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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

➜ summary: ni-ki likes his best friend. but sunoo thinks he likes self-sabotaging himself more.

pairing: ni-ki x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: best friends to lovers w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

a/n: hi friends! i'm finally back and have a little bit of time for myself to write this fic! hope u all like it! <3 also, happiest birthday to my bias, heeseung! :)

“Damn, you’re in this dorm room more than I am.”

The words came from Sunoo, somewhere behind you, muffled by the sound of your laughter. You were curled up on Ni-ki’s bed, half-buried in his gray hoodie that was a little too big on you, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk pretending to focus on his laptop.

He wasn’t. He never did when you were here.

“Well, I can’t help it,” you said, tossing a chip at Sunoo. “I just like the atmosphere.”

“The atmosphere,” Sunoo repeated, eyes sparkling. “You mean Ni-ki.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”

Ni-ki didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched, that small, barely-there smile he couldn’t suppress whenever you said something like that. He’d learned to hide it well. You talked too much, smiled too easily, filled the silence. You were everything he wasn’t, and somehow, the two of you got along too well.

“You two are disgusting,” Sunoo sighed, throwing a pillow at him next. “Ni-ki, blink twice if you’re tired of her stupid ass.”

Ni-ki blinked once. Slowly.

You laughed. “See? He loves me.”

He did. God, he did.

He loved you in ways you’d never notice. In the way his fingers brushed crumbs off your desk before you came over. In how he kept your favorite drink stocked in the fridge even though he never drank it himself. In the way he memorized your class schedule better than his own.

Literally. He once showed up an hour late to his psych lecture but somehow was always perfectly on time to pick you up from your Wednesday classes. You called it intuition. He called it sprinting across three buildings just to see your face light up when you saw him.

And when you laughed like how you always did, head tilted back, messy hair framing your face, it hurt a little. Because you were too close to him in every way but the one he wanted most.

“Don’t encourage him though, Sunoo,” you said, flicking your hair over your shoulder. “He’s probably bored out of his mind.”

But when your gaze met his, his heart stuttered.

Because bored was the last thing he’d ever be when it came to you.

“Do you ever get sick of her constant nagging? It’s like—we’re in college, we don’t need reminders of when our assignments are due.”

“Well, have you done it?” Ni-ki’s voice came from so close it startled you, his breath grazing your ear. It wasn’t even a whisper, but it lingered. The kind of proximity that felt too natural now. A little too natural.

You forced a scoff, trying not to show how your heart had tripped over itself. “No,” you muttered, turning just enough to meet his gaze. “But…I also just hate hearing her talk.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, soft but edged with amusement. “You hate everyone who gives homework.”

“Because assignments are the work of the devil,” you shot back. “And Mrs. Park—” you paused, shuddering dramatically, “she’s like metal in a blender. How can someone be both boring and loud at the same time?”

Ni-ki hummed lowly, closing his laptop with one hand while still leaning against the table beside you. “You still sit in the front row though.”

“That’s because you sit in the front row,” you countered. “I’m just being a supportive friend.”

“Right,” he said, one brow arching, “a supportive friend who copies my notes.”

You gave him a look. “Group effort!”

He smiled at that, softest curve of his lips that you almost missed if you weren’t already staring at him.

There was a beat of silence.

You could hear Sunoo humming faintly from the bathroom, some upbeat song you were sure was from that one cartoon about demons but couldn’t care to watch.

“God, Sunoo! Can you pipe down? I can’t focus!” you yelled, throwing your pen across the desk for dramatic effect.

“NO!” came Sunoo’s shrieked reply, echoing off the tiled walls.

You groaned, slumping over the desk. “He’s annoying.”

Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. When you turned to glare at him, he was already watching you, chin propped on his hand, eyes curved in that quiet, amused way that made your stomach twist.

“What?” you snapped, trying not to sound flustered.

“Nothing.” His lips tugged upward, just slightly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

You froze. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair this time, pretending to look at his laptop again. But the tips of his ears were pink, and you knew he was lying through his teeth.

You threw a pencil at him, it bounced off his shoulder harmlessly. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it, weirdo.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said smoothly, too smoothly.

That one stung a little, though you’d never admit it.

From the bathroom, Sunoo’s humming turned into full-blown singing. You stared at the door like it had personally wronged you. “I swear I’m going to lock him in there.”

Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, that low sound that always came from somewhere deep. “You’d miss him.”

You huffed. “No, I’d finally have peace.”

“Liar,” he said softly, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

You looked at him again. The lamplight hit his features in a way that made your throat go dry, sharp jaw, tired eyes, that small, knowing smile like he was thinking a thousand things he’d never say.

“Stop staring,” you muttered.

“I’m not.”

He was.

Ni-ki wasn’t a touchy-feely type of person. The last time he liked a girl was in kindergarten, and even then, it was mostly because she had the same colored lunchbox. He didn’t understand love, never cared to. It seemed messy and loud. Two things he carefully avoided.

He despised it, really.

Until you.

You weren’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be another stranger in the crowd that day, hurrying through the campus café, mumbling apologies when you bumped into him. But instead, there was the crash of his coffee spilling across his white jacket, the heat seeping into the fabric and then you.

You, with your wide, deer-like eyes and trembling hands clutching a handful of napkins like they could fix it.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, voice shaking as you dabbed helplessly at his chest. “I didn’t see where I was going—oh my god, your jacket—”

And Ni-ki, who should’ve been annoyed because it was his favorite jacket, and he hated being touched, and you were practically patting his chest like a mad woman, just…stood there.

Frozen.

Because all at once, his brain stopped working. His usual calm fractured under the sound of your voice, the scent of your shampoo, the way your eyes flicked up to meet his. And something in his chest, something rusted shut for years, change.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t fireworks or movie music. It was worse.

You finally looked up, breathless. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning, I promise.”

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to say something. “It’s fine,” he’d murmured, even though it wasn’t.

But it became fine, somehow. Because that was the moment everything started, the start of every long study night, every shared meal, every small favor that became an excuse to see you again.

And somewhere between all of that, he realized he didn’t despise love anymore. He despised how much it hurt to keep it quiet.

—

“Jungwon asked me out,” you said, dropping onto the couch beside Sunoo with a dramatic sigh. The cushions bounced from the impact. “Didn’t think he liked me like that.”

You shoved a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

Sunoo scoffed without looking up from the TV remote. “Oh please, he drools every time he’s near you.”

From across the room, the faint clack of a keyboard stopped.

Ni-ki’s head lifted just slightly, eyes flicking up from his laptop. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move but his jaw tensed just enough for Sunoo to catch it.

You didn’t notice. You never did.

He forced his attention back to the screen, pretending to type something. Pretending not to hear the rest of the conversation that was now clawing at his chest.

“He said he wants to grab dinner this weekend,” you went on, kicking your legs up over Sunoo’s lap. “I don’t even know if it’s, like, a date date. Maybe he just wants to hang out.”

Sunoo snorted. “Yeah, a hang out with romantic intentions and sweaty palms. Definitely platonic.”

You groaned. “Ugh, don’t make it sound weird.”

Ni-ki’s fingers hovered above the keys, unmoving. He wasn’t even reading the notes on his screen anymore. He could hear the laugh in your voice and the sound of it made something bitter stir at the back of his throat.

He’d known you for almost two years now. You came over to their dorm more than anyone else. You borrowed his hoodies, fell asleep on his bed, stole his pens, talked about everything under the sun except things like this.

Things that mattered.

Things that involved love.

Those conversations always went to Sunoo.

Sunoo…evil, grinning, tactless Sunoo.

Ni-ki shot him a look. Sunoo caught it immediately, his lips twitching. “What?”

Ni-ki shook his head. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

He hated how easily you talked to Sunoo about other guys, how your eyes sparkled when you gushed over a text, how you sought his opinion instead of his. But mostly, he hated how he’d built this quiet, careful version of himself around you that you never even thought to ask what he thought about you dating someone else.

“Do you think I should say yes?” you asked, glancing toward him at last.

Sunoo hummed dramatically. “Depends. Are you ready to make your favorite boy here third wheel every weekend?”

You laughed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Riki could never be a third wheel. If anything, any guy I date’s gonna be the third wheel. Right, Riki?”

You said it with a grin, tossing a popcorn kernel at him like it was all one big joke. But Ni-ki couldn’t even form a proper answer.

He wanted to agree. He wanted to play along, roll his eyes and throw a pillow back at you like he always did. But something about the way you looked at him made his throat tighten.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a little rougher than he meant. “Sure.”

Sunoo turned his head just enough to catch the flicker in Ni-ki’s eyes, and the teasing smirk that had been perched on his lips softened. Only for a second.

You didn’t notice. You’d already gone back to scrolling through your phone, humming under your breath.

Ni-ki’s gaze lingered on you, on the way you absentmindedly tugged the sleeve of his hoodie over your fingers, on the small crease between your brows when you were focused. His hoodie. His. And still, he wasn’t the one you came to when your heart fluttered.

It was strange, really. To sit a few feet away from someone who felt like home, and realize that home didn’t belong to you.

He forced his attention back to his laptop, pretending to read, pretending to breathe. “You’ll have fun,” he said finally, keeping his tone even.

You glanced up, smiling again. “You think so?”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

–

Ni-ki was asleep until he heard someone at the door knocking profusely. He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. Who the hell was banging at 3 a.m.? The vibration of it echoed through the thin dorm walls.

He checked his phone. 3:02 a.m. Of course. Probably Sunoo, out drinking again, forgetting his keys like always.

“Fucking Sunoo,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.

He trudged to the door, blanket half-draped over his shoulders. “For fuck’s sake, what—”

The rest of the sentence died in his throat.

It wasn’t Sunoo. It was you.

Your hair was a mess, your cheeks blotchy, and his hoodie hung off you like it was the only thing keeping you together. Your eyes were red, glassy, trembling.

“Hey, hey, hey…” The irritation bled out of him instantly.

He reached for you before you could even speak, arms wrapping around you in a way that felt instinctual. You collapsed against him, shaking, your face pressed into his chest.

“My cat died,” you whispered.

The words broke. So did something in him.

He tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of your head, thumb moving slowly against your hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You hiccuped, the sound small and raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

That line hit harder than you meant it to.

Because of course you came here, where else would you go at three in the morning?

And still, somewhere deep down, Ni-ki wished you’d come for him, not just the comfort he offered.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond, only buried yourself further into him. He stood there for a long moment, the chill from the hallway sneaking in around you both, his heart thudding heavy and uneven beneath your ear.

Eventually, he guided you inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Come on,” he whispered, steering you toward his bed. “You can stay here tonight.”

You nodded, eyes still wet. You didn’t notice the way he kept his distance for a moment, fighting the urge to pull you close again.

When you finally lay down, curling into the sheets, he sat at the edge, watching you in the dim glow from his desk lamp. Your breathing slowed. His didn’t.

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and sighed quietly. “You really kill me, you know that?”

But you were already asleep.

He sat there for a long time, the dim light from his desk lamp softening the room into quiet gold. You looked peaceful now, your breathing slow and even, nothing like the trembling mess that had stood at his door hours ago. His hoodie swallowed you whole, the sleeves falling over your hands, and the faint traces of tears still shimmered against your cheeks. You had fallen asleep clutching the edge of his blanket, like you were afraid it might slip away.

He knew he should look away, let himself rest, but he couldn’t stop watching you. It felt unfair that someone could be so close and still so unreachable. He memorized the way your hair fell against the pillow, the way your lashes cast shadows over your face. You were right there, and yet it felt like you were miles away.

“I wish you’d stop running to everyone else when it hurts,” he murmured.

He gave a small, humorless laugh under his breath and shook his head. “You’ll never know that, will you?”

He leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands. He was tired, but not the kind that sleep could fix. This exhaustion came from keeping too much inside, from swallowing every word.

“You’re not even awake,” he whispered, a note of frustration slipping through now. “What’s the point of saying anything?”

The words he wanted to say hovered at the back of his throat. I love you. They were there, aching, desperate, but he couldn’t let them out. Once he did, everything would change, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to lose you.

“Never mind,” he said finally. His voice was softer now, almost resigned. He pulled the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your arm for a second before he quickly withdrew his hand. “Goodnight, idiot.”

He turned off the lamp and lay down beside you, facing the wall. The room fell into stillness. He could hear your breathing behind him, steady and calm, while his own chest felt too tight to match the rhythm. He closed his eyes, pretending that it was enough just to have you there, even like this.

—

When Ni-ki woke up, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It wasn’t the usual mix of detergent, coffee, and leftover takeout that filled the dorm. It was something else. Something different.

For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. The air carried the scent of eggs and toast, something faintly sweet underneath. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, frowning at the light spilling in through the blinds. Then he heard it. The faint clatter of a pan. The soft shuffle of feet. The sound of you humming off-key under your breath.

He pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his neck, and shuffled toward the doorway. The scene that greeted him almost knocked the air out of his chest.

You were standing at the stove in his oversized apron, the one he’d bought on impulse during a grocery run with Sunoo because it was on sale. It practically swallowed you whole. The strings were tied clumsily in the back, the hem brushing against your knees. You were trying to flip a pancake with more determination than skill, your hair a mess and your face still puffy from crying the night before.

And somehow, you were still the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

Ni-ki leaned against the doorframe, watching you frown in concentration as the pancake folded in half mid-flip. You cursed softly under your breath, and he bit back a smile. The sight of you there, in his kitchen, in his clothes, moving around like you belonged, made something warm and unfamiliar spread through his chest.

“You’re awake,” you said when you finally noticed him. You looked up, spatula in hand, eyes wide for a moment before your face softened into a smile. “I was gonna surprise you.”

He blinked, still half-asleep, still not sure what to do with the image in front of him. “You did.”

You laughed quietly. “I wanted to say thank you. For last night.”

He stepped closer, the smell of syrup and butter wrapping around him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” you said, turning back to the stove. “You always take care of me, so I thought… maybe I could do the same, just once.”

The words hit him harder than they should have. He stood there for a second, heart thudding in a rhythm that didn’t match the quiet morning. He should have said something, but his voice felt stuck in his throat.

Instead, he reached over and gently took the spatula from your hand. “You’re burning it.”

You gasped, turning back to the pan in horror. “No, I’m not—oh my god, I am.”

He laughed under his breath, flipping the pancake easily. “You can’t even cook breakfast without starting a fire.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he thought for a moment that maybe, if he stayed still long enough, the world might stop spinning and stay like this forever.

Because this was the closest he’d ever come to having you.

–

The kitchen light hung above them, casting everything in that too-yellow glow that made the takeout they were eating look even more depressing. Ni-ki and Sunoo sat at the table with half-eaten boxes of fried rice between them. It was quiet. No laughter, no yelling, no sound of you rummaging through the fridge for snacks that belonged to Sunoo.

Sunoo slumped back in his chair and sighed dramatically. “Damn, it’s quiet without her here.”

Ni-ki poked his rice. “Yeah.”

The silence that followed was long enough for Sunoo to chew, swallow, and reconsider his entire life before he spoke again. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Ni-ki looked up, a single eyebrow raised. “Do what?”

Sunoo leaned forward, elbows on the table like he was about to reveal state secrets. “You know… keep all that bottled up. Your feelings for her.”

Ni-ki blinked once. “What feelings?”

Sunoo gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb, you literally turn into a lovesick dog whenever she’s around.”

“I don’t like her. I mean, I do but not like that.” Ni-ki’s tone was flat, too casual to be believable.

“Right,” Sunoo said, nodding like he was humoring a toddler. “If you say so.”

Ni-ki stabbed at a grain of rice.

“I’m not an idiot,” Sunoo continued, grinning. He pointed his chopsticks at him. “It’s so obvious. I wasn’t sure at first, but then that night she came over crying at three in the morning? The cat thing?”

Ni-ki froze. “What about it?”

“I saw you crashing out beside her.”

Ni-ki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a freak for peeking, by the way.”

“I heard crying at 3 a.m.,” Sunoo protested. “I thought a ghost came to drag you to hell. I was being a good friend.”

“You were being a nosy one.”

Sunoo smirked. “Semantics. Anyway, you were holding her so tight. It was cute. A little creepy, but cute.”

Ni-ki glared. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am. It’s like watching the world’s longest slow burn.”

Ni-ki shoved his plate toward him. “Eat your food before I throw it at you.”

Sunoo laughed, standing up to grab a drink from the fridge. “Just saying. You can only stare at her like that for so long before she notices.”

Ni-ki looked down at his hands, his voice low. “She won’t.”

Sunoo leaned against the counter, sipping his soda, his tone suddenly softer. “Yeah, not unless you want her to.”

Ni-ki didn’t answer.

Then the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.

Ni-ki shot him a look before getting up. His chair scraped against the floor, echoing through the apartment. He was halfway to the door when Sunoo called after him, voice dripping with mischief. “If it’s her, try not to look like you’ve been thinking about her for the past thirty minutes.”

“I don’t like her like that, Sunoo.” He rolled his eyes.

The second the door swung open, the world tilted.

You were standing there with a paper bag clutched in your hands, a nervous smile on your face. Jungwon stood beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every time either of you moved. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and he looked too at ease for Ni-ki’s liking.

“Hey,” you said softly, your tone shy but light. “We brought you something. We were at this new ramen place and thought you might want some too.”

Ni-ki blinked, his mind catching on one word. We.

Sunoo appeared beside him almost instantly, eyes glinting. “We? As in, you and Jungwon?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, um… we had dinner. Together.”

Jungwon smiled down at you. “It was kind of a date, actually.”

You swatted his arm, embarrassed, but the small, genuine laugh that followed made Ni-ki’s stomach tighten. Jungwon only grinned wider, brushing a stray crumb from your cheek with his thumb.

Ni-ki’s hands curled into fists in his pockets before he even realized it. The sight shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but there it was sharp and sour, spreading through his chest like something bitter.

Sunoo, of course, caught it immediately. He didn’t say anything yet, just bit back a knowing smile.

“Oh, how sweet,” he said instead, all mock delight. “You two should come in. Ni-ki was just saying how much he missed you.”

“I wasn’t,” Ni-ki muttered, jaw tight.

But you were already stepping inside, Jungwon following close behind. You slipped off your shoes and looked around the apartment, smiling faintly. “It’s cleaner than usual.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said smoothly, “we deep-cleaned to impress guests.”

You laughed, oblivious to the tension thickening the air. Jungwon placed the takeout on the counter, glancing around. “This place is cozy. You guys hang out a lot here?”

“All the time,” Sunoo said, his grin sharpening. “Especially her and Ni-ki. Practically inseparable.”

You elbowed him lightly. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“Not exaggerating,” Sunoo said cheerfully. “He gets withdrawal when you’re gone.”

Ni-ki gave him a look that could kill. “Sunoo.”

“What?” Sunoo blinked innocently. “Just saying.”

Jungwon chuckled, draping an arm casually over the back of your chair. “That’s cute, though. You guys must be close.”

You smiled at Ni-ki, eyes soft. “We are.”

He looked back at you for a moment too long before forcing a shrug. “Guess so.”

But his stomach turned when Jungwon leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “I get it. She’s easy to get attached to.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t push him away. You only laughed awkwardly, eyes darting to your hands. Ni-ki’s chest burned.

He wasn’t angry. Not exactly. Just… painfully aware of everything Jungwon got to do that he didn’t. The easy touches, the effortless closeness, the right to call it a date.

Sunoo didn’t miss the way Ni-ki’s expression cracked for half a second, the tension in his jaw, the tight grip on his drink, the faint twitch in his temple when Jungwon reached over and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

When you finally stood to leave, the air in the room was too still.

“Anyway,” you said, smiling, “thanks for letting us stop by. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Jungwon gave a friendly nod. “Later, man.”

Ni-ki barely managed a quiet, “Yeah. Later.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Sunoo was the first to break it. He turned slowly, his grin spreading like he’d just won the lottery. “Still won’t admit you like her?”

Ni-ki groaned, dragging both hands over his face. “Don’t start.”

Sunoo leaned against the counter, eyes gleaming. “You literally looked like you were watching your crush get proposed to, Ki.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, the way you flinched when Jungwon touched her? I almost felt bad for you. Almost.”

Ni-ki dropped his head into his hands with a groan that came out more like a growl.

Sunoo laughed, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “You’re so gone, man.”

Ni-ki didn’t even bother arguing this time. He just mumbled into his palms, voice muffled and defeated. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo said, grinning wider. “But you love her.”

—

The next morning, Ni-ki pretended he was fine.

He got up earlier than usual, showered, made coffee, even cleaned his desk. It was his foolproof routine for pretending not to think about things. But his mind kept circling back to last night, to you standing in the doorway with Jungwon, cheeks flushed from laughter, that paper bag crinkling in your hands. The way Jungwon leaned toward you, easy and familiar, like he had every right to.

Ni-ki tried to shake it off. He told himself it didn’t matter. You were free to go on dates with whoever you wanted. He was just your friend. A good friend.

By the time he stepped out of his room, Sunoo was already sitting on the couch, munching on chips at nine in the morning like the agent of chaos he was. He didn’t even look up, just smirked. “Morning, lover boy.”

Ni-ki ignored him. He grabbed his keys, his bag, and muttered something about heading to class early.

“Class doesn’t start for another hour,” Sunoo said around a mouthful of chips.

“Yeah. I know.”

Sunoo laughed quietly. “Running away already?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer. He just left.

–

Ni-ki had been avoiding you for three days.

Three days of walking the long way to class, of slipping out of the dorm whenever Sunoo mentioned your name, of replying to your messages hours late with short, clipped answers that didn’t sound like him at all. It was pathetic, maybe, but it was the only thing that worked. If he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t think about you. And if he couldn’t think about you, maybe he could stop feeling like this.

He told himself it was fine. You didn’t notice. You were busy. You had Jungwon now, and Jungwon made you laugh in a way Ni-ki hadn’t heard in a long time. That thought alone made his chest ache in a way that felt too raw to touch.

The afternoon sun was hot on his back as he crossed the quad, headphones in, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, pretending not to see the familiar flash of your jacket from the corner of his vision. Pretending not to hear your voice calling his name.

“Ki!”

His steps faltered, just once, but he kept walking.

“Ni-ki!”

You were closer now, footsteps quick behind him. He could hear the edge of confusion in your tone, a note of worry that made him grit his teeth. He didn’t want to turn around. If he did, he’d crumble.

You caught up anyway, your hand brushing against his sleeve. “Hey—why are you ignoring me?”

He stopped, just long enough to take a breath, but he didn’t look at you. “I’m not.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, panting lightly from the chase. “You’ve been avoiding me. You don’t answer texts, you barely say hi. Did I do something?”

Ni-ki forced a shrug, his voice even but hollow. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why—”

“I’ve got to go,” he cut in, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m late.”

You frowned. “Late for what? You don’t even have class now—”

But he was already stepping away. “I’ll see you around.”

You blinked, thrown off by how detached he sounded. “Ni-ki, wait—”

He didn’t. He just lifted a hand in a vague wave without looking back, his pace quickening until your voice grew smaller behind him.

“Ni-ki!”

He heard it again, echoing faintly through the courtyard, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry, and if he looked at you now, at the confusion on your face, at the hurt he’d put there, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.

So he kept walking.

When he finally reached the edge of campus, his pulse was racing, his palms clammy around the strap of his bag. He stopped beneath the shade of a tree and leaned against it, shutting his eyes for a second.

It didn’t help. All he could see was the look on your face when he walked away.

–

He saw you again a few days later.

He hadn’t planned to. He was on his way to a morning lecture, half-awake, headphones in, clutching a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. The campus walkway was crowded, a stream of students moving between buildings. He was fine, he told himself.

Then he saw you.

You were walking beside Jungwon, laughing at something he said, your hands moving animatedly as you talked. You looked as bright as always. The sight hit him before he could brace for it, a sharp, unrelenting pang right in the center of his chest. It wasn’t new, but it still knocked the air out of him every time.

He told himself to keep walking, to look away, but his eyes refused to listen. They found you easily, as if they were made for that. You turned mid-sentence, and when your gaze met his, your whole face lit up.

“Ni-ki!”

Your voice carried above the hum of the crowd. You lifted your hand to wave, already starting toward him. For a heartbeat, something in him lurched forward, his instinct, his want, every part of him that missed you.

Then he looked away.

He pretended he hadn’t seen you, slipping his earphones back in, fixing his eyes straight ahead. His footsteps quickened, the click of his shoes against the pavement louder than your voice behind him. He didn’t look back.

His pulse was hammering. He didn’t even know where he was walking anymore, only that he had to move, had to get away before the expression on your face burned itself into his memory too deeply.

He told himself it was better this way. That he was protecting what you had by keeping his distance. But the truth clawed at him with every step. It was killing him not to be next to you. Not to hear your laugh up close, not to have you filling the silence beside him the way you always used to.

He missed you so much it made him feel sick.

And the worst part was, he didn’t even know how to stop.

His feelings were eating him alive, piece by piece, and all he could do was keep walking, pretending he hadn’t seen the only person who made him feel anything at all.

—

Ni-ki sat cross-legged on the floor, a paintbrush balanced loosely between his fingers, music bleeding faintly from his headphones. The smell of watercolor and paper filled the air, the kind of quiet comfort that usually helped him think, or not think, depending on the day. His canvas lay across his lap, soft strokes of blue and gray slowly taking shape. He wasn’t sure what he was painting anymore; it had started as an assignment, but now it just looked like a mess.

When the water cup tipped over, it happened too fast. The murky liquid spilled across the corner of his canvas, seeping through the paper in blotches of brown and gray.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his headphones off and reaching for a towel. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

He was halfway through dabbing at the mess when the door slammed open. The sudden bang of it hitting the wall made him jump, paintbrush clattering onto the floor.

“What the hell—” he started, turning around.

Sunoo stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression thunderous. “What’s this I hear about you ignoring her?”

Ni-ki blinked. “Who told you—”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Sunoo snapped, stepping into the room. “You’ve been acting weird for days. She came looking for you this morning, by the way. You weren’t here. Again.”

Ni-ki exhaled slowly, sitting back on his heels. He didn’t even try to deny it. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I like her.”

For a second, Sunoo froze, like he hadn’t expected him to actually admit it. Then his jaw dropped. “And your big plan is to ignore her?” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “Are you stupid, or are you fucking stupid?”

“Look,” Ni-ki said, dragging a hand through his hair, his tone edged with exhaustion. “It’s clear she and Jungwon are trying to be a thing. I don’t want to get in the way. I’m not that guy.”

Sunoo scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re unbelievable. She’s not even taken yet, and you’ve already given up? You’re just gonna roll over and die while someone else gets her?”

Ni-ki’s eyes flicked up, tired but firm. “It’s not about that. I just… want her to be happy.”

“Happy?” Sunoo repeated. “You think she’s happy right now?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer. He looked down at the ruined canvas, the water still dripping down the side of it. His reflection stared back faintly in the puddle.

“She’s not happy,” Sunoo said, his voice softer now. “You’re her friend, Ni-ki. She doesn’t even know why you’re avoiding her. She thinks she did something wrong.”

Ni-ki’s throat tightened. He stared at the paint-stained towel in his hands, fingers trembling slightly.

“I just can’t be around her,” he said finally, his voice low.

Sunoo crouched beside him, the anger gone now, replaced with something gentler. “You really love her, huh?”

Ni-ki gave a small, broken laugh. “Yeah. Enough to stay out of her way if that’s what she wants.”

Sunoo sighed, shaking his head. “You know what your problem is? You keep thinking love means disappearing. It doesn’t.”

Ni-ki didn’t respond. He just stared at the smeared paint spreading across the paper, watching the colors bleed into each other.

Sunoo clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm but not unkind. “Stop being a coward, Ki. Before you lose her for real.”

And for the first time in days, Ni-ki didn’t have a single thing to say back.

—

Ni-ki hadn’t slept the entire night.

He lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word Sunoo had thrown at him hours ago. She’s not even taken yet. You won’t fight for her? The words burrowed deep, kept circling back every time he shut his eyes. He hated that Sunoo was right. You weren’t with Jungwon. Not officially, anyway. But you could be. Soon.

Technically, he could still fight for you.

He could still tell you everything. How his chest ached when you smiled at someone else. How every time your hand brushed his, it left a mark that didn’t fade. He could still try. But instead, he’d spent days pretending he didn’t see you, days convincing himself you were happier without him.

He rubbed at his tired eyes, the room still bathed in the blue light of dawn. His paintbrushes were scattered across the desk, his ruined canvas lying forgotten beside a half-empty cup of cold coffee. Jungwon was perfect for you. Handsome. Smart. Kind. The kind of guy people didn’t have to second-guess. Maybe that was what hurt most of all.

Ni-ki didn’t want him for you. He wanted himself for you.

Enough was enough.

He sat up suddenly, the decision hitting him all at once. He grabbed the first hoodie he could find, pulled it over his head, and shoved his feet into his sneakers. Maybe you were still awake. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix things.

He snatched his car keys from the desk, heart hammering as he moved toward the door. But when he swung it open, ready to finally face you, he froze.

You were standing right there.

Your eyes were bloodshot, your hair messy like you’d been crying for hours. In your hands was the little stuffed bear he’d won for you at the carnival last year, the one you used to keep on your bed.

He gulped, caught completely off guard. “I was just about to—”

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice cracked halfway through, the words trembling in the air between you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, eyes wet and desperate. “I’ve been wrecking my brain for days. Did I do something wrong?”

Ni-ki’s breath caught. For a second, he couldn’t move. You were shaking, your fingers twisting the hem of the hoodie you wore… his hoodie. He could see how red your nose was, how uneven your breathing had become. You looked heartbroken, and it hit him like a punch to the chest.

He hadn’t meant for it to get this far. He hadn’t meant to make you think he hated you, or that you weren’t enough, or that you’d done something wrong. All he’d wanted was to keep his feelings under control, but somehow, all he’d managed to do was hurt you.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

You took a small step closer, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

And just like that, Ni-ki felt everything crumble. Every wall he’d built, every reason he’d told himself for staying away, it all collapsed under the weight of your shaking voice and the sight of that stupid stuffed bear clutched in your hands.

How could he do this to you?

You stood there trembling, eyes glassy and raw, clutching that little stuffed bear. He couldn’t stand it. The sight of you crying because of him was worse than anything he’d imagined.

He didn’t even think. His body moved before his brain did.

He reached for you and pulled you in. The bear was squished between you, but you didn’t let go of it. You just collapsed against his chest, the sound of your shaky breathing breaking what was left of him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He said it again, and again, each time quieter than the last. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head against him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie.

He held you tighter. He could feel your heartbeat pressed against his, fast and uneven. His own chest ached with the rhythm of it.

“I keep hurting you,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I don’t even know how to stop. I just… didn’t want to make things worse.”

You didn’t answer, just buried your face deeper into his shoulder. Your tears soaked through the fabric, but he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes, pressing his chin lightly against your hair, breathing you in like he’d been starved for it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered one last time, the words catching somewhere in his throat.

And for the first time in days, he stopped running.

The two of you were in his room now. The chaos from earlier had faded into stillness. The air smelled faintly of paint and soap, the window cracked just enough for the night breeze to slip in. You sat beside each other on the edge of his bed, knees almost touching, the stuffed bear still resting in your lap.

You’d stopped crying. The redness in your eyes had softened, though your lashes were still damp. Ni-ki’s hoodie hung loose around you, the sleeves falling over your hands. You were quiet. The both of you were.

Ni-ki’s mind was loud. Too loud. Every thought tangled into the same loop of regret and longing. He wanted to speak, but the words felt heavy in his mouth, like anything he said would make it worse. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were staring down at the floor, your fingers worrying the hem of the bear’s little bow.

You were waiting. For him.

He swallowed hard, the silence stretching thin between you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said finally. His voice was soft, almost hoarse.

You gave a small nod, still not meeting his gaze. “Then why did you?”

He blinked, startled by how steady your tone was. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“With what?” you asked, turning toward him now.

He hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “Everything. You. Me. The way it all started to feel.”

Your breath hitched, but you stayed still. He kept his eyes fixed on his hands, afraid that if he looked at you, he’d lose his nerve.

“I thought if I stayed away,” he said quietly, “it would hurt less. For both of us.”

“What do you mean?”

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell you how he actually felt. The thought pressed down on him, heavy and restless, like it had been waiting for this exact moment to rise up and choke him.

You sat there beside him, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your shoulder. The space between you was small, but it felt like miles.

Ni-ki’s throat was dry. He could feel the words forming, desperate to be said, but every version sounded wrong. What if he said it and ruined everything? What if you didn’t feel the same, and this was the last time you’d ever sit next to him like this?

His fingers twisted the blanket tighter in his hands. He kept his eyes down, staring at the faint stains of watercolor still smudged on his nails. “It’s complicated,” he said at last, his voice so soft it barely reached you.

You turned a little more toward him. “Then explain it to me.”

He shook his head, a weak laugh slipping out that didn’t sound like amusement at all. “If I tell you, you’ll look at me differently. I don’t think I can handle that.”

You frowned, confusion flickering across your face. “Ni-ki, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

He wanted to say you. He wanted to tell you that every time he’d tried to pull away, he’d only fallen deeper. That seeing you smile at Jungwon made something inside him splinter in a way he didn’t know how to fix.

Instead, he swallowed the words, forcing his voice steady. “Forget it,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”

You stared at him, jaw tightening. You were done with this. Done with the way he drifted close one moment and pulled away the next, the way he said nothing but made you feel everything.

Before he could look away again, you reached out and grabbed his face, your palms pressing against his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re telling me now.”

Ni-ki froze. His heart stuttered so violently it almost hurt. He hadn’t expected you to touch him. His skin burned under your hands, and all at once, the space between you disappeared. Your faces were close. He could see the faint gloss on your lower lip, the way your lashes flickered with every uneven breath.

“Jesus,” he breathed, eyes darting from your gaze to your mouth and back again. “I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” you cut in, your voice cracking with frustration. “You ignored me for a whole week, Ki. You don’t get to say it doesn’t matter. I deserve to know whatever the hell is ruining our friendship.”

Ni-ki exhaled, the sound heavy, shaky. His hands gripped the blanket beneath him as if holding on to something solid might keep him from unraveling completely. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said finally, his voice low, raw.

You laughed under your breath, bitter and disbelieving. “This—this push and pull thing you’re doing is ruining it!” The words came out louder than you intended, breaking the fragile quiet that had filled the room.

He flinched. His eyes flicked away, then back to you, guilt flooding his face. The truth sat like a stone in his throat, pressing harder with every second you looked at him like that, a little angry but very hurt, and still somehow impossibly close.

He didn’t know what would hurt more anymore: losing you for saying what he felt, or losing you because he was too afraid to say it.

“You’re—you’re killing me, Ki!” you said, your voice trembling. “This whole game, I don’t want to play anymore. I just want my Ni-ki back—”

“THAT’S JUST THE THING!”

His voice exploded through the room before he could stop himself.

You froze. The sound of it cracked something in the air, sharp and sudden. You flinched at the volume, instinctively pulling back, your hands still half-raised as if you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He was on his feet now, shoulders heaving, chest rising and falling as he finally looked at you. There was anger in his eyes, yes, but underneath it sat weeks of exhaustion, guilt, and the kind of heartbreak that made him look older than he was.

“I’m not your Ni-ki,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through the words.

You stared up at him, breath shallow, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else. “Wh—what?” you whispered, afraid of the answer.

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping a few feet away. His eyes darted toward you, then down to the floor. “You keep saying that. Your Ni-ki. Like I’m this…safe thing you can come back to. Like I’ll always be there no matter what. But I can’t keep doing that, because every time you look at me like I’m just your friend, it feels like I’m tearing myself apart trying to be okay with it.”

Your throat tightened, words caught somewhere between disbelief and guilt.

Ni-ki laughed under his breath, quiet and bitter. “I wanted to stay close to you. I wanted to be there even if you never looked at me the same way. But it’s driving me insane, pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He looked up then, meeting your eyes again. His voice softened, but it shook slightly. “I’m not your Ni-ki. Not the way you think I am.”

You were stunned into silence. The air between you felt heavier than the walls could hold.

Ni-ki’s words echoed in your head, sharp and shaking at the same time. I’m not your Ni-ki. You looked at him, searching for the boy who’d always been steady but he wasn’t that boy anymore. His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight, his chest still rising and falling from the force of what he’d said.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your throat felt dry. The reality of it hit slowly, like a wave that started small and then crashed all at once. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what he meant.

But knowing and accepting were different things.

You turned away, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the stuffed bear still lying on his bed. You couldn’t look at him again. Not now. Not when the air between you was filled with everything you’d both been avoiding.

“I—” he started, voice soft now, desperate.

But you shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t.”

And before he could reach for you, before you could break down and ask him to take it back, you ran.

You slipped out of his room, out of the suffocating stillness, the door clicking shut behind you with a sound that made his stomach drop.

Ni-ki stood there, frozen, the echo of your footsteps fading down the hallway.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

He’d spent weeks avoiding you to protect himself, and now, when he’d finally told you the truth, you were the one running.

And somehow, that hurt even more

—

You didn’t remember leaving the dorm. You didn’t remember the stairs or the way the night air stung your face as you ran. You just remembered your heartbeat in your ears and the way your chest felt too tight to breathe.

By the time you stopped, you were standing in front of Jungwon’s apartment, your fists pounding on his door. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. A light flicked on inside, footsteps followed, and then the door creaked open.

Jungwon stood there in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s—” he glanced at the clock on his wall “—two in the morning.”

You tried to answer, but the words tangled up and broke apart before they could leave your throat. All that came out was a choked sob.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he said quickly, stepping aside. “Come in.”

The warmth of his apartment hit you as soon as you stepped in, but it didn’t make the shaking stop. You sank onto his couch, hands covering your face as tears spilled over, messy and uncontrollable. Jungwon hovered for a second, clearly panicking, then grabbed a box of tissues from the table and handed it to you like it might fix everything.

“Okay,” he said slowly, crouching down so you had to look at him. “What happened? Did someone say something? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, the words spilling out in fragments between sobs. “It’s—Ni-ki. He—he told me he—he said—”

Jungwon’s brows knit together. “Told you he what?”

You took a shaky breath. “That he liked me. That it hurts to be around me. That he’s not my Ni-ki anymore.”

He blinked, confused for a moment, then sat back on his heels. “Wait. Isn’t that… good?”

You looked at him through teary eyes. “What?”

“I mean,” Jungwon said carefully, rubbing the back of his neck, “isn’t that what you wanted? We literally went on fake dates to make him jealous.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening all over again. “I know. I know, but—” You pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to stop the tears. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

Jungwon sighed, sitting beside you. “What did you expect to happen?”

“I don’t know!” you said, your voice cracking. “I just thought… maybe he’d notice me. Maybe he’d care. And he did, but now everything’s just—” You swallowed hard. “Now it’s all messed up. He looked so angry, and I just ran. I ran like an idiot.”

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, sympathy softening his face. “You like him,” he said quietly. “You’ve always liked him.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You just sat there, clutching a tissue in your trembling hands, trying to figure out why you’d let it get this far. Why you’d turned something that used to be so simple into something so painful.

And as the minutes passed, the only thing you could think about was Ni-ki’s voice, sharp and broken in your memory. I’m not your Ni-ki.

You buried your face in your hands again and started to cry all over.

You sat there on Jungwon’s couch long after you’d stopped crying, eyes swollen and throat raw. The tissue box sat empty beside you. You were staring at your hands, at the faint creases where the tissues had crumpled between your fingers.

Jungwon had stopped trying to talk a few minutes ago. He was sitting on the floor now, leaning back against the coffee table, scrolling aimlessly through his phone to give you space. Every now and then, he’d glance up, just to make sure you were still breathing.

You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fight, or the realization that you’d caused it.

Because now that the shock had worn off, and your thoughts were starting to settle, the truth was sitting there plain as day. You liked Ni-ki. You’d liked him for a long time. Maybe you even loved him. But instead of telling him, instead of facing it, you’d made a game out of it. You’d gone on fake dates. You’d let Jungwon tease him, let Sunoo stir the pot, let yourself watch his reactions like they were proof of something you didn’t have the courage to ask for.

And now you’d broken him with it.

You pressed your palms against your eyes again, a weak sound escaping your throat. “What the hell have I been doing?” you whispered.

Jungwon looked up. “You’ve been being human,” he said gently. “Dumb, but human.”

You laughed, a small, pathetic sound that immediately dissolved into another sniffle. “He must hate me now.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Jungwon said. “He’s just… hurt. You two both are.”

You nodded, even though that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I was so busy trying to make him jealous I didn’t realize I was just hurting him,” you said quietly.

Jungwon shrugged, giving a small smile. “Hey. For what it’s worth, you did make him jealous. Like, record-breaking levels of jealous.”

That almost got a real laugh out of you. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he said. Then, softer, “You still have time to fix it.”

You looked down at your hands again. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe start with not running away next time,” Jungwon said.

You let out a long, shaky sigh and nodded. The weight in your chest didn’t lift, but it settled into something steadier. Something like determination.

You knew what you felt now. You were sure of it.

And you hated yourself for realizing it only after you’d been the one to break him.

By the time you were done wallowing in self-pity, the sun had already crept through the curtains. Jungwon was passed out on the couch, one leg hanging off the edge, an empty mug balanced dangerously on the coffee table beside him.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, realizing how long you’d been sitting there. It was already eight in the morning. Your head hurt, your eyes stung, and your heart still ached but underneath all of it was something else now. Clarity.

You were done running.

You took a breath, stood up, and crossed the room. “Jungwon,” you said softly, shaking his shoulder.

He groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Jungwon,” you said again, a little louder.

He didn’t move.

You frowned and shook him harder. “Jungwon, wake up—”

In a flash, his arm shot up. His hand smacked across your cheek with a sharp slap.

“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, stumbling back and clutching your face.

His eyes flew open, bleary and wild. “Don’t—don’t sneak-attack me when I’m asleep!”

You stared at him in disbelief, then smacked him right back on the arm. “That hurt, you idiot!”

He winced, sitting up and rubbing his face. “You started it!”

“You hit me!”

“You woke me up at 8!”

You groaned, running both hands through your hair. “I don’t have time for this.”

Before he could protest, you grabbed his car keys from the table and shoved them into his hands. “I need you to drive me to Ni-ki’s.”

He blinked, still half-asleep. “Now?”

“Yes, now.” You were already pulling him off the couch, practically dragging him toward the door.

“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” he muttered, trying to pry his arm free.

“No,” you said firmly. “His first class is at 9. We have to be quick before he leaves.”

Jungwon squinted at you, finally registering the urgency in your voice. “You’re really gonna do it, huh?”

You nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m gonna tell him.”

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, alright. Give me two minutes. Gotta pee.”

“You have one,” you said, already waiting by the door.

As he stumbled toward his room, muttering under his breath, you pressed your palms together to stop them from shaking. You were tired. Terrified. But for the first time in days, you felt like you were finally doing something right.

You were going to tell Ni-ki the truth.

–

Ni-ki hadn’t really slept. Maybe three hours, on and off, the kind of restless half-sleep that never gave him any peace. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you standing in his doorway, crying, clutching that stupid bear like it was the last piece of him you could hold. Every time he drifted off, he heard his own voice again, louder than he’d meant it to be. I’m not your Ni-ki.

He groaned as he sat up, pressing his palms over his eyes. His head felt heavy, his chest worse. Still, he went through the motions. Pulled on a hoodie, shoved his books into his bag, and sprayed a couple pumps of cologne. The scent didn’t make him feel any less like trash.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and checked the time. 8:40. If he left now, he’d make it to his first class. Maybe he could pretend to be normal for a few hours before collapsing back into self-loathing.

He stepped outside, blinking against the morning light. The air was sharp and cool, the campus still half-quiet. And then he saw you.

You were stepping out of Jungwon’s car.

Ni-ki stopped walking. The first thing he noticed, against his will, was that you were still in the same clothes from last night. His stomach twisted. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. But his brain wouldn’t stop.

Of course.

Of course the first thing you did after he confessed, or whatever that meltdown last night had been, was run to Jungwon.

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a genius.”

He watched, even though he shouldn’t have. You stood by the car door, trying to fix your hair, and Jungwon reached over and gently tucked a strand behind your ear. You laughed, a small, tired sound, but it still made Ni-ki’s chest ache.

He tore his gaze away, jaw tight. “God, I’m an idiot,” he whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He should have known better. Should have kept his mouth shut. Should have known that loving you meant watching from a distance while you smiled at someone else. Someone who didn’t have to fight himself every second just to stay sane around you.

He started walking again, fast, pretending not to see you. Pretending not to care. But the image wouldn’t leave his head. Jungwon’s hand brushing against your hair, the sunlight catching your face, the faint smile you gave.

He hated how easily he noticed you. He hated how badly it hurt. And more than anything, he hated himself for not being able to stop looking.

He finally turned away.

His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, each step heavier than the last. He told himself not to look back. Not this time. If he kept walking, maybe the ache in his chest would dull by the time he reached class.

Then he heard it.

“Ni-ki!”

The sound of your voice froze him in place.

He stopped mid-step, his pulse catching. He turned slowly, like he was afraid of what he’d see.

You were running toward him.

The morning sun hit your hair as you moved, your bag slung over one shoulder, your breath visible in the cool air. Jungwon was still by the car, watching with his arms folded, but you didn’t seem to notice him anymore.

Ni-ki just stood there. His stomach twisted, every part of him torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

You finally stopped in front of him, out of breath, eyes wide and unsure. He couldn’t read your expression. You looked like you hadn’t slept either.

“Ni-ki,” you said again, quieter this time.

He swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

You hesitated, searching his face. “I came to talk to you.”

He looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag. “You should be talking to Jungwon.”

You frowned, stepping closer. “I did. He drove me here.”

Ni-ki let out a weak laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course he did.”

He couldn’t help himself. The bitterness came out before he could swallow it down. “Look, I get it. You and Jungwon are in love or whatever. That’s fine. But I literally just told you how I feel, and the first thing you do is show up with him? You couldn’t wait a day before rubbing it in my face?”

His words were low but sharp. He hated how small they sounded once they were out. He hated how he could feel jealousy twisting in his chest even as he said them.

You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “Ni-ki, it’s not like that—”

He laughed again, short and humorless. “It doesn’t matter. I get it. I said something I shouldn’t have, and it probably messed things up. I just wish—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see the tremble in your hands. Before he could say another word, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.

Ni-ki’s breath caught. His whole body went still.

You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not like that,” you said softly.

For the first time that morning, he didn’t have a single word left to argue with.

You took a shaky breath, eyes glimmering with guilt. “The whole thing with Jungwon… it was just a way to make you jealous. I know it’s stupid. Immature. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”

He blinked, still too stunned to speak.

You started rambling, words spilling out faster than you could stop them. “I mean, Jungwon’s nice and all, but he’s not even my type. He farts all the time, Ki. All the time. It’s gross and it’s even worse when he eats spicy food. And he burps in my face like all the time, it’s disgusting.”

Ni-ki’s eyebrows furrowed, caught between confusion and disbelief. “What does that have to do—”

“I’m serious,” you said, nodding desperately. “So you really don’t have to be jealous, okay? He’s gross. You, on the other hand—” you stopped, realizing how much you were saying. “You smell nice. And you treat me like a princess. And you—”

“Still jealous,” Ni-ki muttered under his breath.

You blinked, flustered. “I’m saying you don’t—”

Before you could finish, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you in one sharp, dizzying second. His hand came up to cup your jaw, and then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It was messy, rushed, a little breathless but it silenced every word you had left.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His voice was quiet, steady, but there was the faintest smile in it. “I’d like to start this relationship without mentioning the devil himself.”

You barely had time to respond before someone cleared their throat behind you.

Both of you turned.

Jungwon stood there awkwardly at the edge of the sidewalk, hair sticking up, his hoodie half-zipped. “Uh… I kind of need my house keys back,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

Ni-ki groaned. You covered your face.

Jungwon grinned. “So… I’m just gonna… pretend I didn’t hear what you said about me being…a…devil.”

He held out his hand expectantly. You shoved the keys at him without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully. “And, uh… congratulations, I guess.”

He turned and started walking away, whistling under his breath.

Ni-ki sighed, looking back at you. “I really hate that guy.”

You laughed, still pink-faced. “No, you don’t.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe not. But I like you a lot more.”

And before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you again.

—

The movie flickered across the screen, half drowned by the sound of popcorn crunching. You were curled comfortably on Ni-ki’s lap, his arm around your waist while he fed you one kernel at a time. Sunoo sat right beside the two of you with a bowl of his own, pretending not to gag.

“This is disgusting,” he muttered, eyes still on the screen. “Get a room.”

Ni-ki smirked. “We have one. You’re in it.”

You leaned back against Ni-ki’s chest, hiding a smile as his hand absently brushed through your hair.

Then someone knocked on the door.

You perked up immediately and jumped off Ni-ki’s lap. “That must be Won!”

Ni-ki frowned. “Won?”

“Yeah, he’s the one getting us pizza, remember?”

“I think I’d remember if that little turd was coming over for dinner.”

You sighed, already walking to the door. “Ki, you said you’d be nice.”

“I am nice,” he said, pointing lazily at you. “To you. To Sunoo.”

Sunoo didn’t even look up. “You are not nice to me.”

Ni-ki smirked. “I gave you the last Pop-Tart.”

“That’s only because it was expired, you shithead.”

Ni-ki just shrugged.

You opened the door, and Jungwon stood there, smiling, pizza boxes stacked in his arms. “Delivery service at your command.”

Before you could even say thank you, he leaned in for a friendly hug. “Hey, you.”

Ni-ki was on his feet in an instant. He crossed the room, gently pulled you back, and glared over your shoulder. “Hello, Jungwon.”

Jungwon blinked. “Hey, man, I told you you can call me Won.”

“Yeah. Okay, Jungwon,” Ni-ki said, voice flat as he reclaimed his spot on the couch and pulled you right back into his lap like it was a territorial sport.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You two are exhausting.”

You giggled, settling back against Ni-ki’s chest. “He’s just being dramatic.”

You set the boxes down on the table while Jungwon started opening them. “I got you one without pineapple because I know you hate it.”

You lit up. “Yay, you remembered!”

“Of course,” Jungwon said, handing you a plate like an overachiever.

Ni-ki could practically hear the sound of his blood boiling. Of course he remembered. Of course he’d get the pizza right. He sat there, jaw tightening, watching you beam at Jungwon.

Sunoo glanced at Ni-ki from the corner of his eye, smirking. “You’re glaring again.”

“I’m not,” Ni-ki muttered.

“You are.”

“I’m watching the movie.”

“There’s nothing playing,” Sunoo said dryly.

Ni-ki glared harder. “Exactly.”

You turned back toward the couch, a slice in hand. “Ki, you want some?”

He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “Yeah. Sure. The one with pineapple.”

Sunoo snorted. “You hate pineapple.”

“I love pineapple,” Ni-ki snapped, taking the slice from your hand as if to prove it.

Jungwon chuckled. “He doesn’t have to be jealous, you know. I just like taking care of my friends.”

Ni-ki froze mid-bite, coughing once. “I’m not jealous.”

“You sure, buddy?” Jungwon teased.

You rolled your eyes. “The both of you are being ridiculous.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Jungwon beat him to it. “By the way, I saw your basketball game the other day,” Jungwon said casually. “Your last shot was insane. I got it all on camera.”

Ni-ki blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait. You recorded that?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, sitting down beside Sunoo. “I was near the bleachers. The lighting was trash, but you still looked cool.”

Ni-ki’s annoyance faltered for the first time all night. “You’re serious? I’ve been trying to find someone who got a video of that. Sunoo was supposed to record for me, but he was too busy taking selfies.”

Sunoo gasped. “Well, I’m sorry if the lighting was perfect, and I looked amazing.”

Ni-ki groaned. “You literally took fifty pictures of yourself and not one of the game.”

“Because it’s literally just guys in baggy clothes flinging balls around,” Sunoo shot back. “It’s a waste of time.”

Jungwon laughed. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about doing commentary or recording for sports. I’m kind of obsessed with the technical side of it.”

Ni-ki perked up instantly. “Really? Would you like want to help me tape my next game?”

“Totally,” Jungwon said, grinning. “I could even help you analyze plays. You’ve got good form, but your footwork—”

Ni-ki’s eyes lit up. “Shit, you noticed that too? Everyone says I overthink it, but I swear my timing’s just off.”

You exchanged a glance with Sunoo, both of you watching as the tension between them evaporated in real time.

Jungwon nodded. “Exactly. You’re solid on defense though. I’ve got some notes from the footage if you want to see.”

Ni-ki leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Yeah, definitely. Send them to me. No one else actually knows what they’re talking about around here.”

“Gladly,” Jungwon said, beaming. “Maybe we can meet up before your next game.”

For a second, they just sat there, nodding like two nerds bonding over sports strategy.

You blinked. “Wait. Are you two being civil?”

Ni-ki waved you off, his eyes fixed on Jungwon like they’d just discovered fire. “Babe, hold on for a second. Did you happen to watch the regional game last weekend?”

Jungwon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you mean the one where Heeseung snapped his knee?”

“Yeah, that one,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward. “I’ve been trying to figure out how that happened, but Sunoo—”

“Was taking selfies instead of watching,” Jungwon finished for him, nodding in solidarity.

Sunoo gasped from the other end of the couch. “Hey, I–”

Jungwon ignored him completely. “Dude, I actually have the full replay saved on my laptop.”

Ni-ki froze. “No way.”

“Way,” Jungwon said proudly. “I can literally run back to my dorm and grab it for you.”

Ni-ki was already standing. “I’ll drive.”

“What?” You looked between them, completely bewildered. “Hey, what about pizza night?”

Neither of them answered. Jungwon was already grabbing his jacket, and Ni-ki was checking his car keys like this was some kind of emergency mission.

Sunoo groaned. “Oh my god, they’re leaving us. For sports.”

Ni-ki turned at the door, grinning at you. “We’ll be right back, babe. Save me a slice.”

“You better come back before it gets cold,” you warned.

He winked, already halfway out the door. “You’re cute when you pretend you’ll eat without me.”

The door shut behind him, and the room fell into silence.

Sunoo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “They left just like that?”

You frowned, still staring at the door. “He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Aw. Tragic. Should we call the news? Should we invite Bella Hadid?”

You threw a popcorn kernel at him.

Just then, the door burst open again. Ni-ki jogged back inside, slightly out of breath, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Before you could say a word, he leaned down, cupped your cheek, and kissed you.

“I’ll be back so soon you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said with that stupid little half-smile that always made you melt.

You blinked up at him, your voice soft. “Love you.”

He grinned, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Love you more.”

Then he jogged back out the door again, calling out something to Jungwon about parking spaces.

Sunoo groaned, falling back on the couch. “Ugh. You two make me sick.”

You smiled dreamily, still staring at the door. “He came back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo muttered, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

“He came back to kiss me,” you said, still ignoring him.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Am I just invisible now?”

You sighed again, all soft and starry-eyed. “He came back just for me.”

Sunoo dropped his slice onto the box and stared at you in disbelief. “God, I hate love.”

You didn’t even hear him, your head was somewhere else entirely, replaying that tiny, perfect kiss like it was the last scene of your favorite movie.

Sunoo, meanwhile, took a huge bite of pizza and mumbled through it, “If he doesn’t come back with that laptop in thirty minutes, I’m eating his slice too.”

—

It was another lazy evening, the kind where time didn’t seem to exist. You and Ni-ki were cooped up in his room, tangled together on his bed, half-watching a movie before it devolved into you kissing instead of actually paying attention.

You were mid-makeout when a noise outside made you freeze. A shuffle, a thump, something that didn’t sound like the wind.

You pulled back, whispering, “Wait, did you hear that?”

Ni-ki groaned softly. “Probably Sunoo.”

You frowned. “Sunoo told us he was out with his friends tonight.”

That made him pause. His expression changed instantly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He reached for the nearest object—his basketball.

You blinked at him. “How’s a ball gonna help us?”

He shrugged, voice serious. “I’ll throw it at him.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Hey, it’s a solid plan,” he whispered, hugging the ball.

The two of you crept to the living room, your steps quiet. You half expected to see some masked burglar, but when Ni-ki swung the door open, he stopped shortly.

It was Jungwon, holding a soda and looking very alive.

“Dude,” Jungwon said, looking offended. “You said you’d watch the game with me tonight.”

Ni-ki blinked, the ball still in his hand. “Oh, shit. I forgot. Right. Yeah. I’ll watch it with you.”

You crossed your arms. “Funny, because you said you were going to watch a movie with me tonight.”

Ni-ki froze. Jungwon blinked. And suddenly Ni-ki was caught in the middle, turning his head left and right like he was watching a tennis match.

“Uhhh…” he started.

“UHHH?!” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re having a difficult time choosing between some idiot and your girlfriend?”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” Jungwon protested, pointing at himself.

You glared at both of them, then huffed, storming back into Ni-ki’s room and slamming the door behind you.

Out in the hall, Jungwon looked at Ni-ki and laughed. “We can always watch it next time. I know how she is when she’s mad.”

Ni-ki narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Oh right,” Jungwon said with a smirk, “I forgot you were jealous of me once.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Oh, fuck you,” he muttered, tossing the basketball aside before heading back into the room.

You were on his bed, scrolling through TikTok like the definition of indifference. Ni-ki sighed, climbing on top of you gently, careful not to put his full weight down.

“Baby,” he murmured, trying to kiss you.

You moved your phone in front of your face, blocking him.

“Really?” he asked, reaching for it. You held on tighter.

“Don’t you dare throw my phone—”

He snatched it anyway and tossed it lightly onto the pillow beside you.

You gasped. “You menace!”

Ni-ki grinned. “Worth it.”

You tried to wriggle away, but he caught your wrists, laughing as the two of you wrestled across the bed, him trying to kiss you while you stubbornly turned your head.

“Why aren’t you with Jungwon?” you teased, still half-pouting.

“Because I’d rather be with you,” he said, voice soft against your ear.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“OH REALLY?” you said louder, pretending to glare.

He laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You grinned. “As you should be. I’m way funnier than Jungwon.”

He nodded immediately. “You are.”

“I’m prettier.”

Another nod, his smile widening. “You are.”

“I’m way cuter.”

He hesitated for a beat, eyes glinting with mischief. “Uh… debatable.”

You gasped dramatically. “God, you hate me.”

He laughed, leaning down until your noses brushed. “I’m just kidding.”

You smiled, finally giving in and kissing him again. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. When you pulled away, still smiling, you whispered, “You know, I kinda miss when you hated Jungwon.”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “You were kinda hot when you had that whole jealousy and hatred in your eyes thing going on.”

He snorted. “He’s literally your best friend.”

“Well, he’s also a boyfriend stealer. And I don’t treat those kindly.”

Ni-ki laughed, low and warm. “Come on, Jungwon’s not that bad. I like him now.”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face in his chest. “Damn it. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He chuckled, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

You tilted your head up, smiling softly. “But you love me?”

He pretended to think. “I love Jungwon.”

You gasped, sitting up. “You’re going to hell for that.”

He caught your wrist before you could smack him, laughing. “I’m kidding.” He tugged you back into his arms and kissed you again, his smile lingering against your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “More than you’ll ever know.”

You looked at him for a long second, your chest warm, your heart full, before whispering, “Good.”

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