[eomagahd]

NAVIGATION ✦

|teppanyakki on my mac, huh ⋆

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Isabella / bella #17 ୨ৎ

infj ୨ৎ

💌 feel free to send asks or requests here ୨ৎ

📃 lmk if you wish to be added to the perm taglist ! ୨ৎ

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|i go youngkk ♡

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MASTERLIST ❥ WIPS ─────────────────────

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©eomagahd

[eomagahd]

PERM TAGLIST

| @lee-does-not-know @opalfame

send a request or comment to be added 💌

©eomagahd

[eomagahd]

I was scrolling through tiktok when i saw a video that gave me the most mouth watering, toe curling, back bending, idea ever.

So…james x reader forced proximity ☺️ but like.. a one bed situation, you know what i mean.. like “i’ll take the floor, you can sleep on the bed.” kinda thing. BUT one of them has a nightmare 😣 and then yeah

idk what i’m talking about anymore dude 😔

I LOVE THIS ive been meaning to write a forced proximity trope !! i also feel like james is such a big gentleman that this trope would suit him the best

i can definitely envision him refusing to take the bed until he kind of has to and is trying not to FLINCH just so you can be comfortable

ahhh peaaakkk

[eomagahd]

can i be added to your perm taglist PLSPLSPLS

i love your works x 🎀

ofc!

so sweet thankuuu🥰💕

[eomagahd]

i love ur work! i was just wondering if there could be like an epilogue to lucky shot? the story warmed my heart 🥹❤️❤️

omg thank you!!

that was honestly what i considered from the beginning so i’m definitely looking into that 🥹💕

[ceuxnoirst]

announcing the cortis tour as if their fans aren't majority broke teenagers and early adults. like yo who's your target audience

[eomagahd]

PLEASE REMAIN SEATED ✶ MARTIN EDWARDS

synopsis: In which Martin discovers that you’re alot less patient than you look, and you discover that detention is somehow worse with company.

genre: detention AU, troublemaker!martin, classpresident/hermione!reader, classmates, enemies to lovers, kissing, angst, fluff, martin is lwk a menace, school discipline

wc: 3,5k MASTERLIST

note: troublemaker martin? yes please. wow im active two posts in two days who am i

The high pitched engine sound of the racing car Martin was driving activated his adrenaline. The race car roared past, its engine screaming as it accelerated down the straightaway. The tires screeched against the asphalt as Martin took the corner too fast. The deep growl of the engine echoed around the track while drowning out everything else. He smirked, nobody was getting past him. The finish line was right there, he could see it. Just a little furth-

BAM.

Martin jolted upright.

‘’Mr. Martin Edwards.’’

The classroom slowly came into focus, rows of desks, fluorescent lights and a teacher standing over him with crossed arms and a stern expression. A few students snickered. Martin blinked twice, still trying to figure out when in god’s name the racetrack had turned into a classroom.

‘’Would you care to explain why you are sleeping in my lesson?’’

The history teacher, Mr. Kang, adjusted his glasses and fixed Martin with the same disappointed look he always wore whenever Martin did something he wasn’t supposed to. His neatly pressed dress shirt was spotless as usual, and not a single strand of hair seemed out of place.

A sigh escaped Martin.

Not again.

Martin leaned back against his chair, folding his arms and placing one leg over the other. He tilted his head and slowly, his default smirk crept back up. ‘’You know, if your lessons were a little more interesting-‘’

Students watched Martin as he talked, they were all entertainted. Some were on the verge of laughter, He really brought the classroom back alive. Mr. Kang pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘’Friday. Detention.’’

‘’Worth it.’’

A few students really snorted this time, earning themselves a glare from the teacher.

The bell finally rang forty minutes later. Chairs scraped against the floor as students packed their bags and rushed for the door. Martin was halfway out of his seat when he heard the teacher’s voice again.

‘’You stay behind.’’

Groaning, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and made his way to the teacher’s desk. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed someone else was standing there. You.

The same classmate who always sat near the front, answered questions correctly and somehow managed to stay on every teacher’s good side. You were a role model to the other students, everyone wished to reach your level of academic excellence.

Your notebooks were always neat and organized. You used pastel highlighters for every lesson, your posture was upright and you appeared to pay attention to every detail the teacher had explained.

It showed in your uniform too. Every button was fastened correctly, your shirt was neatly tucked in and your tie sat exactly where it was supposed to. There was not a wrinkle in sight.

In contrast, Martin looked like he had gotten dressed in a hurry- or simply did not care. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up unevenly. He hadn’t even bothered to put on his blazer most days of the week. If the school had hung up a poster on ‘’how to not wear your uniform’’ he was fairly certain he would be the prime example.

Even now while Martin was trying not to look completely miserable, you stood with your arms crossed and an irritated expression on your face. Like being kept after class was the most inconvenient thing that had happened to you all week. Martin couldn’t help but smirk. For someone who always seemed so put together, you looked surprisingly close to losing your patience.

Actually…

Now that he thought about it, hadn’t you been arguing with Mr. Kang before he had fallen asleep? The memory slowly came back to him.

“You interrupted me three times during the lesson, y/n.”

“Because you marked my answer wrong.”

“It was wrong.”

“It wasn’t.”

Several students had exchanged glances. Martin vaguely remembered resting his head against his desk around that point.

“I checked the textbook, it had clearly implied that it was after the 1800s, if you make mistakes like this-.”

“I’m telling you that your behavior is inappropriate. Albeit being an intelligent student, this behavior won’t be tolerated in my lessons, it’s completely insufferable.’’

Your jaw had tightened.

“So I’m being punished for correcting a mistake?”

“You’re being punished for arguing.”

The classroom had gone completely silent. Nobody argued with teachers. At least, nobody except Martin.

“You weren’t listening to what i was saying.”

“And you aren’t listening to me now.”

Martin remembered hearing a few gasps before the dream had taken over completely. Now, standing in front of Mr. Kang’s desk, he watched the scene replay itself in his head. No wonder you looked annoyed.

“You and Martin will be responsible for cleaning the classroom after school on friday.”

Your head snapped toward Mr. Kang.

“What?”

“The entire classroom.”

The irritation on your face somehow deepened. Martin meanwhile, had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Of all the reasons to get assigned cleaning duty, arguing over a textbook answer had to be the stupidest one he had ever heard.

You slowly turned your head towards Martin and glared. This cannot seriously be happening right now.

Friday had arrived pretty fast, faster than Martin expected.

The week had slipped by in a blur of lunchtime soccer matches, late night gaming sessions and aimless trips to the convenience store with his friends after school. Between trying not to fail his quizzes and finding new ways to annoy his classmates, Martin had almost forgotten about the cleaning duty altogether.

The last bell of the day echoed through the halls, followed by the familiar rush of students escaping the building. Laughter drifted in through the open windows as clubs gathered outside and groups of friends headed towards the gates.

Meanwhile, Martin found himself dragging a mop bucket down the deserted third floor hallway.

The school felt strangely different after hours. Without hundreds of students filling the corridors, every footstep echoed. Classrooms sat dark and empty behind closed doors and the golden evening sunlight stretched across the floor through the windows.

Martin stopped outside class 2-3 and pushed the door open.

Ah great, you’re there.

A broom rested against the desk beside you and a pair of yellow cleaning gloves had been tossed carelessly onto one of the chairs. Martin assumed by the expression on your face, that you had ought to be anywhere else than in this classroom. Doing homework, he reckoned.

Martin leaned against the doorway, then cleared his throat. You had slowly looked up and gave him a glare, that glare had been plastered on your face since he welcomed himself in.

Slowly, you straightened.

“Do you mind?”

Martin blinked.

“Do i mind what?”

“Standing there.”

His eyes flickered to the cleaning supplies lined up against the wall.

“Oh.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve already started?”

You stared at him, the silence stretched. Surprisingly that was worse than if you had yelled. Martin pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped inside.

Being alone with someone wasn’t a big deal to Martin. He could talk to just about anyone. If they didn’t feel like talking back, he would usually find a way to get a reaction out of them anyway.

You however, seemed determined to pretend he didn’t exist. Without a word, you returned to wiping down the desks.

Martin watched for a moment before letting his backpack slide onto a nearby chair. Mr. Kang had left a list on the teacher’s desk, complete with a schedule and enough instructions to make it seem like they were preparing the classroom for inspection rather than cleaning it for an hour.

His eyes skimmed over the paper.

Sweep the floor.

Wipe down desks.

Empty trash bins.

Clean windows.

Martin groaned. “You know, I think this might actually violate some sort of child labor law.”

That was shortly filled by silence, he looked up. You were still cleaning.

“We should be getting paid for this.”

Still, no response. Martin frowned.

“You always this friendly?”

That got your attention. You placed the cloth down carefully before turning toward him.

“No.”

“Good.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“Good?”

“Yeah.” Martin said, grabbing a broom from the corner of the room. “For a second i thought you were only acting like this because of me.”

The look you gave him answered that question immediately. He also fought the urge to not laugh.

Martin turned back to the broom in his hands, still fighting a grin. He had spent months sitting in the same classroom as you and somehow never realized how stubborn you were. Probably because you rarely spoke. Scratch that, you did. Though, every conversation you ever had before this involved answering a teacher’s question.

Either way, he was starting to understand why Mr. Kang looked exhausted.

If Martin was annoying before, being trapped in an empty classroom with him for an hour somehow made it worse. You could feel his presence even when he wasn’t speaking.

The lazy way he held the broom and the occasional tapping of his foot against the floor. The fact that he seemed to find the entire situation amusing, it was irritating.

Most people would have been at least a little embarrassed. Not Martin. No, Martin looked perfectly comfortable standing in a classroom after school with cleaning supplies in his hands. Which was probably why he ended up in situations like this so often. To him, making unecessary remarks was worth it even if he had to stay at school and scrub desks till the sun set.

You wiped down another desk trying your best to ignore him. It wasn’t really working. For years, teachers had compared students to him as a warning.

Don’t be like Martin.

Don’t talk during lessons like Martin.

Don’t hand your assignments in late like Martin.

Don’t sleep in class like Martin.

You heard it so many times that you practically built an entire image of him without ever having a proper conversation. And somehow, after spending less than ten minutes alone with him, he was already proving every assumption correct. A chair scraped against the floor behind you. You closed your eyes.

Please don’t start talking again.

To your surprise, he didn’t.

The classroom settled into an uneasy silence broken only by the occasional squeak of a chair leg against the floor or the swish of a cloth across a desk. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, bathing the room in a warm golden glow that made the dust floating through the air visible.

You focused on the task in front of you, wiping down the last row of desks with more force than necessary. It should have been easy to ignore him, you spent months doing exactly that.

Martin wasn’t hard to spot in class. Between the the constant comments, the laughter, and the endless lectures he seemed to collect from teachers, he practically demanded attention. Most days however, you found it easier to pretend he wasn’t there at all. It saved time and energy. Most importantly, it saved you from getting dragged into whatever trouble he had gotten himself into that week.

Pretending someone didn’t exist became significantly harder when you were trapped in the same classroom after school.

You glanced up before you could stop yourself.

Martin was standing near the windows, broom in hand. More so leaning on it. Cleaning appeared to be the last thing on his mind as he stared out at the school grounds below.

“Are you planning on sweeping today?”

He turned his head.

“I am sweeping.”

You looked pointedly at the perfectly clean patch of floor beneath him.

“Right.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That expression infuriated you more than anything he had said all afternoon.

With a sigh you returned your attention to the desks, determined not to let him distract you. The problem was that now you’d started paying attention, it became impossible not to notice things.

Like the fact that he had actually started sweeping after your comment. Or the fact that he hadn’t complained once. Or the fact that despite acting completely unserious all the time, he somehow managed to finish his half of the work faster than you expected.

Your blood boiled, it was frustrating beyond measure. What made it even worse was that this wasn’t the end of it.

As part of the school’s disciplinary program, students who received disciplinary action were required to complete four consecutive weeks of after school service. At the time, the announcement had barely registered. You had been too irritated by the punishment itself to care about the details.

Four weeks sounded manageable in theory, in practice however, it felt like a prison sentence. It took up too much of your time, when that precious time could’ve been filled with studies.

The first friday had disappeared surprisingly quickly. Not because the work had been enjoyable, and certainly not because the company had been. Rather, most of your energy had been spent trying to ignore Martin’s existence. That proved significantly harder than expected.

By the second friday, you found yourself noticing things you would have preferred not to notice. The way he somehow managed to make even the most mundane tasks look effortless. The fact that he talked to practically everyone in the hallways, regardless of whether they were in his class or not. The strange contradiction between the image teachers painted of him and the person you actually found yourself cleaning alongside every week.

It annoyed you.

A lot.

The version of Martin that existed in your head had always been simple.

Lazy.

Disruptive.

A constant headache for every teacher unfortunate enough to have him in class. That version was much easier to dislike. The real Martin however, was far more difficult to make sense of.

Somewhere between the first friday and the second, you started noticing things that didn’t fit the image you spent months building of him.

For one, he was far more observant than he let on.

Most people assumed he wasn’t paying attention. It was an easy conclusion to reach when he spent half his lessons asleep and the other half getting scolded by teachers. Yet there had been moments during cleaning duty where he casually brought up things you said days earlier, details you barely remembered mentioning yourself. Once, after you spent an entire afternoon unusually quiet, he asked if you were worried about an upcoming exam. The question had caught you so off guard that you nearly dropped the stack of books in your hands.

You still hadn’t figured out how he had noticed.

Then there was the fact that he was unexpectedly considerate. Not in obvious ways.

Martin wasn’t the type to offer grand gestures or dramatic displays of kindness. Instead, it showed itself in small moments that seemed to happen when he thought nobody was paying attention. Like the time he’d taken over carrying the heavier cleaning supplies without mentioning it.

You had reached for the bucket at the same time he did.

“I can carry it.”

“So can i.”

You expected an argument. Instead, he’d simply taken it from your hands.

“I know.”

Then he walked away before you could respond.

Or when he opened a classroom window because you’d complained about how stuffy the room felt. Or the way he always stayed until the very end, even when he finished his own tasks long before you did.

The worst part was that he never seemed to expect recognition for any of it. Somehow it made those moments harder to ignore.

And then there was his smile.

You hated thinking about his smile more than anything else. It wasn’t the lazy grin he wore whenever he was about to say something annoying, nor the smirk that usually appeared after he successfully gotten on your nerves. It was the one that surfaced when he forgot to be difficult. The one that reached his eyes and softened his features for a split second before disappearing again.

Martin wasn’t sure when things had changed. One day, cleaning duty had been a punishment. The next, he found himself looking forward to Fridays.

Not because he enjoyed sweeping floors or wiping windows. He definitely didn’t. But between the arguments, the complaints and the endless back and forth, spending time with you had become the best part of his week.

Which was a problem, a very serious problem.

Because every friday seemed to make it harder to ignore the feeling settling in his chest whenever you laughed at something he said. Harder to ignore the way his eyes automatically searched for you the second he walked into a room. Harder to ignore how disappointed he felt whenever the hour ended and you both went your separate ways.

By the final week of cleaning duty, the classroom felt different.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows in long golden strips, painting the empty desks in warm shades of orange. Neither of you had spoken much during the last few minutes. The work was finished. The classroom was spotless. Still, neither of you made any move toward the door.

Martin leaned against one of the desks, absentmindedly turning a marker between his fingers.

You were sitting on top of a desk across from him. For once, neither of you were arguing. Neither of you were cleaning. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to leave.

“We’re done.”

The words left your mouth quietly. Martin glanced around the room.

“Looks weird.”

“What does?”

“The classroom.”

You frowned.

“It looks exactly the same.”

“No.”

His gaze drifted back to you.

“Not really.”

Something in his expression made your chest tighten. Silence settled between the two of you once more.

Outside, the school grounds had almost completely emptied. The distant noise of students heading home had faded, leaving the classroom wrapped in a strange sort of stillness. The room felt larger and smaller all at once.

You looked down at your hands, anywhere but him. That proved impossible, unfortunately. Because no matter where your eyes landed, you remained painfully aware of his presence. The sound of his breathing. The scrape of his shoe against the floor. The fact that he was close enough to reach out and touch.

Your stomach twisted.

A few weeks ago, you would’ve given anything to avoid being stuck in a classroom with Martin. The realization landed heavily in your chest.

It felt like there was something hanging between the two of you, something neither of you had managed to put into words.

And judging by the look in Martin’s eyes, he felt it too.

The air suddenly felt warmer.

Your pulse quickened.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew one of you should say something.

When you looked up, you found him already watching you. This time, he didn’t look away or cover it with a joke. The teasing grin that usually appeared whenever he caught you staring was absent, replaced by something quieter. The moment stretched for long, neither of you seeming particularly eager to break it.

Martin took a small step forward, and your breath caught for reasons you didn’t care to examine too closely. The distance between you wasn’t large to begin with, but somehow it felt noticeably smaller now. His eyes flickered briefly across your face before settling back on yours, and something about the gesture made your pulse quicken. For the first time since detention neither of you seemed interested in arguing, and that alone felt unfamiliar.

He lifted his hand gently towards your jaw, barely touching it at first. He looked afraid, like you were some sort of sacred object he refused to shatter.

Your breath hitched at his touch, he seemed uneasy. Then he gulped.

‘’Can i?’’ He had let those words out softly, you could barely hear it.

You looked into his eyes when you nodded, immediately his lips crashed into yours. Like some sort of reflex, both of his hands cupped your jaw. His thumb brushed over your cheek. He held you so carefully, yet his lips were the opposite. He kissed you like crazy, like his life depended on it. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, your fingers shifted to his chest. It’s nothing like you ever experienced. Every square inch of your body dissolved into his. You pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

Your veins throbbed and your heart basically exploded. His hands eventually move to your waist as yours reach for the sides of his neck. The sounds were rhythmic. He knew how to lead, it was a given. Martin lead conversations, he lead paths and now he’s guiding you. Your stomach did something weird everytime he had shifted.

Eventually, the kiss broke. You both pulled away, but not far. Not far at all. He was still beyond close, you opened your eyes first. He smiled, and planted a last peck on your lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh, quickly burying your face in the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. Your arms were still wrapped around him, while his remained firmly around your waist, holding you close.

This felt nice.

✶

[cosmiho]

MY LOVE WILL NEVER DIE ౨ৎ 𝐄𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍

SYNOPSIS :: Your father finally caves and lets Seonghyeon sleep over, complete with a very long list of rules. There's just one problem: your boyfriend has never met a rule he couldn't, and wouldn’t, break.

W.C :: 5.1k

CONTAINS :: 80s!seonghyeon, established relationship, sleepover, overbearing/strict father, sneaking around/rule breaking, fluff, cliché, dancing, skinship, kissing

PLAYLIST :: My love will never die - The Channels, Earl Lewis; Alone - Heart; Time (clock of the heart) - Culture Club; Open arms - Journey; Making love out of nothing at all - Air Supply; Alone with you - The Outfield

It had taken weeks of convincing for your father to finally agree to this.

Not because he didn’t know Seonghyeon. In fact, that actually was the problem.

Unfortunately, your father knew Seonghyeon very well.

He knew about the late-night drives, the missed curfews, the sound of a car engine idling outside your house fifteen minutes after you were supposed to be home. He knew Seonghyeon smiled his way through trouble instead of avoiding it, and somehow always managed to drag you directly into the middle of whatever terrible idea he’d had.

By the third time Seonghyeon had shown up at your house past midnight, and the second time your father had caught him trying to quietly drop you off only to nearly reverse into the mailbox, any chance of him being viewed as a respectable influence had disappeared completely.

So when you’d first brought up the idea of a sleepover your father had looked at you like you were insane.

"No," he'd said.

Then no again.

Then absolutely not.

Then not in this house, not while I'm breathing, not over my dead body, and did you think he was born yesterday?

You'd persisted anyway. You'd brought it up at dinner, pushing peas around your plate while your mother hid a smile behind her wine glass. You'd caught your father in the hallway before bed, in the kitchen over his morning coffee, in the garage while he swore at something under the hood of his car. You'd asked so many times that your brother had started mimicking you: "Dad, can Seonghyeon sleep over?" in a high-pitched whiny voice that made you want to throw a pillow at his head.

You even attempted dramatically insisting that everyone else’s parents allowed it, which only earned you a long look and a “I’m not everyone else’s parents.”

All of these attempts earned you nothing but your father's disapproving gaze and, consequently, the slow squashing of your heart. Every time you brought it up, he'd fix you with that look that said don't push your luck, and you'd feel your hopes deflate a little more.

Eventually, you'd recruited your mother.

Your father had always been weak when it came to her. It was something only years of love could really create—that quiet power she held over him, the way he'd soften around the edges whenever she asked for something. He'd deny you for weeks, but she could undo all his resolve with a single look across the dinner table.

Maybe you and Seonghyeon would be like that when you were older.

Not that you ever thought about that, obviously. That would be crazy. You were only seventeen. You definitely hadn’t ever dreamed what it would be like to have your own house with Seonghyeon. Not at all.

But your mother was your secret weapon and over the following days she slowly wore him down.

"He's a good student," she'd mention the next night, stirring her coffee. "I saw his report card. You saw it too, didn't you?"

Your father would grunt.

“They’re good kids.”

Another grunt.

“You used to sneak out too, you know.”

That usually got a longer silence.

And every single time, you’d watch your father try very hard not to look affected while your mother hid a tiny smile behind her coffee cup.

It took nearly three weeks.

Three weeks of promises. Three weeks of “we’ll stay apart.” Three weeks of “the door will stay open.” Three weeks of your father looking personally exhausted by the entire situation.

But eventually, somehow, he caved. Not happily or gracefully, but he did.

The conditions came immediately after.

“Guest room,” your father had said firmly, pointing directly at Seonghyeon from across the living room. “Down the hall.”

Seonghyeon had been sitting on the couch so stiffly it was almost painful to watch, hands flat on his knees, posture straight like he was interviewing for a scholarship instead of asking to sleep over at his girlfriend’s house.

“Yes, sir.”

“Not her room.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not near her room.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And absolutely no funny business upstairs.”

At that, you’d nearly choked trying not to laugh while Seonghyeon nodded with suspicious seriousness.

“No funny business,” he repeated solemnly, like he was signing a legal contract.

Your father narrowed his eyes immediately, clearly unconvinced by how agreeable he sounded.

The worst part was that Seonghyeon looked entirely too amused underneath it, like he was enjoying this.

Your mother had stepped in before your father could change his mind completely, patting Seonghyeon lightly on the shoulder as she stood.

“He likes you,” she’d whispered kindly once your father disappeared into the kitchen.

Seonghyeon had glanced toward the doorway your father had vanished through before looking back at her. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“It is,” your mother insisted. “He would have killed you by now if he didn’t.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You’d had to look away because you were already starting to laugh.

Even now, hours later, lying awake in bed, you could still picture the expression Seonghyeon had worn all through dinner afterward: trying and failing to hide his smile every single time your father repeated one of the rules.

Which was exactly why sleep felt impossible now.

The house had been quiet for almost an hour.

The movie downstairs had ended. Your father had fallen asleep in his armchair halfway through it, your mother eventually nudging him awake while Seonghyeon tried very hard not to laugh. Everyone had gone upstairs after that, lights shutting off one by one until the whole house settled into silence.

And Seonghyeon was right down the hall.

Not far enough away to ignore.

You rolled onto your side again with a sigh, tugging the blankets higher before immediately kicking them back down again.

It was ridiculous, you saw him almost every day and yet somehow knowing he was only a few rooms away made you feel restless in a way you couldn’t fix.

The worst part was that the two of you had actually behaved all evening. Mostly.

You’d sat together on opposite ends of the couch at first, which was your father’s idea obviously, but little by little Seonghyeon had started inching closer whenever nobody was paying attention.

A shift of his knee against yours under the blanket. His shoulder brushing yours when he leaned over for popcorn. His hand lingering just slightly too long when he reached into your bowl instead of his own. Tiny, barely noticeable things.

Except your father noticed everything. Every single time your knees touched, you could practically feel your father narrowing his eyes from across the room without even looking away from the television.

At one point, Seonghyeon had leaned over to whisper something in your ear during the movie, and your father had immediately gone: “What was that?”

“Nothing,” both of you answered at the exact same time.

Which honestly only made it worse.

By the time everyone finally headed upstairs, you’d barely even gotten a proper goodnight. Just a quick glance, a small grin from him halfway down the hall, and a quiet: “Sleep well.”

Like that was actually possible now.

With a quiet sigh, you sat up in bed, throwing your blankets aside and pushing your hair back from your face as you stared toward your bedroom door.

This was ridiculous. You weren’t twelve. He was literally just a few doors away. You’d survived entire weekends without seeing him before. So why did knowing he was in your house suddenly make sleep impossible?

You flopped back dramatically for half a second, staring at the ceiling again. Then you immediately sat back up.

Just for a minute. That was all.

You’d go down the hall, see him, complain that you couldn’t sleep, maybe make fun of the guest room your father had stuck him in, and then come right back upstairs before anyone noticed.

Easy.

You slipped carefully out of bed, the floor cool against your feet as you crossed the room. The whole house had that deep, late-night stillness to it now, where every tiny sound suddenly felt dangerous.

The hallway outside your room was dark, lit only faintly by the pale moonlight spilling through the window at the far end. Shadows stretched long across the floorboards, the old house creaking softly around you as if it were settling deeper into sleep.

You reached for your doorknob slowly, trying not to make noise.

The hinges gave the faintest creak as you pulled it open—

—and froze instantly.

Seonghyeon was already standing right outside your room. For a second your brain genuinely stopped working.

He looked equally caught off guard, though far less guilty about it. One hand was half-raised like he’d been about to knock, his hair slightly messy from sleep or from running his hands through it too many times.

You just stared at each other silently in the dark hallway. Then his eyes flicked over your face once, and the corner of his mouth pulled upward slowly. “You too?” He whispered.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“You’re supposed to be down the hall.”

“And you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again because unfortunately, it really wasn’t. He looked far too pleased about that realisation.

You tried crossing your arms, aiming for annoyed, but it lost some effect considering you were standing there in oversized sleep clothes staring at him in the middle of the night.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the guest room,” you whispered again, quieter this time.

“And you weren’t supposed to open the door.”

His voice stayed calm and low, but there was amusement tucked into every word. You rolled your eyes automatically, though your heartbeat had already started picking up.

He noticed, even in the darkness, how you were unable to meet his gaze for a moment.

Of course he noticed. Despite the impression you gave about not getting nervous around him, small parts of yourself that only he noticed ratted you out to him every single time. He’d known you long enough to tell.

Seonghyeon took a small step closer, enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with laundry detergent from the sweatshirt he’d changed into earlier. “You couldn’t sleep either?” He asked.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Maybe.”

“Mm,” he murmured, clearly not believing you for a second.

Then, before you could think too hard about it, his hand slid around your waist naturally, easily, like it belonged there. The movement pulled you closer in one smooth motion and your breath caught before you could stop it.

He leaned down slightly, giving you barely enough time to realise what he was doing before his mouth met yours.

Soft at first, careful enough that you almost thought he was trying to behave.

Though that lasted about three seconds because the second you kissed him back, his grip tightened slightly at your waist, and you felt him smile against your mouth like he’d just proven himself right about something.

Your fingers curled instinctively into the front of his sweatshirt, bunching the fabric lightly, and you melted into him, making a small sound against his mouth, a sigh of relief. He chuckled slightly. You could feel it, the small gust of air that escaped him, and you wanted to stay here forever.

But then you remembered where you were, how your parents' bedroom was at the end of the hall that now felt increasingly small and dangerous

You pulled back and his mouth chased yours, his eyes still closed, his lips still parted. He leaned in for another kiss until you put your hand on his chest, pushing him back gently.

His eyes opened and he blinked, confused. His lips were pink, slightly swollen, he was looking at you like you'd just taken something vital away from him, a frown forming on his face. “Why?” He whispered, sounding genuinely betrayed by the interruption.

You stared at him incredulously before pointing toward your parents’ bedroom farther down the hall. “We cannot get caught,” you mouthed carefully.

He glanced once in that direction, then looked back at you completely unbothered. “They’re asleep.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“And I was right last time.”

“You almost got hit with a shoe.”

“That wasn’t that serious.”

You gaped at him quietly. “My dad threatened to kill you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered thoughtfully. “But he says that every time he sees me now.”

Which was, annoyingly, true.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You like me.” The smugness in his whisper made you roll your eyes again, even though the warmth climbing into your face completely ruined the effect.

Unfortunately, he noticed that too. His expression softened instantly, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Before he could lean down again, you grabbed his wrist suddenly. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as you tugged him backward down the hallway. “Wait—where are we going?”

“Shh,” you whispered immediately. You started guiding him carefully toward the stairs, both of you moving slowly to avoid the loud spots in the floorboards.

The old house creaked anyway. Every single noise made you freeze for half a second before continuing. At one point, the stair beneath Seonghyeon’s foot let out an especially loud groan, and you whipped around so fast you nearly ran into him, only to find his shoulders were already shaking silently with laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” you mouthed.

“It kind of is.”

You glared at him while trying not to laugh yourself.

By the time the two of you finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the house had gone still again.

Moonlight spilled through the living room windows in pale strips, turning everything soft silver-blue. The furniture looked different at night somehow: quieter, softer around the edges. Even the air felt still.

For a second, neither of you said anything. You could hear the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen alongside the hum of the refrigerator somewhere down the hall.

Seonghyeon glanced around slowly before looking back at you, hands shoved loosely into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Now what?” He whispered.

You shrugged, trying to act like dragging him downstairs in the middle of the night had been a completely normal decision. “I don’t know,” you said quietly. “You’re the one lurking outside my bedroom.”

A small grin tugged at his mouth immediately. “I was being romantic.”

“You were standing in the dark outside my door.”

“Romantically.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. He wandered away before you could answer, moving toward the vinyl cabinet beneath the stereo system in the corner of the room. Immediately, suspicion hit you. “Oh, don’t touch those.”

Too late.

Seonghyeon crouched in front of the cabinet anyway, flipping through your father’s records with the kind of confidence people only had when they absolutely should not be touching something. “You own, like, fifty sad old man albums,” he murmured.

“My dad likes music.”

“Your dad likes depression.”

You rolled your eyes, moving closer as he continued flipping through them one by one.

“What even is this?” He whispered, holding up a record sleeve covered in dramatic black-and-white photography.

You glanced at it. “I don’t know.”

“That guy looks miserable.”

“He’s probably singing about heartbreak.”

“Yeah, well. He should cheer up.”

You laughed quietly through your nose, quickly covering your mouth when the sound echoed slightly too loud in the room. Seonghyeon looked very pleased with himself for causing it.

He kept searching until one particular record made him pause. Slowly, he pulled it free from the shelf.

“My Love Will Never Die,” he read under his breath.

You immediately groaned. “Oh my god.”

“What?” He asked, already grinning.

“You cannot be serious.”

He turned the sleeve over in his hands dramatically. “This is perfect.”

“It’s ancient.”

“Barely.”

“It literally belonged to my parents before I was born.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Classic.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself while he carefully slid the vinyl from its sleeve. For all his usual recklessness, he handled it surprisingly gently.

“That thing’s older than both of us,” you whispered.

He glanced up at you while setting it onto the player. “Still works better than your dad’s rules.”

“You are obsessed with annoying him.”

“He makes it easy.”

A soft crackle filled the room as the needle settled. Eventually the music started low and warm, instantly making the whole room feel slower.

‘I know, I know I love you (love you)

And I really love you so, need you (love you)’

Something about it changed the atmosphere immediately. The teasing quieted a little and the darkness around you suddenly felt softer instead of sneaky.

Seonghyeon stood there for a second listening before turning toward you again and holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”

‘And I'll never let you go, honey (love you)

My love for you will never die, ooh, ooh’

You stared at him immediately. “Absolutely not.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why not?”

“Because this is embarrassing.”

“It’s literally just dancing.”

“In my living room. At like one in the morning.”

“Exactly,” he whispered. “Makes it better.”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“You dragged me downstairs.”

“That does not mean I owe you a dance.”

“You’re hurting my feelings.”

“You don’t have feelings.”

“Wow.”

You tried to stay serious, but his smile was already ruining it. Especially because he looked completely unashamed standing there holding his hand out like some dramatic movie character. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Still waiting.”

You let out a quiet sigh, already losing the argument.

‘So, come on over (love you)

I want you to hold my hand, tell me (love you)’

Before you could properly refuse again, he stepped closer and took your hand himself. Your stomach flipped stupidly fast at the contact. “You’re so annoying,” you whispered.

“You’re still dating me,” he murmured, pulling you gently toward him anyway.

One of his hands settled naturally against your waist whilst the other stayed wrapped loosely around yours, and just like that something softened. The teasing faded a little around the edges.

You could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, could feel his thumb moving absently against your side while the music drifted quietly through the dark room.

Neither of you were really dancing properly. Just swaying slowly in place, being close enough that your slippers kept brushing against his socks every few seconds.

The floor creaked once beneath your feet and both of you froze instantly before trying not to laugh.

“Oh my god,” you whispered through a grin. “We’re actually going to get caught.”

“We’re fine.”

“That’s exactly what you said before my dad almost killed you.”

“He didn’t almost kill me.”

“He threw a shoe at your head.”

“And missed.”

You laughed quietly again, shaking your head as he smiled down at you.

‘That I'm your lover man, darling (love you)

My love for you will never die (ooh)’

For a little while, neither of you said anything after that. The music played softly around you while moonlight stretched across the floorboards. Somewhere outside, a car passed faintly in the distance before everything settled quiet again.

Seonghyeon looked down at you after a minute, his expression softer now, less teasing. “This song’s ridiculously old,” he murmured.

You glanced up at him. “You’re literally dancing to it.”

“Yeah,” he said easily. His hand shifted slightly at your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “Because you’re here.”

And somehow that was worse than his usual flirting, because he said it so simply like it wasn’t even a line to win you over, it was just the truth embedded so deeply into his soul he couldn’t help but share.

Your eyes dropped away from his immediately, warmth rushing into your face as you tried very hard to focus on literally anything else besides the way he was looking at you.

Which only made him smile a little more. You hated when he did that: looking at you like that afterward, all quiet and unfairly sincere, like he knew exactly what it did to you.

You glanced down at the front of his sweatshirt instead, fingers curling lightly into the fabric near his shoulder. “Don’t say stuff like that,” you muttered.

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

A small pause passed between you before he spoke again, quieter now: “You get shy.”

Your head snapped back up immediately. “I do not.”

“You do,” he whispered, smiling a little wider now. “Right now.”

“I’m literally looking at you.”

“Yeah, after avoiding eye contact for like thirty seconds.”

“It was not thirty seconds.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head slightly. “Felt long.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the effect was ruined by the fact that he was still holding you close in the middle of your dark living room while some ancient love song played softly behind him.

“This is why my dad doesn’t trust you,” you informed him.

“He didn’t trust me before this.”

“That’s true.”

“See?”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh again.

‘Love's so necessary (wow)

That's why I just gotta be your man, oh, come on’

The record crackled softly between verses, the sound warm and familiar in the quiet house. Seonghyeon swayed lazily with the music, more interested in watching you than actually dancing properly.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “your mom definitely knew we were gonna sneak downstairs.”

You looked up immediately. “No, she didn’t.”

“She definitely did.”

“She wouldn’t allow that.”

“She likes me.”

You snorted. “She tolerates you.”

“She offered me more dessert at dinner.”

“She felt bad for you because my dad kept threatening your life.”

“Still counts.”

You rolled your eyes, but he only grinned.

‘Oh, girl (love you)

I want you to hold me tightly, kiss me, baby (love you)’

The song kept playing low through the speakers while the two of you moved slowly across the living room in uneven little circles. Every now and then the floor creaked beneath your feet, and both of you would instinctively freeze before dissolving into muffled laughter when nobody came downstairs.

At some point, his hand slipped lower against your waist, settling against your hip.

“So this is your definition of ‘no funny business?’” You whispered.

His eyebrows lifted innocently. “We’re dancing.”

“You are absolutely pushing it.”

“Your dad specifically said no funny business upstairs.”

You stared at him and he stared back completely serious for about two seconds before the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly. “You’re horrible.”

“Still won you over though, huh.”

You groaned quietly, dropping your forehead briefly against his shoulder as he laughed softly under his breath, the sound warm and sleepy.

The living room smelled faintly like dust and laundry detergent and your father’s aftershave lingering in the furniture. Outside, wind brushed softly against the trees near the window, and somewhere far off, a car drove past on the main road. Everything felt suspended somehow, as though the whole world had gone quiet around the two of you.

Your eyes drifted half-shut for a second before you felt Seonghyeon shift slightly.

“You tired?” He whispered, his lips just grazing your hair as you hummed in response.

“A little.”

“You should sleep.”

“You first.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You yawned like six times during the movie.”

“That was acting.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him incredulously, your eyebrows drawing together. “Why would you fake being tired?”

He shrugged lightly. “Wanted your mom to think I was innocent.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You are actually unbelievable.”

“Worked, though.”

“No it didn’t.”

“She called me sweet.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know you.”

He grinned. “You do.”

Unfortunately.

That stupid warm feeling hit your chest again. You looked away before he could notice it this time, but his hand squeezed lightly at your waist like maybe he already had.

‘And make me know how much you love me (love you)

My love for you will never die (ooh)’

The record neared its end, music softening under the crackle of vinyl, though neither of you moved to stop it.

Seonghyeon rested his chin lightly against the top of your head for a second, voice quieter when he spoke again. “You know your dad’s gonna blame me if we get caught down here.”

“He blames you for everything already.”

“Fair.”

“You breathed too loud at dinner and he looked ready to fight you.”

“I was nervous.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “You were nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“You? Nervous?”

He looked down at you like the answer was obvious. “Your dad scares me.”

You burst into quiet laughter immediately. “No, he doesn’t.”

“He threatened me with a garden tool last month.”

“That was one time.”

“It was a rake.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

You giggled slightly, forehead dropping against Seonghyeon’s shoulder for a second.

Upstairs, your father’s eyes opened immediately. He laid there for half a second, listening. Another faint laugh drifted up from downstairs and your father sat upright. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Beside him, your mother groaned softly, hands rising to rub her eyes. “What now?”

“They’re awake.”

He was already throwing the blankets off when your mother sat up and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

“They’re downstairs.”

“So?”

“So?” He repeated in disbelief. “It’s one in the morning.”

Your mother squinted at him sleepily. “And?”

“And he’s down there with her.”

“You allowed him over.”

“That is suddenly feeling like a mistake.” Another muffled sound floated upstairs completely incoherent; for all he knew Seonghyeon could be plotting sneaking you out again. Your father pointed toward the floor. “You hear that?”

“I hear two teenagers.”

“I hear bad decisions.”

Your mother snorted softly, letting go of his wrist and lowering herself back onto the mattress. “You used to climb through my bedroom window.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Your mother smiled a little, already pulling the blankets back up. “Leave them alone. Let them have this.”

Your father stared at the bedroom door for another long second, clearly still considering marching downstairs anyway. Then he sighed heavily and dropped back onto the mattress. “If he breaks my record player, he’s dead.”

“Sure, honey.”

Your father grumbled something under his breath before dragging a pillow over the side of his head dramatically. “I don’t want to hear it,” he muttered.

Your mother laughed quietly beside him, reaching over to switch the lamp off again while downstairs, completely oblivious, the static kept playing softly through the house, the two of you in your own world.

"This is nice," Seonghyeon finally spoke again, his voice muffled against your hair.

"Mm."

"We should do this more often. It’s much easier sneaking downstairs than climbing through your window."

"You're going to get us killed."

"Worth it."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. The streetlight caught the side of his face, illuminating the soft curve of his smile and the way his eyes were half-closed like he was already half-asleep. You reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead. It fell right back, the way it always did.

"Come on," you whispered. "We should actually go to bed. Before he comes down here with a baseball bat."

He groaned but let you step back. His hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer, then dropped to his side. You walked together to the stairs, your bare feet silent on the cold floor, his heavier behind you. At the top of the stairs, you stopped, turning back to face him.

"Goodnight," you whispered.

"Goodnight."

Neither of you moved.

"You first," he said, a soft smile resting on his face.

"No, you."

He smiled—that slow, lazy smile that always made your stomach flip. His eyes softened in the dim light, crinkling at the corners, and for a moment, he just looked at you like he was trying to memorise the shape of your face. As though he wanted to remember this exact second.

Then he leaned in.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, gentle but sure. His thumb brushed against your temple and you felt your eyes flutter closed before his lips even touched your skin.

When they did, it was soft. Softer than you expected. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and they pressed against your forehead with a tenderness that made your chest ache. He stayed there longer than he needed to, just breathing you in, and his breath warmm against your hairline. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingers where they rested against your scalp, could feel the way his chest rose and fell with a slow, steady breath, like he was trying to steady himself.

Your own hands had found the fabric of his t-shirt at some point, your fingers curled into the soft cotton, holding on without meaning to. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you never wanted to let go.

When he finally pulled back, it was slow, reluctant even. His lips brushed your skin one last time before he straightened, and his hand slid from your hair to your jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes were dark in the dim light, soft, and he looked at you as though you were something precious.

"Goodnight," he whispered. His voice was low, rough, barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Then he let go. His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back, then another, his bare feet silent on the carpet. The hallway was dark, but you could see the outline of him: the slope of his shoulders, the mess of his hair, the way he kept his eyes on yours even as he moved away.

He reached the guest room doorway and paused. His hand rested on the frame. He looked back at you one last time, and something warm and unspoken passed between you.

Then, eventually, he stepped inside, and he was gone.

You walked to your room, climbed into your own bed, and pulled the blanket up to your chin, still feeling the warmth of his hands in your hair. The house was silent again, the needle of the vinyl player resting in the final groove, evidence of the events of what had just happened right under your father’s nose.

You closed your eyes and, for the first time all night, felt sleep pulling at the edges of your mind.

In the master bedroom, your father lay on his back with his arm over his eyes, pretending not to have heard the faint creak of the stairs twenty minutes ago. Beside him, your mother smiled into her pillow and said nothing.

The house settled. The night stretched on. And somewhere in the dark, two hearts beat in time, separated by only a hallway and a door that did little to contain the love you had for the boy on the other side.

[eomagahd]

omg i love your theme?? it's so greengreen 😝💗

THANK YOU im very proud of it 😌💕

[eomagahd]

LUCKY SHOT ☘︎ EOM SEONGHYEON

☘︎ synopsis: After accidentally kicking a football straight into your face, Seonghyeon is prepared to spend the rest of the week apologizing. You meanwhile, discovered that being mildly injured comes with some surprisingly enjoyable perks.

☘︎ genre: classmate!seonghyeon x classmate!reader, highschool!au, SLOWBURN.., fluff, teasing, kissing, mutual pining, footballplayer!seonghyeon, shy!reader, jealousy, lots of yearning, a lil angst in there, protective!seonghyeon, shy girl & popular guy or wtv, some cringeworthy scenes, introverted reader x extroverted? seonghyeon

☘︎ wc: 17,6k MASTERLIST

If anyone asked later, you would insist you saw the football coming.

You didn’t.

Not until it was already flying toward you at an alarming speed.

Then- well. Getting hit in the face tends to interrupt a person’s train of thought.

The impact came fast and hard, sending a sharp sting across your cheek. Your eyes watered instantly as the ball bounced away somewhere across the field, but you barely noticed. For a second, all you could do was stand there, blinking in disbelief.

Seriously? Out of everyone on the field, it had to hit you?

A mixture of gasps and laughter erupted around you. Heat rushed to your face immediately, not from the pain, but from the sudden realization that half the football field was staring at you. Great.

Nothing was more humiliating than becoming the center of attention because a football had smacked you directly in the face. You pressed a hand against your cheek, hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

A pair of hurried footsteps pounded across the grass, growing louder by the second. Before you could even recover, someone came to a stop right in front of you. “Oh my god.”

You looked up, it was Seonghyeon.His eyes were wide, his face pale, and judging by the expression on it, you’d think he’d just witnessed a murder.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. You opened your mouth to answer.

“I am so sorry.” Then closed it again.

“I wasn’t aiming anywhere near you, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. Are you hurt? Does your head hurt? Can you see properly?”

The questions came so quickly that you barely had time to process them. For a moment, you just stared at him. It wasn’t really because your head hurt, more so because Eom Seonghyeon, the same Seonghyeon who usually looked far too cool and confident for his own good, looked like he was seconds away from having a complete breakdown. Finally, you sighed.

“I got hit by a football, not hit by a truck’’

‘’Some would argue that that’s worse.’’

Despite yourself, a faint laugh escaped you. The tension in Seonghyeon’s shoulders eased immediately at the sound of your laugh. For some reason, that made your stomach do something strange.

“You laughed,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

‘’Hm?’’

“It means you’re okay.”

You blinked at him. Then, before you could stop yourself, you let out a quiet groan and pressed a hand to your forehead. Immediately, panic returned to his face. “Wait. What happened? Are you dizzy?”

“…Very.”

The reaction was instant.

“Oh god.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “Very” was apparently the wrong thing to say. Seonghyeon looked seconds away from calling an ambulance.

“I might die, it could be because of you.” you said dramatically.

“It’s that bad?!”

Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you to the nurse.”

You opened your mouth to protest, then closed it again. Actually…that didn’t sound so bad.

A few minutes later, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the nurse’s office while Seonghyeon hovered nearby like an anxious parent. The nurse had spent less than thirty seconds checking you over before declaring you completely fine. Unfortunately for Seonghyeon, he didn’t seem convinced.

“Are you sure?” he asked. The nurse looked mildly offended.

“Yes.”

“But the ball hit her pretty hard.”

“She’s fine.”

“How do you know?”

You looked away before either of them could see your smile. This was getting ridiculous. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about you this much. When the nurse finally sent you back out, Seonghyeon stayed beside you the entire walk down the hallway.

“You sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you something? You’re not bruised, are you? Wait, let me check-” Before you could respond, Seonghyeon was already leaning closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined your cheek. You froze for a second, suddenly very aware of how close he was. After a moment, he leaned back with a small frown.

“I think it’s going to bruise.”

A few days have gone by, and Seonghyeon had somehow managed to become your personal caretaker. At first, it had been small things.

A bottle of water placed on your desk every morning with a bright smile that had you not doubt why everyone is charmed by him. When you carried many books, he’d take them out of your hands without hesitation. Everytime he would walk past you, he’d ask you this very question:

‘’How’s your head today?’’ as if you were recovering from a life threatening injury. You have never met someone so commited. At some point, you stopped correcting him because everytime he checked on you, his face softened in a way you’d never seen before.

Before what happened in the football field, Seonghyeon had been one of those people you only knew from a distance. The kind of person everyone seemed to recognize. He wasn’t loud or constantly trying to be noticed, he never really had to. People gravitated towards him naturally.

Teachers liked him. Students liked him. Heck, even the security guard near the front entrance seemed happy to see him every morning. You had always thought Seonghyeon was cold and intimidating, which is why you have never spoken to him before. You weren’t exactly the type to walk up to people.

While Seonghyeon seemed to move through school as if he belonged everywhere, you preferred blending into the background. You kept your circle small, avoided unecessary attention and spent most of your time in your own world. The idea of starting a conversation with someone like Seonghyeon had never even crossed your mind. You were pretty sure he didn’t know who you were, or at the very least never bothered to pay any attention to you. Then he kicked a football directly into your face, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.

You really should’ve kept your mouth shut. It had been a completely harmless comment, a passing observation. Something you’d mutter to your friend while packing up your things after class.

‘’I’m hungry’’

You hadn’t asked anyone to get you anything, and you certainly hadn’t been talking to Seonghyeon. Yet somehow a few minutes later, he came back with a recognizable sandwich from the school cafeteria. You looked up in confusion.

“So..”

Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghyeon handed you the sandwich.

“You said you were hungry”

You stared at him, then the sandwich, then back at him.

“..oh.”

Very articulate. His expression didn’t change.

“Eat.”

“I was going to buy one after class.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because the problem wasn’t the sandwich. The problem was that half the classroom had suddenly become very interested in what was happening. You could practically feel the stares.

The girls sitting by the window had stopped talking. Someone behind you let out a suspiciously amused laugh. Your friend looked seconds away from exploding. She had many questions, the look upon her face says it all. Heat immediately rushed to your face.

‘’Tha..nks.’’ You mumbled, taking the sandwich quickly in your hand while lowering your head. Seonghyeon was completely unaware of the crisis unfolding internally.

‘’Your head okay?’’

‘’Yeah..’

‘’You sure?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Good.’’

The conversation really should’ve ended there. Instead, Seonghyeon remained standing next to your desk. Your face grew warmer. Why is he still here? Finally, after a few seconds he spoke again.

‘’Let me know if it starts hurting.’’

Then, as casually as he’d arrived, turned and walked away. You turned to your friend, you already knew where this was going.

‘’Y/n-‘’

‘’No.’’

‘’There’s like-clearly something going on that you’re refusing to inform me about.’’

‘’Like what?’’

Her expression changed, as if it was obvious and self explanatory.

Choi Haejin was the complete opposite of you. You were reserved, she was sociable and open. You were in your own world and Haejin was in everybody else’s, gathering information to gossip about later. Somehow this dynamic worked extremely well. You needed a friend to do all the talking, and you really do enjoy it.

‘’Hello? Why is he practically working for you?’’

‘’There’s obviously something going on!’’

‘’WHAT IF HE POISONED THE SANDWICH?!’’

‘’It’s not reasonable for him to have any hatred towards you though..”

‘’How are you so calm?!’’

Yes, one of Choi Haejin’s many loveable qualities. Her overwhelmingly stacked questions.

Seonghyeon’s concern didn’t seem to fade with time. If anything, it had simply evolved. A week after the football incident, you found yourself stuck in a conversation you had absolutely no interest in being part of. You’d only been trying to get to class. That was it.

Somehow, somewhere between leaving the cafeteria and reaching the stairs, a girl from your year had stopped you. You knew who she was, but not well enough to have a ten minute conversation in the middle of the hallway. Yet here you were, smiling politely, nodding occasionally and secretly praying for an escape.

“-and then she literally posted about it!” the girl continued. “Really?” you replied.

You didn’t even know what you were saying “really” to anymore. The conversation had dragged on for so long that you’d completely lost the plot. You shifted your weight awkwardly, glancing toward the staircase. Your next class started in a few minutes, but cutting her off felt rude. Standing here forever also felt rude to yourself.

“So then I told her-‘’

“There you are.”

The familiar voice made you look up immediately. Seonghyeon. For a second, you just stared. He stopped beside you, one hand shoved casually into his pocket.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

You blinked.

“What?”

“Class starts in like two minutes.”

Your eyes widened slightly.

It did?

Before you could check your phone, Seonghyeon looked over at the girl.

“Sorry,” he said easily. “I need her for something.”

Need you?

The girl glanced between the two of you.

“Oh.”

You felt your face heat up instantly.

“Oh.”

Seonghyeon, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. The girl quickly stepped aside.

“Yeah, of course.”

And just like that, you were free. You followed Seonghyeon down the hallway, still trying to process what had happened. Neither of you spoke.

“You didn’t need me for anything.” You began.

“Nope.” You stared at him. He glanced over.

“You looked like you wanted to escape.” Your steps faltered slightly.

“Was it that obvious?”

“To me?” he shrugged. “A little.”

You looked away before he could see the smile threatening to appear. The strange thing was that you hadn’t even told him you were uncomfortable. You hadn’t said anything at all. And somehow, he’d noticed anyway.

The next day, by the time you reached your classroom, you were expecting everyone to already be inside. Instead, a small crowd had gathered outside the locked door.

A few students sat on the floor scrolling through their phones while others stood around complaining about the teacher being late. Relieved that you hadn’t actually missed anything, you slipped into an empty spot against the wall and pulled out your phone, hoping to blend into the background until the classroom opened. It was working for about thirty seconds, then a familiar voice spoke beside you.

“You’re late, It’s not because of your head is it?’’

You looked up to find Seonghyeon standing there. Before you could answer, someone walking down the hallway lifted a hand.

“Hey, Seonghyeon.”

“Hey.”

Another student nodded at him as they passed. A group farther down the hall called his name and he acknowledged them with a small wave. It was such a normal thing that he barely seemed to notice it. You did.

Before he acknowledged you, this was exactly how you’d always seen him, from a distance. Someone who seemed to know everyone and be known by everyone. Teachers greeted him. Students greeted him. Even people who weren’t in his friend group seemed comfortable walking up to him. Meanwhile, you were usually trying to avoid being perceived altogether.

“Well?” he asked.

You blinked.

“What?”

“Why are you late?” You immediately looked away because the answer was embarrassing.

“I couldn’t find a pen.” Seonghyeon stared at you.

“A pen.”

“Yes.”

“You were late because of a pen.”

“It was an important pen.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, you felt strangely defensive.

“It was.”

A laugh escaped him.

Not loud enough to draw attention, but enough that you looked up in surprise. You weren’t sure why the sound caught you off guard. Maybe because Seonghyeon always seemed so composed around everyone else. Maybe because you’d spent months assuming he was intimidating. Now he was laughing because you apparently make hilarious jokes.

The interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, somehow you caught two girls nearby glancing over before quickly looking away. One of them whispered something to the other. Heat immediately crept up your neck.

For some reason, whenever Seonghyeon talked to you, it felt like everyone else suddenly became interested too. Seonghyeon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A few minutes later, one of his friends appeared and nudged his shoulder.

“Come here for a sec.” You expected him to leave but instead he glanced over briefly. “I’ll be there in a minute, Keonho.’’ His friend looked between the two of you before smirking slightly. “Right.”

The second he walked away, you wanted to disappear. Seonghyeon meanwhile, looked completely oblivious. The conversation continued in small pieces after that. Nothing important. Complaints about homework. A teacher neither of you liked. The upcoming test everyone was stressing about. You still weren’t saying much but for the first time, the silences didn’t feel awkward.

That was what surprised you the most because before all of this, talking to Seonghyeon had never even seemed like a possibility. Now you found yourself hoping the teacher would stay late for a few more minutes.

If there was one thing you’d learned from being friends with Haejin, it was that she was incapable of making a quick decision. She was supposed to buy a game for her younger brother’s birthday.

You were only there because she’d insisted she needed a “second opinion”. According to Haejin, this was a very important responsibility. According to you, she just didn’t want to go alone. Twenty minutes later, your theory was proven to be correct.

“You’ve been staring at these three games for like ten minutes”

Haejin gasped dramatically. “This is a life changing decision.”

“…It’s a birthday gift?’’

‘’Exactly.’’

You sighed and glanced around the store.

The place was busier than you’d expected for a saturday afternoon. The game store was warm and slightly crowded, lined with shelves stacked with colorful game cases and collectibles. Bright lights reflected off display screens scattered throughout the store, while the faint sounds of racing games, button mashing, and excited conversations filled the air.

Groups of friends wandered between aisles, kids begged their parents to buy things and somewhere in the back of the store, a racing game played loudly through a set of speakers.

‘’Oh, what do i do? Haemin likes all of these.’’ At this point, you were mostly waiting for Haejin to decide which game she’d buy for her brother so you could both leave. Then a familiar voice drifted across the store.

‘’You can’t blame me for that.’’

For a second, you thought you’d imagined it but then another voice answered.

‘’Oh yes i can.’’

You turned your head slightly. Near the racing simulator setup stood two boys. One was sitting in the simulator, controller still in hand. The other stood beside him with his arms crossed. You recognized them immediately.

Seonghyeon and Keonho.

You simply stared. Not because seeing them was surprising, you’re sure many highschoolers come here.

Because seeing them like this was.

‘’You literally drove into me!’’ Keonho blamed.

‘’I didn’t-‘’

‘’You did.’’

‘’I barely touched you.’’

Keonho looked genuienly offended.

‘’You sent my car into a wall.’’

‘’Well you suck at this game anyway.’’

A laugh escaped Seonghyeon.

Even after becoming friends with him, most of your conversations had happened between classes, in hallways, or during lunch breaks.

School Seonghyeon was confident, calm, and seemingly unbothered by everything. This version felt more relaxed, warm. More real. Like the moment he stepped outside school, some invisible pressure disappeared.

Beside you, Haejin finally noticed where your attention had gone. She looked at the two boys.

“No way.”

You already knew that tone.

“Haejin.”

“No way.”

“Haejin.”

“That’s Seonghyeon- and Keonho.’’

“I can see that.”

She looked far too excited about this discovery. Fate apparently hated you because at that exact moment, Keonho looked up and spotted the two of you. His grin appeared instantly.

“Oh, this is interesting.”

Seonghyeon frowned.

“What?”

Keonho tilted his head toward the entrance. Slowly, Seonghyeon turned around. For a brief moment, surprise flashed across his face. His eyes met yours. The first thing he did was smile, a genuine smile. Suddenly, becoming very interested in the floor seemed like a fantastic idea. Haejin had other plans. Before you could stop her, she grabbed your wrist and started walking.

“Haejin.”

“Nope.”

“Haejin, come on-”

“We’re already committed.”

“We absolutely are not.”

Across the store, you could hear Keonho laughing which somehow made everything worse. By the time the two of you have reached them, your dignity had already left the building.

‘’Y/n,’’ Seonghyeon said.

The fact that he greeted you first did absolutely nothing to help.

‘’Hi.’’

Haejin meanwhile, had abandoned all subtlety.

‘’What happened to fourth place?’’

Keonho immediately pointed at her.

‘’THANK YOU.’’

Seonghyeon closed his eyes briefly. ‘’You are not helping.’’

‘’You came fourth?’’

You really couldn’t help asking. The look Seonghyeon gave you was almost enough to make you laugh, almost. Keonho looked delighted. Finally, someone was on his side. “You see?” he said, pointing at you. “Even y/n agrees.”

“I didn’t agree with anything,” you replied immediately.

“You asked the question.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It basically is.”

“It absolutely is not.”

Seonghyeon looked exhausted.

“You two are impossible.”

The comment earned matching offended expressions from both you and Keonho which, unfortunately, only made Haejin laugh.

“Wow,” she said. “I’ve never seen him lose an argument before.”

“I’m not losing.”

“You came fourth.”

“I came fourth because somebody doesn’t know how to drive.”

Keonho gasped.

The betrayal.

The audacity.

The complete disrespect.

For a second, the two of them resumed arguing while you stood there trying- and failing not to smile. It was strange. Before today, you’d never really seen Seonghyeon with his friends. Not properly.

At school, people always seemed drawn to him. There was always someone talking to him, waving at him, asking him something. But this felt different, like it was more real, less intimidating.

“You know,” Seonghyeon said, glancing toward Keonho and Haejin, “I don’t think they’re coming back.”

You followed his gaze. Haejin was holding up two game cases while Keonho looked like he was defending his thesis.

“Yeah.”

“They’ve been arguing about the same thing for like ten minutes.”

“You say that like you weren’t arguing over a racing game when I walked in.”

Seonghyeon looked over.

“That was different.”

“Was it?’’

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. You found yourself looking around the store instead, eyes moving over shelves packed with games you knew nothing about. Then Seonghyeon pointed toward one.

“Have you played that before?”

You glanced at the cover.

“No.”

“What about that one?”

“No.”

He pointed at another.

“No.”

Another.

“No.”

Seonghyeon stared at you.

“Have you ever had fun before?”

You were slightly taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m trying to figure out why Haejin brought you to a game store.’’

“I’m here to supervise.”

To your surprise, he laughed.

Slowly, Your conversations started to flow naturally. It felt easier to talk to him. Maybe because it didn’t feel like talking to the cool guy everyone knew. Or the football player.

Just Seonghyeon.

Talking to him was becoming easier than talking to most people.

“You owe me.”

You looked up from your phone.

Across the lunch table, Haejin was staring at you expectantly.

“What?”

“You owe me.”

“..I don’t think I do.”

“You do.”

You narrowed your eyes, then Haejin leaned forward.

“Aren’t friends supposed to support each other’s interests?” She gave you a cheeky smile.

‘’Mm..that depends.’’

‘’On what?’’

“Whether those interests involve dragging me somewhere against my will.”

A look of betrayal crossed her face.

“Wow.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Haejin.”

She grinned. “What?”

You gave her a knowing look before she finally decided to answer.

“There’s a football match after school.”

You stared at her.

“Seriously? No.”

The answer came so quickly that she looked offended.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did.”

“You really didn’t.”

“I absolutely did.”

Haejin pointed at you.

“See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Unfortunately, that was how you found yourself sitting on the school bleachers three hours later, questioning every life decision that had led you to this moment. It seemed fun though.

The field was already crowded by the time you arrived.

Students filled up most of the seats, scattered in groups with friends, snacks and far more enthusiasm than you could ever relate to. The noise was conversations overlapping, people calling out to eachother, the occasional burst of laughter carrying across the field.

You adjusted your position on the bleachers and glanced around.

“This is way more people than I expected.”

“Obviously,” Haejin replied.

“Why obviously?”

She looked at you as if you’d asked something ridiculous.

“It’s the biggest match of the season.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know that either?”

“No.”

Haejin sighed. Sometimes you genuinely worried about her blood pressure whenever she talked to you. The teams began gathering on the field below. A few students immediately started cheering. Others waved at friends playing.

You found yourself mostly observing, until a familiar figure stepped onto the field. The annoying thing was that you recognized him immediately. Not because of the jersey, not because he was standing the closest, your eyes had simply found him automatically.

You hated that, a lot.

Before he hit you with the football, Seonghyeon would’ve blended into the crowd of players. Now he stood out immediately. The realization was embarrassing enough that you quickly had to look elsewhere.

When you looked back a few moments later, your eyes found him again. And again. And again. It was becoming a problem.

The whistle blew.

The game began.

At first, you paid attention out of politeness. Haejin had dragged you here, after all. The least you could do was pretend to care. A few minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Somewhere along the way, you realized you were actually watching.

Not football.

Seonghyeon.

The thing was, you’d never seen him like this before. At school, Seonghyeon always seemed relaxed and comfortable. The type of person who could walk into any room and immediately belong there. On the field, however, there was something different about him. He moved with an ease that made everything look effortless. Even from a distance, you could tell people listened when he spoke.

Teammates glanced toward him constantly. A few times, he called something out and everyone immediately adjusted. It was strange. Not because you hadn’t known he played football. Because you’d never really thought about what that meant.

For the first time, you understood why so many people admired him. And for some reason, that realization made your stomach feel weird. Beside you, Haejin followed your gaze. Then smirked. You knew that smirk. It was never a good sign.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Haejin.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking something.”

“I am.”

You groaned.

“Please don’t.”

The smirk only grew.

Thankfully, before she could speak, the crowd suddenly erupted around you. Cheers echoed across the bleachers. Students jumped to their feet. You blinked.

Apparently something had happened. Unfortunately, you’d been too busy arguing with Haejin to notice.

“What happened?”

Haejin stared at you, then at the field, then back at you.

“You weren’t watching.”

“I was.”

“You literally weren’t.”

“What happened?”

She pointed toward the field and you followed her gaze. Seonghyeon was jogging back toward the center, teammates crowding around him.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Haejin repeated.

“He scored.”

“He scored.”

You nodded.

For some reason, a smile pulled at your lips. A small one. One you didn’t even notice until Haejin did. Her eyes widened immediately.

“Wow.’’

Your smile disappeared.

“What?”

“You smiled.”

“So?”

“You smiled because he scored.”

Heat immediately rose to your face. You felt your ears swell.

“No i didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

You looked away before she could continue. You weren’t entirely sure she was wrong. That realization lingered for the rest of the match. Long after the cheering died down. Long after the game resumed. Long after you’d convinced yourself you were imagining things.

Because every time something happened on the field, your attention drifted toward the same person. Everytime he did something impressive, you felt strangely proud. As if you’d somehow earned the right.

Which was absurd.

You were still trying to convince yourself of that when the final whistle blew. The crowd immediately came alive. Students began standing, gathering their things, and making their way toward the exits. Some headed toward the field. Others were already talking excitedly about the game.

You stayed seated. Mostly because moving required effort. Partly because Haejin had disappeared five minutes ago after spotting someone she knew. You’d just pulled out your phone when a shadow fell across you. You assumed it was Haejin. Then a familiar voice spoke.

“I need an unbiased opinion.”

You looked up.

And immediately wished you hadn’t. Seonghyeon was standing there. Still wearing his uniform. Still slightly out of breath. His hair was damp from the game, falling messily across his forehead. For some reason, that bothered you.

Not because it looked bad, quite the opposite actually. Judging by the expression on his face, something had clearly bothered him.

“Hello to you too.”

“That can wait-‘’

You blinked.

“That’s sort of concerning.”

“I was robbed.”

A pause.

‘’Didn’t you guys win?’’

‘’That’s not the point.’’

‘’Feels like a pretty important point.’’

Seonghyeon looked genuinely frustrated, his breathing was heavier since the game had ended.

‘’The referee was seriously against me.’’

You stared at him for several seconds before you shifted in your seat.

‘’You’re one of those people?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’The people who blame the referee everytime something doesn’t go their way.’’

‘’It didn’t go my way.’’

‘’Well, you won.’’

‘’Of course i did.’’

You laughed, the reaction was immediate.

‘’You didn’t even pay attention.’’

‘’I was.’’

‘’No you weren’t’’

‘’How would you know?’’

‘’Because if you did, you’d be angry too.’’

‘’I’m not emotionally invested enough to be angry.’’

The look he gave you suggested this was the wrong answer.

“Okay, imagine this’’

‘’Oh-‘’

‘’I score.’’

‘’You score.’’

‘’A beautiful score.’’

‘’According to whom exactly?’’

‘’Everybody.’’

‘’Mm.’’

‘’Then the referee- who’s job is to observe accurately, calls it offside.’’

You considered this, then shrugged.

‘’Well- maybe it was offside.’’

The betrayal on his face creeped up fast.

‘’I swear it wasn’t.’’

‘’Were you the referee?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’Then how do you know?’’

For a moment, Seonghyeon simply stared at you, then he pointed accusingly.

‘’You’re terrible at this.’’

‘’At what?’’

‘’At being supportive.’’

‘’You wanted an unbiased opinion.’’

‘’I wanted you to agree with me.’’

‘’That’s not quite what unbiased means.’’

The corner of his mouth twitched. You knew he was competitive, he shot a football straight at you a few weeks ago.

‘’You know what? Nevermind.’’

You laughed again.

This time, Seonghyeon shook his head dramatically and dropped down to the bleacher seat in front of you. The field behind him remained crowded with players and students slowly making their way home. Voices carried across the evening air while coaches gathered equipment near the sidelines.

“You stayed for the whole match.”

The comment caught you off guard.

“What?”

“The whole thing.”

He leaned back slightly.

“I thought you’d get bored and leave.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You have a very low opinion of me.”

“I watched you spend twenty minutes in a game store staring at absolutely nothing.”

“I was being supportive.”

“You were wandering.”

“I was observing.”

“You were probably lost.”

“I knew exactly where I was.”

“Sure.”

You hated how satisfied he looked, with a smile to follow up on. His smile was genuine, like you could argue about anything- and it would still feel like you won, simply because he gave you that smile.

Then again, you hated how often he made you laugh. Before either of you could continue, a voice called from somewhere behind him.

“Seonghyeon!”

You looked up automatically.

A girl was jogging across the field toward the two of you, a bottle of water in one hand. She couldn’t have been much older than you. She looked pretty, and confident. The type of person who seemed completely comfortable talking to anyone. The type of person you immediately disliked for absolutely no reason.

She stopped beside him and held out the bottle. “You left this.”

“Oh.” Seonghyeon took it.

“Thanks.”

The interaction was completely normal.

The girl smiled. “No problem.”

Then she started talking, and Seonghyeon talked back. Which again, was normal. Because why wouldn’t he? But as you stood there listening to their conversation, a strange feeling settled in your chest. One you didn’t particularly like. The girl seemed familiar with him, she was comfortable like this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken. Obviously it wasn’t, Seonghyeon knew everyone. You already knew that.

Still, you found yourself looking away. Suddenly very interested in fixing the strap of your bag.

“You coming to practice on monday?” the girl asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She grinned.

“Coach would’ve killed you if you missed it.”

Seonghyeon laughed. The same laugh you’d spent the last few weeks becoming far too fond of. Hearing it now felt different, a little less special.

You’d never thought it was special. Not really. Right? The realization hit, maybe that was the problem. You had.

At some point, without noticing, you’d started treating every conversation with Seonghyeon like it meant something. When in reality this was just who he was. He was friendly, easy to talk to. He was comfortable around everyone.

The girl finally glanced toward you.

“Oh.”

For a second, she looked between the two of you then smiled politely.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

The conversation lasted another minute or two.

You weren’t really paying attention anymore because the stupid feeling in your chest had only gotten worse. Thankfully, someone else called Seonghyeon’s name from across the field. A teammate this time.

“Seonghyeon!”

He looked over, then back at you.

“I should probably go.”

The words were simple and harmless, but for some reason they felt disappointing.

“Yeah,” you said.

“See you monday?”

You smiled, disingeniously.

“See you.”

The second he stood up and walked away, you knew something was wrong. Not with him, but with you. You spent the entire walk home thinking about a conversation that hadn’t even involved you. You replayed everything, the exchanged conversation, his gaze, his laughter. You replayed him.

The realization irritated you more than anything else. It wasn’t as if Seonghyeon had done something particularly memorable. He’d talked to a teammate, that’s all. The interaction had been completely normal, yet somehow your brain insisted on revisiting it every few hours like there was some hidden meaning you’d failed to uncover the first time around.

By monday morning, you’d become so annoyed with yourself that you’d practically banned yourself from thinking about him altogether. Unfortunately, that lasted less than a day.

School carried on as usual. Teachers assigned work, students complained about it, and Haejin continued collecting gossip the way other people collected hobbies, which was admirable really. Everything felt normal. At least until the end of third period.

Your teacher had been gathering her things when she suddenly bent down and picked something up from beside one of the desks near the front of the classroom. It was a dark grey hoodie, slightly oversized and folded in on itself as if somebody had shoved it underneath a chair and forgotten about it.

“Did someone leave this behind?” she asked, holding it up.

A few students glanced over before immediately losing interest, you looked up too and knew exactly who it belonged to.

The answer came so quickly that you didn’t even question it at first. Seonghyeon. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, you simply looked at the hoodie and knew.

Maybe it was because you’d seen him wearing it countless times over the past few weeks. Maybe it was because it had become one of those things your brain automatically associated with him. Whatever the reason, the certainty came naturally enough that you barely thought twice about it.

Then somebody behind you spoke.

“Oh, that’s Seonghyeon’s.”

Somehow, it felt odd. It wasn’t because they’d confirmed it, it was more so because they hadn’t told you anything you didn’t already know.

The rest of the class moved on immediately. The teacher placed the hoodie on her desk, someone made a joke and within seconds everyone was talking about something else. Everyone except you.

For some reason, that insignificant moment refused to leave your head. You spent the next hour trying to convince yourself it meant nothing. It was just a hoodie. People recognized each other’s belongings all the time. There was really nothing strange about it.

The argument would’ve been much more convincing if you hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t wearing it during lunch. The realization hit you before you even saw his face.

Your eyes found him automatically across the cafeteria surrounded by Keonho, Martin, James and Juhoon, the same group of friends he was always with. The first thing your brain registered wasn’t the conversation he was having or the fact that Keonho was laughing at something.

It was the absence of the hoodie. That’s why he looks different. You seriously didn’t like this, you in fact hated it. Seonghyeon, whom you hadn’t bat an eye on two months ago had occupied your mind the past four days. It was torture, simply because you refused to accept the thoughts. You denied everything, you brushed everything off and went about your day.

The following morning started with a problem. Not a particularly serious one, nor one that should have occupied more than a few seconds of your time, yet somehow you found yourself standing in front of your bedroom mirror far longer than necessary. You’d already finished getting ready.

Your makeup was done, your uniform was on, your bag was packed and waiting by the door. By all accounts, you should’ve been downstairs eating breakfast. Instead, you were still there staring at your reflection as if it had personally offended you. Something felt wrong.

The frustrating part was that you couldn’t figure out what. Your hair looked fine, more than fine actually. You had spent enough time on it to ensure that. Yet your hand still reached up to smooth down a strand near your cheek before stepping back again.

A few seconds later you found yourself leaning toward the mirror adjusting something else, then immediately questioning whether it had looked better before. The cycle repeated itself often enough that by the time you finally checked the clock, nearly fifteen minutes had disappeared. You frowned. That couldn’t be right.

Normally, getting ready in the morning wasn’t something you thought much about. You liked looking presentable and usually put effort into your appearance, but there was a difference between effort and whatever this was. This felt suspiciously close to perfectionism, except there was nothing to perfect.

Every time you fixed one thing, your eyes immediately found something else to focus on. A different hairstyle. A little more lip tint. Maybe a different pair of earrings. None of the changes were dramatic enough for anyone else to notice, but you noticed them, and apparently that was enough to keep you rooted in front of the mirror like an idiot.

Moments later, your phone buzzed. Haejin was texting you.

HAEJIN

Overslept.

Can’t make it to first period.

Meet you second period😴

Haejin was a bit careless when it came to school. You don’t think it’s on purpose, she just doesn’t see the need to wake up at 7:30 AM for merely first period. She makes it so justifiable, so you guess you could see it from her perspective, however not today. Today, was an important day.

By the time first period began, you were already feeling self aware. Now, instead of sitting beside your best friend, you found yourself alone at your desk while the teacher droned on at the front of the classroom. The seat beside you remained empty, which felt strangely noticeable. Haejin had a way of filling every space she occupied, and without her there the morning seemed significantly quieter.

When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things and stepped into the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Your next class was on the opposite side of the building, leaving you with more than enough time to get there. Normally, you would have spent the break with Haejin. Today however, you found yourself wandering alone through the crowded hallways.

“Y/n, hey.’’

The familiar voice made you turn immediately.

Seonghyeon stood a few feet away, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. For a moment, your brain supplied an extremely unhelpful thought.

Did he notice?

You hated yourself instantly.

Notice what?

Your hair?

Your makeup?

The fact that you’d spent half your morning acting like a love island contestant? Thankfully, Seonghyeon seemed completely unaware of the spiraling thoughts currently unfolding.

“Haejin’s late,” you explained before he could ask. Before you could think of a more logical answer, like a simple hey.

Seriously?

What does Haejin have to do with this?

Why would he care?

Seonghyeon almost surpressed his reaction.

‘’Oh- right.’’

He was confused. Did you think he approached you to talk to Haejin? He didn’t read much into it though.

However, he did notice something was different about you today.

At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Maybe your hair looked different. Maybe your makeup. Whatever it was, it gave you a slightly softer appearance than usual. Not dramatically different, just enough to make him pause for a second longer than normal.

“You look tired” he said instead.

You stared at him. Of all the things he could’ve said.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t sleep?”

The betrayal you felt was immediate. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready this morning. An embarrassing amount. And somehow the only conclusion he’d reached was that you looked tired. For a brief moment, you considered pushing him down the nearest staircase.

“That’s offensive.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“I’m choosing peace.”

Seonghyeon laughed.

Unfortunately, the sound did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. If anything, it made it worse. Because now all you could think about was the twenty minutes you’d wasted staring at yourself in the mirror. The universe clearly had a sense of humor.

“You look fine, by the way.”

The comment was casual. So casual that he probably didn’t think twice about saying it. You however, nearly forgot how to function. Before you could respond, Martin called Seonghyeon’s name from farther down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder, then back at you.

“I’ll see you later.” And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway wondering why two completely harmless words had managed to ruin the rest of your morning. The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly after that.

Haejin eventually arrived halfway through second period carrying the same energy she always did, immediately filling the empty space beside you with stories, complaints and dramatic retellings of how she had supposedly fallen victim to circumstances completely beyond her control.

According to her, the blame rested entirely on a combination of faulty alarms, unfair school schedules and a universe that seemed personally determined to make her suffer.

“I woke up and it was 9:12.”

“You start at 8:30.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s doesn’t quite help.” Haejin pouted.

The rest of the day continued pretty much the same way. Haejin spent most of her time insisting she was being unfairly persecuted by the education system. By the final bell, you had almost forgotten about the awkward interaction from that morning. Almost. Unfortunately, while you were fully prepared to go home, Haejin apparently had other plans.

“I’ll be two minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“This time I mean it.”

“You also meant it last time.”

Ignoring you entirely, she disappeared back into the building after being stopped by a teacher regarding an assignment she had forgotten to submit. So you waited.

The afternoon air was cool, carrying the familiar sounds of students lingering around school grounds before heading home.

Groups gathered near the entrance, conversations overlapping as people delayed going home for as long as possible. You had been scrolling through your phone for several minutes when a football rolled across the pavement a few meters away. Your eyes followed it automatically.

Several members of the football team had gathered near the edge of the courtyard, passing time before practice. Some were kicking a ball around while others leaned against a nearby fence talking amongst themselves. The sight would’ve gone largely unnoticed if Haejin hadn’t finally emerged from the building at that exact moment.

“Oh.”

“What?”

Her eyes lit up. “Keonho’s here.”

Before you could stop her, she’d already started walking.

“Haejin.”

No response.

“Haejin.”

Still nothing.

Sometimes you genuinely believed she could hear only the things she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, Keonho seemed equally enthusiastic. A few minutes later, the two of them had somehow dragged everyone into the same conversation.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment you were waiting for Haejin, the next you were standing in a loose circle listening to Keonho passionately argue that football players deserved special treatment during exam season.

“You kick a ball around.”

“That’s not all we do.”

“That’s literally what football is.” Seonghyeon let out a faint laugh. Keonho pointed at him immediately.

“See? He understands.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your silence supports me.”

The conversation drifted from one topic to another after that. Homework became complaints about teachers, which somehow turned into stories from middle school and then an argument over who had the worst attendance record. At some point, Keonho glanced toward Seonghyeon.

“Actually, speaking of people abandoning their friends.” Seonghyeon already looked tired.

“You spend more time talking to y/n than you do with me nowadays.”

The comment earned a laugh from Haejin. You wished it hadn’t, because now everyone was looking at the two of you. Seonghyeon meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m serious.”

For a second, Keonho gestured vaguely between the two of you as though presenting evidence to a jury. The response came easily. Without hesitation. Without even a second of thought.

“She’s my friend.”

The following morning began with rain.

Not the kind that belonged in movies, where people stared moodily out of windows while life changing realizations unfolded in the background. This was ordinary rain. Annoying rain. The sort that turned sidewalks slippery and made umbrellas feel completely useless because somehow you still ended up getting wet anyway.

By the time you arrived at school, your shoes were damp, your patience was gone and Haejin was already waiting by the entrance looking personally offended by the weather. She immediately launched into a five minute rant about how rain should be illegal before eight in the morning, only pausing long enough to complain about an upcoming assignment and the fact that she had forgotten to study for a quiz she apparently hadn’t known existed until fifteen minutes ago.

The conversation continued all the way to class. Then through first period. Then through half of second period. That was one of the things you liked most about Haejin. Being around her left very little room for overthinking. Unfortunately not no room, just very little.

The thought arrived sometime during lunch. You were sitting across from Haejin while she attempted to convince three people that she deserved compensation for having to wake up before sunrise every day. Around you, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of conversations, laughter and the occasional argument over stolen food. It was normal. Completely normal.

Yet for some reason, you found yourself looking up whenever the doors opened. The first time, you didn’t think much of it. The second time, you barely noticed. The third time however, you caught yourself doing it and immediately looked back down at your food. That was strange. You frowned slightly.

Because you knew exactly what you had been looking for. Or rather, who. The thought irritated you far more than it should have. The problem was that it happened automatically. You had not consciously wondered where Seonghyeon was. You hadn’t been sitting there waiting for him to appear. Your eyes had simply searched the room on their own before your brain had the chance to stop them. Annoying. Deeply annoying. Across from you, Haejin paused mid-sentence.

“…Why do you look angry?”

“I’m not angry.”

“You look like it.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That explains nothing.”

You stabbed a french fry with considerably more force than necessary. Haejin narrowed her eyes immediately. Never a good sign.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It isn’t.”

“It literally is.”

You sighed. The problem with having a best friend for years was that they became impossible to fool.

“You know,” Haejin continued, leaning back in her chair “most people don’t glare at potatoes unless something is bothering them.”

For a brief moment, you considered telling her. Not everything. Then immediately decided against it. Mostly because hearing your thoughts out loud would somehow make the situation significantly worse, and because deep down there was a part of you that already knew exactly what Haejin would say. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to hear it.

If someone had asked Seonghyeon whether anything had changed over the past couple of weeks, he probably would’ve said no.

Life looked exactly the same as it always had. Football practice continued to consume most of his afternoons and Keonho remained committed to making every situation at least twice as loud as necessary. The days blended together in the way school days often did. One class became another. One week became the next. Nothing particularly significant seemed to happen. At least, that was what he thought.

The realization didn’t arrive all at once. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t even particularly noticeable at first. Instead, it appeared in small moments and then disappeared again before he could properly think about it. A hallway conversation that felt strangely short. An empty seat during lunch that shouldn’t have mattered. The first few times, he ignored it. By the tenth, it was becoming difficult to.

Thursday afternoon found him sitting through one of the most painfully boring lessons of the semester. Even the teacher seemed tired of listening to himself speak. Around the classroom, students had long since given up pretending to pay attention. Some were doodling in notebooks, others were staring blankly out windows, and James had somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting upright. Honestly, it was impressive.

Seonghyeon’s attention had drifted somewhere around twenty minutes earlier. His notebook remained open in front of him, untouched except for a few half finished notes written without much thought behind them. He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular when the teacher suddenly stopped speaking and sighed.

“Since nobody seems interested in participating today, let’s try something easier.”

Immediately, several students sat up. The word easier had that effect.

The teacher began asking questions instead, pointing at different students around the room whenever he needed an answer. Most people responded with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some answered correctly. Others guessed. One student somehow managed to produce an answer so incorrect that the entire class burst out laughing. Including Seonghyeon. For some reason, the moment reminded him of y/n. The thought appeared so unexpectedly that he almost frowned.

It wasn’t even a specific memory. Just a vague association. Something about the expression she would’ve made if she’d heard the answer. The way she tried not to laugh when she found something funny. The way she usually looked away immediately afterward as if being caught smiling was somehow embarrassing. For a second, he found himself glancing toward the row she usually sat in. Then paused, because that was strange. He hadn’t spoken to y/n properly in what felt like ages. It didn’t make sense.

A few weeks ago, running into her had somehow become normal. Conversations before class. Conversations after class. Random interactions in hallways that stretched far longer than either of them intended. Nothing major. Just enough that he’d stopped noticing when they happened.

Now he was noticing when they didn’t. The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. Then followed him into the hallway. Then all the way to lunch. By the time football practice started, he still hadn’t managed to shake it. People got busy, that was all. School happened, life happened. There was no reason to think about it this much.

Unfortunately, that explanation became slightly harder to believe when he realized he couldn’t remember the last actual conversation they’ve had.

Instead, he found himself standing on the edge of the football field staring at absolutely nothing while the rest of the team warmed up around him.

“Earth to Seonghyeon.”

Martin’s voice snapped him out of it.

“What?”

“You’ve been staring at the same patch of grass for thirty seconds.”

Seonghyeon blinked.

Had he? Apparently. Keonho narrowed his eyes immediately.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Seonghyeon didn’t understand why he had thought about it this much. He wasn’t the type to. He’d logically examine situations, come up with a logical answer and move on with his day. Somehow this was different, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Keonho had never been the type of person to let things go. In fact, if Seonghyeon had to describe him using a single phrase, it would probably be incapable of minding his own business. The moment practice ended, Keonho’s attention returned to the subject with the determination of somebody investigating a crime.

At first, Seonghyeon didn’t even realize it was happening. The team had just finished collecting equipment, everyone moving around the field in various states of exhaustion while the sun slowly disappeared behind the school buildings. Conversations overlapped from every direction.

Somebody was complaining about the coach, somebody else was arguing about where to eat afterward and a football rolled across the grass before being kicked back toward a storage cart. Everything felt normal. Until Keonho appeared beside him. That wasn’t unusual. The fact that he remained there in complete silence however, definitely was.

For several seconds he simply walked beside him without saying anything. Coming from Keonho, that was concerning enough on its own. When Seonghyeon finally glanced over, he immediately regretted it. Keonho was already staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghyeon asked.

“I’m thinking.”

A sigh escaped him. The evening air had turned noticeably cooler now, students gradually filtering away from the field in small groups as the noise around them slowly faded into the distance. For a brief moment it almost seemed like Keonho might finally drop the subject. Then he spoke again.

“You know what I think?”

“No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Seonghyeon barely reacted. Mostly because this conversation happened at least three times a week.

“About what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The answer was so stupid that a laugh almost escaped him.

“No, seriously.” Keonho adjusted the strap of his bag before continuing. “You’ve been zoning out lately.”

That got his attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something similar. Over the past week different people had made almost identical observations often enough that it was becoming difficult to ignore. Martin had asked whether he was tired. His mother had asked whether something was bothering him. Even the coach had commented on him being distracted during practice yesterday.

At the time Seonghyeon had brushed all of it off. Now however, standing on the sidewalk outside the school while Keonho kicked absentmindedly at loose gravel beside him, he found himself wondering whether they all had a point.

The problem was that he couldn’t figure out what exactly was different. Or rather, he could. He just didn’t particularly like the answer. Because every time he started pulling at the loose thread of the thought, it somehow led back to the same place. The same person. The same question. When was the last time he’d actually talked to y/n?

Not seen her. Not waved at her from the other end of a hallway. Talked to her, a proper conversation. The answer should’ve come immediately. Instead, he found himself drawing a blank.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that really bothered him.

By the time he got home later that evening, dropped his bag beside the door and collapsed onto his bed, the thought was still there. Which was annoying, because he had homework to finish and football practice again tomorrow. He had significantly more important things to think about. Yet somehow, while staring at the ceiling of his room, his mind drifted back to the same thing. He dug deep into his thoughts.

The first time was almost laughably insignificant. Class had just ended, and students were spilling into the hallways at every direction. Seonghyeon had been halfway through putting his books away when he spotted y/n a little farther down the corridor.

She was standing beside her locker, listening to something Haejin was saying. Or rather, dramatically performing. Haejin’s hands were moving so aggressively that even from a distance it looked less like a conversation and more like an emergency press conference.

Without really thinking about it, Seonghyeon started heading that way.

Then suddenly y/n grabbed Haejin by the wrist and dragged her around the corner. Gone. Seonghyeon stopped walking, he had simply stared at the space where she’d been stadning.

‘’Why are you just standing there?’’

He looked over and Juhoon was staring at him.

‘’Nothing-‘’

Juhoon looked unconvinced.

The second time happened during lunch, Seonghyeon had just entered the cafeteria when he noticed y/n sitting at her usual table. For some reason, the sight made him smile.

He grabbed his tray and joined his friends. Halfway through James’s completely unecessary rant about him having to balance both the exams- since he’s a few years older, and football practice, Seonghyeon glanced across the cafeteria again.

The seat was empty, he frowned.

‘’How dare they stack up on exams the second football season gets serious? I can’t be expected to memorize biology and score goals.’’

Yeah that was just background noise for Seonghyeon.

The third time was when it had actually started bothering him. School had ended, and the campus was filled by students and chatter. Seonghyeon, Keonho, Juhoon, Martin and James stood in front of the school, talking while Martin shot the basketball into the hoop continuously.

Suddenly, he spotted y/n coming out of the main entrance. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder, already heading toward the front gate. He considered calling her name, the thought had appeared automatically. Then he paused. Because that would be weird, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said. Hey? Hello? Why have we apparently forgotten how to exist in the same space lately?

Before he could decide, a group of guys crossed between them. By the time they passed, she had already disappeared around the corner. That annoyed him.

He found himself looking for her the next day. Which felt ridiculous, that’s what he told himself while scanning the cafeteria without realizing he was doing it. He didn’t understand why it had bothered him so much.

Everytime he looked up, she seemed to walk the other way. He could’ve sworn she stood wherever he saw her, then poof she’s gone again. He missed talking to her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized y/n hadn’t actually disappeared. She was still around.

The strange thing about time was that it continued moving whether you wanted it to or not.

A few weeks ago, you’d convinced yourself that liking Seonghyeon was some life altering catastrophe. Every conversation felt important. Every interaction lingered longer than it should have. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of energy thinking about things that in hindsight, probably didn’t deserve nearly that much attention.

Now however, life had begun settling back into place. It wasn’t really because your feelings had disappeared, they hadn’t. You still liked him, that much obvious.

The difference was that it felt like your entire existence no longer revolved around it. Somehow, focusing on all ordinary frustrations had made everything else feel smaller. For the first time in a while, you felt like yourself again, which was probably why you agreed to help one of your teachers after class.

It seemed harmless enough at the time. It was just a simple favour, five minutes of your time. Unfortunately, teachers had a very different understanding of the word simple. Twenty minutes later, you found yourself carrying what felt like the entire contents of a storage room through one of the academic buildings.

A stack of folders was balanced precariously against your chest, several textbooks were tucked underneath one arm and a plastic container filled with miscellaneous classroom supplies kept threatening to slide out of your grasp every time you took a step.

You couldn’t see properly.

You couldn’t walk properly.

You were beginning to suspect your teacher had deliberately chosen you because you looked too polite to say no.

The hallway itself was mostly empty. Classes had ended nearly half an hour ago, leaving only the occasional student lingering behind for clubs, sports or whatever mysterious activities seemed to keep people at school long after everyone else had gone home. The combination of limited visibility and questionable balance meant you didn’t notice someone approaching from the opposite direction.

Not until it was too late.

The collision wasn’t dramatic, nobofy went flying across the hallway, well just the stack of folders that immediately tilted sideways, and the plastic container that slipped- oh and a pencil case launched itself onto the floor.

And before you could react, several sheets of paper had already escaped and scattered across the hallway like they were making a run for freedom. For one dreadful second, you simply stood there staring. Of course this was happening. Then a voice spoke.

“Whoa.”

You froze. Slowly, you looked up.

Seonghyeon looked just as surprised as you felt, then he looked down at the disaster surrounding your feet. Then back up at you. Then back down again. A smile appeared.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re thinking something.”

“I am.”

You sighed.

“Great.”

The smile widened slightly.

Without another word, he crouched down and began gathering the papers scattered across the floor.

You hated how familiar the sight felt.

A few months ago, seeing Eom Seonghyeon kneeling on a hallway floor collecting your homework would’ve felt absurd. Now it barely registered as unusual. Together, the two of you began collecting the mess. Most of it in silence. The kind that had somehow become normal between you before either of you noticed.

The strange thing was that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t hyperaware of him. You weren’t overthinking every word, you weren’t wondering what something meant. You were simply trying to stop your papers from disappearing underneath a nearby vending machine.

“You know,” Seonghyeon said eventually, handing over another folder “for somebody who was late because of a pen, I feel like this tracks.”

You stared at him then immediately groaned.

“No.”

“Oh, yes.”

“That happened once.”

“You were defeated by a mere pen.”

“I wasn’t defeated.”

“You absolutely were.”

To your annoyance, a laugh escaped before you could stop it. The sound earned a grin from him. The folders had been restacked, the notebooks gathered and the loose papers that had scattered across half the hallway had been retrieved. Only one sheet remained. It had drifted farther than the others. The hallway itself had grown noticeably quieter during the few minutes.

You moved first, or atleast you thought you did. The second you stepped forward, Seonghyeon did too. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously. You stopped, he stopped. The paper remained exactly where it was.

‘’Go ahead.’’

You looked up.

‘’What?’’

‘’You saw it first.’’

‘’No i didn’t’’

‘’You did.’’

‘’I was being polite.’’

‘’You’re never polite.’’

The response left his mouth so quickly that he seemed to realize what he had said only afterward. You stared at him, and he stared back. Then a smile appeared, it was small. The kind that always seemed to show up before he could stop it.

‘’You know what i mean.’’

‘’Do i?’’

‘’No.’’

You smiled- it was stupid. You loved the conversations, you missed them. Both of you moved at the same time again. The result was immediate. Your shoulders bumped together.

‘’Ow.’’

You immediately laughed in shock. He was being dramatic, it was a small bump.

The past few weeks suddenly seemed a little ridiculous. Seonghyeon spent so much time wondering why something felt off only to discover the answer was embarrassingly simple. He’d missed this aswell.

Haejin had never been particularly interested in making your life easier. The first sign of trouble appeared at exactly 5:34 PM on a Saturday.

Your phone buzzed.

Haejin

Can i come overrrr~

You stared at the message. Of course she could, rather it was weird she didn’t show up at your door to ask that.

You

obv

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Haejin

keonho is coming too apparently

You

Oh

Why?

Haejin

because he’s annoying and won’t leave me alone

he just texted me

he’s already on the bus

Before you could gather your thoughts to respond, another message arrived.

Haejin

oh Seonghyeon’s coming too

You nearly dropped your phone.

The thirty minutes Haejin had promised turned into forty three. Not that you were counting. You absolutely weren’t. The problem was that once somebody informed you that Haejin, Keonho and more importantly- Seonghyeon would be entering your house, suddenly every insignificant detail became a problem.

The blanket draped over the couch looked wrong. The cushions looked wrong. The stack of books sitting on the coffee table looked wrong. Even the framed photo sitting on the shelf near the television somehow looked wrong despite having remained in the exact same position for nearly three years. You were in the middle of rearranging the cushions for the third time when a voice spoke from behind you.

‘’Is Haejin coming over?’’

Your mother stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her eyes moved from you to the perfectly arranged couch, then to the freshly folded blanket, then to the coffee table you’d wiped down approximately fifteen minutes ago.

You nodded, before following it up.

‘’And two other friends.’’

‘’That’s fine- Should i go make something? A snackplate? Cut up some fruits?’’

‘’No, that’s okay.’’

The doorbell rang. The sound practically echoed throughout the house. The second your hand touched the doorknob, you could swear your heart dropped, like seriously. The door opened, and Haejin immediately walked inside without waiting for an invitation.

‘’Hello to you too.’’ You said.

‘’Thank you.’’

‘’What?’’

Behind her came Keonho, then Seonghyeon.

For some reason, seeing him standing on your doorstep felt stranger than seeing him anywhere else. Maybe because he’s become so firmly associated with school that your brain momentarily struggled to place him here. There was no football field, no hallway. Just your front porch, and Seonghyeon standing on it looking mildly uncomfortable beneath your scrunity. There was a long pause, it felt awkward.

‘’Hi.’’

Immediately, you wanted to throw yourself into traffic. It was a groundbreaking greeting, really. Thankfully, Seonghyeon wasn’t much better.

‘’Hi.’’

Behind him, Keonho sighed dramatically. ‘’This is painful.’’

The two of them stepped inside while Haejin continued acting like she had lived there for years. Almost immediately, your mother appeared from the kitchen.

‘’Hello, dear.’’

‘’Hi!’’

The response came so naturally that it sounded like a part of a routine they had performed hundreds of times before. Then your mother looked toward the boys. Before Seonghyeon could do anything, Keonho stepped forward.

‘’I’m Keonho,’’

‘’Nice to meet you.’’

‘’And that’s Seonghyeon.’’

A brief silence followed. Seonghyeon looked over, Keonho looked back.

‘’I can introduce myself.’’

‘’You were taking too long.’’

‘’You spoke first.’’

‘’Exactly.’’

Your mother laughed.

‘’It’s nice to meet both of you.’’

‘’Nice to meet you too.’’ Seonghyeon replied, then bowed out of respect, Keonho followed. Hearing him speak to your mother felt oddly surreal. Your mother smiled politely.

The second everyone made it upstairs, the energy somehow shifted.

Maybe it was because school had become such a permanent backdrop to all of your interactions that seeing those same people inside your house felt strangely unnatural. Haejin immediately made herself comfortable. Keonho wasn’t much better.

He wandered around without shame, examining random objects on your shelves with the confidence of somebody who had been granted permission despite the fact nobody had actually given him any. Meanwhile, you found yourself standing near your desk, suddenly hyperaware of everything around you.

The room wasn’t messy. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was yours.

School only allowed people to know certain versions of each other. Hallway conversations. Lunch breaks. Shared classes. Small pieces. Nobody saw what happened outside of that. Nobody saw your room at midnight when you were studying for exams. Nobody saw the stuff lying on your vanity or the old concert tickets tucked into your mirror frame. Nobody saw the photos you had forgotten were hanging on the wall until this exact moment.

And Seonghyeon seemed to notice everything.

Not in an obvious way. He wasn’t walking around inspecting things. If anything, he seemed quieter than usual. While Keonho was busy making himself at home and Haejin was already flopped across your bed scrolling through her phone, Seonghyeon’s gaze occasionally drifted around the room before moving elsewhere again. Small observations. Brief glances. Yet somehow those felt worse. You couldn’t tell whether he was actually paying attention or whether your brain was simply inventing reasons to be nervous.

“You definitely cleaned.”

You immediately looked at Haejin.

“No.”

“Yes you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You moved something.”

“I didn’t.”

Haejin’s eyes slowly travelled across the room.

“The cushions downstairs.”

You hated her.

The smile spreading across her face told you she’d won.

“Oh my god. You did move the cushions.”

“I hate talking to you.”

From somewhere beside the bookshelf, a laugh escaped Keonho.

“You cleaned for us?”

“It wasn’t for you.”

The room fell silent for half a second before Haejin started laughing because of Keonho’s reaction. The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Conversations drifted from one topic to another without much direction. Somebody brought up an old teacher. That somehow became a discussion about embarrassing middle school memories. Then football. Then exams. Then an argument, nobody actually cared about the answer. The argument continued anyway.

At some point, somebody stole your blanket. At some point, Keonho and Haejin became invested in a debate so stupid that the original topic had long since been forgotten.

“You are fundamentally misunderstanding the point.”

“I understand it perfectly.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re just wrong.”

“I’m always right.”

“That’s not how opinions work.”

Watching them argue was a bit like watching two people accidentally start a fire and then continue pouring gasoline on it.

Eventually, they ended up sitting on the floor near your television, completely absorbed in whatever nonsense they were discussing now. For the first time all afternoon, the room became quieter. You were sitting near the edge of your bed, scrolling through your phone while the sound of Haejin and Keonho arguing faded into the background. Beside you, Seonghyeon sat comfortably against the wall. Neither of you were really speaking.

The silence wasn’t awkward. A few months ago, silence between you would’ve felt unbearable. Now it barely registered. You scrolled past an old photo without thinking, then immediately scrolled back. A small laugh escaped you.

“What?”

You glanced up.

“Nothing.”

“That’s never true.”

You looked back down at the screen.

“It was from middle school.”

“Let me see.”

Without thinking, you handed him your phone but the second you did, you regretted it. Because the photo was awful. Seonghyeon looked at the screen, then looked at you. He smiled.

“What?” His smile widened.

“You look twelve.”

“I was twelve.”

“You look younger than twelve.”

“Give it back.”

You reached for the phone. At the exact same moment he pulled it slightly away, your hand brushed against his. The movement was tiny, it was barely anything. Yet both of you froze for a second. The noise from the rest of the room suddenly felt strangely distant. You weren’t sure why, it was stupid. People accidentally touched hands all the time, nothing should’ve happened.

Then Seonghyeon handed the phone back.

And somewhere across the room, Haejin suddenly yelled:

“THAT’S LITERALLY NOT WHAT I SAID.”

Seonghyeon didn’t realize he was still thinking about it until he walked straight into his bedroom door. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was embarrassing enough that he immediately looked around despite being completely alone. A second later he let out a quiet groan and rubbed a hand over his face.

A few minutes later after showering and changing into comfortable clothes, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed with a towel draped around his neck. His phone had been abandoned somewhere beside him. Downstairs, he could faintly hear the television playing. Everything felt normal. The day was over. There was absolutely no reason for him to still be thinking about it.

Nothing important had happened. They had gone to y/n’s house, wasted an entire afternoon doing nothing productive, listened to Keonho and Haejin argue about things neither of them cared enough to remember and eventually gone home. That was it. Yet every time Seonghyeon tried focusing on something else, his mind drifted right back there again.

The strangest part wasn’t that he had seen y/n’s room for the first time. It wasn’t even that he had spent several hours with her outside of school. It was the fact that every new thing he had learned about her somehow felt oddly expected. Not because he knew those things already, but because they fit.

The way everything looked slightly messy until you paid attention and realized there was a system behind it. Even the way she’d reacted whenever somebody pointed something out. Half embarrassed. Half annoyed. Like she wanted people to know her but only on her own terms.

A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He could already imagine how offended she’d be if she knew he was sitting here psychoanalyzing her bedroom.The thought should’ve ended there, instead another one immediately followed.

The look on her face when Haejin exposed the fact that she had obviously cleaned before they arrived. The way she tried denying it despite the evidence being painfully obvious. Then the laugh she’d let out later. Then the smile she’d been trying not to show when he teased her.

Seonghyeon dropped backward onto his mattress and stared at the ceiling. There it was again. That same problem. Every thought somehow led back to her. It was infuriating, it’s like his brain had no originality.

He had known y/n for what? A couple of months? Yet lately it felt like she kept appearing in places she wasn’t even supposed to be. In random thoughts, in conversations, in moments where he was supposed to be focusing on literally anything else. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. For the first time, Seonghyeon found himself staring directly at a possibility he had been avoiding for weeks. Not accepting it. Definitely not accepting it. Just looking at it from a safe distance. Then immediately backing away.

Nope, absolutely not.

For a long moment he simply layed there with one arm thrown across his face, feeling increasingly annoyed with himself. Because the more he thought about it, the worse his life defense became. Maybe there wasn’t some complicated explanation. Maybe the reason he had spent weeks looking for her in crowded hallways, noticing when she wasn’t around, and wondering why everything felt different lately wasn’t because something weird was happening.

Maybe the problem was much simpler than that, and that’s exactly why he didn’t wanna think about it, didn’t wanna consider it.

The problem started with a pencil.

Not because the pencil itself was important. It wasn’t. The pencil belonged to Keonho, who had somehow managed to drop it three separate times during a single class period. By the third time, the teacher looked ready to launch it out the nearest window.

A few people around the classroom were already trying and failing to hide their laughter, while Keonho seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from becoming someone’s least favorite student.

Normally, Seonghyeon would’ve found this entertaining. He probably would’ve made a comment. Maybe laughed. Maybe joined Martin in making fun of Keonho later. Instead, he was staring out the classroom window, his attention drifting somewhere beyond the teacher’s voice and the half finished notes sitting in front of him.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. At least, that was what he told himself. The lesson had become background noise a long time ago, blending together with the scratching of pencils, turning pages and the occasional sigh from students who had already mentally checked out for the day.

Outside, students crossed the courtyard below in small groups. Some were heading back toward the academic building after lunch while others lingered near the benches despite the fact that the break had ended nearly ten minutes ago. From up here everyone looked smaller, moving through familiar routines without much urgency. It was the sort of thing he would’ve glanced at for a second before looking away.

Then movement caught his attention. Someone familiar stepped through the courtyard gate. Immediately, his eyes followed. Which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t recognized her from half a building away. That felt excessive.

The distance alone should’ve made it impossible. He couldn’t even properly see her face from here. Yet somehow he had known it was y/n before he consciously registered any actual details. Before he thought about it. Before he even realized he was paying attention.

She was walking beside somebody. Just some guy from their year that Seonghyeon vaguely recognized. For a moment, he found himself watching longer than necessary. Not because anything unusual was happening. The opposite, actually. They were just talking. The guy said something and y/n laughed before shaking her head slightly. Then the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.

Have they always been friends?

Worked on a project together?

Why was he even thinking about this?

Because he genuinely didn’t care. He shouldn’t, atleast. His eyes remained fixed on the courtyard for another moment before he finally looked away. The strange thing was that nothing about the situation actually bothered him. Y/n was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. She was allowed to have other friends. The thought shouldn’t have occupied more than two seconds of his attention.

The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. It followed him when the bell rang, when students immediately began shoving books into bags and when Keonho somehow dropped the same pencil again while standing up.

Seonghyeon barely heard Martin laughing about it beside him. His attention had drifted elsewhere. Not toward the courtyard anymore, but toward the uncomfortable realization itself. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have noticed.

A few months ago, y/n would’ve blended into the hundreds of students moving around campus every day. Not really because there was anything forgettable about her, but because she had never given people a reason to look twice. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself. Half the time she seemed perfectly content existing just outside the center of things.

The weather was unusually good, good enough that nobody wanted to spend lunch indoors. The football field, basketball court and every bench around campus were crowded with students taking advantage of the rare sunshine. Conversations echoed across the courtyard.

Seonghyeon sat on a low concrete wall near the basketball court with Martin, Keonho, James and Juhoon. Or rather, everyone else was sitting. Martin had somehow convinced himself he was the next basketball prodigy and had spent the last ten minutes repeatedly shooting the same ball at the hoop missing every time.

“You know,” James said, watching another failed attempt, “at some point this becomes a public safety hazard.”

Martin caught the rebound.

“You people don’t understand greatness.”

“Stick to football, please.”

Martin looked offended.

Beside them, Keonho was lying dramatically across the wall as if he’d just survived a life threatening event.

“I’ve decided something.”

Nobody reacted.

“I’m serious.”

Still nothing.

“You guys never support me.”

Juhoon didn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s because your ideas are usually terrible.”

“See? Exactly what I’m talking about.”

James sighed.

“What realization have you had now?”

Keonho sat up immediately.

“I should get priority in the cafeteria queue.”

‘’Why?’’

‘’Because i’m an athlete.’’

‘’…and so are we.’’

‘’Yeaaaaah- whatever.’’ Keonho immediately leaned back again.

The bookstore had always felt different after sunset.

Because there were fewer people around, or because the street outside became quieter once the shops started closing for the evening. Whatever the reason, everything seemed softer at night. The warm yellow lights reflected against the shelves, the air smelled faintly of paper and old wood and somewhere near the front counter low music played quietly enough that it blended into the background. It was one of the reasons you came here so often. Nobody bothered you. You could spend an hour staring at the same shelf and nobody would question it.

Which was exactly what you had been doing for the last ten minutes. At least until a familiar voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the store. You didn’t react immediately. At first your brain simply registered the sound as familiar. Then a second passed. Then another. And suddenly your head snapped up.

For a brief moment you genuinely convinced yourself you were imagining things. The possibility would’ve been less embarrassing than the alternative. Slowly, you stepped around the end of a bookshelf and glanced down the next aisle. Immediately, your stomach betrayed you.

Because standing near the back of the store was Seonghyeon. Not somebody who looked like him. It was him. Seeing him here felt like spotting a teacher at the grocery store. Not wrong exactly, just unsettling enough to force your brain to restart.

He was standing beside a rolling cart filled with books, listening while the owner explained something. Every now and then he would nod before reaching over to place another book onto a shelf. Judging by how comfortably he moved around the store, this clearly wasn’t his first time here. Then the owner noticed you. His face brightened instantly. “Y/n.”

Oh great, Seonghyeon was turning around too. For a second, surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. The same smile that had become increasingly dangerous for your emotional wellbeing over the past few months.

“Hey.’’

It still managed to make your heart forget how to function. The owner looked between the two of you before immediately deciding this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all week.

“You two know each other?”

The silence that followed felt unnecessarily heavy. Technically, the answer was simple. Still, none of you spoke immediately. Eventually Seonghyeon answered first. “We go to school together.”

The owner looked unconvinced. You understood why. Because there was something suspicious about the way Seonghyeon had smiled while saying it. As if the answer was technically true. Just not the entire truth.

The owner eventually disappeared toward the front of the store after receiving a late delivery, leaving the two of you alone with several half empty shelves and a cart stacked with books that apparently needed to be reorganized before closing. The task itself wasn’t particularly difficult, but the aisle he had assigned you to was.

It was narrow enough that every time one of you moved, the other had to adjust accordingly. At first neither of you paid much attention to it. The conversation flowed naturally. It should have felt normal. In theory, it was normal. Still, somewhere between reaching for the same stack of novels and arguing over whether a book belonged in the mystery section or literary fiction, you became increasingly aware of how little space actually existed between the two of you.

You noticed gradually rather than all at once. One moment you were focused on sorting books, the next you found yourself noticing things that shouldn’t have mattered. The sleeves of Seonghyeon’s hoodie were pushed up to his forearms. His hair kept falling into his eyes every few minutes. Every time it did, he would push it back before continuing whatever he was doing. It wasn’t remarkable.

It wasn’t even interesting. Yet for some reason, your attention kept returning to it. Across from you, Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. He had spent the last several weeks trying very hard not to think too deeply about certain things, only to discover that being alone with you outside school made that task significantly more difficult. At school there were distractions. Friends, classes, teachers, noise. Here there was only the soft hum of the bookstore, the occasional turning page from a customer somewhere in the distance, and you.

You reached for a book resting near the top shelf at the exact same moment Seonghyeon stepped forward to place another back in its place. Neither of you noticed the timing until it was already too late. The aisle was far too narrow for both movements to happen at once. One second you were focused entirely on the shelf in front of you, the next you found yourself stopping abruptly as Seonghyeon did the same. Far too close.

You hadn’t walked into him. Neither of you had. Yet somehow the distance between you had disappeared anyway. The narrow aisle had trapped both of you in the same small space and now neither of you could move without brushing past the other. Instinctively, you took a small step backward. Though, your shoulder bumped lightly against the bookshelf behind you, leaving nowhere else to go. The movement seemed to catch Seonghyeon’s attention. His eyes flickered toward you before immediately looking away again. Then back. That was worse.

Because now he was actually looking at you. Not casually. Not the way he normally did. The kind of look that lasted a second too long. The kind that made you suddenly aware of every inch separating you.

Neither of you moved. Somewhere outside, a car passed by. Somewhere inside, somebody turned a page. Neither sound felt real. Not compared to this. Not compared to the fact that Seonghyeon was standing close enough for you to notice details you never should have been able to notice. The faint scent of his cologne. The slight rise and fall of his breathing. The way his gaze kept dropping for the briefest moments before returning to your eyes again.

Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. A normal person would have stepped away by now. That was the logical thing to do. The obvious thing. Yet for some reason, neither of them seemed capable of being the first one to move. His hand was still resting against the shelf above your shoulder. Not touching you. Close enough that it felt like it.

Close enough that every rational thought in his head had abruptly stopped functioning. He couldn’t even remember what book he had been reaching for. Couldn’t remember what either of you had been talking about thirty seconds ago. All he knew was that you were looking up at him and that suddenly felt like a very torturous thing. The silence stretched. Your eyes dropped briefly, then lifted again.

Mistake.

Because the second your gaze met his again, something shifted. Neither of you moved, yet the distance felt smaller than before. Small enough that for one completely irrational second, the possibility crossed both of your minds at the same time. And judging by the way Seonghyeon’s breathing faltered, he knew it too.

The sound of a stack of books being dropped somewhere near the front counter shattered the moment instantly. Both of you stepped back so fast it almost hurt.

The rest of the evening felt strangely disconnected after that.

You had left the bookstore not long after, mumbling some excuse about needing to get home before it got too late. The owner had teased you for leaving earlier than usual, but you barely remembered what you had said in response. Your brain had been somewhere else entirely.

The walk home should’ve felt familiar. You had taken the same route hundreds of times before. The same streets. The same convenience store on the corner. The same traffic lights that always seemed determined to turn red at the worst possible moment. Yet everything felt slightly off, as if somebody had shifted the world half an inch to the left without telling you.

The problem was that your brain had apparently become incapable of behaving normally whenever he was involved. Every time you replayed the evening, you found yourself stopping at the same moment. Your thoughts kept drifting there on their own. The narrow aisle. The silence. The way neither of you had moved. The way you suddenly became aware of absurd things you never paid attention to before, like how close he was standing or how easy it would’ve been to reach out and touch him.

Meanwhile, Seonghyeon made it approximately twelve minutes before realizing he was completely screwed.

The bookstore owner had eventually returned to find him standing in the wrong aisle holding a book he had already shelved three separate times. Seonghyeon wasn’t usually the type to get distracted. If anything, one of the things people liked most about him was how calm he was under pressure. Football matches didn’t stress him out, presentations didn’t stress him out. Exams stressed him out a little, but not enough to make him lose sleep. One interaction with y/n had completely destroyed his ability to focus. The owner had asked him a question and Seonghyeon had stared at him for three seconds before realizing he had not heard a single word.

Every time he thought he had moved on, he would remember some tiny detail and immediately get distracted again. The way she looked up at him. The way she froze. The fact that neither of them had stepped away immediately. That part bothered him most. A normal person would’ve moved. A normal person would’ve laughed it off and continued shelving books. Instead, they had both just stood there staring at each other like complete idiots until somebody dropped books near the front counter and snapped them back to reality.

The days after the bookstore felt strangely normal on the surface and completely unbearable underneath. Y/n would be halfway through listening to Haejin before suddenly remembering the look on Seonghyeon’s face in that aisle and immediately losing track of the conversation. Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. Looking for y/n had somehow become a habit. Not a conscious one. His eyes just seemed to find her automatically now, and what bothered him most wasn’t seeing her. It was when he couldn’t.

By Thursday afternoon, students flooded out of their classrooms as the bell rang. Conversations echoed through the hallways while people pushed toward their next lesson. Seonghyeon was walking with his friends, half listening to whatever argument Keonho was currently having, when he spotted y/n a little ahead. She was walking through the crowd. He didn’t think about it. Not really. The words left his mouth before his brain had the opportunity to intervene.

‘’You coming this friday?’’ The second he said it, she turned around.

‘’What?’’

Seonghyeon blinked, for a moment neither spoke.

‘’Where?’’

And suddenly every functioning thought in Seonghyeon’s head disappeared. Apparently, he had skipped an entire conversation.

‘’You know..’’ He started. No, obviously she didn’t know.

‘’The game.’’ She stared. ‘’The football game?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ Only now did Seonghyeon realize how insane this looked. They had never actually discussed her coming. Not once. For some reason though, it had already become a possibility in his head.

‘’Oh.’’ The hallway suddenly felt far too crowded. ‘’You don’t have to.’’ The words came out faster than he intended and he immediately regretted them, because now it sounded like he didn’t care. Which wasn’t true. Not even remotely. ‘’You could- you-‘’ He paused, then looked at her. Actually looked at her. ‘’I’d like it if you did.’’

Y/n’s heart had stopped functioning. There was no reason that sentence should’ve affected her the way it did. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even flirting. Yet standing there in the middle of a crowded hallway, it felt dangerously close to something else. And suddenly she realized he actually meant it.

He wanted her there. A smile threatened to appear, she fought it immediately and failed. ‘’Okay.’’ The answer came out softer than she had intended.

Something shifted in Seonghyeon’s expression. The tension in his shoulders eased and the smallest smile appeared.

By the time you arrived, most of the stadium was still empty. The match wasn’t starting for another hour, leaving the school caught in that strange period between preparation and chaos. Staff moved equipment across the field, a few students wandered through the entrance gates and somewhere deeper inside the athletic building, the football team was getting ready. You honestly hadn’t planned on coming this early. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself. The hallway leading toward the locker rooms was nearly deserted when you spotted him.

Seonghyeon was standing beside a row of lockers, already dressed in his uniform, one hand resting against the metal door while he searched through his bag for something. For a moment, you simply watched. It felt unfair how normal he looked. Like he hadn’t spent the last few weeks slowly becoming the cause of half your problems.

Maybe he felt you staring, because a second later he looked up and smiled. Not the polite smile. Not the one he gave teachers. The real one. The one that always seemed to appear before he could stop it.

“You know the game’s not starting for another hour, right?” The greeting caught you off guard.

“What, you’re kicking me out already?”

“No,” he said immediately, a little too quickly.

“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here this early.”

You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Maybe I have nothing better to do.”

“That’s depressing.” You stared at him.

“You’re about to play an important match.”

“And you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m helping you stay humble.” A laugh escaped him, and for a moment neither of you said anything else. The conversation should’ve ended there. It didn’t. For some reason, Seonghyeon was still standing there. For some reason, you were too.

“You nervous?” you asked eventually.

“About the game?” You nodded.

“Unless you’re secretly taking a math exam afterwards.” His smile returned.

“A little.” The answer surprised you, it sounded genuine.

“You?” he asked. You frowned. “What?”

“Nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?” Something shifted in his expression. “Good question.” The look he gave you made your stomach drop because suddenly it didn’t feel like you were talking about football anymore.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. That was the problem. It felt too easy. Too comfortable. The kind of silence that only happened when you genuinely liked being around someone. You looked away first, which immediately turned out to be a mistake because the second you did, you became aware of how close he was standing. Not close enough to be strange. Close enough to matter. When you looked back up, Seonghyeon was already looking at you.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The hallway felt quieter than before, and you couldn’t remember what you had been about to say. His gaze dropped for the briefest second before lifting again. The movement was tiny. It still made your heart nearly stop. For the first time since you had met him, Seonghyeon looked completely thrown off, like he was realizing something at the exact same time you were.

The realization hung between you. Neither of you acknowledged it. Neither of you looked away. The distance somehow felt smaller now. A lot smaller. You weren’t sure whether one of you had stepped forward or if you had simply stopped paying attention to everything except him. Seonghyeon let out a quiet breath. His eyes flickered down again. This time neither of you pretended not to notice. The moment stretched. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for your pulse to start racing. Long enough for him to look like he’d completely forgotten where he was.

Long enough that if either of you moved even slightly-

“SEONGHYEON!”

The shout echoed through the hallway, making both of you jump apart so fast it was embarrassing. A teammate appeared around the corner. “Coach is looking for you.” Seonghyeon genuinely looked annoyed. Actually annoyed. Which somehow made everything worse.

“Yeah.” he muttered. The teammate disappeared again, leaving the two of you standing there in the aftermath of something neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.

Then Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck and let out a short laugh. “I should probably go before he benches me.”

“Probably.”

Then he looked at you properly. Not past you. Not around you. At you.

‘’Stay until the game finishes.’’

You blinked.

‘’What?’’

‘’You came all the way here, it’d be rude to leave earlier.’’ The excuse was terrible, both of you knew it. You were smiling. You gave him a reassuring hum. His own smile softened.

The whistle blew before you were ready for it.

Almost immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The scattered conversations around the stadium disappeared beneath the sound of cheering as both teams surged forward. Whatever relaxed energy had existed before kickoff vanished entirely. Suddenly everything felt louder. Faster. More important. You tried focusing, you really did.

For the first few minutes, your attention stayed where it was supposed to. The ball moved rapidly across the field, players weaving around each other while the crowd reacted to every near miss and interception. It was impossible not to get caught up in it. Even people who barely cared about football seemed invested tonight.

Then your thoughts wandered. Without warning, your mind dragged you back to the hallway. To the silence. To the way Seonghyeon had looked at you. A collective groan erupted from the crowd. You blinked. Apparently you missed something.

“That would’ve been such a good goal!’’ Haejin complained beside you.

“Are you even watching?’’

‘’I am.’’

‘’You’re not!’’

Before you could argue, the game resumed and your attention returned to the field. This time it stayed there for a while.The match itself was good. Really good. Both teams were evenly matched which only made the atmosphere more intense. Every attack felt intense. Every mistake earned a reaction from the crowd. By the time twenty minutes had passed, even you had stopped pretending not to care. A player from the opposing team broke through the defense. The stadium collectively held its breath. The shot missed by centimeters and the entire crowd exploded. Students jumped to their feet.

And before you realized it, you were standing too. For a moment, you just stared then slowly sat back down.

Huh. Maybe football wasn’t completely boring.

The final minutes of the match passed in a blur. The score was tied. Every touch of the ball seemed to pull a reaction from the crowd, every mistake earning groans and every opportunity drawing people to the edge of their seats. Even students who barely cared about football were standing now. The atmosphere had become infectious. Somewhere beside you, Haejin had completely abandoned any attempt at acting normal. She was half standing, half leaning over the railing, reacting to every play as if her life depended on it.

The clock was running down when Seonghyeon received the ball near midfield. The crowd immediately reacted. Maybe it was because everybody trusted him. Whatever the reason, the second he moved forward thousands of eyes followed. Including yours. The play happened so quickly you barely had time to process it. A pass. A turn. Somebody shouting. Then suddenly the ball hit the back of the net. The stadium exploded, the noise that had erupted was unbelievable.

Students jumped to their feet. Teammates rushed across the field. People screamed loud enough to make your ears ring. Somewhere beside you, Haejin grabbed your shoulders and started shaking you like she had personally scored the goal herself. You laughed in surprise.

The first thing Seonghyeon did after his teammates swarmed him was lift his head and look at you. The distance between you was enormous. The field, the track, hundreds of people, yet he found you.

The final whistle blew moments later. The match was over. The celebration wasn’t. Students immediately flooded toward the exits, some heading for the field while others crowded around friends and teammates. The entire stadium seemed alive with movement. You lingered for a while, letting people pass before eventually gathering your things.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were going. Only that suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of people felt overwhelming. The night air was cooler outside the stadium. The noise became quieter with every step until it faded into the background completely. For the first time all evening, you were alone with your thoughts.

You had almost reached the corner of the building when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, it was Seonghyeon. He was still wearing his uniform, still slightly out of breath. He looked at you, the corners of Seonghyeon’s mouth lifted first.

“You were leaving.”

You laughed softly.

“Why does everybody keep accusing me of that?”

“Because you keep doing it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Maybe you would’ve argued. Maybe you would’ve defended yourself. You found yourself smiling instead. The noise from the stadium felt distant now. The world seemed smaller somehow. Reduced to the stretch of pavement between the two of you and the fact that neither of you seemed interested in leaving.

A group of students passed somewhere behind Seonghyeon still loud from the match, still arguing over goals and missed opportunities and who deserved credit for the win. One of them called his name. Normally he would’ve responded automatically. You had seen it happen a hundred times before. Yet he didn’t even turn around. His attention never left you. Something about that made your stomach flip.

For months, Seonghyeon had existed in constant motion. Surrounded by teammates, friends, conversations. There was always somebody looking for him. Always somewhere else he needed to be. Now, after one of the biggest matches of the season, after scoring the winning goal, after spending two hours being pulled in every direction, he was standing here looking at you like the rest of the world had become background noise.

The smile on Seonghyeon’s face faded slightly. Your pulse sped up immediately, you knew. Not what he was thinking, not exactly. However, you knew this moment mattered.

The distance between you felt ridiculous, like it was the only thing both of you could focus on. Every second stretched longer than it should have. Your heart was beating so hard, you became painfully aware of it.

Seonghyeon took a step forward. You hated how quickly your breath caught. You hated how your eyes immediately dropped before finding his again. You hated that he noticed. You were standing close enough to notice details you never should’ve noticed. The faint flush lingering across his cheeks from the match. The way his hair had fallen messily across his forehead. The fact that he looked just as overwhelmed as you felt.

Your hand found the sleeve of his jersey before you even realized what you were doing. The second your fingers curled around the fabric, Seonghyeon’s eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to you. Something in his expression completely softened. Then finally, after a dreadful amount of missed chances and interrupted moments and terrible timing,

Seonghyeon kissed you.

The football field, the crowd, the noise from the stadium, all of it disappeared into the background until there was nothing left except the overwhelming realization that this was actually happening. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it felt like both of you had spent so long circling around this moment that neither of you quite knew what to do once you had reached it. Your grip tightened slightly against his jersey without meaning to, and something about that made his hand find yours.

You had spent weeks turning Seonghyeon into a problem inside your head. Something complicated. Something impossible to ignore. Yet standing here now, there was nothing complicated about it.

Then, your lips crashed against his. Off-center at first, your nose bumping his jaw accidentally before you corrected. You were pulling him closer. Seonghyeon had reacted immediately, his hands reached to cup your face delicately. His lips were warm and softer than you had expected for a boy who felt so intimidating and cold at first. The contrast sent something sharp down your spine.

He shifted one of his hands to your waist, the touch light at first, like he was questioning if you’d pull away. You didn’t, you kissed him harder. He tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and suddenly the kiss fit differently, better, deeper. His chest was pressed against yours. Your heart was pounding, he could feel it. Or maybe it was his own heart.

His thumb was brushing along your cheekbone, tilting your face up to meet his more fully. He kissed you properly now, he matched your energy. He kissed you until his lips were numb, he kissed you with genuine love. He kissed you like he was trying to get inside your skin. He was a mess for you. He took over the pacing, guiding slowly through it.

At some point, neither of you seemed to care how long you had been standing there. When you finally pulled apart, it wasn’t because either of you wanted to. It was because breathing had become somewhat important. The distance between you barely existed. Seonghyeon’s hand remained at your waist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as both of you tried to remember how to function.

You simply looked at each other. Weirdly, after months of wondering and guessing and pretending not to notice, that felt like enough. For the first time since all of this started, neither of you had to question it anymore.

Seonghyeon liked you.

You liked Seonghyeon.

And after everything it had taken to get here, It felt so good.

The next morning felt strangely normal. The school building was still crowded. Students still dragged themselves through the hallways half awake. Somewhere down the corridor, Martin was already being unnecessarily loud before first period had even started.

He was greeting everyone with the biggest smile plastered across his face, he was way too happy at 8:30 in the morning. Not as happy as you though. Your cheeks hurt, genuienly hurt reaching the main building. Everytime you remembered yesterday, another smile appeared before you could stop it. You were very warm, you just hoped it wasn’t obvious externally.

‘’You look happy.’’

You looked up, Seonghyeon was standing beside your locker. Immediately your smile got worse, a strange feeling in your stomach had come from nowhere when you looked at him.

‘’Hi.’’

He smiled.

His hand found yours so naturally it almost sent shivers through your body. His fingers slipping through yours as though they’d belonged there since forever. The action sent a completely unreasonable amount of warmth through your chest.

the two of you started walking toward your classroom. The hallway buzzed with conversation around you, people moving in every direction. A few students greeted Seonghyeon as they passed. He greeted them back automatically. Everything felt familiar. Yet every few steps your attention drifted toward your joined hands again. It was such a small thing.

“You know,” Seonghyeon said after a moment, glancing sideways, “you look less tired today.” You immediately narrowed your eyes. “You said I looked tired.”

“I said you were tired.”

“No.’’

“I meant it differently.”

“Sure.”

You tried very hard not to smile. Failed immediately. Beside you, Seonghyeon looked equally hopeless. The two of you reached your classroom far too quickly. Students were already filtering inside. The bell would ring any minute now. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to acknowledge that. Eventually, Seonghyeon stopped outside the door.

“So.”

‘’So.’’

A smile appeared, and a matching one answered it. Then Seonghyeon sqeezed your hand once before letting you go.

‘’I’ll see you later.’’

☘︎

taglist: @dreamyevilcomet @vilovestosimp @iifrui @riddlesonlywife @seombaby @hyeonverse @6rei-ji

[young2keu]

𑣲 syn. an afternoon of babysitting, but the baby has strong opinions on who the real baby is. contains. gn!reader x bf!seonghyeon, fluff, sfw, babysitting, teasing/humor. wordcount. 1.4k request

the afternoon had been surprisingly peaceful.

or at least, as peaceful as an afternoon could be when it involved supervising a fourteen-month-old with limitless energy and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

your cousin had spent most of the day wandering around the apartment on unsteady little legs, bouncing from one interest to the next every few minutes. one moment he was stacking cups. the next he was attempting to climb onto the coffee table. after that, he'd somehow become fascinated by a single wooden spoon and carried it around for nearly twenty minutes like he'd discovered buried treasure.

it was exhausting, mostly because every time you thought he'd finally settled on one thing, he'd find something else to fixate on. admittedly, it was kind of adorable in the way only short bursts of chaos could be.

by the time the doorbell rang, you were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor while your cousin investigated a pile of toys beside you.

the second he heard the sound, his head lifted. so did yours.

"come on," you muttered, pushing yourself up. "let's see who it is."

your cousin immediately abandoned the toys and toddled after you.

when you opened the door, seonghyeon barely got halfway through smiling before he noticed the small child standing beside your leg.

it was almost funny how quick his smile froze.

and then he just stared at the baby for a second like that. mouth slightly open in what you could only guess was the beginning of a greeting, breath caught in his throat and eyes wide in surprise.

then he looked at you.

then back at the baby.

then at you again.

"whose is that?"

you blinked. "hello to you too."

"whose baby is that?"

"that's my cousin."

the relief that crossed his face was so immediate it nearly offended you.

"oh."

your eyes narrowed. "what exactly were you thinking?"

"nothing."

"seonghyeon."

he stepped inside. "for a second, i thought there was something you forgot to tell me about."

behind you, your cousin had gone completely still. the stuffed rabbit he'd been carrying hung loosely from one hand as his attention fixed entirely on seonghyeon.

his eyes followed him all the way across the room.

seonghyeon paused, glancing back toward him.

"...why is he looking at me like that?"

"i don't know."

"it's weird..."

"he's a baby."

"exactly."

you laughed. "are you intimidated by a fourteen-month-old?"

"yes."

"…that's embarrassing."

the answer was immediate. "...he's staring!"

"have you never met a baby before?"

"yeah. i've seen babies..."

his gaze flickered back toward your cousin, who was still staring.

"...i just don't think this one likes me."

if anything, the opposite seemed true.

within the next fifteen minutes, your cousin had apparently decided seonghyeon was the most interesting person he'd ever met.

you noticed it gradually at first.

the way his attention kept drifting toward wherever seonghyeon happened to be sitting. the way he would pause whatever he was doing just to watch him. the way every few minutes he'd wander over, linger nearby, then wander off again.

then the gifts started.

the first one was a plastic stacking cup.

your cousin carried it across the living room with both hands, marched directly up to seonghyeon, and deposited it onto his lap.

without a word, he turned around and left.

seonghyeon looked down.

"...what was that?"

"he gave you something."

"why?"

"probably because he likes you."

"i've only been here ten minutes, why would he like me."

the second offering arrived less than a minute later.

this time it was a toy car.

then a spoon.

then a stuffed rabbit.

then, somehow, a sock.

you weren't even aware there had been a sock lying around.

each item ended up in seonghyeon's lap. every attempt to return them was ignored. your cousin simply kept bringing more.

by the time half an hour had passed, there was a growing collection of random household objects sitting beside him.

seonghyeon looked more and more betrayed at the situation.

"i haven't even done anything."

seonghyeon gestured vaguely toward the growing collection beside him. at some point the toy car had disappeared beneath everything else. the rabbit was wedged awkwardly against the spoon. there was still a sock sitting on top of the pile for reasons nobody could explain.

"seriously," he continued. "i've literally just been sitting here."

"i know."

"so why does he keep doing this?"

you glanced over.

your cousin was currently searching beneath the coffee table, presumably for his next contribution.

"i think you've been adopted."

"i don't want to be."

"that's not your choice anymore."

the funniest part was that despite all his complaints, he was already paying attention to your cousin in the same absentminded way people did when they cared more than they realized.

every time your cousin stumbled, seonghyeon's head lifted automatically.

every time he wandered into another room, his eyes followed.

every time he got too close to something sharp or fragile, his posture shifted before he even seemed aware he was moving.

he never commented on it. probably because he didn't notice himself doing it.

you noticed, though.

which was exactly why, twenty minutes later, you found yourself leaning back against the couch with a grin.

"aw."

seonghyeon looked over at you warily. "...what."

"nothing."

"that wasn't a ‘nothing’ face."

your smile widened. "someone's attached."

"i'm not attached!"

"really?"

"…yes."

your cousin chose that exact moment to abandon his toys and toddle directly toward seonghyeon. without hesitation, he planted both hands on seonghyeon's knee and pulled himself upright.

then he raised both arms expectantly.

the message was obvious.

pick me up.

for a moment, neither of them moved— seonghyeon looking down while your cousin stared right back, unblinking.

the baby continued waiting with impressive confidence, pouting and swaying slightly in the beginnings of what seemed to be the start of a small tantrum.

eventually though; before the child could actually start his tantrum, and with the resignation of a man accepting his fate, seonghyeon leaned down and picked the baby up.

your cousin settled almost immediately once he was in seonghyeon's arms. one tiny hand curled into the front of his hoodie while the other rested against his chest. suddenly looking far too comfortable for someone who'd spent the last twenty minutes following him around.

kind of like this had been the goal the entire time.

you could already feel your smile growing.

"there he goes."

seonghyeon didn't even look at you. "don't."

"look at him."

"yn, do not—"

"baby got what he wanted."

his eyes narrowed at the overly sweet, teasing lilt in your voice.

but unfortunately for him, you were enjoying this far too much.

reaching down, you picked up the stuffed rabbit from the pile beside him.

"does baby want his toy?"

seonghyeon's eyes narrowed right away. "stop."

"does baby want bunny?" you held it out in front of him, the faint crease forming between his brows making it harder not to laugh.

"i'm serious."

"aw," you gave the rabbit a little wiggle. "baby likes bunny?"

seonghyeon dropped his head back against the couch cushion. "i hate you."

your cousin seemed fascinated by the conversation despite understanding absolutely none of it.

his gaze bounced between both of you as you spoke.

every time you laughed, he laughed too.

every time seonghyeon sighed, his attention drifted back toward him.

eventually, after several seconds of careful observation, he appeared to reach some sort of conclusion.

then, with complete confidence, he reached up and patted seonghyeon's head twice in quick succession. just a couple of gentle little taps like he was checking a box.

the room fell silent for a second— nobody entirely sure how to react. your cousin looked pleased with himself, while seonghyeon just looked genuinely speechless.

which, unfortunately, only made the situation funnier.

and as your cousin did it, you reached over and copied him.

pat. right on top of seonghyeon's hair.

his head snapped toward you, a faint scowl on his face.

"don't start."

another pat. "good job."

"stop."

"such a good baby."

by now, seonghyeon had developed the look of someone realizing a joke was about to follow him for the rest of his life. and clearly, you weren't planning on helping.

"does baby want a snack?"

seonghyeon exhaled through his nose. "i'm leaving."

"does baby need his nap?"

he turned toward you, exasperation written all over his face.

"i'm serious."

before seonghyeon could react, your cousin copied you.

apparently having decided this was simply how people interacted with him now, he reached up and patted seonghyeon's hair again.

the tiny hand landed with all the confidence of someone who believed he was being extremely helpful.

for a second, nobody moved.

then your cousin giggled.

you completely lost it.

and judging by the way seonghyeon dropped his face into one hand while the baby happily patted his hair again, he already knew this wasn’t something he’d live down anytime soon.

©young2keu, 2026

𑣲⋆ perm tags, my lovies @hyeonverse @kienhawon @mitsubal0ver @keonpill @permacoils @seombaby @fatalfairie @jjuhooners @lightafl4me @luvpadron @hye-rchivee @yuesning @enha4cortis @en7h @koohannie @cortismysunshines @heymaaaartin @myueki @mariyariririri @kittsnewera @mwaeom @coerbiased @cvntycapricornxx @whsipy @taelvvrzz @hyuneskkami @2xred @ceuxnoirst @wonllitz @inadazeee @mkissed @letterstohyeon @meeoowchi

[darealteeng1rl]

HOW TO SPOT A PERFORMATIVE MALE 101 — martin edwards x reader

synopsis: the thing you hate most in this world, right alongside crying babies and the sound of nails scraping against a chalkboard, is performative males. and in your book, martin edwards is the perfect example: insufferable, self-righteous, and completely incapable of talking to a girl without letting his superiority complex show. so what happens when you'll need his help to get back at your asshole of an ex?

pairing: martin x fem!reader

(notes) fluff & humor enemies to lovers if you squint hard enough (one sided), social media au, swearing, mentions of the band "An April March" go check them out!(shout-out to my best friend for putting me onto them🙂‍↕️ this is for you emms😆😆), reader refers to martin as performative, ryul is the evil ex, featuring stella & ian (h2h), wonhee (illit), haerin (newjeans), jungwon (enhypen), ryul (lngshot) + the cortis members (james and martin), martin is a hugeeee loser, inspired by my absolute hatred towards performative males (especially ones that listen to clairo, you're not special😒)

teengirl's note! hey teengirl nation😝😝😝😝😝 we're back with the martin smaus👀👀 i know y'all are SICKKKKK of seeing me pull up with these😹😹😹 what can i sayyyyy i can't go a minute without my man 🙈🙈🙈🙈 all jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy it!! part 2 should be coming soon! also, my birthday is in a few days sooo👀👀👀 happy birthday to me😝😝 i'm so excited especially because i'm gonna spend it with my sister, which rarely happens these days😓 one thing about me i'm SUPER attached to my older sister🥹🥹 sobs sobs i love her so much☹️

since school ended, i feel like i have so much time on my hands and i genuinely don't know what to do with it😣😣😣 guys i've been rotting in bed for two days straight........ somebody save me i was supposed to have a hot girl summer😭😭😭 literally out of context but i downloaded a free version of minecraft on my computer from some random website and i have absolutely no idea if it's safe........ so yeah, if you see me on the dark web, please let me know!!!😁😁 aight enough about me😹😹😹 i love you all🥹🩷 teengirl out!

[lovemartinie]

HOURS BEFORE MIDNIGHT ── ZHOU JAMES

🌸 a few hours before his birthday ends, the world quiets down, and it’s just you and james. a night of tender affection, whispered words, and soft smiles, where the best gift is simply being with each other.

GENRE : fluff PAIRING : bf!james x gn!reader CONTAINS : emotional intimacy, gentle teasing, soft physical affection (cuddling, kisses), a heartfelt letter, and a sentimental gift. WORD COUNT : 940 NOTE : a very late james bday fic!! i was busy studying for my exam (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟) [written 17 oct]

The apartment is quiet now, almost unreal in how still it feels after the day’s chaos. Outside, the city hums softly in the distance, streetlights spilling golden puddles across the windowsill. Inside, the faint scent of cake lingers, mingling with the warmth of blankets and the quiet electricity of being alone with him. James sits on the couch, slouched just enough to look casual, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair still tousled from the day. There’s that soft tiredness in his eyes, the curve of his lips that makes your chest flutter even when he’s half-asleep.

You’re curled against him, legs draped across his lap, your head resting on his shoulder. One of his hands idly traces circles on your thigh, thumb warm and steady, the other tucked behind your back, holding you close without effort. The silence between you isn’t empty — it’s full, layered with the comfort of familiarity and the quiet joy of having survived another day together.

“Almost midnight,” you murmur, watching the shadows shift as the lamp flickers.

James hums, voice low and lazy. “Mm. Feels weird that the day’s almost over. It went by too fast.”

You reach over and slip your fingers into his, holding them briefly. “Not for me,” you whisper. “I’m still here. And I saved one last thing for you.”

His eyebrows lift, playful curiosity mixing with fatigue. “One last thing? You’re spoiling me.”

You smile against him, tugging gently at his hand. “It’s nothing big. I promise.”

Reaching beneath the cushion, you pull out a small, neatly wrapped package. The paper is soft to the touch, a faint crinkle as you hand it to him. He takes it carefully, brushing your fingers as he lifts it, a look of something soft flickering in his eyes — curiosity, amusement, affection all mixed together.

He unwraps it slowly, almost reverently, as though savoring the act itself. Inside is a small metallic keychain, simple but gleaming faintly in the lamp’s warm light. Two initials are engraved side by side — yours and his.

“Us,” he whispers, almost to himself, thumb brushing over the letters. His voice is softer now, quieter, the playful edge from earlier gone.

You lean closer, heart thudding. “Thought you could carry it with you… something small that’s always yours.”

He looks up at you then, eyes bright and slightly wet, and the way he catches your gaze makes your chest ache. “I… I love it. You didn’t have to, but I love it.”

You reach down and squeeze his hand. “I wanted to. It’s your birthday.”

There’s a small pause, almost sacred in its softness, before your fingers brush over a folded envelope tucked beneath the keychain. He picks it up carefully, reading the delicate script, and you feel your stomach flutter in anticipation.

“Should I read it now?” he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, pressing your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “If you want.”

He unfolds the letter slowly. Every line, every word you wrote seems to draw him closer, his breathing catching slightly, his lips tugging into a small, quiet smile as he reads. Sometimes he glances up at you, and your heart skips — the vulnerability there, the quiet adoration, both at once, as though he’s seeing not just the words but everything you feel for him.

“Did you… really write all this for me?” he asks, voice breaking just a little.

“Of course,” you murmur, feeling your own voice catch. “It’s your birthday. I had to tell you.”

He sets the letter aside, resting his forehead gently against yours. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. “You’re… you’re incredible,” he says softly. “The keychain… the letter… you. All of it. I… I don’t know what to say.”

You press a soft kiss to his lips, and he responds immediately, slow and steady, brushing his thumbs along your jaw. It’s not rushed, not urgent — just a gentle confirmation of everything that’s unspoken, a bridge between words and feeling.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead still resting against yours, he murmurs, “I’ve never felt… this quiet before, with someone. I can feel it all, right here,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “And it’s you.”

Your chest tightens at his words. You tuck yourself closer, resting your head against his shoulder again. “You’ve got me,” you whisper.

“Mm,” he hums, a low, contented sound. “And I’ve got you. Best part of my whole day… my whole year, honestly.”

The clock ticks closer to midnight. Outside, a car hums past, fading into the distance. Inside, the glow of the lamp and the weight of quiet affection fills the room. You can feel him relax against you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pressing into your temple. He tucks you closer, arms wrapping around you like he’s never letting go.

“Happy birthday, James,” you murmur, voice thick with emotion.

He presses a kiss to your hair, soft and lingering. “Best one yet,” he whispers. “Because of you.”

And there, in the quiet glow of the lamp, with a letter, a tiny keychain, and all the words left unspoken but deeply felt, you let yourselves stay there — tangled, warm, safe. Time has no hold over you. The world has shrunk to the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your ear, the weight of him in your lap, the way your fingers thread together and don’t want to let go.

And for a few hours before midnight, nothing else exists but the two of you, quiet and full, hearts pressed close together, and love so tangible it hums in the stillness.

creds: pearl by @cursed-carmine, swan by @222luvr, scalloped by @chrisssiren ♡

tags: [wanna be tagged in my next fic? comment on the user directory to be added!!]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ back to masterlist

[clubmochi]

THE WEIGHT WE COULDN'T SHARE ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ zhao yufan

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

SYNOPSIS :: in which your chronic condition gets in between your relationship with james.

WC :: 2.3k

CONTAINS :: heavy angst, no comfort (for now hehe), lots & lots of tears, arguing, pcos, endometriosis, doctors, hospital, pulling back, avoidant attachment, negative mindset, hints of depressive tendencies

PLAYLIST :: fine line by harry styles, scott street by phoebe bridgers, medicine by daughter, call your mom by noah kahan, cold by novo amor

AN :: written for all those who struggle with chronic conditions and illnesses too, i feel you and i am here for you. my DMs are always open for you ♡ it is so beyond exhausting, but we fight this together :) i’d also like to add that you absolutely CAN have children with these chronic conditions, but the main lead here tends to think the worst of things :(

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

There is a particular kind of heartbreak in discovering your suffering was real all along. 

Seated in my doctor’s clinic, I’m jittery–hands shaking, nails bitten, knee bouncing up and down to the sound of the clock’s ticking. Everything is simultaneously too loud and too quiet. I’ve been here quite often for the past few months, and before that, in several other clinics just like this one. Each time, I’d go home with the same doctor’s note to simply “get more rest” or “change my diet”. I spent years adapting to pain I should have never had to normalize. Years believing that everybody was in constant wars with their bodies; Years believing that everyone lived this tired.  

Nobody tells you how painful it is to finally be understood, to finally be told that there would be a reason, a truth, a diagnosis for everything that had been deemed “normal” by many professionals before them. 

I didn’t cry when they told me what it was, nor when the words “PCOS” or “Polycystic Ovary Syndrome” and “Endometriosis” stared back at me–I cried because I finally knew it wasn’t all in my head. 

When the initial shock had subsided and the doctor’s appointment had concluded, I still found myself shaking as I walked to the car. I should have done something–called James to pick me up perhaps, but the thought of him had only brought a sinking feeling within me. The feeling wasn’t sudden–it crawled beneath my skin, restless and electric. My chest tightened like a fist slowly closing around my lungs. The space of my car suddenly felt smaller, thinner.

I’d always imagined this moment of diagnosis would come with all the positive emotions—joy, elation, perhaps even comfort. I’d imagined I’d call James immediately–jumping and prancing in delight. In pure relief that there’d finally been a tangible reason for all that I’d been through, a hope for a cure, or a treatment plan I could begin.

But that hope became a complicated thing when I found out there would be no cure waiting at the end of things. Because that is the thing with chronic conditions–they last a lifetime. And as my doctor had explained, the hardest part of PCOS and Endometriosis would not be the pain, but the permanence of it. 

Many would argue this diagnosis was not a big deal–from the outside, I looked healthy enough for people to doubt my suffering. I’d learned to smile through the symptoms that were severe enough to keep me awake at night–to keep James awake at night. Sweet, sweet James–who’d stuck with me through the cancelled plans and midnight pharmacy runs and the nights I’d wake up shaking in pain. He’d bury the shame of cancelling plans with his friends last minute, perhaps not even feel that shame at all, if it meant I needed him. Run to the nearest pharmacy at the crack of dawn for me. Hug me and console me through all the physical pain and mental torment that came with chronic conditions. 

I recall the nights that pain had made me distant, exhausted, ashamed of needing things. He’d told me once that that had been the part he hated the most. The shame. Not the illness itself. Not the long nights, pharmacy runs, or cancelled plans. He said he’d hated the way I apologized for it, every single time.

How could I bare not to? Just like I could not bare the idea of having James stuck to a lifetime of this–just how much misery would he be in to be left to take care of me? 

My phone rings, but I can’t take my hands off the wheel. I’m still parked at my doctor’s clinic, but my hands clutch the wheel with a pressure so intense my knuckles begin to pale. I feel it then–the pain that crawls through my pelvis and wraps around my abdomen, leaving me to simply clutch onto my stomach and hope and pray it goes away.

It doesn’t go away.

Even when the physical pain subsides, the ache in my chest never leaves. Not when James calls, once, twice–five times. Not when calls from his friends follow; a message from Keonho, a photo from Martin. 

MARTIN: Thought I’d send this to you. Wouldn’t James make such a good dad someday?

The photo feels like a slap to the face. It’s an image of James, with an unfamiliar baby fast asleep in his arms. From the notifications that follow from Keonho, you realize it’s a staff’s baby. You love babies, had always hoped to have a few of them someday.

That hope feels like a fool’s dream now. 

JAMES: I’m sorry for spam calling you, just got excited at the thought of your reaction.

JAMES: I know how much you love babies.

JAMES: You must still be in your doctor’s appointment. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Let me know if you want me to pick you up, love. Practice is ending soon. 

For once, the idea of James coming home to you doesn’t feel comforting. It’s scary. Not because of James, no, never him. But because of the doubt that had taken root in your heart and had found it’s way to your head–planting itself like vicious weeds. 

I’d been sitting on the bathroom floor when he’d found me. I hadn’t even realized he’d arrived home, missed the familiar jingle of his house keys and his call of my name. I’d folded into myself by the bathtub, tired of heaving the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The heating pad I’d managed to microwave twenty minutes ago had already gone cold beside me.

The apartment was dim, save for the dingy hallway light behind James, who took one look at me and softened immediately. What had I done to warrant that reaction? That softness?

“Hey,” he said quietly. 

I didn’t answer right away. My hands were gripping the fabric of my sweatpants so tightly my knuckles had gone pale.

“Bad?” he asks.

I only nod slightly.

He kneels by me, runs his hands through my hair like many times before. Braids it, just so I avoid getting any more vomit in it. He rubs at my back. Kisses my head. I’m familiar with this routine, comforted by it even, but how many more times can he go through this before he gets tired of it? Before he gets tired of me? 

He puts his arms around me, attempting to carry me in one gentle swoop, but I put my hands on his shoulders instead; a warning to stop. I know he’s strong, in more ways than one, but I’m just as aware of James’s strength as I am of the weight this diagnosis has caused me to put on. James frowns then, but refuses to comment on what he knows is going on in my head. He knows that sometimes, the only thing louder than the voices in my head is the quiet of his embrace. So he simply holds me, patiently, lovingly, achingly. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The days continue on like that. 

It’s an exhausting routine of late night nausea and early morning aches. It makes me cry on the nights I realize this is my reality–but it doesn’t have to be his. He doesn’t need to condemn himself to a lifetime of this.

The abdominal cramps hurt, but the idea of James finding out about the diagnosis hurts further. It’s an ache I can’t describe. The image of James realizing many things: that this is my forever, that I will be in a constant in between state of extreme discomfort and seldom relief, a level of high-maintenance that is exhausting–even for me, pains me. 

So I do what I do best,

Pull back.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It started so gradually James almost convinced himself he was imagining it. 

At first, it was little things. 

You stopped falling asleep on his chest during movies. Stopped reaching for his hand first when you crossed streets. Your replies became shorter somehow, softer around the edges, like you were carefully sanding pieces of yourself down before handing them to him.

James had realized it far before you did–you were pulling back, and he couldn’t recognize why. 

Had the weight of being an idol’s girlfriend finally taken over you? The coming home far beyond the hours of daylight, the secretive dates and even more secretive relationship, the tours around the world without you, the company rules and laws he had to follow–had James failed you? Lost you?

No. James tells himself. He can’t have, because to lose you is to lose a part of himself. To lose you is to leave you behind, and James could never do that.

So he tells himself he’s imagining it. Tells himself that maybe you’re busy, or tired, or that perhaps by tomorrow, you will feel normal again. But tomorrow arrives, and you are a little more distant. And the cruelest part? There is nothing obvious to fight.

No argument. No betrayal. No slammed doors.

Just a quiet retreat.

He keeps reaching for you anyway; physically, emotionally. He tries to get an explanation out of you, but he thinks otherwise. You’re already going through enough. So he’s left with absence, and his greatest love slowly becoming a memory while still standing in front of him.

James believes death would be easier than this.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It’s a Tuesday evening when James’s resolve finally breaks.

It was 5pm, multiple hours before his usual work day ends. You were cleaning what had been left of the dishes when your phone had rung. You picked it up without looking at the contact, a habit of yours that James would softly remind you to stop. 

Your last name was uttered, loudly, echoing from your phone speaker and throughout the apartment you and James had learned to call home. You had once again failed to notice James’s presence by the entryway, his figure hidden behind the wall you’d painted together once. 

“I’d just like to remind you of your ultrasound appointment tomorrow.” The voice continued. “I’d suggest bringing a loved one, or anyone who may be of support to you.” 

The call had ended, and soon after you were typing a message to James, who remained rooted by the doorway. 

ME: Yufan, I’m going to Chaewon’s apartment tomorrow.

ME: Don’t come looking for me.

A low, humorless laugh sounded then. It made you jump, relieved only for a moment when you saw it’s source, and then back to fear. “Chaewon’s, huh?” James said sadly. “Why don’t you trust me anymore?” 

Silence.

“What is really going on, love?” James cried out. It was only then that you noticed his tears. “Because with the lying, and the ultrasound, and the pulling away from me, I’m really starting to think things that I do not want to think.” 

You were speechless for a moment, feeling the weight he had been carrying finally crash down on you. “I can’t tell you,” You whispered brokenly, shaking your head repeatedly, “Because if I do, then it’s all real. If I tell you, you won’t–” You heave, a deep cry rushing out, “You won’t love me anymore.” 

James’s heart shattered. “Wh-why won’t I love you anymore?”

It was as though you had finally come to realize his thoughts then. “No-no! It’s not like that. That’s not what I meant. I’m not cheating, I swear. But-”

“But what, Y/N?” James’s voice broke, “What is going on?” 

Y/N. Not “love”, or “baby”. You were sure you’d done it now–led James to cross the bridge from your relationship and into defeat. He’d looked so tired then–the circles beneath his eyes and exhaustion in his posture was normal given his job, but the fatigue in his eyes is what got you. It was over, you’d told yourself. He was tired of you. 

“Baby?” He called out softly, “Are you–” He paused, trying to find the words, “Are you pregnant?” 

The words hit like a truck. With your condition, you didn’t know if you’d ever be having this conversation of pregnancy again. So, you savour it. That fleeting moment of hope in James eyes that perhaps you’d be starting a family. 

You couldn’t give James a family. And that shattered you. 

“--Because we can figure it out,” James continued helplessly, “I’ll tell the company, leave if I have to, we’ll move someplace near our parents cause we both know we’ll need them–”

“James–” “--If this is why you’re pulling back, I swear, we’ll figure things out,” James cried, “Just don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me. We’ll make such great parents and–” “James.” It was only then that James had noticed the fatigue in him had mirrored in you too. He stopped his rush of words, watched helplessly as you clutched onto your abdomen and fell onto the floor in a cry. He rushed to you then–only to be pushed away once more.

“We can’t.” You cried, “We can’t.” 

James stared at you with a sadness so intense it made you want to shrivel up. You could see it then–the confusion that had begun to fade into slow understanding. “We can’t what?” He whispered, but you knew he knew the answer. 

“We can’t be parents. Not together.” You finally said, “I might not—I might not be able to give you children.” 

Silence. You’re both trapped in a silence so loud it rings in your ears and makes your stomach churn violently. James doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, has this faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts.

You stand then, taking the keys from the pot you two had made together once–in a time when you had been younger, more free, happier. Oblivious from the realities of this cruel world. 

And as you leave the apartment, you miss the pained whisper that follows from James: 

“Why did you think that would make me love you any less?” 

[yuahnfen]

STICKY LIKE

— '𝒞ause baby, you're sticky like 𝒽oney

clingy!juhoon x f!reader

contains: fluff, fluff and fluff, did i miss out fluff? kissing, physical intimacy, cuddling, jju clingy asf.

wordcount: 400

requested by @amb4rluvs

note: first request im actually shaking yall.... ive never ever written something this tooth rotting fluffy so savour it while u can !

now playing... sticky like - riize

Promotions have kept Juhoon extremely busy. He’s been running around left and right to concerts and variety shows. The pressure of their first comeback really weighed on all five of them, fortunately it was well received. Most importantly, the promotions kept him away from you. 

So, when promotions are nearing their end, Juhoon finds an opportunity to crash at your place, hoping to recharge and find some relief. Juhoon’s too exhausted to knock on your bedroom door, he just turns the door knob and plops onto your bed, his weight on your legs. You place your laptop beside you, your hand reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“Tough week?”

“Yeah.”

You make some space for him in your bed, he practically crawls to the other side, getting underneath the blanket and resting his head on your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your arm. A small smile etches across your face witnessing his unusual behaviour. Yeah, Juhoon and you share some physical intimacy, but usually it's just hugs, soft kisses or just cuddling. This was entirely different. Juhoon is a calm person, seeing him cling to you like a koala was out of character but also undeniably endearing. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I guess… but for now, I just wanna be near you.”

He says, before planting a kiss on your cheek. You grab your laptop back, letting him continue his antics while drafting your essay. Suddenly, he starts peppering kisses all over your face and neck and you let him. You start laughing when he presses a kiss near your temple, you playfully push him away and he frowns. 

“What's up with you? You’re never this clingy.”

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re like my charger.”

Your heart melts at his words, he’s never been this vulnerable with you before, it’s like seeing a new side of him. You kiss the top of his head and shift closer to him, you guys are practically tangled together. You open up netflix on your laptop, grabbing a pack of gummy worms from your night stand. 

“Wanna watch Gilmore Girls with me?”

“Sure.”

You both stay entangled together while watching your favourite season. You feed him a gummy worm as he watches intently. 

“She just kissed Jess?! What about Dean?? You’re just gonna cheat on the poor guy?? She can’t get worse than this.”

“Oh, yes she can. Just watch.”

[marsgirltyshi]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ drugs n hella melodies

- edwards martin park

synopsis: as a childhood friend, martin has truly loved you, tears and all. he knows exactly what you've been through growing up and chose to stay with you, by your side. as you both started college, addictions came in the guise of relief due to unprocessed grief and pain, terrible friendships and a situationship whom you think you could fall for. how does martin feel about the changed version of you??? will he let it slide or still fight for you? cause truth is, he always has been.

genre: non idol uni student!martin x uni student!reader, heavy angst, mature themes, childhood bestfriends to toxic situationships to ??

warnings!! : pg 16+, slightly suggestive, reader is toxic, manipulative, reader smokes a lot, mentions of drugs and substances, reader goes back and forth with martin and another guy, lowk cheating ( I DO NOT CONDONE THIS TYPE OF RELATIONSHIP, THIS IS ALL FICTIONAL AND FOR THE PLOT ), mentions of physical and emotional abuse, trauma, profanities, martin is yearner at its finest.

note: THE LOVE THIS IS GETTING IS ABSOLUTELY INSANEEE YOU GUYSSS I FUCKING LOVE YALL SM 🥹🫶🏻 this one got a lil extra deep and parasocial cause this has been a tough couple of weeks,so sorry for the late update but hope yall enjoy this one ☹️☹️🫶🏻 ALSO martin a lil extra yearner here like it lowk gets annoyingly toxic and manipulative idk 😐 and this kinda got long too 🥹

more under the cut!!

don't like, don't read!!

wc: 6.6k+

CH 4

"What are you staring at?"

"Y/N, you good man? Why you dozing off?"

Martin shakes you hard enough to make you think he was really worried.

"Okay, okay, chill. I'm back."

"What happened?"

You want to tell Hey so I came to the realisation that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I'm scared I'm going to ruin you with how miserable my life is.

You're in his room since last night, wide awake for a Sunday morning. He's just woken up, his hair spiky and messy, just how it's always been. You're sitting at the edge of his bed, your thoughts getting the best of you.

You shake you head, "No, I'm fine. I was just thinking is all."

"You wanna tell me what's in that pretty head of yours? Or are you gonna make me guess instead?"

You smile, before leaning in to place a brief kiss on his lips, before abruptly ending it, his lips chasing yours to kiss you again.

This is what you want, not what you have with Mario. This is the life you wish you could choose without a doubt. To be with him, every breathing second, to love him to bits and pieces. But it's not that easy

School hasn't been going great. All of a sudden, you're so much more aware of the gap between you and Martin. He's always with friends, smiling and laughing for almost anything. He's been a social butterfly, always talking to some new person everyday. That's how he just is, happy and kind to help anyone. While you had one friend, Gia, who was just using you to get closer to Martin. You knew exactly what her motives were, but you've grown so tired of people doing this to you that sometimes you've just swallowed your pride and dealt with this. She's nice sometimes, but when she brings up Martin, good God, she's annoying.

You deserved better, to have a better set of friends and to live the campus life you've worked so hard to arrive at. But maybe, because you weren't enough, maybe because you had way too many issues that everyone just steered clear from you. One look, and everyone would immediately understand that yeah, this girl has issues, I'm not dealing with a lot.

You had friends, you still do. But no one tags around you anymore, not even Gia who's using you to get to Martin. Apparently they're all too busy with their other friends that now you just feel like you're there out of convience. They have their own group chats, their own hangout plans, their own lore and inside jokes that you felt like you were sticking out oddly. You thought you fit in, found the right people after so long. You changed so much of yourself to make them like you more. But unfortunately, everyone finds someone else and you're left all alone, just like always.

It's issues like these that lead you to make bad decisions, and enter bad addictions like smoking and drinking. Worst of all, what you had with Mario, started out as trauma bonding over broken families and shared cigarettes. One thing lead to another, and a week later from that conversation, you're in a supposed relationship with him.

Your brain never took the hint, always assuming this as love that's yet to be realised. But you gotta face it, it's not what you thought it was. He was so deep into it, that he was so possesive of who you would talk to, and even went far as to question your relationship with Martin. You've always assured him, that there was nothing between you two, that you were both great friends ever since you were kids.

Deep down, you knew you were lying. There's always been that underlying tension. That you've always wanted to love Martin ever since you were eight. But you were scared, that Mario would take you away from Martin out of his own insecurity. A part of you knew, that both of you were with each other for couple of months only out of convience and shared issues. But maybe, just maybe, you're on the path to your own healing, albeit you feel undeserving of being able to move on, that your life was bounded by pain. It doesn't make all the problems of your life disappear magically overnight, but as of now, your head seems to become more calmer, the fog in your head clearing out.

The first and the only person you ever told was Martin.

"Didn't you meet each just a week ago?" He says, concern and something else laced in his voice.

"Yeah, but I don't know, whatever we got going on seems great! We have so much in common, he's always nice, texting me and checking in on me. We both have terrible, dysfunctional families too, can you believe that?" You add, laughing.

"I do that for you too, you know." He lets out the cutest pout.

You soften, setting the flowers Mario gave you at the side of his desk, before standing right in front of Martin, looking up at him as say, "Of course, I know. But this, it's different. I feel like we can actually understand each other and maybe, love each other?"

He talks a sharp inhale, his jaw clenching, before saying, "Yeah, I get that."

You pout before saying, "You always do. Thank you." Before standing on your tippy toes, placing a kiss on his cheek, reaching out to hug him. He hugs you back, his heart racing heavily against his chest, at the proximity of you two. His mind is spiralling, unable to take the heartbreak that you think someone else out there was better for you, than him, when he was right there all along. When he was the only one who knew you more than anyone else, and you still choose someone else over him. It's crazy, that this whole time, he's made himself about you so often that he'd like to admit.

He's trying to convince himself that it's probably male ego, or the fact that you bagged someone before him. But God, who is he lying to? His heart is shattering, and you're right there in his arms, him in yours, as he's fighting tears in this moment. How he loves it when you're with him, your warmth invading his senses until he could get drunk on it. All he ever wanted was you and he's just fucking hurt. He wishes he could just grab your face and kiss you hard, as a testimony of his love.

The problem with Martin is that whatever he thinks in his head tends to actually be the result of this actions like right now, deciding to just fuck it and go all in cause it's his only chance to have you this close to him.

He groans deep in his chest before closing the gap and kissing you on your lips instead.

You gasp, brain fogging at what's happening right now. You're frozen in time for a few seconds before melting, leaning in and kissing him back, out of instict. His hand reaches out to stroke your face gently as he deepens the kiss before you abruptly end it.

"Martin, are you crazy? I just told you, I'm with someone."

He gets on his knees, eyes dilated, lip swollen as he places his hands on either sides of your waist, looking up at you before saying, "I know, but please. Let me have this. Let me treat you better, like you deserve to. I'm sorry, but I can't see you with him. I lo-"

"Martin, please don't say that. You don't mean that." Tears are running down your face, unable to wrap your mind around the shock. Your best friend, ever since you were kids, kissed you, for the very first time just because you told him you were with somebody else, and not him.

"But I love you! Please, I can't live without you, Y/N. It doesn't matter if you feel the same now, but someday, I hope you realise that what I have for you is as real as it can get. Just- Just please let me do this, please let me have this one thing to myself. I know, how you feel for Mario, but please let me have you too. I'd do anything for you, I hope you know that. Please, I can't. I just want you, Y/N, please. I'm so tired seeing you with someone else that isn't me, when I've stood by you for so long. So please, please don't let me go, please let me have you to myself for some time too."

You're losing your breath, mind spiralling and heart beating faster than it should, letting few more tears slip down your face. You don't realise how fast things are moving in this moment, not able to comprehend how you're here, holding his face with your hands, words being exchanged but it's not fully being registered in your head, before reluctantly agreeing.

"Thank you, God, thank you. I promise, I won't hurt you." He says, before standing up and grabbing your shoulders gently and kissing you again, like he can't get enough of you, like a starved man.

You're suddenly hyper aware of this space between you. His hand hovering over yours. His messy hair pointing out in different directions, begging for you to run your hands to run through them, which you do. He closes his eyes, revelling in the feeling of your hands in his hair. He mutters under his breath, "I wish this could last forever."

"Me too." You let out a heavy sigh you didn't realise you were holding in for so long, before saying, "Hey, listen. I've been thinking. I kinda want to end things with Mario." You say, waiting for his answer.

He can't help the cute smile that comes out when you said that, masking it with fake shock. You gasp in disbelief, rolling your eyes dramatically before adding, "Wow, you don't have to be so happy about it, dude."

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He says, laughing.

You both start laughing so hard, wondering if you're lying or not. You live for the sound of his laughter. He has such a cute little giggle, you can never get enough.

"I'm happy for you, Y/N. He was pretty toxic anyways." He says, nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, you think so?" You ask.

"Yeah. I know so. I'm better, by the way." He says.

"Hell yeah, you are." He smiles at your words, giggling like an absolute child. You smile before leaning into him and placing a kiss on his lips.

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his hands around your waist, like you're made of porcelain. He smiles, before leaning into you, foreheads touching before he kisses you fully.

You sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, while tugging at the strands at the end of his scalp.

He breaks the kiss before uttering, breathlessly, looking up at you, "You're absolutely beautiful."

You smile hard, head tipping back, before uttering, " And you're the best thing to ever happen to me." You kiss him, slow this time.

God, you could get used to this after all.

It would such a shame that there would be someone else who'd like him the way you've craved for.

Like that friend of yours, Gia.

Who's few seconds away from knocking on his door, all dressed up for him.

tags : @xngelsthesis @hyuneskkami @stxrrymarsz @virtualpoetrywizard @sxqhan @myuekii @2166v @nekozfx @marstoofly @inlirium @v4mpiritw

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