TT

👻

[bbygocrazy]

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tt, ate-teen, she/her

welcome to my little corner of the internet.

currently surviving on: salt air, fictional men, 3am thoughts, and emotional damage disguised as playlists.

i talk about: ౨ৎ books ౨ৎ kpop ౨ৎ writing ౨ৎ oceans ౨ৎ characters who need therapy ౨ৎ whatever ruined my life this week

warning: this blog contains excessive yearning, questionable humour, and an inability to shut up about fictional relationships.

“i am made of oceans and unfinished sentences.”

ೃ⁀➷

[bbygocrazy]

ⓎⓄⓊ, ⓊⓃⒻⓄⓇⓉⓊⓃⒶⓉⒺⓁⓎ

Synopsis: He's always the one taking care of everyone else. Today, for the first time, someone takes care of him.

Warnings: swearing, choatic friend group, eventual adult themes, ian! h2h, ye-on! h2h, kya! kiiikiii, chiquita! babymonster.

word count: 1.9k

Chapter 4: She Stayed

The day started like any other.

Seonghyeon said goodbye to his parents and sister as they left for a cousin's wedding. His mother had spent fifteen minutes trying to convince him to come.

He had midterms.

She had lost.

Unfortunately, so had he.

Mostly because of the fever.

It had started sometime during the night after staying up until three in the morning playing Brawl Stars with Keonho.

Which he had won fair and square.

Keonho's accusations of cheating were completely baseless.

Seonghyeon stared at his reflection while brushing his teeth.

His face looked pale.

His eyes looked tired.

His entire body felt like someone had replaced his bones with wet cement.

He swallowed two fever reducers and decided that counted as solving the problem.

By six in the morning he was already studying.

By seven he had finished breakfast, done the dishes, started the laundry, and cleaned the kitchen.

By seven-thirty he regretted every life decision he had ever made.

Still.

The math teacher was handing out important questions for midterms today.

Missing school wasn't an option.

His only goal for the day was simple.

Do not faint in front of anyone.

⸻

By lunch he was beginning to suspect the universe hated him.

His head felt heavy.

The classroom lights were too bright.

Every sound seemed louder than usual.

Worst of all, Keonho wasn't there.

Apparently some swimming competition was more important than accompanying his best friend through his suffering.

Traitor.

Seonghyeon dropped into his usual seat at lunch and immediately rested his forehead against the table.

Maybe if he stayed still long enough, nobody would talk to him.

The plan lasted approximately thirty seconds.

"Why do you look like that?"

Y/N.

Of course.

Seonghyeon didn't bother lifting his head.

"Like what?"

"Like someone stole your will to live."

"I have midterms."

"Fair."

The conversation should have ended there.

Instead Y/N sat down across from him.

Unfortunately.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

"You're lying."

Seonghyeon ignored her.

A few moments later something cold appeared beside his arm.

An acai bowl.

His favorite.

Y/N pushed it toward him.

"I bought too much."

A blatant lie.

Y/N never bought too much of anything.

She guarded food with the dedication of a dragon protecting treasure.

Still.

The gesture was appreciated.

Usually.

Today just looking at it made his stomach twist.

"No thanks."

Silence.

Slowly, very slowly, Seonghyeon felt her staring.

"…No?"

"No."

"You're refusing acai?"

"Yes."

"Voluntarily?"

"Y/N."

"What the hell."

Seonghyeon closed his eyes.

When he opened them again she was still staring.

Not annoyed.

Concerned.

That was worse.

For a second — just a second — he thought about telling her. I feel like I'm dying. My head hasn't stopped pounding since six a.m. I don't think I can sit through fourth period.

He didn't.

He never did.

⸻

The bell rang.

Saved.

Before Y/N could continue interrogating him, Seonghyeon grabbed his bag and left.

Fast.

Or as fast as someone with a fever could manage.

The hallway tilted, just slightly, and he put a hand on the wall until it stopped.

Nobody saw.

That was the important part.

⸻

Y/N caught him after school.

Naturally.

Because life hated him.

"Stop walking."

"No."

"Seonghyeon."

"No."

"You refused acai."

"I didn't realize that was a crime."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You look awful."

"I always look awful."

"That's actually true."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They walked another few steps.

Then Seonghyeon's vision tilted.

The ground suddenly seemed much farther away than before.

Before he could properly process what was happening, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Whoa—"

Y/N.

Again.

Unfortunately.

His head dropped forward against her shoulder for a second.

Only a second.

Long enough to register that she smelled like the strawberry shampoo she'd used since middle school, and that her shoulder was a lot smaller than it looked, and that some stupid, fever-addled part of his brain didn't immediately want to lift his head back up.

He lifted it back up.

"You're burning up."

"I'm fine."

"You're literally leaning on me."

"I'm standing."

"Barely."

She didn't let go of his arm.

He noticed that too.

He filed it away with everything else he wasn't going to think about.

⸻

Getting home became an adventure.

A terrible adventure.

Every few minutes they stopped.

Usually beside a trash can.

Usually because Seonghyeon looked like he was about to die.

Each time, Y/N stood beside him without flinching, one hand fisted loosely in the back of his blazer like she thought he might tip over if she let go completely. She didn't say anything while it was happening. She waited until it was over, handed him a tissue from somewhere, and only then started yelling again.

"You absolute idiot."

"Hm."

"You had a fever and still came to school."

"Hm."

"You did chores."

"Hm."

"You studied."

"Hm."

"You are the dumbest person I've ever met."

"Hm."

"Stop agreeing with me."

He almost smiled. The motion cost him more energy than it was worth.

⸻

By the time they reached his house, Seonghyeon was too exhausted to argue.

Y/N shoved him onto the couch.

Not hard.

Just aggressively.

"There."

"I'm home."

"Congratulations."

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and listened to her moving around — the click of the front door locking, her bag hitting the floor, footsteps toward the kitchen. The sounds were so familiar he could've mapped the house just from them.

He didn't remember the last time someone else's footsteps in his house had sounded like relief.

⸻

Twenty minutes later she had somehow taken control of his entire house.

Seonghyeon wasn't entirely sure how.

One minute she was yelling at him.

The next she was calling Keonho from his phone.

"Come over."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Keonho."

"I'm not talking to him."

"Why?"

"He cheated."

"He did not."

"He absolutely did."

Y/N closed her eyes.

Very slowly.

"Keonho."

"No."

Without another word she stood up, walked toward the bathroom where Seonghyeon was currently trying not to throw up, and held the phone toward him.

Silence.

Then the sound of violent retching.

More silence.

Then—

"I'm twenty minutes away."

The call disconnected.

⸻

Keonho arrived exactly nineteen minutes later.

Then proceeded to become the worst caregiver in human history.

"Seonghyeonieee."

"Leave."

"My poor baby."

"Leave."

"My sweet boyfriend."

"Leave."

Keonho carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

"Look how weak he is."

"Keonho."

"Y/N, he's smiling at me."

"He is not."

"He missed me."

"I hate both of you."

Despite everything, Keonho took care of him.

He carried him upstairs.

Checked his temperature.

Forced medicine down his throat.

Refilled water bottles.

Texted the group chat.

Then continued calling him boyfriend for the next hour.

Y/N threatened him with a ladle three separate times.

⸻

The others arrived before evening.

James.

Martin.

Juhoon.

The house immediately became louder.

Unfortunately.

Seonghyeon spent the next few hours being treated like a sick Victorian child.

"Drink water."

"No."

"Drink water."

"No."

"Drink water."

"…Fine."

Martin checked his temperature every twenty minutes.

Juhoon took pictures.

James confiscated the pictures.

Keonho somehow made everything worse.

As usual.

Through all of it, Seonghyeon kept track of one thing without meaning to. Where Y/N was in the room. Whether she'd eaten. Whether she looked tired.

He blamed the fever for that too.

⸻

Around eight, Y/N disappeared.

When she returned an hour later she carried enough food to feed an army.

Immediately every single boy reached for it.

Immediately Y/N smacked their hands away.

"That's for Seonghyeon."

"Just one bite."

"No."

"Y/N."

"No."

"You're being unreasonable."

"Get out."

They listened.

Remarkably fast.

⸻

Eventually the others left.

The house became quiet.

Keonho left after extracting several promises that Seonghyeon would survive until morning.

James stayed.

At Y/N's request.

Just in case.

⸻

Before leaving, Y/N returned upstairs one last time.

The hallway light was off. Only the small lamp on his desk was still on, throwing everything into soft amber and shadow. The house, for the first time all day, was completely quiet — no Keonho, no group chat buzzing, no chaos. Just the low hum of the air conditioning and the sound of Seonghyeon breathing, a little too fast, a little too shallow.

Seonghyeon was sitting against the headboard looking miserable.

Good.

He deserved it.

"You need to eat."

"I already did."

"Eat more."

"I'm full."

"Too bad."

She sat beside him — close, closer than either of them would acknowledge later — and held out another spoonful.

Seonghyeon stared.

"Y/N."

"Open your mouth."

"…"

"Seonghyeon."

He opened his mouth.

Humiliating.

He chewed slowly, watching her in the lamplight. She wasn't looking at him — she was focused on the bowl, on getting the spoon right, on not spilling anything on his blanket. Her hair had come loose from where she'd tied it up earlier. There was a faint crease between her eyebrows, the one she got when she was concentrating on something she actually cared about.

He'd seen that crease a hundred times. Over homework. Over choreography videos on her phone. Never once, until tonight, pointed at him.

It did something strange to his chest. Something he was too tired to name and too sick to argue with.

"One more," she said, already lifting the spoon again.

He let her.

⸻

Afterward she forced him into clean clothes.

Not literally.

But only because he lacked the energy to resist, and she had the decency to wait outside the door until he knocked twice to let her know it was safe to come back in.

She returned with a wet cloth.

The first touch of it against his forehead made him flinch — too cold, after how hot everything felt — and her hand paused.

"Sorry," she muttered. Quieter than her usual volume. Quieter than he'd heard her in years, maybe.

"It's fine."

She kept going. Slower this time.

Across his forehead. Down the side of his face. The back of his neck, where his collar had stuck to his skin with sweat. He kept his eyes closed through most of it, partly because the light hurt and partly because he wasn't sure what his face was doing and didn't trust it not to give something away.

She checked his temperature.

Adjusted his blanket, tucking it in at the side the way his mother used to when he was small, like she'd somehow absorbed the habit just from being in this house so often.

Then she patted his head.

The gesture was so unexpected that Seonghyeon actually froze.

It was such a small thing. She'd done it a hundred times, usually as a joke, usually followed by an insult. This time there was no insult. Just her hand, resting there for a beat longer than necessary, and the quiet.

"Get some sleep."

"I have school tomorrow."

"No."

"Midterms."

"No."

"Review questions."

"No."

"My parents—"

"Will be home tomorrow."

"I should text—"

"Already did."

Seonghyeon blinked.

"You what?"

"I handled it."

"Oh."

"Go to sleep."

He wanted to argue.

Really.

He did.

But his eyes were already heavy, and the room was warm, and for once — for the first time all day — his head had gone completely quiet.

No midterms.

No chores.

No mental list of things that needed doing before tomorrow.

Just the lamp, and the blanket pulled up to his chin, and Y/N's voice, still complaining, still bossy, still there, fading into something soft at the edges as sleep finally pulled him under.

The last thing he was aware of was the mattress shifting slightly as she stood up to leave — and some small, half-conscious part of him wishing, just for a second, that she hadn't.

Then everything went dark.

<- 3

[bbygocrazy]

ⓎⓄⓊ, ⓊⓃⒻⓄⓇⓉⓊⓃⒶⓉⒺⓁⓎ

Synopsis: Feelings don't always end dramatically. Sometimes you just grow bigger than them.

Warnings: swearing, choatic friend group, eventual adult themes, ian! h2h, ye-on! h2h, kya! kiiikiii, chiquita! babymonster.

word count: 2.1k

Chapter 3: Admired From Here

2024

Y/N hated every single person who made her get to this point in her life. She was only 12. What was the point of dumping such emotional weight on someone so young?

By emotional weight she meant the one and only Eom Seonghyeon. Not because of his tutoring no. Although she would very much prefer not to be tutored at all.

But because of his face. You see Seonghyeon did look good from the start. But good as in cute good. Like you wanted to pinch his cheeks, get cuteness aggression.

What she did not mean was jaw droppingly handsome and hot. It occurred over the summer break. Before going to his aunt's house nothing much had changed but as he came back after a month, Y/N could not believe her eyes.

What happened was she was by the window playing UNO with her elder cousin sister that had come to stay with her.

They were having fun. Until her sister's eyes landed on something outside the window and she froze.

Y/N looked out and there he was standing like a freaking sculpted figurine. His eyes had become slightly smaller, face sharper, well-defined jaw, and he had grown taller. Like TALL, TALL.

Y/N legit couldn't take her eyes off of him for 5 minutes while he helped his dad unpack the car.

She quickly slapped herself. 'No, Y/N he is the same old annoying perfect Seonghyeon. He is not hot.' She repeated as a mantra until her sister asked—

"Damn, who's he?"

"Who?" Y/N tried to play innocent.

"That freaking hot guy over. Fuck. You know what baby? Why don't you play with your aunt. I'll just come back in a minute or so." Her sister replied patting Y/N's eyes (actually she wanted to pat Y/N's head but she was much too distracted)

She quickly got up, combed her hair best she could, scrunched the top up a little, applied some lipstick and perfume and went outside.

Y/N could see from her window the sister approaching Seonghyeon and how warmly yet awkwardly he greeted her.

What is that burning feeling in her chest?

The next few months were an exercise in acting completely normal while her heart staged a quiet rebellion every time he walked into a room.

She managed. Mostly.

The only time she couldn't manage was one afternoon when he had come over to tutor her once again.

He had given her a paper to write for Korean history and started doing his own homework.

She somehow managed to complete the paper even while glancing at him every 2 minutes.

Seonghyeon began to check the paper occasionally looking up with a disappointed look scaring Y/N.

She scored 88/100 which she was very happy about as it was easily an A grade. She was cheesing hard at the paper when she felt something large on her head.

She turned around and it was Seonghyeon. Eom Seonghyeon, the boy-next door, the perfect human being (her crush) was patting her head.

"Good job. If you want to keep smiling like that at every paper you need to work harder. Understand?"

Y/N couldn't seem to bring herself out of staring and managed to nod her head slightly while her breath was caught.

She still cannot forget that day even if she wanted to.

She finally had enough in August 2024 and thought of asking him about his choice in girls. Partly so she could know if had a girlfriend. And if he didn't maybe she could try and become more of his type.

Today was the day. He came normally as he did for a tutor session. Sat down beside her and gave her math problems to solve. She did around 10 before turning her chair to face him.

He was doing his homework but looked up as she turned around.

"What?" he asked

"Do you have an ideal type?"

"What????" He asked clearly surprised at such bold question

"you know what i mean. Do you have like an ideal girlfriend? that if you see this person on the street you will immediately propose?"

"yes…. yes i do?"

"you do? who is it?" she asked her ears perked up.

"KIM JENNIE" he replied deadpan.

"오빠"

"Focus on you studies Y/N. Finding my ideal type isn't going to help you solve math."

"But…. BUt…… This is good for me…" She said confused with herself for a moment.

"Hmmm. How is that?"

"If I find your ideal type and get you your ideal girlfriend you will stop torturing me everyday by giving this useless questions to do." She said calculating in her head.

That got a laugh out of him. He shook his head in disbelief trying to calm himself down. "Sorry to torture you more Y/N but I do not have any ideal type or a girl I like right now. Please get back to your problems." He said still wheezing from laughter.

She pouted slightly before turning her chair back to the desk. 'I just wanted to know if he would like me. Why is he so mean?'

After that day, she started avoiding him a little.

Cause right now it had too much of Seonghyeon and too little of Y/N. So she starts to live her life instead of accepting it.

Not dramatically. She wasn't hiding behind walls whenever he walked past or running away every time she saw him.

That would be ridiculous.

No.

She simply started saying no whenever her mother suggested extra tutoring sessions.

She started attending regular cram school instead.

If her math grades suffered slightly because of it, then that was between her and God.

The important thing was that Eom Seonghyeon was no longer sitting in her room every week making her heart malfunction.

The distance helped.

Not immediately.

But slowly.

Life, she discovered, became significantly easier when she wasn't spending half her day wondering what a certain neighbor was doing.

And once she stopped paying attention to him all the time, she started noticing everything else.

Like the girls.

There were so many girls.

Girls from his school.

Girls from nearby schools.

Girls from cram classes.

Girls who somehow knew exactly when he got out of school and happened to be walking in the same direction.

It was almost impressive.

Y/N would occasionally spot them from her window.

A group of girls following behind him while Seonghyeon walked home completely oblivious, headphones over his ears and his school bag hanging off one shoulder.

Sometimes they would gather enough courage to approach him.

Most of the time they would just stare.

Seonghyeon always looked mildly confused by the entire experience.

Y/N found it hilarious.

And a little sad.

Because if there was one thing she knew about Seonghyeon, it was that he spent most of his life taking care of other people.

His friends.

His sister.

His parents.

Her.

Especially her.

He deserved someone who could take care of him too.

Someone who wasn't constantly creating problems he had to solve.

Someone who wasn't her.

The thought stung a little.

But not enough to stop her from moving forward.

Because for the first time in years, her life was beginning to feel like her own.

Dance academy turned out to be the best decision she had made all year.

Nobody there knew her as Seonghyeon's neighbor.

Nobody compared her grades to his.

Nobody looked disappointed when she got an answer wrong.

For two hours every evening she was simply Y/N.

It was surprisingly addictive.

She spent afternoons practicing choreography instead of staring out windows.

She found clothes she actually liked wearing.

Experimented with hairstyles.

Developed opinions that weren't automatically the opposite of Seonghyeon's.

Most importantly, she found friends.

Ian happened almost by accident.

One conversation turned into lunch together.

Lunch together turned into studying.

Studying turned into friendship.

Ian was one of those annoyingly competent people who somehow managed to be good at everything without becoming insufferable.

She was smart.

Popular.

Kind.

And, most importantly, she attended the same school as Seonghyeon.

This naturally meant Y/N gathered information.

Purely for research purposes.

Obviously.

"He's annoying," Ian informed her one afternoon.

"I know."

"He corrects teachers."

"I know."

"He color-codes his notes."

Y/N looked horrified.

"He WHAT?"

From there the friendship only grew.

Ian introduced her to Ye-on and Kya.

Both of whom looked so cute Y/N occasionally felt the overwhelming urge to bite their cheeks.

The urge was apparently strong enough that she voiced it once.

Ye-on immediately moved to the opposite side of the table.

Kya laughed so hard she nearly choked on her drink.

For the first time, Y/N had a life that existed completely outside of Seonghyeon.

Friends.

Dance.

School.

Goals.

Dreams.

And eventually, without her really noticing when it happened, the crush stopped feeling important.

It didn't disappear.

Some feelings never truly did.

It simply became smaller.

A tiny thing tucked away somewhere in the background while the rest of her life grew around it.

And before she knew it, two years had passed.

2026

The thing about Eom Seonghyeon's house was that it felt like a second home.

Y/N knew where the extra controllers were kept. She knew which floorboard creaked on the second step. She knew that the good snacks were always on the second shelf of the kitchen cabinet and not the first, because Seonghyeon hid them from his sister and thought nobody noticed.

She noticed.

She just didn't say anything because she also ate the good snacks.

Currently she was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with said sister, Eom Jiyeon, who was thirteen and had inherited precisely zero of her brother's calm temperament and all of his competitive streak. The TV screen in front of them was in a state of complete war.

"YAH— YOU LITERALLY JUST—"

"I TOLD YOU TO MOVE LEFT."

"I DID MOVE LEFT."

"YOUR LEFT OR ACTUAL LEFT?"

Jiyeon shoved her shoulder hard enough to nearly topple her. Y/N shoved back without looking away from the screen, thumb hammering the controller like it had personally wronged her.

"I'm going to end you." Y/N said very calmly.

"You literally cannot even see where you're going—"

"I SEE PERFECTLY FINE—"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU WALKING INTO A WALL—"

"THAT IS NOT A WALL THAT IS A SHORTCUT—"

From somewhere behind them came the sound of dishes. The quiet, unbothered sound of someone completely unaffected by the chaos unfolding in his own living room.

Seonghyeon had been doing chores for the past forty minutes.

He moved through the house with the energy of someone who had long since made peace with the fact that inviting Y/N over meant accepting a certain level of noise pollution. Dishes first. Then laundry. Then whatever else his mother had left on the list before she went out.

He reappeared from the kitchen briefly, set a bowl of snacks on the coffee table behind them, and turned to leave.

Y/N's hand shot out without her eyes leaving the screen and grabbed a handful.

"야." Seonghyeon said flatly.

"Mm?" She shoved the snacks into her mouth.

"Those are for both of you."

"She can have the rest."

"There's barely anything left."

"Then she should have been faster."

Jiyeon, who had also grabbed a fistful during this exchange, nodded seriously in agreement. Seonghyeon looked between the two of them with the expression of a man reconsidering every life decision that had led to this moment.

"You're a terrible influence." He said, directed at Y/N.

"She was already like this when I met her." Y/N replied.

"I was not—" Jiyeon started.

"You bit Keonho-oppa when you were seven."

Jiyeon closed her mouth.

Seonghyeon pointed at Y/N. "Stop corrupting someone younger than you."

"I'm not corrupting anyone. I'm just being honest." Y/N turned her head briefly to give him her most innocent expression, which was wholly unconvincing. "Can you get more snacks?"

"Get them yourself."

"I'm busy."

"You're sitting on the floor."

"Doing something important."

"Losing." Jiyeon supplied helpfully.

"I HATE YOU—"

The game erupted again. Seonghyeon stood there for approximately three more seconds, then went back to the kitchen and came back with more snacks, setting them down without a word before disappearing to finish the laundry.

Y/N did not say thank you.

She also did not acknowledge the small warmth that settled in her chest when he did it.

Some things were just better left where they were.

She turned back to the game, bumped Jiyeon's shoulder, and started screaming again.

<- 2 4 ->

[pbananalover]

hi!!!! coming back because i just saw a really concerning post!!!! this user @/hungrilymercilessghoul is posting smut of the 09z in cortis.

this is so disgusting on so many levels, seonghyeon is a minor. writing any sexual content of him IS illegal, it’s literally child pornography (doesn’t matter if you are a minor aswell = it still is sexual content of someone who is not legal age).

besides that fact, it is just incredibly disgusting. i’m going to mention something i said in an earlier post on this ↓

idols aren't objects to be used for weirdos sexual fantasies. anyone saying "you can just ignore" / "just scroll" is apart of the problem. releasing and giving access for sexual content of minors or people who are barely legal is giving an outlet for pedos or people with bad intentions, and it makes you apart of the problem. all this content is in a space where minors (a majority of cortis's fanbase are incredibly young) will be exposed to that sort of content. it's inappropriate.

please report, block, and do not engage with anyone making this content! to anyone consuming / providing this content, seriously get a job!!! you’re disgusting!!! and if you can’t get a job, get offline cause you’re probably too young to be on here anyways.

[bbygocrazy]

Top of The Class, Bottom of My List

okay so. hi. it's been a minute.

I know I never promised an epilogue. I finished chapter six, closed it out, and genuinely thought I was done with these two. and for a while I was. I moved on. I had other things going on.

but here's the thing about writing characters you actually care about — they don't really leave. keonho and y/n just kept living rent free in my head and at some point I stopped fighting it and opened a new document.

this epilogue isn't a continuation. there's no new conflict, no new drama, no cliffhanger. it's just — a few months later. them settled into each other. being exactly as chaotic as you'd expect them to be, just now with the label to go with it

so here it is. a little late, completely unplanned, and made entirely out of love for two idiots who deserve good things.

EPILOGUE: Boyfriend Experiments

Here is something nobody tells you about falling for Ahn Keonho:

The falling part is survivable.

It's the landing that destroys you.

Y/N had spent months convincing herself that the tension, the teasing, the near-misses and the chaos — all of it was just him. Just the specific brand of disaster that was Ahn Keonho before he was hers. She'd assumed, quite reasonably, that the moment he actually became her boyfriend, things would settle. Normalize. Calm down into something she could manage without her nervous system filing a formal complaint.

She was wrong.

Magnificently. Historically. Catastrophically wrong.

Because Ahn Keonho hadn't been chaotic because he was trying to get her.

He was just like that.

And now she was stuck with him.

It started, as most disasters in her life did, at the pool.

Three weeks into officially dating — Keonho had confessed properly once the bruises faded, which she'd told him was the bare minimum standard and he'd said "noted, princess" and then done something with his eyes that made her forget what she was objecting to — she'd made the mistake of sitting in the bleachers on a warm afternoon while he practiced.

It was, objectively, a peaceful moment.

Sunlight cutting gold across the water. The rhythmic sound of his strokes. The smell of chlorine and summer. Y/N had her book open in her lap and was approximately thirty percent reading it and seventy percent watching her boyfriend move through the water like he'd been built specifically for it, which was deeply unfair to everyone who had to witness it.

She closed her eyes. Just for a moment. Tilted her face toward the warmth.

Then she heard it.

The specific sound of water sloshing under someone's feet.

She opened her eyes.

Keonho had stopped at the pool's edge. Still dripping. Hair plastered to his forehead. No towel. Eyes already on her with an expression she had come to recognize over the last several months as I have decided to do something and you cannot stop me.

Y/N stood up immediately.

"Don't."

He smiled.

She ran.

He was faster — he was always faster, which she had filed as a personal grievance with the universe — and she made it approximately twelve steps before his arms caught her around the waist, and she had exactly one second to scream before he jumped.

The water swallowed them both.

Cold. Loud. Disorienting.

Y/N thrashed instinctively, eyes squeezing shut against the sting. She could feel him beside her — his hands steady at her waist, treading water, completely unbothered. Then one hand moved to her face. A light touch. Patient.

Relax.

She cracked one eye open.

Through the chlorine haze, Keonho was already watching her. Hair floating slightly. Expression calm. Like he had all the time in the world at the bottom of a swimming pool.

She stopped struggling.

And he kissed her.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he'd been planning it since the second he climbed out of that pool. The water pressed around them and his hands were warm against her face and her brain, which had excellent survival instincts in every other area of her life, supplied nothing useful whatsoever.

They broke the surface gasping.

Y/N immediately shoved him.

He laughed. Loudly. Delightedly. The sound echoing off the pool walls.

"You are insane," she sputtered, pushing soaking hair out of her face.

"Worth it though."

She splashed him with everything she had.

He kept laughing.

And somewhere in the part of her that she'd long since stopped pretending didn't exist — the part that had filled a journal with his face before she even admitted she liked him — she thought: yeah. kind of.

She did not tell him that.

The monkey bars incident happened on a Tuesday, which felt appropriate. Tuesdays had never done anything for her.

They were cutting through the park on the way back from convenience store ramen — a habit they'd developed because Ian had once called them "disgustingly domestic" about it and Keonho had immediately bought a second cup just to prove a point — when he stopped.

Y/N walked two steps further before realizing.

She turned.

Keonho was looking at the monkey bars with the specific expression of a man receiving divine instruction.

"No," she said immediately.

"I didn't say anything."

"You have the face."

He was already walking toward them.

"Keonho—"

He jumped, caught the bar, and swung himself up and over with the casual ease of someone who had never once considered that gravity applied to him personally. Within thirty seconds he was hanging upside down from the third bar, arms crossed, dark hair falling away from his face, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Hi," he said.

Y/N stared at him. "You're going to fall."

"I'm not going to fall."

"You're going to fall and I'm going to let you."

"No you won't."

She crossed her arms. "This is embarrassing. We're in public."

"There's nobody here."

There was, technically, a grandmother walking a very small dog approximately forty meters away. The grandmother was watching them with great interest.

Y/N refused to acknowledge her.

Keonho tilted his head — or tilted it back, upside-down geometry being what it was — and looked at her steadily. "You're just going to stand there?"

"Yes."

"Come here."

"Absolutely not."

"Y/N."

"I'm not kissing you while you're hanging upside down like a bat."

He smiled slowly. "You knew exactly what I was doing."

Her jaw tightened. "Because you're predictable."

"Then you know I'm not getting down until you come here."

She stared at him for a very long moment.

The grandmother had stopped pretending to walk her dog.

Y/N thought about dignity. About self-respect. About every reasonable boundary a person was entitled to maintain.

Then she walked over, grabbed the front of his jacket to steady herself, stood on her toes—

And kissed him.

Upside-down. In a public park. In front of a grandmother and her dog.

Keonho smiled against her mouth.

She was going to kill him one day.

She was going to do it with her bare hands and Ian was going to help her hide the body.

When she stepped back, the grandmother aplaused. Once. Twice.

Y/N wanted to dissolve into the earth.

Keonho dropped down from the bar, landed perfectly, and slung his arm around her shoulders like nothing had happened. "See? Normal date activity."

"Normal," she repeated flatly.

"You kissed back."

"Under duress."

"Mhm." His arm tightened slightly. "You always kiss back under duress."

She stepped on his foot.

He kept walking like she hadn't.

The cherry was his fault. Entirely, completely, one hundred percent his fault, and Y/N would like the record to show that she had no regrets about what happened after.

It was Ian's birthday party — small, loud, chaotic in the specific way that anything involving Sean became chaotic — and someone had put out a bowl of cherries on the kitchen counter that Keonho had been working through for the better part of twenty minutes with absolutely zero remorse.

Y/N had been watching the bowl shrink with increasing personal offense.

Then there was one left.

She looked at it.

She looked at him.

She reached over and took it.

Keonho turned his head slowly. Looked at her hand. Looked at her face. Looked back at her hand where she was already dangling the cherry between her fingers with an expression of complete triumph.

"That was mine," he said.

"You've had twelve."

"That one was going to be thirteen."

"Unlucky number," she said pleasantly, and moved to eat it.

His hand caught her wrist. Lightly. Not stopping her. Just — there.

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Keonho looked at the cherry. Then at her mouth. Then at the cherry again.

Then he did something she had not prepared for.

He pouted.

Not dramatically. Not performatively. Just a small, genuine press of his lips together — slightly downward — while he looked at the cherry like it had personally betrayed him.

Y/N stared at that pout for three full seconds.

Her brain made several sounds it shouldn't make.

Don't, she told herself firmly. Absolutely do not.

She grabbed his collar and kissed him.

He made a surprised sound against her mouth — real, unguarded, the kind she collected privately and never mentioned — and then immediately kissed her back. His free hand came up to her jaw. She felt him smile.

She pressed the cherry between both their lips at the same time.

They both bit down.

It burst.

Sweet. Cold. Both of them pulling back slightly, laughing against each other's mouths, the juice catching at the corner of her lip that he chased immediately without thinking. Her fingers tightened in his collar.

"Thief," he murmured.

"You started it."

"I was going to share."

"You were not."

"I might've been."

She looked at him. He looked back, eyes warm, cherry-stained mouth curved up at one side.

"Worth it?" he asked.

She kissed him once more instead of answering.

From the doorway, Ian's voice arrived like a natural disaster.

"I CANNOT LEAVE YOU TWO ALONE FOR FIVE MINUTES."

Sean appeared immediately behind her, phone already raised. "DOCUMENTING THIS FOR HISTORY."

Y/N pulled back fast enough to cause whiplash.

Keonho didn't even flinch. Just looked at Sean with complete serenity. "Put the phone down."

"Absolutely not."

"Sean."

"This is my party gift to Ian. She's always wanted evidence."

Ian was already reaching for the phone with gleeful hands.

Y/N covered her face.

Keonho, unhelpfully, laughed.

The staircase was the worst one.

Not because it went badly.

Because it didn't.

Y/N's family gatherings were, objectively, a specific kind of performance. Every aunt, every uncle, every distant relative who showed up twice a year specifically to ask about grades and future plans and whether she was "being careful about her priorities." The kind of gathering where Y/N became the perfect daughter again — poised, composed, the family's gold standard presented for inspection over rice cakes and green tea.

She had been performing perfectly all evening.

Then Keonho had cornered her at the bottom of the staircase.

"You've been ignoring me for two hours," he said quietly.

"I've been hosting."

"You've been avoiding me specifically."

She hadn't been. Or she had, but only because every time she looked at him for more than three seconds in front of her relatives she felt her composure start to crack around the edges and that was not acceptable when Aunt Mira was six feet away asking about university applications.

"I'm not avoiding you," she said.

He looked at her steadily.

She looked back.

Then he kissed her.

Right there. At the bottom of the stairs. Ten steps from the living room where every relative who had ever called her their perfect girl was currently eating snacks and making small talk.

Y/N grabbed his jacket. "Keonho—"

"They can't see from there," he murmured.

"That is not the point—"

He kissed her again.

And her brain, which had been making entirely reasonable decisions all evening, handed in its resignation.

She kissed him back.

His hand braced against the wall beside her head. The sounds from the living room felt very loud and very far away at the same time — her uncle's laugh, the television, the low hum of conversation — and every single noise made her pulse spike with the specific panic of someone actively making a terrible decision and choosing not to stop.

She had her hands in his hair.

She didn't know when that had happened.

Then — small footsteps.

Soft. Uneven. The particular shuffle of someone who had only recently figured out walking and found it very exciting.

Y/N's eyes flew open.

Her three-year-old cousin had rounded the corner from the hallway.

Round face. Enormous eyes. Holding a half-eaten rice cake in one fist.

He stopped and stared up at them with the pure, unfiltered curiosity of someone who had not yet learned that some things were not his business.

Y/N made a sound that wasn't a word.

Keonho didn't let her go.

Instead — without fully breaking the kiss, without releasing the hand still at her waist — he reached down with his free arm, completely calm, and gently placed his palm over the toddler's eyes.

The baby grabbed his wrist with both hands immediately, delighted by this new game.

Keonho finally pulled back from Y/N, looking entirely unbothered.

Y/N stared at him.

He looked down at the child. The child looked up at him — or tried to, from behind his own hand. Still holding the rice cake. Still completely unbothered.

"Hey, little guy," Keonho said pleasantly.

The baby said something that wasn't a word and offered him the rice cake.

Keonho accepted it seriously. "Thank you."

Y/N's soul left her body through the ceiling.

"You—" she started.

"He didn't see anything," Keonho said.

"You kept kissing me—"

"For about two more seconds, yes."

"There is a BABY—"

"Who saw nothing." He looked back down at the toddler, who had now transferred his full attention to trying to fit his entire fist into his own mouth. "Right?"

The baby made another non-word sound.

"See?" Keonho said. "We're fine."

From the living room, her aunt's voice drifted over. "Jiwoo-ya? Where did you go?"

The baby — Jiwoo, apparently — turned toward the sound and immediately toddled back toward the living room like none of this had happened.

Silence.

Y/N stared at Keonho.

He stared back, mouth curved, holding a half-eaten rice cake that a toddler had given him.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"No you don't."

"I genuinely might."

He smiled. Soft. Warm. Completely unrepentant.

Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek once, quickly, and headed back toward the living room like he hadn't just dismantled six hours of careful composure in four minutes on a staircase.

Y/N stood there for a moment.

Straightened her clothes.

Fixed her expression back into something resembling a person who had definitely not just been making out with a delinquent while her relatives ate rice cakes downstairs.

Then she followed him.

Her mother, standing near the kitchen doorway, caught her eye as she came back in.

Looked at her face.

Pressed her lips together very firmly in a way that meant we will discuss this never, but I know everything.

Y/N looked away first.

Across the room, Keonho was already talking to her father about something — comfortable, easy, like he belonged there — and her father was laughing at whatever he'd said.

She watched him for a moment.

He glanced over like he felt it.

Found her eyes immediately.

Smiled.

Y/N looked away again before her face could do something unforgivable.

She was so completely, hopelessly doomed.

So here is what Y/N knew now, that she hadn't known before:

Ahn Keonho was never going to make sense.

He was going to pull her into pools and hang off monkey bars and steal cherries and kiss her on staircases while her relatives ate rice cakes ten steps away and cover a toddler's eyes without even flinching. He was going to look at her — always, always look at her — like she was the most interesting thing in any room they were ever in together.

He was going to be dramatic and ridiculous and entirely too much in every possible way.

And somewhere between the journal she'd filled with his face and the hidden album he'd filled with hers, somewhere between every almost-kiss and every interrupted moment and every time he'd called her princess in that voice that made her want to throw something at him—

She'd stopped wanting him to be any different.

Which was, she had decided, probably what love felt like.

Not the neat, controlled version she'd always planned for.

The real kind. Messy. Warm. Completely impossible to manage.

The kind where you see someone clearly — all the chaos, all the drama, all the unbearable, infuriating, wonderful parts of them — and you reach for them anyway.

Y/N had reached.

Keonho had caught her.

And she was, she supposed, completely fine with that.

(Don't tell him she said so.)

[bbygocrazy]

ⓎⓄⓊ, ⓊⓃⒻⓄⓇⓉⓊⓃⒶⓉⒺⓁⓎ

Synopsis: The other side of the same story — told from the boy who's been there just as long, and notices just as little.

Warnings: swearing, choatic friend group, eventual adult themes, ian! h2h, ye-on! h2h, kya! kiiikiii, chiquita! babymonster.

A quick note — Chiquita as portrayed in this series is a fictional antagonist and does not reflect her real personality or character in any way. I do not think of her as a bully or a mean person in real life, and I'm sure she is a wonderful person. Her role in this story is purely a product of the plot and nothing more.

w.c: 1.4k

Chapter 2: Same as always

Seonghyeon's POV

May 2021

Getting praise is tiring. So freaking tiring. Ever since my results got out my mom has not given me a day's break. She keeps on calling every relative and friends she has to tell her about my marks and I have to keep on saying thank you. It's so tiring.

I had perfected three responses.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you, auntie.

If one more adult asked me what school I wanted to attend, I was going to fake a stomachache.

 Today she took me to one of the neighbors house. Don't get me wrong it is quite fun to be like this. Getting free chocolates, gifts and stuff is quite fun but it also means to be on my best behavior every time. Ugh.

I was zoning out thinking about what to eat after going home when I noticed her. Y/N. She was a girl. Yes. She was also 2 years younger than me and for some reason throwing daggers at me from her eyes. She was almost the age of my younger sister who was 3 years younger than me. Both of them were equally annoying.

I was enjoying my snacks peacefully muting out the adults when she suddenly said "It can help eomma, I can become an idol." This little girl wanted to become an idol? Does she even know what is required to become one

"You need actual talent to become an idol." I said straightforward.

"I have actual talent. I can dance."

"Show me then."

She started dancing. Not gonna lie she was an amazing dancer. Pretty amazing especially given her age. She did have a real shot at becoming one.

But She was annoying. Extremely annoying. The kind of annoying that remembered every embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you and brought it up whenever guests visited so..

"It's meh."

I could see her hands coming up in a strangling gesture. I cautiously moved back to my eomma wanting protection. Luckily Y/N's mom saved me

"Enough, go to your room and finish your math homework." "But, but eomma—" "NO buts. Up to your room. NOW."

"I'm sorry for Y/N. She just gets too enthusiastic at times."

"It's fine. She dances so good." My eomma replied.

"I wish studied as good as our Seonghyeon here. But no she is always looking at those faces."

"I can help her." I let out before the thought fully formed in my mind.

"Huh?" Both ladies looked at me.

"I mean…. I can help her with math. Give her tutoring lessons. I have already learnt what she has."

"I don't want to burden you, Seonghyeon-ah"

"No no aunty. I want to do it."

"Are you sure baby?" My mother asked

"네, 엄마"

"OK then she will upstairs in her room if you like to go." I nodded and carried myself upstairs.

As soon as I reached the floor I could see Y/N still standing outside looking at me as if solving some puzzle.

"What do you want now?" "Your mom asked if I could help you. And I said yes." "And why would the oh-so ever kind Eom Seonghyeon do that?" she mocked me "Because my mom taught me to always help the needy." I said as if stating a fact and opening her room door myself entering before her. "YAH!! 바보"

February 2026

Finally the last year of this rotten high school. It was good don't get me wrong. The teachers were nice. I had made some good friends, really good friends, and the school itself was very visually pleasing. What really bothered me were the girls.

Not to pat myself on the back, but just because I was handsome doesn't mean they get to mob me every break. It was getting tiring and I did not like it at all. Same can't be said about Keonho. He absolutely loved the attention.

This was what I was thinking when I saw a very familiar egg-shaped head almost getting stampeded upon. I knew who it was immediately and walked to her. Saying I was disappointed is an understatement.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I helped her up. I was about to scold her more when Keonho suddenly came with a mob of his own. "Yah eomji, we need to move." He was going to die by my hands today.

I grabbed Y/N's hand tightly and ran to the nearest empty classroom.

What the hell were you doing out there?" He asked pissed off "What was I doing? It's all your shitass face's fault." "My fault?" "Yes, your fault. Fucking idiot" "Yah, language. And it's not my fault girls go crazy after me. Unlike you they dream of something achievable."

I realized quickly what I said but couldn't take it back. I saw her eyes still the same. She rolled her eyes like always.

If it bothered her, she didn't show it.

Before I could give Y/N some actual piece of my mind Keonho interrupted us. And before I know the rest of the hyungs came and Y/N left for her first class.

"바보 같은 년" said beside me as I watched her walk.

"That idiot is going to be the death of me" I muttered under my breath.

After thanking the hyungs me and Keonho walked to our own class. As expected we were late. I was given a free pass and was let in while Keonho had to run the entire 3 floors 3 times. Deserved. 개자식

The rest of the day went by too quickly and before I knew it, it was time for lunch.

I took my plate and sat and then suddenly saw Y/N and remembered 'right we're now in the same school again. she's not in middle school anymore.'

She grew. I wouldn't call her extraordinary in terms of beauty but she definitely was pretty. Pretty enough to be an idol if she wanted.

Around her sat her own little team of friends. Y/N was extroverted. Y/N collected people the way some kids collected stickers — selectively, and with strong opinions about which ones were worth keeping.

There was Y/N of course kind of like the leader.

Ian was there too. She was in the same class as me. Class president. School princess. Half the student body had a crush on her and the other half wanted to be her. She was Y/N's mentor back in middle school and they haven't lost contact since.

There was also Kya and Ye-on. Both of them were in 11th. And somehow looked even younger than Y/N. All three of them met in middle school too.

Lastly came my sister. She was a part of the group but because she was in middle school and quite younger than all of them she didn't hang out with them much. But Y/N never made her feel left out.

Not that she'd ever admit it, but my sister adored her.

Honestly, most people did.

I was wondering about when all of us grew up so much when my view was obstructed by the self proclaimed queen bee.

CHIQUITA or Riracha Phondechaphiphat.

She was the same age as me but a school year behind because she failed last year. Out of all the fan girls I had she was the worst. She looked pretty don't get me wrong. She looked capable too. But she wanted my attention much more than good marks. She also cared more about her looks than grades.

She never followed a single school rule if she could help it.

Uniform regulations seemed more like suggestions to her. She was confident.

She was undeniably the richest person in the school. She was from Thailand and her parents had quite some impact here too. Everybody either feared her or wanted to be her.

"Oppa….. You haven't looked at me all day. Are you mad at me?"

"Chiquita we're the same age. I am not your oppa."

She grabbed my hand and whined like a little kid.

"Oppa don't be like that. Is that how you treat your future girlfriend?"

"No. I have already told you. I'm not at all interested in you. I do not like you. I do not like any girl in fact. And I am not open for a relationship."

"Not even me?"

"Especially not you."

I said getting up and snatching my hand back. My eyes automatically drifted towards Y/N and I saw her looking at me all confused as Ian whispered something to her. Y/N almost snorted and let the food out but luckily held herself just in time.

Typical Y/N. I quietly chuckled.

I got up went to a different table and sat there hoping to ignore Chiquita and put my head down.

<- 1 3 ->

[bbygocrazy]

ANCHOR POINT

Synopsis: What happens when you get comfortable w.c: 2.4k

CHAPTER 2: Read at 11:47

The texting started because of an argument about footwork.

She had sent him a video — twelve seconds, shot from the studio mirror, her phone propped against the stereo — and the message underneath said something's off in the landing, I can't place it.

He watched it four times on the bus home.

Typed back: you're rushing the prep, you're already thinking about the next count before you've finished this one.

She replied: that's not what's happening.

He replied: it is.

She replied: you watched twelve seconds of video.

He replied: yes.

That was a Tuesday in late October. After that they just kept going.

It was not a decision. That was the thing about most of the important things between them — they never decided. They just kept not-stopping, and eventually not-stopping looked enough like choosing that it didn't matter anymore.

He replied faster at night. She noticed this and did not examine it.

During the day he was slower — hours sometimes, which she told herself didn't register — but past ten pm his messages came back in minutes, sometimes less, the typing indicator appearing almost before she'd sent anything.

She didn't ask why.

She already knew, the same way she knew her own reasons for checking her phone between the end of evening practice and sleep: because the day had been long and difficult and there was exactly one person she wanted to be annoyed by.

They were not, by any reasonable measure, kind to each other.

He told her when her ideas were half-formed. She told him when he was being sloppy — once, flat, without cushioning — and he received it the same way he always had, which was silence and then a change so she knew he'd heard.

The bickering didn't soften so much as it shifted, the way a language shifts when you've been speaking it long enough that you stop translating and just mean things directly.

The arguments were the same.

The space underneath them was different.

In November she sent him a voice note by accident.

She'd been demonstrating something — a rhythm pattern, tapping it out on the studio floor — and she hit send before she realized what she'd done. Stared at her phone for three seconds in the particular frozen way of someone who cannot decide whether to acknowledge a mistake or pretend it didn't happen.

She went with pretending.

He listened to it twice — she could see the timestamp — and sent back a voice note of his own. The same rhythm, tapped back, slightly adjusted. No comment.

She didn't reply for a while.

When she did she said: that's not what I was doing.

He said: I know. Mine's better.

She typed three different responses and deleted all of them and sent a single question mark instead. His reply was a laugh emoji — the first one either of them had ever used in this conversation.

She put her phone face-down and went back to work and tried very hard not to smile.

She tried.

She was not successful.

They started asking for opinions the way you ask someone to hold something heavy — quick, slightly reluctant, already a little grateful before they've even agreed.

Watch this and tell me what you actually think.

I'm going to send you this piece and I need you to not be nice about it.

The being-not-nice was never a problem. The other part — the actually — was new.

She'd spent three years learning to filter the well-meaning from the useful and find the third category, which was rare and looked different from both. He was in the third category. She didn't like what that meant but she'd stopped pretending it wasn't true sometime around November, when he'd looked at a combination she'd been fighting for two weeks and said: you built it around your strong side, you need to make the other one work the same way.

She went back to the studio and worked it until two in the morning.

She didn't tell him this. He didn't ask.

But the next time she sent him something, she sent it earlier — before she'd finished, while it was still unformed — which was the version of saying thank you she had available to her, and which he, she thought, probably understood.

He looked up one Tuesday in December to find her watching him instead of her own reflection.

Your eight count is late, she said. You keep landing on nine.

He looked back at the mirror and ran it again. She was right.

It was on purpose, he said.

No it wasn't.

How do you know.

Because you didn't do it the first three times.

He turned back to look at her. She was already looking at her own feet, bored, done with it, moving on.

He ran the count again. On eight this time.

It was better.

He didn't say anything.

He thought about the way she always said it once. Thought about how long he'd spent early on waiting for her to push — to press the point the way other people did — and how she never did. How she'd figured out, or maybe always known, that once was enough. That he heard things the first time. That the repetition was never for him.

He thought about this and then he turned up the music and went back to work and told himself, firmly, that he was not going to start being sentimental about Studio B in December.

He had enough to deal with.

He started staying later in January.

She noticed because she was also staying later in January, and his coat was always still on the hook when she arrived and still there when she left. The studio he used was always warm when she passed it — that particular warm of a room that had been occupied a long time.

She didn't ask.

She looked at the coat and went to her own room and did her own work, and came out at nine-thirty to find him sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall, headphones around his neck, a look on his face she hadn't seen before.

Not sad. Not tired, exactly.

Somewhere between the two. Like someone who had made a decision and was now in the part that came after — which was always worse than making it.

She sat down next to him. Not touching. Just adjacent.

He didn't say anything for a while. She didn't ask.

"I'm learning new material," he said eventually.

"I know. I can hear you."

"It's different."

She looked at him sideways. He was looking at the floor, his jaw doing the thing it did when he was working something out — a slight tension, not quite a clench, like he was holding words in place until he knew which ones were right.

"Different how," she said.

"Bigger." A pause. "It's for something specific."

She waited. He didn't continue.

She would have pushed, once — would have made the silence so pointed he'd have to fill it just to make it stop. She didn't push now. She looked at her hands and let him have the quiet and thought: he'll tell me when it's real to him. When he's ready for it to be real to someone else.

She didn't know why she was so sure of this.

She was.

They sat in the hallway for another twenty minutes. He put his headphones back in. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through nothing. When she stood up to leave she didn't say goodbye — just picked up her bag — and he lifted one hand briefly without looking up.

She went home in the cold and did not think about the look on his face.

She thought about it all the way home.

In February she asked him directly.

She had lasted three weeks on patience, and she was not, fundamentally, a patient person.

They were in Studio B on a Thursday and he'd been distracted for forty minutes — running things mechanically, his attention somewhere else, the quality of presence that usually made him worth watching replaced by something effortful and closed. She watched him in the mirror for a long time.

Then she turned off her music.

"What are you auditioning for."

He stopped.

"I didn't say I was auditioning for anything."

"You've been learning material for six weeks that doesn't belong to any class here." She held his gaze in the mirror. "You learn fast. Whatever it is — you're almost ready."

He turned around and looked at her directly, not through the mirror.

She waited.

"Nizi Project," he said.

She heard the words. She understood the words.

The understanding arrived and then her brain just — held it at a distance, like something too hot to touch.

Nizi Project.

She knew what it was. She'd watched the documentary. She knew what came after it. She knew what debut meant, and Korea, and contract, and all the words that sat behind those words in a long quiet chain.

"When," she said.

"The audition was in December."

"You've been—" She stopped. "In December."

"I didn't want to say anything if I didn't get through."

"Did you get through."

"I'm still waiting."

She turned back to the mirror. Her own face looked strange to her — too still, too arranged. She picked up her water bottle, drank from it, put it back down.

"Are you going to get through."

A pause.

"Yes," he said. Like it was just a fact. Like it was just the clock.

She nodded once. Picked up her phone. Plugged it into the stereo and turned the music up and went back to work, and he stood at the edge of the room for a moment and then he went back to his own.

Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the night.

She went home and sat on her bed and thought: Korea.

She thought: of course.

She didn't sleep well. She didn't say this to anyone.

He called her on a Tuesday in March at eleven forty-seven pm.

She was awake — she'd known, somehow, in the vague anticipatory way of waiting for something without being willing to name it, that she should stay awake.

She picked up before the second ring.

"I got in," he said.

She didn't say anything.

"Are you there."

"I'm here."

"I got in."

His voice was different. Not louder, not higher — she couldn't have named the difference except that it was there, something underneath the words she'd never heard from him before. Like a door that had always been closed was standing open and he was still deciding whether to go through it.

"When did you find out," she said.

"Twenty minutes ago."

She pressed her phone harder against her ear. Outside her window the street was quiet, orange-lit, empty. She could hear him breathing.

"Say something," he said.

"I'm thinking."

"You're being weird."

"I'm thinking," she said, sharper.

Then she exhaled. Pulled her knees up to her chest.

"When do you leave."

"Six weeks."

"Six weeks."

"Yeah."

"And training, how long is—"

"I don't know yet. However long it takes."

"That's not an answer."

"I know." A pause. "It's what I have."

She was quiet. The math was doing itself in her head whether she wanted it to or not — six weeks, then training, then debut, then a career built somewhere that was not here, in a language that was not hers, in a life she had no map for.

The distance between six weeks and forever was not as large as it should have been.

"Are your parents—"

"They know. We talked before I called you."

She noticed this — that he had called her second only to his parents. She filed it somewhere she wasn't going to look at directly tonight.

"You're really going," she said.

"Yeah."

A beat.

"I still think your eight count is late."

He laughed — sudden and real — and it cracked something loose in her chest that she hadn't realized was braced. She pressed her hand flat against her sternum like she could hold it.

"Come over," she said.

She hadn't planned to say it.

A pause.

"It's almost midnight."

"I know what time it is."

Another pause. She could hear him thinking.

Then: "Okay."

He knocked at twelve-twenty.

She'd pulled on a hoodie and unlocked the door downstairs and sat on the front step in the cold, and when she saw him coming down the street — hands in his pockets, breath visible in the March air, face doing that thing where it wasn't showing anything — she stood up.

He stopped in front of her.

They looked at each other under the orange light.

He opened his mouth.

She hit him. Flat-palmed, hard, on the chest — not playful, not a joke. The kind of contact that said I don't have words for this and this is all I have. He didn't move. He didn't step back. He just took it, and she kept her hand there for a second after, pressed against his sternum, feeling his heartbeat.

Which was fast.

Faster than she'd expected.

Then she stepped forward and put both arms around him and pressed her face against his shoulder and held on.

He wrapped his arms around her and held on back. Tight — tighter than she'd expected, tighter than felt like something you could call casual. Tight in the way of someone who didn't know how to say something so they were saying it with their hands instead.

She felt him exhale against her hair, long and slow, like he'd been holding it.

They stood on the step in the cold and didn't say anything.

The street was empty. Somewhere down the block a door opened and closed. A car turned at the end of the road, its headlights sweeping briefly across the pavement, and then it was gone.

She thought: six weeks.

She thought: I'm going to miss him in a way I haven't built words for yet.

She didn't say any of this. She just held on, and he held on back, and the night sat around them quiet and cold and full of everything that was about to change.

After a while she said, into his shoulder: "If you get lazy in Korea I will find out."

He made a sound that was almost a laugh.

"I know," he said.

She didn't let go.

He didn't either.

The city hummed around them, indifferent and lit. Neither of them moved toward the future yet.

Not yet.

[prettyinorchid]

customer service

⋆˚꩜｡ pizza delivery guy!martin x fem!reader .✦ ݁˖ in which the pizza is not the reason martin keeps showing up ⋆˚࿔ fluff! kissing! ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ enjoy!💗

every friday, the pizza place called ‘panic! at the pizzeria’ would call martin in when things got too busy.

he was delivering pizzas every friday.

including yours. especially yours.

he didn't actually work there. everybody knew that. the manager. the workers. even martin. what nobody ever knew, was that every friday, martin stayed a little longer than he was supposed to, while you just got a free pizza. nobody knew that even now, you were kissing him on your bed.

your parents loved that pizza place. they’d order a pizza every now and then just because. now that your parents were out for dinner, as usual, martin showed up with a pizza box tucked under one arm and that stupid pizzeria hat on his head.

"you look ridiculous” you told him.

"nice to see you too."

not even five minutes later, the pizza was forgotten downstairs.

you were upstairs in your bedroom, sitting so close to him on your bed while he looked far too pleased with himself. the kiss was soft.

one of his hands settled at your waist immediately, steadying you against him. the other slid up your back, warm through your shirt. he was so confident.

your fingers disappeared into his hair delicately.

which, unfortunately for him, completely ruined whatever effort he'd put into fixing it.

martin groaned against your lips.

"there goes my hair."

"you literally work at a pizza place."

"how do you think i get tips from divorced moms?”

you kissed him again before he could complain.

his hand tightened at your back, pulling you a little closer until there was barely any space left between you. your heart did an embarrassing little flip every time he looked at you like that. like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to tease you or kiss you.

usually both.

the room felt warm and quiet.

the kind of cozy that made it easy to lose track of time. which was why neither of you noticed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. at least, not at first.

you pulled away suddenly.

martin groaned. “ugh, why did you-“

“shh!” you pressed a finger to his lips

“girl, c’mon, it was getting good-“ he said softly as he was pulling on your arm.

“shh, martin!” you whisper shouted.

“what- what are you doing?” he asked, confused.

“i think my parents are here.” you whispered, your heart racing fast.

martin chuckled and cradled your cheek with his thumb, soothing you. “baby, relax. there’s no one here-“

and that’s when the bedroom door swung open. you froze. martin froze. your mother stared. your father stared. then your mother blinked and pointed at him.

"honey...why is the pizza delivery guy inside your bedroom?"

martin still had one hand on your waist.

“uhh… customer service?” he said.

— ᨳଓ . a/n: heyyy guyss! i thought i should post this while working on chapter 4 of “still into you”🫶🏻

can yall tell that this was inspired by that one hamzah video where he was delivering pizzas in a music video😛 i am not the same after that

[invinor]

my guy pretty like a girlllll

[bellaalinaa]

@strmieto tagged me!!

Rules: when you get this, make a new post, list 5 of your favorite songs, publish, and tag some of your favorite mutuals!

1. Vodka Cranberry - Conan Gray

2. Goddess - Laufey

3. All I Did Was Dream of You - beabadoobee, the Marias

4. Your Best American Girl - Mitski

5. Moths - Conan Gray

now for my moots!

@secretlifeofsombr @evendeathhasaheart @doraisawda @motel88 @creativityinmadness

[doraisawda]

Both Sides - NCT JNJM

As We Are - Seungmin

Chamak Chalom

Kala Chashma

Balam Pichkari

@christh3weirdo @ali3n-st4r-zz @maplekae @aleks-is-dead + open tags

[maplekae]

Sesame Syrup (Cigarettes after Sex)

Catch Catch (YENA)

REDRED (CORTIS)

Trust Fund Baby (Why Don’t We)

Deja Vu (TXT)

( @tempus-sunday @liminavita @mccnset @kcookiez @neilayay @c3lestial-angel @cinnamon-bliss-blog @x-kangelkawaiii-x @roachesandbugs @luverdolly )

[mccnset]

TYYY FOR THE TAG <33

midnight fiction - illit

twenty - kickflip

moonstruck - enhypen

tweak - girlset

unethical - faouzia

(THIS WAS SO HARD bcs i have too many favourites ok)

if any of u guys wanna joinn @clsondnd @hwastcr @catinabin @fxreverzora @gyuyurie @dazedjuhoon @mintyykk @chaengiibf @hyejusprunki @somethingsomethingsparkles @stxrsforrosie @etheralfawnette + anyone else i missedd!

[lalalooooopsyll]

OMG TYSM FOR THE TAG ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

1. the chase - h2h

2. not cute anymore - illit

3. downpour - chaeyoung

4. delulu - kiiikiii

5. using you - mars argo

@sugarsunooo @jlssss088

(i don’t have any other moots (ᵕ—ᴗ—))

[sugarsunooo]

tysmmm for the tag mwah mwah

1.forfeit - 2hollis

2.my satisfaction - ive

3.backseat - lngshot

4.mamihlapinatapai - illit

5.iffy iffy - le sserafim

(they are not in order btwww)

@prettyangelgirlie143 @ddeonutt @emahypen

[ddeonutt]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAGGGG ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

1. your eyes only - enhypen

2. ketchup & lemonade - ningning (aespa)

3. blue - keshi

4. gone girl - yves

5. superstitious - no na

and some moots to join… (if you want!) @cookiesandsparklez @yanedoe @boy2kz @007chan + anyone else who wants to join (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[boyttde]

TYY for the tag @ddeonutt !!

(i’m doing this based off songs i’ve hyperfixated on and still replay to this day otherwise i couldn’t choose just 5 😭)

1. no air — the boyz

2. replay — nct 127 (this is MYY SONG of all time, drop is so good 🗣️)

3. body talks — hotshot

4. all i need — idntt

5. automatic — chancellor

tags: @ikigaijo @lqccnt0 @kyunyu3

[kyunyuu]

omg thank you for mentioning meeee 🙀🤍

1. merry bad ending - tbz

2. growing pains - hard life

3. heartbreak anniversary - giveon

4. creepshow - mars argo

5. where is all the snow - mars argo

listing my favorite songs was so harddd because i love so many songs (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

@hrtfellt @pupcitos @kepshining

[hrtfellt]

thank you for tagging meee🙈🤍 @kyunyu3

love, older you - illit

2. remember summer days - anri

3. moonstruck - enhypen

4. can’t stop - red hot chili peppers

5. Avocado - chaeyoung ft. (gliiico)

this was honestly so hard because i have so many songs i loveee

@hannpuff @siteu @virtualfangs333

ₕᵣₜfₑₗₗₜ

[virtualfangs333]

omgg tysmm for the tag @hrtfellt 🫶🏻

(i have sooo many favs so i'll just drop some songs i've had on repeat latelyy🤭 not in order!!)

♡ sacrifice (eat me up) — enhypen

♡ syunikiss — malice mizer

♡ tnt — cortis

♡ vampire heart — him

♡ scar to scar — &team

moots (np <3): @enlov3vampxo @kthice @son13ic @lqccnt0 @cheryyvenom @sunoovamp + anyone else who wants to join!!

[sunoovamp]

thank u for the tag cutie!!

thats actually so hard..

- Something About Us by Daft Punk

- Ivy by Frank Ocean

- Dogs Day by Ethel Cain

- Still Monster by Enhypen

- 3rd Eye by Stray Kids

ive honestly got sm favs omg

tag np @drkbl00d @emochuuu @sugarclips @lqccnt0 <3

[emochuuu]

ty for the tag ml!!! 🤭🤭

Scent of You, &TEAM

Russian Roulette, Red Velvet

Let’s Be Friends, Emily Osment

Helium, Enhypen

Girls like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko (has been in my playlist since like 2019 lol)

+ honorary mention bcs i have been obsessed lately - Go Away, Weezer & Best Coast.

<3 . @candoiella , @onlyonehee , @tsumiinum , @cheryyvenom + @seurtis and anyone who wants to join!!!

[i7waterlita]

TYSM FOR TAG OREO !!!

deer hunter &team 👀

human nature micheal jackson

wda aespa

revolving door tate mcrae

a thousand miles vanessa carlton

@onlyonehee @tsumiinum @hrtatck @eyekonicbaddie + anyone who wants to join !!

[onlyonehee]

ty for the tag💟💟💟

1. Kinda Outta Luck ~ Lana Del Rey

2. Make The World Go Away ~ Elvis Presley

3. Lucky Girl Syndrome ~ Illit

4. Lolita ~ Lana Del Rey

5. Моя маленькая ~ Polina Agureeva

tags: @deariroha @imbaebi @shinette

[shinettes]

Tysm for tag

Moonstruck — Enhypen

Ye waada raha — Asha Bhosle , Kishore Kumar

West coast — Lana Del Ray

Can't help but falling in Love— Elvis Presley , The Jordanaires

Babydoll — Dominic Fike

@coramiiore @ssozie @fuyunel @imbaebi @strwbryz (sorry for tags)

[doe-reblogs]

TYSM SHINELLE [for tha tag]

Babydoll - Dominic Fike

Chest pain (i love) - Malcom Todd

Riptide - Vance Joy

Bubbly - Good kid

Blue lips - CORTIS

@roze-latte-zz @straykids4lifeee @thebibleophile @atetheluck @phaelusion

[straykids4lifeee]

Thank yew for da tag✨

• 0802- straykids

•redred- cortis

• freak alarm - ald1

• let her go - passenger

• go big or go home- enhypen

(Current favs but changes every other day tbh )

@lil-starae @delicate-lotus @komokiri

[delicate-lotus]

tysm for the taggg💕💕

~~ futile devices - sufjan stevens

~~ blue lips - cortis

~~ never let go - lngshot

~~ wonderwall - oasis

~~ all i did was dream of you - beabadoobee, the marias

all my current favs, but futile devices will always be my all time fav song<3 (as well as joyride but these are the songs I have on repeat currently)

tags: @niyashaaa @bbygocrazy @makiology @kittyhooncatalogues @sindhyar @sawakonotsadakom and anyone who wants to join!!

[bbygocrazy]

thank you for the tag!! 💕

currently rotating these five songs like they're part of my daily survival kit:

Life Is Sweeter — Ruby Rose Turner

Fame Is a Gun — Addison Rae

Stateside — PinkPantheress

Choom — BABYMONSTER

Shameless — Camila Cabello

I have many other favs that I really wanted to add but these took the top spot tags: @rmdarealgoat, @guesswhoisseeingbtsin2026, (no pressure <3)

[bbygocrazy]

ⓎⓄⓊ, ⓊⓃⒻⓄⓇⓉⓊⓃⒶⓉⒺⓁⓎ

Synopsis: She's known him her whole life and somehow that's the problem.

Warnings: cursing, angst, eventual adult themes (not nsfw or suggestive), chaotic friend group.

Word count: 1.6k

this is a work of fiction, all scenarios are purely fictional and not representative of the real person

CHAPTER 1: Just Seonghyeon

May 2021

The lockdown had finally lifted for students' final exams.

Unfortunately for Y/N, that meant people had suddenly started caring about grades again.

Long division had single-handedly ruined her life. It sat unfinished in her workbook while adults talked over her head in the living room, their voices blending together into one endless stream of praise directed at the boy sitting across from her.

“He topped his entire primary school.”

“They’re saying he’ll get into one of the best middle schools.”

“He’s always been smart.”

“Such a polite boy too.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes so hard they’d permanently disappear into her skull. Eom Seonghyeon sat on the sofa beside his mother with the world’s most annoyingly modest smile on his face, accepting every compliment like he’d been professionally trained for it.

Her mother’s friend’s son. Her neighbour. Her academic nightmare.

Y/N hated his guts. Not because he’d actually done anything wrong. But because somehow, every conversation in her life eventually circled back to him.

Why can’t you study like Seonghyeon? Look how neatly Seonghyeon writes. Seonghyeon would’ve finished this already.

Even her teachers knew who she was because of him. The second they heard her name, their faces would light up with recognition.

“Oh, you’re related to Seonghyeon somehow, right?” And then came the expectation.

As if academic excellence was contagious. Perfect, her ass.

Literally every single child had been compared to him once or twice.

Y/N more than the others. He was polite, respectful, always taking care of peers and elders, academically smart, street smart, and whatnot. He was also 2 years older than Y/N. While most people just heard about the good things, Y/N had been there for the bad things as well.

Like how he lost a tooth trying to eat a sweet potato and then cried for an hour.

"It would be so nice if my Y/N turned out like Seonghyeon but all she cares about is those dancing and singing boys." Y/N's mother said in a tired and done with everything voice."They are not going to help you become successful in the future, Y/N" she continued in a stern voice.

"Eomma, it can help. I can become an idol too."

"For that you need to have actual talent." said a voice closer to her.

Seonghyeon

"I do have actual talent. I can dance." Y/N replied feeling deeply offended that someone dare question her abilities.

“Show me then,” Seonghyeon said, leaning back against the sofa. “If you can dance sooo well.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine.”

Before her mother could stop her, she jumped to her feet in the middle of the living room, nearly kicking over her math workbook in the process.

“What are you—”

Ignoring the adults completely, Y/N started dancing to the song playing faintly from the television speakers.

And annoyingly enough, she was actually good.

Not professional-idol good obviously— she was ten.

But she moved with confidence, dramatic facial expressions and all, completely committed in a way only little kids could be.

By the time she finished, slightly out of breath, Y/N crossed her arms triumphantly.

“See?”

Seonghyeon stared at her for a second.

Then he shrugged.

“It’s meh.”

Y/N gasped like he’d personally insulted her entire bloodline.

Before Y/N can come up and strangle Seonghyeon herself. Her mother's voice roared

"Enough, go to your room and finish your math homework."

"But, but eomma—"

"NO buts. Up to your room. NOW."

Y/N grudgingly grabbed her workbook and stomped up the stairs. Just as she reached her room she noticed someone else was also coming up.

Seonghyeon. He came up and stood behind Y/N waiting for her to open the door, confusing her.

"What do you want now?"

"Your mom asked if I could help you. And I said yes."

"And why would the oh-so ever kind Eom Seonghyeon do that?" she mocked him

"Because my mom taught me to always help the needy." He said as if stating a fact and opening her room door himself entering before her.

"YAH!! 바보"

FEBRUARY 2026

Y/N didn’t know what to expect from high school.

She expected harder classes. More homework. Maybe slightly more mature students.

She did not expect death by trampling.

The hallway had been relatively normal one second.

Then suddenly—

“MOVE!”

A wave of students shoved past her so aggressively Y/N nearly lost her balance.

“What is happening?!”

Nobody answered.

The crowd only got worse.

People rushed toward the end of the hallway like their lives depended on it, leaving Y/N trapped in the middle of complete chaos while trying not to get elbowed in the face.

She barely managed to grab onto the strap of her bag before someone slammed into her shoulder hard enough to send her stumbling sideways.

“Oh my god—”

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of her blazer.

Y/N let out a very undignified noise as someone yanked her out of the crowd entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N looked up.

Unfortunately, it was Seonghyeon.

Six years later and he still sounded disappointed every time he looked at her.

Seonghyeon still with the disappointed face helped her up as Keonho came rushing in bringing his own swarm of fangirls. "Yah-Eomji we need to move."

Ahn Keonho. The resident star of the school. While he was academically just passing, in athletics he was almost an Olympic medalist. Y/N had met him sometimes when he was over at Seonghyeon's house for a meet or something. He was undeniably handsome too.

Seonghyeon grabbed her arm harder than necessary and dragged her to an empty classroom as Keonho came in and locked the door, pushing the crazed screams out. "What the hell were you doing out there?" He asked pissed off

"What was I doing? It's all your shitass face's fault."

"My fault?"

"Yes, your fault. Fucking idiot"

"Yah, language. And it's not my fault girls go crazy after me. Unlike you they dream of something achievable."

She knew what he was talking about. The K-pop idol dream. He wasn't being mean or cruel. Y/N knew that. She wanted try out when she was 12 but saw the dark side of K-pop and quickly recoiled back and brought back to the world of maths.

Hearing him say this again she almost scratched his new face.

Right about that.

Right after Seonghyeon had finished middle school and hit puberty. Somewhere between middle school and high school, Seonghyeon had unfortunately developed a face.

He was cute before.

Emphasis on cute.

Now?

Now he was dangerous.

He looked hot and handsome. Definitely not the type of guy who lost his teeth in a sweet potato. Which was of course unfortunate for everyone.

As she leaped forward to punch him "Yah, 너희 개들. Is there any time where you are not on each other's throat constantly?" Keonho said irritated and currently holding back the door to not let a swarm of mindless zombies enter.

"Even bulls fight less than you 2 dumbasses."

"Waahhh, Now I know where this idiot gets her godforsaken language from." Seonghyeon claps back pointing at Y/N

"Excuse you. I'm quite more verbally inappropriate than Keonho."

"Whatever. I'm dealing with you later, you little shit." Keonho says pointing at Y/N who hisses back and flips him off. "Right now, call the hyungs we need backup" He adds as the screams somehow starts getting louder.

Even after all this, Y/N didn't really get the full idea of why everybody was so crazy after them. Because for her, he has always been just Seonghyeon.

After a few more minutes of hearing the screams they finally started to die down. Y/N looked at her watch. It wasn't time for the first class yet. Oh thank god.

Before she could celebrate surviving her first day any further, the classroom door opened.

Three more idiots walked in.

The rest of Seonghyeon's friend group.

James was technically the oldest, though nobody would ever guess it from the way he acted. Martin looked permanently exhausted from balancing school and music. Juhoon somehow managed to be even more annoying than Seonghyeon while speaking half as much.

Y/N disliked all three of them equally.

"Do you guys ever have a moment where you aren't in complete danger?" James asked Keonho and Seonghyeon clearly in a bad mood.

"Hyunnnggg…. It's not our fault we are so handsome the girls go crazy after us." Keonho replied in a teasing voice.

"Handsome my foot" Martin whispered under his breath just to get a deep glare from Keonho. They always had a beef for god knows what reason but also acted like besties. Weirdos "Whatever," Seonghyeon said, "Yah, 작은 여자 바보 c'mon I'll drop you to class."

"Look who's using bad language now. OMG it's the all perfect Eom Seonghyeon." She said in a vicious bittersweet tone. "No need to play prince charming. I can walk on my own."

Seonghyeon would have cursed if not for his good morals. So Juhoon cursed for him

"바보 같은 년" Juhoon said nodding at Seonghyeon.

By the time Y/N arrived to her class only a few minutes remained until the first class.

She dropped to her seat with a dramatic sigh

A group of girls next to her noticed.

"Oh… Are you ok?" "M'fine" Y/N replied forcing a fake smile.

As soon as she put her head in between her arms she heard something so dreadful she wanted to puke.

"OMGG!! Did you see Seonghyeon-subae today?? He looked so hot"

"Yes, even Keonho-sunbae. They look so good."

"And who was that girl that they helped? Freaking attention seeker. Must have fallen purposely to be saved by the hot handsome princes."

"I know right. I mean like everyone knows that Seonghyeon belongs to someone else."

They wiggled their eyebrows at that.

Y/N sighed as she banged her head on the desk.

What the fuck has she gotten herself into?

2 ->

[bbygocrazy]

Top Of the Class, Bottom Of My List

Finally at the last chapter 😭

This chapter took me the longest to write because I wanted the ending to feel open while still satisfying, and I really hope I managed to do that.

Also, small warning: there are a few suggestive jokes in this chapter. Nothing NSFW, just some chaotic side-character humor and mildly questionable science-class logic

And a reminder that these are fictional characters inspired by real people — please enjoy them as such.

Other than that… I honestly really love this chapter 👀

Also, requests will be open. If you want this series to continue, just send an ask or request with what you would like to see. I'll try my best to do it. 😁

<- prev

CHAPTER 6: Not As Shallow

The festival should’ve been fun after the alley incident.

Keyword:

Should’ve.

Instead, Y/N was currently walking three steps ahead of Keonho with her face burning so violently she was genuinely worried about spontaneous human combustion.

Behind her, Keonho looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had just been publicly exposed for maintaining a secret photography archive like a deranged wildlife documentarian.

“You’re walking fast,” he called lazily.

“I’m escaping.”

“From what?”

“You specifically.”

His laugh followed immediately.

Warm.

Annoyingly attractive.

Y/N hated him.

Probably.

Behind them, Ian and Sean continued their aggressive commentary.

“I still cannot believe you have a hidden album,” Ian said dramatically.

Sean looked deeply betrayed. “And here I thought I was your number one muse.”

“You’ve never been his muse,” Y/N muttered automatically.

Keonho smirked. “You noticed?”

Her soul briefly left her body.

Ian screamed.

“OH MY GOD SHE ADMITTED IT.”

“I DID NOT.”

“Yes you did,” Sean gasped. “Wait— does this mean the fake dating is becoming emotionally real?”

“No,” Y/N snapped instantly.

Keonho looked at her.

Then smiled slightly.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Before anyone could continue emotionally torturing her further, Sean suddenly grabbed Ian’s wrist dramatically.

“Oh my God.”

Ian blinked. “What now?”

“She’s here.”

Silence.

Y/N frowned. “Who?”

Sean straightened his jacket immediately, suddenly looking more nervous than anyone had ever seen him.

“My girlfriend.”

Keonho looked suspicious instantly. “You still have one?”

“She’s real!”

“No offense,” Ian said carefully, “but statistically speaking—”

“She’s real,” Sean repeated with wounded dignity. “And tonight you’ll all finally understand why I’ve devoted my life to her.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why does that sound threatening?”

“Because,” Sean whispered dramatically, “she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Keonho immediately gagged.

“Enough,” Ian muttered. “Go introduce us to your imaginary soulmate so we can all go home.”

Sean pointed at them triumphantly before spinning around toward the one of the tents near the edge of the festival.

The sharp white light blinded all of them for a second.

Y/N blinked.

“…Circus?”

“Traveling performers,” Ian explained. “They set up every year.”

Sean started waving both arms wildly toward someone near the tent entrance.

“BABY!”

A figure turned.

Then stepped fully into the light.

Silence.

Long.

Devastated.

Silence.

Y/N stared.

Keonho stared.

Ian stared.

Because standing beneath the festival lights—

was a clown.

Not metaphorically.

Not “funny personality” clown.

Actual clown.

Bright makeup. Red nose. Full costume. Balloon animal in hand.

Sean looked emotional already.

“Isn’t she breathtaking?”

Y/N’s brain stopped functioning.

Keonho blinked slowly.

Ian looked like she’d just watched civilization collapse in real time.

“…Sean,” she whispered carefully, “why is your girlfriend honking?”

The clown waved enthusiastically.

A squeaky horn sound echoed.

Sean smiled dreamily. “Cute, right?”

Keonho physically turned away because he was laughing too hard to remain standing upright.

Y/N grabbed Ian’s arm for support.

“This cannot be real.”

“I think I’m hallucinating.”

“She made me a balloon sword once,” Sean continued proudly. “That’s when I knew.”

The clown blew him a kiss.

Sean caught it dramatically against his chest like he was starring in a tragic romance film.

Ian looked deeply unwell.

“…I need air.”

“Don’t judge our love,” Sean snapped.

“You’re dating Pennywise.”

“SHE HAS A NAME.”

The clown honked again.

Y/N finally lost it completely.

She doubled over laughing so hard tears immediately formed in her eyes while Keonho leaned against her shoulder wheezing through helpless laughter.

Sean looked offended.

“This is why artists suffer.”

“YOU BROUGHT US TO A CIRCUS CLOWN,” Ian yelled.

“She’s multifaceted!”

“She’s terrifying!”

Meanwhile, the clown had somehow produced a balloon flower and handed it shyly to Sean.

Sean melted instantly.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “You remembered my favorite color.”

Keonho physically had to crouch down because he was laughing too hard to breathe.

Y/N grabbed his shoulder for balance while nearly collapsing herself.

This was the worst thing she had ever witnessed.

And somehow—

the funniest too.

Eventually Ian forcibly dragged Sean and his terrifying circus romance toward the food stalls while threatening emotional violence the entire way.

“You two,” she pointed at Y/N and Keonho, “stay here.”

Sean nodded solemnly. “Yes. Bond romantically.”

“Stop helping.”

“Never.”

Then they disappeared into the crowd with the clown still squeaking occasionally in the distance.

Silence settled again.

Y/N wiped tears from beneath her eyes while trying to recover from laughter.

“I cannot believe that just happened.”

Keonho still looked weak from laughing. “The horn noise almost killed me.”

“She HONKED at him.”

“And he liked it.”

Y/N burst into another fit of laughter.

God.

He loved hearing that sound.

The festival lights glowed softer around them now, painting warm gold across her face while she laughed beside him.

Keonho’s smile slowly faded into something quieter.

Something softer.

Y/N noticed eventually.

And her heartbeat stumbled.

“…What?”

He shook his head once.

“Nothing.”

Liar.

The crowd around them thinned slightly as they wandered farther from the main festival area, laughter fading into quieter music drifting through the night air.

For once—

no teasing.

No chaos.

Just them.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Y/N looked down at the cat plushie still tucked under her arm.

“…You really spent all your money winning this thing.”

“Worth it.”

“You say that now.”

“I’d do worse.”

Her heart betrayed her instantly.

Before she could respond—

voices echoed nearby.

Loud.

Familiar.

Keonho’s entire posture changed immediately.

Y/N felt it before she even turned.

The same swimmers.

Three of them this time.

And judging by their expressions—

still angry.

One of them scoffed the second he spotted Keonho.

“Well, look who’s here.”

Y/N felt tension coil instantly beside her.

Keonho stepped slightly in front of her automatically.

Protective.

“You should leave,” he said flatly.

The tallest one laughed. “Or what?”

Keonho’s jaw tightened.

Y/N glanced between them carefully.

This felt wrong immediately.

Not loud-angry.

Quiet-angry.

Worse.

One of the boys noticed her then.

His gaze dragged over her slowly before smirking.

“Ohhh,” he drawled. “So this is why you ran earlier.”

Keonho moved fully in front of her now.

“Watch your mouth.”

“There it is,” another boy laughed. “Temper issues.”

Y/N grabbed Keonho’s sleeve quietly. “Let’s just go.”

For a second—

she thought he would.

Then the tallest swimmer smirked again.

“Can’t believe the team captain’s babysitting his girlfriend instead of training.”

Wrong thing to say.

Keonho smiled suddenly.

Cold.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” he said lightly. “What do you have besides losing?”

Y/N’s stomach dropped instantly.

Oh no.

The swimmer’s expression darkened immediately.

Keonho kept going.

“Actually wait— didn’t your relay time get posted online?” He tilted his head mockingly. “Pretty embarrassing.”

“Keonho,” Y/N warned quietly.

He ignored her completely.

“Maybe try swimming faster instead of crying every time someone beats you.”

The first shove came fast.

Keonho barely moved from it.

But Y/N felt panic spike instantly.

Because now she understood.

He was doing this on purpose.

Keeping their attention on himself.

“Enough,” she snapped, stepping forward. “Just leave us alone.”

Big mistake.

One of them looked at her.

Then smiled.

Not nice.

Not normal.

Wrong.

Before Y/N could step back, a hand suddenly grabbed her arm hard enough to hurt.

“Y/N!” Keonho snapped instantly.

The boy holding her yanked her backward against him roughly.

“Relax,” he mocked. “We just wanna talk.”

Keonho moved immediately.

The first punch hit him before he reached them.

Then another.

And another.

Y/N’s breath caught violently.

“STOP!”

The guy holding her tightened his grip painfully when she tried to move.

“Keonho!”

At first—

he fought back.

Hard.

Fast enough that one of the swimmers stumbled straight into the alley wall.

Another caught a brutal hit to the stomach.

But there were too many.

And Keonho was already injured.

Y/N watched horror build slowly in real time as his movements started slowing.

Another punch split his lip open again.

Another hit reopened the cut near his eyebrow.

One hard shove sent him crashing against the brick wall.

Still—

he got back up.

Again.

And again.

“Stop!” Y/N screamed, struggling violently against the grip around her arms. “Please stop!”

Keonho looked toward her for half a second.

Wrong move.

A fist slammed hard into his ribs.

He folded instantly with a sharp gasp.

Y/N felt something inside her crack.

“KEONHO!”

The boy holding her forced her face forward.

“Watch.”

Rage flooded her instantly.

Pure.

Burning.

Murderous.

Meanwhile Keonho straightened slowly despite the pain twisting across his face.

His eyes flicked toward her again.

Checking.

Making sure she was okay.

Even now.

Even while getting beaten.

Idiot.

The next punch landed across his jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways.

After that—

he stopped really fighting.

Still blocked what he could.

Still stayed standing.

But Y/N realized with sick horror that he was taking it now.

Protecting her.

Making sure none of them redirected their attention back toward her.

Tears blurred her vision instantly.

“Please stop,” she whispered.

Another hit.

Another.

Then finally—

the tallest swimmer stepped back breathing hard.

“Stay away from us next time.”

Keonho spat blood onto the pavement and laughed weakly.

“You still lost.”

One final kick landed against his ribs.

Then they left.

Just like that.

Gone.

The second the grip on her loosened, Y/N shoved the boy away violently and dropped to her knees beside Keonho.

“Keonho—”

He was conscious.

Barely.

One eye already swelling badly.

Blood smeared near his mouth.

Breathing uneven.

Y/N’s hands shook as she checked him frantically.

Ribs. Jaw. Head.

No bones visibly broken.

No severe bleeding.

No concussion symptoms.

Probably.

Hopefully.

“You absolute idiot,” she whispered shakily.

Keonho looked up at her through swollen eyes.

“…Won though.”

A hysterical laugh escaped her instantly through the tears.

“You’re insane.”

“Mhm.”

Her fingers moved carefully through his hair checking for head injuries.

The second her hand settled there—

Keonho visibly melted.

His eyes closed.

Then slowly—

very slowly—

he slumped forward directly into her shoulder.

Like his body had finally decided it could stop holding itself together now that she was touching him.

Y/N froze.

Keonho nuzzled weakly against her neck with a tired exhale.

Warm.

Heavy.

Trusting.

“…Hi,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

Y/N nearly started crying again.

“You’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Dramatic accusation.”

“Keonho.”

“Mhm?”

“You scared me.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“Sorry.”

Her chest hurt.

Badly.

With trembling fingers she pulled out her phone and called Sean immediately.

He answered on the first ring.

“What’s up? Did Keonho finally confess—”

“Sean.”

Something in her voice made him go silent instantly.

“…What happened?”

“They found us again.”

A pause.

Then—

“Location.”

No jokes.

No teasing.

Nothing.

Just cold anger.

Y/N sent it quickly.

Sean arrived less than eight minutes later with Ian close behind him.

The second Sean saw Keonho slumped against Y/N’s shoulder—

his entire face changed.

Not playful.

Not dramatic.

Furious.

“What are their names?” he asked immediately while crouching beside them.

Keonho groaned weakly. “Hello to you too.”

Sean ignored him completely.

“What are their names?”

“Sean—”

“What. Are. Their. Names.”

Ian knelt beside Y/N instantly, helping steady Keonho carefully while her expression tightened in horror at the bruises.

“Oh my God…”

“I’m okay,” Keonho muttered.

“You look dead.”

“Only spiritually.”

Sean stood again abruptly and dragged both hands through his hair hard.

Y/N had never seen him this angry before.

Not once.

Even his voice sounded different.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

“I’m going to kill them.”

“You’re not killing anyone,” Ian snapped immediately.

Sean laughed once.

No humor in it at all.

“Watch me.”

Keonho finally grabbed the back of Sean’s jacket weakly before he could storm off.

“Sit down before you get arrested for murder.”

Sean looked ready to argue.

Then his eyes flicked toward the blood on Keonho’s mouth.

And something painful crossed his face.

“…Idiot,” he muttered quietly.

Keonho smiled faintly through swollen lips.

“Takes one to know one.”

Ian immediately pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Auntie.”

“No.”

All three of them looked at Keonho.

“No?” Ian repeated.

“If my mom sees me like this she’ll tell my sister.”

“…And?”

Keonho looked genuinely serious.

“I’ll have a funeral.”

Y/N snorted despite herself.

Sean nodded solemnly. “Valid fear.”

“She’ll kill me,” Keonho continued weakly. “Actually kill me.”

Ian looked unconvinced. “You still need somewhere to stay.”

“Can’t go to yours,” Sean pointed out. “Your parents will ask questions.”

“My place is too far,” Sean added reluctantly. “And apparently I ‘cannot perform first aid even with my life on the line.’”

“You once put a bandaid on upside down,” Ian reminded flatly.

“It was stressful.”

Silence settled slowly.

Then—

all three of them turned toward Y/N.

Oh no.

Absolutely not.

“…Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Keonho smiled weakly against her shoulder.

“Hi, princess.”

And somehow—

that was the exact moment Y/N realized her life was officially over.

Y/N hated all of them.

That was the only coherent thought left in her head as she walked home with Ahn Keonho practically folded against her side.

Sean walked ahead scanning the streets like he was personally preparing for war while Ian stayed close behind carrying Y/N’s plushie, Keonho’s jacket, and approximately seventeen different emotional burdens.

Meanwhile Keonho himself had become progressively heavier with every passing minute.

Not because he was actually heavy.

But because every time Y/N adjusted her grip around him, he leaned more.

And more.

And more.

Until eventually his entire body weight rested partly against her shoulder.

“Keonho,” she hissed quietly. “Walk properly.”

“I am.”

“You’re literally sleeping standing up.”

“M’just resting my eyes.”

“You almost walked into a pole.”

“Pole came outta nowhere.”

Sean glanced back once.

Immediately looked homicidal again.

“Still want names.”

“No murders tonight,” Ian snapped automatically.

“No promises.”

"Meet's in two weeks," Sean said flatly. No joke in his voice at all. "That's what this was."

Keonho lifted one swollen hand weakly. “If you avenge me, delete my browser history first.”

Y/N almost dropped him.

“You’re not dying.”

“Debatable.”

“Stop talking like a Victorian tuberculosis patient.”

Ian snorted loudly.

Even Sean’s mouth twitched slightly.

Good.

Because for the past twenty minutes he’d looked one inconvenience away from catching an actual felony charge.

The group stopped briefly outside Y/N’s gate.

Sean crossed his arms immediately. “Okay. Ground rules.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You are not allowed to fall in love tonight.”

Her face combusted instantly.

“WHAT?!”

Ian nodded seriously. “He’s vulnerable. This is exactly how emotional attachment develops.”

Keonho looked mildly offended. “What if she’s already attached?”

“Shut up,” Y/N snapped instantly.

Sean pointed dramatically at Keonho. “And you.”

“What.”

“No seducing while concussed.”

“I’m not concussed.”

“No flirting either.”

“That one feels discriminatory.”

“You lost flirting rights when you got beaten unconscious protecting your crush.”

Silence.

Y/N stopped breathing.

Ian’s eyes widened slowly.

Sean froze.

Then looked at Keonho.

Then at Y/N.

Then screamed into both hands.

“OH MY GOD I SAID IT OUT LOUD.”

Keonho looked murderous despite barely standing upright.

“Sean.”

“I panicked!”

Ian physically shoved both boys toward the gate immediately. “Goodnight. Everyone shut up forever.”

Sean pointed aggressively at Y/N while backing away down the street. “DO NOT LET HIM SWEET-TALK YOU.”

“He literally looks half-dead,” Y/N yelled back.

“THAT’S WHEN THEY’RE MOST DANGEROUS.”

Then Ian dragged Sean away before he could continue shouting relationship advice through the neighborhood.

Silence settled.

Y/N slowly turned toward Keonho beside her.

He looked back at her through swollen eyes.

Then smiled weakly.

“…Hi.”

She stared for exactly three seconds.

Then sighed deeply and grabbed his wrist again.

“C’mon before you collapse.”

The house was quiet when they entered.

Dangerously quiet.

Y/N carefully kicked off her shoes while trying not to let Keonho fall directly onto the floor.

Unfortunately—

her little brother appeared immediately.

Because apparently demons sensed vulnerability.

He blinked once at the sight of Keonho.

Then twice.

“…Whoa.”

Keonho raised one hand weakly. “Sup.”

The boy stared harder.

“You look like you got hit by a bus.”

“Close enough.”

Y/N immediately pointed down the hallway. “Not one word.”

Her brother narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why’s he here?”

“Temporary medical emergency.”

“Looks permanent.”

“Go away.”

Instead, the tiny menace stepped closer and gasped dramatically.

“Oh my God.” He pointed at Keonho’s split lip. “Did you finally get beaten up because of flirting?”

Keonho looked genuinely thoughtful. “…Maybe a little.”

Y/N smacked both of them verbally at once. “Nobody speak ever again.”

Still muttering, she dragged Keonho toward the bathroom before the entire household woke up.

Unfortunately—

patching up Keonho properly turned out to be much harder than expected.

Mostly because he kept falling asleep sitting upright.

Y/N stood between his knees carefully dabbing antiseptic against the reopened cut above his eyebrow while he swayed slightly from exhaustion.

“Stay awake.”

“M’awake.”

“You’re literally dreaming.”

“No’m not.”

His eyes stayed closed the entire time he said it.

Y/N sighed quietly before crouching lower to unwrap the temporary bandages around his ribs.

The moment the oversized hoodie lifted over his head—

her entire nervous system failed catastrophically.

Oh.

Oh no.

Because Ahn Keonho shirtless was genuinely unfair to society.

Broad shoulders. Defined stomach. Tan skin scattered with bruises already blooming dark across his ribs.

And now several fresh purple marks spreading across his side.

Y/N’s face immediately went molten.

Meanwhile Keonho remained blissfully unaware because exhaustion kept dragging him half-asleep every thirty seconds.

“…Cold,” he mumbled weakly while she cleaned one of the cuts.

“You’ll survive.”

“Mean.”

“You deserve it.”

“Mhm.”

He swayed again.

Y/N automatically steadied him with one hand against his shoulder.

Big mistake.

Because his eyes opened slowly right then.

And immediately dropped to her face.

Too close.

Again.

Always too close.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled sleepily.

Her soul ascended instantly.

“You are literally delirious.”

“Still pretty.”

“Keonho.”

“Mhm?”

“Stop talking.”

A lazy smile spread across his bruised mouth.

Then—

the bathroom door opened.

Y/N screamed.

Her little brother froze in the doorway.

Then his twelve-year-old brain processed the scene.

Shirtless teenage boy. Closed bathroom. His older sister kneeling between said boy’s legs. Bandages. Heavy breathing. Flushed faces.

Silence.

Then—

“…OH MY GOD.”

Y/N grabbed the nearest shampoo bottle instantly.

“GET OUT.”

“I KNEW IT.”

The shampoo bottle flew directly at his head.

He dodged it barely.

“YOU GUYS ARE DOING REPRODUCTION.”

“WE ARE NOT.”

Keonho started laughing weakly through the pain.

Worst possible timing.

Her brother pointed dramatically. “HE’S HALF NAKED.”

“BECAUSE HE GOT BEATEN UP.”

“Ohhhh.” Pause. “Wait that’s kinda cool actually.”

Keonho lifted one hand weakly. “Thank you, tiny citizen.”

“You’re still hot even while dying.”

Y/N nearly passed away from secondhand embarrassment.

“OUT.”

“But are you guys like secretly—”

Another bottle got thrown.

The child fled screaming down the hallway while Y/N threatened violence after him.

Meanwhile Keonho sat there grinning lazily despite the split lip reopening slightly from laughing.

“You have an interesting family.”

“I’m moving out.”

“Can I come?”

Y/N nearly dropped the antiseptic.

“…You are impossible.”

“Mhm.”

Eventually—finally—after enough disinfectant, gauze, ointment, and emotional suffering to qualify as warfare, Keonho ended up fully patched.

Her brother reluctantly lent him oversized clothes.

Only after saying:

“For the record, I’m only helping because it’s Keonho.”

“Traitor,” Y/N muttered.

“Sorry. He’s cooler.”

“Objectively true,” Keonho added.

“Both of you shut up.”

Now they lay side-by-side in her bed beneath dim lamplight while rain tapped softly outside the windows.

The oversized hoodie swallowed Keonho completely.

The sweatpants bunched around his ankles slightly because her brother was shorter.

And somehow—

somehow—

this was the softest Y/N had ever seen him look.

No cocky grin. No loud teasing.

Just tired.

Warm.

Safe.

Y/N hugged the white cat plushie tightly against her chest while Keonho stared at the ceiling beside her.

“…Your ceiling has glow-in-the-dark stars.”

“They were there since I was eight.”

“Cute.”

“Don’t start.”

Silence drifted softly between them again.

Not uncomfortable.

Just sleepy.

Comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

Keonho turned his head slightly toward her.

“…Hey.”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Y/N blinked.

“For what?”

“For tonight.”

Her chest tightened quietly.

“You protected me.”

“Still scared you.”

The honesty in his voice hit harder than expected.

Y/N looked down at the plushie in her arms.

“…I hated watching them hurt you.”

Keonho went quiet beside her.

Then softer—

“I hated that they touched you.”

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Warmer.

Y/N’s heartbeat stumbled awkwardly.

To escape it, she hugged the plushie tighter.

Which turned out to be a mistake.

Because beside her—

Keonho frowned.

At the plushie.

Again.

“…Why are you cuddling that thing?”

Y/N blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”

“The cat.”

“You are jealous of stuffed fabric.”

“I won it.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes sleepily. “Not so it could steal my spot.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief.

Then laughed softly despite herself.

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

He shifted carefully onto his side despite the ribs protesting immediately.

Then looked directly at her.

“…Cuddle me instead.”

Silence.

Y/N’s soul evacuated her body peacefully.

“You cannot say things like that at one in the morning.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m vulnerable.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

She glared at him.

He smiled faintly.

God.

Even bruised half to death he still somehow managed to look unfairly pretty.

“…You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm.”

Then quieter—

“But you still like me.”

The worst part?

She couldn’t even deny it anymore.

Not after the alley. Not after tonight. Not after the way he’d looked at her while getting beaten and still only cared whether she was okay.

Idiot.

Absolute idiot.

Slowly—carefully—Y/N set the plushie aside.

Keonho’s expression immediately brightened with sleepy satisfaction.

Which was ridiculous behavior.

Then she shifted slightly closer beneath the blankets.

Very slightly.

Enough for his arm to slip carefully around her waist.

Enough for his forehead to rest lightly near her shoulder.

The second she settled there—

he relaxed completely.

Like he trusted her with the exhausted parts of himself too.

And somewhere in the quiet warmth of her room, with rain outside and soft breathing between them—

Y/N realized she was completely, hopelessly doomed.

[bbygocrazy]

ⓎⓄⓊ, ⓊⓃⒻⓄⓇⓉⓊⓃⒶⓉⒺⓁⓎ (A Seonghyeon friends-to-lovers fic.)

Synopsis:

For as long as you could remember, Seonghyeon had always been there.

The boy living three houses down. The senior your mother constantly compared you to. The annoyingly perfect student forced to tutor you after school because your mothers were convinced the two of you were “close.”

You wouldn’t call it close.

Not when most of your conversations ended in bickering. Not when Seonghyeon treated you more like a responsibility than an actual person. And definitely not when half the girls in school looked at him like he personally hung the stars in the sky.

Everyone liked Seonghyeon.

Teachers adored him. Freshmen whispered about him in hallways. Girls found excuses just to walk past his classroom. Meanwhile, you had spent years carefully admiring him from a safe distance — close enough to know he was kind beneath the sarcasm, but smart enough to understand boys like him never looked twice at girls like you.

So you settle into what the two of you have always been: shared walks home, forced tutoring sessions, comfortable arguments, and a familiarity built from years of living side by side.

Until something shifts.

Slowly, quietly, and all at once.

And suddenly, Seonghyeon begins looking at you differently.

Unfortunately for him, by the time he realizes it, you’ve already convinced yourself he could never feel the same.

—

CHAPTER LIST

ACT ONE — STATUS QUO

1. Just Seonghyeon

2. Same As Always

3. Admired From Here

ACT TWO — THE SHIFT

4. She Stayed

5. Who He Reached For

6. Too Quiet

7. He Started Waiting

8. Not His Business

ACT THREE — THE TENSION

9. Different Now

10. The Space Between

11. She Knows Better

12. He Noticed Too

13. This Is Why

ACT FOUR — BREAKING POINT

14. Louder Than Intended

15. Without Her In It

16. It Was Always You

17. She Stops Running

18. Still Here

shoutout to @hyuneskkami for successfully hypnotising me into writing this 😭🌀

[deadinparadice]

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