COCO

[coconhovr]

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐎’𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 >ᴗ<

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐓 ─── coco. sixteen. viet. intp. keonho & juhoon bias. dubai chocolate lover. go by cortis. matchaholic.

masterlist .ᐟ anons .ᐟ insta ᐟ reblog acc ᐟ taglist ᐟ wip ᐟ

always open to interact and requests :D (don’t be scared pls i need to talk to people)

[coconhovr]

Coco pls give me clout everyone follow @bananagirl222

GIVE CLOUT TO MY AEGI NANA 🍌

[coconhovr]

you writing genuinely needs to be studied bc why can I frame it up and kiss it 100000 times I WOULD MARRY YOU RN ~ 🪽

YOOOOOO 🪽 ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH :D YOURE SO SWEET HEHEHHEH THE RING IS ON MY FINGER 🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫💍💍💍💍💍💍

[coconhovr]

write more keonho!!

THATS TWIN HAHAHA :D BUT I NEED TO WRITE THE OTHER MEMBERS TOO BECAUSE MY FRIENDS ARE COMING AT ME 🦦🦦🦦🦦🦦🦦

[coconhovr]

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𑣲 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit

★ seonghyeon × fem!reader

word count ── 4.7k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.

He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.

No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.

He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.

So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.

He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.

It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.

You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.

You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.

There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.

You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.

The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.

Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.

“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.

“What?” he muttered.

Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.

You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.

Seonghyeon’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Oh what?”

“That’s what’s been wrong with you lately.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”

Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.

Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”

That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had,  and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.

Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.

Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I really don’t.”

“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”

“Okay so that’s not even-.”

“Don’t even lie bro.”

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.

An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.

The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.

Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”

“I hate you.”

“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”

At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.

To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.

Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.

You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.

You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.

You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.

Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.

Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.

But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.

Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.

Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.

There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.

Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.

Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.

Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.

Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.

Your laughter.

Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.

This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.

Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.

Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.

Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.

In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.

It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.

Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.

His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.

You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.

Beautiful.

The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.

This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.

And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.

He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.

The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.

“You’re staring again,” Keonho muttered knowingly beside him.

Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.

You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.

God.

You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.

Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”

Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?

How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.

Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement. 

Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.

Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.

After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.

Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.

At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.

It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.

He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.

He noticed you in the library too.

Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.

And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.

Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.

Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.

The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.

“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.

But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.

Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.

You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.

But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.

Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.

Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”

The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.

You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.

But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.

“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.

He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.

Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.

The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.

Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.

Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.

One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.

You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.

Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”

Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.

Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously. 

“I like gum,” he finished weakly.

Silence.

Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.

“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.

And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.

But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.

Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.

Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began. 

Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.

Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.

Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.

And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.

Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.

You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.

Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.

Then came the rain, violent and sudden.

One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.

Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.

Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.

Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.

“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.

Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.

You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.

And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”

For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.

Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”

You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Take it.”

“You need it too.”

“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.

You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”

Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.

“It’s fine,” he murmured.

Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.

You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.

His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.

“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.

Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”

The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.

Your eyes widened slightly.

So did his.

For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.

And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.

After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.

Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.

You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.

At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.

And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.

Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”

Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.

You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.

The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.

Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.

And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.

The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart. 

He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.

Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.

Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.

A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.

The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.

One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.

The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.

Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.

You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.

Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.

Beautiful.

The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.

You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.

Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.

Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.

Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.

You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.

Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.

The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.

Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.

And then you smiled.

God.

That smile would destroy him someday.

“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.

The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.

You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You looked cute.”

Silence.

Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”

You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.

Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.

You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”

His breath caught immediately. “What?”

“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”

The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.

Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.

You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.

You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.

He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.

“You are,” he admitted quietly.

Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.

He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.

Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.

He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.

He loved you entirely.

Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain 

You were beginning to love him too.

[coconhovr]

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[coconhovr]

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𑣲 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit

★ seonghyeon × fem!reader

word count ── 4.7k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.

He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.

No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.

He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.

So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.

He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.

It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.

You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.

You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.

There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.

You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.

The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.

Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.

“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.

“What?” he muttered.

Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.

You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.

Seonghyeon’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Oh what?”

“That’s what’s been wrong with you lately.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”

Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.

Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”

That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had,  and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.

Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.

Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I really don’t.”

“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”

“Okay so that’s not even-.”

“Don’t even lie bro.”

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.

An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.

The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.

Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”

“I hate you.”

“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”

At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.

To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.

Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.

You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.

You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.

You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.

Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.

Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.

But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.

Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.

Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.

There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.

Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.

Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.

Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.

Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.

Your laughter.

Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.

This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.

Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.

Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.

Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.

In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.

It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.

Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.

His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.

You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.

Beautiful.

The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.

This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.

And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.

He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.

The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.

“You’re staring again,” Keonho muttered knowingly beside him.

Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.

You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.

God.

You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.

Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”

Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?

How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.

Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement. 

Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.

Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.

After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.

Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.

At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.

It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.

He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.

He noticed you in the library too.

Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.

And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.

Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.

Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.

The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.

“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.

But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.

Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.

You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.

But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.

Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.

Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”

The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.

You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.

But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.

“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.

He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.

Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.

The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.

Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.

Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.

One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.

You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.

Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”

Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.

Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously. 

“I like gum,” he finished weakly.

Silence.

Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.

“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.

And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.

But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.

Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.

Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began. 

Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.

Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.

Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.

And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.

Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.

You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.

Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.

Then came the rain, violent and sudden.

One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.

Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.

Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.

Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.

“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.

Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.

You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.

And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”

For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.

Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”

You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Take it.”

“You need it too.”

“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.

You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”

Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.

“It’s fine,” he murmured.

Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.

You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.

His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.

“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.

Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”

The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.

Your eyes widened slightly.

So did his.

For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.

And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.

After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.

Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.

You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.

At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.

And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.

Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”

Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.

You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.

The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.

Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.

And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.

The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart. 

He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.

Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.

Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.

A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.

The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.

One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.

The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.

Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.

You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.

Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.

Beautiful.

The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.

You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.

Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.

Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.

Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.

You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.

Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.

The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.

Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.

And then you smiled.

God.

That smile would destroy him someday.

“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.

The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.

You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You looked cute.”

Silence.

Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”

You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.

Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.

You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”

His breath caught immediately. “What?”

“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”

The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.

Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.

You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.

You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.

He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.

“You are,” he admitted quietly.

Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.

He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.

Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.

He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.

He loved you entirely.

Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain 

You were beginning to love him too.

[coconhovr]

TAGLIST 002 ⤷ @behindyou1305 @chbq2 @fshn-zip @jiyoonly @hyuneskkami @pxronbeat1 @g0thjou @tbsloneely @marywary @lillseann @rickyshensgirlfriend @o5eon @perpuff @emotiandon @loverkiiller @eomlinn @jihoonly @pbananalover @emmaitoshi @koohannie @angelyseo @one-chance-pls @cortismysunshines @saevss @whsipy @angelwings-fly @umi-zooomiz @tw0star @st4rry-l4vender-sk1es @miaik @beatbymarzz @xilosca @twinklingsparkling @azywhwa @its-vante @vals91 @boochanx3 @h14a @ksideffects @dejundesign @daribakugo @cherryluvssss @jenniebyrubies @gorgeouslyus @juhvvns @janjoonty @youngkeukeuholic @ksideffects @6rei-ji

[coconhovr]

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𑣲 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit

★ seonghyeon × fem!reader

word count ── 4.7k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.

He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.

No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.

He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.

So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.

He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.

It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.

You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.

You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.

There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.

You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.

The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.

Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.

“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.

“What?” he muttered.

Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.

You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.

Seonghyeon’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Oh what?”

“That’s what’s been wrong with you lately.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”

Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.

Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”

That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had,  and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.

Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.

Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I really don’t.”

“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”

“Okay so that’s not even-.”

“Don’t even lie bro.”

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.

An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.

The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.

Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”

“I hate you.”

“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”

At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.

To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.

Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.

You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.

You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.

You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.

Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.

Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.

But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.

Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.

Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.

There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.

Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.

Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.

Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.

Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.

Your laughter.

Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.

This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.

Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.

Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.

Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.

In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.

It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.

Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.

His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.

You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.

Beautiful.

The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.

This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.

And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.

He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.

The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.

“You’re staring again,” Keonho muttered knowingly beside him.

Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.

You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.

God.

You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.

Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”

Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?

How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.

Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement. 

Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.

Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.

After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.

Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.

At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.

It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.

He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.

He noticed you in the library too.

Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.

And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.

Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.

Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.

The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.

“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.

But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.

Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.

You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.

But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.

Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.

Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”

The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.

You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.

But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.

“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.

He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.

Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.

The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.

Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.

Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.

One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.

You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.

Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”

Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.

Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously. 

“I like gum,” he finished weakly.

Silence.

Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.

“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.

And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.

But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.

Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.

Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began. 

Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.

Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.

Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.

And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.

Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.

You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.

Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.

Then came the rain, violent and sudden.

One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.

Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.

Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.

Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.

“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.

Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.

You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.

And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”

For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.

Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”

You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Take it.”

“You need it too.”

“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.

You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”

Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.

“It’s fine,” he murmured.

Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.

You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.

His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.

“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.

Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”

The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.

Your eyes widened slightly.

So did his.

For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.

And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.

After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.

Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.

You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.

At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.

And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.

Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”

Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.

You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.

The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.

Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.

And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.

The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart. 

He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.

Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.

Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.

A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.

The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.

One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.

The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.

Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.

You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.

Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.

Beautiful.

The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.

You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.

Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.

Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.

Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.

You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.

Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.

The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.

Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.

And then you smiled.

God.

That smile would destroy him someday.

“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.

The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.

You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You looked cute.”

Silence.

Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”

You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.

Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.

You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”

His breath caught immediately. “What?”

“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”

The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.

Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.

You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.

You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.

He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.

“You are,” he admitted quietly.

Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.

He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.

Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.

He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.

He loved you entirely.

Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain 

You were beginning to love him too.

[coconhovr]

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[coconhovr]

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𑣲 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit

★ seonghyeon × fem!reader

word count ── 4.7k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.

He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.

No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.

He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.

So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.

He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.

It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.

You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.

You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.

There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.

You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.

The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.

Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.

“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.

“What?” he muttered.

Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.

You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.

Seonghyeon’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Oh what?”

“That’s what’s been wrong with you lately.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”

Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.

Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”

That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had,  and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.

Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.

Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I really don’t.”

“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”

“Okay so that’s not even-.”

“Don’t even lie bro.”

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.

An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.

The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.

Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”

“I hate you.”

“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”

At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.

To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.

Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.

You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.

You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.

You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.

Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.

Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.

But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.

Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.

Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.

There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.

Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.

Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.

Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.

Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.

Your laughter.

Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.

This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.

Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.

Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.

Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.

In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.

It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.

Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.

His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.

You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.

Beautiful.

The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.

This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.

And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.

He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.

The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.

“You’re staring again,” Keonho muttered knowingly beside him.

Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.

You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.

God.

You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.

Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”

Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?

How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.

Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement. 

Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.

Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.

After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.

Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.

At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.

It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.

He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.

He noticed you in the library too.

Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.

And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.

Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.

Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.

The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.

“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.

But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.

Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.

You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.

But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.

Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.

Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”

The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.

You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.

But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.

“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.

He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.

Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.

The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.

Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.

Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.

One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.

You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.

Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”

Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.

Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously. 

“I like gum,” he finished weakly.

Silence.

Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.

“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.

And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.

But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.

Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.

Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began. 

Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.

Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.

Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.

And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.

Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.

You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.

Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.

Then came the rain, violent and sudden.

One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.

Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.

Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.

Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.

“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.

Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.

You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.

And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”

For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.

Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”

You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Take it.”

“You need it too.”

“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.

You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”

Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.

“It’s fine,” he murmured.

Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.

You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.

His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.

“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.

Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”

The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.

Your eyes widened slightly.

So did his.

For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.

And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.

After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.

Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.

You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.

At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.

And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.

Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”

Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.

You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.

The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.

Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.

And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.

The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart. 

He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.

Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.

Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.

A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.

The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.

One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.

The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.

Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.

You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.

Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.

Beautiful.

The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.

You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.

Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.

Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.

Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.

You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.

Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.

The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.

Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.

And then you smiled.

God.

That smile would destroy him someday.

“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.

The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.

You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You looked cute.”

Silence.

Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”

You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.

Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.

You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”

His breath caught immediately. “What?”

“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”

The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.

Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.

You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.

You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.

He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.

“You are,” he admitted quietly.

Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.

He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.

Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.

He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.

He loved you entirely.

Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain 

You were beginning to love him too.

[coconhovr]

HI GUYS…. I MADE A CORTIS TIKTOK SMAU ACCOUNT… CAUSE I WAS SUPER BORED AND WAS SUPPOSED TO START POSTING LAST MINTH BUT I GOT SO LAZY UNTIK I READ THAT WONDERWALL MARTIN FIC 🫩🫩🫩 I STILL MOURN THAT FIC EVERYDAY BUT IT GAVE ME MOTIVATION TO START MY ACCOUNT 🥹🥹🫶 SO FROM NOW ON ILL BE POSTING MY SMAU IN MY TITKOK ACCOUNT AND MY WRITTEN FICS IN MY TUMBLR ACCOUNT

[hollyoongs]

i was about post this on my secondary account, but i needed to rant about this right here bc I SHOULD'VE STAYED CURIOUS ABOUT THAT "OASIS TICKET" SMAU ON TIKTOK LIKE SHINEE SAID 💔😭💔😭💔💔😭💔 FUCK @coconhovr AND THE TIKTOK VID THAT CONVINCED ME AT THE END TO GIVE IT A TRY

THAT SMAU WAS THE FIRST SMAU I'VE EVER READ ON TIKTOK, ILLEGAL ‼️‼️‼️ FUCK NO 🙅‍♀️💔🙅‍♀️💔🙅‍♀️, MADE ME CRY MY FUCKING EYES OUT AT 1PM. TO THE USER ELLEZ4ANA (that i actually hope you are not on the blr, and if you do... hi queen, ily) MY 04 MATE, OH YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND 🫵🫵 I'VE NEVER FELT THIS PAIN BEFORE OR CRY MY EYEBALLS OUT THIS HARD OVER SCREENSHOTS 😭😭😭 GOT ME ATTACHED TO PEOPLE AND MADE ME PACE AROUND MY ROOM CRYING LIKE A DAMN RIVER LIKE I JUST GOT DIVORCED???? 😭🙏 i opened that smau giggling and kicking my feet (yes. I ignore tiktok comments. never again btw) n closed the app staring at my ceiling like a victorian child with tuberculosis 💀💀 and DON'T even get me started on the angst bc every update felt like getting hit by a bus that reversed JUST TO HIT ME AGAIN 🤩🤩 AND MY BOY JAMES 😭😭😭 WHY 🗣🗣🗣 WHY 🗣🗣🗣 THAT'S NOT VERY HUMAN NATURE. my emotional stability was gone 🕊️ anyway shoutout to writers who can make us feel physical pain through fake texts and blurry idol pics bc clearly yall are clinically insane but also talented as hell 😭🫶 and yn GIRL, FLY HIGH 😭😭 and girl, show me your ways on pulling that angst OFF 🤏🤏🤏

[coconhovr]

HOLLY IM SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭 I WAS GENUINELY BAWLING READING IT AFTER NANA AND CLOUDY WERE TALKING ABOUT IT FUHHHH MY LIFEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 NEVER TOUCHING THAT ACCOUNT AGAIN BECAUSE WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO MEE “you are my wonderwall” WHAT THE HELL????? ARE YOU SERIOUS???? NOOOOO DONT DO THIS TO ME 😭😭😭😭😭 AND THE AUDACITY TO MAKE A JAMES POV TO MAKE MY LIFE WORSE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I HATE ANGST I HATE ANGST MY LIFE IS A LIE THAT WAS SO SAD I GENUINELY CRIED AND NOW I KEEP SEEING TIKTOKS OF IT LIKE FUHHHHH GIVE YN HER OASIS TICKET NOW 😭😭😭😭😭😭 MARTIN AND YN MET UP AND THEY TALKED SBOUT OASIS AND WENT TO THE CONCERT TOGETHER AND THEY FELL IN OOVE AND DATED AND GOT MARRIED WITH MARK AS THEIR PREACHER HAHSHAHSHAHSH 😭😭😭😭 IM COPING SO BAD I CANT

[coshercoer]

Regarding my blog.

I. do. not. give. a. single. fuck. if. my. writing. makes. you. uncomfortable. WRITING is nothing worse than you'll find on twitter. My writing nsfw wise will not be in any shape or form about Keonho or Seonghyeon until they are both 18. The older three are adults and therefore it is not wrong of me to write about them. Just because I write it does not mean I want it. I write for other people's enjoyment and should not have to explain myself. Yall baby cortis and other idols way too much. I will not write about any minors. Anyone 18 or older can and will be written about, and I have seen other people much younger than me speaking sexually about all of cortis. It is not any different when I do it. I do not find any of Cortis sexually attractive, I am too old for that. If you do not like it, block me and be on your merry way. Signed, Jelly.

[aerisyl]

the concept of being born in 1997 (GROWN ASS AGE MIND YOU) and writing smut about ppl born in 2008 (FRESHLY LEGAL ADULTS IN NORTH AMERICA) who aren’t even considered legal adults in their own country and then saying some bs like « ohhh they are 18 it’s fine » that’s so fucking odd bro. if weird ass ppl request for u to write smut abt ppl who aren’t even legal in their own country, be the bigger fucking person and say no?? if u actually start writing cortis smut for the fun of it you are genuinely so disgusting. you are a grown ass fucking person writing smut abt teens bro. is that not odd to you? because it’s so fucking odd. each day people get worse and worse on here. 1997 tf. « nsfw account for cortis » guys genuinely wtf is wrong w you 😂

[coconhovr]

good lord you’re 27-28 years old making a nsfw blog about cortis 🫩🫩🫩 you’re so weird delete your account cause you should give some fucks about this if you’re not realizing how odd on what you’re physically doing

[miseulgaru]

떨리는 지금도 you're on my mind all the time — james zhao x ivy

나 원래 말도 잘하고 그런데 왜 이런지? i don't like that, something odd about you, yeah, you're special and you know it

synopsis : in which the miyo gc wonders why ivy has been spending so much time with a certain james zhao...

cw : swearing, inside jokes, mostly just silly fic

note : jamesivy is canon in my heart! dats unnie and her nampyeon frfr ok @teacuplps HERE U GO UNNIE ILY (ft @teacuplps, @aerisyl, @coconhovr, @lovhyeon, @griinspire, @cloudedteacups, @bananagirl222, and @pbananalover)

navi

PERM TL : @lcvehyeon @ivehan @hollyoongs @niiqv @beatbymarzz @hyuneskkami @camdenlou @one-chance-pls @teacuplps @pbananalover @driedbananachips @griinspire @ikeufied @marsgirltyshi @ptolemaea4a

[coconhovr]

COCO MENTIONED AGAIN 🥹🥹🫶🫶 YES JAMESIVY IS REAL HAHAHAHHAHAH AND NOT ME AND KEONHO BEING INTERLINKED 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 WE DA REAL MAKNAES

[coconhovr]

I don’t know how ts works

LMAOAOAOA HAI BAMBII 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[coconhovr]

HELLOOOO GUYS!!! HEAR ME OUT ON THIS PEAK CROSSOVER I JUST THOUGHT OF WITH LEXI LOO 🥰🥰🥰🥰 OKAY SO BASICALLY THIS SHOW WE WERE RAVING ABOUT, IF WISHES COULD KILL OMFG FIRST OF ALL! PEAK SHOW 😭😭😭 TOP 10 OF MY FAVS TO BE HONEST 👀👀👀 AND I WAS THINKING CORTIS X IF WISHES COULD KILL 👀👀👀👀👀 YOU FEEL ME 🫪🫪🫪🫪🫪

ANYWAYS ME AND LEXI WERE TRYING TO DO SOME ROLES WITH THE CORTIS MEMBERS FIRST LIKE WE GOT

HAJOON X JUHOON (HAJOON IS MY MAN HES SO FINE 🫩🫩🫩🫩🫩🫩)

GEONWOO X KEONHO

HYEONWOOK X MARTIN

GITAE X SEONGHYEON

BANGWOOL X JAMES

BRO LIKE ME AND @pbananalover ARE COOKING HAHAHAHAH WE NEED MORE PEOPLE FOR MORE ROLES THO SO WE’RE WAITING FOR THE OTHERS TO FINISH WATCHING THE SHOW HAHAHAHAH BUT FOR THE FEMALES OBVIOUSLY GONNA BE A Y/N HEHEHE (JUHOON FANFIC BTW!!)

COCO X SEAH

NARI ???

LEXI X HYERYEONG

SIWON ???

HAJOON’S SISTER ???

WE’RE PLANNING BUT IM SO EXCITED TO HOPEFULLY START I LITERALLY NEED TO MAKE A GRAPHIC FOR THIS BECAUSE THATS MY WEAKNESS 😔😔😔😔 BUT IM GONNA TRY TO BE CREATIVE HAHHAHAHAHAAH WHOS EXCITED

[miseulgaru]

hypothetically if me and @coconhovr went to wattpad and made an applyfic how many of you would apply

[coconhovr]

EVERYONE PLEASE WERE GONNA COOK 🔥🔥🔥🔥 EVERYONE GET BACK INTO THEIR WATTPAD ROOTS 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 HEHEHEEHHE

[miseulgaru]

prologue: you’ll be the death of me ; poster boy! — martin edwards x reader smau

saw you at the corner store, i don’t think we’ve met before. but it’s so nice to meet you, how have i never seen you?

synopsis : it’s not like it’s been years since you last saw martin edwards. no, it’s that you’ve been seeing him far too often, and now you’re dealing with feelings you’d thought you’d locked away years ago. not to mention potentially debuting in bighit’s first group in years. the biggest problem? so is he.

series mlist — navi

PERM TL : @lcvehyeon @ivehan @hollyoongs @niiqv @beatbymarzz @hyuneskkami @camdenlou @one-chance-pls @teacuplps @pbananalover @driedbananachips @griinspire

SERIES TL : @soulskiu @emmaitoshi @twixxxpie @dearlyhyeon @seongholiic @jellybeanxscoups @hwalllllllelujah @vivi3337 @yatta-exe @claire0-02 @jiyeons-closet @redrubystrawberries @myuekii @swahiri @inadazeee

wanna be added? shoot me a dm or comment under the series’ masterlist!

[coconhovr]

IM IN A FIC I REPEAT IM IN A FIC 🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶 YEZ GUYS IM THE CORTIS MANAGER AND I FEEL SO LOVED HEHEHHEHE I LOVE SEUL SO MUCH THATS MY MAMA FR 💗💗💗💗💗 I LOVE YOU

[coconhovr]

coco genuinely wtf. ur soooooo beautiful 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 i hope u know that <3

AWEEE ANON YOURE SO SWEET 🥹🫶🫶 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HEHEHEH 🫪🫪🫪🫪 I NEVER BEEN SO NERVOUS TO POST MY FACE CAUSE IM ALWAYS UNKNOWN 😭😭 BUT SEEING SO MANY COMPLIMENTS IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET 😋😋😋