pairing : yeon sieun x reader
warnings : bit of angst, mentions of hospitals
summary : sieun spent his days watching life from the sidelines, content with having nothing to lose. That’s until you arrived, and suddenly, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing the one thing that made him feel alive.
a/n : i highly recommend to listen to "sidelines" by Phoebe Bridges while reading this xx (if you’ve read my fanfic “unspoken”, you can consider this one as a beginning of their love story!)
You weren’t exactly excited to start another school day at Eunjang High. It wasn’t like anyone looked forward to it, but at least most people here had their little groups, their cliques, their drama. You didn’t.
Not even because you were shy, just selective.
It was easier to stay out of things when most of your classmates had their hands in something shady, fights, trouble, things you didn’t want to be wrapped up in. Most people were either too loud, too aggressive, or just... not your kind of company. You kept to yourself. And you were fine with that.
But today, your peace was interrupted when you stepped into class, early enough to avoid the hall crowd, only to find someone sitting at your desk.
You paused mid-step, pulling out one of your earphones.
The guy had his head down, arms folded like he’d been asleep there all night. He didn’t even flinch at the sound of the door.
You narrowed your eyes slightly. About to speak up when you caught a few murmurs behind you.
“Apparently he’s a genius.”
“Huh? Then why transfer here?”
“I heard he killed someone.”
You glanced sideways. The source of the whispers - two guys known for making up multiple rumours - caught your eye and quickly looked away, pretending they weren’t just gossiping two feet away from you.
You sighed and walked toward your desk. You weren’t superstitious, and you weren’t about to get into a rumor spiral on a Monday morning.
You reached the desk, second row from the back, and gently tapped the guy on the shoulder.
Nothing. So you leaned down a bit. “Hey.”
Finally, he stirred. Slowly, as if gravity worked harder on him than the rest of the world. His head lifted just enough for you to see his sharp half-lidded eyes.
You kept your voice neutral. “This is my desk.”
Then laid his head back down.
You stood there, frowning. Not because he ignored you, exactly - more because you had no idea what kind of interaction just happened.
After a second, you simply sighed and nodded to yourself, grabbing your bag to sit in the desk directly in front of him. It’s not like it was worth to pick a fight for a desk.
You put your earphones back in and was about to pull out your notebook to study some more material before the teacher comes, when you realised you had left it in the drawer of your desk.
You exhaled through your nose, already annoyed by that out of ordinary Monday and pulled out one earbud again before leaning back just enough to tap on his arm a second time. Maybe a little firmer this time.
This time, he didn’t lift his head, but you heard a faint sigh escape him.
You blinked, unimpressed.
“Okay?” you muttered, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “You’re the one who stole my desk? I just need the notebook inside it.”
He shifted slightly, slow and clearly reluctant, but eventually lifted his head just a little to lazily reach toward the drawer beneath the desk for your notebook.
His fingers brushed over the inside surface, then paused. Nothing. He glanced inside with a sliver more interest this time, hand searching again. Still nothing.
You narrowed your eyes, shifting your weight to one leg. “Move a sec.” you said, not exactly aggressive, just impatient.
You stepped forward and leaned down next to him, resting one hand on the edge of the desk for balance, your other brushing a few stray pens aside as you peered into the drawer yourself. He stiffened a little at how close you were standing, your presence very much in his personal space.
You leaned further, your hair nearly brushing his shoulder, lips slightly parted in thought as you scanned the empty drawer.
You clicked your tongue. “I swear I left it here-”
You paused, then smacked your forehead lightly. “Wait. No. No, I left it on my bookshelf.” You sighed and straightened up with a dramatic groan, brushing off your skirt and glancing at him for the first time.
And that’s when your eyes met.
He was already staring at you. Not startled, not nervous—just watching. Quietly. Unreadable.
You meant to say something, maybe a thanks or a joke, but the words kind of stuck for a second.
Because now that you were actually looking at him, really looking, he wasn’t quite what you’d expected.
That was the first time you actually saw his features.
His features were oddly soft, despite the deadpan expression. His eyes weren’t cold like you expected. They were wide and dark, kind of doe-like beneath the messy fringe of his hair. His skin was annoyingly clear, and his lips were full and soft-looking.
Then, clearing your throat, you took a step back, “Right. My bad.” you said flatly, waving your notebook-less hand in a vague gesture before returning to your new desk in front of him.
No reply. Just quiet breathing and the faint creak of him shifting in his seat again, lowering his head on his arms.
You slipped your earphones back in and leaned your cheek against your fist, trying to get back into the zone. But the silence behind you felt just a little different now.
Sieun stared at you a few more seconds before diving back into the arms of Morpheus, trying to stay unbothered by your sudden approaches.
He wasn't used to being noticed, not necessarily in the shy kind of way, more like he just didn't care to step into the spotlight. People were messy, unpredictable and often crossed lines that were then hard to redraw.
So he watched from the sidelines, kept his head down and slept through the noise. It was easier this way.
That same evening, you were leaving the school’s library later than usual. Finals were creeping closer, and you had more materials to catch up on than you liked to admit. The sun had already dipped below the buildings, and the streetlights had flickered on in their usual lazy rhythm.
Sieun, earphones in, hoodie on, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a few paces ahead on the empty sidewalk. You weren’t even sure it was him at first, but the way he dragged his steps, the slight slump of his shoulders… yeah, that was definitely him.
Your brain told you to just go home but your feet moved before you could think twice about it. You picked up pace, caught up to him, and gently tapped his shoulder.
He turned, a little startled, pulling one earbud out. His expression shifted the second he saw it was you, eyebrows lifting slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer than his usual stoic.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low but not unfriendly.
You grinned. “Following you, obviously.”
His eyes widened, not dramatically, but enough to make you laugh, glancing away sheepishly before adding, “I was just heading home from the library.”
You fell into step beside him, talking like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t put his earbuds back in either.
A few minutes later, you passed the small family-run restaurant you’ve gone to since you were a kid.
“I’m starving,” you said, already slowing your pace. “I’m eating here.”
He nodded slightly, like he was about to walk away.
But before he could, you slipped your arm around his—lightly, barely more than a hook—and guided him toward the door. He didn’t resist, but you felt him stiffen slightly, eyes glued to where your arms touched.
You greeted the older lady at the counter with your usual grin. She lit up at the sight of you and already began preparing your usual.
“Double it this time!” you called before heading toward your usual table and finally letting go of Sieun’s arm.
You sat down, still smiling, still talking about how your teacher gave a three-page worksheet for fun. But mid-sentence, you noticed him—still standing, his expression unreadable.
“I should go.” he said suddenly.
He shifted on his feet. “Thanks, but I have to go home.”
You frowned. “The food’s good, I swear. You’ll regret it!”
Sieun let out a soft sigh. Not annoyed, not angry, just tired.
“I don’t know why you’re like this,” he said quietly. “But I’m not looking to make friends.”
It wasn’t harsh. Just matter-of-fact. Like he was trying to set a boundary that even he wasn’t fully convinced of.
Your smile faltered, just for a second. You nodded slowly, but instead of pushing back, you just looked at him with a quiet calm.
“I didn’t say I was trying to be your friend,” you said, voice light, but steadier than before. “I just didn’t wanna eat alone.”
He stared at you a beat longer. Then another.
And then, slowly, wordlessly, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down.
You didn’t say anything for a few minutes as you noticed his small glances toward the door and the tension still clinging to his shoulders. But then you slowly started talking about a new story of yours, not expecting a response anymore, just making him comfortable in your company.
He didn’t laugh. But he listened. You could tell from the way his eyes would twitch at certain points, or how he shifted ever so slightly when something you said caught him off guard.
Then the food came, steaming bowls, a dozen tiny plates with pickled radishes and crispy kimchi, all warm and familiar.
You looked at him. He didn’t move. He just stared at the tray like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Without a word, you picked up your chopsticks and reached across his tray, placing a few of your favorite side dishes on top of his white rice. Nothing dramatic, nothing too much—just a quiet gesture. You didn’t say anything, just went back to eating your own meal, eyes on your bowl, giving him space to catch up.
For a moment, he didn’t move. And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he picked up his chopsticks. You didn’t look up, but from the corner of your eye, you saw him take a small bite of the rice you topped, chew, and swallow.
You smiled. Soft and barely-there.
He didn’t say a word. Neither did you. The restaurant filled the silence for you—soft clinks of metal bowls, the faint hum of an old TV in the back, the quiet muttering of the older lady behind the counter.
But for the first time in a long time, Sieun didn’t feel like he needed to leave right away. He didn’t feel the itch in his spine to retreat. He just stayed. Ate. Sat across from someone who didn’t expect him to be more than what he could offer.
That evening didn’t change everything. He didn’t suddenly start texting first or waiting outside classrooms like some eager cliché. He still kept to himself, still stayed quiet, still lived on the edge of everyone’s world. But somehow, you started to slip into his orbit without asking permission.
The classroom was half full when he walked in, earpods tucked in, expression unreadable. Same as always. But when he sat down, he noticed it.
A small pack of vitamin gummies on his desk. The same kind you were chewing the other day in the restaurant.
He stared at it. Then at you—already seated in front of him, pretending very obviously to tie your shoelace even though both shoes were still on.
You peeked back at him. “You gonna eat them or just burn a hole through the wrapper?”
He blinked once, slow. “You put this here?”
“Do you see anyone else giving you stuff to take care of your immune system?”
Silence. Then, Sieun reached out, slowly picked up the pack, and tucked it into his pencil case, avoiding your gaze.
Later that week, you caught up to him just after last period ended, your steps quick against the linoleum.
“Hey, wait up!” you called.
He didn’t. Not really. But he didn’t speed either which was new.
You fell into step beside him, out of breath. “You walk like someone’s chasing you.”
“I am.” he said without thinking.
Sieun didn’t reply. You tilted your head.
“That was... was that a joke?” you asked.
He stayed silent. The corner of your mouth twitched.
“I didn’t think you could do that!” You exclaimed, smiling excitedly.
Still no response. But the way he turned his face slightly toward the window told you he was hiding something. Perhaps the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The next shift in your dynamic happened by accident.
You were sitting under the small pavilion just outside the school gate, waiting for the rain to calm down. Most students had already left, but you’d forgotten an umbrella.
Sieun, earbuds in, walked past, only to stop halfway down the steps when he saw you. You waved your phone in the air. “No signal. Can’t even call for a ride.”
He stood there for a beat, then slowly walked back. Opened his umbrella.
You blinked. “Wait, are you—?”
“Come on,” he said, eyes not meeting yours.
You stood quickly, scrambling over, squeezing under the small umbrella with him. “It’s gonna be a tight fit.”
You were halfway down the block when you looked up at him. “I’ll pay you back for this heroic rescue. One day.”
“Didn’t think it was that special.” You chuckled.
“You’re the first person who took me out to eat something.” He admitted, his grip on the umbrella handle tightening slightly. “So it felt special to me.”
And in that moment—feet splashing in puddles, your shoulder brushing his, raindrops ticking against plastic—you realized the hard walls Sieun has been building up so hard throughout his entire life, were finally starting to fall apart.
The following week, you didn’t appear at school on Tuesday. At first, Sieun thought maybe you were just late. But class started. Then lunch passed. Then the final bell rang.
No teasing pokes to his ribs. No gummy vitamins tossed onto his desk. No sudden voice asking if he'd finally figured out how to smile.
And yet the silence was louder than anything you ever said.
He found himself packing his bag slower than usual. He kept glancing at your empty desk as though you’d come sprinting in, out of breath, waving some excuse and asking if he missed you too.
By the time he left the school building, his hands were already fishing out his phone. The screen glared back at him in the soft evening light, showing your last five messages, each one as chaotic and cluttered as your speech.
He’d replied, once. “You’re dramatic.” to which you replied with an offended sticker.
This time, for the first time, he typed first:
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to send as he wasn’t the best with words.
Then, his phone rang. He answered fast, too fast, maybe. But he wasn’t met with your voice.
He frowned slightly. “Yes?”
“I’m Y/N’s mom. I found her phone. I figured someone named Sieun would probably wonder since she’s been in the hospital since this morning…”
His world stilled. The word echoed, too loud in his ears. Hospital.
Y/N’s mom didn’t even have the time to explain what happened before Sieun hung up the call with trembling fingers. His brain couldn’t even process her tone or phrasing, the only word that rang loud in his head was hospital.
Ran past the gates of Eunjang, past busy streets and honking cars, ignoring the burn in his lungs and the ache in his legs.
When he reached the hospital, sweat sticking to the back of his neck and breath shallow, he didn’t stop to think about how crazy he must’ve looked. He walked up to the front desk with shaking hands, giving your name, waiting while they looked it up. His heart drummed against his ribs like a warning.
He made his way there, steps slowing the closer he got. The quiet of the hospital hallways made the tension worse.
When he stood in front of the door, his hand hovered over the handle. He wasn’t even sure what he’d say, or if he even should be here.
Laying down on the narrow hospital bed, eyes closed, IV hooked up to your arm. Your lips were parted in soft breaths, a blanket pulled up to your chest, your hair a bit messier than usual.
Sieun’s breath hitched. His feet locked in place.
He’d never seen you like this. Still. Quiet.
You always filled every space you walked into with noise, movement, warmth — and now you were just… still.
His chest tightened so hard it hurt.
Then, your brow furrowed and you let out a soft groan, shifting under the blanket. You stretched with a whiny noise, eyes fluttering open.
You flinched when you saw someone standing there.
Then smiled. “Hey!” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes, “you scared the hell out of me. You look like a ghost.”
But the moment you registered his expression, not angry, not sarcastic, just scared, your smile slowly fell.
He didn’t speak. He just stared.
You blinked. “Oh, right. Okay. I’m fine, I promise. I just fainted this morning because apparently I overworked myself. No sleep, too much coffee, etc.” You waved a hand. “They gave me some IVs, made me nap for hours, and now I’m fine. Look.” You stretched your arms up and wiggled your fingers. “Alive and functioning.”
But Sieun didn’t respond right away.
He walked closer slowly, eyes never leaving your face.
Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low, hoarse, like it got lost somewhere on the way there.
“I thought something happened to you.”
You softened, your lips parting. “I’m really okay. You didn’t have to run all the way here.”
Not because he snapped. But because it wasn’t like him to raise his voice, not even like that. It wasn’t loud, not really. But it was shaken.
“Sit for a minute.” you said softly, patting the chair next to your bed.
Sieun hesitated, his eyes flickering to the seat in the corner of the room, but finally he let out a long sigh and settled on the chair next to the bed — not quite next to you, but closer than he’d usually get.
“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, watching him. “Didn’t mean to worry you like that. I swear, I’m fine now. Just… a bit dramatic with the whole fainting thing.”
He didn’t answer at first. Just sat there, hands on his knees, gaze fixed on the IV line as if it offended him.
You tilted your head. “Are you mad at me?”
But you weren’t convinced.
“You know you didn’t have to come here.” you added carefully.
Finally, that got his attention. He turned slightly, eyes meeting yours. They looked tired, not physically, but something heavier.
“I wasn’t gonna come.” he said after a pause, voice low.
“Wow, thanks!” you teased gently, hoping to ease whatever tension was still coiled in him.
But he didn’t even crack a smirk.
“I wasn’t gonna come,” he repeated, “but the second I heard the word hospital, I just… moved.”
You blinked, surprised at how honest he sounded.
“I’ve never—” He paused. “I’ve never ran for anyone.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it.
“I didn’t think I cared that much,” he finished quietly. “But I do.”
You didn’t know what to say. You always teased him for being unbothered, unreadable, cold even. But now — now he was just a boy who didn’t know what to do with a feeling that showed up without warning.
You reached out, lightly tapping his knee with your fingers. “Well… you care,” you said softly. “And that’s kinda nice to know.”
He looked at your hand. Then at you.
You smiled. “Even if it took a hospital bed to get you to admit it.”
That earned the tiniest huff from him — not a laugh, not really, but close. A slight release of breath through his nose. For Sieun, that was basically a chuckle.
You leaned back into your pillow, watching him.
He didn’t move. Just stayed there, hand still clenched, like he didn’t know how to unwind from the day’s weight.
“Want me to scoot over?” you offered, patting the mattress.
He blinked at you like you were insane.
You snorted. “I’m kidding! … Unless?”
He shook his head, but you swore the corners of his mouth twitched.
You reached for your water bottle, took a sip, then tilted your head toward him. “You can stay a bit, if you want.”
“…Yeah,” he said after a long beat. “Okay.”
And just like that, the silence between you shifted — from tense to comfortable. And Sieun stayed.
But because he wanted to.
He sat there with his hands resting on his knees, eyes finally steady, no longer darting or restless. For the first time in a while, his mind wasn’t busy with numbers, deadlines, or that pressure to be something. It was just you. The sound of your voice, the faint beep of the IV machine, and the soft pull in his chest that he didn’t want to shake off.
All this time, he’d been watching the world from the sidelines — moving through it without ever really touching it.
But then you came into his life.
And now, for the first time… he wanted to know what it felt like — to want to stay.
Because now, he had something to lose.
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