summary: Chan and his friends make a bet that Chan has to break through the hard shell of the dismissive skater
genre: fluff, highschool au,
In the far corner of the vast Cafeteria, Chan sat at his usual table, surrounded by the familiar symphony of youthful chaos, laughter, chatter, the clatter of trays, and the occasional outburst from an overly enthusiastic conversation. Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, his appetite waned, his focus drifting from the meal before him.
Then, his gaze landed on Yn. She sat apart from the others, her posture languid, one leg tucked beneath her while the other draped over the seat beside her. A notebook lay open before her, and though her pen moved lazily across the page, Chan doubted she was writing anything of significance. A half-empty energy drink rested at her side, and through the thick veil of her headphones, he could faintly hear the aggressive pulse of music, a fitting accompaniment to the impenetrable aura she exuded.
"Tell me, does she even talk to anyone?" Jeongin mused, as he noticed his gaze, leaning back in his chair, arms folded. Felix shrugged.
"Not really. Most people gave up trying a long time ago. Yn isn’t exactly… the sociable type." Jisung smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"That sounds like a challenge. Imagine if one of us actually managed to crack her." The table erupted in laughter except for Chan, whose gaze lingered on Yn.
"You mean one of us should date her?" he asked, his voice light, though curiosity laced his words.
"Not even that," Jisung replied, waving a hand dismissively.
"Just get her to open up. Make her let you in. And then? Boom. You win." He punctuated his words with a dramatic flourish, raising his brows as if daring them to take the bait.
"But let’s be real, I bet no one here could do it." Changbin scoffed. "She doesn’t talk to, let alone trust anyone." Chan leaned back, considering. He had won many bets before, sports, academics, even ridiculous dares like seeing who could push a teacher’s patience the furthest. It had always been easy. Predictable. But this? This was different.
"And what does the winner get?" he asked at last. Jeongin’s grin widened. "The respect of all of us. And free meals for a week. We’ll cover it." Jisung laughed.
"Let’s be honest, bro. You’d lose anyway." Chan arched a brow.
"Because Yn wouldn’t fall for your usual charm tactics," Seungmin chimed in, smirking. "She’s not a fan of guys like us." That was it. The moment there was no turning back. Chan thrived on competition, on proving people wrong. There was something in him some unrelenting need to win, to rise to any challenge thrown his way, to profe himself.
"You’ll see," he said, leaning forward with a confident grin. "Give me six weeks." The boys erupted into cheers, clinking their drinks together in mock celebration. But as Chan brought his cup to his lips, his eyes once again sought out Yn. She remained in the corner, untouched by the world around her, lost in whatever thoughts occupied her mind. And deep within him, something stirred a quiet warning. This bet wasn’t right, chan new it but wanted to do it anyways.
This wasn’t going to be a simple game. And it had nothing to do with how distant she seemed.
"That’s just childish," Seungmin sighed, burying his face in his hands.
"When are you finally going to grow up?"
"Ever since you started dating that nerdy girl, you think you’re the wisest among us," Jeongin teased, nudging him playfully with an elbow. "Hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t make you any smarter, dummie."
Seungmin rolled his eyes. "Well, at least I don’t need tutoring."
"Hey, tutoring isn’t that bad. Nothing to be ashamed of," Jeongin shot back defensively.
"That’s because you are absolutly in love with your tutor, Inie," Changbin laughed, shaking his head.
Chan was a strategist. He never entered a challenge unprepared. And so, before making a move, he studied Yn. Not in an unsettling, creepy way, but with the precision of someone determined to understand. He observed the details, the little patterns that made up her world.
It didn’t take long for him to map out her routine: She rarely spoke in class, but when she did, it was laced with sharp sarcasm. During breaks, she was never without her headphones music always loud, always aggressive. She didn’t belong to a fixed group, though sometimes she could be spotted with a few other skaters. Conversations? Minimal. Whether with teachers or classmates, she kept to herself. After school, she vanished with her skateboard, heading straight for the skate park.
Chan quickly realized that his usual tactics charming smiles, effortless small talk, well-placed compliments wouldn’t work here. Yn wasn’t like the others. She was guarded, sharp-edged, immune to the easy charisma that had always worked in his favor. If he wanted to win this challenge, he needed a different approach.
So Chan appeared at the skate park, leaning casually against the fence as though he were simply passing by, watching the skaters with an air of mild interest. Yn was in the midst of a trick session spinning, jumping, landing with seamless precision. He had to admit, she was good. No, more than good. She moved with the kind of skill that could only come from deep passion.
Grinning, he called out, "Nice move." Yn skidded to a stop, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she turned toward him, one brow arched in clear suspicion. She was undoubtedly wondering what he was doing here someone more commonly seen on the football field, in the music room, or surrounded by his (as she so fondly called them) macho friends. The skate park was not his territory. And she knew it.
"Thanks," she said flatly, then added, "Now fuck off." Chan blinked. Well. That was direct.
"Wow," he mused, crossing his arms. "Is that how you greet new people here?" Yn gave him a once-over before slowly pulling out one earbud.
"New people? No. Just people who are clearly after something." Clever. Perceptive. He liked that.
"I'm not trying to suck up," he countered, his grin unfazed. "I'm admiring." She rolled her eyes.
"Watch it, admirer. I'm not in the mood for company." And with that, she shoved her headphones back in, kicked off on her board, and disappeared into the park. Chan stood there for a moment, watching her go before letting out a quiet laugh. This is going to be harder than he thought. But giving up? That wasn’t in his nature. If anything, the challenge only intrigued him more.
The Long Game His first attempt had been an undeniable failure. But instead of retreating, Chan adjusted his strategy. No more direct approaches. No obvious staring. No ‘admiration.’ Instead, he simply made himself present. At the skate park. In the cafeteria. Leaning against the lockers outside her classroom. Always there, but never in a way that seemed intentional. Never enough to be intrusive just visible. And yet, despite all this, it took an entire week before Yn acknowledged him again.
The first real interaction was late in the afternoon, the skate park nearly deserted, bathed in the fading golden light of the sun. Yn was practicing a new trick, but it wasn’t going well. Again and again, she landed wrong too far forward, off balance, too much force. Each failed attempt was met with a quiet curse, her frustration tightening like a coil inside her.
From a bench nearby, Chan watched. He pretended to be occupied with his phone, but his attention was on her, on the way she refused to give up, on the determination in her every movement. He admired that. After the tenth failed attempt, she let out a sharp, irritated noise and kicked her board against the ramp before dropping onto the ground, shoulders slumped in exhaustion and annoyance.
Before he could think twice, Chan was on his feet, walking toward her.
"Statistically speaking, your failure rate is at about 90%," he remarked, his voice light with amusement. "Thinking of giving up?" Yn turned her head toward him, her eyes narrowing. It was clear from her expression that she still didn’t know what to make of him. Or maybe she simply didn’t like him.
"What are you doing here again?" she asked, suspicion lacing her words.
Unbothered, Chan dropped onto the ground beside her. "Watching. Learning from the best." She grimaced.
"If you want to learn anything about skating, find an actual pro. I’m a disaster right now." The last sentence came out quieter, muttered under her breath, filled with something more than just frustration. Chan leaned back on his hands, tilting his head toward the sky as if contemplating something important.
"Maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard," he mused. "Sometimes you have to let go to make it work." Yn shot him a skeptical look.
"And what do you know about skating?"
"Nothing," he admitted with an easy grin. "but I do know a thing or two about pressure. And sometimes, what helps is a distraction."
She raised an eyebrow, her tone drenched in sarcasm. "Oh, and let me guess you’re here to help me distract myself?"
Chan shrugged. "I could tell you a terrible joke. Or we could bet on whether you land your next attempt." Yn sighed, shaking her head, but something in her expression shifted. Amusement, maybe. Interest.
Chan’s grin widened. "Then I’ll buy you a Coke. And if you don’t make it… I’ll still buy you a Coke. Because I’m nice."
A small, reluctant laugh escaped her, and she shook her head again. "You’re ridiculously persistent, you know that?"
He leaned in slightly. "You should probably get used to it." And that was the moment something changed. It was subtle just a crack in the walls she had built so carefully around herself but Chan noticed it.
Yn exhaled, got to her feet, picked up her board. With one last glance in his direction, she pushed off. And this time, this time she landed the trick perfectly.
Something shifted after that moment at the skate park. Yn was still wary, still suspicious of his presence, but she allowed it now. She didn’t know why he was suddenly everywhere, why he kept turning up at the skate park, in the cafeteria, outside her classrooms but she was getting used to it. And that, more than anything, annoyed her.
The so-called "coincidences" increased. He brought her an iced coffee because he had "accidentally" discovered her favorite summer drink. He started doing his homework at the skate park because it was "more relaxing" there. When she ignored him, he didn’t push he just stayed. Silent, but present.
Yn hated how easy it was to fall into the rhythm of his presence. She wanted him to disappear, to stop showing up, to leave her to her quiet, detached existence.
And yet, at the same time, she fought the irrational urge to talk to him first. To sit next to him. To look for him. She didn’t know which possibility scared her more that he would eventually give up. Or that he wouldn’t.
An Evening at the Skate Park it was empty, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. Yn had come here to practice in peace, to lose herself in the rhythm of wheels against concrete, but fate or rather, he had other plans. She sighed as she spotted Chan making his way toward her, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, a familiar grin on his face.
"Are you stalking me?" she asked dryly.
He only grinned wider. "Pure coincidence."
"Sure." Instead of leaving, he made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the ramp as if he belonged there.
"So, what’s on the agenda today? Kickflip? 360?"
She eyed him, a challenge sparking in her gaze. "How about you get on the board? Or are you too scared?"
Chan chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "I have no interest in breaking my bones, thanks." The laugh deepened, and for the first time, yn noticed the dimples in his cheeks. It was distracting. Too distracting. She forced herself to look away, shaking off the thought.
"Coward." And before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed his wrist, yanking him up and shoving her board into his hands. "Come on, Mr. Perfect. Let’s see what you’ve got."
Chan stared at the board as if it were a death sentence. "This is not going to end well."
"Then you and my first trick attempt have something in common." She smirked as he reluctantly stepped onto the board, his movements stiff, awkward. He wobbled, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. And then, just as expected he toppled over, landing flat on the ground.
Yn let out a snort. "Oh my god. That was pathetic."
Chan raised an eyebrow, rubbing his elbow with a wince. "I’m a man of many talents. Skating just isn’t one of them." Still laughing, she sat down next to him. For a moment, the world felt lighter, easier. She didn’t even mind his company. Maybe even liked it. And then she felt something.
Her laughter faded when she caught the way he was looking at her not with amusement, not with his usual teasing grin, but with something else. Something softer. It made her pulse stutter.
Her voice was quieter when she asked, "Why are you doing this?"
Chan didn’t look away. He simply shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I just find you interesting."
Yn swallowed. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more the way his words sent a flicker of warmth through her, or the realization that this… this was dangerous. She was standing on thin ice. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to step away or let herself fall. But her walls were torn down by chan step by step.
Something Had Changed The teasing remained. The playful banter, the lighthearted jabs, the sarcastic remarks they were all still there. But now, there were glances. Quiet moments stretched between them, filled with something unspoken. They stood closer than necessary, their hands sometimes brushing, their laughter lingering longer than before.
Chan didn’t know when exactly it happened when the bet stopped being a game and started feeling like something else entirely. But as the days passed, a dull weight settled in his chest, a guilt that grew heavier with every smile she gave him. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have made a bet knowing that if he won, it would break her trust? That it would shatter her in ways she might never recover from?
But stopping wasn’t an option. Because at some point, Chan had stopped playing to win he just wanted her. So he searched for reasons to be near her. Excuses to see her.
He paid attention to things he never would have noticed before. He listened to her favorite bands, learned the songs that played in her headphones. He memorized the small details the way she loved the rain but hated thunderstorms, the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought.
He knew that skating wasn’t just a hobby for her it was where she thought, where she made sense of the world. And he knew she didn’t let people in, not easily. Because letting someone in meant trusting them. And trusting them meant they had the power to leave. To betray her.
She had spent so long keeping people at a distance. Pushing them away before they had the chance to hurt her. But with Chan… it was different. And she hated that it was different. Because he wasn’t like the others at school the ones who judged her for her grades, her attitude, the way she never quite fit into the mold they wanted her to.
Chan was just there. He never asked for anything. Never demanded explanations or forced her to be anything other than herself. And slowly, against her better judgment, she let him in.
And considering all this made chan feel even more guilty.
A Line He Couldn’t Cross The city stretched out before them, a sea of flickering lights against the darkness. It was quiet up here, away from the noise of the streets, the expectations of school, the weight of everything else.
Yn leaned back against the wall, her skateboard resting beside her, fingers idly tracing the edges of the grip tape. Chan sat next to her, arms draped over his knees, eyes fixed on the distant headlights weaving through the roads below.
And then out of nowhere she spoke. "So, what's your deal?"
Chan turned his head slightly, brows furrowing. "My deal?"
Yn exhaled, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. "You're the perfect popular student. Everyone loves you and your weird friends. So why are you spending your time with me?"
His heart skipped. This was it. The moment he should come clean. He could still hear Jisung’s voice in his head, the laughter of his friends as they toasted to his ridiculous bet. Six weeks. The time limit was still ticking, and yet, here he was, completely lost in her. But instead of the ugly truth, Chan gave her the only other truth that mattered. He let out a quiet chuckle, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious.
"Maybe I like the way you see things." Yn studied him carefully, eyes searching for something probably the lie she assumed was hiding beneath his words. But she didn’t push. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the skyline, as if the answer didn’t matter.
A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again. "And you?" he asked, tilting his head. "Why are you letting me stay?"
She glanced at him, just for a second, then shrugged. "Maybe I just find you interesting." Her voice was casual, but there was something hesitant underneath. "It’s a nice change to chill with you. Better than always being alone."
Chan grinned, but the tightness in his chest only grew. Because it hit him then this was the exact same thing he had said to his friends at the start. That he found her "interesting" as if she was a thing he could study. That she was a challenge. He felt sick because now, he hated himself for ever having thought that way. For ever agreeing to something that would end with her getting hurt. But the truth? The whole truth? He wasn't ready to tell her that because he knew, if he told her she would leave and he wasn’t ready. Not yet.
The thing between YN and Chan had long since become more than just a casual friendship based on a bet. They spent nearly every free moment together at night on rooftops, during skate sessions, in hidden corners of the city.
But while YN was finally beginning to trust someone, Chan was becoming increasingly aware that his feelings had never been part of the plan. They were growing stronger, more real. Yet the truth lingered in the background, and secrets never stayed hidden for long.
One afternoon after school, Chan was sitting with his friends when Jeongin suddenly grinned. "So, how’s it going with the skater rebel? Have you already won the bet, or is it still in progress?"
Chan froze. He wanted to protest, to say something anything but then he saw her. YN stood just a few feet away, her skateboard wheels still against the asphalt. She had heard everything. Her expression? A mix of disappointment and anger.
"What bet?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm. Chan opened his mouth, but no words came out. YN let out a dry laugh, shook her head, and turned away. "You know what? Just forget it."
"Wait, YN!" Chan jumped up, reaching for her wrist, but she pulled away.
"Just leave me alone, Chan." And then she walked away. This time, he didn’t know if she would come back. His friends? They laughed. Thought nothing of it.
His friends faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding in his chest. his mind scrambling for a way to fix what had just happened but there was none. The damage was already done.
"It was just a game, bro." But for Chan? It had never been just a game. Not anymore. Felix looked at him with concern the only one who wasn’t laughing.
"Hyung...?" Cautiously, the younger boy placed a hand on Chan’s shoulder. But Chan jumped to his feet and ran. Away from his friends. Away from himself. Away from the cruel things he had done not because anyone had forced him to, but simply because he had found them amusing.
He lost his appetite. He couldn’t focus in class. The places they used to go the skatepark, the rooftop felt wrong without her. It was like one of those teenage movies, the kind where the two main characters break up and are left reeling from heartbreak while melancholic music plays in the background.
The Truth, Too Late Yn was already turning. Her walls bult up higher than ever before. The music he used to listen to in the evenings sounded empty now. Every song reminded him of her her voice, her laughter, the way she had slowly started to trust him. And trust was something that, once broken, couldn’t be easily repaired. But the worst part? He had fallen in love with her. And he had lost her because of his own stupidity.
Chan knew that an apology wouldn’t be enough. Words meant nothing if they weren’t backed by actions. She had had enough of empty promises. But Chan refused to give up. He tried everything to reach YN messages, calls, even waiting outside her house. But she ignored him, refusing to see him, let alone speak to him. And Chan couldn’t even blame her. Still, he had to talk to her. He had to prove how much she meant to him.
So, he did the only thing left: he showed her. He showed up at the skatepark, despite hating skating. Tried to stand on a board and fell. Again. And again. And again. People laughed. His knees and hands bled. But he didn’t give up. And then, he entered the next skate contest. The one YN had been planning to compete in. Without hesitation, he signed up.
Of course, YN was there. When she heard his name announced, when she saw him step onto the course, she wanted to ignore him. But when she looked into his terrified eyes, when she watched him climb onto a skateboard with trembling legs, she couldn’t help but stop and stare. He was doing this for her. And she knew it.
He pushed off and failed. Spectacularly. One fall after another. But every time, he got back up. And then, in the middle of the crowd, he saw her. She was smiling just a little. But it was enough. Enough to give him the courage to keep going.
After his final attempt, he went straight to her. No words. Just him, breathless, his hands scraped and raw.
"I didn’t do it because of the bet," he said. "Not in the end. I wanted to get to know you. And then I didn’t want to lose you."
"Show me you mean it." And with that one sentence, Chan knew: he had a second chance. But this time, he had to earn it.
Chan had learned that love wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a competition to be won. And it was certainly never a bet. But he also knew one thing: he couldn’t give up. Not when it came to YN. He couldn’t just love her he had to truely stay.
Silence. Chan turned to YN. She looked at him as if she was seeing something new in him. Something real. Slowly, she stepped closer.
"You were not bad out there, Mr. Perfect," she whispered as they inched toward each other.
He grinned. "So… do I get my second chance now?" YN didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer and kissed him. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant. It was real. Full of unspoken words, of mistakes they were leaving behind, of possibilities still ahead. When she pulled away, she met his gaze, a challenge in her eyes.
"You’re not completely off the hook. But… that was a good start." Chan let out a quiet laugh, his heart pounding.
"Then let me prove that I’m always going to stay." And this time, YN knew he meant it.
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