synopsis: It was supposed to be a joke. a simple experiment after one too many 'but what if we could' questions. but now the college golden boy is convinced he's in love with you, and you have to figure out a way to remind him he's not. unless, of course, the experiment isn't the reason he can't seem to leave you alone.
wc: 22.1k
warnings: romcom, fluff, humor, hockey captain!sunghoon, a lot of chemistry nonsense that is not realistic or accurate, slow-burn (i did not mean for that to happen but it did so sorry), love potion (?), severe yearning, reader is a bit oblivious, reader is a woman in stem, reader AND sunghoon are down baddd, one scene inspired by “better then the movies” // p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, soft dom!sunghoon, super sweet and giggly sex (they’re in love your honor), praise kink
ab thinks... i rewatched descendants and this came to me...so thank ben's rendition of "ridiculous" for this LOL. also the chemistry plot kind of got away from me towards the end but i promise the concept is there! this fic meant so much to me to write. it's one of the longest I've ever wrote, and i seriously think that despite how much i complained about writing this, it helped me fall back in love with writing. special thanks to @arischacco @ickbite @ewstain @heedimples and @clearlyhoonie for listening to me complain while also supporting all my ideas. ily guys ok?
the playlist: "black magic" - little mix / "if only" - dove cameron / "slut" - taylor swift / "supernatural" - ariana grande / "ready to love" - seventeen / “too close” - enhypen
It’d sounded like a good idea at the time.
But now, as you watch Park Sunghoon–campus golden boy and the boy you’ve been (secretly) in love with for three years–literally drink your experiment, you’re starting to think you might have messed up somewhere.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
“Okay, but, like, what are the odds a person could make a real life potion? Or something like it?” Jungwon asks, eyes racing back and forth on the screen as Harry Potter brings back Cedric's dead body.
Yunjin shoots him a glare, her eyes brimming with tears. “Are you seriously asking that right now? Cedric just died!”
He blinks, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "We’ve seen this movie, like, a hundred times.”
“That doesn’t make it any less sad!” She scoffs, reaching for the throw pillow behind her head and tossing it at him.
It hits him square in the chest, but he barely reacts. Just lets it fall into his lap like it'd always been there. “I’m being serious, though!”
Beomgyu hums, popping another pretzel in his mouth. “I’m pretty sure you’re just thinking of chemistry.”
Jungwon rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat so he can better face the three of you. “I mean like an actual potion. Like ones that make you fall in love or something dumb like that.”
You finally decide to speak up, tucking your feet under yourself and pulling your gaze away from the glowing screen. “You want to know if it’s possible to make a love potion?” You ask, voice laced with disbelief.
But Jungwon doesn’t laugh. If anything, he just looks ten times more serious. “Exactly.”
The three of you go silent, glancing between eachother like Jungwon might reveal he’s joking and he knows something like that isn’t possible.
Right?
See, there's a lot of issues with being a Biochemistry major. Some of the more obvious being that you’re a woman in a male-dominated field–which is a problem in and of itself–and the other being that it’s extremely difficult.
But the one people don’t talk about is your extreme crave for knowledge. Even if that knowledge has to do with finding out whether or not it’s possible to make a fucking love potion.
And you should shoot the idea down as soon as it comes to your head, really, you should. But there’s that little flicker in the back of your mind, the one that usually gets you into trouble, that has you saying: “It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”
(Newsflash: it really, really would.)
Three weeks. That’s how long it takes the four of you to work out numerous formulas, some which nearly exploded in your face, others that did nothing at all. It wasn’t until you suggested using a bit less magnesium does the whole thing seem to be less far-fetched.
Despite her initial scepticism, Yunjin was insistent on finishing it as soon as possible so that she could make Jay–her second situationship of the month–realize he was in love with her and finally ask her on a proper date. You couldn’t help but feel like maybe that was a little unethical.
Besides, you’d already agreed you weren’t actually going to use the substance on real people. You’d test it on rats, see if it worked, and then go to sleep feeling completely and utterly satisfied.
That was the plan, anyway.
You crossed your legs, pencil tapping against your chin as you read over the equations in your notebook. The experiment was nearly completed–but you just couldn’t figure out how to make sure its effects wore off. Beomgyu had suggested maybe substituting the sodium for something else, but you just weren’t sure what.
Jungwon groans next to you, letting his forehead rest against the desk. “Remind me again why electives insist on giving more work than necessary? Like, why do I have to write a 15,000 word essay on the history of the internet?”
You snort, shaking your head slightly as the eraser of your pencil rubs furiously against your paper. “Remind me again why you chose to take a class on the internet?”
He lifts his head up, glaring at you the entire time. “I wasn’t aware the curriculum included 15 page long think pieces on the significance of Damn Daniel.”
You really laugh at that, lips curling up in a cheeky smile.
You and Jungwon usually had nightly study sessions at the campus library. It was a good way to unwind while also getting some work done. Well, more like you were getting work done and he was decoding Vine’s cultural significance.
It’s hard for you to focus though.
Park Sunghoon is considerably the most beautiful man you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, with raven hair and a smile that stops girls in their tracks, he has officially claimed the title of Campus Golden Boy and local heartthrob.
So how can you be expected to focus when he’s sitting in front of you, looking like that?
He’s wearing glasses, something you weren’t even aware he needed, slightly hunched over his glowing computer screen with an adorable knit in his brow. The sight should be illegal, honestly.
You don’t even notice you’re staring until Jungwon nudges your foot with his, a knowing smirk on his face. “If you keep staring at him like that he might think there’s something wrong with you.”
You immediately flush, forcing your gaze back onto your notebook and trying to ignore the fact that your ears have begun to burn something mean.
“I hate you.” You mumble, fully expecting Jungwon to reply with something witty, but it never comes. Instead, when you lift your gaze up, Sunghoon has left his table and begun to make a beeline for you.
Your eyes widen, throat already closing up and panic swelling deep in your chest. You’d definitely been caught and now he was going to confront you about your stalker-like behavior. You briefly wonder how long it takes for the police to arrive when they’re called, because he was definitely coming over to inform you that he’d done just that.
“Stop looking like your five seconds away from combusting.” Jungwon whispers, tone strangely serious.
You do your best to straighten your posture and make it look like there weren’t three-week-old eye bags under your eyes or a mysterious stain on your sweats, but it’s all futile when he flashes you that smile. The one he gave everyone when he was being friendly, something you’d been on the receiving end of before. But, for some reason, this time it feels different.
This time it feels like the start of something new.
He stops at the other end of your table, hand shooting up in a brief wave. “Hi,” He breathes out, “We have chemistry together.”
You blink. Once. Twice. Jungwon kicks your shin and you remember that you should probably reply. ‘Uh–Yeah!” Your voice cracks, tone pitching up higher than you meant it too. You clear your throat with a slight wince, doing your best to give him a smile. “Yes. Yeah. We do.”
He chuckles, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. And, wow, maybe Jungwon was right–you really are about to explode.
“I was having trouble with this last assignment,” He sighs, clearly exasperated, pointing a thumb back at his computer. “What are the chances you might be able to help me?”
Okay. This is fine. Amazing, actually. You’d finished that assignment the other night and you understood it pretty well, so helping him should be a piece of cake.
At least it would be if you didn’t seem to forget everything in his presence. Because you can definitely smell a bit of his cologne right now, sharp and clean, and you think you’re going to die. Yep. You’re going to pass away from cologne.
“Yes,” Jungwon answers for you, already ushering you out of your chair. “She can help you. Trust me, she’s crazy smart.”
Your eyes widen, staring at your friend in horror as he practically pushes you out of your chair and closer to Sunghoon.
“I know.” Sunghoon replies easily, tone light. Two words, but they’re enough to nearly send you melting into the floor.
You do your best to stay composed as Sunghoon leads you back to his table, but you aren’t entirely sure you’re even going to be able to think next to him. Which is definitely a little pathetic when you think about it, but seriously, look at the man. You are not ashamed in the least.
Jungwon shoots you two thumbs up, dimples showing as he smiles like he’s just won the fucking lottery. You don’t return the sentiment, instead shooting him a harsh glare.
Sunghoon pulls out the chair next to his computer for you, and you sit down shakily. Your nerves feel completely shot, face on fire and your palms becoming uncomfortably moist.
He gestures to the problem on his screen, murmuring something about how he’d been stuck on it for the last hour.
You nod along, chewing on your bottom lip. The equation he was stuck on was thankfully something you knew how to do, so after taking a breath and reminding yourself that he is simply a boy and you are a very smart woman, you manage to explain it to him.
“You put a negative there, but the equations actually positive,” You explain, voice still shaking the tiniest bit, but stronger than it was earlier as you gain back some confidence. “You also wrote the wrong unit over here.”
Sunghoon listens as you explain everything to him, your hands gesturing wildly and words going a mile-a-minute. It’s obvious to anyone watching you that you’re passionate about the subject.
By the time you finish, he’s already fixing his mistakes and taking the steps needed to get the right answer.
He shifts closer to you, finger dragging over the paper with a light touch, “Is this right?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. He says it loud enough that only you hear, eyes flickering over the side of your face.
You feel that familiar flush building when his knee brushes yours under the table, but do your best to swallow it down. “Uh, yeah. All you have to do now is figure out the correct configuration, which you’re pretty close to doing, and you’ll be good to go.”
He hums, leaning back in his seat and flexing his palms. “How are you so good at this stuff?” He asks with a laugh, eyes raking over yours like he’s trying to fully understand you.
You swallow, playing with your fingers in your lap. “It’s just always interested me, I guess. Like, the fact that we breathe in air and breathe out carbon? And the earth needs carbon to survive, so really we’re helping power the world. It’s all just so fascinating to me!” You’re smiling now, talking animatedly, “It’s difficult, yeah, but it’s also rewarding. Like, watching your experiment work is such a rush and I–”
You cut yourself off, realizing you’re rambling about fucking chemistry like you’re in love with it. He must seriously regret even asking.
“Sorry,” You mumble, nervous laughter bubbling out of you like a defense mechanism.
He shifts, leaning forward onto the table now, face turned so he’s still looking at you. “Don’t be sorry,” He reassures, eyebrows lifting slightly. “I was listening.”
Okay, wow. You are seriously either about to throw up and die or…yeah that’s it. There aren’t any other options.
By the time you make your way back to your table you’re practically shaking, breaths coming in shallow and rushed, your entire body on fire. You feel like you’re in some weird kind of fight or flight.
Jungwons bouncing in his seat, bottom lip sucked into his teeth. He practically pulls you down next to him, beginning to ask you a million questions, but you can’t see him.
All you can focus on is the subtle glance Sunghoon gives you when he leaves.
You should’ve known something was going to go wrong the moment Beomgyu called you.
“I swear I’ve almost figured it out,” He sighs into the phone. You can’t see him, but you can tell his nose is scrunched up the way it always is when he’s thinking too hard about something. “I think we got the units wrong, but if we can figure out the correct ones it should work.”
You kiss your teeth, bumping your silverware drawer with your hip and letting it slide shut. Your phone rests snugly between your shoulder and ear, your head tilted uncomfortably to accommodate it. “Are you in the lab right now?” You ask.
Beomgyu hums, “Jungwon and Yunjin are here too, but I don’t really know why considering neither of them are doing anything to help.” He says sharply, and you can hear the subtle cries of retaliation from your two friends in the background.
You snort, rolling your eyes slightly. “Okay, well,” You sit on your couch, attempting to get comfortable and placing your plate of food in your lap. “I’m gonna eat this and then I’ll be over, okay? Try not to blow anything up before I get there.”
“No promises.” He groans, tone laced with annoyance, but you know it’s all out of love.
You get there twenty minutes later, hair thrown up and sweats hanging off your body. Very professional, you know.
When you push the metal doors open the first sight that greets you is one you’re quite familiar with. Jungwon and Yunjin fighting with each other over something stupid, and Beomgyu ignoring them like they're his children. Nothing says friendship quite like that.
Yunjin immediately shoots up when you enter, her eyes narrowed with anger. “Can you please tell him that Jay is in love with me before I kill him?”
Jungwon’s quick to follow her, knocking his shoulder with hers so that his frame blocks her from your view. “Can you please tell her she’s known him for a week?"
You roll your eyes and scoot past them, making your way over to Beomgyu. He’s diligently writing down formulas; bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He's giving off a mad scientist vibe right now. Or maybe just a stressed-out university student vibe. Both are interchangeable.
You nudge his shoulder to get his attention, but he barely even glances at you. Just continues mumbling out questions like he's expecting the universe to answer him.
“What can I help with?” You ask, throwing on your lab coat and snapping on a pair of medical gloves.
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He gestures lazily to the counter top, where a small gatorade bottle is sitting where the glass test tubes usually do. “Those two idiots broke the glass tubes I was holding the liquid in so now I have to use this janky bottle,” He mutters, throwing a glare at Yunjin and Jungwon.
Your experiment was currently sitting in a Blue Crush Gatorade bottle, floating around the bottom unsuspectingly. You snort at the sight, rolling your eyes slightly. “I think they have some extra next door,” You sigh, turning on your heel to go grab them.
But before you can even think about pushing the door open, Sunghoon reveals himself on the other side.
He’s still in his hockey uniform, helmet hanging from his hand and cheeks flushed a lively pink. You both stand there for a moment, blinking like you’re waiting for each other to make the first move. Jungwon and Yunjin even stop bickering, the both of them staring at you with wide eyes and cunning smiles.
Sunghoon clears his throat, gripping his helmet just the tiniest bit tighter. “Sorry for bothering you,” He murmurs, “I, uh, forgot something in here. Just stopping by to grab it.”
You’re silent for a moment too long, trying to string together a sentence without sounding it’s your first day on earth. It turns out, it’s a bit difficult to do that when Sunghoon is staring at you like that.
Like he’s trying just as hard as you are to not burst at the seams.
“Can I scoot past?” he asks, tone small and light, a shy smile playing on his lips.
You swallow, managing a small nod and moving to the side weakly. His fingers brush yours when he scoots past, sending a cool shiver down your spine, one that shouldn’t feel as electric as it does.
He waves at Jungwon and Yunjin, who both give him polite smiles, but you can see the way their eyes shine at him. Like they know something he doesn’t–which they do–but still.
Yunjin hurries over to your side as soon as his back is to you, giving you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen. She grabs your bicep with her manicured hand, squeezing it so tightly you have half the mind to think it’ll bruise.
“Oh my God,” She whispers, eyes flickering between you and Sunghoon, whose eyebrows seem to be narrowed in confusion as he looks for whatever it is he left. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”
You immediately flush, smacking her lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up.” You grumble.
“I’m being serious!” She defends, wiggling her eyebrows. “Even I got butterflies.”
You run a hand over your face, head shaking slightly. “Yunjin, seriously, stop talking.”
She laughs, but you can’t find it in yourself to laugh with her. Even if Sunghoon was looking at you a certain way, it didn’t mean anything. Not when Sophia was still around.
Sophia was the complete opposite of Sunghoon. A rude party girl who assumed the world revolved around her and her perfectly blown-out hair. And somehow, someway, she’d gotten the dark-haired man wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.
Their relationship was constantly off and on, mostly because Sophia could never seem to make up her mind on what man she was interested in that week. And Sunghoon, poor, beautiful Sunghoon, always went back to her. Sometimes you wondered if she had some kind of blackmail on him. Or maybe he was just a secret masochist. Both answers were equally concerning.
They seemed to be on one of their breaks right now, but everyone knows it's only a matter of time before she's showing up at his games again. You hate that the thought of it fills your chest with green smoke.
You turn around on your heel to continue your walk to the classroom next door, but the sound of Beomgyu shrieking stops you.
You whip around, half expecting something to have exploded, but instead the sight you’re met with is worlds more alarming.
Sunghoon, the campus golden boy and secret love of your life, is drinking your experiment. Literally. Lid to mouth, chugging it like it's water.
Beomgyu rips it from him, but it’s too late. Almost all of the liquid, aside from a few measly drops in the bottom, is gone.
The four of you freeze, watching Sunghoon like he’s grown three heads. But the boy in question just blinks at you with confusion. His tongue flicks out to lick a drop off his bottom lip, eyes flickering between the three of you. “What?
Beomgyu takes a cautious step towards him, arm held out like he’s worried Sunghoon might go rabid and lunge at him. “Do you feel anything…strange?”
Sunghoon swallows awkwardly, lips curving into a concerned smile. “Um,” he murmurs, letting out a nervous laugh. “Should I?”
You share a glance with Jungwon, who just shrugs his shoulders. The four of you are in different stages of shock, because why would somebody drink a mysterious liquid in a lab? What is the thought process behind that?
Yunjin looks like she's holding back a laugh, which isn't that shocking since she always laughs at the most inappropriate times. Meanwhile Jungwon looks nearly amused, like he'd known this would happen, and Beomgyu just looks pissed.
“Sunghoon,” Jungwon murmurs, circling the ravenette like he’s studying him, a hand on his chin. “Why did you drink out of that bottle?”
Sunghoon watches him, head twisting around his shoulder every time Jungwon makes his way out of his line of sight. “Because it’s mine? I left it here last night.” He answers casually.
Your eyes snap to Beomgyu, watching as his eyes trail down to the bottle in his hand.
“You guys alright?” Sunghoon asks, tone laced with suspicion. Not that you can really blame him.
Yunjin’s the first to answer, a honey-sweet smile on her face. “Oh, yeah, we’re good! Just…deadlines. You know how people get.”
Sunghoon nods, eyebrows knit together. “Right,” He mumbles, pursing his lips slightly. His eyes flicker between all of you once more, like if he stares at you long enough one of you might break.
When his eyes land on you, he pauses. It’s just a moment, something you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying attention, but something you aren’t quite sure how to place flashes in his gaze. Something far too real and confusing.
“I should, uh,” He swallows, gesturing lazily towards the door. “I should go.”
You nod, lips parted slightly as he slips past you.
Beomgyu clearly wants to stop him and ask more questions, maybe try and keep him for observation, but you shoot him a look that tells him to let it go. Your experiment being gone sucks, yes, but if he seems fine then there isn’t any reason to scare him. And if he isn’t fine later then you can deal with it then.
Sunghoon glances back at you before he leaves, lips parting like he wants to say something more, but he decides against it. Instead, he pushes the door open and steps back outside, leaving the four of you to try and come to terms with what happened.
Theres a pregnant pause, mostly because you think nobody really knows how to approach the situation. How do you move on with your day after your personal campus celebrity drank your fucking experiment? It's seriously a valid question.
Yunjin clears her throat, arms crossing over her chest. “So... does this mean I can’t use it on Joshua?" She asks, expression completley serious.
Beomgyu lets out a large sigh, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose like it might ground him. “Yunjin,” He murmurs, “Shut up.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "It was a genuine question."
Your lips tighten, hand reaching out to give her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You weren't going to be able to use it on him anyway."
"You don't know that!"
You can’t help but feel on edge when you walk into your Chemistry lecture the next day, hands gripping your computer tighter than necessary.
Would Sunghoon be here? Would he be okay? Did he die sometime in the night and the campus just wasn’t aware? What if the police were waiting for you so they could question you?
What would you even say? Well, you see officer, he kind of drank my experiment. So sorry it killed him! Yeah, no. That wasn’t gonna work.
To your relief, there aren’t any police officers waiting for you in the lecture hall, and Sunghoon seems to be perfectly fine.
Except, he’s sitting in Yunjin’s usual seat right next to yours.
You immediately pause, heart dropping to your stomach. This has never happened, ever, and you already know it must mean bad news.
He’s writing something in his notebook casually, hair curling over his forehead in a way that makes him look hand-sculpted by the Gods themselves. Your mouth goes dry, eyes flickering across the room until they land on a sly looking Yunjin. She curls her fingers at you in a sultry wave, like she knows exactly what she’s done–which you’re sure she does.
And, conveniently, every other seat in the room is full. Which means you have no other choice than to sit by Sunghoon.
Which is perfectly fine. Yep. It’s fine.
You force yourself to make your way to your seat, feet dragging the entire way, head hanging so that your hair covers your face. Is it a little pathetic? Yeah, definitely. But you’re way past caring.
You try to sit down as incredulously as possible, making sure your body is conveniently facing away from him. And for the first few minutes it works! Sunghoon doesn’t glance at you when you open your computer and pull up the assignment, doesn’t even blink when you sneeze right next to his ear.
And when you think you’re finally in the safe–finally feel like you can let yourself relax–it happens.
Sunghoon turns to you, his cheeks flushed a strange shade of pink, eyes strangely bright and pupils blown, and says in a scarily serious tone, “How are you, beautiful?”
You don’t even register it at first. It feels so absurd, so out of reach that he could even be thinking about saying that to you, that you completely ignore him. You assume he must be on the phone with Sophia, because there is absolutely no way Park Sunghoon just called you beautiful. It just wasn’t possible.
But then his foot finds yours under the table, and he starts trying to play fucking footsie with you. You freeze momentarily, brain trying it’s very hardest to catch up with whatever the hell it is that’s going on right now.
You swallow, finally forcing yourself to look at him. For a moment you really wish you hadn’t, because he’s got this cheeky smile going on, like he’s content just being in your presence.
You clear your throat, looking around once more for confirmation that he isn’t talking to anyone else. Your pointer finger comes up to point at yourself hesitantly, voice coming out in a small whisper when you say, “Are you talking to me?”
His foot stops nudging against yours now that you’ve finally answered him, and his smile widens. “Who else would I be calling beautiful?”
You nearly choke on your own spit, hand flying up to your mouth as you fall into a coughing fit. Sunghoons hand comes up to rub soothingly on your back like he’s done it a million times.
“What are you talking about?” You manage between coughs, eyes wide like you’ve just seen a bomb go off.
Well, this certainly feels like one has.
Your mind can't even make sense of what he's saying. It almost feels like he's speaking another language and you're using google translate to try and communicate with him.
Sunghoon laughs, head shaking as his hand travels up to ruffle your hair. “You’re so funny sometimes, really. Did you know that? Honestly, I’ve always thought you were the funniest girl I’d ever met. And the prettiest.” His eyelashes flutter, leaning his cheek onto his hand like he’s got some type of school-girl crush. “I want the whole world to know just how perfect you are.”
You’re too shocked to even respond, lips opening and closing while you rack your brain for anything to say. This is so out of character for Sunghoon. Not just because his admiration is aimed at you, but because you’ve gone to university with him long enough to know he doesn’t act like this.
And then it hits you.
The fucking experiment.
You are so screwed.
You clear your throat, glancing around warily. Your professor started lecturing a few minutes ago, but you were so busy with Sunghoon you had no idea what it was he was even talking about.
You suck in a shaky breath, “Okay, listen, I know you’re probably confused right now." You attempt, voice quiet as to not draw any attention to what’s going on. “But you drank something you shouldn’t have yesterday, which isn’t your fault! Me and Beomgyu just have to figure out how to reverse its effects! Unless, of course, it wears off by itself. That would definitely be ideal.” You mumble the last part, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth just like it always does when you’re thinking too hard.
Sunghoon watches you with a dopey smile on his face, clearly not caring about anything that you’re saying. The sight makes your heart stutter, which you know shouldn’t happen. Personal feelings about Sunghoon aside, he doesn’t actually feel anything for you. He just thinks he does.
“You’re so cute when you’re focused.” He murmurs, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Your breath catches when the tips of his fingers brush against your cheek, the touch soft and intentional. He's gazing at you with so much love, so much genuine feeling, it breaks your heart the tiniest bit.
And you wonder for the briefest moment what would happen if you let yourself indulge in this. Even if just for a day. Would it be so bad?
He pulls away from you slowly, the tips of his ears pink and his lips curled into a shy smile. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs again.
You sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. “Sunghoon–”
He stands from his seat abruptly, his chair scratching against the floor obnoxiously. You wince, head whipping up to figure out what the hell it is he’s doing.
“Everyone!” He announces, voice booming through the lecture hall. You immediately scramble to stop him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to try and pull him back down. He just ignores you, instead choosing to continue to address the whole class like he’s giving some big speech.
“I’m in love–!”
Yeah, no.
You practically wrestle him into his chair, pulling on his arm so hard he nearly collapses into your lap. You push him into his chair, a shaky smile on your face.
The class stares at you with unamused frowns, all clearly annoyed at having the lecture interrupted by Sunghoons near-declaration.
You clear your throat, hands waving in front of you. “He’s just not feeling well,” You attempt nervously, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your lips like it might save you from embarrassment. It doesn’t.
Your professor fixes you with a stern look, one that you’d never been on the receiving end of until this moment. Now, you’re starting to understand why people say she’s so icy.
You murmur out apologies to the room, hoping to ease at least some ofthe growing tension between you and your peers. Yunjins looking at you with genuine shock, her hand covering her mouth like she’s hoping to spare you any kind of embarrassment. It doesn’t work.
You turn your attention back to Sunghoon, who’s giggling in his chair like he’d just witnessed the funniest thing ever.
“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, beginning to pack your stuff as well as his. You’d thought you’d wait until class was over to go find Beomgyu, but after that stunt you’re starting to think your social life might go down if you don’t figureout how to fix this ASAP.
Sunghoon shrugs, fingertips tapping against his thigh. “Is it a crime to tell people about the girl I love?”
You tense for a moment, but don’t stop gathering the rest of your things. “You don’t love me.” You manage out, voice cracking slightly. “You’re just confused.”
Sunghoon grabs your wrist and stops you from closing his notebook, his thumb hovering over your pulse point. “I’m not confused.” He insists, and, God, for a second you almost believe him. It’d definitely be easier to.
But you know he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s confusing his emotions for you with something else—something that isn’t there.
Something that will never be there.
You pull your wrist out of his grip, a sad smile on your face. “C’mon,” You manage, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Let's go talk to Beomgyu.”
The walk to Beomgyu’s apartment is filled with endless yapping from Sunghoon and mostly silence from you. You aren’t sure how you should reply to his advances considering he doesn’t actually know what he’s saying. You keep telling yourself to imagine he’s on some weird drug that makes him more open than normal. And ten times more flirty.
Beomgyus apartment is just on the cusp of campus, close enough that it wasn’t a long walk, but far enough to get some sense of individualism. You’d been there a thousand times, whether it was for a casual hangout or to catch up on homework, but never in a million years did you imagine you’d be knocking on the door with Park Sunghoon staring at you like you’d hung the moon and the stars.
“Stop,” You mumble, fist rapping onto the door again. You know Beomgyu’s home right now.
Sunghoon raises a brow, arms crossed as he leans against the wall next to you. “Stop what?” He asks, maintaining his false facade of innocence.
You shoot him a glare, hands gesturing at him wildly. “Stop looking at me like that!”
He just hums, like he’s amused at your reaction. And you know none of this is technically his fault–well, it is but it isn’t–but there’s a growing annoyance in your chest that you can’t seem to get rid of. If you were going to be subjected to another public embarrassment like what he’d pulled in your lecture you think you’ll die.
You huff, fist tapping against the door again. “I know you’re in there, Beomgyu! Stop trying to pretend you aren’t there so I’ll leave!”
There’s a momentary silence, and then the door clicks open and an unamused Beomgyu stares at you from the other side. He’s wearing a white stained shirt, hair sticking up in numerous places.
He’s a sight for sore eyes, honestly.
“What?” He sighs, staring at you like you’ve interrupted his very busy schedule.
You point over at Sunghoon with your thumb, “We’ve got a massive issue.”
Beomgyu’s eyes trail towards where you’re pointing lazily, like you’re somehow inconveniencing him. He looks Sunghoon up and down, lips twisting into a frown. “I don’t see the problem.” He mumbles.
You sigh, running a hand over your face and letting it slap back down to your thigh. “It worked.”
Beomgyu raises a brow. “What worked?”
You groan, “The experiment worked.” You hiss, nodding towards Sunghoon slightly. “And now he’s convinced he’s in love with me.”
Beomgyu blinks, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes what you said. He’s been your closest friend for long enough to know that under different circumstances, Sunghoon confessing his love to you would’ve had you over the moon. He knows you would’ve had a much different reaction to the one you’re giving now, at least.
He licks his lips, glancing around the hallway like he’s expecting someone to jump out at you, and then ushers the both of you into your apartment. Sunghoon tries to grab your hand when you go inside, but you pull away and shoot him a sharp glare. He just smiles back, like your annoyance is the most amusing thing in the world to him.
Beomgyu gestures to the couch, mumbling out a hasty sit before disappearing into his room. You sigh when you plop down onto it, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursued.
You know it’s not Sunghoons fault. This whole thing was a complete accident. But…some part of you couldn’t help but feel like this entire thing was only going to end one way–with you getting hurt. Sunghoon doesn’t love you like he seems to think. The issue is, you aren’t sure just how long you’ll be able to resist him before you finally start believing him.
That’s why you need to figure out how to reverse this before it gets to that point.
And what about the effects it must be having on Sunghoon? Sure, you were taking emotional hits, but what if you had accidentally seriously messed him up mentally or physically? What if he never recovered and then you’d have to live with the fact that you’d indirectly messed him up for life?
Sunghoon sits down next to you wordlessly, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes trail over the living room, eyes pausing on a framed picture of you and Beomgyu from highschool. In it, the both of you are laughing at something on the other side of the camera, your hands clenching your stomachs and wide smiles on your faces. You don’t remember what exactly had been so funny at the time, but your heart still melts all the same every time you look at it.
Sunghoon hums, nodding towards the picture. “You look happy.”
Even though you don’t mean to, and there's definitely no reason to do so right now, you crack a small smile. “Yeah,” You mumble, “That was a good day.”
The space between you isn’t uncomfortable, it never really has been despite everything, but it’s tense. Like there’s some sort of gravitational force pushing you towards him, and the harder you resist, the more it wants to persist.
Sunghoon must feel it to, because his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his adams apple bobbing slightly. For the first time since this entire fiasco started, he looks almost unsure, like there’s something he wants to do or say, but he can’t.
You frown, hand instinctively coming up to rest on his bicep, “Sunghoon,” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Are you alright–”
“Okay, here's the plan,” Beomgyu interrupts, finally emerging from his room. He looks much more put together now and not like he’d just rolled out of bed. He points to himself, “I’m going to figure out how to fix…” He gestures to Sunghoon warily, “This as soon as possible. You,” He points to you next, “Are going to watch him while I do.”
Immediately, alarms go off in your head. You can’t watch over Sunghoon. You just can’t.
You sit up straighter, arms crossing in an X over your chest. “I can’t,” You blurt, heat rising to your cheeks. You slowly lean back again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I have…plans.”
It’s a lame excuse, you know. And you know neither of them believe you. (Honestly, does Sunghoon even understand what’s going on?)
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, “Okay, first off, no you don’t. And if this is like, a one in a million time in which you actually do have something going on, cancel it.” He lowers his voice slightly, hand covering his mouth so Sunghoon can’t see what he’s saying. “He can’t be alone right now, and I’m guessing you’re the only person he’ll willingly go with. So, either take him or deal with the repercussions.”
You hate that he’s right.
Maybe, if you had any energy left in you you’d fight with him on it. Or maybe you’d just deal with the consequences of sending Sunghoon out there on his own. But one glance at the man in question, and you immediately cave.
He’s gazing at you with hopeful eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side, like he’s hanging onto every word you say. It really shouldn’t tug at your heart strings like it does. It shouldn’t make you want to say yes until the word doesn’t sound like a word anymore.
You sigh, forcing your gaze to the ground. “Fine,” You huff, “I’ll watch him. Whatever that means.”
Beomgyu grins, glancing between you and Sunghoon cheekily, like he knows something you don’t. “Great,” He rolls his neck, letting it pop once. “Now get out so I can get to work.”
Campus is never busy on Mondays. You think it’s because most people don’t like the idea of morning classes on the first day of the week, which you can’t really blame them for. But that also means that it’s just you and Sunghoon on the street, and while it feels completely awkward for you—he looks like he just won a million bucks.
He’s smiling, as if the harsh winds blowing across your faces is anything to smile about. As if anything about this situation is something to smile about.
And you know you shouldn’t be upset. Anyone in your situation right now would probably be ecstatic. The man you’ve been secretly in love with for the past three years is finally returning your feelings, even if they aren’t completely genuine.
But that’s the issue, isn’t it? He doesn’t really feel this way towards you, he just thinks he does. And it would be so easy to let yourself indulge in it–to let yourself forget that none of this is actually real.
But you can’t. You know you can’t.
Sunghoons arm brushes against yours, a complete accident, but you still flinch and pull away like he’s burned you.
He glances at you, eyebrows furrowing. His breaths coming out in uneven puffs of white fog. “Everything okay?”
You clear your throat, trying to act like the shiver that goes down your spine is from the frosted air and not because his smooth voice makes your body flush with heat. “I’m fine,” You murmur, “Just…hungry. Tired.”
He hums, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “You know,” He drawls, trying to keep up a nonchalant front. “We could go eat. Together. Just me and you.”
You blink, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Is he asking you on a date right now? If the past two hours hadn't happened, you probably would've been more surprised.
You sigh, shaking your head slightly, “I’m not going on a date with you Sunghoon.” The words nearly don't make it out of your throat, feeling more artificial and practiced than anything else. If you would've told yourself a week ago you'd be rejecting Sunghoon, you probably would've slapped yourself for even thinking about it.
He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “Who said anything about a date?” He asks, looking at you like you've just uggested the craziest thing he's ever heard. “We're just two friends eating lunch together, right? Even if I am irrevocably in love with you.”
He throws the word love out like he's saying hello, not like he's pulling at the strings of your heart every time it leaves his lips. It almost sounds fucking natural, like he'd been saying it to you for years, which makes it even worse.
You pause in the street, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Okay, I get that your brain isn’t in the right place right now, but stop saying things like that.”
His head tilts slightly to the side, eyebrows raising in amusement. “Why?” He asks, tone innocent, but you know better. You know he’s finding this funny. It’s frustrating and annoying and your heart fucking stutters every time he looks at you like he knows exactly what makes you tick.
You stumble over your words, hands gesturing wildly in front of you. “Because It’s annoying! And weird! How would Sophia feel if she knew you were saying all of this?”
The air goes still at the mention of Sophia, like the thought of her is enough to push away the sun. Sunghoons expression hardens, his jaw tightening for a moment before he releases it. It’s almost like the sound of her name has sucked all of the joy out of him. “Why would I care what she thinks?” He mutters.
You blank, unsure of how to respond to that. You know the two have always had a more than toxic relationship, but you’ve never seen him have so much distaste towards her before. You’ve never seen him have so much distaste towards anyone before.
“I don't know, maybe because she’s your girlfriend?” You attempt.
His eyes harden as he looks away from you, like he doesn't want to point his annoyance towards you. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He mumbles.
Your neck cranes up so you can look at him, arms crossing over your chest in a silent defense. “Besides,” He continues, taking a small step closer. “Why would I care about her when you’re right in front of me?”
You feel that familiar heat rush up your neck, the one you know you have no right to feel. And it’s strange how something good on the surface can cut you so deeply. How something you hoped to hear from him for years can suddenly feel like the biggest insult.
But, you are hungry–you weren’t lying about that, and Beomgyu has already assigned you to practically be his babysitter anyway, so might as well get something out of it, right?
You let out a breath, kissing your teeth as you do. This is a very bad idea, and you know it. “We can go to lunch as friends, but that’s it, okay? And no more flirting.”
His lips curl into a grin, eyes flashing like he’s just won a prize. “Perfect, because I already made a reservation for us off campus.”
Of course he did.
You open your mouth to argue, or really say anything, but his hand makes its way onto your lower back so he can lead you away and you suddenly forget how to speak. Because, yes, you’re still a strong woman who would rather die than ever be rendered speechless by a man–but Park Sunghoon is an exception. One that you know you shouldn’t indulge, but doesn’t it feel oh, so good when you do?
That’s how you find yourself thirty minutes later in the nicest restaurant in a fifteen mile radius, wearing jeans and an old ratty t-shirt. You cross your legs, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach at being so underdressed.
Sunghoon doesn’t look the least bothered by it though, reading over the menu with sharp eyes and a slight furrow to his brows. He asks you your opinion occasionally, mumbles about calories and his protein intake. All things you’d never really felt the need to look at yourself before. Maybe hockey people have to worry about that stuff? You’d always assumed it was just wrestlers and weightlifters.
“Do you like Alfredo sauce or marinara? I like both, but I want you to be able to pick off my plate.” He mutters, saying it so casually. Like ordering his own food based on what you like is just common sense. If any of this was real, he would make the perfect boyfriend.
It makes you wonder again how Sophia could just let him go so easily.
Your eyes flicker up from your own menu, heart stuttering in your chest. “Just get whatever you want,” You sigh, “You don’t need to ask me.”
He’s silent for a moment, the gears in his head turning. He slowly sets his menu down, and then plucks your own from your fingers.
Your eyebrows furrow as you go to reach for it, “Sunghoon—“
“Why are you so set on rejecting me?” He asks, keeping his eyes on yours. The eye-contact nearly makes your throat close up from how intense it is. “I know you think none of this is real or whatever—“
"Because it isn’t.” You interrupt. You wish you understood how this experiment worked, because then maybe you'd know how to get it through his thick skull that none of this was real. You run a hand through your hair before continuing, “You drank an experiment, Sunghoon. Everything you’re feeling—everything you think you’re feeling—it isn’t real.” Your voice cracks slightly, like it’s a manifestation of your own hurt.
Sunghoon, for the first time since this entire thing started, goes silent. His jaw ticks, breathing going slightly uneven. The air crackles between you, tension that neither of you really want to admit is there.
And then, without even so much as a stutter, he says, “I’ll prove it then.”
You falter, lips parting as a laugh bubbles out of your throat. You don’t mean to laugh, really, you don’t, but Sunghoon's insistence is almost admirable. And, unfortunately for you, his stubbornness only makes you fall for him the tiniest bit more.
“Why are you so set on this?” You ask, mimicking his question from earlier.
He shrugs, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hand. “Does it matter?”
Yes, it does matter. But you know there’s no way you’re going to get an actual answer from him, so you won’t push anymore. So, instead you just shrug, fingers tapping against the table. “I guess not.”
Sunghoon grins, his tongue poking against his cheek slightly. “Atta girl.”
You should drag him out of the restaurant and back to Beomgyu’s apartment after that. Should refuse to even speak to him until Beomgyu figures out how to reverse this whole thing. Should protect your heart from the hurt that you know is coming.
But you don’t do any of that. Instead, you laugh along to his jokes. You don’t protest when he pays for your food. You let him walk you home like he’s your boyfriend and try to ignore the deep ache beginning to bloom in your chest every time he looks at you like he loves you.
And when you lay in bed that night, sheets tucked to your chin and green glowing stars shining on your ceiling, you let yourself believe that all of it was real. That all of it meant something.
Even if that was only true for one of you.
You aren’t sure what you’re expecting the next morning, but it certainly isn’t sunghoon at your door with a jersey in one hand and hockey stick in the other.
You blink at him, still in your pajamas with leftover mascara flakes covering your cheeks. You’re sure you look the picture of attractiveness right now. You sigh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles. “What are you doing here?”
Sunghoon holds the jersey out to you, and it’s then that you realize it’s his. Or, at least, one with his number and name on it. “This is for tonight.” He says casually, like you’re supposed to know what that means.
Your eyebrows furrow as you cautiously take it from him, inspecting it like it was a bomb and not a piece of fabric. “Uh,” You chuckle humorlessly, “What’s tonight?”
The jersey is your size, but the only other people you can think of who wear these are family members, die-hard fans, and…girlfriends.
But there’s no way that’s why he’s giving this to you. Besides, you’d seen Sophia wear the same exact thing enough times to know what wearing it would mean--to know what it would make you, as well as everyone else on the campus, aware of.
That you were Sunghoons.
That is not happening.
He leans against your doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. His hockey stick pokes out from under his armpit awkwardly, and the sight nearly makes you crack a smile.
“For the game,” He says, “You’re coming.”
You immediately shake your head and attempt to shove the jersey back into his arms. “Yeah, no, I’m not going to that. Thanks for the offer though.”
You turn on your heel after forcing him to take back the shirt, and while you know you should tell him to leave, you let him follow you into your apartment.
He trails behind you like a lost puppy, a slight pout twisted onto his features. “You have to go,” He insists, “You’re my girlfriend–”
You whip around and glare at him, “I am not your girlfriend.”
His lips curl up into a shy smile, a hand coming up to brace the back of his neck. “That’s a technicality.”
You give him a look before finally turning back around and continuing your walk to your bathroom. He tries to follow you in, but you quickly shut the door in his face. You half expect that to finally be the hint he needs, but of course it isn't. Instead, he just keeps talking to you through the door. “Okay, fine, you’re not my girlfriend.” He sighs, voice slightly muffled. You just roll your eyes and throw your hair up, grabbing your toothbrush from its place in the barbie cup on your sink.
“But you said I could prove to you how serious I was,” He continues. You can hear his body slide down to the floor, and you assume he’s sitting with his back against the door. He’s silent for a moment, before mumbling out so quietly you nearly don’t hear him, “Let me do what I said I would. Please.”
You are a weak, weak woman. You’ve always known this. When it comes to school and things of that nature you’d always known you excelled. But, people? That was something that was way out of your league.
Your mom used to call you a people-pleaser. Said it’d end up in you getting hurt if you didn’t learn how to step away from things before they got out of hand. And you thought you had.
But maybe you hadn’t.
You sigh, finishing up brushing your teeth and washing your face. By the time you're finished the ends of your hair and the sleeves of your shirt are soaked, but you don’t care. He wouldn’t care what you looked like right now anyway. His brain is all jumbled up and you doubt you looking like a hot mess is the thing that'll fix it.
You open the door cautiously, and just as you’d expected he’s sat on the other side with his knees tucked into his chest. He looks so small here, so boyish. Not like the Park Sunghoon you’d seen from the spotlight, not like the school's star player and pride and joy. From here, he looks like a boy trying to find himself in a world too big for him.
You tug your bottom lip into your teeth, eyes choosing to look everywhere but at him. “I’ll go,” You finally mumble, voice smaller than you wanted it to be. “But I’m not wearing the jersey.”
He smiles, shoulders sagging in relief. He tilts his head up so he can see you. “Jersey?” He smirks, crumbling up the fabric and shoving it behind his back. “What jersey?”
You grin despite yourself and nudge your foot into his lower back. “Whatever. Go home so I can get ready.”
He stands, knees popping as he does. He grabs his hockey stick from where it leans against your wall, fingers wrapping around it and giving it a firm squeeze. “Six pm, alright? I’ll get you and your friends a spot up front.”
You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that–”
He grins, and before you can even think about swerving him, leans in and places a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. You freeze, body flushing and eyes going wide.
His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, coated with a scentless chapstick that you’d seen him carry around with him for years. He pauses for a moment, his spare hand lingering at your waist. He never touches you directly, doesn’t even attempt to. But you can still feel the slight heat emitting from his hand, and it almost feels more intimate than if he'd just taken that final leap.
He swallows, taking a step away from you. There’s a slight pink blush dusting his cheeks, like he’s shocked by his own actions, but he’s quick to clear his throat and pretend like there was nothing out of the ordinary about what he’d just done. Like the entire thing was a regular occasion for the both of you.
“I’ll see you there, okay?” He mutters, raising a brow. Like he needs more reassurance that you’ll stick to your word and show up.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips for a moment, eyes searching for any indication that maybe he understands what he did. That maybe the experiment's effects are starting to wear off. But when you look at him, you see the same exact thing you’ve been seeing since yesterday morning.
Pure, unbridled, love.
You suck in a breath, nodding your head slightly. “Yeah,” You manage, though your voice comes out low and breathless. “I’ll be there.”
He smiles, mumbles out a soft goodbye, and then leaves you in the middle of your hallway, body flushed and mind jumbled.
Yunjin, to your dismay, comes over as soon as you ask her too.
She looks ecstatic. You’d called her last night and explained the entire situation, but she, of course, couldn’t see how it was a very bad thing.
“Why are you so upset?” She’d asked over the phone. You didn’t have to see her face to know she was practically beaming. “The guy you’ve been secreltey obsessing over like some kind of stalker is in love with you! That sounds like a complete win to me!”
You’d winced, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. “Yeah, It sounds great! But he doesn’t…” You swallowed uncomfortably, “He doesn’t actually feel that way for me. He just thinks he does.”
You heard her take a drink of something before she sighed out, “How do you know that?”
You went silent, unsure of how to answer. What did she mean how did you know? It was obvious. Sunghoon accidentally drinks a love potion and now thinks he’s in love with you. That’s what had happened.
You tucked your legs under you and adjusted your phone against your ear. “I think that’s obvious, Yunjin.” You murmured.
She hummed, “I don’t know, [Y/N].” She said, tone strangely teasing. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
So, when you’d called her and asked her to help you get ready for tonight’s match, she was ecstatic. And you appreciated her support, of course, but you weren’t sure she really understood what was happening here.
You and Sunghoon are nothing. When all of this was over, you’d go back to being two strangers who sometimes smiled awkwardly at each other out of obligation. And you needed to be able to be okay with that. You had to be.
“Okay, I think you should wear something super sexy so that Sunghoon’s knocked on his ass.” Yunjin quips, scouring through your closet and inspecting everything you own like it owes her something.
You sigh from where you lay on your bed, staring up at the stars on your ceiling like maybe they’ll save you. “We’re going to his game, Yun. I don’t want him to fall on his ass.” You chuckle, throwing up air quotes around the end of your sentence.
Yunjin rolls her eyes and throws another pair of jeans onto your desk chair. “I don’t mean literally. I just mean maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wear something different."
You sit up, bracing yourself against your elbows. “What's wrong with my usual clothes?” You ask, eyebrows raising teasingly.
Yunjin pauses, cautiously turning around so you’re face to face. “There’s nothing wrong with it," She attempts, lips twisting thoughtfully as she tries to come up with the softest way to say it. “But I don’t think a pair of sweatpants and some random shirt you got in middle school is quite the look we’re going for.”
You scoff, flopping back down onto your bed and pushing the palm of your hands into your eyes until white dots fill your vision. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with what you usually wear, even if it isn’t the nicest clothes ever.
But you can’t lie and say there isn’t a part of you that wonders how Sunghoon would react. Would he even care? If he did, would it even be real?
“I think that you’re blowing this way out of proportion.” You mutter, letting your arms wrap around yourself.
Yunjin snorts and tosses a shirt at you. You cautiously inspect the fabric–a blue long sleeved top with a deep neckline that you’d bought to make your ex-boyfriend jealous and then never wore. You scrunch your nose slightly at it and then toss it back at her.
“There’s no way I’m wearing that.” You snort.
Yunjin nods, grabbing a pair of dark jeans from your closet. “That’s what you think.”
The hockey arena, to no one's surprise, is full to the brim with die hard fans and half-way drunk college students. You, personally, have never been to a game before. Mostly because you know what they consist of, and you’d rather skip watching men fight over a puck on ice when you could be doing much more important things. Like rewatching New Girl.
But, alas, you, Yunjin, and Jungwon all find your seats right at the barricade. Beomgyu had chosen to skip so that he could keep working on some kind of fix for your current situation, but you had half the mind to believe it was because he simply didn’t want to come.
Jungwon takes a sip of his fountain drink, letting the red straw rest on his lip. “So, you’re telling me that Sunghoon drank the experiment, thinks he’s in love with you, and invited you here because he wants to prove to you that it’s real?”
You nod, shrugging your jacket off and laying it across the back of your seat. The players are warming up in front of you, their skates scratching against the ice as they yell instructions at each other. You can see Sunghoon talking to another boy with a serious expression, his hands moving admittedly as he does. You can tell he’s being stern with him, but the boy doesn’t look upset or scared in the least. If anything, he’s taking his lecture with pride–like getting told off by Park Sunghoon is a privilege.
And you think that goes into show just the kind of person that he is. He's kind, and funny, and defientley doesn't deserve what you're putting him through.
"Um," You sniff, adjusting yourself in your seat. “That’s pretty much it, yeah.”
Jungwon hums, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “Is it weird that that isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened to us?” He asks.
You furrow your brows, “What could possibly be weirder then that?”
“Remember freshman year?” Yunjin chimes in, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “There was that full two weeks where Beomgyu was stained pink.”
“Oh,” You draw out, chuckling at the memory. “I do remember that.”
You giggle at the memory. Beomgyu had had a rouge experiment blow up in his face--literally--and spent two weeks looking like he'd just stepped out of the Barbie movie.
Jungwon shrugs, “I would argue that seeing Beomgyu walk around campus like a real-life monster high doll was definitely weirder than this.”
You don’t respond, instead turning your attention back towards Sunghoon. He still hasn’t noticed you–which you’re mostly grateful for, but it also makes you anxious for when he does.
While you’ve never been to one of the matches in person, you have seen them online. You know that they can get heated and violent. You’ve seen Sunghoon walk into class with the occasional black eye or scabbed over knuckles.
It makes worry build in your stomach, thick and strong and nearly overwhelming. And you know you shouldn’t care. Sunghoon isn’t your boyfriend, even if he seems to think he is. But, still, the thought of him getting hurt makes you want to throw up.
You lean back in your chair, leg bouncing anxiously, and then you see it. It’s a subtle movement from the corner of your eye, but you catch it nonetheless.
Two seats down from you, Sophia sits down with her friends, all of them looking like they just stepped out of fucking vogue. And Sophia, with her perfectly blown-out hair and sickly sweet smile, is wearing Sunghoons jersey.
Your heart drops, stomach becoming an endless pit as you stare at her. You’d assumed they broke up, but what if they hadn’t? That was the only explanation you could think of for why she was here wearing that. What if you had accidentally ruined her relationship with Sunghoon?
Not to say that their relationship wasn’t already on the brink of disaster, but still.
You nudge Jungwon with your elbow, forcing your gaze onto the rink. The other team has come onto the ice now, and you can see Sunghoon's jaw tick. But he isn’t watching the other team, no, he’s searching the stands.
Searching them for you.
You suddenly feel a wave of guilt at what you’ve done, even if it was an accident. You’ve inadvertently forced yourself into the middle of a relationship that was never any of your business. Does this make you a homewrecker?
“Jungwon,” You mumble, “Tell Yunjin we’re leaving.”
“What?” He asks, eyebrows knitting together. “The game hasn’t even started.”
You sink into your seat as you watch Sunghoons gaze get closer and closer to you. “Sophia’s here.” You say through your teeth, “And she’s wearing his jersey.”
Jungwons gaze shifts past you, lips parting when he spots her. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” You murmur, “Oh.”
Jungwon turns and tells Yunjin, and you watch as her head pops out from behind him, her lips pulled into a frown. “Oh, this is so fucked.”
You cover your face with your hands and groan, “I’m a homewrecker!”
“Okay, no,” Yunjin scoffs, still eyeing Sophia like maybe if she stares at her long enough she’ll disappear, “This is all just a really small misunderstanding.”
You groan again, dropping your hands to your lap and looking back onto the rink. Sunghoon finally spots you then, a smile curling onto his lips as he skates over. Your stomach churns, letting yourself steal a glance to Sophia, who is also smiling at Sunghoon.
You sink further into your seat.
“Y/N!” He calls once he approaches, placing a hand in the glass separating you. You can practically feel Sophia’s gaze burning into your skull, and for once, you can’t even be mad that you’re on the other side of her icy glare.
“Um,” You manage, clearing your throat and cocking your head as subtly as possible towards Sophia. “Sunghoon, you should probably go say hi to your girlfriend before you say hi to me.”
You can feel Jungwon and Yunjin holding their breaths, like they’re scared any sudden movement will set off some kind of bomb. But Sunghoon either doesn't notice the tension, or he’s actively choosing to ignore it.
He cocks his head to the side, smile faltering a bit. “What are you talking about—”
“Hoonie!”
There’s something very distinct about Sophia’s voice—just the right amount of feminine to be cutsey, but still bordering on the edge of nails on a chalkboard. Normally, the sound of it would make you roll your eyes and resist the urge to pull your hair out, but now it just makes you feel sick with guilt.
Sunghoons expression immediately shifts, his smile curling downwards, eyes narrowing slightly. When he spots Sophia, he almost looks bored. Like the sight of her is nothing special.
She climbs over the people next to you, a mom and her toddler, both of whom she doesn’t apologize to when she steps on the tips of their shoes.
“Hoon,” She sighs, adjusting her skirt. “I missed you.”
She doesn’t even spare you a glance, which you’re partially thankful for. But, you also can’t help but wonder if it’s because she doesn’t even see you as a threat.
Which, you’re not—but still. It’d at least be nice to be considered one.
Sunghoons jaw ripples, gaze icy and nearly angry. “What’re you doing here Sophia?” He asks. His gaze falls downwards, onto the blue jersey she wears proudly across her chest, and scoffs. “And why are you wearing that?”
Sophia doesn’t even flinch at his tone, if anything she seems to revel in it. “Why wouldn’t I be here, silly?” She giggles, “I’m supporting my boyfriend!”
Jungwon glances over at you, but your eyes stay on the floor. What are you supposed to say? Actually, you’re boyfriend thinks he’s in love with me, so sorry! You’d just sound crazy.
Sunghoon leans closer, voice lowering an octave. “Are you forgetting that I caught you fucking my roomate last weekend?” He spits, gripping his hockey stick so hard you’re convinced it’ll break. “Or am I supposed to just get over that like everything else?”
You can’t help the gasp that leaves you. A small sound, but it’s enough to catch her attention. She whips her head around, dark eyes catch yours, nose scrunched like she’s staring at the trash on the side of the sidewalk and not a person.
You half expect her to apologize for having such a private conversation in front of you, but she doesn’t do that. Why would she? Instead, she barks, “Can’t you see we’re having a conversation? Go somewhere else.”
You blink, lips parting as you try to come up with something to say. But, Sunghoon beats you to it.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” He defends, eyes blazing something nearly protective. It makes your heart flutter and heat fill your stomach for all the wrong reasons.
Sophia takes a moment to process, but when she does, you would’ve thought Sunghoon had just told her he’d made out with her mom.
“Why are you defending her?” She asks, letting out a humorless laugh. She really takes you in then, eyeing you up and down. You sink into yourself instinctually, arms wrapping around your stomach like a shield. “Don’t tell me this is my replacement?” She chuckles, like the thought of you even being near Sunghoon is amusing.
You shake your head, hands shooting out in front of you. Even though she doesn't deserve it, you don't want to be the other woman. “No, no, that’s not—”
But Sunghoon doesn't let you finish. “She can’t be a replacement when there’s nothing to replace.” He mutters, tongue leaking venom.
Sophia, for what you’re sure is the first time in her life, is rendered speechless. Her glossy lips part, eyes widening a fraction. “Sunghoon—”
He turns to you then, completely ignoring her like her prescense isn’t even a blip on his radar. His eyes soften, cheeks flushing the lightest shade of pink. “Meet me after the game, okay?” He mumbles.
A buzzer sounds, and both teams on the ice skate over to their respective coaches to get ready for the game. Your lips part as you wrack your brain for a response, but it’s hard when Sophia is sneering at you like you’d just said the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.
Sunghoon sighs, throwing you a final glance before pushing off the glass and beginning to skate towards the rest of his teammates.
His jaw ticks once, throwing Sophia an icy look over his shoulder. “Go home, Sophia.” He mumbles.
Sophia doesn’t say anything else, just shoots you a glare and then stomps back to her waiting friends. They all look sympathetic when she tells them what happened, shooting you not-so-subtle death glares. As if you did something. Well, you did—you unintentionally home wrecked her relationship, but still, it was all accidental!
Yunjin lets out a low whistle, crossing her leg over her knee and clasping her hands around it. “Can we make more of those love potion things?” She asks with a chuckle. “This is reality tv kind of entertainment.”
Jungwon nods, “Rivals love island, honestly.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut, “This isn’t a reality tv show.” You mumble.
Yunjin shrugs, popping a piece of candy into her mouth. “We know, but it might as well be. Or maybe the plot of some super bad fanfiction.”
And, well, you can’t really argue with that.
But you’d never been good at confrontation, and Sophia keeps looking at you like you’d owe her something. Her lips pulled tightly together, friend whispering in her ear like she knows your deepest darkest secrets.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a subtle prick of insecurity. One that forces you deeper into your seat and into your own head.
The game goes by in a blur, one that you barely pay attention to. It’s not that you don’t want to, but it’s a little difficult when Sophia keeps glancing over at you and laughing with her friends.
You aren’t stupid. You’ve been laughed at before--been the victim of bullies who thought they had the upper hand for whatever reason. But that had been in high school, never in college. And even though you try to push it away—try to block it out—those awful thoughts still crawl their way from the depths of your mind. Thoughts that you hadn’t had since you’d sat alone in a chemistry classroom in tenth grade, back before you’d met Beomgyu.
So, when the game is over (Sunghoon led the team to victory of course, because why wouldn’t he?), you don’t hesitate shrugging your jacket back on and climbing your way over people to get to the exit.
Yunjin and Jungwon stumble behind you, calling your name in an attempt to get you to slow down, but you don’t. Can’t, really.
You didn’t sign up for any of this. Didn’t sign up to be the target of Sophia’s stares, didn’t sign up to be the girl Sunghoons convinced he’s in love with.
You just wanted to go back to your life before. When you were still just in the background with your select circle. You wanted to go back to watching Sunghoon from afar—to being the girl he’d never look twice at.
Because this? This was too much for you.
And you know none of it is his fault, but that almost just makes it worse. He has no idea how much all of this is really hurting you. How much it breaks your heart every time he looks at you like you mean something to him.
The wind hits your face when you step outside, neon lights of the stadium lighting up the parking lot around you. You finally let out a breath, eyes glassy and lips chapped. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you really don’t care.
“[Y/N]!” Yunjin calls, jogging slightly to catch up with you. Her jackets hanging off her arms awkwardly, purse dangling from her elbow. “Where are you going?” She presses, grabbing your bicep gently and forcing you to a stop. “What’s going on?”
You force your gaze to the ground, shoving your hands in your pockets. “I’m going home,” You tell her, voice raw. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. If I had known he was still with Sophia—”
“Woah, hold on,” Yunjin interrupts you. Jungwon approaches then, his blonde hair blowing over his forehead awkwardly. “Did you not hear Sunghoon? They’re broken up.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “They’re always broken up.”
Yunjins lips pull in tight, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Is this because she was here?” She asks you, tone serious and deadly. "You know you don't need to care about whatever it is her and her friends think."
It’s rare for her to speak to you so seriously, always the one looking towards humor to lighten up situations. So when she does, you tend to listen.
“Sophia is a bitch, plain and simple. Sunghoon is not. And he’s actively trying to prove to you that he wants you, and you’re not letting him.” She insists.
You pull your arm from her grip at that, eyebrows knitting together. Does she seriously think anything Sunghoon is doing he actually means? If that were the case, you wouldn't even be in this situation.
“Yunjin, he doesn’t know what he’s doing!” You spit, tone harsher then you mean it. You don’t mean to aim your anger towards her, but she just keeps pushing and pushing until you finally explode. “Don’t you get it? He doesn’t feel like that towards me.” Your voice breaks, eyes brimming with tears. “He doesn’t feel anything towards me.”
Jungwon swallows, his eyes downcast. He was usually good in situations like this, usually the one to take the lead and get you laughing again, but now he can’t even meet your eyes.
Yunjin reaches for you again, sympathy written all over her face, but you pull away. You don’t want her comfort right now, even though you know it comes from a place of love.
You suck in a shaky breath, forcing your gaze onto the sidewalk in front of you. The pavement is wet from rain earlier in the day, collecting in small puddles below your feet. “I’m just going to go home, okay? Tell Sunghoon I’m sorry.”
“[Y/N]…” Yunjin mumbles, but you’re already walking away, arms wrapped around yourself and bottom lip trembling.
Is it pathetic to be crying over a stupid boy and a mean girl? Maybe. But you also know that having feelings is human, and sometimes, when the time is right, it’s okay to cry.
And you think right now is one of those times.
You don’t cry hard. Not full, chest-heaving sobs, just occasional hiccups—a steady stream of tears flowing down your cheeks that you stain your sleeves with every time you wipe at them.
Your apartment is cold when you enter, the air brushing harshly against your face. You shrug your jacket off and toss it onto the couch, padding over to your room with exhaustion sinking into your bones.
You peel off your clothes–the top Yunjin had insisted you wear for Sunghoon suddenly feeling suffocating and tight. It isn’t often you let yourself wallow in self-pity like this, but tonight was going to have to be an exception.
You change into a stained t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a rip in the knees and collapse onto your couch. You wonder if Sunghoon said anything when he noticed you weren’t there. Was he disappointed? Or had he finally realized it wasn’t you he should be chasing after?
Your heart hurts at the thought, aching and heavy in your chest.
It isn't fair to him that you feel like this. It isn't fair to you that he's unknowingly playing with your heart. The entire thing is a bad dream you wish you could just wake up from.
You barely register the knock at your door at first, too stuck in your head while trying to pretend you’re paying attention to whatever sitcom’s playing on the TV.
But then it comes again, not harsh, just louder. More insistent. Like whoever’s on the other side is desperate to see you.
You roll your eyes, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders and forcing yourself to pad over. “Yunjin,” You sigh, clicking the lock and swinging the door open. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
But it isn’t Yunjin standing on the other side. It’s Sunghoon.
His black hair is a mess, bangs covering his eyes in a way you know can’t be comfortable, a pair of black-rimmed glasses resting against his nose. He’s not wearing his jersey anymore, but the black compression shirt he wears under it is still there, a pair of gray sweatpants laying dangerously low on his hips.
He looks dangerously handsome without even trying.
Your breath catches before you can stop it, gaze falling down his body like you’re commiting it to memory. You’re both silent, just staring at eachother, waiting for the other to cut through the tension first.
It shouldn’t hurt seeing him right now as much as it does. You don’t have any claim on him. He loves Sophia, you’ve known that from the start.
So why does it feel like tonight was just one big slap in the face? Like the universe was reminding you of exactly what your place with him really is?
Sunghoon swallows, eyes shaky as they try to search your own. You don’t let him though. You know if you look him in the eye right now, you’ll break, and that’s the last thing you want him to see.
“You left,” He whispers, tone low. You can hear the hurt seeping through his voice, but it’s masked by a weird kind of warmth. Like even though you hurt him, he can’t physically be mad at you.
You think that’s probably a side effect.
You shift your weight uncomfortably, twiddling your thumbs in front of you. You can’t look at him—too scared of what you’ll find if you do.
“Sunghoon,” You start, voice trembling. “You don’t want me.” You don't say it like a question, instead it's a statement.
His fingers tighten into fists at his sides, knuckles going pale. “Why do you keep assuming you know what I want?” He asks.
You shake your head, “You’re just confused—”
“Stop,” He interrupts, taking a small step towards you. “Stop saying that when I know I've never been more clear headed in my life.”
You stiffen, unsure of how to respond. You know for a fact he has no idea what he’s doing or talking about. And that’s what makes it hurt the most. He genuinely believes he loves you, and fuck, you’d give anything for it to be real.
His hand reaches out, but he hesitates and drops it back to his side. "Let me prove it to you, okay? Just like I said I would. No games. No Sophia. Just me and you.”
You force your gaze up then, eyes narrowed. You shouldn’t say yes, not when your heart is already on the brink of collapse. But Sunghoons staring at you like he’ll break into pieces if you say no—like the thought of you rejecting him is too much to handle.
You lean against the doorframe, lips twisting slightly. “I don't know,” You attempt, “it’s already so late and I look a mess—”
“Please,” he breathes out, voice wrecked. “Stop thinking so hard and let me show you how much you mean to me.”
Your knuckles tighten until your fingernails dig into your palms, forming little crescent-shaped marks into the soft skin. Everything inside of you is telling you to say no. To tell him to go home and lock himself in his room until Beomgyu figures out how to fix this.
But there’s still that small part of you—the part that wonders if maybe he really did mean every sweet word that fell from his perfect lips. If maybe, just maybe, all of this was real.
And that part of you wins.
Sunghoon doesn’t let you change—just ushers you into your jacket and leads you with a hand on your lower back out of your apartment and back towards the rink.
You don’t notice that’s where you’re heading at first, not until the lights outside the parking lot come into view. Your stomach twists at the memory of your last conversation with Yunjin and Jungwon, but you push it away. You’d fix things tomorrow.
“Why are we here?” You ask, glancing up at the raven-haired boy. His palm hasn’t left your back since you started walking, almost like he was staking his claim there. Imprinting the shape of him into your skin like it’s second nature.
He shrugs, mischief flashing in his smile. “You’ll see.”
You’ve never seen the stadium empty before, but now that you are, it makes you realize just how daunting it really is. The lights pointed at the rink are still on, reflecting off of the ice and glinting across its surface. You can see the slight scuff marks and dents from numerous skates, small puddles forming in their wake.
Sunghoon jogs in front of you, pulling out a set of keys and opening the gate that the hockey players use to get onto the rink. He holds an arm out to you, gesturing for you to come over to him.
You do so cautiously, arms wrapped around yourself. The ice from the rink makes the air frigid, crawling up your spine like a garden snake. Menacing, but not dangerous.
“I don’t have any skates.” You mumble.
Sunghoon smiles, reaching out and wiggling your hand out from where it rests under your arm, “That’s okay,” He says softly, intertwining your fingers. His hands are large, this is something you’ve always known. It’s hard not to notice when he makes his pencil look like a fucking mini-brand every time he writes down his notes—but now you realize just how much they dwarf your own. “We don't need them.”
He pulls you onto the rink then, and feet immediately slip on the slick ice. You yelp when you feel your foot begin to slide from beneath you, back arching and spare arm flinging to your side, but Sunghoon grips your hand and pulls you to his chest like he’d been expecting it.
You huff when your face meets his chest, heat crawling viciously up your neck from embarrassment. Sunghoons chest vibrates with laughter against your cheek, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pull you closer to him.
“Finally falling for me?” He teases.
If only he knew.
You scoff and cautiously step away from him, tightening the muscles in your legs so you don’t slip again. “You wish.” You say, meaning for it to come out harsh, but instead it sounds soft. Playful. Everything it shouldn’t be.
He rolls his eyes and drags you to the middle of the ice, careful not to tug too hard or walk too fast, instead matching his pace with yours.
You look around at the thousands of seats surrounding you, the blinding lights on the ice. There isn’t even anyone here, and you still feel slightly intimidated. It makes you wonder how he’s able to deal with all of it so efficiently.
He stops suddenly, forcing you to as well. For a split second, you think he almost looks nervous.
He sucks in a breath, brown eyes finding your own. You just raise your brows, staring at him expectantly. You assume he must’ve brought you here for something—it’s just whatever that is that puts you slightly on edge.
“Do you remember that glass duck you carried around at the beginning of the year? The one with the weird monocle and pink jacket?” He asks, releasing your hand and shoving it into his coat pocket. You can see something round in there, you just have no idea what it is.
You frown. You do remember that duck. You’d found it on your trip with Yunjin to Europe over the summer in some rundown antique shop. It was stupidly overpriced and honestly kind of ugly, but you’d fallen in love with it for whatever reason. Maybe because it was a little different then the other ducks, with a weirdly shaped beak and slightly bigger beady eyes. But it was perfect to you.
At least, it was until Jungwon accidently broke it on Halloween weekend. He’d drunkenly slammed into you and knocked it loose from its place on your bag, and it ultimately shattered as soon as it hit the floor. You remember you’d been devastated and refused to talk to Jungwon for a week after, but that was it. You hadn't really thought twice about it for a while now.
But, how did Sunghoon know about it? Why was he asking you? You’d never talked about it with him—hell, you barely said two words to him back then.
Your chin lowers slightly in suspicion, “I do, yes. Why?”
He swallows, and you can see his free hand twitch. “Well, I saw it break at that party on Halloween. And you looked so sad. And…I really hated it. So,” He takes a breath, finally revealing whatever it was he had in his pocket. “I fixed it.”
You blink. Once. Twice. He’s holding out the duck to you, cracks from where it'd shattered all over its little glass body but ultimately put back together.
It takes you a second to fully process what’s going on, but once you do your lips part in a gasp and you take it from him. You hold it up to your face, cradling it in your hands. “How did you—what? Why? I-I don’t understand—” You’re talking so fast you barely even understand yourself, but Sunghoon just laughs, and you notice the way his shoulders slowly relax in relief.
He shrugs, like this is any other day and he didn’t just reveal to you he’d fixed your most prized possession. “I didn't want you to lose it,” He admits, taking a careful step towards you. “You don’t deserve to lose things you love.”
You glance up at him then, and you realize just how close he really is. The last time you’d been in this position he’d placed a soft kiss on your hairline, and although your heart feels like it’s skipping a beat, it’s not out of fear this time.
It’s something more dangerous, something you shouldn’t be allowing yourself to feel. Not with his condition. You glance back down to the glass duck, hesitation gnawing at your stomach.
Ultimately, you know that what you feel for Sunghoon is not returned. But this... this changes things. He’d taken the time all those months ago, before the experiment was even thought of, and fixed something you’d deemed unfixable simply because he didn’t want you to be sad. Usually, you’d think that meant something.
But isn’t that also just the kind of boy he is? Kind, golden-hearted Park Sunghoon. Campus golden boy. Star hockey player. Everything you could never have.
“Sunghoon,” You breathe out shakily, still holding the duck in your palm. “Thank you.”
Although you're feeling conflicted about where he really stands with you, you know you're overall grateful. You've never had someone do something so kind for you simply because they can.
He doesn’t respond, just gives you a shy smile. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look so bashful. It’s cute. “It wasn’t any problem.”
You hum, tapping your nails against the duck's glass tail. “Can I ask why you needed to bring me here to give me this?” You question, a teasing lilt to your voice.
He shrugs, “It’s more romantic here then in the middle of your living room.”
You laugh aloud at that. For once, the mention of romance with him doesn’t make you want to throw up and die all at the same time. Instead, it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy and all the things you know are going to hurt you in the end.
Because while this entire illusion is going to be over at some point, right now, in this moment, Sunghoon is in love with you. And you’re starting to wonder just how wrong it’d be to let him.
Your heart is heavy in the morning as you fidget with the duck. It’s hanging off your purse again, safely locked into place with a keychain. You’d asked Jungwon and Yunjin to meet you for coffee so you could talk, and both had agreed easily.
You guys never really did well with bad blood. Any arguments you had were always resolved fairly quickly, because otherwise it would simmer until you thought too hard about it and ended up doing something you regretted.
And you know you owe them an apology–Yunjin, especially. She’d only been trying to help, and you’d spat venom at her like she’d done something wrong. You didn’t want to be like that, and it was important to you that she knew how sorry you were. That they both knew.
They arrive together, steps slow as they approach the table you’d saved. You shoot them a sad smile, unsure of just how angry they were.
They sit next to each other across from you, sharing a glance that makes your stomach churn. You suck in a breath, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry,” You start, choosing to skip the awkward pleasantries and getting straight to the point. “You guys didn’t deserve that. At all. And I–”
“Stop,” Yunjin sighs, not letting you finish. Your heart drops, immediately assuming she's about to end your friendship. But she doesn't--instead, she points between herself and Jungwon and says with a quiet finality, “We should be the ones apologizing.”
You raise a brow at that, spine straightening in your seat. “What? No–”
“Yes,” Jungwon interrupts now, his eyes full of concern. “You were rightfully upset with everything going on, and we pushed it aside simply because we didn’t understand how you were feeling.” He sniffs, head tilting to the side slightly. “I didn’t realize how hard this must all be for you. Having the guy you like constantly telling you he’s in love with you, and then not even know if he means it? It’s unfair to you.”
You’re silent, a wave of relief and guilt crashing over you at once. You’re relieved that your emotions are being validated, but you also feel guilty that they think they need to apologize to you when you yourself are struggling with what you should feel. Before last night, you would've agreed with them wholeheartedly, but now you weren’t sure. You glance down at the figurine hanging from your bag once, heart filling with so much warmth you think it may burst.
“You’re right,” You murmur, leaning back in your chair. “It is unfair, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe…maybe I was wrong.”
Yunjin’s eyes widen, confusion written all over her face. “What?”
You smile softly, reaching for your purse and spinning it around so they can see the once-broken glass duck. They both study it for a moment, and you watch as recognition flashes in their eyes.
Jungwon frowns and looks back at you. “I thought I broke that ugly thing?”
“It’s not ugly,” You scoff, snatching your bag back and carefully unclipping the little duck from where it hangs. You place it in the middle of the table with a small shrug. “He fixed it.”
The three of you stare at it, studying the cracks the run along it’s surface.
“What do you mean he fixed it?” Yunjin asks.
“I mean,” You sigh, “He saw it break on Halloweekend, and took it upon himself to fucking glue it back together.”
A beat. And then, “Are you serious?”
You don’t laugh, even though you want to. It is entirely ridiculous, but it happened. You’ve spent the last twelve hours mulling it over in your mind, and you can only come to one conclusion.
Maybe Sunghoon noticed you more than you thought.
And if that were true, what did it mean now?
You manage a soft smile, picking at the skin around your fingers mindlessly. “Yep,” You hum, popping the P. “Gave it to me last night.”
Yunjin squeals, gripping Jungwon's bicep and shaking him. He huffs and rips his arm from her grip. “Quit!” He hisses.
Yunjin just ignores him, her full attention on you. “I know I shouldn’t be feeding into this anymore, but that,” She gestures towards the duck, “That is more than some stupid experiment.”
You sigh, voice small when you say, “I know. I just…I don’t know what the right thing to do is anymore.”
And for the first time, you’re starting to feel like you’re finally being honest with yourself.
“Well,” Jungwon shrugs, leaning back in the booth. The waitress comes around and drops off three milkshakes, vanilla for yourself, and chocolate for Jungwon and Yunjin. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try it out.”
Your eyebrows furrow, “Test it out?” You repeat, taking a small spoonful of whipped cream and stuffing it into your mouth. You'd always been a sucker for ice cream.
Jungwon nods, “There’s a party tomorrow night to celebrate the hockey team's win last night. Sunghoon will obviously be there, and maybe you can test out what he does when it’s not just the two of you.”
Yunjin sucks in a sharp breath, “But,” She draws, “Sophia will be there too.”
Jungwon snaps his fingers, “My point exactly.”
You aren’t really understanding where he’s trying to go with this. “So what?”
Jungwon continues, “We don’t really know if he’s still under the influence of the experiment,” He explains, nodding towards the duck, “that changes things. So, I think we should see if his feelings are real or not at the party.”
Your lips twist in thought, “How do you plan to do that?” You push. It's not that you don't understand what he's trying to say, it's just hard for your head to fully wrap around it.
He smiles then, that same mischievous smile he’d given you all those weeks ago when he’d initially suggested this whole disaster, and it’s then that you know you shouldn’t listen to anything that comes out of his mouth.
“Simple,” He shrugs, taking a sip of his milkshake. “We ask.”
Your lips part to respond, but your phone ringing in your pocket interrupts you. Beomgyu’s name flashes across the screen, bold white letters that usually bring you comfort, but strangely are now doing the opposite.
You clear your throat, “Hello?”
Beomgyu’s voice sounds from the other side, exhausted and groggy, but he’s got that spark he always does when he says, “I did it.”
You glance up at Yunjin and Jungwon, stomach twisting low. “Did what?”
“I figured it out,” He swallows, “I’ve got the cure or whatever we’re calling it.”
And while it should be relief that floods your chest, instead what you’re met with is a cold pinch of disappointment.
You’d never been one for parties. Even now, dressed in some slim black dress Yunjin picked for you, a vial of something you aren’t even sure works in your purse, you’re reminded just why you don’t like them.
They’re overcrowded, filled with college students all looking to either pass out drunk or find someone to fuck until they forget why they were even there in the first place. It wasn’t your crowd, and you’d found peace with that a long time ago.
And yet, you're still here.
Beomgyu nudges your shoulder, eyes searching around the crowd of sweaty bodies. He wasn’t one for parties either, but when you explained to him just why you were coming, he insisted on joining. Of course, Yunjin and Jungwon had been ecstatic and you had to explain to them that you were not coming just to have a good time.
You were coming to find out the truth, and that was it.
“Are you sure he’s here?” Beomgyu asks.
You nod, “He texted me earlier and invited me. Said he’d meet us here.”
Sunghoon had been slightly surprised but happy when you confirmed you already planned to come. He’d told you he might get a little busy with people trying to talk to him, but he’d make sure to try and come find you at some point. You'd scoffed, in disbelief that you seemed to have to schedule a time to talk to him. You knew he was popular, but people here seriously treated him like some celebrity and not a normal college student.
Yunjin smiles next to you, plucking a drink from the countertop. She tips it back against her mouth and chugs it, wiping off the small droplet that spills from her lips.
Beomgyu makes a disgusted face, “You don’t even know where that came from.”
“Does it matter?” She asks, grabbing another one and shoving it towards you, “It all ends up in someone's stomach.”
You push her hand away and take a cautious step back. “I’m good, thanks.”
She just shrugs like she’d been expecting that and hands it to Jungwon, who happily accepts it. “Suit yourself.”
You don’t respond, instead unknowingly floating closer to Beomgyu. Your eyes rake along the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar head of black hair, but instead you’re met with the one person you didn’t want to see.
Sophia is wearing a soft baby pink skirt and a white top that make her look like the picture of innocence, lips red and tempting. The guy she’s flirting with clearly isn’t immune to her strategy, because his eyes keep falling down to her soft neckline like he’s hoping he’ll suddenly develop x-ray vision.
Normally, the sight of her wouldn’t bother you. It really shouldn’t considering you haven’t interacted with her at all outside of the hockey incident. But, for some reason, all you can see when you look at her is Sunghoon.
Sunghoon looking at her like she’d hung the moon and stars. Sunghoon dragging her to his games. Sunghoon fixing things for her simply because he didn’t want her to be sad. Sunghoon telling her he loves her.
You have no right to feel it, but jealousy curls deep in your stomach.
You recognize the boy she’s talking to. Jay, The hockey teams co-captain, and Sunghoons roommate. The same roommate who you’re assuming slept with Sophia.
You don’t know any of the details–never thought it appropriate to ask, really. But you do know that if Sunghoon saw this, he’d probably be pissed. You wonder if that’s why she’s flirting with him so openly, because she wants Sunghoon to see. You wouldn’t put it beneath her.
The night continues like that, with you and Beomgyu hanging around awkwardly while Yunjin and Jungwon drink until their vision goes blurry. You keep catching glimpses of Sophia, and each time she’s talking to a different guy. A different pawn, actually.
You haven't even seen Sunghoon once, which is kind of strange considering this party is kind of for him. You’d even texted him, a quick "you here?" and had gotten no reply.
The antidote feels heavy in your purse for reasons you can’t exactly explain. You were going to give it to him tonight no matter what, you’d already decided that. Even if you found out that this entire thing meant more to him then you thought it did, you were going to give it to him. Your heart flutters in your chest at the thought, forcing yourself to bite back a smile.
You know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, but it’s hard. The duck had to be proof that this whole thing wasn’t just a massive fuck up–maybe it was exactly what you’d needed to finally lead the both of you to each other.
And then, as if it’s fate throwing it in your face, you see Sunghoon.
He’s laughing at something someone's saying, his cheeks flushed and hair falling over his forehead like he’d deliberately placed it there. He looks good–but when does he not?
You nudge Beomgyu (Yunjin and Jungwon are too busy on the dance floor) and nod your head towards the black-haired man.
Beomgyu exhales lowly and grips the strap of your bag. “No matter what he says, he has to drink this.” He insists, “I know it might be easier to keep up with the lie–”
“I know,” You interrupt, placing your hand atop his. You give it a light squeeze, “No matter the outcome, he has to drink it.”
Beomgyu physically exhales and then shoots you a small smile, “For what it’s worth,” He murmurs, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Yeah,” You reply, “Neither do I.” And you really mean it.
Sunghoon doesn’t notice you approach at first, not until you push past one of his friends—Heeseung, you think his name is—and his attention snaps to you.
The look he gives you isn’t one you’re used to seeing from him. It’s softer. Like light rain on a warm day. Like the beginning stages of a love that lasts a lifetime.
Every other time it’s been strong. Fierce. Like a house fire at its peak. But now…now it makes your heart melt just like it did when you’d seen him for the first time three years ago.
“Hi,” You breathe.
“Hi.” He replies.
His friends have dispersed now, leaving just you and him in the sea of bodies. The moonlight filters through the windows, reflecting across his face in a way that really should be illegal.
“You came,” He says after a moment, but he doesn’t sound surprised.
“I did.”
The air crackles between you in a way it never has before. Real and raw and entirely strange. It should scare you—it does scare you—but you lean into the feeling. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned the past couple of weeks, it’s to embrace the fear.
You reach into your purse and pull out the vial. It’s small, with a few drops of a see-through pink liquid that you don’t think anyone should ever be drinking.
“I need you to do something for me,” You tell him, voice shaking slightly. Embrace the fear, you remind yourself. “I need you to drink this.” You say, pushing the vial towards him.
His eyes flicker down to it, and then back up to yours, and for a moment you think he looks guilty.
“Look, [Y/N]—”
“Hoonie!” Your blood feels like it goes cold. Sophia approaches from behind you, shoving past and making her way in front of you like weren’t even there.
“I got your text,” She grins, voice sweet. But you know she knows what she’s doing. You know she’s doing it on purpose to upset you, but you’re not going to give her that satisfaction. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to your senses.”
Oh.
Your eyes widen slightly, something mean twisting in your stomach. Your heart feels heavy in a way that physically hurts. Of course. The experiment must’ve worn off, and he was trying to figure out the best way to tell you that he hadn’t meant anything he’d said. That’s why the air between the two of you had been so different.
You look at the antidote in your hand, and suddenly it feels pointless. Beomgyu did all that work just for it to wear off on its own. But you’d promised that you’d get him to drink it no matter what, and you weren’t planning on breaking that.
Sunghoon shakes his head, “Sophia, that’s not why I texted you.” He practically spits, “Stop trying to spin this into something you know it’s not.”
She looks genuinely taken aback for a moment but recovers swiftly. “I’m not trying to do anything,” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re the one who asked me to meet you, yes?”
His eyes flicker to yours, like he’s begging you to hear him out before you jump to conclusions. “I did, but—”
“Then what else am I supposed to assume? Unless,” She turns back to you then, finally acknowledging the fact that you’re there. The sneer on her face when she looks at you is nearly enough to make you feel small. “You didn’t want to say it in front of your rebound.”
Sunghoon visibly bristles, “She’s not—”
But you've heard enough. “It’s fine,” you say, not letting him finish. You manage a small smile, but it feels like poison against your skin. “I just need you to drink this so we can make sure everything goes back to normal without any hiccups.”
You push it back towards him, but he refuses to take it. “[Y/N], just let me explain.” He begs.
“You don’t need to explain to me.” You reply, and you mean it. You’d done the exact thing you’d been afraid of since the beginning, and that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault that you’d taken everything too seriously despite knowing it was all manufactured by your own hands. He’d just been an accidental victim. “Just drink it and then we can pretend none of this ever happened.”
When you let your eyes meet his, it hurts so bad you think you’ll collapse right there and then. He looks genuinely devastated, eyebrows pulled taut and lips parted. But you can’t for the life of you understand why. He was getting what he wanted, right? He was getting Sophia back. He was getting his life back. And so were you.
So why does it feel like nothing will ever be the same again?
He looks like he’s going to protest again, but holds back. Whether it’s for his own sake or yours, you aren’t sure.
He takes the vial from you with shaky hands, unscrewing the cap and swallowing it down in one gulp. He doesn’t make a face, even though you’re sure it can’t taste pleasant.
Once it’s done, you don’t bother saying bye. You just nod at him and turn on your heel, ignoring the smirk you can practically feel growing on Sophia’s face.
Sunghoon got what he wanted. So did you. That’s all that should matter.
But you still can’t stop the tears from flooding your eyes.
You don't look for your friends, you just get out of there as fast as possible. You knew this would happen, it was exactly why you'd been so worrued at first. And you did exactly what you said you would, you got too involved. You let his words seep through the cracks in your walls instead of strengthening them.
And now you weren't sure they'd ever be fully put back together again.
You spend the next few days locked away in your dorm. You skip class, even though you know you shouldn’t, and spend your time watching reruns of New Girl and eating bowls of Lucky Charms.
Usually, hiding away for a few days and letting yourself marinate in your ugly helps. But it’s been days since the party, and the ache in your chest hasn’t subsided at all.
Sunghoon tried to text you once, just to check up on you since you hadn’t shown up to class, but you didn’t respond; just shut off your phone and shoved it in between the couch cushions.
You’d known this would happen when it started. Knew you’d end up hurt, and the worst part was that it wasn’t even anyone’s fault. There was no one you could shift blame onto; no one you could justify being angry with.
It’d all just spiraled out of control before you could fix it.
The following Monday you finally decide to suck it up and go to class. You weren’t going to let a boy get in the way of your schooling, even if the thought of seeing him made you sick to your stomach. (Also because Yunjin had threatened to call your mom if you didn’t show up again, and you really didn’t want to have to deal with that.)
Your feet drag when you get there, head hanging low. You’re expecting Sunghoon to have gone back to his spot before, but when you look up, he’s still in the chair next to yours. He looks different. Tired, almost. Like he hasn’t gotten proper sleep in days. You doubt you look any better.
You approach cautiously, hoping and praying that he won’t try and say anything to you. Does he even remember everything that happened? Was memory loss a symptom? You weren’t really sure, and you weren’t that interested in finding out.
You feel his eyes on you when you sit down, pulling out your computer and crossing one leg over the other. You’re hoping you look the picture of casual, not like your heart was just unknowingly crushed by the boy next to you.
Sunghoon, for what its worth, doesn’t talk to you for the majority of the lesson. Just shakes his leg anxiously and sneaks not-so-subtle glances your way. He keeps biting his bottom lip like he wants to say something, but stops himself before he can. Truthfully, it takes everything in you to not look at him. It’d be so easy to look into those brown eyes and remember everything he’d said–to remember every almost-kiss and every i love you that spilled from his lips like oil spilling into an endless clear blue sea.
It’d be so easy to pretend that nothing had changed between you. That the last two weeks had never happened and things were still how they were before–when he was the moon and you were the star blinking just for him, hoping for just a sliver of attention.
But, you know things will never be the same.
You barely even register the lesson ending, not until you feel Yunjin at your side. She must’ve known you’d need her support right now, and that much you can appreciate.
“You good?” She mumbles, glancing over at Sunghoon. The lecture hall has begun to clear out now, only a few stragglers remaining. Everyone must be ready to get out of this weather.
You nod, but it’s not sincere. “Yeah,” You manage, stuffing your laptop into your bag. It clinks against the glass duck softly, and your heart twists again. “I’m all good.”
Yunjin gives you a look that says she doesn't believe you, but she doesn't push. You stand, starting to make your way down the stairs and finally away from him–but he stops you.
“[Y/N].”
You almost don’t hear him at first, but you’d recognize that tone anywhere. The same one he’d used when he asked you to come to the rink with him. Insistence teetering on the edge of pleading, but there's something that underlines it. Something you’ve been recognizing within yourself a little too much lately.
You make the mistake of turning to look at him, and your breath catches in your throat. That look in his eyes is one you’ve seen before, the same one you’d convinced yourself meant nothing.
Pure, unfiltered, love.
Except now there isn’t any experiment to fall back on.
“Can we…” He glances back at Yunjin and clears his throat. “Can we talk?”
Everything inside of you screams at you to say no–to turn around and ignore the way your body feels like it’s being pulled towards him. Like the world has tilted on its axis and he is your only source of gravity.
Against your own will, you hear yourself say, “Okay.”
You’ve only ever felt genuine fear three times in your life.
That time in the second grade when your dad thought it’d be funny to take you on a roller-coaster despite your fear of heights, and you’d cried so hard you ended up throwing up onto the lady in front of you. Then, there was the time you’d accidently switched up a water bottle and literal acid your freshman year of college and watched as your professor drank one of the liquids (It’d been the water, thank God). And, of course, the time you watched Sunghoon drink your experiment.
But now, standing in some empty corridor with Park Sunghoon, you think you might have to add this to the list.
Embrace the fear, you remind yourself.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just stares at you with this unreadable look in his eyes. His hands are shoved in his coat pockets, posture slightly slumped. He doesn’t look like the put together golden-boy you’d fallen in love with. He looks more vulnerable; more like a person instead of an idea.
He sniffles and juts his chin towards the duck hanging off your bag, “You aren’t scared it’ll break again?” He asks softly.
You glance down at the cracked glass, reaching out and holding it between your fingers. “I guess I wasn’t worried,” You mumble, “Because last time it shattered someone put it back together.”
You hear his breath catch at that, and he takes a small step towards you. He’s close enough now that you can smell his cologne, can feel the ghost of his lips on the crown of your head.
“Do you know why I fixed it?” He asks.
You swallow, having to lift your head slightly to see him. “Because you’re a nice person, Sunghoon.” You murmur, forcing yourself to take a small step back. Enough distance that his presence doesn’t feel like it’s consuming your very soul. “You would’ve done it for anyone.”
He breathes out a disbelieving laugh, “That’s not true.”
“What do you mean?”
His eyebrows knit together, “I know you’re smarter than that.” Even though his words are harsh, his tone is soft. Like he can’t even conceptualize the concept of being upset with you. Like it's an emotion he’s never even experienced.
He’s right, you are smarter than that. But last time you let yourself believe, you’d ended up exactly where you knew you would be–with a broken heart and tear-stained cheeks.
“You don’t understand,” You manage, voice breaking slightly. “You don’t feel that for me. I know you don’t.”
“How do you know that?”
You pause, bottom lip finding it’s way between your teeth. “You’ve been with Sophia for so long, and I’m just-just me. She’s beautiful and popular and I spend more time watching fucking Harry Potter with my friends then I do actually socializing and–”
Sunghoon cuts you off, voice level. “Exactly.”
You blink. “What?”
“Sure, Sophia is popular and objectively beautiful, but she isn’t you.”
It takes you a moment to fully process what he’s saying. But still, all you can find in yourself to manage is a quiet, “What?”
He takes another step closer, enclosing in on your personal space like he's always belonged there. “She isn’t you.” He repeats.
You’ve only felt genuine fear four times in your life. But only once has it ever melted into something so genuine–something so raw and real that your heart has felt like it was bursting at the seams.
“That night Jungwon shattered your duck, you said something. Do you remember what it was?”
You shake your head softly. All you remember from that night is how upset you’d been that it’d happened and trying to find it in yourself to forgive Jungwon.
Sunghoon’s lips twitch softly, “You said you loved it because it was different. You said you didn’t care that it was a little strange on the outside, because you knew it had a good heart.”
You don’t even remember those words coming out of your mouth. Honestly, you don’t even remember Sunghoon being close enough to hear them.
“I think that’s when I fell in love with you,” He admits quietly. “I didn’t know it at first, but it was there. Everytime you sat down in class and tried not to laugh at something Yunjin said, everytime I saw you and Jungwon studying at the library, I felt it.” He sucks in a breath, “And then I drank the experiment.”
You shudder at the memory, lips twisting slightly in discomfort. You’re expecting him to say that it made him realize his feelings for you weren’t actually there–that this was all just an elaborately cruel way to reject you.
But then, without even blinking, he says, “But it didn’t work.”
Your world stops for a moment. There’s no way that’s possible. You’d seen him with your own two eyes acting like a fool to get your attention. Constantly following you around, texting you late into the night, tucking your hair behind your ear–all things he’d done because the experiment gave him the confidence to. But, if that wasn’t true and the experiment hadn’t worked then that meant that all of it had been real. There’d never been any pretend. There’d never been any accidents.
It’d all been real.
Your eyes widen, hands gesturing in front of you. “But that doesn’t make any sense.” You insist, “You were acting like you…” Love me. The words linger in the air, like mistletoe teasing you.
You think at first, part of you still didn’t believe that he loved you even with him standing here pouring his heart out to you. It just didn’t make any sense in your head. But now it was undeniable. It was a burning truth that had forced its way into the light without so much as apologizing.
“Because I do,” He murmurs, “And maybe it was stupid to go about it this way. I won’t argue with you on that. But, can you blame me? Do you know how hard it was to approach you?”
You scoff, “Me? What about you? And what about Sophia–”
He shakes his head, “That’s done. Has been for a long time now. That’s why I texted her at the party, I wanted to make sure she finally got it through her head that there was nothing there.”
“Oh.”
Sunghoon chuckles, voice deep and soft. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Oh.”
You look up at him now, into those swimming pools of chestnut. His pupils are slightly dilated, light reflecting off of his irises in a way that looks serene. The air around you fills with a soft tension, one that you’d have to focus on to even really notice.
You don’t miss the way his eyes glance down at your lips, silently asking for a permission you’d given him years ago.
He leans in closer, breath warm against your lips. “I really want to kiss you right now,” He murmurs. Your skin tingles when his fingers brush the apple of your cheek, before cupping it softly.
You lean into him, reaching a hand up to cover his own. “What’s stopping you?”
He smiles, a big toothy grin that shows off his canines, and then leans forward slowly.
It isn’t really a kiss at first, more like he's just lingering there, letting your breaths intermix. His hand travels from your cheek to the side of your neck, gently holding you in place.
And then he surges forward, mouth moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize you. He’s gentle, holding you like you’re something fragile—like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he pushes too hard.
He pulls away slowly, grinning from ear to ear like he’s just won the lottery. “You have no idea how bad I've wanted to do that.”
You giggle, heat crawling up your stomach and swirling around your cheeks. “Maybe you should do it again just to make sure it sticks.”
Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate then. His hand finds your waist and pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours in a way that makes your head spin. You think colors swirl behind your eyes, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
“I love you,” Sunghoon murmurs against your lips, “I love the way your nose scrunches when you’re focused,” He kisses the tip of your nose. “I love how kind you are even when people don’t deserve it,” Another one to your cheek. “I love that you’re unapologetically you.”
Your heart stutters, laughter bubbling out of your chest uncontrollably.
“You sure it isn’t because you accidentally drank a love potion?” You tease, reaching a hand up to tangle in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.
He huffs, finally pulling away so he can get a good look at you. “I don’t think I’d need a love potion to find my way to you.” He says, voice so sincere it nearly makes tears spring to your eyes.
So, yeah. The thing about Biochemistry is that it’s extremely difficult and sometimes shows you that maybe you should let your curiosity remain exactly that—curiosity.
But sometimes, if you’re lucky, it can lead you to exactly where you’re supposed to go.
Sunghoons hand traces down your arm until it finds your hand, and he easily intertwines your fingers like he was always supposed to fit there. “Let me take you home?”
For the first time, you see no reason to argue. No reason to protect your heart or turn him away. So, without a single protest, you say, “Okay.”
You aren’t sure exactly how it happened. One minute Sunghoons walking you home, smiling like a kid in a candy store, and the next he’s kissing you like he’ll die if he isn’t touching you. Your apartment door shuts softly behind you, leaving just the two of you in your space.
You remember the last time he’d been in here, how he’d kissed the crown of your head with tender care. He’d seemed nervous then, like the action was scandalous. Now, it was nearly the opposite.
He isn’t rough, no, he’s deliberate. Fingertips tracing across the curve of your waist, teasing against the hem of your shirt. He kisses you like you’re the oxygen he needs to survive, like he's an addict and your lips are his fix.
It steals your breath away and breathes the air into your lungs all at once.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” He grunts against you, hands tugging at your waist and pulling you closer against him until you’re flush against his body.
“Sunghoon,” You gasp when you feel the growing bulge in his pants brush against your thigh. “Don’t you ever stop.”
That’s all it takes before he’s tapping your thigh once and lifting you into his arms. His hands take up half your thighs, kneading the skin as he carries you to your bedroom. You’re giggling the whole way there, hearts in your eyes and cheeks flushed.
He places you down on the bed gently, your hair fawning out around you like a halo. He sucks in a breath and crawls over you, eyes trained on your face. His knuckles brush your cheek, and you lean into it on pure instinct.
“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, voice tender. “Can’t believe you’re letting me love you.”
You smile, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “There’s no one in this world for me except for you, Park Sunghoon.”
He grins, burying his face in the nape of your neck like he’s embarrassed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” You answer, not even having to second guess yourself. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”
He whines at your words, lips tracing across the skin of your neck, the length of your jaw, the space behind your ear, tongue darting out occasionally to mark you as his.
He tugs gently at your shirt and you arch your back so he can pull it over your head and toss it across the room, but it gets stuck on your elbow and he has to tug it loose. You laugh when it finally comes off, your hair falling in places it isn’t supposed to.
Sunghoon giggles and pecks your lips. “You’re making this difficult," he teases.
You just shrug and settle back down, ignoring the way his fingers trail over your bare stomach and pop open the button of your jeans. “I have to make you work for it.”
He smirks, devilish and no longer with any of that boyishness he’d had earlier. “Yeah, baby?” He whispers, voice husky. “Want me to beg you to let me taste you?”
Your breath hitches, bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore.
He unzips your jeans and slowly drags them down your legs, tossing them to the floor and out of sight. “Want me to beg you to let me fuck you?” He continues.
You whimper, the sound escaping you without your permission. You’d be lying if you said the idea of Sunghoon on his knees for you doesn’t make something burn deep in your belly, but the thought of admitting that to him make your nerves spike with embarrassment.
He chuckles, sinking down to his knees until his face is level with your cunt. You can’t help but squirm in place, because even though your panties still cover you, you feel completely exposed. If you would’ve known this was going to happen today, you would’ve worn something much cuter. Not your days of the week pantied and an old bra that was a pathetic excuse for lacy.
Sunghoons breath ghosts against your growing slick, and you know your panties are already damp. “You gonna let me touch you, baby?” He asks.
You nod your head insistently, hips searching for any kind of relief. He just chuckles and places a hand on your tummy to hold you down. “Need to hear you say it.” He murmurs. You can feel his lips brushing against your core, his nose nudging in the junction of your hip. He’s so close to giving you what you want, but he won’t. Not until he hears it coming from your own lips.
“Please,” You gasp. Your own voice sounds so needy, completely foreign to your own ears. “Wan’ you to touch me, Hoon.”
He groans, but immediately obliges. He doesn’t devour you at first, just lets his tongue lick small little kitten licks over your panties. You jump at the feeling, but he uses his spare hand to grip your hip and hold you down.
He’s messy with it, even when he’s being gentle. He licks you open until you’re teary eyed and your panties are so drenched they look nearly see-through. He just sighs dreamily, like he’s enjoying some five-star meal and not like he’s eating you out like his life depends on it.
Pretty soon though you get over feeling everything without actually feeling it, because yes, it feels fucking insane–but you want to actually feel his lips against your bare folds. Want to feel him suck against your clit while his fingers get you ready to take him. It’s just actually admitting that that’s the hard part.
“Sunghoon,” You whine, hips stuttering slightly. “Stop teasing me.”
He pulls off of you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I’m not teasing you, baby.” He chuckles, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip.
You huff, “You are.”
He raises a brow and begins to stand, and your stomach immediately drops. “You want me to stop then?”
“No!” You cry, shaking your head furiously. “God, no, don’t-don’t stop.”
He nods slowly, finding his place on his knees in front of you once again. “Then be a good girl and tell me what you want.”
It shouldn't be as embarrassing as it is. You’re a twenty-something year old woman with a sparkling GPA and enough experience under your belt that asking for something like this should be easy. But Sunghoons looking at you so tenderly, his hair a slight mess and eyes fucked out without even having been touched, and you’re finding it difficult to get the words out.
“I want…” You suck in a shaky breath, forcing your gaze to the ceiling. “I want you to eat me out. Properly.”
He grins and presses a chaste skin to the inside of your thigh. “See?” He hums, “that wasn’t so hard was it?”
You don't bother giving him a response, because he’s already pulling your panties off your legs and plunging back in like a man starved. His lips wrap around your clit and suck the bud into his mouth, causing your back to arch and a loud moan to fall from your lips.
He doesn’t stop after that, licking and sucking with such expertise you wonder how Sophia could ever want anything else. She had all this and genuinely thought she was going to get better? What a fucking joke.
“S-Sunghoon–” You gasp, fingers tightening into fists in his hair. He groans when you tug lightly, and you swear you see his hips roll against nothing.
The hand on your belly travels down until he reaches your fluttering hole, gently pushing his middle finger inside of you. The stretch isn’t intense, more like just a subtle pressure between your hips, but it’s drowned out by the stimulation against your clit.
His fingers aren’t abnormally large, but they are long. So long he finds your g-spot with ease and curls his finger against it until you swear you’re seeing stars. You let out a choked whimper, hips stuttering against him.
He seems to take that as a good sign because he’s slipping another finger inside now, intensifying the stretch and making your eyes roll back. His fingers move in tandem with his tongue, licking and thrusting until your vision starts to blur at the corners. You’re close, you know it–can feel it tightening deep in your stomach.
“Gonna-gonna cum, fuck, m’cumming–”
Sunghoon hums, and the vibrations are exactly what you need to reach your peak. Your back bows off the bed, mouth falling open and eyes squeezing shut. You release with a silent cry of his name. He fucks you through it, and you can feel his eyes on you as he does. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your legs shake slightly with aftershocks. He’s studying this image of you, fucked out and empty-headed, like he’s committing it to memory.
When he finally pulls away your vision is slowly starting to come back to you. You barely register him maneuvering to come up next to you until you watch him rid himself of his shirt and you come face-to-face with the hard plains of his chest. His skin is soft and milky, the soft lines of his abs rising and falling as he takes in breaths of air.
You reach for him and he complies, falling over you until you’re chest to chest. You don’t waste any time before you’re kissing him again. You can taste the saltiness of your own slick on his lips, but you don’t care–instead, you kiss him deeper.
His tongue slips until your mouth, brushing against your own. It’s wet and gross and fucking perfect. “Sunghoon,” You manage between pants, “Fuck me.”
A beat passes as his eyes find yours, “Yeah?”
You nod, and that’s all the answer he needs. He wastes no time ridding himself of his pants and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes in slowly, taking in every expression you make like he’s scared he’ll hurt you. And, yeah, he’s big. Like, bigger than anything you’ve ever taken. But the stretch is also perfect, filling you so completely your eyes nearly roll back.
“Fuck, you’re warm,” He mumbles, words slurring together. He sounds drunk on you.
When he bottoms out, you swear you’re seeing soundwaves and hearing colors. His tip nudges against that spot in you perfectly, curved at just the right angle.
He takes a moment to let you adjust, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. His fingers drip the sheets with effort, bottom lips in between his teeth. You roll your hips once, testing the waters, and the pleasure that floods through you forces a moan out of the both of you.
“Don’t do that,” He says breathily, voice on the verge of collapse. “Fuck.”
It takes a second, but his hips slowly start to push into yours. His thrusts are shallow at first, just little pushes that help you to accommodate his size, but it’s not long before they turn rougher.
He pulls out halfway just to slam back in, and your breath actually gets ripped from your lungs. Stars swim behind your eyes as he finds his pace, “Fuck,” You breathe.
Sunghoon gasps, burying his face in your neck. “I love you,” He groans, “Fuck, I love this pussy. I love the way you sound. Love the way you fucking feel. You’re perfect,” He babbles.
You part your lips to reply, but all that comes out is a sob when he thrusts particularly hard. You tighten instinctively around him, and he falters for a split-second before he’s finding his tempo again.
He fucks you like you’ve been denying him for years, like he’s spent every night dreaming of this. Tears of pleasure begin to streak across your cheeks; each he kisses away without so much as a hum.
It’s so intimate, so perfect, so full of love that you don’t even notice you’re approaching your climax until it crashes over you.
“Fuck, just like that,” Sunghoon whimpers, reaching down and rubbing light circles over your clit. “You’re so perfect. Such a good fucking girl. My good girl.” And then he’s releasing inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your insides.
He stays inside of you after he comes, both of you panting hard, sweat and fluids leaking from your bodies. He eventually pulls out and lays down next to you, his arm across your middle.
You’re silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. You just had Sex with Park Sunghoon. Not only that, but Park Sunghoon is in love with you. He’d said it enough times tonight for you to finally really believe it.
“You okay?” He asks softly, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The gentleness in which he treats you now is such a stark contrast to the brutalness of which he just fucked you that you nearly laugh.
“Yeah,” You hum, voice a bit raspy. “I’m perfect.”
Sunghoon grins and pulls you into him. He kisses you again, but there aren’t any intentions behind it. Instead, it’s slow and sweet, like he’s hoping to convey every emotion he’s ever felt into the kiss.
“Good,” he says, pulling away slightly. “Because I’m going to remind you of how much I love you as much as I can.”
You laugh, “Are you asking to fuck me again?”
He shakes his head, “No,” He whispers, “I’m asking if I can make love to you again.”
And it doesn’t take much for you to say yes.
You’ve been dating Park Sunghoon for nine months and fourteen days. Nine months of hockey games, late night study session, and weekly dates (all of which he insisted he pay for). Nine months of surprise gifts, of sweet words, and daily reminders of just how lucky you are to have him.
Yunjin groans next to you, typing away furiously on her phone. “I can’t believe this is happening again!” She whines.
“I told you that a man you met on snapchat quick add wasn’t going to end up the love of your life.” Beomgyu sings knowingly, shoveling popcorn in his mouth.
“For what it's worth, he really wasn’t even that cute.” Jungwon adds.
She shoots him a glare, “Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Jiung was fucking beautiful and now he’s ghosting me!”
You shiver slightly, watching Sunghoon glide on the ice. He’s instructing his teammates to do something; you aren’t really sure. He’d tried to explain the rules of hockey to you months ago, but your brain was very clearly made for science and not sports.
“Try not to worry about it, Yunjin,” you say sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on her back. “You just haven’t met your person yet.”
She scoffs, gesturing at your shirt. “Easy for you to say when you’re already practically married to, like, the most perfect guy on the planet!”
You glance down at what you’re wearing–a blue jersey with the number 23 sprawled in the middle. Sunghoons hockey number.
You would argue with her, maybe try to make her feel better, but your eyes lock with Sunghoons across the rink for just a moment, and you stop yourself.
Because, well, she’s right. You did get lucky. You glance down at the duck hanging off of your bag, the very thing that had unknowingly started this entire thing.
“Yeah,” You shrug, “You’re right.”
And when you go home that night, listening to Sunghoon ramble about scoring the winning goal, you know that there's nowhere else you'd rather be.
thank you guys so much for reading 🥲 this story took everything out of me but i’m mostly happy with how it came out. ily guys <3
I know it’s heartbreaking to face the pain of heeseung actually leaving the group, but let’s please not use our platforms to spread rumours without verification.
allegations of what has happened (e.g. heeseung crying in the halls, Jungwon’s weverse post) have escalated so far, only to be proven as false or not been verified. this only creates false hope. if the Enhypen members caught wind of people spreading misinformation, they’d be upset too, knowing they can’t say anything right now, especially heeseung.
people online saying that this is most likely not his decision and the company enforced it on him — that’s a very possible scenario considering the way he talked about Enhypen’s future plans, HYBE’s own internal issues with Bang Si Hyuk, etc.
I honestly believe heeseung was given an ultimatum by be:lift, since we know how the label constantly is milking them and barely gives them creative freedom compared to other groups. I believe he wanted to go solo, but also stay as a member of Enhypen at tbe same time (as many idols in similar situations do), especially with their contract expiration coming soon anyway.
but let’s not speculate too much into baseless speculation such as the rumours that were shut down as quickly as they arose.
we shouldn’t be focused on that, and instead, push our energy into what we can do. At the end of the day, the reason of why this decision was made doesn’t matter to belift, all we can do is deal with the situation now.
LINK TO THE PETITION! please sign this petition, we’ve reached over 900k signatures just today. engenes can help hit the goal to 1 million and over in just 2 days.
k-engenes have been protesting and sending trucks to HYBE—HYBE has even kicked a few trucks out. it shows that the company knows, the members know how much this is affecting engenes.
if they truly see what people have been saying on social media, and these possible rumours being spread, they’d only feel more helpless and guilty.
instead of sharing allegations, let’s spread the word, the facts and all of what we truly know. please don’t spread baseless and alleged rumours without clarification, and instead focus on helping enhypen and bringing heeseung back.
✦ Summary — You’re the life of every party, the center of every group, and the girl everyone notices— but one day your best friend bets you can’t make the school’s resident nerd fall for you. Only problem? He’s brilliant, socially awkward, and completely oblivious… which works perfectly when you ask him to tutor you. What starts as a harmless bet turns into something neither of you saw coming. Could the fake love be real all this time?
✦ Genre — strangers to lovers (kind of), slow burn, university AU, romance, angst with happy ending, smut
✦ Word count — 29.6k
✦ Warnings — explicit sexual content (MDNI), penetrative sex, oral (male & female receiving), semi-public sex, multiple encounters, strong language, alcohol & smoking, party culture, emotional manipulation (bet trope), betrayal & trust issues, crying/emotional distress, brief social media harassment mention, heavy angst
✦ Now playing — Electric Love by BØRNS
✦ Authors note — Okay so this fic has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i finally sat down and wrote it. This got away from me (nearly 30k, oops) but i hope every word is worth it. Reader is intentionally flawed because the messiness is the point. Listen to the assigned song for this while you read, especially the middle parts, you’ll understand. As always comments, likes and reblogs mean the world. Enjoy the angst, you’re welcome in advance.💞
My masterlist
The bass thrums through your body like a second heartbeat, vibration crawling up from the soles of your heels and settling somewhere in your chest. You’re three drinks in—something sweet and deceptively strong that Mina mixed in the kitchen—and the party is exactly where you like it: chaotic, loud, and utterly yours.
You stand near the center of the living room, red solo cup dangling from your fingers, wearing a black crop top that barely qualifies as a shirt and a skirt short enough that you’d tugged it down twice on the walk over. Not that you care. You know you look good. The stares confirm it, the way eyes track you when you move through a room, the way conversations pause just slightly when you laugh.
“Babe!” Mina’s voice cuts through the music, and you turn to see her shoving her way through a cluster of drunk business majors, her own outfit just as devastating as yours—a tight red dress that clings in all the right places. She’s holding two fresh drinks, wearing that wild grin that always means trouble.
You take the cup she offers, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“I’m bored,” she announces, taking a long sip. “This party’s gotten stale. Everyone here is so predictable.”
You glance around. She’s not wrong. Same people, same drama, same bullshit. Heeseung is doing keg stands in the corner while Jake hypes him up, Jay is flirting with some girl from your Econ lecture, and everyone else is just going through the motions of a typical Friday night.
“So what do you wanna do?” you ask, leaning against the wall. “Leave?”
“No.” Mina’s eyes glitter with mischief. “I want to make a bet.”
You laugh, already intrigued. Mina’s bets are legendary—last semester she’d dared you to steal a traffic cone from campus security, and you’d done it just to see the look on her face. “I’m listening.”
She leans in close, her breath smelling like vodka and cherry chapstick. “See that guy over there?”
You follow her gaze across the room. At first, you don’t see who she’s talking about—there’s too many people packed into the space—but then the crowd shifts, and you spot him.
Park Sunghoon.
He’s standing near the bookshelf, looking deeply uncomfortable in a neat button-up shirt and glasses, holding what appears to be a bottle of water. His posture is stiff, like he’s not sure what to do with his hands, and he’s nodding along to something Heeseung is saying with this polite, awkward smile.
You know who he is, obviously. Everyone does, but for different reasons than they know you. Where you’re known for the parties, the chaos, the way you light up every room you enter, Sunghoon is known for being the biggest nerd on campus. Statistics and Data Science major, perfect GPA, the guy everyone goes to when they’re desperate for tutoring. You’ve seen him around—usually in the library, hunched over a laptop, or walking to class with his nose in a textbook.
“The nerd?” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What about him?”
“I bet you can’t make him fall for you.”
You almost choke on your drink. “What?”
Mina’s grin widens. “Come on. Look at him. He’s like… a different species. You really think someone like him would ever go for someone like you?”
There’s no malice in her words—this is just how you two operate, all teasing and challenge—but something about it pricks at your pride. “Someone like me?”
“You know what I mean. Party girl. Confident. Hot as fuck. He probably faints if a girl even looks at him.” She gestures toward Sunghoon, who is now adjusting his glasses and looking around like he’s searching for an escape route. “I don’t think he’s ever even been to a party before tonight. Heeseung probably dragged him here.”
You study Sunghoon more carefully. He’s taller than you expected, with sharp features that might actually be attractive if he didn’t look so perpetually nervous. His hair is neat, parted carefully, and his clothes scream “I iron my shirts on Sunday nights.”
“That’s the bet?” you ask, turning back to Mina. “Make him fall for me?”
“Yep. And I’m talking actual feelings. Not just him stuttering around you—I want him gone for you. Pining. Obsessed.”
You laugh, loud enough that a few people glance over. “That’s almost too easy.”
“Then you won’t mind putting money on it.” Mina pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Two hundred dollars says you can’t do it.”
Two hundred dollars. That’s not nothing—that’s a weekend trip, or a new pair of boots you’ve been eyeing, or enough drinks to not worry about your bank account for a month.
But more than that, it’s the principle. The idea that Mina thinks you can’t do something, that Park Sunghoon is somehow immune to you, needles at something deep and petty in your chest.
“You’re on,” you say, shaking her hand. “Two hundred dollars. And bragging rights.”
“Bragging rights,” Mina agrees, her grin turning wicked. “This is going to be so fun to watch.”
You drain the rest of your drink, feeling the alcohol warm and loose in your veins, and set the empty cup on the nearest surface. “How long do I have?”
“End of the semester,” Mina says. “That’s what, fourteen weeks? Should be plenty of time. If you’re as good as you think you are.”
“Please.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, already feeling the familiar thrill of a challenge. “I’ll have him obsessed with me by midterms.”
Mina cackles, pulling you into a quick hug. “God, I love you. Okay. Go work your magic.”
You glance back toward Sunghoon. He’s still standing with Heeseung and Jake now, looking like he’s barely contributing to the conversation. Jay has joined them too, and the contrast is almost funny—three effortlessly cool guys and one awkward nerd who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
The smart play would be to approach him tonight, start planting the seeds. But you’re tipsy and the party is loud, and you know first impressions matter. You need to do this right.
“Not tonight,” you say, turning back to Mina. “I need a strategy.”
“Ooh, strategic. I like it.”
“Monday,” you decide. “I’ll figure out his schedule, and I’ll make my move.”
Mina raises her fresh drink in a toast. “To the downfall of Park Sunghoon’s GPA and emotional stability.”
You clink your cup against hers, grinning. “He won’t know what hit him.”
Monday morning comes with a hangover you shake off in the shower and a determination that feels almost dangerous.
You dress carefully—a tight cropped sweater that shows a sliver of skin above your low-rise jeans, paired with heels that make your legs look longer. Your makeup is flawless, lips glossy, and you know you look good because your roommate actually stops mid-bite of her cereal to stare.
“Where are you going looking like that?” she asks.
“Library,” you say, grabbing your bag.
“The library?”
You just smile and head out.
You’d done your research last night, scrolling through social media and asking around until you had a decent sense of Sunghoon’s schedule. Turns out, he’s a creature of habit—every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he’s in the library from 9 AM to noon, tutoring students for credit. Something about needing volunteer hours for his degree, or maybe it’s for some honors society. You don’t really care about the why. You just need the when and where.
The library is quieter than usual, the Monday morning crowd sparse. You spot him almost immediately, sitting at one of the large tables near the windows, his laptop open and a stack of textbooks beside him. He’s alone right now, tapping away at his keyboard with the kind of focus that makes you think he’s probably forgotten the rest of the world exists.
You take a breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk over.
He doesn’t notice you at first. You have to actually stop in front of his table and clear your throat before he looks up, and when he does, his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses.
“Um,” he says, his voice soft and uncertain. “Hi?”
“Hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile. “You’re Park Sunghoon, right?”
“Uh. Yes?” He blinks up at you, clearly confused about why you’re talking to him. His gaze flickers down for just a second—taking in your outfit, probably—before snapping back to your face, his cheeks flushing pink.
Perfect.
“I heard you do tutoring,” you say, sliding into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. “For Statistics?”
“Oh.” His expression shifts slightly, relaxing into something more familiar. This is territory he knows. “Yeah, I do. Are you… do you need help with a class?”
“Desperately,” you lie, letting a little frustration creep into your voice. “I’m in STAT 400, and I’m completely lost. Like, I don’t even know where to start.”
STAT 400 is a class you could probably teach at this point—you’d aced it last semester—but he doesn’t need to know that.
Sunghoon nods, pulling out a notebook. “That’s a tough class. What specifically are you struggling with?”
You wave a hand vaguely. “Honestly? All of it. Probability distributions, hypothesis testing… I just can’t make it click, you know?”
He’s scribbling something down, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay. Yeah, I can definitely help with that. I tutor that class a lot, actually.”
“Really?” You lean forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I was seriously worried I was going to fail.”
His eyes flicker to you again, and you can see him trying very hard not to stare. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s fighting to keep his focus on his notebook.
“So, um,” he says, clearing his throat. “When works for you? I usually do sessions twice a week, an hour each.”
“Whatever works for you,” you say easily. “I’m pretty flexible.”
He checks his phone, scrolling through what looks like a calendar. “How about… Tuesdays and Thursdays? 5 PM?”
“Perfect.” You pull out your own phone, typing in the times. “Should I meet you here?”
“Yeah, here’s good.” He looks up at you, and for a moment, you’re struck by how dark his eyes are behind those glasses. “Can I get your name? For my schedule.”
You tell him, and he types it into his phone, his fingers quick and precise.
“Got it,” he says, offering you a small, polite smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and give him a little wave. “Thanks, Sunghoon.”
His blush deepens at the sound of his name, and you have to bite back a grin as you walk away. This is going to be easier than you thought.
You show up to the library on Tuesday at 4:55 PM, which is late enough to seem casual but early enough to seem eager. You’ve dressed down slightly from yesterday—a fitted long-sleeve shirt that still manages to show off your figure, paired with jeans that sit low on your hips. Still hot, but approachable. You’re playing a character here, and the character is a girl who’s struggling with statistics and needs help, not a girl who’s about to ruin someone’s life for two hundred dollars.
The guilt hasn’t hit yet. Right now, it’s still just a game.
Sunghoon is already at the same table by the windows, his laptop open and a thermos of what you assume is coffee beside him. He looks up when you approach, and you catch the tiniest flicker of surprise in his expression, like he half-expected you not to show.
“Hi,” you say, dropping your bag onto the table and sliding into the seat across from him.
“Hi.” He closes his laptop and pushes it aside, pulling out a notebook instead. “Ready to get started?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “Fair warning, I’m really bad at this.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and there’s something unexpectedly kind in his voice. “Everyone starts somewhere. Can you show me what you’re working on in class right now?”
You pull out your own notebook—you’d actually done some prep work last night, writing out problem sets from the STAT 400 syllabus you still have saved on your laptop. You’d deliberately gotten some of them wrong, made your handwriting a little messier than usual, added some confused notes in the margins. It has to look real.
Sunghoon takes the notebook and studies your work, his brow furrowing in concentration. His fingers tap against the edge of the paper, a nervous habit, and you notice that his nails are neatly trimmed, his hands surprisingly elegant for someone so awkward.
“Okay,” he says after a moment. “I see what’s happening here. You’re getting tripped up on the notation, I think. The concepts aren’t that complicated once you understand what the symbols actually mean.”
He flips to a blank page in your notebook and starts writing, his handwriting neat and precise. As he explains the basics of probability distributions, you force yourself to pay attention, nodding along and asking questions that someone who’s actually confused would ask.
“Does that make sense?” he asks after a few minutes, glancing up at you.
“I think so,” you say. “Can you go over that last part again?”
He does, patient and thorough, and you notice the way he relaxes slightly when he’s teaching. The nervousness fades, replaced by something that almost resembles confidence. This is where he’s comfortable—explaining things, breaking down complex ideas into manageable pieces.
It’s… not what you expected.
You’d thought this would be painful, sitting through tutoring sessions for a class you don’t need help with. But Sunghoon is actually a good teacher, and there’s something almost soothing about the way he talks through problems, his voice low and steady.
“Try this one,” he says, sliding the notebook back to you with a new problem written out.
You make a show of working through it, deliberately hesitating in places, second-guessing yourself. When you write down the final answer—which you know is correct—you look up at him uncertainly.
“Is that right?”
He checks your work, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”
The praise shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
“Really?” You let yourself sound surprised, pleased.
“Really. You’re getting it faster than you think.”
You beam at him, and his cheeks flush pink again. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat.
“Let’s do a few more,” he says.
The hour passes faster than you expected. By the time Sunghoon checks his phone and announces that your session is up, you’re almost disappointed.
“Same time Thursday?” he asks, packing up his things.
“Yeah, definitely.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re really good at this.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He ducks his head, and you catch the small smile on his face as he turns away.
As you walk out of the library, you pull out your phone and text Mina.
Session one: complete. He blushed like four times.
Her response is immediate: you’re evil. i love it.
Thursday’s session follows a similar pattern. You show up right on time, dressed in a crop top and high-waisted pants that make Sunghoon’s eyes widen for just a second before he forces his gaze back to his notebook. You work through more problems, ask more questions, let him guide you through concepts you already understand.
But this time, you start to push things slightly.
“God, I don’t know how you keep all of this straight in your head,” you say at one point, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The movement makes your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your stomach, and you don’t miss the way Sunghoon’s gaze flickers down before he quickly looks away.
“It’s just practice,” he says, his voice a little strained. “Once you do enough problems, it becomes automatic.”
“You must be so smart,” you say, propping your chin in your hand and looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. “Like, seriously. I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water in most of my classes, and you’re just… breezing through everything.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not that smart. I just work hard.”
“Don’t be modest.” You nudge his foot lightly under the table with yours, and he actually jumps a little. “You’re like, a genius. Everyone says so.”
“I’m really not,” he insists, but you can see the pleased flush creeping up his neck.
You let it drop, returning your attention to the problems in front of you, but you’ve planted the seed. Compliments, physical proximity, attention—these are the tools you know how to use.
Near the end of the session, as Sunghoon is explaining something about confidence intervals, you let your knee bump against his under the table. It’s brief, could be an accident, but you see the way he falters mid-sentence, his train of thought derailing completely.
“Sorry,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Where was I?”
“Confidence intervals,” you prompt, biting back a smile.
“Right. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and continues, but his voice is slightly shakier now.
When the session ends, you pack up slowly, deliberately taking your time.
“Hey,” you say as he’s closing his laptop. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you tutor? Like, I know it’s for credit or whatever, but you’re already so busy. Don’t you ever just… want a break?”
He seems surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I like helping people. And it’s good practice for me, too. Explaining things helps me understand them better.”
“That’s really nice,” you say, and you’re surprised to find that you actually mean it. “Most people wouldn’t go out of their way like that.”
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though.” You give him a warm smile. “Anyway. Thanks again. I actually feel like I might not fail this class now.”
“You’re not going to fail,” he says firmly. “You’re doing really well.”
Something about the conviction in his voice makes your chest tighten, but you push the feeling aside.
“See you next week,” you say, heading toward the exit.
As you leave, you glance back and catch him watching you. He looks away immediately, his face flushing, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that crosses your face.
This is almost too easy.
By the third week of tutoring, you’ve established a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 5 PM, the same table by the windows. Sunghoon is always there early, his materials already laid out, a thermos of coffee within reach. You’ve started to learn his habits—the way he taps his pen against the table when he’s thinking, the way he pushes his glasses up when he’s concentrating, the way he smiles when you get a problem right.
You’ve also started to push boundaries more deliberately.
You sit closer to him now, close enough that your arms brush when you’re both leaning over the same textbook. You ask him to show you how to work through problems on your laptop, which means he has to lean in close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his face inches from yours as he points at the screen.
He’s still nervous, still awkward, but he’s getting more comfortable with you. He makes eye contact more often, laughs at your jokes, occasionally offers comments that aren’t strictly about statistics.
“Are you going to the game on Saturday?” you ask during one session, glancing up from your notebook.
“Game?” He looks confused.
“The basketball game. Against State.”
“Oh. No, probably not. That’s not really my thing.”
“What is your thing?” you ask, genuinely curious despite yourself.
He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I like hiking, I guess. And I play chess online sometimes.”
“Hiking?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”
“Why not?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“I don’t know. You just seem like you’d rather be inside with a book.”
“I can like both,” he points out, and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or challenge.
“Fair enough.” You grin. “Maybe you should take me sometime. I could use the exercise.”
His eyes widen. “Oh. Uh. I mean, if you want. There’s a good trail about twenty minutes from campus—”
“I’m kidding,” you say quickly, laughing. “Can you imagine me hiking? I’d die.”
“Right.” He laughs too, but it sounds slightly forced. “Yeah.”
You almost feel bad for teasing him, but you push the feeling aside. This is the point—keep him off balance, make him think about you, wonder about you.
Later in the session, when you’re both bent over a particularly complicated problem, you reach out to point at something on the page. Your hand brushes against his, and you let it linger for just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“It’s fine,” he says, but his voice is tight, and when you glance at him, his jaw is clenched. Interesting.
After that session, as you’re walking back to your apartment, Mina calls.
“How’s Operation Nerd going?” she asks immediately.
“Good,” you say. “He’s definitely noticing me.”
“Noticing you, or noticing you?”
“Both, I think.” You push open the door to your building, nodding at a couple of girls you recognize from a party last weekend. “He’s still really awkward, but he’s warming up.”
“Have you guys hung out outside of tutoring yet?”
“No. I’m taking it slow.”
“Slow?” Mina sounds incredulous. “Babe, you have like eleven weeks left. You need to speed this up.”
“I know what I’m doing,” you say, climbing the stairs to your floor. “If I come on too strong, he’ll get suspicious. He’s not stupid.”
“Fine, fine. You’re the expert.” There’s a pause, and then: “Are you having fun, at least?”
The question catches you off guard. “What?”
“I mean, is this entertaining? Or is it just a chore?”
You think about the way Sunghoon’s face lights up when you get a problem right, the way he listens so intently when you talk, the way he’s slowly becoming less guarded around you.
“It’s fine,” you say eventually. “He’s not as boring as I thought he’d be.”
“High praise,” Mina says dryly. “Okay, well, keep me updated. I want all the details.”
After you hang up, you find yourself thinking about the question. Are you having fun?
The honest answer is yes. You are. And that should probably worry you more than it does.
The following Tuesday, something shifts.
You’re halfway through the session when Sunghoon’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns, and then looks at you apologetically.
“Sorry, do you mind if I take this? It’s my friend.”
“Go ahead,” you say, waving him off.
He steps away from the table, phone pressed to his ear, and you watch as his expression shifts from confused to annoyed to resigned. When he comes back, he’s running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly.
“Everything okay?” you ask.
“Yeah, sorry. That was Heeseung. He’s having people over tonight and wanted to make sure I’m coming.”
“Are you?”
“I guess. He’ll give me shit if I don’t.” Sunghoon sits back down, but he seems distracted now, his usual focus scattered.
“You don’t sound excited,” you observe.
“Parties aren’t really my scene,” he admits. “Too loud, too crowded. I usually just end up standing in a corner wishing I was home.”
You laugh. “Then why go?”
“Because Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are my friends, and they actually want me there. I think.” He says it like he’s not entirely sure, and something about that makes your chest ache.
“They definitely want you there,” you say. “Those guys don’t do pity invites.”
He looks at you, surprised. “You know them?”
“Everyone knows them. We run in similar circles.” You lean back in your chair, studying him. “How’d you end up friends with them, anyway? No offense, but you’re not exactly the typical crowd they hang out with.”
“We lived in the same dorm freshman year,” Sunghoon says. “Heeseung and I got paired as roommates, and Jake and Jay lived down the hall. They kind of… adopted me, I guess. I don’t really know why.”
“Maybe because you’re cool,” you suggest.
He snorts. “I’m definitely not cool.”
“You’re cool in your own way.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I’m a nerd.”
“Being a nerd isn’t a bad thing,” you say. And then, before you can think better of it: “I’ll be there tonight, probably. At Heeseung’s thing. Maybe I’ll see you.”
The rest of the session is slightly stilted, both of you distracted by the knowledge that you’ll be in the same place later, outside the safe confines of the library. When you pack up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Thanks. For saying that. About me being cool.”
You smile. “I meant it.”
And as you walk away, you realize with a start that you actually did.
Heeseung’s apartment is packed when you arrive just after ten, Mina in tow. The music is loud enough to make the walls vibrate, and the air is thick with the smell of beer and too many bodies in a small space.
“This is going to be good,” Mina says, already scanning the room. “Is your nerd here yet?”
“Don’t call him that,” you say automatically, and then catch yourself. Since when do you care?
Mina gives you a look but doesn’t comment. “Well? Do you see him?”
You crane your neck, looking over the crowd, and finally spot Sunghoon near the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt—the most casual you’ve ever seen him—and he’s talking to Jay, looking significantly less uncomfortable than you’d expected.
“There,” you say, nodding toward him.
“Oh my god, he’s actually kind of hot when he’s not dressed like someone’s dad,” Mina says.
She’s not wrong. Without the button-ups and the overly neat hair, Sunghoon looks… different. Younger. More relaxed. And yeah, hot.
“I’m going over,” you say.
“Good luck,” Mina calls after you, already veering off toward the makeshift bar.
You weave through the crowd, dodging drunk dancers and people shouting over the music. When you reach the kitchen, you tap Sunghoon on the shoulder.
He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you.
“You came,” he says, and he sounds genuinely happy about it.
“I said I might,” you reply, grinning. “Hi, Jay.”
Jay gives you an appreciative once-over—you’re wearing a tiny black dress that leaves very little to the imagination—and nods. “Hey. You two know each other?”
“Sunghoon’s my tutor,” you say.
“Tutor?” Jay looks at Sunghoon with mock suspicion. “You didn’t tell me you were tutoring hot girls.”
Sunghoon’s face goes red. “It’s not—she needed help with stats—”
“I’m just giving you shit,” Jay says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Jake. You two have fun.”
He disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the relative chaos of the kitchen.
“Want a drink?” you ask, already moving toward the counter where someone’s set up a chaotic array of bottles and mixers.
“I’m okay,” Sunghoon says, holding up a bottle of water.
“Of course you are.” You pour yourself something strong, turning back to him. “So. How are you surviving so far?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” he admits. “Maybe because you’re here.”
The comment catches you off guard. It’s surprisingly bold for him, and when you meet his eyes, there’s something there you haven’t seen before—a flicker of confidence, maybe, or just the tiniest bit of flirtation.
“Smooth,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.
He looks immediately mortified. “Sorry, that was—”
“I’m kidding. It was sweet.” You step closer to him, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “You should let yourself relax more often. You’re less uptight when you do.”
“I’m uptight?” He sounds offended.
“A little,” you tease. “But it’s part of your charm.”
Before he can respond, someone cranks the music even louder, and the kitchen suddenly floods with people trying to escape the living room. You’re jostled forward, and Sunghoon reaches out instinctively to steady you, his hands landing on your waist.
For a moment, you’re pressed against him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see the way his pupils dilate slightly behind his glasses.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go immediately.
“It’s okay,” you murmur.
The moment stretches, tension coiling between you, and you realize with a jolt that your heart is beating faster. Not because you’re playing a role, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it feels…
It feels good.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” he asks, his voice low.
You nod.
He takes your hand—his grip warm and surprisingly steady—and leads you out of the kitchen, through the crowd, and out onto the apartment’s small balcony. The noise fades to a dull roar as he slides the door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s just the two of you under the night sky.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking out at the campus spread below. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He stands beside you, close but not touching, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks.
“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.
“Sure.”
“Why did you come tonight? You said parties are your thing, so you probably had other options.”
You turn to look at him. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”
His breath catches. “Really?”
“Really.” You’re not sure if you’re lying anymore.
Sunghoon holds your gaze, and something shifts in the air between you. He takes a step closer, and your pulse spikes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly.
“Me too,” you whisper.
And when he smiles—a real, genuine smile that makes his whole face light up—you feel something crack open in your chest.
This was supposed to be simple. Easy. A game.
But standing here with him, the city lights glittering below and his hand just inches from yours on the railing, you’re starting to realize that you might be in over your head.
Sunghoon is already at your usual table, but today there’s something different. Instead of his typical setup of laptop and textbooks, there’s a white paper bag and two coffee cups.
“Hi,” he says when you approach, and he looks almost nervous. “I, uh. I brought coffee. And pastries. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope that’s okay.”
You stare at the cups, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in your chest. “You brought me coffee?”
“Yeah. You mentioned last week that you didn’t have time to grab any before our session, so I thought…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”
“It’s not weird,” you say softly, sliding into your seat. “It’s really sweet.”
His face lights up, and he pushes one of the cups toward you. “It’s a vanilla latte. But if you don’t like it, I can—”
“Vanilla latte is perfect.” You take a sip, and it’s exactly the right temperature, exactly the right sweetness. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”
“You’re welcome.” He’s smiling now, that soft genuine smile that makes your heart do stupid things.
The session proceeds normally—problem sets, explanations, the comfortable back-and-forth you’ve developed—but the coffee and pastries feel like something more. Like he’s trying to take care of you in his own quiet way.
Halfway through, while you’re working on a problem, Sunghoon speaks up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, not looking up from your notebook.
“Why economics?”
You pause, pen hovering over the page. “What?”
“Your major. Why did you choose economics?”
No one has asked you that in a long time. Most people just assume you picked it because it’s practical, or because you wanted something that would make money, or because you didn’t know what else to do.
“I like understanding how things work,” you say slowly. “Like, why people make the decisions they make. What drives markets, what causes crashes, all of that. It’s like… a puzzle, I guess. And I’m good at puzzles.”
Sunghoon is looking at you with this intense focus, like he’s genuinely interested in your answer. “That’s really cool.”
“Yeah?” You feel oddly vulnerable suddenly.
“Yeah. Most people just say it’s for the money.”
“I mean, the money doesn’t hurt,” you joke, but it falls flat.
“I get it, though,” he says. “That’s kind of why I like statistics. Everything can be understood if you have enough data. The world makes sense when you can quantify it.”
You find yourself smiling. “We’re more similar than I thought.”
“Is that surprising?”
“A little,” you admit. “I thought you’d be all… I don’t know. Textbooks and equations and no personality.”
He laughs, a real laugh that makes his eyes crinkle. “Wow. Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” You’re laughing too now. “I just meant—you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Boring? Uptight? But you’re actually…” You pause, searching for the right word. “You’re actually really easy to talk to.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “So are you.”
The moment hangs between you, charged with something you can’t quite name. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how easy it would be to just lean forward and—
Your phone buzzes, shattering the moment. It’s a text from Mina: party at sigma chi friday. you coming?
You type back a quick yeah probably and set your phone down, but the spell is broken. Sunghoon has already returned his attention to the textbook, his expression neutral.
The rest of the session passes normally, but something has changed. There’s a weight in the air now, a tension that wasn’t there before.
When you’re packing up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Are you doing anything this weekend?”
Your heart skips. “Why?”
“There’s this new exhibit at the art museum. Photography from conflict zones. I thought it might be interesting, and I was wondering if… if maybe you wanted to go? With me?”
He’s asking you on a date. Park Sunghoon is asking you on an actual date.
You should say yes. This is perfect for the bet—spending time together outside of tutoring, building a connection, making him fall harder.
But the thought of it makes your stomach twist with something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.
“I can’t this weekend,” you say, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. “I have plans with friends.”
“Oh.” He tries to hide his disappointment, but you can see it in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah,” you say. “Another time.”
As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, and you hate yourself a little bit.
Friday night comes, and you’re at the Sigma Chi house with Mina, three drinks deep and feeling reckless.
The party is packed, bodies pressed together in every room, music so loud you can feel it in your bones. You’re wearing your sluttiest dress—a tiny red thing that barely covers your ass—and you know you look good because you’ve been turning heads all night.
“There’s Jake,” Mina says, pointing toward the kitchen. “With Heeseung and Jay.”
“So?” you say, taking another sip of your drink.
“So, isn’t that Sunghoon’s friend group? Maybe he’s here.”
You scan the kitchen, but you don’t see Sunghoon anywhere. Just his three friends, laughing and drinking and looking effortlessly cool in a way Sunghoon never quite manages.
“I don’t think he’s here,” you say.
“Probably for the best,” Mina says. “You can actually have fun without worrying about the bet.”
But that’s the problem. You’re starting to realize that you have more fun with Sunghoon than without him.
You push the thought away and drain your drink. “I need another.”
The next hour is a blur of alcohol and dancing and the kind of mindless fun you usually thrive on. You dance with strangers, do shots with girls from your econ class, lose Mina somewhere in the crowd. And then Jake finds you.
“Hey,” he says, appearing at your elbow with that easy smile. “You look like you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” you say, and you realize you have to raise your voice to be heard over the music.
“Want to get some air? It’s hot as hell in here.”
You follow him out to the back porch, where it’s marginally quieter and cooler. There are a few other people out here, smoking and talking in low voices, but Jake leads you to a corner that’s relatively private.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking up at him. Jake is attractive in an obvious way—tall, athletic build, sharp jawline. The kind of guy you’d normally go for without thinking twice.
“I’ve seen you around,” Jake says, moving closer. “You’re hard to miss.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely.” His gaze drops to your lips, then back up. “You’re friends with Sunghoon, right?”
The mention of Sunghoon’s name sends a jolt through you. “He’s tutoring me.”
“That’s all?”
“What else would it be?”
Jake shrugs. “I don’t know. He talks about you a lot.”
Your heart stutters. “He does?”
“Yeah. He tries to be subtle about it, but it’s pretty obvious he’s into you.” Jake grins. “Can’t blame him.”
You should ask what Sunghoon says about you. You should care more about the implications.
But you’re drunk and Jake is hot and he’s leaning in, and when his lips meet yours, you don’t pull away.
The kiss is good—he knows what he’s doing, his hands confident on your waist—but it feels wrong somehow. Like you’re kissing the wrong person. When you break apart, Jake is smiling.
“Want to get out of here?”
“I—”
“There you are!”
You turn to see Mina stumbling out onto the porch, clearly wasted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to go. Now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m about to throw up and I need you to hold my hair.” She grabs your arm, pulling you away from Jake. “Sorry, Jake. Emergency.”
You let her drag you back through the party and out the front door, and it’s only when you’re halfway back to your apartment that you realize you’re relieved.
“Did I really interrupt something?” Mina asks, her words slurring slightly.
“Nothing important,” you say.
“Liar. That was Jake. He’s hot.”
“Yeah.”
“So why do you sound sad about it?”
You don’t have an answer.
Saturday morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and a feeling of vague dread that has nothing to do with the hangover.
You kissed Jake. Sunghoon’s friend. One of his only friends.
It shouldn’t matter. This is a bet. You’re not actually dating Sunghoon. You don’t owe him anything.
But the guilt sits heavy in your stomach anyway.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Sunghoon: Hey! I know you said you were busy this weekend, but if you have any free time tomorrow (Sunday), I’d love to show you that trail I mentioned. No pressure though!
You stare at the message for a long moment.
You should say no. You should keep your distance, maintain the boundaries of this fake tutoring relationship.
But instead, you type: Sure. What time?
His response is almost immediate: 10 AM? I can pick you up.
Sounds good.
You set your phone down and bury your face in your pillow, trying to ignore the voice in your head that’s asking what the hell you’re doing.
Sunday morning dawns clear and bright, and you find yourself actually putting effort into your outfit—athletic leggings, a fitted tank top, your hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Hiking clothes, but still cute.
Sunghoon picks you up at exactly 10 AM in a slightly beat-up Honda Civic that’s meticulously clean inside. He’s wearing athletic gear too, and without his glasses—he’s wearing contacts, he explains—he looks different. Younger. Even more attractive.
“You ready?” he asks as you buckle your seatbelt.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Fair warning, I haven’t hiked since high school.”
“It’s an easy trail,” he assures you. “More of a nature walk, really.”
The drive takes about twenty minutes, filled with easy conversation and music from a playlist that’s surprisingly good—indie rock mixed with some Korean R&B. You learn that Sunghoon is an only child, that he grew up in a small town, that his parents are both engineers and have very high expectations for him.
“Is that why you work so hard?” you ask. “Because of them?”
“Partly,” he admits. “But also because I don’t really know what else to do. School is the one thing I’m actually good at.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at lots of things.”
“Like what?”
“You’re a good teacher. You’re patient, you actually listen, you explain things in a way that makes sense. That’s a skill.”
He glances at you, surprised. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
When you arrive at the trailhead, it’s not crowded—just a few other cars in the small parking lot. Sunghoon grabs a backpack from the trunk, and you start walking.
He was right about it being an easy trail. The path is well-maintained and mostly flat, winding through trees that are just starting to show their fall colors. It’s beautiful in a quiet, understated way.
“I come here when I need to think,” Sunghoon says as you walk. “It’s peaceful.”
“What do you think about?”
“Everything. School, the future, whether I’m making the right choices.” He pauses. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this path that was decided for me, you know? Like, I’m going to graduate, get a good job, make my parents proud. But I’m not sure if it’s what I actually want.”
You’re surprised by the honesty. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” He looks at you. “What about you? Do you know what you want?”
The question catches you off guard. What do you want?
A month ago, you would have said you wanted to graduate, make money, have fun. Simple things.
But now, standing here with Sunghoon, you realize you don’t know anymore.
“I’m figuring it out,” you say finally.
You walk in comfortable silence for a while, and then Sunghoon leads you off the main path to a clearing that overlooks a small lake. The view is stunning—water glittering in the sunlight, trees reflected on the surface.
“Wow,” you breathe.
“Right?” He sits down on a large flat rock near the edge of the clearing, and you join him. “I found this spot last year. I don’t think many people know about it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulls out his backpack and produces two bottles of water and some trail mix. “Snack break.”
You laugh. “You really came prepared.”
“I try.”
As you sit there, eating trail mix and looking out at the lake, you feel something loosen in your chest. This is nice. Simple. Real.
“Can I tell you something?” Sunghoon says after a while.
“Of course.”
“I’m really glad you agreed to come today. I know tutoring is our thing, but I wanted…” He trails off, looking uncertain. “I wanted to spend time with you outside of that. As friends. Or, I don’t know. Whatever this is.”
Your heart is pounding. “Whatever this is?”
He turns to face you fully. “I like you. I know that’s probably obvious, and I’m sorry if that makes things weird, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I thought maybe—”
You kiss him.
You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe because of the way he’s looking at you, so open and vulnerable. Maybe because you want to stop him from saying more things that will make you feel guilty. Maybe because you’ve been wanting to kiss him for weeks and you’re tired of pretending otherwise.
Whatever the reason, you lean in and press your lips to his, and for a moment, he freezes.
Then he’s kissing you back, tentative at first and then deeper, his hand coming up to cup your face. His lips are soft, and he tastes like trail mix and mint gum, and it’s good—better than it should be, better than kissing Jake, better than anything you expected.
When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard.
“Wow,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Does this mean…?”
“I don’t know what this means,” you say honestly. “But I like you too. I think.”
He smiles, bright and genuine, and pulls you in for another kiss.
You lose track of time there by the lake, kissing Sunghoon like teenagers, his hands respectful but wanting, your fingers tangled in his hair. It feels right in a way that scares you.
When you finally break apart for real, the sun has shifted position, and you realize you’ve been here for over an hour.
“We should probably head back,” Sunghoon says reluctantly.
“Yeah.”
The hike back to the car is different from the hike out. Sunghoon holds your hand the entire way, his grip warm and steady, and you can’t stop smiling.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to actually like him.
But as he helps you into the car and leans over to kiss you one more time before closing the door, you realize you’re completely screwed.
That night, lying in bed, you finally respond to Mina’s texts.
how’s the bet going?
You stare at the message for a long time before typing: Good. He’s definitely into me.
perfect. keep it up. easy money.
Yeah. Easy money.
But it doesn’t feel easy anymore.
The following week, everything changes.
Your tutoring sessions become something more—study dates, really, where you spend as much time talking and laughing as you do working through problems. Sunghoon brings you coffee every time now, always remembering exactly how you like it. You find excuses to touch him, and he finds excuses to touch you back—a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing when you pass papers back and forth.
On Thursday, after your session ends, he walks you back to your apartment. It’s out of his way, and you both know it, but neither of you mentions it.
At your door, he kisses you goodbye, slow and sweet, and you have to physically stop yourself from inviting him inside.
“I’ll see you next week,” he says, his forehead resting against yours.
“That’s so far away,” you murmur, and you’re surprised to find that you mean it.
“We could… do something over the weekend?” he suggests. “If you want.”
“Like what?”
“There’s a film festival on Saturday. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people, but—”
“I’d love to,” you interrupt.
His face lights up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel yourself melting into him.
When he finally leaves, you float into your apartment in a daze. Jiwoo takes one look at your face and grins.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she says.
“Shut up,” you say, but you can’t stop smiling.
That night, you’re lying in bed scrolling through your phone when you see a post on Jake’s Instagram story. It’s from the Sigma Chi party—a blurry photo of the crowd with the caption good times.
And suddenly you remember. The kiss. Jake.
Your stomach drops.
You need to tell Sunghoon. You should tell him before he hears it from someone else, before it becomes a thing.
But how do you explain that you kissed his friend while you were… what? Were you dating him then? Are you dating him now? You never actually defined what this is.
You open your messages with Sunghoon, type out Can we talk? and then delete it.
This is fine. It was one kiss, weeks ago, before you and Sunghoon were actually together. It doesn’t mean anything.
Except it does mean something, because it means you were pursuing the bet. And if Sunghoon ever found out about the bet…
You close your phone and stare at the ceiling, your earlier happiness curdling into anxiety.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
Saturday arrives, and you meet Sunghoon at the small independent theater on the edge of campus. He’s dressed nicely—dark jeans and a fitted sweater that makes him look older, more sophisticated. When he sees you, his entire face transforms with his smile.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.
“Hi yourself.”
The film festival is showing three movies back-to-back, and you settle into your seats with a large popcorn between you. The first film is French, subtitled, about a woman navigating love and loss in Paris. It’s beautiful and melancholy, and halfway through, Sunghoon reaches over and takes your hand.
During the second film—a Japanese drama about family—you rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you. It feels domestic and comfortable and utterly terrifying.
By the third film, you’re barely paying attention to the screen. All you can focus on is the warmth of Sunghoon’s body next to yours, the way his thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, the way he occasionally leans down to whisper commentary that makes you laugh.
When the festival ends and you step out into the evening air, you feel drunk on happiness and caffeine from the terrible theater coffee.
“That was amazing,” you say.
“Yeah?” Sunghoon looks pleased. “I wasn’t sure if it was too pretentious.”
“It was exactly pretentious enough.” You loop your arm through his as you walk. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming. I know it’s not exactly a typical date.”
“Who says I want typical?”
He grins and pulls you close, kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk like you’re the only two people in the world.
You end up at a small cafe nearby, ordering hot chocolates and splitting a piece of chocolate cake. The conversation flows easily—he tells you about his thesis project, you tell him about your internship applications, and somehow you end up talking about childhood dreams and fears and all the small details that make up a life.
“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Sunghoon admits. “I was obsessed with space.”
“What changed?”
“I realized I get motion sickness really easily.” He laughs. “Not exactly ideal for space travel.”
“That’s tragic.”
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
You think back. “A lawyer, I think. I liked arguing.”
“That tracks.”
You kick him lightly under the table, and he catches your foot between his, holding it there.
The cafe starts to close, and reluctantly, you both leave. Sunghoon walks you home again, and at your door, the goodbye kiss turns into several goodbye kisses, which turn into you pressed against the door with his body flush against yours.
“Do you want to come inside?” you breathe against his lips.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
You unlock the door and pull him inside, grateful that Jiwoo is gone for the weekend. The apartment is dark and quiet, and you lead Sunghoon to your bedroom, your heart pounding.
Inside, you turn to face him, suddenly nervous. This feels different than all the other times you’ve done this with other guys. This feels like it matters.
“Hey,” Sunghoon says softly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I want to,” you say. “I want you.”
He kisses you then, slow and deep, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall together, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, and as he hovers over you, looking down with so much want and tenderness that it makes your chest ache, you think: I’m in so much trouble.
But you push the thought away and pull him down into another kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your neck, the weight of him above you.
When you pull him inside your bedroom, the air between you feels electric. Sunghoon’s hands are tentative at first, skimming over your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough in a way you’d never heard before.
“More than okay,” you whisper, reaching up to pull him into another kiss.
That seems to break something loose in him. His kisses become deeper, more urgent, his hands more confident as they explore. You pull at his sweater, and he breaks away just long enough to tug it over his head.
You’ve never seen him like this—shirtless, his body leaner than you expected but defined, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hands find his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders, his ribs, and he shivers under your touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”
The admission sends heat pooling in your stomach. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he looks up at you, waiting for permission.
You answer by pulling it off yourself, and his eyes go dark with want.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and the curse sounds foreign in his mouth, which somehow makes it hotter.
His hands cup your breasts through your bra, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. He kisses down your sternum, your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.
“Can I?” he asks, looking up at you.
“Please.”
He unbuttons your jeans slowly, reverently, sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. When you are finally bare before him, he sat back on his heels just looking at you, and you feel genuinely seen in a way that should have made you self-conscious but instead makes you feel powerful.
“You’re staring,” you say, but is no bite to it.
“Can’t help it.” He leans down to kiss you again, his body presses against yours, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.
Your hands go to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until he helps you, kicking off his jeans and boxers in one motion. And then there was nothing between you, just skin on skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the best way.
“Do you have…?” he starts.
“Nightstand,” you gasp. “Top drawer.”
He reaches over, finds a condom, and you watch as he rolls it on with shaking hands. When he settles back over you, positioning himself between your legs, he pauses.
“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said, his eyes searching yours.
“I will. I promise.”
He pushes into you slowly, carefully, and you both groan at the sensation. He fills you perfectly, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard.
“Okay?” he manages.
“So okay,” you whisper. “Move. Please move.”
He did, starting with slow, deep strokes that have you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. His technique was unpracticed but enthusiastic, and when you shift your hips to find the angle you need, he paid attention, adjusting immediately.
“Like that,” you breathe. “Right there.”
“Here?” He hits the spot again, harder this time, and you cry out.
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
He set a rhythm then, his hips snapping against yours, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sounds he makes—low groans and whispered curses—were pushing you closer to the edge.
“You feel so good,” he pants against your neck. “So fucking good.”
Your nails rake down his back, and he hisses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he regains control. You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building low in your belly.
“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come.”
The command sends a shock of heat through you. You slide your hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation combined with the feeling of him inside you is too much.
“Sunghoon,” you gasp. “I’m—”
“Come for me,” he says, and that’s it.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body tensing and shaking as pleasure rolls through you. You feel yourself clenching around him, and he groans, his movements becoming erratic.
“Fuck, I’m—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just buries himself deep and comes with a broken moan, his body shuddering against yours.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“That was…” he started.
“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice still shaky.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your lips. “You’re amazing.”
And lying there in his arms, your body still humming with aftershocks, you feel something crack wide open in your chest. Something that feels dangerously close to real feelings.
Later—much later—you lie tangled together in your sheets, Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around you, his breathing deep and even. You should feel satisfied, content.
Instead, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.
You wake up to sunlight streaming through your window and the unfamiliar weight of someone else in your bed.
For a disorienting moment, you forget where you are, who you’re with. Then Sunghoon shifts beside you, his arm tightening around your waist, and everything comes rushing back.
The film festival. The cafe. Bringing him back here. The sex.
Oh god, the sex.
Your face heats at the memory, and you bury it in the pillow. Sunghoon makes a soft noise in his sleep, nuzzling into your neck, and despite everything—the guilt, the confusion, the looming disaster of the bet—you can’t help but smile.
“Are you awake?” His voice is rough with sleep, muffled against your skin.
“Maybe.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” You turn in his arms to face him, and he’s unfairly attractive like this—hair messy, eyes soft, a small smile on his lips.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
He kisses you, slow and lazy, and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your stomach, but before things can progress, his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand.
He groans, breaking away to check it. “It’s Heeseung. He wants to know if I’m alive.”
“Are you?”
“Barely.” He types out a quick response and sets the phone down. “I should probably go. I have a study group at noon.”
Disappointment lances through you, which is ridiculous. You just spent the entire night with him. “Yeah, okay.”
“Unless…” He looks at you hopefully. “Do you want to get breakfast first? There’s that place near campus that does really good pancakes.”
You should say no. You should put some distance between you, figure out what the hell you’re doing.
But instead you say, “I love pancakes.”
The diner is busy with the Sunday morning crowd, but you manage to snag a booth near the back. Sunghoon orders a truly obscene amount of food—pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns—and you raise an eyebrow.
“What? I’m hungry.” He grins. “Last night was… athletic.”
You kick him under the table, face flaming. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” His grin widens. “You’re very… energetic.”
“Oh my god, stop talking.”
But you’re laughing, and so is he, and when the food arrives, you end up stealing bites from his plate while he pretends to be offended.
It’s domestic and easy and terrifying.
Halfway through the meal, Jake walks in with Heeseung and Jay. Your stomach drops.
Jake sees you first, and something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or understanding. Then he’s heading over with the other two in tow.
“Sunghoon!” Heeseung says cheerfully, sliding into the booth beside him without asking. “You never came home last night. We were worried.”
Jay smirks, looking between you and Sunghoon. “Clearly not that worried.”
Sunghoon’s ears turn red. “We were just… we went to the film festival and then—”
“And then you stayed over,” Jake finishes, his eyes on you. There’s something unreadable in his expression.
“Hi, Jake,” you say carefully.
“Hey.” He slides in next to you, forcing you to scoot over. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah.”
The tension is palpable, at least to you. Sunghoon seems oblivious, too busy fielding questions from Heeseung about the films, but Jake is looking at you like he knows something.
“So you two are like, together now?” Heeseung asks bluntly.
Sunghoon glances at you, and there’s vulnerability in his eyes. “I… we haven’t really talked about it.”
“We’re seeing each other,” you say, reaching over to lace your fingers with his. “Right?”
“Right.” His smile is so genuine it makes your chest ache.
“Cute,” Jay says, stealing a piece of bacon from Sunghoon’s plate. “Our boy’s all grown up.”
“Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, but he’s grinning.
The conversation shifts to other topics—an upcoming game, someone’s disastrous Tinder date, plans for Halloween. You mostly stay quiet, hyperaware of Jake beside you, wondering if he’s going to say something about the party. About the kiss.
But he doesn’t. He just eats his food and makes jokes with the others, and when they finally leave, he gives you a long look that makes your stomach twist.
“He knows,” you say once they’re gone.
“Knows what?” Sunghoon asks, signaling for the check.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
The next week passes in a blur of classes, tutoring sessions that turn into makeout sessions, and stolen moments in empty classrooms and dark corners of the library.
You can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now that you’ve crossed that line, neither of you can go back.
On Tuesday, your “tutoring session” lasts all of fifteen minutes before Sunghoon is pulling you into his lap, his mouth hot on your neck.
“We should actually study,” you gasp, even as you grind down against him.
“We should,” he agrees, not stopping.
You end up in the single-user bathroom on the third floor, Sunghoon pressing you against the door as he kisses you breathless. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt to cup your breasts.
“God, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes against your lips. “It’s affecting my grades.”
“Liar. You’re incapable of getting bad grades.”
“Want to test that theory?” His hand slips between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you bite back a moan.
“Someone could hear.”
“Then you’ll have to be quiet.”
He drops to his knees, and your brain short-circuits.
“Sunghoon, what are you—”
“Let me,” he says, already unbuttoning your jeans. “Please. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
You should say no. You’re in a public bathroom in the library. Anyone could walk by.
But then he’s pulling your jeans and underwear down, and his mouth is on you, and all rational thought flies out the window.
“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair.
He’s enthusiastic if not entirely skilled, his tongue exploring with scientific precision, trying to figure out what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds your clit and sucks lightly, your knees buckle.
“There,” you manage. “Right there, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He works you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on your fist to keep from crying out. The knowledge that you’re doing this here, in public, with Sunghoon of all people on his knees for you, makes it even hotter.
You come embarrassingly quickly, your orgasm hitting you hard and sudden. Sunghoon works you through it, lapping at you until you’re shaking and oversensitive, and when he finally pulls away, his lips are shiny and his eyes are dark with lust.
“You taste amazing,” he says, his voice wrecked.
You pull him up and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Your place. Now.”
“I have a roommate.”
“My place then.”
You somehow make it back to your apartment without attacking him in public, though it’s a close thing. The moment you’re through the door, you’re on him, pushing him toward your bedroom and stripping off his clothes.
“Bed,” you command, and he goes willingly, lying back and watching as you undress.
When you straddle him, positioning yourself over his cock, he groans.
“Condom,” he manages.
“Nightstand.”
He reaches over, fumbles with the drawer, and rolls one on with shaking hands. Then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you moaning at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips. “You feel so good.”
You start to move, riding him slowly at first and then faster, chasing your pleasure. His hands roam your body—your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his eyes locked on you. “So fucking beautiful.”
The praise sends heat through you, and you lean down to kiss him, your movements becoming erratic. He takes over then, thrusting up into you hard and fast, and the change in angle has you gasping.
“Touch yourself,” he says, echoing his words from last time. “I want to see you come again.”
You do, your fingers finding your clit, and the combination of his cock inside you and your own touch is too much. You come with a cry, your body clenching around him, and he follows a moment later with a groan, his hips stuttering.
You collapse on top of him, both of you breathing hard, and he wraps his arms around you.
“I’m never going to be able to concentrate in the library again,” he says, and you laugh into his chest.
Thursday’s session is more of the same. You try to actually study—you really do—but Sunghoon keeps looking at you with these heated glances, and his hand keeps finding your thigh under the table, and eventually you give up and suggest going back to his place.
His roommate is at class, and you have exactly ninety minutes before he’s back.
You make the most of it.
This time, you’re the one on your knees, learning what makes Sunghoon gasp and curse. He’s bigger than you expected, and you take your time, using your tongue and lips and hands until he’s gripping the sheets and saying your name like a prayer.
“I’m close,” he warns, but you don’t pull away.
When he comes, you swallow, and the look on his face is worth it—complete bliss mixed with awe.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “That was…”
“Good?” you ask, crawling up his body.
“Understatement of the century.” He pulls you in for a kiss, apparently not caring that you just had him in your mouth. “Your turn.”
“We don’t have time—”
“We have time.”
He proves it by going down on you again, this time with more confidence and skill. He’s a fast learner, you’ll give him that. He remembers exactly what you liked before, adding new tricks that have you squirming and begging.
When you come, it’s intense enough that you see stars, and Sunghoon looks so pleased with himself that you can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks, grinning.
“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really into this.”
“Into making you feel good? Yeah, I am.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Is that weird?”
“No. It’s perfect.”
And it is perfect, which is the problem.
Because every moment with him feels more real, and every real moment makes the lie bigger.
That night, Mina corners you at a party at some frat house you don’t remember the name of.
“Okay, what the fuck?” she demands, pulling you into a relatively quiet hallway. “You’ve been dodging my texts for two weeks.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to update me on the bet? Because from what I’m hearing, you and Park Sunghoon are basically dating now.” She raises an eyebrow. “Which is great for the bet, obviously, but you’ve been weird about it.”
“I haven’t been weird.”
“You’re being weird right now. What’s going on?”
You take a long drink from your cup, buying time. “Nothing. It’s going fine. He’s definitely into me.”
“And are you into him?” The question is pointed.
“It’s a bet, Mina. Of course I’m not actually—”
“Bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “I’ve known you for three years. I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Do you actually like him?”
The question hangs in the air between you. You could lie. You should lie.
But you’re so tired of lying.
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “Maybe.”
Mina’s expression softens. “Babe…”
“I know. I’m an idiot. This was supposed to be easy, and I’m making it complicated.”
“So end the bet. Just tell him the truth.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, funny story, I only started talking to you because my friend bet me two hundred dollars that I couldn’t make you fall for me, but surprise, I actually caught feelings’? That’ll go over well.”
“Better than him finding out some other way.”
“He’s not going to find out.”
“Jake knows.” Mina says it casually, but the words hit like a punch.
“What?”
“Jake knows about the bet. He was there when I made it, remember? And he’s Sunghoon’s friend. You really think he’s not going to say something?”
Your stomach drops. “Jake wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he? You two hooked up at that party. And now you’re dating his friend. You don’t think that’s going to come up eventually?”
Panic rises in your throat. “We didn’t hook up. We just kissed.”
“Does Sunghoon know that?”
“No.”
“So you’re keeping secrets on top of secrets. Great plan.”
“What do you want me to do, Mina?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I can’t unfuck this situation. It’s already fucked.”
She sighs, her expression gentler now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. You don’t do feelings, you don’t do relationships. And now you’re in this mess because I made a stupid bet. So I’m giving you an out. Call it off. Keep your money. I don’t care. Just… don’t hurt him. And don’t hurt yourself.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.”
But she doesn’t understand. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s not even about the bet.
It’s about the fact that you’ve built something real with Sunghoon, even if it’s built on a foundation of lies. And you don’t know how to tell him the truth without destroying everything.
The next morning, you wake up to a text from Sunghoon: Can’t stop thinking about yesterday. When can I see you again?
Despite everything—the guilt, the fear, the looming disaster—you smile.
Tonight? My place?
Perfect. I’ll bring dinner.
You spend the day in a state of anxious anticipation. Part of you wants to cancel, to put some distance between you and figure out what to do. But a bigger part of you just wants to see him, to pretend for a little while longer that everything is okay.
He shows up at seven with Thai food and that soft smile that makes your heart hurt.
“Hi,” he says, kissing you hello like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi.”
You eat on your bed, cross-legged and trading bites of pad thai and spring rolls. Sunghoon tells you about his thesis advisor giving him shit for missing a meeting, and you tell him about your nightmare group project in your econometrics class.
It’s domestic and comfortable and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.
After dinner, you end up tangled together, kissing lazily. His hands are under your shirt, yours in his hair, and it’s not urgent or desperate—just sweet and slow.
“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon says against your lips.
“Mm?”
“Are we… I mean, I know we said we’re seeing each other, but are we like, exclusive? Because I’d like to be. Exclusive, I mean. If you want.”
Your heart squeezes. “You want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yeah. I really do.” He pulls back to look at you, and there’s such open honesty in his face that it makes you want to cry. “Is that okay?”
You should say no. You should end this before it gets worse.
But instead you kiss him hard and whisper, “Yes. I want that too.”
His smile is brilliant, and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Things heat up quickly after that—clothes coming off, hands and mouths everywhere.
This time, Sunghoon takes his time. He kisses every inch of your skin, mapping your body with his lips and tongue. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you with dark eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You. Just you.”
He works you with his mouth until you’re trembling and gasping, and when he finally pushes inside you, it feels different. More intimate. Like you’re not just fucking but making love, which is a thought that should terrify you but instead just makes you hold him tighter.
“I’m falling for you,” he breathes against your neck as he moves inside you. “I know it’s fast, but I can’t help it.”
You should tell him the truth. Right now, in this moment, you should come clean.
But instead you just kiss him and whisper, “I’m falling for you too.”
And the worst part is, you mean it.
Later, after he’s fallen asleep, you lie awake staring at the ceiling.
You’re in love with Park Sunghoon.
You’re in love with the boy you were supposed to play, the bet you were supposed to win. And he loves you back, except he doesn’t really love you—he loves the version of you that you’ve been pretending to be.
Or maybe he does love the real you. Maybe all the pretending has become real. Maybe there’s no difference anymore.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Jake: We need to talk.
You stare at the message, your heart pounding.
Everything is about to fall apart. You can feel it.
And you have no idea how to stop it.
You meet Jake at a coffee shop off campus, somewhere you’re unlikely to run into anyone you know.
He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee in front of him. He slides one toward you as you sit down.
“Vanilla latte,” he says. “I remembered from that party.”
“Thanks.” You wrap your hands around the cup, more for something to do than because you actually want it.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Jake studies you with an unreadable expression, and you force yourself to meet his gaze.
“So,” he says finally. “You and Sunghoon.”
“Yeah.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“A few weeks. Officially, I mean. We’ve been doing the tutoring thing for longer.”
Jake nods slowly. “He’s really into you. Like, really into you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
Guilt twists in your stomach. “I know.”
“Does he know about the bet?”
There it is. The question you’ve been dreading.
“No,” you say quietly.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Jake repeats, his tone flat. “So you’re just going to keep lying to him?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It actually is that simple.” He leans forward. “You made a bet that you could make him fall for you. You did. Congratulations. Now either you tell him the truth, or you don’t. But this middle ground where you’re pretending everything’s fine? That’s fucked up.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I know it’s fucked up. I know I should tell him. But how do I do that without destroying everything?”
“Maybe everything deserves to be destroyed if it’s built on a lie.”
The words hit harder than they should. You take a shaky breath. “Why do you care so much? You barely know him.”
“He’s my friend. And he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.” Jake pauses. “And honestly? I don’t think you deserve to hurt yourself like this either. I saw your face when you’re with him. Whatever started as a bet isn’t a bet anymore. You actually care about him.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Tell him the truth. Before someone else does.”
Your blood runs cold. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m warning you.” Jake’s expression softens slightly. “Look, I’m not going to tell him. That’s not my place. But Mina was drunk when she made that bet, and there were other people around. Someone’s going to say something eventually. And it’s going to be a lot worse if he hears it from someone else.”
He’s right. You know he’s right.
“I’ll tell him,” you say. “I just… I need to find the right time.”
“Don’t wait too long.” Jake stands, leaving his coffee untouched. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d understand. He’s not perfect either. None of us are. But he deserves honesty.”
After he leaves, you sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, staring at your phone.
You pull up your messages with Sunghoon, dozens of texts full of inside jokes and sweet nothings. Then you scroll to Mina, her most recent message asking if you want to go out this weekend.
You type out three different messages to Sunghoon—variations of “we need to talk”—and delete them all.
Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes and goes, and you don’t tell him.
You tell yourself you’re waiting for the right moment, but the truth is you’re a coward. Every time you’re with him, you see how happy he is, how he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you can’t bring yourself to shatter that.
The week passes in a strange tension. On the surface, everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon are inseparable—studying together, eating together, sleeping together. He’s introduced you to his parents over video chat, and you’ve started keeping a toothbrush at his place.
But underneath, you’re drowning in guilt and anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It happens on Friday night.
There’s a Halloween party at one of the bigger fraternity houses, and everyone is going. Sunghoon isn’t thrilled about it—he’s still not much of a party person—but you’d promised you’d go together, and he’s trying.
You’d put actual effort into your costume—a devil, complete with red bodysuit, horns, and a tail. Sunghoon is dressed as an angel, which he’d been embarrassed about until you told him how hot he looked in all white.
“We’re very on the nose,” he says as you walk to the party, his hand in yours.
“I think it’s cute. Heaven and hell, together at last.”
“Is that what we are?” He grins. “I’m corrupting you or you’re corrupting me?”
“Definitely the second one.”
The party is already in full swing when you arrive, the house packed with people in various states of intoxication and costume creativity. You spot Mina almost immediately—she’s dressed as a sexy nurse and is already drunk, dancing on a table with some guy from her marketing class.
“I’m going to get us drinks,” Sunghoon says, kissing your temple. “Want your usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He disappears into the crowd, and you start making your way toward Mina. But before you can reach her, someone grabs your arm.
It’s Jenna, a girl from your econometrics class. You’ve talked to her a few times, but you wouldn’t call her a friend.
“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you!” She’s clearly drunk, her words slightly slurred. “I need to know—is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The bet! With Park Sunghoon!” She’s practically shouting over the music. “Mina told Sarah who told me that you made a bet you could make him fall for you. And oh my god, you guys are actually dating now? That’s hilarious. How much did you win?”
Your blood turns to ice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but your voice sounds wrong even to your own ears.
“Come on, don’t be modest! It’s genius, honestly. I mean, he’s such a nerd, it probably wasn’t even that hard—”
“Stop.” The word comes out harsh, cutting. “Just stop talking.”
Jenna blinks, taken aback. “Whoa, okay. I was just—”
But you’re not listening anymore. You’re scanning the crowd frantically, looking for Sunghoon, praying he’s still in the kitchen getting drinks, praying he didn’t hear any of that.
And then you see him.
He’s standing about ten feet away, two cups in his hands, his face completely blank.
Your heart stops.
“Sunghoon—”
But he’s already turning away, setting the cups down on the nearest surface and heading for the door.
“Shit,” you breathe, pushing past Jenna and fighting your way through the crowd. “Sunghoon, wait!”
You catch up to him outside, on the front lawn. He’s walking fast, his shoulders tense, and when you grab his arm, he jerks away.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice cold in a way you’ve never heard before.
“Please, just let me explain—”
“Explain what?” He whirls to face you, and the hurt in his eyes is devastating. “Explain how you made a bet that you could make me fall for you? Explain how this entire thing has been a lie?”
“It’s not—it wasn’t all a lie—”
“How much?” His voice cracks. “How much did you win?”
“Sunghoon—”
“How much?” He’s shouting now, and people are starting to stare.
“Two hundred dollars,” you whisper. “But I don’t want it. I never wanted it. That’s not what this is about.”
He laughs, a bitter sound. “Right. So what is it about? Entertainment? Did you have fun? Watching the awkward nerd fall all over himself for you?”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you played me. You pretended to need tutoring, pretended to be interested in me, pretended to—” His voice breaks. “Did you fake all of it? Every moment, every kiss, every time you said you cared about me?”
“No!” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I didn’t fake it. I swear, I didn’t. It started as a bet, yes, but it became real. My feelings are real.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?” He’s crying too, and seeing him cry because of you is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say when everything has been a lie?”
“Because I love you,” you say desperately. “I love you, Sunghoon. That’s real. That’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
For a moment, something flickers in his expression—hope, maybe, or want. But then it hardens again.
“You don’t love me,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know me. Because if you did, if you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I need to go.”
“Please don’t leave. Let me explain properly, let me—”
“There’s nothing to explain.” He takes a step back, putting distance between you. “You made a bet. You won. Congratulations.”
“Sunghoon—”
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to talk to you. I just… I need you to leave me alone.”
And then he’s walking away, and you’re standing alone on the lawn in your stupid devil costume, crying so hard you can barely breathe.
Behind you, the party continues, oblivious to the fact that your entire world just imploded.
You don’t remember getting home. One minute you’re on the lawn, the next you’re in your apartment, Mina’s arms around you while you sob into her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she keeps saying. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have made that stupid bet. This is my fault.”
But it’s not her fault. It’s yours.
You’re the one who accepted the bet. You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who kept lying even after you started developing real feelings.
You’re the one who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart.
Your phone won’t stop buzzing—texts from people at the party, from Jenna apologizing, from people you barely know asking if it’s true. You turn it off and curl up in bed, still in your costume, feeling like you’re suffocating.
“What do I do?” you ask Mina, your voice hoarse from crying.
“I don’t know, babe. Give him time, maybe? Let him cool off, then try to talk to him again?”
“He said he doesn’t want to see me.”
“He’s hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt.”
But you saw his face. The betrayal, the devastation. That wasn’t just hurt. That was something deeper.
You’d made him believe someone could care about him, could see past the nerd label and the awkwardness and love him for who he is.
And then you’d proven that it was all an act.
“I ruined everything,” you whisper.
Mina doesn’t argue.
The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. Your phone is still off, and you’re afraid to turn it on.
But you force yourself to. You need to know how bad it is.
The damage is worse than you thought. There are dozens of messages, multiple group chats discussing the drama. Someone apparently recorded part of your argument with Sunghoon and posted it online. Your mentions are full of people calling you a bitch, a heartbreaker, cruel.
And they’re not wrong.
You scroll through until you find messages from people who actually matter. Heeseung sent you a long text that essentially amounts to “what the fuck is wrong with you.” Jay’s is shorter but somehow more cutting: “He really loved you. I hope it was worth it.”
Jake’s is the one that makes you cry again: “I warned you. I hope you figure out how to make this right.”
There’s nothing from Sunghoon.
You open your conversation with him, looking at the last messages he sent—a string of heart emojis in response to a photo you’d sent of your costume. It was less than twelve hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime.
You type out a message: I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please, let me explain. What I said last night was true. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.
You stare at it for a long moment, then delete it.
Words aren’t going to fix this. Nothing is going to fix this.
You’ve lost him.
And it’s entirely your own fault.
The first week without Sunghoon is the worst week of your life.
You stop going to parties. You can barely drag yourself to classes. Your carefully constructed social life—the one where you were always the center of attention, always having fun, always in control—crumbles around you.
Because it turns out that when people know you’re capable of something that cruel, they look at you differently.
Mina tries her best to support you, but even she doesn’t know what to say. She canceled the bet immediately, told you to keep your money, apologized a hundred times. But it doesn’t change anything.
You avoid the library completely. You can’t bear to walk past your usual table by the windows, can’t bear to remember all those tutoring sessions that turned into something more. Your statistics homework sits untouched—you can’t bring yourself to look at probability distributions without thinking of Sunghoon’s patient explanations, his neat handwriting, the way his face would light up when you got a problem right.
Your roommate Jiwoo walks on eggshells around you. She brings you food you don’t eat, suggests watching movies you can’t focus on, and eventually just sits with you in silence because that’s all you can handle.
“You need to get out of bed,” she says on day five, opening your curtains despite your protests. “You haven’t showered in two days. You’re not eating. This isn’t healthy.”
“I know.”
“So get up. Take a shower. We’ll go get coffee or something.”
“I don’t want coffee.”
“I don’t care what you want. You’re getting out of this apartment.” Her voice is firm but kind. “Come on. I’ll wait.”
You drag yourself out of bed, shower on autopilot, and put on clothes that aren’t pajamas for the first time in days. When you look in the mirror, you barely recognize yourself. Your face is pale, eyes hollow and red-rimmed. You look like you’ve been through a war.
You feel like it too.
Campus feels different now. You walk with your head down, avoiding eye contact, hyperaware of every whisper and pointed look. The story has spread—everyone knows about the bet, about what you did. Some people are sympathetic, but most just see you as the girl who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart for two hundred dollars.
You deserve it. Every bit of judgment, every dirty look. You deserve all of it.
Jiwoo takes you to a small cafe on the edge of campus, one you’ve never been to before. It’s quiet, mostly empty, and you’re grateful for the anonymity.
“Talk to me,” Jiwoo says once you’re settled with your drinks. “What are you feeling?”
“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” You wrap your hands around your cup. “I keep thinking about his face. When he found out. I’ve never seen anyone look so… broken.”
“Have you tried to reach out?”
“What would I even say? ‘Sorry I made a bet to make you fall in love with me’? There’s no apology big enough for what I did.”
“Maybe not. But maybe he deserves to hear that you’re sorry anyway.”
You shake your head. “He said he doesn’t want to see me. I have to respect that.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m accepting that I fucked up so badly there’s no coming back from it.” Your voice cracks. “I lost him, Jiwoo. And it’s my own fault.”
She reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “For what it’s worth, I think your feelings were real. I saw how you were with him. That wasn’t fake.”
“It doesn’t matter if they were real. Not when everything else was a lie.”
You start seeing Sunghoon around campus, though “seeing” isn’t quite right because you make sure he never actually sees you. You’ve become an expert at ducking into buildings, changing directions, hiding behind groups of people.
Each glimpse of him is like a knife to the chest.
He looks tired. Sad. He’s always alone now, you notice—no more walking with Heeseung and the others, no more sitting in groups at the dining hall. He’s retreated back into himself, back into the lonely, isolated version of himself that existed before you.
Before you ruined everything.
On Tuesday at 5 PM, you walk past the library and see him at your old table. There’s a girl sitting across from him—you don’t recognize her—and she’s working through what looks like statistics problems. He’s explaining something, using the same patient tone he used with you, and seeing it makes you feel physically ill.
He’s moved on. He’s replaced you.
Which is what you wanted, right? For him to be okay? But watching it happen feels like dying.
Week two is somehow worse than week one.
You run into Heeseung at the gym. You’ve been going at odd hours to avoid people, but apparently not odd enough. He’s on the treadmill next to yours, and for a moment you consider just leaving. But he speaks before you can.
“You look like shit,” he says bluntly.
“Thanks.”
“Sunghoon looks worse.”
Your chest tightens. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Too bad.” Heeseung stops his treadmill and turns to face you fully. “You fucked up. We all know it. But I’m not here to lecture you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I’ve known Sunghoon since freshman year, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he was with you. And I’ve also never seen him as miserable as he is now.” He pauses. “And because Jake told me what you said. That you actually fell for him.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It matters to him. Even if he won’t admit it.”
You stop your treadmill too. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung? That I’m sorry? I’m sorry. That I wish I could take it back? I do. That I love him? I—” Your voice breaks. “I love him so much it’s destroying me. But he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t blame him.”
Heeseung studies you for a long moment. “He’s stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person I know. When he decides something, it’s really hard to change his mind.”
“So I’m fucked.”
“I didn’t say that.” He grabs his water bottle. “I’m just saying, if you really love him, you’re going to have to fight for it. Because he’s not going to make it easy.”
“He shouldn’t have to make anything easy. I’m the one who screwed up.”
“Yeah, you did. But people screw up. That’s life. The question is whether you’re going to let one mistake define you, or whether you’re going to do everything you can to make it right.”
He leaves you there, heart pounding, his words echoing in your head.
On Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Mina: brunch? you need to eat and i miss you
You almost say no. But Jiwoo would just drag you out anyway, so you agree.
Mina picks the place—a cute little diner near campus that does bottomless mimosas on weekends. It’s the kind of place that’s usually packed, but you arrive early enough to get a table.
You’re halfway through your pancakes when the door opens and Sunghoon walks in.
Your heart stops.
He’s not alone. There’s a girl with him—the same one from the library, you realize. She’s pretty, with long dark hair and a sweet smile. She’s laughing at something he said, and he’s smiling back, and seeing them together feels like someone reached into your chest and ripped your heart out.
“Oh shit,” Mina breathes, following your gaze.
You can’t look away. You watch as they’re seated at a booth near the window—the same booth you and Sunghoon sat in that Sunday morning after your first night together. The morning when everything felt perfect and possible.
The girl says something and Sunghoon laughs—really laughs—and you realize with a sick feeling that you haven’t heard that laugh in weeks. Not since before everything fell apart.
“We should go,” Mina says, already signaling for the check.
“No.” Your voice sounds strange, hollow. “It’s fine. We were here first.”
“Babe—”
“I said it’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. You watch as they order coffee, as Sunghoon does that thing where he pushes his glasses up when he’s happy, as the girl reaches across the table to show him something on her phone and their fingers brush.
Does he touch her the way he touched you? Does he kiss her like he kissed you? Does he tell her about the hiking trail, about his dreams of being an astronaut, about all the little things he shared with you?
Has he replaced you that easily?
“I need to go,” you say abruptly, standing up. Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and several people look over—including Sunghoon.
Your eyes meet across the diner.
For one terrible, eternal moment, everything else falls away. It’s just you and him, all the hurt and love and regret hanging between you like a physical thing.
His expression shifts—surprise, then pain, then carefully controlled blankness. He looks away first, turning his attention back to the girl across from him with deliberate focus.
The dismissal is clear. You mean nothing to him now.
You barely make it outside before you start crying.
Mina follows, wrapping her arms around you while you sob on the sidewalk. People walk past, staring, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“He’s moved on,” you choke out. “He’s already moved on.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s just a friend—”
“Did you see the way he looked at her? He was happy, Mina. Really happy. Like he is when he’s—” You can’t finish the sentence. Like he was with you.
“Come on,” Mina says gently. “Let’s get you home.”
You let her lead you back to your apartment, your mind stuck on repeat. The image of Sunghoon laughing with that girl, the way he looked away from you like you were nothing, the realization that you’ve truly, permanently lost him.
This is what you deserve, you tell yourself. This is the consequence of your actions.
But knowing you deserve it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
That night, alone in your room, you finally let yourself break completely.
You pull out your laptop and open the folder of photos from the past few weeks. There are dozens—candid shots of Sunghoon studying, selfies you took together, photos from the hiking trip. In every single one where he’s looking at you, his expression is so full of love it makes your chest ache.
He really did love you. Completely, genuinely, without reservation.
And you destroyed that.
You find yourself scrolling through your text messages with him, reading through months of conversation. The early ones are formal—just coordinating tutoring sessions. But they gradually shift into something more. Long conversations about nothing and everything. Stupid jokes. Good morning and goodnight texts. The kind of constant communication that happens when you can’t stop thinking about someone.
The last text is still the string of heart emojis he sent in response to your costume photo. You’d been so happy that night, getting ready for the party, excited to show him off to everyone.
And then it all came crashing down.
You start typing before you can stop yourself: I saw you today at the diner. You looked happy. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy. I know you don’t want to hear from me, and I promise this is the last time I’ll bother you. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. What I did was unforgivable, and I understand why you hate me. But I need you to know that my feelings were real. Are real. I fell in love with you, Sunghoon. Really, truly in love. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I needed to say it. You made me want to be a better person. You made me see that there’s more to life than parties and surface-level friendships and keeping people at arm’s length. You made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. And I ruined it. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I was selfish and careless and stupid. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even expect you to respond to this. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. I’ll always love you.
You read it over three times, your finger hovering over the send button.
Then you delete it.
He’s moved on. He’s happy. And sending that message would just be selfish—making yourself feel better at his expense.
So instead, you close your laptop, turn off your phone, and cry yourself to sleep.
The next morning, you wake up to pounding on your door.
“Go away, Jiwoo,” you mumble into your pillow.
“It’s not Jiwoo.”
You bolt upright. That’s not Jiwoo’s voice. You stumble to the door and open it to find Jay standing there, looking uncharacteristically serious.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I don’t—”
“It’s about Sunghoon. Let me in.”
Your heart racing, you step aside. Jay walks in, looking around your disaster of an apartment—tissues everywhere, empty takeout containers, your laundry piled in the corner.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You really are a mess.”
“If you came here to insult me—”
“I came here to tell you that Sunghoon is miserable.” Jay turns to face you. “That girl you saw him with? That’s his cousin. She’s visiting for the weekend, and he agreed to show her around campus. But according to Heeseung, the entire time they were at that diner, he kept staring at the door like he was hoping someone specific would walk in.”
Your breath catches. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he’s too stubborn to admit that he misses you. And you’re apparently too much of a coward to fight for him.” Jay crosses his arms. “Look, what you did was shitty. We all agree on that. But Sunghoon isn’t some innocent victim in all this either.”
“Yes, he is—”
“No, he’s not. He put you on a pedestal. He built up this image of you as this perfect girl who chose him over everyone else, and he didn’t give you room to be human. To make mistakes.” Jay pauses. “I’m not saying what you did was okay. But I am saying that relationships are complicated, and people fuck up, and maybe if you both actually talked to each other instead of suffering in silence, you could figure this out.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Have you actually tried? Like, really tried? Or did you just accept his initial reaction and give up?”
You don’t have an answer to that.
“That’s what I thought.” Jay heads for the door, then pauses. “He’s going to that hiking trail. The one he took you to. He goes every Sunday morning. Maybe you should accidentally run into him.”
“Jay—”
“Or don’t. Keep wallowing in your guilt and let him keep wallowing in his hurt. But I’m telling you, you’re both miserable apart. So maybe it’s worth at least trying to be miserable together.”
He leaves, and you stand in your apartment, his words echoing in your head. Maybe it’s worth at least trying.
Sunday morning dawns gray and overcast, threatening rain.
You almost take it as a sign to stay home. But you’ve spent two weeks being a coward, and you’re done with that.
You dress in the same athletic clothes you wore the first time Sunghoon took you hiking. No makeup, hair pulled back. This isn’t about looking good. This is about being honest.
The drive to the trailhead feels both endless and too short. Your hands shake on the steering wheel, and you have to give yourself a pep talk in the parking lot before you can get out of the car.
Sunghoon’s Honda Civic is already there.
He’s here.
You start up the trail on unsteady legs, every step feeling monumental. The trees are mostly bare now, leaves crunching underfoot, fall having settled fully into the world while you were busy falling apart.
You find him at the clearing overlooking the lake, sitting on the same flat rock where you first kissed him. His shoulders are hunched, head down. Even from a distance you can see the exhaustion in his posture. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping any better than you have. You step into the clearing.
He hears you immediately, head snapping up. When he sees you, his expression cycles through surprise, pain, anger, and finally settles on something carefully neutral.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“I thought I made it clear—”
“I know. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and if you still want me to leave after that, I will. I’ll never bother you again.”
A long pause. Then he gestures stiffly to the rock beside him.
You sit, leaving space between you, and for a moment you both just stare out at the lake. The water is choppy today, reflecting the gray sky.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “I know that’s not enough. But I need to say it again. What I did was cruel and selfish and unforgivable, and I hate myself for it.”
“Why did you do it?” His voice is quiet. “Was I really that much of a joke to you?”
“No. You were never a joke. That’s the thing—you were supposed to be. It was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to play a part, win the bet, and move on.” You take a shaky breath. “But then I actually got to know you. And everything changed.”
“When?” he asks. “When did it become real?”
“Maybe when you brought me coffee without being asked. Maybe on Heeseung’s balcony. Maybe the first time you made me laugh for real.” You look at him. “I don’t know the exact moment. I just know that somewhere along the way, pretending became impossible because what I felt was completely real.”
He’s quiet. You press on.
“I saw you at the diner with your cousin. I thought she was someone you were moving on with, and it destroyed me. The idea of you loving someone else—” Your voice breaks. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t just accept losing you without a fight.”
“Jay told you she was my cousin,” he says flatly.
“Yes. And Heeseung told me you still had feelings for me. And Jake—” You pause. “Jake warned me weeks ago to tell you the truth. I should have listened.”
“You should have told me from the beginning.”
“I know. I was a coward. I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow, and then tomorrow became two weeks, and then it was too late.” Tears stream down your face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. That my love for you is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
Sunghoon is quiet for so long you think he’s going to ask you to leave. Then he speaks.
“I’ve been miserable without you,” he says roughly. “I’ve been trying to be angry. Trying to hate you. But every time I come here, I think about kissing you on this rock. Every time I tutor someone new, I compare them to you.” He exhales. “I told my cousin about you. She called me an idiot for not hearing you out.”
Something flickers in your chest. “You talked about me?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He finally turns to look at you, really look at you, and his expression breaks open. “You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah.” He reaches out hesitantly, brushing a tear from your cheek. The touch sends electricity through you. “I missed you.”
“I missed you every single day.”
“I want to forgive you,” he says slowly. “But I’m scared. How do I trust you again? How do I know this isn’t another performance?”
“You don’t. Not yet. I can’t hand you trust—I have to earn it back. Slowly, honestly, for however long it takes. I’ll be transparent about everything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll do whatever it takes.” You lace your fingers through his. “Just don’t give up on us before we even try.”
“You’d go to therapy?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
He looks down at your joined hands. “I really loved you. Love you. Present tense. I can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I try.”
“Then don’t try.” You move closer, until your knees are touching. “Let me love you back. For real this time.”
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, something has shifted.
“No more lies,” he says firmly. “No more games. If we do this, we do it honestly. Complete honesty, always.”
“Complete honesty. Always.”
He leans in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don’t.
When his lips meet yours, it’s careful at first, tentative—like you’re both afraid of breaking something fragile. But then you’re kissing him deeper, pouring everything into it. All the guilt, all the love, all the desperate hope that you haven’t destroyed something irreplaceable.When you finally pull apart, you’re both crying.
“I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Even though I probably shouldn’t.”
“We’ll make this work. I promise.”
“We’d better.” He squeezes your hand. “Can I take you to breakfast? Somewhere new. Not the diner.”
“New memories,” you say softly.
“New memories.”
He stands and offers his hand. You take it.
Three months later, you’re back at the library table by the windows.
Actually studying this time. Sunghoon is beside you, working on his thesis, occasionally stealing your coffee or reaching over to help with a problem. His hand finds yours between pages, a habit neither of you noticed developing.
Things aren’t perfect. There have been arguments, moments of doubt, nights where old wounds reopened. But you’ve worked through them. Therapy helped. Honesty helped more.
Mina waves from across the library. Jake gives you shit sometimes, but it’s affectionate now. Heeseung and Jay have folded you into the group like you were always there.
Your life looks different. Quieter in some ways, fuller in others. Less performance, more presence.
“Want to get out of here?” Sunghoon asks, already packing up his bag. “I know this hiking trail…”
You laugh. “Always with the hiking.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He takes your hand. “Come on. Let’s go make some more memories.”
Park Sunghoon was never just the biggest nerd on campus.
➜ summary: you don't really like jungwon. too bad, he likes you.
pairing: yjw x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: highschool, fluff, w: rude jokes, cussing
Yang Jungwon. Some claimed he was the greatest being to grace the earth since Albert Einstein. Others (okay, just you) thought he was stuck-up, snobby, and a walking narcissist.
Unfortunately, you fell squarely into the latter category. Fortunately, you were also the president, vice-president, and sole member of his anti-fan club. Uncontested views? Check. Lifelong grudge? Check. Emotional maturity? Debatable.
You couldn’t even remember exactly when your vendetta against him began. Maybe it was that time in fourth grade when he beat you in the spelling bee because you messed up the word “friendship.” Who knew there was an ‘i’ in friendship? (Jungwon did. Of course he did.)
Or maybe—and this one still haunts your dreams—it was that fateful night at your first senior party. The lights were dim, the music was loud, and Jungwon spun the bottle. It landed on you. Everyone screamed. He looked you dead in the eye, let out a low chuckle, and said:
“I can’t take her first kiss like this.”
Cue the chorus of laughter that still echoes in your ears during your quiet poops.
So no. You didn’t like Jungwon. At all. Obviously.
You glanced up at the boys near the front of the classroom. They were crowded around the class skeleton, draping a hoodie over its shoulders and pretending it was a hot girl. You blinked once, then sighed long and hard. This was your peer group. Children. Absolute children. To your left, a group of girls giggled behind manicured hands, their eyes glued to their phones. You didn’t have to look twice to know they were texting their college boyfriends, acting like seventeen wasn’t a whole year away from knowing how taxes worked.
Maybe you did, in fact, relate to that one viral Jaden Smith video. The one where he claimed his peers were all stupid and that he preferred to talk about the political and economic state of the world. Maybe you too wanted to host a philosophical podcast at lunch instead of watching Park Jongseong from the neighbouring class pretend the skeleton had an OnlyFans.
But the truth was: you were still in high school. Still surrounded by greasy cafeteria fries, half-hearted gossip, and teenage delusion. You had your own brand of immaturity—though you’d never admit it. You were far too busy judging everyone else to notice your own. Just like any other high schooler.
You turned back to Heeseung, who was slumped dramatically on his desk, face buried in his arms like the world had ended overnight.
“Hee,” you whispered—not exactly a whisper, more like a stage-whisper with yelling ambitions.
He groaned without lifting his head. “Didn’t get any sleep last night. Don’t bother me.”
“You son of a—this is important!”
“Now what,” he mumbled, “could possibly be more important than my beauty sleep?”
“It’s really not my fault you stayed up all night playing that wretched game of—”
“I was this close to Diamond again!” Heeseung sat up with a jolt, eyes wide and bloodshot with the weight of regret. He turned to you, serious as a man whose world had crumbled. “That stupid, no-good Park Sunghoon lost it for all of us.”
You scoffed. “Sure. Blame Sunghoon.”
Your eye roll was practically a full-body movement. Heeseung looked like he was about to launch into a passionate monologue about teamwork and betrayal, but just as he opened his mouth—
The classroom door creaked open.
And in walked the bane of your existence.
Well, not walked exactly. He sauntered in, with the kind of swagger reserved for people who peaked at seventeen. His hand went up lazily in greeting, a wave aimed toward the back of the class.
“Ni-ki!” he called out, voice way too loud for eight in the morning, like he was the only person who existed in this entire room.
You rolled your eyes so hard you could see your own brain. Could he not tell that other people were trying to have a breakdown in peace? Rude.
“Did you wake me up just to stare at Yang Jungwon?” Heeseung muttered..
“No. I actually wanted to ask if you were coming over after school. My mom misses you.”
Heeseung grinned as he stretched, cracking his neck like he was preparing for battle. “I guess even she prefers me over you.”
“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
“And your mom will kill you for even thinking about laying hands on her precious son-in-law.”
“We’re not getting married, Lee.”
“I hope not. I’m trying to have good-looking children.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Aw, come on. You love me.”
You rolled your eyes again, but this time, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips before you could stop it.
Heeseung shifted, burying his face back into his arms like he was preparing for hibernation, then turned his head just slightly to glance at you.
“Y’know I was kidding, right?” he murmured.
“Huh?”
“You’re pretty,” he said, simple as breathing. “Before you start overthinking in there—” he lazily pointed to your forehead, “—I figured I’d clarify.”
You rolled your eyes, heat threatening to creep up your neck. “Yes, Heeseung. I know you’re joking.”
“Good,” he mumbled, eyes already closing again. “Because if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re stupid.”
And with a dramatic sigh and a yawn, he slipped right back into sleep.
You liked Heeseung. Like… liked liked him.
Maybe it was because he was the only guy friend you had who didn’t make you want to choke yourself with a charging cable. Or maybe it was the way he always knew how far to go with his jokes—never pushing too hard, never making you feel like the punchline. He just got you. Like he had some internal manual titled How to Handle You Without Ruining Everything. He was just… right.
You thought he was handsome. Kind. Genuinely funny. And yet, he never really seemed interested in dating anyone. Which was objectively bizarre, considering how many girls trailed after him.
But he’d just smile, ruffle their hair like an older brother, and say, “I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for anything right now. But thank you for being honest.” Then he’d say something so sweet—so emotionally intelligent—it almost cancelled out the heartbreak.
But it wasn’t like you were in love with the guy. That would be insane. It was just a silly little crush. Something that should’ve faded after a few weeks. Only… it had been six months.
You shrugged to yourself. It’s not like you’d ever act on it. Heeseung was eyeing some fancy art school in Seoul, while you were hoping for SNU, fingers crossed for a spot in English Language and Literature. You were both headed in opposite directions, and you’d made peace with that.
-
Jungwon wasn’t exactly sure when it started. All he knew was that you had been staring at him for the past few minutes. And not the accidental kind, either. The kind that lingered.
At first, he thought maybe there was something on his face. Food, maybe. Ink? But no—he had checked. Twice. Then he thought you might be staring past him. But there was literally nothing behind him except a dead plant and Ni-ki trying to balance a pen on his nose.
So what was it?
He wasn’t trying to be narcissistic. God, no. Contrary to popular belief, he hated that reputation. He was just curious. Mildly intrigued. Intellectually invested, even. Then you stood up and walked out of the room, presumably to the toilet. And before he could stop himself, Jungwon was at your desk. Sitting in your seat.
He faced the direction you’d been looking, squinting slightly. His eyes landed on his own desk. Then his own chair. Then himself, reflected in the window across from where you sat.
Oh.
Interesting.
His gaze drifted downward. He didn’t mean to snoop. He really didn’t. But there, scribbled hastily at the top of your notebook, was a line repeated over and over in varying levels of despairing handwriting:
“You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him. You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him.”
His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead.
Okay. Wow. That was a lot. Intense, even. Dramatic. A little poetic, if he was being honest.
And then—just to make things worse—his eyes fell on the side pocket of your pencil case. A doodle of a heart. Literally. A heart. With... a J scribbled next to it. Could've been anyone. But this was high school. It was always obvious.
He sat back, blinking in disbelief.
You liked him.
You liked him.
Holy shit.
He stood abruptly, knocking your chair back an inch. He didn’t mean to see all of that. God, he really didn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered a quiet curse under his breath.
And just as he turned to walk away, he heard footsteps behind him. You. Coming back.
Panicked, he grabbed the first thing he saw—your eraser—and pretended to inspect it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. You walked in just in time to see Jungwon squinting down at your strawberry-scented eraser like it held the secrets to the universe.
“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, blinking.
He looked up, face neutral, maybe a little smug. “Didn’t know you were so into cryptic love notes,” he said, voice maddeningly calm.
You froze. “Huh?”
He pointed casually at your notebook, then raised a brow. “You’re being kind of obvious, you know.”
“Obvious about what?” you snapped, walking back to your seat, already feeling that familiar sense of dread pooling in your stomach.
“Nothing,” he said, smile just barely twitching at the corners. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
And with that, he walked off with your eraser in hand.
-
For the rest of class, you could feel it, eyes burning into the back of your skull like laser beams. Yang Jungwon, for some reason only the gods could explain, wouldn’t stop staring at you.
You turned your head slightly, catching him in the act. His gaze snapped up, caught red-handed. You narrowed your eyes and offered him the most vicious glare you could muster, like you were trying to kill him with pure facial expression alone.
“Stop staring!"
-
After class, Heeseung shot out of his seat like a rocket, clutching his stomach and mumbling something about the milk he drank that morning definitely being expired.
“I swear to God, if I die like this—” he was already halfway out the door.
You snorted, laughing as you packed up your books, slinging your bag over one shoulder while checking your phone. Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake had already texted the group chat, promising to save you and Heeseung a seat at the cafeteria. You were halfway to freedom.
Until an arm blocked your exit.
“What do you want?”
He tilted his head at you, that same smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Y’know, I was wondering why you were playing this whole... thing. The game. The attitude. The icy act. And now I know.”
You blinked. “Know what?”
He grinned wider, like he was about to drop the world’s most obvious truth bomb. “Still playing dumb?”
“What?”
“Come on.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. “Be honest.”
You stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
Jungwon rolled his eyes, as if you were the one being dramatic. “Dude. It’s obvious. Just give it up.”
You blinked. Once. Twice. “What—are you on drugs?”
“No—! I—” He looked personally offended by the question, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “I know you like me.”
Silence.
You looked at Jungwon. Then at the floor. Then back at Jungwon.
And then, you burst out laughing.
“You think—” you gasped between giggles, “you think I like you?”
Another wave of uncontrollable laughter ripped through you. You clutched your side, barely able to breathe.
Jungwon blinked, watching you spiral, visibly unsure if he should be flattered or insulted.
By minute two of your personal stand-up comedy routine, his smile had disappeared completely. His arms crossed. His brows furrowed. The tips of his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.
“Okay,” he said, arms still crossed, watching you as your laughter finally died down into breathless wheezing. “You done?”
You wiped your eyes, still catching your breath. “I mean—seriously, Jungwon. Me? Like you? Be so serious right now.”
He stared at you like you were the one being delusional. “I am being serious.”
“You stare at me in class,” he said, casually following you. “A lot.”
You turned on your heel. “What? I glare at you in class.”
“Staring is staring,” he shrugged. “Even with murderous intent.”
“That doesn’t count—”
“You always roll your eyes at me”
“That’s because you deserve it.”
He stepped closer. “You laugh at my jokes.”
“They’re not even funny, it’s like pitiful laughter” you snapped.
“But you still laugh.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
Jungwon’s eyes glinted like he’d just scored a point in a very dumb game only he was playing. “You let me copy your notes.”
“That’s because you’d fail if I didn’t!”
“You scold me when I forget my umbrella, and you told Jay I shouldn’t drink soda after 10 p.m. because ‘some people are still growing.’”
“That was a general health comment I made once at a party!”
“Sure it was,” he said smugly.
You stared at him, half in disbelief, half… okay, maybe just a tiny bit panicked. Not because he was right. He wasn’t. Obviously. But because somehow, he had compiled a semi-coherent case of you being suspiciously human around him.
“Jungwon,” you said slowly, carefully, like explaining to a child. “I do not like you.”
He squinted at you, like you were a glitch in his very confident reality.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I would rather set myself on fire.”
“And I would bring the marshmallows. But that doesn’t change the fact that you like me.”
-
You poked your chicken like it was the one who had personally accused you of emotional damage.
“The chicken’s already dead,” Jay said casually.
You looked up and scowled at him. He raised his hands in mock defence.
“Damn. The things I get for just saying stuff.”
“She looks on edge… Should we tell her the bad news now or later?” Jake whispered.
You turned your glare to him. “What bad news?”
“Nothing!” Jake’s voice shot up an octave. His eyes darted away.
You were terrifying when you were pissed. Like, hella terrifying. Only two people could handle you in that state: Heeseung and your mother.
“Sim Jaeyun, I will tear you up.”
Jake folded instantly. “The rumor! The one about you liking Jungwon and how he rejected you!”
You froze.
“What?!”
You looked at Jake, then at the rest of your friends who were now all suddenly very interested in the contents of their trays.
“Who started this rumour?”
“A few upperclassmen overheard your little... conversation,” Jake said, wincing.
“That conversation happened ten minutes ago.” you yelped.
Jay shrugged, grimacing. “You know how this school is. Gossip moves fast.”
“So it’s true?” Sunghoon asked, brows raised.
“Ew no!” you snapped, gagging.
Your friends blinked at you in unison.
“The rumor… it’s kinda spreading through the school really fast,” Jake said carefully. “I tried to stop it.”
“Oh really?” you deadpanned. “What did you do?”
He glanced up, sheepish. “I said, ‘oh really?’”
You stared at him. “That’s your damage control?”
“I don’t know! I was just curious if it was true!”
You rubbed your temples. “Don’t you think you guys would know if it was true?”
Jake opened his mouth, but Heeseung beat him to it. “You rarely tell us anything about that secret crush you’re harboring. We just assumed it was him.”
That made you pause. Your head shot up. “What?”
“Oh, cut the crap,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his seat. “We know you’re in love with someone.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh please,” Jay chimed in. “You’re always scribbling those cringe girly things in your textbooks.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I do not.”
“You literally wrote ‘love is a knife’ next to a drawing of a bleeding heart,” Sunghoon said.
“That was an artistic expression!”
“Was it?” Heeseung said through a mouthful of rice.
Jake nodded. “Also, you wrote ‘you’ll only get hurt, don’t fall for him’ like ten times on your English test paper.”
You clutched your tray like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Can we not dissect my mental breakdowns over lunch?!”
The table went quiet for two seconds. Then Jay asked, “So if it’s not Jungwon, then who is it?”
You blinked. Trying not to look over at Heeseung. Then stood up.
“Where are you going?” Jay called.
“To find out who started this rumor,” you said, already storming off.
The noise around you, the clatter of trays, the conversations, the squeak of sneakers on tile—faded into white noise. Your eyes were locked onto one person, and one person only: Yang Jungwon.
He sat at a table near the windows with Ni-ki and Sunoo, laughing at something on Ni-ki’s phone, chopsticks mid-air as he reached for a piece of meat. He didn’t even see you coming.
But he looked up just as your shadow fell over the table.
And the moment his eyes met yours?
It was done.
His expression shifted. Mouth slightly parted. Shock flashing across his face for just a split second before it was replaced by that annoyingly calm, infuriatingly confident smirk. Like he knew.
The entire cafeteria quieted. Forks paused midair. Conversations stopped mid-word. Every single person turned to look. It was like the first ten seconds of a movie scene, right before someone makes a very public mistake.
You didn’t care.
You reached down, grabbed the front of his uniform, and yanked his tie upward, forcing him to stand.
Jungwon stood slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. Your fists were tight in his tie. His face was close now and every pair of eyes in the room was on the two of you.
“We need to talk.”
-
“Well, whatever happened to ‘hello’?” Jungwon said, his voice laced with amusement as you dragged him out of the cafeteria.
You stopped just outside the doors, where the hallway was quiet and empty except for the vending machine humming in the corner. You turned to face him, still gripping his tie, though you finally let go with a dramatic flick of your wrist.
“Did you start that rumor?” you snapped.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “What rumor?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
He blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There are a lot of rumors about me. I’m very mysterious.”
You let out a breath through your nose. “The one where I like you. You absolute—” You cut yourself off before your vocabulary got too colorful. “Did you spread it?”
“You think I started that rumor?” he asked, grinning as he leaned a shoulder casually against the wall. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know!” you snapped. “Maybe because your ego’s the size of the entire school—”
He held up a hand. “Think about it. Why would I spread the idea that you like me?” He looked at you, head tilted.
You hated that he had a point.
You stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “Look. I don’t like you.”
“Mmm,” he said, pretending to ponder. “Sure.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh, no, totally. You glare at me because you’re overwhelmed with love.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t even like you like that—”
“I know, I know,” Jungwon said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s okay to be scared of your feelings. Happens to the best of—”
“For God’s sake, I like Heeseung!” you snapped, voice loud and sharp enough to slice through the air like a blade.
Silence.
Jungwon went completely still, the smirk wiped off his face so fast it was like it had never been there to begin with. He stared at you.
“I—” you tried.
But the words got stuck somewhere in your throat.
You looked at him. He looked at you.
And in that quiet hallway, you felt the air around you shift. Not because of what you’d said about him but because of what you’d accidentally admitted about someone else.
Your hand flew up, clamping over your mouth.
Too late.
You said it.
Jungwon blinked once, but didn’t speak. He just stood there, his tie slightly wrinkled, hair a little messy from when you’d grabbed him earlier, like the entire moment had punched a hole in whatever game the two of you had been playing.
You stormed off, heart pounding, fingers raking through your hair like they could somehow untangle the mess you’d just made.
“Whoa, you good?”
You looked up and nearly ran straight into Heeseung.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
He looked at you, one brow raised, concern etched across his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You opened your mouth, but your voice came out weird and high-pitched. “I’m fine.”
“Really?” he asked. “I saw you drag Jungwon outside. Thought you were gonna kill him.”
You forced a nod, your heart now beating even faster. Like it was trying to launch itself straight out of your ribcage. “Yeah. Totally fine.”
You tried to brush past him. “Anyway, I should get back to—”
“Wait.” He stepped in front of you gently, blocking your path. “You sure you're okay?”
“I said I’m—” You turned away, flustered, and ran a hand through your hair again, this time tugging a little at the roots. “God. This day is just—stupid.”
“You don’t get like this,” he said. “Not unless something actually gets to you. So are you sure you’re okay?”
You stilled before nodding again.
He watched you for another moment, like he was trying to read between the lines.
“Then… can I ask something?”
You hesitated. “Uh—sure?”
He didn’t look away from you. Didn’t even blink.
“This guy…” Heeseung said quietly. “The one you’ve been writing about. If it’s not Jungwon… then is it someone I know?”
Your brain short-circuited.
“What?” you asked, like maybe if you pretended not to hear him, this wouldn’t be happening.
But Heeseung just looked at you. Really looked at you. And in that second, you could see it—he knew. Of course he did.
He wasn’t dumb. He noticed things. The way your voice shifted when you talked to him. The way you hovered around his desk longer than necessary. The way you went quiet every time he joked about dating someone. The way you scribbled the same damn line in your notebook like your brain couldn’t let it go.
And now he was standing there, trying to be kind about it. He was trying to let you down easy. Just like how he did with those random girls.
He even smiled, just a little, just enough to soften the edges of what was coming. “Is it–”
“It’s me.”
Your head snapped toward the voice.
Jungwon.
“She likes me,” he repeated, like he was confirming a fact. “Didn’t you hear the rumor?”
Heeseung blinked, all the softness in his expression flickering into confusion. “Yeah, I heard. But… isn’t it an unfounded rumor?”
Jungwon pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Well, it’s founded now.”
He looked at Heeseung, then at you. “She likes me.”
The way Jungwon looked at you. And for a second, you understood. And for the first time since this whole disaster started… he was trying to help you. So you nodded.
It was barely a movement, just a small dip of your chin. But Jungwon caught it. And something softened in his expression.
Tears pricked at your eyes, not from anything anyone had said, but from the rejection that hadn’t even come. From the moment you realized Heeseung had been preparing to let you down gently, and you’d beat him to it with a lie.
You turned your gaze toward Jungwon, voice quiet and raw.
“I lied before,” you said. “I like Jungwon.”
That caught Heeseung off guard. He blinked, his brows drawing together. “Hm?”
You couldn’t look at him anymore.
“We just… finished having a little chat, y’know?” Jungwon stepped in smoothly, voice light. “And we decided to give things a try.”
You didn’t speak.
You couldn’t.
Because now you were standing in a lie of your own making, held up only by Jungwon’s unexpected kindness. And somewhere deep down, it hurt more than if Heeseung had just said no.
You couldn’t look up at Heeseung.
You wanted to. You wanted to explain, to laugh it off, to make the world rewind ten minutes—but you couldn’t. You could only look at Jungwon. The boy you hated. The boy who annoyed you more than anyone else on Earth.
But right now?
He was your only hope.
And then you felt it.
His hand, slowly sliding into yours, warm and solid. His other arm came around your shoulder, holding you just enough to make it look real.
You looked up at him, your back fully turned to Heeseung now, and mouthed, “Get me out of here.”
Jungwon’s fingers tightened around yours.
And for the first time since you'd met him, you saw something completely unfamiliar in his face. Just a quiet seriousness in the way he nodded. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly how badly this was hurting you.
He cleared his throat and looked back at Heeseung.
“Sorry, bro,” Jungwon said. “If it’s okay with you… I really need to tell her something in private. We haven’t really fine-tuned the specifics of our new relationship, so…”
He let the words trail off with a shrug, like this was nothing.
Heeseung blinked, then nodded slowly.
“Yeah. Sure,” he said, and his voice was quieter now. Then, even softer, “You’re okay?”
“Mhm,” you managed, your voice barely there. “I am.”
“Good.”
You just let Jungwon lead you down the hall, your fingers still laced in his.
You were still crying, your face buried in the front of your mortal enemy’s uniform, and your fists clenched weakly into the fabric like you didn’t know where else to hold on. Your body trembled from the sobs you couldn’t seem to swallow, and it was humiliating in the kind of way that burned. But you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe you were falling apart like this in front of him.
And yet, there was Jungwon.
He didn’t say much. He didn’t tease, didn’t laugh, didn’t pull away like he normally would’ve if this had happened on any other day in any other world. He just stood there, arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand patting your back with the kind of clumsy way that said he had absolutely no idea what he was doing but he was doing it anyway. Slowly, his palm flattened, movements gentler, slower, as if he finally knew how to comfort you. His fingers brushed circles along your spine, and for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like it was him.
You hiccupped between sobs, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I hate this.”
“I know,” he said softly, and you hated how kind his voice sounded.
“I hate you,” you added, almost out of reflex, the words heavy and desperate and stupid.
That made him snort, and you felt the faintest rise of his chest with it. “You’re the one sobbing into me, not the other way around.”
You weakly punched his chest with the side of your fist, not even enough force to matter. “Shut up.”
Eventually, the tears stopped.
Not all at once, but slowly. Like your body had run out of grief for the moment and was now just tired. The shaking eased. Your breathing slowed. The front of Jungwon’s shirt was slightly damp where your face had been, and the realization of that sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crawling up your spine.
You pulled back just enough to wipe at your eyes with the sleeves of your uniform, not looking at him. His arm was still around your shoulder, though he loosened it a little like he wasn’t sure if it was still needed. He didn’t say anything right away. He gave you space to gather yourself.
Then you cleared your throat, “How bout that weather…”
“You really don’t like talking about your feelings.”
“Not to you.” You said.
“Right…” He nodded.
Then he was quiet again, like he was letting you bask in the silence.
“You know,” he said slowly, resting his chin on his hand, “now it’s starting to make a little more sense.”
“What is?” you asked, wary.
He shrugged. “Y’know… the way you brighten up when Heeseung walks into the classroom—”
You narrowed your eyes. “Are you actively trying to push me down a slippery slope right now?”
“No but if it helps,” he added, “I think you handled it way better than I would’ve.”
-
You didn’t really speak to Jungwon for the rest of the day.
Not because you were mad at him. Not even because things were awkward. You just figured he’d already done enough for you. The least you could do was give him some space. Let him sit at his desk, laugh at whatever Ni-ki was whispering beside him, and pretend today had been normal.
But it was hard.
It was hard not to think about it when Lee Heeseung was sitting directly in front of you…existing.
You stared at the back of his head, trying to focus on anything else. The clock ticking too slow. The corner of your worksheet. The pen cap between your fingers. Anything.
And then it happened.
Another wave of emotion.
You felt it build in your chest rising fast, sharp and hot, wrapping around your lungs until it was hard to breathe. A quiet whimper slipped out before you could stop it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, panic rising.
Heeseung started to turn in his seat, halfway twisting to check on you. “Hey, are you—?”
You stood up abruptly.
Didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Just walked fast, unsteady, as you made your way across the classroom. Jungwon was at the back, hunched over his notebook, laughing at something Ni-ki had drawn in the margins.
You stopped beside his desk, eyes already glassy. He turned, mid-laugh, only to freeze when he saw your face. The smile fell. His eyes darted to your hands, then your face again, immediately reading the panic.
His chair scraped back as he stood.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, voice lower now.
You swallowed hard. “I felt emotion.”
He blinked. “That’s… great?”
“Negative emotion,” you clarified, your voice barely holding steady.
“Oh.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just stepped around his chair and gently took your wrist, guiding you away from the rows of desks, past curious glances and hushed whispers. You felt Ni-ki’s eyes follow you as Jungwon pulled you toward the door.
“Come on,” he murmured.
And you followed.
Because even though he was the last person you ever imagined seeking comfort from…
He was the only one who actually knew what to do with you.
Jungwon didn’t say a word as he led you up the stairs, his grip on your wrist light but steady.
You just followed…past the classroom door, past curious stares, past whatever thoughts were trying to claw their way into your head. Up one flight of stairs, then another. The world narrowed to the sound of your footsteps and the quiet hum of the building.
When he pushed open the rooftop door, the breeze hit you first. You stepped out slowly, blinking at the sudden wash of sunlight, and Jungwon finally let go of your wrist. He walked ahead a few steps, then turned and sat on the short concrete ledge that wrapped around the rooftop’s edge. His shoulders relaxed, his usual energy fading into something quieter as he glanced toward the sky. For once, he didn’t fill the silence with teasing.
You stood there for a second, arms crossed over your chest, not sure if the tightness in your throat was going to come back or not.
Then you let out a breath and walked over to sit beside him.
He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the sky, one leg bouncing slightly against the ledge, like he was giving you space to start first—if you wanted to.
“I didn’t mean to cry,” you said eventually.
“Well…you’re processing all of this in just one day so I figured…you wouldn’t be too…okay.”
You turned to look at him. He was still facing forward, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the way his hands were folded loosely in his lap that told you he wasn’t brushing this off. He was listening.
After a moment, he tilted his head and finally looked at you.
“I get why you didn’t tell him,” he said. “Heeseung.”
Your shoulders tensed. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You didn’t want to ruin the thing you had. You liked the version of him that didn’t know. It was safer.”
You blinked.
He wasn’t wrong.
You looked down at your hands. “Is that stupid?”
“No,” he said. “You’re a good person.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t used to Jungwon being serious. You weren’t used to anyone being this gentle with you when you were messy and falling apart. You opened your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t come out.
Instead, you just sat there, next to the boy you hated. The boy who pretended to be your 2 minute boyfriend for the sake of your dignity.
The wind picked up slightly, tousling your hair as you stared down at your hands, the silence between you and Jungwon finally feeling a little less heavy.
You didn’t expect it when he said, “Do you want a hug?”
You looked up, surprised. “What?”
He shifted a little, clearly second-guessing himself now that the words were out. “You know. Like—just if it helps. People do that. In sad movies and stuff.”
You gave him a look. “Are you insane? Why would I hug you?”
“Well… I’m sorry for offering one! I thought girls liked it—I watched a movie—”
“If I hug you, will you shut up?” you cut in, glaring.
“No. Now I don’t want to hug you anymore,” Jungwon said, crossing his arms.
“Oh please. You’re such a child.”
“Oh, I’m the child?” he scoffed. “Just accept the warm embrace of an acquaintance trying to help you.”
“Gross.”
“Oh, real mature,” he snapped.
“I’ll have you know I am mature,” you replied, poking a finger into his arm.
“Oh really?” he shot back. “Crying over someone and then not being brave enough to hug your mortal enemy who’s been helping you sounds super mature.”
Your eyes narrowed. “I am mature.”
“Prove it.”
“I will!”
“Go ahead, then!”
You stepped forward, arms raised like a dare. “Look. I’ll hug you right now!”
And just as you lunged forward—arms out, dramatically wrapping around Jungwon in the most half-committed, competitive embrace of all time—
“HEY!”
You both froze mid-hug, heads turning slowly toward the rooftop door where the school security guard was now standing, arms crossed and judgment fully loaded.
Jungwon's arms were still halfway around you. Your face was about three inches from his shoulder. Neither of you moved.
“You two!” the guard shouted. “You think I don’t see you?! This is a school, not a honeymoon!”
You jumped back so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.
“Wait—no—we weren’t—!” you yelped.
“We don’t even like each other like that!” Jungwon added quickly, already putting space between you two like it would erase the entire situation.
The guard squinted. “Uh-huh. Down the stairs. Now.”
“But we didn’t even—”
“Go!”
-
You opened the door to your house and stepped inside, already dreading what fresh embarrassment awaited you. Kicking your shoes off at the door, you called out automatically, “I’m home!”
From the kitchen came your mom’s voice, loud and cheerful: “Did Heeseung come today?”
Your soul left your body.
“No,” you called back, grimacing. “I… brought another friend though.”
The word friend felt foreign and uncomfortable in your mouth. It sounded wrong.
Behind you, Jungwon stepped in, hands in his pockets, looking around curiously like he was touring a museum. His eyes skimmed over the hallway, the furniture, the wall of framed photos—until one in particular made him pause.
“Cute,” he said, pointing at a picture hung slightly crooked on the wall.
You turned your head.
It was you. Age six. Dressed in mismatched pajamas, standing in the backyard with a watermelon slice in both hands and two missing front teeth.
You groaned, already regretting everything about this.
Jungwon turned to you, grinning like he’d just discovered a secret.
“Don’t.”
“But it’s so cute.”
“I will push you down the stairs.”
Then your mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh! Is this him?” she beamed.
You didn’t even have time to introduce him before Jungwon stepped forward with a charming smile and said, “Hi Auntie, I’m Jungwon. It’s really nice to meet you.”
Instead, your mom smiled like she’d just met her future son-in-law and said, “Jungwon? The Yang Jungwon? My daughter talks about you all the time.”
Jungwon smirked, “She does? Good things, I hope.”
Your mom paused, visibly digging through memories.
“Well,” she said, thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look anything like you described.”
Your stomach dropped. “Mom.”
Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “Oh? How did she describe me?”
Your mom smiled warmly, like this was the most innocent conversation in the world. “Do you know that green monster? It’s this cartoon she used to love? What’s it called… Shrill…Shr…Shrek?”
Jungwon’s smile froze.
“Shrek?”
Your mom nodded, completely sincere. “Yes! But I don’t see it. You’re very handsome.”
Jungwon turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think I look like Shrek?”
You stared at the ceiling, wishing for divine intervention. “Well. Are you forgetting that I hate you or–”
“Sweetheart,” your mom interjected, “we do not hate.”
You sighed. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant to say I don’t hate him anymore.”
Jungwon blinked. “Anymore?”
Your mom raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you said you wanted to boil him alive?”
You gave her a look. “A day can change someone’s opinion.”
Your mom ignored you, looking over to Jungwon and beamed. “Would you like some oranges?”
You stood up immediately. “He’s probably busy, I’m walking him out.”
“Stay for dinner!” she called.
“She’s gonna kill me,” Jungwon whispered.
“Not on my watch,” your mom said, standing in front of the doorway like a tiny but terrifying general. “Stay for dinner. This is a demand.”
Jungwon blinked. “Okay.”
He nodded obediently, already kicking his shoes off. You stared at him, betrayed by the switch up. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you.
You glared. You knew he was enjoying this.
-
Ten minutes later, you were upstairs, towel in hand, trying to mentally detach yourself from the fact that Jungwon was in your kitchen. With your mom. Bonding.
You could still hear them through the floor vents.
The occasional “Oh, she did what?” from Jungwon that made you slam your door shut just a little louder than necessary.
Downstairs, Jungwon stood at the counter beside your mom, sleeves rolled up as he helped slice vegetables for dinner. It was strangely peaceful.
“She’s stubborn,” your mom said as she chopped green onions with practiced precision. “She gets it from her father.”
“Oh yeah,” Jungwon replied with a smirk. “She once refused to do group work unless we let her pick the team name.”
“She picked the name, didn’t she?”
“Friends 4ever. With the number four.’”
Your mom laughed.
“She’s a little difficult, you know,” she added, softer now. “Strong-willed. Always arguing.”
“She’s kind of like that at school, too,” he said. “Always trying to win every conversation. Gets dramatic about almost everything. Complains about anything.”
“But I guess…” he continued, glancing toward the stairs without meaning to, “she’s also the first person to offer you her charger when your phone’s dying. Or send you the notes even when you didn’t ask. She’ll grumble the whole time, but she’ll do it. Even if she claims she hates you.”
He paused. “She’s kind of… sweet. When no one’s watching.”
Your mom didn’t say anything, just quietly slid another cutting board toward him.
“And,” Jungwon said after a moment, his eyes flicking back to the tomatoes he was slicing, “she’s… really something.”
Your mom didn’t respond, just kept chopping, quiet and patient.
He kept going, almost like he was talking to himself now.
“She does this thing when she’s mad—flips her hair, real dramatic. It’s actually kind of funny. Like she’s about to fight someone. As if anyone could take her seriously.”
Your mom chuckled softly.
“And when she’s nervous,” Jungwon added, “she bites her finger. Not like the finer but just the nail. Like she doesn’t know she’s doing it which is probably why her nails are so brittle and short all the time.”
There was a small pause.
“And she has this smile,” he said, voice softer now, the rhythm of his chopping slowing. “It’s kinda crooked. Only shows on one side at first. And it only shows up when she thinks no one’s looking.”
He let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.
“It’s cute.”
He didn’t even realize he’d said it.
Your mom didn’t say anything.
She just looked at him.
And for a split second, Jungwon realized he may have said a little too much.
But your mom just gave a small nod and turned back to her vegetables. She didn’t say anything, not then. Not about the way he’d talked about you. Not about the little smile that had curled at the corner of his mouth without him noticing.
She just let it sit there.
Like maybe, just maybe, she knew.
Because whether he realized it or not…
Jungwon liked you.
-
Dinner was a mistake.
Not because the food wasn’t good, your mom had gone all out, as usual, and Jungwon, the absolute traitor, had already complimented the soup three separate times.
No. The mistake was sitting down across from both of them like you were the guest of those roasts celebrities did.
“She used to cry if her rice was touching the sauce so we had to separate it far apart,” your mom said, setting a bowl in front of Jungwon.
“I did not,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of tofu.
“You definitely did,” your mom confirmed.
“That explains so much,” Jungwon said, barely holding in a laugh.
You rolled your eyes. “I was five.”
“She was five and dramatic,” your mom added, sitting down beside you.
“She’s still dramatic,” Jungwon said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
You glared at him across the table. “I can literally throw this bowl at your head.”
“She says that, but she won’t,” he smirked. “Too soft.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I am not soft.”
“Oh really?” he grinned, leaning over the table slightly. “Say it again without pouting.”
“I’m not—!”
But before you could finish, he reached forward and pinched both of your cheeks at once, squishing your face together.
“You’re adorable,” he said in the most irritatingly smug voice you’d ever heard.
“Yang Jung–” You burst into laughter, batting his hands away while trying to keep a straight face. “Get off me!”
He sat back, grinning, while you glared at him through the tail end of your laughter.
And then it hit you, your mom had gone silent.
You both turned at the same time.
She was watching the two of you with her chin in her hand, smiling.
“What?” you and Jungwon said in unison.
She didn’t answer. Just smiled.
After helping your mom with the dishes, Jungwon stood by the door, sliding his shoes back on with the same efficiency he did everything else.
You hovered near the entryway, arms crossed lightly over your chest. The words were already building in your throat, but when they finally came out, they sounded more like a mumble.
“Thanks… for today.”
He looked up mid–shoelace knot, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re surprisingly fun to hang out with,” you added, slightly louder, refusing to make eye contact.
“Oh really now?” Jungwon grinned.
“I’m not repeating it.”
“Didn’t say you had to,” he said, pulling the knot tight and standing up with a sigh.
He glanced down at you, smile softer now. “Not gonna lie… I had fun today too.”
You nodded. “It was… a little dramatic. But fun. Even though half the day was me crying.”
“You’re taking today better than anyone would’ve,” he said.
“Well, yeah. Because I’m strong.” You smiled, baring your teeth just a little like it was part joke, part fact.
“You are,” he said without missing a beat. “You did really good today.”
You blinked. Your smile faded, just slightly, the air around you going a little still.
Because he wasn’t joking.
He wasn’t teasing, or playing, or waiting to say something sarcastic afterward.
And for some reason, that made your chest ache in a way that was hard to explain.
You nodded, looking down at your socks. “Right. Thanks.”
“It’s fine,” he said, rocking on his heels. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Friends?” you echoed. A slow, skeptical smile crept onto your face. “I’m friends with Yang Jungwon?”
He smirked. “Surprise, surprise. Turns out I’m actually real fun and a decent guy. The things you find out when your first love breaks your heart.”
Your smile dropped instantly into a frown.
He winced. “Too soon?”
“You think?” you deadpanned.
Jungwon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fair. Poor timing.”
You shook your head, the edge of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips again despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Still your friend, though,” he said, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.
-
The next few days were… funny.
Suddenly, all eyes were on you and Jungwon. Whispered questions trailed behind you in the hallways. Side glances turned into straight-up stares. Were the two of you really dating? Was it serious? Were you holding hands after school or just walking next to each other by accident?
You didn’t bother answering. Neither did Jungwon.
Let them wonder.
And maybe that was the problem. Because you weren’t exactly doing anything to make it look less real.
You hung out with him more now. A lot more. Every lunch break, after eating with your usual group, you’d pick up your tray and walk over to his table like it was muscle memory. You’d sit beside him, sometimes across, depending on the day. And it never felt weird.
In fact, it felt... easy.
Your friends didn’t say much. They’d just exchange glances or smile knowingly as you wandered off with your tray, all of them clearly under the impression that the two of you were trying to date. Trying to “work it out.”
And you let them think that.
Maybe because correcting them would mean explaining how stupid your first heartbreak (if you could even call it that) felt.
And if you thought about it too hard, about how Jungwon always saved you a seat without asking, or how he passed you the parts of his lunch you liked without a word, or how he said things like "you look tired today" in a voice that made you feel seen.
You were sure you didn’t have any feelings for Jungwon. None. Whatsoever. The idea was laughable, really. Besides, you were still emotionally recuperating from your extremely inconvenient, mildly soul-crushing crush on Heeseung. It had been a whole month since the incident. You were healing. You were doing so much better now. You could even look at Heeseung and have a full conversation without tearing your eyelids off or biting your tongue in half. That was progress. Real, mature, adult-level progress.
And okay, so maybe you hung out with Jungwon a lot. And maybe he texted you dumb TikToks at 2 a.m. and maybe you always answered. And maybe you knew his favorite bubble tea order by heart now and maybe he always ate the cherry tomato from your lunch when you didn’t want it. But that didn’t mean anything.
-
Lunch was loud as usual, someone shouting across the cafeteria, trays clattering, a wave of laughter erupting from one of the far tables. You tuned most of it out as you made your way to the back, tray in hand, moving on autopilot.
You didn’t even ask if you could sit next to him anymore. You just did.
Jungwon was already mid-conversation with Ni-ki, hands moving as he animatedly reenacted something ridiculous like Sunoo falling down the stairs again. You set your tray down next to his, plopped into the seat, and sighed.
“Aw man, I forgot my banana milk.”
You didn’t expect anyone to answer. You hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.
But without missing a beat, Jungwon reached into the side pocket of his backpack, pulled out a packet of banana milk, and slid it across the table toward you, all while still talking to Ni-ki.
“Oh, yay!” You mumbled.
He just nodded like it was nothing, like this was routine, like he hadn’t just read your mind.
You opened the straw, eyes still on him, quietly puzzled.
Then he reached for the pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on your tray. Snapped them clean in one quick motion. Rubbed them together, precisely three times, just the way you did when you thought they felt too splintery.
Again, he didn’t say anything. Just broke the chopsticks and placed them neatly back on your tray before going back to his story.
And you were still sitting there, watching him.
Then came the final hit: your tonkatsu.
You hadn’t even started eating yet. Just poking at the rice absentmindedly, eyes wandering around the cafeteria while you waited for your brain to feel like food. But Jungwon, with his fork already halfway through his own meal, glanced at your tray and casually reached over with your knife cutting up your tonkatsu into neat little pieces before you even realized it.
He didn’t even look.
He just did it.
All while telling Ni-ki about how someone had nearly set the chem lab on fire.
You sat there, twiddling your thumbs, watching him work through your tray like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was muscle memory. Like it was natural.
And that was the moment it hit you.
He knew you.
Not just the surface-level stuff. Not just your favorite color or your star sign or your Instagram handle.
He knew how you liked your chopsticks. Knew your go-to drink without asking. Knew when you weren’t feeling hungry enough to start on your food, but still wanted it ready.
You didn’t even know when he started paying attention.
But he had.
You stared at him.
He looked up mid-sentence and blinked. “What?”
You shook your head quickly. “Nothing.”
-
It wasn’t supposed to turn into a routine.
But it did.
Ever since that one dinner at your house, Jungwon had started coming over. At first, once. Then again. Then twice a week. Now, it was just expected. Part of the schedule.
Your mom adored him. Naturally.
And somehow, your dad, who was barely home before 9 p.m. most days, knew him too. Not in the passing, handshake-and-small-talk kind of way. No. He knew him. Asked him about his classes. Invited him to stay for dessert. Offered him beer once. Jungwon declined politely, of course, but still. You weren’t sure your dad even knew your blood type, and yet he knew Jungwon’s college plans.
He was a crowd favorite in your house.
And he made himself at home like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He knew where everything went now. The moment you stepped into the entryway after school, he’d lean down, take your coat off your shoulders without being asked, and hang it by the door while placing his shoes neatly on the rack. Then he’d stroll into the kitchen to greet your mom with the same cheery “Hi, Auntie!” like he lived there.
He’d wait for you to finish showering..
And by the time you came out, hair damp, wrapped in your towel robe, your favorite show would already be playing on the living room TV. He’d set a hot cup of tea in front of the couch, carefully positioned at your usual spot. He never drank it himself. Just made it for you. Every time.
You never had to ask.
Then he’d return to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner, sleeves rolled up, chopping and washing and stirring like he belonged in that apron. You could hear them from the living room. Talking. Giggling over some ridiculous story he’d tell about you at school. How you tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the vending machine. How you pretended to be allergic to gym just to avoid running.
Your mom loved it. Ate it all up.
And then came dinner.
He’d set the table without being asked. Laid out all your favorite dishes in front of your seat. Your favorite part of the chicken already on your plate—deboned. The kimchi snipped into bite-sized pieces with the kitchen scissors, just the way you liked it.
You sat down, glanced at your plate, and everything was already done.
He didn’t even sit until you did.
And you never asked him to do any of it.
He just did.
Like he'd been watching and learning you this whole time.
And it was easy, so, so easy to pretend it was normal.
But every now and then, while sipping your tea and watching him laugh with your family like he was part of it, you’d get this strange feeling in your chest.
Dinner was normal. Jungwon was helping your dad refill side dishes, your mom was happily recounting a story from her work, and you were comfortably tucked into the rhythm of your usual meal. For a while, everything felt good.
Until, mid-bite, your mom looked up and said, “By the way, sweetheart… how’s Heeseung?”
You froze.
It wasn’t even a pointed question. Just a casual thought, dropped innocently into the center of the table like it wasn’t going to crack everything open.
She laughed a little, smiling to herself. “I still remember how the two of you kept saying you’d marry each other when you grew up. Now I rarely see him.” She sighed, fond and wistful. “Kids grow up so fast, huh, dear?”
Your dad chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, well. He’s a smart boy. Probably busy studying.”
You nodded, careful to keep your voice light. “Yeah. I’ll ask him to come over with the others next time they’re free.”
“Oh, please do,” your mom said. “I miss them.”
You nodded again, forcing a smile, trying to say all the right things because that’s what you did.
But then your eyes drifted across the table.
To Jungwon.
He was quietly playing with a piece of chicken on his plate. Not eating. Not listening.
Just moving it around like it didn’t matter.
Like he didn’t want to be there.
And it bothered you.
“Won,” you said softly, “you okay?”
He looked up quickly, blinking like you’d snapped him out of something. His expression didn’t falter, not even for a second. A smile appeared right on cue—bright, easy.
“Yeah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m good!”
Then, without missing a beat, he popped the chicken into his mouth and turned to your dad with a question about soccer, like the moment had never happened.
Like he hadn’t just gone completely silent.
Like the name Heeseung hadn’t changed the entire air around him.
You stared for a moment longer, something tight curling in your stomach.
He was acting normal.
And that was the most unconvincing part of all.
-
You were laying on your stomach, sprawled across your bed like roadkill, head buried halfway into your pillow and the corners of your math textbook stabbing your ribs. The numbers blurred in and out of focus. Functions, graphs, equations, you were pretty sure none of this was going to help you in your actual future unless you somehow grew up to become a calculator.
“This is actual torture,” you groaned.
Jungwon, who had been spinning gently in your roller chair like he lived there, snorted. “Oh, c’mon. There’s literally two more questions.”
“That’s two more than I want to do,” you grumbled.
He rolled over beside you and reached out to poke your side, right where he knew you were ticklish. You flinched with a squeak, kicking your leg back without looking.
“Fine!” you whined dramatically, lifting your head just enough to glare at the textbook. “But I genuinely think they should’ve used math for death row instead of the guillotine.”
Jungwon just laughed and started reading out the next question aloud, voice low and casual. He mumbled through the word problem, pausing here and there as he tried to figure it out, assuming you were listening.
But you weren’t.
Not really.
Because at some point, your eyes had drifted toward him and they hadn’t moved since.
You watched the way his lips moved around, soft and easy, every syllable deliberate. You noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed when he got stuck, how his eyes went wider when something clicked. How he bit his lip when he was trying to remember a formula. How he licked the corner of his mouth absentmindedly when he was really thinking.
You blinked.
And then blinked again.
Because suddenly you were no longer hearing anything he was saying.
Instead, all you could think about was how close he was. How warm his voice was. How much you wanted to lean forward and—
Your heart stuttered. You blinked hard and sat up a little too quickly, grabbing your pencil like it was some sort of emotional grounding stick.
Did you just—?
Were you actually just thinking about kissing Jungwon? Yang Jungwon.
You stared at your textbook in horror, the numbers looking even worse now.
You were in trouble.
“Okay, seriously,” Jungwon sighed, dragging his chair closer. “You’re just not listening at this point.”
“I am listening,” you lied, gripping your pencil tightly.
“You’ve been stuck on the same question for more than five minutes.”
You blinked at him, heart still racing from your earlier thoughts. “Well, maybe if math was as interesting as, I don’t know, literally anything else—”
“Okay, that’s it,” he muttered, rolling his chair right up to your bedside and leaning over your textbook. “Come here. I’m showing you.”
Before you could protest, he was right there, sliding the textbook toward both of you, one hand pressed casually beside your arm, the other using his pen to point at the equation. His voice was low, focused.
“So here, this part,” he said, tapping the numbers, “you just need to factor this term and then move it to the other side.”
You tried to follow.
You really did.
But your brain had fully abandoned you. All you could focus on was how close he was. The warm brush of his arm against yours. The subtle scent of his shampoo—something citrusy and soft. His lips moved just inches from your face, forming words you couldn’t process. His eyelashes flicked downward, dark and long, as he concentrated.
And then he paused, glancing up when he noticed your lack of response.
“Are you even—”
He turned to look at you.
And you were already looking at him.
The movement brought your faces dangerously close, just an inch between your mouths. Close enough to feel his breath catch. Close enough to notice the way his lips parted slightly in surprise. Close enough that if either of you tilted just a little, you’d be kissing.
Everything around you faded, the ticking of your clock, the noise outside, the textbook lying open and ignored between you.
He didn’t move.
Neither did you.
The space between you was impossibly small—an inch, maybe less. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Neither were you.
Jungwon’s eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.
Your breath hitched.
And then, softly, gently his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, featherlight.
“Would it be stupid if I kissed you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Your throat tightened.You shook your head.
He leaned in the tiniest bit, like the air between you was magnetic, like maybe you were already meeting halfway—
Knock knock knock
“My love, I cut some oranges!”
You both flinched, violently.
You practically fell off the bed. Jungwon shot back in his chair so fast it nearly rolled into the wall.
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then your mom’s voice called again, cheerful and oblivious: “Should I bring them in?”
“No!” you and Jungwon shouted at the same time.
Another beat of silence.
“…Okay, then,” she replied, still chipper, her footsteps padding back down the hallway.
You stared at the floor, heart hammering, trying to remember how to breathe.
Jungwon cleared his throat.
You still couldn’t look at him.
He still wasn’t looking at you.
Neither of you spoke.
You just turned back to the math textbook.
But suddenly, you couldn’t remember what the question was anymore.
Jungwon was the first to move.
Fast.
Too fast.
He stood up abruptly, muttering something about homework and his mom probably texting him. He was already grabbing his bag, already rolling his sleeves back down, already not looking at you.
You blinked.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
Just a quick, “See you tomorrow,” tossed over his shoulder like it meant nothing. Like you weren’t both still sitting in the ruins of something that almost happened.
And then the door shut behind him.
-
The next day at school, neither of you said a word.
You saw him across the courtyard that morning, maybe thirty feet away. Normally, you would’ve walked beside him, bumped shoulders, made some snarky comment about his bed hair. But today?
You turned the other way.
By the time Math class rolled around, your nerves were already shot.
You walked into the classroom a few minutes early, automatically glancing toward his seat.
Empty.
Good.
You sat down, keeping your eyes locked on your desk. Your stomach felt weird.
Jungwon came in two minutes later, quietly slipping into his seat like a ghost. Not a single glance in your direction. Not even the usual eye-roll or quiet hey.
You didn't look at him either.
Not once.
And then the teacher began going through the homework questions.
“Alright,” she said, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. “Now for question eight. Let’s go over this together. Anyone want to walk me through it?”
Your eyes dropped to your open textbook.
There it was.
Question eight.
The one he was explaining. The one you weren’t listening to. The one you didn’t hear a single word of because you were too busy staring at his mouth and imagining something that never happened.
“I need to go to the bathroom!”
“I need to go to the bathroom!”
Both of you said it at the exact same time.
The entire class turned.
Even the teacher paused, marker still in hand, eyebrows rising slowly.
You didn’t dare look at him. Not directly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jungwon frozen mid-shuffle, eyes slightly wide, caught in the same panic as you.
A beat of silence passed.
“...Is there something wrong with the school water?” your teacher asked dryly.
No one laughed.
No one said anything.
You both stood there like two idiots sharing one brain cell, equally horrified that you’d spoken in sync, equally determined not to explain why.
“Fine,” your teacher sighed after a moment and then waved her hand. “Go.”
You didn’t wait.
The next thing you knew, you both bolted out of the room like you were fleeing a crime scene.
You kept walking. He kept walking. Until finally, both of you turned a corner—empty corridor, cold tile, no witnesses.
“We need to talk.”
Jungwon was the first to speak, voice quiet but steady.
You shifted your weight, eyes flicking away. “About what?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know what.”
You crossed your arms. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I do,” he said, firmer this time. “I don’t know about you, but you’ve become a routine to me. So I can’t possibly pretend nothing’s wrong. Because it’ll feel weird if I can’t… do things for you. If I can’t be next to you.”
You blinked, throat tightening. “Jungwon—school barely started.”
“And we didn’t even go into class together.”
His voice cracked just slightly at the end.
You finally looked at him.
He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even pushing. He just looked... lost. Like he didn’t know where to put any of this.
“I didn’t know if I should say hi,” he added quietly. “I didn’t know if I should sit next to you. If I should look at you. And that’s the part that freaked me out the most.”
“Look,” Jungwon said, his voice lower now, more careful. “We can pretend it didn’t happen last night.”
You blinked at him, heart stalling.
“Like we didn’t almost kiss,” he added, like saying it out loud might make it less real. “If it makes you feel better.”
You stayed quiet.
Not because you didn’t have anything to say.
But because you didn’t know how to say it. Because the word almost hit harder than it should’ve. Because it hadn’t happened but it almost did. And that almost felt like a confession in its own right.
Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I mean—it was late. We were tired. You were upset. It’s probably better we didn’t—”
“Don’t,” you said suddenly.
He froze. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to explain it away like it didn’t mean anything.”
He looked at you then. Really looked. And for a second, neither of you breathed.
“I’m not saying it meant something,” you added quickly, heart pounding now. “I’m just saying… don’t pretend like it didn’t almost…happen..”
Jungwon swallowed hard. Nodded once. “Then…should we talk about it?”
You were about to nod–
“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice called out, casual and bright, like he hadn’t just stepped straight into the middle of something fragile. “You ready to head to the next class?”
You jolted upright. Your body moved before your mind could catch up. The sudden intrusion cracked the moment like glass underfoot. Jungwon stiffened beside you, his eyes flicking to Heeseung, then back to you.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t offer even a quiet “see you later.”
Something in him shifted. A flicker of hesitation. A wall going up too fast to stop. You weren’t sure what it was, not exactly but it made your stomach twist, cold and tight. He just looked at you, a beat too long, like he was deciding whether or not to say something. And then he didn’t. He turned and walked away.
But just before he rounded the corner, he looked back.
That one glance hit harder than anything else he could’ve done. You met his eyes. For half a second, neither of you blinked.
Then you shook your head.
And you followed Heeseung.
He didn’t seem to notice at first. Just walked next to you, casual as always, your shoulder brushing his in the way it used to feel comforting. Today it felt like pressure.
It was silent for a while. Then, gently, Heeseung asked, “Are you okay?”
Your throat tightened. The honest answer formed before you could lie.
“No,” you said, quiet and shaky.
He stopped walking. Turned to face you fully, brows furrowed now. “Does this have something to do with… Jungwon?”
You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. There was a sharp sting in your chest. A lump in your throat you couldn’t seem to swallow down. Because it wasn’t just the almost-kiss or the silence or the way he couldn’t look at you in class. It was the fact that you didn’t want to pretend anymore. And it was terrifying.
You nodded.
Just once.
And suddenly the hallway felt too long, and your next class felt impossibly far away, and your heart… didn’t know what to do with itself anymore.
-
Jungwon shouldn’t have looked back.
He knew it the second he did, that one glance over his shoulder felt like walking into the very thing he was trying to leave behind. But he looked anyway.
And there you were. Standing beside Heeseung. Nodding. Following.
Not him.
Jungwon’s jaw clenched. He turned back around quickly, the hallway ahead of him blurring around the edges. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to see. That you’d hesitate? That you’d stop? That maybe you’d chase him?
But you didn’t.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to breathe through the pressure that had started building in his chest. It was stupid. All of it. You weren’t even dating. The fake thing had never meant to go this far.
Except.
He was ready.
Or at least, he had been right up until Heeseung showed up and you nodded like he was the one you wanted to follow. Like he was still the center of your universe, even after everything. And now Jungwon wasn’t sure if he was more mad at himself… or at the situation.
Because if he hadn’t hesitated last night…
If he’d just kissed you…
Would you still have walked away?
-
You stopped walking.
Just like that, your feet rooted themselves to the floor.
“I like him,” you murmured, so low it felt more like an admission to yourself than anyone else.
Heeseung turned back instantly, confused. “What?”
Your eyes were fixed on the floor now. You didn’t move, didn’t blink. Your voice was steadier the second time, but your heart pounded so loud you could barely hear yourself speak.
“I like Jungwon.”
Heeseung stared at you. There was no shock in his expression, not really.
“Yeah,” he said gently, nodding once. “I know. I thought we cleared that up.”
You shook your head. “No. Heeseung, you don’t get it.”
You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.
“I really like him.”
The words were soft.
“I was pretending at first—like it was funny, like it was just to get past the whole thing with you, or the rumor, or whatever. And I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I kept saying it didn’t. But now…” You paused, your voice catching in your throat.
“Now I don’t think I’m pretending anymore,” you whispered. “I think I actually… really do like him.”
The hallway was quiet.
So quiet, it almost scared you.
Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. And then, very softly, he exhaled.
You looked down, your throat tight.
“He probably needs to hear it, too.”
You hesitated. “What if—”
“If you keep thinking about what ifs instead of doing something about it,” he interrupted gently, but firmly, “then nothing’s ever going to come out of it.”
“You’ve been brave for other people before,” he added, watching you closely. “Try being brave for yourself this time.”
That broke something in you.
Your heart clenched, your feet already itching to move. Because he was right. Because this wasn’t about timing anymore, it was about trying.
You met his eyes.
And then you ran.
Your shoes hit the floor hard as you bolted down the corridor, barely registering the blur of students and teachers around you. You didn’t know what you were going to say. You didn’t have a speech. You just knew you had to find him.
You checked his next class first, flinging the door open with more force than necessary. A few students looked up. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. But Jungwon wasn’t there.
“Have you seen Jungwon?” you asked, eyes wide, voice tight. The girl closest to the door shook her head, confused, and that was all you needed to be gone again.
You searched the cafeteria—empty. The courtyard—quiet. The stairwell, the science wing, even the vending machines by the old lockers. Nowhere.
He wasn’t anywhere.
Finally, you reached the rooftop. Your last hope.
You pushed open the door so hard it banged against the wall with a clang that echoed across the open space.
But no one answered.
The wind rushed past your ears as you stepped forward slowly, chest heaving.
The rooftop was empty.
You stood alone on the rooftop, surrounded by silence and cold metal railings, your breath forming quick clouds in the crisp afternoon air. Your fingers curled tightly into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you tried to swallow down the frustration bubbling in your chest.
"God," you muttered under your breath, voice cracking at the edges. Your hand shot up, dragging through your hair with shaky frustration. The wind whipped around you, rustling your sleeves and your thoughts and every shaky breath you couldn’t get under control.
Without thinking, you turned toward the nearest thing, an old dented metal trash can by the wall and kicked it as hard as you could.
And then—
“...Woah, woah, woah, you okay?”
Your body froze mid-breath. Your heart stopped, then slammed against your ribs with dizzying force.
Slowly, you turned.
And there he was.
Jungwon.
Standing in the doorway like he’d just stumbled into the middle of your breakdown. His hand still rested on the handle, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide. He looked caught, unsure, surprised. Like he wasn’t sure if he should take a step closer or stay exactly where he was.
Your eyes locked.
Neither of you moved.
Your hands hung at your sides, fingers twitching with adrenaline. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
And something inside you snapped.
Your feet hit the ground hard as you ran toward him, closing the distance in seconds. His eyes widened again, but he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.
You reached up, grabbing the front of his hoodie with both hands and pulled him down to you. Your breath was uneven. His eyes searched yours for only a second before you leaned in, closing the space, and kissed him.
Then he kissed you back.
His hands came up one finding your waist, the other cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. His grip was gentle, but grounding. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like this was the thing that had been waiting between you for weeks, quietly demanding to be acknowledged.
“Damn,” he said. “So you like me.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
“What?”
His lips curved.
Your face twisted in mock offense, eyes narrowing as you pulled back slightly to look at him properly. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”
His grin widened, cocky and boyish.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve had a crush on me even before I did,” you said, crossing your arms even as your smile betrayed you.
Jungwon blinked, deadpan. “You’re not wrong.”
His expression contorted for half a second, like admitting it physically hurt, then melted into something a little sheepish, a little too real.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
“Obvious to who, exactly?”
He exhaled like it was the most dramatic moment of his life. “Who do you think I’ve been venting to about you for the past month?”
You paused.
Your smile faded into something wary. “Wait. Who?”
He looked at you.
You blinked, slowly putting two and two together.
Then your eyes widened in horror.
“No. No way.”
“She’s the only one who listened without judging me!”
“You’ve been telling my mom?! About your feelings?! For me?!”
And then it all made sense.
-
It was the night before.
Your mom was finishing up some dishes in the kitchen, and you’d just excused yourself to the bathroom, disappearing down the hallway.
Jungwon stayed where he was, sitting politely on the couch in the living room, hands clasped, trying not to look too out of place in a home that had started to feel painfully too familiar. He glanced toward the hallway once, then back at the TV that was playing some cooking show on mute. He didn’t expect your mom to come sit next to him.
But she did.
Not with her usual teasing smile or nosy aunt energy, this time, it was softer. Almost… concerned.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked suddenly, her voice gentle. “When I brought Heeseung up earlier?”
Jungwon blinked. “What?”
She smiled kindly, her eyes scanning his face. “You got quiet. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”
“Oh. No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “No! Never. I just… it wasn’t that.”
She looked at him knowingly. “You know… it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that you like my daughter.”
Jungwon let out a quiet groan, dropping his face into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”
“Very,” she said with a laugh. “But the good thing is…my daughter is completely oblivious.”
He exhaled a helpless little laugh, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know how to make it more obvious if I tried, Auntie. I swear, I’ve done everything short of confessing.”
“Telling her wouldn’t kill you,” she teased, nudging his arm.
He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I just… I figured she’s still got feelings for Heeseung.”
Your mom shook her head, eyes twinkling like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
She turned toward him fully, folding her arms, her voice more certain now. “Do you really think I don’t know my own daughter? I’ve seen her with her friends. She’s never been like this with anyone.”
Jungwon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Like what?”
“Comfortable. Herself. She looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she said, matter-of-fact. “She lets her walls down around you. You don’t know how rare that is.”
Jungwon blinked. His throat tightened a little.
“And let me ask you something,” she said, leaning in like she was telling a secret. “Do you really think she wakes up at five in the morning to go grocery shopping with me just for fun?”
He frowned. “What?”
Your mom grinned. “She goes with me just to pick up ingredients for your favorite dishes and she prioritizes sleep more than anything in this world.”
“She does?”
“Every time you come over. You think it’s a coincidence we always happen to have your favorites? No, Jungwon. She picks them out.”
Jungwon stared at her, completely still.
“Oh.”
Your mom reached over and patted his hand gently, smiling. “You’re in deeper than you think, sweetheart.”
-
“Remember that day at your place… when I stayed for dinner the first time?”
You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “Yeah?”
“She told me,” Jungwon went on, his eyes crinkling, “that you wake up early to go grocery shopping with her before school. Just so you could cook the things I like for dinner.”
You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks.
“Honestly, I was still trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you,” he said, laughing softly, “while your mom was out here practically planning our wedding.”
Your mouth fell open slightly, words stuck in your throat.
He looked down at you. His gaze was steady, open, entirely unreadable in the way that meant it was everything all at once. “I’ve liked you since the beginning,” he said quietly, and this time he didn’t laugh. “Even when you said you hated me. Even when you swore you’d never like me back.”
“Wait,” you said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been crushing on me… this whole time?”
Jungwon tilted his head.
“Since the spelling bee,” he said, laughing.
You choked. “Fourth grade?!”
“Friendship,” he mimicked, grinning like the devil himself. “F–R–E–N–D–S–H–I–P.”
“You’re evil,” you said flatly, staring at him like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.
“While we’re reminiscing,” Jungwon said, his voice tilting cocky again. “I guess I did end up taking your first kiss after all.”
You blinked.
And suddenly, the rooftop wasn’t cold anymore.
Your mind flashed back, months ago, during that stupid party, during that even stupider game of spin the bottle. You remembered the way the bottle had landed on you. The way he’d chuckled. The way he’d leaned in only to pause, shake his head, and say, “I can’t take her first kiss like this.”
Now, you looked at him again. Really looked.
“You could’ve just done it then,” you said, softer now. “Gotten it over with.”
He shrugged, almost shy. “Felt like it’d be unfair if your first kiss happened in some stupid spin-the-bottle game. In front of all those idiots.”
You searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you so sure that was my first kiss?”
“Because,” he said quietly, “I knew you’d be mine.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing softly. “You really think I’ve kissed someone?”
“Uh—yeah?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I kiss random people at parties?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again. He looked at you, all teasing faded now.
“I was saving it,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most heart-stopping thing he’d ever confessed. “For someone special.”
And suddenly you weren’t breathing.
He looked back at you like it was obvious.
You reached for his hoodie again, your fingers twisting into the fabric without even thinking. “You’re an idiot,” you whispered.
His eyes crinkled, you tugged on the strings of his hoodie. Pulled him closer. Close enough to see the flutter in his lashes. Close enough that his breath hitched when your noses brushed.
And then you kissed him again.
His arms tightened around your waist immediately, pulling you in, deeper this time. It was slow and certain and everything that had been waiting between you for weeks—months, really. The rooftop wind curled around the two of you, but it didn’t matter. He was warm.
And then—
“Are you kidding me?! You two again?!”
You froze.
Jungwon jerked back so fast you almost stumbled.
You turned slowly, lips still tingling, and there he was—again.
The same security guard from the last time. Hands on his hips. Brow raised.
“Now I know for sure you’re kissing,” he said, squinting at both of you. “Don’t even try that hug excuse again.”
“We weren’t—” you started.
“It was windy,” Jungwon said quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. “And she almost fell—”
“Into your mouth?” the guard snapped.
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
Jungwon cleared his throat.
“Uh. We’re dating,” he finally said, sheepish, a little proud. “Officially. So.”
The guard narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Congratulations. Now get off the rooftop before I call your principal.”
“Yes, sir,” you both muttered in unison, scrambling for your bags.
As you walked down the stairs side by side, shoulder bumping into his, you could feel your face burning. But when you looked up at Jungwon, he was smiling like it had all been worth it.
“We should’ve made out in the library,” he whispered.
“You’re the worst,” you muttered, shoving him lightly.
➜ summary: you're certain heeseung sees you as a little sister but tonight that was going to change
pairing: heeseung x f!reader, wc: 6.2k words , genre: romcom, slice of life w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing
a/n: hi friends! not my usual long very plot filled story...but here's a short little fic as an apology for all the wait!
Heeseung was only two years older than you, but somehow those two years felt like a lifetime. Probably a whole age gap he invented in his head. Enough that the only way he ever looked at you was like you were a little child who needed to be spoon-fed.
But you didn’t want that. What you wanted was for him to look at you like a woman.
“Hee,” you whispered, tapping his shoulder to get his attention.
He was typing away on his laptop, completely absorbed in whatever assignment he was finishing. You sat behind him because, of course, all the paired seats in the library were taken, and the only space left was this cramped single desk.
He didn’t fully turn around, just leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its hind legs so you could barely see his side profile, his cheek poking out just a little, the corner rounding when he finally glanced back at you.
“Yes, cutie?”
God. That nickname.
In any other universe, maybe it would’ve been heart-fluttering. But not here. Not when all you wanted was for him to find you attractive. Appealing. Someone he couldn’t just pat on the head and send home before dinner.
You wanted him to see you as grown.
You sighed softly. “I’m stuck on question three.”
Which, unfortunately, only strengthened his entire argument that you were ‘young’ and ‘naive.’ The truth was humiliating: you were falling behind in the Year 1 accounting module every business major seemed to breeze through, and in a moment of desperation, you had shamefully begged Heeseung to tutor you.
Heeseung turned his chair fully this time, and your heart tripped over itself. He slipped his headphones down from his ears to his neck, eyes dropping to your worksheet with that annoyingly calm focus of his.
“What’s question three?” he asked, leaning closer.
You angled the paper toward him.
“Calculate the depreciation expense for Year 1 and prepare the journal entry for BeLift Enterprise,” he read, nodding slowly. He bit the end of his pencil, a habit that really shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, before circling a few key words and launching into the explanation. His voice dropped into that calm, patient tone he only used when tutoring you, and he sketched out the steps neatly on your worksheet.
At one point, he looked up and there it was again. That soft, too-gentle look. Like you were a tiny baby bird he had to protect.
“So, do you get it?” he asked.
Your eyes widened. Oh right. You were supposed to be listening to his explanation, not stare his plump lips wondering how it’d feel on yours–
You shook your head, groaning. “Uh…”
“You weren’t listening, weren’t you?” he said, knocking your forehead with the pencil before laughing, that warm, quiet laugh he only ever seemed to give you.
You glared, rubbing your forehead, but your cheeks had already betrayed you, heating up under his teasing. You wished he’d stop treating you like all you were was cute…
Time passed, and soon the third question was done. Before you could even pack up, Heeseung had already slung your backpack over his shoulder, walking beside you down the campus pathway.
“I told you I can carry it myself,” you grumbled.
“You have like three accounting books in here. Shit’s heavy,” he said, effortlessly adjusting the strap. “Consider yourself lucky. I wish I had this—an attractive guy carrying my books for me.”
“You had Jongseong,” you giggled.
“He only carried my books that one month because the dumbass lost a bet.” Heeseung laughed, shaking his head.
You scoffed and were about to say something else when two older girls from Heeseung’s year stepped right in front of him.
“Hey, Heeseung,” one of them said, flipping her hair. Both of them looked nothing like you. Sure, they were only two years older, but somehow they felt like actual adults. A thousand miles ahead of your tiny first-year existence.
You swallowed without meaning to.
“Is this your little sister?” one of them asked, glancing at you briefly.
Heeseung shook his head. “A friend,” he replied simply.
“Cute,” they said in unison, giggling at each other before turning their attention back to him. “You going to the party tonight?”
“Jake’s?” Heeseung scratched the back of his head.
They nodded eagerly. “Heard Beomgyu’s gonna be there. We figured you’d be too.”
He glanced at you. Something unreadable flickered across his face before he turned back. “Don’t really feel like a party today.”
Your stomach twisted.
Tonight was movie night: silly pajamas, popcorn, and the movie you’d been begging him to watch for months. Just the two of you. It was supposed to feel fun.
Now it just felt like you had trapped him at home with you.
“Oh, boo you, Hee,” one of them pouted.
He laughed lightly. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow in class.”
“Bye, handsome,” they giggled as they walked away.
The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable just… confusing. You walked along the curb, arms stretched out to balance while Heeseung held your left forearm so you wouldn’t fall off.
“You know you could’ve just gone to the party,” you said under your breath, almost tripping.
“And miss out on Mark Ruffalo as a heartthrob? No thank you,” he laughed, gripping onto your arms tighter.
“You clearly wanted to go.”
He looked over at you. “Who said I did?”
“Those two girls were pretty. Going to a party like that—wouldn’t it be fun?” You shrugged. “I don’t know. For seniors like you.”
Heeseung stopped walking.
You turned to face him, heart suddenly thumping too loud.
He sighed. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that seeing him with girls who seemed older, braver, more… womanly than you made your chest burn. That you were jealous. That you hated feeling small next to them.
“Just… I’d feel bad if you were missing out on a party because I forced you to watch an iconic movie. That’s all,” you added, weakly.
“Trust me,” he said, adjusting your backpack higher on his shoulder. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Booze. Girls. Dudes. Grinding. I’m better off at home under a blanket with you, watching a good movie, eating popcorn, and maybe—”
You stopped listening after that.
Your mind, traitorous as always, replayed everything, the girls, their confidence, how young you sounded saying begging Heeseung to watch a dumb movie with you, how Heeseung probably saw you as something soft and harmless. A child.
A little sister.
The thought made your stomach flip.
“What if I wanted to go to the party?” you blurted out.
Heesesung raised a brow. “You are not going to a senior party.”
You frowned. “Why not? My friends go all the time.”
“Your friends? Sure. You? No.” He said, deadpan.
“What? Why not?”
He sighed. “Because you’re not going to a senior party. Especially not one hosted by that idiot maniac Jake Sim. It gets crazy. And I know you. You’d hate it the moment you walked in.”
“I’m not a child, Hee.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You don’t have to.” You crossed your arms. “You treat me like one.”
Heeseung opened his mouth but nothing came out. His jaw worked, his eyes softened, and suddenly he looked like he was fighting himself.
“I’m not gonna stop you. I don’t have the right to,” he finally said, voice low. “But it just seems like a bad idea.”
That made your chest sting in a weird, unwelcome way.
“Fine then, glad you know that you aren’t the boss of me.” you snapped, “I’ll go get ready right now.”
You stormed off before he could say another word.
Your room looked like a tornado had passed through.
Every outfit you usually wore, comfy sweaters, oversized tees, soft colours, were thrown across your bed in a rejected pile. You stood in front of the mirror, pulling at the hem of the tight black dress you’d dug out of the back of your closet. You barely recognized yourself.
You did your makeup differently, not the usual dainty look but something a little darker, sharper, a little messy but intentionally messy. You curled your hair in a style you’d never actually tried outside your bedroom. Each step felt like trying on a costume.
You wanted to look grown.
Preferably someone Heeseung couldn’t brush off with a forehead knock and a “dumbo.”
But staring at yourself now, your chest tightened. You didn’t know if you looked mature… or if you looked like a kid trying way too hard.
Still, you forced a smile. Tonight, you were going to have fun. You were going to dance, drink something fruity and disgusting, talk to strangers, pretend you weren’t thinking about Heeseung.
You lifted your phone.
“Won?” you called out.
“What?” Jungwon muttered, mouth clearly full of something. You could practically hear cheese stretching across his molars.
“You have to go to Jake’s party with me.”
“Gross,” Jungwon groaned immediately. “A senior party? Hosted by Jake? Those go insane. I am not going to waste my night on a hellish experience.”
“Come on, please? I made this big thing about being old enough to go to the party with Heeseung—”
“Heeseung?” Jungwon choked. “God, you’re even stupider than Jay.”
“What the he–” you shouted.
“Look, I don’t wanna go to a stupid party,” he complained. “I have, like, a whole pizza here and I’m on season two of—”
“PLEASE?” you practically wailed. “I’LL DO YOUR ACCOUNTING HOMEWORK FOR A WEEK.”
Silence.
Then Jungwon exhaled the most defeated sigh you’d ever heard.
“Fine. I’ll see you there.”
–
Heeseung shouldn’t be this worried. He kept telling himself that, but it didn’t bring him any comfort. He never meant to make you feel like a child. He never meant to make you feel small. The truth was embarrassingly simple. He liked you so much that he got protective without thinking, and sometimes it came out in ways you misunderstood. He hated that he’d upset you. He hated even more that he didn’t know how to fix it without revealing too much.
His heart thudded faster as he imagined everything that could be happening at Jake’s party. Everyone knew what those parties were like. He’d been to enough of them to know that nothing good ever happened after midnight, and even less good happened once the alcohol started flowing. You didn’t belong in that kind of environment. You weren’t built for it in the way other people were. You were soft and earnest and easily flustered. The thought of you surrounded by drunk seniors made something inside him tighten with frustration and fear.
But maybe you were.
Back home, still wearing the matching pyjamas you’d bought for both of you, Heeseung felt a strange weight sink into his stomach. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to be sitting on the couch with you, under a blanket, watching 13 Going on 30 like you’d planned. Maybe you’d lean against him halfway through. Maybe he’d find the courage to hold your hand. It was supposed to be simple and warm and comforting.
But none of that was happening.
Because instead of walking into the living room wearing your silly heart-pattern pyjamas, you’d stormed off and posted an Instagram story with Jungwon. In the tiniest black dress he’d ever seen you wear. It wasn’t even a dress he knew you owned. And the worst part was the way you looked in it. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but you looked incredible. And it felt like you were doing it to spite him. Like you wanted to prove how grown you were. Like you were pushing him to react.
If he thought you looked good, he couldn't imagine how many men were trying to hit on you right now. The jealousy almost made him lightheaded. This wasn’t about protecting you anymore. This was pure, unfiltered anger and jealousy, and he could feel it pulsing under his skin.
He began pacing the length of his room, running a hand through his hair over and over again. Should he go to the party? Would it be too obvious if he showed up? Would everyone know exactly how he felt about you the moment he set foot inside?
His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. Jungwon.
He answered quickly. “Won?”
“Get to the party already,” Jungwon said, sounding bored and slightly annoyed.
“What?”
“I don’t need to be there to know your dumbass is pacing back and forth wondering if you should save her. Which, by the way, you should.”
“What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“Yes. But I’m not. God, she’s dancing the robot at a senior party.”
“The robot?” Heeseung felt a laugh escape before he could stop it.
“Yes, the robot. She’s basically male repellent right now.”
“How’s no one finding that adorable?” Heeseung asked without thinking.
“Because they’re normal? Also, I don’t get why the two of you can’t just tell each other you like one another. It’s pissing me off.”
Heeseung let out a slow sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“Well, uncomplicate it and bring her home. She’s ruining my reputation as the cool, nonchalant first year. She’s literally destroying it.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s moved on to the shuffle. Please get here. People are staring. I can’t be associated with this.”
Heeseung was already grabbing his jacket and keys. “On my way.”
–
You were doing the robot in the middle of Jake’s overcrowded living room. The music was loud, the lights were dim, and half the people around you were too drunk to care that you were dancing like a malfunctioning microwave.
You were so deep into your little performance that you didn’t notice the tall guy watching you from across the room until he was suddenly right in front of you. Sunghoon, a senior you had only heard about in whispers, stood there. You were pretty sure he was friends with Heeseung but if you were being honest, you only ever talked to Jongseong since he seemed harmless.
“Hey,” he said, “you’re Heeseung’s little sister, right?”
You froze. Little sister. Was that what everyone thought you were now? His adorable background character?
“No,” you said, frowning. “We’re not related. Not even close. Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“It’s just that you’re cute, and the way he is with you kind of screams protective big brother. It’s nothing offensive.”
“Well it’s offensive to me,” you muttered, blowing your bangs out of your face dramatically. “I’m in college. Not kindergarten.”
Sunghoon chuckled. “It’s part of your charm, isn’t it?”
“Tell me something, Mister… uh…”
“Sunghoon,” he supplied.
Maybe it was your third shot of vodka, or maybe it was simply the exhaustion of pretending you were fine, but your honesty was starting to slip out. Before you knew it, you were spilling practically everything to Sunghoon, a man you had met ten minutes ago.
“Mr. Sunghoon,” you repeated, pointing at him like you were about to present a PowerPoint in front of the class. “Would you like it if the one person you wanted to see you as a woman—”
“I’m a dude,” he interrupted gently.
“Not the point,” you snapped, waving him off. “Would you like it if the person you liked saw you as a child? Imagine you had the fattest crush on some older lady, and she kept patting your head like, ‘aww, you’re a little bit young for me, Sunghoon.’”
“Well—”
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t even answer—”
“I know. I just know I’m right.” You nodded to yourself like you were closing arguments in a courtroom and had already convinced the jury. “That’s what Heeseung is to me.”
Sunghoon stared at you for a moment before letting out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s rough. So you’re saying I have no shot then?”
“What?” You blinked at him, caught completely off guard.
Sunghoon shrugged in the most casual, attractive way possible. “I’m flirting. Bantering. I’m into whatever this is.” He waved his hand vaguely at you, like you were an energy he was trying to describe.
You narrowed your eyes at him, taking your time to look him up and down. “How romantic,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes for emphasis.
He laughed under his breath. “Look, you’re cute and pretty.”
“Okay,” you said, unsure where this was going. “And then what?”
“Jesus, I didn’t realize you’d be…Would… you… like… to… go… out… with… me?” he asked, and he said it slowly. Too slowly.
You stared at him. “Did you just slow-talk me like I’m a preschooler?”
Sunghoon smiled, clearly amused by your reaction. “No. I’m slow-talking because you keep arguing with me instead of answering.”
“I argue with everyone,” you said.
“Pretty hot,” Sunghoon replied instantly.
You almost choked on your own breath. You stared at him, blinking rapidly.
“Look, Mr. Sunghoon, you seem very nice,” you said, trying to regain composure.
“But?” he prompted, already smiling.
“I’m just…”
“Really into Heeseung?” he finished for you.
You let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yes.”
Sunghoon’s expression softened. “You know, we might not be friends, but I do want to help you out.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What? Why?”
“Well, first, I’m interested in seeing what happens,” he said, casually glancing over your shoulder. His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Second, I’m always rooting for the underdog. You know, superhero stuff. Just call me Cupid Man.”
You gasped dramatically. “That’s a stupid fucking name.”
“Cut me some slack. I thought of it in under a minute,” Sunghoon said without hesitation. Then his eyes flicked over your shoulder, amused. “Also, Heeseung just arrived, and he’s clearly looking for someone. I’m assuming that someone is you.”
“He’s here?” You jolted. “He said he wasn’t going to come.”
“Oh, I wonder why…” Sunghoon said, giving you a very pointed, very knowing look.
“It’s not because of me, is it?” you asked, starting to turn around to check, but Sunghoon’s fingers were suddenly at your chin again, gently guiding your face back toward him.
“Don’t look,” he whispered. “Pretend you’re preoccupied with me.”
“What?”
“Just pretend I said something funny.”
You blinked at him in disbelief. “Funny like… what? What am I laughing at?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Laugh like I told you the world’s funniest joke.”
You stared deadpan at him. “Sunghoon, I can’t fake laugh on command.”
Sunghoon stifled a laugh. “Fine, then just smile at me. Something that says you are having a wonderful, captivating, life-changing conversation with a very handsome man.”
“Sunghoon, you’re not that handsome,” you said, clearly lying. Sunghoon was fine. Like fiiiine. Extremely fine. You knew that, he knew that, and unfortunately Heeseung definitely knew that.
“You know what, it won’t even matter when he sees us standing this close,” Sunghoon replied, stepping forward deliberately. “You could be with a total four like Jongseong and he’d still be pissed.”
“I’ll have you know Jongseong is an eight to me.”
“What happened to the two points?”
“He spat in my food while ranting about cars once. Changed my view of him in under a minute.”
Sunghoon laughed, before his expression shifted into something more serious.
“Okay,” he murmured, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Now put your hands on my shoulders and sway to the music.”
“I…” You hesitated, already feeling your pulse racing.
“Just do it,” he said, still watching something behind you with a knowing smirk.
“Fine,” you muttered, placing your hands on his shoulders as instructed. Sunghoon’s hands settled lightly at your waist, guiding you into a slow sway that felt far too intimate for two people who had met ten minutes ago.
“Good,” Sunghoon said. “Now, what I’m about to do is just fake, okay? Because he’s walking over and this is our only chance to make him crack.”
“What are you talking abou—”
But Sunghoon didn’t give you time.
He leaned down slowly, deliberately, and your eyes widened as his lips came closer. You could feel his breath brush your cheek, and the moment stretched like the universe was holding it up for inspection.
You weren’t sure if he was actually going to kiss you, or if he was simply committed to the bit.
Either way, the room suddenly felt warm. Before you could decide whether Sunghoon was actually going to kiss you, you heard a sharp throat clear behind you. A split second later, someone grabbed your arm and tugged you so hard that you stumbled forward and fell face first into a very familiar chest.
You looked up, already knowing who it was.
“Hee?” you whispered.
Heeseung stood over you, jaw clenched, eyes blazing in a way you had never seen before. His hand was still tight around your arm.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I was just… dancing with my new friend.” You gestured weakly toward him. “Sunghoon.”
Heeseung turned his head slowly, like he needed a full moment to keep himself from exploding. “Jesus, Sunghoon. I told you she’s off limits.”
“Off limits? What?” You blinked, incredulous.
Sunghoon raised both hands in mock surrender. “Right, right. Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.”
You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Off limits? Who did Heeseung think he was? The two of you weren’t even together. He had no right to claim you. No right to act like you belonged to him. And yet he said it so easily, like he meant it.
He turned back to you. “Where’s Jungwon?”
“I don’t know,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “Why are you even here?”
“I asked him to keep an eye on you.”
A spark lit in your chest. “I’m not a child, Hee.” You folded your arms tightly.
He took a breath, but it came out sharp and frustrated. “Then why do you keep acting like one?”
Your anger rose instantly. “I don’t belong to you. You don’t own me.”
“I know I don’t,” he shot back. His jaw clenched. “It just makes me mad that you don’t even see—”
“See what?” you demanded. “See that you treat me like a goddamn child? Because you do. Whether you realise it or not, you do.”
He looked stunned for a moment, thrown off by the force of your words. The silence between you thickened, heavy and hot, and for a second neither of you spoke.
The hurt in your chest pulsed again, stronger. He frustrated you. He confused you. He made you feel small and then important and then invisible all at the same time. And now he was standing here in the cold night air acting like you had no right to be upset.
Your voice softened but cracked at the edges. “You talk like you get to decide who I dance with. Who I talk to. What I do. And you don’t.”
Heeseung opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked angry, yes, but underneath it was something else. Something you could not quite name. Something that made your heart twist painfully.
He finally said, quieter, “You have no idea why it makes me mad.”
“Then tell me,” you whispered. “Because all I see is someone who doesn’t think I can make my own choices.”
Heeseung didn’t say anything.
You just turned on your heel and stormed off, disappearing into the crowd before he could say another word.
You walked out of the house and into the cold night air, wanting as much distance as possible from the music, the lights and the embarrassment tightening in your chest. The noise behind you faded into a blur. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you moved farther and farther away from the party.
But you could still hear him.
Heeseung’s footsteps pounded against the pavement behind you. His voice carried through the cold night air as he called your name again and again. The more you ignored him, the louder he said it, until your patience snapped.
You spun around, arms crossed tightly, eyes burning. “What?”
He came to a stop right in front of you, breath rising in the cold, frustration etched across every line of his face. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m acting weird.”
“Glad to see that you’re self-fucking-aware,” you snapped.
“God, you don’t get it.”
“Then so help me, make me get it,” you said, exhaling sharply as you tried to keep your voice controlled.
Heeseung opened his mouth, then closed it again. He raked a hand through his hair, pacing a small step before facing you.
“This is making me crazy. I swear.”
He frowned. “What is?”
He hesitated just long enough to irritate you. Long enough to make the frustration in your chest spike.
Your voice finally broke through the tension. “You. You are.”
“Me? What did I even do?” His brows knitted together helplessly.
“You never get it,” you said, your voice rising despite your best effort to keep it steady. “You never listen when it comes to this.”
He stepped closer, stubborn and confused and maddeningly intense. “Listen to what?”
“And I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me,” you said, your voice dropping into something smaller, something raw. “I’m tired of acting like it doesn’t get to me when it does.”
Heeseung opened his mouth, desperate to respond, but the words inside you were already tumbling out faster than you could control.
“Just tell me–”
“Why can’t you just look at me as a woman instead of a child?” You cut him off.
Silence snapped over the two of you. Heavy. Immediate.
Your eyes widened as soon as the sentence left your lips. You clapped a hand over your mouth, mortified. “Wait. I didn’t mean… I mean I did but also I didn’t but—oh my god.”
“Wait,” Heeseung said quietly, stepping closer. “Say that again.”
You shook your head furiously, mortified. “No. Forget it. I’m going home. Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. I’m an idiot.”
He studied your face like he was seeing you for the first time tonight. “You want me to see you as a woman.”
You wanted the pavement to crack open so you could crawl inside. “Hee, please stop talking.”
He didn’t.
He closed the space between you slowly, almost cautiously, as if approaching something fragile he had been afraid to touch for too long. When he finally spoke, his voice dropped into something low and careful.
“You really think I see you as a child?”
“Well, you treat me like one,” you muttered, though your voice shook slightly.
He let out a tense breath and shook his head. “Sure, you’re cute. Sure, I find you adorable.” His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. “But you have no idea how unraveled I feel when I see you. When I see you in that dress. When I see you in a hoodie. When I see you in my hoodie with no shorts on.”
Your breath caught. Everything in your chest went still. “What?”
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, looking like he was seconds away from combusting. “You make me go insane. And I have to fight every part of myself not to think about you in that way because you are so much more than that. Do you get me?”
You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe.
He took another step forward, and suddenly his warmth was right there, brushing against your skin. When he lowered his voice again, it felt heavier, truer, like the words were pulled directly from his ribs.
“It’s only you,” he said. “I look at you and I want to be careful. I want to be gentle. I want to protect you. Not because I think you’re small. But because you matter to me.”
Your heart thudded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it. Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to reach for him.
He wasn’t finished.
“You matter to me in a way that scares me,” he said quietly. “That’s why I act like this. Not because I don’t see you as a woman. But because I see you as one so much it terrifies me.”
Your throat tightened. “But why do you always act like I’m someone you need to babysit.”
“That’s not it,” he said quickly. “You don’t understand. I’m terrified of hurting you, or saying too much, or crossing a line you didn’t want me to cross.”
You blinked. “Why would you think that?”
His jaw clenched. He took a soft breath.
“Because,” he said quietly, “I like you in a way that makes me stupid.”
Your stomach flipped. The world felt too still.
He studied your face, searching for any sign that he had made a mistake. “When I saw you with Sunghoon,” he continued, voice shaking slightly, “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”
Your heart fluttered painfully.
“I wasn’t angry because you were dancing,” he said. “I was angry because he had his hands on you. And I wished they were mine.”
Your breath stilled.
Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes flicking briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
“So no,” he said softly. “I don’t see you as a child. I don’t think I ever have.”
“Oh.”
It was small and breathy and embarrassingly weak.
“That’s all you can say?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow.
“Well what else can I say…” You looked away, cheeks burning. You suddenly couldn’t hold eye contact with him at all. Not when you knew he liked you back. Not when his words were replaying in your head like a broken record.
“You could say that you like me back,” he teased lightly, laughing under his breath.
“But you already said it for the both of us,” you replied softly.
Heeseung actually laughed at that. Before you could react, he reached out, ruffled your hair affectionately, and pulled you into his chest.
His arms wrapped around you easily. One around your back, the other cradling the back of your head like you were something precious. You leaned into him, your body melting without permission.
“You don’t get how crazy you make me feel. Do you?” he murmured into your hair.
You felt yourself shake your head.
“It’s like I’m losing my mind just thinking about you,” he said, exhaling. “You never leave my mind.”
There it was again. That quiet, overwhelmed “Oh.”
Heeseung laughed softly, brushing his cheek against the top of your head. “Never did I think I’d stump the biggest yapper I know.”
You pulled back just enough to gape at him. “You’re calling me a yapper?”
“Yes,” he said simply, grinning. “You.”
“Fine, I just won’t talk then.”
“Great,” Heeseung replied.
“What? Why would you—”
“Because then,” he said, lifting your chin gently with his fingers, “we’ll have more time to do this.”
He leaned down and kissed you.
His lips warm against yours. Your hands instinctively gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he smiled against your mouth as if you’d just confirmed everything he’d ever hoped for.
His thumb brushed your jaw, his other arm tightening around your waist until you felt every steady beat of his heart against your chest.
The moment your lips parted, the world felt quiet for a little while.
Then you heard it.
Slow clapping.
Very slow clapping.
Both of you turned.
Out from the bushes emerged Jungwon and Sunghoon. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, arms raised dramatically, clapping.
“Finally,” Jungwon said, dragging out the word with full dramatic effect.
You stared at them, mortified. “Were… were you hiding in the bushes?”
“Yes,” Sunghoon answered proudly.
“We were observing,” Jungwon added.
“Strategising,” Sunghoon said, nodding.
“Plotting,” Jungwon concluded.
You pressed your hands to your face. “Oh my god.”
“Did you guys–” you and Heeseung both started at the same time before stopping to glare at each other, then turning back toward the bushes.
Jungwon and Sunghoon stood side by side like two idiots presenting a science project.
Heeseung pointed at them, eyes narrowing. “So, the whole Sunghoon flirting thing… was this shit planned?”
Sunghoon nodded immediately. “Yes.”
Jungwon smirked. “My plan entirely.”
Your jaw dropped. “Wait. So him flirting with me was a lie?”
Sunghoon shrugged, leaning casually against a tree like he owned the night. “Not really. I always thought you were cute and when Jungwon asked for help…how could I say no to flirting with–”
Heeseung immediately reached back and pulled you behind him, shielding you with his body.
“Do not finish that sentence,” he warned.
Sunghoon lifted both hands in surrender. “Relax. I’m not trying to steal her. I was doing my civic duty. Helping two idiots get together.”
“Idiots?” you repeated, offended.
“Yes,” Jungwon said bluntly. “You two made me suffer. For months. I deserve an award for this.”
“I’ll drop kick the both of you,” Heeseung said, pointing at them like a disappointed father.
Sunghoon nodded immediately. “Jungwon begged me to do this.”
Jungwon scoffed so loudly it echoed. “Begged? I invited you. You practically sprinted at the chance to piss Hee off by flirting with a girl he’s been crushing on for years.”
You froze. “Years?”
Heeseung’s jaw tensed so hard you thought it might actually crack. His ears turned a shade of red you had never seen before. “Dude, just… shut the hell up. Also, I didn’t need help.”
“Oh, you absolutely needed help,” Jungwon said. “That weird vein on your forehead was about to bust from seeing her an inch from Sunghoon. I practically saved your life.”
“You mean Lucinda?” Sunghoon added casually.
Jungwon whipped his head toward him. “You named his vein?”
Sunghoon nodded like this was perfectly normal. “It looks cute.”
You stared at both of them, arms crossed, absolutely done. “God, you two share the same brain cell.”
“Thank you,” they said in perfect unison.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Jungwon shrugged. “Still taking it.”
“Anyway,” you said, dragging the word out as your patience thinned, “so Sunghoon showing up and flirting with me was all your idea?”
Jungwon raised his hand proudly, like he expected applause. “Yes. I was the mastermind. And he was kind of a scapegoat. I could’ve done it myself, but flirting with you felt borderline incestuous, so I outsourced.”
Sunghoon chimed in cheerfully. “I assisted.”
“Assisted?” Heeseung repeated, his voice dropping dangerously low.
Sunghoon pointed at your face with total confidence. “I mean, look at her. Pretty girl. Tight dress. She looked hot today. You’re lucky I didn’t fall in love on the spot.”
Jungwon nudged him with his elbow. “You’re on thin ice, my dude.”
Heeseung took one slow, threatening step toward him.
Sunghoon immediately ducked behind Jungwon, hands raised like a man facing execution. “I take it back. I don’t love anyone. Except myself. Please don’t hit me.”
Jungwon sighed. “This is exhausting. Can we just focus on the main point?”
You glared at him harder. “Which is that you orchestrated all of this.”
Jungwon lifted his chin with zero shame. “Yes. And look at the results. Beautiful romance. Emotional breakthroughs. Character arcs. You’re welcome.”
You pressed your fingers to your temples. “I hate all of you.”
Heeseung wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Same.”
Jungwon gasped. “Kinda rude with all things considered.”
Sunghoon placed a hand on his chest. “Our contributions are unappreciated.”
“Leave,” Heeseung said.
They stood there.
Heeseung pointed aggressively toward the street. “Now.”
Jungwon rolled his eyes and started walking. Sunghoon followed, muttering, “I hope Lucinda pops.”
You watched them disappear around the corner, their bickering fading until everything finally went quiet. No annoying comments, no unnecessary backhanded complaints, just… silence.
Heeseung shifted beside you, clearing his throat lightly. “So… you ready to go home?”
You tilted your head, confused. “To do what?”
He laughed softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. Then he opened the front of his coat a little, revealing the soft, heart shaped pajamas you had bought for him. He was wearing them under his jacket.
Your heart squeezed.
“I was kinda hoping we’d continue our little movie night,” he said, smiling in that gentle way that made your knees weak. “If it’s okay with you.”
“It’s more than okay,” you said quietly, smiling back at him.
Heeseung lifted the tote bag he had been carrying the whole night and pulled out something familiar. Your matching pajamas. Folded neatly.
“Had a feeling you were gonna join me,” he said. “So… we can match.”
You took the pajamas from his hands, warmth blooming so fast in your chest you felt a little dizzy. “Hee, you’re such a loser.”
He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah. Thank God my girlfriend’s not.”
You stared at him. “Your girlfriend just went on a whole rampage dressing up and going to a god-awful party to make a point. Your girlfriend’s just as much of a loser as you.”
“Well, I’m just grateful you didn’t punch me when I called you my girlfriend. You are though, right?”
[ENHYPEN] We're so happy to be back performing in Germany, the place where we first experienced the thrill of such loud and passionate cheers! Your continued support and energy, Berlin ENGENEs, truly moved us. Thank you for having fun with us! 😘 #250901 @ WALK THE LINE in BERLIN
synopsis: When a clumsy act of heroism lands Y/N in the ER, she doesn’t expect to fall—literally and emotionally—for the handsome Dr. Park Sunghoon. What begins with one injury turns into flirty check-ups, midnight snacks, and unexpected visits. Somewhere between planned accidents and shared coffee, a soft, slow-burning romance begins to bloom—proving some symptoms are only cured by love.
The baby stroller rolled like it had a vendetta.
You didn’t know how or why,one second you were exiting the grocery store with your snacks and sanity intact, and the next, you saw it. A rogue stroller speeding down the sloped parking lot, gaining momentum as it charged toward oncoming traffic.
There was no baby inside, thank God, but still. The thought of it smashing into a car or someone else sent your instincts into overdrive.
You dropped your shopping bag without a second thought and sprinted after it.
Your ankle did not approve of this decision.
You made the save, barely. You managed to intercept the stroller before it reached the road, but your foot twisted on the uneven pavement. A sharp, nauseating pain shot up your leg as you crumpled to the ground with a dramatic yelp.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?!” someone shouted.
No. No, you were not okay.
You weren’t dying, but lying on your back in a parking lot, cradling your throbbing ankle while your chips rolled away into the distance, you did feel a little pathetic.
Which is how you ended up here, sitting in the emergency room of a general hospital, your foot elevated, your ego bruised, and your snack plans obliterated.
And then, as if someone upstairs decided to throw you a bone for your noble sacrifice, he walked in.
“Ms.L/N?” a smooth voice asked.
You looked up from your mildly tear-streaked haze.
And forgot how to breathe.
Towering in the doorway stood a man who looked like he had no business working in a hospital unless it was on the cover of a magazine. Dark, soft hair fell perfectly over his forehead. He wore navy scrubs that fit far too well for your sanity and had a stethoscope slung casually around his neck. His face was both beautiful and serious, like he’d been born to be in a drama where he saves lives and hearts at the same time.
You blinked dumbly. “Uh… y-yeah. That’s me.”
“I’m Dr. Park Sunghoon. I’ll be treating you today.” He glanced at your chart, then at your swollen ankle. “Oof. That doesn’t look too fun.”
“I like to make an entrance,” you joked weakly, trying not to wince as he gently touched the injured area.
His eyes flicked up to yours, and you swore you saw a hint of amusement. “What happened?”
You told him the story, the rogue stroller, your heroic dash, the betrayal of your ankle. He listened, nodding occasionally, lips twitching in barely-contained amusement.
“You saved an empty stroller?” he asked after a beat.
“It could’ve had a baby!” you defended. “It’s the thought that counts!”
That made him laugh. A soft, low chuckle that sent warm little fizzles down your spine.
“Well, hero,” he said, reaching for his tablet, “you’ve got a hairline fracture. Nothing too serious, but we’re going to keep you overnight for observation and pain management.”
“Overnight?” you echoed, startled.
He nodded. “Just a precaution. We’ll get you a boot and some ice, and I’ll swing by later to check in, alright?”
You tried to act cool. Normal. Not like your body was actively combusting.
“Thanks, Doctor.”
“Call me Sunghoon,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m the only Park on call tonight.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving you wondering if the throbbing in your chest was worse than the pain in your ankle.
You were supposed to leave the next morning.
Just one night under observation, a brace for your semi-broken ankle, and you’d be back home with your pillows and your half-watched dramas.
But apparently, your ankle had other plans. By the time the nurse came back to check your vitals in the morning, your foot had gone from “mildly annoyed” to “dramatic and swollen.” Sunghoon reviewed your case again, brows furrowed, then gave you a sheepish but sincere look.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he said, hands tucked into his coat pockets, “but looks like you’ll be staying a bit longer.”
“How long is a bit?”
“A few more days. Maybe the week. Just to make sure you don’t break it again chasing airborne shopping carts.”
You groaned and flopped back on the pillows.
He gave you a crooked smile. “I promise to make the food almost tolerable while you’re here.”
You peeked up at him. “Are you allowed to offer bribes?”
He leaned closer, voice lowering slightly. “Only to my favorite patient.”
That was the first time he made your heart trip harder than your ankle.
The days passed slowly, but they weren’t boring. Not with Sunghoon visiting you regularly.
It became a routine. He always came in right after morning rounds, clipboard in hand, coffee in the other. You got used to the way he tapped his pen against the paper when he was reading your vitals. The way his voice softened when he asked how you were feeling. The way he always gave a quick smile at the end of each check-up, even when he was clearly exhausted.
He was calm. Steady. But not cold—there was a warmth tucked under that smooth professionalism, like he was always one sarcastic comment away from teasing you.
Sometimes, he gave in.
“Still alive?” he’d say when he walked in.
“Barely. Your jello tried to kill me again.”
“Ruthless. I’ll have a word with the kitchen.”
On day three, you were watching a cooking show on the tiny hospital TV when he walked in and paused mid-step.
“Is that... a flaming baked Alaska?”
You grinned. “You know it?”
“I’ve failed to make it twice.”
You scooted over on the bed slightly. “Wanna sit and learn from the pros?”
He hesitated for a heartbeat, then walked over and leaned against the side table instead. “If my boss finds out I’m watching baking shows with patients, I’ll get roasted harder than that meringue.”
“You mean you’re not always this charmingly unprofessional?”
He laughed—soft and real. “Only with special cases.”
—
Your favorite moments, though, were the midnight ones.
It started accidentally.
One night, around 2 a.m., you couldn’t sleep. Between the aching foot, the stiff pillows, and the weird smell of hospital bleach, you gave up. You carefully slid out of bed, crutches in hand, and made your slow way down the hallway to the vending machines.
You stood there debating between cookies and chips when a voice cut through the quiet:
“What are you doing out of bed?”
You spun so fast your crutches wobbled.
Sunghoon stood a few steps away, looking like a half-sleeping model—messy hair, coffee cup in hand, coat slung over his arm.
“Uh,” you blurted, caught. “I… I was just stretching?”
He gave you a look.
You sighed. “Okay, I was getting snacks.”
“Ah,” he said, stepping closer to the machine. “A woman of culture.”
You watched as he pressed a few buttons and retrieved a pack of peanut butter cookies. Then, with a soft smile, he handed them to you.
“They’re better than the hospital pudding. Trust me.”
You stared at the cookies, stunned. “I didn’t peg you for a vending machine connoisseur.”
“Oh, I’m a man of many talents,” he said, sipping his coffee. “And cookie wisdom is one of them.”
That night, you sat side-by-side on a bench in the hallway, quietly eating snacks under the dull hospital lights. You talked about random things—horrible date stories, the most absurd ER injuries he’s seen (“a man once tried to wax his legs with candle wax… while drunk”), your fear of geese, his inability to whistle.
When he got paged, he stood, gave you a nod, and said, “Same time tomorrow?”
You grinned. “Only if you bring better snacks.”
—
And he did.
Over the next few nights, it became a pattern. You’d sneak out—quietly, always watching out for the night nurse—and you’d find him already there, waiting near the vending machine or sitting on the bench with his tie slightly loosened.
One night, as you talked about favorite movies, he leaned back and looked at you sideways.
“You know,” he said, “you’re braver than most people.”
You blinked. “Because I like horror movies?”
“No,” he said, “because you threw yourself into traffic for a stroller. Even an empty one.”
You flushed. “That was dumb, honestly.”
He tilted his head. “It was impulsive. But good people do dumb things sometimes.”
There was a beat of silence.
“…Was that your way of saying I’m a good person?” you teased gently.
His lips twitched. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
On the fifth night, he walked in during your nap.
You were curled on your side, blanket tucked up to your chin. He entered quietly, looked at your chart, and checked the monitor. Then—thinking you were still asleep—he brushed a hand down the side rail and whispered with a soft chuckle:
“You’re seriously too cute for your own good.”
Your eyes snapped open—but you kept them shut. Barely breathing.
You heard him step back, heard the quiet rustle of his coat, and then the door click softly behind him.
You grinned into your pillow for twenty minutes straight.
Leaving the hospital felt… wrong.
Your ankle was better. Not perfect, but healed enough to survive without nightly cookie rendezvous or soft-eyed doctors checking your pulse like they cared more than they let on. The nurse gave you a cheery goodbye, and Sunghoon—cool and professional till the very end—stood at your door with your discharge papers.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’re officially free.”
You took the folder from his hands, trying not to let your smile falter. “Freedom tastes suspiciously like sadness.”
He chuckled, eyes scanning your face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were going to miss this place.”
“I’m going to miss snacks at 2 a.m. and cookie confessions.”
A glint sparked in his gaze. “You say that like you didn’t just come here for me.”
You froze. Then burst into a laugh. “Cocky, Dr. Park.”
“Confident,” he corrected, and that stupid, beautiful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “But hey—don’t break any more bones to see me, alright? There are easier ways.”
“Like what?”
His voice dropped just a little. “You could just… visit.”
Your heart did a weird little stutter. “Noted.”
But the moment you stepped outside the building, real life rushed back in—loud, busy, filled with people who weren’t Park Sunghoon. The city buzzed with a rhythm you didn’t want to return to. And by the time you got home, all you could think about was his voice, his smile, the way he leaned against the vending machine like it was a lounge chair meant only for two.
You lasted four days.
Four. Long. Torturous days.
And then you snapped.
Your first plan was harmless: stub your toe on purpose.
You spent ten minutes mentally preparing, then bumped it against your kitchen table. Mild pain. No bruise. Not enough. You tried again. Harder. It swelled a little—enough to limp convincingly—but the guilt was louder than the ache.
Still, you went.
The hospital lobby felt like enemy territory and home all at once. You limped in dramatically, rehearsing your lines. “I’m not sure if it’s broken,” you told the nurse at the ER check-in. “I slammed it on something hard, and now it’s hard to walk.”
Within twenty minutes, you were in a room.
Within twenty-five, he was there.
Dr. Park Sunghoon entered with a slow blink and a lifted brow.
“I told you not to break anything.”
“I didn’t,” you said sweetly. “Just bruised it. Mildly. Accidentally.”
He narrowed his eyes.
You gave your best innocent smile. “Are you accusing me of doing this just to see you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re thinking it.”
He sighed and knelt down to check your foot, the back of his hand brushing your skin. “This is ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled.
He looked up. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
That incident ended with a mild toe wrap and a warning: “Next time, just visit like a normal person. You don’t have to fake an injury to see me.”
You promised you wouldn’t.
And you meant it.
Until you didn’t.
The second injury was supposed to be even less dramatic. You “accidentally” scraped your elbow on a rough door frame. Just a scratch, barely worth a bandage. But you showed up again anyway, cheeks flushed, proudly displaying your battle wound like a badge of affection.
He sighed the entire time he wrapped the gauze around your elbow, clearly trying to look stern and professional, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the way they kept twitching upward.
“Don’t say it,” you muttered.
“I haven’t said anything,” he replied, taping the end of the bandage. “Yet.”
“You’re thinking it again.”
“I’m always thinking it when it comes to you.”
You blinked. “What does that mean?”
He straightened up, clicking the cap back onto the ointment tube. “It means you’re the most stubborn patient I’ve ever had—and possibly the most charming.” His voice lowered slightly, teasing. “Even if you fake your injuries to come see me.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it. “…You really are cocky.”
He laughed. “Alright,” he said, tugging off his gloves and tossing them into the bin. “Since you’re clearly going to find more creative ways to end up in my ER, I might as well save us both the trouble.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pen, and grabbed the corner of the gauze packet. He scribbled something quickly, then folded it in half and handed it to you.
“What’s this?”
“My number,” he said. “Use it the next time you want to see me.”
You blinked, startled. “You’re giving me your number?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you not want it?”
“No! I mean—yes. I mean—” You gave up and smiled like an idiot. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and his voice turned almost boyish. “Now go before I change my mind and file this as an official nuisance case.”
You snorted. “Is that your way of flirting?”
“It’s a very niche love language,” he deadpanned.
Later That Night…
You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the number.
And then you typed:
Y/N: this is the burrito girl.
Y/N: just making sure the number isn’t secretly a prank hotline.
Seconds later, a reply.
Dr. Park: depends. do you need emotional support or a burrito wrap?
Y/N: both.
Dr. Park: lucky for you, i’m trained in both areas.
And just like that, the texting began.
He wasn’t always fast, but he always replied. Sometimes with dry humor. Sometimes with sleepy emojis sent between rounds. Sometimes with little updates:
Dr. Park: just had a 5hr surgery. caffeine is my blood type now.
Dr. Park: saw a kid eat a crayon today. that was the highlight.
Dr. Park: also. been thinking about you.
Dr. Park: not in a weird way.
Dr. Park: okay maybe a little.
You replied with your own updates:
Y/N: almost broke my other ankle tripping over my cat today. thought you’d be proud.
Y/N: saw a donut that reminded me of you. sweet and dangerous.
Y/N: not gonna lie. i kinda miss the vending machine.
He started sending photos too—his office coffee, a crooked name tag, a sleepy selfie with his face half covered by a mask.
And one day, just a few days later, he texted:
Dr. Park: you don’t have to injure yourself, you know.
Dr. Park: if you ever feel like it… you could just drop by.
The Honest Visit
It took courage to walk into that hospital with no bruises or sprains or fractures. Just nerves.
You wore your cutest non-patient outfit and held a coffee cup like it was a peace offering. When you showed up at the nurses’ station, one of them lit up immediately.
“Oh—you’re her.”
You blinked. “Her?”
“Dr. Park talks about you more than he talks about patient charts.”
You tried not to melt. “Is he here?”
“He’s on rounds, but I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”
Fifteen minutes passed before you heard his voice.
“I thought I told you—no more injuries.”
You turned, already smiling.
He was wearing his white coat, stethoscope slung around his neck, hair slightly tousled from a long day. His eyes softened the moment they landed on you.
“No injuries,” you said, lifting the coffee cup. “Just visiting.”
He looked genuinely surprised—and so genuinely happy.
“Wow,” he said. “You actually came.”
“You invited me.”
“I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.”
You grinned. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”
He stepped closer, gaze flicking to your hands. “Did you… bring that for me?”
“Of course. I bribed a barista to write ‘World’s Hottest Doctor’ on the cup.”
He chuckled and took it, his fingers brushing yours. “You’re something else.”
You sat together for twenty minutes in the break lounge—him sipping coffee, you sharing a muffin you’d smuggled in. It was quiet and sweet and real, and for the first time, you weren’t just some girl who faked injuries.
You were someone he wanted to see.
Sunghoon had gotten a little too comfortable crashing at your place. What started as a once-in-a-while couch visit after his hellish 12-hour shifts became more frequent. He always texted first—“You up? Don’t feel like driving home.”—and you always answered with “Door’s open. Blanket’s clean.”
The first two nights, he knocked out on the couch within minutes, still in scrubs, his phone falling to the floor as he curled up like a cat. The third night, though, you woke up sometime around 3 a.m. to the sound of shuffling.
Your bedroom door creaked open, followed by a low, sheepish voice.
“…Y/N?”
You squinted through the dark. “Sunghoon?”
“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes barely adjusting. “The couch is killing my spine. Can I—?”
Without another word, you scooted over in bed, lifting the blanket in silent invitation.
He hesitated, then smiled softly. “Respectfully… I love you.”
“You’re not even fully conscious,” you mumbled, rolling over. “Just get in.”
He climbed in beside you—fully clothed, smelling like hand sanitizer and fatigue. The bed dipped slightly as he settled on his side, keeping a polite distance, until your sleepy voice broke the silence again.
“You don’t have to act like I’m made of glass.”
That was all it took for him to scoot closer, just enough for your back to brush against his chest. You fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the occasional murmur of his dreams.
After that, the couch was history.
⸻
It had been a good few weeks—injury-free and drama-free. You had your routines: texts at odd hours, his hoodie now permanently yours, regular lunch drop-offs at the hospital, and sleepy nights curled up on your bed, whispering until one of you drifted off.
So, of course, that peace didn’t last.
You were crossing the street one evening with a bag of takeout—your usual hospital dinner delivery—when a motorbike came out of nowhere. You managed to jump back, but the bag slipped from your hands, and in a graceless scramble, you hit the pavement hard.
Your elbow got the worst of it—scraped raw—and your knee throbbed instantly. Some kind strangers helped you up, and a nurse passing by recognized you. The ER wasn’t far. You figured you’d stop in, just to be safe.
But you knew one thing for sure:
Sunghoon was going to kill you.
⸻
He was in the middle of his evening rounds when a nurse sprinted toward him.
“Dr. Park—you should come to the ER.”
He barely looked up. “Why?”
The nurse panted. “It’s Y/N.”
His heart stopped.
In an instant, he abandoned the clipboard, sprinting down the hall like his life depended on it.
By the time he found your room, he was breathless, coat flapping behind him, eyes wild.
“Y/N!”
You turned your head. “Oh—hey, Hoon.”
You were propped on a bed, bandages already on your arm and a cold pack on your knee. Eating an apple like nothing happened.
He looked at you, chest heaving. “Are you okay?”
“Better now,” you said, smiling gently. “It’s really not that bad.”
He strode over, cupping your face with both hands, scanning for injuries like he didn’t believe you.
“I thought it was something serious. They said it was a street accident, and I—God, I thought you were—” His voice cracked. “You said you wouldn’t plan an injury again.”
“I didn’t,” you said. “This one was real. I was just… unlucky.”
He let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against yours for a moment.
“I swear,” he whispered. “One more scare like this, and I’ll admit myself into psych.”
You smiled, placing your hand over his heart. “You care that much, huh?”
He looked at you then—really looked.
“I care more than I wanted to.”
⸻
Later that night, after you’d been properly checked, bandaged, and cleared to go home, he insisted on walking you back to your apartment.
Inside, you curled up on your couch while he poured water into a glass with the familiarity of someone who now knew your kitchen layout.
You watched him quietly, heart pounding.
“Sunghoon?”
He turned, looking exhausted but beautiful.
“Yeah?”
You swallowed. “I know we joke a lot. But… I’ve really grown to like you. Like, a lot. I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t miss you when we don’t talk. Or that your voice doesn’t make me feel better after a bad day.”
He set the glass down and crossed the room slowly.
“I’m glad you said that,” he said, settling beside you. “Because I’ve been scared to say it first. But I feel the same.”
He brushed his thumb along your cheek, gaze soft. “You’ve become the best part of my day, Y/N. Even when you’re uninjured.”
You laughed tearfully. “Guess that means I don’t need to throw myself into traffic anymore.”
“No,” he said, grinning. “You really don’t.”
He leaned in then, gently, and kissed you.
No rush. No hospital beeps. Just quiet warmth and a soft press of lips that said everything he’d held in until now.
—
Two weeks later, with your knee fully healed and your elbow down to a pink scar, Sunghoon showed up at your door—button-down shirt, flowers in hand, and a giddy, nervous smile.
“You look handsome,” you said, accepting the bouquet.
“You look like trouble,” he grinned.
He took you to a rooftop restaurant, just the two of you under soft lights and city breeze. You laughed over shared dishes, teased him about his flirty doctor voice, and he listened to your stories like you were the only voice in the world.
After dessert, he reached across the table, brushing your hand.
“Can I take you on many more dates?” he asked, genuine and hopeful.
“You better,” you said. “You still owe me dinner for the spilled takeout.”
He laughed and leaned in, kissing you slow and soft—just like that first one, but deeper now. Certain.
The couch stayed empty after that.
Your bed became his default crash spot, though he started staying awake long enough to cuddle and steal a few kisses before passing out.
You brought dinner to the hospital every few nights. Nurses winked when they saw you walk in with two coffees and a thermos of stew.
He left his toothbrush at your place.
You kept his name saved in your phone with a heart.
And once, in the middle of the night, while half-asleep and tangled with you in bed, he murmured, “Still the best emergency that’s ever walked into my ER.”
You kissed his forehead, whispering, “Still the best reason I’ve ever risked a sprained ankle.”
And this time—thankfully—no injuries were involved.
Bonus Scene: Doctor Down
It started with a sneeze.
Just one, muffled and polite, during your late-night call. You didn’t think much of it—until the fifth one happened.
“You okay?” you asked, brushing your teeth over FaceTime.
“I’m fine,” Sunghoon said, blinking at the screen. His nose was pink, his voice a little hoarse, and his eyes—normally sharp—were glazed and half-lidded. “Probably just allergies.”
You stared at him.
“Hoon.”
He sniffled.
“Hoon.”
“…Maybe a cold.”
⸻
By the time you reached his place the next morning, it was worse. He opened the door wrapped in a blanket like a sad, oversized burrito. His hair was floppy and unstyled, his voice all raspy grumbles.
“I’m dying.”
“You have a cold.”
“A severe cold. Near-death.”
“You’re dramatic.”
He blinked slowly. “You still like me when I’m like this?”
You held up the tote bag filled with supplies: porridge, honey lemon tea, meds, menthol rub, tissues, and a forehead thermometer”
“Guess you’ll have to see.”
⸻
He crashed on the couch while you set things up. When you returned with tea and a warm compress, he blinked up at you with the most pitiful expression you’d ever seen.
“My head hurts.”
“I know, baby,” you cooed, setting the tea down and sitting beside him. “Tilt your head. I’ll put the compress on.”
He obeyed, resting against your thigh like a cat. “If I die, delete my browsing history.”
“You searched ‘how to tell if I have the plague’ at 3 a.m.,” you said with a grin, adjusting the compress.
“I was being proactive.”
“You were being dramatic.”
He sniffled.
You leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “Still love you, though.”
⸻
He instructed you like a needy patient from a rom-com.
“Y/N, two teaspoons, not one. Don’t underdose me.”
“Can you fluff the pillow again? It lost its bounce.”
“Why does tea taste like wet socks today?”
“Can you rub my chest—no, not like that, like with the vapor rub!”
But then, between the silly requests and pouty whines, there were soft little moments:
Him curling into your lap without a word.
Him falling asleep mid-sentence, hand resting over yours.
Him muttering, “You’re the best medicine,” against your hoodie while you tucked the blanket higher on his chest.
⸻
That night, you stayed over—because he refused to let you leave, even in his sick state.
“I need to see you when I wake up,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, already half asleep as you slid into bed beside him.
“You will,” you promised, brushing the hair from his face.
And sure enough, the next morning, when he blinked awake with a scratchy throat and puffy eyes, you were still there—smiling sleepily beside him.
“Morning, Dr. Drama,” you teased.
“Morning, Nurse Pretty,” he rasped, curling into you again.
No vitals needed. Just soft touches, lazy cuddles, and the comfort of love—stronger than any medicine.
"Why do you care so much?"
"Because someone has to. You don't"
Figure skater!Sunghoon x physiotherapist!reader
Figure skating au, fluff, enemies to lovers (kind of), smut
Wc: ~4.1k
Warnings: injuries, toxic coach, pain hiding, mental pressure, probably wrong medical stuff, makeout, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie, riding
The first time you meet Sunghoon, he doesn’t even look up. He’s already on the treatment table, hoodie draped over his shoulders, earbuds in, arms crossed over his chest.
You recognize the posture before you recognize him: defensive, closed-off, and more than a little exhausted. His foot taps the edge of the table in a relentless rhythm.
You take in the sheet on your clipboard: Park Sunghoon, 23, elite figure skater, multiple national titles, Olympic-level potential. He’s been off the championship ice for nearly three months following a partial tear in his Achilles tendon.
The previous physiotherapist left the team citing personal reasons. Burnout, if you had to guess. Now, he’s yours. Your responsability.
You set the clipboard down and step into his line of sight. "Park Sunghoon ?" you say.
He glances at you but doesn’t respond. He keeps one earbud.
"I’m your new physio."
Another glance. This time, his gaze lingers. It’s unreadable, cool, wary, the way animals watch before they run. There are no personal details, no offhand remarks, no accidental warmth. Just business. And even then, just barely. He answers your questions with as few words as possible, and often avoids eye contact altogether. You try not to take it personally. You’ve worked with plenty of athletes who mask vulnerability with aloofness. But Sunghoon is different. It’s not arrogance. It’s armor. He doesn’t trust you. Or maybe, he doesn’t trust anyone.
You motion to the table. "Can I take a look at your ankle?"
There’s a pause. He doesn’t move. Then, without a word, he pulls up his pant leg and shifts, extending his left foot. The swelling is minimal now, but you can see the residual stiffness. You move his foot gently, testing the range of motion. He doesn’t react to the manipulation, but his jaw clenches when you touch a tender spot.
"Still some inflammation" you note. "Do you feel it more during spins or landings?"
"Landings" he replies shortly. One word. Flat tone. He pulls the earbud out but still doesn’t meet your eyes.
"How often are you training?"
"Six days a week."
Your brows lift. "That’s... aggressive."
He shrugs. "Olympics don’t wait."
You log the information but don’t push, not yet. He’s not ready for that. Instead, you start him on light mobilization exercises, gentle pressure on the joint to test flexibility. He’s hyper-aware of your touch, and you can feel it, every muscle in his body resisting, ready to pull away at any second.
You work quietly, methodically, letting your hands do the talking. No small talk. No fake smiles. Just competence. You’ve worked with athletes like him before. Ones who only understand performance, not healing. Who treat their bodies like tools until those tools betray them. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants results. But more than that, he wants control over his own life. You wonder who taught him that vulnerability was dangerous.
When the session ends, he pulls his hoodie back over his head, not quite meeting your eyes. You hand him a list of stretches and exercises to do before his next training.
"Stick to these. No jumping drills this week" you say.
"Coach won’t like that." You meet his gaze now, steady.
"And your ankle won’t like another tear."
For a second, it seems like he might argue. Then he nods once, the barest concession.
"Same time tomorrow" you remind him.
He leaves without saying goodbye.
Over the next week, you fall into a rhythm, if you can call it that. Sunghoon shows up to every session on time. Doesn’t speak unless spoken to. Gives short, functional answers to your questions. He does the exercises you assign without complaint but also without much expression. His pain threshold is high, maybe too high, and he’s careful never to show discomfort unless he can’t help it. You learn to watch his body instead, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he favors the right side even when he insists he’s fine.
Every session is a battle between what he says and what his body tells you.
By Friday, you’ve had enough.
"Pain level on one to ten" you say, palpating the tendon. You know it hurts. You feel the tension ripple through him.
"Four" he says.
You stop. "Try again. This time with the truth."
He blinks at you, confused.
"If you’re going to lie about your pain level, don’t waste my time."
There’s a beat of silence. Then he finally looks at you, really looks. Something shifts. It’s subtle, but unmistakable. A flicker of surprise, then something like... respect. Not warmth. Not trust. Not yet. But the first crack in a wall that’s been standing too long.
He exhales. "Six. Maybe seven on landings."
You nod. "Thank you."
That weekend, you review his training footage. You watch him attempt triple axels on a fatigued ankle, pushing through the pain like he can defeat it. You see the perfectionism in every movement, the anger when a blade lands slightly off-angle. He doesn’t just want to win, he needs to. And it’s eating him alive to be injured.
You ask his coach to scale back his jumps. The coach shrugs. "You’ll have a hard time convincing him. He doesn’t listen to anyone."
You smile faintly. "We’ll see."
The next week, Sunghoon shows up at the appointement with a bandage on his wrist. Minor strain from a bad fall. He downplays it, of course. You treat it, of course. He tries to deflect, saying he slipped, that he’s fine.
You meet him with the same quiet resistance. "You’re not invincible. Stop pretending you are."
His jaw ticks. Then he speaks "Why do you care?"
You pause. "First of all, because it's my job. Because you’re mine to take care of now. That’s the point."
That throws him. You don’t elaborate. You just adjust his wrist brace and say "Come back tomorrow."
And this time, when he leaves, he says, "Okay." No hoodie pulled over his face. No earbuds. Just that one word, soft and low. It’s a beginning.
By the end of the month, the tension between you has shifted. It’s still there, taut and crackling, but it’s no longer hostile. Sunghoon doesn’t flinch when you touch him now. He follows your instructions without resistance. He watches you sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
You don’t acknowledge it. Not yet. But you feel it too. Something is changing. And the question isn’t if he’ll let you in. It’s only when.
The more time you spend with him, the more you begin to notice the pattern. He never volunteers information, but he listens carefully to everything you say. If you mention a stretch offhandedly, he’ll do it the next day without arguing. If you correct his posture during therapy, he remembers it perfectly the session after. He pays attention, even if he pretends not to.
Still, there are moments where the walls feel impossibly thick. One afternoon, he comes in with a pronounced limp.
"What happened?" you ask.
"Nothing."
You arch a brow. "You call that nothing?"
He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "I landed wrong. I walked it off."
You gesture to the table. "Sit."
When you pull his shoe off, you see the swelling already setting in. You start treating it in silence until he hisses, just barely. That’s when you speak: “If you’re going to lie about your pain level, don’t waste my time.”
His head snaps up. For the first time, his eyes lock with yours.He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t look away either. That silence stretches. Heavy. Charged. Then, he answers. "It’s an eight" he admits, barely above a whisper.
You nod. "Thank you." You continue your work without another word, and he doesn’t flinch again.
Days pass, and his behavior starts to shift in increments. He arrives earlier. He watches your hands as you work. When you adjust his alignment, he doesn’t tense anymore. There’s still a barrier, but now it’s thinner. Transparent. Like he’s starting to believe you won’t hurt him. Or worse, leave.
During one session, he catches you adjusting the elevation of the table before he climbs on. "You remember my height" he says, quietly.
You glance at him. "Of course I do."
His expression softens. Not a smile. Not quite. But it’s the first time his voice doesn’t sound cold.
You still wouldn’t call him open. He keeps his cards close. But the way he starts to trust you is almost reverent. You see it in the way he relaxes under your touch. How he listens when you speak. How he corrects a movement instantly, without ego. You catch him studying you sometimes, expression unreadable. Like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that doesn’t make sense. Why do you care? Why haven’t you left?Why do your hands never hurt him?
It happens on a Thursday afternoon. The rink is quieter than usual, just the sound of blades on ice and the occasional shouted instruction from Sunghoon’s coach. You’re nearby, checking over files and prepping for post-practice session, but your eyes are on him.
Sunghoon has been pushing hard this week. You warned him, more than once, not to overdo the jump drills. He nodded at the time, made the right sounds. But you know him by now. He hears advice like it’s a challenge.
He attempts a triple loop into a tight combination. Lands it, barely. His ankle wobbles. You hold your breath. And then he goes for it again. This time, he doesn’t land. There’s a crack of impact against the ice and a sharp, short yell. You drop everything.
By the time you reach the rink, he’s sitting on the ice, grimacing, one hand braced against the boards. His coach is pacing nearby, muttering under his breath. You kneel beside him.
"Where?"
"Left ankle" he mutters.
Your heart climbs into your throat. "Same one?"
He nods, jaw tight. "It popped. But not bad. I think."
You inspect it carefully. His laces are loose but not undone. You press gently against the tissue, and he flinches.
"Off the ice" you order, voice calm but firm. He doesn’t argue.
You ice his leg in the med room. It’s quiet, just the two of you. The coach had left you both alone, saying something about finishing the session notes. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be in the room.
Sunghoon’s usual wall of silence has returned, but this time, it feels different. Not icy. Not angry. Just... rattled. You watch his face as you work. He’s staring at the ceiling like it’s supposed to give him answers. His fingers twitch against his thighs. You can tell he’s replaying the fall in his head, over and over.
You place a towel over the ice pack, pressing it gently into place. His eyes finally flick toward you. "Is it bad?"
You shake your head. "No structural damage. Just strained. But you need to rest it for a few days. No jumps. No pushing through it."
He nods. Then, quietly, he asks "Why do you care so much?"
He has already asked it, he knows that. But he asks again. And this time you give a different answer. "Because someone has to. You don’t."
That silence returns, but this time it pulses with something else. A crack in the shell that hasn’t quite healed. He doesn’t look away. You don’t either.
After that day, something shifts. You notice it in the small things first. He starts being happy to have sessions. When you speak, he listens like he’s memorizing every word. He still doesn’t talk much about himself, but he asks you things now. About your day. About your job. About why you chose this job.
One afternoon, as you prep the table, he says "You ever work with dancers?"
You glance at him. "A few. Why?"
He shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. "They remind me of skaters. The pain, the pressure. The way they disappear into the work."
It’s the most he’s ever said without being asked first. You file it away like treasure.
Later that session, you catch him watching you. Not just casually, really watching. As if he’s trying to figure out how you work. Or maybe why you haven’t walked away like so many others physiotherapists before. You don’t call him out on it. But your hands slow just a fraction, your touch more deliberate. And when your eyes meet his, he doesn’t look away this time.
The next few sessions are filled with the kind of tension you can feel in your bones. It’s not anger. It’s something quieter, heavier. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
During one session, he grimaces as you work deeper into the tissue. You pause. "Too much?"
He shakes his head. "No. Keep going."
You nod and resume. But then he speaks again. "You were the only one who didn’t tell me to tough it out."
You glance at him, surprised.
He adds "Everyone else did. My last physio. My coach. Even my mom. They all thought it was just in my head."
You sit back slightly, giving him space. "It wasn’t in your head" you say. "Pain is real. And you deserve care, not dismissal."
For a moment, he looks like he might say something more. Instead, he just whispers, "Thanks."
You nod. "Always."
One evening, as you’re packing up, you find him lingering outside the treatment room. Hoodie zipped to the chin, hands in pockets. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the wall.
"Need something?" you ask. "You forgot something ?"
"No, I was just...passing by, you know?"
You smile. It’s small, but sincere. "Really? Just passing by?"
There’s that look again. Like he doesn’t know what to do with how he feels. He clears his throat. "You, uh...you're going to the national qualifiers?"
"Planning to."
His eyes brighten. "Good. I skate better when you’re there."
The honesty of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Before you can respond, he’s already turning down the hallway. But this time, he looks back. Just once.
It’s not love. Not yet. But it’s something. Something tender, quiet, and building slowly between the lines. In the way he softens when you’re near. In how your hands are the only ones he lets touch the parts of him that hurt.
You’re no longer just his physiotherapist. You’re the one who stayed. The one who saw him beneath the ice walls he protects himself wogh. And maybe, just maybe, the one who can help him heal more than just muscle and bone.
Few days later, you’re still at the facility, long after most of the staff have gone home. The lights hum above you, the air smells faintly of antiseptic and sweat, and you’re alone with paperwork. You’ve been logging Sunghoon’s progress for the last hour. Notes on reduced inflammation, improved range of motion, control under fatigue.
But the truth of it, the part you can’t put into his file, is how much he’s changed mentally.
The Sunghoon from the first week would never have lingered after treatment. He wouldn’t have said your name quietly, almost thoughtfully, at the end of a session. He wouldn’t have asked if you were coming to his next competition. He wouldn’t have told you that he landed cleaner when he knew you were watching.
You reach for your water bottle just as the door creaks open. Sunghoon is standing there, still in training clothes. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the edges. His expression is unreadable, but the energy coming off him is unmistakable, tense, volatile, like something barely holding itself together.
You straighten. "Did you forget something?"
"No" he says. A pause. Then, like it hurts to say it: "I needed to see you."
You blink.
He steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him. His shoulders are tight. You can tell from the way he holds his body that something happened. You’ve seen this version of him before: after rough training sessions, after fights with his coach, after he pushes too hard and crashes.
"Tell me what happened." you say gently.
His voice is tight. "He said I don’t want it bad enough."
You exhale slowly. "Because you didn’t force a landing on a sore ankle?"
Sunghoon doesn’t answer right away. He starts pacing instead, the way he does when his head gets too loud. You don’t interrupt him. You just wait. Give him space.
Then he turns and looks at you, and there’s something raw in his eyes. "I was trying to hold back. To do what you said. And he looked at me like I was weak."
Your chest aches at the confession. "You’re not weak. You’re careful. And brave enough to stop when it matters."
He scoffs. "Brave doesn’t win gold."
You stand slowly and move toward him. "Brave keeps you skating long enough to even have a shot."
He stops. His breath is shaky. He came here like this, sweaty, furious. But not at you. He lets you reach for his leg without protest. You kneel and begin touching the swell. Neither of you speaks for a while.
The silence between you stretches, but it doesn’t feel empty. It’s charged. Thick with something unsaid. When you finish bandaging him, you look up. He’s already staring. Eyes dark, jaw clenched. He doesn’t move, but you can feel the storm in him, the tension under his skin.
You rise slowly and you’re standing too close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. "You’re always here when I’m falling apart" he says softly.
You nod. "Because you let me be."
His breath catches. And then, the last thread snaps. He presses his lips to yours. The kiss isn’t soft. It doesn’t ask for permission. It collides. His hands are in your hair, yours gripping the hem of his shirt. Weeks, months of tension explode between you.
He kisses like he trains: with intensity, with purpose, with everything he has. You stumble back until you hit the edge of the therapy table. He follows, never breaking contact, one hand cupping your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You’re the one who deepens it, your tongue sliding against his, pulling him closer, anchoring him. Because you understand this now: he isn’t looking for a distraction. He’s looking for something to hold onto.
When you part for breath, he rests his forehead against yours. He’s shaking slightly from restraint. "I can’t think when you look at me like that" he whispers.
You smile against his mouth. "Then don’t think."
He kisses you again, slower this time. Like he’s learning the feel of you. Like he’s finally letting himself want something just for him. And you let him. You hold him like he’s something precious. Because he is.
He doesn’t pull away. He stays. He sits on the edge of the therapy table, legs parted slightly, letting you stand between them. His hands rest lightly on your hips, your fingers curled into his shirt. His breathing has evened out, but there’s still something fragile in his expression.
You brush his hair from his forehead. "Better?"
He nods slowly. "I didn’t know where else to go."
"You came here."
"I always do" he says.
It feels like the truth of him.
You kiss the corner of his mouth. "And I’ll always be here."
He leans into you, rests his head on your shoulder. Lets out a slow, exhausted sigh.
Few minutes later, Sunghoon leans back against the table, his breath unsteady as you straddle his lap. Your clothes are already half off, discarded on the floor. The room smells like antiseptic and sweat and something newer, warmer. Him.
His hands roam your waist, tentative but hungry. When your mouths meet again, it’s no longer a hesitant kiss. It’s need. Pent-up tension, months of close proximity, longing, restraint, all unraveling at once.
You grind down against him slowly, and his hands tighten on your hips. His breath hitches. "You feel..." he starts, but can’t finish. He lets out a shaky exhale instead, forehead pressing against yours. "God."
Your fingers trace the curve of his jaw, your voice low. "Let go, Sunghoon. You don’t have to hold back with me."
He kisses you again, deeper, needier. And you can feel the tension building in his thighs, in the way he holds you like he’s afraid this will vanish if he blinks.
When your hands slip beneath his waistband, freeing him, he groans into your mouth. His hands fumble with your underwear, pulling it down your thighs until you kick it away.
You guide him to lie back, your hands splayed across his chest, feeling his heart race under your palms. His eyes are locked on yours, full of reverence and need.
You sink onto him slowly, and his head tilts back with a broken gasp. "Fuck" he breathes. "You feel unreal."
You let out a loud gasp at the feeling of his cock filling you up, his cockhead rubbing deliciously against your walls. You roll your hips gently, adjusting, both of you stilling for a moment just to feel. To let it settle in that this is happening. That it’s real.
He grabs your hips, grounding himself, eyes wide and dazed. "Wait" he whispers suddenly. "Where should I..."
You lean down, pressing your lips to his ear. "I’m on the pill" you murmur. "You can stay inside."
The shudder that runs through him is instant and visceral.
"Fuck" he says again, and this time it sounds like a prayer.
You start to move. Slow at first. Measured. You ride him with deliberate rhythm, hips rolling, hands braced against his chest for support. His eyes never leave you. He watches every twitch of your body, every flicker of pleasure across your face, like he’s trying to memorize it all.
He thrusts up to meet you, a perfect counterpoint to your rhythm. You fall into sync naturally, the rythm adjusted to bring the more pleasure to you both.
Your name tumbles from his lips again and again, each time more breathless, more reverent. He pulls you down to him, arms wrapped tightly around your back, lips brushing your shoulder, your throat, your collarbone. "I’ve wanted this for so long" he admits, voice cracked. "You have no idea."
"I do" you whisper, forehead pressed to his.
The table creaks beneath you, rocking slightly with each thrust, but neither of you care. You’re too far gone in it now, in him. In the way he gasps your name when your hips slam down just right. In the way his fingers grip your thighs like he needs to anchor himself.
It builds slowly but with no hesitation. A tightening, burning knot in your stomachs. The sounds in the room are obscene now, skin on skin, breathless curses, whispered confessions, moans and gasps. He’s close, and you know it in the way he twitches.
His pace falters. His voice catches. "I’m gonna..."
You press your mouth to his. "Inside me" you whisper against his lips. "I want to feel you."
He moans, full and deep, and thrusts up hard as he spills into you, hips stuttering, breath gone. He holds you like a lifeline, fingers splayed across your back, cock buried deep inside, panting your name.
You ride out your own release seconds later, clenching around him, shivering, his name a soft cry as your body tremble with pleasure.
The afterglow is immediate and quiet. He doesn’t let you go. You lie against him, still joined, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist. His breath is warm against your temple. He presses lazy kisses to your hair, your shoulder, your cheek.
"You okay?" you ask gently.
He laughs softly. "I’ve never been better. You’re the first person I’ve ever trusted like this."
You kiss his neck. "Then let this be the start of something. Not just a moment."
His grip tightens. "Yeah" he says. "The start of everything."
⭑.ᐟ Soon to be Dad!Lawer!Sunghoon and Mom!Gyno!Y/N
You thought you had time, time to settle into your new job, time to enjoy being in love with Sunghoon again. Getting pregnant was definitely not part of your plan.As you navigate the emotional whirlwind of being pregnant for the first time, Sunghoon proves again and again that he loves you and your little one more than you could have ever wished for.Liking lemons might be the worst thing about the whole situation.
ᝰ genre. fluff, loads and loads of fluff cause that's what they deserve and them being just in love with each other, suggestive .ᐟ₊ ⊹
ᝰ warnings. pregnancy and all it's ups and downs, mentions of vomit, pregnancy & childbirth, hormonal mood swings, a few steamier scenes, body changes and insecurities .ᐟ₊ ⊹
ᝰ wordcount. 19.3 k .ᐟ₊ ⊹
--⟢ PART 1
(THIS CAN BE READ SEPARATELY FROM PT ONE)
my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ
You woke up late today.
Sunghoon was already gone when you made your way into the bathroom, your slippers dragging over the floor. You squinted against the harsh light coming from the overhead lighting as you entered the room. Sunghoon and you stayed up a bit later than usual yesterday, celebrating your first anniversary with a fancy dinner and a few glasses of wine. The spicy food and alcohol weren’t a good combination for your stomach. They never really were, but usually your stomach wasn’t as upset as it was right now.
You felt a bit nauseous when you reached for your toothbrush to start getting ready. You had to be in the clinic in less than thirty minutes, so you had to hurry up a bit. The feeling and taste of the toothbrush in your mouth made you suppress a gag, and you had to stop after a minute of brushing, ignoring that it hasn’t been three minutes yet. Leaving against the counter, you took a deep breath before moving on. It felt like you were heavily hungover, but two glasses of wine weren’t even enough to make you more than tipsy.
You ignored the feeling and sped through your morning routine, stopping in front of the fridge to get yourself a toast. The strong smell of the homemade kimchi that Sunghoon’s mom brought over a few days ago made you close the door almost immediately. Maybe you’ve caught yourself a stomach bug somewhere. You sighed and just grabbed a banana from the small fruit basket on the counter, shoving it into your bag before turning to the front door to put on your shoes.
The clinic you were working at was just a ten-minute walk from your and Sunghoon's apartment, so you were gladly enjoying the fresh autumn air, hoping it would help get rid of the nauseous feeling in your throat.
“Y/N, you look awful.” Songhee, the front desk worker at the clinic, looked at you with a worried face. She was a few years older than you and a literal angel. Somehow, whenever you needed anything, she already had it ready, she never rushed you and could deal with any kind of client, no matter how rude or impatient.
“Mhm. Thank you, Unnie. Good morning to you, too,” you said, grimacing at her when you passed her. With a soft click you opened the door to your office, stepped inside, hung up your jacket, and walked back towards the reception. ”I’m feeling a bit off today. I don’t know, my stomach is acting up”, you shrugged and leaned against her counter.
“Did you and Sunghoon drink too much yesterday?” she asked, her neatly plucked eyebrows scrunched together with worry.
“Not really. I had two glasses of wine and koddulgi. Maybe that was too spicy? Or the mixture? I have no clue. Is Doctor Lee here already? I had a question about my 9:30 appointment. Maybe she could have a quick look over the lab results.”
“Yeah, she is in her office. Do you want some ibuprofen? Or maybe vomex? I have plenty back in the med cabinet,” Songhee already moved towards the back of the room before you could stop her.
“No, it’s fine,” you shook your head and smiled at her, “If it gets worse, I’ll come back to that offer though.”
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A few days later, you woke up before Sunghoon did. One of his arms was resting above his head, and the other one was wrapped around your waist. You were lying on your side, your face squished into his chest. You were hot. Your face felt like it was glowing, and your pyjama was sticking against your back. Great. Jay apparently really spread his stomach bug over to you.
You groaned and carefully peeled yourself from Sunghoon's side. He huffed in his sleep but didn’t give any signs that he woke up. You leaned forward and softly brushed a strand of hair out of his face. It has gotten quite long recently, but you loved it. He looked so incredibly handsome and soft with it.
When you moved out of the bed and stood up, you almost immediately fell back onto the soft mattress. The room felt like it was spinning slightly, and your stomach tightened up a bit. Sunghoon made a noise behind you. “Y/N?”
“Yeah. I’m going to the toilet,” you said, standing up slower this time, “Go back to sleep, Sunghoon. I’ll be back in a second.”
He mumbled something incomprehensible and curled to the side. You chuckled and made your way to the kitchen to get something to drink. Maybe some water would help against feeling as hot as you were right now.
The second you opened the fridge, the smell its inside made you almost gag. You still had a bit of the kimchi that was bothering you for a few days now in there.
You held your breath and reached for a bottle of water before closing the fridge again. The cold liquid did helpcooling you down a bit. With a huff, you let yourself drop down onto the sofa in your living room, spreading your arms and feet apart to create as little warmth as possible. You apparently fell asleep in this position, because the next time you opened your eyes again, Sunghoon was kneeling in front of you, his hair messy from sleep and his white shirt wrinkled.
“Hi, love”, he reached forward to gently brush over your cheek, “Are you feeling all right? You didn’t come back to bed.”
“Mhm. I think the Park family finally got me. I’m warm and my stomach is upset.”, you mumbled and nuzzled into the palm of his hand.
“You’re not feeling very warm. Do you need anything?”, he asked softly, watching you intently. “Or do you have medication here? I am sure you have something against nausea in that gigantic medicine cabinet of yours, mhm?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just mop around here on the sofa all day and eat some plain rice later. I think if I eat anything now, I’ll throw it up again.” You grabbed for his wrist when he made instances of pulling his hand away. “No stay.”, you whined.
He laughed lowly and resumed letting his fingers drift over your cheek, “I’ll go brush my teeth and wash my face, and I’ll be right with you, moping on the sofa.”
You pouted but nodded, letting his arm go. He chuckled and stood up. “I’ll be back in a second.”
You didn’t notice him coming back, already having fallen back asleep again.
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You were breathing through your mouth, actively trying to block your nose from smelling anything. Since last week, every smell was somehow overwhelming, making your stomach feel queasy. You were in the small kitchen of your clinic together with your boss, taking a short coffee break inbetween patients. Well, she was drinking a coffee, and you had made yourself a herbal tea, hoping it would help you get rid of the feeling in your stomach. Working with a mask mask wasn’t really helping your case either. The air felt sticky and tasted iffy.
“You’re still not looking all too well, Y/N.”, your boss, an incredibly nice lady in her mid-fifties, said, while stirring her coffee.
You hummed. “Yeah, my stomach is still upset. I think I had stomach flu last week.”
“Are you sure it’s stomach flu? It’s been quite a while now, usually those don’t really hold up this long”, she asked and set her mug down onto the marbled kitchen counter. “You’ve said that you can’t really handle any harsh smells at the moment, right? Your face lost all of its colour when Hyerim got out her kimchi fried rice yesterday. Usually, you love kimchi.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, resting your head against one of the cabinets, closing your eyes for a second. “I have no idea what’s going on there. I just hope it’s over soon.”
“Would you like me to check if you’re pregnant?”, Doctor Lee asked casually, as if she were asking you how the weather was going to be tomorrow.
“What?”, you asked, shaking your head in confusion.
“It sounds like you’re experiencing morning sickness, dear.”, the older lady tutted. “You’re a gynechologist, you work with pregnant women daily. Has the possibility of a pregnancy not crossed your mind? You’re sexually active with your boyfriend, aren’t you?”
You blushed furiously. Discussing your sex life with your boss was not something you expected to do today. “I–well–yeah? But we’ve been really careful, and I am on the pill. Like you said, I am a gynechologist. I am aware of the importance of safe and protected sex. And I think I would know if I was pregnant.”
“I am sure you are. I am just asking to be sure. We can check, and if it's nothing, you should really go to the hospital to get it checked out.”, she nodded, taking a sip from her coffee.
You stared at her, eyes wide. “There’s no chance I’m pregnant.”
Doctor Lee smiled that annoyingly calm smile of hers. “Humour me, Y/N.”
You pressed your lips together, mentally reviewing the last few weeks. You couldn’t think of a single time when you and Sunghoon weren’t careful. You were taking your pill on time, using condoms most of the time in addition to that. “Fine,” you muttered. Checking couldn’t hurt, eventhough you were sure it was a waste of time and material.
“Great,” she said cheerfully, already pushing herself off the counter. “Let’s go check.”
You followed her down the hallway to one of the exam rooms, trying not to feel weird about being the patient in your own clinic. Lying down on the exam table, you pushed your t-shirt up a bit and unbuttoned your pants.
Doctor Lee hummed as she put the cold gel of the ultrasound on your stomach, ignoring the hiss you made at the sensation.
Her eyes were focused on the screen, and she adjusted the angle slightly.
You glanced at the screen.
And froze.
There, clear as day, was a tiny blob in the centre of the black space, pulsing slowly.
Your jaw dropped.
“What the fu–” you started, eyes wide.
Doctor Lee let out a breath, almost laughing. “–ck,” she finished for you, eyes still on the screen.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to swear.” You looked at her, then back at the screen, completely stunned. “That’s–?”
“That’s a gestational sac,” she confirmed, her voice warm, gentle. “Congratulations, Y/N.”
You just stared. “But I’m on the pill.”
“You work in OB-GYN, you know that’s not foolproof,” she said, smiling.
You let your head fall back onto the paper-lined table with a soft thud. “Oh my god.”
“Roughly five weeks, I’d say,” she said softly.
You blinked at the screen. Then at her. “What the hell.”
She gave you a kind smile, wiping the gel from your stomach. “I believe the medical term is ‘a surprise.’”
You stared and repeated yourself. “I’m on the pill. And we use condoms.”
“You’re also exhausted, overworked, stressed, and recently had antibiotics for that sinus infection last month, if I recall. Pills fail sometimes.”
“But-but we’re so careful.”, you said, your eyes not leaving the screen, while Doctor Lee cleaned the ultrasound probe.
“I know, sweetheart,” she murmured, cleaning the gel from your stomach with practised care. “But sometimes careful isn’t enough. Life finds a way, doesn’t it?”
You nodded absently, heart thudding somewhere between your ribs and your throat.
The silence stretched for a second, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Your first coherent thought was Oh god, Hoon will be so happy. He will be so excited. Sunghoon loves kids. Hell, you love kids. The two of you had talked about having kids more than once. But…not now. You just got back together a year ago, and you’ve spent almost half of that trying not to burn out studying for your bar exam and then finding a job after.
Oh god. You’re going to lose your job.
“Oh no,” you breathed. “I’m going to lose this job.”
Doctor Lee looked up at you, brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”
You pushed yourself up slowly on your elbows, still in a daze. “I mean–I’ll have to go on maternity leave and reduce shifts. I won’t be able to do surgeries for months. I would totally understand if you are going to fire me. We are understaffed already, and then I would fall away and–”
“Y/N,” she said gently but firmly, placing a steadying hand on your arm. “You are one of the most capable doctors I’ve ever worked with. Losing you would be a loss we couldn’t afford. You’re not going anywhere.”
You looked at her, throat tightening.
She smiled. “Pregnancy doesn’t make you any less of a doctor. You’re still you, brilliant, stubborn, ridiculously hardworking you. And if anyone has a problem with that, they’ll have me to answer to.”
You blinked rapidly, trying not to tear up.
"Take a breath," she added, squeezing your hand. "You're allowed to be scared. But you're also allowed to be happy. You love kids. Having one of your own will be wonderful. I just know you will be a great mother."
You exhaled slowly. “Sunghoon’s going to cry.”
Doctor Lee laughed at that, turning away to print the picture of your ultrasound. “I hope only happy tears.”
“Yeah,” you breathed out, pulling your shirt back down and buttoning your waistband with slightly trembling fingers. “Happy tears. He loves kids.”
Doctor Lee offered you a soft towel and one last reassuring smile. “I am glad. I am sure the two of you make a great pair of parents.”
You nodded silently, mumbling a thank-you before slipping back into the hallway.
────────────────────────
The next few hours passed in a strange haze.
You moved through the clinic, checking charts, doing consults, nodding at colleagues’ comments without fully hearing them. Your responses were delayed by a second or two, and your smile felt just a bit too tight every time someone looked at you directly.
At some point, Hyerim handed you a folder, and the smell of her hand cream, coconut-something, nearly made you gag. You pressed your lips together and turned your head like you were thinking, pretending to scan the report more intently than necessary.
You were pregnant.
With a baby.
An actual literal baby.
Sunghoons baby.
────────────────────────
The moment you stepped outside into the late afternoon air, you exhaled properly for the first time all day.
Home. You just wanted to get home. Wrap yourself in Sunghoon's arms, enjoy his warmth and love until you fell asleep. That was all you wanted to do right now.
You fished your phone from your coat pocket, thumb hovering over his name for a long moment before you locked the screen again and dropped it into your bag.
What were you supposed to tell him? Hi Sunghoon. Turns out I wasn’t sick last week. I am pregnant! Surprise. Can you buy ice cream on your way home? Thanks, love!
No. You needed a shower. A moment to sit still and maybe a whole bucket of fried chicken and chilli fries.
Now that your stomach wasn’t feeling as queasy anymore, you were hungry.
You would also have to think about a way to tell him that you were…pregnant. But that had time. At least a bit.
────────────────────────
When Sunghoon came home that evening, you were already asleep.
He had a business dinner that ended later than he expected. When he opened the front door of your apartment, it was already dark inside. You haven’t been feeling the best at the moment, so he wasn’t surprised you were asleep after a full day of work. He passed by the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw the three takeout containers on the counter. You’ve ordered enough to feed a family of five. He chucked and carefully peeled one of the containers open. The smell coming from the food was surprisingly sour. He plucked one of the fried out and ate it without a second thought, only to grimace in disgust.
It seemed like you drowned the poor chilly fry in…lemon juice? He took another one and almost spit it out again. You’ve always had a weird taste in food. Even as kids, he never understood the weird food combinations you seemed to like, but chilly fries and lemon juice? That was new.
He shook his head and closed the container again, storing all three of them in the fridge.
Sunghoon tiptoed towards the bedroom, inching the door open to reveal your figure sleeping sprawled out on the bed. You were wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of his underwear, which you liked to use as pants. The TV was still on, Netflix asking if you were still watching.
He moved towards his nightstand, reaching for the remote, turning the TV off.
It was quite cold in the bedroom, so he activated the heater after he grabbed his own pyjama shirt.
He quickly got ready for bed and carefully adjusted you, trying not to wake you up, while he lay down in the bed. “S’hoon?”, you mumbled, squinting at him.
He almost cooed. Even after almost nine years together, he was still as soft for you as he was in high school.
“Hi, baby. I’m sorry I woke you up.”, he said, moving so he could pet your hair, knowing that the movement would help you fall asleep quickly again.
You shifted, plopped your head onto his chest and slung one leg around his left one. “You smell so good.”
He laughed lowly, “Thank you, baby.”
“Mhm”, you hummed again, already halfway back to dreamland.
────────────────────────
You were barely fast enough to heave yourself to the toilet, your knees hitting the tiled bathroom floor with a dull thud as your stomach lurched violently.
The cold porcelain pressed against your arms as you emptied everything, mostly those damn chilli fries, into the bowl.
Footsteps thundered behind you.
“Y/N! What’s–,” Sunghoon breathed, suddenly at your side, gathering your hair back with one hand and rubbing your spine with the other. “Oh, baby, are you okay?”
You coughed and groaned. Your throat burned from the acidic taste.
“I’m fine,” you managed hoarsely. He made a disbelieving sound behind you. “Yeah, that’s why you’re throwing up like you’ve got food poisoning.” His voice was thick with concern. “You haven’t been eating well, and then you decide to drown cilly fries in lemon juice, baby. That’s a stupid idea even with a healthy stomach.”
You wiped your mouth, still panting slightly. Your head hung low over the bowl, and the smell almost made you gag again.
“I was hungry,” you said. “And... I just really wanted chilli fries. With lemon.”
“You hate lemon.”
You didn’t answer at that. Because he was right. You hated lemons.
He sighed and flushed for you before helping you sit back on your heels, grabbing a clean washcloth from the drawer under the sink and dabbing at your face gently. “God, Y/N. You should stay home today. You shouldn’t even be going in tomorrow. You’re sick.”
“I’m not–” you stopped yourself.
His eyes narrowed.
You cleared your throat. “I’m not contagious. I’ll wear an FFP3 mask. And gloves. And disinfect everything. No one’s going to get sick from me.”
He looked like he wanted to fight you on it, but you smiled weakly, and that seemed to buy you time.
“That’s still irresponsible. You’re a doctor, Y/N, you should know better,” he muttered, frowning as he helped you to your feet. “You’re not a robot. You can take a day off.”
You leaned against the sink, letting your head rest against his shoulder for a moment. You could hear the quiet thud of his heart through his shirt.
Guilt curled in your chest. He was worried. Because he thought you were sick.
But you weren’t sick. You were just...six weeks pregnant.
But you couldn’t tell him that after just emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.
There were not many less romantic and exciting moments to tell him about the pregnancy, but you being hunched up over the toilet.
You wanted it to be special. Just you and him. Actually, you wanted to get comfortable with the thought of being pregnant before telling him. He would undoubtedly be so excited, and you weren’t sure if you were.
“I’ll be fine,” you said again, gentler this time. “If it gets too bad, Doctor Lee surely sends me home. But we’re already short-staffed.”
He huffed but pressed a kiss to the top of your head anyway. “I’m still calling you at lunch to check in.”
“Deal,” you mumbled.
You would tell him.
Soon.
Maybe tomorrow.
────────────────────────
You didn’t tell him tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.
Instead, you did your best in the morning to not get sick while he was there and disappeared to work as early as you could. Your colleagues prepared a small cake and a card for you, congratulating you on your pregnancy, and you almost started crying right there and then during your lunch break.
You have yet to tell anyone that you were with child. Sunghoon, the actual father, your parents, your friends, no one knew.
Somehow, you were unsure about this whole situation. You wouldn’t get rid of the fetus, that was for sure. An abortion was off the table. But you were still feeling queasy about the thought of being pregnant.
Sure, Sunghoon and your relationship were as perfect as it could get, you both had a stable job, good friends and a supporting family, but it’s been only a year. A year since that faithful trip to the South and your more or less impulsive decision to ask Sunghoon to try again. You still had an almost three-year break, and being back together for only one and already expecting a child felt…wrong. Too fast.
What if he realised that you weren’t the one he wanted to have a child with, to hopefully spend the rest of his life with? You would be stuck with his child, would have to see him when you dropped off your child for his weekends would have to somehow juggle being a single mom. Not to mention the heartbreak you would have to go through. Again.
Your vibrating phone cut your train of thought off, and you picked up without looking at the caller. “Hello?” you sniffed into the phone, surprised at the fact that you were sounding like you were about to cry.
“Y/N?”, Yujin's voice rang out of your speakers, sounding alarmed. “Are you crying?”
“No,” you said immediately.
You paused and took a breath that somehow got swallowed when your voice cracked. “Yes.”
And just like that, the tears came. They streamed down your face in hot and fast streaks. You tried stopping them with the sleeve of your free hand, embarrassed to be crying in public.
“Oh my god, what’s going on?” Yunjin’s voice got tighter. “Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? Did something happen? Is it work?”
“I’m pregnant, Jinnie,” you blurted out, against your will, your voice thick and shaky. “I’m– I’m pregnant. Pregnant. This is so fast, and I don’t–”
You pressed your hand to your mouth for a second, breathing hard.
“Sunghoon and I have only been back together for a year,” you rushed on before she could react, words tumbling over each other. “And half of that he spent being so patient with me because I was always studying or working and barely home, and now I’m pregnant and I haven’t even told him, and what if–what if he doesn’t want this, Jinnie? What if he realises I’m not the person he wants to raise a kid with, and then I’m stuck–”
“Y/N, Y/N, stop,” Yunjin cut in firmly. You stopped rambling, your breath hiccupping through quiet sobs.
“Y/N. Sunghoon loves you. He would never leave you with a kid to raise on your own.”
There was a pause, and you heard rustling on her side of the phone. “Wait, wait. You’re pregnant?!”
You sniffled, voice barely audible. “Yeah.”
“Oh my god, Y/N. You’re pregnant.” You could hear the smile stretching across her face even through the speaker. “Holy shit. You’re having a baby.”
You laughed weakly, but it came out more like a sob. You really didn’t know if you should be laughing or crying over this situation right now.
“Sorry! Sorry. Oh my god, I’m making this worse,” Yunjin said quickly, catching herself. “Okay, okay, deep breath. We’re calming down now.”
You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out a slow breath. “I’m such a mess.”
“You’re not a mess,” she said gently. “You’re pregnant and overwhelmed. Just try to breathe for a second. Being pregnant isn't the end of the world.”
“I haven’t even told him,” you whispered. “I keep… not telling him. Like some coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” she repeated, firm this time. “You’re just scared. But Sunghoon loves you. And you love him. He’s going to freak out a little, yeah, but he’s also going to love that baby like crazy. And you. Especially you.”, she chuckled, “He looks at you like a disgustingly lovesick dog.” You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I just…don’t know. ”
“That’s totally okay, Y/N,” she said gently. “Except you’re not. Somehow also not? You’re the gyno between the two of us. You should know loads about this topic, actually.”
That startled a watery laugh out of you.
“Where are you right now, anyway?” she asked.
You hesitated. “...On my way to Baskin-Robbins.”
Yunjin paused. “What?”
“I want ice cream,” you muttered, suddenly defensive. “Like… really want it. Mint choco crunch with caramel sauce and sprinkles, and maybe mochi bits if they still have them.”
There was silence for half a beat. Then Yunjin burst out laughing.
“God, you hate mint choco.”
“I hate everything. Even my mint-tasting toothpaste made me gag…or well, the brush in my mouth caused an increased gag reflex, whatever. And I still am craving freaking mint choco ice cream,” you said miserably, staring at the streetlight in front of you.
“Okay. Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn. Around. Go back home, get under a blanket, and cry a bit until I get there in…” you could hear the rustling of her keys and the sound of her front door slamming shut “...thirty minutes. I’ll bring Baskin-Robbins to you.”
You blinked down at the sidewalk, heart unexpectedly tugging. “You’d do that?”
“Y/N. You just sobbed ‘I’m pregnant’. Of course I would.”
Another laugh slipped out of you and turned into an almost sob again.
“Go home, crybaby,” she said.
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Yunjin and you were curled up on your sofa, eating the ice cream she brought.
“I’m scared,” you said quietly, playing with a choco crunch in your ice cream. You hated mint choco, but why was this so tasty?
Yunjin stayed silent and waited for you to continue.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you mumble. “Like… emotionally and mentally. I’m a doctor, sure, I can recite fetal development stages in my sleep, but that doesn’t mean I’m equipped to do this. I like my job. I worked hard to get here. I don’t know how to balance that with a kid.”
Yunjin nodded slowly, taking another bite of her ice cream.
“And Sunghoon…” you took a shaky breath. “He’s so good, Jinnie. He’s careful and kind and thoughtful. But he also just got promoted. He’s working insane hours. What if this ruins things for him? What if he starts to resent me? Or worse, what if he says nothing at all, just gets quieter and quieter until one day I wake up alone with a toddler and no idea what happened?”
Yunjin sighed softly. “Y/N.”
“What?”
“You’re spiralling.”
“I know,” you said, frustrated. Usually, you were very level-headed and calm, but somehow you just couldn’t today. Or yesterday, or the day before. “I just can’t help it. We’ve only been back together for a year. A year. That’s not long enough to be sure, right?”
“You also were childhood best friends and together for like what eight years before your stress-induced breakup, which made both of you incredibly unhappy,” Yunjin said gently. “You’re not rushing into this on a whim.”
You sniffed, nodded and ate another spoon of the ice cream. Mint choco. You couldn’t believe it.
“You’re allowed to be scared,” Yunjin continued. “But you’re not alone. Sunghoon will be the most loving father that has ever graced this earth. Jaemin will be there for you. I will be there for you. Hell, all of our friends will be. Your mom, your dad, his mom and his dad. Everyone.”
You swallowed and nodded, blinking fast, trying not to cry again. “Thanks.”
“To be clear, though,” Yunjin added, “if Sunghoon does disappear one day, I will find him and personally bury him with my bare hands.”
You laughed wetly and shook your head. “He won’t. I know that. I am just irrational cause my hormones are going crazy. For gods sake, I am eating mint choco ice cream, Jinne.”
Your friend laughed at that and shook her head.
────────────────────────
When Sunghoon came home, you were curled up in a blanket on the sofa, not asleep yet, but your eyes were blinking very slowly as you stared into the TV screen.
You peeped up when you realised he was standing in the doorway.
“Hoon!” You swung yourself up from the sofa and rammed into him with enough force for him to stumble a step back. His free hand wrapped around your upper body, while you wrapped your arms around his neck in a very enthusiastic hug.
“Hi Y/N,” he chuckled, trying to set his laptop bag down, “someone is excited to see me?”
“Yeah,” you leaned back, your hands resting on his neck, playing with his hair. “I missed you today.”
“I can tell,” he said, using the hand wrapped around your body to pull you closer, “I’ve missed you, too.”
He pressed his cold lips against your warm ones. They were slightly scuffed. You never used enough lip balm in the cold months to prevent them from cracking. 0You signed contentedly and let your body sink into his again, your hands burying themselves in his hair, pulling slightly. He hummed against your lips at the sensation and carefully pulled back. “I really love kissing you, Y/N. But I really have to pee. So we will have to resume this and continue kissing when I’ve been on the toilet.”
You pouted a bit but released your hands from his hair and stepped backwards. “Hurry, Park.”
He saluted and peeled his dress shoes off. “Aye aye, Miss Y/L/N.”
The first thing Sunghoon noticed when he stepped out of the bathroom after he peed and showered was the smell.
He stopped mid-step and turned in the direction of the kitchen instead of the bedroom, where he was actually planning to go.
“What are you cooking, Y/N?” he asked, making his way into the kitchen. It smelled weirdly tangy.
“Spaghetti al limone,” you said almost cheerfully, swirling the noodles in the water they were cooking in.
He frowned in confusion, “But…you don’t like lemon?”
“Oh. You know. Sometimes you gotta try things you don’t like?”, you said, sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more than him, “They are just like carbonara, but instead of egg you add lemon juice. And I love carbonara. Oh man, I could have made carbonara.”, you stopped in your tracks and…pouted at the pasta?
“...I am sure the lemon pasta will taste fine, Y/N.” he watched you turn towards the counter behind you, where you had cut and squeezed a few lemons.
“But…I don’t usually like lemons.” Your voice sounded horribly watery, and Sunghoon's eyes widened in shock. Were you about to cry over the dish you decided to cook, fully knowing you don’t like one of the main ingredients? What was going on?
You sniffed and turned back around. “It’s gonna be alright, and if not, we can still order something.”
Sunghoon blinked in confusion. “Yeah. Totally. No worries.”
────────────────────────
Sunghoon couldn’t sleep.
Sure, he was tired, but he was also worried. About you, to be precise.
You were curled against him, your leg draped over his, and your fingers gently tugged into the hem of his t-shirt. Your breathing had evened out a while ago. You’ve been so uncharacteristically tired for the last few days.
His fingers drifted lazily up and down your spine, mapping familiar patterns along the dip of your back, and he stared at the ceiling.
You had been off.
Not in any bad way. Just…off.
Since you were sick, you’ve been tired and nauseous quite frequently. You had nearly gagged when he opened garlic chips during a movie night. You, who had once eaten an entire garlic sundubu stew and then kissed him just to watch him squirm.
He smiled faintly at the memory. Then frowned again.
And now…you were cooking and actually eating lemon pasta? Sure, Sunghoon thought it was tasty; he would have preferred carbonara, but the pasta tasted fine.
But…you hated lemons. Or anything too sour, to be particular.
And when he opened the freezer to get some of the chicken he needed to prepare his lunch for tomorrow, he found mint choco ice cream, something he never thought he would ever see in this lifetime in his fridge.
He glanced down at your face, softly illuminated by the streetlight filtering through the curtains.
Maybe… maybe you should see a doctor. Just in case.
He knew that Covid could mess with taste and smell. When he had it back in 2020, he hated everything that smelled remotely like eggs, even though he usually liked eating them.
What if this were something like that? Or maybe you were just burning out again. After all, you were still working more than he would like you to, but seeing how he is spending up to twelve hours a day in the office with the case he was working on right now, he wasn’t one to talk.
You shifted slightly and nuzzled your nose deeper into his chest. A soft hum vibrated against his skin.
His hand froze mid-movement.
God.
He was so ridiculously in love with you, it physically hurt sometimes. He would forever be grateful to Jake that he convinced him to come on that trip last year.
Whatever this was, he could deal with it.
He would always take care of you, even when you thought you didn’t need it. Especially then.
You were his person.
He pressed a kiss into your hair, closed his eyes, and let the thought go for now.
────────────────────────
The store was buzzing with people when Sunghoon and you strolled through the newborn department. Ningning was almost due, and the two of you decided to go shopping for a present. “Mhm, what about this, baby? Look, it’s a bunny,” Sunghoon was holding up a small packet of chewing toys, one of them indeed being shaped like a bunny.
“I don’t know if that’s really useful for a newborn.”, you mumbled, reaching for a bottle.
“But Y/N. They are so cute. Look at them.”, he was shaking it lightly, causing you to look up again, “and they surely won’t have that yet, and they are useful then. Imagine she starts teething and Hyung doesn’t have anything to make her stop crying.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled and nodded, “Add them then. We should definitely buy something for Ning. Her body is going through a lot and will be going through even more when Rami is here.”
“Do you have any ideas for that?” Your boyfriend pushed the cart a few feet further, stopping in front of a display of baby clothing.
“Yeah. Mostly nutrients, because she will need that. And I was thinking about vouchers for restaurants? Heeseung can cook Ramen and that's it.” You watched him pick up a onesie, unfolding it and folding it up again. “And maybe snacks? One of my patients told me she got a giant bucket of snacks and it's in her nursery for her to snack on while she is in the rocking chair nursing her baby.”
Sunghoon hummed and turned around, looking at you with such intensity you almost blushed. “Can you believe that they are going to have a baby?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen her baby plenty of times, actually.”, you mumbled, averting your gaze from his face, so he couldn’t see the big smile that was spreading over your face. “She is cephalic, has all fingers and toes, and a healthy heartbeat.”
“Would you be doing your own ultrasounds when you are pregnant?” He asked, stopping in his tracks, “I mean, if you were pregnant, like not right now. But someday in the future? Maybe?” he asked and looked like he cringed from his rambling.
If he only knew.
“I mean, I think I could ultrasound myself, but I would probably let one of my colleagues do that? Maybe if I were feeling like seeing the baby, I would do it myself?” You pressed your lips onto each other, trying to keep a straight face.
In the week and a half since you got to know you were actually pregnant, you did exactly that. The first time, a day after Doctor Lee initially convinced you to do the ultrasound, just for you to be a hundred per cent sure you didn’t hallucinate the day before. But yes, there was definitely a gestational sac with a small white ring in it in your uterus. Since then, you’ve watched it grow a small fetal pole next to the sac. You have yet to hear its heartbeat, but you wanted Sunghoon to be there when you both heard it for the first time together. “That’s crazy.”, Sunghoon hummed, pushing your cart further.
You just nodded and reached for a pair of socks. “What about socks? Rami is gonna be cold, she can’t regulate her own body particularly well in the beginning, and it’s supposed to cool down by next week.”
“Oh my,” he stopped and reached for the small socks in your hands. “Y/N, look, they are so small. My god, how is all of this so small and cute?”
He looked up at you again, his expression was so unbelievably soft, you had to resist not just reaching up to pull him into a kiss in the middle of the store. “When we have a baby, I promise I will buy her or him everything. Imagine. We have a baby and baby socks and onesies, and then they grow up and it's running around calling you mommy and me daddy. It’s gonna be so cute.”
You smiled tightly, hoping your face didn’t give too much away. Your fingers closed around the socks as you took them back from him and placed them in the cart, alongside the bunny teether and three sets of bibs.
He had no idea.
“Let’s not spoil her,” you murmured, pushing the cart along with him. “Ningning and Heeseung might get jealous if Rami ends up with more stuff from us than from her own parents.”
“But it’s not spoiling, it’s preparing,” he grinned, holding up another pair of socks. “And look, these have little carrots on them. They fit the biting thing.”
You had to turn your head and fake interest in the pacifier display to hide your grin. God, he was going to pass out when you told him.
You watched as he folded the socks and placed them carefully into the cart. His expression was so tender it made your heart ache.
“I think she’ll be a daddy’s girl,” you said absently, reaching for a neutral-colored muslin swaddle.
Sunghoon looked over, blinking. “Who?”
You froze.
“Rami,” you covered smoothly, “Heeseung will spoil her more than you ever could. Don’t you think?”
“Oh. Yeah,” he chuckled, “Poor Ningning.”
You breathed again, letting your gaze flick over the baby bottles and warming racks before casually grabbing a second pair of socks and dropping them into the cart.
They weren’t for Rami.
They were for Sunghoon.
Well, technically for him and your child, but primarily for Sunghoon.
You were planning on using them to tell him. You couldn't wait.
He looked so excited now. So soft and open and already in love with the idea of being a dad.
Sunghoon reached over and laced your fingers together as you neared the checkout. “Thanks for doing this with me today. I know I’m probably going overboard, but… I don’t know. I just want to be a good godfather.”
You squeezed his hand.
“You’re going to be amazing. Haneulie loves you, and Rami will do so as well,” you said, looking down at your belly, still flat and quiet under your sweater.
────────────────────────
Your mom was standing in your kitchen, wearing the slippers you bought her the second you moved into your new flat. They had little kitties stitched onto them, and you just couldn’t resist, knowing your mom would love them.
“...and then he claimed that we have already done that, which of course we hadn’t. But he wouldn’t let us convince him of the opposite,” she said, sighing in mild annoyance while stirring her famous kimchi jjim. You asked her to come over to help you cook for Sunghoon. You never were the most gifted cook, but today had to be perfect, and if there was one thing he loved to eat, it was your mom's kimchi jjim and steak, so you decided to cook both.
Your mother thought she was helping you because you wanted to surprise Sunghoon with a romantic dinner at home after closing the big case he had been working on over the last few months. It didn’t feel right to tell her via phone, so you decided to have some one-on-one time with your mom to tell her.
“I swear he will never-” “Hey Mom,” you interrupted her story about one of her colleagues messing up at work, “was being pregnant hard?”
“I–What? My pregnancies?” your mom asked, perplexed, turning around, looking at where you were sitting at the counter.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’ve been wondering. I mean, like, was there anything particularly hard?”
“Oh.”, she turned back around and you bit onto your lips, reaching for the magazines, where you had hidden a positive pregnancy test.
“Not really? It wasn’t as bad as Sunghoon's pregnancy, for example. Poor Yuri was so nauseous she couldn’t keep food down for weeks when she was pregnant. We were all so worried.” She stopped stirring for a second, turning around once again, leaning against the oven. “I had very weird cravings, though. I wanted to eat pickles with everything. And back then, pickles weren’t as much of a thing here as they are right now. Your aunt sent me multiple packets full of them from the States.”
“Oh, that's so nice of Aunt Chaeryoung,” you said, nodding and smiling at your mom.
“Why are you asking, my love?” Your mother crossed the distance between the counter and where she was standing in a few steps, now leaning against the other side of it. “Are you and Sunghoon planning on trying for kids? I thought you said you wanted to wait a bit?”
You just shrugged and slid the magazine across the counter slowly.
Your mother raised a brow, taking it from the counter. “What’s this?”
She reached out and lifted it. The second she did so, the test dropped out of the pages, landing on the smooth marble of the counter. She spotted the stick and froze.
You watched her blink.
Then squint.
Then bring it closer to her face.
“Is this…?” she started.
You nodded slowly.
She looked up, eyes wide. “Is this positive?”
“Yeah.”
Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She looked back down at the test, apparently needing a second to process what she had just realised.
“Oh my God.”
She rounded the counter in an instant, nearly knocking over a chair as she rushed toward you.
“You’re pregnant?!”
You started laughing just as she flung her arms around you, squeezing you tight. “Yes! I’m pregnant, Mom.”
She pulled back just enough to look at your face, eyes already glassy with tears. “You’re having a baby. My baby is having a baby. Oh, Y/N!”
She pulled you in again, and after a few seconds, you felt her shoulders start to shake.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice thick, “you’re going to be a mom.”
Your throat tightened, and before you could stop it, your own eyes brimmed with tears. You blinked hard to contain them, but then your chest gave one of those weird, hiccupy stutters you couldn’t control, and the first tear slipped down your cheek.
“God,” you muttered, swiping at your face, “I didn’t want to cry.”
But your mom’s hands were on your cheeks, wiping the tears you couldn’t keep up with, her own falling freely now.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said gently. “This is wonderful. You’re going to have a baby. I’m just… so happy for you.”
You tried to laugh, but it came out a little broken.
“I’m excited,” you whispered. “I really am. It’s just… a lot.”
“I know it is,” your mom nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be such a good mom, Y/N. I already know it.”
You took a shaky breath and rested your forehead against her shoulder. “I really hope so.”
“I really know so.”, you could hear her smile in her voice, “You and Sunghoon will be the most perfect parents.”
You sniffed. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Oh, he is going to be so excited, Y/N.”, she gently caressed your hair.
You nodded again, then paused, your voice muffled against her. “Mom, do you know what's the worst thing? I am craving lemons.”
Her hands stopped moving for a second. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. I just… do. And mint chocolate. Which is even worse.”
Your mom leaned back and stared at you. “You like mint chocolate?”
“I know,” you groaned. “I’m scared, too.”
She burst out laughing, and you followed half a beat later.
────────────────────────
When Sunghoon stepped into the apartment that evening, the first thing he noticed was the smell.
He blinked.
It smelled like it did at your mother's house. He would recognise the smell of her kimchi jjim everywhere.
He dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and called out, “Y/N?”
You peeked your head out from the kitchen, a small smile already forming. “Hi.”
He paused, lifting an eyebrow. “Did… did you cook?”
You shrugged, but there was a hint of pride behind your casual tone. “Yeah. Well, my mom helped a bit.”
He walked further inside, looking at the dinner table, which was set with two sets of cutlery, candles and a steaming pot of Kimchi jjim…and steak?
“Wait,” he said, more confused than ever. “Why? Why’d you cook? Did I forget something?”
You rolled your eyes, but your grin widened as you stepped toward him. “No, Hoon. You didn’t forget anything. I just… wanted to. You’ve been working so hard. The case was a nightmare, and now that it’s finally over, I thought you deserved to come home to a proper meal.”
He blinked at you, a little thrown off. “You did all this… just because?”
You nodded, reaching out to fix the collar of his coat before slipping it off his shoulders. “Just because. You’ve been so stressed lately, and I know how tired you’ve been. I figured you deserved to be pampered a little.”
His chest tightened with something warm and a bit overwhelming. How did he get so lucky to fall in love with a wonderful person like you?
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.
You laughed. “Yes, you do.”
He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck for a second, inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume. “God, I missed coming home to this.”
“To kimchi jjim and steak?”
“No,” he said, pulling back slightly so he could look at you. “To you. Not passed out on the sofa in the middle of a Netflix episode with your mouth open.”
You gave him a light smack to the chest and turned toward the kitchen again. “Go sit down, Park. Dinner’s done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He grinned and followed you.
────────────────────────
Dinner was delicious.
Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, watching as you swirled the last bits of stew around in your bowl. You were unusually quiet, chewing slowly, avoiding his eyes just slightly when he tried to meet them.
“Seriously,” he said after a few bites of steak. “This is… really good.”
You smiled, eyes dropping to your plate. “Glad you like it.”
“I’m actually impressed. You always say you can’t cook.”
“I can’t,” you said, stabbing at a piece of radish. “But my mom can.”
He laughed and leaned back in his chair, stretching a little. “Well, remind me to thank her. I haven’t had jjim like this in forever.”
You nodded but didn’t say anything.
He took another bite, chewing slowly.
That alone should’ve tipped him off. You were fidgety.
Not obviously. But your fingers kept tapping the side of your glass. Were you nervous? You didn’t touch your steak, busying yourself with the kimchi jjim and rice instead. You loved steak.
Then you declined his offer of opening the good wine from Japan that Jay had brought.
He set his glass down slowly. “You sure?”
“Yep.” You popped the p and nodded. “Just not in the mood.”
Something tightened in his chest.
You were too cheerful. Almost…performative.
You didn’t usually try so hard to please him. You never had to. He didn’t want you to. He wanted you to feel comfortable around him.
He took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and watched as you refilled your water with slightly trembling hands.
The whole apartment smelled like lemon, which wasn’t surprising since you’d been putting it on everything lately, pasta, chicken, even your rice, which he still refused to acknowledge was acceptable.
“You feeling alright?” he asked casually, trying to keep his tone light.
“Mhmm!” you chirped, a little too high. “Just a bit tired. It’s been a long week.”
“Tired,” he echoed. “But still decided to cook this whole dinner?”
You met his gaze then, eyes soft.
“I wanted to do something nice,” you said quietly. “You’ve had a rough couple of weeks. You deserve to come home and not lift a finger.”
That… that did sound like you. But it didn’t feel like you.
You looked like you were about to either fall asleep or burst into tears.
He leaned forward slightly, brow furrowed. “Did something happen?”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You’re just…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “You’re acting like you’ve rehearsed this dinner.”
That made your eyes widen, just a fraction too much.
“I’m not acting,” you said, forcing a laugh. “I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend.”
Sunghoon tilted his head. “You’re always a good girlfriend, Y/N.”
You looked down at your plate.
He watched you for a moment longer. Then slowly reached for your hand across the table. And intertwined them, smiling at you.
Something definitely happened.
────────────────────────
“Can you grab the dessert from the fridge?” you asked, placing the last empty plate into the sink.
Sunghoon lit up. “Dessert as well? You really do love me.”
You grinned at him, drying your hands on a towel. “Of course.”
He padded over to the fridge, humming contentedly as he opened the door, grabbing the white cake box… only to pause when he opened it.
Neatly tucked inside was...a pair of baby socks and a creme colored jumper? He blinked once. Then again.
“Uh… babe?” he called, still staring at the contents. “Did you accidentally put Heeseung and Ning’s present in the fridge?”
You shook your head, leaning back against the counter, your hands pressed together nervously. “Look a little closer.”
He frowned in confusion and hesitated for a second before carefully reaching inside the box again, pulling out the socks. A small plastic stick was tucked underneath the little jumper.
He pulled it out and almost dropped the box he was still holding.
It was a pregnancy test.
A positive pregnancy test.
He pulled the jumper out almost hastily and revealed an ultrasound picture, with your name and today's date written in the corner.
His world tipped sideways.
“Wait–” his voice cracked. “You’re–? Are you–?", he looked up from the box, turning around fast enough to give him whiplash. "Y/N, are you pregnant?”
You nodded slowly, your smile barely holding together now. “Yeah.”
For a moment, Sunghoon didn’t move. He just stood there, completely still. His eyes on you, the box still in his hands, his lips parted.
Pregnant?
You were pregnant?
He looked at the test and then back again. "You're–", his voice cracked, and he rushed towards you, setting the box down just in time to grab you and pull you into his arms, laughing and almost crying. He was pressing his lips to your temple, your cheek, your forehead, everywhere in reach.
You were pregnant!
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered again, in disbelief. “Oh my god. You’re really pregnant.”
You nodded against his chest. “I am. You’re gonna be a dad, Hoon.”
“Oh my god,” he whispered, then louder, “Oh my god.”
He took a shaky step back and then forward again, like his body couldn’t decide whether to explode or freeze. His hands hovered in the air for a second before they shot up to your cheeks, cupping your face gently, like you were made of glass. “You’re–Y/N. You’re pregnant.”
You let out a breathy giggle, eyes sparkling. “Yes, Hoon, we’ve established that.”
He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled back suddenly and looked down. “Oh my god, wait–wait.” His hands dropped to your waist, then slowly, reverently, found your belly. His palms splayed across the softness of your shirt. His fingers were trembling.
“I–you–my god–there is a baby in here?”
You were laughing now, full, unfiltered joy spilling out of you as he crouched slightly, lowering himself to be eye to eye with your stomach. “Sunghoon…”
“There is a baby in here,” he murmured, looking up at you, smiling so brightly his cheeks were hurting. “You’re actually–we’re–”
“We’re going to have a baby,” you finished softly, watching as his eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my god,” he said again, completely breathless. “You’re gonna be a mom. And I’m gonna be–”
“A dad,” you whispered.
He stood upright again and almost crashed his lips into yours. You laughed into the kiss, but reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, returning the kiss.
When you both broke apart to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, whispering against your lips. “I don’t even know what to do with myself right now. Should I cry? Should I scream?”
You giggled and pecked his lips. “You’re handling it great, actually.”
“No, I’m not,” he mumbled against your skin. “I feel like I am about to pass out, Y/N.”
His eyes scanned your face, completely in awe. You were pregnant with his child. The love of his life was pregnant with his child.
”How long have you known?”
You bit your lip, suddenly sheepish. “About… a week and a half?”
“A week and a half?” he gaped, stepping back slightly, the wheels in his head churning. “Since Haneul got you sick? Did you get your bloodwork taken?”
You shook your head, lips curling into a small smile. “No. Nooo. This,” you said, pointing down at your belly, “this is the reason I was sick.”
He blinked. “What?”
You sighed dramatically. “Your offspring is trying to ruin me, Sunghoon. I’ve had morning sickness all week. Everything is making me gag. Even brushing my teeth. Your child makes me crave horrible things like lemon on chilli fries and mint choco ice cream. And then my stomach proceeds to violently reject all of it.”
Sunghoon's first thought was the view he came home to last week. “So when I came home and you were asleep with like three takeout containers, that was …that was because you had pregnancy cravings?”
You nodded.
“And the lemon pasta?”
You nodded again, holding back laughter.
“And…you crying because the lemon pasta didn’t taste like carbonara?”
“Yeah,” you groaned, laughing. “I didn’t want to cry! I couldn’t help it! I hate everything, and also I want to eat everything, and I want to cry about all of it.”
Sunghoon just stared at you. And then burst out laughing, pulling you against his chest again. He was so ridiculously in love with you.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
You melted into his chest, and the two of you stood there for a long moment, just enjoying each other's presence and digesting the news.
His brows furrowed when he tried to think back to when you got pregnant. He couldn't pinpoint a single time the two of you were intimate without protection. And your job. God, you said just a few days ago that you wanted to wait. But you…already were pregnant a few days ago?
He pushed you back again so he could see into your face.
“I…how did you get pregnant?”, he asked. “We were so careful, Y/N. You’re literally a gynaecologist. You’re on the pill. We used condoms. And your job. You said you wanted to wait another year or two.”
You nodded, still smiling softly. “We were careful. But… birth control isn’t perfect. And yeah, it’s earlier than I planned. Earlier than either of us planned, I think.”
He blinked at you, heart thudding. “Are you… okay with it?”
You reached up, brushing your thumbs over the corners of his lips, still curved in awe. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know you love me. And I know you’ll love our baby. And work will be fine. I’m good at what I do. We’ll figure it out.”
He felt his eyes well up with tears again. “I do love you,” he whispered against your forehead, after pulling you against him again. He somehow didn’t know if he wanted to look at your face or have as much of your body pressed into his as possible. “So much.”
You nodded. “I know. I love you too, Hoon.”
He exhaled shakily, kissing your forehead. “I’ll take care of both of you. I promise.”
You smiled, voice catching in your throat. “You already do.”
He let out a soft laugh. “When you cried over lemon pasta, I thought you were losing your mind.”
You groaned and covered your face.
────────────────────────
On the Monday after you told him, Sunghoon almost ran out of his office the second his last client call for the day ended. You asked him to come to your office so you could show him the baby. Well, you called it the beautiful gestational sac in your uterus, but he refused to call his baby that. Gosh, his baby. He couldn’t believe it.
He was almost shaking with nerves when he pressed the elevator button, up to the clinic. He hasn’t been here often, maybe once or twice when you started working here, to come along when you handed in the last few documents and to carry up a plant for your office.
When he carefully pushed open the door to the clinic, Sunghoon was greeted by the smell of disinfectant and a pop song quietly playing on a radio behind the front desk. The front desk nurse looked up from her phone, immediately smiling when she recognised him. “Oh! You must be Sunghoon! It’s nice to meet you.”
He smiled back at her, trying not to seem as nervous as he was. “Ah, yeah, it’s nice to meet you as well.”
“Y/n is still treating her last patient of the day. She has already warned me that you would be coming in, but I am afraid you’ll have to wait a second for her to finish up. Would you like something to drink in the meantime?” She was already moving before he could stop her.
“Ah. No, thank you.” he shook his head, and she sat down again. “I’m just gonna wait in front of her office, if that is alright?”
“Sure. I’ll let her know you’re here. She has been quite excited all day.” The nurse started typing on her PC, still smiling at Sunghoon. He gave her a tense smile and nodded, thanking her before moving towards the chairs lined up on the wall in front of your office. His eyes got stuck on the nameplate drilled into the wall.
Dr. med. Y/N Y/L/N. He couldn’t help but smile at it, feeling immensely proud of how far you’ve come. Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.
Before he could sit down, the door swung open and a heavily pregnant woman was walking out of the room. “Thank you so much, Doctor Y/L/N. Have a good evening.”
“You too, Miss Kim.” Your voice came from further inside the room.
The lady looked at Sunghoon a bit confused when she saw him standing awkwardly next to the chairs, but smiled at him when he did so. She walked down the hallway, and Sunghoon carefully knocked on the doorframe to your office.
You were sitting at your desk, typing furiously. The white lab coat you were wearing was a gift from your parents, with small flowers stitched onto the pocket, where you had an array of pens sticking out. You had opened up your hair, the dark strands of hair now falling softly down your neck.
“Hey,” you grinned, standing from your desk.
He swore under his breath. “You look-”
“What?” you teased.
“Unfairly sexy in that lab coat.”
You laughed, walking toward him and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before tugging him by the hand. “Come on. Let’s look at our baby.”
You led him into a small examination room. It was brightly lit and tidy, the ultrasound machine already set up and waiting. He hovered nervously as you hopped up on the chair, tugged your pants slightly down and lifted your shirt to expose the small curve of your stomach. It still didn’t feel real.
“You ready?” you asked, slipping on gloves and squeezing gel onto your skin.
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
The machine came alive with soft static and blurry movement. He leaned in, hand gripping the side of the exam table.
You moved the probe, adjusting the angle, and then, there it was.
A tiny, flickering shape.
“This is it,” you whispered. “That’s the fetal pole. And that”, you turned the volume up, “is the heartbeat.”
The room filled with a soft, fast pulsing.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Your heartbeat was slower beneath it.
Sunghoon inhaled sharply. “Oh my god.” He walked closer to the screen. “Is it-is it healthy?”
“Yeah. Do you see the black thing there?” you asked, pointing to the blurry picture, “that’s the gestational sac. And next to it is the fetus pole. It’s growing beautifully.”
“My god.” Sunghon turned around and took your face into his hands, looking from you to the screen and back at you. “You’re incredible.”
You laughed slightly and leaned back, kidding him softly, “Thank you, Hoon. Would you like a picture of the scan?”
He leaned back. “Do I want a picture of the scan? Of course I want a picture of the scan!”
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That picture of the scan was securely held up on your fridge by a “best mom” magnet Sunghoon ordered as soon as the two of you were home that day. You had invited both sets of parents for dinner tonight to officially tell your dad and Sunghoon's parents about your pregnancy. You made your mother promise not to tell your father the news, wanting to do so yourself.
You and Sunghoon went grocery shopping in the morning, and he busied himself cooking braised ribs while you were preparing a wide array of banchan before napping on the sofa for a bit. A bit turned out to be almost three hours, and both of you were woken up by the shrill sound of your doorbell.
You startled awake, almost falling from the sofa, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon’s arms securely wrapped around your middle. “Fuck!”, you stood up, almost sprinting to the door to ring your parents in. “Hoonie! We overslept! Move!”
Sunghoon sat up on the sofa and blinked beary eyes at you before running his hand over his face. “Huh?”
“Hurry! Start plating the table. I’ll go change!", you ushered him off the sofa, and practically ran into the bedroom.
“Table! Plates! Now!”, you were pulling a dress from the closet before he even stood up.
You brushed your hair, trying to shake the grogginess from your brain, and stepped back into the hallway just as your parents arrived.
You hugged his mother first, while Sunghoon hugged your dad. Mrs. Park was carrying a glass dish of Tiramisu in her hands.
“I’ll put that in the fridge, Y/N.”, she said after she took off her shoes.
You nodded and moved on to greet his father. He wrapped his arms around your body. “Hello Y/N, darling.”
“Hello, Mr. Park.”, you beamed at him and then almost threw yourself into your mother's arms, who was grinning knowingly.
Before you could properly greet your father, Sunghoon's mother's voice carried out from the kitchen, sharp and precise. “Who’s pregnant?”
Your heart skipped. You glanced at Sunghoon, who gave you a well, shit look.
His mom stepped back into view, holding the photo delicately between two of her long, perfectly manicured fingers.
Her face was unreadable, just that same stern expression she always wore when she was assessing something.
“Is this yours?” she asked, her gaze flicking between you and her son.
You swallowed, suddenly unsure whether she was upset, surprised, or simply being her usual self. “...Yes.”
Your father gasped next to you, but you couldn’t even turn around. Sunghoon’s mother crossed the space between you and the kitchen doorway in superhuman speed.
She didn’t even glance at Sunghoon, just cupped your cheeks in her hands, pressing loud, smacking kisses to each one before wrapping you in a hug that nearly knocked the air out of you.
“Imu–!” you laughed, flushed and embarrassed, but she was already let go of you, wiping at her own eyes and telling her husband to look! while Sunghoon stood there with a sheepish half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck.
Your dad’s reaction wasn’t much calmer than hers. The moment your father finally processed what Sunghoon’s mother had said, his face broke into the widest grin you’d seen in years. “You’re pregnant?” he repeated, like he wanted to be sure, and when you nodded, he pulled you into a hug.
“Why aren’t you excited?” Sunghoon’s mom suddenly turned to your mother, brows drawn, as if the lack of screaming joy from her side was a personal offence.
Your mother just gave her a patient smile and shrugged. “Because I already know.”
That made Mrs. Park pause for exactly half a second before she turned right back to you, hugging you all over again like she couldn’t stand not touching you. “I knew it. I knew you were fated to give me grandchildren,” she said with the conviction of someone announcing a prophecy. “So many shamans told me I would have strong, sturdy grandchildren one day. And now here you are!”
You laughed, both flattered and slightly overwhelmed, glancing over at Sunghoon, who was now watching his mother with an expression that was equal parts amused and resigned.
“Sturdy grandchildren.”, he mouthed and nodded mockingly behind her back before his father pulled him into his arms. You had to surpass a grin.
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You were tracing along the veins of Sunghoon’s arms, not really watching the show Sunghoon put on. The two of you never talked about whether he would like to know the gender of the baby before it was born. You saw it by accident, or well, not really by accident, during your ultrasound today. Being able to just casually look at your baby in between patients or in breaks was not good. You were checking on the fetus rather frequently, just to check if it was doing alright, if it was healthy and growing at a normal rate. Seeing what you’ve learned in school and usually only saw in your patients on yourself was fascinating, and you just couldn’t stop.
“Hey, babe.”, you murmured.
“Mhm?”, Sunghoon hummed back, the vibrations feeling weird against your back.
“Would you like to know the gender of the baby before it’s born?” you asked, playing with his long fingers.
His head lifted from the sofa. “Do you know it already?” You nodded, not looking away from the TV screen. “Yeah. I checked how he was doing, and he was lying in a position where I couldn’t not see it.”
He straightened up a bit. “He? We’re having a son?”
Oh. “Uhm. Yeah?”, you said, closing your eyes and pressing your lips onto each other. So much for asking him if he would like to wait.
“Really?” Sunghoon asked, sounding all excited.
“Yeah. We’re having a baby boy.” You turned slightly to look at him. He was beaming, his smile stretching over his whole face.
The hand that was resting on your small bump moved to your face, grasping it gently. “A baby boy?”
You laughed lightly. “Yeah, love.”
“My god.”, Sunghoon uttered, seeming almost star-struck. “I love you, both of you, so so much.”
You leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips. “I love you, too.”
Sunghoon was strolling through the store near his gym, searching for his favourite protein powder, when he stumbled over a basket full of lemons.
He stopped in his tracks.
According to the app you made him download and the very, very frequent ultrasounds you insisted on doing “just to check”, the baby was now the size of a lemon. Which was oddly fitting.
In the last seven weeks, he had bought more lemons than any normal person should. You were craving them on everything. Especially on carbs.
Bread, pasta, rice, fries, everything had to taste at least a bit sour. Preferably lemon and not lime sour tho. You tried and claimed that lime sour wasn’t as satisfying. Your intake of water seemingly tripled since you indulged in your lemon cravings, downing multiple glasses of water after each meal or snack that included lemon juice. You “didn’t want your stomach to get too acidic” and preferred going to the bathroom every twenty minutes. The baby wasn’t even big enough to press on your bladder. He chuckled and reached for a few of them. They weren’t particularly small, but felt so small in his mind. Your bump wasn’t too visible yet, but it grew steadily. His favourite activity at the moment was to just lie on the bed or on the sofa with you, watching whatever Drama you were invested in right now, feeding you your awful mint choco snacks, that the baby seemed to love, resting his big hand under your shirt, gently caressing your stomach. It had the slightest hint of a curve and had firmed up a bit, but it was barely there. It was big enough for a little lemon though.
His little lemon.
On his way home, he jumped into a Baskin-Robbins, to buy your preferred mint choco ice cream.
────────────────────────
There was no ice cream left.
You were staring into the freezer trying to find one of the mint green pints of ice cream you had been eating for the last almost 18 weeks on what one could consider a daily basis.
“No.”
You opened the door a bit further and took out several packets of frozen fruit.
“Oh, come on.”
You’ve been craving ice cream all day, being excited to eat an unhealthy amount of it after finally coming home from being at Heeseung and Ningning's house all day, watching over Rami so the two of them could enjoy a date together. Your friends had been so excited when you told them about your pregnancy and so supportive, especially Ningning. So you wanted to give something back to her. That being a day of calm and peace. Rami was teething currently, and it was very hard to calm her down. You ended up napping with her while Sunghoon played FIFA on Heeseung's PS5 for almost 4 hours.
And now that you were home, you just wanted to eat mint choco ice cream.
“Baby?” you called towards the doorway, irritated about how you were starting to feel tears welling up in your eyes. This was fine, it was just ice cream. Nothin to–
“Yeah?” Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair still wet from the shower he apparently just took.
You turned around to face him. “We don’t have ice cream anymore.”
He blinked, looking past you into the fridge, where multiple pints of different ice cream were neatly lined up on one of the shelves. “Like…your ice cream?”
“Yeah.”, you nodded and frowned at him.
He walked towards you slowly, and usually you would have appreciated him being half naked, but right now the only thing you could think of was that you didn’t have any ice cream anymore. One of his hands came up to your face, his long fingers lovingly caressing your left cheek. “We have plenty of other ice cream, my love.”
“It’s not mint choco,” you mumbled and turned away from his hand to look at the freezer again.
His face looked like he was unsure if you were joking or about to cry over not being able to eat ice cream. “I know, but we have-”
“I’ve been thinking about it since we left this morning. I even skipped out on a milkshake when we drove home to make space in my stomach.”
“Babe, we don’t have any and Baskins is already closed.” he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m so upset. I want Mint Choco Ice cream.”, you lamented, closing the fridge door with a loud thud.
“We have Mint Oreo, Micho Songi, HBAF in Mint Choco, or those Mint Choco pies you like?” he said and tucked a strand behind your ear.
“None of that is the same.” You shook your head and crossed your arms in front of your chest.
Sunghoon lifted his shoulder, looking like he was at a loss at what to do. You were equally as lost, but it honestly felt like the end of the world right now. “I’m so sad.”
“You want me to ask if Jeno and Jaemin still have some left? I am sure they-”
“No.”, you interrupted him and let your head fall against his naked chest, shaking it slightly.
“What do I do?” he sounded almost desperate to find a solution to calm you down.
You laughed slightly against his chest and wrapped your arms around his upper body, almost pressing your body against his, enjoying his warmth.
His arms tentatively wrapped around you as if he were afraid that the gesture would make you more upset.
You tilted your head up slightly, looking up at the faint stubble on his chin. “Are you stressed right now?”
He blinked and opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. “No. Yes. Kinda?”
You pouted against him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just pregnant and hormonal because my estrogen and progesterone are going haywire, and I know it’s stupid to cry over ice cream, but I really want to cry over not getting my ice cream.”
“It’s fine.”, he said quickly. “I’m just trying to… problem solve, I guess? But I don’t think this is a problem we can sole. We are really out of your ice cream.”
You exhaled dramatically and pressed the side of your face against him again. “I’m so upset.”
He pressed a kiss against your temple. “I would be upset if I as craving mint choco, too.”
“Hey!”, you hit his back and giggled.
“Sorry, not sorry, baby. I love you, but the mint choco thing is horrible,” he shrugged and chuckled.
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You stood in front of the bedroom mirror in one of his oversized shirts, lifting the hem just enough to see your reflection properly.
The curve of your stomach had shifted from maybe a bloated to an undeniably pregnant one. None of your pants or skirts fit anymore, and it was still too cold for you to wear any dresses.
You moved your leg a bit, and it looked a lot…softer than it did six months ago. Not only did your stomach grow, but it felt like your whole body tripled in size. You knew it was normal to take on weight, and you reassured your patients whenever they were worried about it but that didn’t make it feel better. You were far from an unhealthy weight gain, but it was weird seeing it happen on your own body.
Your face was puffy, and your hips and thighs have gained some weight, as have your breasts.
With a sign, you dropped the T-shirt back down, just as you heard the door creak open.
Sunghoon stepped into the room, having peeled his suit pants off, leaving him in his underwear and the white dress shirt he wore to work today.
You tried to pull yourself together before he caught your expression in the mirror.
He was undoing his tie, and his eyes met yours, only to immediately drop down to your exposed legs and the stretched fabric of the shirt around your middle. A slow smile crept onto his face, and he pulled his tie over his head.
You crossed your arms over your stomach, suddenly feeling a bit awkward and self-conscious.
Sunghoon padded over to where you were standing and slipped his arms around you from behind. His cold hands settled over your belly, causing you to shiver slightly. His thumbs were stroking over the fabric. He sofly pressed his lips against your temple and the two of you spoke at the exact time:
“Do you think I’m ugly?”
“I want to make love to you so badly.”
You blinked.
“What?”, you asked.
“What?”, he echoed.
“I mean–”, “I jus–”, you said at the same time again.
He flushed slightly but didn’t look away. “I was thinking you looked really beautiful and sexy right now. And I want to kiss you. And hold you. And maybe you know... more. But not if you’re–wait. Did you ask if I thought you were ugly?”
You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed. “I’ve just… been eating so much. And I feel big. And I look tired all the time. And–”
Sunghoon cut you off with a kiss on the cheek. Then another, closer to your jaw. His arms tightened around your stomach a bit.
“Y/N,” he said softly, “you’ve always been beautiful to me. But now? Now you’re carrying our baby. You’re so beautiful. You’re soft in all the right places. You’re strong and radiant and just–insanely attractive. I’m not even sure you know how hard it is for me not to touch you all the time.”
He kissed the top of your head, and you let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t feel pretty.”
He softly laughed against your temple and moved towards your ear, his lips grazing your earshell. “If you would like to, I could show you how beautiful I think you are, baby.”
You shivered slightly and tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck.
“Mhm. I’m tired tho.” Your voice came out in a whisper.
“I’m sure we can find a solution to that problem.”, he shifted away and grabbed for your hand, pulling you towards the bedroom.
You giggled softly, “You’re worse than when we were teens. So impatient. You came home barely five minutes ago.
He pulled you against him again, pressing his lips against yours. “You’re so gorgeous. How could I not?”
You let out a soft laugh. “You’re very biased.”
“Damn right I am.”
He leaned back in again, angling his head so he could kiss you a bit deeper. Your knees hit the edge of your bed, and you let yourself drop onto it and scooted to the centre. It was still unmade from the nap you took after coming home from work.
Sunghoon crawled in behind you, and you leaned up to pull him into another kiss. One of his hands landed next to your head, while the other one moved up over your ribcage until he reached the curve of your chest. He paused, giving you the chance to stop him.
You didn’t.
“I mean it.”, he murmured against your neck, trailing kisses over your skin. “You’re driving me insane. You walk around the house in my shirts with this perfect little bump, making all these tiny sounds when you stretch or yawn or cry over ice cream… It’s not fair.”
Your breath hitched when his thumb brushed over a spot that had been sensitive for weeks now.
“See?” he whispered, smiling. “So sensitive.”
You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. “That’s not my fault.”
“No,” he said, voice low now, “that’s our baby’s fault. And I owe them a thank-you, honestly.”
You laughed again, half-gasping when he ran his hand slowly down your side and back up, fingertips trailing fire through the thin fabric of your shirt. You pulled him towards you instinctively, burying your face in his neck as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” he murmured. “But if you don’t… I’ll take my time with you.”
You pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss.
“Don’t stop.”
────────────────────────
You speared a piece of grilled tofu with your chopsticks and sighed. “My fundus is officially above the umbilicus. I swear I woke up yesterday and everything just… shifted.”
Jaemin blinked. “Already? Damn, how many weeks are you now?”
“Twenty-three. Which means that I’m currently experiencing the pleasure of apparently not having a working centre of gravity, which is awful, and I am feeling very sorry to every patient I ever had that I told that this is normal. It might be, but it’s also horrific.”
He snorted, sipping his iced tea. “That’s such a specific hell.”
You shrugged. “Round ligament pain, constipation, reflux. Pick your fighter.”
Jaemin laughed and leaned in. “And the fetus? Everything looking good?”
You nodded, the faintest smile curling your lips. “Anterior placenta, cephalic position as of last check, biometric parameters are on track. Good tone, strong fetal heartbeat.”
“Nice,” he said with a small, impressed nod. Then, after a pause, “Are you still having sex?”
You nearly dropped your spoon.
“I mean,” he said, raising a brow, “you know the pelvic pressure is only gonna get worse in the third trimester, and with the fetal head descending…and you and Sunghoon have always been rather…active. Also, I imagine it being a bit weird with the bump, and I want some insights here. It’s a problem I will never have.”
“Jaemin,” you warned, but your voice was weak, because yeah. He wasn’t wrong, both about you and Sunghoon having sex rather frequently.
“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you’re in the sweet spot right now.”
You sighed. “Yeah.”
Jaemin tried not to grin. “That sounded both good?”
“Because it is,” you muttered, poking at your bibimbap again. “My libido is weird. Like I’m either nauseous or I want him immediately. There’s no in-between.”
He nodded solemnly. “Hormones are wild.”
“They are. I feel like a walking contradiction.”
“Hey,” he said with a smirk, “as long as you’re safe, and the cervix is closed, and the placenta isn’t low-lying…”
“God, you sound like you’re my gynechologist scolding me,” you laughed.
“I might not be a gyno, but I’ve learned enough about that to be qualified to scold you.”, he replied, smug. “And I love that my best friend is having great second-trimester sex.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
You sighed again, letting yourself lean back against the booth. “No. I really don’t.”
────────────────────────
Sunghoon wasn’t really asleep yet.
You were shifting and moving around a lot, trying to get comfortable. Your bumb has grown a lot in the last weeks, and you had a hard time falling asleep.
He was lying on his back, one hand behind his head, the other resting near you, but not touching you. You had carefully moved it off the bump when you shifted the first time, and he simply hasn’t moved it yet.
You turned over again, facing him. He moved his hand a bit, searching for yours without opening his eyes. He squeezed it gently when he found it, and you sighed.
A few seconds later, you whispered. “Baby…”
He hummed in response, keeping his eyes closed.
“Baby, I’m hungry.”, you mumbled into the dark.
Sunghoon cracked one eye open, squinting at you, “Mhm?”
You repeated yourself, sounding a little sheepish. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna go to the kitchen and eat something and maybe watch a bit of ‘Doom at your service’. Just keep sleeping.”
He just nodded and let his eye fall shut again. You rolled over with a quiet grunt and heaved yourself out of the bed. Sunghoon heard the soft noises of your slippers, when you waddled towards the door. Only when he heard the click of you closing it again, he finally registered what you said.
He groaned, running a hand over his face, before opening both eyes again. The digital clock of his alarm read 2:07 a.m. He knew this wasn’t your fault or the babies but he just really wanted to sleep right now. He didn’t sleep well last night and worked almost 10 hours today.
Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs out of the bed and followed you.
You were standing in the dimly lit kitchen, the only light coming from your phone's flashlight, resting next to the stove. A small pot of water was slowly starting to boil while you were ripping open a packet of instant tteokbeokki, your and the babies newest obsession. This one, Sunghoon couldn’t even complain about. Just regular, plain tteokbeokki without any mint choco or lemon juice.
He shuffled behind you and buried his face in the curve of your neck. His arms wrapped around your body, and Sunghoon carefully cupped your bump, lifting it gently.
You leaned into his body, the back of your head resting on his shoulder. “I told you to stay in bed. You have to get up early tomorrow, you need to sleep.”
He gave the side of your head a small kiss, murmuring: “I wouldn’t be able to sleep without you two next to me.”
You sighed and caressed his hands, letting your fingers run along the veins. “I don’t know. Lemon has been so restless tonight. He’s been moving so much. It’s so uncomfortable.”
He hummed, rocking you slightly in place. The two of you stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, the water bubbling quietly in the dim light.
“He’s so heavy.”, Sunghoon whispered after a while. He was feeling so bad that you had to carry all of this weight around all day, so he gladly held up your bump whenever he could.
You let out a snort, but before you could answer, you winced. The baby had kicked you, right against Sunghoon's right palm.
He laughed slightly and softly pressed into your belly. “Don’t you dare talk back at me, little man.” There was another slight kick against his other hand now. It felt a bit as if the baby was pressing against his palms.
“Mhm. He seems not to like being called heavy.”, you chuckled and ripped open the seasoning pack.
“He is heavy tho. And not letting you sleep.” Sunghoon retorted, his thumb circling the last spot he felt a kick.
“Yeah…”, you sighed again, “I wish he would just sleep. I’m tired.”
“Maybe he’ll let you sleep after you’ve eaten something.” he rested his chin on your shoulder and watched you finish up cooking the rice cakes, pull the pot off the stove and pick one up on your spoon.
“Hopefully.” Back in bed, after you’ve eaten, peed and brushed your teeth, Sunghoon pulled you close immediately. Your back is pressed against his chest, while his hand almost instinctively finds its place on your belly again. He caressed it slowly, pressing back into the places where the baby kicked out.
“Alright, baby”, he murmured, “time to let Mommy and Daddy sleep now. You can kick your heart out as much as you want to in approximately twelve weeks. For now, please stop.”
You laughed softly and wrapped your arm around his.
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You sat cross-legged on the sofa, balancing your laptop on your knees. Sunghoon was sitting in the middle of the living room, surrounded by screws and a crumpled instruction sheet. His hair was falling into his face while he was tightening another bolt into one of the legs of the half-built crib.
“This is all so expensive,” you muttered, tapping at the trackpad a little too hard. You were searching for a new apartment for Sunghoon, the baby and you. Needing one or…maybe even more additional rooms for your little growing family.
Without looking up, he said, “We’re fine, babe. We’re both well-paid, employed adults.”
“Yeah, now,” you shot back. “But I won’t be full-time for months. I want to be at home for a while, so less money.”
He didn’t even pause his work. “We’ll still be fine. You’ve studied and worked so hard for where you are. Doctor Lee said she would give you however many hours you want to work when you want to go back to work. We’ve got savings, I’ve got a steady income–”
“Would you want more babies with me?” you blurted, cutting him off.
The screwdriver stilled in his hand. He finally looked up. “…Do you want more?”
“I don’t know!” Your voice cracked. You did want more. But what if having a baby wouldn’t work out for the two of you? Some couples get their babies and then realise that it is harder than they thought, and break up. You loved Sunghoon so much, even thinking about it broke your heart. You desperately wanted to grow old with him, to see what the future had coming for the two of you.
“We broke up once before, because life got too much? You were gone all the time, I was burned out, and we just–” You gestured helplessly. “–fell apart. What if it’s the same again after we’ve had our baby? What if we can’t handle it? What if we’re going to burn out again and fight again, and break up? Then Lemon has to live with separated parents.”
“Y/N…” he sighed, still calm. “When we first got back together, you were studying for your board exam. You were exhausted. I was working insane hours. And we still made it work.”
“That’s different!” you snapped. “That was a couple of months. This is years. A baby changes everything–”
“In the best way,” he cut in gently.
You stared at him, pressing your lips onto each other. Frustration was knotting in your chest. “You’re not even listening to me.”
“I am listening,” he said, voice still even, which somehow made it worse.
“You’re irritated,” you accused him, putting down your laptop on the sofa, crossing your arms across your chest. “I can tell.”
“I’m not irritated,” he said firmly, setting down the screwdriver.
“You sound irritated–”
“Y/N.” His tone sharpened just enough to make you stop mid-sentence. He exhaled slowly, pushing his hair back. “I’m not irritated. I’m trying to reassure you. But if you’ve already decided I’m upset, I can’t win here.”
You swallowed, the heat behind your eyes prickling now. “I just… I’m scared, okay? What if we’re not made out to be parents and we will be bad at parenting?”
He walked over and crouched in front of you, forcing you to meet his eyes. “We’re not. Y/N”, he reached forward, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear, “You’re right, five years ago we were struggling a lot because we were burnt out, both of us. And I regret nothing more than letting you go. But we’ve come so far. And we both know what to do if we’re feeling like a burnout is coming. You did so before the exam, remember? You let me know what you wanted and what you needed me to do. It worked out fine, didn’t it?”
You nodded, averting your eyes from his. You really just exploded into his face for nothing.
“We’re not doing ‘two under two’ anyway. I am definitely not ready for that. So can we just breathe for a second and focus on this one?”
Your lip wobbled, but you nodded. “…One baby at a time.”
“Exactly.” His mouth curved in the faintest smile. “And for the record? Yes. I want to have more kids with you. Just not right now.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He kissed your temple before going back to the crib.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered almost immediately after, your throat tightening. “I don’t even know why I–”
You’re throat closed up, and tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying to stop them from falling.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice muffled. “I’m upset that I’m upset. It’s so stupid. I know it’s the hormones, I know this isn’t me being rational, and I still–”
“Shhh.” Sunghoon was already pulling you into his chest, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. Cry as much as you want to cry.”
You clung to him, trying to match your breathing to the steady rise and fall of his chest.
When he sensed that you had finally settled, he leaned back just enough to catch your eyes. “You know what?” he said quietly. “I’ll finish the crib later. Let’s go get ice cream. Or something else if you’re craving something else.”
Your lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “…You’re serious? It’s like 10 am and you’re on a diet.”
“Dead serious.” He brushed away the last of your tears with his thumb. “I’ll even eat mint choco if you want another one, just in case you still want mint choco afterwards.”
You exhaled, shaking your head softly. “You’re unbelievable.”
He was grinning at you. “I’m just unbelievably in love with you.”
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You pushed open the front door, letting it fall closed behind you with a soft click. Your bag made a louder thud when you let it drop onto the floor before finally toeing your shoes off.
You had around a month left of work, and you couldn’t wait to not have to go to work anymore. As much as you loved working and would really like to continue, even though you were expecting, working full-time at 32 weeks pregnant was harder than you imagined.
“Hey!” Sunghoon's voice came from down the hallway. A moment later, he appeared in the
bedroom. His hair was a bit messy, as if he had run through it a lot today. Your gaze wandered from his face to his t-shirt, which he was currently pulling down.
You didn’t know if it was the hormones or the tiredness or the fact that your boyfriend was admittedly unbelievably attractive, but suddenly you weren’t thinking about how sore your ankles were feeling anymore. You were thinking about Sunghoon.
And only Sunghoon.
“Hi.”, you said, your voice lower than intended. He tilted his head.
“You okay?”
“Mhm.” You dropped your jacket on the table and walked toward him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt when you reached him. “Just missed you.”
His hands found your hips automatically. “You saw me this morning.”
“That’s too long ago.”, you murmured, rising on your toes to kiss him.
He blinked in surprise but melted almost instantly, his hands smoothing up your sides.
“Oh.”, he whispered against your lips, “That kind of missed me?”
You hummed a soft affirmative. Your hands found their way under his shirt. He was so warm under your touch.
“You sure?” he asked, searching your eyes.
You nodded.
“I don’t want to hurt you, or–”
“You won’t,” you said. “Just be gentle. I’m not made of glass.”
He let out a low breath, one hand sliding to your lower back as you walked him backwards towards the bedroom.
“You’re not,” he agreed softly against your lips, letting you push him into the mattress.
You sat down on his lap, your bump being in the way, so you separated for a second, using that time to pull his shirt over his head and pressing your lips against his again before he could utter a word.
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Sunghoon's heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. Your cheek was pressed against his naked chest, your legs tangled together underneath the blanket that was haphazardly draped over the two of you.
He ran his fingers gently along your spine, occasionally stopping to trace a few symbols or letters into the naked skin, causing your eyes to flutter shut. You were about to give in to sleep, finally giving way to the exhaustion of the day, when Sunghoon chuckled. The soft ramble loud under your ear.
“What,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.
He huffed another laugh. “You really came home, climbed me like a tree, and now you’re passing out on me before I’ve even had dinner.”
You made a weak noise and nuzzled into his chest.
“I mean, not that I’m complaining,” he continued, “but I was literally about to boil pasta when you showed up and ambushed me.”
You groaned, half into his chest. “I had a long day. And hormones are crazy. And you look like that and–” you yawned, “I love you and I was horny.”
He kissed the top of your head. “I know, baby.”
A beat of silence passed before Sunghoon moved slightly. “I’m going to cook dinner. I’ll wake you up when it’s done. Just sleep for a bit.”
You cracked one eye open. “Can you cook tteokbeokki? And can we eat in bed?”
He smiled as he stood, leaning down to kiss you softly once, twice, three times on your forehead. “You got it, boss.”
You sighed happily, sinking back into the mattress.
For a long moment after Sunghoon got up, you were just lying there, your hand slowly drifting to your belly. Your bump had grown significantly over the last weeks. It felt tight and warm when you traced a slow circle over the firm curve.
“Okay, little guy.”, you whispered, “We're going to get ready for bed, eat something and sleep. Let’s not kick Mommy in the middle of the night today.”
He gently kicked against your hand, and you sighed. With a grunt, you pushed yourself upright using one hand to brace yourself on the mattress and swung your legs over the side.
Everything took more effort lately, standing up included.
You passed Sunghoon in the hallway, where he was standing with a bucket of gochujang from the storage closet.
“Do you have to pee?” he asked knowingly.
You nodded. “And shower. I’m disgusting. And then rub oil into my stomach. ”
He smirked. “Let me know if you want help with any of that.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You offering to wash my feet or rub oil on my stomach?”
“Both,” he said with zero hesitation, then wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m versatile.”
You snorted, already halfway in the bathroom. “You’re impossible.”
Twenty minutes later, you shuffled out of the bathroom, showered, lotioned and absolutely ready to collapse into your bed again. Showering wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it once was. It was a full body workout by now.
You braided your hair while walking towards the bedroom, where Sunghoon was setting down a plate of rice cakes by your side of the bed.
He caught you gently by the waist and leaned down, first kissing you, then crouching slightly to press a second kiss to your bump.
“Alright, little lemon,” he murmured against your skin, “be good tonight. Let Mommy sleep. No bladder kicks, no hiccups at 2 a.m., no weird hunger pangs, okay?”
You ran your fingers through his hair. “Don’t scold him. He just wants a bit of attention.”
Sunghoon looked up at you and smiled. “He can have all of our attention. But not at night, when you and I should be sleeping deeply.”
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Sunghoon carefully opened the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible to get in and take his jacket and shoes off as much as he could. It was almost ten pm. Your flat was dark, and he assumed you were either sleeping already or at least trying to.
The first thing he saw when he stepped inside was you. You were curled up on the sofa, your head turned toward the backrest, hugging the oversized nursing pillow you’d bought for the baby. Your hair was messy, your breathing slow and even, and the blanket draped over you barely covered the curve of your belly.
He stopped in the doorway, his chest tightening.
He and everyone else, including your boss, tried to convince you to stop working. You’ve been complaining about your back hurting and your feet being swollen, but you refused to stop. You kept saying how you had two patients that were due soon and you just wanted to be there for them, ignoring that you yourself were also due in barely four weeks.
Sunghoon couldn’t believe that it had been eight months since you told him you were pregnant. Time flew by so fast.
He walked over, crouched beside you, and brushed a stray hair from your cheek, causing you to stir lightly, but you didn’t wake up.
God, Sunghoon felt guilty.
He was feeling guilty because you fell asleep on the sofa, waiting for him to come home, for him to help you fall asleep. You always had trouble falling asleep, even before being heavily pregnant, but in the last months, you’ve struggled more and more.
And he…he wasn’t there. He was stuck in the office or on the kitchen table, working at bizarre hours.
Sunghoon straightened up and walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
He looked tired. Incredibly tired. He felt incredibly tired and scared.
How was he supposed to be a good dad, a good partner, when he wasn’t even able to be there now? What if he was a bad dad?
He loved his parents, but he also desperately wished he was never going to be like them.
During his childhood, up to his teenage years, his parents never really had time for him or his sister. And even if, his mother always expected him to be perfect, her perfect golden boy. He felt like the only way to get her attention was by being just like she wanted him to be.
Perfect. He desperately wanted her praise, her love, but at some point, it was getting harder and harder. His father never really said anything and stayed silent.
Your parents were the complete opposite. They were both working full-time as well, your father being a doctor and your mother a manager, but somehow they still always had time for their children. Treating them lovingly and not preassuring them to be perfect. They loved you either way. Your mother basically raised him along with you and your sister, inviting him in for lunch and dinner, attending all his competitions, even if his own parents didn’t come, and comforting him if he came over crying.
He desperately wished to be like your parents, hoping their parenting somehow rubbed off on him.
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Sunghoon's hand was resting on your hip, absent mindedly racing circles over the soft skin. You were still tucked against him in bed, your bump pressed into his side. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment.
“Do you think I’m going to be a bad dad?” Sunghoon asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Your eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering over your face. “What? No. Why would you even think that?” you said.
“Last night,” he said quietly. “I came home and you were asleep on the sofa, waiting for me to come home. I’ve been coming home late all the time, and you’re… you’re doing everything while carrying our baby. I just…” He shook his head, his hand pausing on your hip. “I’m worried I won’t be enough when he’s here.”
You shifted closer, resting your hand on his chest. “Sunghoon, you’re working hard for us. For me. For our baby. Yes, you might not be home when I fall asleep sometimes, but you’re doing your best, and I know so. You’re not a bad dad if you aren’t here all the time.”, you said.
“You think so?” he said, searching your face.
“I know so,” you said, your voice warm and certain.
And then, as if to punctuate your words, the baby kicked against the inside of your bump. Sunghoon felt it through your bump, the little thump startling him into a smile.
“See? He agrees with me,” you said with a small smirk.
He laughed, leaning down to kiss you before pressing his lips to your stomach. “Thanks, Lemon,” he murmured, feeling the knot in his chest loosen.
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It was just after midnight when Sunghoon woke to the sound of you shifting in bed. You inhaled sharply and sat up.
He turned toward you. “What’s wrong?” he said, his voice rough from sleep.
You were pulling the blanket back, revealing a wet spot on the bed. “Uh… I’m pretty sure my water just broke,” you said matter-of-factly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.
For a second, Sunghoon’s brain didn’t process what you’ve just said. “Wait–what? Already? But we–there’s still two weeks–”
“Yeah,” you said, standing and grabbing your phone from the nightstand, completely calm. “It’s nothing to panic about. Forty weeks is just a rough estimation. Many babies come before that.”
“Nothing to panic about–are you serious?” he said, throwing the blankets off and stumbling to his feet. His heart was already racing. “We–the bag–where–where is the bag? We have to hurry!”
You turned, hands up like you were soothing a skittish animal. “Sunghoon. Nothing has happened yet except that my membranes ruptured. I’m not even feeling contractions yet. Take a deep breath.” You shook your head and moved to the bathroom, waddling a bit, if this was the most normal conversation in the world. “We have time.”
He ran a hand through his hair, stalking to the corner where he last remembered the hospital to be. “You’re way too calm right now.”
“I’m literally a gynechologist,” you said with a tiny smirk, grabbing one of his sweats and a t-shirt. “This is normal and nothing to worry about. I’ll go change. Could you perhaps change the bedding? I don’t want our mattress topper to be soaked in my bodily fluids.”
He stopped pacing long enough to watch you walk out the door before he stammered. “Change–change the bedding?”
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The thin hospital gown was brushing uncomfortably over your skin as you shifted. Lying here, in the delivery room, being strapped up to a fetal monitor, squeezing Sunghoon's hand every time another contraction hit, felt almost surreal. You’ve been here so many times, helping other women through this exact process, and now your old colleagues are telling you what to do, helping you deliver your baby boy.
Sunghoon hovered at your side, one hand gripping yours, the other brushing stray hair from your sticky forehead.
“You okay?” he asked for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes.
You exhaled shakily, keeping your tone as even as possible, trying not to worry him. “I’m fine. I just–God–need that epidural.” You glanced toward the door, silently willing Dr. Lee to walk in already. She was a nice lady in her fifties with an incredibly steady hand and probably the best doctor you knew to give you an epidural. Her Kimchi Jeon was amazing. Right now, you would rather be sitting in the break room, eating one of her kimchi jeon, than suffering in here.
The next contraction made your whole body arch slightly, breath catching. You counted through it, just like you told your patients to do, but it was so much harder when it was your own body. God, right now, you wish you didn’t know what exactly was going on with your body. You were desperately trying to rationalise the whole situation, but it wasn’t working all too well.
“I thought you said first labour takes forever,” Sunghoon said softly, almost like he was afraid of distracting you, ignoring that you were squeezing his hand to death, probably.
“They do. Usually,” you managed between clenched teeth. “But apparently Jungwon is in a hurry.”
He gave a half-laugh, though his thumb kept rubbing circles against the back of your hand like he himself needed the motion to stay calm.
When the contraction eased, you let your head fall back against the pillow, chest rising and falling quickly. “It’s weird, being here. I know all of the nurses and doctors. I’ve stood in this exact room, telling women it’s going to be fine.” You glanced at him, a humourless smile tugging at your lips. “And I still know it’s going to be fine, I’m going to be fine. I just really, really want the drugs.”
He kissed your temple. “They’ll come soon.”
You hummed, closing your eyes for a second before another wave started building. “God, here it comes again…” You gripped his hand tighter, and this time, he leaned in so close you could hear his breath over the monitor, murmuring steady encouragement until the worst of it passed.
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He was so small.
3,21 kg and 47cm.
All fingers, all toes, a small head of black hair.
Jungwon was sleeping calmly on your chest. He was still a little damp from birth, and he was so warm. His breath, his tiny exhales, were ghosting against your skin.
You have seen this moment happen to so many women before, but nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for how it felt to finally hold your own baby against your chest.
Sunghoon was hovering just beside the bed watching you breastfeed Jungwon, while the nurses cleaned the room around the three (three!) of you. His eyes were darting between you and his son, as if he didn’t know where to look first.
His hand reached up and he smoothed over your hair, brushing it out of your face. The strands were drenched in sweat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I love you, Y/N. You did so well. Thank you so much”, he said, his voice full of awe and something akin to awe.
You laughed slightly, trying not to disturb your baby (your baby!!) from feeding. “I love you too, Hoon.”
“He’s so small.”, Sunghoon said, letting his hand wander from your face to his son. Jungwon wrapped his little fingers around his big one almost immediately.
“He is.”, you murmured, carefully sitting the baby up after he finished feeding to burp him. After successfully getting him to do so, you glanced up at Sunghoon.
“Do you want to hold him? Skin to skin is important for the father as well.”, you asked softly.
He nodded quickly and took off his t-shirt, folding it up and looking around for a place to put it.
“You can lay it down here it.”, you said, gesturing with your head to the side of your pillow and then to the free space he was sitting in during the birth. He nodded quickly, almost too quickly, sat down, and carefully took the baby when you shifted him toward him. His hands looked huge against his tiny back, but he was so gentle, holding him like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.
When the nurse helped him settle into the chair, you watched his shoulders loosen, his whole expression melted into one you would never forget.
“He’s so warm,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.
You smiled faintly, letting your head rest against the pillow, while Sumni, a nurse, cleaned one of your legs. They were still kind of numb. “That’s kind of the point.”
He looked over at you. “You should sleep.” “I’m fine,” you murmured, but your voice came out tired. You knew your baby was healthy, but you didn’t want to leave him out of your sight. You’ve seen so many things go so horribly wrong, even if everything looked all right.
“You’ve been in labour for hours, you’re not fine,” he countered gently, adjusting the baby in his arms so he could brush his fingers over your hair. “Sleep, baby. I’ll keep watch.” “But what if something happens?” you asked, wincing slightly when Sumni brushed over your stomach with a wet towel.
She chuckled. “Y/N, dear. Just listen to Sunghon, nothing will happen, and even if, you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed. You know how fast we react if you call for us. Just sleep. Your body needs it, you should know that.”
“Promise to wake me up if anything happens.”, you nodded and mumbled before sleep overtook you.
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When you stirred the next time, you squinted against the light for a second, adjusting to the sunlight trickling in through the curtains. Your legs felt heavy, and you were warm. You winced a bit when you slightly shifted to the side.
You blinked slowly, yawning quietly before you saw him.
Sunghoon was sitting in the chair beside your bed, one ankle hooked over his knee, Jungwon curled against his chest. His hand was spread protectively over his tiny back, Sunghoon’s head bent just enough to press his cheek against the soft cap of his hair. And he was humming. You didn’t recognise the song. Maybe it was something new Heeseung was working on.
You didn’t say anything, afraid to shatter the moment. So you were just laying there, watching the two of them, your chest tightening with a feeling that was almost too big to hold.
This was why. This was why you went to his house after that trip almost two years ago.
You always knew Sunghoon was the person you wanted to grow old with if both of you had the opportunity to do so. Life feels so long, but it can also be so short and you couldn’t imagine not spending the rest of yours with Sunghoon.
Sunghoon glanced up, his eyes catching yours, and the smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Hey,” he whispered, trying not to wake Jungwon up. “Hey,” you whispered back.
And as you took in the sight before you, the man you loved holding the life you’d both created, looking at you like you were his whole world, you knew, without a doubt, you couldn’t be happier than you were right now.
Thank you so much for reading!
Lots of Love,
Patty
all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ
⤷ my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ
ᝰ an. I hope you enjoyed them being cute tgt. I'm sorry for the multiple tags, i had to repost the story several times until it showed up in the tags. Tumblr apparently hated the pictures i chose and wouldn't let me upload the post .ᐟ₊ ⊹
⭑.ᐟ A rainy Highschool reunion trip with Exes Med Student!Y/N and Lawyer!Sunghoon
You knew Sunghoon would be there. Of course he would be. You had made your peace with it. You’re friends now, kind of. It’s fine. Really. Seeing him at your Highschool reunion was kind of a given. That you agreeded going onto a trip with your friends, including him, later that year, however surprised yourself.
Sunghoon can somehow still read you like an open book. Of course he could. He was the person you once planned to marry...until life got in the way. You buried yourself in work, in reaching your goals. Between helping out with Jay's toddler, pretending you're not running on empty, and trying to avoid old feelings during the trip , you start to realize something: Somewhere along the way, you stopped living the life you actually wanted. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still time to fix it.
⋆｡◛ ⊹ ⤳ requested ･:*:･｡☆
ᝰ genre. exes to lovers, fluff, angst (just a tiny bit tho) and loads of yearning, heavily inspired by the kdrama 'Love Next Door' ᐟ₊ ⊹
ᝰ warning. stress at work and uni , mention of burnout, insomnia, mentions of death, Y/N is lowkey unhappy with some life choices she made .ᐟ₊ ⊹
ᝰ word count. 31.5 k .ᐟ₊ ⊹
--⟢ PART 2
my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ
“Y/N. You have to come”, Yunjin whined into the phone loud enough for you to lower the volume of your phone with your free hand.
“I don’t know Yu”, the emart you were in was fuller than you expected it to be on a Thursday morning at 9 am. “I really don’t see the point in going. We are still in contact, aren’t we? All the people that I want to see, I do, and there are way too many I am glad to not see ever again.”
“Y/N that's the whole point! What about Chaehyun? Or Jake and Jay? Or, oh I don't know, Gaeul? You haven’t met up with her in months?”
You signed and walked towards the frozen section in the supermarket. Lately you didn’t really feel like cooking nor had the time to do so. Jaemin did cook sometimes but most of the time the two of you just got takeout or cooked ready to eat meals. Ramen was your top contender. You’ve tried probably every flavour on the market.
“I called her pretty recently? And I know I haven’t really caught up with the boys. Don’t you think it would be weird to be close to my exes best friends?”
“First of all you called Gaeul like two months ago, that's not recent,” Yujin huffed. “And I don't think it would be weird? We were all friends, even after the two of you broke up, remember?”
“I know. I just…”, you really didn’t know why the thought of meeting everyone made you feel so queasy, Yunjin was right, they were your friends, or at least close acquaintances. “I don’t know Yu, I feel like it would be weird. I mean I am really a shit friend. I don’t keep up with everyone's life and I never have much to talk about except work or uni right now. That's all my life is.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve never seen a worse texter than you, Y/N. But I don’t think the others would mind, they would probably all be excited to see you. It’s been a while and you really deserve a break Y/N. Even if it’s just one evening. Working yourself to the ground only to get your licence won’t make you graduate faster or a better doctor. I am worried you’re working yourself into a burnout”, she said softly.
You swallowed and stopped in front of the big freezers, looking at the rows after rows of frozen products. She was right. In the last few years your focus has fully been on your studies, your residency or your Board Certification Exam and you didn’t have much time or mental space for other things. Right now work took up most of your awake hours, but somehow it was really fulfilling. Most of the time at least. You loved being a doctor, a gynecologist to be exact. You loved your job, helping people, healing people, bringing new life to the world. Of course there were the shadow sides like the almost 100 hour work week or the days you lose patients. Losing a life is never easy, and would never get easier. You hated shifts in the NICU.
“I know. I know.”, you sighed again. “Look Yu, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe someone can switch shift with me, don’t get your hopes too high tho.”
“Yes! I knew I could convince you! You absolutely will be there!”, Yunjin cheered loudly again.
“I just said don’t get your hopes up?”, you shook your head and threw three packets of frozen vegetable mixes into your basket.
“Nah uh! You’ll come. I’ll personally call the hospital to ask them to give you that day off, I swear.”
You chuckled, “Please do. I would love to see that happen.”
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You stood in your old room at your parents house, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked so different to the girl you were 10 years ago when you graduated high school. Your face looked pale in the reflection and your eyes lost the spark they once had. In the pictures glued to your mirror they were so full of life, of ambition. You were so excited for the future that was to come, not fully realizing that the path you choose to take will be harder than you and anyone else back then could have imagined. Nonetheless, you were proud of yourself and still excited to do what you do. You just wanted to finally be done studying, work in an office outside the hospital until you had enough to open your own, give care to mothers and young girls and whoever else has to go to a Gyno. The way to get there would be hard but so worth it. It was your dream after all.
You opened your bag and fished for your makeup pouch, applying generous amounts all over your face. The blush you stole from your mother gave you a bit of color back.
You were staying at your parents house, since it was a lot closer to the event location where the 10 year reunion was taking place. It was weird to sleep in your childhood bedroom. Not much has changed in the last 10 years here. Your parents had enough rooms in the house to not really have a purpose for your room anymore. So they just left it be. All your pictures and trinkets in the places you left them. It was like walking into a different world.
The picture of Sunghoon and you at your high school graduation that was glued to your mirror was fading in the sunlight, the colors slowly losing their vibrance. You reached up and straightened the corners, where the paper lifted from the tape and smiled. Sunghoon was really handsome back then. The way he looked at you instead of the camera made you feel so bittersweet. You always thought he would be the one you would marry, that you would have your first and only love for ever. But life was weird sometimes and it didn’t work out. With the breakup and your life at uni getting more stressful you never really had much time for anyone but yourself and your friends maybe. Dating wasn’t really on your mind for a long time after you’ve overcome the heartbreak. You hoped he did. That today he would come to the reunion telling you about his wife, his kids, how great his life was. He deserved nothing more.
You sighed when the paper curled into itself again and turned around to get dressed. You and Jaemin, and Jeno, who had no choice, spent almost an hour trying to figure out what you should wear and the final verdict was a black pair of dress pants, the only pair of heels you owned for occasions like this, and a red wrap around top with rather delicate silver jewelry. You loved living with Jaemin, it was a lot of fun. The two of you met on your first day of uni and have been inseparable since then. When you and Sunghoon decided to end your relationship he immediately suggested moving together. He was living in the student dorm and was sick of it.
So for the last almost 3 years now, you and Jaemin have been living in a rather beautiful apartment near the Seoul National Hospital. Last year he decided to adopt 3 cats, so now there was almost always a bit of chaos in your home. He got together with Jeno, a student, well back then a student a semester higher than the two of you almost 3 years ago now. They were super cute together, but Jeno decided to do his residency in Gangwon hospital, which meant the two of them didn’t really get to move together until Jeno is done and hopefully gets a job in Seoul.
“Y/N?”, your mother startled you out of your thoughts, “Are you ready yet darling? If you want to be on time we have to go now.”
“Oh”, you turned around and looked at your mother, who was standing in the doorway to your room. She herself was attending a dinner with her colleague and an important client from overseas and offered to take you with her. She was styled impeccable, her gray hair in a strict bun and she was wearing a stunning one piece. You could gladly say you inherited her beauty and grace and annoyingly her work ethic.
„I‘m done, mom.“, you nodded and grabbed your purse.
„Oh look how pretty you look!“, your mom rubbed her hands up and down your arms when you passed her in the doorway. „My beautiful beautiful daughter. Let’s hurry! I don’t want you to be late!“
She ushered you towards the entryway, where both of you changed from slippers into your heels.
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The restaurant that was picked out for the reunion was an expensive looking one. The tables were all covered in thick white cloth, decked with wine glasses and multiple plates. Classical music was gently playing in the background when you made your way inside. The place was already buzzing with laughter coming from various groups at the entrance to the main room, enjoying champagne and the small appetizers displayed on various high tables.
You spotted Yunjin pretty quickly. She was talking to Heeseung and Jay, laughing at something she said. You didn’t really keep in touch with either of them after you and Sunghoon broke up three years ago. You all did grow up together but you didn’t want to make it awkward for them by still meeting up with them. And you honestly just didn’t want to know how Sunghoon was doing and you know you would have asked. Which wouldn’t have helped you getting over him.
Heeseung spotted you first, waving at you and smiling in your direction. You gave him a small wave back and continued your way through the crowd.
“Y/N!” Chaehyun, who was standing a few feet next to them, lit up the moment she saw you, standing to hug you tight. “You look so good! You cut your hair!”
“Oh. Yeah. A few months ago,” you mumbled, glancing at your hair.
“It looks fantastic, right? Do you know how long I had to endure her going back and forth about cutting it? Horrible!”, Yunjin whined and wrapped her arms around yours.
“I wanted to cut enough to donate it, but it wasn’t long enough, but I also desperately wanted to get rid of the hair”, you grumbled and shoved her away gently.
“Did you have enough to donate in the end?”, Chaehyun asked and passed you a flute of champagne from the table you were standing around.
“Yeah. I cut around 25 cm off.”
“Oh shit thats a lot”, Jake whistled and threw his arm around your shoulder, “Hi Y/N.”
“Hi Jake”, you laughed and boxed him into his side to get off you. You and Jake were going back to kindergarten days. Together with Sunghoon you attended kindergarten and elementary school until Jake went to Australia for a few years. The three of you were inseparable up until you and Sunghoon ended things.
“My mom told me you're almost done with your residency, will we be calling you Dr. Y/L/N soon?”, he asked and stole the flute out of your hand.
You took a deep breath in, “I already am Dr. Y/L/N if I might correct you. I’m done with my residency in a few months and then I have to study for the board certification exam. So some time next year I’ll be done with everything, yeah.”
Just the thought of having to study for that exam made you want to curl into a corner and cry. The amount of stress that came with that exam and working at the same time was nothing anyone looked forward to.
“It’s so crazy you are pulling this through. You’ve got my deepest respect for that, Y/N.”, Jake tutted and shook his head.
“I’ve always wanted to be a doctor”, you shrugged and smiled at him.
“Everyone!”, Daewhi, your former class president, was standing on a stage further into the event location, “It’s lovely to see you all. Please take a seat, as we would like to start with ordering food. You’ll have enough time to mingle later on.”
“Let’s go,” Jake pulled you with him toward one of the tables in the middle of the room, where your friends were already walking towards.
You settled down next to Jake and smiled at Ningning, who was seated opposite of you.
“I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we graduated,” Yujin said, glancing around. “When was the last time we were all together?”
Jay answered without looking up. “The funeral.”
Ah. Right. You averted your gaze to look at your hands.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “That wasn’t exactly the best time to catch up.”
A suspicious looking ring on Ningning's ring finger caught your attention. But before saying anything you let your gaze wander towards Heeseung's hand. He was also wearing a suspicious looking ring. You weren't sure if you just missed it, or if they just didn’t tell you they got engaged, but your heart dropped a bit.
“Hey Jake,” you lowered your voice, to not raise suspicion if you just simply haven’t been told, “did Hee and Ningning get engaged?”
His head snapped into your direction and then towards the couple, “What?”
“Look at the rings,” you said, having trouble suppressing your smile. Apparently they didn’t tell anyone.
“Heeseung what the fuck? You got engaged?”, Jake said excitedly.
Heeseung looked up mid-sip of water, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh?”.
“You are wearing a ring!” Yujin leaned in from the other side, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?!”
Heeseung scratched the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. “Well... yeah. We wanted to tell you all tonight.”
“You got engaged and didn’t tell me?” Jay looked personally offended.
“We wanted to tell everyone at the same time,” Ningning said quickly. “We only told our parents. It’s been, like, three days.”
The table erupted in noise, demanding details.
You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. You felt pure relief, knowing that you weren’t the only one who didn’t know. You were never really close with Heeseung and Ningning joined your friendgroup a year after you graduated Highschool, when she and Heeseung got together, so you weren’t as offended as the rest.
“Okay, but where did he propose?” Yujin was practically bouncing in her seat.
“Yeah, Hee, if it wasn’t romantic I’m gonna be mad,” Jake added with mock severity.
Heeseung shot Ningning a sheepish smile before answering. “Her apartment. I brought flowers, cooked dinner, and then... just kind of asked.”
Jay snorted. “Classic. That’s the most Heeseung thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It was perfect,” Ningning said softly, and the way she looked at him made your chest ache just a little.
You smiled again, this time more to yourself, and leaned back in your chair. The second you glanced away from your friends you noticed a very familiar figure making its way towards your table.
Sunghoon looked immaculate.
He was wearing a navy suit, with his hair styled neatly and a bag slung over his shoulder. Your eyes met for a second and he gave you a small smile. You returned it almost automatically and then looked back at Ningning who was talking about her parents' reactions, but you weren’t really listening.
He made his way over, greeting Jake with a handshake and Yunjin with a hug, then slid into the empty seat next to you without hesitation.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said lightly, reaching for a glass of water. “Client wouldn’t stop talking.”
“Do they ever?” Heeseung offered.
Sunghoon laughed, low and tired. “I don’t mind as long as they keep on paying.”
He was immediately informed about the engagement and his eyes lit up excited as he started asking the same questions the couple already answered.
You had to almost physically fight the urge to stare at Sunghoon. The last time you saw him was at Jay’s girlfriend's funeral a few months after your break up.
A few minutes of excited chatting later, the waiter brought the menus. The whole table quieted down for a few minutes while everyone was deciding on what to eat.
You were flipping back and forth not sure what you wanted to eat when Sunghoon leaned a little closer.
“Take the fish,” he said quietly. “You’ll like it.”
You glanced at him, surprised. “The fish?”
“I’ve been here before. It’s good. Not too heavy either. You’ll like it.”
You gave a small nod, lips twitching. “You always did like telling me what to eat.”
“You always needed help deciding,” he replied easily, looking at his menu again.
A moment passed before he gently closed it and turned towards you again.
“So…” he said, “how’s work? Are you still at SN?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think changing hospital would have changed my workload after all.”
“Do you still like it?” he asked with a small hum.
You hesitated. Your residence was one of the main reasons why you and Sunghoon broke up. It felt like a touchy topic. “Most days, yes. Some days are just hard. But every job is like that, right?”
“Mhm. That’s true”, he turned aback towards the table, reaching for the wine card. “Are you still living with Jaemin?”
“Yeah.”, you nodded. “He adopted three cats a few months ago.”
He laughed, eyes flicking back to you. “Three?”
“Yep. And of course, Kai’s allergic, so I have to deep clean everything whenever he visits.”
That made Sunghoon pause, his brow ticking up slightly. “Kai?”
“Yeah, you probably remember him. Tall, really soft-spoken, kinda chaotic. We study together sometimes.”, you shrugged.
Sunghoon didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded a little.
You tapped the edge of your napkin and glanced sideways. “So… how have you been? With work and everything.”
Sunghoon leaned back slightly in his chair, resting an arm casually along the back of yours. “It’s been good. I made partner this year.”
You blinked. “Already?”
He gave a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, it’s brutal hours, constant travel, and my phone might actually be fused to my hand now, but… I like it. Most days.”
You nodded slowly. “That’s… impressive.”
There was something oddly comforting about that echo of your own answer.
“You started studying for the board already?”, he tilted his head a little toward you.
You blinked. “Yeah. I mean yes, I am. How did you…?”
“My mom,” he said with a small grin, not even pretending to be subtle. “She keeps me updated. Involuntarily.”
“Oh.” You paused, a little surprised. “Right.”
Your mother and his mother were close friends. You forbade your parents to talk about Sunghoon and they have never said anything about him to you. Your mother surely knew he was a partner, with how much his mother flexed with her golden son.
“She said you basically live in the hospital.”
You huffed a soft laugh. “Oh lord. That comes from my mom. But yeah, she is kinda right. But, what can I say, night shifts pay better.”
“Didn’t think she was wrong,” he said, glancing sideways. “After all, these ladies are the heart of the gossip mill in our neighborhood.”
“That is right.”, you nodded slightly.
The waiter came and took your orders, interrupting your conversation.
You ordered the fish.
Once the waiter stepped away, Sunghoon leaned in slightly, fingers idly tracing the stem of his champagne flute.
“And your parents?” he asked. “Still working?”
You smiled a little. “Yeah. My mom’s been talking about retiring for three years now, but we both know she’d go crazy without it. She seriously has to find a hobby. My dad is still working in the hospital but not as chief physician anymore. He said he was too old for that amount off stress.”
Sunghoon laughed quietly. “Sounds about right.”
You glanced down at your hands. “I try to visit when I can or go on holidays with them, but it’s... not often. Last time I came down with a fever halfway through and spent most of the weekend in bed. My mom still complains about not having someone who actually takes good pictures around in Venice."
“Didn’t know med students were allowed to get sick.”
“We’re not. It’s humiliating,” you deadpanned, and he laughed again.
You let yourself look at him, really look. His hair was a little longer than you remembered, styled neatly. There was a soft crease between his brows you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in. Tiredness, maybe"
“Do you still live around Gangnam?” you asked. “Or did you move for work?”
“I moved.” He hesitated. “Actually, I moved back in with my parents. Just a couple months ago.”
You blinked. “Didn’t your sister move back in as well?"
“She did,” he said, then glanced down at his watch for a beat too long. “She and her husband divorced last year. But she’s back in Busan now.”
“Oh.” You paused, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Sunghoon never really liked his brother-in-law, claiming he wasn’t good for his baby sister. They fought really hard when she told him she would marry him. SUnghoon and Yeji didn’t talk for months afterwards and he was devastated by it.
He shrugged lightly, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s alright. She’s doing better now.”
There was a small silence.
“Why did you move back?”, you asked softly.
He tilted his head slightly. “Mhm. I was living with my girlfriend. For about a year. We broke up in the spring and I moved into her apartment when we got together.”
You felt a soft pang in your heart. As much as you wished for him to be happy, to have found love, it hurt a bit to hear that he actually did, while you were distracting yourself with work instead of tackling your feelings. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”
“It’s fine. I am over her, she was nice but…it just… wasn’t working. I was always gone. And when I wasn’t, I wasn’t really there, you know?” He looked at you then, and you knew exactly what he meant. “We were both too tired to argue about it. It felt like a dejavu.” He chuckled softly at that and took a sip of his champagne.
A beat passed. “And you? Any boyfriends in sight?”
You glanced toward where Ningning was showing off her engagement ring to Yujin, her hands gesturing animatedly.
“Not really,” you said. “I thought about it. Dated here and there. But it’s hard when you fall asleep with your face on a chart at 2 a.m.”
“That does sound romantic,” he said dryly.
You grinned, a little ruefully. “I’m told I snore.”
“I can confirm.”
You laughed, eyes crinkling and slightly shoved him. “Hey! You snore way worse than I do.”
Before he could say anything else, the lights dimmed slightly and Daewhi stepped back onto the small stage at the front of the room.
“Alright everyone! Before the food comes out, we’d like to say a few words...”
You both turned toward the front, Sunghoon’s arm brushing yours lightly as he shifted in his seat.
As the speeches started, you leaned in a little, voice low.
“So… partner, huh? What are you working on currently?”
Sunghoon chuckled under his breath. “Right now? A cross-border IP case. A Korean company’s suing a European firm over design plagiarism, branding, packaging, whole lineup. My team’s handling compliance and preparing expert reports. It’s mostly just emails at 2 a.m. and arguing over clauses in licensing agreements.”
You blinked. “That sounds miserable.”
He shrugged with a half-smile. “It is. But weirdly satisfying. I kind of like picking apart their statements line by line, figuring out where they copied, what we can use."
You tilted your head. “You always did like arguing.”
“I prefer ‘debating.’ But yeah. The job’s a lot of drafting, negotiations, risk assessment. We do corporate governance stuff, too! Restructuring, audits, employee protection frameworks. Internal messes that execs don’t want to touch.”
He smiled, lifting his glass. “And you?”
You groaned. “Don’t even get me started.I honestly do too much in one day to summarize it all. Lots of rotation, many many crying babies and many many grandmas and grandpas that tell me I am doing my job wrong at 3 am when I just helped deliver their grandchild for like 4 hours.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You still don’t sleep much then?”
“Not unless it’s at a nurse’s station in an empty hallway,” you said, trying to laugh. “But yeah… third year’s a step up. More decision-making, more pressure. I scrub in way more now. Still supervised, but I’m technically managing my own cases.”
“Jesus.” He shook his head, then looked at you.
“Also,” you added, leaning back a little, “I have become frighteningly good at drawing blood. I could probably even handle a crybaby like Jake.”
Sunghoon gave a theatrical shudder. “Remind me to never pass out near you.”
You grinned. “Too late. I already have a target vein.”
He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To poor life choices and me never fainting near you.”
You clinked it lightly. “And to knowing exactly what we signed up for.”
“You know…” He ran a finger along the stem of his glass after setting it down again. “I still think it’s kind of insane, what you do.”
You blinked at him, head tilting slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, yeah, my job’s intense. But I don’t have people’s lives in my hands. No one's bleeding out during a client pitch,” he said, his tone light but eyes sincere.
That caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, but he was already continuing.
“And…” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing back at you. “I never got to say it, but, thank you. For what you did for Jay. And you helped with Haneul after.”
Your fingers stilled on your napkin. “I just did my job.”
“Maybe,” Sunghoon said quietly, “but it was important. To him. And to her.”
You looked away for a moment, your throat tightening. “I still think about it sometimes. About whether I could’ve done more. Maybe she would have survived”
“There wasn’t more to do,” he said, firm. “You know that."
“I do,” you murmured. “But that doesn’t really make it easier.”
Silence settled briefly between you.
“Jay said you were really good at doing what you do,” Sunghoon added, his voice lower now. “And kind. That you didn’t panic.”
You huffed a small laugh. “That’s because I did the panicking in the locker room after.”
He smiled faintly at that. “Still.”
Sunghoon shifted slightly in his seat, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “Wanna see pictures? Jay sends way too many, and I’m not strong enough to delete them.”
You gave a small laugh and nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
He unlocked his phone, thumb moving swiftly through albums until he turned the screen toward you. “Here, this was last month. She dressed up as a tangerine for kindergarten.”
You leaned in, your smile slowly growing. “Oh my god… she’s huge already. And her hair’s gotten so long."
“Right?” He grinned, flicking to the next picture. “This one’s my favorite.”
You let out a soft laugh, one hand subconsciously lifting to your mouth. “Wow. She looks so much like her mom.”
Sunghoon’s smile faded just a little, more fond now. “Yeah.”
You were quiet for a second, watching his screen as he kept scrolling, birthday parties, park visits, messy dinner selfies. Her in a doctor costume, holding a stethoscope upside down.
“She’s really cute,” you said, smile tugging at your lips as Sunghoon tapped through another photo. “She looks like trouble.”
“She is,” Sunghoon said, clearly proud. “But only when she doesn’t get her strawberry milk.”
You gave a small laugh and leaned back a little.
You didn’t say much else, but something in your chest tightened. You were happy for them, you really were. For Jay. For Sunghoon. For this whole, messy, beautiful life they had grown into. You’d just forgotten how far away you’d placed yourself from it all. The waiter brought your drinks and before you even took a sip Sunghoon tsked next to you.
“No Coke Zero?” Sunghoon asked, tilting his head. “Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”
Your rolled our eyes. “I had three cans this morning.”
“There she is.”
You scowled and hit hid foot under the table. “I had to stay awake. We had a five-hour surgery and the scrub nurse kept humming the same damn trot song.”
Sunghoon snorted into his drink. “Still addicted, I see.”
“You know what?” You raised a finger at him, fighting a smile. “If you mock my Coke Zero consumption one more time, I will curse you out.”
“Oh, have fun with that. I’ll probably enjoy it,” he said with mock gravity. “I’ve heard you curse. It’s like poetry. Angry, caffeine-fueled poetry.”
You leaned in, smiling sweetly. “Park Sunghoon.”
“Yes?”
“I hope your protein shaker leaks in your work bag.”
He gasped, hand to chest. “You take that back.”
“Never.”
“You’re still evil,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
“And you’re still annoying,” you replied, sipping your water, resting, giving him your middle finger like you did when you were sixteen.
“I am actually not drinking too many protein shakes anymore. I’ve switched to actually eating healthy and protein rich meals.”, he said, sounding almost proudly.
Yunjin snickered from across the table. “Now you do. I clearly remember a time where the only thing you all ate was chicken, unseasoned chicken, and protein shakes.”
Jay groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Don’t remind me. I was protein-shaking my soul away for like six months straight.”
“Six months?” Jake snorted. “Heeseung tried to bulk for a year. He was eating boiled eggs between classes.”
Heeseung shrugged, totally unfazed. “And I looked great.”
“You also smelled like eggs,” Ningning added flatly, reaching for her water.
You were shaking your head, your head gesturing accusingly towards Sunghoon. “You were the worst of all of them. I swear to god, if you’d asked me to meal prep plain chicken breast one more time I would have used my anatomical knowledge for some illegal activities.”
He gave a sheepish grin. “I was trying to hit macros. And you yourself claimed to appreciate my biceps.”
“I still have nightmares about our air fryer,” you deadpanned. “There were weeks the entire apartment smelled like chicken and eggs.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Sunghoon said, nudging you gently with his elbow.
“I am not,” you insisted. “You once brought chicken breast to brunch with our parents cause you were afraid they wouldn’t prep anything with proteins in it.”
“You were unbearable,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you gave him a narrowed look.
Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “I was bulking.”
“You were insane,” you shot back. “Do you remember the protein powder in your coffee?”
“It tasted fine.”
“You mixed it with my expensive vanilla almond milk. And you made the entire kitchen smell like dirty socks.”
He grinned. “And yet you still ate my chicken.”
“Because I was too tired to cook my own, you menace”, you said flatly.
You took a sip of your water, the conversation around you dissolving into background noise as Sunghoon leaned a little closer, resting one arm on the back of your chair again.
“I still don’t get how you survived my meal prep,” he said casually, eyes flicking to yours.
You gave him a look. “Oh, I didn’t survive. I suffered.”
He grinned. “That dramatic streak of yours hasn’t changed, huh?"
“Park Sunghoon,” you warned, narrowing your eyes slightly, “I swear, if you say one more thing about me being dramatic, I will curse you out so thoroughly you’ll have flashbacks to every anatomy study session I ever made you suffer through.”
“Oh, jeez please not. I don’t think I would survive that. You were so mean.”
“I was under a lot of pressure!” you said, biting back a smile. “Do you know what it’s like to come home after a 28-hour shift just to find someone boiling chicken again at midnight?”
He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “I said I’d do the dishes.”
“You never did the dishes.”
“I did them… eventually.”
“Exactly my point.”
He just smiled at you, warm and unhurried.
You exhaled, tipping your head slightly toward him. “Do you still eat like that? Like are you still obsessing over your calories and everything.”
“Sometimes,” he said. “But my mom doesn’t curse me out if I stink up the kitchen.”
You hummed. “Tragic. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
He smirked. “Ah you and your endless compassion.”
“Oh shut up,” you muttered, lips twitching. “I’m about to be compassionate all over your fancy suit.”
He laughed again, quieter this time, and nudged your knee under the table.
“Still so scary,” he murmured.
────────────────────────
Since the reunion, Sunghoon somehow slithered his way back into your life. You’ve seen him at least 3 times in the last month, which is more than the last three years. Probably due to the new outbound clinic you were transferred to being close to your parents house, which caused you, much to your parents delightment, to sleep at home. And considering Sunghoon is living just over the street, meeting him after work was somehow something that happened now.
Today though, you were prepared. You were standing in the kitchen of the venue your and Sunghoons mother rented out to celebrate their birthdays, cutting up a watermelon into bitesize pieces. Your mothers turned 60 last week, yours on Tuesday and his on Thursday and decided to celebrate together, renting out a small hall and inviting a ton of people. Sunghoon was currently carrying boxes of wine to put into the kitchen's cooler. Both of your mothers roped you in to help out preparing the celebration and who were you to say no.
“That’s the last one,” he said, breath short. “The cooler’s full now.”
You huffed a strand of hair out of your face.
“Good. We still need to plate the sandwiches, preslice the cake, move the drink station out front and deck the tables.”
He gave you a sidelong look. “Should we demand hourly payment for all of this?”
“We’re being paid in love, you dumbass.”
He chuckled, stepping around your dad and his, who were currently wrangling a caterer sized metal food warmer. It took both of them to maneuver it through the narrow doorway without crashing into the counter.
You leaned away instinctively to avoid the chaos, and Sunghoon did the same, which brought him just a bit closer to your side of the counter.
“Remind me why we agreed to this again?” he asked, settling beside you and propping one elbow against the metal surface.
“Because your mom is scary,” you muttered, fighting with the watermelon rind. “And because mine is lovely and we love helping her.”
“They could have asked our siblings to come earlier.”
You shot him a look. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who volunteered to organize the drinks as if you didn't know it meant carrying twelve crates of wine.”
“I thought that was the easier job,” he said, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. “I didn’t want to get my hands dirty.”
Just as he said that a watermelon slice slipped in your hands, leaving a pink stain on your white shirt and arm, when you caught it out of reflex. You hissed and leaned over the sink to rinse off quickly.
“You know we have, like, an hour left for everything? Including changing, right?” Sunghoon said, tossing you a towel as you returned from the sink.
You caught it, half-heartedly drying your hands, looking at the watch hanging on the kitchen wall. “Fifty-five now.”
He groaned. “Perfect. I sweat like a pig carrying those wines inside. I still have to shower.”
You wrinkled your nose, pretending to lean closer. “You should. You kind of stink.”
“Thank you, Y/N. Such lovely compliments you give,” he deadpanned.
You grinned, just a little. A piece of your bun came loose and a strand of hair slipped forward again.
He reached out and brushed it gently behind your ear. His fingers warm against the skin on your cheek.
Sunghoon and you both froze.
His hand dropped the moment it registered what he’d done.
“Sorry–uh. Reflex,” he said quickly, stepping half a breath back.
You blinked, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, well… I guess I give great compliments.”
You cleared your throat before he could say anything else.
“Anyway,” you said, turning slightly so he couldn’t read your face. “Let’s just carry the rest of the stuff out so we can go shower. Whatever we don’t finish, someone else can do.”
“Yeah. Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Before either of you could move toward the trays, the kitchen door swung open.
“Sunghoon,” his mother snapped, stepping inside with her arms crossed. “Why are you standing around while poor Y/N is doing everything? You were supposed to be helping, not loitering.”
You blinked, startled, still holding the towel.
“Oh, no, no,” you said quickly, straightening up and pasting on your best polite smile, you reserved for his mom specifically. “He was just about to carry the platter outside, Aunty. I was making sure he didn’t grab the wrong one.”
Sunghoon blinked at you, seemingly caught off guard for a second. His mom narrowed her eyes.
“Well, don’t dawdle,” she muttered, brushing past him to hover over the nearest table. “We still have to set the cakes out.”
Sunghoon mouthed thank you as he picked up the platter.
You just winked at him and turned back to your watermelon.
────────────────────────
You locked your front door with your clutch tucked under one arm, heels clicking against the pavement. The sun had just started to dip behind the trees, casting a golden wash over the quiet neighborhood. When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you saw Sungoon.
He was walking a few feet ahead of you, dressed in a dark navy suit. One of his hands was smoothing his hair and while the other typed something on his phone. He seemed tense.
You cleared your throat loud enough to make him glance up.
He blinked in surprise, then gave you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, look at that. Fancy seeing you here.”
You stepped toward him slowly, eyeing the suit. “You still wear suits every day?”
“Sure.”
“You’re rumpled,” you said, frowning. You reached forward, tugging at the slightly crooked collar with practiced fingers. “God, how do you wear a suit every day and still not know how to wear one properly?”
His breath caught just slightly as you straightened the fold, your knuckles brushing his jaw for a split second.
“Your mom would eat you alive if she saw this,” you added, trying to justify why you were suddenly in his personal bubble.
“Thanks for the save. Again,” Sunghoon huffed. “Ever since I moved back, she’s been on my ass non-stop.”
Your brows shot up. “How long are you planning on staying here?”
“Just temporarily,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My lease ended and I figured I’d take a break from paying Seoul rent. Mistake.”, he huffed, “She’s like: ‘You should be saving. You should get married. You should eat more. You should work less. You should stop slouching.”
You laughed, full and unfiltered. “Your mom is so intense. No offense, but she’s kind of terrifying. Like, how did your sweet dad end up with her?”
He laughed. “Everyone wonders. I think he just blinked and thirty-five years passed.”
You both chuckled as your steps fell into sync.
“She was grilling me earlier,” you said. “Asked if I had any ‘good eggs left.’ I thought she meant for the deviled platter, but nope she meant my ovaries. She told my how my job is so hard and asked whether I plan to freeze my eggs, because she would love me to have some precious kids. I think it came from the right place, but it was still kinda weird.”
Sunghoon winced. “That sounds about right. She still talks about us sometimes. Complains that I let you go.”
You looked at him sideways. “Seriously?”
“She always liked you more than she liked me,” he muttered. “Back when we were together, she used to ask at least twice a week if we were thinking about marriage. Said we’d have ‘sturdy’ children.”
You burst out laughing. “Sturdy? What does that even mean?”
“I think she meant athletic? Or that you wouldn’t let them do the stuff we did as a kid. YOu know sturdy kids. Clever and not trouble maker kids? "I dont know.”
“I probably wouldn’t. We did a lot of shit when unsupervised,” you said, grinning. “But she really did ask you that?”
“Repeatedly. Said she knows if you had my kids, she could more or less flex with her beautiful and clever daughter in law and even prettier kids, since you bring your moms genetics.”
You snorted. “Oh my god. I don’t know if that’s horrifying or flattering.”
“Both,” he said. “Mostly horrifying.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m no longer your ticket to high-functioning offsprings.”
“Tragic,” he said, with a dry smile.
────────────────────────
You hadn’t even made it ten minutes into the party, standing near the table with the drinks, waiting for Sunghoon to finish pouring himself a glass of wine when one of your moms coworkers came up. You recognized her but couldn’t put a name to her face, she certainly has been kinda friends with your mother for a while.
“Oh, Y/N!” she beamed. “Your mom never mentioned you had a boyfriend and such a handsome one!”
You blinked. “Oh no. No, no, that’s not–he’s not my–”
“Sunghoon,” Sunghoon offered, stepping beside you with a polite smile, holding his glass of wine and your glass of juice. “Just a friend. My mom is the other one celebrating.”
“Ahhh,” the woman said, "I was so sure you were. You are in so many of those pictures together.”
You gave your best awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess we’ve known each other forever.”
“Oh, I can tell,” she said, waving her wine glass toward the giant photo collage near the dessert table. “Look at that one,” She pointed at a photo from your family trip to Oahu. Your two moms beaming in flower leis, both of your dads awkwardly squinting into the sun… and in the middle, on a striped beach towel, were the two of you. You were in a sundress sitting sideways in Sunghoon’s lap, laughing at something he was whispering in your ear. His arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, while your hand rested comfortably on his knee.
"Yeah…” you said weakly, stomach dropping. “Those were… taken a while ago.”
Sunghoon stayed quiet. Just sipping his drink. You could feel the heat rising up your neck.
“We… used to date,” you offered, forcing a smile. “Our moms are best friends. So, you know…”
She nodded. “You don't have much choice to stay friendly with each other?”
You nodded mutely. Sunghoon gave a vague hum of agreement, and then someone called her name from across the room.
“It was nice talking to the two of you.”, she patted your shoulder, winked at Sunghoon, and wandered off.
You exhaled sharply.
Sunghoon tilted his head toward you. “You good?”
You nodded, eyes flicking toward the photo wall. “Yeah. Why did they have to choose that picture.”
He smiled faintly. “Because my mom is still hoping you freeze your eggs so I can give you some sturdy kids someday.”
You bumped his elbow. “Shut up.”────────────────────────
You were lying in your bed, your blanket pulled up to your chin, one arm shielding your eyes from the light bleeding through your half closed blinds. Everything was either too bright or too loud. And the cats kept taking turns climbing onto your chest or pawing at your face in demand of affection.
It was almost 1 a.m. and you were acutely aware that in just under four hours, your alarm would go off. You really, really needed to sleep.
But you hadn’t been able to, not properly, for a few nights now.
Ever since that dinner a few months ago, the old Kakao group chat had burst back to life. The others were texting and sending pictures what felt like nonstop. For a few weeks now they were talking about going on a trip in the mountains in the South, to relax and just hang out with each other again before the winter started. They were thinking about renting out a house with enough rooms for everyone and their partners. It sounded... really nice, if you were being honest.
But you weren’t sure.
You didn’t know if you could get the time off. You were still in residency, and vacation days weren’t exactly handed out like candy. And at that point you should probably be studying for your board certification like a maniac.
Eventually, you gave up. Tossing your blanket aside, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled out of your room. You were somehow too tired to sleep and too restless to stay still.
The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. You padded in barefoot and found Jaemin hunched over the microwave, heating up leftover curry. He was still wearing his scrubs and his hair was a mess.
You stood there for a moment, just watching him. Then, without a word, you stepped forward and dropped your forehead onto his back.
“Jesus,” he jolted slightly, startled. “You scared me.”
You didn’t say anything, just stayed there, your face pressed between his shoulder blades. He let out a breath, softening immediately.
“Long day?” he asked, turning around and opening his arms automatically.
You nodded and stepped into the hug, arms wrapping around his middle. He smelled faintly like antiseptic.
He held you for a moment, rubbing a slow hand up and down your back. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.
You nodded into his shirt.
“Can’t sleep again?” he asked after a beat, his voice gentle now.
You pulled back slightly but didn’t let go. “My friends from school are planning. In October.”
Jaemin leaned back just enough to look at your face. “That sounds fun.”
“It does,” you admitted. “But I don’t know if I can get the time off. And even if I do... I should probably be studying.”
“You’ve been studying since July,” he said, deadpan.
You sighed. “I just… don’t know if I can justify it.”
He gave you a look.
“Take your books with you. Study there. Wake up early and do your flashcards while everyone else is making pancakes or whatever. I am sure no one would be mad if you did a bit of revising.”
You pressed your forehead against his collarbone again, muttering, “I’ll think about it.”
He smiled into your hair. “You always say that.”
“Because I always do,” you mumbled.
The microwave beeped, and the smell of curry wafted up between you. He reached behind you blindly to open it, still holding you with one arm.
“I’ll warm you some up too,” he said, already grabbing a second bowl.
You just hummed and just closed your eyes not moving from where your arms were wrapped around his torso. He set the curry down on the counter with one hand and petted your hair softly with the other one.
“You know,” he said slowly, “you were so excited when you came back from the reunion. You kept talking about how good it was to see them again, how you missed this version of yourself. How you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you were sitting next to them.”
You blinked, but stayed silent.
“So don’t pretend like you don’t want to go,” he added, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You do. You just feel guilty about it.”
Your silence must’ve been answer enough, because Jaemin gently pushed you away from his chest so he could look into your eyes properly.
“You’re allowed to miss people,” he said, softer now. “And you’re allowed to want something that isn’t hospital walls and emergency pages and OB rounds at 3 a.m. You can take your books. You can wake up early and study. Hell, you’ll probably shame everyone into feeling productive.”
That earned a small, reluctant laugh from you.
“But you can also sit on a porch with your friends and a cup of tea and just be for a few days,” he said. “You’re burning yourself out againat this rate, Y/N. You deserve a break.”
You looked down, chewing on your bottom lip. The idea of a break sounded so nice it almost hurt.
He tilted his head and gave you a knowing smile. “And don't pretend like you're not already halfway convinced. You wouldn’t be standing here with your head on my spine at 1 a.m. if you weren’t.”
“Traitor,” you muttered.
He grinned. “Guilty.”
You huffed, then finally gave a slow nod.
Jaemin slid a bowl across the counter toward you and sat down beside you, spoon clinking lazily in his curry.
“I mean,” he said between bites, “if I play my cards right, pull a few strings here and there… maybe sweet-talk your boss…”
You snorted. “You’ve never even met my boss.”
“I’ve seen him once. He looks like the type who caves when someone brings good snacks and compliments his hairline.”
You gave him a look. “He’s bald.”
“Exactly. Low bar.”
You rolled your eyes, but the edge of your lips tugged upward despite yourself.
Jaemin shrugged. “Just use like… two vacation days. Plan your night shift compensation properly. Worst case, you stack five NICU shifts and hate yourself for a week?”
“But wouldn’t I hate myself during the trip then? You know, the week after five NICU shifts?”, you asked, blowing the curry on your spoon, to cool it down slightly.
He grinned into his food. “When don’t you hate yourself tho? I’m just saying: go. Take the trip. Drag your flashcards along, torture everyone with study sessions if you must. But don’t skip it. You’ll regret it.”
He was right. You would regret it. You would regret missing out again. But you couldn’t let that be a distraction.
You didn’t look up, but your voice came out a little smaller. “What if I get behind?”
“You’re already ahead. You’re always ahead. For God's sake I haven't even bought the books I’ll need Y/N. You started two months ago. And you still have 7 to go.”
There was a long pause.
Then you murmured, “Okay. I’ll ask.”
Jaemin smiled, finishing his last bite. “Good girl.”
You lifted your head just to smack his arm with your spoon.
He winced dramatically. “Are you assaulting your emotional support roommate? Unbelievable.”
“Three cats are my emotional support. You just do the dishes.”
He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then let me earn my keep and make sure you don’t work yourself into an early grave.”
────────────────────────
You were taking your time walking home from work a few weeks later. You were stationed at an outbound clinic near your parents house this week again. Half of that clinic's staff was sick with Covid and the hospital stationed some of their residents there. So you decided to stay over at your parents house, sleeping in your old room and helping your mom babysit your niece for the weekend. You'd been spoiled with warm dinners and unsolicited affection all week as well. Honestly, you weren’t complaining.
You were walking slowly, enjoying the last beams of sunshine when you noticed Sunghoon walking past you. His jacket was slung over his arm and he was typing furiously on his phone.
You accelerated your speed, stepping in sync next to him: “Sir, do you perhaps live in this neighborhood? I'm in dire need of directions, I might be a bit lost here.”
He flinched and his head snapped into your direction.
“Jesus, you just scared the shit out of me, Y/N.”, he said, breathless, holding his phone against his chest.
“Sorry Sunghoon,” you laughed and padded his shoulder.
“I am afraid I can't offer you directions though. I might be equally lost right now. It seems like we are in dire need of a guide, that guides us towards a certain gs25 to buy some ice cream, perhaps?" he said, raising his shoulders in faux confusion.
“Oh! I think I saw a particular gs25 on my way here, but I am afraid I really want to get home! It appears like my niece has been brought to my mothers and I really want to cuddle my very adorable niece, perhaps an ice to go?”, you nodded and walked backwards up the hill.
“That’s a noble excuse,” he said, adjusting his bag and shifting his jacket to the other arm. “But would you accept delivery instead? My mom’s in a bad mood today and if I stay home any longer I might spontaneously combust.”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I suppose if you’re fleeing maternal wrath, I can offer sanctuary. My mom will probably force-feed you soup the second you walk through the door.”
“I’m counting on it,” he said, grinning as he fell into step beside you.
────────────────────────
The second you stepped through the door, your mom peeked around the corner from the kitchen, eyes lighting up.
“Y/N-ah! Oh, you brought a surprise with you!” she said, hands still dusted with flour. “How lovely!”
You sighed dramatically, kicking off your shoes. “I found Sunghoon on the street and had to rescue him.”
Your mom tutted but looked pleased. “Come in, come in. Look at you! So skinny! You need to eat something.”
She reached up without warning and patted his cheek affectionately, like she used to when you were teenagers. Sunghoon just blinked and let it happen, offering a half-bow and a sheepish smile.
“Hi, Aunty. Sorry to show up uninvited.”
“Nonsense. You’re always welcome here,” she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Sit, sit! I just made some jeon. Do you still like that?”
"Sure, Aunty!", Sunghoon said and took off his shoes.
You followed her into the kitchen. “Is Gaeun awake?”
Your dad’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Fell asleep about an hour ago. She’s still out cold.”
You groaned, deflating and turning back to walk to the living room, where she usually slept and played when she was over. “Ugh. I wanted to shower her with kisses. Telepathically tho. I am not about to get her sick.”
Sunghoon followed you. “Didn’t spend enough time with babies today?”
You shot him a look. “Not the cuddly kind.”
He raised a brow as you crossed to the blanket pile on the couch and gently peeked in at the sleeping baby. “Weren’t you at the clinic today?”
“Outbound rotation,” you said. “Lots of prenatal consults. It’s mostly OB-GYN. So yeah technically babies but unborn babies.”
“Ah,” he said. “Makes sense.”
You knelt beside Gaeun and ran your fingers softly through her hair. “She’s my one and only baby though.”
Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Do you have another niece I missed out on?”
You shook your head. “Nope. Just Gaeun. Which is why she’s getting spoiled for life. Everything she wants she will get from her cool aunt Y/Nie.”
“She’s lucky.”
Gaeun shifted in her sleep, one chubby fist curled near her cheek.
“She’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, doing your best to not wake her up.
Sunghoon crouched beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You say that every time you see a baby or a dog.”
“Because it’s true every time,” you said, gently pulling her blanket up. “Look at her cheeks. I want to bite them. Is that weird?”
“A little.”
You gave him a side-eye. “She smells so good as well. I would die for her.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love, Sunghoon. You wouldn’t understand.”
He just shook his head, smiling. “You’re completely gone.”
“She’s going to grow up thinking I’m the cool aunt who brings stickers and inappropriate snacks and teaches her to lie about bedtime.”
“Which… would be accurate.”
“Exactly.”
You watched her for another long beat, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily.
“She’s going to be such a menace,” you whispered fondly.
Sunghoon’s voice was quieter now. “With you as her guide? No doubt.”
"Hey I am not that bad of an influence," you protested, brushing one finger over the babies soft cheek.
"Yeah. Jake and I totally didn't have to cover for you whenever you did something stupid at school. You were always a lawful student," Sunghoon chuckled.
You rolled your eyes and huffed. "Looser. At least I had fun."
From the kitchen, the smell of jeon drifted in, followed by your mom’s distant voice calling your name.
You sighed, standing up and stretching. “Alright. Let’s go eat before she decides we’re both too skinny and starts force-feeding us.”
Sunghoon followed you out of the room, glancing once more at the sleeping toddler.
────────────────────────
The four of you sat around the small kitchen table, your dad pouring more makgeolli into his cup, while your mom fussed over whether Sunghoon had eaten enough rice. The overhead light cast a golden hue over everything.
“So, Sunghoon,” your dad began, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Are you still working yourself to death?”
Sunghoon let out a small laugh. “Trying not to. But yeah, it’s still busy.”
“Busy is good,” your mom chimed in, but she gave him a narrow look. “But are you eating? Sleeping? The two of you never did when you moved out and were left to your own devices.”
“Mom,” you groaned.
“Don't tell me I am wrong. And now look at the two of you. So skinny and overworked. You should eat another serving Sunghoon, you have to stay strong.”
“I go to the gym 4 days a week, Aunty. I am strong," Sunghoon said, deadpan.
Your parents started grilling him with questions you were pretty sure they already knew the answers to. It was coming from a good place and very lighthearted though. After all, Sunghoon had practically grown up in this kitchen so it was a given they wanted to hear from the man himself where he was now in life. You couldn’t count how many times he’d skipped out on dinners at his own house to crash yours instead.
He answered patiently, a bit sheepish but not uncomfortable. You could tell he didn’t mind it, really. Not here.
By the time your dad had moved on from work questions to retelling the same story about your high school prank war for the third time, Sunghoon had finally settled deeper into his seat.
His sleeves were rumpled now. He’d unfastened the top button of his shirt at some point and rolled his shoulders back, laughing at something your mom had said about his childhood appetite. The tight line at the edge of his jaw had softened. His posture was less perfect. He looked younger.
You couldn’t stop watching him.
It wasn’t intentional, you weren’t even sure what had pulled your gaze back to him in the first place. You couldn’t stop thinking how familiar it all felt.
How natural it still was to have him here.
Like nothing had changed at all in the last ten years.
And maybe, in some ways, nothing had. Your parents still looked at him like he was the son they never had. Your mom still offered him second servings before anyone else. He still used the honorifics around your dad even though he’d been told not to twenty years ago. He still looked like the same boy who had come over three or four nights a week in high school, when his own house, despite being spotless and felt… cold. Unforgiving.
Sunghoon had always been the golden boy: top grades, varsity athlete, polite to a fault. Your teachers loved him, which was why he was able to get you and Jake out of sticky situations almost easily back when you were in highschool. He was admired by everyone. You couldn't remember a single person that didn't like him. But at home, he had never been enough.
You’d seen it yourself, how tense he got when his mother called. How he flinched slightly at praise, like it was a test he had to pass again. How he learned to be charming because being himself was never quite the right answer. You hated his mother for doing that.
He could’ve brought home the moon and his mom still would’ve asked why it had craters.
And yet your mom loved him the second you brought him home at age 5. She gave him as much food as he wanted, gave him all the attention he needed, and came to every skating event, even if his parents couldn’t make the time. She somehow managed to get off work, every time, sitting in the bleachers of those ice rinks cheering for SUnghoon together with you. She had treated him like a teenage boy deserved to be treated: not perfectly, just kindly.
He was laughing at something your dad said, his hands working though the perfectly styled hair, messing it up in the progress.
That was the version of him you fell in love with so many years back.
Not the one in suits. Not the one fielding client calls at eleven. Not the one sitting in meeting rooms with the weight of a multi-million euro deal in his jaw.
But this Sunghoon.
The one who grinned with his whole face. Who passed side dishes to your dad before being asked. Who muttered sarcastic little asides only you would catch. The one who used to steal bites from your plate and fall asleep on the living room floor with his head resting against your knee.
The version of him you thought you knew forever. The version you thought you would always have.
You were different now too, older, sharper. Always tried and always rushing. Every time you saw him now, which was admittedly only 7 or 8 times over the last months, he seemed stressed and tired.
Sunghoon looked over, just briefly, catching your eye mid-laugh.
“What?” he asked, mouth still curled into a smile.
You blinked, startled. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m digesting.”
He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, but let it go.
You glanced down at your plate, heart suddenly too full and too tired at once.
So much had changed.
And yet sitting here, in your moms kitchen, her ugly table cloth spread under your dishes and you wondered if maybe not everything had.
Just then a sharp wail echoed from the living room.
You were already halfway out of your chair. “It’s okay, I got her–”
“Y/N, sit–” your mom began, but you were already waving her off.
“I got her,” you said again, grinning as you darted out of the kitchen. “My favorite niece is calling for me!”
Sunghoon chuckled as you practically sprinted down the hallway.
In the living room, Gaeun’s face was red and scrunched, tiny fists balled up near her cheeks, her cry high-pitched and frantic.
You knelt beside her, scooping her up in one smooth motion, pressing soft kisses to her temple.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered, rocking her gently as you reached for the bottle your mom had prepped earlier. “You’re hungry, huh?”
She latched on instantly, her cries quieting between gulps.
You sat down with her in your lap, humming softly under your breath as she fed, your hand gently stroking her soft hair.
From the hallway, Sunghoon leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching quietly.
“Impressive diagnosis, Dr. Auntie,” he said softly.
You turned to look at him, bouncing Gaeun gently. “Years of clinical experience. And also I just… really love her.”
He tilted his head slightly, watching you cradle the tiny baby. “I can tell.”
You smirked. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“I’m not,” he said, but his voice had gone quieter. Softer. “You’re just… good at this.”
You glanced down at Gaeun, who had started to calm a little, blinking up at you with watery eyes.
Sunghoon didn’t speak for a moment, he came over and lowered himself onto the sofa next to you. When he did speak again, his voice was softer than before.
“You’ve always loved kids.”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “Still do.”
He nodded slowly. Then, without looking at you:
“You used to say you wanted three.”
You laughed under your breath. “I did. I also said I wanted a dog that talks and a husband who bakes soufflés.”
He smiled at that but didn’t respond.
After a moment, you added, quieter:
“I don’t know. The older I get, the more it feels… unreachable. Like even if I wanted a kid right now, I couldn’t. I’ve spent so long working toward this career… I’m just now getting to the part where all of it might pay off.” You took a breath. “Having a baby would derail everything.”
“That’s so sad,” he said quietly. “You always wanted this.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just rocked the baby gently and let the silence stretch between you.
After a few beats you glanced at him sideways.
“How was your day?”
He groaned lightly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Oh, you know. Same circus, different set of clowns.”
You raised a brow. “That bad?”
He let out a quiet laugh. “Not even surprising anymore. I spent my whole morning fixing a report someone else screwed up, then got blamed for responding ‘too bluntly’ in an email. And someone scheduled a meeting over lunch. Again.”
“That’s cruel.”
“It should be illegal,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind the job. Honestly, I like it. I worked my ass off to get here. It’s just…some of these people make me question humanity.”
You laughed. “That bad, huh?”
He turned to you with a dry smile. “If natural selection applied to PowerPoint formatting, I’d have peace.”
You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I wrong though?”
You shook your head, a little smile playing on your lips. “No. Just dramatic.”
His tone softened then. “But really... I’m lucky. I know that. I’ve got a solid team, good salary, stability. I just wish I didn’t have to babysit full-grown adults while pretending to care about their feelings.”
You nodded slowly, gaze dropping to the baby in your lap. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It is. But…” he paused, voice dipping into something more honest. “You kinda just accept it. Like, this is what it looks like. Being a grown-up.”
You were quiet for a second.
“Yeah,” you murmured.
You both sat in silence for a bit, the baby sleeping peacefully in your arms now.
“You know,” Sunghoon said after a long moment, still gazing at the crib, “your mom… she really did take me in like a son.”
You turned to look at him.
“I don’t think I ever said it out loud, but I’m so grateful for her. And for your dad too. They’re such–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “They’re just… really good people.”
Your heart tightened a little. He wasn’t the kind of person to say things like that unless he truly meant them.
A beat passed before he added, more quietly, “And you… you’re turning out just like them, you know?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say, but before you could respond, your mom’s voice came from the hallway.
“Sunghoon-ah, my son,” she called warmly, stepping into the room in her worn slippers and a floral apron still tied around her waist. “I’m heading to bed. You should go home too, it’s getting late, you look tired.”
Sunghoon stood, his posture straightening instinctively. “Yes, of course. Thank you for having me.”
She waved him off, already moving to turn off lights and tidy a stray cushion. “Oh, don’t you worry about that! Come over more often, please, even if Y/N isn’t here.”
She paused in the doorway, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re getting too skinny again. Tell your mother to feed you properly.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll let her know.”
With a soft goodnight, your mom disappeared down the hallway, the floor creaking familiarly under her steps.
The room was quiet again, save for Gaeun’s slow breathing.
Sunghoon turned to you, his smile lopsided, softer than before. “Guess I better go before she packs me leftovers for the whole week.”
You grinned, standing to walk him to the door. “You know she probably already did.”
At the door, he slipped on his shoes and turned back toward you.
“Thanks for letting me crash dinner.”
“No worries,” you said, leaning against the frame. “You apparently needed it.”
He nodded, then paused, as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.
Instead, he gave you a little wave. “Night, Y/N.”
“Night, Sunghoon.”
The door closed with a quiet click.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway.
You looked down at Gaeun, now snuggled against your chest, fast asleep. Her tiny breaths warmed the fabric of your shirt.
After a few minutes, you brought her into your childhood room, gently lowering her into the crib your mom had set up earlier. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.
You stood there for a moment, just watching her, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the little sigh she gave as her fingers curled near her cheek.
Then, slowly, you turned and climbed into bed.
The ceiling hadn’t changed. Neither had the faint sound of cicadas outside the window or the way the floor creaked when someone walked down the hallway.
But you had.
And lying there, in the same room you used to stay up in texting Sunghoon under the covers, you felt the quiet ache of time slipping past.
So many things had changed.
And yet tonight, for just a few moments, it had felt like nothing had.
You turned onto your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder, your gaze drifting toward the crib in the corner.
“Night, Gaeun,” you whispered
────────────────────────
You were sniffling slightly when you stepped into your apartment two months later. It was quiet except for the soft clicking of claws on the hardwood floor when Luna wandered to the door to greet you. Her fur was soft against your hand, when you squatted down to pet her. “Hi love.”,you whispered and nudged her head against your palms, purring loudly. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath before standing up again. You dropped your bag in the door, only taking out your water bottle and empty bento box. The hallway mirror catched your attention when you looked up again. Your eyes were puffy, skin pale, your once neat braid now slipping out of its tie and clinging to the back of your neck.
Jaemin was right, you did get 4 days off, but you did hate yourself a bit. Five nightshifts in a row was almost as bad as it got, but you got to spend your time in the NICU so it was even worse. You were used to the intensity of the NICU, as it was one of the stations you worked most frequently, but today had just been a horrible shift. You lost two babies. Both were premature and it was almost clear from the start that their tiny bodies were too weak to fight for long. You had been the one to talk with the parents.
You hated that part most. Hated the way their faces crumbled when they realized what you were about to say, how it somehow had gotten to be so normal for you that the words weren’t stuck in your throat anymore, how you now had enough experience with grieving families to stay professional.
Your stomach growled loudly and you groaned because you knew you wouldn’t have time to eat anything. Jay would be here in less than thirty minutes and you still had to shower and finish up packing the rest of your clothing. You figured you could ask him to stop at a rest area on the way and get something to eat and a coffee there. Afterall, the others wanted to hike today so kaffeein sounded reasonable to keep you awake.
You rolled your shoulders back and padded to the bathroom. Setting the water to the coldest temperature you could bear, you quickly washed off the hospital. You didn’t even bother applying makeup or properly styling your hair, only blowdrying it.
You said yes to this trip because everyone kept telling you it would be good for you. A break. A reset. But right now, standing barefoot and with wet hair in your bedroom, the idea of spending four days around people felt more overwhelming than comforting and refreshing.
You got dressed anyway. Jay would be there soon, and he was punctual to a fault, even at 7:30 am.
You pulled on a random hoodie that was draped over your chair and sank down on your bed for a second. The hoodie still faintly smelled like Kai, who had borrowed it to you after you forgot to bring a jacket to the library and he had insisted you wear it on your way home to avoid getting sick. You really should text him again.
For a second you thought about calling your mom, telling her how or anyone you were just tired and wanted to sleep, how you wanted to come home to her having cooked lunch, how you just wanted to spend time with her but it was early and she always rushed through morning phone calls with too many things on her plate. Your dad would probably be mid-surgery prep, he was the one who understood you the best at the moment, having gone through this exact process already. Yunjin would understand, or pretend to, but you’d see her in a few hours. You didn’t want to drop all of this on her before the trip even started.
And Jaemin had been running on empty lately too. He and Jeno were going through a rough patch at the moment, with Jaemin spending his time working or studying, just like you were. It was hard for other people to understand, the constant pressure to be working perfectly and Jeno wanted to get at least a bit of his boyfriend's attention and time, which Jaemin just couldn’t offer right now.
At least the cats were here.
Lucy had followed you from the bathroom. The second you laid back, she jumped onto the bed and curled up beside your hip like a small, warm stone. The other two weren’t far behind, hopping onto the foot of the bed and stretching out without a care in the world.
You reached out and gently scratched behind Luks ears. The silence of the apartment settled around you, soft and heavy. You closed your eyes for a second, trying not to think about the hospital or the certification. Just anything else.
You stayed there, curled up with your cats, waiting for your body to gather just enough energy to stand again. You still had to pack. Jay would be here soon. You’d feel better once you hit the road and were under people again. Being alone never did you any good.
A few minutes after you finished packing the rest of your clothing and fed the cats. You grabbed a mask and a cap, anything to make your puffy face feel a little less exposed, slung your laptop bag over one shoulder and wheeled your small suitcase out the door.
The elevator was empty on your way down.
Jay’s car pulled up a few minutes later. You straightened a little as he stepped out, smiling that big, comforting Jay-smile that hadn't changed since high school. His girlfriend was in the passenger seat, stretching backwards to hand Haneul, who was sitting in a booster seat, a piece of apple. Sunghoon sat next to her in the middle seat. He waved at you and you plastered on a tired smile.
“Hey,” Jay said as he popped the trunk. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” you murmured, lifting your suitcase in before he could. “I came straight from the hospital.”
He blinked. “You serious?”
You shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Did you work a night shift?”, he asked while closing the trunk door.
“Man, I worked five nightshifts in a row for this trip. Just to see all of you losers.”, you joked as you followed him around the car, sliding into the seat next to Sunghoon. Before you could greet any of the others Haneul screeched: “Kitty!”
“Kitty?”, you said, blinking at her and then Sunghoon, who was looking at the toddler with an equally confused face.
“Kitty!”, she just said again and pointed at you.
“Oh.”, Sunghoon laughed lowly, “On your hoodie.” He gestured to the two cats that were printed on the front of your hoodie. “She really loves cats.”
“Oh.”, you said and smiled at the child, “Yeah kitties, you’re right Haneul.”
Sunghoons whole side was pressed into yours in the tight space of the backseat of the car.
“Good morning Y/N,” he said softly.
“Hi,” you answered just as softly as you adjusted your bag in your lap.
“Y/N, this is Seol,” Jay’s girlfriend turned around from the front, a warm smile on her face.
“Nice to meet you,” you said quickly.
“Yeah! It’s so nice to finally meet you as well! I’ve been told a lot about you by the rest.”, she said and laughed gently.
“Only good stuff I hope!”, you nudged Sunghoons shoulder with yours.
“Nah I exclusively told her about how you are an awful cook and are obsessive about cleaning and hate chicken.”, he shrugged and smirked.
“Okay Seol. Those are lies and he is exaggerating. I can cook decently and he is just as obsessive with cleanliness!", you exclaimed and punched him this time.
Everyone laughed and Jay threaded the car into the morning traffic.
“Is it okay with you if I sleep a bit? I just came from a nightshift and I am really tired.”, you asked shyly after a while.
“Oh no no. Just sleep, we will wake you when we are there.”, Jay said and lowered the volume of the radio, which was currently playing kids songs.
“Okay, thank you,” you nodded and rested your head against the cold window.
────────────────────────
You stirred as the car slowed to a stop, the rumble of the tires on gravel pulling you halfway out of sleep. A moment later, a hand brushed your shoulder and gently nudged you awake. You blinked one eye open.
“Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly. “We’re at a rest stop. Do you wanna stretch, pee, get something to eat?”
You squinted at him, brain lagging behind. “Mhm,” you mumbled, not even sure what you were agreeing to.
He huffed a quiet laugh, and the sound made you smile for a split second before your eyelids slid shut again.
“I’ll get you something,” he said under his breath, already maneuvering himself out of the car. You caught a glimpse of him awkwardly twisting his long legs past Haneul’s booster seat on the other side before the door shut with a thud.
The warmth of his body left with him.
You must’ve dozed off again, because the next thing you knew, the door creaked open, cool air slipping inside. Then something cool and plastic pressed lightly against your arm.
“Hey.” His voice was closer this time. “Here.”
You blinked up at him, disoriented. Sunghoon was standing just outside the car, holding out a plastic container and a bottle of water. His hair was a little messy from the wind, his sleeves pushed up.
“Will you let me in? I really don’t feel like climbing over Haneuls seat again”, he said, shaking his head.
You groaned. “Ugh. Yeah. Gimme a sec.”
You unbuckled your seatbelt and made your way outside of the car, taking the bowls and the bottles Sunghoon was holding. He climbed in and waited for you to hand him your breakfast back before returning to your original position.
He handed over the lower plastic container. The lid was already cracked open slightly. It was an acai bowl. The same one you used to get back in med school when you had early study mornings. He bought them every time he went grocery shopping, picking out the bananas for you, because he knew you didn’t like them. You glanced down. No banana slices, not a single one. His bowl had what looked like an excessive amount of bananas inside.
You didn’t say anything. Just swallowed quietly and dug the spoon in.
The car started rolling again, Jay humming along to some pop song on the radio, and Haneul giggled as Sunghoon tried to open her triangle gimbap without tearing the nori apart. You ate slowly. The fruit was tart and cold, the granola soft but still sweet. It settled your stomach a little. When you were done, you capped the empty container and leaned forward, slipping it down onto the floor near your feet.
“Thanks,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded again.
Sunghoon gave a small hum of acknowledgment, still focused on cleaning sticky rice off Haneul’s fingers with a napkin.
You let your head fall back against the seat, eyes drifting shut again. You didn’t notice when your head tilted to the side, bumping softly against the firm line of Sunghoon’s shoulder.
────────────────────────
“Y/N,” a voice said softly near your ear. “We’re here.”
You blinked awake, your vision was slow to adjust as you realized your head was resting on something warm.
Oh no.
You jerked upright, barely catching yourself with your hand against the door. Sunghoon’s shoulder was right there, where your cheek had been. Heat rose fast in your chest and flushed up your neck.
“I- ” you stammered, brushing hair out of your face, “sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
He just laughed quietly, unclipping his seatbelt. “You were dead asleep. It’s fine.”
“But I-seriously, I didn’t realize I-”
“Y/N.” He looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up and get out. We both know you needed the sleep and I was not about to wake you because you used me as a pillow. ” He slid out of the seat with practiced grace and stretched his arms out. “I would have if you drooled on me tho.”
You nodded, flustered and still not fully awake, but you managed a muttered, “Right. Okay. Thanks.”
Outside, the mountain air was noticeably cooler than the air in Seoul. The morning fog hadn’t lifted completely yet, and the gravel crunched as you all moved toward the house you rented. Haneul was skipping ahead to Seol, her tiny backpack bouncing with every step.
The house was bigger than you expected. It was a two-level cabin-style place with warm wooden siding and wide windows.
The house had enough rooms for each couple…and one for you and Sunghoon. Yunjin and Ningning both offered to room with you while Sunghoon slept in their room with Heeseung or Taesung. You declined, not wanting them to be forced to sleep in a room with you when they could be spending time with their partners just because you might feel a bit awkward. For the record you were feeling a bit awkward but this was also the ninth or tenth time you saw Sunghoon after breaking up. But not awkward enough to switch rooms, that's for sure.
You followed, a step behind Jay and Sunghoon, your own suitcase rolling quietly over the gravel. At the base of the staircase, Sunghoon paused again and turned halfway to you. His voice was lower this time, not as even. “Um. You want me to carry yours up?”
You blinked. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”
He nodded once and started up the stairs with your suitcase anyway, the quiet creaking under his steps the only sound for a moment. The hallway upstairs was lined with doors, the floorboards creaking softly under your steps. Sunghoon led the way, peeking into rooms, mumbling under his breath about finding the one with two beds. When he finally found it at the end of the hall, he stepped aside so you could see inside.
"Looks like this is us," he said, nudging the door open.
Two single beds, pushed against opposite walls, faced each other. A shared dresser stood between them, and soft afternoon light filtered in through gauzy curtains. You stepped in and dropped your backpack on the closest bed with a sigh.
“Man,” you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and letting yourself fall face-first into the mattress, “I’m so tired I might actually cry.”
Sunghoon let out a low chuckle behind you, the familiar sound making your shoulders unclench just a little.
“Then sleep,” he said, dropping your suitcase beside the dresser and his own against the far wall. “No one’s gonna judge. We’ve all been in the car for hours, and you came straight from work.”
You rolled onto your back with a groan, one arm over your eyes. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just power through.”
“Y/N,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Sleep. I am not dealing with a grumpy you just because you want to prove a point.”
You cracked one eye open and squinted at him. “I’m not grumpy.”
He gave you a look. “Y/N.”
“What?”
“Sleep.”
You huffed and repeated yourself. “I’m not grumpy.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Right. You’re worse than a toddler.”
Your jaw dropped. “Liar.”
“I’ve dealt with an actual toddler. Extensively. Believe me. I know the signs.”
You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head. “You absolute menace.”
He caught it midair, smug as ever. “I lived with you for almost seven years. You were sleep-deprived for at least four of them.”
“Exactly, and I was very pleasant.”
“You were a hazard.”
You squinted at him. “Say that again and I’ll smother you with your pillow tonight.”
He just laughed, tossing the pillow back at the foot of your bed. “If you don’t sleep, I swear I’ll lock you in this room and take your phone and laptop with me.”
You stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.”
He raised a brow. You narrowed your eyes. Then flopped back down dramatically with a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
“That’s what I thought.”
You rolled onto your side, hugging the pillow. “Maybe I was a toddler. But you still loved me.”
There was a pause.
“Shut up and sleep.”, he threw the pillow back at you and it hit your back with a dull thud.
You smiled into the blanket, smug despite the exhaustion. “That’s what I thought.”
“Seriously, Y/N. If you don’t pass out in the next five minutes, I’m calling your attending and request sedation.”
But you didn’t argue further. You curled up properly, pulling the blanket over your shoulder and tucking your legs in. The bed was soft and smelled faintly of laundry detergent and cedarwood. The last thing you registered before sleep pulled you under was the quiet creak of the door as Sunghoon stepped back out.
────────────────────────
You had no idea how much time had passed when you felt the full weight of another person slam onto you.
“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty.”, Jake whispered in your ear.
“Jake,” you groaned, voice muffled into the pillow. “Get off me.”
“I missed you too,” he said cheerfully, wiggling around on top of the blanket and fully ignoring your attempt to shove him off. “Congrats, you’ve been selected for a special mission.”
“What,” you grunted, “the hell are you talking about?”
“Grocery run,” he said, as if this was the most exciting thing ever. “You, me, and our favorite law nerd.”
You pried your eyes open. “Jake. Move your fat ass.”
“No can do,” he sang, “not until you confirm your participation.”
You growled something unintelligible and tried to sit up anyway, managing to half-shove him off as you groggily blinked around the room. It was brighter now, early afternoon, probably.
You felt puffy-eyed, warm, and absolutely not ready to deal with Sunghoon or Jake or any decision-making.
Still, you sighed, stretched, and got up.
“We were picked in a fair game of rok paper and scissors and Yunjin lost for you. So we’re going to emart.”, Jake grinned and watched how you tried to shake yourself awake.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Jake grinned and clapped like a seal. “Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty.”
────────────────────────
The glass doors slid open with a cheerful chime, and you immediately veered off to grab a shopping cart.
"Okay, let’s be efficient and quick," you began, only to slow down as you reached the ramen aisle. "Actually… should we grab some for Heeseung?"
Jake perked up immediately. “Oh yeah, let’s goooo.”
Sunghoon groaned behind you. “God, not again. This is gonna be just like that trip to Sokcho, isn’t it? Where you and Heeseung lived off Shin Ramyeon and triangle kimbap for three straight days?”
Jake grinned. “Those were elite meals.”
You snorted, grabbing a couple packs. “You two are actual menaces. There’s a toddler on this trip now. No one’s living off processed soup. I will feed her and anyone else who might want to participate healthy and nutritious meals.”
Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “Y/N is right. We have to be responsible adults now.”
Jake blinked. “You literally bought Haneul cereal with marshmallows inside.”
“Okay, and?” Sunghoon raised a brow. “I was totally planning on having an overly excited two year old running through my flat.”
You whacked the handle of the cart gently with your hand. “I swear to god, if either of you tries to feed Haneul overly processed sweet cereal on this trip i will murder.”
“She liked it!” Jake argued.
“She’s two!” you shot back, exasperated. “of course she would like Lucky charms!”
The three of you kept bickering your way through the aisles, Sunghoon and Jake tossing in snacks and frozen dumplings while you tried your best to balance out their food choices with fresh produce and at least two kinds of leafy greens.
Eventually, as you neared the checkout, Sunghoon slowed near a display stacked with colorful plushies and plastic toys.
“Ha-neul would love this,” he said, reaching for a giant bubble wand shaped like a bunny, which apparently made fairy noises when used.
“Nope,” you warned, grabbing the cart tighter. “Absolutely not. Put it down.”
“But–”
“Sunghoon.”
“She’d be so happy–”
“She’d also swing that thing like a sword and decapitate one of us.”
“Honestly, I’d accept it,” Jake said, nodding solemnly. “I’ve lived a full life.”
You sighed. “You two are impossible.”
Sunghoon, completely ignoring your scolding, tossed the wand back dramatically like a child denied his favorite toy. “You’re no fun.”
“And you,” you said, pointing at him with a cucumber, “want us to not be able to sleep cause Jay's already very loud and energetic toddler has a very loud and annoying toy, Sunghoon.”
Jake just laughed, loading the conveyor belt with ramen packs.
────────────────────────
“You holding up okay?”
You were slumped a little in the back seat, elbow propped against the window only paying half paying attention to their conversation. “Dude,” you said, rubbing at your eye, “I am so tired. I’ll probably go to bed before Haneul tonight.”
Jake laughed a little and Sunghoon piped in: “She fell asleep in the car and snored.”
You shot him a look so sharp he should’ve bled. “Okay, stop.”
He raised his hands in faux innocence, grinning. “Just saying.”
You groaned and pointed accusingly at both of them. “Sunghoon snores like a fucking chainsaw and Jake, you do too. So if I might have quietly snored a little after crying my eyes out because I had to tell two parents their baby died–” Your voice cracked for half a second, and then you snapped your mouth shut, looking out the window. “I get a pass. Okay?”
It was silent for a long moment.
“Yo, what the fuck,” Jake said softly.
You didn’t look back at them. “Let’s just not talk about it, yeah?”
There was another beat of silence, filled only by the soft sound of the radio playing another overplayed song. You really wanted to change the topic, Jake and Sunghoon would definitely never not talk about it so you had to distract them somehow.
“You know what,” you said, reaching for Sunghoon's phone, which was resting on the middle console, “This radio channel is shit I will now be the DJ of our ride.”
Sunghoon gave you a side glance. “I won’t listen to any of your musical songs right now. I can’t handle Hamlet while driving a car full of idiots.”
“That’s because you have zero taste,” you shot back, unlocking his phone. His pin hasn’t changed since high school, it was his sister's birthday. “We’re going full nostalgia today.”
Jake perked up. “Like, high school bangers?”
“Exactly.”
You scrolled through your old shared playlist, the one you all made back in your second year. A beat later, the opening notes of Hello by Joy filled the car, and you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face as you cranked the volume up.
“Oh no,” Sunghoon muttered. “Turn it down before you break a window.”
You ignored him and immediately began singing along.
“You’re throwing off my depth perception,” Sunghoon complained over the music. “I can’t see with you murdering the melody like that.”
“Oh really?” you leaned forward slightly, singing louder now and way off-key on purpose “Hellooooo~”
Jake wheezed but joined in.
“I’m pulling over,” Sunghoon threatened, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to get us arrested for noise pollution. Turn the music down at least a bit Y/N.”
“I can’t do that,” you said and shook your head, “but I can switch to the next song!”
The moment Jake heard Twenty-three start playing, he perked up.
“No way,” he grinned, mouth still full of seaweed chips. “Turn that up even more.”
You obliged. Sunghoon groaned audibly. “Absolutely not.”
Too late. You and Jake launched into the chorus at full volume, harmonizing terribly on purpose.
“I’m twenty-three, I’m a riddle~” you sang, leaning toward Sunghoon with a smug grin. “Try to figure me out, boy~”
Jake chimed in with a falsetto, “But you still won’t get itttt~!”
Sunghoon had his head resting against the steering wheel at a red light. “I’m going to crash this car on purpose.”
“Oh, come on,” Jake laughed. “You love us.”
“I used to,” Sunghoon muttered. “Before you both decided to assault me with IU.”
You turned around in your seat, eyes squinting like a grandma. “You used to like this song. You said it was genius lyricism, remember?”
“I was young and stupid.”
────────────────────────
The house was buzzing when the three of you returned. Everyone had already changed into hiking gear, sneakers laced and backpacks slung over shoulders.
“You’ve got ten minutes to change, my loves!”, Yunjin said instead of a greeting when the three of you arrived back.
You groaned playfully. “We’re not even allowed to sit down first?”
“Nope,” Heeseung said, tossing a protein bar at you. “Fuel up and get moving, we don’t wanna miss the sunset.”
Jake was already halfway up the stairs, so you trudged up behind him with Sunghoon following suit. When you pushed into your room, you headed straight for your suitcase, searching for the leggings and the hoodie you brought for going on a hike.
Sunghoon stood awkwardly near the door for a second, “Uh, I’ll just use the bathroom, give you a minute to–”
You cut him off without even looking up. “Sunghoon, you’ve seen me naked like… many, many times.”
He froze.
You tugged out a hoodie and looked up with a raised brow. “In the last two years, not much changed aside from maybe me gaining some weight. Just turn around and change. Even if you peek, I don’t really care.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, already pulling off Kai's hoodie over your shoulders.
Sunghoon turned around and reached for his suitcase.
You both changed in mostly silence. Mostly, because you started muttering curses under your breath when your sock got stuck in the corner of the suitcase and Sunghoon, still facing the wall, chuckled.
“I heard that,” he said.
“Great. I am glad your ears haven’t lost their function in the last ten minutes.”
────────────────────────
This was a mistake.
You were maybe thirty minutes into the hike and already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment. The incline was steeper than you remembered from Yunjin’s very casual description of the hike, and your thighs were burning. Your hoodie stuck uncomfortably to your back, your water bottle was nearly empty and you still had almost an hour to go, if not more.
You tugged your cap down further, wiping your sweat-slicked forehead with the back of your hand. You were never really a athletic person and considering you’re spending your time studying or working, this ‘small hike up the hill’ was a bigger workout than you anticipated. “Who the hell thought walking uphill for two hours to eat dinner was a good idea?” you muttered mostly to yourself.
Sunghoon glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. He was only a few steps ahead, walking backwards now with infuriating ease.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to see more green.”
“I meant, like. Spinach in my rice. Not trees around me.”
You huffed and slowed a bit more. Your calves were screaming. This was not what people with four night shifts behind them should be doing. You should be home sleeping or studying, not sweating through your hoodie and trying not to trip over exposed roots.
Sunghoon waited at a bend in the path, hands on his hips. “You okay?”
You gave him a flat look. “Do I look okay?”
“Honestly?” He tilted his head. “You look like you’re about to just lie down on the floor and wait until someone is going to pick you up, like Haneul just did.”
You snorted. “I’m wasting precious study time to walk around trees, Park. I have fetal monitoring notes to memorize. Placenta slides to cry over. Meanwhile, I’m out here, climbing hills.”
He laughed. A real, full laugh that pulled his shoulders up and crinkled his eyes.
“Want me to carry you like the toddler you are?” he offered, already half-turning like he might actually mean it. You knew he could and would if you asked.
You waved him off. “Absolutely not. If I’m dying, I’m dying with dignity.”
“Noted.” But he slowed down anyway, matching your pace without a word as the rest of the group drifted further ahead.
────────────────────────
The hike was worth it. The view was ridiculous.
Golden light spilled over the horizon, washing the mountains in soft warmth and making the little patio of the restaurant glow like something out of a movie. The food was incredible, grilled meat, fresh vegetables, jjigae bubbling in the middle of the table.
You leaned back in your chair, a half-full bowl cradled in your hands, and watched the others laugh.
Heeseung and Ningning were teasing Yujin’s boyfriend, who looked overwhelmed but pleased. Jake was narrating a story about a ski trip you did a few years ago to Seol, while Jay kept adjusting the tiny blanket wrapped around Haneul’s shoulders where she was now curled up asleep in his lap, her tiny face smushed against his chest.
You felt something crack a little inside your chest.
This was the sort of evening you used to dream about. Group trips with the people you loved most.
You used to think… you’d bring your kid along. You always dreamed of having kids early, to raise them with your chaotic group of friends, just like Jay had.
You blinked slowly, staring down into your bowl of rice.
You really should have been there. You should have taken the time out of your schedule when it wasn’t as stressful as it was now to stay in contact with your friends, to see Haneul grow up. To help Jay whenever he struggled. For god sake if someone knew how to handle kids, or well new borns, it was you. But you felt so guilty that you couldn’t even look Jay in the eyes.
You hadn’t meant to drift so far away. You just… kept choosing work. Kept telling yourself there’d be time later. That after the internship, after year one, after the shift change, after this week of nightshifts… But the weeks had somehow stretched into years.
You looked up, eyes flicking across the table. Jay was murmuring something to his girlfriend, brushing a bit of rice off Haneul’s cheek. He looked happy.
You cleared your throat and reached for the water pitcher, blinking hard.
────────────────────────
Back at the house, everyone slowly said goodnight one after another, apparently drained from the hike up to the restaurant. You moved on autopilot, brushing your teeth, tying your hair up in a sloppy braid, pulling a hoodie over your tank top. Sunghoon was already in bed when you slipped back into the room.
The air in the room was warm, a little stuffy, but somehow very familiar. A faint mix of detergent and something you couldn’t name but had always been his. Just... him.
“Goodnight,” you mumbled, tugging your phone charger to your side of the room.
“Night,” he said, his voice already thick with sleep. And not five minutes later, his soft, uneven snore rumbled gently through the quiet.
You laughed under your breath. He always snored when he was dead tired.
But somehow you weren’t even close to being dead tired.
You laid there, eyes open, staring at the slats in the ceiling. Your blanket was bunched at your waist, legs too warm to be under it, arms too cold to be free. The soft rise and fall of Sunghoons breath should have been comforting, it always was when you couldn’t sleep, but all it did today was echo in your chest. Usually if you couldn’t sleep and Jaemin was home you would have slithered into his bed and tried to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat or his breathing, but you really didn’t want to ask your ex to cuddle you because you couldn't sleep.
God, the whole room smelled like him. That was unfair.
You gave up just before 2am.
Silently, carefully, you slid out of bed, grabbed your iPad from the tote near the door, and crept into the hallway.
The house was quiet. Not the hospital quiet you were used to, filled with beeping and heavy footsteps, but real quiet.
You made your way into the main room and curled up in the corner of the couch, dragging your hoodie sleeve over your hands to warm them. With a sign you opened anki and tried to focus.
Somewhere around half an hour later, your phone buzzed.
Jaemin:
The restaurant looks really good. How did they get you to hike up there tho?
You huffed out a soundless laugh.
You:
It’s 2:37.
Why are you alive.
Jaemin:
Nightshift.
And I’m on break.
Why are YOU alive.
You:
Can’t sleep.
Again.
Brain won’t turn off.
So i am studying.
Jaemin:
Of course you are.
You absolute gremlin.
If you are still active on anki when i take my next break ill come to that house and steal your electric devices!
You in fact were still active on anik when Jaemin had another break at 4:30 am but decided not only because he was scolding you, but also because you finally felt exhausted, to sleep.
────────────────────────
The floor creaked under your weight when you tiptoed back into your room. Sunghoon stirred as you slid into your bed again, but didn’t wake up.
You weren’t sure what woke you, the creak of the door, maybe, or the sudden burst of cold air against your legs when the blanket shifted, but the next thing you registered was a high-pitched squeal:
“Uncle Sunghoon!”
You heard the thud of a small weight launching itself onto Sunghoons bed, followed by the sound of tiny feet thumping against the mattress and Sunghoon’s very quick, very groggy, “Shhh, hey. Haneul, not so loud. Shhh.”
You blinked your eyes open slowly. The light in the room was already too bright for how little sleep you’d gotten. Your head ached dully behind your eyes and your limbs felt like lead, every cell protesting the idea of being awake.
Still, a part of you couldn’t help the soft pull at your mouth when you saw Haneul crawling over the covers, tugging at Sunghoon’s sleeve.
“Aunt Y/N is still very sleepy so we have to be very quiet, okay?”, he asked her while sitting up and pulling the giggling toddler into a hug.
“Breakfast”, she said with a bit too much enthusiasm into her pacifier, only to be sushed by Sunghoon again.
“Let’s get some breakfast for you and let Aunt Y/N sleep, huh Haneul? Is that fine for you?”
The toddler nodded enthusiastically and clinged to Sunghoon's upper body when he untangled himself from his blankets.
You didn’t say anything, just pressed your cheek into the pillow and let your eyes close again, heart catching strangely at the sound of Sunghoon’s voice speaking for you.
The door clicked softly shut behind them.
────────────────────────
When you woke up again, it was well past ten.
It was quiet. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes harshly before making your way into the bathroom on the hallway. It was cold inside, someone left the window open after showering. Soft morning light filtered into the room while you washed your face and brushed your teeth.
The floor creaked faintly when you shuffled into the kitchen. It smelled like food and your stomach grumbled loudly when you saw the plate of fried egg and toast on the counter. A stickynote was glued to the waterbottle next to it: “We took Haneul to the petting zoo! Didn’t want to wake you, you looked exhausted. We’ll be back around lunch. Text if you need anything ♡”
You stared at the note for a moment, rubbing at the sleep still clinging to your face. They left without you.
You reached for the note.
Somehow you were glad that they let you sleep in but you were missing out.
Again.
Even though you finally had the time to actually come along. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts quickly, they meant well. And them not being there until lunch meant you could maybe be a bit more productive than last night.
After a long warm shower you actually styled your hair for once, curling the edges slightly and bundled yourself up to go down to the city.
The air outside was crisp and smelled like rain when you took a deep breath through your nose. You wandered without much direction, letting your feet carry you past a few small shops before finding a little cafe tucked between two houses. Its windows were fogged up and it seemed like half of the town was squeezed into the little space.
The bell above the door chimed quietly when you made your way in. A couple sitting near the window stood up the moment you entered so you settled into their seat as soon as they gathered their used cutlery. You ordered a coffee and one cookie and pulled out your Ipad. You almost didn’t notice the waitress returning with your order, already flipping through your notes. It was almost embarrassing how much comfort you found in pharmacology charts.
Almost an hour later you took a toilet break and used the chance to look at your phone.
Yujin:
where u at?? we're back!!!
You smiled a little and typed back a short reply:
Y/N
At a café. I didn’t feel like staying in the house alone.
Thanks for letting me sleep in
Yujin:
No worries.
It was boring anyway.
There were like 3 sheeps and a fuck ton of mud.
Haneul was excited tho so it’s whatever
She is napping rn and we’re gonna nap as well. She woke the whole house up at 7 am.
What do you wanna eat for Lunch later? Jay is cooking
Y/N
Yikes.
I don’t really care.
Text me when you wake up, I’ll come back to the house <3
Yujin:Will do <3
Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty, before someone tapped your shoulder. You glanced up, expecting it to be the waitress. But when you turned around it wasn’t the waitress, it was Sunghoon.
His hair was slightly tousled from the wind and he was holding up two cups, wearing that same quiet smile you’d seen on him a hundred times before. One that was more eyes than mouth.
"Hey," he said, setting the drinks down before sliding into the seat across from you.
You blinked. “Hi Sunghoon. What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said shrugging. “And I have to work a bit. One of my clients has been sending me emails nonstop. So I figured I could join you.”
“I-uhm- sure,” your gaze dropped to the cup he placed in front of you. It was Yuja tea. Your favorite.
He leaned back in his chair, unzipping his laptop bag. “I swear this client is causing me to grow gray hair prematurely,” he said casually.
You huffed a soft laugh, watching as he opened his laptop. “I know a good hair dresser that could help out with that.”
“Thank you Y/N. I’ll come back to that in a few years.”, he just chuckled.
You stared at him for a second longer than you should’ve before shaking yourself out of it and turning back to your tablet. “I’m sure it will be sooner than later if you can’t catch a break even on a vacation day,” you murmured without thinking.
He glanced at you, eyes crinkling. “Look at who’s talking.”
You didn’t reply, just hummed and pouted at him.
You were halfway through your second set of flashcards when Sunghoon asked, voice soft but curious, “Did you sleep alright?”
You leaned back a little. “Yeah. Thanks for saving me from the Haneul alarm clock, by the way.”
That made him laugh quietly. “You owe me big. She was already so energetic at 6 am, I barely managed to keep her from waking up the whole house. Jay the traitor sent her to us cause he wanted to continue sleeping.”
You raised your brows. “He sent her to us? Why that? How did you manage to keep her quiet?”
“Bribery,” he said immediately. “I promised her the chocolate bread Yujin brought if she let you sleep. And that kid loves me. I am officially the favourite uncle so it's just logical.”
You smiled behind your cup. “You’re a real hero.”
“I know,” he said dramatically, then lowered his voice. “Honestly though, I don’t get how she has that much energy.”
You snorted. “Probably from her mom. Minhee was a morning person afterall. And I mean don’t complain you used to wake me up at the crack of dawn when you went out for a run.”
He gave you a look. “Please. Just cause you’re lazy and an evening person, I don’t have to be.”
“Still am,” you said with a grin. “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging,” he said, mock-serious. “I’m just saying I’ve seen you do night shifts on nothing but Coke Zero and mint gum. And suffer when having to go to a morning shift even though you slept a whole 8 hours.”
You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “I function just fine, thanks.”
He hummed like he didn’t believe you, then went back to typing something into his laptop.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the tapping of keys and the soft hum of conversation around you.
It was strangely… familiar. The two of you, sitting in this calm pocket of the afternoon, sharing space again. Studying or working together in silence. ────────────────────────
Almost two hours later Jake called Sunghoon to come back to the house. Everyone, including the actual toddler, had woken up from their nap and they were about to start cooking.
You looked up from your Ipad to look outside. Streams of rain were streaking down the foggy windows.
“Mhm,” you said, wiping the condensation from the window with your sleeve. “Looks like we are going to get a free shower.”
Sunghoon's gaze followed yours. “I think I have an umbrella in my bag. Wait a second.”
He leaned down to lift his laptop bag onto his lap. A small teddy plush was dangling from its handle.
You chuckled and reached forward to turn it into a front facing position while Sunghoon was searching around in his bag. “This is cute. Where did you get that?”
“A colleague gifted it to me for my birthday last year,” he said absentmindedly, “ah ha! Look at that. An umbrella.”
You laughed at him when he triumphantly held it up into the air. “Now nothing is stopping us from eating whatever Jay cooked!”
You both slipped your shoes on and stepped out into the drizzle. The umbrella opened with a snap, and Sunghoon tilted it slightly toward you as you huddled close, bags clutched to your chests.
After five steps, your shoulder was already soaked.
“Can you hold it higher?” you asked, trying to wedge in under the tiny canopy.
“I am holding it higher. You’re just hoarding the dry space,” he shot back, elbowing you lightly.
“Oh, please. I’m sacrificing my entire back right now.”
A gust of wind caught the umbrella from underneath, flipping it slightly and splashing a cold stream of water down both your necks. You shrieked.
You shoved him gently with your shoulder, nearly knocking him into a puddle. “Maybe if you worked out less, there’d be more room under here.”
He snorted. “Don’t blame the broad shoulders. You yourself said my arms are delectable, if i might remind you.”
“I did!”, you said, pressing your side closer into his, “but I didn’t know the consequences of you having a beautiful back and arms would be me being drenched in rain.”
By the time you made it back to the house, your jeans were clinging to your legs, your hair was stuck to your cheeks, and the only dry things were your laptop bags.
You both stopped in front of the door and stared at it.
“Please tell me you have a key,” you said, already knowing the answer.
Sunghoon patted his soaked pockets uselessly. “It’s inside. I didn’t think we’d get locked out in the wilderness.”
You rolled your eyes and reached up to jab the doorbell. From inside, you heard the muffled sound of footsteps and then the click of the lock.
The door swung open and Ningning blinked at you both, horrified.
“Jesus Christ, what did you do?”
Without missing a beat, you shrugged. “Sunghoon and I decided to share a free shower.”
Ningning took one look at the sad excuse for an umbrella dripping on the porch and stepped aside. “You two are a cautionary tale.”
You walked past her with your bag clutched to your chest like a lifeline. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ning, I called dibs on being the first one in the proper shower.”
“I didn’t hear anything about dibs,” Sunghoon protested behind you.
“I made it spiritual,” you called over your shoulder. “Go dry your pretty arms somewhere else.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, kicking his shoes off.
────────────────────────
Jay had cooked enough to feed an army. The whole table was filled with plates and drinks, most of them non-alcoholic, to your surprise. Hanuel had claimed Sunghoons to be her chair of choice for the dinner.
You’d ended up on the far end of the table, half-listening to a conversation between Heeseung and Jake about whether or not a smart fridge was a worthy investment, but your gaze kept drifting. You weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.
Sunghoon had one arm loosely wrapped around Haneul to steady her, the other wielding a spoon with exaggerated precision.
“Here comes the airplane,” he said, swooping the spoon in mid-air. “It’s approaching the hangar! Landing initiated in three… two… one!”
Haneul squealed and opened her mouth wide, clapping her hands when he made a whooshing sound as the spoon “landed.”
You smiled. You just couldn’t help it.
He did it again. And again. Each time with a new variation. Rocket ship. Puppy taxi. Bubble boat. Her tiny body rocked with laughter, head thrown back as he played along, utterly unbothered by the food smeared across her cheek or the rice sticking to his sleeve.
You watched the scene unfold with something warm and gentle blooming in your chest.
It felt a bit bittersweet at the same time.
You were a stranger in a room full of uncles and aunties, despite knowing all the uncles and aunties for years, god forbid you even helped her being born, but you were never there.
You never gave her a chance to know you as auntie Y/N.
Your eyes stayed on them.
He was so at ease. Smiling, shoulders relaxed, wearing a oversized hoodie, his hair still slightly damp from his shower.
He glanced up once, catching you watching. He gave you a little wave with the spoon before turning back to Haneul.
You looked down at your plate, cheeks flushed, fingers suddenly fidgety.
Jake nudged your elbow. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
Jake hummed and you knew he didn’t believe you. You didn’t believe yourself either.
────────────────────────
After you finished eating and cleaning the dining room, the group gathered in the living room. Haneul had asked if you could watch Cinderella so the whole group decided that, ten adults should somehow squeeze onto the two sofas in front of the TV to watch Cinderella.
Someone had dimmed the lights, and you ended up tucked into one corner of the couch, knees bent, feet slipped under Yunjin’s thighs for warmth. She didn’t even blink, just handed you the end of the blanket.
Sunghoon was on the floor, his back against the couch, Haneul wrapped around him. Her small body had gone lax with exhaustion, one cheek pressed to his chest, her breathing deepening slowly halfway through the movie.
You had your kindle on your lap. You were reading one of the books you downloaded a while ago. It was something sweet and uncomplicated, the kind of story that usually soothed your overworked brain. But tonight, you couldn’t concentrate on the story at all. You signed and closed the book. Your gaze wandered through the room until it was stuck on Sunghoon again.
He wasn’t watching the movie either. His eyes were half-lidded, head tilted slightly toward the toddler, arms looped protectively around her. The flickering light from the screen caught on his lashes and jawline.
Your stomach twisted. Not sharply. Just a soft, odd pull, warm and aching all at once.
He looked good like this. You had such a weak spot for kids and seeing him holding her like that just did something to you.
You ducked your head, trying to focus on your book again. But somehow, your hands wandered. You scrolled past your current novel and opened a medical textbook.
Prenatal Cardiac Anomalies: A Diagnostic Overview.
Somehow the thought of continuing reading through your textbook felt easier than reading a romance novel right now.
────────────────────────
You were tired.
God, you were tired.
But your brain… your brain was still ticking. It didn’t matter how warm the blanket was, how silent the house had gone once everyone scattered to bed. It didn’t matter that Sunghoon was across the room, already passed out, snoring softly into his pillow.
Your eyes stayed open.
You lay there staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. Then twenty. Then maybe thirty. And still, your thoughts didn’t quiet down.
So you slipped out of bed and crept down the stairs to curl up in the armchair in the wintergarden. You told yourself you’d just review a bit more.
Just enough to stop your brain from chewing itself alive.
But ten minutes in, you were still reading the same sentence.
Something about estrogen receptor profiles.
It might as well have been written in Greek.
You read it. Then reread it. Then again.
Your fingers clenched around the edges of your iPad, frustration was simmering somewhere between your sternum and your throat. You knew this topic. You’d studied it three times already. Why wasn’t it sticking? Why did your eyes feel too dry, your brain too foggy and your heart too tight all at once?
You didn’t even hear his footsteps until a voice broke through your haze.
“Y/N?”
You flinched so hard you nearly dropped the iPad.
“Jesus,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “What the fuck, Sunghoon.”
He stepped inside, hoodie tugged over his hair, barefoot. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You gave him a look and pouted. “Maybe don't sneak on at me then.”
“Sorry,” he said, coming closer to peer onto the glowing screen. “You coming back to bed?”
You shook your head quickly. “I’m fine. I just…couldn’t sleep.”
He looked at you, brow furrowed gently. “So you decided to study?”
“I had to,” you mumbled. “I didn’t finish everything I wanted to finish today.”
“You studied like 4 hours in that cafe today, Y/N.”
“I know, but I am still behind on my plan, since I didn't do enough yesterday.”
He didn’t say anything to that just let himself sink down on the chair opposite to yours, watching you.
You tried to go back to the flashcards, but your fingers were trembling slightly now. You felt stupid. Weak. Like no amount of time would ever be enough to catch up. Like your worth was balancing on how much you crammed into your already overflowing brain. You did study for hours today, but it felt like nothing stuck. Everything you revised was gone.
“You do this often?” he asked after a while, voice quieter.
You hesitated. “Sometimes.”
“Do you always study when you can’t sleep?”
“Not always,” you murmured. “Sometimes I just… go to Jaemin’s room. Or he comes to mine. It helps. Being around someone. You know.”
He nodded slowly, eyes soft. “I get that.”
There was a long pause.
Then, wordlessly, he leaned forward and gently pulled the iPad from your hand. Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t stop him.
“You’re done for today,” he said.
“Sunghoon–”
“You’re done,” he repeated. “Come on.”
You blinked at him, heart thudding. “But I haven’t finished–”
“I know you haven’t.” His voice stayed calm. “But you look like you’re about to cry and that’s when it stops being useful.”
You stared at him for a second longer. Then finally, with a tiny exhale, you let him take your hand and pull you up. He was right, this was just a waste of time at this point.
Neither of you said anything as you padded through the hallway together. He didn’t say a word as you crawled back into your bed and turned to face the wall and finally let your eyes close.
But you knew he was still awake, laying in the bed across from you. You heard him shifting across the room, rustling his blanket in the process.
After a few moments he softly said your name.
“Y/N?”
He moved again and his bed creaked. “Would it help… if we shared one bed?”
You blinked against the darkness of the room but didn’t answer him.
────────────────────────
You came down later than usual the next morning.
The floorboards creaked under your socks as you descended the stairs, the scent of toasted bread and instant coffee already filling the air.
When you turned the corner, Sunghoon was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. His hair was slightly damp and unstyled and he looked just as tired as you felt. His laptop was in front of him, the light reflecting in his glasses and he was frowning at the screen.
“Morning,” Jake offered cheerfully, mouth half-full of toast.
You smiled faintly at him, tearing your gaze away from Sunghoon's figure. He shouldn’t be working right now, he was on vacation. “Morning.”
You moved around the kitchen on autopilot, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and grabbing a plate.
You sat down diagonally across from Sunghoon, not quite opposite, since you knew he didn’t like it when drinks stood behind his laptop. He didn’t look at you, but his foot nudged the table leg once, just enough to make the water in your glass ripple slightly and you look up. He smiled and winked at you. You just rolled your eyes and went back to your slice of toast.
Maybe you should have just said yes yesterday. You knew he didn’t sleep until he was sure you’ve fallen asleep, he never did. He was always too afraid that you would go back to studying if he slept before you did.
You did your best and fell asleep shortly after laying down, your body was apparently exhausted enough to just sleep and overpower your ever running brain in the comfort of knowing someone, of knowing Sunghoon, was there.
────────────────────────
The small market Yunjin made you go to was filled with noise and way too many people.
The air was sticky and warm in the alleyway the market was located in, thick with the scent of frying oil and sweet batter, fresh fruit and grilled meat. You weaved your way past a stall selling steamed buns, following your friends. They were trying to find the small samgyeopsal restaurant Ningning found on Naver yesterday.
You slowed down a bit to ask Sunghoon if he would like to get some tangerines for his mom. She loved tangerines, especially those from the South of the country, claiming they taste sweeter and better. Whenever you were on trips, Sunghoon and you always brought some for her.
You stopped walking when you realized he wasn't behind you anymore, and turned around to scan over the crowd of people. He was a few meters behind you, by the fish tanks, big plastic tubs filled with live octopus and silver fish darting through shallow water.
Sunghoon stood just behind the crowd, Haneul slumped against his shoulder, pacifier in her mouth, red-eyed and sniffly.
She must’ve cried recently, her face was blotchy and her nose was slightly runny. It was pressed against Sunghoon's shoulder, little hands fisted in the back of his shirt. His free hand was gently supporting her back, rocking her ever so slightly as they watched the fish dart around in the shallow water.
You frowned. Haneul had been off all morning, a bit clingier, a bit paler, her usual chatter reduced to sleepy murmurs. The market noise and heat couldn’t have been helping.
“She didn’t want to be set down,” he said when you approached, his voice quiet. “She started crying again when I tried. We even had to get out her pacifier," he grumbled, seemingly unhappy about that fact.
You stepped closer and softly reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of your finger. “Oh no, Haneulie. Don’t cry, pretty girl,” you murmured.
The toddler blinked at you, her lower lip wobbling around the pink piece of plastic in her mouth.
You turned to Sunghoon. “Do you think she’d be okay with a little sugar?”
He glanced down at Haneul, then up at you. “Sure. I’m not her dad. Why would I say no to sugar? We will just give her back to Jay if she has a sugar high.”
You laughed under your breath. “Good point. I'll be back in a second. Don't move.”
With that, you turned on your heel and started weaving through the crowd again, dodging a group of elderly women with shopping trolleys to reach the fried snack stall. You came back with three twisted dough sticks wrapped in parchment, still warm in your hands.
"Here," you said already in motion to hand Sunghoon one of the kwwaebggis, when you realized he had his hands full of a toddler, "I thought you'd like one aswell."
"Thank you, Y/N", he said and tried to lower Haneul to the ground. She made an unhappy noise and strengthened her grip on Sunghoon's Shirt.
He paused mid-motion. “Okay, okay, I got you,” he murmured, adjusting her on his hip again. “No setting you down today.”
Her head dropped against his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh through her pacifier.
“She’s really attached to you, huh?” you asked, watching them both with an amused smile as you tore off a piece of the warm kwabaegi.
Sunghoon gave a helpless little shrug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this loyalty, but I’m too scared to test it.”
You laughed softly and stepped a bit closer to the two of them. “Look what I got you,” you said softly, holding out a piece of the kwabaegi to the toddler.
She looked at it and shook her head, burying it more in Sunghoon's shoulder.
"Would you like to give me your pacifier to try? I promise it's very yummy, Haneul.", you said, offering the piece again, but she pushed it away with her tiny palm.
You ate the piece to demonstrate to her that it really is yummy. "Mhm. I really like kwabaegi, Haneul. Uncle Sunghoon does too."
He nodded and adjusted her in his arms. "You should really try one, baby. I am sure you'll feel better afterwards."
She just whined a ‘no’ again.
“Look, Haneul-ah,” you cooed, exaggerating your tone, ripping a piece of kwabaegi off and making an airplane motion towards Sunghoons mouth. “Uncle Hoonie says this is soooo yummy. Right, Uncle?”
Sunghoon’s eyes widened for a beat before he caught on. “Oh, yes. Delicious.” He leaned forward slightly and opened his mouth like a child, eyes wide and dramatic. “Mmm! So yummy!” he moaned, chewing the tiny piece you gave him like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
You snorted and ate a piece as well. “See? ”
Then you held out a small piece toward Haneul, who’d lifted her head just a little, eyes watching closely.
“Wanna try, baby?” you asked softly.
She hesitated… then grabbed her pacifier, let it fall to her shirt and opened her mouth.
You placed the kwabaegi gently on her tongue, and she blinked, chewed slowly and then reached for another piece from your hand, a clear sign of approval.
Sunghoon chuckled. “I see how it is. You trust Y/N, but not me.”
“She just knows I am the cooler one between the two of us,” you replied sweetly.
“Thats unfair and a lie. I did the dramatic chewing and everything!”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face as you broke off another bit and handed it to her. Haneul leaned forward eagerly this time, her little fingers brushing yours as she took it.
You fished a small pack of tissues out of your bag and started gently wiping the powdered sugar from the corner of Haneul’s mouth, when the three of you finished your twists. Then you handed Sunghoon the tissue while reaching for her water bottle.
“Here, have a sip,” you said, coaxing the toddler into taking a few careful gulps. She wriggled on his hip but didn’t protest much. She was already visibly more content, cheeks flushed from the heat and her earlier tears, but she was neither pouting nor asking for her pacifier so you took that as a win.
Sunghoon stood still, holding the pack of tissues in one hand and watching you quietly.
You glanced up and caught him staring.
“What?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you dabbed Haneul’s sticky fingers.
He blinked, then immediately looked away, letting out a small laugh, the awkward kind he did when he was trying to downplay something.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, taking a step back only to bump into a lady browsing dried squid behind him.
“Ah, sorry!” he murmured, half-bowing in apology, before shuffling back toward you with a sheepish wince.
You raised a brow. “Sunghoon. What was that?”
“Nothing,” he repeated, but his ears were turning red.
You didn’t drop it. “Seriously. What?”
He hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug, eyes darting to the toddler in his arms and back to you.
“It’s just… I don’t know.” His voice dipped lower. “That was really cute. You, with her.”
You blinked.
He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly regretting saying it out loud. “I mean…seeing you with kids. Your whole face just lights up. It’s…yeah. That.”
For a moment, all the noise of the market faded.
You swallowed, caught off guard by the softness of his tone, by how gently he was looking at you now.
You cleared your throat, quickly turning back to fish another tissue out of your bag, trying not to read too much into what he just said.
“Well, good thing I’m not completely useless,” you said, half under your breath.
Sunghoon smiled at that and Haneul reached forward again, tugging on your sleeve.
“Aunt Y/N… carry me?” she asked softly, rubbing her cheek against Sunghoon’s shirt.
You blinked, momentarily stunned. “Me?” you asked gently. “Oh sweetheart, I’m not nearly as strong as your uncle. I think he’s better for the job.”
Haneul frowned in protest, her bottom lip wobbling.
“But,” you added quickly, holding out your hand, “I can hold your hand while Uncle Honnie carries you, if that’s okay with you.”
She sniffled once, then nodded solemnly, her tiny fingers curling around yours.
You nodded and smiled at Haneul, who slumped back down onto Sunghoon's shoulder, again, her hand clasped in yours between you.
And when you glanced up, Sunghoon was already looking at you.
Not at the toddler, not at the path ahead. At you.
With a look so full of fondness it nearly knocked the breath from your chest.
You knew that expression. It was the same one he used to wear during study sessions in your kitchen. When you were half-asleep in your shared bed in the morning. When you’d laugh too hard at something dumb and he’d just… stare. Quietly.
Your stomach flipped, and you looked away with a soft smile
Together, with Haneul nestled between you, the three of you made your way back toward the group. And for just a second, your brain jumped to a version of you and Sunghoon where you weren’t carrying your friend's daughter, but your own.
────────────────────────
By the time you got back to the house, everyone was exhausted from hiking all day.
Haneul had refused to let go of either of you since the market. She clung to Sunghoon during the cable car ride, her tiny fingers twisted into his jacket. And when the buggy proved too slow and bumpy, she’d whined until you picked her up, only to eventually find her way right back into Sunghoon’s arms, where she dozed off on his chest for most of the walk back from the skywalk.
Now, sprawled out across the largest sofa, she lay curled into Sunghoon’s chest, half-asleep again, one small hand still gripping yours with determined force. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks pink from the sun, and her other fist clutched the sleeve of Sunghoon’s hoodie like a lifeline.
The rest of the group had put on Knowing Bros, half-watching while chatting quietly, half-dozing through the comfortable hum of the evening.
A heavy weight pressed into your side suddenly and you heard Heeseung grunt, while he tried to get comfortable in the small space between you and Ningning.
“Heeseung,” you groaned, cracking one eye open as you felt your entire side get squashed into the person on your right.
"Just continue sleeping Y/N. I'll just get comfortable here," he mumbled curling around his fiance and stealing part of your blanket you were sharing with her.
“You're stealing my space and my blanket,” you muttered, elbowing Heeseung without much force. There was nowhere to go, except closer to Sunghoon, who didn’t seem to mind when you shifted closer, pressed shoulder to shoulder now.
He didn’t say anything, just adjusted the blanket around Haneul’s little body to cover you as well and let her keep dozing on his chest.
The movie played on, and you decided you’d just keep your eyes closed. Not asleep, just letting yourself rest. You didn't want to fall asleep and miss out. You loved being with your friends, you loved how clingy Haneul was to 'Aunt Y/N' so you were simply resting your eyes a bit.
“Wow,” Jake muttered, grinning. “You two stole Jay’s kid and just… went straight back to being disgusting. Feels like high school all over again.”
Sunghoon huffed, not annoyed, but not amused either. His voice was low, careful. “Can we not do this right now? She’s finally sleeping.”
Jay chuckled. “She didn't get enough Coke Zero today.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon said. You could feel him shift, tucking the blanket tighter around you both. “She isn't sleeping at night. She comes up with us and gets ready and then an hour later goes downstairs to study. I had to talk her into going back to bed yesterday.”
There was a small pause, the only sound in the room coming from the TV.
“I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “It’s just… She’s tired.”
“She’s always tired,” Yunjin said gently. “That’s what happens when you work twelve-hour shifts and study during breaks.”
“No one would be surprised if she was burned out,” Heeseung added. “Honestly, with the way she pushes herself? She hasn’t slowed down in years.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Yunjin spoke again, her voice tinged with guilt: “I kind of hoped this trip would be a break for her. Some actual rest. Not… cramming after we all pass out.”
Your fingers curled slightly under the blanket.
You hadn’t meant for them to know. You were just trying. Trying to stay on track. Trying to not fall behind. Trying to not lose the rhythm you’d worked so hard to keep.
Sunghoon’s voice was quiet now, something resigned in it. “She just doesn’t know how to stop. She never has."
Ningning shifted beside you and whispered, “She’s gonna be okay, right?”
Sunghoon exhaled. “She’s Y/N. She’ll keep going. Even when she shouldn’t.”
You wished you could say something. Reassure them. Reassure yourself.
But instead, you curled slightly closer and let yourself feel what you usually didn’t have time to: the ache of being known and the comfort of being loved, even if it was from behind closed eyes.
────────────────────────
It was past midnight again, and the house had long since gone quiet. The others had woken you up when they got ready for bed and you followed them upstairs, bruising your teeth, washing your face and curling into your bed, trying to fall asleep again.
But sleep just wouldn’t come.
You hadn’t reviewed any of your material today. Not even one section. Not one concept. You should’ve done more.
You needed to do more.
The exam wasn’t going to wait for you to stop being tired. You knew that.
So when Sunghoon's soft snores filled the silence in your bedroom, you silently removed the thick blanket of your body and crept out of the room, hoping he would stay asleep tonight. You felt incredibly guilty for worrying them all, but there was nothing you could do, nothing would help quiet down your head but finishing what you had on your study planner for today.
The soft creaks of the old wood under your feet were the only sounds as you tiptoed downstairs.
You settled on the stairs between the living room and the winter garden, legs tucked beneath you.
You weren’t reading anything. Not really. Just staring at the same sentence for the fourth time, not even blinking.
The door creaked open and you flinched slightly.
You didn’t look up until he dropped beside you on the stairs, a water bottle in one hand, his sweatshirt pulled on backwards.
“I thought you were asleep,” you said quietly.
“I was,” he replied, voice even quieter. “Until I wasn’t.”
You both sat in silence for a minute.
Then, finally, he asked, “Do you know why this keeps happening?”
You stared at your cards, thumb brushing one edge again and again. “I can’t shut it off. My brain. It just… keeps going.”
He just nodded slowly, indicating he was listening, so you kept going.
“After we broke up,” you said, your voice low, hesitant, “I was at the hospital.”
He blinked. “Yeah, I know. You worked there even before we broke up.”
“No,” you said. “Not as an employee. I was in the ER. I fainted during my shift. They diagnosed me with burnout.”
His head turned toward you sharply. “You what?”
“In the middle of rounds,” you said softly. “One second I was standing, next thing I know, I was in a hospital bed with an IV. They said it was burnout.”
“Jesus, Y/N…” he whispered.
You gave a small, humorless smile. “I think I knew it was coming. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
His brows furrowed, his jaw tense.
“It wasn’t just the job,” you continued staring outside. “It was the exams, the night shifts, the pressure, that one asshole attending who made my life hell and still trying to be a good girlfriend and friend. Going on dates, and meeting up with the others.”
You drew a shaky breath. “And then… Minhee.”
His head turned at you but you shook your head, not wanting to look at him.
“That night…” you said slowly. “I think that broke something in me. I’ve never lost anyone before. Not like that. I mean I’ve lost patients yeah. But no one I knew personally. And then suddenly I was holding her hand while her heart stopped. Watching my colleagues trying to save Hanuel's life while her mother was dying right there.”
He closed his eyes.
You nodded. “I think everything that had been stacking up just… collapsed after that. I checked out. I barely remember the two months after.”
He opened his eyes and looked at you, raw and unguarded. “I am so sorry Y/N.”
You didn’t mean to say it, not really, but your voice came out anyway, small and rough.
“I just would’ve needed you back then.”
Sunghoon didn’t move.
You swallowed hard. “Not to fix anything. Not even to do much. Just… a little understanding. I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t care. I was drowning. Studying felt like survival, and everything else, dates, trips, even replying to texts, it felt like walking barefoot through fire.”
His voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?”
“I didn't know how to,” you said. “You were as close to burning out as I was. We barely even saw each other, and if we did, every conversation we had was around school or my residency or we fought.”
You felt him watching you.
“I’ve never stopped worrying about you,” he said eventually, voice thick. “Not once since we broke up. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, Y/N. I thought I knew you better than anyone.”
“You did, probably still do.”
“I didn’t know you were collapsing at work,” he said. “I didn’t know you were–fuck, I didn’t help. I kept pushing you to spend time with me when you clearly weren’t doing okay, and I didn’t even see it.”
“Sunghoon.” You finally turned to him. “You were going through the same thing. You were studying for your bar exam. Your internship. Your parents were on your ass about everything. You weren’t supposed to fix me.”
“I still feel like I should’ve seen it,” he murmured.
You exhaled slowly, your head tipping just enough to rest against his shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “It wasn’t mine either. It just… happened. Life just happened.”
There was a long pause until he broke the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
You didn’t lift your head. You just waited, breath held tight in your chest.
“I missed you so much,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “And I hated myself for how things ended. For how I let it get to the point where we couldn’t even talk without hurting each other.”
Your throat tightened.
“I knew you weren’t okay. Not really,” he went on, a little steadier now. “And then…then you just… disappeared. Cut everyone off like we were part of the problem. And maybe we were.” He huffed out a short breath. “I asked my mom about you a few times. But I stopped. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, you know how she is. She would’ve started preparing wedding invitations.”
You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh.
He didn’t laugh.
“I just didn’t want to believe we’d gone from everything to nothing. But I didn’t know how to reach you without making it worse. So I stayed away.”
You shifted just slightly, your hand brushing his.
“I missed you too.”
You were quiet once more, letting the sound of rain falling against the windows of the wintergarden fill the silence.
After a few minutes you spoke again.
"I think it's happening again," you said quietly, staring straight ahead. “Me burning out.”
Sunghoon hummed lightly, just enough to tell you he was listening.
You closed your eyes. “My last shift, it was NICU. We lost two babies. Two. I had to tell the parents. And I fucking hate that part. You never get used to it. How could I? Their whole world just…” You exhaled sharply. “It’s gone. And they look at you like you’re supposed to make it make sense.”
His hand found yours and he intervened your fingers, softly squeezing them.
“I love this job,” you went on, voice thinner now. “Or I used to think I did. I love the science, the surgeries, the rush of helping someone survive something impossible. But lately… I don’t know. I feel like I’m barely surviving. Like I’m pretending really hard every day. And no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”
A beat passed. Two.
Then you softly continued: “I think I just needed you back then. Even just a little. You didn’t have to fix anything. I just–” your voice caught. “I just needed someone to say I wasn’t crazy for feeling like I was drowning. That I was still me, even when I wasn’t holding it all together. Jaemin does that now. I think it's because he understands the situation I am in the best. He and his boyfriend are struggling a lot at the moment too. Will probably until we had our exam. We're selling our body and soul to work and the bar exam.”
Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. You could hear the sound of him swallowing.
“You should’ve told me,” he said eventually. “Even now. You shouldn’t be carrying this alone. I am glad you're telling Jaemin how you're feeling.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“You never were.” He turned his head toward you then, and your gazes met. “Y/N, you were right, we were both breaking back then. I think I was too scared to admit I was burning out and the fact that you weren't saying anything about overworking myself annoyed me. I saw my friends' girlfriends being attentive and making them go out on dates to distract them. I knew you were stressed, I knew it. And I was still pissed you wouldn't look after mw, when I should have probably done that for you, and should have tried fixing our relationship.”
That admission cracked something in you.
You shifted slightly, resting your forehead gently against his shoulder, your voice barely audible now. “I didn’t need you to fix anything. I'm sorry I couldn't be a good girlfriend at the time. I just–I just needed you to stay.
“I’m here now,” he murmured, squeezing your fingers again.
You nodded against him.
For the first time in years, you actually felt like crying. Your eyes burned, and you blinked aggressively, to stop your tears from falling. You weren’t going to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not again. You were over this, over him. Or at least you liked to pretend you were.
But before you could even swallow it back, you heard it, the softest of inhales, the quietest shift in posture.
You looked up.
Sunghoon had tears in his eyes.
Your breath caught. Not because you didn’t think he’d care–you knew he did. But seeing it… seeing him like that, cracked something clean in your chest.
You hit him lightly on the arm, voice a little hoarse. “You crybaby.”
His mouth twitched. “Me? Look at you, Y/N. You’ve got, like, two tears in your eyes, while I only have one. ”
You let out a half-laugh, wiping your face with your sleeve. “You’re such an idiot.”
He smiled.
The tension eased, just slightly, and he tilted his head toward the house.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go back inside. Just lie down for a bit. Fifteen minutes, max. If it doesn’t work, you can go back to your flashcards or your mad scientist scribbles or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”
You gave him a look.
“I mean it,” he said, soft but firm. “Just try.”
You hesitated. Then nodded. And let him lead the way.
You let him pull you back toward the bedroom without protest this time. The cool night air clung to your skin. Your fingers brushed as you walked up the stairs, but neither of you said anything.
Inside, the room was dim and still smelled like him, laundry detergent, something clean and woodsy, and a faint trace of his cologne.
“Can you…”, you cleared your throat, “would it be okay for you if we slept in one bed?”
“Sure,” he nodded andpulled his blanket of his bed, waiting until you climbed into yours.
When he settled beside you, it felt… natural. Not easy, not uncomplicated, but familiar in a way your body remembered even if your mind wasn’t sure how to handle it.
You shifted closer, letting your head come to rest on his chest. His arm moved around you instinctively, pulling you in just enough.
But under your cheek, you could feel his heartbeat, quick and uneven, a little too fast.
You blinked against his shirt. “Your heart’s racing.”
There was a pause, then a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m a little nervous, okay?”
You lifted your head slightly to look at him.
“I’m in bed with my ex,” he added, grinning softly. “That’s a first. Cut me some slack.”
You rolled your eyes and smacked his stomach lightly. “You’re so annoying.”
He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “And yet you still chose my bed.”
“Shut up, Park Sunghoon.”
“Alright, alright.” He held up his free hand in mock surrender, then shifted again, settling more comfortably. You closed your eyes again, letting the silence wash over you.
You weren’t sure when his fingers started moving again.
At first, you barely noticed it. Just the faintest drag of skin on skin, slow, barely-there motions on your back where your shirt had ridden up slightly.
You stayed still, breathing shallow and quiet.
But then he began tracing shapes. Letters.
You tensed slightly.
A straight line… a curve… another curve…
“H.”
Your brows knit together in the dark. He was spelling something.
“I.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. It took all your focus not to turn your head and answer.
“S-T-I-L-L.”
Still.
He paused for a second. You weren’t sure if he thought you’d fallen asleep or if he just needed a breath.
Then more.
“H-E-R-E.”
Still here.
“A-L-W-A-Y-S”
You closed your eyes. Squeezing them shut to stop them from watering again.
He kept going, slower now. His fingers drifted over your spine, across your shoulder blade, gentle and soft. He traced small hearts once. A spiral. A star. A shaky infinity sign that made your lips twitch the tiniest bit.
Your heart pulled in two directions, overwhelmed by how tender it was, and aching because it had ever stopped being normal.
You didn’t remember falling asleep. Only that somewhere between the letter R and the little loop he drew beneath your ribs, your mind finally, finally, shut up.
And this time, sleep came easily.
────────────────────────
When you woke up the next morning you were alone in bed. Sunghoon's side was still warm, so you assumed he just got out of bed a few minutes before you. You yawned and stretched yourself before making your way to the bathroom and then downstairs, where you found Jay and Sunghoon on the sofa, Hanuel curled onto Jay's chest watching bluey.
"Good morning.", you said, letting yourself fall onto the sofa next to Jay.
"Good morning Y/N."Jay greeted gently combing through his daughter's black hair.
Her face was flushed. "Is Haneul okay?", you asked and reached out to put a hand on the toddler's forehead. "She is a bit warm, isn't she."
"Yeah she got sick.", Jay mumbled looking down at her with a worried facial expression. “She woke us up twice tonight. Seol spent half of the night down here, reading and watching TV. She is sleeping upstairs now.”
“Mhm,” you said touching your and Jay's forehead, “she definitely has a mild fever. Did you bring any medication? I don’t have child approved medication on me, but I could go down to the farmacy?”
“Oh. No no, don’t worry about that. I’ll go down by myself when she wakes up again. I just don’t want her to wake up right now, she has just fallen asleep.”
“Ah Jay. It’s not a problem. Imma get Haneul the good stuff and she will be up and about in no time.”, you said, lifting yourself from the sofa. “Are the others still sleeping?”
“Yunjin and Tae are on a sunset hike and Hee and Ningning are probably still sleeping. Jake and Hyerim are doing god knows what.”, Sunghoon answered, lifting himself enough to look into your eyes. “Do you want me to come along?”
“No it’s fine, Sunghoon. Just continue being a pillow. I know my way around medications.”, you smiled at him and walked back upstairs.
────────────────────────
When you came back from the pharmacy, almost everyone was flopping around in the living room. A rerun of Hotel De Luna was running on the TV, while the others were spread across the living room. Yunjin had returned from her hike and was now tucked into a beanbag with Tae sharing her blanket, both sipping warm drinks. Ningning was sprawled across Heeseung’s lap, sleeping in a seemingly very uncomfortable position. Jake and Hyerim were talking to themselves.
The only person who looked truly awake was Sunghoon, who sat in the corner of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, hair still slightly tousled. He looked relaxed, almost peaceful.
You walked in quietly, the door clicking shut behind you. He turned toward the sound instinctively, eyes softening when they landed on you.
“Mission successful?” he asked.
You lifted the paper bag triumphantly. “She’ll be back to bossing us around in no time.”
A few of the others hummed in acknowledgment, but most were too absorbed in the episode or their own tired haze to respond.
A few minutes later, you crossed the room and dropped into the open space beside Sunghoon with a dramatic sigh. You were holding your Kindle in one hand and tugging the edge of the blanket with the other.
He didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly. You nestled into the sofa, tucking your legs up and leaning into his warmth.
His hand rested loosely around your shoulder.
You didn’t say anything, either. Just opened your Kindle and flipped through a few pages of a medical casebook, pretending to read.
Truthfully, your attention was split, maybe 30% on the text, and the rest on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way your body fit so easily against his again, the quiet intimacy that still lingered despite everything unspoken. You probably should really speak about what was happening right now, how you just shared a bed for the night, how you almost automatically curled back into him here on the sofa.
He shifted once to help you get more comfortable, tugging the blanket up slightly over your legs.
Somewhere in the background, IU’s voice echoed through the room, wistful and distant.
────────────────────────
You were half-curled into Sunghoon’s side, Kindle balanced against your thigh, when soft footsteps padded down the stairs.
Everyone turned instinctively. Jay was holding a sleepy but clearly stubborn Haneul in his arms. Her hair was flattened to one side, and her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes lit up as she spotted you across the room.
“Oh no,” Jay said dryly. “She saw her targets.”
You smiled and waved. “Hey, baby.”
Haneul wriggled immediately, demanding to be put down, and tottered toward the couch with single-minded purpose. You shifted to make space between yourself and Sunghoon, assuming she’d collapse into his lap.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she reached for you, tugging at your arm with surprising insistence. “Auntie.”
You blinked. “Me?”
Haneul nodded seriously. “Wanna sit with you.”
“Oh,” you said, glancing briefly at Jay, then Sunghoon, who just shrugged. “Okay, come here then.”
You lifted her gently into your lap, wrapping the blanket around the two of you as she cuddled in, her body still warm with fever. She exhaled with a small sigh and pressed her cheek to your chest, thumb slipping into her mouth.
A few seconds passed before she spoke again. “Read me something.”
You laughed softly. “I don’t have any kids books, sweetheart.”
“I’ll get one,” Sunghoon said, already pushing to his feet. He disappeared toward the hallway bookshelf and returned a minute later with a battered picture book in one hand and his laptop under his arm.
You adjusted Haneul against your chest and cracked the book open. The toddler watched intently as you began to read in a soft, lilting voice.
Sunghoon flipped open his laptop beside you, fingers flying over the keyboard. His brows were furrowed in concentration.
You glanced at him once between pages, catching the faint crease between his brows as he focused on whatever email or report had stolen his attention. You weren’t sure if he was even hearing you read, but every time Haneul pointed at a picture or giggled at a silly voice you made, his mouth twitched upward.
Your voice stayed low, barely above a whisper. You were careful not to disturb the others scattered across the room.
The rain hadn’t stopped outside. It clung to the windows, soft and persistent, like background music.
And as you sat there, Haneul tucked into your chest, Sunghoon typing beside you, the slow unfolding of a quiet day, you felt something strange settle into your chest.
A deep, aching kind of comfort.
The kind that made you wish time could slow down just a little more.
────────────────────────
Haneul had dozed off again halfway through the story, one tiny hand still clutching your shirt. You eased the book shut, careful not to jostle her, and glanced sideways just in time to see Sunghoon exhale sharply and throw his head back against the backrest.
He looked tense. His jaw clenched, one hand still hovering over the keyboard as if he couldn’t quite let go of whatever he’d been typing. His laptop remained open, screen glowing faintly in his lap.
“You okay?” you asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away, just ran a hand through his hair, eyes fluttering shut for a second before opening again.
“I want to commit murder,” he said flatly.
You blinked. “That’s a strong reaction for a children’s book.”
He huffed a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his temple. “No, the client I’m dealing with. Complete nightmare. I’m technically marked as absent and yet they’ve decided today is the perfect day to need everything from me. Everything. Like the rest of my team just collectively forgot how to think without me.”
You frowned. “Wait, they’re contacting you now? I thought you weren’t on call?”
“I’m not,” he said, voice tight. “But apparently my senior colleagues are allergic to solving things on their own. And this client–” he cut himself off, then muttered under his breath, “not even a fucking day of peace.”
You raised a brow at the rare slip in language. “Sunghoon.”
“I know,” he said, eyes flicking over to you with a faint grimace. “Sorry. I just–I really needed this trip. I wanted to turn everything off and just breathe, you know? But now I’ve spent the last hour writing emails.”
You reached out with your free hand, pressing your fingers lightly to the back of his arm in silent reassurance
“I get it,” you murmured. “Really. And… for the record? You’re allowed to be mad. You work harder than half the people I know.”
He shook his head slightly, lips curving into something tired. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.”
You smiled faintly and leaned back against the cushions, careful not to disturb the sleeping toddler.
────────────────────────
The house had settled into that kind of stillness only rain could bring. Outside, water tapped gently against the windows, and inside, nearly everyone had retreated to their rooms or dozed off somewhere across the couch-filled landscape of the winter garden and living room. The only sounds left were the occasional creak of the old roof beams and the faint hum of Bluey reruns still playing on loop.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
But between the warmth of the blanket, Haneul’s little body curled into your chest, and the rhythmic clacking of Sunghoon’s keyboard across from you, your eyes had fluttered shut. The last thing you remembered was thinking I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.
When you woke again, the light had shifted, softer now, dimmer. Late afternoon. Your head felt heavy against the sofa cushion, and Haneul was still curled into your front, snuffling quietly in her sleep. You didn’t move yet, not wanting to disturb her.
Sunghoon was still there.
Still working. Still typing.
He looked up the moment your breathing changed, gaze softening as it landed on you.
“Hey,” he said, voice quiet. “You’re awake.”
You blinked at him, still halfway between dream and reality.
He leaned forward and, with gentle fingers, brushed a loose strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was fleeting but warm, and it made your chest ache in that familiar way.
“You should go back to sleep,” he murmured.
You made a low noise in your throat, the closest thing to a protest you could muster. “No. I gotta… study. A little.”
He clicked his tongue in disapproval, leaning back into his corner of the sofa again. “You’re impossible.”
You cracked one eye open. “You’re working too, Park. Don’t throw stones from your glass house.”
That earned a small, reluctant laugh from him. “Touché.
Without moving too much, careful not to jostle Haneul, you reached to your side and grabbed your iPad, placing it on the throw pillow next to you. Your thumb opened your note app with practiced ease, screen glowing softly in the dim room. You balanced it on your knee and leaned your chin against the top of Haneul’s head.
Sunghoon didn’t say anything more. Just returned to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keys, the occasional sigh slipping through his nose.
Hours later you sat curled in the corner of the bench, legs tucked beneath you and the blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. The rain beat gently against the windows of the winter garden, the soft patter rhythmic and constant. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out there, long enough for your tea to go cold and your thoughts to grow heavy.
So much of your life has been made up of early mornings, late nights, bright lights, white coats, cold coffee. And now, watching your friends build lives around you, with children, with partners, with memories you weren’t part of, you wondered if you had ever truly lived at all. Or if you just... worked.
You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, knees tucked to your chest, trying to chase away the cold that wasn’t really from the rain.
You hadn’t meant to think about the what-ifs again, but somehow, watching Sunghoon be so soft with you and Haneul all day, made you feel nostalgic for something you never had. He would’ve been a good dad.
A quiet shuffle of feet behind you made you blink. You didn’t have to look. You knew it was him.
Sunghoon sat beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush. The bench shifted under his weight.
“Penny for a thought?” he asked gently.
You didn’t answer at first. Just stared out into the night.
“I always thought we’d get married,” you said eventually, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “I thought we’d have a kid by now.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, just let his gaze follow yours into the wet dark beyond the glass.
“I know,” he said. “I thought that too.”
You finally turned to look at him. His profile was shadowed, the dim lights of the living room catching in his lashes, in the soft fall of his hair.
“I had a whole proposal planned,” he continued. “In Vietnam, you know that trip we were planning? I was gonna pretend we were just taking pictures at sunset, hand you the camera, and when you turned around… I’d be on one knee.”
You let out a shaky breath. “That sounds like something you’d do.”
“Cheesy?”
“Yeah. I would have loved it.”
He laughed under his breath. “I thought so.”
You were quiet for a long moment, then said, “I’m sorry.”
He looked at you, brows drawing slightly together.
“I’m sorry for putting work ahead of everything. For choosing my studies over us. For shutting you out.” You paused, breath catching in your chest. “I thought I could balance it all. But I couldn’t. And then I didn’t know how to tell you that without feeling like I was failing at everything.”
His gaze softened. “Y/N…”
Your throat tightened and you had to fight the tears already.
“I never stopped being proud of you,” he said quietly. “Even after everything. Even when you disappeared on us. I admired the hell out of what you’re doing. You’re literally helping people survive. I could never do what you do.”
You shook your head. “You don’t understand. I’m not–” You swallowed. “Jay. I let Jay down. I let Minhee down.”
He turned to face you more fully. “What?”
Your fingers twisted into the edge of the blanket. “Minhee. She–” You exhaled shakily. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that rationally. But every time I see Haneul, all I can think is… maybe I did something wrong. Maybe if I had caught something earlier or said something–”
“Y/N.”
“–or checked her labs again, or called the OB sooner–"
“Y/N,” he said again, firmer this time, but not unkind. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”
“I do,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t make it feel any less like it is.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because we had just broken up,” you said. “Like, just. And I didn’t want to burden you. You were trying to move on. And I felt like I was breaking into a thousand pieces. I kept telling myself I deserved it. That I couldn’t hold onto you and try to be this version of myself I thought I had to become. And you had to be there for Jay. His girlfriend just died and he had a newborn at home. And I couldn't bear being around him or her. I was too afraid he thought I was responsible, even if I wasn't.”
“I would’ve dropped everything,” Sunghoon said, and his voice cracked slightly. “If I had known, I would’ve been there. No questions asked. Heeseung was there for Jay. Jake was too. His and Minhees parents. I could have been there for you.”
You closed your eyes. “I wanted to call you. I did. A hundred times. But I thought… it would just make it worse.”
He looked away, swiping a hand over his face. “I hate myself for not trying harder. For not asking. For just letting you go.”
You exhaled slowly. “Do you think we would’ve made it?"
He paused for a second.
“Yeah,” he said. “If we’d had the time.”
Sunghoon was quiet for a moment again. Then he looked at you more fully, like he was trying to find the pieces of the girl you used to be underneath all the weight you carried now.
“I never told you this,” he said softly, “but I used to love watching you dream. You were so sure about everything. Med school. Family. How you were going to do it all.” He paused. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself, I believed in you.”
You closed your eyes, because if you didn’t you might really cry this time.
“You know,” you whispered, “I feel like I’ve been running nonstop. And now that I’m here… I realize I haven’t really lived. I’ve just… worked.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
“I wanted to be with you,” you added, more quietly. “But I didn’t know how to let myself stop. Even now, the thought of having free time makes me anxious.”
He shifted slightly. “I think… we were both overwhelmed. I kept thinking it was just a phase. That we’d get through it.”
“I should’ve fought harder for you.”
“I should’ve known you needed help.”
His hand found yours, slowly, uncertainly, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers slid into his, warm and familiar.
You turned toward him, your faces closer than they’d been in years.
It would’ve been so easy.
“We shouldn’t…” you began, voice trembling, uncertain.
Sunghoon’s voice was low, steady, but there was a faint, familiar ache beneath it. “You remember when we weren’t supposed to kiss in your room? Back in high school?”
Your breath caught.
You nodded, just barely. “We still did.”
His lips quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. It was something softer. Sadder. Full of things unsaid. “Yeah. We still did.”
His hand, warm and tentative, slid up your arm. A slow touch, like he was memorizing the shape of you all over again. Your skin tingled where his fingers passed, your breath tightening in your chest.
There was a pause.
A heartbeat.
Then he leaned in.
You met him halfway.
The first brush of his lips was featherlight. A ghost of contact. Barely there.
You surged forward without thinking, lips slotting against his with years of yearning pressed into the space between you. His hand rose to your jaw, thumb grazing your cheekbone as he angled his head, deepening the kiss with.
His mouth was soft but certain, moving over yours like he already knew how you liked to be kissed, because he did. There was no rush, no hesitation, just heat blooming slow and deep between you as your hands found the front of his sweater, curling into the fabric, anchoring yourself to him.
You shifted closer, your knees brushing his, blanket forgotten as your body tilted into his space. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck now, his fingers sliding into your hair, holding you steady as his other hand gripped your waist, grounding you.
You made a quiet sound, when his teeth grazed your bottom lip. It had been so long. Too long. You’d forgotten how it felt to be wanted like this. To want like this.
When you finally pulled away, your breathing was uneven, lips kiss-bitten and your heart in your throat.
You didn’t move far. Just far enough to rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, trying to gather yourself.
“Sunghoon,” you breathed. It was all you could manage.
His thumb brushed gently over your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to–”
“Don’t apologize,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to.”
He nodded slowly, his breath warm against your cheek. For a long, fragile moment, neither of you moved.
Then you exhaled shakily and leaned into him, your cheek resting against his chest, listening to the quiet thump of his heart. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, one circling your back, the other rubbing slow, grounding strokes up and down your spine.
“Come to bed,” he said after a moment.
Your gaze wandered to your Ipad again.
“Y/N,” Sunghoon said again, gently. “Come inside?”
You shook your head against his chest. “I can’t.”
There was a pause, long and quiet.
“I think,” you continued slowly, carefully, “if I lie down now, I might actually go crazy. Just for a bit. I… need to be on my own.”
Sunghoon didn’t speak right away.
“Are you sure?” he asked, low.
You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come in later.”
He lingered for another beat before carefully pushing you off his chest, reaching for the blanket and draping it over your shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll leave the door open.”
You managed a small smile, just enough to make him go.
The quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was taut. Sharp. You felt like a wire pulled tight, humming with tension, unable to let go.
You didn’t cry or move.
You just sat there with your thoughts screaming and the rain falling and the cold slowly sinking in.
Eventually, hours later, exhaustion became heavier than the noise in your chest. It didn’t quiet the buzzing under your skin, but it dulled it.
You stood up slowly, stiff and aching, and crept back inside.
The house was dark and still.
You padded past the living room and paused.
Sunghoon.
He was asleep on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted back awkwardly against the armrest.
Your heart cracked a little.
You crossed the room carefully and crouched beside him, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”
He blinked awake groggily, frowning like a confused toddler. “Y/N? Are you done?"
You nodded, though it was only half-true. “Yeah. For today. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
You rubbed your eyes as you climbed the stairs, limbs heavy, thoughts slow and grainy. Sunghoon followed silently behind you, both of you lit only by the soft hallway light someone had left on. The house creaked with wind and sleep.
When you entered your shared room, you automatically turned toward your own bed, but before you even made it halfway, his hand caught your wrist.
You glanced back at him.
His hair was a mess, his sweater wrinkled from the couch, his eyes soft in the dim light. There was no question in them. Just quiet certainty. The same kind he always used to have when he knew exactly what you needed before you did. He didn’t say anything, but gently pulled you towards his bed. You didn’t even hesitate.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to crawl in beside him.
His arms settled around you like they never forgot how to, one draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. You rested your cheek against his chest, his warmth bleeding into your skin. His heartbeat was steady today, unrushed.
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Seoul greeted you with dull skies and even more rain.
The drive back had been quiet. Peaceful. Haneul had napped for most of it. You rested too, half-asleep with your head against the window, the lull of the road and Sunghoon’s soft humming lulling you into a strange kind of calm.
The car slowed in front of your apartment.
Jay helped unload your bag from the trunk while Sunghoon stood by, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his hair still mussed from sleep. Haneul, finally awake again, reached for you as Jay hoisted her up and you kissed her cheek, brushing her fever-warmed curls from her forehead.
“Text me if she gets worse,” you said softly, and Jay nodded.
Sunghoon lingered behind as Jay buckled Haneul back in. He didn’t say much, just held your gaze for a second too long.
“I’ll see you soon?” he asked.
You nodded. “Yeah. Soon.”
There was so much more you wanted to say. But not here. Not now.
You gave them both a small wave and turned toward the building.
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The elevator ride up felt longer than usual.
You dumped your bag, took a quick shower, and pulled your scrubs out of the drawer. It was already getting dark when you finished meal prepping for your nightshift. Seoul pulsed around you, busy and bright, and for once, you didn’t feel entirely swallowed by it.
A few hours later the fluorescent lights buzzed above you, sterile and far too bright.
The ward was quiet tonight.
You sat at the small desk near the nurses’ station, soft white light illuminating the open binder in front of you. The gynecology wing always had this strange hush at night, even with the occasional monitor beeping, and the distant hum of a cleaning machine.
You had just made your rounds, charted vitals, answered two sleepy buzzers, checked one incision site. Everything was fine. Calm.
And yet, you felt like you might break.
You blinked, slowly. Your limbs were heavy. Not because you were tired physically you were drained mentally.
Your eyes wandered toward the window, where the sky was still black and the city lights blurred through mist.
This was the life you had built, wasn’t it? Clean. Efficient. Hard-earned.
You were good at this. You were doing everything right.
And still.
Still, the ache didn’t go away.
You rubbed at your eyes and tried to focus on the chart in front of you, but your thoughts slipped back to him.
To Sunghoon.
You sighed.
Being with him had felt so easy. So natural. His hand against your spine, his voice calling you inside, his quiet laugh when Haneul demanded your attention. His warmth at night.
You swallowed thickly. You had rested. Really rested. And now, sitting under fluorescent lights again, cold coffee untouched, you felt the absence of it so sharply it almost hurt.
The thought of going home to your apartment, to Jaemin and the cats, made your stomach twist.
You weren't lonely, no.
You were longing. For the life you hadn’t let yourself have.
You could’ve had this.
You could’ve had him.
If only you hadn’t kept choosing the next task. The next round. The next shift. The next exam. You had kept saying later, later, later. And then later became never.
Now, in the quiet lull of the gynecology wing, with healthy babies sleeping peacefully just down the hall, you sat and wondered if you had let your whole life pass by in the name of responsibility.
A baby cried softly in the distance. You stood, checked your watch, and made your way down the hall with steady steps.
You were good at this. But you weren’t sure anymore if it was enough
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Two days later the taxi dropped you off just past ten pm. You hadn’t even texted ahead. Your body was still aching from your shift at the hospital today. It wasn’t a particularly hard one but you felt drained. You just wanted to go home. But not to your apartment. Not to Jaemin and the cats. Not to the stack of unread medical journals and the untouched laundry.
You climbed the front steps to Sunghoon’s house slowly, heart pounding hard enough that you could hear it in your ears.
You hesitated for only a second before knocking, not only because it was late, but because what you were going to do might be more than stupid.
The door opened, and his mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Y/N?”
“Hi,” you said, voice smaller than intended. You felt suddenly too casual in your hoodie and jeans, hair still damp. “I… Is Sunghoon home?”
She blinked, recovering quickly. “Yes, of course, he just got back from a work dinner not long ago. He’s upstairs. Come in.”
You stepped into the hallway, offering a quiet “Thank you,” before climbing the stairs with shaky knees.
You stopped in front of his door and raised your hand to knock, hesitated, but did it anyway.
There was a shuffling sound, then the door opened a crack. He was undoing his tie, sleeves already rolled up, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it too many times.
His eyes landed on you, and he froze.
“…Y/N?”
Your throat tightened.
“I–” you started, then stopped. You blinked at him.
You laughed, but it came out broken.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said quickly, words tumbling out faster than your brain could filter them. “I just– I finished my shift, and I was walking to the station and I couldn’t go home, I just– I kept thinking about you, and that trip, and how I felt like I could finally breathe and laugh and sleep for the first time in months, years, really–”
You were rambling. You knew you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop.
“I missed you,” you said. “I missed you so much it physically hurts sometimes, and I’ve been pretending I’m fine and that my work is enough and that I don’t need anything else, but it’s not true. I miss waking up next to you. I miss fighting over takeout menus. I miss your laugh, and how you always steal my side of the blanket."
Sunghoon just stared at you, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry I shut you out. I was scared. I thought I had to be this perfect version of myself and I pushed you away thinking it was the right thing, and now I just feel like I ruined everything.”
You looked down at your hands.
“I know it’s not fair,” you said. “And I know it’s going to be hard. I have my exam in February, and things won’t suddenly be easy. But if you’d let me, if there’s even a small part of you that still wants this, I’d love to try again. I want to try to be better. To be someone who doesn’t run. To be your girlfriend again.”
You hadn’t realized you were crying until his hands cupped your face.
“Stop rambling, Y/N,” he said, voice low.
And then he kissed you.
All the air left your lungs at once.
It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a rushed one. It was slow. Familiar. Steady in a way you hadn’t felt in months. His lips moved against yours like they remembered every detail. His thumb brushed under your eye, catching a stray tear.
When he pulled back, your hands had found their way into his shirt.
“I would love to try again,” he whispered, forehead against yours.
You laughed softly, tears still running down your cheeks. “Are you sure? I come with a lot of baggage.”
He smiled. “You always did.”
You swatted at his shoulder. “Rude.”
But his arms tightened around you.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t care how hard it is. Or how messy. I just want you. Whatever you can give me, I want it.”
You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear.
“I don’t want to go home,” you whispered.
“Then don’t.”
You stood there for a long moment, wrapped in his arms like no time had passed at all. Eventually, he tugged you inside the room and closed the door behind you.
“Come on,” he said gently. “You look like you need food and sleep in that exact order.”
“I need a lot of things,” you said. “But sleep next to you sounds like a good start.”
He gave you one of his shirts, a pair of shorts and a towel, to dry your face after you’ve washed it.
When you stepped back into his room, Sunghoon was already under the blanket, hair messy, expression soft.
You crawled in beside him and sighed as his arm wrapped around you.
His warmth seeped into your skin instantly, and for a long moment, you didn’t move.
“This is so nice,” you mumbled into his chest. “Sleeping next to you.”
“You used to complain that I snore,” he said softly.
You smiled. “You do.”
He chuckled, fingers gently brushing along your arm under the blanket.
A few quiet minutes passed like that.
“Your mom’s probably already calling my mom. Bet she thinks there’s finally a realistic chance of sturdy grandkids now.”, you said, readjusting your head on his chest.
Sunghoon snorted but then he stilled.
And when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost careful.
“Would you want that?” he asked. “Kids… with me?”
Your heart gave a small lurch.
You blinked slowly, shifting so you could look at him in the dark. His eyes were on you.
You swallowed. “Honestly?” You nodded. “I can’t imagine having kids with anyone else.”
He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath.
You tucked your face back into his chest. “It’s not something I’m ready for. Not now. I don’t even know when I’ll be ready. But… if it ever happens… I’d want it to be with you.”
His arms tightened slightly around you. “If this works out again, really works, I’d love that too. Just not right now. Not while you’re barely sleeping and fighting your way through hospital chaos and studying every free second.”
You let out a breath. He wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear. He meant it. You knew him well enough to tell.
“I really would love that,” you murmured.
“I want you to have what you’ve worked for,” he said. “Your dream. Your degree. Your own timeline. I’ll support you through all of it. No matter what.”
You blinked back the sudden pressure in your chest and reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his beneath the blanket.
“Hoon…,” you whispered, not knowing what to say without breaking down in tears.
“I’m not going anywhere and I won’t let you ever again,” he promised.
And you believed him.
Thank you so much for reading!
Lots of Love,
Patty
all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ
⤷ my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ
--⟢ PART 2
ᝰ an. ₊ ⊹ dear anons, I hope it was alright I mixed your requests and you enjoyed reading the story, even if I might not have encapsulated your request fully! Burnout is a shit thing to experience. If you feel like you are close to burning out, do take a break. Really. Do. No deadline or test is worth your mental and physical health.
not necessarily a request but i think a dbd killer jungwon would be soooo fun to read omfg. especially since you write horror so well and your other jw fic was PHENOMENAL
just wanted to leave my little brainworm here 🙈🙈
P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Jungwon X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Obsession, Psychological Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Violence, Dark Themes, Mental Torture, Slight Mind Break, Blood, Mentioned Cult Activites, Humiliation, Bondage (Chains)
Synopsis: A new killer, a new map, and terrifying new powers. When you first learned the Entity had unleashed another killer, you were annoyed. But as you face him now, those feelings shift. His control.. his ability to manipulate your every move… it’s worse than you could have imagined.
a/n: Well originally the dbd series was only for the hyungline.. but anon.. you did this.. i love dbd, even more with Springtrap (OG fnaf fan.)
now playing: in the dark of the night (jonathan young)
Time was irrelevant in the Entity’s realm. From the moment you are captured, you could forget asking what time it was. There was no rhythm to the days, no routine, no sense of passing hours. "Good night" and "Good morning" had become meaningless. Darkness was constant here, shadows stretching, pressing in from every corner. The sun? Gone. Warmth? Never existed in this place. Only a numbing, all-encompassing cold that seeped into your bones.
There was nothing to do but wait, trapped in this perpetual limbo until you were inevitably called in. And when you were, it was always the same. Pain. Panic. The ever-present fear of what came next. It was a cycle—endlessly repeating. The only constant was the hum of the generators. Only one thought ever echoed in your mind: Where’s the next one?
It was a race for survival. One that you had grown accustomed to, even if you hated every second of it. You'd learned to adapt—staying low, staying quiet, and always moving with purpose. Always searching for the next generator, the next chance to escape. When you were called in for a match, you didn’t expect anything different. Another trap. Another game. Another nightmare.
So when you were called in for a match, you weren’t surprised to find yourself in a dark room, the familiar heaviness of the air wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. You instinctively started moving, but as you took in your surroundings, something felt... off.
This wasn’t a map you recognized.
You pressed your back to the wall, narrowing your eyes, and began to cautiously explore. The layout was foreign, with jagged architecture that seemed almost ceremonial. The walls weren’t just cracked or broken like the usual maps, they were covered in strange, arcane symbols that seemed to pulse in the low light. Each step you took only deepened the unsettling feeling in your chest. This place wasn’t just unfamiliar; it felt wrong.
A chill ran down your spine, and the implications hit you like a cold slap. A new map.
A new map meant a new killer, and right now, that was the last thing you needed. The Entity had dragged you back into its twisted game, and you knew the rules: survival, at any cost. But with a fresh killer on the loose, you could already feel your grip on sanity slipping.
It didn’t take long for you to figure out the setup for the map, it was an old military fortress, abandoned and decaying, with walls that seemed to whisper the memories of battles long forgotten. The architecture was a grim reminder of something that had been built for control. It was a cold, imposing structure, with crumbling stone and rusted metal fixtures that still managed to hold a terrifying, menacing presence.
There was no light, not even the faintest glow. Not inside the fortress, not out in the sprawling dark forest that surrounded it. You couldn’t see a single star in the sky. Only the moon, hanging high above in a deep, unsettling red hue. It bathed everything in a faint but eerie tint, as if the very land was soaked in blood. The forest itself felt like an extension of the fortress—claustrophobic, suffocating, and full of hidden threats, where every tree and shadow could be hiding something that was waiting for the right moment to strike.
And you had the feeling of a million eyes watching you, eyes that you couldn’t see, but could feel burrowing into your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you paused mid-step, breath hitching. Then you heard it.
Giggling.
Faint at first, like wind through leaves. But it grew louder—layered, distorted, like a chorus of laughter echoing from every direction at once. High-pitched and wrong. Mocking. It wasn’t just one person. It was like a crowd—a million voices laughing, whispering, enjoying something you weren’t a part of. Something you were the center of.
Your fingers curled into fists. No one was around, not visibly, but the laughter remained, somewhere just beneath the surface of the world around you. It didn’t stop. It was like the map itself was alive—like something about this killer didn’t just stalk you… it played with you.
You forced yourself to move, to breathe again. And as you crept through the shadows, you finally spotted others—Meg, Jill, and Nancy huddled near a generator about twenty yards away. Relief tugged at your chest, but it was fleeting. Something wasn’t right.
They all looked… off.
Nancy was crouched off to the side, healing herself with trembling hands, her movements clumsy and disoriented, like she was struggling to focus. Blood stained her jeans and hands, and her face was pale.
Jill and Meg were at the gen, but even from this distance, you could see the way their heads occasionally snapped to the side, as if reacting to a sound that wasn’t there. Their hands moved across the generator with mechanical repetition, but their expressions were empty—hollow, like the act of fixing it was just muscle memory now.
You decided to walk up to them, the tension in your chest tightening with every step you took. As you approached, their heads turned toward you, and for a brief moment, the hollow expressions on their faces softened. There was something almost relieved in their eyes as they noticed you.
Meg’s mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, her eyes darted between you, Nancy, and the surrounding forest, her hands still mechanically twisting the generator. Jill, on the other hand, met your gaze with a shaky exhale, her face pale as she wiped her forehead, as though the pressure was finally beginning to crack her composure. And Nancy, already nursing her own wounds, managed a small nod when you approached, but it was clear she was struggling to stay alert.
You moved toward Nancy, offering to help with the healing. Your hands worked quickly, but you couldn’t ignore the strange, nagging feeling creeping at the back of your mind, the shadows in the corners, the whispers on the wind, the eyes you couldn't see. The world around you felt too still. Too controlled.
Once you were done, you asked quietly, “What happened to you guys? What did you see?”
The moment the question left your lips, they all seemed to speak at once. Their voices were low, barely above a whisper, as if sharing the details of their encounter with the killer might somehow make it worse.
“I… I don’t know exactly,” Meg began, her voice shaky, as she glanced nervously over her shoulder. “He—he has these… shadow figures. Little humanoid things. They’re not real, but they feel real. They just appear out of nowhere.” She swallowed hard. “It was like he was controlling them.”
Jill interrupted her with a sharp intake of breath. “He doesn’t just control them. He controls everything.” Her voice trembled. “I—I swear, it felt like he was in my head, messing with my mind. Everything around me went black for a second, and I couldn’t move. It was like I wasn’t even in control of my own body.”
Nancy added quietly, her eyes darting around nervously. “He made me feel... trapped, like i couldn’t breathe.” She paused, wincing as she adjusted her bandages.
The three of them fell silent for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances as if the memories were fresh and raw. The weight of their words hung in the air, leaving you with the oppressive feeling that the killer wasn’t just a physical threat, but a mental one, too. His power wasn’t just about stalking or hurting; it was about breaking you down from the inside out. Control.
A mental killer wasn’t something common in the Entity’s realm. Most of the killers you’d encountered were brutal, physical creatures, ruthless in their pursuit, they were straightforward in their violence. You could fight against them, try to outrun them. But this? The idea that this killer could break you down mentally, control your every thought, every move, was enough to make your stomach churn.
You were barely able to process that thought when suddenly, the giggling—the maddening, distorted sound—grew louder. The laughter bounced off the walls of the fortress, seeping into your ears and clawing at your mind.
Before you could even react, the shadows around you shifted, and in the blink of an eye, three humanoid figures emerged from the darkness. Their forms were barely solid, shifting and flickering like smoke or mist.
The moment they appeared, the cackling began rising, high-pitched and mocking, like the laughter of a thousand twisted souls trapped inside these shadowy figures. They didn’t have faces—just hollow, shifting silhouettes, but you could feel the malice radiating off of them. It was as if they were laughing at you, at your fear, feeding off it.
Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. Without thinking, your body reacted. You spun on your heel, heart hammering in your chest, and before you knew it, you were running.
Behind you, you could hear the others scattering, all of them running in different directions, driven by instinct, their own terror feeding off the sinister presence of the shadowy figures. The giggles seemed to follow, echoing off the map as if they were everywhere at once.
You had to keep moving. You had to survive. The shadowy figures hadn’t followed you. No, they were flying off, following the others as if they were being drawn to their fear, choosing their prey with a twisted, malevolent intent.
For a fleeting moment, you wanted to stop, to look back, but the sudden pressure in your chest made it impossible. Something was wrong. Your heartbeat picked up, pounding in your ears, as if trying to warn you.
You forced yourself to turn forward again, desperate to put distance between yourself and the shadows, but that’s when it happened.
A sharp pain ripped through your side, sudden and brutal, as if something had slashed across your skin with precision. You screamed in pain, the noise ripped from your throat as your body staggered forward, caught off guard.
The blood dripped from the wound, staining your clothes, and your legs faltered as you tried to stay on your feet. But before you could fully comprehend what had just happened, you lifted your head—and there he was.
The killer.
He stood there, an imposing figure cloaked in darkness. His black, high-collared coat clung to his body, sleek and dark, moving almost unnaturally as if it were alive, responding to his every movement. The fabric shifted, undulating with an almost hypnotic rhythm, as if it were part of him, an extension of his being. Chains twisted and coiled around his form like a prisoner to his own power.
His hands were covered in long, sharp gloves, the fingertips tapering to sharp points. He gripped a long sword, its blade unnervingly smooth, and its surface etched with ancient, cryptic symbols that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long.
He was dressed in all black—from head to toe. Even his face was obscured by the shadows cast by the high collar of his coat, leaving only the glow of his eyes to pierce through the darkness. His expression was stoic, and emotionless. The very air around him seemed to tremble, like the world was bending to his will. There was no warmth, no humanity in him. Just cold, unrelenting control.
He took a slow step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his footsteps was barely audible, but each one sent a shiver through your spine, vibrating the ground beneath you.
You couldn’t move. Your heart hammered painfully in your chest, your legs barely holding you upright. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to fight, to do something but there was something in his gaze that made you feel like you were already caught, trapped in his web without even realizing it.
His eyes—dark, almost hypnotic seemed to be studying you. Assessing. The chains around him moved slightly, like they were waiting for his command, and you could almost feel the power radiating off of him.
Before you could react, he moved. Slowly, deliberately. His long, gloved hand reached out, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. With one smooth motion, he placed the cold, sharp edge under your chin, lifting it slightly, forcing your head to tilt upward so that your eyes met his. The pressure was light, but the sharpness of the blade made your skin prickle.
His eyes never left yours. They were intense, almost too intense, like they were piercing into your very soul, reading every hidden fear, every thought.
“Adorable.”
The single word hung in the air, and you didn’t know whether to be insulted or terrified. His voice was low and almost affectionate, as if he were speaking to something fragile, something delicate.
“You know, I can already see it. How sweet you'd look… under my control. Docile. Obedient.” He tilted his head, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips. “It’s almost too easy to imagine you like that… so perfectly pliant, so ready to fall in line.”
Your heart skipped, the combination of fear and confusion making your mind race. Was he toying with you? Or was he serious? The way he spoke was both enticing and terrifying, like he was trying to lure you into something dark, something twisted, something you didn’t want to admit you were even considering.
The sword remained under your chin, the pressure just enough to remind you of how easily he could push you past the point of no return. But still, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. There was something about the way he looked at you—so assured, so in control that made you feel like you were drowning, like the world around you was fading away, leaving only him.
“Imagine it,” he whispered. “You, belonging to me. No fear. No pain. Just... you and me. All under my command.”
The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your pulse quicken. Was he asking you to surrender? Was he waiting for you to break? But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even fathom the idea of giving in, of becoming another pawn in his twisted game. You could only shake your head, your breath shaky, a barely audible sound escaping your lips. “No…” you whispered, but the word felt weak, like a futile protest against something far too overwhelming.
It was the only thing you could manage in that moment, shaking your head in disbelie. But the look in his eyes… that cold, unreadable gaze that pierced through you, it hardened.
And then, that smile—the one that had previously seemed almost teasing faded into something darker, something sharper. "What? You deny me?"
His words stung, more than they should have. They echoed in your mind, pulling at something deep inside of you. The anger in his voice wasn’t just the kind you felt when you were challenged, it was disappointment, like you had failed to meet some expectation he had for you.
He stepped closer, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat of his presence, could smell the faint scent of something dark on him. His lips almost brushed against your ear as he spoke again, his tone colder now, laced with menace.
"You think you can defy me?" he whispered. "You think you have any control in this game? In this world?"
A chill ran through you, but you stood your ground, even if only on the outside. Deep down, though, you were terrified. Terrified of what he could do. Terrified of what he was. You swallowed, trying to summon some semblance of defiance, of strength. But your voice came out in a whisper, shaky and uncertain. “I won’t... give in... to you.”
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. The air between you felt thick with tension, with a simmering, unspoken promise of what could come next. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, the sound deep and unsettling. "Such a brave little thing," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate. "But you’ll come to understand soon enough… everyone submits eventually."
You barely had a moment to process his words before the blade sliced through the air again, and before you could even brace yourself, the sword slashed across your side, cutting deep. The pain was instantaneous, blinding. You screamed, the cry of anguish tearing from your throat as you staggered, your body giving way beneath the weight of the injury.
Your legs failed you, and you crumpled to the ground, breath coming in ragged gasps. The world spun, and your vision blurred with tears from the searing pain. You could feel the blood dripping steadily from your wound, pooling beneath you.
But just as you started to crawl away, a shadowed hand shot out from the air, wrapping around your waist like iron. A sudden yank and you were hoisted up off the ground, your body flailing helplessly in the air. You didn’t even have the strength to fight back, cause before you knew it, you were tossed over his shoulder like a ragdoll. The movement was swift, effortless, and you were too dazed to do anything but feel the world tilt as you dangled helplessly in his grasp.
You could hear his footsteps as they echoed through the desolate, shadow-filled landscape. He moved with purpose, a slow and calculated pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings as though choosing the perfect hook.
When he found one, he didn’t hesitate. With a cold precision, the rusty hook was driven into your shoulder. The pain was instantaneous, a searing, bone-deep agony that made you scream, the sound echoing through the silent night, raw and desperate.
The world spun as you hung there, your body suspended from the hook by sheer force, your blood dripping slowly down your side, staining the ground beneath you.
And as you hung there, helpless and exposed, you watched him turn away. He didn’t look back, not even once. He dragged the sword behind him with a casual ease, the blade scraping the ground lightly, making a dull, metallic sound that sent a chill down your spine. It was like Pyramid Head's relentless, methodical walk as he dragged his own axe through the dirt.
You hung there for what felt like an eternity, the pain in your shoulder intensifying with every passing second. The Entity’s claws slowly began to emerge from the sky around the hook, creeping up from like nightmarish tendrils, their sharp, jagged tips glistening with a hunger that sent a cold shiver through you. They were coming closer, inching toward you, ready to finish the job and drag you into the void.
But it wasn’t just the pain or the claws that drove you to the edge. It was the voices. The giggling. The laughter that echoed from the shadows like a haunting symphony. It was everywhere, all around you, like the world itself had become a twisted echo chamber, filled with distorted sounds of joy and mockery. It was as if the very air itself was alive, alive with voices that jeered at you, taunted you, fed off your fear.
You could usually hang on a hook for a long time, enduring the pain, the waiting. It was a part of the game, a part of the cycle. But this?The laughter, the maddening giggles, the whispers that fluttered in and out of your consciousness, made your mind feel like it was slowly cracking apart. The voices didn’t just sound like they were taunting you—they were delighting in your suffering, savoring each moment, each second of your agony.
The giggles grew louder, more intense, like they were crawling beneath your skin, worming their way into your mind, threatening to break you from the inside out. You could feel your thoughts slipping away, as if the laughter was trying to take over, drowning out your ability to think clearly. Was this it? Was this what it felt like to lose yourself?
The urge to scream again rose in your chest, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your voice felt useless, lost in the chaos. Instead, the only thing you could do was hang there, helpless, and wish for it to shut up—the voices, the giggling, the madness that was crawling through your brain.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
You clenched your fists, trying to hold onto your sanity, your control, anything that could keep you grounded. But every breath, every heartbeat, seemed to only make the sound grow louder, more intrusive, until you wanted to tear at your hair, rip your skin, anything to make the noise stop.
But all you could do was hang there, waiting for the inevitable.
Finally, after what felt like ages, just as you were starting to lose all hope, you felt a sudden shift. The pain in your shoulder became less sharp, almost bearable, and a figure appeared out of the darkness.
It was another survivor, limping, clearly injured—blood staining their clothes, face pale from exhaustion. They reached you quickly, their movements frantic but efficient. Without a word, they unhooked you, their hands trembling as they carefully lowered you down. You almost collapsed in their arms, your legs buckling beneath you, but they caught you before you could fall completely.
"You need to move," they whispered urgently, barely able to keep themselves steady. The moment they freed you, they were already backing away, looking over their shoulder. They didn’t even hesitate, they just turned and ran, leaving you there, breathless and confused.
As they disappeared into the shadows, you were left wobbly, weak, and disoriented. You could still hear the distant sounds of the killer's footsteps somewhere in the distance, but the laughter had subsided for the moment. The Entity's claws had retreated back into the sky, as though they were biding their time. You were no longer tethered to the hook, but your body still felt broken.
You forced yourself to move, stumbling through the darkness, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and your vision swam with the pain, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t allow yourself to collapse just yet. The only thought in your mind was finding a safe place, somewhere to heal.
You eventually found a small corner of the map, tucked away between crumbling walls and thick trees, barely visible through the shadows. There was no sign of the killer. No sign of the minions. You collapsed against the rough stone of a building, your body trembling as you began to fumble through your supplies, trying to bandage the wound and stop the bleeding.
Just as you finished bandaging your shoulder, breathing heavily in the dim light of your makeshift refuge, the sound of maddening laughter hit you again. You stiffened, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.
You turned quickly, your breath catching in your throat.
And there it was. A shadowy figure—a dark, twisted shape lurking beside you, its form flickering in and out like it didn’t quite belong in this world. Its giggle was sharp, distorted, and it echoed in the hollow space between you and the walls, making your chest tighten with dread. You froze, staring at it in horror, unable to move.
Before you could react, it made a sudden shrill noise—louder than before, like nails scraping against glass and with no warning, it leapt onto your back. The weight of it felt like being struck by a wave of darkness, its form clinging to you like it had no intention of letting go.
The tendrils, dark and writhing shot out from its body, wrapping around your wrists, pulling them painfully against your back, pinning you in place. The creature was fast, too fast for you to think, and now it was like you were bound by invisible strings. Every movement you made was sluggish, like your body didn’t want to obey.
You tried to scream, but the creature’s presence choked the air around you, leaving you gasping for breath. It giggled again, right next to your ear, the sound grating against your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
“Good… good… so obedient,” it hummed, its voice low and mocking, and the words wrapped around your brain like venom. "So good, so very good..."
You couldn’t make it stop. The more it spoke, the more insane the words made you feel. It was as if the very sound of its voice was slowly eroding your thoughts, making it hard to think, hard to focus.
You tried to run. Tried to push forward, to escape. But your legs wouldn’t move as they should. It was as if the very presence of the creature was dragging you down, forcing you to walk slower, each step heavier than the last. You weren’t running—you were walking, like the creature was controlling your movements, slowing you down.
“Good girl...” it whispered again, too close, making you shudder. “Stay... We’ll play forever…”
You couldn’t handle it. The overwhelming sensation of being controlled, the constant taunting laughter, the words that seemed to worm their way into your mind and stir up every fear you’d ever had. It was driving you to the edge, to the brink of madness.
But still, you fought. You fought with everything you had left. Even as the world around you seemed to distort and fade, even as your body grew heavier, you tried. You tried not to give in. But the more you resisted, the more the shadow clung to you, the more its presence slowed you, its voice growing louder in your ear.
"Good... girl..."
You stumbled through the map, your steps growing heavier with every passing second, each step like wading through thick mud. The giggling was incessant, worming its way into your ears, until the sound became more insistent than your own thoughts.
You tried to focus, tried to push back against the pull of the shadows, but your mind felt as though it were unravelling. Your thoughts started to become fuzzy, like a broken radio signal, distorted and impossible to follow. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make sense of what was real and what was just part of the madness that the creature had wrapped around you.
Your vision started to blur, colors smearing together like paint on a canvas that was too wet. The world wavered in front of you, twisting and distorting, and each step felt like you were sinking further into a sea of confusion. The edges of your reality seemed to fray, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t even remember what you were supposed to be doing.
The laughter never stopped, only growing louder, until it felt like it was inside your skull, echoing from every corner of your mind.
And then, suddenly, the fog lifted, and you blinked—blinking hard to clear the haze from your vision.
When your blurry vision finally focused, you found yourself standing in front of the killer.
He was there, standing as still and imposing as ever. His gaze was locked on you, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. The control in his eyes was suffocating.
You didn’t know how you had gotten here. You didn’t even remember moving. But somehow, the shadow—the minion—had led you here. To him. And now, as you stood before him, unable to move, unable to think clearly, you knew the inevitable was about to happen.
The laughter in your ear faded, replaced by an eerie silence as the shadowy minion began to unravel itself from you, its tendrils loosening their grip on your wrists with a sickening wet hiss. You stumbled forward slightly, knees buckling, but didn’t fall. You could only watch as the creature slithered down your back before it moved to the killer’s side.
Then, without a word or command, the minion melted into him—its form seamlessly merging with his body, as though it had always been a part of him. Shadows coiled around him like armor, wrapping tighter as the last flicker of the creature disappeared within him.
The killer then took a single, measured step forward.
You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Your body obeyed his presence now, like a marionette waiting for its strings to be pulled.
He tilted his head, just slightly, his glowing eyes locked onto you with quiet amusement. And then he spoke, his voice low and smooth, yet cutting straight to the bone.
"The last survivor... at my feet. Like you should be."
The words hit you like a blow. There was no rage in his voice. No wild aggression. Only cold certainty. As if this outcome had always been written—you, here, broken and alone, with no one left to save you.
He leaned down slowly, giving you no room to flinch or retreat. His gloved hand reached out, and his fingers curled beneath your chin.
His grip was firm but not cruel. Possessive.
He tilted your head upward until your eyes were locked with his again, and everything else—your pain, the fog in your mind, the noise fell into silence. He studied you like you were something to own, something he’d hunted for and finally cornered.
His voice dropped to a whisper, brushing just over your skin.
“Such a fighter,” he murmured, thumb grazing your jaw. “But even the strongest… kneel eventually.”
Without saying anything else, he stood up again and slid his sword in front of him, the blade gleaming with an almost unnatural light. The symbols carved into it began to shift, moving across the metal like they were alive.
The moment the symbols started shifting, shadowy figures began to unfurl from the killer’s body. They moved like smoke, winding and curling around him. They slithered through the air toward you, their giggles growing louder, more shrill, like a chorus of twisted voices, each one mocking you.
You tried to back away, to get away from them, but your legs wouldn’t respond. They were everywhere—surrounding you, closing you in. You shouted, desperate to push them back, to make them stop, but they didn’t listen. They just giggled more, their laugh echoing through your mind like a sick, rhythmic chant.
Some of them swatted at you with their shadowy limbs, their touch cold and mocking. Each swipe left you feeling more helpless.
"You're not strong enough," one whispered, its voice dripping with venom.
"Just give in..." another giggled.
The words were cruel, harsh, degrading. They spoke of your weakness, your failure, and it made your chest tighten with frustration and despair. You could barely breathe beneath the weight of it, the laughter, the mocking voices, the shadows that consumed everything.
And then, you felt the chains.
At first, they were slithering just outside your periphery, but before you could react, they moved quickly, wrapping themselves around your wrists. They were cold, tight, and they burned as they slithered up your arms, pulling you off the ground. Your body dangled in the air, weightless, but utterly trapped. The killer’s chains, now bound to you, pulled you higher, lifting you as if you were nothing more than a puppet in his grasp.
You looked down at him, your heart hammering in your chest, but his eyes were focused on you with that same cold, calculating gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his sword.
Without warning, he sliced through the air.
The pain was unbearable.
It was a clean strike, swift and precise, but the force of it seemed to tear through your very soul. You screamed, but it was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears. Every part of you felt shattered, and you didn’t even know if you could still breathe.
And then, just as everything around you turned black, you felt the pull of the Entity’s grip once more, dragging you into unconsciousness.
When you woke up, your body was sore, aching from head to toe. The world around you was familiar, yet wrong. The scent of firewood and damp earth reached your nose before your eyes opened, and the steady crackling of the nearby campfire filled your ears.
You blinked, disoriented, as your vision slowly cleared. You were lying on the ground, just outside the survivor's camp, surrounded by familiar faces all sitting nearby, talking softly to each other.
You tried to sit up, but the ache in your body stopped you. It was as though you’d just woken from a nightmare or perhaps it had all been one.
But now, you were back here.
Back in the camp.
Like always.
After that night, you were called into two more matches. Neither of them involved the new killer. Neither of them involved that suffocating presence, that overwhelming control. But it didn't matter. Every time you returned to the camp, the memory of what had happened still clung to you, like a dark cloud hanging over your every step.
But it wasn’t just you. Other survivors had faced him, the new killer, and each time they came back, they were different. Broken, in a way. You could see it in their eyes—the vacant, haunted look that spoke volumes without a single word. They would return to the camp, their bodies battered, their minds frayed. They would fall silent, almost like the echo of the killer still lived within them, dragging them down into the depths of his control.
You’d watch as they stumbled back, each one looking less whole than before. They didn’t talk about it at first. They couldn’t, it seemed.
Eventually, when they would speak, it was always fragmented. Unclear. The words didn’t fit together like they used to. They’d speak about their match, but their minds were somewhere else.
Their sanity seemed to slip with each encounter, like pieces of them were lost in the game. It wasn’t just the physical toll of facing a killer. It was the mental and emotional cost. You could see how every time they faced him, they came back with less to give. Less of themselves to share, to offer. It was like facing him was leaving scars deeper than any cut or wound could.
You told yourself you were fine. That the first encounter hadn’t gotten to you the way it had the others. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. The memories of everything about him lingered like a toxin in your bloodstream.
So when the familiar pull of the Entity tugged at your core again, dragging you into another match, you expected nothing. Just another trial. Another run. Another chance to survive.
But when you opened your eyes…
You were staring at the dark fortress.
That damned fortress. Its jagged stone walls and blood-tinted shadows loomed above you like the mouth of some massive beast, hungry and waiting. Your hands clenched into fists. You could only grit your teeth, the familiar sting of frustration prickling your eyes.
Really?
You tried to think positive. Maybe it’s just his map, you told yourself. The Entity had done that before—used a killer’s realm for another’s trial. Maybe this was someone else. You had to believe that. Maybe it was the Huntress, or the Trickster, or anyone else who didn’t drag your thoughts into madness with a single glance.
Please, let it be someone else.
But then you heard it.
The laughter.
That sick, echoing giggle, bouncing off every wall, carried by the wind, crawling beneath your skin. One voice at first… then two… then a dozen. It built in layers, high-pitched and overlapping, like a chorus of corrupted children whispering secrets they were never meant to know.
Your heart sank. Your spirit plummeted.
It wasn’t just his map. He was here.
Somewhere in the shadows of that fortress, sword in hand, chains dragging silently behind him like whispers of promises unkept. And the minions… they were already awake.
You pressed your back against the nearest wall, trying to steady your breathing, trying to fight the creeping sense of hopelessness threatening to swallow you whole.
You weren’t ready for this. No one ever was.
Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to move. One step at a time. You couldn't afford to freeze in place, no matter how tightly the fear gripped your chest. You had to find one generator, just one, and maybe, you'd have a chance to survive this.
The laughter echoed around you, still distant. It seemed to follow you, seeping through the walls like a taunt. You clenched your fists tighter, pushing forward despite the dread clawing at your insides. There was no time to waste. The longer you lingered in the open, the more vulnerable you became.
But as you moved through the fortress, each turn felt more disorienting than the last. The corridors twisted in strange directions, every door you passed seemed to mock you, every hallway a dead end.
Then, you turned another corner.
And there it was.
A throne room.
It loomed in front of you, massive, and strangely pristine, given the state of the rest of the fortress. The walls were lined with ornate stone columns, and in the center of the room stood a throne, tall and imposing, carved from obsidian. The seat seemed almost to beckon you, as if daring you to approach.
You glanced around, a sense of unease crawling up your spine. It felt like you were being watched, like the very air in the room had shifted, making your skin prickle with a foreboding presence.
You turned to look behind you, your breath catching in your throat as the faintest laughter reached your ears. The sound was so quiet at first, like a low whisper on the wind, but it grew louder, until it became unmistakable.
The laugh was right behind you.
You spun around, heart pounding in your chest. The throne. The seat that had seemed empty just moments ago was now occupied.
There, sitting in the obsidian chair, sat the killer. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he were sitting comfortably in his domain. And perched on his shoulder, like a twisted, grotesque pet, was one of his minions. Its dark and shadowy form flickered like smoke, its sharp teeth snapping at the air in your direction. It giggled, the sound high-pitched and unsettling, as if it took delight in the fear it was causing. The sound seemed to echo around the room, magnified, as if the walls themselves were laughing along.
Your heart thudded in your chest, the sight of him sitting so calmly in that throne sending a chill through your bones. You were frozen, caught between wanting to run and being unable to look away. Every inch of you screamed to get out but your body wouldn’t listen.
His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. There was no anger in his gaze, no wild fury, just an unsettling amusement. He didn’t say anything, but his lips curled into that eerie, cold smile again, and his eyes seemed to say everything. You were his now.
And the giggling… it didn’t stop. The minion on his shoulder let out another shrill laugh, and you could hear the rustling sound of more shadows moving around you, just beyond your sight, closing in, like a thousand eyes were watching your every move.
Suddenly, he tilted his head slightly, as though something had caught his interest. It was subtle, but there was an unmistakable shift in the atmosphere. The minion on his shoulder paused, and without warning, it detached itself from him, leaping from his shoulder and flying straight toward you.
You screamed, the sound loud and desperate, as the creature lunged at you. Its body seemed to dissolve into a dark mist before it reformed, clinging to you like a twisted parasite. The minion’s cold, clawed hands wrapped around your shoulders and chest, pulling you closer, its sharp teeth snapping in your ear as its giggles echoed in your skull. It smelled like cold stone and death, its touch icy, seeping into your skin.
You thrashed, trying to break free, but it was impossible. Its form was slippery, elusive—like it was one with the darkness, and no matter how hard you struggled, it held you tighter. You couldn’t breathe as it laughed—mocking you, taunting you.
The killer's voice cut through the madness.
“Be quiet.”
The word was spoken softly, but the weight of it was like a command, and in that moment, everything went still.
The minion on your chest froze, its body shuddering with the sound of its laughs dying in its throat. You couldn’t understand it at first, but then you realized something—it was shutting up. You didn’t even know why, but the giggling stopped, the pressure around you releasing just enough for you to suck in a trembling breath.
You wanted to scream. You wanted to shout, to demand that this nightmare end. But you couldn’t.
His words had an unnatural weight to them, and somehow, in the deep recesses of your mind, you understood—you had to obey. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your voice had been silenced, as if by some unseen force, the very command in his tone forcing you to submit.
Your heart pounded in your chest, but your mind felt like it was fogging over. The minion was still on you, but it seemed almost dormant now, no longer laughing, just clinging to you in silence.
You could feel its unsettling presence as it nuzzled against you, the chill sinking deeper into your skin. The laughter had stopped, but its taunting silence filled the void left behind. It felt like your very thoughts were being muffled by its touch.
The killer moved then. Slowly he stood and approached you, his footsteps quiet. He didn’t look angry, or even bothered. Instead, he seemed almost… contemplative, like he was thinking, carefully choosing his words.
When he reached you, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if studying you closely. The silence stretched, and for a moment, you were certain he was trying to figure something out—something about you.
Then, he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice broke the quiet, low and smooth, but somehow, it carried a weight that made you want to shrink away.
“You know,” he began, his tone almost casual, “you remind me of someone.”
You didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t even form the words. You could only stare at him, your mind racing as your chest tightened with uncertainty.
He paused, still looking at you with that unblinking, unsettling gaze. Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, a small smirk curled at the corner of his lips as if he’d figured something out.
“Yes...” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You remind me of one of my past followers. My most devoted one, in fact.”
Your stomach turned at his words, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place by the weight of his gaze, unable to speak, unable to do anything but listen as he continued.
“The one who died for me.” His voice softened, but the words hit you like a punch to the gut. His eyes glinted with something darker, something satisfied. “She was so loyal… so ready to give up everything for me. But in the end…” He paused, tilting his head again as if savoring the thought. “She gave up her life for me.”
Your breath caught in your throat. The mention of a past follower, someone who had been so loyal, so devoted, yet had met their end in his service made your skin crawl. Was he speaking of her with a sense of affection? You couldn’t really tell.
He straightened up, his face still unreadable, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing at you. The minion on your shoulder shifted slightly, as though it too was listening, waiting for something more.
“And now,” he murmured, voice barely audible but chilling nonetheless, “I see the same potential in you.” His eyes darkened, the intensity rising, and you felt an overwhelming surge of fear. “You could be the same... so willing, so ready to give everything for me.”
Fear surged in your chest, thick and suffocating, but there was nothing you could do. No way to run. No voice to scream. Only the echo of his words wrapping around your thoughts, sinking their claws in.
Suddenly, with terrifying ease, the killer stepped forward and lifted your limp body off the ground.
You gasped, more from the shock than the effort but your limbs refused to fight him. Your legs dangled, your wrists still tangled in those invisible chains of command. He held you with little effort, one arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back as if you were something fragile, something precious.
His hand moved slowly, and you felt the chill of his gloved fingers as they gently brushed your hair back from your face. The motion was almost… tender.
His expression shifted as he looked down at you. For a brief moment, he almost looked soft, like he was admiring a painting or some priceless relic he’d spent ages hunting. Then his lips curled into a smile—not warm, not kind.
It started at the corners of his mouth and spread unnaturally across his face, twisting it into something manic, something unhinged. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of terror pulsing through you.
“I just have to charm you enough...” he whispered, his words soft, almost soothing, but his eyes told a different story—dark, hungry, and filled with crazed intent. “And then you’ll be mine. Completely. Beautifully.”
His face, now a warped blend of fascination and madness, hovered inches from yours. The warmth of his breath contrasted with the cold emptiness he radiated. You could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t asking. He wasn’t hoping.
He was promising.
The last thing you saw before your vision blurred again was his crazed smile, framed by the writhing shadows around him, as if the darkness itself had chosen to serve his obsession. And deep down, you felt it:
He wouldn’t stop until you were his.
a/n: For those who might be confused, Jungwon’s power revolves around control and domination. He has the ability to summon up to three minions at a time, which roam the map in search of survivors. Any survivors who come too close to Jungwon or his minions may be temporarily swayed into becoming loyal followers under his influence, forcing them to obey his will for a short period. Think of his power like the villain in Shazam.
Synopsis: You thought Jungwon was harmless, until people around you start vanishing. When you uncover the truth, it’s too late. He’s not just obsessed. He’s in love. And he’ll kill to prove it.
a/n: I pushed everything else away for this, but still feel its kinda rushed? (Requested by @chaerrysluv ) Reblogs and comments are highly valued!!
now playing: prom queen by insane clown posse | haunted by beyonce | two face by jake daniels | worship by ari abdul
A new start, that’s all you wanted.
Leaving behind the noise, the pressure, the mess you didn’t want to keep cleaning up. The small town you found was quiet, almost too quiet, but that’s what made it perfect. A place where no one knew your name, no one asked questions, and no one expected more than a smile and a polite nod.
Your house sat at the very edge of town, nestled near the woods and close enough to the lake that you could smell the water in the morning. It was old, with needed renovations and ivy climbing the porch railings, but it felt like something you could finally call your own. Peaceful. Private. Safe.
You enjoyed the silence that came with it, no more car horns, shouting neighbors, or blaring sirens. Just birdsong in the morning, wind brushing through the trees, and the occasional creak of the old house settling into itself. It was a kind of quiet that made you feel like you could finally breathe.
You had two neighbors, though you’d only officially met one—Minjae. Odd guy, always smelled like spices and coffee, but he was good at small talk, although he was an asshole. He’d mentioned your other neighbor once, in passing. Jungwon.
Apparently, Jungwon didn’t come out much during the day. Liked his solitude. Kept to himself.
Which explains why you hadn’t seen a hairstrand of him, and it had been over a week.
Minjae had laughed it off. Said something like, “He’s not the social type, don’t take it personally.”
You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Some people just liked to be left alone.
But your curiosity still gnawed at you.
Jungwon’s house sat just a few trees away from your own, the rooftop visible through the gaps in the branches. And yet you never heard anything. Not the hum of a television. Not a door creaking open. Not even footsteps on the gravel path leading up to it.
It made you wonder if anyone even lived there at all.
There were no lights in the windows at night. The mailbox stayed empty, the yard overgrown but not quite wild. As if someone tended to it, just barely enough to keep up appearances.
Once or twice, you thought you saw movement behind the curtains, just a twitch, just a shift of shadow—but when you blinked, it was gone.
You tried to ignore it. Told yourself you were being dramatic.
After all, there had to be a reason Jungwon wasn’t so… well, social. Maybe he had anxiety, or health issues. Maybe he worked from home and liked his privacy. It wasn’t your business—people had their own lives, their own routines. Still, he’d have to leave the house eventually. For groceries, at least.
But every time you drove past his house on your way to the main road, the garage door was shut tight. The curtains stayed drawn. No porch lights flicked on, no signs of life behind the windows just stillness. As if the house had fallen asleep and never quite woken up again.
Sometimes you’d linger a second too long at the stop sign near his driveway, eyes scanning for movement.
Nothing.
and you tried not to think too hard about it.
Until… well, until you had to.
Because you saw him.
For the first time in a whole fucking month you caught sight of him.
It was late, the kind of late where the town felt like it didn’t exist. You couldn’t sleep, your head too full, so you decided on a walk to clear your mind. The air was cool, crisp, the scent of pine thick around you.
You hadn’t even looked toward his house at first. But something, some shift, some instinct made your eyes flick in that direction.
And there he was.
Standing just at the edge of his porch, his head was tilted slightly, like he was listening. Like he’d heard you coming. He wasn’t doing anything special. Just… standing. Watching with his eyes on you.
You froze.
For a second—less than that, really you wondered if he was sleepwalking. Or if he’d heard something outside. Maybe he’d just stepped out for air, like you.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t wave. Didn’t speak.
Just stood there, staring like you were the unusual thing here. Like you were the one being observed.
Your heart picked up.
You gave a tight nod, a polite gesture, and turned your feet back toward your driveway.
You didn’t go on that walk.
After that night, things changed. You started seeing Jungwon more and more. Never during the day—never when others were around. Only in fleeting moments, when the world was still and the street lay empty under the quiet hush of twilight. Sometimes it was random. A glimpse of him at the edge of the trees when you stepped out to water the garden. His figure crossing behind a window as you passed by on your evening run. Always distant. Always brief. Other times… it felt timed. Too perfectly timed. Like the moment you’d open your front door to leave for work, and there he’d be, standing just outside his garage, as if he’d been waiting. Not doing anything, not even pretending to look busy. Just there. Eyes meeting yours for a fraction too long before he'd turn and vanish inside again.
Or the night you came home late, headlights sweeping across his driveway and caught him sitting on his porch steps in the dark, staring down the road. He didn’t flinch at the light. Didn’t look away. You locked your doors extra tight that night. You told yourself it was coincidence. A weird neighbor with a weird schedule. Nothing more. But the sightings kept happening. And soon, you realized—you weren’t just noticing him. He was watching you notice him. And not once, not ever, did he smile.
It got harder to pretend it was just coincidence.
Especially when it kept happening.
When your door creaked open for the mail and he was suddenly at his window.
When you went to take out the trash and heard footsteps stop like someone had been walking and suddenly paused.
And it was always just too late to catch him in the act.
Until the night it wasn’t.
You’d been out late, visiting the small 24-hour market on the edge of town, grabbing tea and snacks to distract yourself from the way your nerves had been crawling lately. The streets were empty on your walk back, save for the steady crunch of gravel under your shoes.
You turned the corner to your street and nearly dropped the bag.
Jungwon was standing in front of your house.
Not near it. Not passing by.
In front of it.
Facing your door. Like he’d been knocking. Or about to.
But he didn’t flinch when he saw you. Didn’t seem startled at all. Instead, he turned to face you slowly, as if he’d known you were coming all along. And then, he smiled.
Not a small smile. Not a polite one.
A wide, bright grin that split his face in a way that was so perfect, with dimples creasing both cheeks so deep it made him look innocent.
That was the first thing you noticed—his dimples.
The second was how his eyes looked. Catlike. Slanted and sharp, like he was amused by something only he understood. His nose scrunched slightly as he spoke, voice light and pleasant.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, holding out a medium-sized box. “This was left on my porch this morning. Must’ve been delivered to the wrong house.”
You blinked, caught completely off guard. His tone was so casual. So normal.
“I figured I’d give it to you myself. Didn’t want it to get wet or anything,” he said, flashing another grin.
And just like that everything you’d suspected about him, the unease and the quiet dread… it all slipped quietly out the window.
Because how could someone with a smile like that be dangerous?
“Thank you,” you said quietly, reaching out to take the box from his hands.
Your fingers brushed his.
And for a second, you paused.
He wasn’t cold exactly, not like ice but there was a definite chill to him. Like he’d been standing outside far longer than you’d thought. Or.. like the warmth just didn’t quite reach his skin the way it should.
Still, he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
“You always keep your lights on late,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was sharing a secret. “It makes the street look… nicer. Brighter.” His eyes flicked to your porch light, then back to you. “Makes it feel less lonely out here.”
You gave a small smile, unsure of what to say. Trying to steer the conversation somewhere more neutral, you asked, “Have you lived here long?”
He nodded. “Long enough,” he said easily. “I know this town like the back of my hand. Every street. Every shortcut. Every sound the woods make when the wind picks up.” Then, with another smile—this one smaller, more thoughtful he added, “I think I was here before most people on this block.”
There was something in the way he said it. Not proud. Just… certain.
Like this place was his long before it had ever been yours.
You held the box a little tighter to your chest, not out of fear, but instinct. There was something about Jungwon that kept you suspended between comfort and unease, it was like he balanced delicately on a wire stretched between charming and unknowable.
He didn’t move right away. Just stood there, eyes flicking between you and the soft glow coming from your windows. “I’m glad you moved here,” he said suddenly, voice lower this time, like it wasn’t meant to be heard too loudly. “It’s nice having someone new on the street.”
You offered a tight smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah… it’s been nice so far. Quiet.”
He hummed at that. “It’s always quiet. That’s why I like it.”
A pause.
Then, he took a single step back, giving you space.
“Well,” he said, dimples flashing again, “I’ll let you get back inside. Long day, I’m guessing.”
You gave a quiet “yeah,” not entirely trusting your voice.
He nodded once more, then walked towards his house without another word. He didn’t rush. Didn’t even glance back.
But you watched him the entire time until his figure disappeared into his house, where the lights seemingly never seemed to turn on.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Jungwon let out a slow breath and leaned back against it, eyes fluttering shut.
So pretty. So flawless. Smells good. So lovely. So unmarked. Can’t stop wanting. Need. Desire. I need. All mine.
The thoughts circled like vultures, silent and persistent, scratching at the corners of his mind. They’d come on strong the second your fingers brushed his, just one small touch, but it had burned into his skin like a brand. A delicate moment, but to him, it felt like the world tipping off its axis.
He dragged his hands down his face and clenched his fists tightly at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms.
Resist.
His breath shuddered.
Don’t want to.
You were just so... warm. So real. The light from your door still echoed behind his eyes, the shape of your smile hauntingly clear.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep grounded. Had to remind himself not to get carried away. But even then, the restraint was paper-thin.
Need. Must have.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Then rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down with a muffled groan before tossing his head back to look up at the ceiling. “God,” he breathed, a strained laugh curling at the edge of his voice. “This is ridiculous.”
He groaned again, this time quieter, as if giving in to something he’d been fighting for too long. The thoughts were too loud tonight. Too vivid. You had been right there. Smiling. Talking. Trusting.
He let his hands fall to his sides, fingers twitching.
And then… he smiled.
Not from joy.
From surrender.
Because it was over now, any hope of pretending he didn’t want you. Of pretending this was something he could control.
You were close. Too close.
And that was all he needed.
Because in his mind, you belonged here. With him.
You weren’t much of a morning person. Waking up was always a slow, miserable process, each second before your alarm spent burrowed under warm covers, clinging to the last traces of sleep.
Although recently… sleep hadn’t been so kind.
You’d been plagued by dreams. Vivid ones. The kind that jolted you awake in the early hours, chest heaving, skin clammy, heart pounding like you’d sprinted through a nightmare, but they weren’t nightmares. Not exactly.
Because every time, it was the same.
Jungwon.
His face. Too close. Too clear. Smiling like he knew something you didn’t. Eyes dark and unreadable. His voice softer than usual, lower, like a whisper curling against your ear, warm and invasive, sending shivers down your spine. His hands… you didn’t even want to think about his hands. But you did.
Even now, you could feel the phantom sensation of them trailing along your arm, brushing your waist, resting against your throat like a promise.
And every time you closed your eyes, you saw it all again.
You hated how real it felt. Hated how your body reacted. Most of all… you hated how it left you wide awake, every damn night, staring at the ceiling in silence.
And you didn’t even know why you reacted like this.
You’d only had one real conversation with him—one—but your mind and body refused to let it go. It looped endlessly, the smile he gave you, the way his fingers brushed yours, the soft timbre of his voice as he spoke your name like he’d practiced it before. It wasn’t normal. None of this was normal.
But maybe that was on you.
Maybe it was your own fault for always falling for the morally grey characters in books and movies. For crushing on the charming villains. For feeling your heart skip a beat when the dangerous ones smirked from across the screen. You liked characters with sharp edges. Broken things. The ones that looked at the world like it was something they wanted to hold and tear apart all at once.
And Jungwon… well. He had that look.
The kind that made you wonder what he was thinking. What he wanted.
Even if he gave off a strange, unsettling vibe sometimes.
You really tried to put distance between yourself and Jungwon. It should’ve been easy right? After all, the guy was practically a ghost. Barely ever seen outside his house, silent as the shadows that clung to the edges of the street. You thought avoiding him would be simple. You told yourself it was just your imagination running wild, that the strange pull you felt wasn’t real.
But it wasn’t that simple.
Somehow, in the span of just a few days, you’d become a light and Jungwon the firefly, constantly drawn to you. The harder you tried to keep your distance, the closer he seemed to come. It was like the universe had conspired to make you the one person who could pull him out of the shadows.
You weren’t sure if it was just curiosity that kept making you look, kept making you wait just a little longer for the next chance encounter.
And no matter how much you told yourself to look away, to keep moving, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was exactly where he wanted to be, lingering just at the edge of your life, waiting for you to let him in.
You weren’t the only one who had noticed Jungwon’s strange behavior—or rather, his rare appearances. One afternoon, as you were closing the gate to your little house, Minjae’s car pulled up smoothly beside you. He rolled down the window with a friendly grin, starting up a conversation like he always did. It was lighthearted, normal chatter about the weather and how quiet the neighborhood had been lately.
Then, without warning, Minjae lifted his hand and waved toward something behind you. You turned around instinctively, following the direction of his motion, and your eyes locked onto a figure standing on the porch of the house next door.
Jungwon.
He was just standing there, still as a statue, but his eyes were fixed entirely on you. Not just glancing or casually watching, but staring, like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. Your heart skipped a beat, and you found, almost against your will, that you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.
It was Minjae’s voice that pulled you back to reality. “You know,” he said with a half-laugh, “you’re a miracle worker.”
You blinked, puzzled. “What?”
He nodded toward Jungwon again, still watching you from his porch. “I mean, look at him. He barely leaves the house, right? And now here he is, actually outside, and you’re the reason. You’ve somehow brought Jungwon out of his shell.”
You chuckled nervously, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I don’t know about that. I’m just living my life.”
Minjae smirked, obviously not convinced. “Come on, tell me your secret. What did you do to make the impossible happen?”
You shrugged, trying to play it off, but Minjae was insistent. Then, with a casual ease that made you pause, he said, “Honestly, only someone as pretty as you could make that kind of miracle happen.”
The words hung in the air, but something about them felt… off.
It wasn’t like when Jungwon would call you pretty. That compliment was different, almost shy, like it came from a place of quiet admiration. The way he said it made you feel seen in a way that was almost tender.
Minjae’s words, on the other hand, felt like a label. Like an objectifying gaze, rather than genuine praise. It was as if he saw you as a prize or a tool, a way to coax Jungwon out, rather than a person in your own right.
You forced a smile, but inside, a little knot of discomfort tightened.
With Jungwon, you often found yourself wondering why he isolated himself from the world. When he was with you, he was warm, engaging even charming in that quiet way of his. He made you laugh, made you feel seen. There were times when you completely forgot he was ever the reclusive neighbor you’d only heard about from a distance. Around you, he seemed normal. Happy, even.
And maybe that was what made the contrast so jarring when you tried to leave.
It started small.
“Stay a little longer,” he’d say, voice quiet, hopeful. “Just until the rain lets up.” Even when there was barely a drizzle.
Or, “I made coffee. Your favorite,” even though you never actually told him what that was.
Little things. Little excuses. And the more time you spent with him, the more you began to realize that he didn’t want you to leave him.
He’d linger at your gate, walking you out only to hold onto your sleeve as you turned to go. His fingers would brush your wrist and he’d offer one more reason. “It gets so quiet when you’re gone.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that.
There was a neediness to it—not desperate, or dramatic but quietly intense. Like he wasn’t just fond of you, but dependent on your presence to stay grounded. You noticed how his shoulders drooped when you said goodbye, how his gaze followed you all the way until you disappeared from sight. How sometimes, when you didn’t come by, he’d appear at your door with some vague excuse, or a “hey, just checking in.”
He never said the words, but you could feel them lingering between you...
Please stay. Don’t go.
But you would never admit the fact that you kind of… liked the feeling. There was something about the way Jungwon looked at you, like you were the center of his universe. Like your presence alone kept his world spinning. He was a yearning man—and you were into it. Maybe it was a little twisted. Maybe it should’ve creeped you out. But it didn’t.
It made you feel wanted. Needed. Chosen.
And that quiet hunger in his eyes? It was hard to ignore. Harder not to feel a little thrill every time you caught it.
You were, in fact, so distracted by Jungwon the past week, your thoughts wrapped in the way he said your name, the way he smiled when you laughed that you hadn’t even noticed something else. Something small. Something strange.
You hadn’t seen Minjae.
Not once.
No casual waves as he passed by in his sportscar. No afternoon chit-chat over the fence. No light in his front window. The last time you remembered speaking to him was that day outside your gate. When Minjae had joked that you were a miracle worker for dragging Jungwon out of hiding. When he’d called you pretty.
That compliment still sat uncomfortably in your mind. Not because it was unwelcome, but because it felt... off. Too direct. Too aware of something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet. Something that made your skin itch under the surface.
You shook the thought off again.
Minjae was probably just busy. Or out of town. People had lives. You shouldn’t overthink it.
Still, you felt it was suspicious.
Minjae was the kind of neighbor who always made his presence known. Whether it was a wave from his porch, a casual comment over the fence, or him pulling up just to chat—he was there. Almost too often, sometimes. So for him to just vanish without so much as a goodbye? No lights on at night. No deliveries left on his doorstep. No sound from his side of the street.
It didn’t sit right with you.
You told yourself not to spiral, not to start imagining worst-case scenarios. You weren’t in a movie, and Minjae was probably just on vacation. People disappeared for a few days all the time. But something about the stillness around his house made your gut twist.
So when you finally gathered the courage to ask Jungwon—half-laughing, trying to keep it casual “Hey, have you seen Minjae around lately?”
He didn’t laugh with you.
He just looked at you for a moment too long, head tilting ever so slightly. Then that same soft smile returned to his face, and he said, “People like him tend to drift off when they’re not needed anymore.”
You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What do you mean by that?” you asked, trying to sound casual. Curious, not alarmed. But there was an edge to your voice even you couldn’t mask.
Jungwon didn’t answer right away. He just kept smiling. That same soft, calm expression that had started to feel more and more like a mask. Like something carefully placed.
Finally, he shrugged lightly, looking off toward the trees lining the back of your neighborhood. “Some people... they like being in everyone’s business. Always asking questions. Watching. They forget their place.” He looked back at you then. “Eventually, they get bored. Or they bother the wrong person. And then they leave.”
His words were still gentle. His tone kind. But something about them felt heavy. Measured. Too intentional to be offhanded.
You laughed, nervous. “You say that like it happens often.”
Jungwon leaned a little closer, eyes gleaming like he knew something you didn’t. “In small towns,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “it happens more than you’d think.” Then he straightened again, brushing invisible dust from his sweater like nothing had happened. “Anyway,” he added brightly, “you’ll be fine. You’re not like him.”
You forced a tight smile. “Yeah?”
Jungwon nodded slowly, but his gaze shifted over your shoulder before he could answer. His eyes narrowed just a little, then lit up, like he’d spotted something that genuinely delighted him. “Oh—” he said suddenly, voice perking up. “You got new flowers for your porch!”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “Oh… yeah,” you said, turning to glance at the small planter box near your front step. “Picked them up yesterday. Thought the place needed some color.”
“They suit you,” Jungwon said warmly, stepping closer to peer at them like they were the most interesting thing he’d seen all day. “Bright. Soft. Kind of hard to ignore.”
You swallowed, unsure if he meant the flowers at this point or you.
He crouched down slightly, fingers brushing the edge of one bloom without picking it. “You’ve really made this place yours,” he murmured.
You looked at him, unsettled by the way his attention lingered on the petals like they were something precious. Fragile. “Did you… ever talk to the people who lived here before me?” you asked quietly.
Jungwon stood again, that easy smile back on his face. “No,” he said simply. “They weren’t worth getting to know.” And just like that, he turned to you again. “Want help watering them later this week? I’m good with plants.” His head tilted. “Or I could teach you.”
Your heart beat faster, but you nodded slowly, trying not to let it show.
“Sure,” you said. “Maybe.”
Jungwon’s smile widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
As time passed, the line between comfort and dependency blurred.
Jungwon had a way of filling your space without ever overwhelming it. A warm smile, a quiet presence, a helping hand before you even asked. He was always there when you needed something. A lightbulb fixed, a jar opened, a walk shared when you were feeling low. It felt natural. Easy.
You didn’t even notice how often you reached for your phone to text him before anyone else. You didn’t notice how you hadn’t seen Minjae or anyone else, really in weeks. It wasn’t like you meant to drift from the rest of the town. You were just busy. Focused. Comfortable.
Jungwon made it easy to forget.
He never told you to stop going into town. He never said you couldn’t visit others. But somehow, whenever you tried, something got in the way. Plans fell through. People stopped responding. Your car wouldn’t start. A “small accident” at the store left you rattled, and Jungwon was the only one who showed up to help.
“Coincidences,” he’d hum, brushing your hair back from your face. “This town’s weird sometimes, isn’t it?”
You’d nod, resting against him. Trusting him. Because he was safe. He was there.
You didn’t question why you always felt so tired when he wasn’t around. Why it felt wrong to laugh too loudly with anyone else.
Jungwon never rushed. Never forced.
He was a slow, calculated tide that wore down your edges until all that remained was his shape. His name on your lips. His hands that you reached for. His words that echoed in your head late at night.
You didn’t notice the strings he tied around you. Not until they were woven too deep to undo.
Because why would you?
Jungwon was your sweet, harmless, and totally normal (handsome) neighbor. The kind of guy who remembered your coffee order after hearing it once. Who fixed your mailbox without asking. Who brought you soup when you had a cold and stayed just long enough to make sure you took your meds. Who smiled like the sun only rose if you were there to see it.
Sure, there were tiny moments, flickering seconds where something darker peeked through. Like when his voice dropped just a little too low when someone else said your name. Or how his eyes didn’t follow the conversation, but followed you. How once, just once, you saw red stains on his sleeve, and he brushed it off with a laugh: “Cooking mishap, you know how clumsy I can be.”
You had blinked, hesitated and then smiled back. Because he was so normal about it, so casual, that you felt silly for even asking.
Because every time your instincts whispered run, Jungwon countered with warmth, with gentle words and soft chuckles. He smoothed over your worries like wrinkles in a bedsheet. Wrapped you in the illusion that you were safe, wanted, loved. And eventually, you stopped listening to that inner voice. Because it was easier. Safer, in a way. After all… it wasn’t like he was hurting you.
Right?
Just caring for you.
in his way.
And in fact, that was his downfall.
He had gotten too close. Too used to your warmth, your attention, your trust.
That’s why it didn’t feel wrong to surprise him. It felt sweet. Thoughtful. Just like all the little surprises he gave you. And after all, he hadn’t been feeling well lately, said he was tired, worn down. So you had baked him muffins, his favorite kind, warm and sweet with a hint of cinnamon. You even wrapped them in a cloth to keep them from getting cold.
Smiling to yourself, you made your way up his driveway, your breath puffing softly in the chilly evening air. The trees rustled around you, the old swing on his porch creaking slightly in the wind. You bent by the old tree stump and lifted the loose bark, retrieving the spare key he didn’t think you knew about. But of course you did. Jungwon always forgot how observant you could be.
You turned the lock and pushed open the door.
Darkness. As always.
The thick blackout curtains were drawn tight, swallowing all natural light. You stepped inside and closed the door gently behind you, the soft click echoing a bit too loudly for your liking. The air was still. Cool. That unnatural cold that clung to his house no matter the season. You had always teased him about it. "You live like a vampire, Won," but he’d just smiled and said your place was cozier anyway.
Balancing the plate of muffins in your hands, you bent to untie your shoes, calling out lightly, “Jungwon? I brought you something!”
Silence.
You straightened, furrowing your brows. That was odd. Usually by now, he’d be thundering down the stairs like an excited puppy, a grin on his face and the dimples you secretly adored showing.
But nothing.
Just quiet.
You stood still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dimness. The only sound was the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen, and the faint creak of the house. You stepped further in, your socks brushing against the cool wood floors.
“Won?” you called again, voice a little softer this time. A little more cautious.
Still no answer.
Weird.
Your fingers curled tighter around the plate. Maybe he was asleep? Maybe he’d taken something for the headache he’d mentioned and was knocked out? That wouldn’t be unusual.
But even as you told yourself that, something felt… off.
You moved deeper into the house, past the living room where the furniture was always too clean, too untouched. Like it was for show, not use.
“Jungwon?” you called again, softer now, unsure if you wanted an answer. Confusion gnawed at you. He was always here. He always answered. Even when tired, he’d greet you with a smile. So where the hell was he?
You turned back toward the front door, heart picking up as you considered just going home and calling him later. But then—
Your eyes dropped to the floor.
Your steps faltered.
There, near the hallway that led toward the kitchen, a faint discoloration marred the wooden boards. Faint streaks that stood out starkly against the polished surface. You took a slow, cautious step forward and crouched down, squinting.
Stains.
Your brows furrowed. Wet-looking. Dark.
Your fingers twitched, tempted to reach out but you stopped yourself. That wasn’t juice. That wasn’t water. And Jungwon… Jungwon hated mess. He vacuumed twice a week. He color-coded his closet. He folded your hoodie when you left it on a chair once and jokingly called it “chaos.”
You stood, pulse quickening now, and looked further ahead. The stains didn’t stop there, they trailed forward in uneven drags. Like something had been pulled.
You followed, slow, careful steps guiding you past the silent kitchen. The stains eventually stopped at a door you hadn’t paid much attention to before.
A door with a padlock that was now hanging open.
You stared at it.
This was the basement.
You remembered him telling you offhandedly, once, that he didn’t like going down there. Said it was dusty, cluttered, not worth the trouble. And you’d believed him. Why wouldn’t you?
But now? Now as you stood with a clear head?
Now that excuse felt wrong. Off-key. Hollow.
Because how could someone like Jungwon, so meticulous leave a whole part of his house in disarray? Let it sit, untouched, messy? It didn’t add up. Not when everything else about him screamed control. Cleanliness. Perfection.
You reached out slowly, fingers brushing the cool metal of the doorknob. You hesitated, your heart thudding heavily in your chest. Something was wrong. You felt it. Knew it. But curiosity.. It had already sunk its teeth in.
Hesitantly, you fully opened the door, cringing at the sharp clang as the padlock slipped from its hook and hit the wooden floor. The sound echoed louder than expected, like it didn’t belong in the stillness of this place. You froze, ears straining.
Nothing. No footsteps. No sound of Jungwon calling out. Just silence.
You exhaled, slow and shaky, then leaned over to peer down the narrow staircase. It was steep, poorly lit, and the air wafting up from below hit you like a wall.
Metallic.
Old.
Foul.
You wrinkled your nose, instinctively covering it with your sleeve. “Jesus, Jungwon…” you muttered to yourself, trying to play off the chill climbing up your spine, “you seriously need to find the source of that smell. It’s atrocious.”
With the plate of muffins still awkwardly cradled in your arm, you gripped the banister and took your first step down. Each board creaked beneath your weight, announcing your presence. You moved slowly, not even sure why you were whispering your movements into the quiet.
The further you descended, the colder it became. Not the kind of cold that came from lack of heating but the kind that sank into your skin, heavy and unnatural.
Jesus, Jungwon really sets the basement mood, you thought bitterly, forcing a weak laugh that died in your throat as soon as it left your lips.
Your foot hit the cold concrete at the base of the stairs, and with trembling fingers, you reached up to tug the dangling string of a single bulb. The old lamp crackled, flickered once, and then sputtered to life with a low buzz.
The basement flooded in dim, yellow light and your breath caught in your throat.
You were going to be sick.
In the corner, a cluster of large black waste bags were stacked on top of each other like a grotesque sculpture. The floor beneath them was stained dark red, the sticky sheen of old blood glistening faintly in the light.
Your gaze jerked to the wall, where tools hung in a perfect, obsessive arrangement, neat and polished, despite the horror of their placement. But the table directly beneath them… that was a different story.
The tools there were used. Bloodied, dried chunks clinging to their edges. A bone saw. A scalpel. Pliers. Things no sane person kept in their basement.
Your knees nearly gave out as your eyes swept further across the room and that’s when you saw them.
Chains.
Heavy metal chains hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly as if someone had moved them just moments ago. And in the far right corner, barely lit by the bulb, a man was hanging by his wrists. His head lolled forward, body limp. Blood soaked his shirt, streaked down his arms. You couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.
Behind him, resting too casually on another worktable, was a chainsaw—massive, streaked in fresh crimson, its handle glistening.
You dropped the plate of muffins.
It shattered on the floor, ceramic and chocolate scattering across the bloodstained concrete like confetti at the world’s sickest celebration.
Your breath hitched, your pulse roaring in your ears.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
Your body was shaking, your head reeling. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream or throw up—or both. The sight before you was grotesque, a sickly distortion of everything you thought you knew. Your skin felt too tight for your body, your lungs too small for your breath. Panic buzzed like static under your skin, your heart pounding so violently in your chest you swore it would give out.
The air smelled like rust and rot. The kind of scent that clung to your clothes and hair.
You wanted to cry, but your body was in too much shock to produce tears. Your eyes just stung, dry and wide, unable to blink, unable to look away.
And then—your gaze lifted.
A cork board.
Right in front of you.
That’s what made you move. That’s what made your brain finally snap into place, as your body responded before your mind could even fully comprehend it. You stumbled back with a choked breath.
The cork board was covered in photos. All of you.
Some were recent—your walk to the grocery store last Thursday, when you thought you felt someone watching you.
You sipping coffee on your porch.
You closing your gate behind you.
You in your kitchen window, tying your hair up.
One of you sleeping... inside your bedroom.
Your knees gave out and you hit the floor, palms scraping against the concrete. A dry sob wracked through your chest.
They were pinned in perfect rows, marked with little notes scribbled underneath in tight, obsessive handwriting.
“Blue sweater. Pretty. Smiled at me today.”
“Talked to Minjae. Upset.”
“Slept at 2:43 AM. Dreaming again?”
“Jealous. Looked too long at cashier.”
“No one else but you”
And beneath the board, on a small table, a journal. You didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to know, but your body moved on its own. You flipped it open, and it was pages and pages of more—more pictures, sketches, descriptions. Timelines.
You were being studied.
Stalked.
Catalogued like a beloved pet or a future possession.
You were so caught up in the horror you didn’t notice anything else until a soft giggle rang out behind you.
You whipped around so fast it made your vision blur, the motion jerking your whole body like a snap. Whiplash shot through your neck and shoulders, but it didn’t matter.
Because standing there… was Jungwon.
His clothes were spattered in red. His face, normally so calm and sweet, now twisted into something else. Something delighted. Like he was genuinely happy to see you.
And in his hands… was the chainsaw.
You glanced to your left. The one you’d just seen moments ago on the table. The same one.
But he hadn’t passed you.. Hadn’t made a sound... How had he—
Jungwon giggled again, eyes raking over you from head to toe like you were his favorite thing in the world. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and then he tilted his head, speaking in that same gentle, lilting voice he always used when he dropped by your porch with tea or borrowed sugar.
“I told you not to come, didn’t I, baby?” he said, voice light and lilting. “Told you I didn’t want you catching whatever I have.”
He smiled again, wider this time.
Like this was all some elaborate joke. Like he wasn’t holding something meant for destruction. Like he hadn’t just shattered the thin glass of the world you thought you understood.
Your heart thudded so loudly it drowned out everything else. You didn’t know whether to run… Or scream. Or beg.
You tried to speak, but your throat tightened and your words caught in a choking sob. “Please… just leave me alone,” you managed to choke out, voice trembling and barely a whisper. “I don’t want.. I don’t want any of this. Just… go away.”
Jungwon didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He simply stood there, watching you with those cold, catlike eyes that seemed to pierce right through you before he let out a short, almost amused laugh. “That was… cute,” he said, tilting his head to the side like you were an interesting puzzle. “But no,” he whispered, his voice dropping into something softer, almost tender, but no less chilling. “I would never leave you alone. Not now. Not ever.” He stepped closer, the chainsaw forgotten at his side as his gaze locked onto yours. “You’re everything I need. Everything I want.”
Jungwon set the chainsaw down with unnerving gentleness, as his fingers found the thick, bloodied rope hanging from the handle and tightened it around his hands with slow movements, his gaze never once leaving you. His eyes were heavy-lidded and glassy, like he was somewhere far away, but still utterly focused on you.
“This won’t hurt at all, baby,” he said in a dazed, almost hypnotic tone, each word dripping with unsettling sweetness. “Just need you to stay still…”
Your heart slammed against your ribs, panic exploding inside your chest. Desperation drove your hand to the nearest object on the table: a heavy, cold wrench. You gripped it tightly and swung with everything you had, hoping to catch him off guard.
But Jungwon was faster. His hand shot out like a striking snake, wrapping around your wrist and halting your movement mid-air. A shock ran through you when you realized the wrench was stained with fresh, sticky blood—your fingers now coated in it, too. Your stomach turned violently, bile rising.
You let out a raw, terrified scream, the sound tearing through the heavy, silent air of the basement. You struggled, twisting and pulling to free yourself from his grip, but he only pressed you harder against the unforgiving surface of the table.
Jungwon’s lips parted in a chilling, high-pitched giggle as his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with cruel amusement “No one can hear you scream. I soundproofed the basement myself.”
Before you could fully register the weight of his words, he gripped the bloodied rope tightly in his hand. Without hesitation, he wrapped it swiftly around one of your wrists, the coarse fibers biting into your skin as he pulled it tight, securing the knot with a practiced hand. Your pulse raced, panic flooding your senses, and just as he reached for your other wrist to bind it as well, a sudden surge of desperation propelled you into action.
With every ounce of strength, you drove your knee sharply into his groin. The sound of his breath catching was almost as loud as your pounding heartbeat. Jungwon groaned, doubling over in pain, clutching himself, his grip on the rope loosening instantly.
The moment was yours.
You stumbled backward, adrenaline lending power to your legs, and pushed past him, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you scrambled toward the stairs. Each step felt like it dragged you closer to freedom, even as your body screamed for relief.
When you reached the basement door, you threw yourself against it with everything you had. The door slammed open with a brutal crash, echoing off the walls as it violently hit the wall. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before scrambling upright, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into your left wrist as you moved.
Your mind was racing, heart hammering painfully against your ribs, drowning out Jungwon’s desperate shouts trailing behind you.
“Wait! Don’t leave me! Please! Come back!”
Panic surged through your veins, and you forced your legs to carry you faster, your bare feet slipping inside your damp socks as you stumbled out into the cold night air. The back door was just steps away, the only real chance for escape. Your fingers fumbled with the handle, finally wrenching it open as you spilled out into the wild darkness of the forest.
The trees stood tall and unyielding, shadows blending with the night sky, but you didn’t hesitate. Moss cushioned your frantic footsteps as you pushed forward, branches clawing at your arms and face, but you barely registered the scratches. Your entire focus was on putting distance between yourself and that suffocating basement.
Behind you, the dreadful sound started low at first, the unmistakable growl of a chainsaw revving to life. It cut through the stillness of the night like a predator’s roar, and terror twisted in your gut. Your breath came in ragged gasps, lungs burning as you pushed harder, every muscle screaming in protest.
The chainsaw’s roar grew louder, relentless, a nightmare chasing you through the forest’s tangled embrace. Your eyes darted around wildly, searching for any glimmer of safety, any break in the endless trees. But all you could do was run, run with every ounce of strength you had left because behind you, the nightmare was catching up.
Every time your foot caught on an exposed root or a patch of uneven earth, you hit the forest floor hard but every time, you pushed yourself back up. Dirt clung to your hands, leaves stuck to your clothes, and your knees throbbed from the falls. Still, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.
You cursed yourself silently. Running into the forest had been a mistake. The fear had taken over, and your only thought had been escape, an exit, any exit. In the rush, you’d completely forgotten the front door, the one that opened onto the street, onto people, onto safety. But now you were too deep. You couldn’t even see Jungwon’s house anymore, and turning back wasn’t an option.
The only thing keeping you from breaking down entirely was the quiet.
The chainsaw was gone.
The loud, gut-churning roar that had chased you through the trees had faded, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing and the whisper of wind through the branches. You slowed to a stop near a cluster of tall pine trees, bracing yourself against one of them as you struggled to steady your breath. Your chest rose and fell in quick, sharp movements, heart still pounding in your ears.
The silence was eerie, but it was also the first chance you had to really think.
Maybe he gave up.
Maybe he couldn’t track you in here.
You let out a shaky exhale, closing your eyes. The rope still tied around your wrist felt heavier now, a bitter reminder.
Then—
A breath.
Not yours.
It ghosted over your neck before a low, almost gentle voice said, “There you are.”
Your blood turned to ice.
Jungwon’s arms came around you like a lover’s embrace, one hand pressing over your mouth before you could scream. The other wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He was warm. His heartbeat against your spine was steady. Calm. Unlike yours.
“You really made me chase you,” he whispered, sounding more amused than angry. “That was naughty, bunny.”
You shook your head, whimpering under his palm. He just chuckled, leaning closer so his breath brushed your ear.
“Did you really think you could run from me? After everything we’ve shared?” His voice dropped, coaxing. Mocking. “After all the time I spent making you mine?” He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth, waiting to see if you’d scream. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Fear had strangled your voice.
“That’s what I thought,” he whispered sweetly, brushing your hair back with blood-stained fingers. “Let’s go home now.” His tone was gentle, coaxing… but behind it, there was iron. Finality. You could feel it in your bones.
You didn’t resist as he turned you in his arms. Not yet. Not now. But your mind was racing. Because if you were going to survive this, you’d need to be smarter. Smarter than him. Smarter than the sweet nightmare with a smile stitched in lies.
You let him lead you back—half pulled, half dragged—through the forest. Your wrists were bound tightly in front of you with the same rope he’d tried to use before, now knotted so expertly there was no hope of slipping free. The scratch of branches against your skin barely registered. Your mind was a blur of white noise and racing thoughts, flipping through options you didn’t have.
Jungwon didn’t speak as he walked. His grip on your arm was firm but not painful, almost like he thought this was normal. Like he believed this was still salvageable. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked content enough.
You needed a plan.
Something.
Anything.
That’s when you saw it up ahead—the ravine. It wasn’t huge, but the drop was enough to matter. The slope wasn’t a sheer cliff, but it was uneven, slick with moss and just far enough across that it might buy you time. If you could make it.
You had one shot.
You slowed your steps, carefully adjusting your breathing as if you were calming down, eyes softening when you glanced at Jungwon. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, just above a whisper, letting your voice tremble with fake vulnerability. “You scared me… that’s all.”
He stopped, blinking down at you like you’d just confessed something precious. His expression melted into something close to adoration, lips parting slightly.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said, voice so soft it nearly caught in the breeze. “I just want to take care of you.”
That was your cue.
You leaned forward, lifting your bound hands like you were going to touch his face. He leaned in instinctively—lovesick and completely unaware.
Perfect.
With everything you had, you pulled your fists back and slammed them into his face.
His head snapped to the side, a startled grunt escaping his lips as he staggered, cussing out. Blood sprayed from his nose, and for the first time, his expression twisted, not in pain, but in disbelief.
You didn’t wait to see more.
You ran.
You sprinted full force toward the ravine, legs screaming, lungs burning. Your socks slipped on the mossy ground, but momentum carried you. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.
And when you reached the edge, you leapt.
Your stomach dropped as you flew through the air, barely making it to the other side. Your knees hit first, hard, sending a jolt up your legs. You scrambled on all fours, digging your fingers into the earth, dragging yourself up over the edge.
Then you turned.
Jungwon was still on the other side.
His nose was bleeding, smeared red down to his chin. His chest rose and fell with short, rapid breaths. His hair was wild now, curling damply at his forehead from the sweat and heat of the chase. But it was his eyes that froze you in place, wide, crazed, and fixed on you like a predator denied its kill.
He didn’t shout.
He didn’t move.
He just stared, fists clenched at his sides, rage and obsession twisted into something inhuman across his face.
You stood, still shaking, backing away one slow step at a time. You didn’t blink.. You couldn’t. Not with Jungwon staring at you like that, chest heaving like he might leap across the ravine after you.
And then… something in him snapped.
His lips curled into a grin, and his head tilted, ever so slightly. “Oh, you bad bunny,” he called out, voice sing-song sweet and bone-deep wrong. “Running… hiding… making me chase you. Tsk, tsk. You know this is pointless, right?”
His smile widened, blood staining his teeth now. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable. But that’s okay. I like the thrill.”
You didn’t stay to hear the rest.
You turned and ran.
You finally burst through your front door, heart pounding wildly as if it might leap right out of your chest. Your legs trembled, but you forced yourself to keep moving, scrambling toward the kitchen, desperate to find something sharp to cut the ropes binding your wrists.
You rifled through drawer after drawer, panic making your hands clumsy.
A breath, close and warm suddenly brushed your ear.
“Caught you,” Jungwon murmured, voice low and dangerous yet oddly gentle. He moved quickly before you could comprehend anything, strong hands grabbing you and flipping you around before you could react. Your tied arms went over his head, and around his neck as his grip tightened, pulling you close until your chest pressed firmly against his.
He brushed the stray strands of hair away from your face with an almost tender touch, his fingers lingering on your cheek just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Making me lose control like that... bad bunny,” he whispered, his voice low and velvety, dripping with teasing warmth.
Before you could even find the words to respond, his lips pressed against yours, hard and shockingly electric. The suddenness of the kiss caught you completely off guard, your breath hitching as your body froze in surprise.
Taking the chance, Jungwon deepened the kiss, his lips parting slightly as he leaned closer, holding you tight against him. His hands tangled gently in your hair, pulling you just enough to claim your attention fully.
Your mind raced, heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest. Every nerve seemed to ignite beneath his touch, caught between fear and something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to pull away, in gact your instincts screamed at you to, but the strength of his hold and the kiss kept you rooted in place.
His breath mingled with yours, warm and heavy, as he slowly eased the pressure, giving you just enough space to catch your breath but not enough to break the hold. His eyes searched yours, dark and deep, like he was trying to read every hidden thought inside you.
“See?” Jungwon murmured softly, his voice a mixture of challenge and affection. “You don’t want to run away after all.”
He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line across your bottom lip. “Now be still,” he whispered, voice low and coaxing, “so I can give you exactly what you need, bunny…”
➜ summary: jay’s always had everything. you were just the girl who followed him around until you became the one thing he couldn’t let go.
pairing: pjs x f!reader, wc: 16k words , genre: best friends to lovers, rich!jay, fluff, a wee lil angst w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing
When you were eight, your pet fish died. Jay, being the perfect friend, snuck out of his house, hoodie zipped up to his nose, and stood outside your door with a juice box and a Pokémon sticker. He didn’t say anything, just left them there with a note that read: “U ken yoos the stikr four yur dairi.”
He wasn’t the best speller, but he was the best friend you could ever ask for.
When you were thirteen, you stayed up until 3 a.m. on the phone, ranting about how some snotty new transfer from Australia, Sim Jaeyun said your feet looked “weirdly shaped.” Jay spent an hour trying to convince you that Jaeyun had a thumb that looked like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and couldn’t tell a mermaid from a fish so he didn’t deserve to have opinions.
When you turned seventeen, Jay gave you his favourite hoodie before flying to Seattle for a month to visit his relatives. You wore it religiously while he was gone, just to feel a little closer to him.
And till now somehow, Jay still orbited your everyday life.
“You’re late,” he said without looking up, eyes fixed on some game playing on the TV.
“I wasn’t even supposed to come today.”
“But you did,” he replied, finally turning to glance at you. His grin was lazy, a little smug. “Couldn’t stay away from The Jonginator 3000.”
“Gross,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Please never call yourself ever that again.”
You crossed the room and dropped onto the other end of the couch, knees curling up beside you as your shoulder brushed his. Jay made space for you without saying anything.
“Here,” you muttered, digging through your tote bag and tossing a bag of chips his way.
He caught it one-handed. “Oh, how you spoil me.”
“Well, that’s because you’re unbearable when you’re hungry.”
“And equally as charming when I’m full,” he added with a wink.
You bit back a smile, tilting your head with mock thoughtfulness. “Hm… I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate,” you said.
You liked to believe your friendship with Jay could weather even the strongest storms but lately, you weren’t so sure.
It wasn’t that anything had gone terribly wrong.
It was quieter than that. Slightly more subtle? Things had just… started to change. Not in ways you could clearly name, but in the little things.
You and Jay were friends. Best of friends, even.
Your mum had worked for his family for almost a decade, taking care of his grandmother, the same woman you’d come to call Grandma, too. Jay never minded. His grandmother never corrected you. If anything, she loved it. Jay was an only child, and without a granddaughter of her own, she’d folded you into her life without hesitation.
His family had always been kind. They treated your mum with respect, and you never felt looked down on.
But lately, something had started to shift. Nothing harsh or particularly cruel. Just… small things, little things you were starting to piece together.
Maybe it was the way people talked about the future now about colleges, cities, careers. Plans that didn’t involve waking up in your childhood bedroom. Plans that didn’t include walking into Jay’s room, knocking once before flopping onto his bed to rant about terrible Netflix documentaries you’d force him to watch.
But most of all, they were plans that didn’t include both of you.
Maybe it was the realisation that Jay was heading somewhere you couldn’t afford to follow.
And maybe Jay was starting to realise that too.
You loved him. Almost too much. You didn’t like putting a label on it. Romantic, platonic, it didn’t matter. All you knew was that he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, and he made you smile when you were knee-deep in anger.
And losing that? Losing him? Somehow, that scared you more than anything.
You’d left for the bathroom a little over five minutes ago, but it took nearly three just to get back to Jay’s room.
You were about to push open the door, fully prepared to return and absolutely obliterate him in the game you’d been playing, when you heard a voice.
“Baby,” his mum said gently.
You froze. Your hand hovered just above the doorknob. Something about her tone stopped you. It sounded serious… a little too serious for you to barge in like nothing.
So you didn’t.
You stayed where you were, just outside his door, waiting for the right moment to step in.
“Mom, I’m not going,” Jay said. You could hear the sound of him ruffling his hair, followed by a long sigh.
His mum exhaled softly. “Jong, it’s a tradition. The family went there. I went there. You—”
“I’m not going,” he repeated, firmer this time.
There was a pause.
“If this is about…” she began before letting out a deep breath. “Look, I love her. You know I do. I treat her like a daughter too, but baby, this is a big deal. You have one foot in the door and you’re throwing it all away?”
“Mom—”
“No, listen to me.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You can always come back to her, but this… this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”
A long stretch of silence followed, thick and heavy, before she spoke again, softer now but still thick with tension.
“I’m not saying she isn’t good for you. She is. She’s smart, she’s pretty. She’s… kind. But do you really think the two of you have anything in common besides growing up together?”
Oh. Oh. Oh…
So this was how they saw you: not bad, not unworthy…just not enough. Not for him.
“Baby,” she said, “the two of you are on different paths and…well, Jong, you were meant for greater things. Big things.”
Through the small crack in the doorframe, you caught a glimpse of Jay, sitting on the edge of his bed, brows furrowed, elbows resting on his knees. He wasn’t answering. He looked like he was thinking about it.
That hurt more than anything.
You backed away quietly, each step careful, like even your breath might give away that you had been listening. When you reached the top of the stairs, you glanced down at your feet, your socks, mismatched and worn. They had never felt like such a statement before. And now, in this house, with its icy cold Italian marble floors, they felt impossibly…prominent.
You were rushing toward the door when something made you pause. The second living room, the one you’d always walked past, never into. You turned, just a little, just enough to see it.
The walls were lined with frames. Studio portraits of Jay and his parents, always dressed to the nines, always looking like they belonged on the cover of some high-society magazine. There were formal family shots with his extended relatives, his cousins in their prep school uniforms, their parents with Rolexes and pearl earrings, champagne glasses in hand at some gala that probably changed the world without you knowing.
Then your eyes landed on the final frame tucked in the corner.
Jay, standing beside the minister at a government scholarship ceremony. A navy suit that fit him too well. His parents beaming on either side of him. The plaque in his hand gleaming. You remembered that day vaguely, he had texted you something self-deprecating about tripping on stage. You had laughed then.
You weren’t laughing now.
Because all of it somehow was starting to feel like a mockery of just how different your worlds really were. There was a bitter sting in your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was jealousy over a life you’d never live, or the ache of knowing someone you liked so much came from a place you could never quite reach.
While Jay had birthday dinners at restaurants you didn’t even know existed, yours were made of takeout leftovers and cakes baked in a neighbor’s oven. Jay had a whole wall of proof that he belonged. And all the while, you didn’t even have matching socks.
—
Jay: Did you just leave? Without saying goodbye? 🙁
You didn’t reply.
You were too deep in your own spiral…spinning, crashing, drowning in thoughts you didn’t ask to think. His mom had been right. About everything.
She hadn’t been cruel. She hadn’t even sounded angry. Just… honest. Like a mother trying to protect her son from making a mistake. And maybe you were the mistake. You knew she liked you. You knew the whole family did. But that didn’t change the fact that you’d always been her daughter, the caregiver’s daughter. Not one of them. Not really.
And for the first time in your life, you felt it, not just the distance, but the pity. Ten years of your mom’s hard work, all the quiet pride she carried, all the long nights and it suddenly felt like none of it mattered. You were just the tagalong. A nice girl with nowhere better to be.
You were never someone in that house. You were just... there.
Your phone lit up again.
Jay: I’m coming over.
Your eyes flew open. “Damn it–” you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie.
You: Don’t.
Jay: Huh?
You: I’m fine.
Jay: But you left so soon?
You: I had to take a shit so I left.
There was a pause.
Jay: I have a bathroom, you idiot.
You: It’s too fancy. I like mine better.
Jay: LOL well at least say goodbye next time. I went around the house like an idiot looking for you for 10 whole minutes.
You stared at the screen, thumb hovering. You wanted to say more.
But you didn’t want him to pity you too.
—
Jungwon stood beside you, rhythmically tapping two fingers against your back, drumming out a song only he could hear. You hunched forward at the front desk, shoulders tense, chin propped against your palm as you glared at the dusty computer monitor displaying your completely empty Tuesday schedule.
You part timed at Goober Galaxy, an indoor playground targeted for kids ages 3 and up. Today was quiet. It was the perfect shift for a breakdown. Unfortunately, Jungwon hadn’t gotten the memo.
You swatted his hand away without even turning around. “Cut it out.”
He laughed, and leaned over the counter so that his chin now rested on his folded arms beside yours. “I’m bored,” he declared, eyes scanning your blank expression.
“Then go find something to do.”
“I like bothering you,” he said with a smile.
You turned to glare at him, grabbing the nearest pencil and holding it up like a weapon. “I’ll stab you with this.”
“Ooh, how scary,” he said, grinning wider.
“Shut up.”
You didn’t mean for it to come out as sharp as it did. Jungwon blinked, his smile faltering just a little but only for a second. You dropped the pencil back onto the desk and folded your arms, slumping deeper into your chair. You’d been like this all day: distracted, fogged over, stuck in your own head with thoughts of you and Jay.
It’d been two days since you left Jay’s house without saying goodbye. Two days since you’d heard his mother’s voice echoing in the hallway, reminding him that people like you didn’t belong in their world.
He’d been texting you ever since. But every time your phone lit up with his name, your heart clenched so hard it made you nauseous. You couldn’t answer. Not when you didn’t know how to exist next to him without feeling small.
You didn’t realize Jungwon had moved until he dropped onto the beanbag beside your stool with a dramatic huff, his legs splayed out in front of him, head tilted toward you.
“Okay,” he said, “seriously. Who is it?”
You didn’t answer.
“Come on,” he continued, tapping his foot against your shoe. “Tell the master of Women who has you acting up like this.”
“I highly doubt you even know what a woman is.”
You let out a breath through your nose and glanced at him. Jungwon’s dark hair tousled from where he’d been running his hand through it, polo shirt wrinkled, name tag barely hanging on. He was annoying and loud. But he was also one of the only people who understood what it meant to want more than you were allowed to have. You both had jobs instead of highly paid tutors, worn-out sneakers instead of new ones, savings goals that felt like they’d never be reached.
He didn’t know what was wrong. Not exactly. But he knew enough to ask.
Still, your voice caught in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud: I overheard Jay’s mom say I don’t belong in his world and I think she’s right and now I can’t even look at him without wanting to cry.
So instead, you mumbled, “It’s nothing.”
Jungwon didn’t push. He just leaned back with a sigh and said, “You know I’ll keep annoying you until you tell me, right?”
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know.”
He grinned. “Cool. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
You sighed then tilted your head toward him, your voice quiet. “D’you ever think we’ll be bigger than we are right now?”
Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “I mean… I heard Mr. Kim say we stop growing after we turn 18, but I’m not too sure.” He tilted his head dramatically, thinking hard. “Though… I have been drinking more milk lately so all fingers crossed!”
You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant! I meant... just us. Will we ever be bigger than this? Than who we are now?”
He looked at you, his smile fading into something gentler. You didn’t usually say things like this. “Like... spiritually? Emotionally? Or like tax bracket-wise?”
You stared at him flatly.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising both hands in surrender. “I get it. You mean like, in the world.”
You nodded slowly, your voice tightening. “I mean…look at us….We’re just... two kids. Two random people in this giant fuckin’ world. And there are people out there who are so much bigger than us. So much more important. Doing things that matter. And we’re just here. Doing this.”
Jungwon leaned his head back against the beanbag, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling for a long moment before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I like where I am.”
You glanced at him, brows furrowed. “You like working for scraps?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Well... it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and I’m hanging out with the prettiest girl I know. So yeah. Not bad.”
You shoved his shoulder, trying not to smile. “Be serious, Won.”
His expression softened then, all teasing drained out of it. He shifted to face you more fully, his voice quieter. “Okay. You’re upset. And since it’s you, and you don’t get like this unless it’s something big, I’m guessing this is about Jay.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.
Jungwon reached out and gently poked your forehead. “Then let me say this clearly: you need to stop letting that big, overthinking brain of yours spiral.”
You exhaled shakily.
“I know Jay. Not like you do, obviously,” he added with a small grin, “but well enough. And I know, for a fact, that Jay doesn’t give a single fuck that we’re working at...” He looked around and grimaced. “Goober Fuckin’ Galaxy.”
You laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said, nudging your knee with his. “That guy looks at you like you invented…I don’t know…the freaking internet? It clearly doesn’t matter what job you have, or where you come from. You’re not small to him. Not to me. Not to Hee. Not to any of us.”
You didn’t reply, but something in your chest eased…just a little.
The bell above the entrance gave its usual pathetic worn out ding, but you didn’t look up…no one came to Goober Galaxy on a Tuesday. That was the whole point of working Tuesdays.
“Uh oh,” he muttered beside you, sitting up from his beanbag.
“What?” you asked, barely glancing over.
“Lover boy incoming.”
Your brows knit together as you turned and froze.
Jay was standing in the entrance, chest rising like he’d sprinted from the subway (which he’s probably never taken), hair tousled in that way that looked both accidental and annoyingly perfect. In one hand, he held a bouquet of white daisies wrapped in soft brown paper. In the other, a box of chocolates with a ribbon tied so tight it was starting to crumple the corner.
And then you noticed it, the faint red splotches blooming across his knuckles, creeping up his wrist. His grip didn’t falter. Jay was allergic to flowers. You’d known that since forever, since the day he sneezed through an entire spring picnic and blamed the pollen for his watery eyes.
Your heart twisted.
Suddenly, you felt awful. And soft. And maybe a little bit in love all over again.
He walked straight toward you, eyes never leaving your face, and you hated the way your breath caught.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’m sorry.”
You blinked, completely thrown. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, pushing the flowers into your hands like they might prove his sincerity. “I don’t know what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t even realize something was wrong until you stopped replying and then I thought maybe it was something I said or maybe I looked at you weird and—”
“Jay—”
“I was going to come yesterday, but I didn’t want to be pushy. And then I tried calling again this morning but I figured maybe you were busy—”
“Jay.”
He finally paused, breath short, his eyes scanning your face with desperation. And just like that, your chest ached in another way.
He didn’t know. He thought he did something wrong. And he came all the way here just to apologize for a mistake he didn’t even understand.
You looked down at the daisies, hands curling around the brown paper. The stems were still wet. Fresh, which means he got the flowers that day.
God, he was sweet. Stupidly, painfully sweet.
Before you could say anything, Jungwon cleared his throat loudly from behind the counter. “Sooooo,” he drawled. “You got her flowers and chocolates? What do I get?”
Jay turned to look at him with the flattest, most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. Without a word, he reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out a single crumpled bill, and tossed it onto the counter.
“A dollar,” he said.
Jungwon stared at it. “That’s it?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t give you lint from my pocket.”
“Then…I’ll just have the dollar.” Jungwon muttered, pocketing the dollar.
Jay turned back to you, lips parted like he wanted to say more but the words didn’t come.
Jungwon hadn’t moved.
He was still standing there, hovering way too close, arms crossed, eyes bouncing between you and Jay like he was watching the tension build. His eyes crossing between you and Jay’s a silly grin on his stupid face.
You shot him a look. “Can you get lost?”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. “It’s Tuesday. I’m bored. I wanna see how this plays out.”
“You want entertainment?”
“Desperately.”
You sighed through your nose, then shoved the box of chocolates into his chest without looking. “Here. Take this. Go sit in the ball pit and eat this.”
He stared at the box, then back at you. “These are from him, though.”
“I don’t care. Just go.”
A smug smile bloomed on his face as he clutched the box. “You know what? Say less.”
And with that, he strolled off, climbing into the nearest corner of a giant ball pit, where he immediately sprawled across the plastic balls.
You turned back to Jay, your eyes flicking upward to meet his.
He was still watching you, brows drawn just slightly. His arms were at his sides now, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or give you space. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he knew something had changed. And it was killing him.
You looked at the flowers still in your hands. You looked back at him. You weren’t sure which one made your chest hurt more.
So you said it.
“I heard what your mom said that day.”
His entire expression shifted subtly. His mouth parted, but he didn’t speak.
“I didn’t mean to,” you added, softer now. “I was coming back to the room and I just… I overheard the entire conversation.”
Jay’s shoulders tensed. He looked down for a second, then up again, jaw clenched, eyes searching your face.
You swallowed. “I wasn’t avoiding you because I was mad. I just… I don’t know...I didn’t know how to act.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just blinked slowly, like the words were still settling into place.
“Look,” Jay said finally, his voice low but firm, “you don’t have to worry about it. I’m not going anywhere—”
“Jay,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you meant, “I’m not worried about that.”
You looked down, fingers tightening around the bouquet of daisies in your hands. The stems crinkled slightly in your grip.
“I’m not mad about what she said,” you said quietly. “I’m just... she’s right.”.
His mouth opened slightly, brows drawing together like he didn’t understand how those words could’ve come from you. His chest rose as if to argue, but he didn’t speak yet. He couldn’t.
You lifted your gaze slowly, and your throat burned. “She’s right, Jay. We don’t have anything in common besides growing up together.”
He shook his head immediately, stepping closer. “You’re more than what she said—”
“Jay,” you said again, this time with a bitter laugh laced into it, “who are we kidding?”
He sighed when you cut him off.
“I work in a stupid kids’ playground called Goober Galaxy. You’re in every high-end after school academy, tutoring centre, test prep institute money can buy. You’re made to get straight A’s, made to end up at some fancy university. Made to do something big. I’m not.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” he said, his voice cracking just barely at the edges. “Do you think I ever looked at you and saw anything less?”
Jay exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “I’ve liked you since the day you showed up behind your mom in that stupid little yellow dress you hated. You were hiding behind her, and God—” he let out a soft laugh, almost breathless, “The moment you sat beside me, you punched me in the shoulder and said I had a dumb name. I’ve liked you since then.”
Your eyes fluttered up to glance at him, but only for a second, before dropping back to your shoes. He reached out gently, fingers brushing under your chin, and tilted your face toward his.
“I loved that version of you,” he said, eyes locked onto yours. “I love this version of you. I’ve never thought you were less than me. Not even once. It’s always been you.”
The silence that followed clung to the air, thick and trembling.
You stared at him, barely breathing, barely able to believe this was real.
“Jay–”
“UH GUYS, CAN I COME OUT NOW?” Jungwon’s voice rang out, followed by a hacking cough. “I THINK I SWALLOWED THE RIBBON.”
You almost burst into laughter. Almost.
But instead, you did the one thing you’d been aching to do for far too long.
You leaned forward over the counter and kissed him.
Jay froze for just a split second, stunned. His hand hovered uncertainly beside you, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you. But his eyes fluttered shut, and when you pulled away, his lips chased yours like he didn’t want it to end.
His cheeks flushed immediately. He laughed softly, a little dazed. “I didn’t think today would end up like this.”
You smirked. “Do you want me to take it back?”
He shook his head quickly, still smiling. “No. I just... I wish it wasn’t in front of—”
The both of you turned.
Jungwon was now sitting fully upright in the ball pit, legs criss-crossed, waving at you. A half-eaten piece of chocolate dangled from his fingers.
“I think I’m the first person to ever witness a love confession in Goober Galaxy,” he said. “A sentence that has never, ever been said before in the history of mankind.”
Jay groaned and dropped his head onto the counter with a thud. “Why are you like this?”
He tilted his head, beaming like he’d just officiated a wedding. “So… can I come out now?”
You and Jay both answered without missing a beat.
“No.”
—
The two of you had been dating for a whole month now and sneaking around had become a normal occurrence for the two of you.
A month of stolen glances, hushed giggles, and kisses behind closed doors. You came over under the same old pretense, “I’m just hanging out at Jay’s while waiting for Mom to finish work”. It was familiar. There was nothing to question.
Except now, every time you stepped into his room, the door clicked shut behind you and the rest of the world disappeared.
You’d start out pretending to study. Laptops open, notebooks flipped to blank pages, a pencil stuck behind your ear. Jay would sit beside you, his knee pressed against yours, trying really hard for maybe ten minutes. And then he’d look over.
You’d barely meet his eyes before his lips were on yours.
Usually, soft first then it goes deeper, slower, the kind of kissing that made you forget what time it was. It’d be 4:30 one moment and 6:00 the next. He’d push your hair behind your ear, you’d tug lightly on his hoodie, and the math textbook between you would be quietly shoved to the floor by someone’s feet.
It always ended the same way. A knock at the door. Your mom’s voice floating in, “Come on, time to head home!”
You’d jolt apart, breathless, cheeks burning, smoothing out your hair and reaching blindly for a notebook. “Okay!” you’d call out, voice a little too high. Jay would flop back onto his bed, dramatic and pouty.
Your mom would open the door, glance in, see the two of you surrounded by notes and open textbooks, and nod. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
“Just five more minutes,” you’d reply automatically.
She’d leave. And before you could even stand, Jay would hook a finger through your sleeve and pull you gently back down.
One last kiss. And then another. And then five more, because he always said one wasn’t enough. He’d press them to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, grinning like an idiot.
“Do you really have to go?” he’d mumble, arms still around you.
“She’s literally my ride home.”
“I could give you a ride.”
You snorted and leaned back just enough to look at him. “You got your license like... five minutes ago.”
“Exactly. I’m freshly certified. I’m a responsible driver.”
“Jay,” you said flatly, “I heard what grandma said about you hitting the curb”
Jay groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “What a snitch.”
You laughed, pulling away gently as you stood up. “That’s a no, by the way. You’re not driving me home.”
Jay pouted, tugging lightly on your hand. “You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you. I just wanna go home in one piece tonight.”
Still pouting, he leaned up and kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “One day you’ll be begging me for a ride.”
“Sure. The day you stop kissing the curb.”
—
It was another ordinary day, or at least it had started that way. You were in Jay’s room, lying beside him with your head propped on your hand, half-listening to him ramble about something stupid Heeseung had texted. His hand was resting on your knee, your fingers loosely interlocked until the knock came.
The door creaked open a second later.
“Oh,” his mother said, her smile soft but surprised. “You’re here.”
You sat up immediately, your hand slipping out of his. You nodded politely, reaching for your bag even though you weren’t meant to leave for another hour. What used to feel like home now made your shoulders tense. Jay noticed. Of course he did.
“Are you staying for dinner?” his mother asked, stepping inside like she always had.
You shook your head quickly. “No. I was actually just about to leave.”
“So soon?” she pouted slightly. “You haven’t eaten dinner with us in a while.”
“I just have a lot of homework to get through,” you replied with a rehearsed smile, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You turned to Jay, silently asking if he’d stop you, if he’d ask you to stay. But he saw it. The unease in your body, the way your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you back down and kiss the worry out of your forehead. But he didn’t.
He just nodded. Smiled like it didn’t hurt.
“Go,” he said gently.
And so you did.
The door clicked shut behind you.
Jay stood there for a beat, staring at the closed space you’d just filled. Then he turned back, meeting his mother’s gaze across the room.
She crossed her arms. “Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning now. “She hasn’t stayed for dinner in almost two months.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom.”
“I think there is.”
Jay exhaled, his jaw tight. And he hated it…hated how something that was once easy had turned into this sharp-edged discomfort. How your laughter had grown quieter. How he had to love you in secret all because the life carved out for him didn’t have room for anything outside of perfect.
Over the past two months, Jay had started to feel something sour curling inside him. A quiet resentment. Not towards you. Never you. But toward everything else. Toward the silent expectation to carry generations of ambition on his back. He loved his mother, God, he really did. But that love didn’t soften the frustration. It didn’t erase how badly things had shifted between you both since that night.
He had so many things to be grateful for. But all he’d ever really wanted was you. Just to be by your side. And somehow, even that felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.
“Mom, drop it,” he said, voice flat.
She frowned, stepping further into the room. “Jongseong, you’ve been acting different since the day—”
“That’s because I’ve been talking, and you haven’t been listening,” he snapped.
Her expression faltered. “What do you want me to do, Jong? Your dad and I have worked tirelessly for this opportunity—”
“That I didn’t ask for!” His voice cracked, hands clenched at his sides.
“You are going to that university. It’s in your blood. It’s good for you. And deep down, you know it too. If I told her how important this is, how good it is for you, I’m pretty sure she’d be supportive.”
“Don’t tell her.”
She froze.
“Baby—”
“Don’t. Tell. Her.” he repeated, each word heavier than the last.
His mother blinked, visibly thrown by his tone. And Jay just stood there, chest heaving, trying to hold back the rest of the words rising in his throat. Because if he said more, he wasn’t sure what would come out.
He just knew this: She wasn’t allowed to take you from him, too.
—
The two of you had wandered into a small alleyway market off the main district, less glossy, more charm. Little stalls lined both sides, selling handmade accessories, mismatched shoes, thrifted bags with peeling zippers, and the kind of bracelets that cost just enough to mean something, but not enough to break a wallet.
You stopped in front of a table full of them, rows of braided cords, beaded charms, faded ribbons wrapped around thin, bendy wire. You held up one with small star-shaped beads, smiling a little to yourself.
Jay hovered beside you, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning the stall. “You sure you want one of these?” he asked, not unkindly, just confused. “There’s a place down the street that does custom silver bands. We can go there. I’ll pay.”
You shook your head immediately, the smile slipping off your face. “I don’t want anything too expensive,” you said quietly. “I just want something pretty.”
Jay frowned. “Yeah, but we could get something prettier. Something that’ll last. I just—why not get something better?”
You didn’t say anything at first, just lowered your hand. Something in your chest twisted. He didn’t mean anything by it. You knew that. But it still hit the wrong nerve.
You turned to him, jaw tightening. “Just because I’m buying cheaper things doesn’t mean they’re ass, Jay.”
He blinked, startled. “I didn’t even mean it that way,” he said, voice low but tense. “I just meant—if there’s something you want, I’ll get it for you. That’s all. You don’t have to—”
“I don’t want anything,” you cut in, too fast, too sharp. “Not with your money.”
The silence that followed was instant.
Jay’s brows lifted slightly. He’d been reaching for your hand without even realizing it, but at that, he pulled back. Just a fraction. Just enough to make your heart drop. His expression didn’t shift much, just the tiniest flicker of hurt. But that was worse. You could tell when he was trying not to show it.
You reached for him quickly, fingers wrapping around his hand before he could pull away further. Your grip tightened, desperate.
“I’m sorry,” you said, softer this time. “I didn’t mean it. I just—sometimes I feel weird. I don’t know.”
Jay looked at you for a long moment. And then, wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms.
Your face pressed against his chest, your fists gripped onto the fabric of his hoodie. He didn’t say anything.
“I just want to give you everything,” he whispered after a long silence.
And even though your throat burned, you didn’t cry. You just nodded, clinging to him.
—
Jay stared long and hard at the framed certificates on the wall of his father’s office.
He’d been sitting there ever since he got back from your little date.
You’d cried for almost 30 minutes before finally falling asleep on his shoulder. He’d felt every quiet sob, the uneven rise and fall of your chest. Like being with him hurt.
He knew you loved him. God, he loved you just as much, probably more. But seeing you in that much pain simply because the two of you came from different worlds made his chest ache.
He didn’t care about any of it. Not the money. Not the future his parents had mapped out. Not the name on the wall in front of him.
But you did.
He didn’t know how to fix it. How to make you believe you were never less than him. That you’d always been the best part of his world.
“Jong?”
Jay’s head snapped up. His mother stood at the door, peeking through. He cleared his throat and quickly wiped away a single tear he hadn’t realised had fallen.
“Mom,” he said, nodding stiffly.
He hadn’t spoken to her since the last time she tried to push him into going.
Jay had already made peace with attending a good university in Korea. One that meant a thirty-minute drive from you. One that didn’t require a time zone between your hands. He didn’t care about prestige. He didn’t need legacy. He just needed you.
Because no place could feel like home unless you were there.
He wanted a small, lived-in apartment where the walls were filled with pictures of the two of you, some crooked, some blurry, all perfect. He wanted late mornings and lazy nights, strumming his guitar while you sat on his lap, flipping through TV channels.
He didn’t want boardrooms. He wanted breakfast in bed. He wanted you in his hoodie, laughing at something stupid, your legs tangled with his on the couch. He wanted to choose that life.
He just didn’t know how because his life wasn’t his.
His parents were successful, respectable, powerful, intimidating in every room they walked into. And Jay? He was their only child. The heir. The one meant to carry it all.
He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He knew he was lucky. But sometimes…he wished he was at Goober Galaxy right next to you. Sweeping floors, handing out stickers, chasing after toddlers. Living the kind of life he got to choose.
He wished he could trade places with Jungwon, just for a moment. To know what it felt like to live freely, to love without strings.
But he wasn’t Jungwon.
He was stuck. Caged by expectations that didn’t belong to him. And no one had asked if he wanted them.
“Your dad wants to see you.”
Jay blinked. His mother was still standing in the doorway, phone in hand, the screen already lit up with a call. He swallowed. She passed it to him without another word.
Jay sat up straighter, the back of his neck already tensing as he accepted the phone. His father's face filled the screen, sharp suit, crisp tie, backdrop of a sleek conference room somewhere in Hong Kong. The time zone difference didn't matter. His father always made time when it came to lectures.
“Jongseong,” his father began without pleasantries, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s this I hear about you not wanting to attend Oxford?”
Jay opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He glanced at the wall, at the same framed degree he’d been staring at moments earlier, and felt the familiar weight return to his chest.
With his mother, he always knew what to say. How to deflect, how to counter her logic with his own. But with his father… it was different.
With his father, Jay always felt like a little boy again.
Like he wasn’t the man of the house, but a kid sitting at the edge of a chair too big for him, trying not to swing his legs.
With his father gone so often, Jay had stepped into the role by default…holding things down, keeping things quiet, managing expectations. But every time his dad reappeared, even just through a screen, it was like the years peeled off and left him exposed.
He felt his mouth go dry. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the phone.
“I’ve… decided not to go,” he said finally, voice quiet but steady.
There was a pause. A beat of silence that buzzed louder than any scolding.
“Decided?” his father repeated, eyes narrowing. “Jong, we don’t just decide things. You know that.”
His voice rose, firm and cold.
“We’re not like anyone else. Do you understand that? You don’t get to just throw away opportunities people would kill for.”
Jay swallowed again, throat tight. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say I don’t want it. I never did. But the words sat heavy in his chest, unmoving.
He didn’t want any of it. But how could he say that to a man who had spent his entire life building it?
“I—”
“Son,” his father’s voice dropped, deeper now, tinged with concern. “I didn’t… we didn’t build this by making decisions that went against our family. We built this by honouring tradition. By upholding it.”
“Dad—”
“We’re not just… anyone, Jongseong. You have to remember that. Even when it comes to the people we keep close.”
Jay’s eyes flicked to his mother, still standing in the doorway. Her gaze faltered just slightly.
So she told him. About you.
Of course she did.
And now it wasn’t just about the university anymore. It was about you. About everything he’d kept safe and sacred. Everything he thought he could keep separate.
—
You barged into his room with your bag slung over your right shoulder, hair slightly windblown..
“School was so boring!” you groaned, flopping straight onto his sofa. Without warning, you dropped your head onto his lap, staring up at the ceiling.
“But you wouldn’t guess what happened though,” you continued, grin creeping onto your face. “I got an A for Biology and Hee got an F, so now he has to retake the test. He looked like he was about to cry—”
You stopped mid-sentence.
Jay wasn’t laughing.
He wasn’t smiling.
His eyes were somewhere else, fixed on a spot just past you, like he wasn’t really here at all.
Your smile faltered.
You sat up slowly, shifting your weight until you were straddling his lap. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, but his gaze was still lost. So you reached for his face. Your hands cradled his jaw, thumbs pressing gently into the softness of his cheeks as you squished them together.
“Jay?” you said softly, brows furrowed. “Where’d you go?”
That finally pulled his eyes back to you.
He blinked, like surfacing from deep water, lips parted as if he’d forgotten how to speak.
“Jay?” you repeated, your voice quieter now, more cautious.
Jay shook his head quickly, almost like he was trying to shake something off. Then his hands tightened around your waist, grounding himself.
“Baby,” he murmured.
“You okay?” you asked, eyes searching his face.
He nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”
But he wasn’t. Not even close.
Ever since the call with his father, the decision had been made for him…he would be going to Oxford. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a discussion. It was a statement, sharp and final. There was no room to disagree, no room to even think.
Not that he had a choice. He never really did.
Jay had spent the entire night buried under the covers of his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as the hours ticked by. His phone had lit up over and over again, messages from his mom, soft knocks at the door but he hadn’t moved.
He didn’t want to read what she had to say. He didn’t want to hear reassurances...not anymore. Because the truth was, nothing anyone said would make it feel any better.
And now here you were, sitting in his lap, smiling like the sun, laughing about your day, trusting that the world hadn’t just changed for him entirely.
He didn’t know how to tell you.
Didn’t know how to say he was leaving.
Didn’t know how to break your heart when you had only just handed it to him.
But he had to.
Because he was leaving.
At this point, it wasn’t about academics. It wasn’t about prestige. It was about control.
His father thought this was the cleanest way to fix things.
Remove the distraction.
Remove the attachment.
Remove you.
Jay felt it in his chest, this sick, sinking sense of being packaged up and delivered to a life he never chose. Like this would be better. Like this would make things easier. Not for him. But for them.
—
You were worried.
Jay wasn’t acting like himself. He wasn’t snarky, or smug, or sarcastic in the way you’d come to love. He wasn’t cracking jokes or teasing you every time you said something dumb. He was quiet and distracted.
Jay was usually good at hiding things. But today… today, whatever it was had cracked through.
So naturally, you turned to the two most emotionally stunted people you knew.
“I think he’s broken,” you declared, arms folded on the table in front of you. “Like, actually broken.”
Jungwon blinked. “Did you try turning him off and back on again?”
“I’m serious, Won,” you said, glaring at Jungwon, “He hasn’t texted me all day. And yesterday, he...was so different? I don’t know what’s wrong but it’s not nothing.”
“Have you considered…” Jungwon began, “that he’s just constipated?”
“Jungwon, I swear to God—”
“I’m just saying, emotional constipation and actual constipation are cousins.”
“Please shut up,” you muttered, face in your hands.
Across from you, Heeseung was flipping through his notebook like he wasn’t listening. But then he spoke, casually, without even looking up.
“Why don’t you plan something lowkey for him?” he said. “Like, something you guys used to do. Remind him what home feels like. He clearly needs it.”
You and Jungwon both froze.
Then slowly, you turned to look at him.
Heeseung glanced up, blinking at your silence. “What?”
Jungwon pointed at him dramatically. “Holy shit, that’s the first good idea you’ve ever had.”
You side-eyed Jungwon. “You haven’t had a good idea today either, Won.”
“Yeah, but I usually do,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. “So this makes up for it.”
Still, you leaned back in your chair, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you let the idea settle.
Something simple. Something that would pull Jay out of whatever fog he was in and back into the version of himself he only ever seemed to be around you.
Maybe Heeseung was right. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing anything. Maybe it was about reminding him that he was loved.
–
You sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting on your knees, hands fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. Jay was upstairs grabbing something, his keys maybe, or a jacket, or just taking forever like he always did. You’d planned everything with Jungwon and Heeseung down to the detail. A quiet dinner at your place. His favourite food, his favourite people, and a homemade banner Jungwon insisted on duct-taping across your kitchen ceiling.
You tapped your feet against the floor, eyes flicking between the staircase and the coffee table in front of you.
“Oh—hey!”
You hadn’t expected to run into his mom.
She came out from the hallway with a small stack of neatly folded towels, pausing slightly when she saw you there. Then her face relaxed into a smile, almost like the kind you couldn’t quite read.
“Oh, you’re here early,” she said lightly, crossing into the living room. “Jong’s still upstairs?”
You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Said he’d just be a minute.”
She set the towels down on the armchair, smoothing one absent-mindedly. “How have you been? It feels like I haven’t seen you properly in ages.”
You stiffened slightly. Not out of rudeness. Just… because you never knew how to be around her anymore. Not since that night.
Still, you tried to keep your voice even. “I’ve been okay. School’s been a little hectic.”
“Mmm, I remember those days,” she said fondly. “So much pressure to figure everything out. Especially now.”
She gave you a knowing look, and you tried to return it, even though your stomach twisted.
A moment of silence passed. You glanced down at your hands.
“I really haven’t seen you around much,” she added gently, “Not even for dinner.”
You gave a small shrug. “I’ve just been… busy.”
Her gaze flicked to the corner of the room, almost like she wanted to say more. But then she smiled again, too quickly.
“I’m actually waiting for a delivery,” she said, as if to fill the quiet. “Should be arriving soon.”
“Oh?” you said, seizing the normalcy in her tone. “Something exciting?”
She waved a hand. “Just a new luggage set.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ooh, another vacation, Mrs. Park?”
She laughed softly. “Oh, no, not for me. It’s for Jay, we’re giving it to him before he goes to Oxford.”
And just like that, the world stopped.
The words didn’t even sound dramatic. Just a casual statement, something said mid-sentence, in passing.
But your brain latched onto it like it was the only thing that mattered.
Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
Oxford…
Oxford?
Jay was going to Oxford.
Your chest constricted. “Oxford?” you repeated, and you hated how your voice sounded small and uncertain.
Mrs. Park blinked, like she was only just realizing what she said. “Oh… oh, didn’t he tell you?”
Your heart dropped.
Your ears started to ring.
“He’s been accepted for early enrolment,” she continued, her smile faltering just slightly. “We’ve been sorting everything out this week. He’ll finish his last semester online and leave by the end of next month.”
End of next month.
That was four weeks.
Four weeks.
Four weeks left with Jay, and he hadn’t said a word.
“I thought you knew,” she said gently. “I’m so sorry, I assumed—”
But you didn’t hear the rest.
You could barely hear anything past the blood rushing in your ears. Your throat tightened. The lump rising felt sharp, like glass.
You nodded. Or at least you think you did. Some vague, stiff movement that looked enough like understanding to make her stop talking.
Upstairs, you heard Jay’s door creak open. His voice called out, cheerful and completely unaware.
“You ready?”
You stood up too fast, your legs unsteady. The smile you threw on felt like someone else’s.
Because right now, your heart was already cracking.
And he didn’t even know yet.
–
Jay was finally driving you. In his new car.
It was sleek, glossy black, still smelling faintly of showroom leather. The dashboard glowed with lights, the music system softly playing an instrumental track you barely registered. You’d never ridden in a car with him driving before. A month ago, that would’ve made you tease him endlessly, maybe fake a scream when he made a sharp turn, joke that your life was in his hands now. He would’ve laughed, reached over to pinch your knee, and said something stupid like, "Relax, I got my license in one try."
But now, you just sat there… quiet.
Your hands stayed clamped in your lap, fingers twisting into each other until you found the skin along your thumb and picked. You pulled. Peeled the hangnail until a thin trail of red welled up against your nail bed. You rubbed it away quickly with the sleeve of your hoodie.
Jay’s eyes flicked over from the road. Then back. Then again.
“You okay?” he asked carefully, hands still gripping the wheel. “You haven’t said a word since we left.”
You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Because how could you?
How could you turn to him and ask ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ How could you ask ‘Was I supposed to find out from your mom? Like a stranger?’
You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry and beat your fists against the dashboard and shake the truth out of him.
“Baby?”
His voice pulled you out of your spiral. Your head snapped up.
“Huh?”
Jay glanced over again. “Something’s clearly going on.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice too tight to be convincing.
He didn’t buy it. “Is this because I’ve been acting weird? I swear it’s all good now. I’m good.”
You shook your head and tried to laugh, but the sound came out cracked and hollow. “No, no. I just—”
Jay gave you a look. “Now I know you’re lying. You’re not about to pass that off as your real laugh.”
“I guess I’m just… worried, that’s all,” you said, brushing a loose thread off your jeans.
Jay’s brows knit. “Worried about what?”
You stared out the window, watching the blur of trees and apartment buildings pass. Your voice dropped. “The future.”
He didn’t press.
He turned onto your street, easing the car to a slow stop right outside your house. The engine purred into silence, but the tension between you roared. Still, you didn’t move. You didn’t speak.
He waited, hoping, maybe, that you’d open up. That you’d say something. But you didn’t. You just shrugged, gave him a vague “I guess,” and unbuckled your seatbelt like the conversation had ended.
The car locks clicked open.
You were already halfway out the door.
Jay cursed softly under his breath and slammed his door shut a second later, jogging after you. You’d unlocked your front door with shaky fingers and were about to step in when he caught up.
“You’re mad,” he said from behind you.
“I’m not mad.”
“Yes, you are.” His voice was tense now. “Baby, c’mon, did… did I do something? I’m sorry. I really am.”
You stopped in the hallway. Still didn’t turn.
Your heart thudded in your chest, hard and loud. You didn’t want to look at him because you knew that if you did, you knew everything would fall apart. You’d been holding it together and he was tugging on the last thread without even knowing it.
But it was the way he apologised, when he didn’t even know what for, that did it.
You turned.
Your eyes were red. Not just teary, bloodshot, swollen, like you hadn’t slept in days. You weren’t crying yet, but your expression… it was wrecked. Like someone trying to hold back a flood that had already started leaking.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered.
Jay froze. He looked at you like you’d just split him open.
“Tell you what?” he asked softly, though the dread was already sinking into his eyes.
“That you were going.”
Jay’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
And then the pain hit again, your words echoing off the hallway walls, hanging between you like smoke.
“I…” He tried. God, he tried.
But the words didn’t come.
Because how could he explain it? How could he say, ‘I didn’t want to see this look on your face?’ How could he say, ‘I tried fighting for us but it wasn’t enough?’
You shook your head slowly. “You were going to leave without telling me.”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it?”
Jay stepped closer, voice trembling now. “I didn’t want to lie. I just… I kept waiting for the right time. But every time I saw you, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to see you look at me like I was already gone.”
“But you are,” you choked out. “Aren’t you?”
His face crumpled.
“I didn’t choose this.”
“Not telling me was a choice. Your choice.”
Jay dragged a hand down his face, chest rising with shallow breaths. He looked older in that moment.
“I tried to stay. I told my dad I didn’t want to go. I told him this—” he gestured between the two of you, eyes glassy, “you — this is what matters to me. But he didn’t care. He never does.”
Your lip trembled, but you held it. “Then you should’ve told me.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”
He took another step. Close enough to touch now, but he didn’t. Not yet.
“I was scared you’d hate me.”
You looked up at him then and for the first time, he saw it all: the betrayal, the grief, the love.
“I don’t hate you,” you said, voice breaking. “I just didn’t want to be the last to know you were leaving.”
Jay’s breath hitched. His shoulders dropped.
“I’m not trying to leave you,” he said, so quietly it almost sounded like a plea. “They’re just making me go. Please.”
You didn’t answer. Your throat was too tight.
He stepped forward, slowly, gently cupping your face with both hands.
“You’re the only thing I don’t want to leave behind.”
And this time, when the tears came, you didn’t stop them.
Your face crumpled as you collapsed into his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his middle like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go. Jay held you immediately, his hands splaying across your back, his cheek resting against the top of your head. .
“I’m not leaving,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out in a single breath.
You blinked up at him through wet lashes. “What?”
“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, more firmly now. “I never wanted to go. I’m not going. I’m staying.”
You pulled back slightly, brows furrowing. “Jongseong… you can’t just up and ignore your parents—”
“I’m not ignoring them,” he cut in, “I’m just finally standing up for myself. Look. I don’t even want to go. If I’m not allowed to make my own choices about my own future, then what am I? A puppet?”
“Jong…”
“God, I love them,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated but honest. “I love my parents so much. But if they truly give a shit then they’ll just have to respect me enough to let me make my own decisions. They can’t keep deciding my life for me and call it parenting because it’s not.”
You hesitated. “Jong, you’re not doing this solely for me, are you?”
Jay sighed.
“I’ll admit that a huge part of me wants to stay because of you,” he said, not flinching. “Of course I do. But it’s not just that.”
He stepped back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye. “I don’t want to be living somewhere where I don't know anyone. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to wake up in a city that doesn’t have you, Hee, or Won. And c’mon, there are good schools here — great ones, even. I can still make something of myself without crossing an ocean for a name, all while being here…with you.”
You searched his face, your chest tight.
“But your dad—”
“Can live with my decision,” Jay said, quiet but certain. “I’ve been pretending I could live with this, but I can’t. Not anymore.”
He took your hands, thumbs brushing over your still-shaking fingers.
“I’m happier when I’m with you,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “When I’m here. With you guys. Near the people who make me feel like I’m already enough.”
You swallowed hard. His grip tightened.
“I’m not giving that up for a future that doesn’t even feel like mine. So please…don’t make me go.”
You breathed, like you’d been holding it in, “Okay.”
He sighed like the weight pressing on his chest had finally loosened.
And then he kissed you.
There was no hesitation, no inch of space left between you. It wasn’t delicate or careful, it was immediate, all heat.
His hands slipped from yours and rose to cradle your face, palms warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth like he needed to feel you. His lips crashed into yours.
Your breath hitched in your throat. You leaned into him instinctively, your hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His nose brushed against yours, his lips parting against your bottom lip, tasting the salt of your tears.
It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and rushed, and aching. His mouth trembled just a little when he kissed you. Jay’s thumb traced along your jaw, slow and reverent, while his other hand slid behind your neck.
Your knees felt weak. Your lungs burned. But none of that mattered. Because he was kissing you.
“So… like, uh… do we come out now or…?”
You and Jay froze.
From behind the sofa, Jungwon slowly popped his head out, holding a cake with “Stop Being Sad!” scrawled messily across the top in blue icing. Heeseung followed a beat later, scratching the back of his neck.
“We could, like… pretend we aren’t here,” Heeseung muttered, glancing down at the cake as if he suddenly regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.
You and Jay instinctively pulled apart, both of you flushed and teary-eyed, your breaths still uneven. It wasn’t exactly how you wanted to be seen.
Jungwon winced at the sight of you two. “Uh. Sorry? We were gonna jump out and yell surprise, but like… then you guys were fighting then the next thing we knew you were kissing so–”
Jay dragged a hand down his face with a low groan. “Oh my god. What are you guys even doing here?”
“We were going to throw a surprise feel-better party,” Heeseung said flatly, lifting a plastic bag of takeout containers, “but if I’m being honest, I think we're the ones more surprised.”
Heeseung sighed before continuing, “We even brought your favorite food. Well… kinda. I think Jungwon ate half the fries while we were waiting.”
Jay didn’t say anything. Just let out a slow breath and sank into the sofa, his body folding inward like something was caving in. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. His thumbs rubbed together, a nervous habit. One you’d seen since you were kids.
But Jay didn’t look at anyone.
His eyes were fixed on the floor, staring through it.
You watched him from across the room, your own shoulders still tense, fingers curled around the frayed edge of your hoodie sleeve. He hadn’t said much since the kiss. Since the apology. Since he told you he was staying. And now, sitting there in your living room, he looked smaller somehow.
He was staying. But that decision came with consequences and Jay knew exactly who he had to face next.
The thought of confronting his father made his chest tighten. Not just in fear but in something closer to shame. Not because he regretted his choice. But because he knew what that choice would cost him. What it had always cost him.
The memory came back before he could stop it. A flicker of a younger version of himself, standing in the marble foyer of his family’s house, backpack still on, heart pounding after sneaking back in too late. His father’s voice slicing through the silence. “You skipped prep school?” His tone wasn’t surprised. It was more like disappointment. And then the yelling came and it didn’t stop. Not till three hours later.
But all Jay could remember was the way your face had looked earlier that day, eyes wide and glowing under a canopy of fairy lights at the amusement park. The way your hand had never let go of his. How you’d smiled like the whole world had finally opened up for you. And how, just for that one afternoon, he didn’t care about anything. He just wanted you to feel like someone had chosen you.
And now, he was choosing you again.
Except this time, he had no idea how to explain that to the man who had spent his whole life choosing everything for him.
The room had gone quiet, heavy with the things no one wanted to say aloud.
Jungwon, seated cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, glanced up and studied Jay’s profile for a moment. Then, gently, he asked, “Thinking about how you wanna talk to your dad?”
Jay’s jaw tightened. He nodded once, not looking up. “Yep.” The word left his mouth flat, clipped, like he didn’t trust himself to say anything more.
He leaned in further, pressing his hands together, elbows braced against his thighs. His voice dropped to a murmur. “I don’t even know how to start. It’s like… the moment I stand in front of him, I’m twelve again.”
You moved before you could stop yourself.
Quietly, you crossed the room and eased down beside him on the sofa. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, your knee brushing his. His shoulders didn’t flinch, but they didn’t relax either.
You slipped your hand into his.
Jay blinked. Looked down at your fingers curled around his.
And when you spoke, your voice was soft. “Do you want me to be there?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stared at your joined hands, breathing slowly through his nose like he was trying to think. But you could see the shift. The hesitation that made your stomach turn.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Your brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
Jay let go of your hand slowly. He rubbed his palm against his jeans and sat back slightly, like creating space might help him form the words he was scared to say.
“I just… I think it might be easier if I go alone,” he said. “He’ll be less... intense. If it’s just me.”
You frowned. “Jay.”
He didn’t look at you.
“That’s not the real reason, is it?”
Jay shut his eyes, jaw clenched. Then, reluctantly, he nodded. “No. It’s not.”
“Then what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.
He hesitated. Again. And when he finally spoke, it was carefull.
“He just… doesn’t understand,” Jay said slowly. “Why I want to stay. Why that matters more than prestige or legacy or whatever. And bringing you into that conversation might just… complicate things. He’s upset. It’ll pass.”
But you heard it.
The way he didn’t say it.
You sat back slightly, looking at him now, “Complicate things,” you repeated.
Jay nodded faintly.
You stared at him for a moment, piecing it together. And then your voice came out flat. “You mean to say... they don’t think I belong in your world.”
Jay’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “No. Those aren’t my words. I’d never—”
“But they’re his,” you said softly. Not accusatory. Just… hurt.
Jay’s voice broke as he reached for you again. “I…I don’t agree with anything they’re saying.”
But the words, even as warm and trembling and full of love as they were, couldn’t take back what you already knew.
You blinked hard.
“It’s funny…I really thought they liked me,” you said, more to yourself than him. “I really did. I thought I was like family.”
“You are. To me, you always have been.”
But that wasn’t the same.
You looked down at your lap, your fingers now curled in on themselves. “So all this time… they just smiled at me and still thought I wasn’t enough.”
Jay’s hands fell to his sides. His voice cracked. “It’s not about you—”
“It is, though,” you whispered. “That’s exactly what it is.”
He didn’t argue. Because he knew. And you knew he knew.
You looked down at your lap, your fingers now curled in on themselves. “So all this time… they just smiled at me and still thought I wasn’t enough.”
Jay’s hands fell uselessly to his sides. His voice cracked, almost a whisper. “It’s not about you—”
“It is, though,” you said, quieter now. “That’s exactly what it is.”
No one spoke.
Not you, not Jay and not Jungwon or Heeseung, who had been silently sitting off to the side, exchanging hesitant glances as if trying to gauge whether they should stay or disappear. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy.
Then, slowly, you stood up.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” you said, your voice strained but steady. “I just… I think I need some time alone.”
Jungwon blinked, rising immediately without protest. “Of course,” he said gently, grabbing his jacket.
“Take all the time you need,” Heeseung added, pulling Jungwon by the arm, guiding him out of the room.
And just like that, it was only you and Jay.
He hadn’t moved. But his eyes never left you, still wide, still searching, like he was waiting for some version of you to reach back out and say this wasn’t real. That you didn’t mean it.
You exhaled sharply, hugging your arms across your chest. “Jong, I need time. Alone.”
He rose to his feet, almost stumbling forward. “I can’t possibly leave you alone with all these thoughts—”
“With what thoughts?” you snapped, voice wobbling. “That your parents think I’m not good enough for you?”
Your throat tightened as tears welled up again, threatening to fall. “For the record, Jay, I’m precious to other people too.”
And that cracked something in him.
Jay’s breath caught in his chest as he watched you fall apart in front of him.
He couldn’t speak. He should’ve swallowed his fear. Should’ve protected you better. But instead, here you were, crumbling under the weight of his parents’ ignorance and all he could do was watch it happen.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
You were already shaking your head. “Jay, they’re right,” you said, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “I’m crying because they’re right.”
“No,” he said quickly, stepping closer.
“They’re not—”
“Look at us!” you cut in. “From the moment we got together till now, we’ve been fighting over the same thing. Me and you. We don’t belong in the same world. And you know it.”
Jay flinched.
You took a breath but it came out in pieces. “What’s gonna happen in the future, huh? When you’re out there doing all these big world things and I’m just… I’m just stuck. Working at a stupid kids’ playground, scraping money together just so I can go out with my friends like a normal person?”
You couldn’t breathe between sentences now. It was all tumbling out, everything you’d been burying deep inside.
“No,” he muttered under his breath. Then louder, “Enough.”
You startled at the sharpness in his voice.
“That’s enough,” he said again, stepping forward in two long strides before pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so tightly. “Stop. Please,” he whispered against your hair. “Just stop.”
You didn’t fight it. You were too tired. Too worn. You just stood there, pressed against him, your hands balled.
“I love you,” Jay said suddenly, voice rough. “I fucking love you. How can you even say that? That you’re not enough?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face now, his forehead pressed to yours.
“I don’t care about status. I don’t care what my parents built. I don’t care about any of it. The only thing I care about is you.”
His chest rose and fell too fast, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.
“I spend day and night thinking only about you. I always think about you. Dreaming that someday, I’ll get to wake up next to you and not have to keep it a secret. That I can walk out into the world and tell everyone that you’re mine. That I chose you. Over everything.”
You didn’t speak, didn’t move. Your heart felt like it was breaking and being stitched back together at the same time.
“I don’t care where we live,” he said fiercely. “I don’t care if it’s some shabby motel room or a one-room apartment over a laundromat. I just care that you’re there. Right beside me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
His voice softened, cracked down the middle.
“If my mom and dad can’t see that? Then fine. Whatever. Let them be blind. Because… the only thing I’ve ever really wanted, the only thing that’s ever mattered, is this.”
He gripped your face tighter, thumbs brushing your tear-streaked cheeks. “Us. Our relationship. You.”
Your chest shook with the sob you hadn’t meant to let out.
And this time, when you collapsed into him, it wasn’t from sadness.
It was from the unbearable weight of being unconditionally loved.
–
Jay’s house had always been intimidating in a quiet, understated way not because it was large or lavish (although it was), but because of the tension that wafted it in the air. A kind of coldness that never really went away, even when his mom was smiling or his dad was out of town. You felt it now more than ever as you stood in the hallway outside his father’s office, the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoing louder than you wanted it to.
You were in a pretty little dress, nothing flashy, just enough to look presentable. Your hair was done in a half ponytail, neat and soft, something you’d fixed just before you came even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. Jay had decided to bring you with him. After everything, the two of you had spent the night talking, curled up together on your couch, deciding that no matter what happened in that room, you would walk out together.
Even if that meant Jay leaving with three suitcases and no home to return to.
When the heavy double doors to the office opened, thunder cracked outside, almost like the sky itself was warning you. Jay flinched. So did you. But still, he stepped in first, fingers tightly curled around yours, and you followed behind him into the room.
His father sat behind his massive mahogany desk, posture straight, glasses perched low on his nose, the blue light from his laptop casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked like any other wealthy middle-aged man, if you were being honest, if you didn’t know better, you’d never guess how much power his voice held over Jay. How that man could reduce him to something so small with a few words.
“Close the door,” his father said without looking up.
Jay obeyed wordlessly. The soft click of the door shutting made your heart pound louder in your ears.
The silence was unbearable. The only sounds in the room were the quiet clack of his father’s typing, the occasional pop from the crackling fire in the fireplace, and the rush of blood in your ears. You could feel Jay’s hand trembling in yours as he led you closer toward the desk.
His mother sat just to the side in one of the leather armchairs, perfectly composed. She looked at your joined hands, then up at you both. Her expression was unreadable, but when she exhaled, you caught the faintest trace of defeat in it.
Jay stopped just a step short of the desk. You could feel the tension in his body, the rigid line of his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other like he was grounding himself.
He cleared his throat.
“I’m not going.”
The typing stopped.
The silence that followed was louder than anything else that had come before it. His father slowly closed the laptop, fingers steepled over it as he raised his head. And then, he smiled.
Not a kind smile. Not even a confused one.
It was the kind of smile you gave when you thought someone was playing a prank on you. Condescending. Amused, but in that way that made you feel small.
“Not going?” he repeated, voice low but laced with ice. He leaned back in his chair. “And who exactly made that decision?”
Jay’s grip on your hand tightened.
“I did,” he said, voice steady but strained. “Because it’s my life.”
There was a moment where the room stood still.
Then came the slam.
THWACK.
His father’s palm hit the desk with a force that made you flinch and Jay instinctively step a little in front of you.
His dad’s face darkened, his voice rising now. “You did?” he echoed. “You decided to throw away Oxford. Throw away everything we’ve worked for. Everything I’ve sacrificed for this family. For what? Her?”
Jay didn’t respond.
His father’s eyes flicked to you, cold and sharp. You tried not to shrink under it, but it was hard, your chest felt like it was caving in on itself. He continued, now addressing his son with pointed disgust. “I always knew you were impulsive, but I didn’t think you were stupid. Do you understand what you’re giving up?”
Jay stayed still. Then slowly, he nodded.
“I do,” he said softly. “And I’m still not going.”
His dad scoffed, jaw tightening. “This isn’t just about you. This is about our name. Our reputation. Do you think you can waltz out of this house and pretend like your choices don’t affect the rest of us? Do you think—”
Jay stepped forward then.
“I’m not pretending. I know they affect you. But this—” he motioned between you and him, “this affects me too. And for once, I’m choosing the life I want to live.”
You could feel your lungs struggle for air.
Jay’s mom shifted in her seat, something soft flickering across her face. Her eyes moved back to the two of you, and this time, it lingered.
His dad rose to his feet.
“Then you can pack your things,” he said coldly. “And leave.”
Jay didn’t say a word. He just grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the office like the walls themselves were going to swallow him whole if he didn’t move fast enough. The last glimpse you caught before the door shut was his father, still standing, his expression unreadable save for the sharp stare he gave you and his mother, her eyes lingering on you.
Then you were in his room. The room you’d spent so many years in. The room where you studied on the floor for hours, where you once fell asleep watching movies with your legs tangled together. But now, it felt different. Felt almost unfamiliar despite the million times you’ve been in there.
Jay was moving fast, throwing open his wardrobe doors, yanking shirts and jackets off hangers, pulling drawers open and emptying clothes into an open suitcase. It was all happening so fast you could barely process it. You stood there, frozen by the door, the click of the doorknob behind you still echoing in your ears.
You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your limbs were locked in place like your body had gone into shock. Guilt rose steadily in your chest, thick and choking.
“Baby…” your voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t think… shouldn’t we talk? Shouldn’t there be more to it than just this?”
Jay didn’t stop packing. He only glanced at you briefly, his eyes hard, lips set. “Talk about what?” he said sharply. “They’re never going to listen.”
You walked over to him slowly, your hand reaching for his arm, grounding yourself. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you stop talking to your family. This is heavy, Jay. This burden—it’s heavy as hell.” Your voice cracked near the end, and you hated it. Hated how weak you sounded. Hated how helpless this all felt.
Jay finally paused, his shoulders still heaving with frustration. He turned to you, placed both hands gently on your shoulders, thumbs brushing your skin as if that alone could reassure you. His voice dropped, low and tender, full of a kind of pain that was older than this moment.
“Baby, this isn’t about them right now. It’s about me. About trying to live my own life. I’m so tired of living a version of me that only exists to please them. I’ve been the perfect son for years, and now…” His hands tightened, eyes boring into yours. “Now I’m just trying to take my life back.”
You looked up at him for a long second, your breath caught in your chest, and then you slowly nodded. Wordlessly, you stepped beside him and knelt, beginning to fold the wrinkled clothes he had shoved into his suitcase. You couldn’t fix anything, not really, but you could help him pack.
He watched you for a moment. The way your eyes were lowered, expression unreadable. Guilt settled heavy in his stomach. He knew you were hurting not because of something you did, but simply because of who you were. And how his family had decided that was somehow… not enough.
Then he felt it.
Eyes on him.
Jay turned toward the door.
His mother stood there, a hand still clutched lightly against the frame, her face soft and wet with tears. Her gaze flickered from him to you, back again. “Jong…” she said, her voice cracking. “Don’t go.”
His heart squeezed. God, he’d always had a soft spot for her. For the way she brushed the hair from his eyes when he was sick, for the quiet way she defended him during family dinners. She loved him and he knew that. But when it came to standing up to his father, she never stood a chance.
“Mom…” he said, his voice breaking.
“Jong, please,” she whispered again.
He looked down. Then at you. You stood slowly now, standing behind him, your hands twisted tightly together, fingers fidgeting in a desperate attempt to stay grounded.
Jay swallowed hard. “I’m not going,” he said, barely more than a breath. “And if it’s too much for you or Dad to handle, then I’ll leave.”
His mother stepped into the room, shaking her head, eyes red. “I tried talking to your father—”
“He’s not going to change his mind, Mom.”
“He can. We can try.”
Jay let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp. “I’ve been trying. For years. And nothing’s ever budged.”
She stepped closer, voice pleading now. “What if you went? Just for now? You could visit every few months—”
“Because I don’t want to!” Jay’s voice rose, his frustration boiling over, his fists clenched at his sides. “The love of my life is here. I want to be here. My friends are here. You’re here. I don’t want to go somewhere where I don’t know anyone, where I have to pretend like I’m someone I’m not.”
He was crying now. A mess of breathless anger and heartbreak. He looked at his mom, desperate for her to see him. To see you.
“You used to tell me stories, remember?” he said, voice trembling. “How Dad courted you for three years. How you didn’t even like him at first, but he waited. You told me about your love story growing up. And now what? I don’t get to have one?”
His voice broke completely.
“I’m in love with her, Mom,” he whispered, his hand reaching behind to find yours again. “And I can’t let you or Dad take her away from me.”
The door slammed open with a violent crack, bouncing off the wall behind it. You jumped, your breath caught in your throat as Jay instinctively turned, stepping back to shield you behind him.
His father stood in the doorway, tall and unmoving. His expression was unreadable.
Jay stiffened in front of you, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides as he positioned himself like a barrier. He didn’t say anything. Neither did you. It was like the two of you were back in school, caught sneaking out past curfew, facing down a teacher.
“You’re comparing whatever you have with her to the story of your mother and me,” his father said, his voice calm but sharp, every syllable slicing through the room like glass. “So tell me, Jongseong. What makes you so sure she’s the one?”
Jay blinked. “What?”
The question caught him off guard. Of all the things his father could’ve said… that wasn’t it.
His father took a slow step forward, hands still tucked neatly into his pockets. “You’re willing to give up your education. Your future. Everything your mother and I worked for. You’re willing to throw it all away for her.” He didn’t look at you when he said it, only at Jay. “So explain to me. What makes you think the two of you are so special? What makes you believe this is real? That it’s not just some immature, irresponsible decision for a—” his voice dipped, “—a passing fling.”
You felt the breath leave your lungs.
Jay’s shoulders tightened in front of you, his jaw clenching so tightly you could see the muscles twitch. He didn’t move at first. Just stood there.
You swallowed hard, your eyes locked on the back of Jay’s hoodie, your fingers trembling at your sides.
Jay turned slowly, just enough to glance back at you. His eyes met yours for the briefest second.
He looked back at his father, drawing a breath.
“I know,” Jay said, voice steady, though it cracked faintly at the edges. “I know because I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I’ve never fought this hard for anything before. And it’s not a fling. It’s her. It’s always been her.”
His father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And that’s supposed to be enough? A feeling?”
“No,” Jay replied, firmer now. “It’s not just a feeling. It’s the fact that I see my entire life with her. Not just today. Not just tomorrow. All of it. I don’t care if we’re rich or broke or living in a shoebox apartment. I want her there with me. I want to wake up next to her, argue with her over dumb things, bring her coffee when she’s tired, learn how to braid our daughter’s hair if we ever have one…that’s how sure I am.”
You blinked, your heart thudding so hard it hurt.
Jay stepped forward, his voice rising slightly. “You want to know what makes this real? It’s that when I think about what makes me feel safe, what makes me feel like I have a home, it’s her. Not a country, not a job, not a title. It’s her.”
He turned and reached for your hand again, threading your fingers through his, holding you tightly like he was afraid the world might tear you away at any moment.
“And if you can’t see that,” Jay said, looking directly into his father’s eyes now, “then maybe it’s not me who’s being reckless. Maybe it’s you for thinking love has to come with a some sort of societal hierarchy.”
The room fell silent again.
Jay’s father didn’t move. His face didn’t change.
“Then so be it,” he said.
Jay stiffened, not expecting him to fold, at least not like this.
“I expect three schools you’re planning to apply to. On my desk. Monday morning.” His gaze flicked between the two of you, briefly, unreadable. “Top three in the country. Or you’re going to Oxford. That’s the deal.”
And just like that, he turned and left.
The sound of his shoes against the hardwood echoed down the hall. The door clicked shut behind him.
You turned slowly to Jay, still gripping his hand, still trying to find your footing.
His eyes were locked on the door his father had disappeared behind. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.
You gently brushed your thumb against the back of his hand. “Jong?”
He blinked, once. Then again. And finally turned to look at you.
“He didn’t say no,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “He didn’t… shut the door.”
“No,” you said softly, stepping closer. “He didn’t.”
Jay nodded slowly, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. Not completely.
Because this wasn’t a win.
But it wasn’t a loss either.
–
Things at home were still tense. No one had said much since the confrontation. His dad mostly kept to himself. His mom cooked in silence. Meals were eaten quickly and apart. It felt like everyone was walking on glass, afraid one wrong step would crack it all open again.
You were at Jay’s place, waiting for your mom to finish work so she could swing by and pick you up. The rain had just stopped outside, leaving the windows streaked with droplets, a quiet stillness hanging in the air like the whole world was holding its breath.
You were both sitting cross-legged on his bed, half under the covers, half sprawled out with glossy brochures scattered between the pillows and across the floor. Jay was holding one upside down, dramatically squinting at it.
“Do you think they give scholarships for people who have a traumatic past?” you asked, grinning.
He scoffed. “Please. I deserve a full ride just for surviving my father.”
You laughed, nudging his arm. He retaliated by leaning in, pressing a teasing kiss to your temple, then one to your nose, and then your lips, just a light brush, slow and sweet.
“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled against his mouth.
“Mm,” he hummed, grinning. “Good.”
You rolled your eyes, about to swat his shoulder again when the door creaked open.
Both of you froze.
Jay’s mom stood at the doorway, a brochure in her hand, her expression unreadable. She cleared her throat gently. “How about this one?” she asked, her voice even.
You blinked. Jay sat up straighter. “Huh?”
She walked in and handed the brochure over, and as you took it, your fingers grazed hers. It was another local university, one that hadn’t been on either of your lists but was known and reputable. A place his father wouldn’t hate.
And then you understood.
She was helping. In her own way.
Your lips parted slightly.
Jay’s mom sat down beside you on the bed, smoothing her skirt down as she exhaled.
“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes flickering to yours. “For everything you’ve gone through these past few months. I wish you told me the truth. I wish you told me you and Jongseong were together. I would’ve fought harder for the both of you.”
Your throat tightened. You swallowed hard.
“But then again,” she continued, her voice lowering, “I was wrong. You heard what I said that day… about you not being in our world. And I was wrong for thinking that.”
She turned toward you more fully, her tone warm but earnest. “What Jong said was right. At the end of the day, we’re all just people. Status, names, connections… they shouldn’t matter. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel like they did.”
You nodded slowly, blinking through the sting in your eyes. You weren’t sure what to say, maybe because there was too much to say.
–
The sun was merciless, high above the stadium, baking the crowd in waves of heat and happiness. You were squinting into your mom’s phone camera, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jay, both of you dressed in identical deep navy cap and gowns.
Your mortarboard was already slightly crooked. Jay’s tassel kept swaying into his mouth.
“Mom,” you groaned, “that’s like the hundredth picture you’ve taken just today.”
Your mother didn’t even look up from her camera. “And?”
Mrs. Park, standing right beside her, chuckled warmly, nudging your mom like they were old best friends now which, frankly, they kind of always had been. “The two of you look so cute in your cap and gown,” she cooed. “We have to document this. For memory sake, c’mon!”
Jay groaned under his breath but smiled anyway. You rolled your eyes dramatically.
“A little kiss for the camera?” your mom added with a wink.
“Gross, Mom,” you muttered, already turning your head away.
Too late.
Jay took your chin gently and turned your face back toward him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “I won’t say no to a free kiss,” he murmured, smug.
You shoved his chest lightly, but the laughter broke through before you could even pretend to be mad. “Ugh. You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Behind you, a familiar voice cut through. “Okay, lovebirds, let’s not forget who the actual valedictorian is.”
You turned just in time to see Jungwon walking up, cap perfectly straight, robe pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.
And then, Heeseung who was trailing behind him, in a gown that looked like it had been stuffed into a bag.
The sleeves were slightly too short, the zipper was half-stuck, and it hung off one shoulder.
“I can’t believe my parents didn’t spring for a second gown,” Heeseung said, exasperated, lifting a loose sleeve. “I’m stuck wearing my brother’s ratty one from two years ago. I found a mint in the pocket. Unwrapped, by the way. I swear to God, he’s the filthiest creature on Earth.”
Jungwon didn’t even pause. “You look stupid.”
Heeseung blinked back at Jungwon, completely deadpan. “Thank you, Jungwon. As always, a pillar of encouragement.”
Jay snorted into his sleeve. You were already wheezing, clutching your side as the two of them launched into another round of sarcastic bickering that made you question how either of them made it to graduation.
“Oh…hold on,” Heeseung suddenly perked up, biting his lip and raising a brow. “Some girls from the junior classes just showed up to congratulate me.”
You rolled your eyes. Jay muttered, “Here we go…”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Heeseung said, already straightening his sad excuse of a gown, “Won, you’re coming with.”
Jungwon blinked. “And why the hell would I do that?”
“I need a wingman. Jay’s taken, and I need someone to distract the extras while I move in on the main event.”
“Stop talking,” Jungwon said immediately.
“C’mon, please?”
“Just stop talking and I’ll go.”
“Sweet. Let’s go,” Heeseung grinned, already dragging him away.
You and Jay watched them go.
“Are we… sure he graduated?” you asked.
“Honestly?” Jay shrugged. “A miracle.”
But then, a throat cleared.
You turned, laughter freezing in your throat.
Jay’s father stood a few feet away in a crisp suit, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He didn’t say a word right away. Just looked at the two of you, at Jay in his cap and gown, hand intertwined with yours.
Jay’s hand stiffened slightly in yours. You looked at him and caught the faintest flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
To be fair, since the Monday Jay had placed the list of his top university applications on his father’s desk and then got into those schools, no less, there hadn’t been much conversation. Just the occasional grunt, nod, or one-word answer. It wasn’t new. Jay never expected his father to be warm. He could live without it. Had done so for most of his life.
But right now, Jay held his breath.
His father stepped forward, slow but sure, gaze unreadable. You tightened your grip on Jay’s hand without realizing it.
He stopped in front of Jay. His eyes scanned him once then paused on the crumpled gown, the slightly crooked cap, and then your intertwined hands.
“Well,” he said, voice low. “You wore the cap properly.”
Jay blinked, unsure if that was a jab or a compliment. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
And then, Jay’s father reached out.
To you.
He adjusted the tassel on your cap, gently sweeping it from the left to the right side.
“You’ve graduated too,” he said, not looking at you directly, but something in his tone softer than before. “Should wear it properly.”
You didn’t move.
Then his father stepped back. He looked at Jay for a long beat, something tight in his jaw, but his voice steadier this time.
“You did good,” he said. “Better than expected.”
That was it.
Jay’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Because those few short words, that deadpan delivery, that subtle nod was his father’s way. And Jay knew, as frustrating and emotionally constipated as it was, that was as close as he’d ever get to hearing “I’m proud of you” out loud.
Before either of you could say anything, Mr. Park had already turned away, his footsteps slow and composed as he made his way through the crowd. He nodded at your mother and Mrs. Park in passing, the gesture polite.
Then, weaving through the field, he crossed paths with Heeseung who, at that moment, was mid–peace sign, tongue out, and clearly trying to impress a group of younger girls.
Mr. Park came to a halt. Looked him up. Then down.
“Fix your collar, boy,” he said in the most unimpressed tone known to man, “You look stupid.”
Heeseung blinked. He turned to Jungwon, stunned. You and Jay were already doubled over trying not to laugh.
A minute later, Heeseung made his way back to the two of you.
“Guys,” he said, eyes wide, “who was that and why was he mean?”
Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s… my dad.”
“Oh,” Heeseung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, he seems lovely.”
“That’s because you’re an asshole,” Heeseung snapped.
You turned toward Jay, stifling your laugh behind your hand as Heeseung and Jungwon continued to bicker beside you.
Jay slipped his hand into yours giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, and when you glanced up, his gaze was already on you.
“Hard to believe we made it here,” he murmured.
You smiled, stepping closer until your forehead touched his. “Well… I kinda had a feeling we’d make it.”
“Weren’t you the same person who cried for two hours because you thought I was leaving?”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
“Still… I would’ve chosen you,” he said quietly, just for you. “Even if it meant packing up and leaving with nothing but you.”
You leaned in, kissed him gently, then pulled back just enough to speak. “Lucky for you,” you said, your smile matching his, “I came with everything we need.”
“Okay, kids! Group photo!” Mrs. Park called out, already motioning for you, Jay, Heeseung, and Jungwon to squeeze together.
You groaned playfully, but there was no use resisting. Jay laced his fingers with yours and tugged you forward, Heeseung fixed his borrowed gown while Jungwon rolled his eyes and tried to smooth his already-perfect one.
“Closer!” your mom called, squinting at the screen. “Act like you like each other!”
Heeseung threw an arm over Jay’s shoulder. “That’s a big ask.”
“Oh, as if you’re any better.” Jungwon scoffed, flicking Heeseung’s forehead.
“Smile!” Mrs. Park added, then laughed. “Okay, last one and then we’ll go for dinner!”
The four of you leaned in, grinning wide for the camera. Jay’s hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, close and quick, pressing a kiss to your cheek just as the shutter clicked.
You squeaked in surprise, eyes wide, but the warmth on your face gave you away instantly.
“Now that’s burned into our graduation photo. Great,” Jungwon groaned.
“Unless… you want all of us to kiss you too?” Heeseung suggested, wiggling his brows.
Jungwon blinked. “No. I don’t really… I don’t want that.”
“Oh, come on,” you teased, already leaning in.
“Let’s do it,” Jay said, grinning.
Before Jungwon could escape, the three of you planted a kiss on his cheeks all at once.
pairing: park sunghoon x f!reader
genre: brother's bestfriend, fluff, slowburn romance, high school au
warnings: suggestive themes (flirty banter, sensual tension, close proximity), mild language, overwhelming romantic tension
word count: 30k (the longest I wrote, breaking my old record!)
a/n: Hiii, pookies! This is a fluffy, slowburn high school AU where our reader’s two-year crush on basketball star Park Sunghoon sparks a whirlwind of pining, gummy worms, and chaotic matchmaking. I’m so excited to present this fanfiction—reblog or scream in the tags if you loved it too!
The air in the school gymnasium was thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint tang of sweat, a familiar backdrop to your afternoons. The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a basketball bouncing against the hardwood floor mingled with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the occasional shout of “Pass it!” or “Screen!” from the players.
You were perched on the bleachers, your chemistry textbook splayed open across your lap, a highlighter dangling loosely between your fingers. But your eyes weren’t on the periodic table or the half-hearted notes you’d scribbled about molar mass. They were on him—Park Sunghoon, the star of the school’s basketball team, who was currently weaving through defenders with a grace that made your chest ache.
Sunghoon moved like he was born for the court. His dark hair, slightly tousled and damp with sweat, fell into his eyes as he dribbled, his focus razor-sharp. His jersey, navy blue with the school’s logo emblazoned across the chest, clung to his lean frame, highlighting the way his muscles flexed with every pivot and leap. You watched, heart hammering, as he faked left, spun right, and launched the ball toward the hoop. It sailed in a perfect arc, sinking through the net with a satisfying swish. The small crowd of lingering students in the gym erupted into cheers, and Sunghoon’s lips curved into a subtle, self-assured smile that sent a shiver down your spine
Two years. Two years of watching him from the sidelines, stealing glances during lunch breaks, and pretending not to care when he passed you in the hallways. Two years of this hopeless, maddening crush that had taken root in your heart and refused to let go. You didn’t even know when it started—maybe it was that time in freshman year when he’d helped you pick up your scattered books after you’d tripped in the corridor, his voice soft and polite as he handed you your dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. Or maybe it was the first time you saw him play, dominating the court with an effortless confidence that made him seem untouchable. Whatever it was, Park Sunghoon had become your obsession, and you were too stubborn—or too scared—to do anything about it.
“Y/N, you’re doing it again,” came a teasing voice, snapping you out of your reverie. Soyeon, your best friend since middle school, dropped onto the bleacher beside you with a dramatic huff, her school bag sliding off her shoulder. Her ponytail swung as she tilted her head, smirking at you. “You’re staring at Sunghoon like he’s the answer to your chemistry homework. Spoiler: he’s not. Unless your homework is ‘how to pine hopelessly for two years straight.’”
Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head, clutching your textbook like a shield. “I’m studying,” you muttered, flipping a page for emphasis, though you hadn’t read a single word in the last ten minutes.
Soyeon snorted, unimpressed. She reached over, plucked the highlighter from your hand, and twirled it between her fingers. “Oh, please. You haven’t turned a page in, like, forever. And your book’s upside down, genius.” She grabbed the textbook, flipped it right-side-up with a flourish, and handed it back, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just admit you’re here to ogle your basketball prince.”
“I’m not ogling,” you protested, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I’m… observing. For science. Human behavior and all that.”
Soyeon laughed, loud enough to draw a few curious glances from the lower bleachers. “Human behavior? Y/N, you’re practically writing sonnets in your head about his jump shot. Just talk to him already! You’ve been crushing on him since we were freshmen, and it’s getting painful to watch.”
You sighed, slumping back against the bleacher. “It’s not that simple, Soyeon. He’s Park Sunghoon. He’s the guy everyone knows, the guy who gets scouted by colleges, the guy who probably doesn’t even know I exist. I’m just… me.” You gestured vaguely at yourself—plain school uniform, slightly messy hair, and a backpack stuffed with dog-eared notebooks. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’ve been low-key in love with you for two years, wanna grab coffee?’ I’d die of embarrassment before I got to the coffee part.”
Soyeon rolled her eyes, leaning closer so her shoulder bumped yours. “You’re being dramatic. He’s not some untouchable god. He’s just a guy who’s really good at throwing a ball into a hoop. And, okay, maybe he’s ridiculously good-looking, but that’s beside the point. You’re cute, you’re smart, and you’re not invisible. I’ve seen him glance your way before, you know.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you whipped your head toward her. “What? When?”
Soyeon smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Last week, in the cafeteria. You were ranting to me about that history project, and he was at the table across from us. I swear he looked at you for, like, a solid three seconds. That’s practically a marriage proposal in Sunghoon time.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Three seconds is not a marriage proposal. It’s probably just him zoning out or wondering why I talk so loud.”
“Or,” Soyeon countered, poking your side, “he was thinking, ‘Wow, that girl with the cute laugh is kinda interesting.’ You won’t know unless you try. Come on, Y/N, live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Before you could list all the catastrophic scenarios—tripping over your words, spilling water on him, or worse, him laughing in your face—the gym doors swung open with a loud bang. A familiar, exuberant voice cut through the noise of the court. “Y/N! Soyeon! You guys still here? The game’s over, you know!”
Your younger brother, Kim Sunoo, bounced toward the bleachers, his cheeks rosy and his school uniform slightly askew, as if he’d been running around campus all day. Sunoo was a walking burst of sunshine, with a round face, a contagious smile, and a chubby frame that only made him more huggable. He was clutching a half-eaten chocolate bar, crumbs dusting his fingers, and his eyes sparkled with his usual boundless energy.
“Sunoo, you’re gonna get kicked out for eating in the gym again,” you said, raising an eyebrow as he climbed the bleachers to sit on your other side. “Coach Kim has a zero-tolerance policy for snacks.”
Sunoo waved a hand dismissively, popping the rest of the chocolate into his mouth. “Coach loves me. I’m, like, the team’s unofficial mascot. Besides, I’m here to support my bestie!” He leaned forward, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting toward the court, “Yo, team! You’re killing it! Let’s go, champs!”
You winced, sinking lower in your seat. “Sunoo, you’re so loud. People are staring.”
“Let them stare!” Sunoo grinned, completely unbothered. He nudged you with his elbow, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, Y/N, why are you really here? Don’t tell me you’re actually studying. You’ve got that look—the one you get when you’re daydreaming about a certain someone.”
Your face went scarlet, and you swatted his arm. “Sunoo! I’m just… waiting for you, okay? Mom said I have to walk home with you, and you’re always late because you’re too busy chatting with everyone.”
Soyeon leaned across you, smirking at Sunoo. “She’s lying. She’s here for Park Sunghoon. You know, the basketball star she’s been obsessed with for two years?”
“Soyeon!” you hissed, mortified, as Sunoo’s eyes lit up with glee.
“Ohhh, Sunghoon, huh?” Sunoo waggled his eyebrows, looking far too pleased with himself. “My sister’s got taste! He’s cool, right? Total heartthrob vibes. You should totally go for it, Y/N. I bet he’d be into you.”
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Can you both stop? I’m not going for anything. I’m just… existing. Can we please drop this?”
Soyeon and Sunoo exchanged a look, the kind that made you dread whatever they were plotting. Before they could gang up on you further, the coach’s whistle pierced the air, signaling the end of practice. The players began to disperse, grabbing their water bottles and towels, their laughter echoing in the now-quiet gym. Your eyes, against your better judgment, followed Sunghoon as he jogged toward the bench, high-fiving a teammate and slinging a towel over his shoulder. He looked so effortlessly cool, so completely unaware of the chaos he was causing in your heart.
“Hey, I’m gonna go say hi to someone,” Sunoo said suddenly, hopping to his feet with his usual bounce. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Who?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as he practically skipped down the bleachers, weaving through the scattering players. You couldn’t see who he was heading toward, but his enthusiasm was enough to make you suspicious. Sunoo was always up to something, and his “someone” could be anyone from a teacher to a random freshman he’d decided to adopt.
Soyeon leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, Y/N, there’s that school trip to Jeju Island next week. I heard through the grapevine that Sunghoon’s going. It’s a three-day trip—plenty of time to, you know, accidentally bump into him or strike up a conversation.”
Your heart did a little somersault at the thought. A whole weekend with Sunghoon in close proximity? The idea was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. You could already picture yourself tripping over your own feet, stammering through a conversation, or worse, staring at him like a creep from across a hotel lobby. “Soyeon, I’d probably embarrass myself before I even got a word out,” you said, twisting the strap of your backpack nervously. “I’d trip into the ocean or spill kimbap on his shoes or something equally tragic.”
Soyeon laughed, but her expression softened. “You’re overthinking it. Look, this trip is your chance to get out of your head and actually talk to him. You don’t have to confess your undying love right away—just, like, ask him about basketball or the weather or whatever. Baby steps.”
You chewed your lip, glancing back at the court. Sunoo was still talking to someone, his hands animated as he gestured wildly, probably telling some exaggerated story. Sunghoon, meanwhile, was now at the edge of the gym, slinging his bag over his shoulder and laughing at something his teammate said. For a split second, his gaze flickered toward the bleachers, and your breath caught. Was he looking at you? No, probably not. He was probably just scanning the room, or maybe he’d noticed Sunoo’s loud cheering earlier. Still, the possibility sent a rush of warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to actually talk to him, to have him look at you on purpose.
“Okay, maybe,” you said softly, more to yourself than to Soyeon. “Maybe I’ll try. But no promises.”
“That’s my girl!” Soyeon clapped you on the back, nearly knocking your textbook off your lap. “Jeju’s gonna be your moment, Y/N. I can feel it. You’re gonna come back with a story to tell, and I’m gonna be there to say ‘I told you so.’”
Before you could respond, Sunoo bounded back up the bleachers, his grin wider than ever. “Okay, I’m back! Ready to head home, Y/N? Or do you wanna stay and stare at your boyfriend a little longer?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped, shoving your textbook into your bag with more force than necessary. “And you’re the worst brother ever.”
“Love you too,” Sunoo said, sticking out his tongue. He grabbed your bag and slung it over his shoulder, ignoring your protests. “Come on, Soyeon, you walking with us?”
“Nah, I’ve got dance practice,” Soyeon said, standing and stretching. “But Y/N, think about what I said. Jeju. Sunghoon. Opportunity.” She winked before heading toward the gym exit, leaving you with a mix of dread and anticipation swirling in your chest.
As you and Sunoo made your way out of the gym, you stole one last glance at the court. Sunghoon was gone, probably already in the locker room, and the gym felt strangely empty without him. The Jeju trip loomed in your mind, a mix of nerves and possibilities. You didn’t know what would happen, but something told you it was going to change everything.
The late afternoon sun filtered through your bedroom curtains, casting golden stripes across the cluttered desk where your open suitcase lay. Clothes were strewn everywhere—jeans folded haphazardly, a couple of sweaters tossed aside, and a pair of sneakers teetering on the edge of the bed. The Jeju Island school trip was in three days, and you were nowhere near ready. Not physically, with your half-packed suitcase, and definitely not mentally, with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. Every time you thought about the trip, your mind inevitably drifted to Park Sunghoon—his sharp jawline, his effortless grace on the basketball court, and the way his rare smiles made your heart stutter. Two years of pining had left you a hopeless romantic, and now, the idea of being in close proximity to him for an entire weekend felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could handle.
You sighed, flopping onto your bed and staring at the ceiling, where a constellation of glow-in-the-dark stars—remnants of your middle school phase—stared back. Soyeon’s words from the gym echoed in your head: “Jeju’s gonna be your moment, Y/N. I can feel it.” But what kind of moment? A moment where you finally mustered the courage to say more than two words to Sunghoon? Or a moment where you embarrassed yourself so spectacularly that you’d have to transfer schools? The possibilities were endless, and most of them were terrifying.
A knock on your door jolted you from your thoughts. “Y/N! You done packing yet?” Your brother, Kim Sunoo, poked his head into the room, his round cheeks flushed from whatever hyperactive adventure he’d been on. He was holding a bag of gummy worms, his fingers sticky as he popped one into his mouth. Sunoo was a walking burst of energy, his bubbly personality lighting up any room. His school uniform was untucked, his tie loosened, and his slightly chubby frame made him look like a teddy bear you couldn’t help but want to hug, even when he was being annoying.
“Does it look like I’m done?” you replied, gesturing to the chaos of your room. “And why are you eating gummy worms at four in the afternoon? You’re gonna ruin your dinner.”
Sunoo grinned, unfazed, and bounced onto your bed, sending a pair of socks tumbling to the floor. “Dinner’s overrated. Gummy worms are forever. Besides, I’m hyped for Jeju! Three days of beaches, hiking, and no math homework? Sign me up!” He leaned back on his elbows, kicking his legs in the air like an excited kid. “You’re coming, right? Or are you gonna bail because you’re too busy daydreaming about a certain basketball star?”
Your face heated up instantly, and you grabbed a pillow to swat him with. “Sunoo! Stop it! I’m not daydreaming about anyone!” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you weren’t about to give him more ammunition. He was already too good at teasing you, and with Soyeon egging him on, the two of them were a menace.
Sunoo dodged the pillow with a laugh, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with one hand. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Soyeon told me you were practically melting in the gym the other day, staring at Sunghoon like he’s some kind of prince. You’ve got it bad, sis. Why don’t you just talk to him? He’s not that scary.”
You groaned, pulling the pillow over your face to muffle your embarrassment. “It’s not about him being scary, Sunoo. It’s about me being… me. He’s Park Sunghoon. He’s the guy who scores game-winning shots and has half the school swooning over him. I’m just the girl who trips over her own shoelaces and spends her free time hiding in the library. We’re not exactly on the same wavelength.”
Sunoo tilted his head, his expression softening. “You’re selling yourself short, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’ve got that whole ‘quiet but secretly cool’ vibe going on. Plus, you’re my sister, so you’re automatically awesome.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart warm. Sunoo might be a chaotic little gremlin sometimes, but he was your chaotic little gremlin, and he always had your back.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, peeking out from behind the pillow. “But it’s not just about confidence. I don’t even know how to start a conversation with him. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, nice jump shot, I’ve been in love with you for two years’?”
Sunoo burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Okay, maybe don’t lead with that. But seriously, just say something normal. Like, ask him about the team or the trip or even the weather. You don’t have to confess your undying love right away. Baby steps, you know?”
You rolled your eyes, tossing the pillow aside. “You sound like Soyeon. She’s been preaching the same thing. You two are ganging up on me, and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Speaking of Soyeon,” Sunoo said, sitting up and dusting gummy worm sugar off his hands, “she’s coming over later, right? We need to plan our Jeju strategy. I heard there’s gonna be a group hike, a beach day, and some kind of campfire thing. Plenty of chances for you to ‘accidentally’ run into Sunghoon.” He waggled his eyebrows again, and you groaned, shoving him off the bed.
“Get out, you little menace,” you said, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Sunoo’s relentless optimism was infectious, even if it made you want to strangle him sometimes.
As he scampered out of the room, shouting something about stealing more snacks from the kitchen, you turned back to your suitcase, your mind buzzing. The Jeju trip was starting to feel like a looming deadline, a ticking clock counting down to some undefined moment where you’d either seize your chance or let it slip away forever. You picked up a light blue sundress from the pile of clothes, holding it up and wondering if it was too much. Would Sunghoon even notice what you wore? Probably not. He probably didn’t notice you at all. But the thought of him glancing your way, maybe even smiling, was enough to make your heart race.
Your phone buzzed on the desk, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was a text from Soyeon in the group chat with you and Sunoo.
Soyeon: Y/N, you better be packing something cute for Jeju. No frumpy hoodies allowed. We’re manifesting your Sunghoon moment! 😎
Sunoo: YEAH, SIS, NO HOODIES. Wear that dress you got last summer, the one with the flowers!
You: Why are you both obsessed with my wardrobe? I’m packing practical stuff.
Soyeon: Practical is boring. You’re gonna wow Sunghoon, trust me.
Sunoo: Bet he’ll fall in love when he sees you in that dress. 😏
You: I’m blocking you both.
You tossed your phone onto the bed, your cheeks burning. They were relentless, but deep down, their encouragement sparked a tiny flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Jeju could be your chance to step out of your comfort zone. You folded the blue sundress carefully and tucked it into your suitcase, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
Later that evening, Soyeon showed up at your house, bursting through the front door with her usual energy. She was carrying a bag of takeout—fried chicken, because she knew it was Sunoo’s weakness—and a notebook filled with what she called her “Jeju Game Plan.” The three of you gathered in the living room, sprawled across the couch and floor, the coffee table covered in chicken boxes and soda cans.
“Okay,” Soyeon said, flipping open her notebook with a flourish. “Here’s the deal. The Jeju trip is three days, two nights. Day one is the bus ride and the group hike up Mount Hallasan. Day two is the beach and some free time in Seogwipo. Day three is the campfire and some cultural village tour before we head back. Y/N, we need to strategize your Sunghoon interactions.”
You nearly choked on a piece of chicken. “Strategize? Soyeon, this isn’t a military operation. I’m just trying to survive the trip without tripping over my own feet in front of him.”
Sunoo, munching on a drumstick, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, but you gotta admit, it’s kinda fun to plan. Like, imagine you’re on the hike, and you ‘accidentally’ end up next to Sunghoon. You could ask him about basketball or, like, compliment his stamina or something.”
You stared at him, horrified. “Compliment his stamina? Sunoo, do you hear yourself? That sounds like I’m hitting on him in the creepiest way possible.”
Soyeon laughed so hard she nearly spilled her soda. “Okay, maybe not stamina. But you get the idea. Just find a way to talk to him. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep hiding in the background like you always do.”
You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I know you’re both trying to help, but it’s not that easy. Every time I even think about talking to him, my brain short-circuits. Last week, I was in line behind him at the cafeteria, and he turned around to grab a straw, and I just… froze. I couldn’t even say ‘excuse me.’ I just stood there like a statue until he walked away.”
Soyeon and Sunoo exchanged a look, and for a moment, you thought they might actually feel sorry for you. But then Sunoo burst out laughing, and Soyeon joined in, and soon you were all laughing, the kind of uncontrollable laughter that makes your sides hurt and your eyes water.
“Okay, okay,” Soyeon said, catching her breath. “We’ll work on it. By the end of this trip, you’re at least gonna say ‘hi’ to him. That’s the goal. Baby steps, Y/N.”
Sunoo nodded, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yeah, and if you panic, just look at me. I’ll distract everyone with my charm and charisma.” He struck a dramatic pose, and you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling.
As the evening wore on, the three of you continued planning, joking, and eating until the chicken boxes were empty and the notebook was filled with ridiculous ideas (Sunoo’s suggestion of “pretend to twist your ankle so Sunghoon has to carry you” was promptly vetoed). But beneath the laughter and teasing, a quiet determination was growing inside you. Jeju was a chance, a rare opportunity to be in the same space as Sunghoon for more than a fleeting moment. You didn’t know if you’d have the courage to act on it, but the thought of him noticing you, even for a second, was enough to keep you up that night, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars and imagining a world where you weren’t just the girl in the bleachers.
The next day at school, you found yourself hyper-aware of Sunghoon’s presence. It was like your brain had developed a Sunghoon radar, picking up on every glimpse of him in the hallways or the cafeteria. During lunch, you spotted him sitting with his teammates, laughing at something one of them said. His smile was brighter than you’d ever seen, and it made your heart do that stupid flip again. You were so busy staring that you didn’t notice Soyeon waving a hand in front of your face.
“Y/N, earth to Y/N,” she said, snapping her fingers. “You’re gonna burn a hole through him if you keep staring like that.”
You blinked, tearing your eyes away from Sunghoon’s table. “Sorry,” you mumbled, poking at your rice with your chopsticks. “I just… got distracted.”
Soyeon smirked, following your gaze. “Distracted, huh? Well, you better get used to seeing him, because I heard from Jake in my math class that Sunghoon’s definitely going on the trip. And guess what? He’s rooming with some of the basketball guys, so he’ll be around the whole time.”
Your stomach did a somersault, and you nearly dropped your chopsticks. “The whole time?” you squeaked. “Like, all three days?”
“Yup,” Soyeon said, popping a piece of kimchi into her mouth. “So you better practice your ‘hi, Sunghoon’ in the mirror tonight. No freezing up this time.”
You groaned, but the thought of Sunghoon being there for the entire trip sent a thrill through you. It was terrifying, sure, but it was also exciting, like standing at the edge of a diving board, knowing you had to jump. You spent the rest of the day in a daze, your mind replaying every possible scenario—Sunghoon smiling at you during the hike, Sunghoon sitting next to you at the campfire, Sunghoon catching you when you inevitably tripped over a rock. Each fantasy was more ridiculous than the last, but they kept you going through your boring history lecture and your after-school study session.
By the time you got home, you were a bundle of nerves and anticipation. You pulled out your suitcase again, double-checking the blue sundress and adding a few more outfits Soyeon would approve of. As you folded a pair of shorts, Sunoo poked his head into your room again, this time holding a smoothie he’d clearly made himself, judging by the bright pink stain on his shirt.
“Yo, Y/N, you ready for Jeju?” he asked, taking a loud slurp of his smoothie. “I’m so pumped. I heard there’s a shaved ice place near the hotel that’s, like, legendary. We’re hitting that up, right?”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Only if you stop spilling food on yourself. You’re a walking disaster.”
He stuck out his tongue, then grinned. “Hey, disasters are memorable. And speaking of memorable, I’m gonna make sure you have the best time on this trip. Trust me, I’ve got plans.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “What kind of plans?”
Sunoo just winked, backing out of the room with an exaggerated swagger. “You’ll see, sis. You’ll see.”
As he disappeared down the hallway, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sunoo was up to something. He was always scheming, always dragging you into his chaotic ideas. But for once, you didn’t mind. If his plans involved Jeju, and Jeju involved Sunghoon, maybe a little chaos was exactly what you needed.
The morning of the Jeju trip dawned with a sky painted in soft pinks and oranges, but you barely noticed the sunrise through the fog of nerves clouding your mind. Your suitcase was packed—overpacked, really, thanks to Soyeon’s insistence that you bring “cute” outfits—and your backpack was slung over one shoulder, stuffed with snacks, a water bottle, and a dog-eared novel you’d brought for distraction but knew you wouldn’t read. Not when Park Sunghoon was going to be on this trip. Not when the next three days held the potential to either make your dreams come true or crush them entirely.
You stood outside the school, where two chartered buses idled in the parking lot, surrounded by a swarm of chattering students and harried teachers checking clipboards. The air buzzed with excitement, laughter, and the occasional shout as friends called out to each other. You adjusted the strap of your backpack, scanning the crowd for Soyeon or Sunoo, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and dread. Somewhere in this chaos was Sunghoon, and the thought of seeing him—maybe even being near him—made your heart race so fast you were sure it was audible.
“Y/N! Over here!” Soyeon’s voice cut through the noise, and you turned to see her waving frantically from near the second bus. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was wearing a bright yellow hoodie that made her impossible to miss. Beside her stood Sunoo, bouncing on his toes and holding a plastic bag that was undoubtedly filled with snacks. His round cheeks were flushed with excitement, and his school hoodie was already dusted with crumbs from whatever he’d been munching on.
You hurried over, dodging a group of freshmen playing tag, and dropped your suitcase next to Soyeon’s. “Finally,” she said, grabbing your arm. “I thought you were gonna bail last minute. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I might,” you admitted, glancing around nervously. “This is a lot. So many people. And… you know.” You didn’t need to say Sunghoon’s name—Soyeon’s knowing smirk told you she understood.
Sunoo, oblivious to your inner turmoil, slung an arm around your shoulders, nearly knocking you over. “Chill, sis! This is gonna be the best trip ever. I’ve got enough snacks to last us a week, and I heard the hotel has a pool. A pool, Y/N! We’re living the dream!” He held up his snack bag, shaking it proudly. “Want a gummy bear? They’re the tropical kind.”
You managed a weak smile, taking a gummy bear just to appease him. “Thanks, Sunoo. But maybe save some for the actual trip? You’re gonna eat through that before we even get on the bus.”
He gasped dramatically, clutching the bag to his chest. “Rude! I’m a growing boy. I need sustenance.” He popped a handful of gummies into his mouth, grinning through the chew. His bubbly energy was both comforting and exhausting, but you couldn’t help feeling a little lighter around him. Sunoo had a way of making everything seem less daunting, even a trip that could change your life.
“Okay, people, listen up!” The head teacher, Ms. Choi, stood on a step stool near the buses, holding a megaphone that crackled slightly. “Bus one is for classes 1-A through 1-C. Bus two is for 1-D through 1-F. Find your homeroom teacher, check in, and load your luggage. Let’s keep this organized, please!”
The crowd surged toward the buses, and you followed Soyeon and Sunoo toward bus two, your heart pounding as you scanned the faces around you. No sign of Sunghoon yet, but that didn’t stop your brain from conjuring up every possible scenario—him sitting near you on the bus, him smiling at you during the hike, him noticing the blue sundress you’d packed with such care. Each thought sent a fresh wave of butterflies through your stomach, and you gripped the handle of your suitcase so tightly your knuckles turned white.
As you reached the bus, you spotted your homeroom teacher, Mr. Lee, ticking names off a clipboard. Soyeon checked in first, then Sunoo, who made a point of charming Mr. Lee with a compliment about his new glasses. When it was your turn, you mumbled your name, barely audible over the chatter, and handed over your permission slip. Mr. Lee nodded, marking you off, and gestured toward the luggage compartment under the bus.
You were struggling to hoist your suitcase into the compartment—it was heavier than you’d realized, thanks to Soyeon’s fashion demands—when a deep voice came from behind you. “Need a hand?”
Your heart stopped. You knew that voice, low and smooth, like it had been pulled straight from your daydreams. Slowly, you turned, and there he was—Park Sunghoon, standing less than a foot away, his basketball bag slung over one shoulder and his hair slightly tousled from the morning breeze. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly perfect, and his dark eyes met yours with a polite, almost shy smile.
You opened your mouth to respond, but your brain short-circuited, leaving you gaping like a fish out of water. Say something, Y/N. Anything. Don’t just stand here like an idiot. But all you managed was a strangled, “Uh… yeah. Thanks.”
Sunghoon’s smile widened slightly, and he stepped forward, taking the suitcase from your hands with ease. His fingers brushed yours as he lifted it, and the brief contact sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. He placed the suitcase neatly in the compartment, then turned back to you, tilting his head slightly. “No problem. You’re… Y/N, right?”
Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He knew your name? Park Sunghoon knew your name? You nodded dumbly, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“Cool,” he said, his tone casual but warm. “See you on the bus.” With another small smile, he jogged off toward his teammates, who were gathered near the bus door, laughing and shoving each other playfully.
You stood there, rooted to the spot, staring after him like he’d just descended from the heavens. He knew your name. He’d helped you with your suitcase. He’d talked to you. Your mind was a chaotic mess of replayed moments and what-ifs, and it took Soyeon grabbing your arm to snap you out of it.
“Y/N, what was that?” she hissed, her eyes wide with excitement. “Did Park Sunghoon just talk to you? Did he just carry your suitcase? Spill. Now.”
“I… I don’t know,” you stammered, your face burning. “He just offered to help, and then he said my name, and… I think I’m dreaming. Pinch me.”
Soyeon obliged, pinching your arm hard enough to make you yelp. “Not a dream. That was real, and it was huge. He totally knows who you are. This is it, Y/N. Your Jeju moment is starting!”
Sunoo, who’d been busy flirting with a group of girls nearby, bounded over, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Wait, what? Sunghoon talked to you? My sister’s got game!” He ruffled your hair, grinning ear to ear. “What’d he say? Was it romantic? Did he propose?”
“Sunoo, shut up,” you groaned, swatting his hand away. “He just helped with my suitcase and said my name. It’s not a big deal.” But even as you said it, your heart was screaming that it was, in fact, a very big deal.
“Not a big deal?” Soyeon scoffed, dragging you toward the bus steps. “He could’ve helped anyone, but he chose you. That’s, like, main character energy. Come on, let’s get good seats before they’re all taken.”
The three of you boarded the bus, and you followed Soyeon down the aisle, your eyes darting around in search of Sunghoon. He was near the back, sitting with his teammates, his head leaning against the window as he scrolled through his phone. The sight of him made your pulse race, and you quickly looked away, focusing on finding a seat. Soyeon claimed a pair of seats near the middle, and you slid in beside her, with Sunoo taking the seat across the aisle, already digging into his snack bag.
As the bus filled up, you tried to distract yourself by pulling out your novel, but the words blurred together, your mind replaying Sunghoon’s voice saying your name. Y/N. It had sounded so natural coming from him, like he’d said it a hundred times before. Did he really know who you were, or was he just being polite? Maybe he’d seen your name on a class list or heard it in passing. But the way he’d looked at you, with that soft, almost curious expression… it felt like more than just politeness.
“Y/N, you’re doing it again,” Soyeon whispered, nudging you with her elbow. “You’re staring into space with that lovesick look. Thinking about Mr. Basketball Star?”
You flushed, shoving the novel back into your bag. “I’m not lovesick. I’m just… processing.”
“Processing what? The fact that he talked to you for ten seconds?” Soyeon teased, but her eyes were kind. “Look, this is a good sign. He noticed you. Now you just need to keep the momentum going. Maybe during the hike, you can walk near him or ask him something. I’ll be your wingwoman.”
Before you could respond, Sunoo leaned across the aisle, holding out a bag of chips. “Want some? Also, I’m totally eavesdropping, and I think Soyeon’s right. You gotta talk to him again. Maybe ask him about the team’s last game. He scored, like, thirty points or something crazy.”
You took a chip, more to keep your hands busy than because you were hungry. “I can’t just walk up to him and talk about basketball. I’d sound like I’m trying too hard. And what if he thinks I’m weird?”
Sunoo rolled his eyes, crunching loudly on a chip. “Y/N, you’re overthinking. He’s a normal guy. Well, a normal guy who’s insanely good at basketball and looks like he stepped out of a drama, but still. Just be yourself. You’re cool, even if you don’t believe it.”
You managed a small smile, touched by Sunoo’s faith in you. “Thanks, Sunoo. But I’m still not sure I can do this.”
“You can,” Soyeon said firmly. “And you will. This trip is your chance, Y/N. Don’t let it pass you by.”
The bus lurched forward as the driver started the engine, and Ms. Choi’s voice crackled over the intercom, giving a rundown of the itinerary and safety rules. You barely listened, your mind too busy replaying Sunghoon’s brief interaction and imagining what might happen next. The bus ride to the airport was short, followed by a quick flight to Jeju, and by the time you stepped off the plane onto the island, the sun was high in the sky, warm and inviting.
The teachers herded everyone toward another bus, this one bound for the hotel near Mount Hallasan, where the group hike was scheduled for the afternoon. You stuck close to Soyeon and Sunoo, your nerves returning full force as you realized the trip was officially underway. Every moment felt like it could be the moment—the one where you finally connected with Sunghoon or spectacularly embarrassed yourself trying.
At the hotel, a modern building with large windows overlooking the lush greenery of Jeju, you checked into your room with Soyeon and a few other girls from your class. Sunoo was rooming with some boys down the hall, and you couldn’t help wondering who Sunghoon was sharing with. Probably his teammates, you thought, picturing him laughing and joking with them, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.
After dropping off your luggage, you changed into hiking clothes—leggings, a light jacket, and the sneakers you’d nearly forgotten to pack. Soyeon insisted you wear a cute baseball cap, claiming it was “sporty but flirty,” and you reluctantly agreed, mostly to stop her from fussing. The group gathered in the hotel lobby for the hike, and you spotted Sunghoon almost immediately, standing with his teammates near the entrance. He was wearing a black cap pulled low over his eyes, a fitted gray t-shirt, and cargo pants that made him look like he’d stepped out of an outdoor magazine. Your heart did its usual flip, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your shoelaces.
“Okay, team!” Ms. Choi called, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “We’re hiking a short trail up Mount Hallasan today. Stay with the group, follow the guides, and let’s have fun! We’ll stop for photos and snacks along the way.”
As the group set off toward the trailhead, Soyeon linked arms with you, whispering, “This is your chance. Stay close to me, and I’ll make sure you end up near Sunghoon at some point. Operation Jeju Romance is a go.”
You groaned, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and you let her pull you along. Sunoo was ahead, chatting animatedly with a group of boys, his laughter echoing through the trees. The trail was beautiful, lined with towering pines and bursts of wildflowers, the air fresh and crisp. But your attention kept drifting to Sunghoon, who was walking a little ahead with his friends, his long strides confident and relaxed.
Halfway up the trail, the group stopped at a scenic lookout, where the guides handed out water and granola bars. You were catching your breath, leaning against a tree, when Soyeon nudged you hard. “Look,” she hissed, nodding toward Sunghoon, who was standing a few feet away, taking a sip from his water bottle. His cap was pushed back slightly, revealing his sweaty, tousled hair, and he was laughing at something Jake, one of his teammates, had said.
“Go say something,” Soyeon urged, practically shoving you forward. “Ask him about the view or the hike or literally anything. Now, Y/N!”
Your heart pounded, and your palms were suddenly clammy. “I can’t,” you whispered, panic rising. “What if I say something stupid?”
“You won’t,” Soyeon said, giving you a stern look. “Just go. You’ve got this.”
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and took a few tentative steps toward Sunghoon. Your mind raced for something to say—something casual, something that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot. You were almost there, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne, when Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, bounding over with his usual chaotic energy.
“Y/N! You gotta see this!” he shouted, grabbing your arm and pulling you away before you could utter a word. You stumbled after him, glancing back at Sunghoon, who was now looking your way, his expression unreadable. Your heart sank—another missed opportunity.
Sunoo dragged you to a spot where a group of students was taking selfies with a stunning view of the mountain in the background. “Come on, we need a sibling pic!” he said, thrusting his phone at a random classmate and pulling you into a goofy pose. You forced a smile, but your mind was still on Sunghoon, on the moment you’d almost had.
As the hike continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d let a chance slip through your fingers. But the day wasn’t over, and Jeju was full of possibilities. Little did you know, the biggest surprise was still to come—one that would turn your world upside down and make this trip unforgettable.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the Jeju sky in hues of deep indigo and fiery orange as the first day of the school trip wound down. The group had returned from the Mount Hallasan hike, tired but buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes from a day spent in fresh air and new surroundings. Your legs ached from the trail, your sneakers were dusted with dirt, and your baseball cap—Soyeon’s “sporty but flirty” choice—was slightly askew, but none of that mattered. Your mind was still reeling from the almost-moment with Sunghoon at the lookout, where you’d been seconds away from speaking to him before Sunoo’s chaotic interruption. The memory of Sunghoon’s voice saying your name, his fingers brushing yours as he lifted your suitcase, played on a loop in your head, making your heart race every time you closed your eyes.
Now, you sat on a log near the hotel’s outdoor campfire, the flames crackling and casting flickering shadows across the faces of the students gathered around. The air was cool, carrying the salty tang of the nearby ocean, and the distant hum of cicadas mingled with the chatter and laughter of your classmates. Soyeon was beside you, roasting a marshmallow on a stick with surgical precision, while Sunoo, ever the social butterfly, was across the circle, entertaining a group of juniors with a dramatic retelling of some prank he’d pulled back at school. His round cheeks glowed in the firelight, and his infectious laughter echoed, drawing smiles from everyone nearby.
You, however, were only half-present, your gaze drifting to the other side of the campfire where Park Sunghoon sat with his basketball teammates. He was leaning back, one arm propped casually on the log behind him, his black cap still pulled low over his eyes. The firelight danced across his sharp features, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the way his lips quirked into a half-smile as he listened to Jake’s animated storytelling. He looked relaxed, almost unfairly perfect, and you couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang of longing mixed with frustration. Two years of pining, and all you’d managed was a ten-second interaction where he’d said your name. Y/N. The memory of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you quickly looked away, hoping no one noticed the heat creeping up your cheeks.
“Y/N, you’re burning a hole through him again,” Soyeon whispered, nudging you with her elbow. Her marshmallow, now perfectly golden, hovered dangerously close to your arm as she leaned in. “You’ve been staring at Sunghoon for, like, five minutes straight. If you don’t talk to him tonight, I’m gonna drag you over there myself.”
You groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Soyeon, please. I already made a fool of myself at the lookout. I was this close to saying something, and then Sunoo had to ruin it with his selfie obsession. I’m not built for this. I’ll just… admire him from afar, okay?”
Soyeon rolled her eyes, popping the marshmallow into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Admiring from afar is what you’ve been doing for two years, and it’s gotten you nowhere. This is Jeju, Y/N. It’s magical. It’s like… the universe is giving you a chance. You can’t keep chickening out.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Sunoo’s voice boomed across the campfire. “Yo, everyone! Who’s up for a game? Truth or dare, let’s go!” He clapped his hands, his enthusiasm infectious, and the group erupted into cheers and groans. You sank lower on the log, praying he wouldn’t drag you into this. Sunoo loved games, especially ones that involved embarrassing people, and with your luck, he’d zero in on you and your hopeless crush.
Soyeon, however, was all for it. “Yes! Truth or dare is perfect!” she said, grabbing your arm and shaking it. “This is your moment, Y/N. If someone dares you to talk to Sunghoon, you have to do it. No backing out.”
You shot her a panicked look. “Soyeon, no. I’ll die. I’ll literally combust right here in front of the campfire.”
She smirked, undeterred. “Then combust. It’ll be a dramatic story to tell. Come on, live a little.”
The game started, with students taking turns choosing truth or dare, the dares ranging from silly (one boy had to sing a K-pop song in a high-pitched voice) to mildly humiliating (a girl had to confess her crush in front of everyone, which made you want to hide under the log). You stayed quiet, hoping to blend into the background, but Sunoo’s eyes kept darting your way, a mischievous glint in them that made your stomach churn. He was up to something, and you didn’t trust it one bit.
When it was Sunoo’s turn, he chose dare, and Jake, grinning wickedly, leaned forward. “Alright, Sunoo, I dare you to… invite your best friend to join the game. Right now. Go drag them over here.”
Your heart stopped. Best friend? Sunoo’s best friend? You racked your brain, trying to think of who he’d been hanging out with lately. Probably one of the boys in his class, like Jay or Heeseung, who were always trailing after him with their snacks and jokes. You relaxed slightly, figuring this had nothing to do with you. But then Sunoo stood up, brushed the crumbs off his hoodie, and started walking—straight toward Sunghoon.
Your breath caught in your throat. No. No way. This had to be a coincidence. Sunoo was probably just passing by Sunghoon to get to someone else. But then he stopped right in front of the basketball star, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Yo, Hoon! Come join the game, man! You’re my bestie, you can’t say no!”
The world seemed to slow down, the crackle of the campfire fading into a dull roar in your ears. Hoon? Bestie? Your mind scrambled to process the words, each one hitting like a brick. Park Sunghoon—your Park Sunghoon, the boy you’d been hopelessly in love with for two years—was Kim Sunoo’s best friend? Your brother’s best friend? The revelation crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. How had you not known? How had Sunoo never mentioned this? And more importantly, how were you supposed to survive this trip knowing the boy of your dreams was closer to your annoying, gummy-worm-obsessed brother than you’d ever been to him?
Sunghoon looked up at Sunoo, a playful scowl on his face. “Bestie? Since when do you call me that, dude?” But he stood, brushing off his pants, and followed Sunoo toward the campfire circle, his long strides effortless and his expression a mix of amusement and reluctance. The other students cheered, clearly thrilled to have the basketball star join the game, and you felt like you were going to pass out.
Soyeon’s jaw was practically on the ground. She grabbed your arm, her nails digging in. “Y/N. Did I just hear that right? Sunghoon is Sunoo’s best friend? How did you not know this? How did I not know this?”
“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “He never said anything. Not once. I thought his best friend was, like, Jay or someone. Not… him.”
Soyeon’s eyes widened, and then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh, this is gold. This is perfect. Y/N, do you realize what this means? Sunghoon’s practically family already. You’ve got an in!”
“An in?” you hissed, panic rising. “Soyeon, this is a disaster! My brother’s best friend? That’s, like, the ultimate forbidden zone!"
Before Soyeon could respond, Sunoo plopped down next to you, dragging Sunghoon with him. Sunghoon sat on the log across from you, his knees almost brushing yours in the tight circle, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of the space. He was so close—close enough that you could see the faint freckles on his nose, the way the firelight reflected in his dark eyes. He gave you a small nod, that same polite smile from the bus, and you managed a weak smile back, praying your face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“Alright, Hoon, you’re in,” Sunoo said, clapping his hands. “Truth or dare?”
Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms with a casual confidence that made your stomach flip. “Truth,” he said, his voice low and steady.
Jake, who was clearly enjoying his role as the game’s instigator, rubbed his hands together. “Okay, Sunghoon. Tell us… who’s the last person you had a crush on?”
Your heart stopped. The entire circle seemed to lean in, the fire crackling louder in the sudden hush. You stared at the ground, your fingers twisting the hem of your jacket, terrified that he’d say a name—any name—and it wouldn’t be yours. Or worse, that he’d notice you staring and figure out your feelings right then and there.
Sunghoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “Pass,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not answering that.”
The group groaned, some throwing marshmallows at him playfully, but Jake waved them off. “Fine, fine, you get one pass. But you’re not off the hook next time.”
You exhaled, not realizing you’d been holding your breath. A pass was safe. It didn’t mean anything, right? But the way Sunghoon’s eyes flickered toward you for a split second made your heart race all over again. Was it your imagination, or had he looked at you just a little longer than necessary?
The game continued, with more dares and truths that ranged from hilarious to cringe-worthy, but you could barely focus. Your mind was spinning with the revelation that Sunghoon was Sunoo’s best friend. How had this happened? Sunoo was always talking about his “bestie,” but he’d never dropped a name. You’d assumed it was someone from his class, someone you didn’t know well. But Sunghoon? The boy you’d watched score impossible shots on the basketball court, the boy whose smile haunted your dreams? It was too much.
When it was your turn, you chose truth, too nervous to risk a dare that might involve Sunghoon. Soyeon, who’d been waiting for her moment, leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. “Y/N,” she said, her voice dripping with mischief, “what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done because of a crush?”
Your blood ran cold. Soyeon, your supposed best friend, had just thrown you under the bus. You shot her a glare that could’ve melted steel, but she just smirked, clearly enjoying this. Sunoo, sitting next to Sunghoon, perked up, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he said, nudging Sunghoon, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
You scrambled for an answer, your mind racing through every embarrassing moment you’d ever had. There were plenty—tripping in the hallway while staring at Sunghoon, doodling his name in your notebook and nearly getting caught by a teacher—but you couldn’t admit those. Not with him sitting right there. “Uh… I… once sent a text to the wrong person,” you blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It was supposed to be about… someone I liked, but I accidentally sent it to my mom.”
The group burst into laughter, and Sunoo nearly fell off the log, clutching his stomach. “Your mom? Y/N, that’s iconic! What’d you say in the text?”
You buried your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. “It was something dumb, like, ‘He’s so cute, I can’t handle it.’ She teased me about it for weeks.”
The laughter grew louder, and even Sunghoon chuckled, the sound low and warm, sending a fresh wave of butterflies through your stomach. You peeked through your fingers, catching his eye for a moment, and he gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile, like he understood how mortifying this was. It was both comforting and humiliating, and you weren’t sure which was worse.
As the game wound down, the group started to disperse, some heading back to the hotel to crash, others lingering to roast one last marshmallow. You stayed by the fire, too wired to move, your mind still reeling from the revelation. Soyeon yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m beat,” she said, standing. “You coming, Y/N?”
“In a minute,” you said, waving her off. You needed a moment to process, to let the shock of Sunghoon being Sunoo’s best friend settle in. Soyeon gave you a knowing look but didn’t push, heading back to the hotel with a few other girls.
Your mind spiralled with questions. How had you missed this? Sunoo was always yammering about his “bestie,” his partner-in-crime for late-night gaming sessions or impromptu snack runs. You’d pictured someone like Jay or Heeseung, someone from his class who matched his boundless energy. But Sunghoon? The quiet, effortlessly cool basketball star who made your heart stutter with a single glance? It didn’t add up. And worse, Sunoo knew about your crush. He’d teased you mercilessly in the gym, egged on by Soyeon, and yet he’d never once hinted that the boy you were pining for was the same one he called “Hoon.” The betrayal stung, but so did the possibility that Sunoo had kept it secret for a reason. Was he protecting you? Or worse, did he think your crush was so hopeless it wasn’t worth mentioning?
You sighed, rubbing your temples, the crackle of the fire doing little to soothe your racing thoughts. The Jeju trip was supposed to be your chance to step out of your comfort zone, to maybe—just maybe—get Sunghoon to notice you. But now? Now it felt like you were navigating a minefield, with your brother’s friendship complicating every step. Dating your brother’s best friend was practically a cliché, complete with all the awkwardness and potential for disaster. What if Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way? What if he did, but Sunoo freaked out? The thought of confessing your feelings, only to ruin their friendship—or worse, to be rejected in front of both of them—made your stomach twist.
A sudden burst of laughter pulled you from your spiral, and you glanced up to see Sunoo bounding toward you, his hoodie now speckled with marshmallow fluff. “Y/N! You’re still here? I thought you’d be in bed by now, dreaming of a certain basketball star.” He waggled his eyebrows, plopping onto the log beside you with his usual lack of personal space, his shoulder bumping yours.
You groaned, shoving him lightly. “Sunoo, can you not? I’m trying to have a moment here.”
“A moment of what? Pining? Brooding? Writing mental fanfiction about Sunghoon’s jump shot?” He grinned, clearly enjoying himself, and you buried your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear.
“Sunoo, I’m serious,” you mumbled through your fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me? About… you know.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud, not yet. The truth was still too raw, too surreal.
Sunoo’s grin faltered, and he tilted his head, his expression softening. “Tell you what? Oh… you mean about Hoon being my bestie?” He said it so casually, like it was no big deal, and you wanted to throttle him.
“Yes, that,” you hissed, dropping your hands to glare at him. “How could you not tell me? You knew I liked him, Sunoo. You and Soyeon were literally teasing me about it last week! And now I find out he’s your best friend? In front of everyone? Do you know how humiliating that was?”
Sunoo’s eyes widened, and for once, he looked genuinely apologetic. “Okay, wait, hold up. I didn’t mean to make it a big thing. I thought you’d figure it out eventually! I mean, I talk about Hoon all the time, and you’re always zoning out when I do, so I figured you just weren’t paying attention.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his chubby cheeks flushing slightly. “And, like, I didn’t think it was a secret. I just… didn’t connect the dots that you didn’t know.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “You didn’t connect the dots? Sunoo, you’re my brother! You’re supposed to tell me stuff like this! Like, ‘Hey, Y/N, that guy you’ve been crushing on for two years? Yeah, he’s my best friend, maybe don’t confess your love in front of me.’”
Sunoo winced, but his lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “Okay, fair point. I messed up. But in my defense, I thought it’d be funnier if you found out on your own. You know, like a rom-com plot twist.” He spread his hands, mimicking a movie screen. “Cue the dramatic music, Y/N’s jaw drops, Sunghoon swoons—”
“Sunoo!” you snapped, swatting his arm, but you couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped. His ridiculousness was disarming, even when you wanted to stay mad.
He grinned, clearly relieved you weren’t too angry. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make it weird. And for what it’s worth, Hoon’s a good guy. Like, the best. He’s chill, he’s funny, and he doesn’t even get mad when I steal his fries.” He paused, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And, you know, he’s not totally clueless about you.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you whipped your head toward him. “What? What does that mean?”
Sunoo shrugged, playing coy. “Just… he’s mentioned you before. Like, not in a big way, but he knows who you are. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
You narrowed your eyes, not sure if he was messing with you. “Mentioned me how? Like, ‘Oh, that’s Sunoo’s annoying sister’?”
Sunoo laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Just, like, ‘Oh, Y/N’s in our class, right?’ or ‘Y/N’s pretty good at chem.’ Normal stuff. But, you know, it’s Hoon. He’s not exactly Mr. Feelings, so that’s basically a love letter coming from him.”
Your cheeks burned, and you looked away, trying to process the idea that Sunghoon had ever talked about you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send your heart into overdrive. “You’re making this up,” you muttered, but there was no conviction in your voice.
Sunoo held up his hands, mock-offended. “I would never. Cross my heart. Now, come on, let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got a surprise for you, and you’re gonna love it.” He stood, brushing marshmallow fluff off his hoodie, and gestured for you to follow.
You frowned, suspicious. “A surprise? Sunoo, your surprises usually involve glitter or loud noises, and I’m not in the mood.”
He grinned, undeterred, and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet. “Trust me, this one’s good. No glitter, I promise. Let’s go!”
Reluctantly, you followed him back to the hotel, the gravel crunching under your sneakers as you tried to keep up with his bouncy stride. The lobby was quiet, most students already in their rooms, and the fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the tiled floor. Sunoo led you up the stairs to the second floor, chattering about the beach day planned for tomorrow, but you were only half-listening, your mind still stuck on Sunghoon and the campfire.
When you reached your room, shared with Soyeon and two other girls, Sunoo stopped outside the door, turning to you with a grin that was far too mischievous for comfort. “Okay, ready for the surprise?” he said, practically vibrating with excitement.
You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily. “If this involves jumping out and yelling ‘boo,’ I’m disowning you.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. Just… open the door and see for yourself.” He stepped aside, gesturing grandly, and you sighed, turning the handle and pushing the door open.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, you thought it was empty. Soyeon wasn’t there—she’d probably gone to the vending machines or to chat with someone—and the other girls were likely still downstairs. But then your eyes landed on a small pile of items on your bed, neatly arranged and tied with a bright blue ribbon. A bag of your favorite gummy worms, a tiny notebook with a cute cat cover, and a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled in Sunoo’s messy handwriting.
You turned to him, confused. “What’s this?”
Sunoo bounced on his toes, his grin widening. “Surprise! Well, hehe, I figured I owed you after the whole… you know, not-telling-you-about-Hoon thing. So I put together a little ‘Y/N survival kit’ for the rest of the trip. Gummy worms for when you’re stressing, a notebook for all your Sunghoon-inspired poetry, and…” He pointed to the folded paper, his eyes twinkling. “A little something extra. Go on, read it.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspecting a prank, but his expression was so earnest that you couldn’t resist. You stepped into the room, leaving the door open, and picked up the paper, unfolding it carefully. The note was short, written in Sunoo’s loopy script, but the words made your heart skip a beat.
Y/N, sorry for keeping the Hoon thing a secret. I swear I didn’t mean to make it weird. But since you’re so hopeless about him (don’t deny it), I’ve got your back. Let’s make Jeju the trip where you actually talk to him, okay? I’ll be your wingman with Soyeon as the wingwoman, and I promise not to embarrass you… too much.
P.S. Hoon’s not as scary as you think. He’s kinda soft when you get to know him. — Your awesome brother, Sunoo
You stared at the note, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Embarrassment, because Sunoo knew exactly how hopeless you were. Gratitude, because he was trying to make it right. And a tiny, fragile spark of hope, because maybe—just maybe—he was right. Maybe Jeju could be the trip where you finally found the courage to talk to Sunghoon, to step out of the bleachers and into his world.
You turned to Sunoo, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a soft smile. “You’re such a dork,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “But… thanks. This is really sweet.”
He shrugged, playing it cool, but his cheeks were pink. “Yeah, well, I’m the best brother ever, so. You’re welcome.” He stepped into the room, picking up the bag of gummy worms and tossing it to you. “Now, eat these and stop overthinking. We’ve got a beach day tomorrow, and I’m counting on you to at least say ‘hi’ to Hoon. Deal?”
You caught the bag, rolling your eyes but smiling. “Deal. But if you pull another stunt like the campfire, I’m telling Mom about the time you broke her favorite vase.”
His eyes widened, and he clutched his chest dramatically. “Low blow, Y/N! But fine, I’ll behave. Mostly.” He winked, then headed for the door. “Get some sleep, sis. Big day tomorrow. Operation Sunghoon is officially on!”
As he disappeared down the hall, his laughter echoing, you sank onto your bed, clutching the note and the gummy worms. The room was quiet now, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound, but your mind was anything but calm. Sunoo’s surprise had been sweet, but it also brought the reality of your situation crashing back. Sunghoon wasn’t just the untouchable basketball star anymore. He was your brother’s best friend, someone who’d probably been to your house, eaten your snacks, maybe even sat on your couch playing video games with Sunoo. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
You opened the bag of gummy worms, popping one into your mouth as you reread Sunoo’s note. He’s kinda soft when you get to know him. The words stuck with you, painting a picture of a Sunghoon you didn’t know—a Sunghoon who wasn’t just the confident athlete on the court, but someone real, someone reachable. The idea made your heart ache with longing, but it also gave you a sliver of courage. If Sunoo believed in you, maybe you could believe in yourself, too.
You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the gummy worm’s tropical flavor lingering on your tongue. Tomorrow was the beach day, a chance to see Sunghoon again, maybe even talk to him. The thought made your stomach flip, but you pushed it down, focusing on Sunoo’s words. Operation Sunghoon is officially on. You didn’t know what the next two days would bring, but for the first time, you felt like you might be ready to find out.
The Jeju sun blazed high in the sky, its rays shimmering off the turquoise waves that lapped at Seogwipo’s sandy shore. The beach was alive with the chaos of your classmates—some splashing in the shallows, others sprawled on colorful towels, and a few attempting an overly competitive volleyball game that was more shouting than skill. The salty breeze tugged at your hair, carrying the scent of sunscreen and the distant tang of seaweed, while seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries blending with the laughter and chatter around you. You stood near the water’s edge, toes sinking into the warm sand, your heart a tangled mess of nerves and anticipation. Today was the beach day, the second day of the Jeju trip, and after last night’s campfire revelation—that Park Sunghoon, your two-year crush, was your brother Sunoo’s best friend—you felt like you were walking a tightrope between hope and disaster.
You adjusted the strap of your swimsuit, a simple navy one-piece Soyeon had approved after vetoing your initial choice of a frumpy t-shirt and shorts. Over it, you wore a light, flowy cover-up, the hem fluttering in the breeze. Soyeon’s voice from last week echoed in your head: “No frumpy hoodies allowed. We’re manifesting your Sunghoon moment!” You weren’t sure about manifesting, but you couldn’t deny the flutter in your chest at the thought of Sunghoon seeing you today, maybe even talking to you again. His brief interaction yesterday—helping with your suitcase, saying your name—had left you sleepless, replaying every second until the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling blurred.
“Y/N, you look like you’re about to bolt,” Soyeon said, appearing beside you with a popsicle in hand, her bright yellow bikini peeking out from under a sheer sarong. Her messy bun was already unraveling, strands sticking to her sunscreen-slicked neck, but her grin was as mischievous as ever. “Chill, okay? It’s a beach day. We’re here to have fun, not to overthink your entire existence.”
You sighed, kicking at the sand. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who just found out your crush is your brother’s best friend. I’m still processing that bombshell, and now I’m supposed to act normal around him? I’m gonna trip over my own feet or, worse, say something stupid like ‘Nice waves, Sunghoon, wanna marry me?’”
Soyeon snorted, nearly choking on her popsicle. “Okay, first, don’t propose via ocean metaphors. Second, hold up—what do you mean you’re still processing? Sunoo didn't tell me too!"
“I am having a meltdown,” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I was mortified. Sunghoon was sitting right across from me, and I couldn’t even look at him. And then Sunoo had the nerve to act like it was no big deal! He even came to my room later with this whole ‘surprise’ thing—a bag of gummy worms and a note saying he’ll be my wingman to help me talk to Sunghoon. Like, what? He’s known this whole time and thought it was funny to keep it a secret?”
Soyeon’s jaw dropped, and then she burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “Oh, Sunoo is a genius. A chaotic, gummy-worm-loving genius. He’s been playing 4D chess with your love life! Okay, okay, let me get this straight—he’s Sunghoon’s best friend, knows you’re obsessed with him, and now he’s offering to be your wingman? This is, like, rom-com gold!”
You swatted her arm, your face burning. “It’s not funny, Soyeon! It’s a disaster! Dating your brother’s best friend is, like, a total no-go. What if Sunghoon thinks I’m weird? Or what if I confess and it ruins their friendship? And Sunoo’s note said Sunghoon’s ‘kinda soft’ when you get to know him, which just makes it worse because now I’m imagining him being all sweet and—ugh, I need to stop.”
Soyeon wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. “Oh, Y/N, you’re so doomed. But in the best way. Look, this is actually perfect. Sunoo’s your brother, so he’s got insider info on Sunghoon. And now that I know the tea, I’m officially joining the mission again. Wingwoman and wingman, reporting for duty!” She struck a dramatic pose, pointing at you like a general rallying her troops. “Operation Sunghoon is about to level up. By the end of this trip, you’re at least gonna have a real conversation with him. No more bleacher pining.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You and Sunoo are gonna be the death of me. I can’t handle both of you scheming.”
“Too late,” Soyeon said, smirking. “We’re a team now. Where’s Sunoo, anyway? We need to strategize together this time.” She scanned the beach, her eyes narrowing like a detective on a mission.
You pointed toward the volleyball game, where Sunoo was bouncing around in his bright red swim trunks, his chubby cheeks flushed as he dove for the ball and missed spectacularly, sending sand flying everywhere. His laughter carried over the waves, and you couldn’t help but smile, even if he was the source of your current existential crisis. “Over there, being a human disaster as usual.”
Soyeon grinned, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go recruit him. And keep an eye out for Sunghoon—he’s gotta be around here somewhere, looking all gorgeous and basketball-star-ish.”
You let her drag you toward the volleyball game, your heart pounding at the mention of Sunghoon. The beach was crowded, but your Sunghoon radar was on high alert, scanning for his tall frame or that signature black cap. You spotted him almost immediately, standing near the water with a few teammates, a frisbee in hand. He was wearing a sleeveless gray shirt and black board shorts, his toned arms glistening with sunscreen and sea spray. He laughed as Jake tried to tackle him into the waves, his smile so bright it made your chest ache. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, caught in the way the sunlight caught his hair, turning it a soft shade of brown.
Soyeon followed your gaze and smirked. “There’s your boy. Looking like he stepped out of a sports ad, as usual. Don’t stare too hard, Y/N."
You tore your eyes away, your face flaming. “I’m not staring. I’m… observing the frisbee game. For science.”
She cackled, pulling you closer to the volleyball area. “Sure, science. Come on, let’s get Sunoo before he buries himself in the sand.”
You reached the edge of the volleyball game just as Sunoo flopped dramatically onto the sand, claiming he needed a “hydration break.” His teammates groaned, but he waved them off, grabbing a water bottle and spotting you and Soyeon. “Yo, my favorite people!” he called, scrambling to his feet and jogging over, sand sticking to his legs. “What’s up? Ready to join the volleyball champs? I’m basically an Olympian.”
Soyeon snorted, crossing her arms. “An Olympian at eating sand, maybe. Sunoo, we need to talk. Y/N just filled me in on the tea—you know, the whole ‘Sunghoon’s your best friend and you didn’t tell her’ thing? I’m low-key offended you kept that from me, too.”
Sunoo’s eyes widened, and he clutched his water bottle like a shield. “Okay, okay, I’m sensing some hostility here. In my defense, I thought it was obvious! I talk about Hoon all the time! And Y/N’s always daydreaming, so I figured she’d connect the dots eventually.” He turned to you, pouting. “I said sorry last night, didn’t I? With gummy worms and everything!”
You sighed, unable to stay mad at his puppy-dog expression. “Yeah, you did. But it’s still a lot, Sunoo. And now you’re all ‘wingman’ about it, which is terrifying.”
Soyeon clapped her hands, cutting in. “Which brings me to my point. Sunoo, you and I are officially a team. Wingwoman and wingman, united for Operation Sunghoon. Our mission: get Y/N and Sunghoon talking by the end of this trip. No more missed opportunities, no more almost-moments. We’re making this happen.”
Sunoo’s face lit up like a firework. “Oh, I’m so in. This is gonna be epic! We’ll be, like, the ultimate matchmakers. Y/N’s gonna be thanking us at their wedding.” He struck a pose, mimicking a heart with his arms, and you groaned, covering your face.
“Sunoo, I’m begging you, stop,” you said, but your lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “You’re both insane, and I’m regretting ever telling you about my crush.”
“Too late,” Soyeon said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re invested now. So, here’s the plan for today: we’re gonna get you close to Sunghoon during the beach activities. Maybe join the frisbee game, or ‘accidentally’ bump into him by the water. Sunoo, you’re his best friend—use that insider knowledge. What’s he into? What’ll get him talking?”
Sunoo tapped his chin, pretending to think deeply. “Hmm, Hoon’s pretty chill, but he loves a challenge. He’s competitive, especially with sports stuff. Maybe we can get Y/N to join a game with him—volleyball, frisbee, whatever. Oh, and he’s a sucker for snacks. I’ve seen him devour an entire bag of chips in, like, five minutes.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Snacks? That’s your big insider tip?”
“Hey, it’s useful!” Sunoo protested, crossing his arms. “Offer him a gummy worm, and he’s yours. Trust me.”
Soyeon nodded, her eyes gleaming with determination. “Perfect. Y/N, you’ve got that bag of gummy worms from Sunoo’s surprise last night, right? Keep it in your bag. If you get a chance to talk to him, offer him some. It’s an icebreaker. And Sunoo, you’re gonna help set up a moment. Maybe invite Sunghoon to join us for something—casual, no pressure.”
You felt like you were being drafted into a heist, not a romance. “Guys, this is way too much planning. What if I just… talk to him? Like a normal person?”
Soyeon and Sunoo exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. “Y/N, you freeze up when he says your name,” Soyeon said, patting your shoulder. “We’re not taking chances. Trust the wingwoman-wingman team. We’ve got this.”
Before you could argue, a shout from the volleyball court interrupted you. “Sunoo! Get back here, we’re starting a new round!” one of his teammates called, waving him over.
Sunoo saluted you and Soyeon, grinning. “Duty calls. But don’t worry, team, I’m on the case. Keep an eye on Hoon, and I’ll work my magic later.” He jogged back to the game, tripping slightly in the sand and recovering with a dramatic flourish that made everyone laugh.
Soyeon turned to you, her expression serious but her eyes twinkling. “Alright, Y/N, game face on. Let’s walk by the frisbee game—casual, like we’re just enjoying the beach. If Sunghoon looks your way, smile. If he doesn’t, we’ll pivot to plan B.”
“What’s plan B?” you asked, already dreading the answer.
She winked. “You’ll see.”
You let her lead you toward the water, where Sunghoon and his teammates were tossing the frisbee, their shouts and laughter carrying over the waves. Your heart pounded with every step, the sand shifting under your feet like it was trying to trip you up. Sunghoon was in the middle of the group, his athletic frame moving with that effortless grace you’d admired from the bleachers for years. He leaped to catch the frisbee, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of toned abs, and you nearly walked into a sandcastle.
“I am not,” you hissed, but you straightened, forcing yourself to focus on the horizon instead of Sunghoon’s everything. As you passed the group, you felt his gaze flicker your way—or maybe it was your imagination, hyped up on nerves and Soyeon’s scheming. You managed a small smile, just in case, but he was already turning back to the game, catching another throw with a grin.
Soyeon sighed dramatically. “Okay, that was a bust. But don’t worry, we’ve got all day. Let’s set up our towels over there and keep an eye out for our next move.”
You followed her to a spot near the volleyball game, spreading out your towel and trying to relax. Soyeon pulled out a portable speaker, playing some upbeat K-pop, while you dug into your bag for the gummy worms, more for comfort than strategy. As you munched, you watched Sunghoon from the corner of your eye, your mind racing. He was so close, yet so far—your brother’s best friend, a boy who knew your name but probably didn’t know your heart. The thought made you ache, but Soyeon and Sunoo’s ridiculous optimism was starting to rub off. Maybe, just maybe, today could be the day you took a step forward.
An hour later, the teachers called everyone for a group activity—a relay race in the shallows, with teams of four racing to pass a baton through the waves. Soyeon’s eyes lit up like she’d won the lottery. “This is it,” she said, grabbing your arm. “We’re getting you on Sunghoon’s team. Sunoo, where are you? We need backup!”
Sunoo, who’d just finished his volleyball game, jogged over, his face red from the sun and exertion. “What’s the plan, captain?” he asked, saluting Soyeon.
“Relay race,” she said, pointing to where the teachers were organizing teams. “We need Y/N and Sunghoon on the same team. Work your best-friend magic.”
Sunoo grinned, already on board. “Say no more. I got this.” He darted off toward Sunghoon, who was standing with Jake and a few others, sipping water and laughing. You watched, heart in your throat, as Sunoo clapped Sunghoon on the shoulder, gesturing animatedly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Sunghoon glanced your way, his expression curious, and your stomach did a backflip.
“He’s doing it,” Soyeon whispered, gripping your hand. “Look at that wingman go.”
A minute later, Sunoo bounded back, triumphant. “Done! Hoon’s in for the relay, and I told him you’re a pro at running in water—total lie, by the way, but he doesn’t need to know that. You’re on his team with me and Jake. Let’s go!”
You gaped at him, panic rising. “Sunoo, I’m terrible at running in water! Why would you say that?”
He shrugged, unrepentant. “Because it got him to say yes. You’re welcome. Now come on, we’re team number three!”
Soyeon pushed you forward, whispering, “This is your moment, Y/N. Don’t freeze up. Just run, laugh, and maybe ‘accidentally’ splash him. Flirty vibes.”
You were too nervous to argue, letting Sunoo and Soyeon herd you toward the starting line, where Sunghoon and Jake were already waiting. Sunghoon gave you a small smile, his cap pushed back to reveal his sweaty, tousled hair. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm but casual. “Sunoo says you’re gonna carry us. No pressure.”
Your face burned, and you shot Sunoo a glare, but he just winked, completely unbothered. “She’s got this,” Sunoo said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Right, sis?”
“Uh… sure,” you mumbled, your heart racing as you took your position in the lineup. You were second, after Sunoo, with Jake third and Sunghoon as the anchor. The water lapped at your ankles, cool and slippery, and you prayed you wouldn’t face-plant in front of everyone.
The whistle blew, and Sunoo took off, splashing through the waves with more enthusiasm than speed. He passed the baton to you, grinning like a maniac. “Go, Y/N! Make Hoon proud!” he shouted, loud enough for the entire beach to hear, and you wanted to sink into the ocean.
You grabbed the baton and ran, the water dragging at your legs, making every step a wobbly struggle. You could hear Soyeon cheering from the shore, her voice cutting through the noise: “You got this, Y/N! Look at you go!” You focused on the next marker, where Jake was waiting, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sunghoon watching, his hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered for the team.
You reached Jake, thrusting the baton at him and nearly tripping in the process. He took off, and you bent over, catching your breath, your heart pounding from both the run and the fact that Sunghoon was right there. When you straightened, he was closer, waiting for Jake to loop back. He caught your eye and grinned. “Nice job, Y/N. You’re faster than Sunoo said.”
Your brain short-circuited. Was that a compliment? From Sunghoon? You managed a shaky, “Thanks,” your voice barely audible over the waves. He nodded, turning back to the race, and you felt like you’d just won the Olympics.
Jake passed the baton to Sunghoon, who sprinted through the water with the kind of grace you’d expect from a basketball star. Your team didn’t win—team four edged you out—but as Sunghoon crossed the finish line, dripping wet and laughing, you couldn’t care less. He jogged back to the group, high-fiving Jake and Sunoo, then turned to you, his smile softer. “We almost had ‘em,” he said, and you nodded, too flustered to speak.
Soyeon and Sunoo descended on you as soon as the race ended, their faces alight with triumph. “That was perfect!” Soyeon whispered, pulling you aside. “He talked to you! And he smiled! We’re making progress!”
Sunoo nodded, munching on a gummy worm he’d produced from who-knows-where. “Told you, sis. Hoon’s chill. You just gotta keep talking to him. Offer him a gummy worm next time. It’s, like, his love language.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart was soaring. The beach day wasn’t over, and with Soyeon and Sunoo on your side, you felt a little braver, a little closer to the boy who’d stolen your heart two years ago. Operation Sunghoon was in full swing, and for the first time, you believed it might actually work.
The Jeju sun hung high, its relentless rays glinting off the turquoise waves that rolled gently onto Seogwipo’s sandy shore. The beach was a kaleidoscope of color and sound—students shouting and laughing, the rhythmic crash of the surf, and the occasional squawk of a seagull diving for a stray chip. You stood at the edge of the relay race area, your sneakers sinking into the damp sand, your heart still racing from the chaotic sprint through the waves and, more importantly, from Sunghoon’s words: “Nice job, Y/N. You’re faster than Sunoo said.” His voice, warm and teasing, echoed in your mind, each syllable a spark that set your nerves alight. He’d smiled at you—smiled—and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the two-year distance between your bleacher daydreams and his untouchable presence had shrunk to nothing.
Now, he was just a few feet away, dripping wet from the race, his gray sleeveless shirt clinging to his frame in a way that made it hard to look anywhere else. He was laughing with Jake and Sunoo, his black board shorts speckled with sand, his hair tousled by the sea breeze. You clutched the gummy worm bag in your hand, a lifeline Soyeon and Sunoo had insisted was your “icebreaker,” but the thought of offering him one felt like stepping off a cliff. Your brother’s best friend. Your crush of two years. And now, thanks to Soyeon and Sunoo’s relentless matchmaking, the center of “Operation Sunghoon,” a mission that was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.
“Y/N, you’re doing it again,” Soyeon said, materializing beside you with a smirk, her yellow bikini peeking out from under her sarong. She held a half-eaten popsicle, the red juice staining her lips, and her eyes gleamed with mischief. “You’re staring at Sunghoon like he’s the last gummy worm in the bag. Snap out of it before he notices and thinks you’re plotting his kidnapping.”
You flushed, tearing your gaze from Sunghoon and shoving the gummy worms into your beach bag. “I’m not staring,” you muttered, kicking at the sand. “I’m just… processing. He talked to me, Soyeon. Like, actually said my name and complimented me. I’m allowed to process.”
Soyeon cackled, nudging your shoulder. “Oh, we’re way past processing, babe. That was a moment. He smiled, he teased, he engaged. And you didn’t even trip over your words! This is huge.” She glanced over at Sunghoon, who was now tossing the relay baton playfully at Sunoo, and her grin widened. “Operation Sunghoon is off to a stellar start, and now that I’m officially wingwoman to Sunoo’s wingman, we’re gonna make sure you keep that momentum.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You and Sunoo are gonna get me in so much trouble. I can’t believe I let you two team up. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Disaster? Nah, this is destiny,” Soyeon said, pulling your hands down and giving you a mock-serious look. “Sunoo’s got the insider scoop as Sunghoon’s best friend, and I’ve got the strategic genius. Together, we’re unstoppable. By the end of today, you’re gonna have a real conversation with him—none of this ‘uh, thanks’ stuff. We’re aiming for flirty banter, maybe even a laugh. Baby steps, Y/N, but bold ones.”
Before you could protest, Sunoo bounded over, his red swim trunks dusted with sand and his chubby cheeks flushed from the race and the sun. He was munching on a chip he’d swiped from someone’s beach towel, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yo, team! That relay was epic!” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you over. “Y/N, you killed it out there. Hoon was totally impressed. Did you see him smile? That’s, like, a level-five Sunghoon smile. Rare and powerful.”
You swatted his arm, your face burning. “Sunoo, stop! He was just being nice. And you lied about me being good at running in water! I almost face-planted in front of him!”
Sunoo grinned, completely unrepentant. “A little exaggeration never hurt nobody. It got you on his team, didn’t it? And he talked to you! Mission accomplished, phase one.” He turned to Soyeon, who was watching with a raised eyebrow. “Wingwoman, what’s phase two? I’m ready to flex my best-friend status.”
Soyeon clapped her hands, her popsicle stick now tucked behind her ear like a pencil. “Glad you’re on board, wingman. Phase two is simple: proximity and interaction. We need Y/N and Sunghoon in the same space, talking, laughing, maybe sharing a snack.” She pointed to your bag, where the gummy worms were stashed. “Sunoo, you said Sunghoon’s a snack fiend, right? Let’s use that. Y/N, you’re gonna offer him a gummy worm. Casual, no big deal, just a friendly gesture. Sunoo, you set it up—invite him over to hang with us. I’ll handle the vibes.”
You stared at her, horrified. “You want me to just… walk up to him and offer him candy? Like I’m some kind of gummy worm fairy? Soyeon, that’s so awkward!”
“It’s not awkward, it’s cute,” Soyeon countered, crossing her arms. “Guys like Sunghoon don’t need grand gestures. A little snack, a smile, and boom—you’re on his radar. And with Sunoo there, it’s not like you’re confessing your undying love. It’s just friends hanging out.”
Sunoo nodded enthusiastically, crumbs falling from his chip. “She’s right, Y/N. Hoon’s chill. He’ll probably just say thanks and eat, like, half the bag. That’s how he rolls. And I’ll make it super natural. I’m his bestie, remember? I got this.” He winked, then glanced over at Sunghoon, who was now sitting on a towel with Jake, sipping from a water bottle. “Look, he’s free right now. Perfect timing. Let’s do this.”
Your stomach twisted, and you grabbed Soyeon’s arm in a panic. “Wait, now? I’m not ready! I need, like, a script or something. What if I say something dumb? Or what if he doesn’t even like gummy worms? What if—”
“Y/N, breathe,” Soyeon said, squeezing your hand. “You don’t need a script. You’re not auditioning for a drama. Just be yourself—cute, funny, a little nervous. It’s endearing. And Sunoo’s got your back. Right, wingman?”
“Always,” Sunoo said, saluting with his chip. “Trust the Kim siblings. We’re about to make magic happen. Follow my lead, sis.”
Before you could protest further, Sunoo grabbed your wrist and started pulling you toward Sunghoon and Jake, Soyeon trailing behind with a grin that screamed trouble. Your heart pounded with every step, the sand feeling like quicksand under your feet. Sunghoon was right there, his profile sharp against the sparkling ocean, his laughter soft as Jake said something you couldn’t hear. You clutched your beach bag, the gummy worms suddenly feeling like the most important item in the world.
“Yo, Hoon! Jake!” Sunoo called, his voice loud and cheerful, cutting through the beach noise. Sunghoon looked up, his eyes catching the sunlight, and your breath hitched. He smiled when he saw Sunoo, then glanced at you and Soyeon, his expression curious but warm. “You guys done being athletic superstars? Come hang with us,” Sunoo said, plopping onto the sand next to Jake’s towel and gesturing for you and Soyeon to join.
Jake grinned, scooting over to make room. “Only if you brought snacks, Sunoo. You ate half my chips earlier.”
Sunoo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Slander! I only ate, like, a quarter. But lucky for you, my sis has the goods.” He turned to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Right, Y/N? You brought those gummy worms, didn’t you?”
You froze, your face heating up as all eyes turned to you—Sunghoon’s included. His gaze was soft, almost amused, and you felt like the sand was swallowing you whole. Soyeon nudged you subtly, her whisper barely audible: “Go for it. You got this.”
Swallowing hard, you reached into your bag, pulling out the bag of gummy worms with hands that trembled slightly. “Uh, yeah,” you said, your voice higher than usual. “I’ve got some gummy worms. Want one?” You held the bag out, your eyes flickering between Sunoo, Jake, and Sunghoon, but lingering on the latter, praying he wouldn’t think you were weird.
Sunghoon’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he leaned forward, his hand brushing yours as he took a few worms from the bag. The contact was brief but electric, sending a jolt through your arm. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and warm. “These are my favorite.” He popped a red and yellow worm into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, and you felt like you’d just won a Nobel Prize.
“No way, mine too!” Sunoo said, grabbing a handful and breaking the tension. “See, Hoon, I told you my sis has good taste. Unlike Jake, who thinks salt and vinegar chips are a personality trait.”
Jake scoffed, tossing a piece of seaweed at Sunoo. “Keep hating, man. You’ll come around.” The group laughed, and you relaxed slightly, sinking onto the sand next to Soyeon, who gave you a subtle thumbs-up.
“Nice move,” she whispered, her eyes darting to Sunghoon, who was now leaning back on his hands, watching the waves. “He took the bait, and he smiled. We’re cooking with gas now.”
You bit your lip, trying not to grin too hard. It was just a gummy worm, but it felt like a victory. Sunghoon had talked to you—again—and he’d liked your snack. It was small, but it was something. You glanced at him, catching the way the sunlight highlighted his sharp jawline, and your heart did its usual somersault.
The conversation flowed easily, with Sunoo and Jake bantering about the relay race, Soyeon chiming in with sarcastic commentary, and you adding a few shy remarks that earned a chuckle from the group. Sunghoon was quieter, but he listened, his eyes flickering to you every so often, like he was noticing you in a new way. Or maybe that was your hopeful imagination, fueled by Soyeon and Sunoo’s relentless optimism.
After a while, Sunoo stood, brushing sand off his trunks. “Alright, who’s up for a swim? The water’s perfect, and I need to cool off before I turn into a lobster.” He looked pointedly at Sunghoon. “Hoon, you in? You can’t just sit there looking like a model all day.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes but stood, stretching his arms in a way that made his muscles flex distractingly. “Fine, but if you try to dunk me again, I’m throwing you into the deep end.”
Sunoo grinned, undeterred. “Challenge accepted. Y/N, Soyeon, you coming?”
Soyeon jumped up, already tugging off her sarong. “Duh. Let’s go!” She turned to you, her eyes gleaming. “Come on, Y/N. Show off that swimsuit. And maybe, you know, splash around near a certain someone.”
You hesitated, your nerves flaring at the thought of swimming with Sunghoon. But Soyeon’s expectant look and Sunoo’s encouraging nod left no room for retreat. “Okay, fine,” you said, standing and slipping off your cover-up, feeling painfully exposed in your swimsuit despite the warm sun. You avoided Sunghoon’s gaze, focusing on the waves instead, but you could feel his presence nearby, steady and magnetic.
The group waded into the water, the cool waves lapping at your ankles, then your knees, then your waist. Sunoo immediately started a splash war, targeting Jake, who retaliated with a tidal wave that soaked everyone. You laughed, dodging the spray, and for a moment, you forgot your nerves, caught up in the chaos. Soyeon was right there with you, splashing Sunoo and shrieking when he got her back, while Sunghoon hung back, watching with an amused smirk.
At one point, a particularly large wave knocked you off balance, and you stumbled, flailing to stay upright. A strong hand caught your arm, steadying you, and you looked up to find Sunghoon, his eyes crinkled with concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice cutting through the noise of the waves and laughter.
Your heart stopped, then started again at double speed. His hand was warm, his grip gentle but firm, and he was so close you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice barely audible. “Thanks. Just… clumsy.”
He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your knees wobble worse than the wave. “No worries. The ocean’s sneaky like that.” He let go slowly, his fingers brushing your arm as he pulled back, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache.
Soyeon, who’d been watching the whole exchange like a hawk, swam over, her grin practically blinding. “Nice save, Sunghoon!” she called, winking at you behind his back. “Y/N’s lucky to have a hero on the team.”
You shot her a glare, your face burning, but Sunghoon just chuckled, shaking his head. “Hero’s a stretch. Just didn’t want her to get swept away before we finish the gummy worms.”
Your eyes widened, and you laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “Priorities, huh?”
“Always,” he said, his tone teasing, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, the waves fading into the background, the world narrowing to his smile and the spark in his eyes.
Sunoo, ever the chaos agent, broke the moment by launching a surprise attack, splashing Sunghoon with a wave that soaked his hair. “Gotcha!” he shouted, cackling as Sunghoon turned, eyes narrowing playfully.
“You’re dead, Kim,” Sunghoon said, lunging after him, and the two of them tore through the water, Sunoo shrieking and Sunghoon laughing in a way that made your heart ache with something warm and unfamiliar.
Soyeon swam up beside you, her voice low and triumphant. “Did you see that? He saved you, he teased you, and he mentioned the gummy worms. Y/N, we’re in the endgame now.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “It was just a catch and a joke, Soyeon. Don’t start planning the wedding.”
“Not yet,” she said, smirking. “But Sunoo and I are killing it. Look at him—setting up moments left and right.” She nodded toward Sunoo, who was now clinging to Jake’s back, trying to escape Sunghoon’s wrath. “That splash was strategic. He’s giving you space to shine.”
You shook your head, but deep down, you were grateful. Soyeon and Sunoo’s scheming was over-the-top, but it was working. You’d talked to Sunghoon more today than in the past two years combined, and each moment felt like a step closer to something—maybe not love, not yet, but something real. As you watched him chase Sunoo through the waves, his laughter ringing out, you felt a flicker of courage. Maybe, just maybe, you could do this. Maybe you could be more than the girl in the bleachers.
The rest of the beach day passed in a blur of laughter, sun, and sand. You and Soyeon rejoined the group on the shore, where Sunoo insisted on building a sandcastle that looked more like a sand blob, and Sunghoon surprised everyone by joining in, sculpting a surprisingly decent turret with his long fingers. You offered him another gummy worm, emboldened by the earlier success, and he took it with a grin, saying, “You’re gonna have to restock soon if you keep this up.” The words were casual, but they felt like a promise—of more moments, more conversations, more something.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, the teachers called everyone back to the hotel for dinner and a group campfire. You walked back with Soyeon and Sunoo, your skin warm from the sun and your heart lighter than it had been in days. Sunghoon was ahead, talking with Jake, but he glanced back once, catching your eye, and you smiled before you could stop yourself. He smiled back, small but real, and you felt like you were floating.
Soyeon nudged you, her voice a whisper. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re glowing, Y/N. And tonight, at the campfire, we’re going for phase three: deep conversation. Sunoo and I will set it up. You just be your adorable self.”
You groaned, but the butterflies in your stomach were dancing. “What’s phase three gonna look like? You two daring me to confess my feelings in front of everyone?”
Sunoo, overhearing, spun around, walking backward with a grin. “Don’t tempt me, sis. But nah, we’re thinking subtle. Maybe a cozy chat by the fire, some marshmallow roasting, a little stargazing. Hoon’s a sucker for quiet moments. Trust the wingman-wingwoman team. We’re gonna make this Jeju trip legendary.”
You shook your head, but as you looked ahead at Sunghoon’s silhouette against the sunset, you couldn’t help but hope they were right. Day 2 wasn’t over yet, and with Soyeon and Sunoo on your side, anything seemed possible.
The Jeju sky had deepened into a velvet indigo, studded with stars that twinkled like scattered diamonds above the Seogwipo beach. The campfire crackled at the heart of the gathering, its golden flames casting a warm glow across the circle of students sprawled on blankets and logs. The air was rich with the smoky scent of burning wood, mingled with the salty tang of the nearby ocean and the faint sweetness of roasted marshmallows. Laughter and chatter filled the night, punctuated by the strum of a guitar from a classmate attempting a K-pop cover and the occasional pop of embers. You sat on a worn blanket, your knees tucked to your chest, the sand still clinging to your bare feet from the day’s beach adventures. Your navy swimsuit was hidden beneath a loose hoodie and shorts, but the memory of Sunghoon’s hand steadying you in the waves—and his teasing smile over the gummy worms—made your skin feel warm despite the cool breeze.
Your heart was a restless drum, each beat echoing the reality that Park Sunghoon, your two-year crush and now your brother’s best friend, was just across the fire. He leaned back on a log, his black cap tilted low, the firelight dancing across his sharp jawline and the soft curve of his lips. He was in a dark long-sleeve shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly perfect as he listened to Jake’s animated retelling of the relay race, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Every so often, his gaze flickered your way, and you quickly looked down, pretending to adjust the hem of your hoodie, terrified he’d catch the longing in your eyes.
Soyeon, sitting cross-legged beside you with a marshmallow skewer in hand, nudged your elbow, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Y/N, you’re doing that starry-eyed thing again. If you don’t talk to Sunghoon tonight, I’m stealing your gummy worms and eating them all as punishment.”
You groaned, burying your face in your knees. “Soyeon, I’m trying. But he’s right there, and I’m a mess. Did you see him in the water today? He saved me from falling, and then he teased me about the gummy worms. I’m still recovering.”
She smirked, twirling her marshmallow over the fire until it turned a perfect golden brown. “Oh, I saw. The whole beach saw. That was prime rom-com material—hero catches heroine, sparks fly, cue the slow-motion montage. And now, phase three of Operation Sunghoon is in play: deep conversation by the campfire. Sunoo and I have been plotting, and tonight’s the night you level up from ‘cute gummy worm girl’ to ‘girl he can’t stop thinking about.’”
You lifted your head, narrowing your eyes. “Phase three sounds like a disaster. What are you and Sunoo planning? If it involves me confessing my feelings in front of everyone, I’m running into the ocean and not coming back.”
Soyeon laughed, popping the marshmallow into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Relax, no public confessions. We’re going for subtle, intimate vibes. Sunoo’s gonna get Sunghoon over here, maybe with a group game or a snack excuse, and then we’ll make ourselves scarce so you two can talk. You’ve got the gummy worms in your bag, right? Use them. He already said they’re his favorite. It’s like fate.”
You sighed, glancing at your beach bag, where the gummy worms were stashed alongside your phone and a half-read novel. “You two are way too invested in this. What if he’s just being nice because I’m Sunoo’s sister? What if he doesn’t even think about me like that?”
Soyeon rolled her eyes, leaning closer so her shoulder bumped yours. “Y/N, he’s not that nice to everyone. Did you see him carrying anyone else’s suitcase? Or saving anyone else from the waves? And that smile today? That wasn’t ‘polite brother’s friend’ smile. That was ‘I’m intrigued’ smile. Trust me, I’m a romance expert.”
Before you could argue, Sunoo’s voice boomed across the campfire, cutting through the guitar strums and chatter. “Alright, people, let’s spice things up!” He stood on a log, his chubby cheeks glowing in the firelight, his red hoodie dusted with sand and marshmallow fluff. He held a stick like a microphone, his bubbly energy commanding the group’s attention. “Who’s down for a storytelling game? We go around the circle, and everyone adds a line to a spooky beach tale. Winner gets… uh, eternal glory and my last gummy worm!” He held up a single worm, waving it dramatically, and the group cheered, some groaning playfully.
You shot Soyeon a panicked look. “This is his plan? A group game? How is this supposed to get me and Sunghoon talking?”
She smirked, unfazed. “Just wait. Sunoo’s got layers. He’s setting the stage. Watch the master at work.”
Sunoo hopped off the log, scanning the circle with a grin. “Okay, I’ll start. But first, we need some heavy hitters to join. Yo, Hoon!” He pointed at Sunghoon, who looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Get over here, man. My bestie’s gotta represent. And Jake, you too. Let’s make this epic!”
Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head, but he stood, brushing sand off his jeans. Jake followed, tossing a marshmallow at Sunoo, who caught it in his mouth with a triumphant cheer. The trio made their way to your side of the fire, and your heart rate spiked as Sunghoon settled onto the blanket next to Sunoo, just a foot away from you. His knee brushed the edge of your blanket, and you felt the air shift, like the universe had tilted just for this moment.
“Alright, let’s do this,” Sunoo said, plopping down between you and Sunghoon, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll start the story. Once upon a time, on a dark Jeju beach, a mysterious figure emerged from the waves, covered in seaweed and whispering secrets… Y/N, you’re next!”
You blinked, caught off guard, your mind scrambling for something coherent. Everyone was watching, including Sunghoon, whose gaze was soft but curious, like he was genuinely interested in what you’d say. “Uh, okay,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “The figure held a glowing shell that pulsed with an eerie light, drawing everyone closer… Soyeon, go!”
Soyeon grinned, picking up the thread seamlessly. “But as they approached, the shell let out a piercing wail, and the sand beneath their feet started to sink, pulling them toward the ocean…” She nudged Jake, who added a line about ghostly voices, and the story continued around the circle, growing wilder with each addition—pirate ghosts, cursed treasure, a giant squid with a vendetta.
When it reached Sunghoon, he leaned forward, his voice low and steady, sending a shiver down your spine. “And then, the figure vanished, leaving only a single word carved in the sand: ‘Beware.’” He paused, his eyes flickering to you for a split second, and you swore the firelight made them glow. The group ooh-ed dramatically, and you couldn’t help but smile, impressed by his delivery.
The game went on, the story spiraling into absurdity until everyone was laughing, the spooky vibe replaced by pure chaos. Sunoo, true to his wingman role, seized the moment to shift gears. “Okay, okay, this story’s a masterpiece, but I’m starving,” he declared, standing and stretching. “Who’s with me for a snack run? I saw a vending machine by the hotel. Jake, Soyeon, let’s go!”
Soyeon’s eyes widened slightly, but she caught on fast, jumping to her feet. “Yup, I need some chips. Jake, you’re buying.” She grabbed Jake’s arm, pulling him up, and he groaned but followed, tossing a playful glare at Sunoo.
You realized what was happening too late. “Wait, I—” you started, but Sunoo was already herding Soyeon and Jake away, calling over his shoulder, “Y/N, hold down the fort! Hoon, keep her company, yeah? Be right back!” He winked at you, so blatantly you wanted to sink into the sand, and then they were gone, weaving through the crowd toward the hotel lights.
You were alone with Sunghoon. Well, not alone—the campfire was still bustling, classmates chatting and roasting marshmallows—but it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the fire’s glow a fragile bubble around your blanket. Your heart pounded, loud enough you were sure he could hear it, and you stared at the flames, too nervous to look at him.
Sunghoon cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the blanket. “So… Sunoo’s not exactly subtle, is he?” His voice was light, teasing, and you dared to glance at him, finding a small, amused smile on his lips.
You laughed, the sound more nervous than you intended. “Yeah, no, he’s about as subtle as a foghorn. Sorry if he’s being… weird.”
He shook his head, his smile widening. “Nah, it’s fine. He’s always like that. Keeps things interesting.” He paused, picking up a stick and poking at the sand, drawing a lazy spiral. “You’re pretty good at keeping up with him, though. I don’t know how you do it.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, unsure if that was a compliment or just an observation. “Years of practice. Sunoo’s been dragging me into his chaos since we were kids. You should see him at home—he once tried to ‘redecorate’ my room with glitter glue. It’s still on my desk.”
Sunghoon laughed, a low, genuine sound that made your heart flutter. “That sounds like him. He’s always got some wild plan. Like the time he convinced me to sneak into the gym at midnight to practice free throws. We got caught by the janitor, and Sunoo talked us out of trouble by offering him snacks.”
You grinned, imagining Sunoo’s puppy-dog eyes in action. “That’s so him. He’s got a gift for getting away with anything.” You hesitated, then added, “I’m kinda jealous, actually. He’s so… fearless. I’m more of a ‘plan every word before I speak’ type.”
Sunghoon tilted his head, looking at you with a curiosity that made your pulse race. “I don’t know. You seem pretty fearless to me. You held your own in the relay race today, even with Sunoo hyping you up like you were an Olympian. And you didn’t back down from the story game. That’s not nothing.”
Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Thanks,” you said softly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes. “I guess I’m just… trying to keep up with everyone. You, Sunoo, Soyeon—you’re all so confident. I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”
He was quiet for a second, then said, “You don’t have to catch up. You’re… I don’t know, you’re just you. That’s enough.” His voice was low, almost shy, and when you glanced at him, he was staring at the sand, a faint flush on his cheeks.
Your heart stopped, then started again at double speed. Was he… was that… did he just say that? You opened your mouth to respond, but your brain short-circuited, leaving you with nothing but a flustered, “Oh, um, thanks.” You cringed internally, wishing you could rewind and come up with something witty, but Sunghoon just smiled, like your awkwardness didn’t faze him.
“Want another gummy worm?” you blurted, desperate to fill the silence. You reached for your bag, pulling out the bag and offering it to him, your hands trembling slightly.
He chuckled, taking a few worms and holding them up like a toast. “Cheers to surviving Sunoo’s schemes,” he said, popping them into his mouth.
You laughed, taking a worm for yourself. “Cheers to that. He’s probably plotting phase four with Soyeon right now, thinking they’re masterminds.”
“Definitely,” Sunghoon said, his eyes crinkling. “But, you know, they’re not wrong. This trip’s been… fun. Different. I didn’t expect to—” He stopped, like he’d said too much, and looked at the fire, his expression unreadable.
You swallowed, your curiosity burning. “Expect to what?”
He hesitated, then met your eyes, the firelight reflecting in his dark gaze. “I don’t know. Get to know you, I guess. You’re… cooler than I thought. Not that I thought you weren’t cool,” he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… you’re different. In a good way.”
Your heart was a wildfire, blazing out of control. He thought you were cool? Different? Good? You felt like you were floating, but you tried to play it off, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re… pretty cool too. I mean, obviously. You’re, like, basketball star cool. But also… nice. Which is better.”
He laughed, a soft, surprised sound, and you felt a surge of pride at making him smile like that. “Nice is better than basketball star? That’s a first.”
“Definitely,” you said, emboldened by his laughter. “Basketball stars are a dime a dozen. Nice guys? Rare.”
His smile softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the crackle of the fire and the distant waves the only sounds. You felt like you were on the edge of something—something real, something that could change everything—but before you could say more, Sunoo’s voice shattered the moment.
“We’re back!” he announced, bounding over with Soyeon and Jake in tow, a plastic bag of vending machine snacks swinging from his hand. “Did we miss anything? Y/N, Hoon, you two look cozy.”
You wanted to strangle him. Soyeon’s smirk was practically audible, and Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the vibe. Sunghoon just shook his head, amusement in his eyes. “Just surviving your snack run, man,” he said, tossing a marshmallow at Sunoo, who caught it with a grin.
The group settled back onto the blanket, the moment slipping away as Soyeon passed around chips and Sunoo launched into a story about a vending machine that “ate” his money. But as you listened, stealing glances at Sunghoon, you felt a quiet certainty settle in your chest. Today had been a turning point—not a confession, not a grand gesture, but a step closer. Soyeon and Sunoo’s scheming had worked, pushing you out of your comfort zone and into Sunghoon’s orbit. And as he caught your eye across the fire, giving you a small, almost secret smile, you knew you weren’t just the girl in the bleachers anymore.
The Jeju campfire had dwindled to glowing embers, its once-vibrant flames now a soft pulse against the inky night. The beach was quieter, the earlier chaos of laughter, guitar strums, and storytelling replaced by the gentle lap of waves and the low murmur of students heading back to the hotel. The air was cool, carrying the lingering scent of charred marshmallows and sea salt, and the stars above burned bright, a celestial map stretching endlessly over the Seogwipo shore. You lingered on the worn blanket, your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, sand still clinging to your shorts from the day’s adventures. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since your conversation with Sunghoon—his soft smile, his shy confession that you were “cool” and “different,” the way he’d toasted gummy worms with you like it was a secret pact. Each moment replayed in your mind, a reel of possibilities that made your chest ache with hope and fear.
Soyeon stood nearby, folding the blanket she’d been sitting on, her eyes glinting with triumph as she glanced between you and Sunghoon, who was helping Jake gather stray marshmallow skewers a few feet away. Sunoo, ever the chaotic orchestrator, was dramatically shaking sand out of his red hoodie, drawing laughs from a group of juniors. But you knew his antics were a cover—his earlier stunt, dragging Soyeon and Jake away to leave you and Sunghoon alone, had been deliberate, a masterstroke in “Operation Sunghoon.” The wingwoman-wingman duo had struck again, and now, as the campfire crowd thinned, you felt the weight of their next move looming.
“Y/N, you’re practically glowing,” Soyeon whispered, sidling up to you with her blanket tucked under her arm. Her hair was a mess from the sea breeze, but her grin was razor-sharp. “That campfire chat? Pure magic. Sunghoon was into it. Did you hear him? ‘You’re different, in a good way.’ That’s basically a love letter in Sunghoon-speak.”
You flushed, tugging your hoodie strings to hide your face. “Soyeon, stop. It was just… talking. He was being nice. He’s always nice.”
She snorted, grabbing your arm to pull you upright. “Nice? Y/N, he doesn’t sit around sharing gummy worms and calling people ‘cool’ for no reason. That was flirty, and you flirted back! I’m so proud I could cry.” She mimed wiping a tear, then leaned closer, her voice dropping. “But we’re not done yet. Phase three isn’t over. Sunoo and I have one last play for tonight—something to seal the deal before Day 2 ends.”
Your stomach twisted, equal parts dread and excitement. “What kind of play? Soyeon, I can’t handle another group game or public humiliation. I’m still recovering from the gummy worm thing.”
She smirked, undeterred. “No games, no humiliation. Just a little… nudge to get you two alone again. Sunoo’s got an idea, and I’m backing it. Trust us, okay? You’re this close to a real moment.” She held her fingers an inch apart, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Before you could protest, Sunoo bounded over, his hoodie now sand-free but his chubby cheeks still flushed from the night’s chaos. He was holding a plastic bag of leftover snacks, his grin so wide it practically split his face. “Y/N! Soyeon! Mission report: phase three is a success!” he declared, keeping his voice low so the few lingering students wouldn’t overhear. “Hoon’s totally vibing with you, sis. Did you see how he kept looking at you during the story game? That’s, like, level-six Sunghoon energy. We’re in the big leagues now.”
You groaned, crossing your arms. “Sunoo, you’re delusional. And that stunt you pulled, leaving us alone? I almost died of nerves. What’s this ‘last play’ you and Soyeon keep whispering about? If it involves me doing anything embarrassing, I’m disowning you.”
Sunoo gasped, clutching his heart. “Disown me? After I gave you my best wingman performance? Rude!” He dropped the act, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay, here’s the deal. The campfire’s wrapping up, and everyone’s heading back to the hotel, but the beach is still open for a bit. I’m gonna convince Hoon to stay out a little longer—say we’re doing a ‘stargazing thing’ or whatever. Soyeon and I will start it, then dip, leaving you two to… you know, gaze at the stars, talk about life, fall in love, the usual.”
Your eyes widened, panic rising. “Stargazing? Sunoo, that’s so obvious! He’s gonna know you’re setting us up, and I’ll look like an idiot!”
Soyeon shook her head, grabbing your shoulders. “Y/N, it’s not obvious, it’s romantic. Sunghoon’s not clueless—he’ll get the vibe, but it’s subtle enough that it won’t feel forced. And you won’t look like an idiot. You’re adorable, and he’s already into you. Just be yourself, maybe offer him another gummy worm, and let the Jeju magic do the rest.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but Sunoo cut you off, already moving toward Sunghoon and Jake. “No time for doubts, sis! Operation Sunghoon, phase three, part two—let’s roll!” He flashed you a thumbs-up, then called out, “Yo, Hoon! Jake! You guys down for some stargazing before we head back? The sky’s insane tonight!”
Sunghoon looked up, his expression curious but relaxed, while Jake groaned dramatically. “Stargazing? Sunoo, you’re such a sap,” Jake said, but he was already tossing the skewers into a bag, clearly on board.
Sunghoon’s eyes flickered to you, and your heart skipped a beat. “Stargazing sounds cool,” he said, his voice soft but carrying across the dying fire. “Y/N, you in?”
You froze, feeling like every star in the sky was watching you. Soyeon nudged you hard, whispering, “Say yes, you dork!” You swallowed, managing a nod and a shaky, “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”
Sunoo clapped his hands, his enthusiasm infectious. “Perfect! Let’s grab a spot over there—less sand, better view.” He pointed to a quieter stretch of beach, away from the campfire’s embers and the hotel’s lights, where the sand sloped gently toward the water. The group—Sunoo, Soyeon, Jake, Sunghoon, and you—trudged over, carrying blankets and snacks, the night air cool against your sun-warmed skin.
As you spread out your blanket, Soyeon and Sunoo exchanged a look, their silent communication screaming we’re nailing this. You sat cross-legged, your beach bag beside you, the gummy worms a comforting weight in your mind. Sunghoon settled nearby, stretching out on his back with his hands behind his head, his long legs brushing the edge of your blanket. Jake flopped down next to him, already complaining about sand in his shoes, while Soyeon and Sunoo positioned themselves strategically closer to the water, giving you and Sunghoon a subtle bubble of space.
“Look at that,” Sunghoon said, his voice pulling you from your nerves. He was gazing up, his cap tilted back to reveal his face, softened by the starlight. “You don’t see skies like this in the city.”
You followed his gaze, the stars so bright they seemed to pulse, a cosmic canvas that made the world feel both vast and intimate. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter than you meant. “It’s… beautiful. Like they’re close enough to touch.”
He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you felt that familiar jolt, like the waves had surged through your chest. “You like stars?” he asked, his tone curious, almost gentle.
You nodded, tucking your knees closer. “Kind of. I used to have glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling when I was a kid. I’d lie awake and make up stories about them. Sounds dumb now, but… it was my thing.”
He smiled, a soft, lopsided one that made your heart flip. “That’s not dumb. I used to do the same, but with basketball plays. I’d lie in bed, imagining game-winning shots, crowds cheering. Guess we’re both dreamers.”
Your breath caught. He was opening up, just a little, but it felt like a door cracking open, letting you glimpse the boy behind the basketball star. “What kind of shots?” you asked, emboldened by his warmth. “Like, three-pointers from half-court?”
He laughed, the sound low and warm, like the fire’s embers. “Exactly. The crazier, the better. I’d even narrate it in my head, like, ‘Park Sunghoon steals the ball, sprints down the court, and—swish!’” He mimed a shot, his arm arcing gracefully, and you giggled, picturing a younger Sunghoon lost in his own world.
“That’s adorable,” you said, then froze, realizing you’d called him adorable out loud. Your face burned, but he just chuckled, unfazed.
“Adorable, huh? I’ll take it,” he said, his eyes crinkling. “What about you? What were your star stories about?”
You hesitated, your nerves flaring, but his gaze was so steady, so encouraging, that you found yourself answering. “Mostly adventures. Like, I’d pretend the stars were portals to other worlds, and I’d travel through them, fighting dragons or finding hidden cities. Sunoo would barge in and ruin it, saying my stories were too ‘girly.’”
Sunghoon grinned, glancing at Sunoo, who was now trying to convince Jake that a constellation looked like a chicken nugget. “Sounds like him. He’s got no imagination. But I like your stories. Dragons are cool.”
You smiled, warmth spreading through you. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll bring them back someday. You know, when I’m not busy surviving Sunoo’s matchmaking schemes.”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Matchmaking schemes? Is that what’s going on here?” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper, like he was testing the waters.
Your heart stuttered, and you scrambled for a response, caught between honesty and panic. “I mean, you know Sunoo. He’s always up to something. Him and Soyeon—they’re, like, a chaos tag team.”
He laughed, but his gaze lingered, searching your face. “Yeah, they’re a lot. But… I don’t mind hanging out with you. Schemes or not.”
Your world tilted. Did he just… say that? You opened your mouth, but before you could respond, Soyeon’s voice cut through the night. “Okay, stargazers, I’m freezing!” she announced, standing and brushing sand off her shorts. “Sunoo, Jake, let’s hit the hotel for hot chocolate. Y/N, Hoon, you cool staying out a bit? The stars are too good to miss.”
You shot Soyeon a look, her smirk barely hidden, but Sunoo was already on his feet, dragging Jake up. “Hot chocolate? Say less!” Sunoo said, winking at you so blatantly you wanted to bury yourself in the sand. “You two have fun. Don’t get lost in the cosmos or whatever.”
Jake groaned, but followed, muttering something about sand in his socks. And just like that, they were gone, their laughter fading as they headed toward the hotel, leaving you and Sunghoon alone under the stars.
The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable, like a blanket settling over you both. You stole a glance at him, finding him already looking at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “They’re not subtle, are they?” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.
You shook your head, a nervous laugh escaping. “Not even a little. I’m sorry if they’re… pushing this. They get ideas and just… run with them.”
He smiled, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees. “It’s okay. I’m used to Sunoo’s chaos. And Soyeon’s got that mastermind energy. They’re a dangerous combo.”
You laughed, the sound easing your nerves. “Tell me about it. They’ve been plotting this whole trip, calling it ‘Operation Sunghoon.’ I didn’t even know until yesterday.”
His eyebrows shot up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Operation Sunghoon? That’s… intense. What’s the mission?”
You froze, realizing you’d just spilled the beans. Your face burned, and you looked away, focusing on the waves. “Uh, nothing. Just… them being dumb. You know, trying to make me less… awkward.”
He tilted his head, studying you. “You’re not awkward, Y/N. You’re… real. I like that. Most people try too hard, but you just… do your thing. It’s nice.”
Your heart was a firework, bursting with light. You met his gaze, his eyes dark and sincere, and for the first time, you felt like he saw you—not Sunoo’s sister, not the girl in the bleachers, but you. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the waves. “That means a lot.”
He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached for your beach bag, pulling out the gummy worms. “Mind if I steal one more? For the road.”
You laughed, the tension breaking. “Go for it. But you’re gonna owe me a bag if you keep this up.”
“Deal,” he said, taking a worm and holding it up like a toast. “To stargazing and surviving Sunoo’s schemes.”
You grabbed a worm, clinking it against his. “To surviving,” you echoed, your smile wider than it had been all day.
As you sat under the stars, sharing gummy worms and quiet laughs, you felt a shift, like the tide pulling you closer to him. Operation Sunghoon was working—maybe too well—and as he glanced at you, his smile soft and unguarded, you knew you were falling deeper, with no shore in sight.
You and Sunghoon remained on the quiet stretch of beach, your blanket a small island in the vast sand, the gummy worm bag now nearly empty between you. The air was cool, tinged with salt and the faint smokiness of the earlier fire, and your hoodie felt like a shield against both the breeze and the overwhelming reality of being alone with Park Sunghoon—your two-year crush, your brother’s best friend, and now, impossibly, someone who saw you as “real” and “cool.”
Your heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since the stargazing conversation, his words—“You’re different, in a good way”—etched into your mind like a constellation you’d never forget. The gummy worm toast, his soft laughter, the way his eyes lingered on you under the starlight—it was all too much, yet not enough. You wanted to bottle this moment, to keep it safe from the inevitable return to reality, but the night was slipping away, and with it, the fragile bubble you and Sunghoon had created.
Sunghoon sat beside you, his long legs stretched out, his hands braced in the sand behind him. His black cap was still tilted back, revealing his face, softened by the moonlight, his sharp features somehow gentler, more approachable. He was staring at the ocean, a faint smile playing on his lips, and you stole a glance, memorizing the way the silver light caught his profile. Soyeon and Sunoo’s “Operation Sunghoon” had worked better than you’d ever imagined, orchestrating this moment with their chaotic matchmaking, but now that you were here, alone with him, you felt both braver and more terrified than ever.
“Getting late,” Sunghoon said suddenly, his voice low and smooth, pulling you from your thoughts. He tilted his head toward you, his eyes catching yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “You cold? You’re all bundled up in that hoodie.”
You tugged at your sleeves, a nervous habit, and shook your head, though the breeze was starting to prickle your skin. “I’m okay. Just… don’t want the night to end, you know? It’s been… nice.” You cringed internally at the word nice, wishing you’d said something cooler, but his smile widened, easing your nerves.
“Yeah, it has,” he said, his tone soft, almost thoughtful. He sat up, brushing sand off his hands, and glanced at the hotel lights in the distance. “Sunoo and Soyeon probably think they’re masterminds right now, don’t they?”
You laughed, the sound louder than you expected in the quiet night. “Oh, absolutely. They’re probably high-fiving in the hotel lobby, thinking they’ve planned our entire love story. Sunoo called it ‘Operation Sunghoon,’ like it’s some kind of spy mission.”
Sunghoon chuckled, a deep, warm sound that sent a shiver through you, unrelated to the cold. “Operation Sunghoon? That’s… very them. Gotta give ‘em credit, though. They got us out here, stargazing and eating gummy worms like we’re in a drama.”
Your cheeks burned, and you looked down, tracing a finger through the sand. “Yeah, well, they’re relentless. Soyeon’s been on my case since I told her about… you know, liking you.” You froze, realizing what you’d just admitted, your heart lurching into your throat. You hadn’t meant to say that—not out loud, not to him. Your eyes widened, and you scrambled to cover it. “I mean, not liking liking, just, like, thinking you’re cool, you know, as Sunoo’s friend, and—”
Sunghoon’s soft laugh cut you off, and you dared to look at him, finding his expression gentle, not mocking. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. “I kinda figured. Sunoo’s not exactly subtle, and… I don’t mind. Really.”
Your world tilted, the waves sounding louder in your ears as you processed his words. He figured? He doesn’t mind? Your mind raced, trying to parse if that meant he was just being polite or if—impossibly—he felt something too. You swallowed, your voice barely steady. “You… figured?”
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of a flush on his cheeks visible even in the moonlight. “Yeah. Sunoo’s been dropping hints since forever. Like, ‘Oh, Y/N thinks your jump shot’s cool,’ or ‘Y/N was at your game last week.’ I thought it was just him being… Sunoo. But then today, with the gummy worms and the relay race, I started wondering if…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, like he was waiting for you to fill in the blank.
Your heart was a wildfire, blazing out of control. You wanted to say something brave, something that would match the courage Soyeon and Sunoo believed you had, but your voice came out small, hesitant. “Wondering if… what?”
He smiled, a shy, boyish smile that made him look less like the untouchable basketball star and more like someone you could know, could reach. “If maybe you thought I was cool too. Not just, like, Sunoo’s friend cool. But… me.”
You felt like you were floating, the sand and stars blurring around you. He was asking—asking—if you liked him, in his own quiet, Sunghoon way. You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yeah,” you whispered, barely audible over the waves. “I think you’re… really cool. More than basketball star cool. Like… you cool.”
His smile grew, lighting up his face, and you felt a surge of warmth, like the stars had spilled into your chest. “Good,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Because I think you’re pretty cool too. More than Sunoo’s sister cool.”
You laughed, the sound shaky but genuine, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the night holding its breath around you. It wasn’t a confession, not yet, but it was close—a bridge built halfway, waiting for one of you to cross the rest. You felt braver than you ever had, buoyed by his words and the quiet magic of the Jeju night.
“Wanna walk a bit?” Sunghoon asked, standing and offering his hand to help you up. His fingers were warm, calloused from basketball but gentle, and you held on a second longer than necessary, your heart racing as you stood.
“Sure,” you said, your voice steadier now. You grabbed your beach bag, the gummy worms rattling softly, and fell into step beside him, heading toward the water’s edge where the sand was firm and cool underfoot. The hotel lights faded behind you, the beach stretching out in a silver ribbon under the moon.
You walked in comfortable silence at first, the waves a soothing soundtrack, your sneakers leaving faint prints in the sand. Sunghoon’s hands were in his pockets, his cap still tilted back, and you stole glances at him, marveling at how someone so familiar—Sunoo’s best friend, the boy you’d watched from the bleachers—could feel so new, so possible.
“So,” he said after a while, kicking at a small shell. “You said you used to make up stories about the stars. Got any left in you? Or is that just kid stuff now?”
You smiled, surprised he remembered. “Not just kid stuff. I still think about it sometimes, when things get… heavy. The stars make everything feel smaller, you know? Like my problems aren’t the whole universe.” You paused, glancing at him. “What about you? Still dreaming up game-winning shots?”
He chuckled, nodding. “All the time. But it’s not just shots anymore. Sometimes I think about… other stuff. Like, what comes after basketball. Where I want to go. Who I want to be with.” His voice softened on the last part, and he glanced at you, his eyes catching the moonlight.
Your breath caught, and you looked away, focusing on the waves to steady yourself. “Who do you want to be with?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer, half-praying he would.
He didn’t respond right away, and you felt the silence stretch, heavy with possibility. Then he stopped walking, turning to face you, and you halted too, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “Someone real,” he said finally, his voice steady but quiet. “Someone who doesn’t care about the basketball stuff, who just… gets me. Someone like…” He hesitated, his eyes searching yours, and you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the waves urging you to jump.
“Like you,” he finished, the words so soft they almost dissolved into the night.
Your world stopped. The stars, the waves, the sand—they all faded, leaving only Sunghoon, his gaze holding yours like an anchor. You wanted to say something, anything, but your throat was tight, your mind a whirlwind of he likes me he likes me he likes me. You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky laugh, nervous and disbelieving.
“Me?” you managed, pointing to yourself like you needed clarification. “Like… me me?”
He laughed, a soft, relieved sound, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, you you. Is that… weird? I mean, I know you’re Sunoo’s sister, and we’ve only really talked today, but… I’ve noticed you before. At games, at school. You’re always… you. And I like that.”
Your heart was soaring, a comet streaking across the sky. He’d noticed you—before today, before the trip, before the gummy worms and stargazing. You felt dizzy, overwhelmed, but the good kind, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. “It’s not weird,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I… I’ve noticed you too. For, like, two years. Sunoo teases me about it all the time.”
His eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement. “Two years? And you didn’t say anything? You’re braver than me, keeping that quiet.”
You laughed, the sound bubbling up freely. “Brave? I was terrified. You’re, like, Park Sunghoon. Basketball star, everyone’s favorite. I was just… the girl in the bleachers.”
He stepped closer, the gap between you shrinking, and you felt the air shift, warm and electric. “You’re not just anything,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re Y/N. And I’m just Sunghoon, you know? Not the basketball guy. Just… me.”
You nodded, your heart full, and for a moment, you just stood there, the waves lapping at your feet, the moon casting your shadows side by side. It wasn’t a kiss, not a grand declaration, but it was more—a confession, raw and real, the start of something neither of you could name yet.
“Should we head back?” he asked after a while, his voice reluctant, like he didn’t want to break the spell.
“Yeah,” you said, though you felt the same pull to stay. “Sunoo’s probably waiting to interrogate me.”
Sunghoon grinned, offering his hand again to pull you up the slight slope of sand. “He’s gonna lose it when he hears about this.”
You took his hand, your fingers intertwining naturally, and laughed. “Soyeon too. They’ll claim all the credit for ‘Operation Sunghoon.’”
“Let ‘em,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as you walked back toward the hotel. “They’re not wrong.”
As you left footprints in the sand, side by side, you felt lighter than you ever had, the weight of your two-year crush lifting into something new—something shared. Day 2 was ending, but it felt like a beginning, and with Sunghoon’s hand in yours, you couldn’t wait to see what Day 3 would bring.
The Jeju morning greeted you with a soft golden light, filtering through the hotel room’s curtains and painting the walls in warm hues. Day 3 of the class trip had arrived, and with it, a flutter of anticipation that hadn’t left you since last night’s moonlit confession on the Seogwipo beach. Park Sunghoon’s words—“Someone like you”—echoed in your mind, each syllable a spark that kept you awake, staring at the ceiling until the early hours. He liked you. You liked him. The boy you’d pined for from the bleachers for two years, your brother’s best friend, had held your hand under the stars and called you real. It felt like a dream, but the faint sand still clinging to your sneakers and the half-empty gummy worm bag on your nightstand were proof it wasn’t.
You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the light blue sundress Soyeon had insisted you pack, its hem swaying just above your knees. You’d paired it with comfortable sneakers for the day’s cultural village tour and a denim jacket for the morning chill, hoping the outfit struck the balance of cute but casual. Your hair was loose, catching the sunlight, and you adjusted the “sporty but flirty” baseball cap from the hike, now a talisman of good luck after yesterday’s breakthroughs. Soyeon, sprawled on her bed in a vibrant floral top and shorts, watched you with a smirk, her phone buzzing with notifications from the group chat.
“Y/N, you’re serving main character energy,” she said, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “That dress is gonna make Sunghoon forget how to speak. After last night? You two are basically a K-drama waiting to happen.”
You flushed, tugging at the dress’s hem. “Soyeon, don’t jinx it. I’m still freaking out. He said he likes me, but what if he wakes up today and thinks it was a mistake? Or what if Sunoo ruins it by being… Sunoo?”
Soyeon sat up, pointing at you dramatically. “First, Sunghoon’s not the type to backtrack. Did you see how he looked at you last night? Like you were the only person on that beach. Second, Sunoo’s chaos is our secret weapon. He and I are the ultimate wingwoman-wingman duo, and we’re not letting you two fumble this. Operation Sunghoon is in its final phase: sealing the deal.”
You groaned, covering your face. “Sealing the deal sounds so intense. I just want to… talk to him again. Without tripping over my words or dying of nerves.”
She grinned, hopping off the bed and grabbing your shoulders. “You got this. You survived stargazing and hand-holding with Park Sunghoon. Today’s just a cute village tour—think handcrafted pottery, traditional houses, maybe some cheesy photo ops. Perfect for flirty vibes. And Sunoo’s gonna fill me in on the tea from last night, so we’ll keep the momentum going.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, and Sunoo’s voice boomed through. “Y/N! Soyeon! Breakfast’s almost over, and I’m not saving you any pancakes!” You opened the door to find your brother bouncing on his toes, his chubby cheeks dusted with powdered sugar, his bright yellow hoodie already stained with what looked like syrup. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he grinned, clearly up to no good.
“Well, well, look at you, sis,” he said, wagging his eyebrows. “Dressed to impress a certain basketball star? I heard you and Hoon had a moment last night. Spill the tea, or I’m telling everyone you cried during the stargazing.”
You swatted his arm, your face burning. “Sunoo, I didn’t cry, and keep your voice down! How do you even know what happened? You were supposed to be getting hot chocolate!”
He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “I have my sources. Okay, fine, Hoon didn’t say much, but he was all smiley when he got back to our room, and that’s basically a neon sign. Plus, Jake saw you two holding hands, so the group chat’s been wild. Soyeon, you’re slacking on the updates.”
Soyeon gasped, grabbing her phone. “Jake snitched? That traitor! I’m catching up now. Y/N, you’re famous. But seriously, Sunoo, what’s the vibe with Sunghoon? Is he, like, planning his wedding or just quietly simping?”
You groaned, dragging them both toward the hallway. “Can we not do this right now? I’m starving, and I need coffee before you two dissect my entire life.”
Sunoo laughed, falling into step beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders. “Fine, but I’m proud of you, sis. You went from bleacher girl to beach confession queen. And don’t worry—Soyeon and I are gonna make sure today’s just as epic. The cultural village is perfect for cute couple moments. Picture it: you and Hoon trying pottery, sharing tteokbokki, maybe stealing glances under a hanok roof.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re ridiculous. And we’re not a couple. We just… talked. About liking each other. That’s it.”
Soyeon and Sunoo exchanged a look, their grins identical. “For now,” Soyeon said, winking. “Give us a few hours.”
The hotel dining hall was buzzing with students, the clatter of trays and chatter filling the air. You grabbed a plate of pancakes and a coffee, scanning the room nervously. Sunghoon was at a table with Jake and a few teammates, his black cap back on, a hoodie layered over a simple tee. He looked tired but relaxed, laughing at something Jake said, and your heart did its usual flip at the sight of his smile. As if sensing you, he glanced up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His smile softened, and he gave a small wave, the gesture so subtle it felt like a secret just for you.
You waved back, your cheeks warming, and Soyeon nudged you toward a nearby table. “See? He’s already smitten. Go sit with us, but don’t stare too hard—he might combust.”
Sunoo snorted, piling his plate with fruit. “Hoon’s tough, but yeah, he’s got it bad. I caught him humming this morning, which is, like, next-level for him. You’re welcome, by the way.”
You sank into a chair, trying to focus on your pancakes, but your mind was on Sunghoon’s wave, his smile, the promise of today’s tour. The itinerary included a visit to a traditional Jeju folk village, with hanok houses, craft workshops, and cultural performances. It sounded charming, but all you could think about was how to act around Sunghoon now that you’d both admitted your feelings. Would it be awkward? Flirty? Would he hold your hand again?
The bus ride to the village was loud, with students singing off-key pop songs and teachers shushing them half-heartedly. You sat with Soyeon, Sunoo a row ahead with Jake, and Sunghoon near the back with his teammates. You caught his eye once when you turned to grab your water bottle, and he smiled, a quiet reassurance that made your nerves settle. Soyeon, ever the strategist, whispered, “Play it cool on the bus. Save the flirty stuff for the village. Sunoo’s gonna make sure you two end up in the same group for activities.”
You nodded, your stomach a mix of butterflies and dread. “What’s he planning? If it’s another public stunt, I’m hiding in a hanok and never coming out.”
She grinned, patting your hand. “Nothing public. Just some subtle group arranging. Trust the wingwoman-wingman team. We’re pros.”
The folk village was nestled in a lush valley, its thatched-roof hanoks surrounded by stone walls and blooming wildflowers. The air smelled of earth and straw, with a faint sweetness from nearby tteok stalls. The class gathered for a brief orientation, the guide explaining the village’s history and the day’s activities: a pottery workshop, a traditional tea ceremony, and free time to explore. You barely listened, your eyes drifting to Sunghoon, who stood with Sunoo and Jake, his hands in his pockets, his cap casting a shadow over his face. He glanced your way, and you looked down, your heart racing.
“Okay, let’s split into groups!” the guide announced, and Sunoo sprang into action, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Yo, I’m teaming up with Hoon, Jake, Y/N, and Soyeon! We’re the pottery pros, right?” He winked at you, his grin so blatant you wanted to throttle him, but the guide nodded, oblivious to his scheming.
Soyeon nudged you, whispering, “Told you. Sunoo’s a genius.”
You fell into step with the group, Sunghoon walking beside Sunoo, who was chattering about wanting to make a “masterpiece” pot. Jake was teasing him, saying it’d look like a lumpy dumpling, while Soyeon hung back with you, giving you a knowing look. Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder, slowing his pace until he was next to you, his arm brushing yours as you walked the stone path.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, almost shy. “Sleep okay after last night?”
Your heart skipped, and you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, mostly. Kept thinking about… stuff. You?”
He smiled, a small, private one that made your chest tighten. “Same. Took me a while to wind down. Sunoo kept grilling me about what we talked about, but I dodged most of it.”
You laughed, imagining Sunoo’s relentless interrogation. “He’s the worst. He tried to get details from me too, but I threatened to eat his gummy worms, so he backed off.”
Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Smart move. Gotta protect those worms at all costs.”
The pottery workshop was in a shaded courtyard, with wooden tables covered in clay and tools. The instructor, a cheerful woman in a hanbok, demonstrated how to shape the clay on the wheel, her hands steady and practiced. You sat at a table with your group, each of you given a lump of clay to work with. Sunoo immediately made a mess, his clay flying everywhere, while Jake’s looked like a deflated balloon. Soyeon was surprisingly focused, her tongue sticking out as she shaped a small bowl.
You and Sunghoon shared a wheel, sitting side by side, your knees almost touching under the table. His presence was warm, grounding, and you felt hyper-aware of every movement—his fingers pressing into the clay, the way his forearm flexed as he centered it on the wheel. You tried to focus on your own clay, but it kept slipping, turning into a wobbly mess.
“Having trouble?” Sunghoon asked, his voice teasing but kind. He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity.
“Uh, yeah,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “This clay hates me. It’s staging a rebellion.”
He grinned, wiping a smudge of clay off his hand. “Here, let me help. You gotta keep it steady.” He reached over, his hands guiding yours to the clay, his touch gentle but firm. His fingers overlapped yours, pressing lightly to center the lump, and the wheel hummed softly as the clay began to take shape. You barely breathed, your heart pounding from his closeness, the warmth of his hands, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with clay.
“Like this,” he said, his voice low, his breath tickling your ear. “Slow and steady. You’re doing great.”
You nodded, too flustered to speak, your hands trembling under his. The clay started to form a shallow bowl, imperfect but recognizable, and you felt a surge of pride. “Wow, it’s actually working,” you said, glancing at him, your faces so close you could see the flecks of brown in his eyes.
He smiled, his gaze lingering. “Told you. You’re a natural.”
Soyeon, across the table, caught your eye and mouthed, Smooth, her grin practically audible. Sunoo, meanwhile, was making exaggerated heart eyes, which Jake promptly ruined by flicking clay at him. You laughed, the tension easing, but Sunghoon’s hands stayed on yours a moment longer before he pulled back, leaving your skin tingling.
The rest of the workshop was a blur of laughter and clay disasters—Sunoo’s “masterpiece” collapsed into a pancake, and Jake’s somehow ended up with a hole in the bottom. You and Sunghoon’s bowl wasn’t perfect, but the instructor praised its “rustic charm,” and you felt a quiet thrill at having created something together. As you washed the clay off your hands at a nearby basin, Sunghoon stood beside you, his shoulder brushing yours again.
“Not bad for a first try,” he said, shaking water off his hands. “We make a good team.”
Your heart fluttered, and you smiled, drying your hands on your jacket. “Yeah, we do. Maybe we should start a pottery business instead of basketball.”
He laughed, the sound warm and bright. “Deal. But I’m keeping the gummy worms as our logo.”
The group moved to the tea ceremony next, held in a hanok with sliding paper doors and tatami mats. You knelt beside Sunghoon, the low table set with delicate ceramic cups and a steaming teapot. The instructor explained the ritual, her movements precise as she poured the tea, but you were distracted by Sunghoon’s quiet presence, the way his knee rested close to yours, his fingers tapping lightly on the mat. When the tea was served, he passed you a cup, his fingers brushing yours, and you felt that familiar spark, like a star igniting.
“Thanks,” you murmured, meeting his eyes. He smiled, a small, secret one, and you sipped the tea, its warmth spreading through you, though you suspected the heat was more from him than the drink.
Soyeon and Sunoo kept the group lively, cracking jokes about the tea’s bitterness, but you caught them exchanging glances, clearly pleased with your proximity to Sunghoon. During the free time that followed, you wandered the village’s winding paths, exploring stone-walled alleys and craft stalls. Sunoo insisted on buying matching keychains shaped like tteok skewers, claiming they were “team spirit” souvenirs, and Soyeon dragged Jake into a photo booth for silly hanbok pictures. You and Sunghoon trailed behind, sharing a stick of tteok from a vendor, your fingers brushing as you passed it back and forth.
“This is good,” Sunghoon said, chewing thoughtfully. “Better than gummy worms.”
You gasped, mock-offended. “Take that back. Nothing’s better than gummy worms.”
He grinned, nudging your shoulder. “Okay, fine. Tied for first.”
As you walked past a hanok with a blooming persimmon tree, Sunghoon stopped, pulling out his phone. “Hold up,” he said, gesturing to the tree. “That’s a good shot. Stand there—I’ll take your picture.”
You blinked, surprised. “Me? I’m not good at posing.”
“You don’t need to pose,” he said, his voice soft. “Just… be you.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you stepped under the tree, the orange persimmons glowing against the blue sky. You tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling shyly, and Sunghoon snapped a few photos, his expression focused, almost tender. When he lowered his phone, he looked at the screen, then at you, his smile growing. “Perfect.”
“Let me see,” you said, stepping closer. He tilted the phone, showing you the photo—your smile bright, the tree framing you like a painting. “Wow,” you murmured. “You’re good at this.”
“Nah,” he said, pocketing his phone. “You just make it easy.”
Your heart soared, and you walked on, the village paths feeling like a dreamscape, every glance between you a silent promise. Soyeon and Sunoo’s matchmaking had set the stage, but this—Sunghoon’s quiet attention, his gentle words—was all him, and you felt yourself falling deeper, the slowburn igniting into something undeniable.
The Jeju sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a canvas of deep indigo and scattered stars over the Seogwipo beach. The final evening of the class trip—Day 3—had arrived, and with it, a bittersweet ache that settled in your chest. The day had been a whirlwind of warmth and wonder: the cultural village tour, the pottery wheel where Sunghoon’s hands guided yours, the tea ceremony where his knee brushed yours, the persimmon tree photo where he’d called you perfect. Each moment with Park Sunghoon, your two-year crush and now something more, felt like a star plucked from the sky and pressed into your palm—a fragile, glowing treasure you weren’t sure you could keep. But tonight, at the final campfire, you felt the weight of the trip’s end, the looming return to reality, and the question of what this—whatever it was between you and Sunghoon—would become.
The campfire roared at the heart of the beach, its golden flames casting flickering shadows across the circle of students sprawled on blankets and logs. The air was rich with the smoky scent of burning wood, mingled with the salty tang of the ocean and the sweet, sticky aroma of roasted marshmallows. Laughter and chatter filled the night, some classmates singing off-key K-pop hits while others passed around snacks, their voices bright against the rhythmic crash of waves. You sat on a thick blanket, your denim jacket pulled tight against the evening chill, your sneakers dusted with sand from the day’s adventures. Your beach bag rested beside you, the gummy worm bag now a talisman of your moments with Sunghoon, though you’d restocked it at a village stall to keep the magic alive.
Soyeon was next to you, cross-legged and munching on a s’more, her floral top smudged with chocolate. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Y/N, you’re practically radiating love vibes. That village tour? The pottery? The photo? I’m calling it now—you and Sunghoon are the trip’s official couple. Sunoo and I deserve a medal for Operation Sunghoon.”
You flushed, tugging your jacket’s sleeves over your hands. “Soyeon, we’re not a couple. We just… talked. And, you know, held hands. And maybe flirted a little. But it’s not official or anything. I’m still freaking out that he even likes me.”
She rolled her eyes, licking marshmallow off her fingers. “Not official? Y/N, he took your picture under a persimmon tree and said you were perfect. He guided your hands on a pottery wheel like it was a scene from Ghost. If that’s not couple energy, I don’t know what is. And tonight’s the final campfire—perfect for sealing the deal. Sunoo and I are ready to push you two into full-on K-drama territory.”
You groaned, burying your face in your knees. “Sealing the deal sounds terrifying. What if I mess it up? What if he’s just caught up in the Jeju magic and tomorrow he’s like, ‘Oops, never mind’?”
Soyeon nudged you, her grin softening. “He’s not gonna say that. You saw how he looked at you today—all soft and smitten. And Sunoo says he’s been smiley all day, which is, like, a Sunghoon world record. Trust the wingwoman-wingman team. We’re gonna make this campfire unforgettable.”
Before you could protest, Sunoo’s voice boomed across the circle, cutting through the chatter and guitar strums. “Alright, everyone, let’s crank up the vibes!” He stood on a log, his yellow hoodie glowing in the firelight, his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement and marshmallow sugar. He waved a stick like a conductor’s baton, his bubbly energy drawing every eye. “We’ve had an epic trip, so let’s end it with a bang. How about a talent show? Sing, dance, tell a story—whatever! Who’s first?”
The crowd cheered, some students shouting suggestions, others groaning playfully. You shot Soyeon a panicked look, knowing Sunoo’s “spontaneous” ideas were rarely unplanned. “This is his big move?” you whispered. “A talent show? How is this supposed to help me and Sunghoon?”
She smirked, popping another marshmallow into her mouth. “Just wait. Sunoo’s got a plan. He’s setting the stage for something romantic, I can feel it. Probably roping Sunghoon into it too. Watch the chaos unfold.”
Sunoo hopped off the log, scanning the circle with a grin. “Okay, I need volunteers! Jake, you’re up—show us that dance move you’ve been practicing!” Jake groaned but stood, earning cheers as he attempted a clumsy TikTok dance, tripping over the sand and sending everyone into hysterics. Sunoo clapped, then pointed across the fire. “Hoon! You’re next, man. Don’t hide that basketball flair—give us something cool!”
Your heart skipped. Sunghoon, sitting on a log with his teammates, raised an eyebrow, his black cap casting a shadow over his face. He was in a dark hoodie and jeans, the firelight catching the sharp angle of his jaw, and your chest tightened at the sight. “Me?” he said, his voice amused but hesitant. “I’m not exactly a talent show guy, Sunoo.”
Sunoo pouted, crossing his arms. “Come on, bestie! You owe me after I saved you from that vending machine yesterday. Just do a quick basketball trick or… I don’t know, charm us with your smile!” He wagged his eyebrows, glancing at you so blatantly you wanted to sink into the sand.
The group laughed, chanting Sunghoon’s name, and he shook his head, standing reluctantly. “Fine, but don’t expect much,” he said, grabbing a nearby beach ball someone had left on the sand. He spun it on his finger like a basketball, his movements smooth and practiced, then tossed it into the air, catching it behind his back with a flourish. The crowd cheered, and he gave a small, shy smile, his eyes flickering to you for a split second before he sat back down.
Your heart was a drum, pounding at that brief glance, his smile a spark that lit up the night. Soyeon nudged you, whispering, “See? He’s showing off for you. Sunoo’s a genius.”
Sunoo kept the talent show going, calling up classmates for off-key singing, dramatic poetry, and a surprisingly good breakdance from a quiet junior. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he turned to you. “Y/N! My amazing sister, it’s your turn! Show ‘em what you got!”
You froze, your face heating up as every eye turned to you. “Sunoo, no,” you hissed, shaking your head. “I don’t have a talent! I’m not performing!”
He grinned, undeterred, jogging over to pull you to your feet. “Come on, sis! You’re a storytelling queen. Tell us one of your star stories, like you told Hoon last night. Or sing something—anything!” He winked, his voice loud enough for Sunghoon to hear across the fire, and you wanted to strangle him.
“Soyeon, help,” you pleaded, but she was laughing too hard, clapping along with the crowd now chanting your name. Sunghoon was watching, his expression curious but warm, and you felt a surge of courage, fueled by his gaze and the memory of last night’s confession.
“Fine,” you said, standing and brushing sand off your shorts. “But I’m not singing. I’ll… tell a story. A short one.” The group quieted, the fire crackling softly, and you took a deep breath, your eyes flickering to Sunghoon, who leaned forward slightly, his attention fully on you.
“Once,” you began, your voice shaky but growing steadier, “there was a girl who lived under a sky full of stars. She loved them, but they felt so far away, like dreams she could never touch. One night, she met a boy who knew the stars by heart, who showed her how to trace their patterns and make them her own. He told her the stars weren’t distant—they were waiting for her to claim them. And for the first time, she believed she could.”
The crowd was silent, the story’s simplicity carrying a quiet magic. Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours, his smile soft and knowing, like he recognized himself in the boy, you in the girl. When you finished, the group clapped, some whistling, and Sunoo rushed over, hugging you dramatically. “That’s my sister!” he shouted, then whispered, “Nailed it. Hoon’s totally smitten.”
You sat back down, your face burning but your heart soaring. Soyeon leaned over, whispering, “That was for him, wasn’t it? You’re bolder than I thought. I’m obsessed.”
Before you could respond, Sunoo clapped his hands, drawing attention again. “Okay, talent show’s over, but let’s keep the vibes going! How about some marshmallow roasting and chill time? Grab a stick and get toasting!” He started passing out skewers, his energy infectious, but you caught him exchanging a look with Soyeon, their matchmaking radar clearly still active.
You grabbed a skewer, settling back on the blanket, and Sunghoon appeared beside you, a marshmallow already speared on his stick. “Mind if I join?” he asked, his voice low, a smile tugging at his lips.
Your heart flipped, and you scooted over, making room. “Not at all. Got any marshmallow-roasting tips, basketball star?”
He chuckled, holding his stick over the fire, the flame turning the marshmallow a soft gold. “Patience. Don’t rush it, or it’ll burn. Kinda like… other stuff.” His eyes met yours, the double meaning clear, and you felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.
You roasted your marshmallow beside him, your shoulders brushing, the quiet between you comfortable but charged. Soyeon and Sunoo were across the fire, pretending to be engrossed in a debate about s’more ratios, but you knew they were watching, ready to pounce with their next scheme. When your marshmallow caught fire, you yelped, blowing it out, and Sunghoon laughed, offering you his perfectly toasted one.
“Here,” he said, holding it out. “Trade you for the burnt one. I like ‘em crispy.”
You grinned, swapping skewers, your fingers brushing his. “Deal. But you’re missing out—mine’s basically charcoal art.”
He took a bite of your burnt marshmallow, making a face but chewing gamely. “Not bad. You’re an artist.”
You laughed, nibbling his marshmallow, the sweetness melting on your tongue. “And you’re a liar. This is way better.”
The night deepened, the crowd thinning as some students headed to the hotel, but you and Sunghoon stayed, the fire’s glow a cocoon around you. Soyeon and Sunoo orchestrated another “exit,” with Sunoo claiming he needed to “check the vending machine” and dragging Soyeon and Jake along, leaving you two alone again. You shot them a look, their grins unapologetic as they vanished into the shadows.
Sunghoon leaned back on his hands, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “They’re not subtle at all, are they?” he said, echoing his words from last night, his tone teasing but warm.
“Nope,” you said, popping the last of the marshmallow into your mouth. “They’re probably planning our wedding right now. Sorry you got roped into Operation Sunghoon.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry. This trip’s been… different as I told you. Better than I expected. Because of you.”
Your heart stopped, then raced, his words a spark that set your nerves alight. You met his gaze, the fire reflecting in his dark eyes, and felt that same pull from last night—like the stars were urging you closer. “Because of you too,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I didn’t think… this could happen. You liking me back. It still feels like a dream.”
He shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, his voice low and earnest. “It’s not a dream, Y/N. I meant what I said last night. I like you. A lot. And I’m not just caught up in the Jeju magic. I’ve been noticing you for a while—way before this trip.”
Your breath caught, the world narrowing to just him, the fire, the waves. “Really? Since when?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile breaking through. “Since that game last year, when you were in the bleachers with Sunoo, cheering even though we lost. You were so… real. Not like everyone else, trying to impress me. Just… you. I kept looking for you at games after that.”
Your heart was a firework, bursting with light. He’d noticed you a year ago? While you were pining, scribbling his name in your notebook, he’d been watching too? “I had no idea,” you whispered, smiling. “I was too busy trying not to faint every time you looked my way.”
He laughed, the sound warm and bright, and leaned closer, his shoulder against yours. “Guess we’re both good at hiding stuff. But… I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to see where this goes. If you do too.”
You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I do. I really do.”
His smile was radiant, and he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, warm and steady. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Let’s figure it out together. No more bleachers, no more schemes. Just us.”
You squeezed his hand, the stars above brighter than ever, the campfire’s embers a mirror of the warmth in your chest. The trip was ending, but this—this was just beginning. Soyeon and Sunoo’s Operation Sunghoon had worked, not because of their chaos, but because of you and Sunghoon, two dreamers finding each other under the Jeju sky.
The Jeju morning was soft and fleeting, the island’s golden sunlight filtering through the hotel’s lobby windows as students dragged their suitcases across the tiled floor, their voices a mix of tired yawns and lingering excitement. Day 3 had ended in a blaze of firelight and confessions, with Park Sunghoon’s hand in yours and his promise—“Let’s figure it out together”—etched into your heart like a star carved in sand.
You stood near the lobby’s glass doors, your suitcase at your feet, wearing a comfy hoodie and jeans, your baseball cap tucked into your backpack. The light blue sundress from yesterday was folded carefully in your bag, a memento of the village tour and Sunghoon’s soft gaze. Your beach bag, now slung over your shoulder, held the gummy worm bag—restocked and ready for future moments—and the tteok skewer keychain Sunoo had insisted you keep as a “team spirit” souvenir. Soyeon was beside you, her floral top swapped for a sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun as she scrolled through photos on her phone, narrating the trip’s highlights with a grin.
“Y/N, look at this,” she said, shoving her phone under your nose. It was a candid shot from the campfire—you and Sunghoon on the blanket, his hand brushing yours as you swapped marshmallows, his smile soft in the firelight. “I’m framing this for your wedding. Operation Sunghoon’s crowning glory, courtesy of your wingwoman.”
You flushed, swatting her arm. “Soyeon, stop planning my wedding. We’re not even… you know, official. We just said we like each other. I’m still processing that he noticed me a year ago.”
She smirked, pocketing her phone. “Not official yet. But after that hand-holding, marshmallow-sharing, ‘I’ve been noticing you’ confession? You’re halfway there. And don’t worry—Sunoo and I aren’t retiring yet. We’ll make sure you two keep the vibes going back at school.”
You groaned, but your heart raced at the thought of seeing Sunghoon in the hallways, at games, maybe even outside of school. “You two are gonna be unbearable, aren’t you? I’m begging you, no public stunts. I can’t handle another talent show.”
Soyeon laughed, slinging an arm around you. “No promises, but we’ll keep it chill. Maybe just… subtle nudges. Like making sure you sit together on the bus. Speaking of, where’s our wingman?”
As if summoned, Sunoo burst through the lobby doors, his yellow hoodie a beacon of chaos, his chubby cheeks dusted with breakfast crumbs. He was dragging his suitcase, which looked ready to burst, and waving a half-eaten croissant. “Y/N! Soyeon! Hurry up, the bus is loading, and I’m not sitting next to Jake again—he snores like a lawnmower!” His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he jogged over, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, sis, how’s our favorite basketball star? Still floating after last night’s campfire magic?”
Your face burned, and you shoved him lightly. “Sunoo, keep it down! And yes, it was… nice. But don’t make it weird. I’m already nervous about seeing him today.”
He grinned, undeterred, adjusting his hoodie. “Nice? Sis, you held hands under the stars and basically confessed your souls. That’s epic. Hoon was all quiet and smiley this morning, which is, like, his version of screaming from the rooftops. I told him you’re sitting together on the bus, by the way.”
You gaped, panic rising. “You what? Sunoo, you can’t just—”
“Relax,” he said, waving a hand. “I said it casually, like, ‘Yo, Hoon, keep Y/N company on the bus, she’s cool.’ He just nodded and smiled, so it’s all good. Soyeon, back me up.”
Soyeon nodded, her grin wicked. “Genius move, wingman. The bus ride’s perfect for cute, lowkey moments. Y/N, just share your gummies and maybe lean on his shoulder if you ‘fall asleep.’ Classic rom-com stuff.”
You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “I’m disowning both of you.”
The bus was a familiar chaos, students piling in with bags and snacks, teachers counting heads and shushing the louder groups. You boarded with Soyeon and Sunoo, your heart pounding as you scanned for Sunghoon. He was near the back, his black cap low, earbuds in, looking out the window. His hoodie was the same one from the campfire, and the sight of it brought back the memory of his hand in yours, his voice saying, “No more bleachers.” Sunoo nudged you forward, whispering, “Go get your man,” and you shot him a glare before taking a deep breath and heading down the aisle.
“Hey,” you said, stopping by his seat, your voice shakier than you wanted. “Is this… free?”
Sunghoon looked up, pulling out an earbud, his smile soft and immediate. “Yeah, saved it for you.” He scooted closer to the window, patting the seat beside him, and your heart did a somersault.
You slid in, your backpack on your lap, the faint hum of the bus engine mixing with the chatter around you. Soyeon and Sunoo took seats a few rows ahead, Soyeon giving you a subtle thumbs-up before turning to tease Jake about his snoring. Sunghoon tucked his earbuds away, his knee brushing yours as he shifted, and you felt that familiar spark, like a star igniting.
“Ready to leave Jeju?” he asked, his voice low, just for you, his eyes warm in the morning light filtering through the window.
You sighed, glancing out at the island’s green hills fading in the distance. “Not really. This trip’s been… unreal. I don’t want it to end.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “Me neither. It’s been… different. Good different.” He paused, then added, softer, “Because of you.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you ducked your head, fiddling with your backpack’s zipper. “Same. I mean, you made it… special. Not just the basketball star stuff. Just… you.”
He smiled, a shy, boyish one that made your heart flip. “Good. I was hoping I didn’t mess it up. I’m not exactly… great at this.” He gestured vaguely between you, his ears pink.
You laughed, the sound easing your nerves. “You’re doing fine. Better than me. I was a mess the whole trip, thanks to Sunoo and Soyeon’s schemes.”
He chuckled, leaning closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “They’re something else. But… I’m glad they pushed us. I might’ve stayed in my bubble otherwise. Missed out on… this.”
Your heart raced, his words a quiet promise. You reached into your beach bag, pulling out the gummy worms, a reflex to fill the charged silence. “Want one? For old times’ sake?”
He grinned, taking a red and yellow worm, holding it up like a toast. “To Jeju. And… to us.”
You clinked your worm against his, laughing. “To us.”
The bus ride passed in a blur of quiet moments—sharing gummies, trading stories about the trip, stealing glances that felt like secrets. At one point, the bus hit a bump, and you swayed into him, your head brushing his shoulder. You froze, but he just smiled, tilting his shoulder closer, an unspoken invitation. You leaned against him, your heart pounding, the warmth of his hoodie a comfort against the bus’s hum. Soyeon glanced back, smirking, but you ignored her, lost in the simple, perfect closeness.
At the airport, the class shuffled through check-in and security, the chaos of travel pulling you apart from Sunghoon as he joined his teammates to handle their bags. You stood with Soyeon and Sunoo, your mind still on the bus ride, the gummy worm toast, his shoulder against yours.
“He’s so into you,” Soyeon said, adjusting her backpack. “That bus seat thing? Pure boyfriend energy. What’s the plan for school? You two gonna be all cute in the halls?”
You flushed, shaking your head. “I don’t know. We didn’t, like, define anything. I’m just… hoping it doesn’t fizzle out.”
Sunoo slung an arm around you, his grin wide. “Fizzle? Sis, Hoon’s been crushing on you for a year. He’s not fizzling. Just keep being your adorable self. And maybe invite him to get boba or something. I’ll help you plan it.”
You groaned, but smiled, grateful for their support, even if it came with chaos. “No schemes, Sunoo. I mean it.”
He winked, unrepentant. “We’ll see.”
On the plane, you lucked out with a seat next to Sunghoon, thanks to Sunoo’s “casual” rearrangement during boarding. The flight was short, but every moment felt precious—his arm brushing yours on the armrest, the way he offered you his earbud to listen to his playlist, a mix of chill lo-fi and upbeat K-pop. When the plane hit turbulence, you gripped the armrest, and he covered your hand with his, his touch steady and warm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.
“Yeah,” you said, squeezing his hand. “Thanks to you.”
He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, and you felt like you were still on Jeju, under the stars, his words—“Just us”—a lifeline.
Back at school’s parking lot, the trip officially over, students hugged and exchanged numbers, the air buzzing with post-trip energy. You stood with your suitcase, Soyeon and Sunoo nearby, as Sunghoon approached, his cap low, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The evening light cast long shadows, and your heart raced, unsure how to say goodbye after everything.
“So,” he said, stopping in front of you, his hands in his pockets. “Back to reality, huh?”
You nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. Kinda weird without the beach and gummy worms.”
He chuckled, glancing down, then back at you, his gaze warm but nervous. “We don’t have to lose the gummy worms. Or… the rest of it. You free this weekend? Maybe we could… hang out. Get boba or something.”
Your heart soared, a firework bursting in your chest. He was asking you out—out, like a date, like a continuation of Jeju. “Yeah,” you said, your voice bright. “I’d love that.”
His smile was radiant, relief and joy in his eyes. “Cool. I’ll text you. Sunoo’s got my number, so… no escaping me now.”
You laughed, feeling lighter than ever. “No escaping you, huh? I’m okay with that.”
Soyeon and Sunoo, watching from a few feet away, high-fived dramatically, their grins unapologetic.
"Mission Sunghoon: SUCCESSFUL!" Soyeon yelled out, doing a quick dab.
Sunoo called out, “Get a room, you two!” and you shot him a glare, your face burning, but Sunghoon just laughed, unfazed.
As he walked off with Jake, turning to wave one last time, you stood with Soyeon and Sunoo, the trip’s magic lingering in the air. Operation Sunghoon had been a chaotic, ridiculous success, but it was Sunghoon’s quiet smiles, his steady hand, his promise of us that made your heart sing. Jeju was over, but you and Sunghoon were just beginning, a new story waiting to unfold under the same stars.
@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
"i promise myself, while drinking a glass of water in the morning, to tell you. i'll confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow. you are pretty." — pretty u by seventeen.
꒰ pairing ꒱⠀⠀park sunghoon x fem!reader.
꒰ synopsis ꒱⠀⠀he wouldn't necessarily call himself talkative. sunghoon is just a normal college boy with normal hobbies and interests, so of course he likes talking about those, and he especially likes talking about you— but talking to you? it's an entirely different challenge. and he knows he has to man up and speak up before you get sick of his silence.
꒰ contains ꒱⠀⠀18.3k words.⠀⠀college!au, classmates!au, slow burn-ish, strangers to lovers, lowkey loser!sunghoon, romance, very fluffy, light angst, but a whole lot more comfort, a bit of jealousy, sunghoon is a stupid dumb idiot lover boy. ✮ featuring: enhypen's 02z + heeseung, ive's gaeul and liz, and seventeen's jeonghan.
꒰ warning! ꒱⠀⠀suggestive content, making out, swearing, pet names, alcohol consumption, parties, brief mentions of blood, unintentional self injury, poor attempts at humor, sunghoon is kind of emotionally constipated but in a good way. sunghoon's taller than reader. lmk if i missed anything!
masterlist. ┆ epilogue series.
꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀my first written work !! i normally write smaus so writing a full oneshot has been daunting. this is my literal brain child so i hope you guys love it as much as i do. send feedback via asks/replies !! (pls be nice) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥♡
TODAY MARKED THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR FOUR YEARS IN COLLEGE. you walked past your university’s gates, chin tipped up and proud with a book held close to your chest, thin silver glasses framing your face, and a smile that you spent an entire hour practicing in the mirror yesterday.
you wore the best outfit you could, but not in a trying-hard overdressed kind of way, just enough effort to make you memorable. you wanted to make a good impression, after all.
if you could look lost enough, maybe a senior would notice you. maybe he’d ask for your schedule, walk you to class, make light gossip about the professors you have and in a few years, he’d propose to you in the same spot by the gates, and you’d say i do, and live a happy married lif—
clank!
you get snapped out of your sweet little daydream as pain shoots through your shoulder, down your left arm. “fuck.” you whisper, head snapping up to shoot a frustrated glare at the thick pole in front as if it’s the one who bumped into you.
the impact was hard enough to have your book and glasses falling to the floor with a thud, and definitely hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow because even merely moving your arm makes you wince.
thankfully, the area was mostly empty— which meant your dream of being a college cool girl was still in play —save for a tall guy just a foot beside you.
shit.
he’s already kneeling down to pick your things up and before you could even bend over to help, he just looks up and gestures to you to stay still by pointing to your outfit. “skirt.” is all he says, his voice deep and quiet.
you’d normally blush at the gentlemanly gesture but instead, you do it out of pure embarrassment.
god, this wasn’t the meet-cute you imagined.
he hands you back your book and your glasses, freshly wiped of dirt from the hem of his faded black hoodie. you slip it on your face again and bow your head out of shame, stepping aside to escape this nightmare of an embarrassment, but before you could even attempt to, he tugs on the sleeve of your cardigan, showing you his open palm like he's telling you to stop.
and against your better judgement, you do.
the stranger slips one of his backpack’s straps off his shoulder, fishing a box out of it and begins scribbling away with a pen cap trapped between his teeth.
you took this time to look at him— really look at him. tall, lean physique, sharp features, fair skin. he wore a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses that framed his kind-looking eyes really well. he’s stylish, no question about that.
and painfully handsome, too.
the pen is closed with a faint click and he slips it back into his hoodie’s pocket and you take that as a sign to stop checking him out lest you embarrass yourself further.
his lips purse into a straight line and his thick eyebrows furrow closer as he gives the box an intense stare, the soft eyes from a while ago turning more serious and stressed as it turns to you, back to the box, and back to you again.
the suffocating silence is shattered by two men shouting from a distance, the shorter one of them comically jumping and waving his hands in the air.
he turns to look at the source of the noise and lets out a small grunt, handing you the box and before jogging away without another word.
you stand there dumbstruck, watching the three boys interact for a while before turning on your heels, slipping the box between your chest and the book. that was odd.
you walk to class with a sore shoulder and cheeks that still feel warm from the whole ordeal. upon finding your room, new faces give you polite smiles or nods of acknowledgement and you do the same. once you're seated and settled, you put the book down on top of your desk.
the forgotten box falls on your lap, urging you to take a closer look at it.
menthol pain relief patches.
you flip the box around and you're greeted by a pastel yellow post-it note stuck on the back.
“for your shoulder. please be careful next time.”
he probably thinks you're a loser with no depth perception. and he wouldn't be wrong for thinking that, but it doesn't stop your cheeks from heating up for the nth time this morning.
you convince yourself it's okay. that your university is big, and you surely you won't meet him again. the fact disappoints you a little bit, but at least you're saved from having to face him after what happened.
you press your fingers against your forehead in stress.
first day in and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of a man. not just any man but a handsome one. a very important distinction.
developing a crush feels on him feels pathetic. he just gave you muscle relief patches, an act of kindness that was just a little bit above the bare minimum. and he only said one word to you, for gods’ sake. but you’ve never been one to think logically, so while your lecture starts, your head starts drifting off and it’s already incorporating the good-looking, tall stranger in your romantic fantasies.
turns out, the man in your dreams wouldn’t be a senior, nor would he be gossiping with you about your professors.
instead, you’d be sharing them.
during your third class of the day, the handsome stranger walks in the lecture hall with his two friends in tow and you immediately recognize him because of the glasses. his hands are stuffed into his hoodie as he settles on a seat a couple of rows in front of you, still as intimidating as he looked like when he gave you the box.
you learned of his name when the professor called him to read a passage in the book.
park sunghoon.
you think it’s a pretty name— fitting for a pretty boy like him.
sunghoon’s voice was steady while he read, smoothly pronouncing every word, clearing his throat after a mistake and resuming with the same composure. the speed at which he spoke was just right, slow enough to enunciate every syllable but not too much to bore whoever chose to listen.
"mr. park, care to share your thoughts on what you just read?"
sunghoon only stood straighter, his natural confidence in his voice making you swoon in your seat.
“i don't believe the fable's moral lesson to necessarily be applicable in real life where businesses and industries have become fast-paced. should the readers need to have a takeaway, they should focus on what the hare lacked— humility. his over-confidence is the ultimate reason for his downfall, being a creature that has already been given natural talent and an advantage on the terrain—”
just like that, your small happy crush turned into full-blown attraction. his voice? his eloquence? damn. it’s like he’s trying (and succeeding) to make you want him.
you wish you had sat in front so you could look at him more. you could only imagine how stern he’d look, how his thick brows would meet together making him look even more gorgeous when he’s focused. but for now, you could settle for the view of his back while trying your best to listen to your professor, and not to the voice that suspiciously resembles sunghoon's playing in a constant loop inside your head.
he’s in the rest of your classes today too, which makes the task of focusing twice as hard. you feel like a creep with the way your eyes naturally gravitate to him every time you hear his voice, or when you see a tiny bit of movement from the corner of your eye.
so when it’s almost time to go home, you do the most un-creepy thing you can think of: wait outside the door.
a student, and another, they all step out one by one. then he finally walks out, laughing at something his friend said before freezing mid-sentence as he catches sight of you standing with a familiar box laid out on your palm.
he looked surprised for a moment, before gripping on the single strap hanging on his shoulder, shifting uncomfortably before raising a brow like he was waiting for you to speak.
“oh! i, uh.. i already put some on my shoulder and on my arm a while ago. there’s too much in the pack and i figured i could give it back to you since i don’t really have any use for it.” you explain, pushing it towards him.
one of his friends gasps at the sight, quickly throwing a punch to sunghoon’s shoulder which he receives with a quiet hiss.
“what the fuck, hoon? i was looking for that! you know i have try-outs later!” the boy shouts, his australian accent thick and evident as he snatches the pack from your palm. “tch, can’t believe you lied to me.”
sunghoon gives him a cold stare, taking the patches away again before whispering something to the other boy which resulted in the rowdy blonde getting dragged away by his collar. he flipped the box over once, twice, and raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice that the post-it note was not there anymore.
“is this what you’re looking for?” taking the neatly folded paper from your pocket, you place it on top of the box. “i’m sorry for taking it. i thought it was for me. unless you also have other friends who regularly bump into poles while actively daydreaming and you actually meant to give that to someone els—”
sunghoon cuts you off with his index finger pressed on his own lips. he gives both back to you before flashing you a small smile, one that causes your poor little heart to thump faster.
“for you. keep it.” his words are clipped but you can feel the kindness behind them.
say something, anything, to keep the conversation going.
“i’m y/n, by the way.” you hold your hand out.
“i know. i’m sunghoon.” he murmurs, looking at the hand extended towards him before shaking it.
you sense the slight hesitation but the contact makes you giddy nonetheless. it’s as sweet as it is short lived because sunghoon quickly lets go, hands returning to the safety of his hoodie’s pocket.
“huh? how’d you know? i don’t remember the professor calling me. wait- did he take attendance? shit, i forgot to say present—”
the chuckle he lets out is low and breathy, making the words halt in your mouth. sunghoon shakes his head and his eyes do a quick scan of you before pointing to the small sticker that reads 'yoon y/n's!' on the book you've been holding.
"oh."
another beat of awkward silence.
“uh.. what’s your schedule?” you ask with a kind smile, following sunghoon as he starts walking towards your building's exit, trying not to dwell on how he started walking slower, at the perfect pace for you to keep up with his long strides.
he fishes for his phone to show you the picture and you do the same, eyes looking at your screen then his. “we share most classes! all the ones in the afternoon.” you smile victoriously, and sunghoon releases another quiet chuckle, nodding along.
before you know it, you’ve reached the gate where his friends are waiting. he pauses, squinting his eyes at the duo who suddenly stopped talking to look between you and him, teasing grins plastered on their faces which just made sunghoon rub his temple.
“oh? who is this? a new friend?” the black-haired friend asks, a smirk on his lips while raising an eyebrow at sunghoon.
“y/n.” sunghoon says, pointing to you. “jake.” he points to the blonde boy with an aussie accent, before turning to the tanner friend with a jawline so sharp you’re convinced you’d need more than menthol patches if you touched it. “jay.”
sunghoon must have told them about what happened this morning because they looked at you, eyes scanning you up and down with anflash of amusement showing in their eyes.
“hi.” you give them a shy wave and they return it with a welcoming smile, their hands gently shaking yours.
jake pulls sunghoon away, huddling on one side while whispering, their heads occasionally turning to you every now and then with synchronicity.
“what do you mean that’s her?”
“jake, pipe the fuck down!”
“are they… talking about me?” you turn to jay with raised eyebrows and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's grown familiar to this scenario. “looks like it. please forgive jake. he’s normally more… discreet when he’s curious about someone.”
yeah, there’s nothing discreet about jake pointing his finger at you with a wide smile. sunghoon, on the other hand, is insistent on pushing jake's hand down with a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. very cute.
“do you guys share all your classes?”
“yeah, we share an apartment so we were together when we chose our classes.”
“so i’d take it that you guys are close?”
jay gives you a nod, eyes fond while he looks at his best friends. “met in middle school— and we’ve unfortunately been inseparable since then.”
“that's cute. must be nice to have people you can rely on already. college is kinda scary.”
“you have us!” jake whispers from beside you, making you scream in surprise at his sudden presence. sunghoon shoots him a sharp glare, tugging on your cardigan for the second time today to pull you by his side.
the golden retriever looking boy presses his palms together, whispering a small apology before handing you his phone.
“sunghoon told me you have afternoon classes with us! so you can give me your number and just reach us whenever. not to brag but i’m the most popular in this trio. i'll text you whenever there’s a party. i'll getcha connected to people in no time.” he adds with a wink, pulling a laugh out of you.
“i think i’ll stick to texting you for home work.” you reply with a roll of your eyes, punching your number in jake’s phone nonetheless.
a few more friendly words are exchanged before they wave you goodbye because jay and jake are going to your college’s basketball try-outs. sunghoon isn’t interested but is supposedly "required by law" to go because he’s their moral support.
you laugh and give both of them a fist bump for good luck before walking away, failing to catch sunghoon’s lingering stare as he watches your figure disappear.
that night, you buried yourself under your duvet, congratulating yourself for surviving your first day of freshman year and making three new friends on top of that.
just then, your phone vibrated.
💬 from: unknown number — this is sunghoon. :)
your friendship with park sunghoon slowly blossomed from that day onward. though your first meeting was full of chaos, the following months were anything but.
much like him, it was calm. respectful, even.
you would give each other a smile when you passed by one another in the mornings, he’d shoot you a text to let you know he reserved the seat next to him when you were running ten minutes late in the afternoon, or you'd remind him of tasks due the next day.
he even offer to accompany you to the university’s library when your friends weren't available, headphones on and only taking it off to tap on your shoulder when he notices you dozing off.
one day, you asked him to grab lunch with you under the pretense of not having anyone to eat with, and then it became routine.
usually it would be just you and sunghoon but the boys would tag along every now and then. he would be noisier during those lunches, and you relished it because that’s the only time you get to see him be so comfortable and rowdy.
you pondered what the cause could be, and eventually landed on a theory during one of your sociology classes.
deindividuation, as your professor called it.
she said being part of a larger group can lead to a sense of reduced personal responsibility and accountability which then causes individuals to feel less inhibited and more likely to engage in behaviors they might not otherwise, including speaking loudly or interrupting.
she basically described sunghoon to a perfect t.
because your friendship with him is quiet. his half of the friendship, to be specific.
you mostly got to know him through mere observation– his habits, things he enjoyed and things he disliked. if you didn’t discover things yourself, his friends would be the one offering sunghoon's information to you like when jay told you he has a younger sister he adored, or when jake told you that he once wanted to go to antarctica, a dream that he left behind after he took an interest in photography.
if you were to type out every word he's said to you for the entirety of your friendship in a continuous line, you’d probably be able to fill four pages of a document in arial 11. maybe five.
if you remember correctly, his longest running sentence is “please walk on the inside part of the sidewalk next time, angel— it’s dangerous.” a yet-to-be defeated record of fourteen words. it was also the first time he called you by a pet name and it had you screaming into your pillow as soon as you got home.
initially, you thought it’d be better to converse with him through text. and it was an improvement, yes– but only by a few notches. you’d be able to make twenty pages with the words he said through the phone, but there were still days where he’d just reply with one word.
or a single emoji.
but sunghoon isn’t nonchalant. far from it, actually.
he laughs at your jokes— he even giggles when it's done to his type of humor. if he sees you stressing out during a pop quiz, he’d slyly push his paper towards you to let you copy his answers. and he already knows to take his sweater off and hand it to you before history class because the heater doesn’t work well in that classroom.
almost always, he’d walk out of the classroom with his bag slung on one of his shoulders and yours on the other with the finesse of someone who's used to being reliable. you’ve never had to open your own water bottles or push through doors either because sunghoon would be the one doing it for you. all of that while wearing a proud smile.
and barely any noise.
when you ask him questions, he’d either hum to affirm, shake his head no, or shrug if he didn’t know the answer. if he’s the one asking you questions, he just gestures with his hands or fingers to get his message across.
one morning when you went to class in a new hairstyle, he pointed to it with raised brows. “ah, just wanted to try something new.” you explained. his reply was a smile and a measly thumbs up.
all that to say, he's an acts-of-service rather than a words-of-affirmation type of guy.
you always try to fill that awful silence between the both of you with endless rambles, and like the reliable person he is, he always listens with a hum here and there to let you know that he was still following your story about how your neighbor scared you shitless by trying to open your door in the middle of the night.
"—he shook the knob so hard i had to call an emergency locksmith. it’s literally the second time he did that this week! and he doesn’t even have the decency to pay me back for the fee!”
by the time you end your tirade, you’re slumped over the café’s table, cheeks squished flat on the smooth surface. he just chuckles and taps on your head with a finger and you raise it slightly. sunghoon places a sheet of tissue down and leans back, allowing you to press your face against the table again, but hygienically this time around.
“you care for my skin more than i do.” you grumble, blowing the stray hairs away from your face.
he does it like it’s routine— because it is.
the first time you did it, he shook his head in slight disappointment. “you’ll get acne.” he said, voice flat while pointing to his cheeks. so after months of it happening, he learned to always have tissues in his bag just in case you decided you wanted to have another ranting session.
a few minutes pass and you hear him groan before reaching over to show you his watch. two thirty-seven pm. “man. fuck history class.” you sigh, starting to pack up your things while sunghoon's already a few steps past the cafe door.
“hoonie, wait for me!” you whine, running to catch up and he pauses, looking at you over his shoulder.
he only resumes his strides when he hears the familiar taps of your footstep beside him, making him smile to himself as he shoves his hands in his pocket, walking back to class with the cold autumn wind that pushes leaves of gold and orange past his feet.
this is what he does. if he wanted to go somewhere, he’d guide you to the destination by walking instead of telling. sometimes, because you moved at the pace of a snail, he would need to tug on your shirt or on the end of your jacket to help you keep up.
he never actually touches you. not intentionally. the usual skinship he’d initiate is a tap on your shoulder, or on the back of your hand. if he was feeling extra touchy, the most he’d give is an affectionate pat to your head.
if you remember correctly, that has only happened seven times so far.
there was also that one time he touched your cheeks for a brief moment, but you don’t think that counts because he only did it to push your head away when jake jokingly leaned towards you with a kissy face.
“sunghoon!”
two heads turn around to see heeseung, a sophomore, approaching with a basketball pinned between his hand and hip. he’s a good friend of jake and jay, and by association, sunghoon’s.
“mind if i take him away for a bit?” heeseung asks you, the usual charming smile on his face as he taps on sunghoon’s shoulder. you nod and shoo them away, but not without sunghoon pointing to an empty bench first.
you head over there, one leg crossed over the other as you observe the bright smile on sunghoon’s face. words like “girls” and “after party” are thrown, and you already know it has something to do with the boys’ basketball match this weekend.
but their words translate more like faint buzzing because you’re too busy dwelling on the way sunghoon interacts with heeseung. it’s something that has been bothering you for a good while— the way he becomes much more animated when he talks to someone. the way sentences don’t sound strained leaving his mouth.
it’s like everyone has access to a button that activates talkative sunghoon.
everyone else but you.
the theory of deindividuation didn’t apply to him anymore. maybe it never did.
he wasn’t technically popular, no. he was still an introvert who preferred staying on the sidelines but from what you’ve seen, anyone who was brave enough to go up to him and make friends, he accepted without protest.
weren’t you already friends with him? so why can’t he be like that with you?
your mind reels back to the time you caught him talking to a senior on the way to your next class. they were having a conversation about the cameras he liked and his history with photography, and it made you wonder for a second whether he had an identical twin his friends forgot to tell you about. you could hear the childlike fascination as he talked, voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.
so when you asked him about cameras later that same day and all you got was a simple 'i like them', it simply broke your heart.
you've spent days thinking about why he couldn’t open up to you the same way he did with others. you’d scroll through your texts with sunghoon and it's always polite. always curt. always “how’s your weekend?” but when you ask him the same question, he’d reply with “just okay.” before turning the conversation to something about you again.
maybe he wasn’t interested in you. not in that way, at least. because why would he? he, who would make people stare whenever you walked the hallways together. he, who made every student in class stop whatever they were doing just to listen to him whenever he recited.
he, who hugged acquaintances yet can’t seem to stand the thought of his hand grazing you, his friend.
it made you overthink whether you truly were a friend to him or just another overzealous classmate forcing your unwanted presence.
you don’t even realize you’ve started tearing up until you see sunghoon kneeling in front of you, eyes full of worry as he looks into your glassy ones.
“angel? w-what’s wrong?” he asks, a hand reaching up but he bites his lips and brings it back down to his side.
you turn your head to the side and force out a laugh. “where’s heeseung?”
“he left. tell me what’s wrong.” he says, placing a hand on your knee. he doesn’t need to tell you, because you could tell how uncomfortable he was from initiating that simple touch.
“it’s nothing. just… i think some dust got into my eyes.” you rub your eyes with your curled fist, exaggerating a few blinks before you gently push his hand off your knee. not even a second passes and you already miss the warmth of his touch. it's pathetic.
“there. it’s gone now.” you hum, pulling him up by his bag’s strap. “let’s go? mr. shin will kill us if we’re late.”
he looks like he wants to say something. but he doesn’t.
he never does.
instead, he strips off his white hoodie and hands it to you, looking at you with expectant eyes. he just stands there, your bag in his hand with the same expression until you relent and throw his hoodie over your head while rolling your eyes.
you walk to your history class warm and smelling like a pleasant mix of sunghoon’s cologne and laundry detergent.
your exit plan hasn’t even started yet and you’re already failing.
three weeks.
three cruel and agonizing weeks of sunghoon missing your presence.
he thinks it started that weekend. like heeseung suggested, he texted you an invite to the frat party to celebrate the boys’ win. he never really got a reply but he did see you arrive safely which put him a little more at ease.
you greeted him with a breathtaking smile and the same little wave he started looking forward to receiving everyday— his biggest motivator to attend and do well in class despite the hell that it is.
you wore a short ivory white dress, blessing him with far more skin than he usually saw within the confines of yours classrooms, your hair done up to show the smooth curves of your neck and the sharp angle of your shoulders.
all he could think about is dirtying your exposed skin with marks so the annoying boys in your class would get the hint to stay away from what's his, and he hated it. you don't even know it but you make something deeply covetous stir inside him.
you’re already beautiful in his eyes, but that night you truly looked like an angel, and he wanted nothing more than to kneel and follow you towards the light.
jiwon and gaeul snapped him out of his trance by dragging you away to the other side of the house before he can even get a word in, and all sunghoon could do is pray that you don't leave with someone else.
the after party went on. drunk people leaning against the kitchen counter, a random couple sucking each others’ faces off on the recliner by the entrance, and jay crying “foul” when he lost another round of beer pong. for the sixth time.
sunghoon looked at his phone, brows almost meeting together as he stared at your conversation. still left on read, still no reply, but he decided to send you another one anyway.
💬 to: angel y/n. — your dress looks nice. :)
“why’s my y/n-ie not here?” jake approached him, red solo cup in hand.
“first of all: she’s not yours. second: you’re already slurring your words, jaeyun. sober up before we get to the car, i beg. i don’t want my car to smell like vomit again.” sunghoon grunted, trying to push the boy off as jake leaned against him for support, face pressed on his shoulder while whining about how much he wanted to see you.
“why? you gonna try to kiss her again?”
“if it’ll annoy you. like it always does.” jake snaps back, a drunken smirk on his face.
sunghoon rolled his eyes, taking jake’s cup and pushing him with enough force to make him land on the couch.
“you didn’t even get to kiss her sober. what makes you think your wasted ass can do it this time?” the laugh he let out is light, yet traced with a bit of venom.
looking at jake all sprawled out on the couch and giggling like a man without a care in the world made sunghoon sneer. even thinking about that memory makes him want to knock jake out. but he knows his best friend’s teasing is only done to get a reaction out of him, to press on a particularly sensitive bruise— the bruise being his feelings for you.
“hoon!” he turned, seeing jay from the kitchen pointing to a girl. he approached them with ease, flashing the stranger a smile. “he’s my friend who wanted to get something done.” jay said, charming as ever, palm pointed to sunghoon.
“this is the minha, the artist i told you about. let me know when you guys agree on something, yeah?” he pat both their backs and made his exit, probably to tend to jake who was wasted and still trying to dance.
the girl turned to him with a gasp, excitedly showing the jewelry on her hand and fingers. they talked about the bracelet he wanted to be made, noting colors he did and didn’t want to include, even passionately showing her reference pictures.
in the middle of his conversation, he raised his head to look for jay but caught you instead, unreadable eyes moving from him to his new-found friend. he took a step back from her and one towards you but you vehemently shook your head, raising a hand to make him stay in place.
you gave him a smile, one that looked a little forced, a little too disingenuous and foreign in a kind face like yours.
you mouthed ‘i’m heading home', thumb pointing to the door before waving goodbye. “wait. i— i’ll be back.” he says to minha, running and pushing his way through the crowd of bodies. when he stepped out of the front door, gaeul's car had already sped off, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust.
💬 to: angel y/n. — i didn’t get to say goodbye. :(
the three bubbles popped up on his screen. after a few minutes of watching it appear and disappear, you replied.
and so ensued the twenty one days of sunghoon’s torture.
the absence wasn’t loud. it wasn’t immediate. it was a gradual pull, like flowers in a vase slowly losing their petals and vibrant color to their unnatural environment.
you were gone, but not entirely.
though a part of him thinks it would have been more merciful if you just left outright, because the moment he starts noticing things, it’s like he can’t stop. it's the type of cruelty only you could do to him.
you didn’t sit beside him anymore, opting to return to your previous spot behind him during classes. no more loud cheering by his side when he attended the boys’ basketball practices after class. and just to rub salt to his open wound, you made gaeul and jiwon replace him in your usual lunch spot.
that was the final straw— the thing that let him knew he somehow, some way, truly fucked up.
now he can’t even use classes as an excuse to see you because of course, of course, it had to happen right before the holiday break. not only was there an emotional distance, but a physical one, too. he can’t text you either— not without looking stupid or desperate. the last message he sent read “okay. good night, y/n.” which was a reply to your dry “i think i'll sleep, sunghoon. night! :)”
no more lunches, no more affectionate reminders of homework deadlines, and no more nicknames. things changed. and the shift, though unnoticeable to others, was strong enough for his best friends to speak up.
“i swear to god if you sigh one more time, i’ll actually mix bleach in your coffee to put you out of whatever misery you’re in.” jay grunts, throwing the couch pillow to sunghoon, unfazed and still busy fiddling with his phone despite getting hit square on his arm.
jake takes a peek from behind the couch, a plate of their shared dinner in hand, laughing as he sees sunghoon pathetically typing and deleting different variations of 'how was your day?' into his phone without actually sending anything.
“is our y/n-ie still not talking to you?” he teases, moving to the sit on the floor, right between his best friend’s legs. the nickname rolling off jake's tongue makes sunghoon's brow twitch in irritation.
“still? i thought they were okay? didn’t she visit us during a game?”
sunghoon’s head snaps up to look at jay. “she did?”
they nod. “the one we did before break.”
“without me?” he says this time, voice pitched up in disbelief.
they give him another nod.
“said she just wanted to drop by and watch us. sat with a long-haired blonde guy.” jay mumbles, giving him a shrug.
“yeah. he seemed awfully close to her if you ask me. arm around her everything. i’m surprised they weren’t making out.” jake adds, making the other laugh as he creates horrible slurping sounds with arms wrapped around himself.
sunghoon takes the pillow from earlier and smashes it across the side of jake’s head. “you’re disgusting.” he huffs, storming to his room, feeling his heart drop lower and lower with each stomp of his feet.
he hears nothing but static, clouded eyes burning holes on the framed photo atop his bedside table: a candid shot he took using his favorite film camera of you laughing so brightly that your eyes turned into crescents.
the mere thought of someone else seeing you in that light has dinner rushing back out his mouth.
you’ve made peace with your friendship with sunghoon.
you've long accepted that it won’t turn into anything more. at some point, you were able to tune out the girls that hang around him, not caring whether they'd confess. he rejected every single one of them anyway, and you know you wouldn't be any different than those pretty crying faces if you tried.
you only cared when people approached him to have a friendly conversation because sunghoon would happily give them a memorable one. that's what made you jealous.
hell, he even got your friends. gaeul mentioned natto once and sunghoon yapped about the delicacy like a day-one fan. he shared his favorite fashion brands with jiwon too– complete with a detailed explanation on his preferences and favorite collections.
granted, he wasn’t on the best terms with them right now because they were the ones who had to pick up the pieces of your heart when you started crying halfway through the drive back to your apartment after that cursed party.
you stood there long enough to see him laugh and giggle in amazement at whatever amazing thing the amazing girl was showing him on her phone, stood long enough to see how casually he held her hand and raised it to his face to look at her accessories. your eyes read his lips, 'you’re so cool', right before he saw you.
gaeul held you in her arms as soon as you curled up in your bed, jiwon on the other side shushing you while stroking your head. “i just— i don’t get it.” you grunted, brashly wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, the mascara-stained tears staining your bedsheets as they dropped freely.
“why he’s– why doesn't he doesn’t talk to me like that? but.. he looks at me like he likes me and— and he does things for me he doesn’t do with other people!”
you were inconsolable, hiccuping in between sobs and screaming more words that your friends don’t understand anymore because you’re crying too much. they just exchanged tired looks while rubbing on your arm until you were exhausted enough to sleep.
the morning after, while pressing frozen spoons on your swollen eyelids, you were determined to treat him as he did you— sweet and kind, but from a safe distance. close enough to keep your friendship with him together, but far enough so you wouldn’t have to feel your heart get stomped on when you hear him ramble about his passions to someone else.
he still attempted to ask about you through texts, tried to talk about the weather, or your progress on a project. he never brought up the topic of this weird drift in your relationship and neither did you.
at first, you replied within the same hour, then the same day, then after three days and so on.
ignoring him became easier when you went back home because you couldn’t see him, couldn't feel the hairs on your nape stand straight whenever his inspecting gaze was stuck on you. you could put your notifications on mute and pretend you fell asleep when he shoots you another text to ask what's keeping you so busy.
half-way through the holiday, the ringtone you set specifically for sunghoon stopped ringing and you knew he stopped trying to reach you.
were you sad? were you relieved? you didn't know.
but what you do know is that you have to keep up this act. so even after the second semester started, you diligently stuck to your new routine. nods in the hallway, civil hi’s and ‘hello’s in the classroom, hoping and praying that your feelings would slip away the same way you were slipping from him.
you marked today’s date with another x — thirty six days since the rift, twenty nine days since the texts stopped.
ten days since random letters started appearing.
you didn’t think he was trying to hide it. and if he did, he was doing a shit job because you were able to recognize his penmanship with just a glance— sunghoon had an odd way of writing the letter y, after all. a different kind of neat with a little flick at the end.
some days, the letters would be slipped in through your locker, and on busier days, it would be on your desk accompanied with food. the drinks varied, but the pastry stayed the same. an almond croissant from your favorite café— the one you used to hangout with him.
“i don’t know what i did, but i hope you know i’m sorry.”
that’s the first letter he wrote. written in a plain piece of yellow pad, contrasting the way it’s elegantly wrapped — in an ivory envelope with a small heart sticker sealing it. you made your friends read it, too. and gaeul cackled loudly, teasing you for immediately turning soft and wanting to run back into sunghoon's arms.
“you’re seriously folding as quick as he folded that half-assed letter.” she said in amusement, chopsticks roughly poking through the seaweed roll on jiwon’s lunch box. the blonde just rubbed your shoulder in understanding, shooting the older girl a glare. “don’t blame our y/n! she’s just a girl in love.”
"hopeless romantics, the two of you." the other girl replied with a shake of her head.
since that day, the letters have improved. still in the same off-white envelope, the same red heart-shaped sticker. the content was different each time, but they made your heart race all the same.
“your hoodie today looks comfortable. i hope you’re staying warm.”
“i’ve been thinking about how you're the only one that who understands me even when i don’t say a lot. i'm grateful for that.”
“i saw you crying today behind the bleachers. you said it was just from a yawn. it must have hurt a lot if you couldn’t tell anyone. next time you want to yawn again, just call for me, okay?”
“i look at you a lot, but i think of you even more. what do i do with you?”
you push the small calendar inside your locker and sigh softly as you peel the heart sticker off, eyes reading through today’s letter.
“it was drizzling today and i felt so much more sullen. it made me realize how much i keep searching for the voice, the presence that made everyday brighter. i miss you, y/n.”
you hate how your first instinct is to look around. to check if you’ll see the same annoyingly handsome, glasses-wearing face that’s been haunting you for the past month. but of course, he isn’t there. so you fold the letter again.
another one added to the collection of the letters that you keep safely in your room so you can read it again later tonight.
away from the crowd of students flocking to their lockers, sunghoon stands with a soft smile on his face as he watches you slip the envelope in your bag. when you close the metal door shut, he takes it as a sign to walk back to jay and jake, hands in his pocket, grinning in victory.
“she didn’t throw your corny letter away this time?” jake howls and sunghoon’s smug expression falls into one of panic, making him smack the boy in the back of his head.
“she never did, idiot. and keep your voice down.”
jay raises his eyebrow. “i don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her. surely it’s easier to just do that rather than… writing all this extra shit every night. who are you? shakespeare?”
sunghoon just sighs and shakes his head, his thumb reaching up to scratch his adam’s apple. “you don’t understand, and pray that you never do. because this shit? it ain’t easy.”
too much projects still left in your to-do list, too many passive-aggressive comments from useless group mates that you chose to ignore for the sake of keeping the peace, and one-too-many snide remark from a stranger in the women’s bathroom about how ‘interesting’ your shoes are.
needless to say, it's been a rough week.
most of the students have gone home by now. your girlfriends bid you goodbye an hour ago and you stayed behind, opting to work on your essay in an empty classroom because your head wouldn't work if tried to finish it at home. the fact that you'd have a meaningful rest tomorrow gave you the last push you needed to press submit.
tired footsteps echo down the empty hallway as you use your remaining energy to trudge towards your locker. it opens with a bleary rattle and you find a square box laid atop an envelope.
it’s been a while since sunghoon left you one.
you push the heavy books inside before reaching for the black suede box, the fuzzy material tickling your fingertip as you push the top open.
inside, a bracelet. fine silver chains alternating with four round glass beads– pink and green blooming from the center like ink dropped in still water. a flat silver rectangle hangs in the center with the corners of it smoothly rounded out, and embellished with detailed carvings of flowers around the edges. on the back, an engraving of your name.
why would he do this?
you carefully return the bracelet inside its case and reach for the envelope with pursed lips. you close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale.
you need to prepare yourself for what you're about to read. if this one's as sweet as his past letters, your resolve— the tiny amount left of it —wouldn't be able to hold you back, especially considering how worn out you are.
"you must have been having a hard time lately— the y/n who’s precious to sunghoon. i hope we can talk again because i want you to tell me that today was tough.
i want to be the one you lean on— and the one who tells you that you’re doing a good job regardless.
i know you’ve been suffering through a lot, and i want you to know that i’m here.”
the corner of the paper crumples in your tightening fist as you tilt your head up to keep your tears from smudging more of the black ink. you stand in place, trying your best to control your breathing, teeth biting down on your chapped lips as your eyes run over the last words.
“you’ve worked hard, angel. i'm proud of you.”
your shaky hands close the locker door, forehead leaning against it as you hold the letter close to your chest, quietly sniffling with your head hung low, hot tears falling directly on the dirty tiles. “he saw me. he always sees me.” you whisper to yourself, shoulders shaking as your pained cries begin to overtake your body.
there's a faint warmth radiating on your back and your nose picks up notes of sandalwood and leather cutting through the sterile scent of alcohol mixed with floor cleaners.
sunghoon.
he towers over you, body trapped in between his and the cool metal of the lockers as if to hide you from invisible prying eyes. his sturdy arms flip you around, one hand moving to your head to carefully guide it towards his chest, and the other wrapping around you to give your back gentle soothing pats.
as always, he doesn’t say anything. just wraps you in his arms while his fingers comb through the ends of your hair.
the two of you stand there until your loud cries are replaced with small hiccups.
there's a small, shameful whine that leaves your lips when sunghoon pulls away from the hug, but he leans in again, long legs slightly folding to match your height until his face is just a couple of inches away from yours. behind the thick black glasses, his dark orbs gaze into you with worry written all over his face.
you can’t help but feel irritated at how good he looks despite the cheap fluorescent lights hanging overhead.
still as handsome as the first day you saw him— just a little rugged this time around. he looks tired. frazzled. perhaps just as exhausted as you. the dilated vessels turned the whites of his eyes pink, and there’s a faint blue tint on his under eyes that make him look like he’s been losing sleep.
a selfish part of you hopes you’re the reason for it.
“i wanted to comfort you, and yet i still managed to make you cry.” he says with a sad smile, both hands cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to your lashes. “i’m sorry, angel.” he whispers before hugging you again, making you sigh in comfort.
you missed hearing that nickname. you missed his voice, his face, his scent, even his stupid glasses.
you just missed sunghoon in general.
the days you stayed apart drove him crazy too. it gave him the courage to hug you tighter, foregoing his fears and anxieties as he squeezes you in his arms. “i missed you. i think i still do, even now.” he whispers, lips brushing on the crown of your head.
sunghoon held your wrist as he walked outside your department's building to an empty bench.
the pink and peach tones in the sky have disappeared, replaced by the artificial neon orange from the street lamps. the trees are starting to grow their leaves back too, but the cool breeze still nipped at your skin like leftover air from winter trying to leave.
it was cold, but not painful nor unbearable. just enough to keep you alert, aware of how warm your side is from how close sunghoon is sitting beside you. aware of how he made more room by throwing an arm behind and casually resting it on the bench’s backrest so he could cuddle closer.
it feels like whiplash, the way he can’t keep himself from playing with your fingers when a month and a half ago, his obvious choice would be to hold the ends of your shirt like touching your skin would burn him.
and it does. it still does.
but who could blame sunghoon? he was an addicted man who got a taste of your touch and firmly decided he’d rather get simultaneously run over, stabbed multiple times, and be set on fire than spend another moment without him holding you or vice versa. kick him too while you’re at it.
he doesn’t care as long as he can feel you.
“i’m sorry.” he says again, voice as gentle as the way he’s squeezing your index fingers’ knuckles, both pairs of eyes looking at everything else but each other.
you let out a bemused laugh. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”
he's stays mum, tongue running across his lower lip and you catch the faint pink color tinting the shell of his ears.
“i don’t. b-but… i do know that whatever i did was enough to push you away from me." he says eventually. "i hope you know it was never intentional. i— i wouldn’t ever ever do anything to hurt you. i understand if you don’t want to tell me what... wrong i did, but i can promise that if you do, i’ll do my best not to do it again.”
his shy mumbles contrast the way he bravely pushes his fingers between yours, the now-interlocked hands resting on his thigh moving up and down as he anxiously bounces his leg.
laughter shatters the solemn atmosphere, causing his head to snap to its source, the evident frown on his face growing deeper. “are you— did you just laugh at my apology?” sunghoon asks with an incredulous expression, making you laugh even harder. still, he can’t help his lips from quirking up at the sight.
he likes this. he likes holding your hand and hearing you laugh.
“it’s just— 'm sorry.” you pause, trying to swallow down another fit of giggles trying to burst out. “i just think it’s funny. that’s a new record.”
“what record?”
“the record of most words you’ve said to me at once. the previous one’s fourteen words, i think.”
sunghoon stares, head tilted to one side in confusion.
“think about it, sunghoon. classes and group lunches aside, you’ve never actually spoken to me properly. it’s never a conversation, it’s almost always just single words.” you let go of his hand only to lay yours on top of his and giving it a couple taps. “or stuff like this.”
“—it’s like... like you have a word limit. but only when it comes to me.”
the muscle on his jaw twitches as he sees the little smile on your visage falter, the slight crack in your voice mirroring the one growing in his heart. he wants to object, to defend himself but he knows he wouldn’t have anything proper to say.
“at first i thought it was just because you were shy— but i’ve seen the way you talk to your friends, to my friends.. everyone. everyone loved talking to you, and you seemed to have fun talking with them too. i just don't get why you treat me so different."
sunghoon's hand grips on his own thigh to execute a punishment upon himself. until it hurts, until it stings. but he bears it because he knows it's too light compared to the hurt you've had to silently carry throughout your time with him.
"it sucks that you don’t like me enough to share your hobbies with me, sunghoon. that i have to know you through our mutual friends rather than getting to know you from what you say to me. i—” a pause. “i just gave up because i knew i’m not worth your time, or your effort to speak. that's why i stayed away.”
“y/n… angel, it’s— it’s not like that. i swear.” he cups your cheek to make you look at him. you were still smiling, and yet he saw the sadness in your eyes. the uncertainty.
he hates himself for being the cause of it.
“then what is it, sunghoon? why don’t you talk to me?”
“because—” sunghoon takes a deep inhale and purses his lips before finally confessing. “because i don’t know how to.”
just as the weight is lifted from his shoulders, he feels an even heavier one get dropped back down. he knows there’s no going back. not when you’re looking at him with dissatisfaction in your eyes.
“there’s a reason why i resorted to writing letters instead, y/n. it’s just that… just— y-you— i’m— fuck!” exasperated, he pulls his hand away from you, using it to rub on his temples instead.
then one travels down and you see as his fingers starts to scratch the base of his neck, nails digging deep into his skin.
it's one of sunghoon’s habits you’ve noted— an ugly one. the first few times it happened, you tried to talk him out of it, told him how scared you were that he’d hurt himself, but he told you it was to help ground him when he feels frustrated.
like the stubborn man that he is, sunghoon continues to scratch harder and harder, half of his face scrunched up irritation. and true to your fear, he lets out a wince when a thin red gash on the space between his collarbones started to bleed red.
“sunghoon, stop.” you sigh, his wrists tightly trapped in your hold.
when he turns his head to look at you, he looks like his world has collapsed in itself. he's devastated. broken.
“i.. i want to explain. i swear, i just—” he closes his eyes tight, hands curling into tight fists under your hold as his chest puffs from how heavy he's breathing. you gently pry each finger open to see deep crescents on his palms. a frown is etched on your lips at the sight, and you know sunghoon’s not faring any better with the way he slumps against you, head rested on your shoulder.
“they won’t come out..” he finally says after prolonged silence, his voice thin and raspy.
“what won’t, hoon?”
“... nothing. please let me—” his breaths are trembling, and though you don’t see it, you could feel him holding back from scratching at his neck again.
“whatever it is can wait. just.. don’t. don't do that again.” you mumble, letting go of one of his hands so you could wrap your arms around his shoulder, your palm running up and down his tensed arm while he messily wipes the bleeding scar with his sleeve.
he waits until his breathing turns even before he speaks again.
“are you.. doing anything tomorrow, angel?”
“hm. no. why?”
“i… missed you. it’s been so long since i last talked to you.”
“that’s weird. i clearly remember that i was the only one doing all the talking.” you reply with a nudge to his shoulder, hoping your teasing voice is enough to lighten the atmosphere.
“hey! don’t be a smart-ass. you know what i mean. it’s been.. what? like, forty one? maybe forty two days since we hung out properly.”
you lean away from his side.
“you’ve been counting too?”
“too? so you also did it?” he raises his brow, the previous frown growing into a teasing smile as soon as he sees your expression, like you're glitching between the choice of fight or flight.
“would you look at that. seems like the misery over winter break was mutual.” he says, tone a little too proud for your liking, so you choose fight. you take the soft skin of his cheeks in between your fingers, pinching and stretching it with a whiny sunghoon trying to push your hand away.
you succumb to his pained pleads to stop.
you lean in closer to soothe the skin with your thumb while laughing under your breath and sunghoon’s eyes slowly flutter close at the touch, head tilting closer to your hand as if to encourage you to continue.
“this is nice.” he whispers, raising his hand and laying it on top of yours to keep it there.
you want to ask him what stopped him from asking for your touch because it wouldn't even take a heartbeat for you to say yes. you wanted to know why you weren’t given the privilege of seeing him this needy, this vulnerable and bare. yet you kept your mouth shut.
“the university is a place for learning, kids. not dating.”
the sweet little moment is interrupted by an older man, a security guard, pointing his plastic baton at the two of you. “and it doesn’t look like you’re in grad school either, which means you’re not allowed to loiter in university grounds.” he adds, making sunghoon stand straight, head tilted forward to give him an apologetic bow.
“we’re sorry, sir! w-we didn’t notice the time. we’ll be heading home. i promise.” his taller body instinctively steps once to the side, covering you like shield.
the guard tilts his head, brows raised at the odd couple in front of him but his eyes soften as soon he sees the dopey smile on sunghoon’s face when his hands blindly reach out behind him in search of yours. “i better not catch you staying here after-hours again, alright? now go. scram!”
sunghoon turns around and smoothly slings your bag over his other shoulder like he always used to, your hand held firmly in his as the both of you run to the exit gates giggling like children.
“girls. he just texted me. said he’ll pick me up in an hour.”
you set your phone screen-down on your vanity. jiwon’s behind you, scrolling through pinterest in search for a proper hairstyle inspo and gaeul’s lying on her stomach on top of your bed, busily typing away as she tries to cram her essay.
thank god you had the foresight to finish it yesterday because one, that meant you got to reunite with sunghoon— who apparently waited for you by the lockers that day —and two, because he was serious about hanging out today.
he double, no, triple checked that you actually wanted to go with him while he walked you to the bus stop, refusing to let go of your hand until you safely got in.
“i can’t believe that doofus finally got the courage to ask you out. we were wondering how long he’d take.” gaeul chirps up, fingers still busy tapping on her keyboard.
“finally? what do you mean finally? and what you do mean we?” your hands pause from applying your blush, head craning towards your bed to stare at your dear friend who just stares back with a straight face.
“oh, y/n. don’t be dumb."
"i'm serious!"
"jake and jay? us? we’ve all seen it since we started hanging out. you’re the only one who gets mister congeniality all nervous and speechless. now look in the mirror before i accidentally burn your cheek.” jiwon says, carefully taking your curling wand and a section of your hair.
“it’s so cute, it’s almost pathetic. but i’m still mad at him for making you cry like that, you know. he better make it up to you today, or else i’m gonna drag his stupid ass through the school field. by his ears.” gaeul says with a face that let you know she intends to follow up on her words.
jiwon continues to hum whilst curling your hair and you try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you apply your gloss.
when you look in the mirror, you can't help but ponder how much your body knew you needed sunghoon because you’re glowing. you look well-rested despite only catching three hours of sleep because of how badly you anticipated this date.
meanwhile sunghoon, alone in his car, is practically vibrating in excitement. or nervousness. he doesn’t know, really. he thinks he stopped being able to differentiate which feeling is which since he saw you that day.
he spent those thirty minutes routinely checking his rearview mirror: is something stuck between the gaps of his teeth? he flossed again just in case. is his hair styled correctly? didn't prevent him from running his fingers through it a few more times. should he put on his coat or would that look too much? fuck, what if he over dressed and you think he’s cringe?
god, he wasn't even this jittery with his exes.
it's different because he's never actually hung out with you without the excuse of classes or other university-related events. it's different because he's never actually seen you outside the usual café you spend free periods in or under the flashing strobes of the college frat house.
it's different because it's his first date with you, and he's adamant not to make this the last.
ding.
💬 from: my angel. — hoonieeeeee ! i’m almost done. :D
he glanced at his watch. fifteen minutes left.
enough time for him to drive once around your block, get out of the car, walk to the passenger’s side and coolly lean against it while pretending he wasn’t an inch away from having a mental breakdown a few moments earlier.
and when sunghoon finally sees you walk out in a satin dress, he’s convinced he might actually have one.
“hey there, big guy. you look handsome today. well.. you always do. but today especially! i really like your fit!” you say, adorning that bright smile that sunghoon found so captivating.
the plan to look cool immediately got crushed.
he tried to stand up straight, he did. but he ended up leaning again on his car— not to look charismatic. rather, he needed to, because he was barely feeling his knees. his heart was racing, his breathing turned short, and he began feeling the all-too-familiar prickling sensation in his throat.
“don’t go quiet on me again, or i’ll ignore you. forever this time.”
he looks more made-up, different from the usual hoodie and jeans combo you always saw. still knee-buckling attractive, but clean. khaki trousers adorning his long legs, thin black belt around his hips and a loose blue-colored polo with thin stripes, the sleeves folded to accentuate his forearms.
there’s a small sense of satisfaction that comes to you when you realize your outfits make you look like a couple. it seems gaeul made the lucky choice of getting you to wear a baby blue today, but you’ll just thank her for that later.
“your hair’s.. n-nice.” sunghoon says, a bashful smile growing on his face. “o-oh! and– and i have this!” he opens the rear door of his car, and you hear it slam again before he turns around to present you with a bouquet of flowers.
white petals with vivid yellow blooming from the center, wrapped in crumpled iridescent foil and pastel blue paper.
“daffodils. the lady at the flower shop said it symbolizes new beginnings. and— a-and i want that. a new beginning. with you.” he stammers awkwardly, nibbling on his lower lip as his hands push the bouquet towards you.
you can only coo at his words, fawning over how cute and small he looked right now despite his height. so fucking adorable, this one.
pushing past the bouquet, your arms find purchase around his torso and you squeeze him in your arms. it takes him a second to return it and you feel him release a sigh, one done out of relief and longing, before leaving a gentle kiss on your hair as he lets you go.
sunghoon opens the passenger seat of his car for you with his signature shy smile, tipping his head to the side.
“get in, angel. i have a lot of making up to do.”
he takes you driving around first, wanting to spend a little more time together with you in the privacy of his car before he shares you with other people. one hand on the wheel and the other keeping yours warm, he aimlessly drove around while narrating how he spent his winter break with his family.
his dad took him and his two honorary siblings, jay and jake, to a skiing resort. his mom bought him a new camera as his holiday present, and he casually slipped in wanting to test it out next time with you.
in between those stories, sunghoon admitted that his younger sister was the one to suggest the idea of leaving you letters. the confession leaves his lips in between sheepish laughter, resulting in both your cheeks turning pink.
your heart felt full listening him be so engrossed in his stories, at one point even letting go of the steering wheel to imitate how jake wobbled in his snowboard. sure he still stuttered every now and then, still held himself back from cussing too much on the off chance you’d get turned off, but those are tiny details you’re determined to work through with him.
he asked about you too, and you talked about the boring train ride back to your old little town, how the place looked like it was frozen in time with the same faces, same remarks about how you look like a carbon copy of your mom. sunghoon just listens intently, a smile on his face as he steals glances of your face from time to time.
you also talked about how you spent a week trying to get dye stains off your hands when your older brother painstakingly made you dye his blonde hair to black in preparation for the new season.
sunghoon’s hand tighten around yours. blonde.
“what about.. uh.. dates? did you go out with anyone while we weren’t in contact with each other?”
“hm. not that i recall? there were a few boys in my town, but i know they’re just messing with me.”
sunghoon’s right hand leaves yours to grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and lips turning into a straight line as he stares at the road ahead.
perhaps he’d been mistaken. maybe this is just how you get when you’ve grown closer to someone. maybe the hand holding or the comforting touches you gave him were ones you also gave to other people. maybe you had taken his invitation as a hang out rather than a date and that’s why you agreed despite having someone else waiting on you.
“the boys saw him, you know. if— if you’re still talking to him then… t-then what are we doing right now?”
the change in his tone isn’t lost on you, nor the hardened expression he wears. from the side of his eye, he catches the befuddled look on your face like you genuinely cannot remember the accusation being true.
“him? who? i— hoon, what are you talking about?”
the mere memory of his friends’ words, of that man, urges sunghoon to pull over to the side of the road so he can face you because when call him an presumptuous loser and friend-zone him, he at least wants to see your pretty face do it.
“jay said he saw you come to their game with a guy. long hair. blonde. said he was clinging on you like a damn shirt.”
when you laughed at his confession yesterday, he’ll admit he found it cute. but when you do it today, it does nothing else but make his scowl look more sour.
“is this little laughing-at-sunghoon thing a habit you’ve developed over winter break? because this isn’t funny to me.” he glowers, brows furrowing as your laughter increases in pitch, palms repeatedly slapping against your knee.
“you—” your fingers point to him with a snicker, face looking pained as you try your darndest to hold back a laugh but it comes out anyway.
sunghoon crosses his arms over his chest, thick eyebrow cocked up while gazing at you with an unamused expression. “y/n. i’m serious. if you have a guy back home, you can tell me. it’ll break my heart, yes, but i don’t want to take part in whatever open relationship you guys hav—”
“sunghoon, that was my brother.”
“what?”
“tall guy. long hair. blonde. my brother.”
“that was... jeonghan hyung?”
“yes, dummy. jeonghan just wanted to take see at how the basketball team was keeping up now after he graduated. he’s an alumni, remember? you know he had blonde hair. you even hogged my phone all to yourself when he facetimed me that one time.”
it’s your turn to have your arms folded on your chest, tilting your head with a little sass, lips curled in a smirk. wordlessly, his body snaps to the front and he attempts to start the engine again, but you clutch his wrist just in time.
“no— you can’t just say that and ditch the conversation. you’re gonna explain yourself right now, park sunghoon.”
the sound of his full name said in such a stern voice makes him squirm in his seat.
“i– i was jealous, okay? what more do you want me to say?” he grumbles, looking out the window while weakly attempting to shake your hold off of him, letting out a grunt that barely sounds like your name as you refuse to back down.
he sighs in defeat, and you can see the sharp tic of his jaw tensing up.
“you weren’t talking to me. barely even looked my way. of course i was worried when my friends started talking about how you went to their practice without me. with a new guy, at that. it just.. the thought didn’t make me feel good. c-can we leave it now? this is embarrassing.”
a satisfied smile pushes your cheekbones up as you turn the keys, giving his shoulder a pat.
“drive, big guy.”
sunghoon made a reservation for the restaurant you mentioned months ago in passing. it’s nothing upscale or expensive. no wines or steaks. just the regular korean food you’re used to, but elevated just a little bit to make it taste more contemporary rather than home-made.
but you didn’t really care for that. the sole reason you wanted to go was their aesthetic: the dining area looked like the inside of a greenhouse with its sunroof ceiling, leaves and flowers hanging from wooden beams, and the lighting was just warm enough to set the ambience.
a hand on the small of your back courteously guided you towards your seat, and you’re too enamored by the interior to notice sunghoon staring at you with eyes full of admiration, his elbow resting on the table so he could comfortably continue to look at you in silence while you take in every detail of your surroundings.
true to his words, sunghoon makes up for his shortcomings.
he refills your drinks, debones the meat for you, constantly fills your plate before your food even runs out, and he apparently even paid for the meal in advance.
throughout the meal, sunghoon indulges you in short stories, letting you take on the role of the listener rather than the yapper this time around. he's telling you about penguins in antarctica and you hum, taking a sip of your drink when you notice one tiny, yet very clear difference in him today.
he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
you know he has a collection of them, and he switches things up every now and then. from thick boxy clear glasses, to the trendy ones you’ve seen models rock on social media.
your favorite pair would have to be the rimless silver ones he wore during your department’s post-exam party because they make him look unreal— like a real-life manhwa character. but he usually wore the good ol’ reliable thick black ones to lectures.
the glasses had their charm but without them, he’s a different kind of handsome. his features look sharper, especially with the warm lighting casting shadows from his tall, unobstructed nose bridge. his eyes look clearer and more expressive too.
on the side of his chin, a tiny mole. and then another one. black dots mapped out across his fair skin, all varying in size and but your eyes lock on the distinct one under his eye, and one on the side of his nose, right below where his glasses’ nose pad would sit.
no wonder you didn’t see it.
“you’re checking me out? so blatantly?” sunghoon pipes up, and you notice how the mole under his eye moves when he raises an eyebrow at you. it makes you giggle, reaching forward to poking the round dot under his eye.
“i didn’t know you had moles.” you mumble, rubbing on the skin with extra gentleness before leaning back. “kind of reminds me of someone i met when i was a kid.”
“hm? do tell.”
“ah, it’s nothing. there used to be this kid in my hometown who had moles like yours. god, that was years ago. i was really young— around eight or nine years old, i think. i met him at a playground where older boys were making fun of him for it.”
“let me guess. you defended him from the big bad bullies and he fell in love with you?”
“defended him, yeah. jesus, they were assholes. the memory is hazy, but i tried to comfort him by chasing him around and stuff. i tried to go back to the playground again the next day after my classes, but he never came back.” you poke at your left overs with your fork, the distant memory making a grin dance on your lips.
“but falling in love? highly doubt it. told him my name but i never got his back. all i remember's his cute moles. he might as well have been an imaginary friend.”
“i say defending a kid like that can definitely make them fall for you.”
“are you speaking from experience, mister?”
"partly."
you smile, cupping your hands behind your ear, making sunghoon chuckle as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
“when i was a kid, i used to be so timid— waaaaay way worse than i was with you.” he says, and the way his eyes widen when he extends his words make you giggle.
“never talked to my classmates, always stayed at home. even my cousins who visited can’t get a word out of me. my parents tried making me do hobbies to get me out of my shell. you name it, i did it. and it helped, but only by a little. then they thought maybe going to the city might help my introversion. my little sister was growing up, too, so they started looking for a place here in seoul.”
your elbows perch on the table, chin resting above your interlocked fingers as you give him a dreamy nod. “mhm. and then?”
“and then the day before we moved, i decided i’m gonna try playing with the kids from my town. just to give it a last shot. except they teased me a lot because i wasn’t talking. they made fun of my moles, too. but then—” sunghoon pauses.
“this strange girl came shouting. i’ve never seen her before. think she went to a different elementary school, but she fought the boys off even though they were taller than her. she threatened to throw rocks at their heads and pull their hair out. and you know what? they looked scared. i think that was the first time i saw genuine fear.” he says, breaking out in a fit of giggles.
“picture this: i was half a foot taller than her but she was reprimanding me and pushing me to stand up straighter, saying i should learn how to speak up and fight back. that no one would fight my battles for me but me. since then, i started doing it— practicing my speech skills and self confidence. eventually, i stopped cowering whenever strangers approached me and i learned how to speak without my voice shaking. it's all thanks to her.”
when his monologue is over, sunghoon just grins at you like reminiscing alone was enough to comfort him. you feel a little irritated, jealous of the way he speaks so affectionately of her memory.
but at the same time, you can’t help but smile back. that's how you feel about your own little friend after all.
“so you fell in love?"
"i wouldn't be so hasty to call it love. perhaps admiration. deep admiration."
"don’t tell me you never told her your name like my old friend?”
his chuckle is mirthful as he shakes his head. “oh believe me, i did. swear on it. either she didn’t hear me, or she’s deaf because she just started calling me ‘pengoo’ instead of my name.”
pengoo.
it’s familiar.
you squint your eyes once more as you see the dimple on his cheek appear, the indentation becoming deeper as he flashes you a knowing smile.
pengoo, pengoo, pengoo.
wait.
“his shirt. that was the shirt he was wearing...” you trail off in a whisper, the words barely audible as you point your hands at sunghoon, and he just smiles even wider, nodding his head slowly.
you sit there in stunned silence, hands crossed over your mouth as you stare at the sunghoon whose look of pride turned into concern, nervous of the crystal clear shock on your face. he's cautious as he offers his open palm on the table, skittish and biting his lip when you still refuse to hold his hand.
he calls out your name with such gentleness that you’re transported back to that day— to the little, but still taller boy who had tears in his eyes, looking ridiculous and snotty while sporting a white shirt with a penguin patch.
the one who you affectionately called 'cookies and cream' for the specks of black splattered across his face, whose tears you wiped using your special barbie handkerchief, whose arm you scribbled your name on with your glittery purple pen that he wanted to taste because it smelled like grape juice.
though the memory isn’t as clear as it was to you years ago, he was a constant in your life. whenever you encountered people who leaned more towards timidity, it's him who appeared in the back of your mind. the nameless friend who you never saw again after his worried mom fetched him from the playground.
except he's not nameless anymore, and he's sitting right in front of you.
the salty tears burn when you try to hold them back, but they're insistent on coming out so you hang your head low and attempt to contain your sniffles. panicked, sunghoon gently holds on your arm and guides you outside of the restaurant to a more secluded spot in the front lawn.
“y/n.” he calls out again, pale hands gently squeezing on your hips as he bends down, trying to take a peek of your face that you insist to cover. “angel… did i make you cry again?” he sighs and you shake your head, quickly taking him in your arms, hugging him like how a mother would her child who’s come back from war.
“my pengoo.. my pengoo.” you choke out in between stifled sobs, stroking his head. his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off of the ground for a moment as his face settles on the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the skin as he whispers back.
“it’s me. pengoo’s here. you're okay. i'm not leaving.” his words do nothing but make you cry harder, tears staining his shirt and fists crumpling the fabric on his back.
“i can’t believe it’s you. i–”
"do you want to talk about this somewhere else, angel?” sunghoon asks in a soft voice, a tone he reserved only for you, carefully wiping your damp under eyes.
a nod is all he needs.
the travel is silent aside from the small little sniffles you do and the faint melody from the car’s speaker. your eyes blankly stare outside, the view of the buildings just as blurry as the thoughts and memories running in your head. meanwhile sunghoon’s trying his best to console you, his thumb lazily rubbing the skin on the back of your hand while stealing glances every now and then.
“where are we?” you croak out when the car comes to a halt. sunghoon opens the car door, his fingers nimble as they take your seatbelt off for you. “a park near my neighborhood. in one of my favorite spots to rest my head which you need to do.”
his hand return to yours so he can pull you towards the picnic area.
sits down on a bench and you elect to sit on the wooden table itself, head craning as you take in the new environment. the place is beautiful. quiet, serene and full of trees that it looks like a modern glitch in the middle of a forest.
“you’re not gonna kill me for knowing your secret, are you?” you sniffle, feet gently nudging the side of his thigh with a soft chuckle.
“no people, no witness. i’m sorry, y/n. can’t have people knowing i was a loser back in the day.” he says in a gurgled voice after looking around, playfully pinching your arm which makes you squeal and swat his hands away.
in the middle of play fighting, your eyes catch the swing set nearby and you remember him again. pengoo.
the flashback is so clear you could almost see a younger version of yourselves: you, pushing him on the swing, and him using his voice properly for the first time to scream ‘stop!’ when his seated body lifts too high off the ground.
you turn to sunghoon, the real, grown sunghoon, and he’s already looking up at you with one hand resting on your covered knee, giving it languid strokes with his thumb.
"penny for your thoughts?"
“why, hoon? i mean.. if you knew all along, why didn’t you tell me?” you reach for his cheek and his eyes close at the contact, letting out a soft sigh of comfort. he holds it in place, tilting his head to leave a light kiss on your palm.
“i’m sorry. if you want me to be honest, i had no plans to let you know. i wasn’t even aware you remembered that day. for all i knew, i was just one of the strangers who got bright little y/n’s help.”
“you… you grew up so well.” salty tears blur your vision again as you lean down to press your lips against his forehead.
“i couldn’t have done it without you. that was a significant event in my formative years— i seriously can’t imagine what kind of life i’d live if i hadn’t met you that day.” he stands up so he can tower over you, looking down to wipe the wetness from your eyes.
“you're my savior. my angel in every sense of the word.”
you walk around the area holding each other’s hand, going over your first meeting— the actual one — the one you had before you met again as grown ups.
he tried talking his parents out of moving, and though they were surprised at his sudden enthusiasm, they ultimately refused because the new house in seoul was already paid for. he waited for you that morning, until the last second— until his parents were yelling at him from the car. 'i think i left a piece of my heart in that playground.' are his exact words.
his search didn't stop there. night and day he bothered his parents to contact anyone they could from their previous town, to ask if anyone had a child with your name. but because his parents were like him— aloof and private, nothing really turned up.
but he was a kid determined to keep you alive and present in his mind so when he met you again that fortunate morning in university, he immediately knew it was you without even hearing your voice.
every day he stayed by your side was spent in awe, marveling at the woman you’ve become.
there wasn’t much difference, physically nor emotionally. obviously you’ve matured and grown into your features— but you still talked in the same cadence, spoke your mind with just as much enthusiasm, and still cared for people the same way you did to the young boy in the playground.
still the same girl who’d get him too flustered to talk properly.
“so jay and jake knew about me the whole time too?” you ask after arriving at the parking area and sunghoon lifts you up to sit on the hood of his car. he nods, comfortably settling between your parted legs as his hands rest on your thighs.
“of course. they were the first to know about my childhood crush after all.”
“childhood crush, huh. what about now? am i still a crush?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes, the cute little dip on his cheek becoming more evident.
“you know the answer to that already, angel.” he replies, pulling you closer to him by your hips and your arms naturally loop around his neck like they were always meant to be there.
you don’t know whether it’s the long day you’ve had, or the insane revelation of who sunghoon has been this whole time, but your head’s starting to spin.
perhaps it’s his cologne, how it’s starting to smell is stronger and stronger as his body leans closer to yours. or maybe it’s the way you feel too warm in your own skin whenever his eyes drop to your lips, and how he his sharp fangs poke out when he bites his in return.
it’s like the air turned heavy in a matter of a few seconds and the cool breeze is doing nothing to thin out the tension in the wide empty space.
from this close, you could hear his breath get slower, thicker, eyes never leaving your mouth. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek and your breath hitches when his thumb brushes over your lower lip.
sunghoon closes the distance first.
the kiss is sweet and gentle but filled with yearning and just a little bit of hesitation. your lips are the softest too, practically erasing any memory left over from the other irrelevant girls he’s kissed before. and you’re so damn sweet.
despite every inch of his body wanting to have more, he does the gentlemanly thing to do and breaks the kiss but not without biting on your plump lower lip first. when his eyes finally focus, your cheeks are flushed, tinted a rosey color like your slightly swollen lips that reflect the distant street lights.
sunghoon's grip on you is as tight— just a hair above bruising. it’s taking everything to hold on his self-control, to not take you for himself right then and there.
he just had you back. he doesn’t want to scare you away by being so forward with his need and indecency.
but it’s so, so hard to behave when you’re like this, so small and flustered, looking up at him with half lidded eyes and your lower lip trapped between your teeth.
so when he feels you attempt to press your thighs close, his instinct tells him to pull you even closer to keep them open, the movement making your dress ride up, the slit on its side exposing more of your skin.
and you whine—either from his touch or from the cold air— but sunghoon doesn’t care. not anymore.
the noise you make is more than enough to snap whatever’s left of his restraint and he leans down to capture your lips again. but it isn't soft this time.
it's sure.
it's hungry and handsy.
still full of yearning, but mixed with the raw, physical need to be closer to one another.
your heads tilt to opposite sides, lips weaved together while letting out small whispers of sweet nothings in between.
sunghoon takes your lower lip in between his again, sucking on the flesh while his hand slip underneath the slit of your dress, palm rubbing up and down the skin of your upper thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
while his lips keep your mind fuzzy, he busies his hand by trailing it higher and higher beneath the loose fabric of your dress until you feel his thumb graze your bare hips, just a fraction of an inch below where your panties are resting, making you gasp against his mouth.
a chance opens up for sunghoon to snake his tongue past your lips, and he greedily takes it, determined to explore every possible inch. you taste like decadence. like the coffee ice cream you had for dessert combined with something celestial.
it's fucking heavenly.
you try to fight him back with your tongue, and for a while, he lets you. convinces you that you’re winning when you try to push your tongue against his, pink muscles twirling together in a dance full of lust and wanting, but sunghoon eventually grows tired of it and he gives your thigh a reprimanding squeeze, making you moan again, providing him the perfect opportunity to take over the messy liplock.
you take the small bit of revenge you can by threading your fingers through the jet black locks on the back of his head, tugging on it once, twice, until he’s growling your name against your open mouth.
his lips wrap around yours, your tongue graze on the sharp end of his canines, his fingers wander near the plump of your ass, and you kiss until both of you are literally seeing stars.
you part, heaving oxygen back in your deprived lungs and your foreheads meet with eyes still in steady contact as your heavy breathing mingles.
sunghoon’s hands never leave your thigh or your cheek. rather, he gives them a final brush with his thumb before stealing a quick peck, damp lips brushing against your skin until it reaches your jaw, giving the spot a kiss as well.
“perv.” you say, raising your thigh a little just so you could push sunghoon’s hand away. “first kiss and you’re already feeling me up?”
“okay, y/n. let’s pretend your eyes weren’t my arms the entire time i was driving. i know you like how veiny they look.” he replies after leaning back, the same canines that were grazing on your tongue a while ago now in full display as he flashes you a cocky grin.
“i.. you noticed that?”
“i did. i notice a lot of things about you.”
“like what?”
he's quiet for a moment.
“like how you’re starting to shiver.” his muscular arms lift you up and safely bring you back down to the ground.
“i think it’s time to get you home, angel.”
a cacophony of cheers erupt in your classroom as the announcement blares from the speaker. an early dismissal due to seniors needing several classrooms to prepare for something you didn’t care enough to pay attention to.
all you knew was you needed to get out as soon as possible so you can see sunghoon again.
from: pengoo. 🐧— heard the announcement yet? :)
to: pengoo. 🐧 — yep!! i'll just grab a few things from my locker and head there. see u! ♡
from: pengoo. 🐧 — see you, angel. :)
the two of you made the university garden your official hang-out spot. specifically the one near the big ginkgo tree where the both of you have spent hours under either people-watching, eating or reviewing.
and stealing kisses from each other, of course.
so when sunghoon asked to meet you there this morning, the answer was an automatic yes.
just as you sit down on the picnic mat, you see him appear from behind a tall shrub, bag slung over his shoulder and a big plastic bag hanging from his hand.
“did i take too long? i'm sorry, angel. it was lunch rush and there was a line in the restaurant and jake was arguing with a girl and—”
“hoon. i just got here. it’s okay.” you say, chuckling at his never-changing nervous demeanor.
he leans forward to give your lips a chaste peck, an apology leaving his lips again before he busies himself by taking your lunch out of the plastic and making sure your bottle is uncapped and your utensils are cleaned before tending to his own food.
a fond smile creeps on your lips as watch him try to talk about his morning in between bites. he really has improved since that date. gone is the boy who shied away from your touches, and replaced by one who openly asks for a hug and whines when he doesn’t feel your hands on his whenever you walk together.
his hand is always in yours when he drives both of you to school (despite the fact that he has to drive 20 minutes earlier to do so.) his arm consistently curled around your shoulder or your waist when you walk to class together. you always tease him for it too, but he just takes it with a smile because he knows it’s true.
he’s whipped for you.
after you eat and clean up, you offer to keep the picnic mat in your locker but sunghoon mentions he wants to stay for a bit more, and you appease him, letting him lie down with his head comfortably laying on your plush thighs while you lean back, palms pressed on the mat to support yourself.
silence envelops the both of you, but it doesn’t make your head run through a million thoughts anymore. it isn’t tense this time.
your eyes wander to him again— your not-quite-boyfriend boyfriend.
your finger pokes at the mole at the side of his nose out of habit, the glass beads in your bracelet reflecting bright spots on his smooth skin. you go from one mole to the next, moving it down the sharp bridge of his nose, then to his jaw, and you giggle upon feeling sunghoon shiver under your featherlight touch.
you move your middle finger down his neck, choosing to poke at the peak of his adam’s apple before noticing the pink lines on his neck.
again?
before you can even point it out, sunghoon’s voice cuts through the silence.
“i feel like pengoo whenever i’m with you.”
you sit up properly. “pengoo?”
he gives you a nod and you stare, giving him a look that spells ‘i don’t know what you mean’, making him smile.
“whenever you’re around… it’s like i become that kid again. the one that can’t speak or think properly. i don’t know, it’s weird. the same girl that gave me the confidence to talk being the same one i can’t be around without making a fool of myself? i can’t even give you a proper compliment for god’s sake.”
that’s true. he always compliments your outfits, or your accessories, or compliments you through implications. things like “you’re making everyone stare.” or “that cute puppy looks just like you.” but nothing that’s actually a straight forward compliment.
you never had the courage to bring it up to him, partly because you’re afraid he might find you too needy, but also because deep down, you know the words he did say already took a lot of courage from him.
“i don’t.. really mind. not that much.”
“don’t lie to me, angel.”
“i’m serious!” you laugh, fingers forcibly pushing the edges of his frowned lips upward. “i do have a question though.”
“what is it?”
your fingers ghost over the exposed skin on the base of his neck, fingers gently pressing on the spot between his clavicles, tracing over the faint red scratches over it.
“have you been scratching your neck again? why do you do it when you know i don’t like it?”
“angel… i just—” he sighs softly, reaching for your hand. “i get frustrated.”
“you always say that. but there has to be a way for you to release your frustrations without scratching? the scar from last time isn’t even healed yet.”
below you, sunghoon releases a soft sigh and raises a hand to poke at the same spot on your neck. “what is this?” he asks.
“my neck…?” you reply cluelessly, to which he just shakes his head, poking at the skin again flinch from the ticklishness of his touch. "what's inside here?"
“my throat?”
he finally nods, pointing to his own. “they get stuck here.” he opens his mouth, tongue sticking out and points to it as well. “and here.”
“they? hoon, you have to stop talking in riddles. you know i’m stupid.”
sunghoon runs a hand over his face and sits up, moving behind you until you're settled between his legs, back comfortably leaned against his firm chest.
“okay. i’m doing this.” he whispers mostly to himself before squeezing you in his arms as if to reassure himself. “don’t interrupt me, okay? because if i don’t get this out completely, i might not be able to say it at all.”
you press your palms on the arms wrapped around your waist and nod.
“you see those those?” sunghoon asks, and your eyes follow the direction of his finger pointing at the different florae.
the green leaves of the bushes look even brighter next to different bundles of spring-born tulips— colors of white, red and vibrant yellow scattered throughout the garden.
you're unsure of where this conversation is headed, but nod anyway.
“it’s like i have that inside me. a garden— of words.” he says slowly, taking pauses between every words.
“at least that’s what i started telling myself after i left years ago to aid me in my quietness and it helped. a lot. i realized that i don’t really have to give people anything of value, and it made talking easier. if i don’t like someone, i can give them dead leaves or even weeds. but if i do, i can give them grass or the most common roses and it’ll do. maybe even an arrangement of better flowers for the people i want to keep in my life.”
he stays quiet for a beat, and you can feel his nose poke on your skin as his lips press on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “but you… you know you mean a lot to me, right?”
you reply with a hum, eyes glued to the leaves and petals swaying in the wind.
“i'm slow to speak because i take so long walking through the garden. because it's so difficult to choose what to give to you. because i want to pick and gather only the prettiest flowers— the prettiest, kindest words —for you. i want them to be neatly arranged and looking just as beautiful as the way you appear to me. because you’re precious to me... and you deserve nothing less.”
the words tug on your heartstrings in a way you’ve never felt before. to be adored and admired so much to the point of speechlessness wasn’t something you’ve ever experienced, or frankly, ever expected.
so when he speaks of you in such a way, it overwhelms your chest with a sense of safety— of knowing your heart is safe with him.
and the way he says it too: voice low, shaky, and starkly different from the composed sunghoon you usually hear in classes.
it's then that you realize the apprehension you saw you wasn't done out of malice.
sunghoon only did it because he wanted to protect something dear to him.
he shifts and pulls his hands away from your waist only to sit cross legged in front of you. it seems like you aren’t the only one feeling vulnerable because when you see him, he looks just as flustered.
his cheeks are rosy and his ears are in an even deeper shade, almost matching the petals floating above the grass.
“don’t laugh at me for this, okay?” a defeated chuckle leaves his lips and he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours before looking you in the eye. "jake and jay know about how much i've been rehearsing."
"hm?"
“i’ve dreamt of meeting you again, you know? so when i saw you on our first day, i told myself that i’ll do it. i’ll show you my gratitude. i’ll show you i’ve changed. that i’ve grown. that i’m not the sickly and shy kid in the park anymore.” sunghoon pauses. “so every night in front of my mirror, i rehearse the different ways i could talk to you— and it worked. it always goes smoothly.”
“but i’ll see you again in the morning and it’s like the hours i spent practicing rush out the window— because.. b-because i’ll hear your voice, and you’ll laugh, and you'll smile. and you’ll look at me the way you are right now… and it’s like all the bouquet of flowers get stuck here.” sunghoon explains, finger accusatorily pointing to the still-healing scar on the skin above his throat.
“it feels like their thorns are piercing me from the inside, angel. it sucks and it’s frustrating. and the only way to relieve it is to scratch, but they won’t come out even if i do. and then i’ll beat myself up over it, go home, and the cycle will repeat itself. and— you’re doing that smile again. s-stop it!” he stammers, finger now angrily pointed to you.
you chuckle because you don’t even know what kind of smile he means and sunghoon just sighs, reaching for his neck again, palm over his throat like he’s trying to relieve the itch without scratching.
he looks annoyed and irritated, nose scrunched up as he clears his throat one, two times.
“i— i love you, y/n.”
the three words he’s been itching to confess for months, now breaking free from the tip of his tongue.
both of you freeze in your spots.
you can’t believe the words he just said, and he looks like can’t believe it either.
“i love you.” sunghoon repeats, gnawing on the flesh on the inside of his lip while his hands squeeze on the base of his neck as if physically forcing the words out. “i think you’re so cool. and you’re pretty. but even that isn’t enough. beautiful is the closest i can get, but i hope you get what i mean a-and… fuck, i should’ve just written a letter.”
an intense battle of eye contact ensues, his free hand curled tightly atop his lap as he takes a deep breath in.
“i— i’ve admired you since i was a clueless kid in the playground. liked you s-since you talked to me on our first day. and i’ve loved you since our first kiss, but i was too much of a pussy to say it then because i didn’t want you to think i only loved you because of it.” he grunts, knuckles pressing on his temple. “and i’m sorry that i don’t talk much because every time i do, it just makes you cry and i don’t want to see you crying because it breaks my heart too—”
the speed at which his words come out begins to pick up, making it barely understandable so you call out his name in an attempt to slow him down but he just looks at you with determination in his eyes.
“no! listen to me. i know i’ve had my moments, and i’ll probably keep having them, but i want you to know that i love you. sincerely. you’re precious to me, y/n. and i don’t want you to doubt what i feel any longer so believe me when i say i’m trying my best right now, even though i’m babbling.”
he pauses just to take another inhale, and when he finally speaks again, both his voice and his eyes turn softer. so soft you can't hear his words.
"i'm sorry, hoon. i didn't quite catch that."
"y/n. will you please be my girlfriend? you can say no, o-of course. i'm just throwing the idea out there but if you think i haven't proved myself yet then i'll be fine just waiting, i swear i c—”
you swallow the rest of his words in your mouth as you press your lips against his, eyes closed while you grab sunghoon’s hand by his wrist and guide it to your nape.
he lets out a meek sound of surprise but you can immediately feel him melt into you, fingers tightly holding on the neckline of your shirt as his soft, pillow-soft lips locked against yours in a slow but passionate kiss.
when you pull away, sunghoon’s eyes are glassy and you can see love pouring out from the way the beautiful chocolate brown orbs gaze into yours.
you leave a gentle peck on the mole under his eye— a thing you’ve picked up after multiple make out sessions —and lean back to appreciate the full view of a flustered sunghoon.
“i love you too.” you finally reply with an elated smile. “and i’d love to be your girlfriend.”
if humans had the chance to have heart-shaped eyes, you’re convinced sunghoon would have it at this moment.
his cheekbones are pushed all the way up, pearly whites flashed at you before he tackles you down into the picnic mat with a tight bear hug making you giggle loudly as he rolls the both of you from side to side while pressing kisses all over your face.
“hoon!” you squeal while wriggling in his hold and he relents, standing up to run in a wide circle around the garden, arms spread out wide while yelling.
“she said yes! y/n’s mine! my girlfriend!”
thankfully, the few people meters away only flash the two of you confused looks before going about their business.
"can't believe you're my girlfriend now." he giggles breathlessly as he ends his run in front of you, only to wrap his arms around your figure once more, lifting you off the ground and spinning in place while professing his love at the top of his lungs.
it’s dizzying to be his, literally and figuratively. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you're his, and he's yours.
you love park sunghoon.
from the thorns, to the long stems and rough leaves, up until the prettiest petals that are finally able to leave his soft lips.
but sunghoon is determined to spend the rest of life growing his garden until he can find the words that'll convince you that he loves you more.
BONUS SCENE:
"let me get this straight. you're telling me that you got jealous of me.. so you made my little y/n cry three times?" jeonghan's voice is low, face void of any emotion as his arms cross over his chest across the both of you.
"technically it's seven, if we count the times i cried over winter break too." you mumble, meekly raising seven fingers.
sunghoon turn to you with wide eyes in disbelief. why would you throw your boyfriend under the bus? during his first time personally meeting your brother, no less.
"y/n, what the hell?"
jeonghan's hand slammed on the table, making the both of you flinch. "don't look at her. look at me. i was asking you a question, and now you're going to explain."
he thought jeonghan was cool— and he still does— but he reminded sunghoon so much of you whenever you get stern, and it's like deja vu of the time you got serious with him during your first date.
"no, i— it wasn't necessarily because of that, hyung. i just so happen to have made her cry after i got jealous so it isn't really a cause-and-effect scenario—"
"love, you're getting a little off track..."
"he said he wanted me to explain—"
your brother's giggles echo throughout your family home's dining area and he shakes his head, leaning over to tap on sunghoon's shoulder. "nah, man. i'm just fucking with you. but you knew i had blonde hair so you really should've known better."
"i.. y-yes, sir! i mean hyung! sir— i.. i mean... yeah." he sighs in defeat, head hanging low in an apologetic bow while jeonghan just nodded in acknowledgement.
"but if you make my little y/n cry again, i'll make sure you really won't be able to use that throat of your ever again, got it?" the way your brother's able to make those words sound sweet make even your heart race, your hand finding sunghoon's underneath the table to give it comforting pats.
"and you're sleeping in my room. no nicknames or pda as long as you're under the yoon household."
your boyfriend's eyes travel between you and your brother and he only grips your hand, nodding.
he can't wait to go back to seoul.
꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀aaaaaaaaaaa!! it's finally done. i'm gonna cry. ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა i saw the video of i-lander sunghoon dancing to pretty u again and i just had to. if you can't already tell, this is heavily inspired by the song, especially the confession part! i'm thinking of writing shorter drabbles of other members so just shoot me an ask if you have an idea. < 3
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jacobvanloon
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