho sits on the edge of a small armchair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white. He keeps watching the door and not subtly.
Wooyoung throws a towel at him. “Stop staring. You look like a puppy waiting for its owner.”
Seonghwa gently covers for him. “He’s nervous. Let him be.”
Yunho opens his mouth to deny it— then closes it again. Because he is nervous. His heart is pounding fast enough that he can feel it in his throat. He’s rehearsed a dozen things he might say when he sees Naomi again, but now every word feels too small.
What if she doesn’t want to talk? What if the moment onstage meant nothing to her? What if he’s read everything wrong?
“Mmm?” Hongjoong nudges him from where he’s leaning against the counter. “You’re quiet.”
Yunho forces a breath. “I just… want to make sure she’s okay.”
Hongjoong smiles knowingly. “You’ll see for yourself. Soon.”
A soft knock comes from the hallway and their manager pokes his head in. “They’re on their way.”
The room goes silent. Not tense— just full of something that feels like hope, and nerves tangled together.
The boys straighten up instinctively. Some stand. Some adjust their clothes. All of them hold their breath.
Footsteps approach from the hall— soft, hesitant, familiar.
Yunho stands without realizing it, heart thundering.
The knob turns.
And in that split second before he even sees them, Yunho feels the years collapse into this one moment, like the past is finally walking back into his life.
The door swings open.
Naomi, Angel, Savvina, and Nabi step inside, blinking against the bright backstage lights. Their eyes immediately find the boys— and the boys instantly lose any semblance of composure.
Yunho freezes mid-step. San chokes on his own breath. Wooyoung almost trips over his own feet. Seonghwa’s perfectly calm face cracks into a grin that could melt steel.
“OH MY GOD,” Angel bursts out, launching forward like a missile and nearly tackling Seonghwa.
Savvina attempts to hold her back, laughing. “Angel— CONTROL.”
Naomi hesitates, standing frozen for a heartbeat… until Yunho’s eyes lock with hers.
Time slows.
Then everything explodes.
Yunho bolts forward, barely restraining himself from hugging her immediately. Naomi stumbles backward, laughing and crying at the same time, as the others cheer, scream, and almost tackle each other in excitement.
Nabi is already hugging Jongho and San simultaneously.
Yeosang is giving high-fives to everyone like he’s won a championship. Wooyoung is dramatically kissing his hands to the girls, bowing, twirling… performing his own chaotic fan service routine. Seonghwa carefully grabs Angel in a hug, trying to stay elegant, but even he ends up laughing mid-embrace.
Yunho’s still embracing Naomi. Their hug is tentative at first— like a balancing act between all the pent-up years of feelings and the awkwardness of being back together after so long.
Then it collapses into something chaotic and beautiful.
Yunho squeezes her like he can’t let go, finally whispering only for her. “I’ve missed this… I missed you.”
Naomi swallows hard, eyes glistening. “I’ve… missed you too.”
Wooyoung dramatically yells. “CAN YOU TWO STOP STARING AT EACH OTHER AND JOIN THE CHAOS?!”
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The reunion is still loud and messy when Hongjoong suddenly claps his hands like a dad gathering overstimulated children. “Okay! Before we all pass out from emotions— dinner. Now. Everyone, move!”
Angel cheers instantly. “YES, FEED ME!”
Wooyoung throws an arm around her. “See? She understands priorities.”
Savvina lifts a brow. “Wait— like… actual dinner? With you guys?”
Mingi looks personally offended. “Uh, yeah? You think we’re letting you leave after ten minutes? No way.”
Nabi laughs, adjusting her bag. “Are we even allowed—?”
“Allowed?” San gasps dramatically. “Nabi. Sweet Nabi. Baby, we are the rules.”
Naomi snorts. “That’s definitely not how that works.”
Yunho grins and nudges her shoulder gently. “Just say yes.”
“I didn’t say no!” she fires back, flustered.
They end up in a cozy, dimly lit Korean bbq place the boys swear by, the kind that stays open until sunrise and knows them so well they don’t even blink when eight idols plus four women tumble inside like a storm.
The staff leads them to a big private room in the back.
The moment the door closes— chaos, immediate and unfiltered.
Wooyoung dives into a seat. San slides into the booth like a baseball player stealing home. Angel tries to sit next to Seonghwa, but Mingi scoots in so fast he traps her on the end.
“I—I didn’t agree to this seating arrangement—” she protests.
Mingi beams. “Too late! I’m starving!”
Nabi tries to sit between Hongjoong and Jongho, but Hongjoong moves her like a chess piece. “Nope. You’re here. I need peace on this side.”
“HEY!” San shouts from across the table.
Naomi ends up beside Yunho, somehow, without anyone forcing it— which makes both of them a little too aware of each other.
Wooyoung notices and wiggles his eyebrows. Yunho kicks him under the table.
They eat, passing plates and laughter back and forth. They tease, poking fun at old habits and new quirks alike. They catch up, filling in years of missed moments with words, gestures, and stories that make the past feel alive again. They laugh— so hard that their sides ache, voices overlapping in a happy bubble that could only belong to them.
Somehow, amid the noise and movement, the years melt away. The table feels suspended in time, a space where the familiar and the new blend seamlessly.
And in the middle of it all— just for a heartbeat— Yunho looks at Naomi. Softly. Almost reverently. Like he still can’t quite believe she’s really here, really in front of him.
Naomi catches his gaze. Her cheeks flare, warm and tingling. She looks down, shy, but can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
Nabi leans toward Savvina, whispering conspiratorially, “We’re going to tease her about this for the rest of her life.”
Savvina grins. “Oh, absolutely.”
Across the table, a few of the boys glance their way. And then slowly, knowingly, the smirks begin.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The elevator doors glide open, releasing all twelve of them into the hallway with the kind of chaotic energy that can only come from childhood friends who haven’t been together in years.
Angel practically skips beside Seonghwa, still starstruck. Savvina gently pushes Mingi forward when he slows down to inspect a vending machine like its art. Nabi is half-listening, half-smiling as Wooyoung animatedly retells a story she’s already heard twice.
Naomi walks quietly near the back, just beside Yunho.
Every laugh and footstep around them feels warm, familiar— but the space between her and Yunho feels charged in a way it never did before.
Hongjoong leads the way to the suite at the end of the hall and taps his keycard.
The door clicks open. When they get inside the whole scene is loud and ridiculous— but in a nostalgic way, like the grown-up version of their chaotic teen hangouts.
Naomi stands in the doorway, laughing softly under her breath as she watches everyone scatter around the room.
Then— a gentle touch on her arm. She turns to find Yunho beside her, closer than she realized, eyes warm despite the dim hallway light.
“Um,” he says quietly, voice softer than anything happening behind them. “Would you… walk with me for a bit? Just us?”
The world slows. Not dramatically— just enough that she feels her heartbeat rise into her throat.
Her instinct is to look back at the group. Angel is already giving her the ‘don’t you dare say no’ face. Nabi’s eyebrows curve into a go, girl arch. Savvina is giving double thumbs-up like a proud little league coach.
Naomi exhales a tiny laugh and nods. “I’d like that.”
Yunho doesn’t visibly react— but his entire posture loosens, like he just let go of something heavy.
He steps aside, holding the door for her as she slips into the hallway. The noise of their friends fades behind them— the laughter, the teasing.
The door closes with a soft click. And suddenly, it’s quiet. Just Naomi and Yunho. A hallway washed in warm hotel lights. Footsteps soft against the carpet. Years of silence walking between them, finally ready to be broken.
The walk to the rooftop is wrapped in a quiet that isn’t awkward— just full of things neither of them has said yet. Their footsteps echo softly in the stairwell, and every few steps their arms brush, gentle and electric. And each stolen glance says more than either of them dares to speak aloud.
The door creaks softly as Yunho pushes it open, a faint rush of cool night air brushing past them.
Naomi steps out onto the rooftop and pauses. The city stretches out beneath them— warm lights, distant traffic, the hum of nightlife drifting upward. Above them, the sky is clear enough to see a scattering of stars.
It’s quiet. Still. Private. The kind of place where truths feel easier to say.
Yunho watches her for a moment, hands tucked nervously into his pockets. They walk to the railing, side by side, gazing out at the city. For a moment, neither speaks.
Naomi grips the railing gently. “You were amazing tonight. All of you. I’m… really proud of you.”
Yunho’s voice is quiet. “It meant more seeing you there than you know.”
She turns to him, surprised. He’s already looking at her. Not with confusion but with clarity.
The wind lifts her hair, brushing it across her cheek. Yunho hesitates— then gently tucks it behind her ear. His fingers linger.
Naomi swallows. “Yunho… why did you bring me up here?”
He exhales, shakier than he intends. “Because if I said this in front of the others, Wooyoung would scream, San would cry and Mingi would tell everyone on live.”
She snorts softly, but her breath hitches. Because she knows where this is going— because she’s terrified of where this is going.
Yunho steps closer. Just a little. Just enough that she feels the warmth of him.
“When I left,” he says slowly, “I thought I could come back one day and tell you everything. I thought I’d be brave by then. I thought… I’d have the right words.”
Her chest tightens.
“But then training happened. Debut happened. Time just—” He swallows. “It slipped away.”
He looks down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But my feelings didn’t.”
The rooftop feels too quiet. Her heartbeat feels too loud.
“Yunho…”
“I loved you,” he says, voice trembling with sincerity. “And I never stopped. Not once. Not for a single day.”
Her breath catches hard. The city lights blur.
He steps closer again, careful but certain, his voice soft but full of everything he kept to himself for years. “I don’t care how complicated it is,” he says.
“I don’t care about rumors, or timing, or what anyone thinks.”
His thumb brushes over her skin, warm and steady. “I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t lose you again.”
Naomi feels her eyes burn, the rooftop lights blurring softly. She squeezes his hand, whispering, “Yun… I wanted to tell you and I regretted it for so long.”
He freezes. “What did you want to tell me?”
She breathes shakily. “That I loved you too.”
Silence. Beautiful, breathless silence.
Yunho’s eyes soften in a way that almost breaks her. Very slowly, he lifts a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushes the corner of her eye, catching the tear that escapes.
“Can I…” His voice cracks. “Can I kiss you?”
Naomi nods— once, small, trembling. Yunho leans in gently, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t.
Their lips meet in a soft, careful kiss— the kind that feels like years of unsaid words melting into one moment. The kind that feels like a beginning long overdue.
Naomi’s hands curl lightly into his jacket. Yunho pulls her closer, breath shaking as he kisses her deeper, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go.
When they separate, their foreheads rest together, breaths mixing, hearts racing.
She looks up at him with eyes still shining, lips parted, cheeks flushed by the cold air and the confession and the kiss they finally shared. That look— it undoes him. Completely.
He leans in again, this time without hesitation, one hand cupping her jaw while the other slips to her waist, pulling her against him.
Their lips meet harder this time— a kiss that isn’t careful or tentative, but hungry with all the years they lost, all the feelings they buried, all the moments they never got to have.
Naomi rises on her toes, fingers threading into the back of his hair as she kisses him back just as fiercely.
Yunho’s breath stutters, and he deepens the kiss, mouth moving with hers in a slow, passionate rhythm that sends warmth rushing through both of them despite the cold rooftop air. She feels the tremble in his hands. He feels the trembling in hers.
When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless— faces inches apart, chests rising and falling in sync.
Yunho rests his forehead against hers again, but this time his smile is different. Softer. Happier. A little wrecked, in the best way.
“Years,” he whispers, voice warm and unsteady. “I’ve waited years to kiss you like that.”
Naomi swallows, cheeks burning, lips tingling, heart racing. “Me too,” she whispers back.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Yunho says, eyes full of hope. “I’m not losing you again.”
“Then you’re not.” She smiles softly.
Yunho’s expression shifts— something relieved, something overwhelmed, something impossibly tender.
He leans down and kisses her once more— gentle, lingering, full of gratitude and affection. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise rather than a question.
“We should… probably go back,” he murmurs, though neither of them moves.
Naomi laughs softly. “We should.”
“After one more,” Yunho says.
And he kisses her again, quick and sweet, stealing her breath and smile all at once.
Finally, fingers intertwined, they turn toward the stairwell door.
Still holding hands, smiling like they’re stepping into a future they both finally get to choose.
Naomi smooths her hair with shaking hands. Yunho tries to fix his hoodie. Both of them are still flushed, lips a little swollen, hearts absolutely not recovered.
By the time they reach the door, they both try to look normal. Straightening themselves as if they hadn’t just been making out like they were starving for each other.
When Yunho opens the door the boys are loud, mid-story, mid-teasing, sprawled all over the room— until they see the couple step inside.
Holding hands.
Flushed.
Avoiding eye contact like they’ve committed a crime.
The room goes quiet. Not loud-shock quiet. Not dramatic-gasp quiet. Just… knowing.
Hongjoong looks up first, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. Seonghwa’s lips twitch into a soft, graceful smile like he’d been expecting this moment for years. San nudges Mingi with the most obvious “I told you so” face on the planet.
Jongho tries to act normal but fails immediately, biting back a grin. Yeosang crosses his arms, smirking to himself as if he solved the final piece of a puzzle.
The girls are no better. Angel spots their linked hands and inhales sharply, eyes gleaming like she’s discovered hidden treasure. Savvina’s grin is slow, delighted, knowing. Nabi’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and she leans forward just a little, like she’s watching a drama play out in real-time.
Not a single word is spoken but everyone sees everything.
Yunho tries to look casual, but his flushed ears and soft smile betray him instantly. Naomi’s fingers tighten around his, her cheeks warm, eyes shy but glowing.
Angel leans toward Wooyoung, whispering behind her hand, “They kissed.”
Wooyoung snorts. “No duh. Look at them.”
Hongjoong finally breaks the silence— not with a question, not with a tease, but with a simple, warm, “Welcome back.”
The room settles again, conversations slowly resume. But the air shifted— softer, warmer. Like everyone silently agreed: something changed on that rooftop.
And they’re all quietly, overwhelmingly happy about it.
They stayed close for the rest of the night, orbiting each other like gravity had quietly pulled them back together. Every glance lingered a little too long. Every smile came with a blush neither of them tried to hide. It felt easy, familiar, like slipping back into something they never truly lost.
When Hongjoong offhandedly mentioned they had a week of free time before the next round of preparations began, Yunho didn’t let the moment pass.
He asked Naomi out before the night could end.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The park is quieter than usual.
Most families are gone, the crowds thinned to couples and small groups lingering under glowing lights. Music drifts lazily through the air, rides humming, neon reflections shimmering across the pavement.
Naomi takes it all in, eyes bright. “An amusement park?” she says, amused. “Very bold choice.”
Yunho shrugs, pretending he’s calmer than he is. “We figured you’d like it.”
She arches a brow. “We?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Okay— everyone knew. But this part is just us.”
She laughs, then steps closer, slipping her fingers into his belt loop instead of his hand.
Yunho freezes.
“Oh,” she says innocently. “Is this okay? Or is this too distracting?”
His ears immediately turn red. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he says.
Naomi grins. “Absolutely.”
They start with rides. Naomi insists on sitting next to him every time— leaning just a little too close, laughing too loud in his ear, gripping his arm during drops even when she’s clearly not scared.
On the roller coaster, she screams dramatically— then presses her mouth close to his ear mid-drop.
“Don’t worry,” she shouts over the rush. “I’ll protect you!”
Yunho laughs breathlessly, adrenaline and her closeness doing dangerous things to his focus. When they get off, his hands are still warm where she held him.
“You having fun?” she asks sweetly.
“You’re evil,” he replies and she beams.
By the time they reach the Ferris wheel, the park lights feel softer, the night deeper. They sit alone in the car as it begins its slow ascent, the noise of the park fading beneath them.
Naomi swings her foot lazily, eyes tracing the city lights below. “This feels dangerous,” she says.
Yunho glances at her. “Because it’s high up?”
“No.” She turns toward him, smile slow and knowing. “Because you keep looking at me like that.”
His jaw tightens— just slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying very hard to behave.” She scoots closer. The Ferris wheel creaks gently, swaying just enough to be noticeable.
Yunho exhales, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“I waited years,” she says lightly. “I think I’ve earned it.”
She tilts his chin up with her finger and kisses him— slow, deliberate, testing his restraint. His hand goes instinctively to her waist, firm but careful, like he’s grounding himself.
When they pull back, his voice is lower.
“Naomi…”
She smiles, pleased. “Yes?”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
“I know.”
They’re walking slowly now, ice cream cones melting faster than either of them expected. Naomi has mint chip. Yunho has double chocolate.
She takes a bite, hums dramatically, and then without warning, leans over and taps her spoon against his cone.
“Trade,” she says.
He blinks. “What?”
“I want to try yours.”
“You could’ve just asked—”
Too late. She takes a neat bite from his cone, lips closing around the edge just long enough to make Yunho’s brain short-circuit. She pulls back, eyes sparkling.
“Mmm,” she hums. “Sweet.”
Yunho stares at the cone. Then at her. Then back at the cone. “You...”
Naomi smiles innocently and licks a bit of chocolate off her thumb. “Hm?”
He exhales slowly through his nose. She laughs and bumps her shoulder into his as they walk.
They pass beneath a string of lights, the park glowing softer now, quieter. Naomi drifts closer, pressing her side into Yunho’s arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world— because it is.
She tilts her head up at him.
“You’ve been really well-behaved tonight.”
He lifts a brow. “Have I?”
“Yes,” she says easily. “Very patient, very polite.” She pauses, lips curving. “I wonder how long that’ll last.”
Yunho stops walking. It takes her one more step to realize he’s no longer beside her. Naomi turns.
He’s looking at her like she just dared him.
“Sweetheart,” he says quietly as he steps closer, voice dropping, “you keep testing me.”
She backs up just enough to keep space between them, smile slow and knowing. “I told you,” she says. “I waited years.”
She lifts her ice cream and deliberately takes another lick— eyes never leaving his. Yunho’s grip tightens around his cone.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and honest, “I’m trying really hard to respect you.”
Her smile softens, just a little. “I know.” Then, playful again, “That’s why this is fun.”
She reaches up, swiping a small smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
Yunho’s breath stutters.
She doesn’t pull away right away. “Messy,” she murmurs.
His hand comes up instinctively, catching her wrist— not rough, just steady. Grounding. His thumb presses lightly against her pulse.
“Naomi,” he warns softly.
She meets his gaze, eyes warm, teasing, and a little daring. “Yes?”
He leans in— not kissing her, not yet— just close enough that their noses brush, close enough that she feels his breath against her skin.
“If you keep doing this,” he murmurs, “I’m going to stop being patient.”
Her heart jumps. The words send a shiver down her spine. She hides her smirk badly, then slowly pulls her hand back.
“Good,” she says lightly, resuming their walk like nothing happened. “I was starting to worry.”
Yunho follows, shaking his head, laughing under his breath— his mind already made up. He reaches for her hand again, fingers lacing with hers this time, firm, like he’s reclaiming control.
They keep walking, ice cream finished, lights glowing overheard, tension humming between them like electricity.
They don’t stop at the booth this time. Yunho guides her farther— past the dim lights, past the last wandering couples— until the noise of the park fades into a low hum. They reach a quiet overlook, shadows stretching long, the city glowing softly beyond the gates.
Naomi turns, already ready with another teasing remark— but Yunho closes the distance. He backs her gently against the railing, the cool metal meeting her spine as his presence surrounds her.
Not rushed. Not rough. Just intentional enough to make her pulse spike. Her fingers curl behind her, gripping the railing as she looks up at him.
One of his hands braces beside her, palm flat against the metal. The other settles firmly at her hip, thumb pressing in slow, deliberate circles that make it impossible to forget where he’s touching her— or why. He doesn’t kiss her yet.
“Look at me,” he says, low.
She does.
There’s no teasing in his expression now. No playfulness. Just focus. Heat. The kind of restraint that’s been stretched thin far too long.
“You’ve been pushing me all night,” he murmurs. “Seeing how far I’d let you go.”
Her lips part. “And?”
“And I needed to be sure,” he continues, thumb pressing more firmly at her hip, grounding her, “that when I stop holding back… you’re ready for it.”
Her answer doesn’t waver. “I am.”
That’s all it takes. Yunho kisses her. Deep, slow, and confident— like he’s been waiting years for permission to lose himself in it.
It steals the air from her lungs, making her knees buckle as she leans into him without thinking. His hands tightens at her waist, pulling her closer until there’s nothing left between them.
Naomi gasps softly into his mouth as she melts into him, hands sliding up his chest, roaming— feeling the heat beneath his jacket before gripping the fabric hard, like she needs it to stay upright.
He breaks the kiss only to murmur against her lips, “Good.”
Then he’s back on her again— harder. Hungrier. Still controlled, but just barely. His hand moves, sliding from her waist to her lower back, keeping her pressed close. She feels the pressure, the intention, the unmistakable want behind it.
She makes a soft sound into his mouth. “Yunho—”
He doesn’t stop. His lips trail along her jaw, down to her neck, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch before he kisses her again.
He smiles— barely— against her lips. “You okay?” he asks, voice rougher now.
“Yes,” she breathes, already chasing him. “Don’t stop.”
So he doesn’t. The next kiss is slower, deeper, like he’s savoring her— mouth moving against hers with deliberate intensity. Naomi arches into him as her fingers find his neck, then his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into her mouth.
“Yunho,” Naomi whines, “Please.” She reaches lower, hands now roaming over his chest.
“Look at you,” His own hands roam at her sides, thumb pressing in just enough to make her shiver. “Begging already and I’ve barely touched you.”
“So do something about it.”
Yunho chuckles lowly before slowly kneeling, she watches him, his eyes never leave hers as he spreads her legs.
One hand wraps around the back of her thigh, hiking it up just enough to expose everything underneath her skirt to him. Her panties are already soaked. Naomi gasps softly when the cool breeze hits her core just as Yunho pulls the thin fabric aside.
Yunho groans at the sight. Loudly. “Fuck, look at you all ready for me,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, making her breath hitch.
Without warning his mouth was on her. The first swipe of his tongue is soft— just enough pressure to taste her. But the second swipe? Firm, flat, right against her clit.
Naomi’s legs nearly buckle but Yunho grabs her thighs, holding her open. His breath is hot against her as he devours her like it’s his last meal, tongue flicking and stroking with expert precision, all while moaning like it turns him on— because it does.
“Yun, I’m close.” Naomi moans gripping the railing for dear life.
“Cum for me, doll. Make a mess on my face.” Yunho’s chuckle turns into a groan of pleasure as he dives back in, his tongue lapping at her folds with renewed enthusiasm. Her hips rock forward, pushing into his face. His grip tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin as he pushes her over the edge.
Naomi cries out his name as her orgasm crashes over her, her body shaking from the intensity of it. The male laps up her juices, his grip on her never falter as she comes undone on his tongue. Her legs are trembling and her grip on the railing is the only thing keeping her upright. He pulls back, his mouth slick with her essence, a smug smile on his face as he looks up at her fucked out expression.
Yunho stands slowly, hands now gripping at her waist, holding her up firmly. Naomi can feel his body pressing into her and his hardness through his pants. She looks up at him, glazed eyes, bottom lip caught in between her teeth, as she palms his bulge.
He groans at the sight, at the feeling. His voice is gruff, eyes dark with need. "Come here."
She nods eagerly, stroking him through the fabric of his pants, her cheeks flushing as she helps him undo his belt. “I need you,” she murmurs, her voice a soft invitation.
Yunho kisses her hard, stealing the air from her lungs, letting her taste himself on his tongue. She moans breathily into his mouth. When they pull apart he turns her around. The railing is cold against her thighs as her palms brace against the edge. Namoi feels his warmth from behind, as Yunho comes up behind her, undoing only enough to free himself. He lifts her skirt, pulls her panties to the side, and slides into her with one slow, deep thrust.
He waits a few moments, letting her adjust to the impossible stretch of him. Naomi inhales sharply at the way he filled her— aching, perfect, deliciously deep. Yunho groans low from behind her, head falling back as his hips began to roll in deliberate movements.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, one hand stays braced on her hip, the other sneaking under her shirt and bra, pinching her nipple while he fucks her hard enough to make her thighs tremble. His thrusts are brutal but controlled, his rhythm punishing but intimate.
Naomi arched for him instinctively, ass pushing back, trying to take every inch of him. He growled as he snapped his hips forward. “Is this what you wanted?” he panted. “To be bent over like this in public? Soaked and shaking for me?”
Yunho’s pace quickened, wet, filthy slaps echoed out into the night, her cries rising with every stroke. “Say it,” he demanded, another thrust rocking her body. “Tell me you wanted this.”
“I wanted it,” she cried out, “I wanted you. Yun, please!”
One hand found her hair, tugging her up and flush against his chest, while the other kept her hips in place. “So take it,” he started pounding into her like a man possessed making her cry out again.
The new angle let him to reach deeper, his cock kissing the spot that had her seeing stars. “Oh my god—” Naomi gasps, the sound breaking into a shaky moan. “It’s too much— I can’t.”
“You can. You’re already taking me like your made for it.” His grip on her tightened, holding her there, unable to do anything but take every punishing thrust and moan his name like a sinful prayer. “So good for me,” he growled. “So fucking tight… fuck, baby…” his voice cracked.
“I’m gonna cum,” Yunho grunted deep as his thrusts turned frantic. “Gonna let me fill you full?”
“Yes, yes, fuck— please,” Naomi nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut, voice low and unsteady. She can feel another orgasm building as he hits her sweet spot over and over.
Yunho whimpers at her plea. He dips his head to her neck, lips pressing there with intention, teeth catching just enough to mark the moment as his. That was the final blow that sent Naomi over the edge— she cried out as she shattered around him, squeezing his cock so tight his hips faltered for a second.
With a few more devastating thrusts he came, hard, hips pressed deep, still rolling as he painted her insides.
“Take it… fucking take every last drop, fuck” He moans broken, desperate— his whole body trembling with the force of it.
They don’t move. Not yet. Both of them breathe hard, pressed together, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Just melded to each other for a couple of minutes until he carefully slides out of her and adjusts their clothes.
Yunho lingers behind Naomi, forehead pressed to her shoulder, hands firm at her waist like he’s afraid she might disappear. Hair wrecked. Cheeks warm with the afterglow of what they’d just done.
Naomi exhales slowly, shoulders easing beneath his touch. Skin warm. Hair undone. Cheeks flushed. Still catching her own breath from everything.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly, voice gentler now. “You okay?”
Naomi nods at first, then exhales slowly. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need,” he says immediately.
His hands loosen, thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles at her sides. Not demanding. Not urgent. Just there. When she shifts slightly, he adjusts with her, keeping her warm and steady.
After a moment, he reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing once— soft, reassuring.
“Still with me?” he asks quietly.
She smiles, tired and warm, leaning back into his chest. “Yeah. I am.”
He presses a gentle kiss to her temple, then another to her hair, lingering. He doesn’t want to rush this part. It matters just as much. Yunho stays close, one hand still warm at her waist, the other brushing lightly along her arm like he’s checking in without asking again.
After a moment, he tilts his head, glancing toward the path leading away from the overlook.
“I saw a restroom just around the corner,” he says quietly. “Back when we walked past earlier.”
Naomi hums softly, nodding. “That sounds… really nice right now.”
He smiles faintly, relief easing into his expression. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He takes her hand again, slow and steady, and leads her away from the railing. They walk close enough that their shoulders brush with every step, the quiet between them comfortable now— settled.
The restroom is empty when they step inside, the lights low, humming softly overhead. Yunho lets the door close behind them, locks it, then turns back to her.
“Sit for a second,” he says gently, guiding her toward the counter. “I’ll grab some paper towels.”
She does, leaning back against the cool surface, watching him move around with an almost domestic ease— careful, attentive, still very much focused on her.
His hands are steady as he cleans her, gentle and attentive, eyes focused like this is the most important thing in the world. He murmurs soft reassurances under his breath, checks in with quiet “Is this okay?” and “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
When he’s finished, he presses a soft kiss to her temple, then her forehead, before tossing the towel and grabbing one for himself.
“Better?” He asks.
She nods, “Much. Thank you.”
“How do you feel?” he whispers. Not the careful check from before— this one is softer. Personal.
Naomi hums, “ I feel… good— amazing actually.”
His shoulders ease, like he’s been holding something there this whole time. His hand slips to her waist again— not gripping, just resting. Familiar. Protective.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I was worried I might’ve—”
She cuts him off with a small smile, shaking her head. “You didn’t.”
Her fingers curl lightly around the hem of his sleeve, grounding him the way he’s been grounding her. “If anything,” she adds quietly, “I’ve waited too long for that.”
Yunho chuckled lowly, a soft sound that feels like relief. He smiles just a little, nose brushing hers. “So have I,” he admits, barely audible. “More than you know.”
There’s a pause. The kind that stretches, heavy but warm.
He dips his head, voice even lower now. “You done teasing me?”
Naomi laughs under her breath, eyes bright. “Absolutely not.”
He laughs, thumb brushing once at her waist like a warning he doesn’t actually mean. “Dangerous,” he whispers.
She leans in, lips just grazing his cheek. “You love it.”
He doesn’t deny it because he absolutely does love it. Instead, he presses a soft kiss to her temple— lingering, careful, full of things neither of them are ready to say out loud yet.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s go before someone notices we’ve disappeared.”
She nods, squeezing his hand once before letting him lead her back out.
───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The rest of the week passes gently, like it doesn’t want to rush them.
They find time in quiet pockets— late-night walks, shared meals, laughter that comes easy. Somewhere between soft conversations and unspoken understanding, they talk about his schedule, the distance, the reality of his life on the road. It’s never heavy. Just honest. They decide, together, to try— to choose each other without overthinking the future, to take it one day at a time.
The dates become something steady and sweet: fingers laced under tables, inside jokes whispered just for them, Yunho learning every small thing that makes Naomi light up. Every goodbye is met with a smile instead of dread, promises exchanged with the certainty that this isn’t ending— just continuing differently.
And when the week draws to a close, it doesn’t feel like an ending at all. It feels like the beginning of something they’re willing to grow into.
A year later
Life hadn’t slowed down, but it settled. Schedules blurred into routine, distance became familiar instead of daunting. Calls happened across time zones, voices softened by exhaustion and affection. Some days were long. Some weeks were harder than others. But they learned— how to wait, how to trust, how to hold space for each other even with miles stretched between them.
They grew— not apart, but around each other. And without either of them realizing exactly when it happened, they made it work.
They had carved out time to plan two weeks of summer vacation together, knowing the boys would have another break soon. The girls cleared their schedules without hesitation, buzzing with excitement for the trip. And before they knew it, the days had arrived— sooner than anyone expected.
By the time they pulled up to the villa, laughter was already spilling from the van. White walls, sun-warmed terraces, and a view of endless sand and sparkling ocean made them pause for a moment, taking it all in. No neighbors. No staff. Just the twelve of them— finally free to be loud, messy, and completely themselves.
Yunho stayed just behind Naomi, watching her with that familiar, quiet intensity, hand brushing hers whenever the wild energy pushed them close. She caught his gaze and grinned, leaning into him with that teasing energy that always made him lose his focus for a second.
As soon as they reach the sand, chaos takes over.
Wooyoung has taken it upon himself to start a sandcastle competition, dragging everyone into ridiculous alliances and alliances-breaking betrayals.
Jongho sneaks a water gun into the mix, aiming it at Mingi, who retaliates by tackling Seonghwa into the surf. The girls are laughing, shrieking, and occasionally joining Yunho and Naomi’s private little battles— flicks of water, brushes of hands, stolen glances.
Amid all the mayhem, there’s a rhythm. Laughter echoing over the waves, shouts blending with the ocean, flirty nudges and playful pushes— like the beach itself is alive with them.
At some point, Yunho catches Naomi in his arms mid-splash, laughing as she squirms and smacks his chest. “You think you’re safe now?” he teases.
“I am not!” she yells, though her grin gives her away. “Not until I’m soaked too!”
And the next minute, she’s dragging him into the surf, yelling at everyone to watch them “get each other back,” while the rest of the group explodes into shrieks, cheers, and mock commentary.
By the time the sun dips toward the horizon, the sand is trampled, everyone drenched, sun-kissed, and laughing until their sides ache. Hair is wild, cheeks flushed, and the air hums with playful energy, stolen touches, and quiet, heated moments. There, on the sun-soaked beach, surrounded by friends, waves and each other, everything felt endless.
I’m so in love with this hair, it just made it to my top 1 😍😍😍😍
literally so gorgeous oml
Your regular reminder that trickle-down economics is a cruel joke designed by the wealthy.
HE FOUND TUMBLR??????
I’ve been here the whole time.
Dear god, he's not kidding...
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
THE GRINCH WAS REALLY OUT HERE WITH HIS GRUSSY OUT
YUNHO as Giseok in ‘Back! Stage’ (2025)
Dammit Yunho and his ability to wreck me. 😤
Under Your Skin (Pt. 2)
Pairing: Idol!Bangchan x idol!fem!oc
Genre/AU: Exes to lovers, slow burn, second chance romance, angst, heartbreak, LOTS of tension, smut, fluff
Summary:
When love ends, does it ever really fade?
Six months after a painful breakup, Savvina crosses paths with her ex, Chan, at a party that was supposed to help her forget him. But one look, one touch, and every buried emotion crashes back to the surface.
What she doesn’t know is that Aeri—Chan’s oldest friend—never stopped wanting him for herself. And she’ll do anything to keep Savvina out of his life for good.
Old flames. Hidden jealousy. Dangerous love.
When truth and desire collide, someone’s bound to get burned.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. This is just for fun, nothing more. You are responsible for the content you consume.
Warnings/Ratings: 18+ MDNI!! Use of pet names, oral (both receiving & giving), desperate sex, love making, fingering, unprotected sex, soft dirty talk, praise, multiple orgasms. I think I’ve got them all! Please let me know if I missed anything!
This chapter does contain smut please read at your own risk.
Reading begins under the cut :)
Wc: 8-10k (I think?)
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
It had been three days since the party, yet Chan still couldn’t shake the image of Savvina from his mind— the way her voice had trembled when she told him to let go, the flicker of hurt she tried so hard to hide. He’d replayed every word, every look, until it became impossible to focus on anything else.
He hesitated before opening their old chat. Her name sat there untouched for months, surrounded by unread messages and unsent drafts. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his heart thudded in his chest. Just do it, man, he told himself. What’s the worst that can happen?
Chan: Hey… are you free tomorrow?
Chan: There’s this place I want to take you. Just as friends. No pressure.
He hit send before he could change his mind, then tossed his phone aside as if it had burned him
On the other side of the city, Savvina’s phone buzzed against the countertop. She was halfway through folding laundry when she saw his name light up the screen— her breath caught instantly. For a long moment, she just stared at it, the memories threatening to come rushing back all at once.
“Just as friends,” she whispered under her breath, eyes narrowing. She should say no. She wanted to say no.
But her fingers betrayed her.
Savvina: I guess I’m free. What time?
Chan exhaled in disbelief when the reply came through, staring at the words for what felt like forever. His lips curved into a small, nervous smile. She casually said yes.
He didn’t waste another second replying back.
Chan: I’ll pick you at 7. Dress warm.
He’d already decided on the spot— a late-night rooftop cafe he’d discovered months ago while producing music. It wasn’t flashy or loud like the parties they were used to. It was quiet. Private. The kind of place where words came easier and silences meant something.
The next evening, Savvina took one last glance in the mirror before grabbing her coat. She didn’t know why she was nervous; it wasn’t a date— not really. Just two people trying to clear the air… right? Her reflection didn’t seem convinced.
When the doorbell rang, her stomach flipped. She took a slow breath and opened the door.
Chan stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his hand through it too many times on the drive over. His usual confidence was replaced with something softer— unsure.
“You look good,” he said quietly.
“So do you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
They shared a brief, awkward silence before he cleared his throat. “Ready?”
She nodded, following him out into the crisp night.
The drive was quiet at first. The hum of the engine filled the space where conversation should’ve been. Every few minutes, Chan would glance her way— the same way he always used to when he thought she wasn’t looking.
When they finally reached the rooftop café, the city lights stretched endlessly below them. The faint sound of jazz played through hidden speakers, and warm light from string bulbs painted the scene in gold.
Savvina’s lips parted in surprise. “You brought me here?”
Chan gave a small smile. “It’s kind of my escape spot. Thought maybe you could use one too.”
She looked at him then— really looked at him. The boy she’d fallen for years ago was still there beneath the quiet maturity, and that realization made her chest ache.
They found a table tucked away in the corner. For a while, they didn’t talk— just sat there, sipping their drinks, watching the city breathe.
Finally, Chan broke the silence. “I didn’t ask you out to talk about what happened that night,” he said, voice low but steady. “I just… wanted to see you again. Without the noise. Without everyone else in the way.”
Savvina’s heart twisted. “And what happens after tonight?”
He hesitated, then met her eyes. “I don’t know. But if this is the only night I get with you again… I’ll take it.”
The words hung between them— raw and real, like an open wound that hadn’t healed.
Savvina looked away, blinking back the emotions threatening to spill over. “You always did know what to say to make it harder to walk away.”
“Maybe I just never wanted you to.”
Savvina let out a soft, shaky laugh, the kind that masked the heaviness sitting in her chest.
His eyes flickered down, then back to hers. “I messed up a lot. I let her get in the way— but I never stopped caring.”
That last part came out almost like a confession.
Savvina’s throat tightened. She wanted to fight it— wanted to tell him that caring wasn’t enough to fix what had broken between them. But when he reached across the small table, fingers brushing hers lightly, every thought scattered.
Her breath caught. That small touch felt electric— the kind of warmth that made her chest ache with everything she’d tried to bury.
“Chan…” she warned softly.
He didn’t move his hand away. “Just tell me to stop, and I will.”
She didn’t.
For a moment, the world around them blurred— the hum of the city, the clinking of glasses, even the faint jazz faded into silence. It was just them, sitting in the golden light, the ghosts of their past brushing shoulders with the possibility of something new.
Finally, she pulled her hand back, eyes dropping to the table. “You can’t keep doing this,” she whispered. “You can’t keep showing up like nothing happened. It’s not fair.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But the truth is, I don’t know how else to stop missing you.”
Her chest tightened again. She hated how much she still wanted to believe him.
Savvina stood, crossing to the railing overlooking the skyline. “You always did pick the perfect words,” she said, watching the city flicker below. “But words don’t fix what’s already broken.”
Chan joined her, standing just close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. “Then let me show you instead.”
She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze— that same steady, unwavering look that used to undo her every time.
“Show me?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curved into a faint smile. “One night. No promises, no past. Just us.”
She hesitated— the rational part of her screaming to say no. But as his hand reached out, hovering near hers again, she realized she was already leaning toward him.
Savvina’s lips parted slightly, caught between protest and surrender. “One night,” she repeated softly, as if testing how it felt on her tongue.
Chan nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “One night.”
He took a small step closer, his hand reaching out again— not grabbing, not forcing, just waiting. After a beat, her fingers found his, delicate and uncertain, but enough to make his pulse stutter.
The faint hum of music from the street below drifted up— a slow, soulful rhythm that seemed to fit the moment too perfectly. Chan turned his palm, guiding her other hand up to rest against his chest.
“What are you doing?” Savvina asked quietly, though she already knew.
“Reminding us what this used to feel like,” he murmured.
Their bodies moved in sync, swaying gently under the dim café lights. It wasn’t polished or rehearsed, but it was them— raw, familiar, and painfully intimate. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, each thud syncing with her own.
For a few moments, neither spoke. It was as if their silence said everything words couldn’t.
Savvina closed her eyes, letting herself breathe him in— the cologne she’d memorized, the warmth of his skin, the way his hand fit perfectly against the small of her back. It was a feeling she’d spent months trying to forget.
“Careful,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re making it hard to remember why I let you go.”
Chan’s lips curved faintly, though there was nothing playful in his tone when he said, “Maybe you were never supposed to.”
Her breath hitched. His forehead rested lightly against hers now, his thumb brushing slow circles against her side. The world seemed to stop spinning— all that existed was the quiet space between their lips.
“Chan…” she breathed, her voice barely holding together.
“Say the word,” he murmured, his lips hovering just a breath away. “And I’ll stop.”
Savvina hesitated, her heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. Every memory— every argument, every laugh, every sleepless night missing him— came crashing back at once.
She wanted to kiss him. God, she wanted to.
But instead, she closed her eyes and whispered, “You should.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Chan pulled back, slow and careful, as if any sudden motion might shatter the fragile calm between them.
“Goodnight, Savvina,” he said softly, his hand slipping from hers.
She didn’t look up until he was gone.
And when she finally did, her chest ached with the weight of everything left unsaid— and the warmth of a love that refused to die quietly.
The night air bit at his skin, but Chan barely felt it. His mind was still back in that café— the warmth of her touch, the tremor in her voice, the way her eyes looked at him like she wanted to believe and hate herself for it at the same time.
He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “Good job, mate,” he muttered bitterly. “You almost kissed her.”
Almost.
That word replayed in his head like a broken record. It shouldn’t have meant so much, but it did. It was almost everything he wanted back— the spark, the familiarity, the quiet that only existed when she was near.
He shouldn’t have asked her out. He shouldn’t have touched her. He shouldn’t still want her like this.
But he did.
The truth was, Chan never stopped wanting her. Not when she ended things. Not when she walked out of his apartment for the last time. Not when she avoided him at every event after. He’d told himself to move on— to forget her— but every song, every empty night in the studio, every faint trace of her perfume lingering in his clothes made that impossible.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. A message from Aeri.
Aeri: You disappeared again. Everything okay?
He stared at the text for a moment before locking his phone without replying.
Aeri always seemed to know when to reach out— when he was weakest, when his guard was lowest. Maybe once he appreciated that. Now it just made him feel trapped.
Because no matter what she did, no matter how close she tried to get, she wasn’t her.
Chan exhaled deeply, resting his elbows on the railing of the bridge he’d wandered to. The city lights flickered on the water below— calm, steady, unlike him.
He thought about the look in Savvina’s eyes— that flicker of longing she tried so hard to hide. It gave him something he hadn’t felt in months: hope.
And that scared him more than anything.
Because if he wasn’t careful, he’d ruin her all over again.
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
The sound of rain tapping against his window was the only thing keeping him grounded. The night had ended hours ago, but Savvina’s face was still burned into his mind— the way her breath hitched when he pulled her close, how her eyes lingered on his lips before she pulled away.
He should’ve stopped himself.
He knew it the moment he asked her out. He told himself it was just dinner, a harmless catch-up between two people trying to be civil. But when she showed up— hair pulled back, soft curls framing her face, that faint perfume that always drove him insane— his resolve shattered instantly.
Now he was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, replaying every second like a masochist.
The way she laughed, hesitant but real. The faint brush of her hand over his. The way her voice softened when she said his name— “Chan.”
He could still hear it. Feel it.
And that almost kiss… God.
He could still feel her breath on his skin, the way her body leaned into his for just a second— long enough to give him hope, short enough to destroy him.
He drags a hand down his face, a low sigh escaping as he forces himself out of bed. The apartment is dark, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights bleeding through the rain-streaked window. The soft patter against the glass fills the silence— steady, relentless.
“She’s got me whipped,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. The words barely rise above the hum of the fridge as he pulls the door open. Cool air spills out, brushing his skin. He grabs a bottle of water, twists the cap, and takes a slow drink, letting the cold settle somewhere beneath his ribs.
When he sets it down, the quiet clink of plastic on counter blends with the rain— a small, hollow sound swallowed by the night. For a moment, he just stands there, watching the water slide down the window, in silence that weighs heavy— the kind that leaves space for thoughts he doesn’t want to have.
He looks around his dining room— the leftover food on the counter, an untouched cup of coffee, her hair tie still sitting where she left it months ago. He picks it up, rolling it between his fingers, jaw tight.
He’s tried to let go— God knows he’s tried— to fill the void she left. Late nights in the studio, long hours at the gym, fake smiles in interviews. But none of it sticks.
No one makes him feel the way she did. No one challenges him like she did.
She got under his skin, and no matter how many times he tells himself it’s over, his heart doesn’t seem to care.
Chan returns to his bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion settling deep in his bones.
He hated how easy it was to fall back into old patterns with her— the teasing, the warmth, the familiarity. He hated that part of him wanted to believe she felt the same way, even when she tried so hard to deny it.
If she called him right now— even once— he knew he’d show up without hesitation.
He exhales, the sound barely audible beneath the rain. It falls harder now, a restless percussion that mirrors the storm in his chest. Then— a buzz. His phone shivers against the nightstand, slicing through the quiet like a thought he’s been trying to ignore.
Chan doesn’t move at first. He knows that ringtone.
He knows exactly who it is before even looking.
The screen lights up— Aeri.
For a moment, he just stares at it. The name looks like a mistake, something out of place in this still, fragile moment. He debates ignoring it— he should ignore it— but his thumb betrays him.
“Hey,” her voice drips through the speaker, soft and familiar. “You’re still awake?”
He exhales through his nose, rubbing his temple. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”
“I figured,” she says lightly, though her tone shifts— too casual, too knowing. “You went out with her, didn’t you?”
His stomach tightens. He shouldn’t be surprised she knows; Aeri always had a way of finding out things before anyone else.
“Aeri, I don’t really want to—”
“I’m not judging,” she cuts in quickly. “I just… worry, you know? You always end up hurting after seeing her.”
He says nothing.
Her sigh filters through the line, slow and rehearsed. “Chan, I hate seeing you do this to yourself. You deserve better— someone who actually sees how hard you try.”
He clenches his jaw. She’s good— too good. The way she phrases it almost sounds like care, but he knows better. Aeri never says what she really means; she laces it behind sympathy and timing.
“I appreciate it,” he finally replies, voice low. “But I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she presses, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I can hear it in your voice.”
There’s a pause. Rain continues its steady rhythm outside, soft but relentless.
Then she says it— the one thing she always says when he’s vulnerable enough to let her in.
“Let me come over. Just to talk.”
Chan sits up to lean his head back against the wall, eyes shut. A dull ache forms in his chest. He knows what she’s doing— slipping into the cracks Savvina left behind, pretending it’s comfort when it’s control.
“No,” he says quietly. “Not tonight.”
“Chan—”
“I said no.”
The line goes silent for a few seconds before she sighs— not angry, just disappointed. “You don’t have to push me away, you know. I’m the only one who actually stays.”
He ends the call before she can say anything else.
The room feels heavier now, the air thick with things left unsaid. His reflection in the window stares back at him, tired eyes, clenched jaw. He doesn’t know if he’s more angry at her or at himself for still letting her get to him.
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Aeri stares at her phone, the soft “call ended” tone echoing louder than it should. For a few seconds, she doesn’t move. Then slowly, her lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile— too sharp, too deliberate.
She tosses the phone onto the bed and leans back against her headboard, exhaling a quiet laugh. “Still pretending you’re done with her, huh, Channie?” she mutters, tilting her head. “Cute.”
She picks up her wine glass from the nightstand, swirling the liquid idly as she stares at her reflection in the dark window. Her eyes are cool— calculating. Not a hint of the softness she’d faked minutes ago.
He said no tonight.
But he didn’t say never.
That’s all she needed to hear.
Because Aeri knew Chan better than anyone— better than Savvina ever could. She knew the rhythm of his voice when he lied, the quiet tremor in his tone when he was conflicted. And tonight, that tremor was there.
He was slipping.
“He’ll come around,” she says under her breath, sipping the wine. “He always does.”
On her dresser, a framed photo catches her eye— an old one from their trainee days. Chan’s arm slung around her shoulders, both of them smiling wide and bright. It used to make her heart swell with nostalgia. Now it just feeds her resentment.
“Four years, and she still hasn’t figured out how to keep him.” Aeri shakes her head, a low scoff escaping her lips. “Pathetic.”
But under all that venom, there’s something else— a flicker of something small and fragile.
Fear.
Because deep down, she knows that for all her manipulation and timing, Chan never looks at her the way he looks at Savvina. He never has. And that terrifies her.
Her hand tightens around the stem of the glass until it nearly cracks.
“Fine,” she whispers to her reflection, eyes darkening. “If she won’t let him go willingly…”
She pauses, her smirk returning, cold and deliberate.
“Then I’ll just have to remind him who’s always been here.”
She grabs her phone again and scrolls to a hidden album— photos, clips, little pieces of the past they shared. The kind of memories that blurred friendship and intimacy.
Aeri taps on one particular picture— Chan asleep on the practice room couch, head resting on her shoulder. She traces her finger over the image.
“This was always supposed to be us,” she murmurs. “You’ll see that soon enough.”
The screen dims, casting the room in darkness again. But Aeri doesn’t move.
She sits there, staring at nothing, that cold determination taking over every ounce of warmth she once had.
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Rain poured against the windows in soft sheets, tapping like restless fingers. The warm glow from the living room lamps painted gold across the walls as Savvina sat curled on the couch, her knees tucked to her chest. Nabi and Naomi were on either side of her, Angel pacing nearby with a mug of tea.
“He just— he looked at me like I’d hung the moon,” Savvina muttered, her voice small. “And I… panicked. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him back in only to lose him again.”
Naomi rubbed slow circles on her back. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Savvi. Fear doesn’t make you weak.”
Angel stopped pacing and sighed. “Yeah, but you love him. Anyone with eyes can see that. So what are you really scared of?”
Before Savvina could answer, the sharp ding of the doorbell cut through the room. Three pairs of eyes turned toward her.
Naomi’s brows lifted. “You expecting someone?”
Her heart stumbled in her chest. “No,” she whispered, but deep down— she knew.
Angel peeked through the window. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She turned back, wide-eyed. “It’s him.”
Savvina’s stomach flipped. “Chan?”
“Unless there’s another soaked, desperate-looking man with flowers standing on the porch— yeah.”
Nabi smirked faintly. “Go get your man.”
Savvina hesitated only a moment before standing. Her pulse was loud in her ears as she walked toward the door. When she opened it, the world narrowed to just him.
Chan stood drenched from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, bouquet clutched awkwardly in his hand. His eyes— those warm, soft brown eyes— searched hers with a mix of hope and regret.
“Hey,” he breathed out, voice rough from the cold.
“You’re soaked,” Savvina murmured. “You’ll get sick.”
“Then let me in,” he said gently, almost pleading.
She stepped aside. The others watched silently from the couch, exchanging knowing looks as Chan slipped out of his shoes and followed Savvina down the hall into her room.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Rain pattered faintly against the window, filling the silence. Savvina crossed her arms, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.
“I told myself I’d give you space,” Chan finally said, voice quiet but steady. “But I can’t stop thinking about what I did wrong. What I said… or didn’t say.”
Savvina’s throat tightened. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just—” She took a shaky breath. “It scared me. You scare me.”
That made him blink. “Why?”
“Because you still mean so much to me,” she admitted, voice trembling. “And I don’t know if I can survive losing you again.”
Chan set the flowers down carefully on her desk, then stepped closer. “You won’t lose me, Sav. Not this time. I’m right here.”
She looked up, eyes glistening. “You can’t promise that.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I can’t. But I can promise to try— every day, with everything I have. You don’t have to be afraid alone.”
Her breath hitched. The air between them thickened with everything unspoken— love, longing, guilt, hope.
When he finally reached for her, it wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, hesitant. His hand brushed her cheek, thumb tracing away a tear she didn’t realize had fallen.
“Chan…” she whispered.
“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But if there’s even a small part of you that still wants this— still wants me— then don’t.”
Savvina stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception, any reason to run again. There was none. Just him—sincere, tired, and so full of love it hurt.
Her resistance broke like the rain outside.
She reached up, fingers curling into his damp shirt, pulling him down. The kiss came soft at first, tentative— like they were both afraid it might break them. But then it deepened, raw and aching, all the words they couldn’t say spilling into it.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, Chan let out a shaky laugh. “I missed you.”
Savvina smiled faintly, brushing his wet hair from his face. “Then don’t make me miss you again.”
His hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs tracing slow circles against her soft skin. “Never,” he murmured, his voice low, raw.
The next kiss came unhurried but deep— no hesitation this time, only quiet hunger. His lips moved against hers like he was learning her again, every shift careful, every breath shared.
Chan tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but full of ache— like a confession carried through touch instead of speech. His fingers threaded through her hair, drawing her closer, and she went willingly, her heart stumbling in rhythm with his.
The warmth between them built, slow and unrelenting, every kiss a little hungrier, every breath shared. When he pulled back just enough to whisper her name, it came out like a prayer— fragile, reverent, and full of need.
Chan met her gaze— eyes dark, burning with intent. “Let me show you,” he murmured.
Savvina nodded, heat blooming low in her stomach.
“Need you to say it, baby.”
“Please. Just touch me.”
He didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed against hers, the kiss rough, consuming— all heat and hunger. It left no space for thought, no air for restraint.
Savvina melted into him, answering his urgency with her own. She arched closer, desperate to erase the barrier of fabric that kept him from her skin.
His hands moved over her with reckless purpose, claiming every inch he could reach. He broke from her lips just long enough to drag his mouth down her jaw, biting and sucking along her throat.
Her soft sounds filled the air, swallowed again when he kissed her. Her fingers gripped at his shirt, impatient, until he tore it off and tossed it aside. The dim light painted him in shadows and gold, every line and muscle defined, familiar yet still breathtaking. Savvina’s breath hitched at the sight. It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen him like this— it always wrecked her.
“God, I missed this,” he growled against her lips before kissing her again— deeper this time, all hunger and promise. His hands framed her hips, gently tugging down her shorts, then guiding her backward until the edge of the bed caught behind her knees.
Savvina went willingly, sinking beneath him, her pulse pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.
She broke the kiss, breath unsteady, fingers finding the edge of his jeans. But Chan caught her hand, his grip firm, a teasing glint sparking in his eyes.
“Patience,” he murmured, the word a quiet command wrapped in a smirk. He brushed his lips across the back of her hand, slow and deliberate.
“I can’t,” she whispered, trembling with need.
She lifted herself, tugging her shirt over her head, and he was there to help, tossing it aside before their mouths found each other again. His hands traced the lines of her back, slipping higher to skillfully unhook the clasp of her bra.
He teased her deliberately, testing the edge of her composure. Normally she’d meet him game for game, but tonight the waiting felt unbearable. Every inch of her burned with anticipation, caught somewhere between surrender and demand.
The delicate fabric fell away, leaving her bare to his touch. Chan lowered his head, his lips closing over one nipple, tongue flicking and sucking with deliberate care before moving to the other, giving each equal attention.
Savvina gasped, breath catching, as a rush of heat surged through her. Her body arched instinctively, leaning into him, desperate for the closeness and the fire that ignited between them.
His hands slid lower, skimming down the curve of her waist until they reached the edge of her panties, quickly pulling them off. Chan’s thumb brushed over her heat while his mouth still worshipped her breast.
Teasingly, slowly, his fingers found her swollen clit. Her hips rose, pushing against his palm as his fingers stroked in deliberate, tight circles, pressing and taunting.
Savvina choked out a moan, her back arched, forcing her breast deeper into his mouth while her thighs trembled uncontrollably against the sheets. It didn’t take long for her to come undone. The sudden waves of pleasure tore through her violently.
When Savvina came down from her high, breath ragged, chest rising and falling, her eyes fluttered open hazily with bliss, meeting Chan’s heated gaze— his hunger was unmistakable.
He kissed her again— deep and consuming— then drew back, breath ragged, as he freed himself from the final barrier that kept them apart.
“You undo me,” Chan muttered, giving her nipple an appreciative flick before letting his weight settle against hers. “Did you know that?”
Savvina hummed softly, her hips instinctively twitching when she felt his cock slide against her slick heat. “I do,” She breathed.
Chan rolled his hips, coating himself in the mess between her legs with a groan. He buried his face into her neck, cursing as he pushed into her, burying himself deep. Savvina winced at the stretch, it had been so long yet she still took so well. Squeezed him so tightly. Molded to him perfectly. It took everything in him not to pull back out and slam into her.
“Fuck,” He slid one hand up her thigh, gripping tightly, as the other held her waist like he was afraid he’d come undone if he didn’t.
Savvina fluttered around him, nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to him. She never got used to him, to the stretch, to the sting. It hurt so deliciously good every time.
“Chan-“
“Don’t,” he breathed against her neck, his voice low, strained with control. “Don’t say my name unless you want me to ruin you right now.”
Savvina froze beneath him, her breath catching in the space between them, her hips twitching underneath him. He was holding himself back by a thread.
And she wanted that thread to break.
So she whispered it again, slower this time, voice breathy, arching into him. “Chan,”
He exhaled unsteadily, his control splintering the moment her voice wrapped around his name. Then he leaned in, foreheads touching, his voice a rough whisper.
“You’ll be the death of me.”
Savvina met his gaze, eyes dark and unflinching. “I know.”
That pulled a low sound from his chest— half a laugh, half a growl. His hand found hers, guiding it to his heart, the steady pulse beating fast beneath her palm.
“This,” he said quietly. “It’s yours. All yours.”
And when the last of his restraint finally broke, he moved with a steady rhythm— rough but reverent— each thrust a confession, an apology, a plea. As if he was trying to tell her everything he couldn’t with words.
Savvina met him in every unspoken promise, every breathless moment. She took all that he gave her— the longing, the need, the ache— and offered it back, until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
“I missed you,” Chan husked, the words muffled against her skin. He snapped his hips, his cock kissing the spot deep inside that made Savvina flutter violently.
“M-missed you too,” she slurred, her nails scraping at his scalp as she tangled her hands into his damp hair.
With a shaky breath Chan stilled his hips, cock still buried to the hilt and pulled his face out of her neck. “Fuck— I can’t,” He could feel it— the familiar knot in his stomach. One more thrust and he was done.
He couldn’t— at least, not yet. He wouldn’t let himself.
Even now, grinding in slow circular motions, he was wrecked— cheeks stained a pretty pink, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, chest heaving.
“Stay like this. Let me feel you,”
Savvina didn’t respond. She could only nod, before he slipped his hand between them. Her body jerked as his thumb found her sensitive clit. She gasped at the feeling as he rubbed slow, smooth circles.
He groaned, lip tucked between his teeth, fighting not to slam into her and spill himself down her tight heat.
He rubbed faster, replacing his thumb with his fingers, moving with a precision that made her flutter around him.
Shit. This was going to undo him.
“I- I’m close,” Savvina whimpered, legs parting for more.
“I can feel it,” he murmured, chasing down her gasps like he needed them to keep himself steady. Every delicious pulse of her cunt sent him reeling. And the way she looked— the sight nearly had him cum right there. Brows pinched with pleasure, sweat glistening skin, lips parted with a chain of breathless moans.
“Fuck— look at you… So perfect, always so good to me,” He praised, his voice was rough, low from the effort of holding back.
“Only for you,” Savvina moaned out, eyes struggling to stay open as she chased her high. She was so close.
“Cum for me,” Chan choked out. “I want to feel you cum around me,” his words were the last push. The coil in her stomach snapped, her release slammed into her like a freight train.
Chan groaned in response, fingers stuttering while he struggled to stay steady, before leaning down, capturing her mouth with a fierce, consuming kiss. “That’s it,” he breathed, fingers still cupping her cunt as he rolled his hips, rocking into her. He found a steady rhythm, neither rushed nor hesitant, just enough to let her feel every drag of him.
“I love you so much,” he sighed, the words slipping out like something he’d been holding back for too long.
Savvina’s breath caught, her breath hitching from the drag of his hips “Say it again,”
“I love you,” Chan said softly, the words trembling with truth. “I never stopped, not for a second.”
She looked at him, searching his face for proof of what she already knew. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I never stopped either.. I’ve always been yours.”
“All mine,” Chan murmured, thrusting deeply into her. “You’re mine to love and mine to fuck.”
“I’m all yours,” Savvina whimpered rocking her hips against him, the knot in her stomach building quickly for a third time. He could feel it as his own climax approached.
“Cum with me,” he breathed out, quickening his pace, brushing against her sweet spot. After a few more sloppy thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering as he came, hot and deep, with Savvina’s name falling from his lips like a prayer; breathless, broken, sacred.
They clung to each other, his grip firm on her hips, her fingers buried in his hair, their skin slick with sweat, hearts beating hard against each other.
The world outside had gone still. Chan exhaled, the tension in his body finally unwinding. He brushed a stray lock of hair from Savvina’s face, his fingers lingering for a moment before trailing down to her hand.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Savvina nodded, “Yeah,” her voice a whisper. “For the first time in a long time.”
He smiled faintly, reaching for the blanket at the edge of the bed and pulling it over them both. His hand found hers beneath the fabric, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against her skin.
They didn’t need to speak after that. The silence between them felt different now— soft, safe. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, letting the warmth between them speak louder than any words. Every heartbeat, every brush of skin against skin, was a promise— and for the first time in a long while, they didn’t have to prove anything. They just were.
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Morning crept in slowly, sunlight spilling across tangled sheets and bare skin. The air was warm, lazy, filled with the quiet sound of steady breathing and the faint rhythm of rain outside.
Savvina blinked awake first, stretching just enough to feel the soreness in her muscles— then smiled. Chan was still asleep beside her, hair a mess, mouth parted slightly as he snored softly against the pillow.
She couldn’t help herself— she reached over and brushed a finger through his hair.
“Staring again?” his voice came out rough, teasing, eyes still closed.
She jumped a little. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I was,” he murmured, cracking one eye open, “until someone started gawking at me like I’m breakfast.”
Savvina laughed quietly, rolling onto her side to face him. “Maybe you are.”
That earned a lazy grin. “Then come and eat,” he said, pulling her closer until she was pressed against his chest.
“Chan,” she groaned, trying to sound annoyed but failing.
“What?” he chuckled, voice husky, lips brushing her forehead. “Too early for compliments?”
“It’s too early for you,” she shot back, though her smile betrayed her.
He hummed in amusement, tracing light circles along her bare back. “You weren’t saying that a few hours ago.”
Savvina gasped, smacking his chest lightly, but the sound of his laughter filled the room, low and warm.
“Okay, okay,” he said, catching her hand before she could pull away. “Truce?”
“Maybe,” she said, pretending to think. “If you make me coffee.”
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You drive a hard bargain, baby.”
Savvina rolled her eyes, but when he leaned in to kiss her— soft, unhurried, still tasting faintly of sleep— she melted into it, smiling against his lips.
“Fine,” she whispered when they finally pulled apart. “Coffee first. Then a shower, and maybe round two.”
Chan grinned, already half out of bed. “Now that’s motivation.”
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Aeri stared at her reflection in the practice room mirror, phone in hand, lips curved into a delicate smirk.
The plan was risky— but subtle. She didn’t need to say anything explicit. Just a picture, the right caption, and timing that couldn’t be more perfect.
Earlier that day, Chan had stopped by her studio to drop off a flash drive of music files. Nothing special, nothing secret. But Aeri had been waiting for an opportunity like this.
When he bent down beside her to look at the laptop screen, their heads nearly touched— a friendly moment, a natural one. And when he laughed at something she said, she caught it— a perfectly timed selfie, angled just right so it looked far more intimate than it really was.
She’d kept it in her gallery for a week, waiting for the right moment.
And after hearing whispers about Chan and Savvina being seen together again, she decided that moment was now.
Scrolling through her drafts, she added a simple caption under the photo:
💫 late nights in the studio with my favorite person 💫
It was harmless on the surface, sweet even— but the photo told another story. Chan’s arm was draped casually behind her chair, his face close to hers, the lighting soft and warm. It screamed comfort. Familiarity. Something more.
She hit post before she could second-guess it.
Within minutes, the notifications began to flood in.
Likes. Comments. Mentions. Fans speculating. Gossip accounts circling.
“Wait—are they dating?”
“They’ve always had chemistry.”
“Didn’t he use to date that other girl from the label?”
Exactly what she wanted.
Aeri locked her phone and set it face-down on the table, a small smile playing at her lips.
Let the internet do the heavy lifting.
Let Savvina see.
She could already imagine the way Savvina’s stomach would drop when she saw the post— that tight ache of betrayal twisting in her chest.
And Chan… well, he’d probably get angry, defensive even. But by then, the image would be everywhere. Public opinion would do the rest.
She leaned back in her chair, watching her reflection in the mirror.
“You should’ve stayed away, Savvina,” she whispered softly. “Now I’m just giving you a reason to.”
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, catching the steam curling up from their coffee mugs. The tray between them was a mess of crumbs, half-eaten pancakes, and syrup stains. Savvina sat cross-legged, wearing his shirt he’d left behind a few months before— oversized and slipping off one shoulder— while Chan lounged against the headboard, watching her with a lazy grin.
“You’ve got syrup on your lip,” he said.
She arched a brow, licking it away. “Problem solved.”
He laughed, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss anyway. “Now it is.”
Savvina rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as she reached for her phone on the nightstand. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Mm, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased, cutting into another piece of pancake.
The sound of notifications chimed softly. Savvina frowned at her screen, her scroll slowing until she stilled completely. Aeri’s post flashed bright among the feed— her smiling face beside Chan’s, the too-familiar caption glowing beneath it.
Chan noticed immediately. “What is it?”
She turned the phone so he could see. “She did it.”
He stared for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he sighed, setting his fork down. “Of course she did.”
Savvina studied him, waiting for the flicker of irritation that never came. “You’re not mad?”
“I knew it was coming,” he said simply. “You told me what she’s like. I’m not letting her ruin a good morning.”
Her gaze softened. “You really mean that?”
Chan reached for her phone, setting it face-down beside the tray before brushing his thumb along her thigh. “I mean it.”
He grabbed his own phone and lifted it, framing them both in the soft morning light. “Smile.”
Savvina blinked. “Now?”
“Especially now.”
She couldn’t help laughing as he snapped the picture— her hair messy, his grin still crooked with syrup at the corner of his mouth. Real. Unbothered. The kind of photo that didn’t need filters or captions to feel right.
Chan typed something quick before showing her the screen:
☕ Breakfast with the best part of my day 🥞
Savvina shook her head, but her smile was all warmth. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “But at least I’m yours.”
The tray was abandoned at the foot of the bed, sticky plates and half-empty mugs forgotten. Savvina curled against Chan, legs draped over his, forehead resting against his shoulder.
“Think anyone else has mornings like this?” she murmured, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.
He chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Doubt it. You’d have to steal someone’s heart first,” he teased, thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.
She nudged him playfully. “Big talk for someone who let me win the syrup war.”
“Didn’t lose,” he countered with a grin. “Just…strategically distracted.”
Savvina laughed softly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his chest. “Mhm. Sure.”
He caught her hand, holding it against his chest, and their fingers intertwined. “I don’t care about anyone else,” he murmured, voice low, warm. “Not her. Not the world. Just this. Just you.”
Her chest tightened, warmth flooding her from head to toe. “Just us,” she echoed, letting herself sink fully into the moment.
Chan tilted his head, lips brushing the top of her hair. “And we get to stay here a little longer, right?”
“I don’t see why not,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
They stayed wrapped together, soft laughter mixing with quiet murmurs, the sun spilling over them like a golden blanket. Outside, the world could wait. Inside, it was theirs— warm, playful, intimate, untouchable.
Chan let out a soft laugh as Savvina nudged him with her knee, grinning mischievously. “Hey— don’t think I forgot the syrup battle,” she teased, flicking a tiny smear at his chest.
He raised an eyebrow, mock indignation in his eyes. “Oh, it’s on,” he murmured, leaning down to catch her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “But only because I get to keep this reward,” he added, tugging her closer so their foreheads rested together.
Savvina laughed again, letting herself melt against him. “Fine,” she whispered. “But I’m still winning.”
He chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “Yeah…yeah, you are.”
· ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ˚‧⁺
Savvina had been planning with Naomi, Angel, and Nabi, trying to lock down a time for a casual hangout. Chan’s friends—Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin— had been invited too, and the plan was simple: an arcade, a little friendly competition, and maybe some greasy pizza afterward.
By the time Savvina and Chan arrived, the place was already buzzing with neon lights and the faint smell of popcorn. Naomi waved energetically as she spotted them near the claw machines, while Angel and Nabi were already mid-competition at the basketball hoops.
“Finally!” Naomi exclaimed, pulling Savvina into a quick hug. “We’ve been waiting forever for you guys!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Savvina said, laughing, glancing over her shoulder at Chan, who was smirking as he sized up the arcade cabinets. “Don’t let them start without us.”
Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin had already staked their claim near the racing games. “You ready to lose?” Felix teased, nudging Chan.
Chan smirked, leaning casually against the game machine. “You’re on.”
For the next hour, laughter, playful trash talk, and the constant ping of arcade machines filled the air. Savvina and Chan teamed up in the claw machine, cheering as they managed to snag a tiny plush toy, while their friends hooted and jeered. Naomi was gleefully winning at air hockey, Angel and Nabi were challenging Hyunjin and Felix at basketball, and Jeongin’s competitive streak came out in a flurry of tickets.
Chan wrapped an arm around Savvina as they leaned together, sharing a soda and laughing at something Felix had said. The world felt effortless, light, and perfectly theirs.
Then came the ping of a notification. Savvina glanced at her phone— and froze.
Aeri.
She had clearly seen the post Chan had uploaded earlier, showing Savvina and Chan at the arcade with everyone. Without warning, Aeri breezed through the entrance, dramatic as ever, eyes sweeping the group until they landed on Savvina and Chan.
“Well, well, well,” Aeri said, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Look who’s having fun…without me.”
Savvina’s stomach tightened slightly, but Chan was already stepping forward, placing himself subtly between her and Aeri. “Hey, Aeri,” he said, voice calm but firm. “You weren’t invited.
Aeri’s smirk faltered, just a fraction. “Oh, don’t be like that, Chan. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Aren’t you going to say hi?”
Savvina, Naomi, Angel, and Nabi exchanged glances. “We’re here to hang out,” Savvina said evenly, “not deal with drama.”
Aeri’s eyes narrowed. “Drama? You mean me having a little fun?”
Chan stepped closer, voice low and controlled, and Aeri noticed the unmistakable warning in his tone. “This is not up for discussion. Leave. Now.”
For a moment, Aeri looked ready to argue, but seeing the solidarity in Savvina’s friends and the firm stance of Chan, she realized she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted. With a dramatic huff, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving a trail of muttered threats and stunned silence behind her.
The arcade erupted back into laughter and teasing as if nothing had happened. Chan exhaled and wrapped an arm around Savvina’s shoulder, leaning close. “You okay?” he murmured.
“Better than okay,” she replied with a grin, nudging him. “We’ve got our own fun going— no one can touch it.”
Hyunjin laughed from across the room. “You guys make a cute team, by the way. Just saying.”
Savvina rolled her eyes playfully, and Chan kissed the top of her head. “I think we just won the day,” he said, and for the rest of the afternoon, that’s exactly what they did— playing games, teasing each other, and collecting tickets with no interruptions, just the perfect kind of chaos.
But Aeri wasn’t done— not even close. This was just the lull before her next move, and she was already plotting how to make it impossible for them to ignore her. She watched them from afar, peering through the arcade window, anger simmering just beneath the surface. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. They think they can ignore me… but I’ll remind them. I’ll make them notice me—make Savvina feel what it’s like to be replaced, even for a second. And Chan… he’ll be mine.
Her heart quickened with anticipation. Every angle, every moment, every detail mattered. It has to be perfect. Timing, expression, placement… one misstep and it all falls apart. But if I do this right… oh, they’ll never see it coming.
Aeri’s eyes glinted with mischief. The first stunt had failed, yes. The second had been thwarted. But this— this next one— would be unforgettable.
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two notable things about Wolfram:
it’s not AI. It’s basically just an enhanced search engine, but it will prioritize making any calculations it can to directly answer your question. if you ask “how many piano tuners in Chicago”
it will first search databases for direct information provided by a source, rather than return 3 pages of links to piano tuners advertising their business. If it didn’t find one, then it would go “average number of piano tuners in a population is x/y, by our databases that do store that, Chicago is this size, therefore there are likely this many piano tuners”
2. that means that it isn’t always a reliable source. It might be misunderstanding a database or source, it might be drawing from a wrong source, and it doesn’t prioritize links, (doesn’t even always provide them), so it can be difficult to double check it’s work. It’s worth plugging things into for quick answers, but if you need solid answers you need something you can double check.