ᝰ.ᐟ all fics will be tagged non explicit or nsfw/mdni please be sure to read through warnings and tags when inquiring about one of my stories
→📁 masterlist *in progress recs *in progress
ᯓ i write very sporadically, a very 'upload when i feel like' way, i have ideas for additional parts for all my stories but may not get around to posting a finalized additional update, so the stories will be left as standalone one shots.
⋆.˚ .ᐟ i am new to writing on tumblr, please don't be shy to kindly inform me of etiquette i may be missing or unknown of, because i am new to posting on tumblr i wouldn't say im confident to fully take requests but you can still inbox me and i may take it on
pairing - idol!vernon x f.reader (prof. skateboarder)
summary → seoul after midnight is full of strange things, and apparently hansol vernon chwe. somewhere between city nights, skate parks, and conversations that never seem long enough, familiar faces become something more.
word count → 6.6k
warnings ! non explicit/ no major warnings apply (some kissing), chance encounters, minor mentions of fame/ public life, reader is more noncholant than vernon, city nights-late night conversations, vernon catching feelings first, reader just goes with the flow, the moment between friendship and something else ft. the city being a wingman itself, no major plot just a short piece
Rain rolled through Seoul in scattered waves, loud against concrete and glowing neon signs, turning the streets of Hongdae slick and reflective long after midnight. Most people had already disappeared indoors, tucked away in bars or waiting beneath awnings for the weather to let up.
You preferred the city like this.
The streets smelled of wet pavement, cigarette smoke, and fried food drifting from places that never seemed to close. Your headphones rested around your neck instead of over your ears, the bass from the underground set you'd just finished still humming faintly in your chest.
It hadn't even been a real gig. Just a friend asking you to fill in for thirty minutes at a basement venue packed shoulder to shoulder with art students, skaters, and people too pretty to look accidental. Nobody there cared if you won olympic gold, they just cared that you mixed the best hits so they could dance all night long.
Your oversized hoodie clung damply to your arms as you adjusted the skateboard tucked beneath one elbow and pushed open the convenience store door. The familiar chime rang overhead, and warm air greeted you instantly. You exhaled quietly, brushing rainwater from your sleeve as you wandered toward the refrigerators in the back. Your knees ached pleasantly from skating earlier, and there was still a faint smear of silver glitter on the side of your hand from someone at the venue grabbing your wrist while shouting over the music.
You barely looked up while reaching into the refrigerator, eyes scanning rows of brightly colored cans as cold air spilled across your hands. The skateboard tucked beneath your arm shifted slightly when you leaned forward, the edge of the deck clipped a can sitting near someone else's outstretched hand.
Time seemed to slow for half a second, the aluminum can popped from the person’s grip and fell forward toward the floor.
Your body reacted before your brain did. Years of catching yourself mid fall, grabbing boards before they shot into traffic, adjusting balance in fractions of seconds. Your hand shot out instinctively, fingers wrapped around the can inches before it hit the ground.
The motion felt so natural you barely registered it had happened until you straightened again with the drink secure in your grip. A drop of condensation slid down the side of the can onto your wrist as you took in the choice of drink being grape flavored.
"Damn." A low voice sounded beside you. “You got reflexes.”
You glanced up for the first time, and there he was.
Hansol Vernon Chwe stood half turned toward you in an oversized charcoal hoodie and a dark baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Headphones hung around his neck. He looked taller up close than you'd expected. Mostly, though, he looked tired.
Not celebrity tired, but genuinely exhausted. No makeup or cameras, just faint shadows beneath his eyes like he'd been awake for far too long.
You handed him the can. "Occupational hazard."
His brows lifted slightly. For half a second, you could tell he was trying to place your face, before the thought passed.
You turned back toward the drinks. Behind you, you heard him laugh quietly under his breath. The sound surprised you enough to glance over again.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing," he said easily. "You just caught that scary fast."
"I'd hope so."
You shut the fridge with your hip, a peach flavored energy drink now in your hand, and headed toward the chip aisle.
You were aware of him moving through the store too. Never quite near enough to feel intentional, but never far enough to ignore. The strange familiarity of a late night stranger.
Outside, the rain hammered harder against the windows. You groaned softly when you saw it.
"Seriously?"
The cashier offered an apologetic comment about the storm getting worse.
You paid for your food anyway and stepped outside beneath the awning. Rainwater streamed from the edge of the roof in thick silver lines, trapping everyone there in little pockets of silence. You leaned your skateboard against the wall and pulled open the bag of chips as you began snacking on them.
A minute later, the convenience store door chimed again. Vernon stepped outside holding the can you caught and a cup of ramen, settling beneath the awning a polite distance away.
For a while, neither of you spoke. Cars hissed through puddles, and somewhere down the street muffled bass vibrated through the rain. You ate quietly while scrolling through songs on your phone.
"You DJ or something?"
You looked up seeing him nodding toward your wrist as you glanced down at the faded neon band still wrapped around your wrist.
"Oh." You shrugged. "Sometimes."
"What kind of music?"
"Depends how annoying the crowd is."
That earned another laugh from him. The sound was soft, rough around the edges with exhaustion, and embarrassingly satisfying to pull from him.
You stole another glance at him while pretending not to. Onstage or on camera, Vernon always seemed distant in a way you couldn't quite explain. Cool without trying too hard, but standing beneath fluorescent convenience store lights at nearly two in the morning, he just looked like another insomniac avoiding going home.
"You look familiar," he said suddenly.
"Do I?" You raised an eyebrow, not making eye contact with him.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your face beneath the hood, not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was trying to place a memory that sat just out of reach.
"I think so."
"Maybe you've seen me lose a fight in public."
The response caused him to smile properly, it threw you off for a second. He was just.. pretty, in a way that felt slightly unfair to have to process in real time.
"No," he murmured. "You don't seem like you lose those."
For some reason, the words settled warmly in your chest.
The rain only worsened. With a dramatic sigh, you sat down beneath the awning, and he followed a moment later, taking a seat a few spots away.
Not close enough to presume, but enough to continue talking within a comfortable distance as he ate his ramen.
"What about you, why are you out at this time of night?" you asked after a minute.
“Mhm.” Vernon shrugged lightly, letting out a sigh. “Just had some things to do.”
"Tough night?"
He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes briefly closing. "Long night."
You understood that tone immediately. The kind of exhaustion that settled somewhere deeper than physical.
You cracked open your drink, raising it for him to see. "Try the peach flavor next time," you said, nodding toward the grape can in his hand. "That one tastes like cough syrup."
He stared down at it. ".. I almost did choose peach."
You laughed quietly and for a strange second, the city around you softened.
For a strange second, everything felt simpler. The noise of the city faded into the background, leaving only the steady rhythm of rain and the quiet company of someone who expected nothing from you.
Then headlights slowed near the curb, your uber stopping at the curb just a few feet away from the awning. You stood, grabbing your skateboard, turning back towards him as he reluctantly drank from the grape flavored can.
"Looks like freedom." Vernon said, glancing toward the car before looking back at you.
"Guess so." You opened the door, then paused halfway inside. "Good luck with the cough syrup."
His mouth twitched upward. "And you with.." he gestured vaguely toward your skateboard, "..whatever dangerous occupation you have."
You smirked before slipping into the car, and a moment later you were gone, leaving him beneath the awning with nothing but rain and unanswered curiosity.
A week later, Seoul was colder.
Not winter cold yet, but enough for people to pull sleeves over their hands and walk faster through the streets at night. The Han River reflected fractured strips of light beneath the bridges as the last trains came and went above the water.
You should’ve gone home an hour ago. Instead, you’d stayed out skating with a couple friends near the river until your legs felt heavy and your hoodie smelled faintly like smoke from somebody’s cigarette break. By the time you split up, your ride had already left.
So now you stood at a near empty bus stop at 1:07 in the morning, your skateboard propped against your shoe while a cold wind lifted strands of hair from beneath your beanie.
Your headphones played softly enough that you could still hear traffic, the sound of the bus finally pulling up with a hydraulic sigh.
Warm air hit your face as you climbed aboard, only a handful of people were scattered throughout. An exhausted university student asleep against the window, two drunk men whisper arguing, and an older woman holding grocery bags in her lap.
You headed automatically for the back. Dropping into the middle seat of the last row, you balanced your skateboard between your knees and rested your forehead briefly against the cool glass behind you as the city began moving again outside.
Neon signs blurred together as the city moved around you, passing by in fragments of convenience stores glowing late into the night, empty crosswalks, and alleyways still darkened by rain.
Your body ached pleasantly from skating. For a while, you let yourself drift. Then the bus slowed again, and the doors hissed open as a few passengers got on.
Someone climbed aboard wearing an oversized dark hoodie and headphones around his neck.
You blinked once, almost certain the late hour was making you see things, but there was no mistaking him. Vernon stood at the front of the bus, tapping his transit card against the reader with the same tired expression you’d seen beneath the convenience store lights a week ago. His cap sat low over his eyes, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame, headphones resting around his neck like he’d just stepped away from another long night.
His eyes scanned the mostly empty bus before landing on you, and a faint look of recognition crossed his face. It wasn’t the reaction of someone caught off guard so much as someone pleasantly surprised to find a familiar face in an unexpected place.
The bus wasn’t crowded by any means. There were empty seats scattered throughout, enough that he could’ve sat almost anywhere. Instead, after a brief glance around the aisle, he made his way toward the back and settled into the row directly adjacent from where you sat.
Then he looked over his shoulder.
“Hey.” He tipped his head up in a greeting.
“Hey.”
As the bus pulled away from the curb, neither of you felt any immediate need to fill the silence. It sat comfortably between you this time, carrying a sense of familiarity that hadn’t been there a week ago.
You lowered the volume on your headphones, leaving one ear uncovered. Beside you, Vernon rested his head back against the seat, his gaze drifting toward the windows.
“You always out this late?” he asked eventually.
“You always ask strangers personal questions?”
His mouth twitched slightly. “You keep calling me a stranger like you haven’t criticized my choice of beverage.”
“That’s true,” you admitted. “Very intimate of us.”
A soft laugh escaped him, carrying a warmth that felt strangely at odds with the cool, distant image people often attached to him. Sitting here on a nearly empty bus, he didn’t feel like a celebrity at all, just a tired guy with kind eyes and an unexpectedly easy smile.
Then the bus hit a pothole unexpectedly.
Your skateboard slipped sideways, rolling against your shoe before tipping awkwardly into the aisle.
“Shit!” You lunged forward too slowly, Vernon catching it before it could fully slide away further.
He turned the board automatically to hand it back, only for the movement to falter midway. His attention had snagged on the underside of the deck. The stickers weren’t exactly subtle. The faded Olympic rings peeling at the edges, the tiny Korean flag decal worn nearly white from years of use, and old competition tags still hanging near the trucks despite every reason they should’ve fallen off by now.
You watched his gaze move between each detail, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly as the pieces began to fall into place. His eyes lifted back to yours, recognition settled across his face, slow and certain this time, followed closely by realization.
“Wait.” You already knew that tone. There it is. “You’re that skateboarder.”
You rested your chin in your palm dramatically.
“Devastating. My secret identity has been compromised.”
He ignored that completely, still looking at the board.
“You won gold.”
“Technically.” You shrugged one shoulder, the movement made the silver rings on your fingers glint beneath the bus lights.
Vernon flipped the board slightly in his hands, inspecting the damage along the edges. “You still use this one?”
“Not in competitions anymore.”
“It looks destroyed.”
“It has personality.”
“It has trauma.”
That caused an actual laugh out of you. Loud enough that the university student a few seats ahead stirred slightly in their sleep. You covered your mouth immediately, grinning despite yourself, and Vernon looked pleased with causing it.
“You knew who I was the whole time, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly.
You tilted your head. “You’re in one of the biggest groups in the world.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I was being respectful.”
“You let me sit there trying to figure out where I knew you from.” He narrowed his eyes at you.
“You seemed committed to the mystery.”
He stared at you for a second before laughing quietly under his breath. You watched the city lights slide across his face through the windows.
It was strange. People usually slipped into roles the moment they recognized each other; idol, athlete, celebrity, brand. But sitting beside him now, none of that felt real. It just felt normal, like talking to someone you’d somehow already known longer than you should have.
“What were you doing out?” he asked.
“Skating.”
“At one in the morning?”
You looked at him flatly. “You were at a convenience store eating ramen at two in the morning.”
“Fair point.”
“What about you?” You asked in return.
“Studio.”
“Magic in the making?”
He sighed dramatically this time. “Unfortunately. Just hitting a roadblock in creativity.”
You nodded and leaned back into your seat while the bus carried on through the city. The silence between you settled and shifted naturally, giving way every so often to quiet conversation about music, travel, and favorite neighborhoods at night. At one point Vernon admitted he watched competition clips during tour downtime because everyone backstage got weirdly competitive about sports.
“You watched skateboarding voluntarily?” you asked skeptically.
“Mostly I liked watching people fall.”
You laughed again. “Psychotic.”
“I’m serious. It’s impressive.”
“You know what? That’s actually fair.”
The bus slowed toward your stop. You reached forward and tapped the button near the pole, the familiar ding echoed overhead. You stood, pulling your skateboard from Vernon’s hands.
“So what’s your name?” he asked, a small smile forming. He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it said properly anyway. You answered him and he nodded slowly like he was committing it somewhere mentally.
“Vernon.”
“Yeah,” you said dryly and playful. “I got that one already.”
He laughed under his breath again as the bus doors hissed open and cold air rushed inside. You stepped backward toward the exit, pausing just long enough to point lightly at him.
“See you around, convenience store boy.” Then you hopped off the bus.
A second later, Vernon looked out the window just in time to see you push off onto your skateboard, disappearing down the glowing sidewalk beneath the city lights.
The dance practice room was quieter than usual. Not empty, never empty, but caught in one of those rare in between moments where rehearsal chaos had temporarily paused. Sneakers lay scattered near the mirrors, water bottles lined up along the floor, and a faint hum lingered from the speakers even though the music had long since stopped.
Vernon sat against the mirrored wall with one knee drawn up, his phone angled slightly away from the others. A video played across the screen, skateboard wheels against concrete and the wind tugging at your hoodie. Your laugh sounded faintly in the background after you nearly slipped off a rail and caught yourself at the last second.
Your videos weren’t polished in the way sponsored content usually was. They felt like they were edited at three in the morning with too much energy and not enough sleep. City lights blurred across the screen, camera angles shook unexpectedly and songs changed halfway through clips because you apparently got bored.
It didn’t feel like the polished, carefully curated content that usually filled his feed. It felt like your life unfolding in real time, unfiltered and unapologetically yours.
“Yo, what are you watching?” Vernon barely glanced up.
“Just TikToks.” A head immediately appeared over his shoulder anyway, Chan narrowed his eyes at the screen.
“Since when do you watch TikTok like it’s a documentary?”
“It’s not that serious.”
But Chan had already spotted the skateboard. “Ooh wait. She’s kinda cool.” Before Vernon could respond, another voice cut in.
“Who’s cool?”
Mingyu wandered over holding a water bottle, curiosity already written all over his face. Minghao followed beside him, quieter as always. Mingyu leaned closer, observing the video playing.
“Wait.” His eyes sharpened. “Isn’t that the girl who won gold?”
“She’s all over my algorithm. I’ve seen her edits before.”
Vernon let the video keep playing as they lingered around him.
“Yeah it’s her,” Vernon said.
The answer came easily enough, but something about it made Minghao shift his attention away from the screen and onto him instead. To anyone else, it probably would’ve sounded completely normal, but Minghao knew him too well for that.
It wasn’t what Vernon had said so much as the way he’d said it- quiet and thoughtful, carrying a faint softness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Subtle enough that most people would’ve missed it, except Minghao didn’t.
It wasn’t excitement or a casual interest either.. just something.
Minghao didn’t say anything immediately. Instead he simply watched Vernon for a moment.
“What?” Vernon finally asked.
“Nothing,” Minghao said lightly. “You just sounded a little different when you said that.” Before Vernon could answer, Seungcheol’s voice echoed across the room.
“Gyu, Chan, come help move this speaker.”
Mingyu groaned. “Why is it always me?”
Chan was already backing away. “Because you’re strong.”
“That’s not a reason!”
They disappeared toward the other side of the room still arguing, leaving the air noticeably quieter behind them. Minghao dropped down beside Vernon. For a moment neither spoke, until Minghao decided to push a little.
“So what’s going on in your head?”
Vernon sighed. “Nothing.”
Minghao hummed like he didn’t believe him for a second, Vernon looking back down at the screen. The video had looped again, playing cuts of your skateboard under the lampposts of a city park. He locked his phone as he sat it down and turned to his left looking at Minghao.
“I’ve run into her twice.” Minghao stayed silent as he listened to him intently. “First time was at a convenience store. It was raining and I didn’t know who she was. We just talked and then I saw her again on a bus.” Minghao leaned back slightly. “That time I realized who she was. Famous skater and gold medalist.”
Vernon paused, his gaze dropping briefly to the floor. His thumb tapped absently against the edge of his phone as he searched for the right words. “The thing is, she knows who I am and I know who she is. We’re both public enough that it should’ve felt weird, but it didn’t. It felt like meeting someone before all of that mattered. Like for a few minutes I wasn’t an idol and she’s not a record holding skater. We were just two people killing time in a convenience store while it rained.” He smiled faintly. “I don’t know. She just felt warm.”
Minghao nodded slowly, taking in what Vernon was saying. Across from him, Vernon sat with his forearms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor between his shoes as if he were still trying to untangle the feeling himself.
“She let me think she didn’t know who I was.” That was the part he couldn’t stop thinking about. Not the convenience store or the bus, not even finding out she was an olympic gold medalist. Just the simple fact that she’d known exactly who he was and had treated him like it didn’t change anything.
“I don’t really know her,” he admitted. “But I kinda hope I see her again.”
Minghao studied him for a second before smiling faintly, then he patted him once on the back. “She sounds sincere.”
Vernon let out a quiet breath.
“You’ve already met her twice,” Minghao said. “Third time’s the charm.”
Vernon looked over at him. “That feels very optimistic.”
“I prefer intentional.”
Vernon snorted. “Intentional?”
“Manifestation. Positive energy. Trusting the universe.”
“You sound like an Instagram caption.”
Minghao grinned. “And yet here you are hoping to see her again.”
Vernon rolled his eyes, Minghao pushing himself to his feet.
“Relax. Let the universe work its magic.”
Minghao didn’t say anything else. He just stood, stretching slightly before stepping away. Vernon didn’t move right away, he stayed where he was, like something in him hadn’t finished processing the conversation.
A week later, Seoul felt different. The rain was gone, leaving behind a crisp kind of night air that bit just enough to make people pull their sleeves over their hands and walk a little faster. Streetlights spilled gold across glass storefronts, and the city moved in soft reflections instead of noise.
You stood outside a small record shop you’d passed more than once but never bothered to go into. It was tucked between a café and a vintage clothing store, the kind of place you only noticed if you were walking slowly enough to care.
Your skateboard rested against your leg as you lingered on the sidewalk, gaze drifting from your phone to the record shop’s front window.
The place was still open, a little surprising for nine at night. You considered moving on. There was a skate park a few blocks away, and that had been the original plan. A few hours of skating, maybe some food afterward, then home.
You’d always told yourself you’d go in eventually. Eventually, apparently, was tonight. It’s not like the skate park would be going anywhere. Shifting your board beneath your arm, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The bell above the door chimed softly when you finally stepped inside. Warm air hit you first- slightly dusty, comforting in a way only old places ever were. Vinyl was stacked in uneven towers along the walls, and somewhere deeper in the shop, jazz hummed low through hidden speakers.
You exhaled softly, taking in the warmth of the shop as you drifted deeper between the aisles. Your gaze skimmed over stacks of vinyl and handwritten recommendation cards until it snagged on a figure a few rows ahead. A familiar man, head slightly tilted, one hand trailing along the spines of vinyls as if he were considering his options without any real intention of choosing one. He looked more like he was passing time than shopping.
At the sound of your footsteps, he glanced up, and there you were.
For a second, Vernon just stared. Not because he was shocked to see you, but because some stubborn part of him had spent the entire week wondering if he would.
Minghao’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.
Third time’s the charm. Let the universe do its thing.
Vernon had rolled his eyes at the time. Now, standing in the middle of a record shop he almost hadn’t come to, he was beginning to think Minghao might actually be in tune with the universe.
His mouth twitched slightly before he could stop it. The universe, apparently, had a sense of humor.
“Hey,” he said. You blinked once before a look of amusement filled your face.
“Convenience store boy.”
“Bus girl.” Vernon smiled, you let out a soft snort at that.
You stared at him for a second. “Do you just appear places now?”
“I was here first.”
“That’s exactly what someone who appears places would say.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re making a lot of accusations for someone who keeps running into me.”
“Maybe Seoul just isn’t big enough for both of us.”
“Could be.”
“Tragic, honestly,” You joked. He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing the options.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “One of us should probably leave.”
But neither of you left.
The record shop settled back into quiet around you, jazz crackling softly through old speakers while people drifted between aisles like they had nowhere better to be. Whatever awkwardness might’ve existed between two people who’d only technically met twice never really had the chance to land.
Maybe it was because neither of those encounters had felt like the beginning of anything. There had been no grand introductions, no careful first impressions, and no effort to be charming. Just two strangers crossing paths at odd hours of the night, finding themselves a little more familiar with each meeting than the last.
You noticed it after a few minutes. Vernon wasn’t hovering, and he wasn’t crowding your space, but he also wasn’t disappearing into other parts of the store.He never moved close enough for it to feel deliberate, but whenever you drifted toward another aisle, he seemed to follow naturally, as though continuing the conversation mattered more than whatever record he had originally been looking for.
“What do you usually listen to?” he asked. You tilted your head slightly.
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“Why?”
“Because music opinions are irreversible.” He let out a quiet laugh.
“Okay. Least favorite artist.”
“That’s even more dangerous.”
Before long, the aisles had become little more than a backdrop to the conversation. You drifted from one topic to the next, arguing over overrated artists, defending albums that only worked after dark, mourning songs ruined by overexposure, and ranking movies whose soundtracks were somehow far better than their plots. The discussion never settled anywhere for long, and the two of you never seemed eager for it to end.
At one point Vernon picked up a record, flashing it your way. You narrowed your eyes instantly at the cover.
“No way.”
“What?” He asked, almost offended.
“You listen to them?”
His brows lifted slightly. “You sound very judgmental.”
“You don’t look like you listen to them.” You shrugged as you skimmed through another crate.
“And what do I look like?”
You turned and studied him for a moment, gaze flicking over him like you were separating image from reality. “Like you’re used to being looked at,” you said, “but not really used to being seen.”
Vernon let out a quiet laugh, but it slowed halfway through like his brain had caught up to what you actually meant. He looked at you for a second, then away again, rolling the thought around like it didn’t quite have an easy place to land.
By the time you reached the register, both of you were holding small stacks of records. Outside, the night had deepened while you were inside. Streetlights stretched across the pavement in long gold lines as you stepped out together.
Then came that pause, the kind that always shows up when two people technically don’t have a reason to keep standing next to each other anymore.
You shifted your skateboard slightly beneath your hand, Vernon rubbing the back of his neck once.
“So..” he started, then stopped. You watched him with quiet amusement as he tried again. “Are you doing anything after this?”
You shrugged lightly. “Not really. I was gonna go skate for a bit.” His expression changed immediately, interest flickering in before he could hide it. “There’s a park a few blocks from here, usually empty around this time.”
“Cool.” He nodded.
You could practically see it, the split second hesitation, the decision he wasn’t making yet.. so you made it for him.
“You wanna tag along?” His head lifted immediately.
“Yeah,” he said, like the answer had been waiting there the whole time. “I’d like that.”
The walk there felt easier than it should’ve. Not rushed or quiet in an awkward way either. Just two people moving through the city like they already knew how to exist in the same space.
The streets didn’t feel empty so much as paused between movements. Traffic lights cycling for no one, signs buzzing softly above shuttered doors, the air carrying sound from blocks away instead of the ones you were on.
Somewhere between turns, the conversation loosened. Movies, snack combinations, and random opinions that didn’t matter enough to be argued properly, but still somehow were.
You mentioned a movie you liked despite its rating, Vernon scoffed almost immediately.
“You’re telling me that changed your life?”
“It did.”
“It has like a thirty-four percent rating,” He argued.
“You don’t understand cinema.” You rolled your eyes.
“You don’t understand quality control.”
You bumped your shoulder lightly into his as you let out a laugh. It was brief, easy to pretend it meant nothing, but neither of you moved away after it happened.
By the time you reached the skate park, the city had thinned out. A few people lingered near the edges, most already packing up for the night. The concrete stretched open under pale lights, almost quiet enough to hear the distant traffic instead of it blending into everything else.
You stepped off the path first and dropped your skateboard onto the ground with a soft clack.
“Watch this.”
Vernon’s attention followed instantly. You didn’t skate like you walked, there was nothing careful about it anymore, just instinct. Speed built under your feet as you pushed off, the board snapping cleanly against concrete as you moved into the space like it belonged to you.
The board cracked against the concrete as you popped onto a ledge, spun cleanly, and landed without a wobble. You barely slowed before flowing into another trick, then another, each movement blending into the next with the kind of confidence that only came from years of practice.
Each landing sharper than the last, hoodie shifting slightly with every movement, hair slipping loose from beneath your beanie as you moved through the park like you weren’t thinking at all. Like you didn’t need to. When you finally slowed and rolled back toward him, you were breathing a little heavier, but smiling anyway.
“Well?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. Vernon shook his head once, a grin already pulling at his mouth.
“That looked awesome.”
Something in your expression softened at that..small, but real.
“You wanna try?” His eyebrows lifted immediately.
“I don’t know how to skate.” He admitted.
“So?” Your shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“That feels like important information.”
You laughed and stepped closer, holding out your hand. “I’ll teach you.” For a second, he just looked at it, and then he took it.
His hand was warm against yours despite the chill hanging in the night air. You guided him onto the board, keeping it steady beneath your foot as he tested his balance for the first time. There was a hesitation to his movements, a cautious concentration that felt strangely endearing, as though every instinct in his body was telling him this was a terrible idea while he stubbornly tried anyway.
“Okay,” you said. “Just stand.”
“This already feels like a bad idea.” His tone was weary, the board slighting wiggling from underneath him.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.”
You snorted softly, adjusting his shoulders a little without thinking too much about it. “Relax your knees.”
“Why?”
“So when you fall, it hurts less.”
“That’s comforting,” He said sarcastically. You laughed again, and for some reason he looked like he liked hearing it more than he should’ve.
He pushed off and immediately looked like someone negotiating a truce with gravity. The ride was wobbly, uneven, and completely lacking in grace, but he was moving.
“Wait-“ you started, then blinked. “Okay, you actually got it.”
Vernon turned toward you with immediate satisfaction. “Not terrible?”
“Don’t push it,” You teased.
“I think you’re witnessing raw talent.”
“I think you’re witnessing beginner’s luck.”
“You’re a hater.”
“I’m realistic.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of what?” You scoffed at his comment.
“My natural ability.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the board chose that exact moment to wobble violently beneath him.
“Oh no,” You uttered, watching the scene unfold in front of you.
“Wait!” Vernon yelled out as his balance disappeared instantly. His weight dropped too fast, and he went down hard enough to catch himself on his hands before fully hitting the ground. A breathless laugh from him followed immediately.
“Jesus Christ.”
You were already crouching in front of him before he even finished laughing. “Are you okay?” He looked up at you, still laughing like he couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or entertained.
“I think my dignity just left my body.” He joked, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “You saw that though? I had it for like a second.”
“You did.” Your voice softened a little as you said it. “Falling’s normal.” And then you kept talking- easy, automatic, like you were just filling space without thinking about it. Stories about learning tricks, about falling, about getting back up without really caring how many times it took, but Vernon wasn’t really hearing all of it anymore.
Not properly at least, because his focus had narrowed without him noticing.
The way you were crouched in front of him, close enough that the world behind you blurred into something unimportant. The way your expression didn’t change even after he fell, or the way you looked at him like it wasn’t a big deal.
Like he wasn’t.
Vernon wasn’t thinking. At least, not in any useful way. His thoughts had dissolved somewhere between your laugh and the way you were looking at him now, crouched in front of him beneath the glow of the park lights. You were still talking, still smiling, and completely unaware of the fact that he’d stopped hearing every word. All he could focus on was you. The realization arrived without warning and hit him with enough force to steal the air from his lungs.
He liked you. More than he should and more than it made sense after three chance encounters and a handful of conversations.
Before he could question it, and before he could convince himself it was a terrible idea, he reached up and gently cupped the side of your face.
Your words faltered, and for a brief moment, neither of you moved.
Then Vernon closed the distance between you. The kiss was soft and fleeting, born entirely from impulse. The kind of kiss that happened before caution had a chance to intervene, before logic could remind him of all the reasons he shouldn’t, and the second it ended, he knew exactly how reckless it had been.
For a second, surprise held you still. Then, instead of pulling away, you found yourself meeting him there, leaning into the moment before you’d fully had time to think about it.
It wasn’t much. Barely a movement at all, but it was enough. Enough for Vernon to feel it and enough for the realization to settle somewhere deep in his chest and make everything infinitely worse in the best possible way.
He pulled back like reality snapped into place all at once. “Oh my god,” he said immediately, hand already dropping like it didn’t know where to go. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just did that.”
“It’s okay—”
“No, I shouldn’t have—”
“I said it’s okay.” You reached out without thinking, fingers lightly catching his wrist, causing him to freeze.
Your voice softened slightly. “It surprised me,” you admitted. His expression was already panicked, like he was preparing for consequences that weren’t coming, then your mouth curved just slightly. “But I liked it. You’re a good kisser.”
He stared at you completely still. Then let out a laugh that sounded half disbelieving, half relieved.. cheeks already turning pink.
“Oh my god.”
You chuckled, as he covered part of his face briefly like that might fix anything. You stood first, still smiling, and held a hand down toward him.
“Come on, athlete.”
He took it and just like that, something shifted.. but didn’t break.
The tension didn’t turn awkward, it just softened. Like it had finally become something usable.
The rest of the night unraveled easily after that.
He tried again on the skateboard like he had something to prove now, and you walked beside him laughing every time he managed even a few seconds of balance.
You didn’t let the kiss sit heavy between you and neither did he. It just became part of the night, something that happened and then got folded into everything else.
By the time you started heading back toward the main streets, the city had quieted further.
Storefronts glowed warmly against the darkness, and the streets stretched ahead in long, empty ribbons of pavement as you walked side by side. The conversation never really landed on anything important. It slipped between favorite foods, albums you loved for no defensible reason, and movies you’d both spent years insisting were better than they actually were.
Somewhere along the way, neither of you noticed how much ground you’d covered. Not until the road ahead split in two directions.
You slowed first, your board resting against your leg. “My place is that way.”
He nodded toward the opposite side. “My bus stop’s over there.”
The pause that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just aware the night was coming to an end, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step out of the moment.
“I guess this is goodbye for tonight,” you said.
“Yeah.”
He shifted slightly, hands in his hoodie pockets, gaze dropping to the pavement for a second. Then you held out your hand.
“Gimme your phone.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Your phone, convenience store boy.”
He handed it over without arguing. You opened his phone icon and typed quickly, then gave it back.
“My number,” you said simply. “Text me.”
He looked down at the screen for a moment and smiled.
“Okay.”
When he looked back up, you caught him staring a little too long.
“What?” he asked.
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You’ve got something on your face.”
“Where?”
“Right..” You stepped forward, leaning in just enough that he didn’t have time to think and kissed him. Quick, light, and confident in a way the first one hadn’t been. Then you pulled away immediately.
“Got it.”
Vernon blinked as if his brain was struggling to catch up with the fact that you’d just kissed him and immediately acted like nothing had happened.
Then the color hit his cheeks, the kind that spread so quickly it made your chest ache with amusement. You couldn’t help but giggle, a soft flirtatious victory. Because for the first time all night, Vernon looked completely and utterly unprepared. His mouth opened slightly, like he intended to respond, but no words came.
You decided not to wait for them, a grin still tugging at your lips, you dropped your skateboard onto the pavement, stepped onto it, and pushed off backward.
“See you later, convenience store boy.” Two of your fingers raising to your forehead as you flicked them away in a salute to him.
Vernon was still standing there when you rolled away, staring after you with an expression that only made your stomach flutter as if a storm of butterflies was unleashed.
I truly enjoyed Something in Bloom, I love how Minsoo is such a happy girl and she knows that she is loved!!
I love that Mingyu is doing his best and trusted oc with his daughter, something change that day and realised he can relay on other people!
And oc started seeing him in another light after being there for her and something as important as her job, that's how she knew!
I love themmmm
hi! sorry for responding so late, but thank you for your kind words, it means a lot! i’m happy you enjoyed the story, currently still trying to brainstorm ideas for if i write a second part :-) 🫶🏻💗
summary → mingyu is a single father who runs a small flower shop you visit every week to pick up arrangements for the nursing home you work at. it starts as routine.. familiar greetings, the exchange of flowers, a child who quietly grows used to your presence in the background. but somewhere between saturday mornings and shared conversations that linger a little longer than they should, something begins to shift.
word count - 7.6k
[light angst with heavy fluff / hurt-comfort slow burn]
warnings! → single parent au, child character (minsoo-8yrs), minsoo calls reader ‘mimi’, emotional healing, slow developing romance, loss of spouse mentioned, grief themes, slice of life, flower shop setting, nursing home setting, found families dynamic, no explicit content, kinda mingyu centered but still has reader pov, *additional parts will probably be written
The morning air was still cool when you started your walk, the kind of quiet Saturday that felt like it belonged to everyone else waking up slower than you.
Your tote bag was already half empty, ready to be filled again. The flower shop was always your first stop. It wasn’t even a decision anymore, it had become a solid routine for you.
The bell above the door chimed softly when you stepped in.
Warm air wrapped around you immediately. Humid from buckets of fresh water and newly trimmed stems. Damp soil lingered beneath the sweeter scents. Roses, eucalyptus,and lilies just beginning to bloom somewhere deeper in the shop.
The coolers hummed quietly along the back wall. Morning sunlight spilled through the front windows in long golden strips, catching on glass vases and droplets of water still clinging to leaves. Somewhere near the counter, an old radio played low enough to blend into the atmosphere instead of interrupting it.
The shop always looked halfway between organized and beautifully chaotic.
Bundles of flowers sat waiting to be wrapped in brown paper. Loose petals and cut stems covered the floor near the trimming station. Gardening gloves rested abandoned beside open gardening shears, and handwritten order slips were clipped sporadically around the register in a system only Mingyu seemed to fully understand.
The entire place smelled alive, not artificial or a hint of perfumed fragrance, but freshly cut flowers. Like spring itself settled into the four walls of the building.
“Mimi!”
Minsoo’s voice cut through the calm like it belonged there more than anything else. She was already up from her little chair near the counter, a coloring book half forgotten, and her small legs swinging as she turned toward you with immediate recognition.
Your smile blossomed without thinking.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you said softly. “You’ve been busy this morning.”
“I made a lot today,” she declared seriously, as if it were an official report. Pointing at the pages scattered across the table.
“Can I see?” You crouched down beside her without hesitation, and her face lit up in excitement.
She tugged the coloring book toward you like it was treasure, flipping page after page with intense focus. Uneven sunflowers, cats that she claimed were dancing, and bright scribbles of color carefully contained inside her world of lines.
“This one is my favorite,” Minsoo said, tapping a page with exaggerated pride.
“It’s really good! You picked the perfect colors.”
“That’s because I’m good at art.” She beamed, giggling at herself.
You laughed softly, letting her continue explaining each page like she was presenting an art gallery.
She had called you Mimi since the first time she met you, a mispronunciation of jangmi (rose in korean) after you first bought a few dozen roses, and it had stuck without either of you correcting it. At this point, it didn’t feel like a nickname, it was simply who you were to her.
Behind you, the shop shifted with quiet movement and rustling sounds from the backroom.
“You’re early today.” Mingyu’s voice came from the back, low and familiar. You straightened slightly, still crouched beside Minsoo.
“I always am on Saturdays,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “Morning rounds.”
He appeared a moment later, sleeves slightly rolled, hair still soft with sleep in a way he hadn’t fully shaken off yet. He looked tired, not dramatically, just in the way a father would.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m good, you?” you replied.
“Same. Mostly.”
You tilted your head slightly. “What do you have for me today?”
He exhaled lightly, already moving toward the cooler that he always prepared flowers for you each Saturday morning.
“Daisies came in fresh this morning, and..” he hesitated, glancing at a small bucket near the side. “These tulips are almost at the end of their peak, but they’ve still got a few good days left. I can give them to you.”
“They’ll love those,” you said. “Especially Ms.Han. She likes simple things.”
That made him smile faintly as he pulled the bundles out, and took them to the counter. Mingyu started wrapping them carefully, pulling out the paper bags designed for easy carrying, just something meant for walking a few blocks without trouble.
You turned back to Minsoo, still crouched. She was now watching you instead of her coloring book.
“Your pictures are really pretty,” you told her again, after looking them over for a second time.
“I know,” she said matter of factly, and that made you let out a cackle.
“Very confident.”
“I learned from my dad,” she said.
“Hey!” Mingyu called from behind the counter, not even looking up.
Minsoo ignored him completely, tugging gently at the hem of your dress instead.
“Mimi,” she said, softer now. You leaned closer immediately, giving her your undivided attention.
“Hmm?”
She motioned for you to bend down further. When you did, she carefully slid something behind your ear. A small daisy. You blinked, surprised, as she flashed her cheeky grin.
“It matches your dress,” she said proudly.
You straightened slowly, fingers instinctively brushing the flower.
“Oh, does it?”
She nodded seriously. You smiled, softer this time.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever met.” And without thinking, you gently pinched her cheek.
Minsoo giggled, unbothered and delighted.
Mingyu looked over just in time, a quiet grin forming at the corner of his mouth as he tied off the last of the flowers.
For a moment, the shop felt like something more than a shop. Just life, happening neatly in small pieces.
Then his phone rang. The ringer cut through the warmth of the shop instantly. He froze for half a second before answering.
“Yeah?”
You didn’t hear the full conversation at first. Just the change in his voice, how it turned less soft. Whatever he heard made his expression tighten, his shoulders tensing from the conversation.
“What?”
He went quiet for a moment as he listened.
“..Okay.”
Another pause.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He ended the call and exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. His jaw was tightening as he processed the conversation.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently.
He hesitated, like he was already trying to rearrange the situation in his head before saying it out loud.
“My delivery driver, Chan, said the van tire blew out. And the spare’s apparently unusable.”
You frowned slightly.
“Oh no!”
“He’s delivering a wedding order,” he continued. “A big one, planned to arrive at noon. I need to fix it or it won’t make it on time.”
Silence settled for a second. Then he added, quieter as he registered his situation.
“And I don’t have anyone to watch Minsoo.”
Minsoo looked up at the mention of her name, sensing nothing but tension she didn’t fully understand. Mingyu looked between you and her, eyebrows scrunching in thought.
You didn’t even hesitate to offer help.
“I can take her with me for a few hours.”
His eyes snapped to you immediately.
“No, I- it’s fine, I’ll figure something out. I don’t want to trouble you.”
You shook your head lightly.
“You’re not troubling me at all, Mingyu.”
His expression stayed composed, but something quieter moved through it. Guilt, maybe. The kind that came from spending years trying to be everything himself and suddenly having someone offer to lighten the weight.
“I mean it,” you added. “You’ve been basically supplying half the nursing home’s flower budget for years because you refuse to let me pay properly.” A faint exhale left him, almost a laugh but not quite.
“It’s not the same.”
“It is the same,” you said simply. “And the residents will love her. She’ll probably make their entire week.”
Minsoo perked up at that.
“I will?”
You looked down at her.
“Absolutely.”
That was all it took, she smiled like it was already decided. Mingyu looked at her, then back at you. You could see it in him, not mistrust. Something quieter, like there was a threshold he didn’t cross often.
“I’ll come by as soon as I’m done to pick her up,” he said finally.
You nodded. “You don’t need to rush. Just do what you need to do.”
He still looked uncertain, but he nodded once.
“Okay.”
You turned toward Minsoo.
“Hey, girlie,” you said, Minsoo looked up instantly. “Are you ready to hang out with me and some Halmoni’s today while your dad takes care of something important?”
“I want to,” she said quickly. “I want to go.”
You smiled at her enthusiasm and glanced back at Mingyu.
“She’ll have a blast,” you said quietly.
He exhaled, then gave a small nod, the kind that meant he had accepted something before fully feeling ready for it.
“Okay,” he said again. “Thank you.”
He handed you the wrapped flower bags carefully. You adjusted them in your hands, and then took a glance down at the little girl.
“Do you want to bring your coloring book?”
Minsoo shook her head immediately.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m going to make the Halmoni’s tell me stories all day.”
A short laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Mingyu chuckled too, shaking his head slightly.
“That sounds about right,” he muttered.
You stood, adjusting the bag straps in your hands. The three of you moved toward the door almost naturally now. Like this had already happened before, like it would happen again.
Mingyu followed, locking the front door behind the three of you. Outside, the morning had shifted slightly, a little brighter and a little louder.
“Thank you again,” he said.
You nodded once.
“No problem.”
Minsoo waved as if she was leaving for something much more important than a morning errand. And just like that, the routine broke open into something else entirely.
The garden path leading up to the nursing home was always quieter than it should’ve been.
Even on Saturdays, even when the sun was already warm enough to promise heat later, there was a softness to the walk, stone tiles slightly uneven with age, flower beds carefully maintained but never overly perfect.
Minsoo walked ahead of you like she already belonged there.
“Those are hydrangeas,” she said suddenly, pointing with certainty.
You glanced over. “That’s right.”
“And those are.. um..” She squinted at the next bed. “Pansies?”
“Good job,” you said, smiling. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”
At that, she straightened a little taller, as if she’d just received an official award. She skipped once, then twice, staying close enough to you that her hand almost brushed yours but never quite needed to hold on.
The front entrance came into view,wide glass doors, reception desk just inside, the soft hum of controlled quiet. You stepped in first and felt the air change immediately. Cooler, and faintly floral from yesterday’s arrangements still lingering in corners after being discarded.
A staff member looked up from the desk and smiled politely. “Good morning y/n! You got new deliveries?”
“Yes,” you said, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder. “Mini arrangements for the common rooms and individual rooms.”
Her eyes flicked past you. “And who’s this little friend?”
You glanced down at Minsoo. “This is Miss Minsoo.”
Minsoo waved immediately, bright and unbothered.
“Hello!”
The staff member laughed softly. “Hi, Minsoo.”
Minsoo tilted her head, suddenly very serious. “Where are the halmonis?”
The woman blinked once, then smiled wider, clearly caught off guard.
“The residents?”
Minsoo nodded quickly. “Yes. We brought flowers.”
That earned a quiet giggle from both you and the morning receptionist.
“They’re in the social hall,” she said, pointing down the corridor. “That way.”
Minsoo didn’t wait another second. “Can I have one?” she asked you immediately, pointing at the flower bags. You didn’t hesitate, pulling out one of the smaller bouquets and placing it carefully in her hands.
“Just one,” you said. “Be gentle.”
“I will,” she promised, already turning on her heel. And then she ran, not far, just fast enough to feel like excitement rather than chaos.
The social hall opened up into soft light and scattered voices. A group of elderly women were already seated near the windows, hands folded, mid conversation when Minsoo appeared in their line of sight like she had always been part of the room.
“Hello!” she announced proudly.
Heads turned, and then, soft laughter, cooing sounds, the kind of warmth that filled spaces before words even mattered.
“Oh my goodness…”
“Who is this little peach?”
Minsoo didn’t slow down. She walked right up to the first woman and carefully handed her a flower from the bouquet.
“For you,” she said.
“Oh thank you, sweetheart,” the woman said, already smiling like her entire morning had shifted.
Across the room, you started setting down your bags at the table where staff had placed empty vases that were ready for you like always. Hands moving automatically to unwrap, trim, fill, and arrange. But your attention kept drifting back to Minsoo who was already moving to the next person.
Another flower. Another smile. Another laugh.
“Are you visiting today?” one of the women asked her.
“I am!” Minsoo said proudly. “My dad owns a flower shop. I came with Mimi.”
At that, a few heads turned in your direction. A quiet understanding that Mimi was their y/n. You smiled politely from across the room, shaking your head lightly as you kept arranging stems.
A kitchen staff member walking past you murmured, “She’s adorable.”
“She is,” you agreed softly.
Minsoo, meanwhile, was fully in her element. The older women were eating it up, leaning forward, asking her questions, letting her chatter fill the space between them.
“Do you go to school?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like flowers?”
“Yes. But I like stories more.”
That got many laughs.
Ms.Han, who you recognized immediately, leaned back in her chair, watching her closely.
“And who is Mimi to you?” she asked gently.
Minsoo didn’t even hesitate.
“She’s my dad’s friend,” she said, like it was obvious. “She always comes to get flowers for you all.”
Ms.Lee, seated beside her, smiled warmly. “That’s very kind of her.”
Minsoo leaned in suddenly, like she had something very important to share.
“I have a secret.”
The room quieted slightly in playful anticipation. You didn’t look over but you listened more closely without meaning to.
Ms. Lee leaned down slightly. “A secret?”
Minsoo nodded. Then, very loudly, not whispering at all she confessed.
“I always wondered what it would be like if Mimi lived with me and my dad.”
Your hands paused mid arrangement. Just for a second, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to digest the words. Across the room, Ms. Lee’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh… is that so?”
Minsoo nodded again, completely sincere.
Ms.Lee gently patted her head. “Mimi is a very kind person.” Minsoo smiled like that was confirmation of something she already believed.
“Yeah,” she said quietly now. “She takes care of people here. So I think she would be good at home too.”
You looked down at the vase in your hands, carefully placing stems into water you suddenly didn’t need to think about. Ms. Lee glanced up toward you, and mouthed, She’s lovely.
You gave a small, grateful smile back.
On the far side of the room, Ms. Han caught your eye and winked once, slow and deliberate. You exhaled a quiet laugh through your nose, shaking your head as you went back to arranging flowers. Soon, more residents began noticing the small burst of energy in the room.
“Who is that little one?”
“Come here, sweetheart!”
Minsoo didn’t hesitate. She moved from table to table like she had a schedule only she knew, handing out flowers, accepting compliments, laughing like she’d always been part of their mornings.
One of the older men even leaned over and slipped her a wrapped sweet, and she accepted it like a collector receiving treasure.
You made a mental note, we are absolutely doing a pat down before leaving.
Time blurred after that. The flower arrangements were finished one room at a time while Minsoo rotated between games, stories, snacks, and attention like she was keeping the entire building entertained on instinct alone.
Eventually, the noise softened after a handful of hours. When you finally looked up properly, you spotted her curled into Ms. Han’s side on a loveseat near the corner of the social hall. Minsoo was asleep, one arm still loosely holding onto a folded napkin like she hadn’t fully decided to let go of the world yet. Ms.Han looked down at her with a fond expression, and then over to you.
“She’s a lively one,” she murmured.
You smiled as you walked over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind Minsoo’s ear.
“She is,” you agreed softly. You then made your way back toward the front desk, checklist in hand, filling in final notes. The afternoon receptionist, Hana, glanced up at your presence.
“She’s quite the kid.”
“She is,” you agreed. “Her father raised a very special young lady.”
The moment stretched quietly around you until the front entrance opened again. And somehow, the room felt different before you even turned around. Something warm and familiar, causing you to know who it was before you looked.
Mingyu stepped inside, white undershirt instead of his button up from this morning, the bottom just above the hem slightly wrinkled, jeans unchanged, boots still dusted faintly from earlier. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d run his hand through it too many times in heat and stress. He looked like someone who had been holding the entire day together by force.
The receptionist made a quiet sound beside you. “..Damn.”
You shot her a look and Hana cleared her throat quickly. “Oh! is that..?”
You nodded once to her before she could finish.
Mingyu lifted a hand in greeting as he continued walking in, eyes immediately finding you.
“Hey,” he said, voice tired but steady.
You smiled. “Hey.”
Behind you, Hana leaned in slightly before excusing herself entirely too quickly, whispering as she passed, “Get him, girl.” You rolled your eyes so hard it almost became a full circle. By the time you turned back, Mingyu was standing in front of you.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said immediately. “Everything that could go wrong today, did.”
“It’s okay,” you said gently. “Minsoo had the best time. The residents are going to be talking about her for weeks.”
He let out a small laugh, tension loosening just slightly in his shoulders. “That sounds like her.” Then his expression shifted, searching for her.
“Where is she?”
You tilted your head toward the social hall.
“In the corner.”
He followed your gaze, and softened instantly. There she was, curled in Ms.Han’s lap, completely asleep, small and peaceful in a way that made the entire room look quieter just by existing in it.
Mingyu exhaled. “She looks so peaceful.”
“She does,” you agreed.
He nodded once, like he was already preparing to go over.
“I’ll wake her and-”
“Let her sleep a little longer,” you said. The words made Mingyu pause for a second, not because he minded. If anything, the opposite. He’d just spent so many years being the only one thinking ahead for Minsoo that hearing someone else do it so naturally caught somewhere deep in his chest.
You glanced toward the sleeping girl again, “She’s had a big day. She’s only been out for like twenty minutes. And she ran around a lot today.”
He looked at you for a moment, visibly caught off guard by the gentle certainty in your voice. Then his attention shifted back to Minsoo. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from running around all afternoon, one hand tucked beneath her face while Ms.Han carefully held her steady beside her as she read from her book.
Mingyu stood there silently for a second. Taking in the fact that she was cared for here, the fact that someone else had noticed she was overtired before he had to say it out loud himself. Something softened behind his expression, as if a weight was lifted off him.
“Okay,” he murmured finally. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the room like he suddenly didn’t know where to put himself. Then, awkwardly, “do you.. want to show me around while she sleeps?”
A small smile formed on your face. “Yeah,” you said. “Okay.”
And just like that, the day kept going. The nursing home was quieter once you stepped away from the social hall. Not silent, never silent with these residents, but softened. The distant sound of a television somewhere down the corridor, the squeak of cart wheels against polished floors, and someone laughing two rooms over.
Mingyu followed beside you at an easy pace, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jeans now that the stress of the morning had finally eased off his shoulders.
You pointed down one hallway, “this wing is mostly independent residents,” you explained. “Most of them can still get around fine on their own, they just like having community around.”
Mingyu nodded quietly, taking everything in carefully. You showed him the small library tucked near the corner first, then the recreation room lined with puzzles, shelves of board games, and old records stacked neatly beside a vintage player someone’s family had donated years ago.
“We do movie nights too,” you added. “And karaoke, which sounds cute until Mr.Park starts singing trot music at full volume.”
That earned a laugh out of him. “I feel like Minsoo would love that.”
“She absolutely would.”
He smiled at that as you both continued down the hall.
“There’s art therapy twice a week,” you said, gesturing toward another room filled with watercolor paintings and clay pieces left drying on shelves. “And gardening when the weather’s nice.”
“They stay really active here.”
“We try,” you replied softly. “A lot of people think nursing homes are where life stops. But honestly..” You shrugged lightly. “Most of them still just want to laugh and gossip and complain about bad food like everyone else.”
That made him grin again. You noticed it more now, the way his face softened when he smiled fully. Less guarded, making him look younger and not so much a single dad bearing all the weight.
Eventually, the two of you stepped through the back doors leading into the center garden. Warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the stone paths. The courtyard sat enclosed in the middle of the building, surrounded by flower beds, trimmed hedges, and climbing ivy that curled around white trellises. A fountain bubbled quietly nearby, Mingyu let out a small breath as he looked around.
“This is beautiful.”
You smiled faintly, sitting down on one of the benches beneath the shade.
“The gardeners here are amazing,” you said. “The residents enjoy it when they can get their hands in the soil. Though I think they get more of a kick out of supervising and criticizing.”
He laughed under his breath as he sat beside you.
“I can believe that.”
Neither of you said anything for a while. The fountain bubbled quietly nearby while birds chirped overhead. Then you glanced toward him. “So how did you end up owning a flower shop?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard. You saw it immediately, the pause. Mingyu didn’t look uncomfortable, just as if he went far away somewhere for a moment. His eyes drifted toward the flower beds ahead before he answered quietly.
“It was my late wife’s.”
Your expression softened immediately. “Oh.” You glanced down briefly. “I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head once. “It’s okay.”
His voice gentled after a second. “It’s been five years.” A faint exhale left him as he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “I think it’s supposed to get easier to talk about the longer time passes.”
You sat with his words for a second, because you knew what he was trying to say.
“Five years isn’t that long.” His eyes shifted toward you as you continued carefully. “And grief doesn’t really get easier.” Your fingers folded together loosely in your lap. “You just.. learn how to coexist with it better.”
Silence settled between you again, but not heavy silence. The kind where words actually landed. Mingyu stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, like he was turning your words over carefully in his head, really listening. Then he looked back out at the garden.
“She worked really hard for that shop,” he admitted quietly. “Before Minsoo was born, before-” he swallowed lightly. “Everything.” His hands rubbed together once absentmindedly. “After she passed, I didn’t know what else to do. Keeping it open just felt right. Like maybe, if I kept it going, part of her stayed alive too.”
Your chest tightened softly at that. “That’s lovely,” you said honestly, as he glanced at you again. “You’re doing something special,” you added.
The look he gave you afterward lingered. His expression softened in a way that felt almost unguarded for the first time since you’d met him. Like your words had touched something tender he usually kept tucked away behind smiles and routines and responsibility.
For a moment, he just looked at you, and something quiet passed between the two of you in the garden silence. Neither of you looked away.
Then, almost like he caught himself there too long, he cleared his throat lightly and shifted the attention back toward you.
“What about you?” You blinked once. “Why a nursing home?”
The smile that spread across your face caught him off guard completely. It wasn’t small or restrained, it reached your eyes immediately, warming your whole expression until you looked lighter somehow. And for a second, Mingyu couldn’t do anything except look at you.
Because he realized then how rarely he’d seen someone speak about their life with that kind of genuine love. Something in his chest tightened unexpectedly as he watched you.
“My halmoni,” you said simply. He stayed quiet immediately, giving you space without interrupting. You looked out toward the fountain as you spoke. “I wasn’t much older than Minsoo when my mom passed away.”
Mingyu’s expression softened.
“It was just me and her before she got sick,” you continued. “My dad was never really in the picture.” A small laugh escaped you then, light and unashamed. “Honestly, my mom didn’t even know who he was.” You smiled faintly to yourself. “She had a very adventurous youth.”
That earned a quiet chuckle from him, not because it was funny exactly, but because of how gently you carried the memory.
“My halmoni raised me after that,” you said. “And then I lost her too when I was nineteen.”
Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just listened, really listened.
“I didn’t know anything about adulthood, I didn’t know how bills worked. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I definitely didn’t have money for school.” You leaned back slightly against the bench. “So I worked retail. Waitressed. Sometimes both at the same time.”
He frowned faintly and you noticed.
“I was okay,” you assured him gently. “Tired, but okay.” Then your smile softened again. “I kept the house though. My halmoni’s house.”
Mingyu watched you carefully as you spoke, completely absorbed now.
“One day after work I was walking around because I didn’t want to go home yet.” You pointed vaguely toward the building behind you. “And I ended up on this street. I saw this place and I don’t even know why, but I walked inside.” His eyes stayed fixed on you. “The first thing I saw was a group of older ladies arguing over cards,” you said, grinning now. “Like seriously arguing.”
That made him laugh softly.
“And they reminded me so much of my halmoni. So I asked if they were hiring.” You shrugged lightly. “And I’ve been here ever since.”
“How long?”
“Almost eight years now.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I worked my way up,” you continued. “Part-time manager now. The pay’s good enough that I’m comfortable.” Then your voice softened. “But honestly, the residents are what make me feel rich.”
Mingyu felt his breath catch slightly at that. You didn’t even realize the effect your words had on him.
“They fill a space in my heart they probably don’t even realize exists,” you admitted quietly. “Taking care of them kind of helped heal me too.”
He stared at you in complete awe. Because until today, you’d just been..y/n, mimi, the woman who came in for flowers every Saturday. The familiar smile across the counter. The soft dresses and gentle hands arranging bouquets.
He had never realized how much strength lived inside you. How much softness had survived despite everything.
“You’re really strong,” he said quietly, your eyes met him again. “And brave.”
You smiled faintly, reaching over without thinking to pat his hand gently where it rested on the bench between you.
“Life isn’t fair to most people,” you said softly. The warmth of your hand lingered even after you pulled away. “But I think people become strong in different ways because of what they survive.”
Your eyes drifted back toward the building. “You raised a wonderful little girl, and one day she’s going to become an amazing young woman.”
That made him grin immediately.
“Hopefully one that stops stealing flowers from my inventory.”
You laughed. “She gets that from you.”
“Absolutely not.”
The two of you laughed together softly beneath the shade of the garden trees, the heaviness of the earlier conversation settling into something gentler now.
Eventually, Mingyu glanced toward the doors.
“I should probably wake her up,” he said reluctantly. “Otherwise she won’t sleep tonight.”
You nodded as you both stood.
When you walked back inside, the social hall had grown quieter again. Ms.Han was still sitting in the loveseat, one hand holding a book while Minsoo slept tucked against her side. You paused near the front desk to finish checking a few forms while Mingyu approached carefully.
Ms.Han looked up first. “Well,” she whispered dramatically, “are you the father of this delightful little girl?”
Mingyu grinned immediately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ms Han smiled knowingly before gently tapping Minsoo’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart.”
Minsoo stirred slowly, blinking awake before immediately spotting her father.
“Daddy!”
She slid down off the loveseat and wrapped herself around him instantly. Mingyu caught her easily, kissing the top of her head.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yes.”
“That much?”
“Yes!”
He laughed quietly before setting her down.
“Why don’t you go thank Mimi for watching you today?”
“Okay!”
And just like that, she darted off again. Mingyu chuckled softly under his breath.
Ms.Han watched him carefully for a moment before leaning slightly closer. “You know who else is delightful?”
Mingyu glanced over instinctively.
“Who?”
Ms.Han pointed subtly toward you across the room. You were crouched slightly to Minsoo’s level, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear while she animatedly explained something with her hands.
Ms.Han smiled knowingly. “That girl has a kind soul,” she said quietly. “And she clearly adores that little peach.”
Mingyu’s gaze lingered on you, longer than he realized.
“If you don’t scoop her up,” Ms.Han continued, “someone else eventually will.”
Something unfamiliar fluttered through his chest as he watched you. Warm enough to loosen something tight inside him, uneven enough to make him aware of every beat of his own heart. And strangely youthful in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. It caught him off guard realizing how long it had been since he’d felt something this simple. This nervous. This quietly exciting. The thought almost made him laugh at himself, but the smile that spread across his face came anyway.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ms.Han patted his arm like she already knew everything. He waved goodbye to her before walking over toward you and Minsoo.
“Ready to go?” he asked gently.
Minsoo nodded quickly. You stood back up slowly to look at Mingyu
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Really.”
“You’re welcome. Anytime,” you replied warmly.
His smile softened at that. Then he took Minsoo’s hand and started toward the exit. They’d only gotten a few steps away before you suddenly called out:
“Oh, and Mingyu?” He turned. “Make sure you do a pat down later. She collected a concerning amount of candy today.”
His eyebrows lifted and then Mingyu burst out laughing immediately. Before Minsoo could escape, he scooped her up into his arms.
“What are you hiding in your pockets?” he asked, shaking her lightly.
Minsoo squealed in betrayal.
“Nothing!”
“You’re suspiciously defensive.”
You laughed softly from the doorway, watching the two of them disappear down the hall together.
The apartment was quiet by the time Mingyu finally got Minsoo home.
Not late enough for exhaustion to fully settle in, but enough that the day had begun catching up to both of them.
Minsoo had fallen asleep in the truck halfway home, one hand still shoved suspiciously into the pocket of her little cardigan despite the amount of candy he’d already confiscated. He carried her upstairs carefully. She stirred slightly against his shoulder when he pushed open the apartment door, mumbling something incoherent before immediately settling again.
Mingyu smiled faintly to himself. “Long day, huh?”
No response.
He tucked her into bed after changing her into pajamas she barely woke up for, smoothing her hair back from her forehead once she finally settled properly beneath the blankets.
For a second, he just stood there. Watching her breathe, watching how peaceful she looked after spending the entire day laughing.
“Can I go with Mimi again sometime?” Minsoo asked half asleep.
Mingyu blinked. Minsoo’s eyes were still closed, barely conscious, but the question still landed square in his chest.
“You like her that much?” he asked quietly. Minsoo nodded against the pillow.
“She feels nice.”
And that, for some reason, was the thing that unraveled him. Not because it was dramatic. Not because it meant too much too soon, but because he understood exactly what she meant.
You did feel nice.
Warm, safe, easy to be around in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until today.
“We can ask her later.”
He looked down at his daughter for another long second before quietly turning off the lamp and stepping out of her room. The apartment suddenly felt too still afterward.
He washed dishes he didn’t need to wash, reorganized receipts already organized, trimmed stems in the kitchen sink from flowers he’d brought home earlier. Anything to keep his hands busy. But every thought circled back to you.
The way you crouched to Minsoo’s level every time she spoke. The way you listened when people talked. The way you spoke about grief like it was something to carry instead of conquer.
And worse, the way sitting beside you in that garden had felt natural. That terrified him more than he wanted to admit. Because five years was enough time for routines to harden, enough time to become someone who survived instead of someone who hoped.
And yet tonight, for the first time in years, he caught himself imagining what it would feel like to see someone more often. To want someone there and the guilt hit almost immediately after.
His late wife’s laugh still lived in parts of the apartment. In Minsoo’s face and in the shop. Some days he still reached for memories before reality caught up. So why did it feel like his chest tightened now over another woman smiling at him in a garden?
He leaned both hands against the kitchen counter and exhaled slowly.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. But even then, he couldn’t make himself regret the feeling entirely.
By Wednesday afternoon, he still hadn’t stopped thinking about you. Which was exactly how he found himself standing in the shop carefully wrapping flowers that were very obviously not for the nursing home.
Minsoo leaned over the counter dramatically. “Those are prettier than the old lady flowers.”
Mingyu snorted softly.
“Don’t call them old lady flowers.”
“But they are.”
“They’re arrangement flowers.”
“They’re old lady flowers.”
He sighed in defeat. Minsoo peered at the bouquet again, soft pink peonies, cream ranunculus and tiny white filler blossoms tucked carefully between them.
“Do you like her, Dad?” Minsoo asked innocently.
Mingyu nearly dropped the ribbon.
“Minsoo..”
“You made the fancy wrapping.”
“..Go put your shoes on.”
Minsoo gasped loudly.
“You do.”
“Minsoo.”
She ran away laughing before he could say anything else.
When the front desk called your name later that afternoon, you looked up from paperwork with mild confusion.
“I have visitors?” you repeated.
Hana grinned knowingly. “You’ll wanna see this.”
You frowned slightly as you walked toward the front entrance, and then immediately slowed.
Mingyu stood near the doorway holding flowers. Real flowers, wrapped neatly in pale paper. Minsoo stood beside him, swinging a pastry box proudly in both hands. The sight caught you off guard enough that you actually stopped walking for a second.
Minsoo spotted you first.
“Mimi!”
Your face softened immediately.
“Well hi,” you laughed quietly. “What are you two doing here?”
“We came to say thank you properly,” Mingyu said.
There was something slightly awkward about the way he stood there now. Less composed than usual. Almost nervous, and somehow that made your chest warm unexpectedly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly.
“I know.”
He held the bouquet out toward you.
“These are for you.”
You blinked. For a second, you genuinely didn’t move. Your eyes dropped to the flowers slowly like you were trying to process the fact they were actually yours.
Not delivering flowers. Not nursing home flowers.Not flowers you were carrying for someone else.
Yours.
Mingyu noticed your hesitation almost immediately, and his stomach dropped a little.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”
“No,” you interrupted just as fast. Your eyes snapped back up to his. “You didn’t.”
His expression softened slightly, though uncertainty still lingered. You looked back down at the bouquet again, almost shy now.
“It’s just.. no one’s ever given me flowers before.”” A small laugh escaped you.
That visibly stunned him.
“What?”
You smiled awkwardly.
“I know, it sounds kind of sad when you say it out loud.”
“It’s not sad,” he said immediately.
And somehow he sounded almost offended on your behalf. You laughed softly at that.
“It’s really sweet,” you reassured him gently. “Thank you.” Your fingers brushed carefully over one of the peonies. “They’re beautiful.” Then you looked back up at him with genuine curiosity.
“How did you know I liked peonies?”
Before Mingyu could answer, Minsoo blurted out the answer. “Ms. Han!”
You burst into laughter instantly. Mingyu laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Traitor,” he muttered toward his daughter.
“She told me your favorite flowers when I asked what hers and everyone else's were.”
Your expression softened impossibly at that, and for a second, Mingyu forgot entirely what guilt felt like. Because the look on your face.. warm, touched, genuinely happy, felt worth every confusing feeling sitting in his chest.
The weeks after Minsoo’s first visit to the nursing home settled into something none of you had exactly planned for. And yet somehow, it became routine faster than expected.
By the second Saturday, the residents were already asking where she was before you’d even made it through the front doors. By the third, staff had started setting aside snacks specifically for her. And by the fourth, Minsoo practically acted like she paid rent there.
“You’re late,” Ms. Han scolded dramatically one Saturday morning when Minsoo burst into the social hall ten minutes behind schedule.
Minsoo gasped. “I had to finish homework!”
The entire room laughed.
At this point, she had become the nursing home’s unofficial grandchild. Everyone watched after her. The nurses kept juice boxes behind the desk for her. Residents saved crossword puzzles for her to “help” with. The activities coordinator started pulling an extra chair into art classes before Minsoo even arrived. And Minsoo loved every second of it.
She played cards with the older residents like she’d known them her entire life. Painted messy watercolor flowers during activity hour. Collected stories from anyone willing to tell them. Sometimes you’d catch her curled up beside someone on a couch listening so intently it made your chest ache.
And somewhere along the way, the nursing home became another home for her too. Which, unexpectedly, changed things for Mingyu as well.
At first, he’d been hesitant to leave her there regularly. You saw it in the way he lingered during drop offs. The way he double checked his phone. The way he apologized constantly for “imposing.”
But slowly, little by little, he relaxed. He learned what it felt like to let other people help. To trust that Minsoo was safe even when he wasn’t the one directly watching her. And because of that, his world slowly expanded too.
The shop ran easier on weekends now. Orders got done faster. He didn’t have to split himself between parenting and work every second of the day. So in return, he started showing up at the nursing home more often too.
At first it was small things, fresh flowers for the front desk, potted herbs for the garden beds. Advice for the groundskeepers after noticing diseased leaves on one of the climbing roses. Then eventually, one evening after closing the shop early, he stayed to help the gardeners replant sections of the courtyard.
And after that? It just continued.
The residents adored him almost immediately, mostly because he listened to them. Even when Ms.Lee insisted the roses outside her unit needed “more emotional support.”
“She means fertilizer,” you translated once.
“I know what she means, I just think she’s very intense about these roses,” Mingyu whispered back. Ms.Lee heard him anyway.
“I heard that!”
Meanwhile, something quieter had started happening inside you too.
You noticed it in strange moments. Like when Minsoo grabbed your hand automatically crossing the parking lot. Or when she fell asleep against your shoulder during movie afternoons. Or when Mingyu showed up after work carrying dirt smudged gardening gloves and smiled at you first before anyone else.
Sometimes, briefly, you caught yourself imagining things you immediately tried to push away.
What dinner at their apartment might look like. What it would feel like hearing Minsoo running through a home every day instead of just weekends. What it might be like standing beside Mingyu in ordinary moments that had nothing to do with flowers or nursing homes.
The thoughts always startled you afterward, not because they were unwelcome, but because they felt dangerous. Too close to wanting something, and wanting things had never exactly guaranteed keeping them. So you tucked those thoughts away carefully every time they surfaced.
Until one Saturday evening, the sun was beginning to lower by the time your shift ended, the nursing home settling into its softer nighttime rhythm.
You stepped outside along the garden path, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder, then stopped. Mingyu was beside his truck near the curb, loading gardening tools into the bed. Your face brightened immediately.
“I didn’t know you came by today.”
He glanced up at the sound of your voice, a smile growing. The sight still did something strange to your chest every single time.
“Ms.Lee cornered me,” he explained, shutting the tailgate lightly. “Apparently the roses outside her window weren’t sufficient.”
You laughed instantly.
“She’s very passionate about her flowers.”
“She told me they looked emotionally neglected.”
“That sounds exactly like her.”
Mingyu shook his head with a quiet grin. You glanced around instinctively looking for your number one helper.
“Where’s Minsoo?” That earned a snort from him.
“She begged my friend Wonwoo to let her stay over this weekend.”
You smiled. “A sleepover?”
“She’s only interested because he told her earlier this week over a facetime call he bought the new Nintendo Switch.”
Your eyebrows lifted immediately. “Oh, so she’s a businesswoman. Strictly transactional”
“Exactly.”
You both laughed softly together, and then the conversation faded. Not awkward silence, just the simple quietness you both had begun to stand in together at times.
Evening air drifted between you, and for the first time in a while, there was no Minsoo filling the space between your conversations. No residents, no errands, and no flower deliveries. Just you and him standing beneath the fading light.
Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck once, then again. You noticed immediately he suddenly looked nervous.
“Are you..” He cleared his throat. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Your eyes flicked toward him fully now. He stumbled forward before you could even answer.
“I mean, if you’re free.” Another awkward breath. “You absolutely don’t have to if you’re tired or busy or just don’t want to, I just thought maybe..”
A realization settled over you slowly. Oh. He was asking you out. And somehow, seeing someone as naturally confident as Mingyu visibly panic made warmth bloom instantly in your chest. You smiled softly before he could spiral any further.
“I’m free.” He stopped talking immediately. “And dinner sounds nice.”
For a second, he just stared at you. Then relief spread across his face so openly it almost made you laugh.
“Okay,” he said quickly. “Okay. Good.”
His smile widened after. Real, bright and boyish in a way you hadn’t seen before. He moved before he could overthink it, opening the passenger door of his truck for you.
You climbed in, still smiling to yourself as he shut the door carefully behind you.
Then he walked around the back of the truck toward the driver’s side. Halfway there, hidden briefly from your view, he let out a relieved exhale and grinned helplessly to himself before climbing into the driver's seat.
pairing - non idol ! seungcheol x f.reader [fluff/angst]
summary → you and seungcheol became best friends freshman year of college, drifting into something softer and unspoken by junior year when you became roommates. now, after graduating, he has one week left before enlistment— a countdown tied to his future at his father’s company and the life waiting for him after completing service. but between a simple haircut in your shared bathroom and the weight of leaving, everything he’s kept buried finally spills out, because what he’s really afraid of isn’t enlistment… it’s leaving the person he’s been secretly in love with for years
word count - 3.7k
warnings! → friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, mutual pining, love confession, yearning, seungcheol being devastatingly in love, military enlistment mention, pre-enlistment emotions, kissing/making out- no smut, years of repressed feelings, bathroom confession scene, soft/domestic intimacy, suggestive ending, happy ending, two idiots finally communicating, *additional parts will probably be written
The bathroom smelled like vanilla, clean laundry, and Seungcheol’s cologne. The one he always wore without thinking. That warm, slightly spicy scent that clung to his hoodies and lingered in the apartment long after he’d walked out of a room.
It mixed with the softness of vanilla melting through the air in slow, comforting waves, trying to wrap the moment in something gentler than what it really was.
Clean laundry hung nearby from the rack beside the shower, still faintly warm from the dryer, fabric softener folding itself into the air every time you moved. It made the space feel lived in, like any other night, like nothing was about to change.
Like he wasn’t leaving in a week.
You’d lit the candle earlier to keep things feeling normal. Because to you, this wasn’t goodbye.
Not really.
It was just something difficult he had to get through before coming back home again.
But sitting in front of the mirror while strands of dark hair fell steadily around him, Seungcheol felt every inch of this moment settling into his chest with terrifying finality.
The low buzz of the clippers sounded too loud in the small bathroom. Every pass against his scalp stripped away another piece of familiarity, and with each lock of hair hitting the tile floor, the reality became harder to ignore.
One week.
One week before he left behind the apartment that had become more his home than any place ever had before.
One week before leaving you.
Meanwhile, you stayed focused carefully behind him. Occasionally brushing loose strands from his shoulders and chatting softly about completely ordinary things. The grocery list for tomorrow, your cafe manager finally fixing the broken espresso machine, and which of your friends would inevitably cry the most dramatically at the enlistment send off.
Like this was temporary. Like the two of you would naturally fall back into this exact rhythm again once he returned.
And maybe that should’ve comforted him. Instead, it only made the ache in his chest worse.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and focused on the careful motion of your wrist.
One more pass.
The clippers hummed over the back of his head, leaving behind soft dark stubble. You stepped back slightly, examining your work before flicking the power off. Silence settled heavily between you.
“There,” you said quietly.
You brushed the loose hair from his neck before running your palm gently over the freshly shaved skin. The texture made your chest ache unexpectedly.
“All done.” A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned down into his line of sight through the mirror. “Wow. Okay, it definitely looks weird.”
His brows lifted faintly.
“Not bad weird,” you corrected quickly, laughing softly. “Just.. you’ve never had your hair this short before.” Your fingers rubbed over the top of his head again playfully. “You actually look really cute.”
You moved around the stool until you stood between his knees, his legs naturally parting to make room for you in the cramped bathroom. Your hands stayed on his head, thumbs brushing along his temples while you grinned down at him.
It was the smile that always ruined him.
The one that crinkled your eyes slightly. That he’d watched across lecture halls and grocery aisles and lazy Sunday mornings in your shared apartment kitchen. The one that had slowly, disastrously made him fall in love with you years ago.
But instead of smiling back, his expression only seemed to sink further.
Your own smile faltered.
“Cheol?”
He looked away. His gaze dropped to the floor instead, landing on the ridiculous fuzzy green house slippers covering your feet.
The pair he bought you two winters ago after you’d spent twenty minutes dramatically mourning them in the middle of a department store because you couldn’t afford “unnecessary purchases” until your next paycheck from the café.
You’d worn them nearly every day since.
“Seungcheol,” you said again, softer this time, but still nothing.
You reached down, fingers curling around his chin until you gently tilted his face back toward you.
“Earth to Cheol?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes still locked downwards.
“I don’t want to go.”
The words came out rough, and your chest tightened immediately.
“I know,” you said carefully. “It’s not exactly an easy thing.”
You tried to give a reassuring smile again, thumb brushing along his cheek.
“But you’ll be back before you know it. And then you’ll start at your dad’s company and everything’ll work out.” You shrugged lightly. “Unless you can convince your dad to rearrange the plan somehow?”
He shook his head once.
“That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
His eyes finally met yours fully, and it nearly undid him.
Because you were looking at him the same way you always did. Soft, patient, worried for him before yourself. Standing between his knees in those stupid fuzzy green slippers, your fingers still warm against his skin from where you’d rubbed over his freshly shaved head, completely unaware you were holding his entire heart in your hands.
God. How was he supposed to leave this?
How was he supposed to pack up two years of shared mornings, late night convenience store runs and you humming in the kitchen while making coffee half asleep and just, walk away from it? From you?
His chest tightened painfully. All he could think about was time.
A week from now, he’d be gone, and life would keep moving without him.
You’d still go to the café on weekends. Burn pancakes every Sunday morning because you refuse to turn the heat down, and still laugh so hard at dumb movies you’d snort without realizing it.
But eventually, someone else might be there to see it. Someone else might start memorizing the little things about you the way he had.
Someone else might carry your grocery bags, and sit in his spot beside you at bars. Walk home with you at night, or hear you call their name from another room instead of his.
The thought made him feel sick.
Because Seungcheol had spent years pretending what existed between you was enough. Pretending friendship didn’t already feel dangerously close to love. Pretending he could survive watching you belong to somebody else someday.
But now there was an expiration date looming over him, and suddenly every second with you felt fragile. Temporary.
His throat tightened before speaking again.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
The words came out quieter than he intended. Not because he was unsure, but because saying them out loud made everything terrifyingly real.
Your heart stumbled at the words, a sharp, disorienting skip you immediately tried to dismiss. No, that wasn’t what he meant. It couldn’t be.
You latched onto the thought almost instinctively, like a reflex. Like you’d done a hundred times before whenever something about him felt like it tipped too close to something you weren’t supposed to look at too long.
He’s Seungcheol. Your best friend. Your roommate. The person who had been woven into the shape of your days for four years until it didn’t even feel like separate lives anymore.
That’s all this was. It had to be.
So you laughed softly anyways, a little too quick, a little too light, as if you could smooth the moment over before it had time to turn into anything else in your mind.
“You’re such a baby,” you teased gently. “I’ll still be here when you get out.” You squeezed his shoulders. “Plus, you’ll get leave sometimes, right? We’ll still hang out.”
He shook his head again, sharper this time.
Before you could say anything else, his hands suddenly wrapped around your wrists, stopping your movements against his shoulders. Slowly, he slid his hands down until his fingers intertwined with yours. And when he spoke again, his voice had changed completely.
Serious. Low. Almost trembling.
“I don’t want to leave you,” He repeated, his tone vulnerable and bare.
The air shifted. Your smile faded entirely now.
“Cheol..”
“I don’t want to leave and come back and..” He exhaled shakily, eyes squeezing shut for a second before reopening. “Be replaced.”
Confusion flickered across your face.
“Replaced? Seungcheol, what are you talking about? You’ll always—”
“I don’t want another guy taking my place in your life.”
The words hit you so hard you went completely still. For a second, your brain genuinely couldn’t process them. Not because you didn’t understand what he was saying, but because some terrified hidden part of you had spent years convincing yourself you imagined all of it.
The lingering looks, the way his hand always found the small of your back in crowded places. How naturally the two of you moved around each other like you’d built a life together without realizing it. The quiet domesticity of him bringing you home your favorite snacks without asking. Falling asleep together on the couch, sharing inside jokes, or tying his tie for him when he has to visit his fathers company building.
Like he belonged in every crevice of your daily life.
You had spent so long forcing yourself not to read into it. Because Seungcheol was Seungcheol. Your best friend, Your roommate, the person who had become home so slowly you never even noticed it happening.
And loving him had always felt dangerous. So instead, you suppressed it.
Buried every flutter in your chest when strangers mistakenly called you his girlfriend. How much you loved hearing him laugh from another room. Locked away the embarrassing ache you felt whenever he looked especially handsome before going out somewhere. Ignoring the way your heart would sink anytime another woman flirted with him in front of you.
You told yourself it was safer that way. Better to keep him as your best friend than risk losing him entirely. But now he was sitting in front of you looking terrified of losing you, and suddenly every moment over the last four years came crashing together so violently it almost made your chest hurt.
Your throat tightened painfully as you stared at him, your pulse pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.
Meanwhile Seungcheol looked seconds away from unraveling completely, like he already regretted saying it out loud.
And somehow that made it worse. Because all this time, he’d been carrying the same feelings you had.
He laughed once under his breath, but there was nothing amusing about it.
“We live together,” he said quietly. “We cook together. We grocery shop together. We do laundry together. We spend every stupid Sunday rotting on the couch watching movies neither of us actually likes because we’re too lazy to change them.”
Your lips parted slightly.
“And somewhere along the way my feelings stopped being normal.”” He shook his head, his thumbs rubbed nervously against your knuckles.
“I like when strangers think we’re together.”
Your breath caught.
“I like when we argue over ramen flavors in the store and old women smile at us like we’re married already.” His eyes flickered up to yours finally. “I like when we go out drinking and some guy starts trying to flirt with you, but the second I walk back over beside you he leaves because he thinks I’m your boyfriend.” His voice softened painfully. “I like taking care of you.”
Your chest felt impossibly tight now, every feeling you had spent years carefully locking away had suddenly cracked open all at once.
It hurt. Not in a bad way, not really. Just, too much.
Too much affection. Too much relief. Too much longing you’d trained yourself not to touch because wanting Seungcheol had always felt like standing too close to the edge of something dangerous.
Your eyes burned as you stared at him. At the boy who had unknowingly become the center of your entire life, and now he was sitting here looking at you like losing you would ruin him.
The realization nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Because all this time, you thought you were the only one aching quietly through all those little moments.
All those nights lying awake in your room wondering what would happen if you reached for him first. All those mornings watching him half asleep in the kitchen, thinking with painful certainty that someday another woman would get this version of him instead.
But he was looking at you now with the same fear.
“I like knowing how you take your coffee.” He laughed quietly. “I like that you steal my hoodies and leave hair ties everywhere and sing badly when you clean the apartment. I like that you always save me the last dumpling even though it’s your favorite food.” His eyes glistened slightly. “I like coming home to you.”
The room felt too small, too warm.
The tiny bathroom that had always felt ordinary suddenly seemed intimate in a way it never had before. His knees brushing against your thighs, your hands still trapped in his, the soft buzz of the overhead light filling the silence between every shaky breath.
You could hear everything. The uneven rhythm of his breathing. The faint drip of the faucet. Your own heartbeat pounding violently in your ears.
And Seungcheol was close. So close enough that you could see the nervous swallow in his throat. Close enough to notice the slight tremble in his fingers where they held yours. Close enough that if you leaned forward even an inch, both of your foreheads would touch.
It made you dizzy.
Because suddenly every little domestic moment you both shared in this apartment over the years felt charged with something you’d spent too long pretending not to notice.
Late night conversations in this same bathroom while brushing your teeth. Him standing shirtless in the doorway after showers with wet hair dripping onto the floor while you complained at him to clean it up. You sitting on the counter while he shaved, talking about absolutely nothing for an hour because being near each other had always been enough.
How had you both survived living like this for years without combusting?
The warmth crawling up your neck had nothing to do with the bathroom anymore. It was him.
The way he was looking at you now, open and terrified, aching with love he could barely contain made the entire room feel suffocatingly small.. and he still wasn’t done.
“I love how excited you get over stupid little things,” he whispered. “Like finding books at thrift stores or those ugly ceramic frogs you keep collecting for some reason—”
“They’re vintage,” you muttered automatically through the overwhelming emotion building in your chest.
He huffed out a broken laugh. “See?”
And there it was again. That ridiculous, earnest defensiveness over something objectively stupid. Even now, standing in the middle of a life altering confession, both of you seconds from emotionally unraveling, you still couldn’t help correcting him about the ceramic frogs. It hit him with such painful affection he thought his chest might split open.
Because that was you.
You cared so deeply about little things, threw your whole heart behind harmless, ridiculous things without embarrassment. You made ordinary moments feel alive simply because you existed inside them so fully, and Seungcheol had spent years helplessly falling in love with every tiny piece of it.
The way you argued passionately about thrift store finds. How you got distracted halfway through serious conversations because a dog walked past the window. The way you always, always found something to love in things other people overlooked.
Even now, with tears gathering in your eyes and his confession hanging heavily between you, your instinct has been to defend your stupid frog collection.
God. How was he ever supposed to leave someone like you behind?
Your eyes burned.
“I’m in love with you,” he finally admitted.
The words hung between you, raw and terrifying.
“And I’m horrified that while I’m gone, somebody else is gonna get all of this instead.” His voice cracked slightly now. “Somebody else gets to live with you and cook with you and hear you laugh at two in the morning and hold your hand in public and–” He stopped to breathe shakily. “I had to tell you before I left,” he whispered. “Even if you don’t feel the same. Because I think it would actually kill me if I came back and you belonged to someone else.”
Silence. Complete silence. Seungcheol’s heart pounded so violently he thought he might actually throw up.
Then suddenly, you laughed.
His brows furrowed immediately.
“What?”
You laughed harder, one hand flying up to cover your mouth as tears filled your eyes now.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked, completely bewildered as you breathed between laughs.
“We are two huge idiots.”
He blinked at you.
“What?”
You shook your head, smiling so brightly it nearly knocked the breath from him.
Then you leaned down and kissed him.
Seungcheol froze. For one stunned second, his brain stopped functioning altogether.
But then his hands were suddenly at your waist, gripping tightly as he kissed you back with years of buried longing crashing into the moment all at once.
The kiss deepened instantly. Messy, desperate, relieved.
You could feel the shaky exhale leave him as he pulled you closer between his legs, your fingers sliding over the newly shaved sides of his head as you kissed him again and again.
When you finally pulled apart for air, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours in disbelief.
“You idiot,” you whispered fondly, still smiling like you couldn’t quite believe him.
“You love me?” he asked, quieter this time, like saying it wrong might make it disappear. Like he still couldn’t fully trust it was real.
You hummed, pretending to think about it as your fingers absently traced the back of his hand.
“Unfortunately for you,” you said lightly, “yes.”
His breath caught just slightly. Then, like something finally clicking into place behind his eyes, his expression shifted.
“Since when?”
The question wasn’t playful anymore. It was careful and serious.
Your teasing smile softened at the edges, but you didn’t look away. “Junior year,” you said simply.
His brows pulled together immediately. “Junior year?”
You nodded once, like it should’ve been obvious, but it wasn’t. And you let him sit in it for a second longer before you added, softer now, just a little less teasing.
“You came back to the apartment at like 1am during midterms week,” you said. “And I was on the kitchen floor because I’d completely given up on studying.” Something in his expression shifted instantly.
“Oh.”
You nodded, watching him remember it piece by piece.
“I wasn’t sick,” you continued. “I wasn’t anything dramatic. I was just.. exhausted. Like, the kind where you feel stupid for crying but you can’t stop anyway.” His thumb tightened slightly against your hand. “And you didn’t try to fix it,” you said, voice quieter now. “You just sat down next to me on the floor like it was the most normal thing in the world and started going through my notes with me.”
A faint, almost disbelieving smile flickered on his lips. He remembered now, too. Especially how pretty you still looked when you sat in front of the kitchen stove covered in a sea of notebook paper.
“And you didn’t say anything about it being late, or how tired you were,” you added. “You just stayed until I stopped crying.” You shrugged slightly, like you were trying to make it sound small.
Seungcheol went quiet. Really quiet. Like he was realizing something he’d never considered before, that for him it had just been another night of taking care of you, showing up for you, but for you, it had been the night you started loving him.
A disbelieving laugh escaped him.
Then you grinned suddenly, mischief returning to your expression.
“So while you’re gone,” you said casually, “which room should I combine our stuff into?”
He blinked.
“Huh?”
“You know,” you continued innocently, in a way only you could. “Since obviously one room becomes ours and the other becomes a spare room.”
He let out a loud scoff laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before suddenly standing up. You squealed as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you effortlessly.
“Wow,” you laughed breathlessly, your arms sliding around his shoulders while your legs wrapped around his waist. “Someone got confident really fast.”
Seungcheol looked up at you with a grin that was equal parts smug and completely lovestruck.
“You kissed me first,” he pointed out.
“You confessed first.”
“And now I’m making up for lost time.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly at the way he said it, low and certain, like something in him had finally snapped after years of holding himself back.
You tried to laugh it off anyway. “Oh, so this is who you are now?”
“This,” he said, tightening his grip slightly beneath your thighs, “is who I’ve been trying not to be around you for four years.”
Your stomach flipped violently.
“Cheol–”
“I’m serious.” His eyes flickered down to your lips again. “Do you know how hard it’s been living with you looking like that all the time?”
You let out an incredulous laugh. “Looking like what?”
“Like my girlfriend,” he answered immediately.
The bluntness of it made your breath catch.
“And now you actually are. No take backs,” he murmured, sounding a little stunned by the realization himself. Then his mouth curled into something more teasing. “So yeah,” he said softly, stepping closer until your back brushed the bathroom wall, “I’m gonna be confident for a minute.”
Before you could recover from that, he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, like now that he finally had permission he never wanted to stop touching you.
Butterflies exploded in your stomach.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“We can figure the room thing out later,” he murmured. “But we only have one week before I leave.” Your breath caught at the look in his eyes. “And there are a lot of things I’ve been fantasizing about doing with you.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly.
“Choi Seungcheol!”
He grinned for the first time all night. Then he carried you out of the bathroom and down the hall toward his bedroom while your laughter echoed through the apartment the two of you had unknowingly turned into a home together years ago.
