Synopsis - the one where you and Felix confess. PT1 PT2 PT3
•Lyrically Aligned Masterlist•
A/N 💌: WELCOME BACK, MY LOVES!! I’m so happy to finally share the final installment of this small series within Lyrically Aligned. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter — it means so much to me, and I’m excited (and a little emotional) to close this arc with you all.
Please feel free to DM me or send requests for what you’d like to see next! Like I mentioned in my last post, I might have another series in the works… possibly for Lee Know or Seungmin 👀 And I’m also planning to write some SKZ Code moments within this series — let me know which episodes you’d want to see included!
I’m still accepting names for the taglist. If you’d like to be tagged only for Lyrically Aligned, just let me know in your comment. If you’d prefer to be tagged for all my works, mention that instead!
Thank you again to my lovely friend @hyunnows for proofreading most of my works — please show her some love. 🩷
Thank you again for your endless support — and for getting me to 100 followers!! That’s actually insane?? 😂 I love you all so much. Be safe, stay happy, and enjoy the chapter. 🩷🩷
Please note: I do not allow my writing to be used, reposted, or shared anywhere outside of Tumblr likes and reblogs. Thank you for respecting my work! 💗
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
A collab.
They want to do a collab with Lisa for the next album.
You tell yourself it’s fine. That it’s work, that she’s talented, that it’s nothing.
Except it’s everything. Because she’s Lisa — charming, stunning, sunlight in human form — and Felix lights up around her in a way that’s too familiar.
You shouldn’t care. You’re his best friend. You remind yourself that over and over, but the reminder only burns deeper every time he laughs at something she says.
Han and Changbin notice first. They hover around you more, forming an unspoken barrier between you and the sight of Felix smiling at someone else. You’ve told them not to worry — that this was temporary.
But they know better.
You’re in the hallway outside the studio. The five of you — you, Han, Changbin, Chan, and Felix — standing in the cold hallway that once felt so warm. You can hear Lisa’s soft laugh from inside the studio, where she and Hyunjin are goofing off.
Felix crosses his arms. He looks tired, but it’s not from lack of sleep.
“I just don’t get it,” he says, voice steady but fraying around the edges. “She’s been nothing but nice, and you’ve been cold to her since day one.”
You feel Han tense beside you. Changbin opens his mouth, but you speak before he can.
“It’s not like that, Felix.”
“Then what is it?” he asks, stepping closer. “Because it feels like you’re mad at her for simply being here.”
“I’m not mad at her,” you say quickly. “I’m —“
You stop yourself. The words hang between you, unspoken but loud.
Felix waits. Han and Changbin exchanging glances — worried.
You can’t say it. You can’t say, I’m mad at how easy it is for you to love someone else.
Chan’s voice cuts in from beside Han, calm but firm. “Felix, go back inside. Let me talk to them.”
Felix shakes his head, looking right at you. “Why do you always do this? You shut me out and then act like I’m the one who’s changed.”
You meet his gaze, and it’s like staring into something too bright — you can’t hold it for long.
Your throat tightens, your eyes sting. “Maybe you have.”
The air shifts. That’s all it takes — one sharp edge of truth you didn’t mean to throw, but it lands anyway.
Felix blinks, hurt flashing in his eyes before he laughs quietly, disbelieving. “Right. Okay.”
He turns and walks back into the studio.
The moment he disappears, you let out a breath that breaks halfway through. You clench your eyes shut as if to try to erase all of this.
Chan watches you. “Y/N—”
“Don’t,” you whisper. “I know. I know how I’m acting. But don’t. Please.”
Chan looks between you and Han and Changbin — he can see the worry and sadness etched into Changbins face, something he didn’t see a lot from the man.
“Y/N it’s just for a few more days,” Chan says stepping closer to you. “Less if we all do what were supposed to.”
You lean your head against the cold wall, shaking your head, “I can’t Chan.”
Chan sighs, slightly frustrated. “I know how difficult this is for you, but —“
“Oh my God,” you shake your head, “Don’t Chan. Don’t say you know because you have no idea. You have no idea how hard it is to see someone you’ve loved for so long love someone else.”
Chan stares, shocked at your confession. He’d had his suspicions about yours and Felix’s relationship — but he never looked into it. He knew you two were close, he thought it was just the norm.
And then he noticed you pulling away. He noticed how Felix tensed everytime you hugged another member or even brushed shoulders with Felix himself.
“You need to tell him, Kkoma.” Chan whispers, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“What if he hates me now?” You ask somewhat resembling a child, the three boys almost break then.
“What if he doesn’t?” Changbin says softly.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
The studio is the kind of quiet that feels intentional — like even the machines know not to interrupt.
Chan is at the console, tired eyes on the waveform. Felix is on the couch behind him, curled around the notebook you gave him years ago, the pages worn and soft like an old bruise you still press when you miss someone.
He hasn’t written anything in hours.
He just holds it, like holding it might somehow begin to feel like he’s holding you.
He’s spiraling.
He knows it. Chan knows it. The entire building probably knows it.
You don’t answer his messages — not the texts he sends every few hours, not the calls where he hangs up before the first ring finishes.
Your words from the fight replay on a loop, each one hitting harder than he meant to let them.
He looks down at the notebook; he swears he can still smell your perfume on it — the perfume he’d bought you on a whim just months prior.
It makes his throat tighten, sharp and sudden.
Chan stops the track — the soft whispers of beats coming to a pause.
The room goes still again.
For a minute, there’s nothing but air between them — heavy, unsaid, waiting.
Then Chan speaks, soft enough that Felix almost misses it.
“…She’s hurt, you know.”
Felix’s head lifts slowly.
His brows pull together.
“Who?”
Chan doesn’t look at him as he answers.
“Y/N.”
The name lands in the room like a dropped glass — not loud, but shattering something anyway.
Felix grips the notebook tighter.
He tries to swallow but it doesn’t go down.
“Hyung… I don’t—”
“I’m not stupid,” Chan says quietly. Chan finally turns in his chair. His expression isn’t accusing — it’s tired in a kind, knowing way. Like he’s been holding this observation for years and waiting for Felix to catch up. “I see how you both look at each other, Lix.”
Felix’s breath stutters, barely audible.
He drops his gaze to the floor, embarrassed by how transparent he must look.
Chan continues, voice even softer.
“You might not see it… but I do. Every time.”
Felix doesn’t speak. His hands shake a little around the notebook.
Chan leans back, exhaling.
“I’m telling you this because you’re both acting really fucking stupid.”
His tone isn’t harsh — it’s warm, exasperated, protective. The tone of someone who loves both of you too much to keep quiet.
“And I’d rather not watch you two run in circles and make even stupider mistakes because fuck, Felix, life is too short.”
Felix’s chest tightens so hard he feels it behind his ribs. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
Chan’s voice dips lower, gentler — placed like a truth he’s been carrying for far too long.
“So please, for the love of god… make up. Because you guys are ridiculously and irrevocably meant to be.”
Felix closes his eyes.
He feels everything all at once — guilt, longing, fear, regret.
The ache of wanting you.
The ache of losing you.
The ache of knowing he caused this silence between you.
The air feels fragile.
Chan doesn’t say anything else.
He just turns back to the console, presses play, and lets the track fill the room again — quietly, unobtrusively.
Felix stares at the page in front of him until the letters blur.
Minutes pass.
Maybe hours.
Neither of them speaks.
They just sit there — two people in a room full of sound, both pretending they don’t hear the way Felix breathes like something in him cracked open.
The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable.
It’s understanding.
It’s waiting.
And it holds them both until the night thins and the world outside begins to brighten.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
A week of unread messages, of Felix’s name lighting up your phone and you staring at it until it fades.
Han calls one night.
“She’s not bad, you know,” he says softly.
You twist the thread of your blanket around your finger. “Yeah. That’s what sucks.”
He’s quiet. Then, “You gonna come by the studio tomorrow?”
You sigh. “Yeah. I’ have to get my parts done, I don’t want to set schedules back.”
Han hums softly in understanding, “Do you want to hangout afterwards?” He asks softly.
You sigh, heart pounding in your chest. “I have plans after.”
“What kind of plans?”
You smile weakly. “I might have a date.”
“A date? With who?” Hans voice is loud, filled with shock but excitement for you.
In the background, you hear Changbin yell, “Do we know him?”
You laugh. “His name’s Ben. I met him at the grocery store.”
“You do your own grocery shopping? How humble of you,” Han teases.
For a second, it feels normal again. Like you could laugh without feeling guilty.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
You sink into the corner of the studio couch, hoodie pulled tight around your shoulders. The hum of the equipment and soft echoes of the other members in the next room feel distant, like you’re floating in your own little bubble.
Chan and Seungmin had left for a quick break — Chan wanting to try out spicy ramen again and Seungmin not wanting to miss Chan fight air as he battles the stinging pain on his tongue from said ramen.
That left you and Lisa alone in the stupid for the time being.
Lisa slides into the seat beside you, careful not to crowd, yet close enough that you can smell the faint scent of her fancy shampoo. She watches you for a long beat, tilting her head like she’s studying a piece of art she isn’t quite allowed to touch.
“You seem tense,” she says finally, voice soft, casual, like she’s making an observation rather than a statement.
You shrug, staring down at your knees, twisting the sleeves of your hoodie. “I’m fine.”
Her eyes flick to it. “That hoodie…” She doesn’t say anything else at first, just lingers, waiting for you to react. You stiffen when you realize it.
It’s his. Felix’s.
The one he’d been wearing for months before you’d stolen it for comfort, one that still smells faintly like him.
“It suits you,” she says with a small smile. “He suits you.” Her voice full of comfort.
“Does it bring you comfort?” She asks softly after a small beat.
You bite your lip, unsure what to say, your fingers tightening around the cuff.
Lisa watches, patient, like she already knows the answer. “I don’t blame you,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I’d probably do the same thing if I were you. He has this… energy. Like the air shifts when he’s around. Not in a dramatic way—he just notices things. He notices you.”
You glance at her, surprised. “That’s just Felix,” you say lightly.
She shakes her head, “it’s different when it comes to you.”
She leans back slightly, arms resting casually on her knees. “I’ve been around him enough to see it. When you walk into the room, his posture changes. His eyes find you before he even realizes it. He listens differently when you speak, like every word matters more than the last.”
Your chest twists.
“And it’s not subtle,” Lisa continues, softer now, like she’s sharing a secret. “He doesn’t hide it, not fully. Even when he tries. I’ve caught him—watching you, waiting for your laugh, smiling at your dumb jokes, reacting like he’s afraid the world will forget that moment if he blinks.”
You swallow hard, feeling warmth and ache at the same time.
Lisa’s eyes soften, and she tilts her head just enough that you see the sincerity in her expression. “I can tell why you get frustrated. Or scared. Or… distant. But Y/N, ignoring him, pushing him away, pretending he’s just a friend—it doesn’t change anything. Not for him, and not for you.”
You exhale slowly, chest tight.
She leans in slightly, voice dropping, intimate but not imposing. “For what it’s worth… you two make a lot more sense than you think. Not in some fairy-tale, dramatic sense. Just… the kind that fits, even when it’s messy, even when it hurts. The kind that sticks, because it’s real.”
Your fingers brush against the soft fabric of the hoodie, inhaling that faint, familiar scent, and for the first time in days, it hits you: everything Lisa just said, every word, is exactly true.
The studio hums around you, low and constant, a private symphony. And in that quiet, your chest finally feels the weight of honesty — the sharp, soft, undeniable truth of what you’ve been trying to ignore.
Lisa gives you a small, understanding smile. She doesn’t push, doesn’t pry. She just sits there, letting the words settle, letting you feel them in the spaces between heartbeats.
“You’re not alone,” she says finally, almost to herself. “And neither is he.”
You nod, barely realizing you’re holding your breath until you exhale, a tiny, trembling sigh.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For being so mean to you.”
Lisa puts a hand on your shoulder, a smile gracing her face. “I get why you did it, but please don’t waste anymore time. Life is too short — you know what you want Y/N, so don’t live without it for any longer than you need to.”
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
You still go on the date. You felt bad canceling last minute — something you hated when roles were reversed. So you force yourself to go.
The thing that surprised you though was that the date isn’t bad.
Ben is sweet. Freckles adorning his face with kind brown eyes, slightly thick Australian accent. You almost laugh at how cruel the universe can be. He talks about the ocean, about stargazing — little things that sound like echoes of someone else. Someone too familiar.
You nod. You smile. You let yourself pretend for a moment that it’s Felix walking beside you through the aquarium, pointing at jellyfish with wide-eyed wonder — spewing random facts.
Then your phone buzzes.
Your breath catches. He knows. Of course he knows.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
The rest of the night blurs — polite laughter, empty smiles. When Ben leans in at the end of the night, you flinch. You lie and say you’re tired, that you don’t feel good.
When you finally get into the cab home, your hands won’t stop shaking. You don’t know where else to go, so you end up outside Changbin’s apartment.
You knock softly, pushing the door open. “Bin, you really need to start locking your—”
You stop. Felix is there.
He’s sitting on the couch, hoodie pulled up, hair messy. His eyes widen when he sees you.
“Oh,” you say, half whisper, half breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You weren’t,” he says quickly. His voice is quieter than usual. “You hungry?”
Your stomach answers for you. You nod, and he smiles — small, careful. “Come on.”
You slip off your heels at the entryway and sit next to him on the couch. Han and Changbin are mid-bite, trying to act casual but failing miserably.
For a moment, you almost forget why you’ve been avoiding him. His presence feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.
Then Changbin ruins it. “So,” he says, chopsticks hovering, “how was the date?”
You pause, chopsticks in hand. “It wasn’t the best.”
Felix’s shoulders relax beside you. You see it — that quiet, guilty relief.
“What happened?” Han asks.
“He just… reminded me too much of someone,” you say softly.
Felix glances at you. “Someone?”
You shrug. “Doesn’t really matter. There was too much silence.”
“Silence isn’t always bad,” Changbin murmurs.
You smile sadly. “Sometimes it is.”
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
Later, when the night winds down, Felix offers to walk you to your dorm. You don’t protest. The streets are quiet, the air cool. His shoulder brushes yours, and it’s enough to make your heart stumble.
“Was the date really that bad?” he asks.
You nod. “Yes and no. He was nice but he just reminded me too much of someone.”
He chuckles under his breath, then grows quiet.
“I’m sorry,” you say suddenly. “For how I’ve been acting. I hate when we fight.”
He nods slowly. “Then why do we keep doing it?”
You don’t answer. You keep walking, counting your steps.
“She’s perfect,” you finally whisper.
Felix stops. “What?”
You turn to face him. “Lisa. I talked to her the other night, she’s perfect.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I got jealous, Felix.”
“Jealous?” His voice softens, like he’s afraid to breathe too hard and break something fragile. “Why would you be jealous of her?”
You look up at him, eyes glassy in the streetlight. “Because she gets to have pieces of you I’ll never touch.”
The words fall heavy between you. His face changes — confusion, then realization, then something like heartbreak.
He takes a step closer. “Y/N…”
You shake your head. “Don’t. Please let me finish.” Felix chuckles but nonetheless lets you continue — over the years he’s learned just how stubborn you can be.
“You’re my best friend. Your like oxygen, I literally need you to breathe Felix and if I had to live without you — I don’t think I’d last long.” He smiles softly before you continue, “Your passion, the way you love, your strength, your kindness — you are literally the sun, you make everything better,” you pause as tears prick your eyes, “Me, you make me better. Felix, you are my person and I am so irrevocably in love with you, it’s ridiculous. But I do. I love you Felix.”
He stares at you, his eyes twinkling.
Tears slip past your cheeks, “Please say something,” you whisper.
“I never thought I could love you more than I already do.” He says with a smile, something you realize you’ve missed.
That’s all it takes.
You blink, chest heaving. He’s standing close now — close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.
The first kiss isn’t cinematic. It’s trembling. Hesitant. You both taste like salt and apology.
He kisses you like he’s been holding it in for years — soft, scared, desperate.
You kiss him back like you’re learning how to breathe again.
When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his.
“I love you too,” he smiles softly.
“I hate that we’re so stupid,” you whisper.
He laughs quietly, breath unsteady. “Yeah. But at least we’re stupid together now.”
You both stand there — two broken pieces finally fitting. The night hums around you, distant city lights flickering like constellations.
You exhale, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “So what happens now?”
Felix smiles, thumb brushing your cheek.
“Now?” he says softly. “We stop pretending silence means nothing and we stop wasting time.”
And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, it feels easy to breathe.
Themes -angst, slow burn, tension the house, just really sad
Synopsis - four times you realized you were in love with Felix. PT1 PT2 PT3
•Lyrically Aligned Masterlist•
A/N 💌: Hi my loves! Thank you so much for being patient with me — writer’s block hit harder than expected, but I’m finally back and ready to serve. Here’s Part 2 of this little series within Lyrically Aligned. I hope you’re enjoying the slow-burn heartbreak as much as I am writing it. We have one chapter left, and it’s mostly done — I’m just polishing a few scenes to make them hit the way they should.
I also have an idea for another mini-series outside of Lyrically Aligned (I know 😭), and I’m thinking it might be Minho-centered… but sadly it won’t be 9th-member based this time. Please don’t throw tomatoes.
And lastly — I want to give the biggest thank you to my lovely friend, @hyunnows . Kat, you’ve helped so much with this series in ways I didn’t expect. I never imagined making genuine friends through writing or loving Stray Kids, but here we are. Thank you for the late-night conversations, the feedback, the screaming over scenes with me, and for letting me exist inside your creative world. I adore you. 🩷
If you have ideas for future works — inside or outside this series — please feel free to drop them in the comments. And let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!
Please note: I do not allow my writing to be used, reposted, or shared anywhere outside of Tumblr likes and reblogs. Thank you for respecting my work! 💗
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Love had always been a complicated thing for you.
You loved the idea of love. Loved the way it sounds in books, looked in movies or tv shows — the way it made people softer, braver, and vulnerable all at once.
But in real life, it always came up short. You’d fall in love with the potential of it — the chase but not the reality.
Until you met Felix.
The bond between you two had always been undeniable. The boys saw it. Stay saw it. Hell, even your families saw it.
Your mom texted you one night after watching a SKZ Code Episode:
“Only someone who truly loves you looks at you like that, Y/N.”
You ignored her, of course.
Sure, your face got warm when he hugged you. So what?
Yes, your heart raced when he sat next to you when filming a SKZ Code, or when he’d say something funny on stage, laughing so close that you could smell his cologne. But that was just Felix. Everyone felt that warmth.
They’d appreciated it when it came and quickly moved forward
But you weren’t everyone. And pretending it was nothing was becoming harder every day.
ONE
You remember the first time you really saw him — not the friend, not the trainee — but him.
Back before debut, when you both were just exhausted kids on a survival show chasing something impossible, the company had sent you to study Korean together — claiming the language wasn’t either of your strong suit — which they weren’t wrong. The building was quiet, the kind of quiet that hums with fluorescent lights, the kind that marks you long after the night is over.
You sat across from each other at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, papers and textbooks spread across the table, laptops opened with Google Translate on the screens. You were both half-asleep, heads propped in your hands as you wrote carelessly.
You groaned, tossing your pen down. “This is stupid. We should just make our own language.”
Felix laughed — really laughed — that soft, lighter kind of laugh that somehow fit him perfectly despite his deep voice. “As much as I’d like to agree, I don’t think that would turn out so well for us.”
You looked up smiling softly, and suddenly everything felt still. His laugh. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled. The way the light hit the freckles across his nose.
Felix looked up at you upon getting no response, he told his head with a soft smile — his eyes shining, “What?”
Before you could stop yourself, you said it, “I love your laugh.”
The words slipped out too naturally.
He blinked, then smiled shyly and shook his head. “You need more coffee.”
He got up to grab two cups, and you just sat there — heart thudding too hard for how calm, how domesticated everything looked.
You told yourself it was exhaustion.
You’d feel normal again in the morning.
You didn’t.
TWO
Cooking as a group was your favorite pastime. At least when Minho wasn’t micromanaging the entire makeshift kitchen.
You were filming SKZ Code. The autumn air bit at your nose, your breath fogging in the crisp sunlight.
Seungmin had sent you and Felix to go pick green onions from the small garden.
“Should we grab some Scallions?” Felix asked, squatting beside a patch of stubborn roots.
You look up from your crouched position, eyebrows furrowed, grabbing one more bunch of green onions. “Aren’t green onions the same as scallions?”
He laughs softly, “I-“ he pauses, “I actually don’t know but it’s still worth bringing back.”
He tugged once, twice, frowning when the vegetable refused to move. You laughed, moving beside him as you lay the green onions on the dirt floor next to you.
“Here—” you knelt beside him, placing your hands below his. “You have to pull from the base.”
Together, you yanked. The root came loose all at once, sending you both backward into the small dirt hill.
You landed in a heap, both of you laughing uncontrollably, clutching the ridiculously small vegetable like a trophy.
For a second, you forgot the cameras were filming you. The world shrank down to the sound of his laughter and the faint smell of earth. You looked over, and every freckle on his skin seemed lit from the inside as he stood up.
He reached out a hand to pull you up, his gloved hands still warm.
When you made it back to the group, Changbin looked up. “What happened to you two?”
“Did you roll in the field or something?” Minho teased.
Felix grinned. “We fell.”
You smiled too, cheeks red — totally from the cold, brushing remaining dirt from your butt.
Only one of you had fallen in a way that truly mattered.
THREE
The dorm was loud — bottles clinking, laughter echoing off the walls. Someone had put on a playlist of old trainee songs and it buzzed faintly in the background.
“Truth or dare?” Han called suddenly, grinning.
You groaned. “What are we, twelve?”
“Come on, Kkoma,” Chan said, his accent soft and teasing.
You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Truth.”
Han’s grin widened. “Who here would you actually date?”
“Seriously?”
He nodded like a kid who already knew the answer.
You smirked. “Minho. So he can use his air fryer and cook for me.”
Everyone cracked up at the self deprecating — even Minho, shaking his head.
“I can do that without you dating me.”
“I’ll be waiting then.” You said with a laugh.
But later, when the laughter died and the night quieted, you and Felix ended up lying side by side on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The kind of silence that feels intimate.
Felix’s voice was quiet. “Who would it have been? Really.”
You turned to face him. “What?”
“The one you’d date.”
“Does it matter?” you whispered.
He smiled faintly, eyes still on the ceiling. “It could.”
You didn’t sleep that night. His words lingered — could. Like maybe he knew. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe if you’d told the truth, things would end up in your favor.
But that was a what if — like many things had been when it involved Felix.
FOUR
Felix’s 23rd birthday.
He’d wanted something small, quiet — the way he always did even when he was the loudest in the room. But Louis Vuitton had thrown a party big enough to swallow you whole.
You wished it did that night.
The lights were dim and gold. Laughter spilled like champagne bubbles — even gift bags were being handed out. If all felt distopian. You and Han stood near a window overlooking Seoul, nursing a pink drink that you couldn’t remember the name for but nonetheless tasted mostly like melted ice.
You hadn’t seen Felix in nearly an hour, losing him within the first ten minutes of arriving. You didn’t mean to search for him, but your eyes found him anyway. They always did.
There he was — at the other end of the room, leaning against the bar sipping what looked to be whiskey. And who stood next to him?
Lisa.
Both of them being ambassadors for the company, you knew you were bound to see her tonight. You just didn’t expect her to be standing so close to the one thing you wanted more than your career.
She leaned in close, whispering something that made him laugh. That laugh. The one that used to be yours to make.
Han followed your gaze, recognition and sympathy flashing in his eyes,“Y/N.”
You blinked, trying to pull your face into something resembling a smile. “Yeah?”
Before he could say more, Changbin joined you, slinging an arm around Han. “What’s up?”
Han nodded toward the bar. Changbin’s grin faltered. “Oh.”
You laughed softly, the sound coming out smaller than you intended. “Everything is fine.”
“She’s—” Changbin started.
“Perfect,” you finished for him, a soft smile gracing your face as if your heart weren’t breaking in two. “She’d be perfect for him.”
Changbin’s voice softened. “She’s not you,” he said, finishing what he was going to say previous to your statement.
You exhaled, eyes still fixed on Felix. “He looks happy. I’m happy that he’s happy.”
Han sighed as he reached for your hand. “You deserve easy, Mae.”
You laughed, shaking your head with furrowed eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”
He hesitated, searching for words. “It means you shouldn’t have to wonder if you’re allowed to feel what you do.”
Your gaze drifted back to Felix and Lisa, their heads close together. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”
“That’s what hurts most,” Changbin murmured. “You’ve loved him for how long?”
“ I don’t—”
“Don’t lie,” he said gently.
You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “A few years, I guess.”
The two of them went quiet.
You forced a laugh. “It’s stupid, I know. But I like things the way they are and I’d rather have him as my best friend than not at all.”
They both nodded. Neither believed you.
Across the room, Felix caught your eye and smiled — that soft, open smile that always undid you. You nodded at him with a soft smile, tears blurring the edges of your vision.
Han’s voice was low. “He’s lucky, you know,” he looks at you softly. “To be loved like that,” Han said simply.
You swallowed hard.
“I mean it,” he continued. “You two — it’s like the air changes when you’re together. But love isn’t supposed to hurt this much. It’s not supposed to make you feel smaller.”
You looked back toward Felix, Hans' words echoing through your head. Easy. Nothing about loving Felix had felt easy. It was suffocating in the way happiness felt after being sad for so long. It was like coming up for fresh air after almost drowning. It was the relief you felt when you were done taking care of a deep cut. Nothing about him felt easy.
Later, you found yourself outside on the terrace, the city stretched out below like a constellation you couldn’t name. The air was cold against your bare shoulders.
You heard the door slide open.
“Hey,” Felix said softly. His voice — that familiar warmth — filled the quiet that sat between car horns honking and faded laughter. “I lost you in there. You okay?”
You smiled without turning. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”
“You sure?”
You turned to face him. The lights from the party framed him in gold. “How’s it feel? Twenty-three. You’ve got a big year ahead of you.” You smiled at him, your eyes gleaming from the fairy lights hung outside.
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? Overwhelming. I kinda wish we’d just done something small. Takeout, a movie. You, me, the guys.”
“There’s always next year. Or tomorrow,” you said with a small laugh.
He nodded, a small smile gracing his face, then hesitated. “I was talking to Lisa earlier—”
“I saw.” You smiled tightly. “She seems nice.”
“She’s amazing,” he said, smiling wider.
You felt the air leave your lungs. “I’m happy for you,” you lied.
He looked at you carefully. “You sure you’re okay?”
You keep the small smile on your face, “It’s your birthday, Felix. You should be celebrating, not worrying about me.”
He frowned. “You never call me Felix. What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.
He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You know I always have fun when it’s with you, right?”
You nodded, squeezing his hand. “You have people waiting for you.”
He lingered for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead.
And that — you realized — was the closest kind of love you’d ever get from him.
Later, lying in your dorm, the city noise filtering through your window, you finally understood what easy meant.
It meant not hiding.
It meant not loving in silence.
It meant not flinching when they smiled at someone else.
But love — this love — still mattered.
It mattered in the way hollow things do when you realize what you wanted was never yours to claim.
And still, selfishly, you’d rather have him this way — half yours, half not — than not have him at all.
SO GLAD I GOT TO BETA THIS I LOVE REALISTIC SLOW BURNS AND MADI COOKED !!!
I loved the timeline (in terms of being able to follow it clearly and the plot itself) and once again, I don’t usually stomach 9th member but this whole series was written so realistically and in character that I actually really loved it and I was so thankful Madi allowed me to beta most of it 🫶🏽 please check it out and give her a follow if you like this content!!
[Good Luck Kiss] It was weird seeing Hyunjin panic like this. Especially before a game. He’s usually the more reserved type and he would usually just stand at the corner of the room and listen to music while he practiced some ball handling. That was probably because it was before his girlfriend had broken up with him after last basketball season.
Before every game, you’d painfully watch her give him a small little good luck kiss right at the corner of his mouth while she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. He probably was used to that act of affection causing him to believe he actually needed that peck.
You watched Hyunjin as he paced back and forth at the edge of the gym, hugging the ball slightly just an hour before the game. They were going to face one of the better teams in the district so you did understand where his nerves were coming from, but knowing Hyunjin, it was unusual for him to act like this. His mouth moved slightly and constantly, indicating that he was muttering something, and he started to wring his hands with a death grip that turned his knuckles white.
“Hyunjin, you’ll do good!” you yelled from where you sat. The ball was mainly occupied by some spectators and the players who were warming up and waiting for time to pass. He looked up from this blank stare and put his attention onto you. His mouth twitched slightly into a smile but he couldn’t bring himself into actually giving a genuine smile. He started to walk towards your direction at the bottom of the bleachers and sat down next to you. You could hear his heavy breathing that left through his mouth.
“I’m nervous, Y/N,” he sighed out, “I know it’s been… like what, a year since she broke up with me, but it was sorta like a mini tradition you know?” You nodded as he kept talking, “It’s like if we suddenly just ended our weekly eat outs… it would just suck like that.” He placed the ball down and stuck it under his legs before he crossed his hands and fiddled with his thumbs. Gently, you reached over and rubbed the top of his back in attempt to comfort him. After a few moments, you brought your arm back close to your body.
“I understand, Jinnie,” you replied quietly. He pressed his lips into a line and puffed his cheeks. “I promise you’ll do good, you star player.” Hyunjin’s cheeks turned a shade of pink.
He nudged you with his elbow and shook his head, “Don’t call me that!” He laughed and settled back into just sitting. You laughed as well, shaking your head. You won’t listen to him… he really was the star player. Hyunjin just won’t admit it.
You both just sat there for a bit. Hyunjin found comfort in just sitting with you. Over the little time you both just sat, he could feel himself calm down, his breathing slowing down to the point of relaxation. He turned his head towards you slowly, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He smiled at the fact that you actually didn’t see him move, it gave him the chance to look at you even longer.
When the opposing school began to arrive, Hyunjin’s coach started calling the team in for the game plan. You nudged him in a rather comforting way, giving him a smile. He tried to smile but you noticed how it faltered everytime he did.
“I’ll be watching, the guys will be watching. You can depend on us to cheer you on,” you reassured laying a hand on shoulder. His height had you reaching higher than an average person would but, in a way, it lightened the mood. He nodded. His dimple appeared lightly as he tightened the muscles in his face before turning around and towards the players’ bench.
As you went to sit down, he turned back swiftly and the next thing you knew he was stood right in front of you again. The way he was acting reminded you of a kid who couldn’t leave his mom on the first day of school. He looked down at you with large, round eyes, like he was asking for something.
“Hyunjin, I swear on m-”
“Can you give me a good luck kiss?” At first Hyunjin completely regretted the words that left his mouth, but then again, there was nothing to lose. You stared at him stunned and confused. Did he really just say that?
“W-what?” you say. You made sure it was in a tone that wasn’t rough or too quiet, something he can interpret and understand that you actually didn’t get what he was saying.
He pulled you up gently and tapped the corner of his lips with his pointer finger. Hyunjin couldn’t make eye contact with you, but other than that, he was filled with confidence, “Just.. just a peck! Like a friendly one if you want…” When you hadn’t replied he kicked the gym floor, causing his shoes to squeak, “N-nevermind, it’s okay, that was st-”
“Wait,” you interrupted. You softly grabbed his wrist and tugged at his arm which indicated you wanted him to bend down. Hyunjin’s eyes lit up at the request. He bent down slightly, which still wasn’t enough for you to reach. You raised yourself using your toes and gave him a kiss at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t too long or short. Too mushy or boring. Just a simple kiss that was enough to make both of your hearts melt.
🐇 ❫ 𝐜𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 lovers au━━enhypen x fem! fluff ╱ established relationship · love at first sight! · exes ៸៸ suggestive partying 𝗽𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌
༝༚༝༚ 𝟮𝟭𝟱𝟮𝖶 ❛ clickhere ❜
LEE HEESEUNG
heeseung was getting impatient at this point. he had told you to get ready for his work dinner 10 minutes ago, and you were still in your closet. he cringes, looking over at the texts his boss sent him.. he could absolutely not afford to be late. “Ok honey—I’m ready!” you said hurriedly, trying to not make him too angry. “God, finally—” he huffs, fixing his tie in frustration as he pulled his eyes away from his phone and looked up at you.
the moment he looked at you, his breath hitched. heeseung raised his eyebrows, jaw softening as he took in your figure in that light blue, maxi, figure—hugging dress.. you smiled, tilting your head. “I’m sorry for being.. a little late.” you whispered, stepping closer to him and rubbing your hands on his shoulders. his heartbeat could be heard, as he shook his head and pouted, pressing his forehead against yours and looking down at your lips.
“No, not at all, darling.. we still having 5 minutes..” he whispered, pressing your body into his and muffling your giggles as he gently crushed his lips against yours, wasting another 10 minutes.
PARK JONGSEONG
“We’re so glad you’ve come, Jay!” Your mother sighed, holding onto her clutch and shawl. Jay nodded and smiled, adjusting his suit tie nervously under the glare of your father leaning on the couch. “It’s my pleasure to come to your family dinner..” he said with a soft nervous chuckle. he didn’t even know how he got here. one minute, his annoying girl next door came knocking on his door, asking him to be her date for a family dinner. and the next minute, he was in the middle of you living room in a suit and tie, while everyone was waiting for you to come downstairs.
“Kay—I’m coming down!” you cooed, walking out of your room. your parents sighed in relief, as they started to leave the living room, following your annoyed little brother playing on his ipad. but Jay just.. couldn’t take his eyes off of you, in just a simple lilac maxi dress as you struggled in those heels, waddling over to him. he didn’t know his whiny neighbor could be this.. charming. “Like my dress?” you hummed, flowing the skirt lightly and wrapping your other hand around his arm.
he looked down at your figure, before gulping and shrugging, elevating his eyes to yours again. “I don’t like purple.” he mutters, his shaky voice and wandering eyes betraying his snarky words, making you raise an eyebrow. yet you had no room to argue, because of Jay’s tug to leave the house. “Oh-!”
SIM JAEYUN
“Look here!” “Jake!” “Pose for us!” the paparazzi exclaimed while flashing lights, snapping photos at every second. Jake looked down, following his guards and snapping a few poses at times. who even was this jake guy? you wondered. you were just a bit annoyed at how on your first day of this job, you were already being shoved against sweaty bodies of photographers trying to snap a photo of him.
when you finally escaped the giant crowd, you propped up your camera, finally able to catch a sight of this alleged mega—celebrity. but just as you were about to snap a photo, you finally understood all of the mass paparazzi following him.. he was just gorgeous. wearing a black long sleeve, hair styled away from his face, almost as if he was a disney prince. and like it was a string of fate connecting himself to the clueless photographer, his eyes caught yours — and life seemed to be going in slow motion for a second.
his eyes froze, smile dropping for a second as he blinked. amidst all the flashes and fans, he could only focus on the paparazza a few feet away from him, who seemed awestruck in her own spot. the way your scarf was about to fall, the wind from the open airport doors blowing your hair away, how your eyes seemed to look so lost in his. he felt like he was being pulled in.. “Jake—shi!” his bodyguard spoke, as he was pushed by the large crowds, losing his eye contact with the pretty photographer. you gasped at the interaction, feeling your heart race at the 2 seconds of contact.. who was this guy?
PARK SUNGHOON
sunghoon knew what he was doing when he came to this party. he knew he couldn’t survive here sober, he was always the life of the party — dancing, drinking, yelling, turning a college party to something more than just a rave, more of a moment, the moment. meanwhile, you were still navigating the social life of this college as a fresh transfer student. you followed your friend closely, trying not to get lost in the club—like area..
“Sunghoon, get off!” his friend yelled with a grin, as hoon laughed loudly, drunk off the radar as he lazily climbed down the table. but the mention of the name sent your heart into shock, as you froze in your spot. you looked at where the familiar name was yelled, where you heard the same laugh. and sure enough, park sunghoon was there. your ex from freshman year of high school, your first boyfriend. “Y/n, follow me!” your friend called out, and like your name was the only thing he heard as well, his head shot towards the call.
suddenly the blinding lights didn’t matter, the blasting music went silent. he didn’t expect his ex, from his first painful, young, messy, misunderstood break up years ago, to be here, out of all places. the second—long eye contact made shared all the adolescent memories, as his eyes leered over how much more.. grown.. you had become. but you were dragged away by your friend, making his eyes chase you again. and this time, he didn’t hesitate to run after you.
KIM SUNOO
the sun was beaming on the streets of the parisians. but your sun was beaming right in front of you, grinning as he chowed down the ice cream you treated him. you chuckled at how cute he looked, keeping your hands interlocked on the cafe table, while tasting your own ice cream cone. you found yourself playing with the shiny rings on your and his ring fingers, the new accessory adorning your relationship since last month.
you didn’t expect to elope. you always wanted a fancy, big wedding. and a part of you had doubts but right now? with your now husband — struggling to keep his ice cream from melting and dripping, yet still trying to keep your hands interlocked, in the sunny streets of Paris on your honeymoon — it all seemed just right with him. a chuckle escaped your lips at how cute he looked, pushing your ice cream away and pulled him closer by his shirt collar.
“You clumsy..” the words lazily left your mouth. “Mph-” Sunoo’s voice muffled against your lip.. as your own reached to the sides of his chin where mint chocolate was dripping. you giggled at how fast he heated up, his ears immediately turning red. it was safe to say right now was the moment you both found yourself falling in love all over again — but for you, it was appreciating your sun—kissed husband in your Paris honeymoon, and for him it was in a cheeky little kiss.
YANG JUNGWON
going to prom with jungwon wasn’t on your bingo card. but after your boyfriend of a year had broken up with you the night before, leaving you crying in your prom dress like the cliches, jungwon stepped up immediately. “Don’t cry over a scum like that..” he whispered as you sobbed into his neck on the night of the break up, while you were huddled up next to him on your bed. jungwon didn’t think a guy like your ex deserved you at all. no one did.
they never treated you right, you always ended up in his arms at the end of the day, sobbing about how no one was right for you. he struggled everytime to not pull you closer, kiss you senseless and lift you off your feet, showing you that the right guy was just in front of you. so even if he was ‘friend’ date for prom, he was going to make this night your best.
jungwon leaned against the stairs handle, still waiting for you to finally get down. but when he heard the footsteps down the stairs, his head shot up. and the sight did not disappoint him at all.. as you walked down the stairs in a light pink, mermaid dress. you smiled down at him, standing in front of him. his heart started to race again, not only seeing his best friend from freshman year, but his crush — his grown, beautiful, mature crush.
“Like my dress?” you cooed softly, as you did a little spin, turning around and showing your dress. while Jungwon stood — lips slightly parted, eyes blank as he gazed over your figure. he shook his head, blinking as he got back to his senses. he gently wrapped his arm around your waist, other hand still holding your purse, while nuzzling into your neck to hide his raging blush. “M-mhm..”
NISHIMURA RIKI
he was a punk, she did ballet. you were simple — girly, put-together, graceful, smiley. riki was complex — gruff, punkish, tatted, pierced. he worked at hot topic, you couldn’t even enter the store without a shudder. despite your polished image, you, along with your ballerina friends, were a cold hater of the punk rockers, the skater boys, the ‘scary’ and ‘intimidating’ guys who wore band shirts and had dyed, spiky hair.
as you left practise with a hot latte in your hands, your friend scoffed as she leered at the skaters across your ballet school. you looked up, noticing her annoyance, as you noticed what she was glaring at. you let out a chuckle and shook your head. “What airheads.. look at those chains and saggy pants and.. weird hair.” she huffs, shaking her head at their odd fashion. you almost followed her, but paused when you heard something hit on the gravel below. “Dropped something, princess?” Riki says, his large fingers holding the keychain of your mini ballet flat accessory.
you turned around and widened your eyes.. his silvery blonde hair, hand shoved into his pocket, bending down slightly to reach your height and tilting his head with a pout, as if he was mocking you. his deep voice matched his scary-looking clothes, band shirts, baggy jeans, a chrome hearts beanie, you’d be too scared wear. he was scary.. too scary. so scary, you just wanted to stare into his sharp eyes and learn more about him.
but you cleared your throat, eyes glaring up at him as you snatched the keychain from his hand, not saying a word as you walked away from the ‘scary’ boy. niki scoffed, annoyance filling his body at the snobbish girl. but the moment you tripped slightly on the sidewalk, he remembered how pink and flustered you got when you were staring at him, and suddenly he felt a bit more cocky. a bit more interested..
404: 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙
⭒ college au · fake dating · slowburn · nerd!jisung · tension & comfort ⭒
୨୧ 14.3k words ୨୧ ∣ 1.5k Followers special
pairings ⇢ nerd!han jisung x student council head!reader
genre: college au · fake dating · romance · tension-heavy fluff · angst · comfort · slight spice (no smut)
⌕ synopsis:
You’re the picture-perfect student council head — organized, outspoken, admired. Han Jisung is the boy always tucked into his hoodie, quiet in the back of your class, barely a whisper. When a creepy jock won't take a hint, you drag Jisung into a fake relationship to save face. What starts as an act becomes a mess of accidental touches, lingering stares, and tension you can’t breathe through. He's not just the quiet boy — he's the boy who listens, who protects, who burns in silence for you.
But what happens when your fake boyfriend becomes the only one who truly sees you?
author's note:
I wrote this for every girl (including myself.) who’s ever wanted the shy boy with the hoodie to look up and set the world on fire. Jisung is love. Jisung is war. Enjoy the tension and tell me who’s falling harder — him or you.
⌗ not proofread!
⌗ send asks/request, I scream over them. (literally.)
The fluorescent lights of the deserted hallway hummed, casting a sickly yellow glow that did nothing to soothe the frantic beat of your heart. You clutched your textbooks tighter, knuckles white against the worn covers, as Mark’s shadow loomed closer. His usual cologne, a cloying mix of something vaguely sporty and entirely too much ambition, now felt like a suffocating cloud.
“Come on, [Y/N],” his voice, smooth as polished concrete, grated on your nerves. “Just one date. What’s the big deal? Everyone knows we’d be perfect together.”
Everyone meant Mark and his circle of jock-brained sycophants who believed your role as head of the student council meant you were fair game for the school’s most entitled. You’d spent the last month deflecting his increasingly persistent advances with practiced smiles and vague excuses. But today, after an exhaustive three-hour council meeting that had drained you of all your polite reserves, his unwavering confidence was a suffocating weight.
“Mark, I’ve told you,” you tried, your voice a little breathier than you would have liked. You glanced around frantically. The hallway was completely empty, the last stragglers having vanished moments ago. Even the ever-present janitor seemed to have taken an early leave. “I’m really busy. And besides, I… I’m already seeing someone.”
A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, really? That’s news to me. And to everyone else, for that matter. Who’s the lucky guy, then? Because last I checked, you were practically married to the student council, not anyone with a pulse.” He stepped closer, his imposing frame blocking your escape route to the main exit. The faint scent of stale locker room and fake confidence was overwhelming.
Panic, cold and sharp, coiled in your gut. You needed an out, and you needed one now. Your eyes darted wildly, desperate for a distraction, a human shield, anything. They landed, almost comically, on a figure hunched over a locker at the far end of the hallway.
He was a silhouette against the muted light from the window, his form swallowed by a voluminous, dark grey hoodie that looked several sizes too big. Baggy jeans pooled around his worn sneakers. A pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose, catching the light as he meticulously rearranged what looked like a stack of obscure-looking textbooks and a tangle of wires. Even from a distance, you could tell he was flinching slightly, as if the last sliver of afternoon sun dared to trespass into his personal space. His head was bowed, hidden by the hood, and a pair of headphones were clamped firmly over his ears, effectively isolating him in his own world.
Han Jisung. The resident genius-slash-recluse of the school. He was known for his almost supernatural ability to avoid eye contact, his mumbled responses, and his uncanny knack for solving the most complex calculus problems while simultaneously sketching what looked like intricate circuit boards in the margins of his notes. He was the antithesis of everything Mark represented. He was… perfect.
A reckless, desperate impulse seized you. Without a second thought, you pointed.
“Him,” you declared, your voice ringing with a conviction you absolutely did not feel. “That’s my boyfriend.”
Mark’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of bewildered incredulity. He followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the oblivious Jisung. He looked back at you, then back at Jisung, then back at you again, as if trying to reconcile two vastly different species.
“Him?” Mark scoffed, the word dripping with disbelief. His voice was loud enough to echo in the empty corridor. “Han Jisung? The… the library hermit? You’re telling me he’s your boyfriend? The guy who looks like he’s allergic to sunlight and hasn't had a conversation longer than three sentences in his life?” He actually let out a short, disbelieving laugh, as if the idea was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard.
His reaction, the open ridicule, fueled a sudden surge of stubborn defiance in you. You squared your shoulders, a cold resolve replacing the earlier panic. If he wanted to mock, you’d give him something to mock about.
“Yep,” you said, injecting a breezy confidence into your tone, though your stomach was doing somersaults. “My boyfriend. He’s… private. And very studious. We like to keep things low-key.” You even managed to give a small, saccharine smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see my boyfriend. We have… private, studious things to do.”
You brushed past Mark, his jaw still slack with disbelief, and walked with as much nonchalance as you could muster towards the far end of the hallway. Every step felt like walking a tightrope over a canyon. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the corridor. Jisung was still oblivious, humming tunelessly to whatever was blasting through his headphones as he meticulously organized his locker.
You reached him, slowing your pace. He was so engrossed that he didn't even notice you until you cleared your throat, a little louder than intended. He startled, his head snapping up so fast that his glasses almost slid off his nose. His eyes, wide and a startling shade of brown behind the lenses, were framed by wisps of dark hair peeking out from under his hood. He looked like a startled woodland creature caught in the headlights.
His gaze flickered to your face, then down to your textbooks, then back up to your eyes, his brow furrowed in utter confusion. He pulled one earbud out, a strand of wire dangling awkwardly.
“Uh… hi?” he mumbled, his voice soft, almost a whisper, as if he rarely used it.
You forced a smile, trying to appear calm despite the residual tremor in your hands. “Hey, Han. Can I… can I talk to you for a second?”
He blinked, clearly thrown off by the direct address. “Me?” he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly. He glanced around as if expecting someone else to appear from behind you.
“Yes, you,” you confirmed, stepping a little closer. You lowered your voice, conscious of Mark’s lingering, disbelieving stare from down the hall. He was still watching, you could feel it. “Look, I know this is going to sound completely insane, but I just… I need your help. It’s important.”
Jisung’s eyes widened even further, darting nervously between you and the empty space around him. He took another earbud out, completely. “Help? With what? Did you… did you lose your keycard? I have a master for the lab, but…”
You quickly shook your head. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s… it’s a personal emergency.” You hesitated, then decided honesty was the best, albeit most embarrassing, policy. “That guy, Mark, he’s been harassing me..not exactly- but like cornering me. Really persistent. And I just… I panicked. And I told him I had a boyfriend.”
Jisung’s face remained a blank canvas of confusion. “Okay…?”
“And then he asked who,” you continued, wringing your hands. “And you were the only person in the hallway. So… I pointed at you.”
He stared at you. A long, silent moment stretched between you, broken only by the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system. His eyes, usually so focused, seemed to be buffering, trying to process this unprecedented data. A faint, mortified flush began to creep up his neck, dusting his pale cheeks.
“Me?” he finally managed, his voice barely audible, a mixture of disbelief and genuine fluster. “You… you told him I was your boyfriend?”
You winced. “I know! I’m so, so sorry, Han. It was completely impulsive. I just needed him to back off. He… he only cares about appearances, you know? And he would never believe I’m dating someone who’s, well, not like him.” You gestured vaguely in his direction, then immediately regretted it. That sounded worse. “Not that you’re not amazing! You are! Just… different. Which is great! He just wouldn’t get it- He is- dumb!”
He was still staring, his face growing progressively redder. His hands, which had been fumbling with a calculus textbook, stilled. He looked so utterly out of his element, so clearly unused to this kind of direct, chaotic attention, that a pang of guilt shot through you.
“I understand that you were scared,” he said, surprising you with his quiet empathy. His voice was still soft, but there was a genuine understanding in his eyes now, replacing the initial bewilderment. “He… he can be very… persistent.” He paused, then sighed. “So, now he thinks… we’re dating?”
“Yes,” you confirmed, feeling a fresh wave of mortification. “And he’s the type to double-check. He’ll make it his mission to find out if I was lying. He’ll make my life a living hell if he thinks I strung him along.”
Another beat of silence. Jisung seemed to be doing complex mental calculations, weighing the pros and cons of this entirely unexpected predicament. He ran a hand through his slightly messy hair, pushing his glasses further up his nose.
“So,” you ventured, taking a deep breath and plunging into the proposal you’d mentally formulated on your panicked walk over. “Here’s the deal. I need you to… fake date me. Just until he backs off. A few weeks, maybe a month or two. You wouldn’t have to do much. Just… be seen with me sometimes. Acknowledge me in the halls. Maybe walk me to class once in a while i will do so too! I’ll make it as easy as possible for you. And… I’ll pay you, if you want. Or I can help you with anything, any projects, extra credit, anything you need.”
Jisung’s eyes were wide, fixed on you. He looked like he was witnessing a complex scientific phenomenon he couldn't quite explain. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His cheeks were still flushed, but a strange glint, almost of… intrigue, flickered in his gaze.
He took a moment, then, to your utter surprise, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was quick, fleeting, but undeniably there.
“I’ve read about this trope,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly behind his glasses.
Your breath hitched. Trope? Of course, he would know the literary term for it. You almost laughed in relief. This might actually work.
“So… you’ll do it?” you asked, a hopeful tremor in your voice.
He exhaled slowly, a soft, almost imperceptible sound. He looked at you, really looked at you, with an intensity that made you momentarily forget the chaos that had led you here. There was a quiet kindness in his gaze that you hadn't expected.
“Okay,” he said, the single word a quiet agreement. “I… I can help.”
Relief washed over you so intensely that your knees felt a little weak. “Oh, Han! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea what a lifesaver you are!”
You were so overwhelmed that you almost hugged him, but caught yourself just in time. He flinched slightly at your enthusiasm, confirming that physical contact was probably still off-limits.
“Okay,” you said, trying to dial back your excitement. “So, starting now. We’re… we’re dating.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “So, maybe… let’s walk out together? Mark’s still out there.”
He nodded, a hesitant bob of his head. He pulled his backpack onto his shoulder, adjusting the heavy strap. The hood was still up, almost completely obscuring his face.
As you walked down the hallway side-by-side, a bizarre sense of unreality settled over you. You, [Y/N], the perpetually composed student council head, were now fake-dating Han Jisung, the human embodiment of the library. It was absurd. It was terrifying. And somehow, exhilarating.
You passed Mark, who was still standing there, looking like someone had just told him the sky was purple. He stared, wide-eyed, as you and Jisung walked past. You even managed a small, victorious smirk in his direction. Jisung, for his part, kept his head down, but you felt a slight tremor in his arm as he walked beside you. He was radiating an almost palpable aura of anxiety.
As you stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Jisung blinked, wincing slightly. He seemed to shrink further into his oversized hoodie.
“I live… this way,” you said, pointing down the street.
“Oh. Right.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked like he might genuinely faint. His hands were clenched at his sides.
You resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it would probably send him spiraling. This was going to be a fascinating few weeks. You wondered what kind of internal monologue was running through his head right now.
Later that night, curled up in his bed, surrounded by an impressive array of coding books and music equipment, Han Jisung pulled out a worn, leather-bound journal. The pages were filled with neat, precise handwriting, diagrams, and what looked like musical notations. He uncapped his pen, hesitated for a long moment, then wrote:
Dear brain, what are we doing?
He paused, chewing on the end of his pen. He scratched out a line, then started a new one.
Log Entry: Day 1.
Operation: Fake Dating.
Initiated: [Y/N], Head of Student Council.
Subject: Me.
Purpose: Deter persistent… jock.
Status: Extremely Confused. Data points: Elevated heart rate, inexplicable sweating, internal system overload.
Hypotheses: This is either the most illogical decision of my life, or… a new variable in an otherwise predictable equation. Further research required. Must procure more rom-coms. For science. Obviously.
He closed the journal, running a hand over its cover. The memory of her intense gaze, her nervous yet determined smile, and the fleeting relief in her eyes when he agreed, played back in his mind. He still couldn't quite believe it. Her. And him. Boyfriend. The word felt alien on his tongue, a foreign program his system was struggling to run. He sighed, a soft, bewildered sound, and pulled his blanket tighter around himself. This was going to be… interesting.
-
A few weeks bled into a month, and the initial, stomach-lurching awkwardness of your fake relationship with Han Jisung had, surprisingly, begun to settle into a strange, almost comfortable rhythm. Mark, thankfully, seemed to have taken your declaration seriously. His smirks had vanished, replaced by a sullen, confused frown whenever he saw you and Jisung in the same vicinity. Victory.
The “public moments” you’d proposed were surprisingly easy to orchestrate. Jisung, true to his word, would nod stiffly when you passed him in the hall, sometimes even offering a fleeting, almost imperceptible half-smile that was more a nervous twitch than genuine amusement. He’d walk you to class, head down, eyes usually scanning the floor as if searching for a lost theorem, but always staying a respectful half-step behind you. He’d even mastered a quick, almost imperceptible glance around the corner before you turned it, a silent check for the creep. It was endearing, in its own peculiar way.
Today was a test of the new normalcy. You were meeting your friends for lunch in the bustling cafeteria, a place where privacy went to die. Jisung was already there, meticulously dissecting a sandwich and ignoring the world through his omnipresent headphones. You spotted him, a small island of quiet in a sea of raucous chatter, and a mischievous idea sparked.
"Hey, guys!" you chirped, approaching your table where Sarah, Liam, and Chloe were already digging into their trays. "Sorry I'm late, had to grab something." You didn't wait for their replies. Instead, you veered slightly, heading straight for Jisung's table.
He looked up, startled, as your shadow fell over him. He pulled out an earbud, his eyes wide. Before he could utter his usual mumbled greeting, you leaned down, a bright, easy smile plastered on your face, and linked your arm through his.
"Hey, babe," you said, loud enough for your friends to hear, but soft enough to sound somewhat natural. You squeezed his arm gently. "Mind if I steal a fry?"
Jisung froze. Absolutely, completely froze. His entire body stiffened, and you could feel the tremor in his arm even through the fabric of his hoodie. His eyes, already wide, somehow managed to widen further, darting from your arm to your face, then wildly around the cafeteria as if searching for an escape route. A deep, mortified blush bloomed on his neck, creeping upwards to engulf his ears. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, about to spontaneously combust.
"G-girlfriend?" he choked out, the word escaping him in a strangled gasp. It sounded less like a term of endearment and more like a medical emergency.
You tried to suppress your giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. "Yeah, girlfriend," you repeated, your smile unwavering. "These fries look amazing."
He let out a small, strangled sound that might have been a whimper. He didn’t reply, didn’t move. He just sat there, a statue of flustered confusion, his eyes fixed on your arm linked with his, as if it were a venomous snake about to strike. He finally managed to push his tray of fries vaguely in your direction, then just… shut down. He sat rigidly, observing you, his gaze following your every movement as you casually plucked a fry from his tray.
Your friends, who had been watching the entire exchange with open mouths, finally reacted.
"Wait, that's him?" Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning fascination. She knew Jisung existed, of course, everyone did, but seeing him up close, interacting with you… it was jarring.
Liam, always the cynic, raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, [Y/N]? The guy who communicates exclusively through hums and the occasional muttered equation?"
"He's actually… kinda adorable," Chloe mused, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was known for seeing the good in everyone, and even she seemed genuinely surprised. "And he's so respectful. Look at him, he just gave her his fries."
You shot them a look that clearly said, Play along, then turned back to Jisung, who was still rigid. You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You okay there, Han?"
He finally blinked, like a computer restarting. "Fine," he mumbled, though his face was still burning. He carefully, almost tentatively, picked up his sandwich again, but his movements were stiff, like a robot whose joints needed oiling.
Over the next week or so, something remarkable happened. Jisung, the boy who flinched at your slightest movement, started to get used to your touch. Not just used to it, but almost… receptive. When you linked arms in the hall, he still tensed for a split second, but then his muscles would relax. If you accidentally brushed his hand reaching for a textbook, he wouldn’t jerk away. Once, during a particularly boring lecture, you leaned your head on his shoulder, pretending to rest, and after an initial rigid shock, he actually… sagged slightly, as if finding a strange comfort in your proximity.
Alone in his room, he’d freak out. He’d replay the day’s interactions in his mind, dissecting every touch, every accidental brush. His journal entries became a chaotic mix of calculus theorems and frantic questions about synaptic responses to unexpected tactile stimuli. Why did her arm feel… right? Why did my shoulder not immediately recoil? Is this a malfunction?
"Okay, boyfriend," you declared one afternoon, holding up your phone. "We need more proof. For believability. We're taking selfies."
Jisung looked at the phone as if it were a deadly weapon. "Selfies?" he croaked, his voice cracking. "But… my face…"
"Your face is just fine," you laughed, pulling him closer. He stiffened, but didn't pull away. You pressed your cheek against his, tilting the phone. "Just smile! Or don't. Just… exist, awkwardly. Would suggest smile a little"
He died inside. You could practically feel his soul departing his body. His smile was less a smile and more a grimace of pure existential dread, but the photos, to your surprise, were perfect. They captured his endearing awkwardness and your playful charm. You posted one on your private story, adding a heart emoji. You could almost hear Mark's blood pressure rising from across campus.
One afternoon, heading home, you spotted a photo booth in a small arcade. "Come on," you tugged on his sleeve, "Boyfriend duty! We need more proof."
He looked utterly terrified, but followed you inside. The small, cramped space felt even smaller with his nervous energy. You put in the coins, and the flash went off, startling him. He jumped, his face a mask of surprise in the first shot. The next few were a blur of you laughing, him looking utterly bewildered, and then, in the final shot, you leaned in, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. He froze, eyes wide, a blush erupting on his face.
When the strip of photos slid out, you both looked at them. You burst out laughing at his expressions. He, surprisingly, didn't look completely horrified. He even managed a tiny, shy smile at the one where you kissed his cheek. You took the strip, carefully tearing it in half. One half, you tucked into the clear case of your phone, hidden behind your favorite polaroid. The other half, you offered to him.
He took it with trembling fingers, his gaze fixed on the image. Later that night, alone, he would carefully fold it and tuck it into his wallet, a secret treasure.
You discovered a new hobby: leaving him notes. Little Post-it notes, sometimes with a doodle, sometimes just a silly message, sometimes a reminder for a "date" (read: walking you to the library). You'd slip them into the pocket of his hoodie when he wasn't looking, or stick them to his locker.
He kept every single one. Even the dumbest ones, like the one that just said "Hi, Boyfriend!" with a smiley face, or the one with a crude drawing of a stick figure holding a pizza slice. He had a small, otherwise empty box in his desk drawer, and each note was carefully smoothed out and placed inside. They were tangible proof of… something. Something new, something confusing, something that made his chest feel strangely warm.
His protectiveness, while still subtle, was growing. During one of your student council meetings, as you presented your budget proposal, you felt a prickling sensation on your neck. You glanced up, and there he was, standing just outside the meeting room, leaning against the wall. His gaze wasn't on you, but sweeping the hallway, then settling on the figure of Mark, who was loitering near the water fountain, pretending to be absorbed in his phone, but clearly watching you.
Jisung's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He pushed off the wall and, with a casualness that was entirely un-Jisung-like, walked closer to the meeting room door, positioning himself squarely in Mark's line of sight to you. He pulled out his own phone, feigning interest, but his posture was subtly different now – less reclusive, more… present. He was a silent sentinel. You almost smiled.
Every morning, he’d be there. Waiting by your locker, or just outside your first class. He always looked sleepy, a slight slouch to his shoulders, but his eyes, behind his glasses, were always scanning the hallway, a quiet vigilance about him. And he would listen. He wouldn't interrupt, wouldn't offer advice unless explicitly asked. He just listened, head tilted slightly, as you yapped about the latest student council drama, or a funny thing your friend did, or a particularly frustrating chemistry problem. He absorbed it all, a silent, comforting presence.
You found yourself teasing him more and more. Gently, of course. Just enough to see that fascinating blush creep up his neck, to watch him fumble for words.
"You know," you'd muse, as he meticulously organized his pens by color, "for a genius, you really get flustered easily, Jisung."
He'd drop a pen, pick it up, his ears turning bright red. "It's… it's a physiological response to unexpected… stimuli," he'd mumble, avoiding your gaze.
"Uh huh," you'd hum, batting your eyelashes playfully. "Or maybe you just think I'm really charming."
He’d be 0.2 seconds from imploding. His entire system seemed to overload. He’d clear his throat, adjust his glasses, and find sudden, urgent interest in the scuff mark on his shoe. It was addictive, seeing him unravel in such a delightful way.
At night, in the quiet solitude of his room, the journal entries grew longer, more introspective.
Log Entry: Day 57.
Subject: [Y/N].
Observation: Increased tactile interaction.
Response: Initial system shock, followed by inexplicable sense of… comfort?
Hypothesis: Proximity effect. Further testing required.
Current research focus: Human romantic comedies.
Objective: Understand typical ‘boyfriend’ behaviors.
Data collection: Kissing scenes.
Note: Significant variation in technique. More data needed. For academic purposes only, of course. Just in case.
He’d rewatch a particularly passionate movie kiss, pausing it, rewinding, watching it again. He’d make mental notes: Angle of head tilt, duration, lip pressure… He’d flush furiously in the dark, wondering what on earth he was doing, what kind of ridiculous rabbit hole this "fake dating" was leading him down. But then he’d remember your laugh, the way your hand felt linked with his, the way you trusted him to just be there, and a strange warmth would spread through his chest.
The "Boyfriend.exe" program was definitely running. And to his utter bewilderment, it was running surprisingly well.
Five months. Five months had somehow evaporated since you’d pointed a desperate finger at the unassuming figure of Han Jisung and declared him your boyfriend. What started as a chaotic lie had morphed into an oddly comfortable, undeniably complex routine. The initial panic of the fake dating had long subsided, replaced by a nuanced understanding, a silent communication that had slowly, subtly, woven itself into the fabric of your daily lives.
You’d grown fond of him. More than fond, actually. You found yourself looking forward to his quiet presence, his sleepy morning greetings, the way he’d listen intently to your endless stories without interruption. He was a steady, grounding force in your otherwise bustling world, and you realized, with a quiet jolt, that you genuinely enjoyed his company.
And Jisung? The metamorphosis was remarkable. He was still Jisung, the boy who wore his hoodie like armor and spoke in soft mumbles, but cracks had appeared in that carefully constructed shell. He was opening up. Tentatively at first, like a shy bloom unfurling in the sun, then with increasing confidence.
It started with music. You’d been walking home one evening, the sky painted in hues of lavender and bruised orange, when he’d suddenly cleared his throat.
“You know,” he’d begun, his voice still quiet but laced with an unfamiliar excitement, “I’ve been working on a new track. It’s… it’s a bit experimental. Combines trap beats with a classical piano melody. I’m trying to capture the feeling of… organized chaos.” He looked at you then, a rare, direct gaze, his eyes shining with an almost childlike enthusiasm. “Do you… do you want to hear it sometime?”
Your heart had done a funny little flip. “I’d love to, Jisung,” you’d said, genuinely. “Tell me about it. What inspired it?”
And he did. He talked about his dreams of producing, about the intricate layers of sound, about how he heard melodies in mundane things, like the rhythm of raindrops or the hum of the school’s heating system. He spoke about his favorite artists, dissecting their compositions with a passion that was almost startling. His words tumbled out, faster than you’d ever heard him speak, and his hands, usually so still, moved animatedly as he described complex musical structures.
You just listened. Really listened. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You watched his face light up, the way his eyes danced behind his glasses, and a warmth spread through you. He was more than just the quiet nerd. He was a brilliant, passionate soul hidden behind a thick, soft hoodie. And you found him incredibly, irresistibly cute when he was so excitedly absorbed in his world.
One particularly sweltering afternoon, you were sitting in the near-empty library. He was sketching furiously in a notebook, a diagram of a complex sound system by the looks of it, while explaining something about song octaves – a topic completely lost on you, but his enthusiasm was infectious. As he leaned closer to point out a detail, his glasses, perpetually sliding down his nose, slipped precariously. Without thinking, your hand reached out, your fingers gently pushing them back into place on the bridge of his nose.
His hand, which had been mid-air, froze. He stopped talking mid-sentence, the word ‘frequency’ hanging unfinished in the air. His eyes, magnified by the lenses, were suddenly wide and fixed on your face. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. It was as if a crucial circuit in his brain had suddenly overloaded. He short-circuited.
A faint, but undeniable, blush crept from his neck, up his cheeks, and flooded his ears. It was a deep, fiery red. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. He just… stared. His breathing seemed to hitch.
You pulled your hand back, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. His reaction was always so extreme, so beautifully, awkwardly honest.
“Cute,” you murmured, a genuine warmth in your voice. “You’re cute when you get all excited about music.”
His blush intensified, reaching the tips of his ears. He looked away, his gaze darting to the ceiling, then the floor, anywhere but at you. He cleared his throat, a rough, dry sound.
“It’s… it’s not… frequency is important for… harmonics,” he stammered, trying to pick up where he’d left off, but his voice was strained, and he clearly couldn't remember what he was saying. He eventually gave up, closing his notebook with a soft thud. The tension in the air was palpable, a delicious, unspoken energy simmering between you.
That night, after your part-time job at the local café, you found him waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamp post, his hoodie pulled low. The streetlights cast long shadows, and a cool breeze had picked up.
“Hey,” you said, a little surprised, but pleased. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“Just… thought I’d walk you home,” he mumbled, pushing off the lamp post.
As you walked, the air grew chillier. Your hands, still slightly damp from washing dishes at the café, were cold. You shivered. Jisung, ever observant, noticed. He stopped, and without a word, slowly, awkwardly, offered you his hand.
It wasn't a confident, bold grab. It was a hesitant, open palm, almost a question. Your heart thumped. You slid your cold fingers into the warmth of his sleeves, finding his hand beneath the layers of fabric. His fingers were long and surprisingly warm. He didn’t intertwine them with yours, but simply held them, your hand enveloped by his and the soft fabric of his hoodie. It was an awkward, almost clumsy hand-hold, but it felt incredibly intimate. A surge of warmth spread through you, far beyond the physical. This was new. This was different. This was something.
He started composing something with you in mind. You didn't know it, not explicitly. But sometimes, when he was humming to himself, or scribbling in his music notebook, you’d catch snatches of melody that felt… like you. Bright, sometimes a little chaotic, but with an underlying sweetness. He’d quickly stop if he noticed you listening, muttering about “just experimenting.” But you suspected. You felt it in the way his eyes would linger on you after a particularly poignant chord, or the way he’d absentmindedly tap a rhythm that mirrored the beat of your own heart. He wouldn’t admit it, not yet, but you knew.
One afternoon, you were at his house, his room, ostensibly working on a group project, though you were mostly procrastinating while he was immersed in something on his laptop. He suddenly flinched, slamming his laptop shut with an almost comical speed.
“Everything okay?” you asked, startled.
“Yeah! Fine! Just… uh… a bug. In the code,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze, his face a little pale.
You raised an eyebrow, suspicious. He’d never been this flustered about a coding bug. He was usually methodical, calm. Later, after you’d left, he reopened his laptop, his heart pounding. There, in his image folder, was a candid photo of you. You were laughing, caught off guard, your hair a little messy, sunlight streaming through the window. He’d taken it weeks ago, completely on instinct, because you’d looked so beautiful in that moment. He hadn't realized he'd saved it.
A wave of self-loathing washed over him. Creep. What if she found out? What if she saw it? She’d be disgusted. She’d think he was some weird, obsessive stalker. His carefully constructed fake-dating facade would crumble. Without a second thought, he deleted the photo, emptying the recycle bin. It was better to erase all evidence, to protect this fragile, confusing thing they had.
The tension, however, wasn't just sweet and domestic. It had an edge, a sharp, possessive quality that began to emerge from Jisung.
It happened during basketball tryouts. Mark, of course, was there, dominating the court. Your guy friends, convinced Han needed more "extracurriculars" to appear "normal" (and because they secretly found his awkwardness hilarious), had somehow dragged him along. You were there too, cheering them on from the bleachers. Jisung, surprisingly, wasn't terrible. He was methodical, if not flashy, and his long limbs proved surprisingly useful for blocking.
During a water break, you overheard Mark, loud and obnoxious, talking to his cronies.
“Yeah, [Y/N]’s been weird lately,” he scoffed, loud enough for half the gym to hear. “Still parading around with that, what’s his face, the library kid. Seriously, what does she even see in him? Probably just using him to make me jealous. She’ll come crawling back once she realizes what she’s missing. I mean, look at her, she’s practically begging for it, wearing those-“
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Because at that exact moment, a basketball, thrown with surprising force and precision from across the court, sailed through the air and hit Mark squarely in the face. It wasn't a soft tap. It was a solid thwack. Mark staggered back, clutching his nose, a stream of expletives erupting from him.
Everyone turned. Jisung was standing in the middle of the court, a basketball still cradled in his hands, his face oddly blank, almost serene.
“Oops,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying surprisingly well in the sudden silence. “My bad. Must’ve slipped.” He offered a small, unconvincing shrug.
The coach, a gruff man who secretly admired Jisung’s unexpected court sense, just sighed. “Jisung, focus!” But there was no real reprimand in his voice. And to everyone’s surprise, Jisung, the library hermit, actually got into the basketball team.
Later, as you walked home, you looked at him, a flicker of something new in your eyes. "You 'accidentally' hit him with that basketball, didn't you?" you asked, a knowing smile playing on your lips.
He looked at you, his usual flustered expression back, but something else lingered behind it – a spark of something fierce. He reached out, his hand gently patting your head, a soft, almost paternal gesture.
“He was being annoying, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual, but with an underlying steel. “Don’t worry about it.”
Baby. The word, spoken so casually, yet with such unexpected possessiveness, sent a shiver down your spine. This quiet, awkward boy was changing. And the tension, once a playful hum, was tightening, growing thicker, hinting at depths you hadn't anticipated. The glasses might still be glitching, but something was very, very clear. This wasn’t just fake anymore. Not for him, and maybe, just maybe, not for you either.
The air in the stadium was thick with anticipation, a palpable buzz that vibrated through the bleachers. Today was the first inter-college basketball match, eleven months into your "relationship" with Han Jisung. Eleven months that had taken you on a journey from panicked desperation to… well, whatever this quiet, intense, undeniably real connection was.
You scanned the court, searching for him. The team was warming up, a flurry of bouncing balls and athletic bodies. Jisung, despite his initial reluctance, had proven to be a surprisingly valuable player. Not flashy, not a showboat, but strategic, precise, and with an uncanny ability to anticipate plays. He was the quiet anchor of the team, the one who didn't seek the spotlight but consistently delivered.
The whistle shrieked, signaling the start of the match. The crowd roared, a wave of sound crashing over the court. The game began, a fast-paced blur of motion. Jisung was in the thick of it, his long limbs surprisingly agile as he weaved through opponents. He made a crucial block, then sprinted down the court, his usually bowed head held high.
The stadium lights beat down, hot and unforgiving. The air was heavy, humid, sticking to skin. As the first half drew to a close, a timeout was called. The players clustered around their coach, sweat slicking their brows. You watched as Jisung, breathing heavily, reached down and, with a casualness that made your breath hitch, lifted the hem of his jersey to wipe the sweat from his face.
And then you saw them.
Not just you. Everyone did.
Beneath the loose fabric of his jersey, revealed for a fleeting moment, were toned abs. A sculpted, defined core that spoke of hidden strength and consistent effort. He was lean, yes, but undeniably muscular not too much but in a manner to make people swoon. The "baggy hoodie" image you, and everyone else, had of him shattered in that single, sweat-drenched instant.
A collective murmur rippled through the stands. Whispers, surprised gasps. He wasn’t just “nerdy Jisung” anymore. He wasn't just “the quiet one who got dragged into basketball.” He was suddenly… Han Jisung. An athlete. And a seriously, unexpectedly attractive one.
Your eyes widened. You knew he worked out. He’d mentioned late-night gym sessions, a way to de-stress from his studies and composing. But you’d always pictured it as a casual thing, a functional necessity, not something that produced… that. You felt your cheeks warm, a heat that had nothing to do with the stadium lights. You tried desperately not to stare, to maintain your composure, to pretend you hadn’t just witnessed a paradigm shift in the universe.
You failed. Hard. Your gaze kept drifting back to him, even after his jersey settled back down. You weren't the only one. People were openly staring, pointing, a new kind of interest dawning in their eyes.
Jisung, oblivious, seemed deeply confused by the sudden change in the crowd's energy. He furrowed his brow, glancing around, as if trying to locate the source of the collective gaze. He tugged at his jersey, as if sensing the newfound scrutiny, but he didn't connect it to his brief, accidental reveal.
The second half began, and a new energy coursed through Jisung. Whether it was the heat, the adrenaline, or the subconscious awareness of being watched, something ignited. He played with fierce precision, making incredible passes, and then, in the last two minutes, he did something truly remarkable. He stole the ball, dribbled with unexpected speed, and sank a perfect three-pointer. Then another. And another. Each shot was met with an explosion of cheers, the crowd now fully invested in the quiet dark horse.
He was the reason they won. The final buzzer blared, and the scoreboard confirmed it. The team rushed him, patting his back, shouting his name. Jisung, looking overwhelmed but undeniably pleased, gave a shy, triumphant smile.
After the post-game chaos, you met him outside the locker rooms. He was still in his sweaty jersey and shorts, his glasses slightly askew, a water bottle clutched in his hand. He looked exhausted, but exhilarated.
“You were amazing, Jisung!” you exclaimed, genuinely proud.
He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… got lucky, I guess.”
“Lucky? You practically carried the team!” You nudged his arm playfully. “Everyone was staring at you.”
He frowned, a hint of confusion still in his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. It was… weird.” He hadn’t put two and two together yet. Bless his oblivious heart.
“Come on,” you said, deciding to let him bask in his innocence for a bit longer. “Let’s go back to your place. We still have that history project to work on.”
He nodded, and you started the walk to his dorm. The evening air was cooler now, but the lingering heat from the stadium seemed to cling to him. As you reached his building, he fished out his keys, his movements a little clumsy with fatigue. He opened the door, stepping aside to let you in first.
His room was exactly as you remembered it – a controlled chaos of books, music equipment, and half-eaten snack wrappers. But today, the most striking thing was the air-conditioning, blasting cool air. You shivered slightly, feeling the sweat dry on your skin.
“You look cold,” he observed, his voice still a little breathless from the game. He gestured vaguely to his bed. “There’s… there’s a hoodie on my bed if you want.”
It was his signature dark grey hoodie, the one that usually swallowed him whole. You picked it up. It still smelled faintly of him – something clean, and a little like old books and fresh laundry. You pulled it over your head, the soft fabric a comforting weight. It was still huge on you, the sleeves dangling past your fingertips.
You glanced at him, a playful smirk touching your lips. He was still standing by the door, watching you, his eyes wide. He had stopped functioning. Completely. His mouth was slightly agape, and a deep, mortified flush was spreading across his face again, even darker than before. His gaze was fixed on you, specifically on his hoodie, now adorning your smaller frame.
You loved that you could do this to him. His reactions were always so pure, so uninhibited.
“Is the brain the only thing toned about you, Han Jisung?” you flirted lightly, watching his reaction. You leaned against his desk, crossing your arms, the oversized hoodie making you feel both small and powerful.
He stammered. “W-what? No! I mean… my… my muscles… for… for… strength!” His words tumbled out in a nonsensical jumble. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Without another word, he spun on his heel and practically sprinted towards the kitchen.
“I’ll go get you something to eat!” he yelled back, his voice strained. “Water! Snacks! Food!”
You laughed, a soft, warm sound that filled his room. He was still so gloriously awkward, even with his newly discovered abs.
A few minutes later, as you scrolled through your phone, a notification popped up. A text message. From Mark.
'Still with that loser? Heard he actually scored a few points today. Cute. You know who the real MVP is, [Y/N]. I’m still waiting.'
Your jaw tightened. He just didn't quit. You were about to delete it, to block him for good, when Jisung walked back into the room, two bottles of water and a bag of chips in his arms. His eyes, still slightly red from his internal system overload, landed on your phone screen. He saw Mark’s name.
The playful awkwardness vanished. His face, usually so soft, hardened instantly. His eyes, behind his glasses, glinted with a dangerous intensity. He dropped the chips and water onto his desk with a thud.
“What did he say?” he asked, his voice low, deceptively calm, but laced with an undeniable edge.
You looked up, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “It’s nothing, Han. Just Mark being Mark. I was about to delete it.”
He walked over to you, his eyes still fixed on the screen, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Give it to me.”
“No, really, it’s fine,” you tried, but he gently, firmly, took the phone from your hand. His gaze scanned the message, and then a primal, possessive anger flashed in his eyes. He clenched his fist around your phone.
“I’m going to confront him,” he said, his voice quiet, but utterly lethal. “He needs to learn. He needs to understand that you are not available. And he needs to stop.”
He looked like he was genuinely about to walk out the door and hunt Mark down punch some god damn sense into him. The raw intensity in his eyes startled you. This was a side of Jisung you’d only glimpsed – the silent guardian, the one who “accidentally” hit people with basketballs. This was different. This was pure, undiluted fury on your behalf.
You reached out, your fingers gently touching his arm, feeling the tense muscle beneath the hoodie’s sleeve. He flinched, but didn't pull away.
“Don’t,” you said, your voice soft, but firm. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, just below his glasses. His entire body tensed again, but this time, it was a different kind of tension. “He’s not worth it. You are.”
His breath hitched. The anger slowly, visibly, bled out of him, replaced by a deep, almost overwhelming softness. He lowered your phone, his grip loosening. His eyes, unfocused, stared straight ahead, as if processing the simple, profound statement. He lifted a hand, his fingers tentatively touching the spot where your lips had been.
The anger was gone. Replaced by something else. Something much, much deeper. The system had overheated, but the emotional core was still running. And it was starting to feel a lot less like a glitch, and a lot more like a fundamental change.
-
One year. A full 365 days had spiraled past since that chaotic afternoon in the hallway. A year of shared glances, whispered jokes, accidental touches that felt anything but accidental, and the slow, insidious growth of something far more complex than a "fake" relationship. Today marked their one-year anniversary, and you’d decided to celebrate it quietly, just the two of you, with the slightly-burnt cookies you’d baked.
You met in his room, the familiar space now feeling like a second home. The scent of vanilla, faintly clinging to your clothes from your baking, mingled with his subtle, comforting scent of old books and something uniquely Han. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, meticulously tuning his guitar, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Happy Anniversary, Jisung," you said softly, holding out a small, velvet pouch.
He looked up, startled, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Oh. Right. Happy… anniversary, [Y/N]." He took the pouch, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar spark through your skin. Inside was a delicate silver pendant, engraved with a small, abstract musical note.
"It's for your music," you explained, a little nervously. "So you always have a piece of it with you."
His eyes widened slightly as he took it out, tracing the tiny lines. "It's… it's really beautiful, [Y/N]. Thank you." He looked genuinely touched. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, intricately carved guitar pick, attached to a delicate silver chain. It was polished, gleaming, clearly well-loved.
"And this," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, "is for you. It’s my favorite plectrum. It’s seen a lot of… inspiration. I thought… you should have it."
Your heart swelled. It was such a him gift – personal, meaningful, something he clearly cherished. You took it, a warmth spreading through your chest. "It's perfect, Han."
You slid the silver pendant around his neck, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. He did the same for you, his long fingers surprisingly gentle as he fastened the chain, the small, cool pick resting against your collarbone. The air felt thick, charged with unspoken emotions.
He looked up then, his gaze meeting yours. Your eyes drifted down, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were soft, slightly parted, and you found yourself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to truly, really kiss him.
As if he’d read your mind, his gaze dropped to your lips too. The space between you, normally filled with comfortable silence, crackled with an undeniable tension. Your breath hitched. His eyes, usually hidden behind the shield of his glasses, were intense, almost hungry. He leaned in, just slightly, a silent question in his gaze. You felt yourself leaning in too, your heart hammering against your ribs.
The moment stretched, taut and fragile, ready to snap. But then, a sudden, loud laugh from the hallway broke the spell. A group of students passed by, their voices echoing. Jisung flinched, pulling back abruptly, his face flushing crimson. The moment was gone, shattered like fragile glass.
Later that week, as you walked home from school, the sky opened up. Rain, cold and sudden, lashed down. You instinctively pulled your bag over your head, but it was useless. You were already soaked.
"Wait," Jisung called, pulling his umbrella from his backpack. He opened it quickly, holding it over you. He maneuvered it so that the bulk of it shielded you, leaving his own shoulder exposed to the downpour. He hated the rain. You knew that. He always grimaced, always complained about the damp clinging to his clothes. Yet, here he was, deliberately getting wet to keep you dry.
As you reached your doorstep, dripping and shivering, he looked at you, a soft, concerned look on his face. "You're soaked. You'll catch a cold." He reached out, slowly taking out his hoodie from his bag – the very one you’d worn that day, the one that smelled faintly of your vanilla perfume. He pulled it out and offered it to you.
"Here. It's dry. Put this on."
Your heart gave a funny lurch. He was giving you his hoodie. Not just a hoodie, but his hoodie. The very symbol of his comfort, his privacy, his world. You took it, clutching the warm, dry fabric to your chest.
You looked up at him, standing there in the rain, his hair now plastered to his forehead, droplets clinging to his glasses. He looked so vulnerable, so open. The tension from the other night, the almost-kiss, returned with a vengeance.
He was still holding the umbrella, but he slowly, tentatively, lowered it. The soft drizzle started to land on both your faces. His eyes, usually so guarded, were fixed on yours, vulnerable and full of an unspoken longing. He leaned in again, slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.
Your lips were so close. You could feel his warm breath ghosting across them. Your eyes fluttered closed. This was it. This was the moment.
And then, just as your lips were about to brush, you both pulled back. Simultaneously. A silent, shared retreat, born not of rejection, but of a sudden, terrifying realization of the precipice you were standing on.
Jisung's eyes were wide, a flicker of panic in their depths. He looked away first, turning his head sharply, his hand instinctively reaching up to push his wet hair back.
Over the next few days, he started pulling away. Subtly at first. He wouldn't meet your gaze as readily. His morning greetings were a little more subdued. He stopped walking you all the way to your door, dropping you off a block away with a mumbled excuse. He was becoming more guarded, slipping back into his familiar shell, and it frustrated you to no end. Why? Why now? Especially after giving you his hoodie, after that almost-kiss that had felt so incredibly real?
You tried to break through his new distance, to tease him like you used to, but he would just nod, or offer a tight, almost forced smile. He wasn't short-circuiting anymore; he was shutting down.
Then came the incident that sent him spiraling. You were studying in the library, working with Liam, a close friend from your chemistry class. He was showing you something on his tablet, and you both leaned in, laughing at a particularly ridiculous diagram. It was completely innocent, just two friends sharing a moment.
Jisung, who had been at a table across the room, looked up. He saw you, leaning close to Liam, your head thrown back in laughter. He saw Liam’s hand gesturing, brushing your arm. And something inside him snapped. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. He just stared, his face paling, his eyes turning cold and blank. He quickly packed up his things, stuffing them into his bag with a jerky, uncharacteristic urgency, and walked out without a word, leaving his usual quiet farewell unsaid.
You found him later, sitting alone on a secluded bench behind the dorms, staring at nothing.
"Jisung," you began, your voice firm, but gentle. "What is going on? Why are you being so weird?"
He flinched at your presence, as if he hadn’t heard you approach. He refused to look at you. "Nothing. I'm fine." His voice was flat, devoid of its usual soft inflections.
"No, you're not," you insisted, sitting beside him. "You’ve been pulling away for days. And then you just walked out of the library. What happened?"
He finally looked at you, his eyes clouded with a pain you hadn't seen before. "It's… it's just… complicated." He ran a hand through his hair, his voice rough. "This… this isn't real, [Y/N]."
Your heart clenched. "What are you talking about? Of course it's real! We’ve been 'dating' for a year, Jisung! We—"
"No!" he cut you off, his voice rising, a raw edge to it. He finally met your gaze, and the agony in his eyes was unmistakable. "It’s not real for you! This was fake. It started fake. You’re not mine." The words were ripped from him, laced with a bitterness that cut deep. He pulled away from you, physically, emotionally.
You stared at him, stunned. The air grew cold, even colder than the recent rain. "Then tell me," you challenged, your own voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. "Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me this past year meant nothing. Tell me you don't feel anything for me."
He opened his mouth. His eyes searched yours, desperate, conflicted. His jaw worked, and he looked like he was in physical pain. He couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t say it.
He finally looked away, shaking his head slowly. "I… I can't."
The silence that followed was deafening, crushing. The unsaid hung heavy between you.
The very next day, news spread like wildfire. The fake-dating "break" was announced. How, you weren’t sure. Perhaps Jisung had simply stopped waiting for you in the mornings, or you’d walked out of class alone. People just assumed. And everyone, especially Mark, assumed you’d broken up. Whispers followed you in the halls, pitying glances, speculative stares.
Jisung regretted it immediately. The moment the words left his lips, the moment he saw the hurt in your eyes, a crushing wave of despair hit him. He saw you walking alone, the space beside you starkly empty. He saw the looks people gave you. He saw Mark's renewed, predatory interest. He hated it. He hated himself.
But then, the self-doubt, a lifelong companion, crept in. You’re not enough. You’re just the weird kid. She deserves someone better. Someone who isn’t afraid to kiss her in the rain. Someone who isn’t constantly short-circuiting around her. Someone who isn't a coward. He felt like he’d somehow sabotaged the best thing that had ever happened to him, because he was simply… not enough.
The malfunction was complete. The system was off. And the "Do Not Disturb" sign was firmly in place.
-
The "break" lasted exactly three days. Three days that felt like an eternity, each hour stretching into a raw, aching expanse of regret. You moved through them like a ghost, the vibrant world around you muted, the usual clamor of the student body replaced by a hollow echo in your ears. Every time you saw Jisung’s usual spot by your locker empty, or the table in the library where he’d quietly hunch over his notes deserted, a fresh wave of despair washed over you. You missed him with a ferocity that startled you, the absence of his quiet presence a gaping wound.
He missed you too. You knew it. You felt it in the charged silences that hung between you when your paths accidentally crossed, in the quick, painful glances he’d steal before looking away, a haunted look in his usually gentle eyes. He looked pale, even more withdrawn than when you’d first met him. His hoodie seemed to swallow him whole, a desperate attempt to disappear.
The last straw came when you saw Mark, a sickeningly triumphant smirk plastered on his face, sauntering towards you in the cafeteria. He looked like a cat that had gotten the cream, ready to pounce now that his rival was seemingly out of the picture. The thought of going back to endless, polite deflections, of tolerating his smug advances, was utterly unbearable. You couldn't do it. You wouldn't.
You had to fix this.
Without a second thought, you walked straight out of the cafeteria, ignoring Mark’s surprised call. You didn’t even grab your bag from your locker. You knew where he lived, of course. His house was only a ten-minute walk from campus. The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, dramatic shadows. Your heart hammered with a desperate urgency. You needed answers. You needed him.
When you reached his apartment building, you didn't hesitate. You marched straight to his house, raising your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could connect, it swung open. Jisung’s mom, a kind-faced woman with warm eyes who looked remarkably like a slightly more extroverted version of her son, smiled warmly at you. She knew about the "dating thing," of course, as you had both clumsily, vaguely explained it months ago.
“Oh, [Y/N], dear!” she chirped, her smile unwavering. “Jisung’s in his room. He’s been a bit… quiet today. Go on in.” She gestured vaguely down the hall.
Your stomach clenched. His mom was home. This added an entirely new layer of terrifying awkwardness to the situation, but there was no turning back now. You mumbled a quick thank you and made your way down the short hallway to his bedroom door.
You knocked twice, a firm, decisive rap. The sound seemed deafening in the quiet apartment. After a moment, the door slowly creaked open.
And then you saw him.
He was standing there, framed in the doorway, a vision that simultaneously stole your breath and made your heart ache. He was wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, revealing the faint V-line above the waistband. He was shirtless. The lean, toned abs you’d glimpsed at the basketball game were fully exposed, glistening faintly from a recent shower. His hair was messy, still damp, curling artfully around his ears. And around his neck, resting against his skin, was the silver pendant you had given him, the little musical note catching the light.
He looked utterly shocked to see you. His eyes, usually hidden behind his glasses (which were now conspicuously absent), were wide and vulnerable, a raw confusion etched on his face. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.
The sight of him, so exposed, so unexpectedly beautiful, jolted something loose inside you. The anger, the frustration, the hurt – it all coalesced into one burning question.
“Why didn’t you fight for me, Jisung?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, but laced with all the pain of the past three days. Your eyes searched his, desperate for an answer. “Why did you just… let me go?”
He flinched, as if the words were physical blows. His gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I… I didn’t think I deserved you,” he admitted, his voice hoarse, barely audible. The confession was ripped from him, an agonizing truth. “I’m… I’m just me. And you’re… you. You deserve someone who isn’t… constantly short-circuiting. Someone who’s… better.” He sounded utterly defeated.
The raw, heartbreaking honesty of his confession hit you like a punch to the gut. He thought he wasn’t good enough. All this time, all this beautiful, confusing tension, all his shy attempts at closeness, and he’d been battling this profound self-doubt.
It was too much. The unspoken yearning, the quiet suffering, his vulnerable confession – it all converged into an undeniable, overwhelming urge. You couldn't hold back anymore. You wouldn't.
Before you could think, before he could react, you surged forward. Your hands, with a sudden, fierce determination, reached up and cupped his face, pulling him down. You found his lips, soft and hesitant, and you kissed him.
It was desperate. It was messy. It was everything the almost-kisses hadn't been. Your lips molded against his, an explosion of pent-up emotion. He was stiff for a split second, utterly shocked, then his mouth softened, responding tentatively. His hands, which had been hanging uselessly at his sides, slowly, hesitantly, came up to rest on your waist, pulling you a fraction closer.
You broke apart, breathless, your foreheads touching. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his. His eyes were wide, blown out, reflecting a mixture of shock, confusion, and a dawning, incandescent hope. His lips were still parted, slightly bruised from the force of your kiss.
“My mom is still home,” he whispered, the words tumbling out on a shaky breath, a last vestige of his awkward, logical brain.
You pulled back just slightly, a small, triumphant smile playing on your lips. You looked at him, truly seeing him, shirtless and beautiful and utterly in love.
Then, he moved. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him with a sudden, possessive strength that made your breath catch. He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, this time with a confident, undeniable hunger.
The kiss was longer. Deeper. It was a declaration, a surrender, a desperate claiming. His hands moved from your waist, one tangling in your hair, the other pressing into the small of your back, arching you against his bare chest. You felt the hard planes of his abs, the rapid thrum of his heart against yours. Your hands, still on his face, tangled in his damp hair, holding him close.
“I don’t think she would really care,” he mumbled against your lips, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down your spine. His voice was thick with emotion, utterly unlike the quiet whispers you were used to.
He pulled his head back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. Then, with a decisive move, he reached behind you, pushing the door shut with a soft click, plunging the room into a more intimate, hushed light. He didn’t break the kiss, simply deepened it, stepping further into his room, pushing you gently backward towards the bed.
You stumbled back, still locked in his embrace, your legs hitting the edge of the mattress. You both tumbled onto the bed, a soft thud. He landed half on top of you, his weight a comforting pressure, his lips still devastatingly on yours.
He finally pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, both of you panting slightly. His eyes, still wide and vulnerable, searched yours. The fear was still there, a tiny flicker, but it was overshadowed by something powerful, something new.
“I think,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a confession that had been building for months, for a year, for a lifetime, “I think I’m in love with you.”
The words, spoken so simply, so honestly, were the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Tears welled in your eyes. You reached up, cupping his face again, your thumb stroking his jaw.
“I think I’m in love with you too, hannie,” you whispered back, the admission feeling liberating, profoundly right.
You fell asleep tangled up on his bed, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. He was shirtless, his arm wrapped tightly around you, holding you close. You were still fully clothed, but your hearts were racing in tandem, a frantic, joyous beat that echoed the tumultuous journey you’d taken. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by a profound sense of peace.
The next morning, the sun streamed through his window, painting the room in hues of gold. You woke to the feeling of his steady breathing, his arm still around you. He was fast asleep, his face peaceful, a faint smile playing on his lips. You carefully disentangled yourself, sitting up. You looked at him, truly looked at the man beside you, and your heart swelled.
He woke moments later, blinking groggily, then his eyes snapped open, a dawning realization on his face. He looked at you, then at himself (still shirtless <3), then at the messy bed, and a blush began to creep up his neck. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t panic. It was a shy, happy flush.
He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. He squeezed gently. “Good morning, [Y/N].”
You smiled, a genuine, radiant smile. “Good morning, Jisung.”
He walked you to class that morning. Not a block away. Not with his head down. Hand-in-hand. His fingers were firmly, possessively linked with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. His shoulders were straighter, his head held a little higher. He wasn't hiding. Not anymore. He met the stares of curious students, not with defiance, but with a quiet, undeniable confidence. This was his. You were his.
As you neared the main entrance, a familiar, unwelcome voice cut through the morning chatter.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Back with the librarian, are we, [Y/N]? Thought you’d finally come to your senses. Don’t worry, the offer’s still on the table. You know you want someone real, someone who can actually handle you—”
Mark. He was leaning against the lockers, his usual smug grin back in full force, his eyes raking over you, then flicking dismissively to Jisung.
You felt Jisung stiffen beside you. His grip on your hand tightened, almost painfully. You braced yourself, ready to step in, to deflect, to protect him from Mark’s usual condescension.
But Jisung didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat. He stopped. He turned to face Mark, his entire posture radiating a cold, coiled fury you’d never seen before. His eyes, unshielded by glasses, were blazing.
“Listen here, dickhead,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, and utterly devoid of its usual softness. Every word was precise, cutting, delivered with an icy calm that was far more terrifying than any shout. “I let you talk before because I felt sorry for you. Because you’re pathetic. But you’re not going to talk about her like that. Not ever again.”
Mark’s smirk wavered, replaced by genuine shock. This wasn’t the Jisung he knew. This was something else entirely.
Jisung took a step forward, pulling you slightly behind him, shielding you. His voice dropped even lower, becoming a lethal whisper. “Touch her again, speak to her again, even look at her again with that disgusting glint in your eye, and you will regret ever being born and breathing the same fucking air as her. Learn to respect first, dickhead.”
The final word was delivered with such venom, such quiet menace, that Mark actually took a step back, his face paling. He stammered, opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Jisung didn’t wait for a reply. He simply turned, his hand still firmly clasped in yours, and continued walking towards your class, leaving a stunned, speechless Mark in his wake.
The system had not only rebooted, it had upgraded. And the "Do Not Disturb" sign was now backed by a very, very powerful firewall.
-
The atmosphere around Han Jisung had undergone a complete thermodynamic shift. Where once there was awkward tension and self-conscious fluster, there was now an almost unbearable softness. It was like watching a perpetually guarded hedgehog suddenly bloom into a purring housecat. And you, it seemed, were his favorite scratching post.
He was, quite simply, whipped.
The transformation began subtly, a quiet hum beneath the surface, but now it was loud and clear, echoing in every gesture, every stolen glance. He’d arrive at your dorm every morning, not just to walk you to class, but with a freshly brewed coffee clutched in his hand – exactly how you liked it, black with just a dash of oat milk. He’d learned your order within days of you mentioning it once.
He still wore his hoodies, of course, but now they seemed less like a shield and more like a comfortable second skin, an extension of his soft, quiet confidence. He still mumbled, sometimes, especially when caught off guard, but his words now carried a warmth, a possessiveness that made your stomach flutter.
You found him taking pictures of you. Not secretly, like before, but openly, unabashedly. During study sessions, on walks, even just as you were laughing at something silly. He’d frame you in his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, then show you the result, a shy, proud smile on his lips. They were always good, capturing candid moments you didn't even know he noticed.
And he listened. Oh, how he listened. If before he was a silent sponge, now he was an active, engaged audience of one. He’d remember details of your day, your frustrations, your small victories, and bring them up later, offering quiet comfort or genuine celebration. Your voice had become his favorite melody, and he absorbed every single note.
Despite the newfound confidence and possessiveness, the core Jisung remained. He was still nerdy, still prone to the endearing stutter when truly flustered, and still occasionally blinked like an owl in direct sunlight. But now, those traits were layered with a thrilling new boldness. He kissed you whenever he wanted. A quick press to your temple as you worked, a soft brush against your lips when he caught your eye across a room, a lingering, breathless touch when you were alone. Each kiss was a silent confirmation, a tangible declaration that you were irrevocably his.
One sunny afternoon, you were lounging on his bed, flipping through one of his comic books. He was at his desk, tinkering with a new beat. A playful impulse struck you. You reached over, snatching his glasses right off his face.
“Hey!” he yelped, a startled sound, his eyes blinking rapidly, temporarily unfocused. He looked hilariously vulnerable without them.
You held them out of his reach, a mischievous grin on your face. “What’s the magic word, Jisung?”
He squinted at you, a soft smile replacing his surprise. He knew this game. He knew you. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Please, my love?” he said, his voice husky, an entirely new nickname that sent shivers down your spine.
You melted. You placed the glasses back on his nose, his touch lingering on your fingers. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. He let you steal them. He let you get away with anything.
One evening, he was showing you the progress on his latest composition – a melody that swelled and pulsed with an undeniable emotional depth. You recognized the faint echoes of your own laughter, the rhythm of your hurried footsteps, the quiet comfort of his presence woven into the notes. It was about you. You knew it.
He sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar resting against his hip. “This part here,” he murmured, his fingers hovering over the fretboard, “is supposed to feel like… like the moment you realize something beautiful is happening.” He gestured for you to come closer.
You didn't hesitate. You shifted, swinging your legs over and settling onto his lap, facing him. He tensed for a split second, then his arms naturally came around your waist, holding you close. His chin rested on your shoulder as he guided your fingers over the strings. His breath ghosted against your ear, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours.
“See?” he whispered, his voice soft against your skin, “Your thumb here, on the C chord. And then these two fingers for the G…” His large hands enveloped yours, teaching you the chords, his body pressed against yours, the guitar a physical conduit for the intimate lesson. The melody, now imbued with his closeness, felt impossibly tender.
Later, much later, curled up in his bed, half-asleep after hours of talking and listening to his music, you murmured, the words slipping out unbidden, soft and hazy with sleep.
“I love you, Hannie.”
His breathing hitched. He stiffened, infinitesimally. He thought he misheard. It was too quiet, too soft, too… monumental. His mind, usually a hyper-efficient processing unit, sputtered. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon through the window.
“What… what did you say?” he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming emotion.
You blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. You looked up at him, meeting his wide, questioning eyes. A soft, lazy smile touched your lips.
“I said,” you repeated, clearer this time, your voice imbued with all the quiet certainty of your heart, “I love you, Jisung.”
He melted. Physically. His entire body seemed to relax, to soften into the mattress. He buried his face in your hair, a low, contented groan escaping his lips. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer until there was no space left between you. He pressed kisses to your scalp, your temple, your forehead. He didn’t say anything back immediately, but you felt the shudder that ran through him, the profound relief, the utter bliss. His silence was louder than any words.
He started wearing the hoodies you selected for him during your infrequent, chaotic shopping trips. You’d pick out soft fabrics, unique colors, or subtle patterns that you knew he’d never choose for himself. He’d try them on, looking bewildered, but then he’d wear them. And sometimes, you’d catch him, subtly, almost instinctively, spraying your vanilla perfume on the collar. He felt like it would be cute, he confessed once, a shy whisper. Like he was hugging you all day.
Those became your "hoodie dates." Simple, quiet evenings, often just in his dorm, him in a hoodie you’d picked out, you in one of his. The air would be filled with the scent of vanilla and Jisung, a comforting, intoxicating blend.
He kissed your shoulder, a soft, deliberate press of his lips against your skin. Then his lips moved, tracing a path along your collarbone, up your jaw, until they reached the sensitive skin just behind your ear, down the column of your neck. Each touch was light, feather-soft, yet utterly devastating. Your breath hitched, a delicious shiver running through you. His hand, warm and firm, rested on your hip, pulling you closer still.
The unspoken hung heavy in the air, a silent question. You both knew where this was leading. The soft breaths grew shorter, more ragged. The air crackled with a dizzying heat. His lips moved to your throat, eliciting a soft gasp. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, closer.
You almost took things further. The desire was a burning, undeniable ache. But then, in the exquisite tension of the moment, you pulled back, breathless, a wide, joyous smile breaking across your face. He looked up, his eyes dark with longing, a question in their depths.
“I could live like this forever,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin.
You held him close, your own smile unwavering. This fragile, beautiful thing you had built, brick by awkward, heartfelt brick, was now your sanctuary. His soft possessiveness, your gentle teasing, the constant hum of unspoken affection – it was everything you never knew you needed. And in his arms, you knew, with profound certainty, that you were exactly where you were meant to be. The “whipped” program was fully installed, and running perfectly.
-
The campus auditorium buzzed with an electric current, a palpable hum of anticipation that felt almost dizzying. Tonight was the annual student talent showcase, an event usually dominated by seasoned performers and boisterous bands. But tonight, something felt different. Tonight was Han Jisung’s night.
You sat in the third row, a knot of nerves and exhilarating pride twisting in your stomach. You had known he was composing something with you in mind. You had felt it in the subtle melodies he hummed, heard it in the passionate way he spoke about weaving emotions into sound. But he hadn't revealed the full scope of it, only that he was playing an "original composition."
The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. A spotlight flared, illuminating the center of the stage. Jisung walked out, carrying his guitar, a familiar dark blue hoodie clinging comfortably to his frame. His glasses, nestled on his nose, reflected the stage lights, giving him an almost ethereal glow. He looked nervous, his shoulders slightly hunched, but there was a quiet determination in his posture that radiated outward. He sat on the stool placed center stage, his fingers already finding comfort on the fretboard.
He glanced up, his eyes sweeping across the audience, and then, he found you. His gaze softened, a small, private smile touching his lips. It was a smile that spoke volumes, a silent promise. And then, he began to play.
The first notes were soft, hesitant, like a tentative beginning. A simple, ethereal guitar melody, almost fragile. But then, a subtle beat dropped, a low, pulsing rhythm that grounded the sound, giving it depth. His fingers danced over the fretboard, coaxing out intricate chords, weaving complex arpeggios that built and swelled. His voice, usually so quiet, rose, a clear, melodic rap that wove through the music, telling a story.
It was your story.
He sang about a chance encounter in a deserted hallway, a panicked lie, the disbelief of others. He rapped about hesitant glances, fumbled conversations, and the unexpected comfort of a shared silence. He sang about notes in a hoodie pocket, about shy smiles and the warmth of a hand in his sleeve during a cold night walk. The lyrics detailed every awkward, sweet, tension-filled moment you had shared, painting a vivid picture of your journey.
He spoke of secrets kept, of watching rom-coms for "research," of accidentally hitting someone with a basketball. He even recounted the moment you pushed his glasses back on his nose, the "short circuit" in his brain. His voice swelled with emotion as he described the subtle shift, the growing fondness, the undeniable pull.
Then the music shifted, growing more intense, more vulnerable. He rapped about the fear of falling too hard, about pushing away, about the agony of seeing you laugh with another, the crushing weight of self-doubt. The melody became almost painful, raw with regret. He confessed his fear of not being enough, his belief that you deserved "someone better."
And then, the music shifted again, brightening, soaring. His voice filled with an overwhelming tenderness as he described your unannounced visit, the desperate question, the electric touch. He sang about the kiss, about finding home in your arms, about realizing that love wasn’t about being "perfect," but about being perfectly you.
His gaze found yours again, unwavering now. He saw the tears streaming down your face, hot and unbidden. He saw the pure, unadulterated emotion reflected in your eyes. And he played harder. The guitar chords resonated with a newfound power, his voice imbued with every ounce of his confessed love. It wasn't just a performance; it was his soul laid bare, a public declaration of how utterly, completely whipped he was for you.
He brought the song to a crescendo, a final, powerful chord that hung in the air, vibrating with undeniable emotion. The last notes faded, leaving a stunned silence in the auditorium.
Then, he lowered his guitar, looked directly at you, his eyes shining, and spoke into the microphone, his voice clear and ringing with a newfound confidence that sent shivers down your spine.
“This,” he announced, his voice echoing through the silent hall, “is for the girl who rewired my heart.”
And that was your cue. You didn’t think. You didn't hesitate. You pushed past the stunned audience members, scrambling over knees and chairs, your heart thundering against your ribs. You ran, a blur of motion, towards the stage.
He saw you coming. A wide, incandescent smile spread across his face, lighting up the entire auditorium. As you reached the stage, he slid off the stool, meeting you halfway. You launched yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck, and you kissed him.
It was a public kiss, in front of the entire campus, and it was glorious. It was everything the almost-kisses hadn’t been, everything the tentative first kiss on his bed had promised. It was deep, possessive, overflowing with years of unspoken longing and months of tender affection. The crowd erupted, a deafening roar of cheers, whistles, and applause. It was loud, chaotic, and utterly perfect.
The creep? You heard he was quietly expelled the following week. It seemed his behavior hadn't gone unnoticed by the administration, especially after his increasingly aggressive online messages. Karma, indeed.
A week later, the dust had settled, the campus still buzzing with the afterglow of Jisung’s performance and your very public declaration. You had a final date planned, a quiet, familiar comfort: your favorite café, the one with the best vanilla lattes and the mismatched armchairs.
You spotted him immediately. He was sitting by the window, bathed in the soft afternoon light. He wasn’t in a hoodie. Instead, he wore a crisp white button-down, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, revealing the toned forearms you now loved. He had on sky-blue pants and a pair of worn Converse, a subtle nod to his casual style, but undeniably more put-together. The silver pendant you’d given him glinted at his throat, and his glasses sat comfortably on his nose. He held a small, artfully arranged bouquet of wildflowers, a whimsical contrast to his new, confident demeanor.
He saw you, and that familiar, shy-but-smitten smile blossomed on his face. He stood up as you approached, and for the first time, he openly, unabashedly flirted.
“Took you long enough, love,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling as he held out the flowers. “Thought I’d have to send out a search party.”
You laughed, taking the bouquet, leaning in to inhale the delicate scent. “Someone’s feeling bold today, Han Jisung.”
“Only for you,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on your lips. He paused, a flicker of his old hesitation, but it was quickly replaced by a confident smirk. “You spent time on your makeup, didn’t you? I don’t want to ruin the lipstick.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Oh, really?” You leaned in, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to his lips, smudging your lipstick just a little. “Too late.”
He chuckled, a rich, warm sound that vibrated through your chest. “Good,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in, deepening the kiss, no longer caring about the lipstick.
After you ordered, he reached under the table, pulling out a small, elegantly wrapped box.
“Happy… non-anniversary,” he said, pushing it across the table to you.
You opened it carefully. Inside, nestled in satin, was a sleek, silver flash drive. You looked at him, puzzled.
“It’s our story,” he explained, his gaze soft, full of emotion. “In music. Everything. From ‘Error: You’re My Boyfriend Now’ to… well, this.” He gestured between the two of you, a profound happiness radiating from him. “Every moment. Every feeling. Every glitch. All captured.”
You felt tears prick your eyes again. It was the most Han Jisung gift he could have ever given you. A symphony of your shared journey, from chaos to profound love.
You reached across the table, taking his hand, intertwining your fingers. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a familiar, comforting gesture.
He leaned in, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The nerdy boy was still there, but now, he was entirely, unapologetically himself. And entirely, irrevocably yours.
He squeezed your hand gently, his gaze unwavering, and then, he spoke the last line, a simple truth that echoed the entirety of your story, a perfect loop of beginning and end, and a promise of forever.
20, 20 DECIBEL • YJI • mayhem on valentine's; highschool au; friends with a crush; mutual pining; fluff; 1,073 words.
“What are you guys doing?” you pushed the question through a yawn, walking over to where your friends crowded over your desk. Jisung perked up first, much too hyper for 8AM, “You’re not going to believe this. Someone gave you Valentine’s chocolate!”
“Huh?” you blinked at the neat little box he shoved in your face. Quite the expensive chocolates, too.
“There’s a card too,” Chaeryoung pointed at your desk, where a square note with scalloped edges sat. “Only has your name on it, though.”
You took the box from Jisung, bewildered and slightly embarrassed. This was not on your bingo card of the day. Your backpack, heavy with books, made a muted thud when you plopped it onto your table.
“Do you have any idea who it is?” Chaeryoung studied you as if to find a secret in your twisting expressions. Her desk was in front of yours, but she was turned around to rest her elbows on your table instead, cradling her chin in her palms.
You shook your head, a half laugh. “No, I’m actually—”
The realization was like a splash of cold water, and you, a drowsy student forced awake by the sensation. Jisung didn’t miss your sudden pause, a gasp too teasing for his own good, “So you do know! You have to tell us!”
Well, it wasn’t that you knew per se, it was just that you mentioned this specific chocolatier before and how you wanted to try out their creations one day. It could’ve been just a really funny coincidence, or a very platonic Valentine’s gift—either way, you had the compulsive urge to keep your realization a secret from your friends’ all too curious eyes.
“I don’t know,” heart hammering, you cleared your throat, diverting your attention to preparing for first period and shoving the expensive, curious chocolates under your desk. Out of sight, out of mind. “I just remembered that I only got chocolates for Chaeryoung and none for you, Jisung.”
His shoulders dropped. “What the hell!”
Chaeryoung snickered, always too happy to tease him, “Third wheel.”
“And here I thought we were friends…” Jisung lamented when another voice joined your conversation. “Morning. What’s going on?”
“Jeongin! They’re ganging up on me,” Jisung turned to your approaching friend, a melodramatic hand on his chest.
Jeongin grinned, dimpled, playful. “Bet you deserved it.”
“You’re all so mean to me,” Jisung huffed. “Woe is me.”
Jeongin laughed, and you noticed the slight pallor in his face. He looked tired, you thought. Did he not get enough sleep?
Then you thought about the chocolates—and you vanquished that idea immediately, suddenly feeling too warm for a February morning.
“Honestly, you guys will appreciate me when I—” Jisung faltered when Jeongin pulled out his seat with a screech, eyes widening. “No way…”
The four of you stared at a pretty box comfortably sitting on his chair, previously hidden from sight.
“Who’s it from?” Chaeryoung wondered as Jeongin picked up the box and flipped the little card attached to it.
“It doesn’t say,” he revealed, much to your two friends’ visible and audible disappointment.
“That’s funny,” you remarked with a chuckle, suddenly too preoccupied with arranging your pens. “Another mysterious sender.”
“Open it, open it,” you heard Jisung urge then gasp when Jeongin seemingly obeyed, “Are these homemade? They’re totally homemade!”
You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at them right then, catching the exact moment Jeongin stole a glance your way. A question, a hope, an answer in his foxlike eyes.
You dropped your gaze as though the contact burned, barely registering Jisung’s whining over the thundering of your heart.
“Give me some—”
“No way. Get lost.”
“Good morning. Settle down, everyone,” your teacher’s voice broke through the mayhem, and the sharp bell of first period snapped you back to reality.
The day passed in a flash, and you found yourself standing outside the school gates with Jeongin after waving your friends goodbye. You always walked part of the way home together, but for some reason, silence blanketed the two of you this time.
Awkward, it continued until you nearly reached the junction where your paths diverged. Your time was running out. Even though the words were at the tip of your tongue, it was as if a spell had been cast on your mouth to keep it zipped tight.
It seemed Jeongin fared the same, fingers absently messing with his cuff buttons, knuckles brushing yours ever so lightly as you walked. Always hesitant, yet always close.
It was only when the two of you stopped at your usual parting point did you assemble a semblance of courage, if only to keep him by your side longer. “Um…!”
Jeongin faced you, and you were too cowardly to hold his gaze. Or even look at his face, really. The tips of his ears were unmistakably red, and you were already losing this battle of spirit. Your voice felt far too small, a sigh in the wind. You settled for staring at his plain shoes.
“Thank you…for the chocolates.”
When he didn’t respond instantly, you rushed to save yourself, “I mean—that was you, wasn’t it?”
“Y-Yeah, it was,” Jeongin’s voice cracked. Like yours, it was a mere murmur on the breeze, but your ears caught it with fervor, and your stomach somersaulted in celebration.
“You too,” he hesitated, as if testing the words. “Thank you. The chocolates look nice… They must’ve been hard to make.”
“No,” you shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. “I had fun making them.”
The two of you lingered, a vast ocean of words left unsaid between you, yet settling for the shores of silence. The more you thought about the day, the more you wanted to laugh.
“So, you also came way too early today, huh?” you grinned, finally looking at him. This would be enough for now. The fledgling feelings in your heart were not yet ready to soar, too fragile and tender, and Jeongin seemed to feel the same.
He huffed out a breathy laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting, “Yeah. Funny how we didn’t bump into each other.”
This was enough. You tucked the memory of his radiant smile against the brilliant sun deep in your heart, nourishment for your fledgling feelings so that they may one day take to the sky, brave and beautiful.
I forgot to rb this after I read it, so I’m doing it now because it came back up on my dash
I loved this fic! It was so cute, I love these concepts with Jeongin so much. Like, he’s totally the quiet action type of guy when he has a crush imo, and I live for fics that capture that. I also think it was so funny how the others were so perplexed about their secret admirers
Please check this fic out and give it some love 🫶🏽
synopsis your bestfriend that you've always bickered with suddenly.. starts to appear.. more.... attractive?
genre frenemies to lovers, comedy, romance, fluff, reader sucks at her studies, riki sucks too but he's smarter, reader and riki bickers like.. a lot.., riki and reader is lowkey like risa and otani from lovely complex, friend group goes on a trip together, jealousy, slight miscommunication, riki surprises reader a lot, New Years (eve), countdown and fireworks rahh, both of them get worked up so easily lols, reader's parents are mad chill, confessions, so much fucking teasing, not proofread (yet)
pairing nishimura riki x f!reader
featuring jake, jungwon, sunghoon, sunoo (all are the same age/grade)
word count ~11.1k
warnings not much, lots of insults ig?, please lmk if i missed out on anything
cly's note i do nawt know why i left this draft dusting when it literally had so much POTENTIAL. this is probs my fave fic cos i enjoyed writing it so much. unfortunately there are certain parts that i half-assed but hopefully they arent that obvious. THIS FIC IS SO CUTE hope yall enjoy it. AND i made a playlist for this too so ill post it soon. okay gn guys.
show your support by liking, reblogging and commenting! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
now playing i like u — niki | [playlist]
"In your face, loser!" you laughed out, pointing at Ni-ki who was now pouting at you. With the Wii controller in your hand, you shook the console around to make your in-game character continuously swing their racket.
That's right.
You were playing Wii Sports out of all things even if your exams were nearing.
Sulking at his loss, he sat himself down on the couch beside Jaeyun who was enjoying everything and released a loud sigh for you to hear. Still celebrating your victory by laughing and jumping around, you took a moment to glance at Ni-ki, who could be seen glaring at you. You stuck your tongue out at him and he simply rolled his eyes.
"Y/N won again?" Sunghoon spoke up, entering the living room from the kitchen with Jungwon by his side. Ni-ki scoffed. and you simply felt your ego get boosted from Sunghoon's words. You turned your body to Sunghoon, both hands resting on your hips as you loudly replied, "That's right!".
"Ni-ki lost 3 times in a row" Jaeyun teased, earning a hard slap from Ni-ki causing him to yelp loudly and rub the area where he got smacked from, "Ouch..".
You giggled at the sight of Ni-ki being salty, and you pointed the console at him, "Rematch?".
Ni-ki flipped his head up towards you, his expression displeased as he responded, "So you can beat me again? Not happening".
You whined at him and Jungwon chuckled, sitting himself beside Jaeyun who was still gently rubbing his arm from the hit.
"Don't forget that there's still work to do," Jungwon voiced out, earning a groan from you as you remembered the work you have yet to finish.
"Just one more rematch!" you pleaded, turning your head back to Ni-ki who was now scrolling on his phone. "Ki," your tone sounding serious and he sighed before setting his foot to the floor and standing up. "Just one more."
Spoiler alert, you won again.
Before you knew it, you were scribbling on your homework. You let out a soft sigh, sitting back on your chair as you glanced around. In front of you revealed Sunghoon, Jaeyun and Jungwon typing on their laptops, remaining completely silent. To your right was Ni-ki, who also seemed completely focused at the work at hand.
You poked your tongue against your cheek, thoughts to just abandon your work and play again filling your head. Your face lit up and you turned your head to Ni-ki to ask him to play again until you noticed the frown on his face while doing his work.
You scanned his features, noticing his black hair being rested nicely on his forehead, partially covering his eyes. Your eyes shifted over to his ears, noticing his piercings that you never took the chance to see up-close. One helix and one earlobe piercing. His jawline looking sharper than usual, and prominence of his Adam's apple. He had always complained that he disliked his left side, but for some reason, you found it pleasing to look at.
Woah, he's actually kinda good looking..
When did he look this attractive?
You quickly slapped yourself, a loud sound emitting through the room, earning you a mix of concerned and confused expressions from the rest.
"Have you gone mental or something?" Ni-ki scoffed, clearly judging you. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the papers that were nicely laid on the table in front of you.
"I think Biology's driving her insane," Jaeyun teased and you stuck your tongue out at him. You brushed the thoughts you had of Ni-ki away. Jaeyun was probably correct, right? It was just Biology driving you insane?
You groaned before you look back at Ni-ki, glancing at his papers to see what he was working on.
"Ki, you're doing Biology too, right? Help me out." you leaned closer to Ni-ki, looking at the contents of the papers he was doing. It was indeed the same paper as yours, and you faced him, giving him a pleading look.
He raised an eyebrow at you and leaned backwards on his chair, folding his arms, "Why should I help you?".
Your jaw slightly dropped as you scowled at him, "Don't tell me you're still salty?".
"Oh. No more help then." he stated, his body turning back as he continued writing on his paper. You groaned as you continued to keep your gaze on him, watching as he scribbles on his paper.
You slowly lean closer to him, attempting to see his answers but he notices your antics and scoffed at you, leaning forward and using his body to prevent you from looking. You rolled your eyes and you sat back on your chair, releasing a sigh of defeat.
Few minutes pass by and you try to keep your attention on your homework, having to re-read the question multiple times due to your mind drifting away while reading. You glanced over at Ni-ki again, and he was no longer blocking you from seeing his work.
It didn't work when you tried to see his work, so why not take it from him..?
You couldn't help but to smirk at the clever idea you thought of, slowly leaning towards him before snatching the paper from him. He immediately let out a loud gasp and snapped his head at you, attempting to snatch it back from you.
You laughed out loud as you turned your back to him, trying to read all of his answers before he manages to snatch his work back. Ni-ki kept trying to snatch it but your back was facing him, making it impossible for him, and as you were about to finish reading his answers, he stood behind you, his body hovering over yours and his arms taking his paper back into his hands from both sides.
Your giggles slowly start to die down as you look behind you, noticing the close proximity between you and Ni-ki. His back was pressed up all against you, and his face were mere inches away from yours, and as you felt your heart skip a beat, you immediately pushed him away.
"Seriously? You steal my paper and now you push me away?" he grumbled, glaring at you before sitting back on his chair. Your mind quickly recalled the proximity you and Ni-ki had just a few seconds ago, causing your heart rate to pick up the pace and blood to rush to the tip of your ears.
You shot a displeased look at him, retorting back, "It's not that hard to share your answers!". He simply rolled his eyes and continued to do his work after sitting back down. There were a few giggles from the others, clearly enjoying the bickering that was happening in front of them, it was like their form of entertainment, but afterwards the room grew silent again.
The silence helped you to realise the pace your heart was beating at, your chest feeling like it was going to burst. You blink repetitively, feeling confused as to why you were feeling that way. You once again recalled the moment when you and Ni-ki was at close proximity, causing your breathing accelerated and your face to feel hot.
What was this feeling?
Why were you feeling this way?
Why does it feel so weird..?
You cleared your throat as you took a waterbottle in front of you into your hands, gulping it down in hopes to make this unusual feeling go away before you heard another loud voice again.
"That's mine!" Ni-ki's voice called out again, and you quickly gain back consciousness, glancing at the bottle you were holding and confirming that it was, indeed, Ni-ki's bottle before you gasp and quickly place it down on the table. You looked at Ni-ki with widened eyes, your eyes blinking repetitively in confusion as he flashed you another disapproving look.
"Seriously, what's going on with you today?" he grumbled and snatched his bottle, placing it to his side which was out of reach to you. He was right though, what was going on with you today? You pouted, feeling guilty as you tried to think about all the reasons why you acted that way. "Sorry.." you apologised.
"That's a first." Ni-ki stated, his tone remaining strict as you rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comment. You looked up at the boys sat in front of you and realised all 3 of them were watching you and Ni-ki, giggling at you two were bickering.
It wasn't new that you and Ni-ki bichered, but it never failed to be entertaining. "Gosh, 3 of you, just do your work." you said, shaking your head and giving them an annoyed look.
You sat back on your chair, staring into blank space and completely disregarding the loud environment around you as conversations emerged from all corners of the room. You hated how majority of the conversations were about Biology, especially since the exams were coming up. The fact that you have to hear it even before class gave you a major headache, and it immediately brought your energy level down.
"Someone's already unhappy," a voice spoke out, sounds of the chair beside you being dragged as you noticed a figure sit themselves down beside you. You turned to the figure and realised it was Ni-ki. The smug expression plastered all over his face didn't go unnoticed by you, giving you the desire to remove that expression from his face with your own hands. "Someone's already being a nuisance," you shot back.
He chuckled, enjoying how it was clearly evident that you were ticked off. "Did you manage to get that paper done?" he questioned, but it came off as a taunt to you. "Oh shut up.." you rolled your eyes.
He chuckled before leaning in closer to you, "Don't want the answers?". Your face lit up and you turned your body to him, completely sold to the idea of him giving the answers to you. "Please!" you begged, holding your hands up with your palms against each other.
The corner of his mouth curved up, realising how much power he has in this situation, and he folded his arms while slouching onto the chair, "You can't just get things for free, right?". You looked at him in disbelief. Was he seriously going to play like this?
The thought of smacking him and arguing with him again seemed ideal, but you actually needed the answers, so for once you gave in. "What do you want?".
"How about..." Ni-ki dragged his words, holding his chin as he looked at the ceiling to think. You felt yourself growing impatient as he continued to hum.
"A kiss on the cheek?"
"HUH?!"
Your face instantly grew red, your mouth agape as you looked at him with widened eyes. Your heart rate could be felt increasing, and it felt almost as if your chest was going to burst. You blinked at him repetitively in confusion, and he looked at you with a confused expression from your loud reaction.
Ni-ki cleared his throat, "I.. was just joking..". He scratched his neck and looked away, clearly not expecting your reaction and only now realising his joke.
"The c-cafe! Treat me to the cafe later, got it?!" he pointed at you, the apples of his cheek slightly tinted with a hint of pink. Still in a state of shock, you slowly nodded and he could be seen taking out the paper from his bag, loudly placing it down on your table before going on his phone and scrolling, so obviously feeling awkward at the situation.
You slowly took your eyes off of him, pushing your chair in and straightening your posture before you started to copy his answers. Your hands were quite wobbly as you read Ni-ki's answers and wrote it down, but the moment from a few seconds ago not failing to stay in your head. Why would he ask such a question?
Right after the class, he immediately dashed out without uttering a word, leaving you in a state of shock. Yesterday you were out of it and today was his turn. You scoffed as you took your own time to pack your stuff since you didn't have a noisy being that was usually nagging at you to quicken up.
The classroom started to quitetten down as students start to leave to have their lunch. As you hung your bag around your shoulder, you probably like the 4th last person to leave. You huffed out, feeling irritated at the thought that Ni-ki just left you alone without saying a word, and you immediately started walking out of the classroom.
He wants to leave you stranded? Okay. Fine. You won't find him until he finds you like a helpless puppy. He wants to play like this? Sure.
You had finished grabbing a packet of bread from the cafeteria and immediately made your way to the benches, where you and Ni-ki always ate together until you heard voices at the front of the field.
"What do you think about her?".
The voices were muffled and you couldn't care less, continuing your way until you heard a familiar voice.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" the familiar voice sounded, their tone sounding flustered and irritated.
You immediately stop your tracks and held your breath, focusing on hearing their conversation and interested in the juicy details.
"Who else, Y/N of course!"
Your heart immediately stopped hearing your name, your eyes widening and your jaw dropping all at once.
Now you must really listen and get all the juicy details about your maybe.. secret admirer. You were still flabbergasted but you immediately recovered, wanting to see who was talking about you. You hid behind a bush, peeking your head out just so you could see who they were.
Your eyes squint as you try to make out who it was and.. oh....
"She's weird as hell, 'kay?! She's always been weird but lately, it's just- more!" Ni-ki ranted, his entire face sour as he spoke about her.
Your chest tightened and your stomach felt queesy as you learn how Ni-ki talked about you behind your back. Typically, you'd barge into the conversation by now and punch Ni-ki for shit talking you like that, but this time you felt different.
This time you'd wish that he'd talk nicely about you for once.
You'd stealthily leave, not wanting to hear more of their conversation as your entire mood shifted. You'd found acquintances back in the cafeteria and lucky enough, they were kind to let you eat with them. Everyone was a bit skeptical because you weren't with Ni-ki as usual, but they remained silent, sensing the tension.
You wanted to run away and go home immediately, but here you were, sitting in the cafe just as you promised Ni-ki earlier. He didn't give you a chance to run away since he immediately grabbed your wrist before you could make a move. You wanted to excuse yourself but he brought up the fact he did a favour for you by letting you copy him — hence, you couldn't just run away.
He sat down across you, setting a tray with only his drink since you refused to get a drink of your own, not wanting to get comfortable with him. Your irritated expression didn't go unnoticed, and when you glared at him then rolled your eyes, he immediately snapped back.
"What's your problem?"
You scoffed, smirking as you rolled your eyes again. "What's my problem? I could ask you the same".
"Dude, I literally have no clue what you're talking about—"
"Oh, like remember how you just left me in the classroom?"
He seemed a bit stunned, but there was this guilty look on his face.
"Okay I'm sorry for tha—"
"Or when you called me 'weird as hell'? I'm sorry that I've been weirder lately!" you interrupted, your tone sarcastic.
"You heard that?!"
"Well no shit I heard you talk behind my back proudly!"
His tensed up face relaxed slightly. "Wait, that's all you heard?"
"Well what else was I supposed to hear?! What else about me were you planning to insult? My face, huh?"
He heaved a sigh of relief, "Thank God..".
"Excuse me? What the fuck are you thanking God for?"
"No! I-" he seemed loss for words. "It's not like that, okay? Just- forget about it".
"You're unbelievable," you sighed loudly, taking his drink and sipping from it, looking out the window and missing his flustered expression.
He knew you wouldn't talk to him unless he lit your mood up immediately, so he suggested a solution within a snap. "I'll pay. Order your own drink, I'll pay".
Your eyes immediately lit up at his suggestion, your eyes suddenly filled again with so much life.
"Even for your drink?"
"Even for my drink."
You licked your lips and after you set his drink down on the table, you pointed your finger at him. "You.. Next time you talk shit about me, say it to my face, kay?!".
He nodded, not wanting to anger you further. "Okay, fine". He sheepishly watched you, mumbling in a soft voice, "Sorry..".
You puffed your cheeks at him and pouted, your heart fluttering as you saw his guilty expression. Oh my god, it was that feeling again. You snapped your neck the other direction and brushed him off, "Whatever".
You clasped your hands together, feeling elated. "Exams are finally over!" you announced, earning cheers and claps from the others. You jumped onto the couch beside Jaeyun and immediately got comfortable, a wave of relief washing over you — no more thinking about grades, exams, studies at least for a while.
"Guys, we have to do something," Jaeyun suggested, leaning forward while steepling his hands, looking at everyone as he invited for hangout ideas.
"Arcade!" Jungwon recommended.
"We already do that," Ni-ki shot.
"Camping?" Sunghoon voiced.
"Yeah nah, no way," Jake answered with slight fear in his voice.
"How 'bout swimming?" Jake recommended.
Ni-ki frowned and shook his hands, "We should do something that isn't some one-day thing".
"A trip". You slammed your hands on your thighs and stood up, "A trip. Staycation. How 'bout that?"
Everyone looked at each other and nodded in agreement, an expression of amusement taking over. Ni-ki teased, "You're finally using your head for once, huh?".
You raised your fist and you shot a glare, earning a giggle from Ni-ki. Jake ignored the two of you, "Should we invite other people?".
Jungwon who sat beside Jake nudged his shoulder and smirked, "Like.. that girl friend group you kept eyeing?".
Jake's eyes immediately widen, and he started to shake his head and wave his hands, "N-no!". He denies it but everyone can see through him from the way the tip of his ears turns red.
You rested your arms on your hips and looked at Jake, giving him a doubtful look. Everyone else followed suit, their expressions filled with doubtfulness and mockery. Jake, out of peer pressure, confessed, "Okay, yes, fine! I do mean them".
Everyone snickered in victory, enjoying his flustered state.
You teased, "Invite them — the more the merrier, right?".
Walking into the resort, you let out a sound of amusement as you take in the view. There was a swimming pool and a jacuzzi side by side, a big kitchen and stairs leading to the second and third floor, probably where all the sleeping rooms were. There was a beach near your resort, making this place the paradise for everyone.
Someone nudged your shoulder and your head snapped up, seeing the iconic mischevious smile on Ni-ki's face. Your chest tightened at how close he was, but you cleared your throat then glared at him.
"One day, I'll kill you," you threatened and he simply laughed. He patted your head making you hitch your breath, "You can try". Your cheeks heated up slightly, and you stuck your tongue out at him.
"Huaah! No way!" Jake cheered as he entered later than you, breaking the banter between you and Ni-ki. You looked back and grinned, feeling proud about your friend's success.
"This shit's amazing, thank God you invited us Jake!" Sabrina gazed into Jake's eyes, a bright smile plastered all over her face.
You glanced back at Ni-ki, both of you giving a knowing gaze at each other and chuckling together. You stopped as you entered the building, checking out the place. Your eyes eventually wander back to Ni-ki and you gulped, feeling nervous that you were on a trip with him.
For some reason, a part of you wanted you to grab his hand to hold him, and the thought of it was torturing you because your heart wanted to explode and you also didn't want to make things weird. You bit your lip as your eyes stared at his hand, and just as you were about to reach out, Ni-ki was nudged forward by someone clinging to his side.
"Ni-ki! Doesn't this place look great?" Nao exclaimed as she held onto his arms, giving him puppy eyes. You immediately pulled your hand back, biting your lips as you realise your chance had slipped away.
"Mm, yeah it does," Ni-ki responds, smiling at her and making you feel awkward, making you puff up your cheeks. You almost felt like you were the third wheel, so you immediately turned around, in hopes that there would be someone to talk to — and to your luck, there was a wandering Sunoo.
You immediately walked up to him and conversed with him, trying to ignore Nao and Ni-ki.
Throughout the entire day, Nao and Ni-ki sticked together, and the bare thought of it made you feel queesy in the stomach.
Whatever. He must be happier with her, right?
During dinner, you sat beside Sunoo, but for some reason, you were laughing more, giggling more, playfully slapping Sunoo more as you two talked. You didn't usually act like this, and it was making you puzzled. And for some reason, you kept eye-ing Nao and Ni-ki, trying to see how they were going and also wishing on their downfall.
You didn't know why you were suddenly acting weird. Probably because this was your first proper trip with your friends, right?
Throughout the entire night, though you kept taking glances at Nao and Ni-ki, everytime Ni-ki wanted to talk or get close to you, you came up with an excuse every single time, saying that you need to talk to Sunoo, or use the toilet or whatever.
You felt irritated at him, feeling the urge to just slap him, but you also didn't know why. You knew he had a punchable and slappable face, but this urge was uncalled for.
Luckily for you, you had a 100% rate in avoiding him. You sighed as you pulled the covers up to your face, staring at the ceiling of the dark room. Dozing off was what you wanted, but your mind was racing with thoughts.
Was Nao a better best friend than you?
Is she more fun?
Does he like her more?
You screamed into your pillow and kicked your legs, feeling overstimulated by all these thoughts. You threw your head onto the pillow, closing your eyes. Lucky for you, you got room to yourself so you could do this all you wanted.
With your face on the pillow, you tried to focus on your breathing and clear your mind until you heard your door click. You immediately froze as if you'd been caught doing a crime and you held your breath.
You'd thought that it was a burglar who broke in and was targetting you, so when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you flipped yourself to your back and screamed.
The person immediately panicked at your scream, using their hand to cover your mouth. "What's wrong with you?!" a familiar voice complained.
You stop screaming as you realise the person was someone you knew, and you try to make out their features until you realise..
"Do you want to wake the rest or what?!" Ni-ki whisper-shouted.
You immediately calmed down, looking into Ni-ki's eyes. When you processed that Ni-ki was actually here, you suddenly realise how close he was. How he was slightly hovering over you, covering your mouth with his hand and how close his face was.
At the moment of realisation, you pushed him away by instinct, causing his butt to hit the floor. "Ow! What was that for?!" he whisper-shouted once again.
"You were too close!" you replied, also whisper-shouting. You could hear ruffling sounds as he stood back on his feet, supporting himself with his arm as he hovered over the bed to look at you, "You're such a dimwit, you know that?".
"God, do you ever have anything nice to say?" you rolled your eyes, but he didn't catch it because of the darkness.
He sighed as he held himself back from arguing with you. He inhaled as he spoke up, "You and me, let's go".
Confusion took over your face as you try to process his question. You sat up on the bed as you looked up at him. "What are you talking about?'".
"Just- follow me, damnit!" he held your hand as he tugged your arm, signalling you to get off the bed and follow him.
You pursed your lips as you felt his hand holding yours, and you get off the bed, allowing him to drag you.
The house was dark, the area only being lit up from the light of the street light entering through the windows. He was bringing you down the stairs, still holding onto your hand and you pouted your lips.
This was a weird experience, but you weren't complaining.
Since it was dark, you couldn't really see, and you missed a step causing you to slip. Ni-ki immediately turned around and caught you, "Woah there!".
Your arms were rested against his chest as he had his hands on your waist to give you support. "Are you okay?" he asked. and you were almost surprised that he wasn't insulting you or saying anything like "Are you blind?".
You looked down, "Yeah.. Sorry".
You both stepped back, and you almost wished you didn't say anything because you enjoyed his warmth so much, but before you could regret anything, he held your hand again and continued to drag you, being more slow and cautious to prevent anymore falls.
Your heart was beating so fast it could almost jump out of your heart. You could hear your own pulse in your ears and you were thankful that it was dark, because you could physically feel your face heat up.
As he dragged you near the entrance of the resort, you two put on your slippers and he brought you out. You two are immediately met with the cool wind of the night, the wind blowing your hair.
None of you said anything, secretly enjoying each other's presence though you two wouldn't admit it.
You clenched your fist as you grew more nervous. You weren't nervous that Ni-ki was going to kill you or whatever — you were nervous because it was just him. Just him and you, and you two were holding hands. His pace hastened up, almost like he had a clear destination in his head, and you simply followed, not wanting to say anything in fear of making things awkward.
You took more steps, unsure where you were going but you trusted him. You continued walking until you felt the texture of the ground you were walking on change, sand immediately getting on your feet and slippers.
He continued to drag you, the sound of the ocean waves becoming clearer and the view of the water coming closer. The moonlight made the ocean look so pretty, and this was a view you loved so much.
"Check this out," he finally spoke, breaking the silence between the two of you. He continued, "You mentioned once you wanted to see the ocean in the beach in the middle of the night..".
He cleared his throat, continuing further, "So here we are".
You remained silent, completely moonstruck by the view as you watched how the waves flowed, and hearing your silence, he was about to nag you for not thanking him until he saw your dazed look. He sighed, taking your dazed look as a 'thank-you', "You're welcome".
"You remembered,"
"What?"
"You remembered that I said that.."
He smiled, "Why else would I bring you here?".
"You have good memory huh? For someone who has a small brain," you teased, giggling.
"Okay, sure, whatever," he rolled his eyes.
You continued, "Gosh, do you really have good memory?".
"Duh! I'm smart!" he boasted.
"Then what did I say to you when we first met?"
"You called me all the vulgarities God knew. What a foul mouth you have," he sighed, looking at the waves as he reminicsed.
"You remember that too? I remember you couldn't even tell me how you and Sunghoon met, y'know?!".
"Me and Sunghoon just happened, 'kay?! Besides, I remember important things only," he muttered.
You raised your eyebrows, warmth filling your chest, "Are you calling me important?".
Ni-ki scoffed, "Don't flatter yourself".
You'd ended up telling Sunoo everything. From when you realised you felt weird about him, to how he brought you to see the waves last night. You almost exploded bottling everything up, but you felt like you could trust him, so you told him everything. He listened earnestly, willing to give you advice.
"From this, I feel like.."
You looked at him attentively, anticipating to his words.
"You like him. Love even," he broke the news and you shouted in shock, causing him to cover your mouth with his hands.
"No way! Me?! Loving that dork?! As if!" you denied as he lowered his hands, feeling your cheeks heat up as you grew more irritated for an unknown reason.
"You can believe what you wanna — but you definitely love him".
You pouted as your chest tightened, the weird feeling coming in again as you thought about him.
You? Loving Ni-ki?
I dunno...
Maybe.
Loud conversation and laughter filled the room as everyone sat in a circle, a glass bottle in the centre spinning. Everyone exclaimed in suspense, watching the bottle slow down till it eventually lands on Nao.
"Nao!" everyone called, and you pursed your lips, your gaze looking at Ni-ki to see how he reacted to Nao being called. He was smiling brightly as he watched her, making your heart crack a bit.
"Nao, truth or dare!" Sabrina asked.
"Err, I'm not ready yet... so truth for now!" Nao answered.
Jake immediately shot with the basic question, "Do you have a crush on anyone?".
She looked hesitant to answer, but she eventually did.
"Yes".
Upon hearing her response, everyone started a teasing chant towards her, making her cheeks go red. You were staring at Ni-ki, knowing that he was probably the one that she liked until he looked back at you.
You immediately broke eye contact, feeling awkward as you tried to pretend like you weren't just staring at him. Nao nervously glanced at him before she spinned the bottle in the middle.
Everyone exclaimed again in suspense, watching the bottle speed up and slow down, and it eventually stops on..
You.
Oh no.
"Y/N! Truth or dare!" Jungwon asked this time, and you gave a weak smile.
"Truth".
Nao shot without wasting a second, "Do you like anyone in this room right now?".
The question caught you off-guard, making you cough on your saliva as you looked around to see everyone's curious gazes on you. You'd caught a bit of Ni-ki's calm behaviour, feeling scared that if you answered you'd somehow reveal your feelings for him.
You nervously looked at Sunoo, and he gave you a reassuring nod, silently encouraging you.
"Y-yeah, yes I do".
Everyone in the room cheered. Everyone except you, Sunoo who already knows who it is, Nao who has a gist and also Ni-ki himself.
"Flip up your papers now and see what number you got! There will be another person in the room who got the same number and you two would have to spend New Years Eve together!" Jake announced.
You did so, and you saw a big "4". You looked around the room, seeing everyone's reaction to their numbers.
Jake continued, "Nuh uh, but no saying what number you got! Breaks the surprise, y'know?!".
Everyone groaned and started to complain, and you simply remained quiet, only hoping that you didn't get Nao.
But obviously you were wishing for one person.
You folded your arms, tapping your feet as you stared into blank space, the loud atmospehre of the streets keeping you awake as you waited for your partner. Jake had announced meeting areas for the specific numbers, and right now you were just patiently waiting until the other person who got "4" arrived.
You heard footsteps approaching you from behind, and before you turned around, you mentally prayed to every god that is wasn't Nao. You inhaled and held your breath, turning your body around to reveal who it was.
"Y/N?" Sunoo called, his eyebrows slightly raising, and though there was a part of you that felt disappointed, you also felt relieved that it was Sunoo out of all people.
"Sunoo?" you smiled, feeling thankful. You sputtered out an obvious question, "What are you doing here?".
He replied, "Well, someone needed help coming here because he insisted he'd get 'lost'".
Your eyebrows raised in confusion at his answer, not knowing what he meant as you heard more footsteps behind Sunoo. You peeked over Sunoo's shoulder and saw Ni-ki walking towards the two of you. Your eyes widened and you immediately straightened yourself.
You whisper-shouted, "Are you for real? He's my partner?!".
He gave you a smug look, "Have fun", then leaning into your ear, "Make the most out of it".
Your face immediately redenned and you pushed Sunoo away, earning chuckles from him as he stepped away and centred himself between you and Ni-ki, who set to a stop in front of you.
"Here's your location, and your partner," Sunoo announced, looking at Ni-ki.
Ni-ki was staring at you, probably feeling as stunned as you. "You're telling me I have to spend my New Years with this.. dork?!".
"Excuse me?! You're the even bigger dork!"
"Says the one who almost woke everyone up a while ago!".
Your bickering was instantly placed to a halt when Sunoo firmly grasped each of your shoulders, leaning forward and speaking in an almost.. threatening tone. "I'm not responsible for any of you if you two die or end up in a situation".
You two gulped as you felt the tension in Sunoo's voice, not wanting to irritate him further. You froze as if the sound of your breathing could annoy him. Seeing that the two of you complied after a period of silence, he released the grip on your shoulders and flashed an innocent smile, almost as if he didn't threaten the two of you just a second ago.
"Now I have to find my partner and I might be late because of a certain someone," Sunoo shot a glare at Ni-ki, who was awkwardly avoiding eye contact and scratching his neck.
His smile returned and he greeted before leaving, "Okay, bye guys!".
When Sunoo left, the two of you were left in a state of shock.
"That dude's kinda scary...." Ni-ki commented, his facial expression as if he had just seen a ghost.
"Y-yeah.. I never knew he was like that," you added on, feeling slightly traumatised.
You'd hope that the normal you was out, being able to converse with him before you discovered the fact that you had feelings for him, but luck wasn't on your side. You were constantly thinking through before you spoke, only saying the filtered out words, making you seem painfully awkward.
You two were holding ice cream that you bought from the food trucks at the side of the streets, and you both were walking side by side down the streets.
"Isn't this flavour great?" Ni-ki questioned.
"Y-yeah. Love it," you stammered, mentally cursing yourself for it as you bit your lip.
Ni-ki stopped and sighed, making you stop walking as well.
"Are you kidding me?" he shot and you immediately felt confused.
"I literally got you vanilla. The flavour you hated? And you didn't even curse me out, or even point it out?! Now you're saying you love it?" Ni-ki ranted, obviously feeling over it with your unusualness.
You immediately snap back to reality and look at your ice cream cone, and eventually confirmed that it was vanilla, and you indeed had a strong hatred for vanilla. You immediately screamed and drop your ice cream cone, the ice cream splattering on the ground and your gaze averted to him with widened eyes.
"Gosh, are you finally back?" he squatted down and picked up your cone, taking out tissues from his sling bag to clean up your mess as much as he can. You remained silent, afraid that anything you said would've given you away.
He'd finished up cleaning your mess as he stood back up, looking at you with a sour expression as he held up your dropped ice cream cone and the dirty tissues that were soaked in vanilla ice cream. You nervously glanced away and he only sighed.
"Was I not the partner you wanted? Is that why you're like this?".
"Absolutely not!" you shot back immediately. "It's just.." you tried to find words to explain yourself without giving yourself away, "you look really ugly right now".
He scoffed, but instead of continuing the banter with him, he only sighed and patted your head, "There she is, welcome back".
You looked into his eyes and saw his soft gaze, causing your heart to skip a beat. You immediately frowned and sucked one side of your cheek, turning your body away from him. "You're so annoying".
"And you're weird as fuck. This is exactly why I 'shit-talked' you that day," he giggled.
"Hey! That was really mean!"
It was about an hour left before the New Years, and you'd eventually relaxed around Ni-ki, returning back to your usual self though there was this lingering feeling that made your chest tighten that you tried to brush away desperately.
You noticed Ni-ki to your right looking at the city lights, admiring the view as a big smile was plastered across his face. You softly smiled to yourself, pulling out your phone camera before snapping a photo of him, not realising that your phone would've made a loud 'click!' sound. Ni-ki immediately snaps his neck towards you, realising your antics as you immediately giggle and turn your back on him, making it harder for him to get your phone.
"Hey! That was my bad side!" he whined, trying to grab the phone from you, and you only looked at the photo in awe as you continue giggling, enjoying his reactions.
"What're you talking about? You look really handsome here," you commented, not realising you said that out loud. He was immediately shunned, not believing his ears as you continued to analyse the photo. You continue, "Say, you've never had someone take these types of photos for you right?".
He immediately steps back, clearing his throat and trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, "Yeah, no.."
You looked up at him, "'Cause you never had a girlfriend, right?!".
He immediately rolled his eyes as you struck a sensitive part of his heart, his ego being slightly shattered as you bring up the fact. "Whatever," he brushed off.
"Wait, seriously?! I was joking, y'know?!"
"You've literally been my best friend my entire life how do you not know?"
"I've always seen girls hit on you and you hang out with them, y'know?! Were you not dating them?!".
"Do you see me hang out with them more than 2 times?!"
You were immediately silenced as you tried to recall the moments that he did hang out with the other girls, and no, he definitely did not hang out with any of them more than 2 times.
"That's right!" he continued, standing his point.
"I just assumed you kept it a secret 'cos you were shy and—"
"I never keep secrets!" he huffed out and you could tell me was more irritated than usual. "What about you, huh?! You have a crush on someone and you never told me?!"
"HUH?!?!" you yell out, thinking you were caught.
He continued, "Don't act dumb! During that truth or dare you admitted it!".
You sighed in relief, feeling thankful that he didn't catch on, "Thank God..".
"The fuck you thanking God for?!" he spat. You remained quiet as you observed him place his hands on his hips and take small steps in a circle to soothe his anger, "You're unbelievable".
A part of you was afraid, but a part of you wanted to confess. To express yourself. To tell him all your secrets. But you were so afraid that you'd ruin everything. You were so afraid that he wouldn't feel the same way and reject you.
But, the part of you wanting to confess became bigger, seeing how he was so desperate to find out who your crush was.
You closed your eyes and sighed, your heart thumping as you made your final decision. "I'll tell you on New Years".
"What?" his head immediately shot up.
"New Years. During the countdown. I'll tell you".
He scoffed, "Finally, you're being a decent human being for once".
"Says you?!" you immediately felt taken aback, placing your fists in a fighting stance, ready to punch him and almost regretting that this was the very person that you loved.
There was 5 minutes until the New Years, and you two were sitting on a bench at the park, patiently waiting until it was time. You sat there, feeling like your heart was going to explode as you come to a realisation that you were going to confess. Confess your feelings to your very best friend, and you were enjoying his company before it could all possibly change for the worst.
You kicked your legs in the air, leaning forward as your palms layed flat on the bench, blowing out air from your puffed out cheeks as you tried to calm yourself down.
It was gonna be okay, right? It's just a simple 'I like you', right?
"Y'know you can just say it now, right?" Ni-ki complained.
"Shut up!" you snapped, wishing you liked someone more tolerable like Sunoo. You commented, "You're so annoying, and I hope you know that".
"Thanks for the constant reassurance, Y/N, I hear that from you everyday," he scoffed.
You two continued to banter until he interrupted you, "Shut up! The countdown is starting!".
You choked out, not being ready to confess your very feelings.
"10.. 9.."
Fuck fuck fuck, you weren't ready!
"8.. 7.."
Fuck it. Fuck it!
"6.. 5.."
You didn't even have time to plan how you were going to say it!
Y'know what?
"4.. 3.." you chanted alongside with him, "Actually, y'know what? Fuck it! I like you!".
And as you finished your sentence, the fireworks immediately went off, the bright colours lighting up the dark sky. Loud cheers and celebrations that can be heard from the city near your park and you simply sighed, feeling the weight in your chest finally being released after God-knows-how-long. You stared at the fireworks, watching how it explodes, splits to smaller sparks, feeling his gaze at you.
"Ni-ki, look, the fireworks".
"You mean that?" he asked out of the blue, his tone serious as you turned to look at him. His face was stern and unreadable. You couldn't tell if he was happy, or disgusted, or whatever.
"What do you think? You think I say that for fun?" your tone was light and fun, feeling relieved you finally let it out.
"Just answer the question, damnit!" he snarled, making you feel taken-aback.
"Okay, yes, fine! I like you! I said it. I mean it. What, are you not happy? What, are you gunna reject me, huh?!" you spilled out your thoughts as you snapped back at him, feeling irritated that he was reacting this way. What was his deal?!
He sighed and leaned back on the bench. "Do you ever wonder why I haven't dated any of the girls you mentioned?".
"C'mon, if you're gunna reject me just directly say—"
"Because I like you!"
Features of shock immediately took over your face, not believing what you were hearing. He.. liked.. you?
"I liked you the entire damn time! Even before we became close, okay?!" he ranted, his voice sounding desperate as he confessed to you.
"Remember that time I was 'shit-talking' you in the field?! Thankfully you missed out on the part where I said I liked you!" he continued, his anger spilling out.
You couldn't believe what you were hearing. He liked you. He liked you back. He felt the same way about you. You were silent as you stared at him feeling apalled. Finding all of this amusing and not knowing how to respond, you broke into a soft chuckle.
"What's so funny?! What, now are you rejecting me?!"
"Dork," you teased.
"What?"
"You're a dork. A dork for me," you teased further and you watched as his face grew red.
"You never know how to shut your mouth!"
This was the last thing you expected, but the best outcome that could've played out. You walked beside Ni-ki, hand in hand as you noticed the lively atmosphere of the crowd since it was the new year. He held your hand tightly and pulled you closer to him as you both try to make way through the crowd, instinctively guarding you as someone gets too close.
"Protective over me, huh?" you teased, enjoying how flustered he gets.
"I will literally leave you right here if you say another word," he shot a glare at you, the tips of his ears turning to a light shade of pink.
"It's okay, I like the way your hand feels on mine," you smirked, watching how he looks away and purses his lips, clearly trying to act nonchalant.
"Whatever you want," he clears his throat and straightens his posture, softly tugging at your hand before continuing to walk again.
As you two continued walking, you spotted another ice cream food truck and you immediately pulled on his hand, "Look, another ice cream truck!".
"Do you want another one?" he asked, knowing you'd already say yes.
"Yup!". At the sound of your approval, he was about to start walking to the truck but you stood in front of him.
"Nuh uh, I'll get this myself, I feel bad that you paid and cleaned up my ice crem earlier, so I'll do it," you insisted, feeling ashamed and not wanting to burden him further.
"No I'll—"
"No. You stay." your voice fierce and stern, causing Ni-ki to nod in compliance and quietten down.
You smiled before patting his shoulder and making a turn for the truck.
He mumbled to himself, "God, is Sunoo and her siblings or something..?".
He folded his arms, tapping his feet as he looked around the area, subconsciously searching for your figure which was nowhere to be found. He sucked his inner cheek as he grew more nervous, wondering why you were taking so long to just get ice cream. He sighed as he started to make a move towards the ice cream shop, his eyes wandering in search for you but to no avail.
He slowly started to panic more, his pace hastening as he approached the ice cream truck owner, "Have you seen a beautiful girl in a black hoodie?".
"Oh, the lady who bought chocolate ice cream? Yeah she was—"
"Where is she?" Ni-ki tapped his feet repetitively, feeling the panic rise. The shop owner seemed slightly stunned, but raised his finger to point to a direction, "There, I think".
Ni-ki gave a quick nod and eyebrow raise before going to the said direction, constantly turning his head and bumping people in search for you. His breathing rate started to accelerate as he started overthinking about things that could've happened to you. He started to jog, and as soon as he was about to call out for you, he heard it.
Your laugh.
He turned his head to the same direction and he spotted you. In his eyes, it was almost like a spotlight was shone directly at you from the way his eyes focused on you and you only. Ni-ki stared at you with his jaw dropped as he watched you laugh to another girl, the melody of your laugh sounding like music to his ears.
He was rooted to his spot, completely in awe as his gaze was locked on you. You weren't even doing anything, you were just laughing, wearing your stupid black hoodie and being the dork you were, but it made his head spin.
If only you knew how you made him feel.
People bumped his shoulder, making their way past him and he simply stood there before you felt his stare and you turned around, forming eye contact through the crowd of people.
Your eyes crinkled while you beamed as you raised your hand, "Ni-ki! Over here!".
Ni-ki was immediately brought back to reality, his eyes wandering as he finally realised what was happening around him. He cleared his throat and made way to you and the other girl.
As he arrived, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and looked at the other girl. He frowned, finding her familiar as he leaned forward, trying to get a better look at her as he tried to recall where he saw her.
"Jake's girl?!" his jaw dropped and his head leaned forward as he felt flabbergasted that Sabrina was here as well.
"I-is that my nickname now?" Sabrina giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, finding the whole situation amusing. "Jake and I was here and I just so happened to spot Y/N," she continued.
"Is that Niks and Y/N?!" a voice emerged from behind Sabrina, and a guy's hand snaked around Sabrina's waist, revealing Jake who's hair was slightly messed up from how the wind was blowing.
"Jake!" you greeted, feeling ecstatic that there was more of you. You continued while giggling, "Happy New Year, lovebirds".
Jake broke eye contact and his gaze started wandering around, giving it away that he was flustered and Sabrina simply cackled, "We're not the only ones, right?". She eyed you and Ni-ki, her eyebrows wiggling as she observed how he pulled you close to him.
Ni-ki glanced at you to see how you'd respond and you immediately rolled your eyes, "This dumbass hasn't asked yet, but he's such a big dork for me".
He gasped, "Me? A dumbass AND a dork? Seriously you have something in your head!".
"You too have something in your head!" you shot back, "And it's me~".
"God, one day I'll tape your mouth shut!"
You and Ni-ki continued to bicker, and Jake and Sabrina looked at each other, exchanging smug and knowing looks and shrugged, knowing your whole situation and predicting everything from the start of the trip.
You jumped onto your bed, laying on your back as you stared at the ceiling. You'd return from the trip almost a week ago, and you thought that you could do more trips or have more outings with the rest but everyone else was busy. You shifted a pillow below your head, taking your phone from the edge of your bed and hoping to see that one name but to no avail.
Jungwon was tutoring students as a part time job.
Sunghoon was working part time at a diner.
Jake had other plans — well — with Sabrina.
Sunoo was busy preparing for the next semester already.
And Ni-ki? There wasn't really a reason. At least not one of you could figure it out.
After processing that you and your best friend had taken the next step, everything started to kick in. You were afraid of what was going to happen. Was he going to ask you out? Will he keep things casual? Will you and him still be normal friends?
You didn't contact him at all, in hopes that he'd initiate first, but it was the same for him. No texts, no calls, not even invites to games or the arcade.
You were starting to regret everything. If you hadn't confessed, would you and him be how it was like?
Your mind flashed to the time he confessed.
'Because I like you! I liked you the entire damn time! Even before we became close, okay?!'
You flipped to your stomach and screamed to your pillow, feeling your heart race and your thoughts go everywhere. You couldn't stop thinking about him and it was driving you insane.
He did say he liked you back, but was he really being serious? Did he say that in the heat of moment or to please you? You didn't know. And the fact that you two weren't communicating was driving you nuts.
You exhaled, giving up trying to think things through and you slowly felt your sanity slip away. You were about to slip into unconsciousness until you heard loud knocks on your window. You froze, thinking that there was a burglar.
You pushed yourself off the bed, staring out of the dark window as your hand rummaged through your table, holding anything that could defend you which was apparently a hair straightener.
You slowly approached the window, taking quiet and cautious steps as you frowned, watching the window. You opened the window and saw a wild Ni-ki, causing you to yell but he immediately shut you up by slapping a small snip of tape on your mouth. It was almost as if he'd predicted this and prepared to shut you up.
You peered at him, remaining rooted to your bedroom floor as you froze, not knowing what to do and not being able to say anything.. literally.
You sighed and you relaxed, letting the hair straightener fall to your side and you rip out the tape from your mouth, slightly hissing from the rip. Lifting up the tape beside your face, "Seriously? Tape?".
He giggled, "I did say I'd shut you up with tape one time, did I not?".
You glared at him and he slowly peeked behind him, gripping onto the side of your window tighter, "C-can you let me in? I might fall any second..".
"I might just kick you".
He sat on your carpet, his legs crossed as you sat on the edge of your bed, your arms folded as you frowned your brows at him. "What're doing here, huh?" you interrogated him, his appearance being so sudden it almost irritated you.
"I wanted to see you," he replied honestly.
You waved your hands towarrds him, "No, nah, nuh-uh, don't give me that bullshit — it makes me nervous". You continued, "Don't you have a curfew?".
"Well, I can't get into trouble if my mom doesn't know I'm out, right?" he snickered, feeling like he was the coolest person in the world and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.
"You're ridiculous," you spat, pulling yourself in more towards the bed as you layed down, your back resting against the headboard. "What do you want? I know you're not just here to piss me off," you gnarled.
"Look, I know why you're pissed, okay? I came here to talk about it," he calmly informs you, his big doe eyes pleading you to cool off.
You remained silent for a second before you huffed out, sitting up straight. He requested, "Can you sit in front of me, please?".
You whined, trying to negotiate that you and him can just talk like this but he insisted, so you eventually requested, "Get on my bed".
He nods and he complies, sitting on your bed with his legs crossed, directly opposite of you. You stared at him, your arms folded. "So what now?".
"I mean everything I said," he suddenly spoke, catching you off-guard. "I've liked you before we became friends, up till now. I did tell my friend that I liked you on the field. I rejected every other girl and said that I liked you," he confessed.
You stared at him, struggling to find words to respond with. You bit your inner cheek, watching his vulnerable state.
"I'm sorry that I haven't contacted you, I know you must've had difficulties sleeping—"
"Excuse you! You're flattering yourself! I would never lose sleep because of you!" you shot, but the two of you knew you were lying from how you had heavy eyebags even during break.
He rolled his eyes and held your face, causing you to wiggle back, "What're you—!"
"What are these, then?" he caressed your eyebags with his thumb, tilting his head and looking at you with a soft gaze as he leaned in closer.
You pouted and huffed, looking away. "I hope you know you're selfish for being the reason I can't get any sleep," you mumbled, feeling sulky that he caught you.
The corners of his mouth dropped as he continued to caress you gently, "I'm sorry".
"You're apologising so much it's so weird," you mumbled, barely audible that Riki almost didn't catch it.
"I know, right?" he leaned back, his arms on the mattress and the warmth on your cheek disappearing, disappointment washing over you.
"So what? You apologise, then what?" you frowned, feeling impatient.
"Can you zip your mouth and let me do things how I envisioned it in my head?" he shot, his sassy side coming out again.
You giggled as you leaned backwards on your hands, looking at him and raising your eyebrows, "Okay, do things your way then. What did you plan to do now?".
He blurted, "This is the part where I ask you to be my—". You raised one eyebrow at him and he stopped himself. "Wait, no, I'm not supposed to tell you that. Wait, shit."
You burst out laughing at his awkwardness, his next move making this whole situation more hilarious. He checked his palm as if he had written his entire plan there.
"Don't tell me you wrote it on your palm? Lemme see!" you immediately crawled to him and grabbed his wrist, trying to see. "No! get away!" he resisted, trying to pull his hand back and prevent you from seeing it.
"No way! You actually did!" you read his palm as he eventually gave up trying to hide it. He sighed loudly and glared at you. You had the best laugh in the longest time, and his ego shattered more for each second it lasted.
Tears were forming from how hard you were laughing, your stomach starting to hurt, but through your tears you noticed his sulky expression, causing you to cool down and wipe your tears, "Okay I'm sorry, do whatever you wanna do next".
He rolled his eyes, before clearing his throat to shoot the question, "Y/N, will you—".
His speech was interrupted from you making a drum roll on your lap, and he simply stopped halfway into the speech, staring at you in disbelief and you cleared your throat, feeling guilty.
"Sorry".
"Gosh, I can't believe you're the one I like," he snarled, his expression annoyed.
Your stomach felt tingly at his comment, the corners of your mouth curling upwards.
"Y/N, will you pay for my gam—"
"Yes!" you answered in excitement, but your smile immediately dropped realising what he actually asked.
It was his turn to snicker and you lifted your fist, threatening to punch him as he had his own laughing session.
"God, that was hilarious, Y/N will you be my girlfriend?" he asked in the midst of laughing, catching you off-guard as your jaw drops and you completely freeze.
He wiped his eyes then realised the state you were in, "C'mon, you already knew I was going to ask, what's the problem?".
"Well, duh! But I didn't know you'd just ask that so suddenly!" you complained, sulking that he asked when you leet your guard down. You demanded, "Ask again! But in a more serious tone!".
"You're a needy one, aren't you?" he commented as he shifted himself to be more comfortable and straightened his back. You look at him with a proud look, waiting for the question to come out.
"Y/N," he whispered, "Will you be my girlfriend?".
"YAY!!" a loud voice emerges from outside your room and someone falls into your room. You two immediately looked at your door, not knowing what the hell was going on and to your surprise, you saw your mom and dad.
"Honey! You didn't have to push me!" your dad complained, rubbing his hip as he layed on the floor.
"I got too excited, sorry honey!" your mom apologised as she clapped her hands and looked at the two of you.
Your turned your head to Ni-ki, your jaw remaining agape in disbelief and not feeling comfortable to do anything else. You turned your head back to your parents, "God! What's wrong with the 2 of you! It's literally—" your eyes flickered to your clock "1am! Aren't you guys supposed to be sleeping for work tomorrow?!".
You nagged at your parents for eavesdropping the conversation between you and Ni-ki and eventually managed to get them back to their rooms after lots of nagging and scolding. Your parents begged to listen but you stood your point and made them comply.
You dusted your hands as you returned to the spot you were sitting in front of Riki before you got interrupted by your parents. You sighed, "You can continue, I hope you didn't forget what to say next".
"I mean, it gave me more time to rehearse, but you haven't answered the question yet".
"What questio—" you asked, being forgetful after being so overwhelmed by your parents but immediately recalled it, "OHHHHH".
"You remember now, huh?" he mocked you.
You hummed, before requesting, "Ask again".
"Seriously? I already asked twice. Twice!"
"Third times a charm, right? And both times weren't good," you waved your hands at him, brushing him off and he scoffed.
"Gosh," he huffed. "For the last fucking time Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he put his hand on top of yours, trying to make the whole situation romantic despite how irritated he felt.
"Mmmm," you pretended to think to tease him, and as soon as you were about to continue teasing him..
"If you give me that 'I'll respond in a few business days' bullshit I'll literally kiss you," he threatened.
"Oh..? But what if I want that kiss?" you smirked, challenging him.
"God, you're so fucking annoying," he muttered before cupping your cheeks and leaning in, smashing both of your lips together. He got you again when you lowered your guard, but instead of pushing him away, you simply lived in the moment.
Your heart was racing from how you were literally kissing your best friend, and you immediately kissed him back.
The kiss was soft and gentle at first, his movements slow as if he was testing the waters but his passion grew as his kiss eventually became more passionate, his hands lowering to your waist to pull you closer to him. His nose nudged yours, and one of his hands was brought up to your face, tilting your head to give him more access.
Your mind went blank as you melted into the kiss, never wanting this kiss to end as you finally felt like you won in life. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly, attempting to pull him impossibly closer.
As you both grew breathless, he eventually pulled back, his eyes directly staring into yours.
"Still need a few business days to decide?" he asked as he tried to catch his breath.
"No need, 'cos my answer's yes," you gave in, finally making things official. He huffed and pulled you into a hug, feeling all his anger for you slip away.
"Look, on a serious note, I feel like I'm not good enough for you, but I'll be better for you, I promise," he pulled away, holding your shoulders and grinning at you.
"You're soo romantic, y'know?" you sarcastically remarked, a light smile on your face, "You come to my house in the middle of the night, spilling your heart out to me after we haven't spoken for like a week".
"At least I'm fun and different, 'kay?" he defended himself, his hands in the air like he was surrendering.
"Whatever, dork," you giggled, scooching closer to him.
"Your dork?" he rested his hands on your waist as he lifted and sat you on his lap.
"My dork," you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in until your lips collided again.
Walking into school with him wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that you and Ni-ki had your hands interlocked, causing everyone to look at you in shock. Whispers could be heard from every corner of the hallway, everyone being flabbergasted that the 2 friends who argued relentlessly were now hand in hand like a lovey dovey couple.
'Just what happened over the holidays?'
'Woah, this is the last thing I expected!'
'Didn't Nao like him? Shit, quick - take a photo of them!'
Your friend group was leaning on the lockers, their eyes glued onto the two of you, enjoying the performance that you and Ni-ki had put up for the school. Sunghoon nudged Jungwon and laughed as he noticed your proud expression as you two walked towards them.
"What happened, huh? Did you hit your heads when you went home after the trip?" Sunghoon teased as you two approached.
"Who knows?" Ni-ki shrugged, glancing at you and grinning.
You were having lunch, laughing as per usual with the others when Ni-ki suddenly leaned into your ear and whispered, "I like you".
Your face immediately heats up and your chest tightens, your untensils dropping as you smack Ni-ki's chest for teasing you, "Shut up!".
He laughed at your reaction, finding you adorable as he leaned on your shoulder, "I love you, Y/N".
The others rolled their eyes and pretended to puke and gag, finding the whole lovey-dovey situation disgusting and you sighed, not being able to resist him.
"I love you too".
thank you for reading till the end!
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announcement i dont know if you guys saw my other post but i'm going to take a break to focus on my school and life cos things are very hectic even if school hasn't reopened! thank you guys for the amount of love ya'll have shown me, i will forever be grateful and i will definitely come back and make more fics like this cos i find so much joy in writing. will be back in like late feb or march. but ill defo be logging in every once in a while!
seven boys. seven different love stories. seven moments when love decides to bloom. from the warmth of a surprise hug to the sweet confusion of stolen glances, these seven stories trace the exhilarating rush of falling in love—messy, uncertain, and utterly irresistible. this is where love finds you.
⤷ series taglist — open !
⤷ permanent taglist — open !
⤷ warnings — this series contains mature themes, smut (some), toxic dynamics, fluff and angst
⤷ a/n — this is my second series and it’s still ongoing! some parts are already under editing and proofreading, so please be patient with updates and revisions. i’m taking my time to make each love story feel just right <3 thank you for being here 🫶
✩ˎˊ˗ ride with caution ( lhs ! )
⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3
⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader
⤷ summary — lee heeseung has always been the kind of boy you were told to stay away from—reckless, with a trail of rumors that follow wherever he goes. they say he fights for fun, kisses without meaning, and never sticks around long enough to fall. you, on the other hand, have never had time for distractions. being one of decelis university’s most promising fashion majors, the spotlight’s already on you—you were supposed to avoid him. and you did. until a quiet offer of help changed everything. or, where the boy you never planned to look twice at ends up being the only one who sees right through you.
✩ˎˊ˗ sugar in the soil ( pjs ! )
⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3
⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader
⤷ summary — your fascination with flowers was a quiet love you turned into your future. majoring in biology at decelis university, you often found yourself needing rare blooms, fresh clippings, or just the scent of something calming after long hours in the lab. that’s why the little flower shop down the street became your second home. the staff knew your name. mrs. park always had tea ready. until one afternoon, the usual calm was replaced with someone entirely unexpected—park jongseong, of all people. golden boy. heir to a business empire. the last person you'd expect to be arranging sunflowers behind the counter like he belonged there. or, where your love for flowers leads you to someone who's far more than just his reputation.
✩ˎˊ˗ under the same stars ( sjy ! )
⤷ part 1 | part 2
⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader
⤷ summary — you’ve never been the type to chase the noise. deciding early on that parties, people, and popularity were things better left outside your apartment door, you built a quiet life in the middle of the chaos that was decelis university. but across thin walls and late nights, you start to notice the boy whose music seeps through your walls, whose laughter echoes from the next balcony over, whose shadow you’ve memorized under moonlight—sim jaeyun, the university’s golden physics major with a reputation that stretches far beyond the quiet hallway you share. you never wanted to be involved. but he smiles at you like you placed the stars he’s been trying to understand his whole life. or, where a shared silence between two strangers becomes something that feels a lot like home.
✩ˎˊ˗ breaking the ice ( psh ! )
⤷ coming soon
⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader
⤷ summary — everyone said you were made for this—communication arts at decelis university, a packed schedule of volunteer work, campus events, and friend groups that always had a place for you at the table. you were loud when it counted, soft when needed, and you got along with just about everyone. except him. park sunghoon has been in the same circle, same rooms, same moments for years. and yet—he’s never said more than a handful of words to you. a mystery you didn’t ask for but somehow can’t stop chasing. and now you’re set on finding out what it is about you that makes him look away every time. or, where the boy who never speaks finally does—just not in the way you expect.
✩ˎˊ˗ the moon in his sky ( ksn ! )
⤷ coming soon
⤷ pairing — sunoo x fem!reader
⤷ summary — you’ve always loved performing. as a music major at decelis university, stages felt like home, and the spotlight never burned—it glowed. you lived for the thrill of it all: the crowd, the rush, the applause. but there was someone who loved it even more. kim sunoo, your classmate. always smiling, always glowing. everyone adored him—how could they not? he was warmth in every hallway, laughter in every shared glance. you never got close. just simple greetings and soft goodbyes. until the day you found him in your favorite coffee shop, eyes red, smile nowhere in sight. or, where even the brightest sun needs a moon to light the dark—and maybe, unknowingly, that’s exactly who you were becoming.
✩ˎˊ˗ where we begin ( yjw ! )
⤷ coming soon
⤷ pairing — jungwon x fem!reader
⤷ summary — yang jungwon has always been the type of guy people admired from afar—disciplined, composed, and respected, both as the president of the taekwondo club and the head of the athletics organization. you, on the other hand, weren’t in it for the love of sports. you just needed the credentials, and maybe a clean-looking resume. you didn’t talk. didn’t look his way. didn’t think he even knew your name. or, where a position you didn’t even want leads to a boy you didn’t expect. and somehow, he ends up needing you just as much as you need him.
✩ˎˊ˗ everything in between ( nk ! )
⤷ coming soon
⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader
⤷ summary — being park jongseong’s cousin came with expectations—polished, poised, and impossible to beat. as a business major in decelis university, you had your goals lined up like stepping stones, top of your class, heir to your family’s legacy, admired by most. except one. nishimura riki has been butting heads with you since high school. snide remarks in class, competitive glares across the room, an unspoken rivalry that somehow never faded even when you both entered university. he always seemed to have a comeback ready, and you were never one to back down either. or, where years of rivalry blur into something softer, and the boy you swore hated you might’ve just been hiding feelings all along.
Synopsis - when the seasonal depression hits a bit harder, Felix is there to make sure you know you’re loved and needed.
•Lyrically Aligned Masterlist•
A/N 💌: Hiiii!! Sorry it took forever to get this chapter out — work has been crazy. I really hope you guys enjoy this one! I know things can get tough, especially mentally during the colder seasons, but please remember that there are people who care and truly want you here. ♡
Since this chapter is our very first glimpse of reader realizing she might have feelings for Felix, I’ve been thinking about turning it into a two- or three-part mini series — kind of like “The four times ___ realized they were in love with ___, and the one time they acted on it.” Would that be something you guys are interested in?
Also, shoutout to @hyunnows for not only proof reading my fics (thank you so much girl) but for also pointing out that I never actually specified what their relationship was (LOL), so now I’m definitely tempted to write more about their slow-burn crushes and little realizations.
As always, thank you guys so much for the endless support — it truly means the world to me. 🩷
Please note: I do not allow my writing to be used, reposted, or shared anywhere outside of Tumblr likes and reblogs. Thank you for respecting my work! 💗
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
Things felt off.
Not with the group. Not with the boys. But with you.
As Stray Kids’ fan base, Stay, started to grow, schedules became unbearable, more rigorous.
When you weren’t working with the boys, you were flying — France, the UK, Germany. Sometimes Hyunjin went with you, shooting campaigns in Switzerland or Paris for Cartier.
When you weren’t traveling, you were back in Seoul — filling your days with rehearsals, your nights in recording booths. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you didn’t keep moving, you’d disappear, or you’d never want to return again.
You told yourself you were fixing mistakes, but Chan told you you were already perfect. You didn’t believe him. How could you?
You slept less.
Ate less.
Felt less.
Days blurred together. You moved through life like a ghost — sleepwalking through conversations, nodding when spoken to, hearing what others were saying but not fully registering it. Everything was static noise, annoying and far too loud. Somehow you’d lost the remote to control the channels long ago.
The boys noticed — especially Chan and Hyunjin.
Chan saw it first during late-night studio sessions.
You’d stay until dawn, redoing the same verse again and again until he finally turned off the mic.
“Kkoma,” he sighed, voice thick with exhaustion as he pressed the intercom, “you’ve nailed it six times already.”
“Just one more,” you’d look at him, eyes desperate to keep opened, “please, Chan.”
He never won the fight, but when five a.m. hit, he’d make you leave — pretending to be annoyed, though his eyes were always soft when promising that you could re-record tomorrow. You knew he’d use one of the earlier takes anyways just so you wouldn’t dwell too long on the same project, just like he did so often.
You and Chan were mirrors—different frames, same cracks. Both relentless, both unforgiving with yourselves. You weren’t blind to it, though the glasses you wear when you’re not Y/N Mae — the idol might suggest otherwise. You still noticed the way his smile faltered when he caught sight of himself in a video, how the light in his eyes dimmed the second the camera lingered too long. You recognized that same look in your own reflection.
Hyunjin was harder to fool. He saw through you before you even had the chance to hide.
So when he found you one night in Chan’s studio, slouched on the couch with a notebook in your lap, he didn’t say anything at first. He just watched. The lighting from the lamp that sat in the corner of the room hit your face — pale, tired, hollow. Your hair was dull. Your eyes had lost their spark.
He didn’t say anything at first, just watched. Then, gently, he leaned over your shoulder, scanning the page
“Lately, I've been on a roller coaster
Tryna get a hold of my emotions
But all that I know is I need you close”
Your handwriting was messy—chaotic in the way it always was when your heart was heavy. A sure sign that the threads were coming undone.
By the time you realized he was there, his shadow was already beside yours.
“You fucker, you scared the shit out of me!” you gasped, clutching your chest.
He laughed softly, sitting next to you. “Sorry.” His eyes flicked toward your notebook. “What’s the song about?”
You shrugged, deflecting. “It’s nothing.”
He hummed, unconvinced. “Your handwriting’s bad — that only happens when you’re either writing something good or when you’re upset.” His voice softened. “From the looks of it, maybe both.”
“I’m not upset,” you lied, setting the notebook on the table with light movements.
He nodded slowly. The room went quiet — fragile, heavy.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he said finally, almost in a whisper. “I’m not saying you have to right now. Just… when you’re ready.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. He already understood.
After a moment, Hyunjin picked up your notebook. He read the lyrics, his thumb brushing against the ink stained paper.
“This is good,” he said softly. “Are you going to record it?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think Stay or the company would like it. It’s not exactly happy-go-lucky.”
“It’s not supposed to be.” He looked up at you, gaze steady. “It’s real.”
He paused, eyes flicking back to the page.
Then, quietly —
“Someone once told me that ‘because people take influence from what they listen to. It’s important to be genuine.’”
You smile softly with your gaze distant, trying to pay attention. “That person sounds smart.”
“She is.” He looks at you, “you’re incredibly smart. And these lyrics,” he continued, “they’re genuine. Not everything is going to be rainbows and flowers. And that’s okay.”
You looked at him for a long time, taking in what he said. You knew he was right. But how do you overcome fear and doubt when it’s all you’ve been feeling as of late?
He opened his laptop, scrolling through Chan’s sound libraries, layering simple beats that he thought fit the lyrics you had written so far. You could see him glance at you every time he sampled a new sound, he payed attention to your body language to see what sounds you did and didn’t react to.
You didn’t need to tell him what you needed. Staying was enough.
Hyunjin didn’t leave that night. And that was how you knew — he understood you more than you thought he would.
Felix noticed too.
He saw how your smile didn’t reach your eyes, how your laughter sounded forced. When Hyunjin quietly pulled him aside after practice, Felix’s suspicions were confirmed—and it broke him a little.
He blamed himself for not stepping in sooner. For needing someone else to tell him what he already knew — what he’d already noticed.
Two weeks after your talk with Hyunjin, you were home on a rare day off. You and Hyunjin had just flown back from Paris for a Cartier Campaign, and the company insisted you rest. But rest only made you restless.
You moved aimlessly from room to room—lying in bed, pacing to the kitchen, scrolling through your phone while the TV played something you couldn’t name. It was noise, and for once, that noise made your thoughts quieter.
Until the knock came.
You glanced at the clock. 9:30 p.m. Maybe it was Han? You recall him talking about a new anime he wanted to watch with you a few days prior. You dragged yourself to the door, opening it to see a familiar head of blonde hair.
“Felix?” you blinked. “What are you doing here?”
He grinned, holding up a grocery bag. “I brought stuff to make brownies. Can you help me?”
You raised an eyebrow, a small smile gracing your shrunken face. “You’re capable of doing that yourself.”
He shrugged, smiling softly. “Yeah, but what’s the point if I don’t have my batter eater to help me?”
You tried to hide your smile, but it slipped through anyway. The dorm suddenly felt brighter. Lighter.
Baking with Felix felt natural, effortless. He made you laugh until you snorted—something he swore was cute, earning him an eye roll from you. But beneath the laughter, that hollow ache still lingered.
When the brownies went into the oven, silence filled the room.
Felix leaned against the counter, eyes flicking to you. “How’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t really seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been okay,” you murmured, rinsing out the bowl you’d used for mixing.
He gave you a look. “You’re a terrible liar.”
You smiled faintly. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because we can all see something’s wrong.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t respond—just waited.
Finally, you sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I don’t even know how to explain it.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “Try.”
You sat at the island, tracing the countertop with your finger. “It feels like I’m…sleepwalking through my days. Like I’m here, but not really. Everything’s foggy. I can hear people, but it’s like their voices don’t reach me. The only thing I can really hear is my own thoughts and even then I struggle to understand them sometimes.”
Felix’s chest tightened.
You swallowed hard. “I stay up most nights. Sometimes I go over new choreography till the sun comes up or I sit with Chan in the recording studio until he forces me to go home. Then I travel. I work. I distract myself. It all catches up to me when I’m finally alone with nothing else to quiet my thoughts,” you whisper, looking at Felix — somewhat ashamed with what you’re saying. “I’m tired.”
“All I want to do is sleep. But I'm scared to,” you said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because I’m scared that if I fall asleep, I won’t want to wake up.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
You let out a bitter laugh. “God, I sound ungrateful.”
Felix shook his head. “You sound worn down.” His hand brushed yours, gentle and grounding. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling tired.”
“This is more than tired, Felix.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And that’s okay.”
“I don’t know why I feel this way.” Your voice trembles as you stare at the countertop. “Everything in my life says I should be happy. I have people who care, a life I worked for, a career I love, you.” You look up at him, eyes glassy. “But there’s this sadness, and I don’t know what to do with it.”
He looked at you—really looked. The weight loss, the pale skin, the dim light in your eyes. Everything Hyunjin had said was right.
“You’re important,” he said softly, voice breaking. “Not just to the group, or Stay, or your family—you’re important to me. And I’m sorry if I don’t say that enough.”
“Felix, you don’t ha—”
“Yes, I do,” he cut in. “Because you’re so convinced you’re not enough, when you’re more than that. You’ve done so much for everyone, myself included, but I need you to do one more thing—for me. Stay. Because all of this means nothing if you’re not here.”
Your lip trembled as he continued, his voice low but certain.
“All those late-night practices, the recording sessions, the dumb jokes, the matching hair colors, the shared stage—it’s all pointless without you. People always ask those hypothetical questions — like who you’d share your last meal with or who you’d spend your last moments with if the world ended…” He smiled through the tears pooling in his eyes. “You know me, I’ve never been one to think twice about those stupid scenarios. None of it matters anyway because my answer has always stayed the same — you. You are my answer to every hypothetical. You are my person, Aga.”
You broke then, crying so hard it almost hurt to breathe. Felix wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. And he was.
“I love you,” you whispered when your sobs quieted.
“I love you too, Aga,” he murmured against your shoulder. “I always will.”
Those three little words.
Words you and Felix had said to each other countless times — whispered between rehearsals, half-laughed during goodbyes, exchanged like a promise you both already understood.
But this time, they felt different.
Maybe it was the way his voice broke when he said them.
Maybe it was how tightly he held you, like he was afraid you’d turn to dust if he let you go.
Or maybe it was because, for the first time, your heart didn’t just ache — it raced.
Your chest felt heavy, your pulse loud in your ears, your cheeks warm and flushed.
You’d never noticed it before, never questioned it. But now, as his breath brushed your neck and his words echoed in your head, you couldn’t ignore it.
He was your friend.
Your best friend.
Your person.
So why did it suddenly feel like something more?
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered desperately, his throat tightening.
“I won’t.”
And you meant it.
Truthfully, you and Felix were the pair — the kind of duo Stay swore were soulmates, in every sense of the word. Everyone knew that if you were there, Felix was somewhere close behind. And if he wanted to go, you’d follow without hesitation — even if it meant robbing a bank, so long as it was him by your side.
Time would move on, as it always does. But for that moment—held in the soft hum of the kitchen light and the scent of brownies in the air—it felt eternal.
You’d finally found someone who made it feel okay to not be okay.
Someone who needed you just as much as you needed them.
Synopsis - You and Felix reflect on your early bond during the survival show, revealing friendship, trust, and the unspoken connection that shapes your journey. Based off the Zach Sang Stray Kids episode :)
•forevermore masterlist•
A/N: OMG!? Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on the first chapter of this series 🥹💗 It honestly means the world to me. I know 9th member AUs can be hit or miss for some people, so seeing so many of you connect with this story and its characters has been beyond encouraging. Writing can get discouraging sometimes, so every kind word and reblog truly makes such a difference. Thank you again @hyunnows for reading this and giving me feedback <3 please go check her out, she’s amazing 🩷
As mentioned before, I’m starting a taglist for this series and taking chapter/fic suggestions! • To join the taglist, comment under the masterlist or my long comment on the first post. • For writing requests or ideas, just go to my profile → tap the little text bubble in the top right corner → click “where curiosity blooms.”
Thank you all again for the endless love and support — you guys keep this story alive. 🩷
Please note: I do not allow my writing to be used, reposted, or shared anywhere outside of Tumblr likes and reblogs. Thank you for respecting my work! 💗
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────
The studio lights were soft and golden — the kind that made everything look warmer than it really was. Mics gleamed beneath the overhead glow, wires snaking across the floor, and the faint hum of cameras and the AC filled the air.
Zach adjusted his headset, grinning at the group. “Okay, Stray Kids,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “Thanks for giving us the time and energy. What’s it like getting around? Because there’s so many of you. I mean, your team is thick, dude. Thick with like… four C’s.”
You laughed quietly from your spot beside Felix. The long black couch barely fit the four of you — Chan, Seungmin, Felix, and you. Jeongin and Minho sat on stools behind the couch, while Han, Hyunjin, and Changbin sat comfortably on the floor in front of the black leather couch. The studio was cramped but alive, buzzing with energy.
You and Felix shared a single mic — one of those sleek, flexible-stand types that made you both lean a little closer when you spoke. His knee brushed yours once, a barely-there touch, and yet neither of you moved away.
“Yeah,” Chan said, nodding, his accent thick and familiar, filled with warmth. “We all live together, so it’s not too bad. We’ve got two vans — four in one, five in the other. It’s a lot sometimes, but we always somehow make it work.”
“But isn’t it hard keeping track of that many personalities?” Zach asked, amused.
Chan smiled. “It sounds like a lot, but it feels like family. You learn everyone’s rhythm after a while.”
You hummed softly in agreement, catching Felix’s eye as he nodded. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said into your shared mic, voice low and warm. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”
Zach leaned forward. “Wait, you guys live together?”
A chorus of yeses broke out, laughter echoing between you.
“What’s that like?” he asked, grinning.
“It’s crazy,” Chan said, and everyone laughed again.
“Y/N, what’s that like? Living with a bunch of guys?”
You smiled. “Oh, it’s the worst,” you joked, earning laughter all around. “No, but it’s different for sure.” Your eyes swept over the boys who had become your family, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It was nerve-wracking at first. I’d never been surrounded by so many male counterparts before, so it was definitely something new. It took a while to get used to.”
Zach nodded, intrigued. “Do you have to share a room with any of them? Or do you get your own space?”
“In the beginning, during the survival show, I shared a room with Jeongin,” you said, glancing back at him. He grinned shyly — a look full of nostalgia. “But after debut, once we moved into a bigger place, our managers thought it’d be better for me to have my own room.” You laughed lightly. “Probably for everyone’s sanity.”
The boys laughed, and Felix’s shoulder brushed yours, nudging you — as if to say you were the one keeping them sane.
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Zach said. “Even now, it’s wild. You’ve known each other for years, and the glamour must wear off eventually, right? Like, the party side of it all?”
“Definitely,” Chan said with a laugh. “At first, it’s chaos — late nights, new experiences but eventually, you find a rhythm. People go to the gym, we do promos for new albums, we learn what everyone eats for breakfast.”
You nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah, it becomes a routine. Comfortable, in a weird way.”
Zach pointed between you all. “From the reality show, what did you learn about each other?”
Chan thought for a moment. “We knew each other before it even started, but the show… it brought us closer. We faced challenges that could’ve torn us apart, but instead, it made us stronger.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward you and Minho. There was a quiet heaviness there, an unspoken memory everyone still carried with a heavy heart.
“The show made us who we are,” Chan added, voice soft with nostalgia. “We’re here because of what we went through.”
Zach leaned in, curious. “Your story’s amazing. What does Stray Kids mean?”
You all paused. It wasn’t a new question, but it always made you think.
“That’s a hard one,” you admitted, laughing under your breath.
Zach chuckled. “I can tell.”
Chan answered, thoughtful. “It means a lot of things. One of our phrases is ‘Stray Kids everywhere all around the world.’ It’s not just about us — it’s about how anyone can feel lost. Anyone can feel astray. We want to reach those people through our music. That’s our goal.”
You nodded, fingers fiddling with the rings on your hand. The metal was cool against your skin.
And for a fleeting moment, your mind wandered back to the girl who once felt lost herself. A girl leaving home too young, struggling through language barriers and long nights. Things quickly changed when you only ever felt found after meeting him.
Felix.
He shifted slightly beside you, your shoulders brushing. His thumb tapped nervously against the mic stand — a small, steady rhythm. Like most of the tiny things about Felix, you were the only one who ever seemed to notice.
Zach’s voice pulled you back. “For you three — Y/N, Chan, and Felix — with you guys growing up in different countries, what drew you to K-pop? You could’ve done something else, different genres of music. Especially you, Y/N, being from the States.”
Felix spoke first, his voice soft and deliberate. “I grew up listening to all kinds of music — K-pop, pop, everything. Dancing was always what drew me in, though. Watching performances made me want to try — to give it a shot.”
Zach nodded. “So it was the performance side for you.”
“Yeah,” Felix smiled. “The energy. The storytelling. It caught my attention.”
You smiled faintly, meeting his eyes for a second before turning to your mic. “It’s definitely a different kind of investment,” you said. “Even compared to American music, there’s something deeper and more intentional about it.”
Zach’s gaze shifted to you. “Why K-pop, then? You’re from here, you could’ve easily been an artist here. What made you choose it?”
You exhaled slowly, thinking. “It wasn’t really about the genre,” you said, voice calm but earnest. “I just wanted to do something that mattered to me. I grew up around a lot of creativity, between my mom, my sister, even me being alone with my thoughts. It was a constant in my life.”
You smiled softly at the memory. “My mom used to tell us stories about when she was in her high school drama club and how she wrote songs. She actually had the chance to have someone sing one, but they didn’t have the money for it. She’s always been super supportive of what my sister and I love, what we’re passionate about. I’ve always wanted to create something that made people feel less alone, something that would make them want to stay — that’s something I’ve always talked about, especially with her.”
Felix glanced at you, that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He’d heard this before — late one night during the survival show, after dance practice, when you both sat on the floor catching your breath.
You continued, “I’ve also moved around a lot, so I’ve never been afraid of change. We moved states, cities… a lot. So going abroad for something I loved didn’t feel that crazy. It was definitely scary since this time I’d gone alone, but if I could chase this dream and help people through whatever problems they were facing, no matter where it took me — that’s what I wanted.”
The room softened. Even the boys looked at you differently — a mix of pride and quiet affection.
“It’s a lot of pressure, though, right?” Zach asked. “To stay true to yourself while being part of something this big?”
Chan smiled faintly. “Yeah, there’s pressure. I trained for eight years before debuting. There were times I didn’t think I’d make it. I watched friends leave — people I cared about. But these guys…” he squeezed Seungmin’s shoulder. “They kept me going. They saved me.”
Seungmin deadpanned, “I saved you?” and everyone cracked up.
Zach grinned, watching the closeness between you all. “Or maybe you saved each other.”
Chan chuckled. “Yeah. Fate.”
Felix added softly, “Destiny.”
You laughed, eyes glinting. “You guys are gonna make me cry,” you said lightly, but your voice trembled just enough to give you away. Felix laughed under his breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you pretended to wipe stray tears.
Zach leaned back. “I think my biggest question is how do you stay true to yourselves when you share this identity with eight other people?”
Felix’s hand brushed yours as he reached for the mic. “There’s nothing to fake,” he said simply. “What people see in our music and performances — that’s genuinely who we are.”
You nodded, leaning closer. “That’s really important to us,” you said softly. “Lyrically and music-wise, we’re the ones creating it. And because people take influence from what they listen to, it’s important to be genuine.”
You paused, exhaling slowly. “There’s nothing more frustrating than an artist making music about an experience they don’t understand or a feeling they’ve never felt. It becomes almost condescending, and in that moment of the artist not being genuine, the listener loses their connection to it.”
The studio went still. Even the sound techs had stopped moving. Felix turned slightly toward you, quiet pride in his eyes. You didn’t look back, but you could feel it — the way he listened like every word mattered.
Zach smiled. “That’s a really grounded way to look at it. You can tell it comes from a real place.”
Chan grinned beside you. “Yeah, that’s Y/N. She keeps us honest.”
“That makes me sound kinda boring,” you laughed. “I’m fun. I’m a fun person.”
“Sure,” Seungmin said flatly.
Laughter rippled around the room. You smiled, fingers resting near Felix’s. The warmth in your chest lingered long after the laughter faded.
Zach smiled. “Would you all consider yourselves stray kids?”
Everyone laughed, and Felix said, “We wouldn’t be Stray Kids if we didn’t feel lost sometimes. We’re nine people and we’re all different, but we share the same dream. That’s what keeps us together.”
You felt it then — that old, familiar ache that sits deep beneath your chest. The one that reminded you how far you’d all come.
From the nights spent crying in practice rooms to sitting here, under studio lights, telling the world your story — fans who support you, a group of people you can finally call home. And though hell was the journey, it brought you heaven.
You turned slightly, catching Felix’s gaze. He smiled — quiet, knowing. The kind of smile that said we made it.
Zach nodded slowly. “Going back to the survival show… the friendship we saw between you two was amazing. You have something special.”
You smiled softly. “He’s genuinely my favorite person,” you said, then quickly raised your hands. “Not that the other guys aren’t. It’s just, with Felix, there’s always been this deeper connection. An immediate sense of hope and security. I think the show really let people see that — who he is, and who he makes you want to be.”
Felix shifted beside you, shoulders brushing. His thumb tapped the mic stand again. You met his gaze briefly, warmth settling in your chest as he began to speak.
“Mae and I spent a lot of time together,” he said softly into the microphone. “More than I had with anyone else. We were always studying, practicing… staying late, drenched in sweat, legs shaking.”
You laughed lightly. “It’s still like that to this day,” you said with a smile.
Zach smiled knowingly, while Felix offered a shy grin. For a moment, it was like the studio didn’t exist — just the two of you and the years of memories that built the foundation beneath your bond.
“I’ll say,” Zach added, “my favorite episode was when you got eliminated.”
You snorted, laughing as the others joined in. “So you were rooting for my downfall?”
“Not at all!” he laughed, hands raised in mock surrender. “I just mean… we really got to see who you are. Even though your differences got you eliminated, they also proved to be your biggest strengths.”
You smiled sheepishly, eyes glistening. “What’s with you guys and making me cry?” you said with a shaky laugh, looking up as the boys chuckled. Felix’s gaze lingered on you a little too long — something unspoken in his eyes, soft and full of admiration.
“I appreciate that. Really,” you said quietly. “It was probably one of the hardest and easiest things I’ve ever had to do.”
“Why’s that?”
You sighed softly, wiping the corners of your eyes. “They cut a snippet from the evaluation when it aired. I remember being upset because it made it seem like I got eliminated because I didn’t think I deserved to stay, which wasn’t true.”
“Really?” Zach asked, clearly intrigued.
You nodded, and Felix shifted closer, his arm brushing yours — a small graze that hurt and comforted all at once.
“Yeah. After JYP asked if I thought I’d be a good fit for the group if Felix were eliminated, he asked me to choose between us.”
Chan nodded, eyes soft as they flickered between you and Felix. “Yeah, I remember. He said something about how if he were her, he’d choose himself — but he already knew what her answer would be.”
“Wow,” Zach breathed. “And you… chose him?”
You nodded, cracking your fingers — a nervous habit. “Yeah. I told him there was no point in asking because he already knew my answer. I remember thinking back to that night in the studio — the one they showed on the show — when Felix broke down. I told him I wouldn’t let them take this from him, and I meant it. I wasn’t just saying it.”
Felix’s thumb brushed yours, and you caught his gaze — a faint, quiet smile tugging at his lips.
“Why him?” Zach asked.
You paused, thinking of the early mornings, long nights, quiet moments no one else saw. “Everything I said about not fitting in — that was true. But he’s… like gravity. He fills spaces you didn’t even know were empty. I was fifteen, sixteen, going through so much, and I’d never met someone like him. He makes you want to be better. All I wanted was to help him reach his dream. Even if that meant letting go of mine.”
Felix’s hand brushed yours again, lingering a fraction longer. You let yourself feel it — warm, steady, grounding you in ways words never could.
“And you came back,” Zach said softly.
You smiled. “I came back. And I’m not leaving anytime soon. You guys can’t get rid of me.”
“There’s always next year,” Minho joked from behind you, making everyone laugh.
As Zach moved on to the next topic, Felix’s eyes found yours again — that quiet intensity built from years of shared sweat, whispered fears, and mutual understanding. The world around you faded.
All that mattered was this moment — this connection — this unspoken promise: wherever he strayed, you’d follow. Always.
When his thumb brushed yours once more, just a whisper against your skin, it was a reminder of everything you’d endured, everything you’d risked — and everything that had finally brought you home.
➜ summary: ni-ki likes his best friend. but sunoo thinks he likes self-sabotaging himself more.
pairing: ni-ki x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: best friends to lovers w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing
a/n: hi friends! i'm finally back and have a little bit of time for myself to write this fic! hope u all like it! <3 also, happiest birthday to my bias, heeseung! :)
“Damn, you’re in this dorm room more than I am.”
The words came from Sunoo, somewhere behind you, muffled by the sound of your laughter. You were curled up on Ni-ki’s bed, half-buried in his gray hoodie that was a little too big on you, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk pretending to focus on his laptop.
He wasn’t. He never did when you were here.
“Well, I can’t help it,” you said, tossing a chip at Sunoo. “I just like the atmosphere.”
“The atmosphere,” Sunoo repeated, eyes sparkling. “You mean Ni-ki.”
You rolled your eyes. “He’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”
Ni-ki didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched, that small, barely-there smile he couldn’t suppress whenever you said something like that. He’d learned to hide it well. You talked too much, smiled too easily, filled the silence. You were everything he wasn’t, and somehow, the two of you got along too well.
“You two are disgusting,” Sunoo sighed, throwing a pillow at him next. “Ni-ki, blink twice if you’re tired of her stupid ass.”
Ni-ki blinked once. Slowly.
You laughed. “See? He loves me.”
He did. God, he did.
He loved you in ways you’d never notice. In the way his fingers brushed crumbs off your desk before you came over. In how he kept your favorite drink stocked in the fridge even though he never drank it himself. In the way he memorized your class schedule better than his own.
Literally. He once showed up an hour late to his psych lecture but somehow was always perfectly on time to pick you up from your Wednesday classes. You called it intuition. He called it sprinting across three buildings just to see your face light up when you saw him.
And when you laughed like how you always did, head tilted back, messy hair framing your face, it hurt a little. Because you were too close to him in every way but the one he wanted most.
“Don’t encourage him though, Sunoo,” you said, flicking your hair over your shoulder. “He’s probably bored out of his mind.”
But when your gaze met his, his heart stuttered.
Because bored was the last thing he’d ever be when it came to you.
“Do you ever get sick of her constant nagging? It’s like—we’re in college, we don’t need reminders of when our assignments are due.”
“Well, have you done it?” Ni-ki’s voice came from so close it startled you, his breath grazing your ear. It wasn’t even a whisper, but it lingered. The kind of proximity that felt too natural now. A little too natural.
You forced a scoff, trying not to show how your heart had tripped over itself. “No,” you muttered, turning just enough to meet his gaze. “But…I also just hate hearing her talk.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him, soft but edged with amusement. “You hate everyone who gives homework.”
“Because assignments are the work of the devil,” you shot back. “And Mrs. Park—” you paused, shuddering dramatically, “she’s like metal in a blender. How can someone be both boring and loud at the same time?”
Ni-ki hummed lowly, closing his laptop with one hand while still leaning against the table beside you. “You still sit in the front row though.”
“That’s because you sit in the front row,” you countered. “I’m just being a supportive friend.”
“Right,” he said, one brow arching, “a supportive friend who copies my notes.”
You gave him a look. “Group effort!”
He smiled at that, softest curve of his lips that you almost missed if you weren’t already staring at him.
There was a beat of silence.
You could hear Sunoo humming faintly from the bathroom, some upbeat song you were sure was from that one cartoon about demons but couldn’t care to watch.
“God, Sunoo! Can you pipe down? I can’t focus!” you yelled, throwing your pen across the desk for dramatic effect.
“NO!” came Sunoo’s shrieked reply, echoing off the tiled walls.
You groaned, slumping over the desk. “He’s annoying.”
Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. When you turned to glare at him, he was already watching you, chin propped on his hand, eyes curved in that quiet, amused way that made your stomach twist.
“What?” you snapped, trying not to sound flustered.
“Nothing.” His lips tugged upward, just slightly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
You froze. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair this time, pretending to look at his laptop again. But the tips of his ears were pink, and you knew he was lying through his teeth.
You threw a pencil at him, it bounced off his shoulder harmlessly. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it, weirdo.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said smoothly, too smoothly.
That one stung a little, though you’d never admit it.
From the bathroom, Sunoo’s humming turned into full-blown singing. You stared at the door like it had personally wronged you. “I swear I’m going to lock him in there.”
Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, that low sound that always came from somewhere deep. “You’d miss him.”
You huffed. “No, I’d finally have peace.”
“Liar,” he said softly, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.
You looked at him again. The lamplight hit his features in a way that made your throat go dry, sharp jaw, tired eyes, that small, knowing smile like he was thinking a thousand things he’d never say.
“Stop staring,” you muttered.
“I’m not.”
He was.
Ni-ki wasn’t a touchy-feely type of person. The last time he liked a girl was in kindergarten, and even then, it was mostly because she had the same colored lunchbox. He didn’t understand love, never cared to. It seemed messy and loud. Two things he carefully avoided.
He despised it, really.
Until you.
You weren’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be another stranger in the crowd that day, hurrying through the campus café, mumbling apologies when you bumped into him. But instead, there was the crash of his coffee spilling across his white jacket, the heat seeping into the fabric and then you.
You, with your wide, deer-like eyes and trembling hands clutching a handful of napkins like they could fix it.
“I—I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, voice shaking as you dabbed helplessly at his chest. “I didn’t see where I was going—oh my god, your jacket—”
And Ni-ki, who should’ve been annoyed because it was his favorite jacket, and he hated being touched, and you were practically patting his chest like a mad woman, just…stood there.
Frozen.
Because all at once, his brain stopped working. His usual calm fractured under the sound of your voice, the scent of your shampoo, the way your eyes flicked up to meet his. And something in his chest, something rusted shut for years, change.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t fireworks or movie music. It was worse.
You finally looked up, breathless. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning, I promise.”
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to say something. “It’s fine,” he’d murmured, even though it wasn’t.
But it became fine, somehow. Because that was the moment everything started, the start of every long study night, every shared meal, every small favor that became an excuse to see you again.
And somewhere between all of that, he realized he didn’t despise love anymore. He despised how much it hurt to keep it quiet.
—
“Jungwon asked me out,” you said, dropping onto the couch beside Sunoo with a dramatic sigh. The cushions bounced from the impact. “Didn’t think he liked me like that.”
You shoved a handful of popcorn into your mouth.
Sunoo scoffed without looking up from the TV remote. “Oh please, he drools every time he’s near you.”
From across the room, the faint clack of a keyboard stopped.
Ni-ki’s head lifted just slightly, eyes flicking up from his laptop. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move but his jaw tensed just enough for Sunoo to catch it.
You didn’t notice. You never did.
He forced his attention back to the screen, pretending to type something. Pretending not to hear the rest of the conversation that was now clawing at his chest.
“He said he wants to grab dinner this weekend,” you went on, kicking your legs up over Sunoo’s lap. “I don’t even know if it’s, like, a date date. Maybe he just wants to hang out.”
Sunoo snorted. “Yeah, a hang out with romantic intentions and sweaty palms. Definitely platonic.”
You groaned. “Ugh, don’t make it sound weird.”
Ni-ki’s fingers hovered above the keys, unmoving. He wasn’t even reading the notes on his screen anymore. He could hear the laugh in your voice and the sound of it made something bitter stir at the back of his throat.
He’d known you for almost two years now. You came over to their dorm more than anyone else. You borrowed his hoodies, fell asleep on his bed, stole his pens, talked about everything under the sun except things like this.
Things that mattered.
Things that involved love.
Those conversations always went to Sunoo.
Sunoo…evil, grinning, tactless Sunoo.
Ni-ki shot him a look. Sunoo caught it immediately, his lips twitching. “What?”
Ni-ki shook his head. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.
He hated how easily you talked to Sunoo about other guys, how your eyes sparkled when you gushed over a text, how you sought his opinion instead of his. But mostly, he hated how he’d built this quiet, careful version of himself around you that you never even thought to ask what he thought about you dating someone else.
“Do you think I should say yes?” you asked, glancing toward him at last.
Sunoo hummed dramatically. “Depends. Are you ready to make your favorite boy here third wheel every weekend?”
You laughed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Riki could never be a third wheel. If anything, any guy I date’s gonna be the third wheel. Right, Riki?”
You said it with a grin, tossing a popcorn kernel at him like it was all one big joke. But Ni-ki couldn’t even form a proper answer.
He wanted to agree. He wanted to play along, roll his eyes and throw a pillow back at you like he always did. But something about the way you looked at him made his throat tighten.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a little rougher than he meant. “Sure.”
Sunoo turned his head just enough to catch the flicker in Ni-ki’s eyes, and the teasing smirk that had been perched on his lips softened. Only for a second.
You didn’t notice. You’d already gone back to scrolling through your phone, humming under your breath.
Ni-ki’s gaze lingered on you, on the way you absentmindedly tugged the sleeve of his hoodie over your fingers, on the small crease between your brows when you were focused. His hoodie. His. And still, he wasn’t the one you came to when your heart fluttered.
It was strange, really. To sit a few feet away from someone who felt like home, and realize that home didn’t belong to you.
He forced his attention back to his laptop, pretending to read, pretending to breathe. “You’ll have fun,” he said finally, keeping his tone even.
You glanced up, smiling again. “You think so?”
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
–
Ni-ki was asleep until he heard someone at the door knocking profusely. He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. Who the hell was banging at 3 a.m.? The vibration of it echoed through the thin dorm walls.
He checked his phone. 3:02 a.m. Of course. Probably Sunoo, out drinking again, forgetting his keys like always.
“Fucking Sunoo,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.
He trudged to the door, blanket half-draped over his shoulders. “For fuck’s sake, what—”
The rest of the sentence died in his throat.
It wasn’t Sunoo. It was you.
Your hair was a mess, your cheeks blotchy, and his hoodie hung off you like it was the only thing keeping you together. Your eyes were red, glassy, trembling.
“Hey, hey, hey…” The irritation bled out of him instantly.
He reached for you before you could even speak, arms wrapping around you in a way that felt instinctual. You collapsed against him, shaking, your face pressed into his chest.
“My cat died,” you whispered.
The words broke. So did something in him.
He tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of your head, thumb moving slowly against your hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
You hiccuped, the sound small and raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
That line hit harder than you meant it to.
Because of course you came here, where else would you go at three in the morning?
And still, somewhere deep down, Ni-ki wished you’d come for him, not just the comfort he offered.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
You didn’t respond, only buried yourself further into him. He stood there for a long moment, the chill from the hallway sneaking in around you both, his heart thudding heavy and uneven beneath your ear.
Eventually, he guided you inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Come on,” he whispered, steering you toward his bed. “You can stay here tonight.”
You nodded, eyes still wet. You didn’t notice the way he kept his distance for a moment, fighting the urge to pull you close again.
When you finally lay down, curling into the sheets, he sat at the edge, watching you in the dim glow from his desk lamp. Your breathing slowed. His didn’t.
Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and sighed quietly. “You really kill me, you know that?”
But you were already asleep.
He sat there for a long time, the dim light from his desk lamp softening the room into quiet gold. You looked peaceful now, your breathing slow and even, nothing like the trembling mess that had stood at his door hours ago. His hoodie swallowed you whole, the sleeves falling over your hands, and the faint traces of tears still shimmered against your cheeks. You had fallen asleep clutching the edge of his blanket, like you were afraid it might slip away.
He knew he should look away, let himself rest, but he couldn’t stop watching you. It felt unfair that someone could be so close and still so unreachable. He memorized the way your hair fell against the pillow, the way your lashes cast shadows over your face. You were right there, and yet it felt like you were miles away.
“I wish you’d stop running to everyone else when it hurts,” he murmured.
He gave a small, humorless laugh under his breath and shook his head. “You’ll never know that, will you?”
He leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands. He was tired, but not the kind that sleep could fix. This exhaustion came from keeping too much inside, from swallowing every word.
“You’re not even awake,” he whispered, a note of frustration slipping through now. “What’s the point of saying anything?”
The words he wanted to say hovered at the back of his throat. I love you. They were there, aching, desperate, but he couldn’t let them out. Once he did, everything would change, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to lose you.
“Never mind,” he said finally. His voice was softer now, almost resigned. He pulled the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your arm for a second before he quickly withdrew his hand. “Goodnight, idiot.”
He turned off the lamp and lay down beside you, facing the wall. The room fell into stillness. He could hear your breathing behind him, steady and calm, while his own chest felt too tight to match the rhythm. He closed his eyes, pretending that it was enough just to have you there, even like this.
—
When Ni-ki woke up, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It wasn’t the usual mix of detergent, coffee, and leftover takeout that filled the dorm. It was something else. Something different.
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. The air carried the scent of eggs and toast, something faintly sweet underneath. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, frowning at the light spilling in through the blinds. Then he heard it. The faint clatter of a pan. The soft shuffle of feet. The sound of you humming off-key under your breath.
He pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his neck, and shuffled toward the doorway. The scene that greeted him almost knocked the air out of his chest.
You were standing at the stove in his oversized apron, the one he’d bought on impulse during a grocery run with Sunoo because it was on sale. It practically swallowed you whole. The strings were tied clumsily in the back, the hem brushing against your knees. You were trying to flip a pancake with more determination than skill, your hair a mess and your face still puffy from crying the night before.
And somehow, you were still the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
Ni-ki leaned against the doorframe, watching you frown in concentration as the pancake folded in half mid-flip. You cursed softly under your breath, and he bit back a smile. The sight of you there, in his kitchen, in his clothes, moving around like you belonged, made something warm and unfamiliar spread through his chest.
“You’re awake,” you said when you finally noticed him. You looked up, spatula in hand, eyes wide for a moment before your face softened into a smile. “I was gonna surprise you.”
He blinked, still half-asleep, still not sure what to do with the image in front of him. “You did.”
You laughed quietly. “I wanted to say thank you. For last night.”
He stepped closer, the smell of syrup and butter wrapping around him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” you said, turning back to the stove. “You always take care of me, so I thought… maybe I could do the same, just once.”
The words hit him harder than they should have. He stood there for a second, heart thudding in a rhythm that didn’t match the quiet morning. He should have said something, but his voice felt stuck in his throat.
Instead, he reached over and gently took the spatula from your hand. “You’re burning it.”
You gasped, turning back to the pan in horror. “No, I’m not—oh my god, I am.”
He laughed under his breath, flipping the pancake easily. “You can’t even cook breakfast without starting a fire.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, and he thought for a moment that maybe, if he stayed still long enough, the world might stop spinning and stay like this forever.
Because this was the closest he’d ever come to having you.
–
The kitchen light hung above them, casting everything in that too-yellow glow that made the takeout they were eating look even more depressing. Ni-ki and Sunoo sat at the table with half-eaten boxes of fried rice between them. It was quiet. No laughter, no yelling, no sound of you rummaging through the fridge for snacks that belonged to Sunoo.
Sunoo slumped back in his chair and sighed dramatically. “Damn, it’s quiet without her here.”
Ni-ki poked his rice. “Yeah.”
The silence that followed was long enough for Sunoo to chew, swallow, and reconsider his entire life before he spoke again. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Ni-ki looked up, a single eyebrow raised. “Do what?”
Sunoo leaned forward, elbows on the table like he was about to reveal state secrets. “You know… keep all that bottled up. Your feelings for her.”
Ni-ki blinked once. “What feelings?”
Sunoo gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb, you literally turn into a lovesick dog whenever she’s around.”
“I don’t like her. I mean, I do but not like that.” Ni-ki’s tone was flat, too casual to be believable.
“Right,” Sunoo said, nodding like he was humoring a toddler. “If you say so.”
Ni-ki stabbed at a grain of rice.
“I’m not an idiot,” Sunoo continued, grinning. He pointed his chopsticks at him. “It’s so obvious. I wasn’t sure at first, but then that night she came over crying at three in the morning? The cat thing?”
Ni-ki froze. “What about it?”
“I saw you crashing out beside her.”
Ni-ki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a freak for peeking, by the way.”
“I heard crying at 3 a.m.,” Sunoo protested. “I thought a ghost came to drag you to hell. I was being a good friend.”
“You were being a nosy one.”
Sunoo smirked. “Semantics. Anyway, you were holding her so tight. It was cute. A little creepy, but cute.”
Ni-ki glared. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Of course I am. It’s like watching the world’s longest slow burn.”
Ni-ki shoved his plate toward him. “Eat your food before I throw it at you.”
Sunoo laughed, standing up to grab a drink from the fridge. “Just saying. You can only stare at her like that for so long before she notices.”
Ni-ki looked down at his hands, his voice low. “She won’t.”
Sunoo leaned against the counter, sipping his soda, his tone suddenly softer. “Yeah, not unless you want her to.”
Ni-ki didn’t answer.
Then the doorbell rang.
Both of them froze.
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.
Ni-ki shot him a look before getting up. His chair scraped against the floor, echoing through the apartment. He was halfway to the door when Sunoo called after him, voice dripping with mischief. “If it’s her, try not to look like you’ve been thinking about her for the past thirty minutes.”
“I don’t like her like that, Sunoo.” He rolled his eyes.
The second the door swung open, the world tilted.
You were standing there with a paper bag clutched in your hands, a nervous smile on your face. Jungwon stood beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every time either of you moved. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and he looked too at ease for Ni-ki’s liking.
“Hey,” you said softly, your tone shy but light. “We brought you something. We were at this new ramen place and thought you might want some too.”
Ni-ki blinked, his mind catching on one word. We.
Sunoo appeared beside him almost instantly, eyes glinting. “We? As in, you and Jungwon?”
Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, um… we had dinner. Together.”
Jungwon smiled down at you. “It was kind of a date, actually.”
You swatted his arm, embarrassed, but the small, genuine laugh that followed made Ni-ki’s stomach tighten. Jungwon only grinned wider, brushing a stray crumb from your cheek with his thumb.
Ni-ki’s hands curled into fists in his pockets before he even realized it. The sight shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but there it was sharp and sour, spreading through his chest like something bitter.
Sunoo, of course, caught it immediately. He didn’t say anything yet, just bit back a knowing smile.
“Oh, how sweet,” he said instead, all mock delight. “You two should come in. Ni-ki was just saying how much he missed you.”
“I wasn’t,” Ni-ki muttered, jaw tight.
But you were already stepping inside, Jungwon following close behind. You slipped off your shoes and looked around the apartment, smiling faintly. “It’s cleaner than usual.”
“Yeah,” Sunoo said smoothly, “we deep-cleaned to impress guests.”
You laughed, oblivious to the tension thickening the air. Jungwon placed the takeout on the counter, glancing around. “This place is cozy. You guys hang out a lot here?”
“All the time,” Sunoo said, his grin sharpening. “Especially her and Ni-ki. Practically inseparable.”
You elbowed him lightly. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“Not exaggerating,” Sunoo said cheerfully. “He gets withdrawal when you’re gone.”
Ni-ki gave him a look that could kill. “Sunoo.”
“What?” Sunoo blinked innocently. “Just saying.”
Jungwon chuckled, draping an arm casually over the back of your chair. “That’s cute, though. You guys must be close.”
You smiled at Ni-ki, eyes soft. “We are.”
He looked back at you for a moment too long before forcing a shrug. “Guess so.”
But his stomach turned when Jungwon leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “I get it. She’s easy to get attached to.”
Your face went red, but you didn’t push him away. You only laughed awkwardly, eyes darting to your hands. Ni-ki’s chest burned.
He wasn’t angry. Not exactly. Just… painfully aware of everything Jungwon got to do that he didn’t. The easy touches, the effortless closeness, the right to call it a date.
Sunoo didn’t miss the way Ni-ki’s expression cracked for half a second, the tension in his jaw, the tight grip on his drink, the faint twitch in his temple when Jungwon reached over and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.
When you finally stood to leave, the air in the room was too still.
“Anyway,” you said, smiling, “thanks for letting us stop by. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Jungwon gave a friendly nod. “Later, man.”
Ni-ki barely managed a quiet, “Yeah. Later.”
The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.
Sunoo was the first to break it. He turned slowly, his grin spreading like he’d just won the lottery. “Still won’t admit you like her?”
Ni-ki groaned, dragging both hands over his face. “Don’t start.”
Sunoo leaned against the counter, eyes gleaming. “You literally looked like you were watching your crush get proposed to, Ki.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean, the way you flinched when Jungwon touched her? I almost felt bad for you. Almost.”
Ni-ki dropped his head into his hands with a groan that came out more like a growl.
Sunoo laughed, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “You’re so gone, man.”
Ni-ki didn’t even bother arguing this time. He just mumbled into his palms, voice muffled and defeated. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo said, grinning wider. “But you love her.”
—
The next morning, Ni-ki pretended he was fine.
He got up earlier than usual, showered, made coffee, even cleaned his desk. It was his foolproof routine for pretending not to think about things. But his mind kept circling back to last night, to you standing in the doorway with Jungwon, cheeks flushed from laughter, that paper bag crinkling in your hands. The way Jungwon leaned toward you, easy and familiar, like he had every right to.
Ni-ki tried to shake it off. He told himself it didn’t matter. You were free to go on dates with whoever you wanted. He was just your friend. A good friend.
By the time he stepped out of his room, Sunoo was already sitting on the couch, munching on chips at nine in the morning like the agent of chaos he was. He didn’t even look up, just smirked. “Morning, lover boy.”
Ni-ki ignored him. He grabbed his keys, his bag, and muttered something about heading to class early.
“Class doesn’t start for another hour,” Sunoo said around a mouthful of chips.
“Yeah. I know.”
Sunoo laughed quietly. “Running away already?”
Ni-ki didn’t answer. He just left.
–
Ni-ki had been avoiding you for three days.
Three days of walking the long way to class, of slipping out of the dorm whenever Sunoo mentioned your name, of replying to your messages hours late with short, clipped answers that didn’t sound like him at all. It was pathetic, maybe, but it was the only thing that worked. If he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t think about you. And if he couldn’t think about you, maybe he could stop feeling like this.
He told himself it was fine. You didn’t notice. You were busy. You had Jungwon now, and Jungwon made you laugh in a way Ni-ki hadn’t heard in a long time. That thought alone made his chest ache in a way that felt too raw to touch.
The afternoon sun was hot on his back as he crossed the quad, headphones in, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, pretending not to see the familiar flash of your jacket from the corner of his vision. Pretending not to hear your voice calling his name.
“Ki!”
His steps faltered, just once, but he kept walking.
“Ni-ki!”
You were closer now, footsteps quick behind him. He could hear the edge of confusion in your tone, a note of worry that made him grit his teeth. He didn’t want to turn around. If he did, he’d crumble.
You caught up anyway, your hand brushing against his sleeve. “Hey—why are you ignoring me?”
He stopped, just long enough to take a breath, but he didn’t look at you. “I’m not.”
“Then what is it?” you pressed, panting lightly from the chase. “You’ve been avoiding me. You don’t answer texts, you barely say hi. Did I do something?”
Ni-ki forced a shrug, his voice even but hollow. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why—”
“I’ve got to go,” he cut in, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m late.”
You frowned. “Late for what? You don’t even have class now—”
But he was already stepping away. “I’ll see you around.”
You blinked, thrown off by how detached he sounded. “Ni-ki, wait—”
He didn’t. He just lifted a hand in a vague wave without looking back, his pace quickening until your voice grew smaller behind him.
“Ni-ki!”
He heard it again, echoing faintly through the courtyard, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry, and if he looked at you now, at the confusion on your face, at the hurt he’d put there, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.
So he kept walking.
When he finally reached the edge of campus, his pulse was racing, his palms clammy around the strap of his bag. He stopped beneath the shade of a tree and leaned against it, shutting his eyes for a second.
It didn’t help. All he could see was the look on your face when he walked away.
–
He saw you again a few days later.
He hadn’t planned to. He was on his way to a morning lecture, half-awake, headphones in, clutching a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. The campus walkway was crowded, a stream of students moving between buildings. He was fine, he told himself.
Then he saw you.
You were walking beside Jungwon, laughing at something he said, your hands moving animatedly as you talked. You looked as bright as always. The sight hit him before he could brace for it, a sharp, unrelenting pang right in the center of his chest. It wasn’t new, but it still knocked the air out of him every time.
He told himself to keep walking, to look away, but his eyes refused to listen. They found you easily, as if they were made for that. You turned mid-sentence, and when your gaze met his, your whole face lit up.
“Ni-ki!”
Your voice carried above the hum of the crowd. You lifted your hand to wave, already starting toward him. For a heartbeat, something in him lurched forward, his instinct, his want, every part of him that missed you.
Then he looked away.
He pretended he hadn’t seen you, slipping his earphones back in, fixing his eyes straight ahead. His footsteps quickened, the click of his shoes against the pavement louder than your voice behind him. He didn’t look back.
His pulse was hammering. He didn’t even know where he was walking anymore, only that he had to move, had to get away before the expression on your face burned itself into his memory too deeply.
He told himself it was better this way. That he was protecting what you had by keeping his distance. But the truth clawed at him with every step. It was killing him not to be next to you. Not to hear your laugh up close, not to have you filling the silence beside him the way you always used to.
He missed you so much it made him feel sick.
And the worst part was, he didn’t even know how to stop.
His feelings were eating him alive, piece by piece, and all he could do was keep walking, pretending he hadn’t seen the only person who made him feel anything at all.
—
Ni-ki sat cross-legged on the floor, a paintbrush balanced loosely between his fingers, music bleeding faintly from his headphones. The smell of watercolor and paper filled the air, the kind of quiet comfort that usually helped him think, or not think, depending on the day. His canvas lay across his lap, soft strokes of blue and gray slowly taking shape. He wasn’t sure what he was painting anymore; it had started as an assignment, but now it just looked like a mess.
When the water cup tipped over, it happened too fast. The murky liquid spilled across the corner of his canvas, seeping through the paper in blotches of brown and gray.
“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his headphones off and reaching for a towel. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
He was halfway through dabbing at the mess when the door slammed open. The sudden bang of it hitting the wall made him jump, paintbrush clattering onto the floor.
“What the hell—” he started, turning around.
Sunoo stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression thunderous. “What’s this I hear about you ignoring her?”
Ni-ki blinked. “Who told you—”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Sunoo snapped, stepping into the room. “You’ve been acting weird for days. She came looking for you this morning, by the way. You weren’t here. Again.”
Ni-ki exhaled slowly, sitting back on his heels. He didn’t even try to deny it. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I like her.”
For a second, Sunoo froze, like he hadn’t expected him to actually admit it. Then his jaw dropped. “And your big plan is to ignore her?” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “Are you stupid, or are you fucking stupid?”
“Look,” Ni-ki said, dragging a hand through his hair, his tone edged with exhaustion. “It’s clear she and Jungwon are trying to be a thing. I don’t want to get in the way. I’m not that guy.”
Sunoo scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re unbelievable. She’s not even taken yet, and you’ve already given up? You’re just gonna roll over and die while someone else gets her?”
Ni-ki’s eyes flicked up, tired but firm. “It’s not about that. I just… want her to be happy.”
“Happy?” Sunoo repeated. “You think she’s happy right now?”
Ni-ki didn’t answer. He looked down at the ruined canvas, the water still dripping down the side of it. His reflection stared back faintly in the puddle.
“She’s not happy,” Sunoo said, his voice softer now. “You’re her friend, Ni-ki. She doesn’t even know why you’re avoiding her. She thinks she did something wrong.”
Ni-ki’s throat tightened. He stared at the paint-stained towel in his hands, fingers trembling slightly.
“I just can’t be around her,” he said finally, his voice low.
Sunoo crouched beside him, the anger gone now, replaced with something gentler. “You really love her, huh?”
Ni-ki gave a small, broken laugh. “Yeah. Enough to stay out of her way if that’s what she wants.”
Sunoo sighed, shaking his head. “You know what your problem is? You keep thinking love means disappearing. It doesn’t.”
Ni-ki didn’t respond. He just stared at the smeared paint spreading across the paper, watching the colors bleed into each other.
Sunoo clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm but not unkind. “Stop being a coward, Ki. Before you lose her for real.”
And for the first time in days, Ni-ki didn’t have a single thing to say back.
—
Ni-ki hadn’t slept the entire night.
He lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word Sunoo had thrown at him hours ago. She’s not even taken yet. You won’t fight for her? The words burrowed deep, kept circling back every time he shut his eyes. He hated that Sunoo was right. You weren’t with Jungwon. Not officially, anyway. But you could be. Soon.
Technically, he could still fight for you.
He could still tell you everything. How his chest ached when you smiled at someone else. How every time your hand brushed his, it left a mark that didn’t fade. He could still try. But instead, he’d spent days pretending he didn’t see you, days convincing himself you were happier without him.
He rubbed at his tired eyes, the room still bathed in the blue light of dawn. His paintbrushes were scattered across the desk, his ruined canvas lying forgotten beside a half-empty cup of cold coffee. Jungwon was perfect for you. Handsome. Smart. Kind. The kind of guy people didn’t have to second-guess. Maybe that was what hurt most of all.
Ni-ki didn’t want him for you. He wanted himself for you.
Enough was enough.
He sat up suddenly, the decision hitting him all at once. He grabbed the first hoodie he could find, pulled it over his head, and shoved his feet into his sneakers. Maybe you were still awake. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix things.
He snatched his car keys from the desk, heart hammering as he moved toward the door. But when he swung it open, ready to finally face you, he froze.
You were standing right there.
Your eyes were bloodshot, your hair messy like you’d been crying for hours. In your hands was the little stuffed bear he’d won for you at the carnival last year, the one you used to keep on your bed.
He gulped, caught completely off guard. “I was just about to—”
“What did I do wrong?” Your voice cracked halfway through, the words trembling in the air between you.
“What?”
You looked up at him, eyes wet and desperate. “I’ve been wrecking my brain for days. Did I do something wrong?”
Ni-ki’s breath caught. For a second, he couldn’t move. You were shaking, your fingers twisting the hem of the hoodie you wore… his hoodie. He could see how red your nose was, how uneven your breathing had become. You looked heartbroken, and it hit him like a punch to the chest.
He hadn’t meant for it to get this far. He hadn’t meant to make you think he hated you, or that you weren’t enough, or that you’d done something wrong. All he’d wanted was to keep his feelings under control, but somehow, all he’d managed to do was hurt you.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
You took a small step closer, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”
And just like that, Ni-ki felt everything crumble. Every wall he’d built, every reason he’d told himself for staying away, it all collapsed under the weight of your shaking voice and the sight of that stupid stuffed bear clutched in your hands.
How could he do this to you?
You stood there trembling, eyes glassy and raw, clutching that little stuffed bear. He couldn’t stand it. The sight of you crying because of him was worse than anything he’d imagined.
He didn’t even think. His body moved before his brain did.
He reached for you and pulled you in. The bear was squished between you, but you didn’t let go of it. You just collapsed against his chest, the sound of your shaky breathing breaking what was left of him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He said it again, and again, each time quieter than the last. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
You shook your head against him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie.
He held you tighter. He could feel your heartbeat pressed against his, fast and uneven. His own chest ached with the rhythm of it.
“I keep hurting you,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I don’t even know how to stop. I just… didn’t want to make things worse.”
You didn’t answer, just buried your face deeper into his shoulder. Your tears soaked through the fabric, but he didn’t care.
He closed his eyes, pressing his chin lightly against your hair, breathing you in like he’d been starved for it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered one last time, the words catching somewhere in his throat.
And for the first time in days, he stopped running.
The two of you were in his room now. The chaos from earlier had faded into stillness. The air smelled faintly of paint and soap, the window cracked just enough for the night breeze to slip in. You sat beside each other on the edge of his bed, knees almost touching, the stuffed bear still resting in your lap.
You’d stopped crying. The redness in your eyes had softened, though your lashes were still damp. Ni-ki’s hoodie hung loose around you, the sleeves falling over your hands. You were quiet. The both of you were.
Ni-ki’s mind was loud. Too loud. Every thought tangled into the same loop of regret and longing. He wanted to speak, but the words felt heavy in his mouth, like anything he said would make it worse. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were staring down at the floor, your fingers worrying the hem of the bear’s little bow.
You were waiting. For him.
He swallowed hard, the silence stretching thin between you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said finally. His voice was soft, almost hoarse.
You gave a small nod, still not meeting his gaze. “Then why did you?”
He blinked, startled by how steady your tone was. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”
“With what?” you asked, turning toward him now.
He hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “Everything. You. Me. The way it all started to feel.”
Your breath hitched, but you stayed still. He kept his eyes fixed on his hands, afraid that if he looked at you, he’d lose his nerve.
“I thought if I stayed away,” he said quietly, “it would hurt less. For both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell you how he actually felt. The thought pressed down on him, heavy and restless, like it had been waiting for this exact moment to rise up and choke him.
You sat there beside him, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your shoulder. The space between you was small, but it felt like miles.
Ni-ki’s throat was dry. He could feel the words forming, desperate to be said, but every version sounded wrong. What if he said it and ruined everything? What if you didn’t feel the same, and this was the last time you’d ever sit next to him like this?
His fingers twisted the blanket tighter in his hands. He kept his eyes down, staring at the faint stains of watercolor still smudged on his nails. “It’s complicated,” he said at last, his voice so soft it barely reached you.
You turned a little more toward him. “Then explain it to me.”
He shook his head, a weak laugh slipping out that didn’t sound like amusement at all. “If I tell you, you’ll look at me differently. I don’t think I can handle that.”
You frowned, confusion flickering across your face. “Ni-ki, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”
He wanted to say you. He wanted to tell you that every time he’d tried to pull away, he’d only fallen deeper. That seeing you smile at Jungwon made something inside him splinter in a way he didn’t know how to fix.
Instead, he swallowed the words, forcing his voice steady. “Forget it,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”
You stared at him, jaw tightening. You were done with this. Done with the way he drifted close one moment and pulled away the next, the way he said nothing but made you feel everything.
Before he could look away again, you reached out and grabbed his face, your palms pressing against his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.
“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re telling me now.”
Ni-ki froze. His heart stuttered so violently it almost hurt. He hadn’t expected you to touch him. His skin burned under your hands, and all at once, the space between you disappeared. Your faces were close. He could see the faint gloss on your lower lip, the way your lashes flickered with every uneven breath.
“Jesus,” he breathed, eyes darting from your gaze to your mouth and back again. “I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can,” you cut in, your voice cracking with frustration. “You ignored me for a whole week, Ki. You don’t get to say it doesn’t matter. I deserve to know whatever the hell is ruining our friendship.”
Ni-ki exhaled, the sound heavy, shaky. His hands gripped the blanket beneath him as if holding on to something solid might keep him from unraveling completely. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said finally, his voice low, raw.
You laughed under your breath, bitter and disbelieving. “This—this push and pull thing you’re doing is ruining it!” The words came out louder than you intended, breaking the fragile quiet that had filled the room.
He flinched. His eyes flicked away, then back to you, guilt flooding his face. The truth sat like a stone in his throat, pressing harder with every second you looked at him like that, a little angry but very hurt, and still somehow impossibly close.
He didn’t know what would hurt more anymore: losing you for saying what he felt, or losing you because he was too afraid to say it.
“You’re—you’re killing me, Ki!” you said, your voice trembling. “This whole game, I don’t want to play anymore. I just want my Ni-ki back—”
“THAT’S JUST THE THING!”
His voice exploded through the room before he could stop himself.
You froze. The sound of it cracked something in the air, sharp and sudden. You flinched at the volume, instinctively pulling back, your hands still half-raised as if you weren’t sure what to do with them.
He was on his feet now, shoulders heaving, chest rising and falling as he finally looked at you. There was anger in his eyes, yes, but underneath it sat weeks of exhaustion, guilt, and the kind of heartbreak that made him look older than he was.
“I’m not your Ni-ki,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through the words.
You stared up at him, breath shallow, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else. “Wh—what?” you whispered, afraid of the answer.
He raked a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping a few feet away. His eyes darted toward you, then down to the floor. “You keep saying that. Your Ni-ki. Like I’m this…safe thing you can come back to. Like I’ll always be there no matter what. But I can’t keep doing that, because every time you look at me like I’m just your friend, it feels like I’m tearing myself apart trying to be okay with it.”
Your throat tightened, words caught somewhere between disbelief and guilt.
Ni-ki laughed under his breath, quiet and bitter. “I wanted to stay close to you. I wanted to be there even if you never looked at me the same way. But it’s driving me insane, pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
He looked up then, meeting your eyes again. His voice softened, but it shook slightly. “I’m not your Ni-ki. Not the way you think I am.”
You were stunned into silence. The air between you felt heavier than the walls could hold.
Ni-ki’s words echoed in your head, sharp and shaking at the same time. I’m not your Ni-ki. You looked at him, searching for the boy who’d always been steady but he wasn’t that boy anymore. His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight, his chest still rising and falling from the force of what he’d said.
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your throat felt dry. The reality of it hit slowly, like a wave that started small and then crashed all at once. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what he meant.
But knowing and accepting were different things.
You turned away, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the stuffed bear still lying on his bed. You couldn’t look at him again. Not now. Not when the air between you was filled with everything you’d both been avoiding.
“I—” he started, voice soft now, desperate.
But you shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t.”
And before he could reach for you, before you could break down and ask him to take it back, you ran.
You slipped out of his room, out of the suffocating stillness, the door clicking shut behind you with a sound that made his stomach drop.
Ni-ki stood there, frozen, the echo of your footsteps fading down the hallway.
For a long time, neither of you moved.
He’d spent weeks avoiding you to protect himself, and now, when he’d finally told you the truth, you were the one running.
And somehow, that hurt even more
—
You didn’t remember leaving the dorm. You didn’t remember the stairs or the way the night air stung your face as you ran. You just remembered your heartbeat in your ears and the way your chest felt too tight to breathe.
By the time you stopped, you were standing in front of Jungwon’s apartment, your fists pounding on his door. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. A light flicked on inside, footsteps followed, and then the door creaked open.
Jungwon stood there in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s—” he glanced at the clock on his wall “—two in the morning.”
You tried to answer, but the words tangled up and broke apart before they could leave your throat. All that came out was a choked sob.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he said quickly, stepping aside. “Come in.”
The warmth of his apartment hit you as soon as you stepped in, but it didn’t make the shaking stop. You sank onto his couch, hands covering your face as tears spilled over, messy and uncontrollable. Jungwon hovered for a second, clearly panicking, then grabbed a box of tissues from the table and handed it to you like it might fix everything.
“Okay,” he said slowly, crouching down so you had to look at him. “What happened? Did someone say something? Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, the words spilling out in fragments between sobs. “It’s—Ni-ki. He—he told me he—he said—”
Jungwon’s brows knit together. “Told you he what?”
You took a shaky breath. “That he liked me. That it hurts to be around me. That he’s not my Ni-ki anymore.”
He blinked, confused for a moment, then sat back on his heels. “Wait. Isn’t that… good?”
You looked at him through teary eyes. “What?”
“I mean,” Jungwon said carefully, rubbing the back of his neck, “isn’t that what you wanted? We literally went on fake dates to make him jealous.”
You stared at him, your throat tightening all over again. “I know. I know, but—” You pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to stop the tears. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
Jungwon sighed, sitting beside you. “What did you expect to happen?”
“I don’t know!” you said, your voice cracking. “I just thought… maybe he’d notice me. Maybe he’d care. And he did, but now everything’s just—” You swallowed hard. “Now it’s all messed up. He looked so angry, and I just ran. I ran like an idiot.”
For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, sympathy softening his face. “You like him,” he said quietly. “You’ve always liked him.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You just sat there, clutching a tissue in your trembling hands, trying to figure out why you’d let it get this far. Why you’d turned something that used to be so simple into something so painful.
And as the minutes passed, the only thing you could think about was Ni-ki’s voice, sharp and broken in your memory. I’m not your Ni-ki.
You buried your face in your hands again and started to cry all over.
You sat there on Jungwon’s couch long after you’d stopped crying, eyes swollen and throat raw. The tissue box sat empty beside you. You were staring at your hands, at the faint creases where the tissues had crumpled between your fingers.
Jungwon had stopped trying to talk a few minutes ago. He was sitting on the floor now, leaning back against the coffee table, scrolling aimlessly through his phone to give you space. Every now and then, he’d glance up, just to make sure you were still breathing.
You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fight, or the realization that you’d caused it.
Because now that the shock had worn off, and your thoughts were starting to settle, the truth was sitting there plain as day. You liked Ni-ki. You’d liked him for a long time. Maybe you even loved him. But instead of telling him, instead of facing it, you’d made a game out of it. You’d gone on fake dates. You’d let Jungwon tease him, let Sunoo stir the pot, let yourself watch his reactions like they were proof of something you didn’t have the courage to ask for.
And now you’d broken him with it.
You pressed your palms against your eyes again, a weak sound escaping your throat. “What the hell have I been doing?” you whispered.
Jungwon looked up. “You’ve been being human,” he said gently. “Dumb, but human.”
You laughed, a small, pathetic sound that immediately dissolved into another sniffle. “He must hate me now.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jungwon said. “He’s just… hurt. You two both are.”
You nodded, even though that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I was so busy trying to make him jealous I didn’t realize I was just hurting him,” you said quietly.
Jungwon shrugged, giving a small smile. “Hey. For what it’s worth, you did make him jealous. Like, record-breaking levels of jealous.”
That almost got a real laugh out of you. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he said. Then, softer, “You still have time to fix it.”
You looked down at your hands again. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe start with not running away next time,” Jungwon said.
You let out a long, shaky sigh and nodded. The weight in your chest didn’t lift, but it settled into something steadier. Something like determination.
You knew what you felt now. You were sure of it.
And you hated yourself for realizing it only after you’d been the one to break him.
By the time you were done wallowing in self-pity, the sun had already crept through the curtains. Jungwon was passed out on the couch, one leg hanging off the edge, an empty mug balanced dangerously on the coffee table beside him.
You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, realizing how long you’d been sitting there. It was already eight in the morning. Your head hurt, your eyes stung, and your heart still ached but underneath all of it was something else now. Clarity.
You were done running.
You took a breath, stood up, and crossed the room. “Jungwon,” you said softly, shaking his shoulder.
He groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Jungwon,” you said again, a little louder.
He didn’t move.
You frowned and shook him harder. “Jungwon, wake up—”
In a flash, his arm shot up. His hand smacked across your cheek with a sharp slap.
“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, stumbling back and clutching your face.
His eyes flew open, bleary and wild. “Don’t—don’t sneak-attack me when I’m asleep!”
You stared at him in disbelief, then smacked him right back on the arm. “That hurt, you idiot!”
He winced, sitting up and rubbing his face. “You started it!”
“You hit me!”
“You woke me up at 8!”
You groaned, running both hands through your hair. “I don’t have time for this.”
Before he could protest, you grabbed his car keys from the table and shoved them into his hands. “I need you to drive me to Ni-ki’s.”
He blinked, still half-asleep. “Now?”
“Yes, now.” You were already pulling him off the couch, practically dragging him toward the door.
“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” he muttered, trying to pry his arm free.
“No,” you said firmly. “His first class is at 9. We have to be quick before he leaves.”
Jungwon squinted at you, finally registering the urgency in your voice. “You’re really gonna do it, huh?”
You nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m gonna tell him.”
He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, alright. Give me two minutes. Gotta pee.”
“You have one,” you said, already waiting by the door.
As he stumbled toward his room, muttering under his breath, you pressed your palms together to stop them from shaking. You were tired. Terrified. But for the first time in days, you felt like you were finally doing something right.
You were going to tell Ni-ki the truth.
–
Ni-ki hadn’t really slept. Maybe three hours, on and off, the kind of restless half-sleep that never gave him any peace. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you standing in his doorway, crying, clutching that stupid bear like it was the last piece of him you could hold. Every time he drifted off, he heard his own voice again, louder than he’d meant it to be. I’m not your Ni-ki.
He groaned as he sat up, pressing his palms over his eyes. His head felt heavy, his chest worse. Still, he went through the motions. Pulled on a hoodie, shoved his books into his bag, and sprayed a couple pumps of cologne. The scent didn’t make him feel any less like trash.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and checked the time. 8:40. If he left now, he’d make it to his first class. Maybe he could pretend to be normal for a few hours before collapsing back into self-loathing.
He stepped outside, blinking against the morning light. The air was sharp and cool, the campus still half-quiet. And then he saw you.
You were stepping out of Jungwon’s car.
Ni-ki stopped walking. The first thing he noticed, against his will, was that you were still in the same clothes from last night. His stomach twisted. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. But his brain wouldn’t stop.
Of course.
Of course the first thing you did after he confessed, or whatever that meltdown last night had been, was run to Jungwon.
He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a genius.”
He watched, even though he shouldn’t have. You stood by the car door, trying to fix your hair, and Jungwon reached over and gently tucked a strand behind your ear. You laughed, a small, tired sound, but it still made Ni-ki’s chest ache.
He tore his gaze away, jaw tight. “God, I’m an idiot,” he whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He should have known better. Should have kept his mouth shut. Should have known that loving you meant watching from a distance while you smiled at someone else. Someone who didn’t have to fight himself every second just to stay sane around you.
He started walking again, fast, pretending not to see you. Pretending not to care. But the image wouldn’t leave his head. Jungwon’s hand brushing against your hair, the sunlight catching your face, the faint smile you gave.
He hated how easily he noticed you. He hated how badly it hurt. And more than anything, he hated himself for not being able to stop looking.
He finally turned away.
His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, each step heavier than the last. He told himself not to look back. Not this time. If he kept walking, maybe the ache in his chest would dull by the time he reached class.
Then he heard it.
“Ni-ki!”
The sound of your voice froze him in place.
He stopped mid-step, his pulse catching. He turned slowly, like he was afraid of what he’d see.
You were running toward him.
The morning sun hit your hair as you moved, your bag slung over one shoulder, your breath visible in the cool air. Jungwon was still by the car, watching with his arms folded, but you didn’t seem to notice him anymore.
Ni-ki just stood there. His stomach twisted, every part of him torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay.
You finally stopped in front of him, out of breath, eyes wide and unsure. He couldn’t read your expression. You looked like you hadn’t slept either.
“Ni-ki,” you said again, quieter this time.
He swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
You hesitated, searching his face. “I came to talk to you.”
He looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag. “You should be talking to Jungwon.”
You frowned, stepping closer. “I did. He drove me here.”
Ni-ki let out a weak laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course he did.”
He couldn’t help himself. The bitterness came out before he could swallow it down. “Look, I get it. You and Jungwon are in love or whatever. That’s fine. But I literally just told you how I feel, and the first thing you do is show up with him? You couldn’t wait a day before rubbing it in my face?”
His words were low but sharp. He hated how small they sounded once they were out. He hated how he could feel jealousy twisting in his chest even as he said them.
You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “Ni-ki, it’s not like that—”
He laughed again, short and humorless. “It doesn’t matter. I get it. I said something I shouldn’t have, and it probably messed things up. I just wish—”
You didn’t let him finish.
You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see the tremble in your hands. Before he could say another word, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
Ni-ki’s breath caught. His whole body went still.
You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not like that,” you said softly.
For the first time that morning, he didn’t have a single word left to argue with.
You took a shaky breath, eyes glimmering with guilt. “The whole thing with Jungwon… it was just a way to make you jealous. I know it’s stupid. Immature. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”
He blinked, still too stunned to speak.
You started rambling, words spilling out faster than you could stop them. “I mean, Jungwon’s nice and all, but he’s not even my type. He farts all the time, Ki. All the time. It’s gross and it’s even worse when he eats spicy food. And he burps in my face like all the time, it’s disgusting.”
Ni-ki’s eyebrows furrowed, caught between confusion and disbelief. “What does that have to do—”
“I’m serious,” you said, nodding desperately. “So you really don’t have to be jealous, okay? He’s gross. You, on the other hand—” you stopped, realizing how much you were saying. “You smell nice. And you treat me like a princess. And you—”
“Still jealous,” Ni-ki muttered under his breath.
You blinked, flustered. “I’m saying you don’t—”
Before you could finish, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you in one sharp, dizzying second. His hand came up to cup your jaw, and then his lips were on yours.
It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It was messy, rushed, a little breathless but it silenced every word you had left.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His voice was quiet, steady, but there was the faintest smile in it. “I’d like to start this relationship without mentioning the devil himself.”
You barely had time to respond before someone cleared their throat behind you.
Both of you turned.
Jungwon stood there awkwardly at the edge of the sidewalk, hair sticking up, his hoodie half-zipped. “Uh… I kind of need my house keys back,” he said, scratching the back of his head.
Ni-ki groaned. You covered your face.
Jungwon grinned. “So… I’m just gonna… pretend I didn’t hear what you said about me being…a…devil.”
He held out his hand expectantly. You shoved the keys at him without meeting his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said cheerfully. “And, uh… congratulations, I guess.”
He turned and started walking away, whistling under his breath.
Ni-ki sighed, looking back at you. “I really hate that guy.”
You laughed, still pink-faced. “No, you don’t.”
He smiled faintly. “Maybe not. But I like you a lot more.”
And before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you again.
—
The movie flickered across the screen, half drowned by the sound of popcorn crunching. You were curled comfortably on Ni-ki’s lap, his arm around your waist while he fed you one kernel at a time. Sunoo sat right beside the two of you with a bowl of his own, pretending not to gag.
“This is disgusting,” he muttered, eyes still on the screen. “Get a room.”
Ni-ki smirked. “We have one. You’re in it.”
You leaned back against Ni-ki’s chest, hiding a smile as his hand absently brushed through your hair.
Then someone knocked on the door.
You perked up immediately and jumped off Ni-ki’s lap. “That must be Won!”
Ni-ki frowned. “Won?”
“Yeah, he’s the one getting us pizza, remember?”
“I think I’d remember if that little turd was coming over for dinner.”
You sighed, already walking to the door. “Ki, you said you’d be nice.”
“I am nice,” he said, pointing lazily at you. “To you. To Sunoo.”
Sunoo didn’t even look up. “You are not nice to me.”
Ni-ki smirked. “I gave you the last Pop-Tart.”
“That’s only because it was expired, you shithead.”
Ni-ki just shrugged.
You opened the door, and Jungwon stood there, smiling, pizza boxes stacked in his arms. “Delivery service at your command.”
Before you could even say thank you, he leaned in for a friendly hug. “Hey, you.”
Ni-ki was on his feet in an instant. He crossed the room, gently pulled you back, and glared over your shoulder. “Hello, Jungwon.”
Jungwon blinked. “Hey, man, I told you you can call me Won.”
“Yeah. Okay, Jungwon,” Ni-ki said, voice flat as he reclaimed his spot on the couch and pulled you right back into his lap like it was a territorial sport.
Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You two are exhausting.”
You giggled, settling back against Ni-ki’s chest. “He’s just being dramatic.”
You set the boxes down on the table while Jungwon started opening them. “I got you one without pineapple because I know you hate it.”
You lit up. “Yay, you remembered!”
“Of course,” Jungwon said, handing you a plate like an overachiever.
Ni-ki could practically hear the sound of his blood boiling. Of course he remembered. Of course he’d get the pizza right. He sat there, jaw tightening, watching you beam at Jungwon.
Sunoo glanced at Ni-ki from the corner of his eye, smirking. “You’re glaring again.”
“I’m not,” Ni-ki muttered.
“You are.”
“I’m watching the movie.”
“There’s nothing playing,” Sunoo said dryly.
Ni-ki glared harder. “Exactly.”
You turned back toward the couch, a slice in hand. “Ki, you want some?”
He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “Yeah. Sure. The one with pineapple.”
Sunoo snorted. “You hate pineapple.”
“I love pineapple,” Ni-ki snapped, taking the slice from your hand as if to prove it.
Jungwon chuckled. “He doesn’t have to be jealous, you know. I just like taking care of my friends.”
Ni-ki froze mid-bite, coughing once. “I’m not jealous.”
“You sure, buddy?” Jungwon teased.
You rolled your eyes. “The both of you are being ridiculous.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Jungwon beat him to it. “By the way, I saw your basketball game the other day,” Jungwon said casually. “Your last shot was insane. I got it all on camera.”
Ni-ki blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait. You recorded that?”
“Yeah,” Jungwon said, sitting down beside Sunoo. “I was near the bleachers. The lighting was trash, but you still looked cool.”
Ni-ki’s annoyance faltered for the first time all night. “You’re serious? I’ve been trying to find someone who got a video of that. Sunoo was supposed to record for me, but he was too busy taking selfies.”
Sunoo gasped. “Well, I’m sorry if the lighting was perfect, and I looked amazing.”
Ni-ki groaned. “You literally took fifty pictures of yourself and not one of the game.”
“Because it’s literally just guys in baggy clothes flinging balls around,” Sunoo shot back. “It’s a waste of time.”
Jungwon laughed. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about doing commentary or recording for sports. I’m kind of obsessed with the technical side of it.”
Ni-ki perked up instantly. “Really? Would you like want to help me tape my next game?”
“Totally,” Jungwon said, grinning. “I could even help you analyze plays. You’ve got good form, but your footwork—”
Ni-ki’s eyes lit up. “Shit, you noticed that too? Everyone says I overthink it, but I swear my timing’s just off.”
You exchanged a glance with Sunoo, both of you watching as the tension between them evaporated in real time.
Jungwon nodded. “Exactly. You’re solid on defense though. I’ve got some notes from the footage if you want to see.”
Ni-ki leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Yeah, definitely. Send them to me. No one else actually knows what they’re talking about around here.”
“Gladly,” Jungwon said, beaming. “Maybe we can meet up before your next game.”
For a second, they just sat there, nodding like two nerds bonding over sports strategy.
You blinked. “Wait. Are you two being civil?”
Ni-ki waved you off, his eyes fixed on Jungwon like they’d just discovered fire. “Babe, hold on for a second. Did you happen to watch the regional game last weekend?”
Jungwon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you mean the one where Heeseung snapped his knee?”
“Yeah, that one,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward. “I’ve been trying to figure out how that happened, but Sunoo—”
“Was taking selfies instead of watching,” Jungwon finished for him, nodding in solidarity.
Sunoo gasped from the other end of the couch. “Hey, I–”
Jungwon ignored him completely. “Dude, I actually have the full replay saved on my laptop.”
Ni-ki froze. “No way.”
“Way,” Jungwon said proudly. “I can literally run back to my dorm and grab it for you.”
Ni-ki was already standing. “I’ll drive.”
“What?” You looked between them, completely bewildered. “Hey, what about pizza night?”
Neither of them answered. Jungwon was already grabbing his jacket, and Ni-ki was checking his car keys like this was some kind of emergency mission.
Sunoo groaned. “Oh my god, they’re leaving us. For sports.”
Ni-ki turned at the door, grinning at you. “We’ll be right back, babe. Save me a slice.”
“You better come back before it gets cold,” you warned.
He winked, already halfway out the door. “You’re cute when you pretend you’ll eat without me.”
The door shut behind him, and the room fell into silence.
Sunoo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “They left just like that?”
You frowned, still staring at the door. “He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Aw. Tragic. Should we call the news? Should we invite Bella Hadid?”
You threw a popcorn kernel at him.
Just then, the door burst open again. Ni-ki jogged back inside, slightly out of breath, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Before you could say a word, he leaned down, cupped your cheek, and kissed you.
“I’ll be back so soon you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said with that stupid little half-smile that always made you melt.
You blinked up at him, your voice soft. “Love you.”
He grinned, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Love you more.”
Then he jogged back out the door again, calling out something to Jungwon about parking spaces.
Sunoo groaned, falling back on the couch. “Ugh. You two make me sick.”
You smiled dreamily, still staring at the door. “He came back.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo muttered, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“He came back to kiss me,” you said, still ignoring him.
Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Am I just invisible now?”
You sighed again, all soft and starry-eyed. “He came back just for me.”
Sunoo dropped his slice onto the box and stared at you in disbelief. “God, I hate love.”
You didn’t even hear him, your head was somewhere else entirely, replaying that tiny, perfect kiss like it was the last scene of your favorite movie.
Sunoo, meanwhile, took a huge bite of pizza and mumbled through it, “If he doesn’t come back with that laptop in thirty minutes, I’m eating his slice too.”
—
It was another lazy evening, the kind where time didn’t seem to exist. You and Ni-ki were cooped up in his room, tangled together on his bed, half-watching a movie before it devolved into you kissing instead of actually paying attention.
You were mid-makeout when a noise outside made you freeze. A shuffle, a thump, something that didn’t sound like the wind.
You pulled back, whispering, “Wait, did you hear that?”
Ni-ki groaned softly. “Probably Sunoo.”
You frowned. “Sunoo told us he was out with his friends tonight.”
That made him pause. His expression changed instantly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He reached for the nearest object—his basketball.
You blinked at him. “How’s a ball gonna help us?”
He shrugged, voice serious. “I’ll throw it at him.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hey, it’s a solid plan,” he whispered, hugging the ball.
The two of you crept to the living room, your steps quiet. You half expected to see some masked burglar, but when Ni-ki swung the door open, he stopped shortly.
It was Jungwon, holding a soda and looking very alive.
“Dude,” Jungwon said, looking offended. “You said you’d watch the game with me tonight.”
Ni-ki blinked, the ball still in his hand. “Oh, shit. I forgot. Right. Yeah. I’ll watch it with you.”
You crossed your arms. “Funny, because you said you were going to watch a movie with me tonight.”
Ni-ki froze. Jungwon blinked. And suddenly Ni-ki was caught in the middle, turning his head left and right like he was watching a tennis match.
“Uhhh…” he started.
“UHHH?!” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re having a difficult time choosing between some idiot and your girlfriend?”
“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” Jungwon protested, pointing at himself.
You glared at both of them, then huffed, storming back into Ni-ki’s room and slamming the door behind you.
Out in the hall, Jungwon looked at Ni-ki and laughed. “We can always watch it next time. I know how she is when she’s mad.”
Ni-ki narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Oh right,” Jungwon said with a smirk, “I forgot you were jealous of me once.”
Ni-ki scoffed. “Oh, fuck you,” he muttered, tossing the basketball aside before heading back into the room.
You were on his bed, scrolling through TikTok like the definition of indifference. Ni-ki sighed, climbing on top of you gently, careful not to put his full weight down.
“Baby,” he murmured, trying to kiss you.
You moved your phone in front of your face, blocking him.
“Really?” he asked, reaching for it. You held on tighter.
“Don’t you dare throw my phone—”
He snatched it anyway and tossed it lightly onto the pillow beside you.
You gasped. “You menace!”
Ni-ki grinned. “Worth it.”
You tried to wriggle away, but he caught your wrists, laughing as the two of you wrestled across the bed, him trying to kiss you while you stubbornly turned your head.
“Why aren’t you with Jungwon?” you teased, still half-pouting.
“Because I’d rather be with you,” he said, voice soft against your ear.
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
“OH REALLY?” you said louder, pretending to glare.
He laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
You grinned. “As you should be. I’m way funnier than Jungwon.”
He nodded immediately. “You are.”
“I’m prettier.”
Another nod, his smile widening. “You are.”
“I’m way cuter.”
He hesitated for a beat, eyes glinting with mischief. “Uh… debatable.”
You gasped dramatically. “God, you hate me.”
He laughed, leaning down until your noses brushed. “I’m just kidding.”
You smiled, finally giving in and kissing him again. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. When you pulled away, still smiling, you whispered, “You know, I kinda miss when you hated Jungwon.”
Ni-ki raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”
“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “You were kinda hot when you had that whole jealousy and hatred in your eyes thing going on.”
He snorted. “He’s literally your best friend.”
“Well, he’s also a boyfriend stealer. And I don’t treat those kindly.”
Ni-ki laughed, low and warm. “Come on, Jungwon’s not that bad. I like him now.”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face in his chest. “Damn it. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He chuckled, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You’re ridiculous.”
You tilted your head up, smiling softly. “But you love me?”
He pretended to think. “I love Jungwon.”
You gasped, sitting up. “You’re going to hell for that.”
He caught your wrist before you could smack him, laughing. “I’m kidding.” He tugged you back into his arms and kissed you again, his smile lingering against your lips.
“I love you,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “More than you’ll ever know.”
You looked at him for a long second, your chest warm, your heart full, before whispering, “Good.”
stayblr has been strange the last couple of days lol and i guess i’m feeling Inspired right now to spread what little positivity i can. despite how bleak the community may seem sometimes (whether it be the rampant issue with ai or lack of engagement or creative slumps), there are writers here who put their all into what they do and who are really integral to our writing community!
i’m feeling sappy lol….this space and community means a lot to me even when there are troubles. so, with that, here is a list of some of my most beloved stayblr writers who have impacted my time here. please feel free to reblog or comment with your own if you feel like spreading some positivity too! 💕🎀🐽🌷
@changbunnies - if you want to yearn and yearn some more megan is your girl! everything i have ever read from megan has warmed my heart and filled it to the brim. her words are beautiful and tender and so immersive, and even her darker works leave me with butterflies. megan writes all the members well, but i might just be biased when i say her changbin works are my favorite 🩷
@skzms - to me, may feels like the mom friend you go to for advice and when you need someone trustworthy to lean on. on top of being so wise and unbelievably kind, she has the most incredible way with words. the world building in her fics is phenomenal and you can tell how much she cares about this fandom and fandom space in general. i can confidently say stayblr would not be the same without our minsunger supreme may! 🧡
@streetlvght - stayblr is not even ready for rain, i promise you. she might only have one work posted to her blog right now (which is so warm and lovely!), but the plans she has for future works are something we all need to be looking forward to! rain is a joy to see on my dash, whether it be on this account or her main. she is the most uplifting person… every tag and ask she has ever left me manages to stay with me. if your writing has ever meant something special to rain, she will let you know it. i can’t wait to see people return the favor for her! 🌦️
@ipegchangbin - i miss seeing z here so much and always look forward to anything they post! z was (and still is) such a pivotal writer to me when i was just a reader on tumblr in between my last writing blog and this one. the way they write changbin in particular tickles my brain juuust right (shocker lol), but every fic i’ve ever read from z’s beautiful mind has been phenomenal. z come home the kids miss you 💓
@astraystayyh - it’s been a minute since sahar has been around, and i miss her so dearly. sahar’s blog is like a utopia for hwangers lol. the way she writes for hyunjin is so specific and it fits him so well in my mind. she has such a beautiful way with words that always leave me hanging on and feeling wistful when it’s over. all of her pieces are so unique and special, and i think you’d be able to tell a sahar piece even without her name on it. 🤍
@hanjibug - despite just being the sweetest person on this website, maesie always has the best ideas! whether she is writing them herself or sending them to other writers, you can always expect a maesie thought to be delicious. she is also the type of encouragement i think we all really need sometimes, at least she feels that way to me. i always look forward to seeing maesie’s tags or comments on my posts, and i love seeing her in my notifications, messages, and asks! 🌸
@hyungszn - clover was my first mutual on this blog and that will always be special to me! i remember the first fic i read from her (hot to trot my forever beloved <3) and it still gives me heart palpitations whenever i think of it lol. every fic she’s ever written really does that tbh. clover’s takes are always so unique and her ideas are the same, everything you read from her will leave you wanting to read more and more! 🍀
@seo--changbin - another stayblr writer who inspired me when i was just a reader between blogs, and i was so surprised and gagged when she followed me that it felt like i became mutuals with a literal celebrity lmfao. sage is a pillar of this community and we are so lucky to have her back! her masterlist is definitely a good one to read if you’re ever wondering where to start 🖤
EMSSSS STOPPP i didn't know i would be mentioned here too but thank you 😭 it means a lot to me and your kind words are so encouraging!
Reblogging this with additional stayblr writers that i highly recommend! They have been a huge inspiration to who I am as a writer today.
P.S: Most of these people are smut writers lol so MDNI!!!!!
@therhythmafterthesummer MY HERMANA!!! You guys better check out her wereroomies seriesbasap if you haven't yet. Finding her vlog is like finding gold. Her fics are ALWAYS a 10/10! Excellent writing style, and the way she tells her story, the plot, both smut and non-smut scenes is always beautifully well-done.
@multifandomfantasies is another old-time favorite of mine. If your looking for smutty headcanons, this is the place! Aj's fics are also so so good! If you're into harder kinks, you'd love their series Pay Off.
@maaaaaatryoshka0325 another one of my og blogs that i first followed here on tumblr! I first found her on wattpad when I was a baby stay back then, and I so love her hybrid!skz fics. From time to time, I reread my old favorites from her because it's just that good. So pleaseeee check her out!
@matryosika again, another one of my og faves! I love her fics so much! Her layout is alwaaaaays aesthetically pleasing omg and her smut is always a 10/10, so please check her out!
@jl-micasea-fics MAKE WAY FOR ROYALTY. Mica, THE MICA, the holy grail of the stayblr fanfic community. Where do I even begin. PLEASEEE please please check out her holy masterlist. It is a WHOLEEE library of so many good, TOP-TIER fics. If there's a writer here who I consider as a celebrity, it's Mica. You will not regret reading her works. She's so talented and her fics always slap. She is one of my biggest inspiration. If you're into long fic series, she's your gal.
@ch4nb4ng venus!!! Became one of my friends here. We used to discuss about our fic ideas and all that, i think she's IA now tho. So check out her fics before she deactivates! You wouldn't wanna miss out of her old posts!
@cb97percent PLEASEEEE please please check her out. The fics she puts out NEVER MISS. I've been following scarlet since god knows when. I still remember her Maniacs series 😭 i personallyyyyyy loved her entry for Chan and Hyunjin. She has a vast library of her works so check out her masterlist! She also has done research about AI generated fics so check out her posts about that to be informed!
And then my honorable mentions, the blogs I've been following that have always set my reader heart on fire, some whom I interacted with and became friends with! If you find yourself here, please know that i love all of your works! I'll probs add more as I go lol, I'm quite literally going through my following list as we speak.
𓍯𓂃this is a stray kids sfw acc. my requests are closed. my blog is a safe place for everyone to vent, ask for advice or simply talk about skz <3
if you like any of my writings, please tell me, it means the absolute world to me. asks, comments, reblogs, and messages, i read them all and they make me the happiest ❣️
Synopsis - in 2017, nine boys and one girl trained side by side, fighting for a dream only eight would debut with.
•forevermore masterlist•
A/N 💌 Welcome to the first chapter of the series! I’ve been wanting to make something like this for a while now. I’ve seen a lot of creators do similar projects, but they rarely start off with how the relationships really began. This chapter is the first of many flashbacks — a look back at when everything was just friendship. I’m so excited to finally share it with you, and I can’t wait to hear what you’d like to see next! And thank you to @hyunnows for reading this before I posted it <3 she’s also working on a new amazing series as well!! Please go check her out <3
Please note: I do not allow my writing to be used, reposted, or shared anywhere outside of Tumblr likes and reblogs. Thank you for respecting my work! 💗
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
Being the youngest in the room was terrifying.
Being the only girl in the room was worse.
You knew how this could end. Nine boys and one girl. The odds were against you from the start.
JYP had signed you and Felix up for Korean classes, but learning a language in a few weeks while balancing everything else felt like running a marathon barefoot. You tried anyway. Every. Single. Day.
You’d spent countless nights awake, staring at your notes, repeating Korean phrases until the syllables felt like they belonged to someone else. Your body ached from dance practice, your voice rasped from singing, and your fingers shook from exhaustion, but you couldn’t stop. You had to keep going.
You worked harder. You slept less. You learned how hunger could feel like focus.
The boys noticed anyway. Someone would slip snacks into your bag. Jeongin would help you to sleep most night. He’d literally steal your notes some nights just to make you rest. He wasn’t the touchy type, but when you couldn’t stop shaking from nerves, he’d share the bed just so you’d finally get some sleep.
That’s just who they were.
But then Minho was gone. Eliminated.
A group of ten turned into nine, forcing everyone to rewire their brains of new formations, new energy, new pressure before the next mission: the busking performance.
The pressure grew unbearable. You could feel it in every step, every shaky breath, every sleepless night.
You weren’t the only one falling apart quietly. Felix’s anxiety had grown to the size of a wrecking ball.
Countless nights were spent together reworking choreography, muttering lyrics under your breaths until your legs gave out. And even then, you pushed yourselves to do it one more time.
Just a few days before busking, you and Felix stayed behind again, practicing in the small mirrored room long after everyone else had gone home. By the sixth run-through, he stopped not even a minute into the choreography, frustration flashing across his face as he paced the floor with his hands above his head.
“I don’t get this,” he muttered, voice cracking, running his hands through his shorter, dark hair.
You stood beside him, chest rising and falling, trying to catch your breath. “Felix, everything’s going to be okay,” you said softly, eyes full of empathy.
He huffed out a dry laugh. “I’m supposed to be saying that to you. You’re the only girl and the youngest here.”
You shook your head. “That doesn’t mean anything. We’re both here for a reason.”
He slid down the wall, landing hard against the mirrors. “I’m sorry.”
You’d heard it so many times before—those two words had become a kind of prayer between you. Hours spent together, out of breath, drenched in sweat, breaking down from stress. Apologies came as easy as breathing— constant, automatic.
You walked over and knelt in front of him. “Don’t apologize, Felix.”
He sighed, pressing his hands to his head. “I just… I just want to do good.”
“Felix, you are.” You rested your hands on his bent knees. “You’re doing so good.”
His shoulders started to shake. Quiet sobs. Your heart broke seeing him like that.
“Hey,” you whispered, pulling him into your arms. You sat between his legs, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he cried into your chest. Your hand found the back of his neck, gently scratching through his hair.
“What if it’s not enough?”
“It will be.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with everything neither of you dared to say out loud.
Finally, you cupped his face in your hands, wiping his cheeks with your sleeve. His eyes were red and glassy—he was always the prettiest crier, you thought faintly.
“I’m not gonna let them take this away from you,” you whispered. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you stay, okay? And I know Chan will too.”
He looked at you, eyes shining with something that almost looked like hope.
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
You meant it.
And somehow, that terrified him more than anything.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────
The performance went better than you expected. A few slip-ups, sure, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice. For a fleeting second, you thought maybe that would be enough.
But then came the evaluation.
JYP called everyone into the studio. You all lined up—black and gray clothes, hands clasped, stomachs twisted. The mirrors reflected your own anxiety back at you.
Felix stood beside Hyunjin; you took your place at the end of the line.
“How was your experience with busking?” JYP asked, a polite smile on his face, clipboard in hand.
You all nodded, a chorus of quiet “it was fun.” Your stomach turned. You knew what was coming next.
“You guys haven’t even debuted yet,” he said, smiling faintly. “You’re all still just dreamers.”
Hyunjin shifted beside Felix. Chan’s jaw clenched as his eyes fell to the floor.
He started with Chan. His critiques were sharp, some fair, some not. Then he moved down the line until he reached Felix.
“Felix, your choreography was off. But more important than that—when you rap, it doesn’t reach me. Your Korean still holds you back.”
Felix nodded, understanding. You, on the other hand, felt sick. Your heart pounded, knowing your turn was next.
Then JYP’s gaze landed on you.
“Y/N,” he said.
You bowed your head. “Yes?”
“You also made mistakes in choreography,” he continued, voice firm. “And your pronunciation was everything but good. Were you just nervous? Or not taking your studies seriously?”
Your throat tightened. “I am studying. I’ve just been caught up in other stuff.”
He tilted his head, eyes cold and assessing. “If this is something you really want, like you’ve said for the past year, you would’ve improved.”
You swallowed. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
The room fell silent, heavy with dread.
“Y/N, do you think you’d be a better fit for this team if Felix were eliminated?”
You looked over at Felix, then back at JYP, shaking your head. “No.”
“Why not?”
You forced yourself to meet his eyes. “He fits the part. He’s worked harder than anyone. And… I don’t think people are looking for a co-ed group. It doesn’t fit who Stray Kids is.”
It hurt to say. It gutted you. But it was the truth.
“That’s bold,” he said, almost softly. “Being so honest.”
“Thank you,” you whispered.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, but this time… you won’t be able to move forward.”
Everything went still.
The air thickened. The hum of the lights grew louder, like even they were waiting.
You didn’t cry right away. You just nodded, that’s what you’d been trained to do. Take feedback. Keep posture. Say thank you.
“I understand,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.
“For this group,” he added, “I just don’t see a woman fitting in. Under different circumstances, you would’ve gone far.”
Then he left.
And just like that, your world cracked open.
Your throat burned. The tears came hot and fast, slipping down before you could stop them.
Felix’s shoes squeaked as he rushed toward you. His arms wrapped around you before you even registered he’d moved.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your shoulder, voice shaking. You held him tightly as your tears fell silently, soaking into his shirt.
“You were supposed to stay,” he choked out. “We were supposed to do this together.”
Your voice came out small. “I wanted that too.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you here.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re going to do what you’ve always done. You’re going to work hard. And you’re going to stay. That’s what we came here for.”
He clenched his jaw. “That’s not fair.”
“I know.” Your voice cracked. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Two people breathing through heartbreak, pretending it didn’t feel like goodbye.
Then he said it—voice raw, breaking apart mid-sentence. “I love you.”
A friendly confession that still shattered something deep inside you. You closed your eyes. The words hit soft and heavy—full of friendship, fear, and everything that would never get to be said.
“I know,” you whispered. “I love you too, Felix.”
You cupped his face gently. “This isn’t goodbye forever, okay?”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
You smiled sadly. “Because I still got love for you, Felix. That doesn’t go away just because I can’t stand next to you on stage.”
Something in him broke open then. He pulled you in again, and you stayed like that until Chan cleared his throat, standing only a few feet away from the two of you.
Felix stepped back, wiping his face with the heel of his hand before going to comfort Changbin.
You turned to Chan.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I should’ve—”
“Stop.” He crossed the short distance and pulled you into a quiet hug. “You did everything right. We’ll see each other again. I’m not leaving you behind.”
The words wrapped around you like a promise. And you believed him.
Because in that moment, you didn’t just lose your dream.
You lost your family.
You lost the boy who cried with you in practice rooms and promised to stay.
You lost everything that kept you steady.
All you could do was believe him.
Weeks later, you’d walk back through those same doors—stronger, steadier, standing beside Minho again.
The lights would still hum. The mirrors would still glare.
But the faces looking back at you would remind you that you were home again.
After debut, ten became nine.
And Stray Kids was born.
This was the beginning of something that would last forevermore.
I can already feel that this is going to be one of THE slowburns for sure. Like, starting with predebut skz?? oh we are in for a RIDE!
also, i like how tender the reader and felix are, like, i see them as two sweet kids trying to make it and it makes my heart squeeze, i love that.
im also not usually an skz 9th member type of girl, but i do highly recommend this. i can already tell with just this chapter that things are progressing in a way that isnt just the corny "and ur in the group too because why not" sort of things, it actually feels like theres a story behind everything, thank you for letting me help and keep me updated!! <3
20, 20 DECIBEL • YJI • mayhem on valentine's; highschool au; friends with a crush; mutual pining; fluff; 1,073 words.
“What are you guys doing?” you pushed the question through a yawn, walking over to where your friends crowded over your desk. Jisung perked up first, much too hyper for 8AM, “You’re not going to believe this. Someone gave you Valentine’s chocolate!”
“Huh?” you blinked at the neat little box he shoved in your face. Quite the expensive chocolates, too.
“There’s a card too,” Chaeryoung pointed at your desk, where a square note with scalloped edges sat. “Only has your name on it, though.”
You took the box from Jisung, bewildered and slightly embarrassed. This was not on your bingo card of the day. Your backpack, heavy with books, made a muted thud when you plopped it onto your table.
“Do you have any idea who it is?” Chaeryoung studied you as if to find a secret in your twisting expressions. Her desk was in front of yours, but she was turned around to rest her elbows on your table instead, cradling her chin in her palms.
You shook your head, a half laugh. “No, I’m actually—”
The realization was like a splash of cold water, and you, a drowsy student forced awake by the sensation. Jisung didn’t miss your sudden pause, a gasp too teasing for his own good, “So you do know! You have to tell us!”
Well, it wasn’t that you knew per se, it was just that you mentioned this specific chocolatier before and how you wanted to try out their creations one day. It could’ve been just a really funny coincidence, or a very platonic Valentine’s gift—either way, you had the compulsive urge to keep your realization a secret from your friends’ all too curious eyes.
“I don’t know,” heart hammering, you cleared your throat, diverting your attention to preparing for first period and shoving the expensive, curious chocolates under your desk. Out of sight, out of mind. “I just remembered that I only got chocolates for Chaeryoung and none for you, Jisung.”
His shoulders dropped. “What the hell!”
Chaeryoung snickered, always too happy to tease him, “Third wheel.”
“And here I thought we were friends…” Jisung lamented when another voice joined your conversation. “Morning. What’s going on?”
“Jeongin! They’re ganging up on me,” Jisung turned to your approaching friend, a melodramatic hand on his chest.
Jeongin grinned, dimpled, playful. “Bet you deserved it.”
“You’re all so mean to me,” Jisung huffed. “Woe is me.”
Jeongin laughed, and you noticed the slight pallor in his face. He looked tired, you thought. Did he not get enough sleep?
Then you thought about the chocolates—and you vanquished that idea immediately, suddenly feeling too warm for a February morning.
“Honestly, you guys will appreciate me when I—” Jisung faltered when Jeongin pulled out his seat with a screech, eyes widening. “No way…”
The four of you stared at a pretty box comfortably sitting on his chair, previously hidden from sight.
“Who’s it from?” Chaeryoung wondered as Jeongin picked up the box and flipped the little card attached to it.
“It doesn’t say,” he revealed, much to your two friends’ visible and audible disappointment.
“That’s funny,” you remarked with a chuckle, suddenly too preoccupied with arranging your pens. “Another mysterious sender.”
“Open it, open it,” you heard Jisung urge then gasp when Jeongin seemingly obeyed, “Are these homemade? They’re totally homemade!”
You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at them right then, catching the exact moment Jeongin stole a glance your way. A question, a hope, an answer in his foxlike eyes.
You dropped your gaze as though the contact burned, barely registering Jisung’s whining over the thundering of your heart.
“Give me some—”
“No way. Get lost.”
“Good morning. Settle down, everyone,” your teacher’s voice broke through the mayhem, and the sharp bell of first period snapped you back to reality.
The day passed in a flash, and you found yourself standing outside the school gates with Jeongin after waving your friends goodbye. You always walked part of the way home together, but for some reason, silence blanketed the two of you this time.
Awkward, it continued until you nearly reached the junction where your paths diverged. Your time was running out. Even though the words were at the tip of your tongue, it was as if a spell had been cast on your mouth to keep it zipped tight.
It seemed Jeongin fared the same, fingers absently messing with his cuff buttons, knuckles brushing yours ever so lightly as you walked. Always hesitant, yet always close.
It was only when the two of you stopped at your usual parting point did you assemble a semblance of courage, if only to keep him by your side longer. “Um…!”
Jeongin faced you, and you were too cowardly to hold his gaze. Or even look at his face, really. The tips of his ears were unmistakably red, and you were already losing this battle of spirit. Your voice felt far too small, a sigh in the wind. You settled for staring at his plain shoes.
“Thank you…for the chocolates.”
When he didn’t respond instantly, you rushed to save yourself, “I mean—that was you, wasn’t it?”
“Y-Yeah, it was,” Jeongin’s voice cracked. Like yours, it was a mere murmur on the breeze, but your ears caught it with fervor, and your stomach somersaulted in celebration.
“You too,” he hesitated, as if testing the words. “Thank you. The chocolates look nice… They must’ve been hard to make.”
“No,” you shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. “I had fun making them.”
The two of you lingered, a vast ocean of words left unsaid between you, yet settling for the shores of silence. The more you thought about the day, the more you wanted to laugh.
“So, you also came way too early today, huh?” you grinned, finally looking at him. This would be enough for now. The fledgling feelings in your heart were not yet ready to soar, too fragile and tender, and Jeongin seemed to feel the same.
He huffed out a breathy laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting, “Yeah. Funny how we didn’t bump into each other.”
This was enough. You tucked the memory of his radiant smile against the brilliant sun deep in your heart, nourishment for your fledgling feelings so that they may one day take to the sky, brave and beautiful.
