synopsis: you’re a ghost who’s been wandering around with no purpose. you don’t remember your past life or anything for that matter. you’re always bored and find ways to entertain yourself—observing humans, flickering lights, sending objects tumbling off shelves, and the occasional toe grab through the blanket. so imagine your surprise when you phase through the walls of a random building, ready to terrorise a group of teen dudes, only for them to end up pointing at you and screaming their heads off before you could even do anything. your eyes widen at the realisation. they can see you.
genre: crack, fluff, all the good stuff
word count: 3.1k (it’s not. it’s 3080, but if I say it’s 3.1k then it’s 3.1k, right guys?!)
other parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3
a/n: pop-pop it’s show time! (show time!) show time (show time!) guess who’s back againnn!
“Sean, stop glaring at the ghost. We’ve already established she’s harmless.”
Martin sighs in defeat watching a hunched over Seonghyeon staring holes through your face whilst sipping on his smoothie.
“Hey! She has a name, ain’t that right [name]?” comes Keonho’s strangely honeyed voice. You’re still not entirely used to it. He’s leaning towards you on the shared table, face in hands, elbows propping him up, shooting you a painfully obvious lovestricken look.
You give a wry smile.
“Can someone pass me the salt?” Juhoon comments like nothing is happening.
“Is it to try and get rid of her again?” Pips James as he chews on his burger. He talks as if you’re not right next to him, and at your unimpressed look he sends you a small “sorry”.
“No.” Juhoon blandly replies with no further explanation to why he needs the salt, and Seonghyeon is left sitting like a goblin, suspicious eyes still stuck on the side of your face.
“Am I the only sane one left?” He says to himself, but Martin, who’s sitting next to him, ends up hearing him anyway.
“Dude, it’s been like two weeks. Let it go.” He’s chomping on his fries with little care, round eyes barely settling on Seonghyeon’s face.
“And she’s pretty.” Adds Keonho, and Martin only nods fervently whilst high-fiving him like he just discovered the meaning of life. “Right?! Totally my type.”
“I’m right here you know.” You utter, and the boys only spare you half a glance before giving you a thumbs up and diving right back into the food.
As Martin informed, it had been weeks since you’ve met the guys. Officially two weeks since they’ve stopped trying to murder you. Though ‘Sean’ seems to still harbour some unresolved feelings towards you.
You shift a little where you’re standing.
James flinches the littlest bit at your movements.
You deadpan.
Oh, yeah.
And it seems like James is still a little jumpy around you, despite his non-ending declarations of him saying he’s “Not scared of no ghost”, verbatim.
You were out having dinner at the new New York inspired diner that opened up not too far from the dorm.
The boys had specifically requested for a seating arrangement for 6.
Surprisingly, they wouldn’t budge until a space for 6 opened up. And by ‘they’ you mean everyone but Sean. You’re starting to think that that’s just his comportment when he’s hungry, because he’s not usually as prickly towards you at home. You’re relatively calm, so he honestly forgets you’re there, for the most part.
Safe for the times you ‘accidentally’ end up phasing through his room to remind him you, in fact, still exist.
You’re never going to stop tickling his toes when he falls asleep. No matter how many times he gives you the stink eye.
It’s your love language <3
Anyway, a spot for 6 people opened up eventually, which only led the waiters to think that perhaps a new addition would show up. But it’s officially been over 40 minutes, and no new person has come through the restaurant doors.
So it’s safe to say they got nagged at by a bunch of teenagers for absolutely no apparent reason.
Which is why they’ve been staring at your table like hawks.
All that fuss about having to have 6 seats….just for 5 boys to be ravaging at their meals.
They may not be able to see it, but the sixth person has been very much present from the start. And since the boys could see you, all seats were technically occupied.
To them, it doesn’t matter what others can’t see.
What matters is that they see you.
So long as you’re included, by their standard, it’s all smooth sailing.
Burgers, fries, pizza, and the most delicious combination of ‘unhealthy’ one could ever imagine adorns the table like a bestowed title.
You almost can’t help the small drool at your lips. Blinking owlishly, you pat your tummy, your hand going through it and coming out empty at the other end. Your lids lower in slight annoyance.
Juhoon, ever the observant type, notices your conduct almost immediately, but remains unsure of how to approach the situation.
But not to worry, because a mysteriously small plate loaded with the generous amount of three measly fries comes sliding in front of you from somewhere across the table.
For a moment, you stare at it. Nothing behind your gaze.
Your eyes lift to briefly catch the same brown eyes that were practically glued to the side of your face earlier. The eye contact doesn’t even hold past a millisecond, he breaks it like he was never looking at you in the first place.
Pfft, what is he, a tsundere?
You purse your lips, trying to swallow down your small smile. You end up deciding on addressing him lightly.
“Hey, Sean,” you throw him a pair of friendly finger guns whilst winking.
“Love the gesture. Really, I do. But uh—it’s just…I can’t exactly—” you spread your arms wide, then close them back in to have them hover near your tummy. “…eat…right now.”
Seonghyeon’s eyes flit up to look at you again, going wide for a split second at the realisation of his useless consideration.
His ears go red, his cheeks warming up to a comforting shade of pink.
You unknowingly lean closer to him, unable to hide the small tug to your lips this time.
How cute.
“I…I knew that. I was teasing you.” He says very slowly.
You hum, nodding gently.
“I’m sure you were. I feel very teased right now.”
Keonho, seeing all this, starts to cackle at the male’s failed advances, but the ridicule doesn’t last long because he ends up choking on a fry in the process.
Coughing up a storm, he’s almost at Heaven’s door when Martinie’s humongous palm comes crashing against his back.
A few hits just about does it, and the stubborn fry comes flying out. It splats out on the table, coated with fresh saliva.
Every single one of you grimaces in disgust.
“Ugh, dude!”
“My eyes! MY EYES—”
Keonho tries to shut you all up, but it’s an unwinnable battle.
James starts emoting. Martin starts gagging. Seonghyeon screeches his chair as far away from the table as possible, and Juhoon…
Actually, where is Juhoon?
As if summoned, the pretty male emerges from some random corner.
You raise a brow. The commotion around you still blazing strong. “Where were you?”
“Toilet. What did I miss?”
One look around the table and his eyelids drop in defeat.
“You know what? Never mind, I don’t want to know—WHO THE HELL ATE MY STEAK!”
It wasn’t even a question, at this point. He full on shouted that…
It’s probably the loudest you’ve ever heard him.
You attempt to cover your ears, because you know this scene all too well. It’s happened at the dorms much too many times. Chaos over food. Fights over tastes. Survival instigated from culinary theft.
These are the times that you’re happy to be a ghost.
“Bro, I just took a small bite, chill man.”
James, fork in hand. The last, pitiful cube of steak stabbed through and nearing his open mouth.
You can see the fire in Juhoon’s eyes light up in real time, and even Martin and Sean have to forget about bullying Keonho to put it out.
Keonho doesn’t even know what’s going on.
Bless him.
You deadpan at the circus in front of you.
Not one moment of peace.
As the sounds around you grow, your eyes keep up with the ruckus. A tender smile makes its way to your lips.
Guess you don’t mind it though.
Juhoon ended up getting another steak, by the way. So the problem is partially solved.
You say partially because Juhoon is still drilling his orbs through James’ skull.
You sigh.
“James?” Your voice comes light, airy, and James turns to face you with ease. He nudges his jaw at you, a naivety in his glassy eyes.
“Wassup?”
“Could please apologise to Juhoon? I know you’re extremely kind, so it comes naturally to you.” You offer sweetly, coaxing him with flattery.
James snickers at the compliment, the tactics behind your words going entirely over his head.
Nodding, his shoulders rise in mild pride as he shoots you a pearly white grin. “Yeah, of course! Kindness totally comes naturally to me! I’m the kindest guy I know.”
Your eyes crinkle as you give a slightly exaggerated smile, something you don’t think too much about. But the way James’ breath hitches makes you question if you’ve done something wrong.
Slowly, your smile turns into a confused one.
He’s staring, eyes trained on the way your orbs bend with glee. His gaze flickers briefly to catch the curve of your lips.
They linger there for too long.
Until Keonho is jumping across the table to reach for the older male.
“Hey! I saw that! You ain’t slick buddy!”
“What do you mean? I was just trying to apologise—”
Martin joins in.
“By staring at her face with those pretty diamond eyes of yours?! You sly fox! You’Re TRYING TO GET A HEAD START!”
Oh no.
Just when things were starting to calm down, they started up again.
You have a mind to look for help from Sean, but even he’s lightly glaring at the oldest male.
He feels the intense stare of your eyes, momentarily turning to make eye contact with you.
It’s quiet, and surprisingly warm. Almost like you’re not allowed to look away.
The sweet moment drags for but two seconds before Juhoon’s cup of water comes crashing down with a little more force than necessary.
“It’s okay, hyung. I accept your apology.”
His eyes are on Seonghyeon.
James sputters in bewilderment, head turning in all sorts of directions before landing on Juhoon again.
“But… I haven’t even apologised yet?” It’s not even a statement. It’s a genuine declaration of confusion.
“No, really,” Juhoon calmly takes a sip of his water, his eyes quickly leave Seonghyeon’s only to land on you.
They stay there for a fleeting beat, then slide over to his half eaten steak. “It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.”
O..kay then?
You blink your eyes like an owl, assessing the way everyone has been looking at you lately.
With the obviousness of it all, one would question if you’re dumb, or if you’re just really good at pretending that you are.
Either way, the boys are the ones getting the short end of the stick.
You think about what could alleviate the atmosphere when your brain strikes an unrejectable offer.
Clapping your hands together, which just end up phasing through themselves, you smile ever so brightly.
The boys swear they can see a halo above your head, but they’d rather not accept that. That would mean you’d leave eventually. And they don’t like that.
Cackling like a witch, something they’ve learned is your actual laugh, you chip in excitedly. “How about some ice cream?”
Quiet ensues for a minute straight.
Then chaos.
“Ice cream? I love ice cream!”
“It’s like she read my mind. I knew she was wifey material as soon as I laid my eyes on her—”
“—Liar. You passed out when you first saw her.”
“Yeah,” Martin says, raising his index finger as if his sayings are a matter of fact. “I passed out from her beauty.”
“Are we getting it from the convenience store then?”
“Oh, man. The nearby one doesn’t have the ones I like.”
“I don’t care.”
“Hyung!”
“Has anyone seen my AirPods?”
“How did I get gravy on my shirt? We didn’t order anything with gravy, did we?”
“Can you shut up for one second?”
“WE’D LIKE THE BILL PLEASE!”
A tired waitress comes over with a small customer-service smile. Her shoulders remain tight as she approaches the member with their hand up.
The boys pay for the bill with the company card. A perk they’ve grown to appreciate like life itself.
Soon after, the night draws in and the breeze hangs low. There’s a slight coldness to the weather as they begin their walk to the nearby convenience store.
Half of them, namely Keonho and Martin, are still bickering. The rest of the three walk in an appreciated calm.
The leaves sway with ease, rustling gently. A blanket of comfort to the already tranquil atmosphere.
Seonghyeon yawns.
“Man, I feel like I haven’t eaten that much in ages.”
Keonho snorts, halting his argument with Martin to respond.
“You literally ate two large pizzas yesterday.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did!”
James pops his head over Martin’s shoulder, “I swear it was three.”
“Three large pizzas? Dawg… you’re a fiend.”
“Why are you all ganging up on me? I didn’t even order pizza yesterday!”
Martin kisses his teeth in disappointment. “Using the company card for your gluttonous pleasures.”
Seonghyeon is left absolutely gobsmacked. He scoffs. “Do you even know how much you alone ate today? The total price was practically doubled because of you! You greedy bas—”
A sneeze cuts him off.
Juhoon is rubbing his shoulders, a rosy tint to his nose. “Can we just hurry up and get the ice cream? I wanna sleep.”
All the members look at him plainly.
“Well, since our cute little princess wants his beauty sleep—”
Juhoon’s eyes slide over to Martin with a small glare. The tall male puts his hands up in surrender, finishing his sentence.
“Then I guess we can skip the ice cream for today.”
Keonho gasps so loud that it startles James next to him.
“Dude! No way! I want my ice cream!”
“It’s getting late anyway, we need to watch out for our figures too. We have a comeback next mo—”
“But we promised we were getting ice cream…”
Martin’s eyebrows rise, a small knot forming between them.
“Didn’t you say they don’t have the ones you like, though?”
“Pssh, doesn’t mean I don’t want any.”
“Let’s just get the ice cream.” Seonghyeon butts in, a small sigh to his lips.
The bickering dies down and nothing but the soft sound of nature and shoes on gravel takes over.
The members are quiet, walking side by side, until Juhoon’s dark eyes scan the area around them.
“Hey,” his footsteps stop abruptly. The rest of the boys gradually follow, gazing over their shoulders to lazily quirk a brow at him.
For a moment, he simply looks around. His head turning side to side, then he starts to look around with his full body.
James watches on, completely and utterly lost.
“Did you lose something?”
Juhoon’s eyes flit to meet his, a small sense of hesitance.
“Hyung… where is she?”
The question hangs in the air for a short time.
James’ eyes widen, his stomach drops.
Not another beat passes before the others diligently join in on the search. Their moves are frantic, eyes out of focus, breaths short. Keonho even resorts to jogging over to the corner they just emerged from.
Nothing.
During the whole thing, not a word is uttered.
It’s when all hope is about to be lost, the boys coming together to form a circle of distress, that your aloof voice chimes in.
“What are we looking for?”
All heads immediately turn to you like meerkats.
You flinch at the intensity of their stares.
Their chests rise up and down, eyes blown wide, a visible sense of relief in them.
You give a dry chuckle, unsure of what’s happening.
“So like, am I meant to do something… is this an improv or..?”
Seonghyeon’s hand twitches first, but Keonho is the one to initiate the move.
He runs over, coming to a stop just in front of you. The corners of his mouth pull up in the most adorable way. You find it in you to not voice your thoughts aloud, though.
He breathes out heavily.
His hands, unsure of how to approach you, try to go for a hug, then immediately retreat and opt to stay firmly on his side.
“I thought we lost you.”
You raise a brow.
Lost you…?
What are you, a dog?
Martin joins his side not long after. His eyes run over you with solace, finally stopping to meet your confused orbs.
You present a wobbly smile in return.
He laughs softly.
“Gosh, I got more scared than the first time you showed up in our dorm.”
“Told you you were scared!” Comes a voice from behind him.
He ignores it.
James gives you a thumbs up from where he’s standing, a glad grin on his face.
Juhoon, ever the quiet one, looks on with repose. His eyes don’t fail to relax as he stares at you interacting with the others from afar.
“Idiot.” It’s spoken under his breath, a relieved lilt to his low voice.
Seonghyeon walks over to you, saying nothing at first.
“Where were you?”
He says it with no emotion in particular, but the worry still clutches to his tone.
Your lips draw into a thin line before erupting in a smirk. You teasingly wiggle your brows at him.
“Was little ol’ Sean worried about me?”
“No.” He says too quickly, and you chuckle at him trying to keep an indifferent expression.
He clears his throat in a shy manner, waiting for your answer.
“I was right there, you just walked through me… which is weird.” You hadn’t really meant to say that last part out loud.
You were so sure they could all physically interact with you at all times, but it turns out that isn’t the case.
You even tried to call out to them a couple of times when they walked past you.
Is this the divide between the living and the dead?
You shake your head.
“You guys were just too busy chatting up a storm that you basically forgot about me.” You opt to say instead. A dead look to your eyes.
The boys guiltily giggle, scratching their heads in unison and avoiding your gaze.
“Well, whatever. Are we getting ice cream or not?” Comes James.
“I’m telling you. No one is sleeping until I get my ice cream.” Keonho joins in seriously.
You nod, a fond beam to your lips.
And the boys can’t help but marvel at it a little.
Just a tiny bit.
Because for once, they’ve all unanimously agreed on something that doesn’t even need to be said aloud.
The desire to protect that innocent smile, at all costs.
a/n: idk how to tell u this… but the next chapter is the penultimate one—
MATING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEETING: The House Rules are made to make the pack function - they're vital to a pack this size, and everyone loves the House Rules. Especially you, the single omega in the entire pack, who the House Rules are designed entirely around.
FRIDGE NOTES: This collection functions as an interactive piece between myself and readers. Every chapter posted of this universe will be a request from you - the reader. Readers who would like a chapter of this written will fill out the request form, and that will serve as the framework for me to write a chapter. This collection is not meant to have a plot or overarching theme - it's entire purpose is to write smut, fluff, angst - whatever you, as the requester, wants, so long as it makes general sense to the pre-established universe where all of seventeen and reader function as an established back that live together!
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: Some chapters may contain smut. All chapters will be warned appropriately.
PACK SCHDULE: This series has no schedule. I fill requests as I can and this only gets updated if I have requests! This series also has no scheduled end - requests will remain open until I no longer want to work on the fic.
REQUEST RULES:
☼ In general, ensure your requests are reasonable.
☼ Requests must be within this initial concept of the pack together in a shared omegaverse. Requests outside of this concept will be deleted.
☼ I will fill requests at my own pace.
☼ Not all requests may be filled, either because they are duplicates, may make me uncomfortable, may not make sense to the overall work, or because there is something about them that doesn't work.
☼ You may not change the pre-assigned sub-gender of a member in your request
☼ Your request shouldn't force me to ret-con or backtrack/negate something already posted
REQUEST FORM: Request here
THE HOUSE RULES:
1. The omega is never allowed to eat alone unless she asks to - SEUNGCHEOL
2. If she falls asleep on you, carry her to bed. No exceptions - MINGYU
3. Nobody leaves for long amounts of time without scenting her goodbye - JEONGHAN
4. Her nest is neutral territory. Arguments end at the door - JOSHUA
5. If the omega asks anything during heat, the answer is always yes - THE PACK
6. No one is allowed to make her cry and leave the room afterward - WONWOO
7. If she steals your clothes, they belong to her now - MINGYU
8. The omega is not permitted to carry heavy things while alphas are present - MINGHAO
9. Whoever wakes her up is responsible for dealing with the consequences - VERNON
10. Use the omega as you please, but respect is mandatory - THE PACK
11. The omega is not allowed to beg and then act surprised when someone gives in - SEUNGKWAN
12. If she wanders into an alpha’s room after midnight, she knows exactly what she’s doing - SEOKMIN
13. The omega is not allowed to start things in shared spaces and then complain about being watched - JUNHUI
14. If she’s whining, someone should probably handle it - CHAN
15. The omega is not allowed to say “I’m fine” without at least one person investigating immediately - JIHOON
16. Arguments about whose turn it is to use her next must be resolved by rock paper scissors - SOONYOUNG
MEET THE ALPHAS: Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Junhui, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Minghao
MEET THE BETAS: Joshua, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Vernon, Chan
SYNOPSIS: Nobody wanted a sixth member. Not the fans. Not the media. Not even some of the members themselves. But somehow, Yona became the one thing CORTIS couldn't imagine losing.
GENRE: idol life, extremely slow burn, found family, unresolved feelings, emotional damage, ot!5, angst maybe, platonic???, y/n is yona bc I cannot for the life of me write [y/n], might add more tags in the future idk, why am i treating this as ao3
w.c: 8054
book 1 · chapter 18 — "don't push yourself"
She was discharged almost the moment she was properly awake, which suited her exactly, because the only thing worse than being in a hospital was being in one a minute longer than required.
The morning had come grey and ordinary through the window, and a doctor had appeared at some point in it, brisk and unhurried at once, the manner of a person who'd done this a thousand times and understood that the patient wanted to be gone. He'd checked the things doctors checked, read the chart, asked her the questions, and delivered his findings with the plain practicality she preferred to gentleness. Dehydration. Blood sugar had bottomed out. Exhaustion, the cumulative kind, the kind that didn't come from one night. Nothing, he was careful to say, that wouldn't right itself, provided she did the things he was about to tell her to do, which he then told her, counting them off in the way doctors did so a person would remember.
Eat. Real meals, on a schedule, whether or not the appetite was there, because the appetite was a liar when a body got this depleted, and you couldn't wait for it to come back before you fed yourself. Drink water, actual water, throughout the day. Sleep, the real kind, enough of it. And rest, which he stressed, because he'd clearly read the shape of how she'd ended up here and knew that the rest was the one she'd ignore. Don't push yourself, he said, plainly, looking at her over the chart. Whatever you were doing that got you here, you can't do it for a while. Your body will tell you it's fine before it actually is. Don't believe it.
She'd nodded at all of it, the patient nod, the I'm-receiving-this nod. She took it in the way she took in everything, accurately, and privately reserved judgment on the rest part, because she always reserved judgment on the rest part, and then the paperwork happened. The line came out of her arm, and she was free to go, dressed in yesterday's practice clothes, scoured-out and unsteady but upright, a person again.
The dorm sent a car. She'd half-expected the whole group, some delegation, the awkward continuation of last night's everyone-in-one-room, and was relieved and obscurely something-else when it was just the practical arrangement, a car and a driver and the manager's text confirming the time. The others had schedules, she understood. The world hadn't stopped because she'd dropped on a practice room floor; there was still a group, still a re-recording on the calendar, still the machine of being CORTIS grinding forward, and she was the one piece of it that had been temporarily removed for maintenance and was now being returned.
But James was at the hospital when she came out.
She didn't understand it at first, seeing him in the corridor near the discharge desk, in clean clothes, not last night's studio things, which meant he'd gone home and come back, which meant he'd chosen to be here, which didn't fit any logistical reason she could construct. The others had gone. The crisis was over. There was no role left for a member to play at a hospital the morning after; the dramatic part was done, the part where you rushed in and waited and were frightened. The morning after was just paperwork and a car, and no one came back for paperwork and a car. And yet here he was, the eldest, leaning against the wall near the desk with the settled unhurried quality she'd learned to read in the practice room, the quality of a person who had decided to be somewhere and would be there for as long as it took.
"They're discharging you," he said. Not a question. He'd clearly already confirmed it with someone. "Car's not here for twenty minutes. The manager got the time wrong, or the hospital did." A small shrug. "Either way. Twenty minutes."
"You didn't have to come." It came out before she could shape it into something more gracious, the bare fact of her confusion. "There's a car. I'm fine. It's just paperwork."
"I know." He didn't move off the wall. "I came anyway."
And that was all the explanation he offered. I came anyway, delivered with the balanced evenness that she'd learned, in the late-night practice room, was not coldness but simply the temperature he ran at, the same register he used for a correction and a concession and, apparently, this. He didn't dress it up. He didn't explain the reasoning, didn't make a big deal of having chosen to spend a morning at a hospital for a member he barely knew, and didn't offer the social padding most people used to make a gesture legible. He'd just decided to come, so he'd come, and the not-explaining was somehow more than an explanation would have been, because an explanation could be argued with, and a flat 'I came anyway’ could not.
She didn't know what to do with it, so she did what she usually does when she doesn't know what to do, which was nothing. Yona just stood there, scoured-out and unsteady as she let the moment hold while her depleted machinery tried to work out what this was and what it would cost her.
Because that was the frame she put everything in, automatically, the cost frame. A person who came to the hospital when they didn't have to was someone who wanted something, or who would at some point want something, who was depositing a kindness now against a future withdrawal. That's how it works. Always had been, people don't do things for free. The warmth in the trainee rooms had always had a price, the kindness had always been a transaction, the help had always come with a quiet ledger that got called in eventually. She'd built her whole self around owing nothing, around making sure no one had a claim on her. James, standing in a hospital corridor, having chosen to be there, was a person establishing a claim, or so the machinery insisted, even as some quieter part of her noted that James had never, in any of their interactions, asked her for a single thing.
"You look terrible," James observed, mildly, with the same balanced accuracy he'd have used to tell her a transition was late.
"Thank you," she said. "I've been told it's the lighting."
The corner of his mouth twitched, the almost-laugh, the dry texture under the flatness that she'd surprised out of him in the practice room. Yona felt the small unexpected click of it, the recognition that they had this, the one register that worked between them, the precision-and-dryness that asked nothing and performed nothing. It was almost a relief, after the wall-down warmth of last night, to be back in a register she understood, one with rules, one she could meet.
"There's a waiting area down the hall," he said, pushing off the wall. "Chairs that aren't terrible. You can sit down before you fall down, which, no offense, looks like a live possibility." He started toward it without waiting to see if she'd follow, the eldest who'd solved the standoff by sitting down on a practice room floor now solving this one the same way, by simply changing the terms and assuming she'd come. "Twenty minutes. Might as well not spend them standing in a hallway, and besides, it feels a bit stuffy here."
She followed, because the alternative was standing in a hallway, and because her legs did in fact have the live-possibility quality he'd named, and because some part of her, the part too depleted to maintain the usual distance, was curious despite itself about what the eldest had come back for. They sat in the waiting area, the not-terrible chairs, a reasonable distance apart, the same reasonable distance she'd put between them on the practice room floor, and for a moment neither of them said anything, and the silence was not the heavy gapped thing of strangers but the working quiet they'd found in the late hour, the quiet of two people who'd taken each other's measure and didn't need to fill the air to be in it.
And then James, looking not at her but at the middle distance, in the even voice he used when talking off the camera, said, "So, Yona-ssi, wanna tell me what you were actually doing in that room?”
It wasn't an accusation. No edge in it, no judgment, none of the ‘gotcha’ I'd have braced for. It was just a question, level and direct, the same way he'd named her weight wrong in the practice room, a person stating that he'd seen a thing and would like to understand it. And she understood—somehow, in the small, accurate place that never went fully offline—that the twenty minutes and the I came anyway and the not-terrible chairs had all been leading here, that James had not come back to a hospital for paperwork and a car. He had come back to ask her this, in private, away from the group, calmly, with no one else to hear the answer.
She didn't answer right away, and James didn't push into the empty void setting in, which was itself a kind of information, because most people pushed into the said void, filled the silence with the answer they wanted, made the question impossible not to answer by leaving no room. He left room. He sat with his eyes on the middle distance and let the question stand and waited, the way he'd waited for her to find the count in the practice room, patient in the specific way of a person who'd decided the thing was worth the time it took.
"I was practicing," she said finally. The first line of defense, the true-enough thing, the cover she'd been using for weeks. James looked at her for a while, then released a heavy sigh.
"You had it." He said it without heat, the same flat way he'd say a transition was clean. "The choreo. You had it before this. I drilled it with you. You had it perfected, to the point you already knew it by heart. You don't run a thing for hours past midnight, alone, until you drop, especially when you've already got it." A pause. "Seonghyeon said the same thing last night, for what it's worth. He was the one who noticed it first. You don't run a thing you've already got. So that's not what you were doing. You were doing something else, and the term practicing is just some excuse you decided to choose to cover up something else."
It landed precisely because it was true. After all, he'd named the exact mechanism, the practicing-as-shape, the thing she'd known about herself in the room and had hoped no one else could see from outside. He'd seen it. Of course he saw it. He was the one who saw the slip on the third count from across a room; he was not going to miss a member running a mastered section into the ground.
She didn't confirm it. But she didn't deny it again either. For James, that was its own kind of confirmation, the way conceding a count had been, and he received the non-denial the way he received everything, as a fact, without making her say more than she'd said.
"I'm not going to ask you what it was," he said. "Whatever that something else could be, or whatever you’re hiding—if there is one. That's not mine to ask, and you most likely wouldn't tell me. I wouldn't tell you either if it were the other way around." The honesty of that, the eldest acknowledging he had his own rooms she wasn't allowed into, the Trainee A he'd snagged on and recovered from in the practice room. "So I'm not asking. But I'm going to say one thing about it, and then I'll leave it, and you can do whatever you want with it."
She waited. Yona’s cold machinery braced for the lecture, the scold, the don't-you-know-how-worried-everyone-was, the guilt-delivery she'd have gotten from almost anyone, the cost finally being named.
It didn't come. What came instead was level, and almost clinical, and entirely without judgment, the anchor's instinct surfacing in the eldest before he'd have called it that, the instinct to convert a feeling into a structure, a worry into a plan.
"Whatever you're chasing," James said, "you can't catch it from a hospital bed. That's the whole of it. You want to be better, get better, close whatever gap you think you're behind on, fine. I get that. I live there too, you know I do, you watched me refuse to leave a room over a transition I'd already fixed. So I'm not going to tell you to want it less. That'd be a lie coming from me, and you'd know it was a lie." He turned, then, and looked at her directly, the flat even gaze. "But you can't improve a body you've broken. That's just true. Look, we’re humans, not some sort of object that could keep going on and on. Even a moving ball needs rest in its own way. You ran yourself empty, and now you've lost what—a day, two, of any real work, because you have to spend them putting the fuel back that you should never have let run out. That's not faster. You technically just made everything go slower. You went backward to feel like you were going forward."
It was—she'd think later—the single most effective thing anyone could have said to her, and it was effective precisely because it spoke her own language back to her, the language of the work, of mechanics, of faster and slower, of something being measured by the thing itself. He hadn't appealed to her well-being, which she'd have deflected, or to how scared the group had been, which she'd have absorbed as guilt and used as fuel for the next spiral. He'd appealed to the work. He'd pointed out that the overworking didn't even serve the work, that it was self-defeating on its own terms, that a person who wanted to improve and ran her body into the ground was a person sabotaging the exact thing she was killing herself for. It was an argument she couldn't dismiss as softness, because there was no softness in it. It was just true, the way the third count being wrong was true, and the work didn't care how she felt about it.
"You sound like the doctor," she said. Dry, deflecting, buying a second.
"The doctor's right." Unbothered. "Doctors usually are about this. I mean, hello? They’re doctors for a reason. Plus, you think you're the first person to run yourself into a wall thinking it was discipline? It's the most common thing in the world. Everyone who's any good does it at least once. The good ones do it once and learn from it. The ones who don't learn do it until something doesn't come back." Another pause, even. "I'd put you in the first category. You're too smart to be in the second. But being smart doesn't help if you won't apply it to yourself, and you don't, do you? You apply it to everything except you. Yona, at least—” James just exhaled, at least take care of yourself.
That one got under, in a way, the work-argument hadn't, because it was about her specifically, and it was correct. I do apply it to everything except myself. She'd watched herself do exactly this in the practice room, the cold, accurate part keeping its log of the light-headedness and the distant hands, noting every signal with perfect clarity and acting on none of it, the same intelligence that could diagnose anyone turned uselessly inward and overruled. She was, she knew, ferociously good at recognizing this. She was just constitutionally unable to let the accurate seeing change what she did to herself, because what she did to herself wasn't governed by accuracy, the older one governed it, the one that screams at your head to survive, the you-do-not-stop that ran underneath all the seeing and didn't care what the seeing reported.
"How do you know that?" she said. Not quite a challenge. Closer to a real question, she was surprised, because he'd named something about her she'd thought was invisible. "That I apply it to everything except me."
James was quiet for a second, and when he answered, it wasn't with a deflection, which she'd half-expected, the dry turn that would let them both off the hook. He answered it straight.
"Because I watched you take an hour of me correcting you without cracking once," he said. "Most people can't do that. You could, because you don't take it personally, you take it as information, you're better at hearing a hard, true thing than almost anyone I've worked with. It’s rare to see someone take information and criticism without taking it as an attack. And then I watched you, the same night, run a section you'd already mastered until your legs gave out, because some part of you had decided you weren't allowed to stop." He let that sit. "So you can hear the truth about everything: the count, the weight, the line. You just can't hear it about whether you're allowed to rest. Someone taught you that resting wasn't allowed. I don't know who, and I'm not asking. But it's the one place the smart part of you doesn't reach, and it almost killed you on a practice room floor, so it's worth knowing about."
The corridor sounds went on around them, the ordinary hospital morning, a cart somewhere, a page over the intercom, and Yona sat in the not-terrible chair with the fluid soreness still in her arm and felt the strange exposure of being read accurately by a person who'd given her no reason to expect it and asked nothing for it. He understands me. It may not be all of it—but the mechanism, the shape. Not the Yavana of it, not the years under it, but the way the seeing stopped at her own skin. He'd assembled it from two nights in a practice room and a collapse, and he'd assembled it correctly. He was handing it back to her not as a weapon and not as a debt but as a thing she might find useful, the way you'd hand someone a correction on a transition, here, this is the flaw, do what you want with it.
"You're not going to tell anyone," she said. It came out before she'd decided to say it, the worry under everything, the exposure of the night before still raw, the wall she'd had taken down by her own body and didn't want taken down any further. "What you just said. The—" she didn't have a clean word for it. "Any of it."
"Tell them what?" James said, with the flat ease of a person stating the obvious. "That you work too hard? They were all there last night; they figured that part out. The rest of it's yours. I don't go around narrating other people's insides. Wouldn't want it done to me." He shrugged. "We're talking. That's all this is. Two people in bad chairs. It doesn't leave the chairs unless you take it out of them.”
And that, more than the work-argument, more than the accurate reading, was the thing that started, very slightly, to loosen something in her, the flat assurance that the conversation had no audience and no afterlife, that he wasn't building a case or depositing a kindness against a future claim, that he had, against everything her machinery insisted was possible, simply come to a hospital to say a true useful thing to a person he'd decided was worth saying it to, and would now leave it in the chairs and ask nothing for having said it.
The trouble was that she had no script for this.
She had scripts for almost everything. The structure she'd built over the years, a response prepared for every kind of approach, because a person who'd been read and ranked and judged her whole life learned to have the answer ready before the question landed. She had a script for criticism: take it as information and give nothing back but precision. She had a script for kindness-with-a-hook: accept the kindness gracefully and quietly note the hook, and stay alert for the withdrawal it predicted. She had a script for the cold: take it in as data and convert it into a task. She had a script for being managed, for being handled, for being debated, for being braced against; she'd built a response for every transaction she'd ever encountered, because every interaction she'd ever had was, in the end, a transaction, and you could prepare for a transaction.
She had no script for this because this wasn't a transaction, and she couldn't make it into one, no matter how hard the machinery that she curated tried.
The not-fitting was what she kept running up against, sitting in the not-terrible chair, the machinery turning over and over and failing to find the angle. She kept looking for the price tag. She kept waiting for the part where the concern revealed its cost, the moment James would name the thing he wanted, the favor, the leverage, the quiet claim being established for later collection. It has to be there. Concern has a price; that's a law, as reliable as the work, not caring how I feel. People did not spend a morning at a hospital, read you accurately, and hand you a true, useful thing for nothing. There was always a nothing-for-nothing. The kindness was always the front end of a ledger.
But she couldn't find the ledger. She'd been looking at the whole conversation, the cold, accurate part scanning every sentence for the hook, and the hook wasn't there. James hadn't asked her for anything. He hadn't angled toward a favor, hadn't established a thing she'd owe, hadn't even done the softer version of the transaction, the one where the price was just gratitude, where the kindness was given so that the giver could enjoy being seen as kind. He'd specifically refused that version. It doesn't leave the chairs. He didn't want it witnessed. He didn't want it banked. He'd come, said the true thing, declined to ask anything, and declined even to be thanked for it. The machinery had nowhere to put a kindness that refused every form of repayment, including the repayment of being acknowledged as a kindness.
So she sat there, and the not-knowing-how-to-respond became its own visible thing, the silence stretching past where a response should have gone.
"You're doing it again. You’re over analyzing and assessing things," James observed. Mild. He'd gone back to watching the middle distance, giving her the not-watched space she needed, but he'd clearly clocked it anyway. "I can see it. You're trying to figure out what this costs you." He said it without offense, almost with recognition, the way you note a thing you understand from the inside. "It doesn't cost you anything. I know that's hard to believe. You can keep doing the math, you'll just keep getting the same answer, which is literally none, and eventually it's less tiring to believe me than to keep checking."
The accuracy of it was almost unbearable. He'd named the exact thing she was doing, the scanning for the cost, and named it without mockery, and then told her the answer was zero. The worst part was that she still didn't believe him, couldn't believe him, because believing him would mean the law was wrong, the law she'd organized her whole self around, the law that said concern had a price. If the law is wrong, then the structure is built on nothing. And she did not have the fuel, scoured out in a hospital chair, to consider the possibility that the structure was built on nothing.
"Everything costs something," she said. It came out flatter than she meant it, more revealing than she meant it, the law stated aloud as if it were obvious, as if everyone knew it.
James was quiet for a second.
Then, "Yeah," he said. "It does. But the cost isn't always to you, and it isn't always a debt." He turned the cup he wasn't drinking from in his hands, the way she'd seen him hold the coffee in the waiting room, the warmth apparently the point. "This cost me a morning. That's the cost. I paid it. It's already paid. You don't owe me the morning back; you can't, it's gone, I spent it. That's how it works when someone does something for you that you didn't ask for. The cost is theirs. They already paid it. The only thing you can do with it is let it have happened. Accept it as it is.”
Let it have happened. The phrase lodged somewhere, the same place Juhoon's you don't have to do all of it alone had lodged the night before, words landing in a person too depleted to deflect them, getting past the gap because the gap had no power. Let it have happened. As if the thing she was supposed to do with an unrepayable kindness was not to repay it, not even acknowledge it, just allow it to have occurred, to let it sit in the world as a thing that had happened to her that she didn't have to do anything about.
She didn't know how to let something be, how to accept something as it is. Her whole life had been a project of making sure nothing happened to her that she hadn't accounted for, controlled, or prepared a response to. The idea of just letting a kindness sit there, unrepaid, unmanaged, unconverted into either a debt or a transaction, was so foreign that the machinery genuinely didn't know what to do with it, kept reaching for the response and finding no response, kept looking for the script and finding the page blank.
"I don't—" she started, and stopped, because she didn't know how the sentence ended. I don't know what you want. I don't know why you'd do this. I don't know how to take this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a person who comes to a hospital for someone they don’t know. I don’t know what to do when someone willingly does something for you without asking anything in return. All of them true, none of them sayable, the whole jumble of them stuck behind the wreckage of the wall the night had taken down.
"You don't have to say anything," James said, easily, letting her off the unfinished sentence the way he'd let her off nothing in the practice room, because this wasn't the practice room and the rules were different here. "I told you, just accept it as it is. There's no response required. I said a thing, you heard it, that's the whole transaction, if you even want to call it that. You don't have to thank me. You don't have to agree. You don't have to do anything except, maybe, eat something today and not run yourself into the ground again before your body's even back. That's not for me. That's for you. I don't get anything if you take care of yourself. I just think you should."
I don't get anything if you take care of yourself. It was such a strange sentence, and it cut so directly against the law, that she actually looked at him, the cold, accurate part trying one more time to find the angle, the way caring about her well-being could route back to a benefit for him, and failing, because there wasn't one. He genuinely doesn't get anything. Her eating today, her resting, her not-collapsing, conferred no advantage on James that she could locate. It wasn't even the group-cohesion angle, the we-need-you-functional-for-the-recording angle, because he hadn't framed it that way, hadn't said the group needs you healthy, had said the smaller, stranger, more unanswerable thing, I just think you should.
Concern with no beneficiary but me. It didn't compute. She turned it over, and it didn't compute, and she turned it over again. It still didn't compute, and somewhere in the not-computing was the dim beginning of the thing that frightened her more than the cost ever had, which was the possibility that some people, occasionally, did things for each other that were not transactions, that the law she'd built her life around was not a universal law but a local one, true in the rooms she'd survived in and maybe not true everywhere, maybe not true in this bad-chaired hospital corridor with a tired eldest turning an empty cup in his hands and asking nothing.
She wasn't ready for that possibility. It was too big, and she was too empty. So she did what she did with things too big to handle: she set them in the cold, accurate place to be examined later, when she had fuel, when the wall was back up, and she could look at the dangerous thing from behind it. She took note of it: James, a morning, zero cost, no beneficiary, doesn't compute, examine later. And having done that, she was left with the immediate problem of the silence, and his face turned toward her now, waiting, not pressing, just open, having said the thing and asked nothing and leaving her the space to do whatever she was going to do with it, which she still, sitting there, scoured-out and scriptless, did not know how to fill.
In the end she nodded.
It was the smallest possible answer, and that was exactly why she chose it, because a nod committed to nothing. A nod could mean I heard you, or I agree, or I'll try, or simply yes. This conversation has reached a place where a response is expected, and I am providing the minimum one. It was the answer with the least surface area, the one that seemed to want his acknowledgment without giving him anything he could hold her to. She'd retreated to it the way a tired animal retreats to the smallest, most defensible space, because words were dangerous when you were this empty, words could come out wrong, could reveal the thing under them, could turn into the unfinished sentence again, the I don't know what you want that would have told him far too much about how she'd been built.
A nod told him nothing. A nod was safe.
She knew, even as she did it, that it was a retreat. She knew it the way she knew everything about herself, accurately and uselessly, the cold part observing the choice and naming it: you're nodding because you can't risk speaking, because anything you said would have to come from somewhere real. You don't trust what's there right now. The wall was still down. That's the danger. The night had taken it down, and the morning hadn't rebuilt it, the fuel not there to rebuild it with, and so anything she spoke would come out unguarded, would come from the undefended place the laugh had come from. She could not afford another undefended thing on top of the apology and the laugh and the dry line, could not afford to give James, however much she'd started to not-distrust him, one more piece of the real her while the wall was down. So she gave him the nod instead. The nod came from no real place. The nod was the one gesture she could make that didn't require the wall to be up, because it didn't reveal anything for the wall to have to guard.
James looked at her for a moment, and she braced, the way she braced for everything, for the nod to not be enough, for him to press, to say words, please, I want to hear you say it, the way people did when a nod didn't satisfy them, when they needed the verbal confirmation, the out-loud agreement, the thing they could point to later. People usually weren't satisfied with a nod. People usually wanted more, wanted the spoken yes, wanted you to receive their kindness so they could be sure it had landed, so they could enjoy having given it. The nod was almost never enough, in her experience, and the not-enough was where the pressing started, and the pressing was where she'd have to either produce words she didn't trust or refuse to and create a scene.
He didn't press.
That was the thing. He looked at her, and he read the nod, and he accepted it, exactly as offered, at exactly the size it was. He didn't ask her to say it out loud. He didn't lean in for the verbal version. He didn't do the thing where a person treats a nod as the opening bid in a negotiation toward a real answer. He took the nod as a complete response, a sufficient one, and something in his face settled, the small recognition of a person who understood that a nod, from her, right now, was not a brush-off but possibly the most she had, and was choosing to receive it as the full thing it was rather than the partial thing it looked like.
"Okay," he said. Just that. Okay. The same, okay, he'd have given a clean transition, the acknowledgment that something had been completed to standard, no more required.
And the okay did something the pressing would never have done, which was to make the nod feel, retroactively, like enough. Because he'd treated it as enough, it became enough. He hadn't forced her to upgrade it into words, hadn't made her pay the toll of speaking. The not-forcing meant the nod got to stand as a real answer instead of a dodge, and a real answer that cost her nothing to give was a thing she almost never got to give, because almost everyone made her pay more than she wanted to pay for the privilege of having responded at all.
She understood, dimly, through the depletion, that he'd done it on purpose. Not the okay specifically, but the whole shape of it, the asking-nothing, the leaving-room, the accepting-the-minimum. He'd built the entire conversation so that she could get out of it without having to spend anything she didn't have. The twenty minutes, the not-terrible chairs, the question with no edge, the truth with no scold, the kindness with no price, and now the nod accepted as a full answer. It was, she realized, the same thing he'd done in the practice room, when he'd solved the standoff by sitting down, found the structure that let them both keep their spines. He'd found the structure here, too. He'd built a conversation she could survive, one that asked nothing of a person who had nothing to give, and he'd done it so quietly that she'd almost missed the building of it.
"They'll have the car here soon," James said, glancing at the corridor, the practical thing surfacing, the eldest closing the moment cleanly, the way he closed everything. "You should eat before you get in it. There's a place in the lobby, it's bad, but it has bread." A small pause, dry. "Juhoon would want me to mention the bread. He's very committed to the bread."
It surprised the smallest sound out of her, not quite a laugh, too tired for a laugh, but the exhale-shape of one, because it was true, because Juhoon was very committed to the bread. After all, the bread had been the last thing she'd heard before sleep, eat the bread, the bread matters more, and James had clearly heard about it or seen the table or simply knew Juhoon well enough to know that the bread was now a whole campaign. And the small almost-laugh came out unguarded, the wall still down, but it didn't frighten her this time the way the hospital-bed laugh had, because there was only James to see it, and James, she was beginning to grasp, didn't keep a ledger of the things he saw.
"He left bread on the table," she said. The first real sentence she'd offered since the nod, small but real, surprised out of her the way the almost-laugh had been. "Last night. With a—a whole instruction about it."
"That tracks. Kinda makes sense." James stood, unhurried, collecting himself the way he'd collected his phone in the practice room, a person ending a thing on his own terms. "He'll ask you if you ate it. Tomorrow, the next day, whenever he sees you. He'll make it sound like he's just asking, but he's checking. That's how he is. You'll get used to it." He said it like a piece of practical information, here is a thing about the group you've been added to, the way you'd tell a new member where the good practice room was, and under the practicality was the quiet assumption that there would be a you'll-get-used-to-it, that she'd be here long enough to learn the group's small grammars, that she was, despite everything. This member would get used to things rather than a guest who'd be gone before the getting-used-to mattered.
She took note of that too. The assumption of her staying. The casual "you'll get used to it" that treated her continued presence as a settled fact rather than the open question the fandom, the company, and her own fear all treated it as. James had said it without weight, hadn't meant it as reassurance, probably hadn't even noticed he'd said it, and that was exactly why it landed, because reassurance offered on purpose could be doubted as performance, and a thing said by accident could not. He simply assumed she'd be around. It was the most anyone had assumed about her future with the group since she'd arrived, and he'd done it while talking about bread.
"Okay," she said. Her turn for the word, given back to him, the small shared vocabulary again, the okay that meant the conversation had reached its clean end. And this time it wasn't a retreat. This time it was almost an agreement, the closest she could come, with the wall down and the fuel gone, to saying the thing she couldn't say, which was something like thank you, or something like I heard you, or something like the larger unspeakable thing underneath both, the thing about the cost being zero and the concern having no beneficiary but her, the thing she'd set aside to examine later and could feel, even set aside, still quietly working at the edges of the law she'd built her life on.
He left the way he'd arrived, without ceremony, and that was the part that stayed with her.
There was no production to his leaving. He didn't draw it out, didn't make her watch him go and feel the weight of having been visited, didn't extract the small final acknowledgment most people extracted on their way out the door, the take care of yourself with the meaningful look, the I mean it that demanded a response, the lingering that asked to be thanked one more time before it released you. He just stood, having said the bread thing, having given her the okay and received hers back, and he picked up the cup he'd never drunk from to throw it away.
“Car's probably out front by now. Eat first. I'll tell the manager you're coming," he stood up, “Yona-ssi, don’t push yourself next time.”
He went. He walked down the corridor toward the lobby with the unhurried, settled quality he carried everywhere, the eldest who saw things through, and he didn't look back. He didn't pause at the doors for a last word, and he didn't do a single one of the things that would have converted the morning into a thing she owed him for. He'd come, he'd said his piece, he'd asked nothing, and he left exactly as cleanly as he'd done all of it, the leaving as free of hooks as the arriving had been.
And she sat in the not-terrible chair and watched him go, and felt the not-pressing land.
It was strange which things landed, she'd think later, when she had the fuel to think. Not the kind words; she had defenses against kind words, years of them, a whole apparatus for receiving warmth and quietly discounting it. Not even the accurate reading, you apply it to everything except you, though that has gotten in its way. What actually landed, what lodged in the place where the genuineness lodged and would not file away as cleanly as the rest, was the leaving. The not-pressing. The way he'd let the nod be enough and then simply gone, taking nothing with him, leaving her with no debt and no scene and no obligation to feel anything in particular about having been visited.
Because the pressing was the part she knew. The pressing was the universal thing, the toll everyone charged. Even the people who cared, especially the people who cared, pressed, because caring made them want the confirmation, want to see the care land, want the receiving performed back to them so they could be sure it had worked. The trainee managers who'd cared had pressed, " Do you understand what I'm telling you? Say it back to me.” The few people over the years who'd tried to reach her had pressed, talk to me, tell me what's wrong, you can trust me, the pressing always framed as for her benefit and always, underneath, for theirs, the need to be let in, to be the one who got through, to be thanked for the trying. Pressing was how care announced itself, how it made sure it got credit. A person who cared and didn't press was almost a contradiction, because how would you even know they cared if they didn't make you acknowledge it.
James hadn't pressed. He'd cared enough to spend a morning and say the true useful thing, and then he'd cared enough to not need her to do anything about it, to let her keep the nod and the silence and the wall-down emptiness without demanding she convert any of it into the performance of having been helped. He'd given the care and then declined the credit, and the declining was somehow the realest part of the care, because it was the part that proved the care had actually been for her and not for him. A person doing it for himself would have needed the credit. A person doing it for her could let it go.
It landed as a fact about him and then, slower, as a fact about the world. If James can care and not press, then care-without-pressing exists. It's possible. It's not the contradiction my whole experience says it is. And if it existed, then the pressing she'd always understood as the inseparable cost of being cared for was not actually inseparable from it, was a thing some people did and some people didn't, was a feature of the rooms she'd survived in rather than a law of caring itself. The thought was too big to hold for long, scoured-out as she was, and it slipped away almost as soon as it arrived, but it left a residue, the way the night before had left a residue, the small accumulating evidence that the model was wrong somewhere, that the world had more shapes in it than the one she'd built herself to survive.
She got up, eventually, when her legs felt like they'd hold, and she went to the bad place in the lobby, and she bought the bread, because James had said to and Juhoon would ask and because, she admitted to herself with the dry honesty she could only afford when too tired to perform, she wanted to be able to say yes when Juhoon asked, wanted to give him that, the small true yes, I ate it. She ate the bread standing in the lobby, slow, the body taking it gratefully, the fuel beginning, by the smallest degree, to come back. And with the first edge of fuel came the first edge of the wall, the machinery beginning to boot again, the surface starting its slow reassembly, and she felt it come back and felt, underneath the relief of it, a small unexpected reluctance, because the wall coming back meant the morning would soon be behind the wall too, would become a thing she'd remember from the far side of the glass rather than a thing she'd felt.
But it wouldn't go all the way behind the glass. Some things don't file cleanly. The bottle she wouldn't drink hadn't filed cleanly; it was still in the zippered pocket of her bag, sealed, kept, something genuine she couldn't convert into either a debt or a discard. The laugh the camera caught hadn't filed cleanly. The baseline James had set in the practice room hadn't filed cleanly. And this wouldn't either, the morning, the not-terrible chairs, the cost of zero, the nod accepted as enough, the leaving with no hooks in it. It would stay where the uncleanly-filed things stayed, in the place that wasn't quite the cold accurate drawer and wasn't quite feeling either, the growing place where the evidence accumulated, the evidence that contradicted the law.
She wouldn't be able to say any of this. She knew that too. If anyone asked her, later, what James had said at the hospital, she'd say he told me not to overwork, which would be true and would be nothing, would be the filed version, the version that fit through the gap. She wouldn't be able to say he came back when he didn't have to and asked for nothing and let me nod instead of speak and left without making me thank him, and it was the not-making-me-thank-him that I can't stop thinking about. She didn't have the language for that, or rather she had the language but not the permission, because saying it would mean admitting it had mattered, and admitting a thing had mattered was a kind of wall-down she couldn't do on purpose, only by accident, only when scoured empty, only the way the laugh had gotten out.
But she'd remember it. She'd remember the not-pressing even when she couldn't say she remembered it, would carry it in the uncleanly-filed place, would find it surfacing later at odd moments, in the practice room or between takes or in the dark of her own room with the apps deleted and the comments gone quiet, the memory of a tired eldest in bad chairs who'd cared without charging for it and left without collecting. It would be one of the things she measured the next thing against, the way she'd started measuring everything against the small collection of genuineness, honesty, and care—the bottle and the laugh and the baseline and now this. The morning would become part of the quiet evidence she didn't know she was gathering, the case being slowly built, in the place under the wall, against the law she'd organized her whole life around, the law that said no one did anything for free.
The manager's text came through, the car was out front. Yona finished the bread, gathered herself, and went, upright, scoured-out but refueling, the wall most of the way back up now, the morning already beginning to slip behind the glass. But not all the way. Never all the way. As she walked out into the grey ordinary day, toward the car and the dorm and the recording still waiting on the calendar and the whole grinding machine of being CORTIS resuming around her, she carried the morning with her, unfiled, unsayable, lodged in the place that was learning, against everything she'd built, to hold whatever this new genuine feelings and actions instead of converting them, and she did not look back at the building either, because she'd learned that from him too, just now, without deciding to: that you could leave something, without ceremony, and still carry all of it with you.
Syn : Martin and his band CORTIS ended up having to move towns and join a new highschool due to certain reasons where he ends up meeting YN and her friends. When he finds out YN refuses to listen to punk, or any other genre other than hard rock it intrigues him and he's determined to change her mind. YN on the other hand is annoyed by watching him try so hard.
Mean Boys
Syn : You were the new kid at school who just moved from Africa and ended up befriending two outcasts who encourage you to infiltrate "The Plastics," the school's ruling clique, aka Cortis. But what happens when you see an unusual side of their leader, Martin Edwards?
✮⋆˙ JAMES (moodboard)
Dangerously
✮⋆˙ JUHOON (moodboard)
✮⋆˙ SEONGHYEON (moodboard)
✮⋆˙ KEONHO (moodboard)
Homie Hopping - smau
synopsis : Martin decided to go after one of your friends right after you guys break up and ofc since you're a genius you end up fake dating his hb Keonho
✮⋆˙ OT5
cortis when they find lngshot album in your room - smau
synopsis : The boys found a lngshot album/merch in your room? time to be dramatic af
☘︎ synopsis: After accidentally kicking a football straight into y/n’s face, Seonghyeon is prepared to spend the rest of the week apologizing. Y/n meanwhile, discovers that being mildly injured comes with some surprisingly enjoyable perks.
☘︎ genre: classmate!seonghyeon x classmate!reader, highschool!au, SLOWBURN.., fluff, teasing, kissing, mutual pining, footballplayer!seonghyeon, shy!reader, jealousy, lots of yearning, a lil angst in there, protective!seonghyeon, shy girl & popular guy or wtv, some cringeworthy scenes, introverted reader x extroverted? seonghyeon
☘︎ wc: 17,6k MASTERLIST
If anyone asked later, you would insist you saw the football coming.
You didn’t.
Not until it was already flying toward you at an alarming speed.
Then- well. Getting hit in the face tends to interrupt a person’s train of thought.
The impact came fast and hard, sending a sharp sting across your cheek. Your eyes watered instantly as the ball bounced away somewhere across the field, but you barely noticed. For a second, all you could do was stand there, blinking in disbelief.
Seriously? Out of everyone on the field, it had to hit you?
A mixture of gasps and laughter erupted around you. Heat rushed to your face immediately, not from the pain, but from the sudden realization that half the football field was staring at you. Great.
Nothing was more humiliating than becoming the center of attention because a football had smacked you directly in the face. You pressed a hand against your cheek, hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
A pair of hurried footsteps pounded across the grass, growing louder by the second. Before you could even recover, someone came to a stop right in front of you. “Oh my god.”
You looked up, it was Seonghyeon.His eyes were wide, his face pale, and judging by the expression on it, you’d think he’d just witnessed a murder.
“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. You opened your mouth to answer.
“I am so sorry.” Then closed it again.
“I wasn’t aiming anywhere near you, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. Are you hurt? Does your head hurt? Can you see properly?”
The questions came so quickly that you barely had time to process them. For a moment, you just stared at him. It wasn’t really because your head hurt, more so because Eom Seonghyeon, the same Seonghyeon who usually looked far too cool and confident for his own good, looked like he was seconds away from having a complete breakdown. Finally, you sighed.
“I got hit by a football, not hit by a truck’’
‘’Some would argue that that’s worse.’’
Despite yourself, a faint laugh escaped you. The tension in Seonghyeon’s shoulders eased immediately at the sound of your laugh. For some reason, that made your stomach do something strange.
“You laughed,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
‘’Hm?’’
“It means you’re okay.”
You blinked at him. Then, before you could stop yourself, you let out a quiet groan and pressed a hand to your forehead. Immediately, panic returned to his face. “Wait. What happened? Are you dizzy?”
“…Very.”
The reaction was instant.
“Oh god.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “Very” was apparently the wrong thing to say. Seonghyeon looked seconds away from calling an ambulance.
“I might die, it could be because of you.” you said dramatically.
“It’s that bad?!”
Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Come on.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to the nurse.”
You opened your mouth to protest, then closed it again. Actually…that didn’t sound so bad.
A few minutes later, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the nurse’s office while Seonghyeon hovered nearby like an anxious parent. The nurse had spent less than thirty seconds checking you over before declaring you completely fine. Unfortunately for Seonghyeon, he didn’t seem convinced.
“Are you sure?” he asked. The nurse looked mildly offended.
“Yes.”
“But the ball hit her pretty hard.”
“She’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
You looked away before either of them could see your smile. This was getting ridiculous. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about you this much. When the nurse finally sent you back out, Seonghyeon stayed beside you the entire walk down the hallway.
“You sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you something? You’re not bruised, are you? Wait, let me check-” Before you could respond, Seonghyeon was already leaning closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined your cheek. You froze for a second, suddenly very aware of how close he was. After a moment, he leaned back with a small frown.
“I think it’s going to bruise.”
A few days have gone by, and Seonghyeon had somehow managed to become your personal caretaker. At first, it had been small things.
A bottle of water placed on your desk every morning with a bright smile that had you not doubt why everyone is charmed by him. When you carried many books, he’d take them out of your hands without hesitation. Everytime he would walk past you, he’d ask you this very question:
‘’How’s your head today?’’ as if you were recovering from a life threatening injury. You have never met someone so commited. At some point, you stopped correcting him because everytime he checked on you, his face softened in a way you’d never seen before.
Before what happened in the football field, Seonghyeon had been one of those people you only knew from a distance. The kind of person everyone seemed to recognize. He wasn’t loud or constantly trying to be noticed, he never really had to. People gravitated towards him naturally.
Teachers liked him. Students liked him. Heck, even the security guard near the front entrance seemed happy to see him every morning. You had always thought Seonghyeon was cold and intimidating, which is why you have never spoken to him before. You weren’t exactly the type to walk up to people.
While Seonghyeon seemed to move through school as if he belonged everywhere, you preferred blending into the background. You kept your circle small, avoided unecessary attention and spent most of your time in your own world. The idea of starting a conversation with someone like Seonghyeon had never even crossed your mind. You were pretty sure he didn’t know who you were, or at the very least never bothered to pay any attention to you. Then he kicked a football directly into your face, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.
You really should’ve kept your mouth shut. It had been a completely harmless comment, a passing observation. Something you’d mutter to your friend while packing up your things after class.
‘’I’m hungry’’
You hadn’t asked anyone to get you anything, and you certainly hadn’t been talking to Seonghyeon. Yet somehow a few minutes later, he came back with a recognizable sandwich from the school cafeteria. You looked up in confusion.
“So..”
Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghyeon handed you the sandwich.
“You said you were hungry”
You stared at him, then the sandwich, then back at him.
“..oh.”
Very articulate. His expression didn’t change.
“Eat.”
“I was going to buy one after class.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because the problem wasn’t the sandwich. The problem was that half the classroom had suddenly become very interested in what was happening. You could practically feel the stares.
The girls sitting by the window had stopped talking. Someone behind you let out a suspiciously amused laugh. Your friend looked seconds away from exploding. She had many questions, the look upon her face says it all. Heat immediately rushed to your face.
‘’Tha..nks.’’ You mumbled, taking the sandwich quickly in your hand while lowering your head. Seonghyeon was completely unaware of the crisis unfolding internally.
‘’Your head okay?’’
‘’Yeah..’
‘’You sure?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’Good.’’
The conversation really should’ve ended there. Instead, Seonghyeon remained standing next to your desk. Your face grew warmer. Why is he still here? Finally, after a few seconds he spoke again.
‘’Let me know if it starts hurting.’’
Then, as casually as he’d arrived, turned and walked away. You turned to your friend, you already knew where this was going.
‘’Y/n-‘’
‘’No.’’
‘’There’s like-clearly something going on that you’re refusing to inform me about.’’
‘’Like what?’’
Her expression changed, as if it was obvious and self explanatory.
Choi Haejin was the complete opposite of you. You were reserved, she was sociable and open. You were in your own world and Haejin was in everybody else’s, gathering information to gossip about later. Somehow this dynamic worked extremely well. You needed a friend to do all the talking, and you really do enjoy it.
‘’Hello? Why is he practically working for you?’’
‘’There’s obviously something going on!’’
‘’WHAT IF HE POISONED THE SANDWICH?!’’
‘’It’s not reasonable for him to have any hatred towards you though..”
‘’How are you so calm?!’’
Yes, one of Choi Haejin’s many loveable qualities. Her overwhelmingly stacked questions.
Seonghyeon’s concern didn’t seem to fade with time. If anything, it had simply evolved. A week after the football incident, you found yourself stuck in a conversation you had absolutely no interest in being part of. You’d only been trying to get to class. That was it.
Somehow, somewhere between leaving the cafeteria and reaching the stairs, a girl from your year had stopped you. You knew who she was, but not well enough to have a ten minute conversation in the middle of the hallway. Yet here you were, smiling politely, nodding occasionally and secretly praying for an escape.
“-and then she literally posted about it!” the girl continued. “Really?” you replied.
You didn’t even know what you were saying “really” to anymore. The conversation had dragged on for so long that you’d completely lost the plot. You shifted your weight awkwardly, glancing toward the staircase. Your next class started in a few minutes, but cutting her off felt rude. Standing here forever also felt rude to yourself.
“So then I told her-‘’
“There you are.”
The familiar voice made you look up immediately. Seonghyeon. For a second, you just stared. He stopped beside you, one hand shoved casually into his pocket.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Class starts in like two minutes.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
It did?
Before you could check your phone, Seonghyeon looked over at the girl.
“Sorry,” he said easily. “I need her for something.”
Need you?
The girl glanced between the two of you.
“Oh.”
You felt your face heat up instantly.
“Oh.”
Seonghyeon, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. The girl quickly stepped aside.
“Yeah, of course.”
And just like that, you were free. You followed Seonghyeon down the hallway, still trying to process what had happened. Neither of you spoke.
“You didn’t need me for anything.” You began.
“Nope.” You stared at him. He glanced over.
“You looked like you wanted to escape.” Your steps faltered slightly.
“Was it that obvious?”
“To me?” he shrugged. “A little.”
You looked away before he could see the smile threatening to appear. The strange thing was that you hadn’t even told him you were uncomfortable. You hadn’t said anything at all. And somehow, he’d noticed anyway.
The next day, by the time you reached your classroom, you were expecting everyone to already be inside. Instead, a small crowd had gathered outside the locked door.
A few students sat on the floor scrolling through their phones while others stood around complaining about the teacher being late. Relieved that you hadn’t actually missed anything, you slipped into an empty spot against the wall and pulled out your phone, hoping to blend into the background until the classroom opened. It was working for about thirty seconds, then a familiar voice spoke beside you.
“You’re late, It’s not because of your head is it?’’
You looked up to find Seonghyeon standing there. Before you could answer, someone walking down the hallway lifted a hand.
“Hey, Seonghyeon.”
“Hey.”
Another student nodded at him as they passed. A group farther down the hall called his name and he acknowledged them with a small wave. It was such a normal thing that he barely seemed to notice it. You did.
Before he acknowledged you, this was exactly how you’d always seen him, from a distance. Someone who seemed to know everyone and be known by everyone. Teachers greeted him. Students greeted him. Even people who weren’t in his friend group seemed comfortable walking up to him. Meanwhile, you were usually trying to avoid being perceived altogether.
“Well?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Why are you late?” You immediately looked away because the answer was embarrassing.
“I couldn’t find a pen.” Seonghyeon stared at you.
“A pen.”
“Yes.”
“You were late because of a pen.”
“It was an important pen.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, you felt strangely defensive.
“It was.”
A laugh escaped him.
Not loud enough to draw attention, but enough that you looked up in surprise. You weren’t sure why the sound caught you off guard. Maybe because Seonghyeon always seemed so composed around everyone else. Maybe because you’d spent months assuming he was intimidating. Now he was laughing because you apparently make hilarious jokes.
The interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, somehow you caught two girls nearby glancing over before quickly looking away. One of them whispered something to the other. Heat immediately crept up your neck.
For some reason, whenever Seonghyeon talked to you, it felt like everyone else suddenly became interested too. Seonghyeon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A few minutes later, one of his friends appeared and nudged his shoulder.
“Come here for a sec.” You expected him to leave but instead he glanced over briefly. “I’ll be there in a minute, Keonho.’’ His friend looked between the two of you before smirking slightly. “Right.”
The second he walked away, you wanted to disappear. Seonghyeon meanwhile, looked completely oblivious. The conversation continued in small pieces after that. Nothing important. Complaints about homework. A teacher neither of you liked. The upcoming test everyone was stressing about. You still weren’t saying much but for the first time, the silences didn’t feel awkward.
That was what surprised you the most because before all of this, talking to Seonghyeon had never even seemed like a possibility. Now you found yourself hoping the teacher would stay late for a few more minutes.
If there was one thing you’d learned from being friends with Haejin, it was that she was incapable of making a quick decision. She was supposed to buy a game for her younger brother’s birthday.
You were only there because she’d insisted she needed a “second opinion”. According to Haejin, this was a very important responsibility. According to you, she just didn’t want to go alone. Twenty minutes later, your theory was proven to be correct.
“You’ve been staring at these three games for like ten minutes”
Haejin gasped dramatically. “This is a life changing decision.”
“…It’s a birthday gift?’’
‘’Exactly.’’
You sighed and glanced around the store.
The place was busier than you’d expected for a saturday afternoon. The game store was warm and slightly crowded, lined with shelves stacked with colorful game cases and collectibles. Bright lights reflected off display screens scattered throughout the store, while the faint sounds of racing games, button mashing, and excited conversations filled the air.
Groups of friends wandered between aisles, kids begged their parents to buy things and somewhere in the back of the store, a racing game played loudly through a set of speakers.
‘’Oh, what do i do? Haemin likes all of these.’’ At this point, you were mostly waiting for Haejin to decide which game she’d buy for her brother so you could both leave. Then a familiar voice drifted across the store.
‘’You can’t blame me for that.’’
For a second, you thought you’d imagined it but then another voice answered.
‘’Oh yes i can.’’
You turned your head slightly. Near the racing simulator setup stood two boys. One was sitting in the simulator, controller still in hand. The other stood beside him with his arms crossed. You recognized them immediately.
Seonghyeon and Keonho.
You simply stared. Not because seeing them was surprising, you’re sure many highschoolers come here.
Because seeing them like this was.
‘’You literally drove into me!’’ Keonho blamed.
‘’I didn’t-‘’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I barely touched you.’’
Keonho looked genuienly offended.
‘’You sent my car into a wall.’’
‘’Well you suck at this game anyway.’’
A laugh escaped Seonghyeon.
Even after becoming friends with him, most of your conversations had happened between classes, in hallways, or during lunch breaks.
School Seonghyeon was confident, calm, and seemingly unbothered by everything. This version felt more relaxed, warm. More real. Like the moment he stepped outside school, some invisible pressure disappeared.
Beside you, Haejin finally noticed where your attention had gone. She looked at the two boys.
“No way.”
You already knew that tone.
“Haejin.”
“No way.”
“Haejin.”
“That’s Seonghyeon- and Keonho.’’
“I can see that.”
She looked far too excited about this discovery. Fate apparently hated you because at that exact moment, Keonho looked up and spotted the two of you. His grin appeared instantly.
“Oh, this is interesting.”
Seonghyeon frowned.
“What?”
Keonho tilted his head toward the entrance. Slowly, Seonghyeon turned around. For a brief moment, surprise flashed across his face. His eyes met yours. The first thing he did was smile, a genuine smile. Suddenly, becoming very interested in the floor seemed like a fantastic idea. Haejin had other plans. Before you could stop her, she grabbed your wrist and started walking.
“Haejin.”
“Nope.”
“Haejin, come on-”
“We’re already committed.”
“We absolutely are not.”
Across the store, you could hear Keonho laughing which somehow made everything worse. By the time the two of you have reached them, your dignity had already left the building.
‘’Y/n,’’ Seonghyeon said.
The fact that he greeted you first did absolutely nothing to help.
‘’Hi.’’
Haejin meanwhile, had abandoned all subtlety.
‘’What happened to fourth place?’’
Keonho immediately pointed at her.
‘’THANK YOU.’’
Seonghyeon closed his eyes briefly. ‘’You are not helping.’’
‘’You came fourth?’’
You really couldn’t help asking. The look Seonghyeon gave you was almost enough to make you laugh, almost. Keonho looked delighted. Finally, someone was on his side. “You see?” he said, pointing at you. “Even y/n agrees.”
“I didn’t agree with anything,” you replied immediately.
“You asked the question.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It basically is.”
“It absolutely is not.”
Seonghyeon looked exhausted.
“You two are impossible.”
The comment earned matching offended expressions from both you and Keonho which, unfortunately, only made Haejin laugh.
“Wow,” she said. “I’ve never seen him lose an argument before.”
“I’m not losing.”
“You came fourth.”
“I came fourth because somebody doesn’t know how to drive.”
Keonho gasped.
The betrayal.
The audacity.
The complete disrespect.
For a second, the two of them resumed arguing while you stood there trying- and failing not to smile. It was strange. Before today, you’d never really seen Seonghyeon with his friends. Not properly.
At school, people always seemed drawn to him. There was always someone talking to him, waving at him, asking him something. But this felt different, like it was more real, less intimidating.
You followed his gaze. Haejin was holding up two game cases while Keonho looked like he was defending his thesis.
“Yeah.”
“They’ve been arguing about the same thing for like ten minutes.”
“You say that like you weren’t arguing over a racing game when I walked in.”
Seonghyeon looked over.
“That was different.”
“Was it?’’
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. You found yourself looking around the store instead, eyes moving over shelves packed with games you knew nothing about. Then Seonghyeon pointed toward one.
“Have you played that before?”
You glanced at the cover.
“No.”
“What about that one?”
“No.”
He pointed at another.
“No.”
Another.
“No.”
Seonghyeon stared at you.
“Have you ever had fun before?”
You were slightly taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to figure out why Haejin brought you to a game store.’’
“I’m here to supervise.”
To your surprise, he laughed.
Slowly, Your conversations started to flow naturally. It felt easier to talk to him. Maybe because it didn’t feel like talking to the cool guy everyone knew. Or the football player.
Just Seonghyeon.
Talking to him was becoming easier than talking to most people.
“You owe me.”
You looked up from your phone.
Across the lunch table, Haejin was staring at you expectantly.
“What?”
“You owe me.”
“..I don’t think I do.”
“You do.”
You narrowed your eyes, then Haejin leaned forward.
“Aren’t friends supposed to support each other’s interests?” She gave you a cheeky smile.
‘’Mm..that depends.’’
‘’On what?’’
“Whether those interests involve dragging me somewhere against my will.”
A look of betrayal crossed her face.
“Wow.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“Haejin.”
She grinned. “What?”
You gave her a knowing look before she finally decided to answer.
“There’s a football match after school.”
You stared at her.
“Seriously? No.”
The answer came so quickly that she looked offended.
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did.”
“You really didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
Haejin pointed at you.
“See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Unfortunately, that was how you found yourself sitting on the school bleachers three hours later, questioning every life decision that had led you to this moment. It seemed fun though.
The field was already crowded by the time you arrived.
Students filled up most of the seats, scattered in groups with friends, snacks and far more enthusiasm than you could ever relate to. The noise was conversations overlapping, people calling out to eachother, the occasional burst of laughter carrying across the field.
You adjusted your position on the bleachers and glanced around.
“This is way more people than I expected.”
“Obviously,” Haejin replied.
“Why obviously?”
She looked at you as if you’d asked something ridiculous.
“It’s the biggest match of the season.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t know that either?”
“No.”
Haejin sighed. Sometimes you genuinely worried about her blood pressure whenever she talked to you. The teams began gathering on the field below. A few students immediately started cheering. Others waved at friends playing.
You found yourself mostly observing, until a familiar figure stepped onto the field. The annoying thing was that you recognized him immediately. Not because of the jersey, not because he was standing the closest, your eyes had simply found him automatically.
You hated that, a lot.
Before he hit you with the football, Seonghyeon would’ve blended into the crowd of players. Now he stood out immediately. The realization was embarrassing enough that you quickly had to look elsewhere.
When you looked back a few moments later, your eyes found him again. And again. And again. It was becoming a problem.
The whistle blew.
The game began.
At first, you paid attention out of politeness. Haejin had dragged you here, after all. The least you could do was pretend to care. A few minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Somewhere along the way, you realized you were actually watching.
Not football.
Seonghyeon.
The thing was, you’d never seen him like this before. At school, Seonghyeon always seemed relaxed and comfortable. The type of person who could walk into any room and immediately belong there. On the field, however, there was something different about him. He moved with an ease that made everything look effortless. Even from a distance, you could tell people listened when he spoke.
Teammates glanced toward him constantly. A few times, he called something out and everyone immediately adjusted. It was strange. Not because you hadn’t known he played football. Because you’d never really thought about what that meant.
For the first time, you understood why so many people admired him. And for some reason, that realization made your stomach feel weird. Beside you, Haejin followed your gaze. Then smirked. You knew that smirk. It was never a good sign.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Haejin.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You groaned.
“Please don’t.”
The smirk only grew.
Thankfully, before she could speak, the crowd suddenly erupted around you. Cheers echoed across the bleachers. Students jumped to their feet. You blinked.
Apparently something had happened. Unfortunately, you’d been too busy arguing with Haejin to notice.
“What happened?”
Haejin stared at you, then at the field, then back at you.
“You weren’t watching.”
“I was.”
“You literally weren’t.”
“What happened?”
She pointed toward the field and you followed her gaze. Seonghyeon was jogging back toward the center, teammates crowding around him.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Haejin repeated.
“He scored.”
“He scored.”
You nodded.
For some reason, a smile pulled at your lips. A small one. One you didn’t even notice until Haejin did. Her eyes widened immediately.
“Wow.’’
Your smile disappeared.
“What?”
“You smiled.”
“So?”
“You smiled because he scored.”
Heat immediately rose to your face. You felt your ears swell.
“No i didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
You looked away before she could continue. You weren’t entirely sure she was wrong. That realization lingered for the rest of the match. Long after the cheering died down. Long after the game resumed. Long after you’d convinced yourself you were imagining things.
Because every time something happened on the field, your attention drifted toward the same person. Everytime he did something impressive, you felt strangely proud. As if you’d somehow earned the right.
Which was absurd.
You were still trying to convince yourself of that when the final whistle blew. The crowd immediately came alive. Students began standing, gathering their things, and making their way toward the exits. Some headed toward the field. Others were already talking excitedly about the game.
You stayed seated. Mostly because moving required effort. Partly because Haejin had disappeared five minutes ago after spotting someone she knew. You’d just pulled out your phone when a shadow fell across you. You assumed it was Haejin. Then a familiar voice spoke.
“I need an unbiased opinion.”
You looked up.
And immediately wished you hadn’t. Seonghyeon was standing there. Still wearing his uniform. Still slightly out of breath. His hair was damp from the game, falling messily across his forehead. For some reason, that bothered you.
Not because it looked bad, quite the opposite actually. Judging by the expression on his face, something had clearly bothered him.
“Hello to you too.”
“That can wait-‘’
You blinked.
“That’s sort of concerning.”
“I was robbed.”
A pause.
‘’Didn’t you guys win?’’
‘’That’s not the point.’’
‘’Feels like a pretty important point.’’
Seonghyeon looked genuinely frustrated, his breathing was heavier since the game had ended.
‘’The referee was seriously against me.’’
You stared at him for several seconds before you shifted in your seat.
‘’You’re one of those people?’’
‘’What?’’
‘’The people who blame the referee everytime something doesn’t go their way.’’
‘’It didn’t go my way.’’
‘’Well, you won.’’
‘’Of course i did.’’
You laughed, the reaction was immediate.
‘’You didn’t even pay attention.’’
‘’I was.’’
‘’No you weren’t’’
‘’How would you know?’’
‘’Because if you did, you’d be angry too.’’
‘’I’m not emotionally invested enough to be angry.’’
The look he gave you suggested this was the wrong answer.
“Okay, imagine this’’
‘’Oh-‘’
‘’I score.’’
‘’You score.’’
‘’A beautiful score.’’
‘’According to whom exactly?’’
‘’Everybody.’’
‘’Mm.’’
‘’Then the referee- who’s job is to observe accurately, calls it offside.’’
You considered this, then shrugged.
‘’Well- maybe it was offside.’’
The betrayal on his face creeped up fast.
‘’I swear it wasn’t.’’
‘’Were you the referee?’’
‘’No.’’
‘’Then how do you know?’’
For a moment, Seonghyeon simply stared at you, then he pointed accusingly.
‘’You’re terrible at this.’’
‘’At what?’’
‘’At being supportive.’’
‘’You wanted an unbiased opinion.’’
‘’I wanted you to agree with me.’’
‘’That’s not quite what unbiased means.’’
The corner of his mouth twitched. You knew he was competitive, he shot a football straight at you a few weeks ago.
‘’You know what? Nevermind.’’
You laughed again.
This time, Seonghyeon shook his head dramatically and dropped down to the bleacher seat in front of you. The field behind him remained crowded with players and students slowly making their way home. Voices carried across the evening air while coaches gathered equipment near the sidelines.
“You stayed for the whole match.”
The comment caught you off guard.
“What?”
“The whole thing.”
He leaned back slightly.
“I thought you’d get bored and leave.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You have a very low opinion of me.”
“I watched you spend twenty minutes in a game store staring at absolutely nothing.”
“I was being supportive.”
“You were wandering.”
“I was observing.”
“You were probably lost.”
“I knew exactly where I was.”
“Sure.”
You hated how satisfied he looked, with a smile to follow up on. His smile was genuine, like you could argue about anything- and it would still feel like you won, simply because he gave you that smile.
Then again, you hated how often he made you laugh. Before either of you could continue, a voice called from somewhere behind him.
“Seonghyeon!”
You looked up automatically.
A girl was jogging across the field toward the two of you, a bottle of water in one hand. She couldn’t have been much older than you. She looked pretty, and confident. The type of person who seemed completely comfortable talking to anyone. The type of person you immediately disliked for absolutely no reason.
She stopped beside him and held out the bottle. “You left this.”
“Oh.” Seonghyeon took it.
“Thanks.”
The interaction was completely normal.
The girl smiled. “No problem.”
Then she started talking, and Seonghyeon talked back. Which again, was normal. Because why wouldn’t he? But as you stood there listening to their conversation, a strange feeling settled in your chest. One you didn’t particularly like. The girl seemed familiar with him, she was comfortable like this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken. Obviously it wasn’t, Seonghyeon knew everyone. You already knew that.
Still, you found yourself looking away. Suddenly very interested in fixing the strap of your bag.
“You coming to practice on monday?” the girl asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She grinned.
“Coach would’ve killed you if you missed it.”
Seonghyeon laughed. The same laugh you’d spent the last few weeks becoming far too fond of. Hearing it now felt different, a little less special.
You’d never thought it was special. Not really. Right? The realization hit, maybe that was the problem. You had.
At some point, without noticing, you’d started treating every conversation with Seonghyeon like it meant something. When in reality this was just who he was. He was friendly, easy to talk to. He was comfortable around everyone.
The girl finally glanced toward you.
“Oh.”
For a second, she looked between the two of you then smiled politely.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The conversation lasted another minute or two.
You weren’t really paying attention anymore because the stupid feeling in your chest had only gotten worse. Thankfully, someone else called Seonghyeon’s name from across the field. A teammate this time.
“Seonghyeon!”
He looked over, then back at you.
“I should probably go.”
The words were simple and harmless, but for some reason they felt disappointing.
“Yeah,” you said.
“See you monday?”
You smiled, disingeniously.
“See you.”
The second he stood up and walked away, you knew something was wrong. Not with him, but with you. You spent the entire walk home thinking about a conversation that hadn’t even involved you. You replayed everything, the exchanged conversation, his gaze, his laughter. You replayed him.
The realization irritated you more than anything else. It wasn’t as if Seonghyeon had done something particularly memorable. He’d talked to a teammate, that’s all. The interaction had been completely normal, yet somehow your brain insisted on revisiting it every few hours like there was some hidden meaning you’d failed to uncover the first time around.
By monday morning, you’d become so annoyed with yourself that you’d practically banned yourself from thinking about him altogether. Unfortunately, that lasted less than a day.
School carried on as usual. Teachers assigned work, students complained about it, and Haejin continued collecting gossip the way other people collected hobbies, which was admirable really. Everything felt normal. At least until the end of third period.
Your teacher had been gathering her things when she suddenly bent down and picked something up from beside one of the desks near the front of the classroom. It was a dark grey hoodie, slightly oversized and folded in on itself as if somebody had shoved it underneath a chair and forgotten about it.
“Did someone leave this behind?” she asked, holding it up.
A few students glanced over before immediately losing interest, you looked up too and knew exactly who it belonged to.
The answer came so quickly that you didn’t even question it at first. Seonghyeon. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, you simply looked at the hoodie and knew.
Maybe it was because you’d seen him wearing it countless times over the past few weeks. Maybe it was because it had become one of those things your brain automatically associated with him. Whatever the reason, the certainty came naturally enough that you barely thought twice about it.
Then somebody behind you spoke.
“Oh, that’s Seonghyeon’s.”
Somehow, it felt odd. It wasn’t because they’d confirmed it, it was more so because they hadn’t told you anything you didn’t already know.
The rest of the class moved on immediately. The teacher placed the hoodie on her desk, someone made a joke and within seconds everyone was talking about something else. Everyone except you.
For some reason, that insignificant moment refused to leave your head. You spent the next hour trying to convince yourself it meant nothing. It was just a hoodie. People recognized each other’s belongings all the time. There was really nothing strange about it.
The argument would’ve been much more convincing if you hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t wearing it during lunch. The realization hit you before you even saw his face.
Your eyes found him automatically across the cafeteria surrounded by Keonho, Martin, James and Juhoon, the same group of friends he was always with. The first thing your brain registered wasn’t the conversation he was having or the fact that Keonho was laughing at something.
It was the absence of the hoodie. That’s why he looks different. You seriously didn’t like this, you in fact hated it. Seonghyeon, whom you hadn’t bat an eye on two months ago had occupied your mind the past four days. It was torture, simply because you refused to accept the thoughts. You denied everything, you brushed everything off and went about your day.
The following morning started with a problem. Not a particularly serious one, nor one that should have occupied more than a few seconds of your time, yet somehow you found yourself standing in front of your bedroom mirror far longer than necessary. You’d already finished getting ready.
Your makeup was done, your uniform was on, your bag was packed and waiting by the door. By all accounts, you should’ve been downstairs eating breakfast. Instead, you were still there staring at your reflection as if it had personally offended you. Something felt wrong.
The frustrating part was that you couldn’t figure out what. Your hair looked fine, more than fine actually. You had spent enough time on it to ensure that. Yet your hand still reached up to smooth down a strand near your cheek before stepping back again.
A few seconds later you found yourself leaning toward the mirror adjusting something else, then immediately questioning whether it had looked better before. The cycle repeated itself often enough that by the time you finally checked the clock, nearly fifteen minutes had disappeared. You frowned. That couldn’t be right.
Normally, getting ready in the morning wasn’t something you thought much about. You liked looking presentable and usually put effort into your appearance, but there was a difference between effort and whatever this was. This felt suspiciously close to perfectionism, except there was nothing to perfect.
Every time you fixed one thing, your eyes immediately found something else to focus on. A different hairstyle. A little more lip tint. Maybe a different pair of earrings. None of the changes were dramatic enough for anyone else to notice, but you noticed them, and apparently that was enough to keep you rooted in front of the mirror like an idiot.
Moments later, your phone buzzed. Haejin was texting you.
HAEJIN
Overslept.
Can’t make it to first period.
Meet you second period😴
Haejin was a bit careless when it came to school. You don’t think it’s on purpose, she just doesn’t see the need to wake up at 7:30 AM for merely first period. She makes it so justifiable, so you guess you could see it from her perspective, however not today. Today, was an important day.
By the time first period began, you were already feeling self aware. Now, instead of sitting beside your best friend, you found yourself alone at your desk while the teacher droned on at the front of the classroom. The seat beside you remained empty, which felt strangely noticeable. Haejin had a way of filling every space she occupied, and without her there the morning seemed significantly quieter.
When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things and stepped into the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Your next class was on the opposite side of the building, leaving you with more than enough time to get there. Normally, you would have spent the break with Haejin. Today however, you found yourself wandering alone through the crowded hallways.
“Y/n, hey.’’
The familiar voice made you turn immediately.
Seonghyeon stood a few feet away, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. For a moment, your brain supplied an extremely unhelpful thought.
Did he notice?
You hated yourself instantly.
Notice what?
Your hair?
Your makeup?
The fact that you’d spent half your morning acting like a love island contestant? Thankfully, Seonghyeon seemed completely unaware of the spiraling thoughts currently unfolding.
“Haejin’s late,” you explained before he could ask. Before you could think of a more logical answer, like a simple hey.
Seriously?
What does Haejin have to do with this?
Why would he care?
Seonghyeon almost surpressed his reaction.
‘’Oh- right.’’
He was confused. Did you think he approached you to talk to Haejin? He didn’t read much into it though.
However, he did notice something was different about you today.
At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was.
Maybe your hair looked different. Maybe your makeup. Whatever it was, it gave you a slightly softer appearance than usual. Not dramatically different, just enough to make him pause for a second longer than normal.
“You look tired” he said instead.
You stared at him. Of all the things he could’ve said.
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t sleep?”
The betrayal you felt was immediate. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready this morning. An embarrassing amount. And somehow the only conclusion he’d reached was that you looked tired. For a brief moment, you considered pushing him down the nearest staircase.
“That’s offensive.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“I’m choosing peace.”
Seonghyeon laughed.
Unfortunately, the sound did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. If anything, it made it worse. Because now all you could think about was the twenty minutes you’d wasted staring at yourself in the mirror. The universe clearly had a sense of humor.
“You look fine, by the way.”
The comment was casual. So casual that he probably didn’t think twice about saying it. You however, nearly forgot how to function. Before you could respond, Martin called Seonghyeon’s name from farther down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder, then back at you.
“I’ll see you later.” And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway wondering why two completely harmless words had managed to ruin the rest of your morning. The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly after that.
Haejin eventually arrived halfway through second period carrying the same energy she always did, immediately filling the empty space beside you with stories, complaints and dramatic retellings of how she had supposedly fallen victim to circumstances completely beyond her control.
According to her, the blame rested entirely on a combination of faulty alarms, unfair school schedules and a universe that seemed personally determined to make her suffer.
“I woke up and it was 9:12.”
“You start at 8:30.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s doesn’t quite help.” Haejin pouted.
The rest of the day continued pretty much the same way. Haejin spent most of her time insisting she was being unfairly persecuted by the education system. By the final bell, you had almost forgotten about the awkward interaction from that morning. Almost. Unfortunately, while you were fully prepared to go home, Haejin apparently had other plans.
“I’ll be two minutes.”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
“This time I mean it.”
“You also meant it last time.”
Ignoring you entirely, she disappeared back into the building after being stopped by a teacher regarding an assignment she had forgotten to submit. So you waited.
The afternoon air was cool, carrying the familiar sounds of students lingering around school grounds before heading home.
Groups gathered near the entrance, conversations overlapping as people delayed going home for as long as possible. You had been scrolling through your phone for several minutes when a football rolled across the pavement a few meters away. Your eyes followed it automatically.
Several members of the football team had gathered near the edge of the courtyard, passing time before practice. Some were kicking a ball around while others leaned against a nearby fence talking amongst themselves. The sight would’ve gone largely unnoticed if Haejin hadn’t finally emerged from the building at that exact moment.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Her eyes lit up. “Keonho’s here.”
Before you could stop her, she’d already started walking.
“Haejin.”
No response.
“Haejin.”
Still nothing.
Sometimes you genuinely believed she could hear only the things she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, Keonho seemed equally enthusiastic. A few minutes later, the two of them had somehow dragged everyone into the same conversation.
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment you were waiting for Haejin, the next you were standing in a loose circle listening to Keonho passionately argue that football players deserved special treatment during exam season.
“You kick a ball around.”
“That’s not all we do.”
“That’s literally what football is.” Seonghyeon let out a faint laugh. Keonho pointed at him immediately.
“See? He understands.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your silence supports me.”
The conversation drifted from one topic to another after that. Homework became complaints about teachers, which somehow turned into stories from middle school and then an argument over who had the worst attendance record. At some point, Keonho glanced toward Seonghyeon.
“Actually, speaking of people abandoning their friends.” Seonghyeon already looked tired.
“You spend more time talking to y/n than you do with me nowadays.”
The comment earned a laugh from Haejin. You wished it hadn’t, because now everyone was looking at the two of you. Seonghyeon meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
For a second, Keonho gestured vaguely between the two of you as though presenting evidence to a jury. The response came easily. Without hesitation. Without even a second of thought.
“She’s my friend.”
The following morning began with rain.
Not the kind that belonged in movies, where people stared moodily out of windows while life changing realizations unfolded in the background. This was ordinary rain. Annoying rain. The sort that turned sidewalks slippery and made umbrellas feel completely useless because somehow you still ended up getting wet anyway.
By the time you arrived at school, your shoes were damp, your patience was gone and Haejin was already waiting by the entrance looking personally offended by the weather. She immediately launched into a five minute rant about how rain should be illegal before eight in the morning, only pausing long enough to complain about an upcoming assignment and the fact that she had forgotten to study for a quiz she apparently hadn’t known existed until fifteen minutes ago.
The conversation continued all the way to class. Then through first period. Then through half of second period. That was one of the things you liked most about Haejin. Being around her left very little room for overthinking. Unfortunately not no room, just very little.
The thought arrived sometime during lunch. You were sitting across from Haejin while she attempted to convince three people that she deserved compensation for having to wake up before sunrise every day. Around you, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of conversations, laughter and the occasional argument over stolen food. It was normal. Completely normal.
Yet for some reason, you found yourself looking up whenever the doors opened. The first time, you didn’t think much of it. The second time, you barely noticed. The third time however, you caught yourself doing it and immediately looked back down at your food. That was strange. You frowned slightly.
Because you knew exactly what you had been looking for. Or rather, who. The thought irritated you far more than it should have. The problem was that it happened automatically. You had not consciously wondered where Seonghyeon was. You hadn’t been sitting there waiting for him to appear. Your eyes had simply searched the room on their own before your brain had the chance to stop them. Annoying. Deeply annoying. Across from you, Haejin paused mid-sentence.
“…Why do you look angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
“You look like it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That explains nothing.”
You stabbed a french fry with considerably more force than necessary. Haejin narrowed her eyes immediately. Never a good sign.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“It literally is.”
You sighed. The problem with having a best friend for years was that they became impossible to fool.
“You know,” Haejin continued, leaning back in her chair “most people don’t glare at potatoes unless something is bothering them.”
For a brief moment, you considered telling her. Not everything. Then immediately decided against it. Mostly because hearing your thoughts out loud would somehow make the situation significantly worse, and because deep down there was a part of you that already knew exactly what Haejin would say. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to hear it.
If someone had asked Seonghyeon whether anything had changed over the past couple of weeks, he probably would’ve said no.
Life looked exactly the same as it always had. Football practice continued to consume most of his afternoons and Keonho remained committed to making every situation at least twice as loud as necessary. The days blended together in the way school days often did. One class became another. One week became the next. Nothing particularly significant seemed to happen. At least, that was what he thought.
The realization didn’t arrive all at once. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t even particularly noticeable at first. Instead, it appeared in small moments and then disappeared again before he could properly think about it. A hallway conversation that felt strangely short. An empty seat during lunch that shouldn’t have mattered. The first few times, he ignored it. By the tenth, it was becoming difficult to.
Thursday afternoon found him sitting through one of the most painfully boring lessons of the semester. Even the teacher seemed tired of listening to himself speak. Around the classroom, students had long since given up pretending to pay attention. Some were doodling in notebooks, others were staring blankly out windows, and James had somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting upright. Honestly, it was impressive.
Seonghyeon’s attention had drifted somewhere around twenty minutes earlier. His notebook remained open in front of him, untouched except for a few half finished notes written without much thought behind them. He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular when the teacher suddenly stopped speaking and sighed.
Immediately, several students sat up. The word easier had that effect.
The teacher began asking questions instead, pointing at different students around the room whenever he needed an answer. Most people responded with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some answered correctly. Others guessed. One student somehow managed to produce an answer so incorrect that the entire class burst out laughing. Including Seonghyeon. For some reason, the moment reminded him of y/n. The thought appeared so unexpectedly that he almost frowned.
It wasn’t even a specific memory. Just a vague association. Something about the expression she would’ve made if she’d heard the answer. The way she tried not to laugh when she found something funny. The way she usually looked away immediately afterward as if being caught smiling was somehow embarrassing. For a second, he found himself glancing toward the row she usually sat in. Then paused, because that was strange. He hadn’t spoken to y/n properly in what felt like ages. It didn’t make sense.
A few weeks ago, running into her had somehow become normal. Conversations before class. Conversations after class. Random interactions in hallways that stretched far longer than either of them intended. Nothing major. Just enough that he’d stopped noticing when they happened.
Now he was noticing when they didn’t. The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. Then followed him into the hallway. Then all the way to lunch. By the time football practice started, he still hadn’t managed to shake it. People got busy, that was all. School happened, life happened. There was no reason to think about it this much.
Unfortunately, that explanation became slightly harder to believe when he realized he couldn’t remember the last actual conversation they’ve had.
Instead, he found himself standing on the edge of the football field staring at absolutely nothing while the rest of the team warmed up around him.
“Earth to Seonghyeon.”
Martin’s voice snapped him out of it.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at the same patch of grass for thirty seconds.”
Seonghyeon blinked.
Had he? Apparently. Keonho narrowed his eyes immediately.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Seonghyeon didn’t understand why he had thought about it this much. He wasn’t the type to. He’d logically examine situations, come up with a logical answer and move on with his day. Somehow this was different, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Keonho had never been the type of person to let things go. In fact, if Seonghyeon had to describe him using a single phrase, it would probably be incapable of minding his own business. The moment practice ended, Keonho’s attention returned to the subject with the determination of somebody investigating a crime.
At first, Seonghyeon didn’t even realize it was happening. The team had just finished collecting equipment, everyone moving around the field in various states of exhaustion while the sun slowly disappeared behind the school buildings. Conversations overlapped from every direction.
Somebody was complaining about the coach, somebody else was arguing about where to eat afterward and a football rolled across the grass before being kicked back toward a storage cart. Everything felt normal. Until Keonho appeared beside him. That wasn’t unusual. The fact that he remained there in complete silence however, definitely was.
For several seconds he simply walked beside him without saying anything. Coming from Keonho, that was concerning enough on its own. When Seonghyeon finally glanced over, he immediately regretted it. Keonho was already staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghyeon asked.
“I’m thinking.”
A sigh escaped him. The evening air had turned noticeably cooler now, students gradually filtering away from the field in small groups as the noise around them slowly faded into the distance. For a brief moment it almost seemed like Keonho might finally drop the subject. Then he spoke again.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Seonghyeon barely reacted. Mostly because this conversation happened at least three times a week.
“About what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The answer was so stupid that a laugh almost escaped him.
“No, seriously.” Keonho adjusted the strap of his bag before continuing. “You’ve been zoning out lately.”
That got his attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something similar. Over the past week different people had made almost identical observations often enough that it was becoming difficult to ignore. Martin had asked whether he was tired. His mother had asked whether something was bothering him. Even the coach had commented on him being distracted during practice yesterday.
At the time Seonghyeon had brushed all of it off. Now however, standing on the sidewalk outside the school while Keonho kicked absentmindedly at loose gravel beside him, he found himself wondering whether they all had a point.
The problem was that he couldn’t figure out what exactly was different. Or rather, he could. He just didn’t particularly like the answer. Because every time he started pulling at the loose thread of the thought, it somehow led back to the same place. The same person. The same question. When was the last time he’d actually talked to y/n?
Not seen her. Not waved at her from the other end of a hallway. Talked to her, a proper conversation. The answer should’ve come immediately. Instead, he found himself drawing a blank.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that really bothered him.
By the time he got home later that evening, dropped his bag beside the door and collapsed onto his bed, the thought was still there. Which was annoying, because he had homework to finish and football practice again tomorrow. He had significantly more important things to think about. Yet somehow, while staring at the ceiling of his room, his mind drifted back to the same thing. He dug deep into his thoughts.
The first time was almost laughably insignificant. Class had just ended, and students were spilling into the hallways at every direction. Seonghyeon had been halfway through putting his books away when he spotted y/n a little farther down the corridor.
She was standing beside her locker, listening to something Haejin was saying. Or rather, dramatically performing. Haejin’s hands were moving so aggressively that even from a distance it looked less like a conversation and more like an emergency press conference.
Without really thinking about it, Seonghyeon started heading that way.
Then suddenly y/n grabbed Haejin by the wrist and dragged her around the corner. Gone. Seonghyeon stopped walking, he had simply stared at the space where she’d been stadning.
‘’Why are you just standing there?’’
He looked over and Juhoon was staring at him.
‘’Nothing-‘’
Juhoon looked unconvinced.
The second time happened during lunch, Seonghyeon had just entered the cafeteria when he noticed y/n sitting at her usual table. For some reason, the sight made him smile.
He grabbed his tray and joined his friends. Halfway through James’s completely unecessary rant about him having to balance both the exams- since he’s a few years older, and football practice, Seonghyeon glanced across the cafeteria again.
The seat was empty, he frowned.
‘’How dare they stack up on exams the second football season gets serious? I can’t be expected to memorize biology and score goals.’’
Yeah that was just background noise for Seonghyeon.
The third time was when it had actually started bothering him. School had ended, and the campus was filled by students and chatter. Seonghyeon, Keonho, Juhoon, Martin and James stood in front of the school, talking while Martin shot the basketball into the hoop continuously.
Suddenly, he spotted y/n coming out of the main entrance. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder, already heading toward the front gate. He considered calling her name, the thought had appeared automatically. Then he paused. Because that would be weird, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said. Hey? Hello? Why have we apparently forgotten how to exist in the same space lately?
Before he could decide, a group of guys crossed between them. By the time they passed, she had already disappeared around the corner. That annoyed him.
He found himself looking for her the next day. Which felt ridiculous, that’s what he told himself while scanning the cafeteria without realizing he was doing it. He didn’t understand why it had bothered him so much.
Everytime he looked up, she seemed to walk the other way. He could’ve sworn she stood wherever he saw her, then poof she’s gone again. He missed talking to her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized y/n hadn’t actually disappeared. She was still around.
The strange thing about time was that it continued moving whether you wanted it to or not.
A few weeks ago, you’d convinced yourself that liking Seonghyeon was some life altering catastrophe. Every conversation felt important. Every interaction lingered longer than it should have. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of energy thinking about things that in hindsight, probably didn’t deserve nearly that much attention.
Now however, life had begun settling back into place. It wasn’t really because your feelings had disappeared, they hadn’t. You still liked him, that much obvious.
The difference was that it felt like your entire existence no longer revolved around it. Somehow, focusing on all ordinary frustrations had made everything else feel smaller. For the first time in a while, you felt like yourself again, which was probably why you agreed to help one of your teachers after class.
It seemed harmless enough at the time. It was just a simple favour, five minutes of your time. Unfortunately, teachers had a very different understanding of the word simple. Twenty minutes later, you found yourself carrying what felt like the entire contents of a storage room through one of the academic buildings.
A stack of folders was balanced precariously against your chest, several textbooks were tucked underneath one arm and a plastic container filled with miscellaneous classroom supplies kept threatening to slide out of your grasp every time you took a step.
You couldn’t see properly.
You couldn’t walk properly.
You were beginning to suspect your teacher had deliberately chosen you because you looked too polite to say no.
The hallway itself was mostly empty. Classes had ended nearly half an hour ago, leaving only the occasional student lingering behind for clubs, sports or whatever mysterious activities seemed to keep people at school long after everyone else had gone home. The combination of limited visibility and questionable balance meant you didn’t notice someone approaching from the opposite direction.
Not until it was too late.
The collision wasn’t dramatic, nobofy went flying across the hallway, well just the stack of folders that immediately tilted sideways, and the plastic container that slipped- oh and a pencil case launched itself onto the floor.
And before you could react, several sheets of paper had already escaped and scattered across the hallway like they were making a run for freedom. For one dreadful second, you simply stood there staring. Of course this was happening. Then a voice spoke.
“Whoa.”
You froze. Slowly, you looked up.
Seonghyeon looked just as surprised as you felt, then he looked down at the disaster surrounding your feet. Then back up at you. Then back down again. A smile appeared.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You sighed.
“Great.”
The smile widened slightly.
Without another word, he crouched down and began gathering the papers scattered across the floor.
You hated how familiar the sight felt.
A few months ago, seeing Eom Seonghyeon kneeling on a hallway floor collecting your homework would’ve felt absurd. Now it barely registered as unusual. Together, the two of you began collecting the mess. Most of it in silence. The kind that had somehow become normal between you before either of you noticed.
The strange thing was that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t hyperaware of him. You weren’t overthinking every word, you weren’t wondering what something meant. You were simply trying to stop your papers from disappearing underneath a nearby vending machine.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said eventually, handing over another folder “for somebody who was late because of a pen, I feel like this tracks.”
You stared at him then immediately groaned.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.”
“That happened once.”
“You were defeated by a mere pen.”
“I wasn’t defeated.”
“You absolutely were.”
To your annoyance, a laugh escaped before you could stop it. The sound earned a grin from him. The folders had been restacked, the notebooks gathered and the loose papers that had scattered across half the hallway had been retrieved. Only one sheet remained. It had drifted farther than the others. The hallway itself had grown noticeably quieter during the few minutes.
You moved first, or atleast you thought you did. The second you stepped forward, Seonghyeon did too. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously. You stopped, he stopped. The paper remained exactly where it was.
‘’Go ahead.’’
You looked up.
‘’What?’’
‘’You saw it first.’’
‘’No i didn’t’’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I was being polite.’’
‘’You’re never polite.’’
The response left his mouth so quickly that he seemed to realize what he had said only afterward. You stared at him, and he stared back. Then a smile appeared, it was small. The kind that always seemed to show up before he could stop it.
‘’You know what i mean.’’
‘’Do i?’’
‘’No.’’
You smiled- it was stupid. You loved the conversations, you missed them. Both of you moved at the same time again. The result was immediate. Your shoulders bumped together.
‘’Ow.’’
You immediately laughed in shock. He was being dramatic, it was a small bump.
The past few weeks suddenly seemed a little ridiculous. Seonghyeon spent so much time wondering why something felt off only to discover the answer was embarrassingly simple. He’d missed this aswell.
Haejin had never been particularly interested in making your life easier. The first sign of trouble appeared at exactly 5:34 PM on a Saturday.
Your phone buzzed.
Haejin
Can i come overrrr~
You stared at the message. Of course she could, rather it was weird she didn’t show up at your door to ask that.
You
obv
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Haejin
keonho is coming too apparently
You
Oh
Why?
Haejin
because he’s annoying and won’t leave me alone
he just texted me
he’s already on the bus
Before you could gather your thoughts to respond, another message arrived.
Haejin
oh Seonghyeon’s coming too
You nearly dropped your phone.
The thirty minutes Haejin had promised turned into forty three. Not that you were counting. You absolutely weren’t. The problem was that once somebody informed you that Haejin, Keonho and more importantly- Seonghyeon would be entering your house, suddenly every insignificant detail became a problem.
The blanket draped over the couch looked wrong. The cushions looked wrong. The stack of books sitting on the coffee table looked wrong. Even the framed photo sitting on the shelf near the television somehow looked wrong despite having remained in the exact same position for nearly three years. You were in the middle of rearranging the cushions for the third time when a voice spoke from behind you.
‘’Is Haejin coming over?’’
Your mother stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her eyes moved from you to the perfectly arranged couch, then to the freshly folded blanket, then to the coffee table you’d wiped down approximately fifteen minutes ago.
You nodded, before following it up.
‘’And two other friends.’’
‘’That’s fine- Should i go make something? A snackplate? Cut up some fruits?’’
‘’No, that’s okay.’’
The doorbell rang. The sound practically echoed throughout the house. The second your hand touched the doorknob, you could swear your heart dropped, like seriously. The door opened, and Haejin immediately walked inside without waiting for an invitation.
‘’Hello to you too.’’ You said.
‘’Thank you.’’
‘’What?’’
Behind her came Keonho, then Seonghyeon.
For some reason, seeing him standing on your doorstep felt stranger than seeing him anywhere else. Maybe because he’s become so firmly associated with school that your brain momentarily struggled to place him here. There was no football field, no hallway. Just your front porch, and Seonghyeon standing on it looking mildly uncomfortable beneath your scrunity. There was a long pause, it felt awkward.
‘’Hi.’’
Immediately, you wanted to throw yourself into traffic. It was a groundbreaking greeting, really. Thankfully, Seonghyeon wasn’t much better.
‘’Hi.’’
Behind him, Keonho sighed dramatically. ‘’This is painful.’’
The two of them stepped inside while Haejin continued acting like she had lived there for years. Almost immediately, your mother appeared from the kitchen.
‘’Hello, dear.’’
‘’Hi!’’
The response came so naturally that it sounded like a part of a routine they had performed hundreds of times before. Then your mother looked toward the boys. Before Seonghyeon could do anything, Keonho stepped forward.
‘’I’m Keonho,’’
‘’Nice to meet you.’’
‘’And that’s Seonghyeon.’’
A brief silence followed. Seonghyeon looked over, Keonho looked back.
‘’I can introduce myself.’’
‘’You were taking too long.’’
‘’You spoke first.’’
‘’Exactly.’’
Your mother laughed.
‘’It’s nice to meet both of you.’’
‘’Nice to meet you too.’’ Seonghyeon replied, then bowed out of respect, Keonho followed. Hearing him speak to your mother felt oddly surreal. Your mother smiled politely.
The second everyone made it upstairs, the energy somehow shifted.
Maybe it was because school had become such a permanent backdrop to all of your interactions that seeing those same people inside your house felt strangely unnatural. Haejin immediately made herself comfortable. Keonho wasn’t much better.
He wandered around without shame, examining random objects on your shelves with the confidence of somebody who had been granted permission despite the fact nobody had actually given him any. Meanwhile, you found yourself standing near your desk, suddenly hyperaware of everything around you.
The room wasn’t messy. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was yours.
School only allowed people to know certain versions of each other. Hallway conversations. Lunch breaks. Shared classes. Small pieces. Nobody saw what happened outside of that. Nobody saw your room at midnight when you were studying for exams. Nobody saw the stuff lying on your vanity or the old concert tickets tucked into your mirror frame. Nobody saw the photos you had forgotten were hanging on the wall until this exact moment.
And Seonghyeon seemed to notice everything.
Not in an obvious way. He wasn’t walking around inspecting things. If anything, he seemed quieter than usual. While Keonho was busy making himself at home and Haejin was already flopped across your bed scrolling through her phone, Seonghyeon’s gaze occasionally drifted around the room before moving elsewhere again. Small observations. Brief glances. Yet somehow those felt worse. You couldn’t tell whether he was actually paying attention or whether your brain was simply inventing reasons to be nervous.
“You definitely cleaned.”
You immediately looked at Haejin.
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You moved something.”
“I didn’t.”
Haejin’s eyes slowly travelled across the room.
“The cushions downstairs.”
You hated her.
The smile spreading across her face told you she’d won.
“Oh my god. You did move the cushions.”
“I hate talking to you.”
From somewhere beside the bookshelf, a laugh escaped Keonho.
“You cleaned for us?”
“It wasn’t for you.”
The room fell silent for half a second before Haejin started laughing because of Keonho’s reaction. The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Conversations drifted from one topic to another without much direction. Somebody brought up an old teacher. That somehow became a discussion about embarrassing middle school memories. Then football. Then exams. Then an argument, nobody actually cared about the answer. The argument continued anyway.
At some point, somebody stole your blanket. At some point, Keonho and Haejin became invested in a debate so stupid that the original topic had long since been forgotten.
“You are fundamentally misunderstanding the point.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re just wrong.”
“I’m always right.”
“That’s not how opinions work.”
Watching them argue was a bit like watching two people accidentally start a fire and then continue pouring gasoline on it.
Eventually, they ended up sitting on the floor near your television, completely absorbed in whatever nonsense they were discussing now. For the first time all afternoon, the room became quieter. You were sitting near the edge of your bed, scrolling through your phone while the sound of Haejin and Keonho arguing faded into the background. Beside you, Seonghyeon sat comfortably against the wall. Neither of you were really speaking.
The silence wasn’t awkward. A few months ago, silence between you would’ve felt unbearable. Now it barely registered. You scrolled past an old photo without thinking, then immediately scrolled back. A small laugh escaped you.
“What?”
You glanced up.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
You looked back down at the screen.
“It was from middle school.”
“Let me see.”
Without thinking, you handed him your phone but the second you did, you regretted it. Because the photo was awful. Seonghyeon looked at the screen, then looked at you. He smiled.
“What?” His smile widened.
“You look twelve.”
“I was twelve.”
“You look younger than twelve.”
“Give it back.”
You reached for the phone. At the exact same moment he pulled it slightly away, your hand brushed against his. The movement was tiny, it was barely anything. Yet both of you froze for a second. The noise from the rest of the room suddenly felt strangely distant. You weren’t sure why, it was stupid. People accidentally touched hands all the time, nothing should’ve happened.
Then Seonghyeon handed the phone back.
And somewhere across the room, Haejin suddenly yelled:
“THAT’S LITERALLY NOT WHAT I SAID.”
Seonghyeon didn’t realize he was still thinking about it until he walked straight into his bedroom door. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was embarrassing enough that he immediately looked around despite being completely alone. A second later he let out a quiet groan and rubbed a hand over his face.
A few minutes later after showering and changing into comfortable clothes, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed with a towel draped around his neck. His phone had been abandoned somewhere beside him. Downstairs, he could faintly hear the television playing. Everything felt normal. The day was over. There was absolutely no reason for him to still be thinking about it.
Nothing important had happened. They had gone to y/n’s house, wasted an entire afternoon doing nothing productive, listened to Keonho and Haejin argue about things neither of them cared enough to remember and eventually gone home. That was it. Yet every time Seonghyeon tried focusing on something else, his mind drifted right back there again.
The strangest part wasn’t that he had seen y/n’s room for the first time. It wasn’t even that he had spent several hours with her outside of school. It was the fact that every new thing he had learned about her somehow felt oddly expected. Not because he knew those things already, but because they fit.
The way everything looked slightly messy until you paid attention and realized there was a system behind it. Even the way she’d reacted whenever somebody pointed something out. Half embarrassed. Half annoyed. Like she wanted people to know her but only on her own terms.
A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He could already imagine how offended she’d be if she knew he was sitting here psychoanalyzing her bedroom.The thought should’ve ended there, instead another one immediately followed.
The look on her face when Haejin exposed the fact that she had obviously cleaned before they arrived. The way she tried denying it despite the evidence being painfully obvious. Then the laugh she’d let out later. Then the smile she’d been trying not to show when he teased her.
Seonghyeon dropped backward onto his mattress and stared at the ceiling. There it was again. That same problem. Every thought somehow led back to her. It was infuriating, it’s like his brain had no originality.
He had known y/n for what? A couple of months? Yet lately it felt like she kept appearing in places she wasn’t even supposed to be. In random thoughts, in conversations, in moments where he was supposed to be focusing on literally anything else. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. For the first time, Seonghyeon found himself staring directly at a possibility he had been avoiding for weeks. Not accepting it. Definitely not accepting it. Just looking at it from a safe distance. Then immediately backing away.
Nope, absolutely not.
For a long moment he simply layed there with one arm thrown across his face, feeling increasingly annoyed with himself. Because the more he thought about it, the worse his life defense became. Maybe there wasn’t some complicated explanation. Maybe the reason he had spent weeks looking for her in crowded hallways, noticing when she wasn’t around, and wondering why everything felt different lately wasn’t because something weird was happening.
Maybe the problem was much simpler than that, and that’s exactly why he didn’t wanna think about it, didn’t wanna consider it.
The problem started with a pencil.
Not because the pencil itself was important. It wasn’t. The pencil belonged to Keonho, who had somehow managed to drop it three separate times during a single class period. By the third time, the teacher looked ready to launch it out the nearest window.
A few people around the classroom were already trying and failing to hide their laughter, while Keonho seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from becoming someone’s least favorite student.
Normally, Seonghyeon would’ve found this entertaining. He probably would’ve made a comment. Maybe laughed. Maybe joined Martin in making fun of Keonho later. Instead, he was staring out the classroom window, his attention drifting somewhere beyond the teacher’s voice and the half finished notes sitting in front of him.
He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. At least, that was what he told himself. The lesson had become background noise a long time ago, blending together with the scratching of pencils, turning pages and the occasional sigh from students who had already mentally checked out for the day.
Outside, students crossed the courtyard below in small groups. Some were heading back toward the academic building after lunch while others lingered near the benches despite the fact that the break had ended nearly ten minutes ago. From up here everyone looked smaller, moving through familiar routines without much urgency. It was the sort of thing he would’ve glanced at for a second before looking away.
Then movement caught his attention. Someone familiar stepped through the courtyard gate. Immediately, his eyes followed. Which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t recognized her from half a building away. That felt excessive.
The distance alone should’ve made it impossible. He couldn’t even properly see her face from here. Yet somehow he had known it was y/n before he consciously registered any actual details. Before he thought about it. Before he even realized he was paying attention.
She was walking beside somebody. Just some guy from their year that Seonghyeon vaguely recognized. For a moment, he found himself watching longer than necessary. Not because anything unusual was happening. The opposite, actually. They were just talking. The guy said something and y/n laughed before shaking her head slightly. Then the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.
Have they always been friends?
Worked on a project together?
Why was he even thinking about this?
Because he genuinely didn’t care. He shouldn’t, atleast. His eyes remained fixed on the courtyard for another moment before he finally looked away. The strange thing was that nothing about the situation actually bothered him. Y/n was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. She was allowed to have other friends. The thought shouldn’t have occupied more than two seconds of his attention.
The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. It followed him when the bell rang, when students immediately began shoving books into bags and when Keonho somehow dropped the same pencil again while standing up.
Seonghyeon barely heard Martin laughing about it beside him. His attention had drifted elsewhere. Not toward the courtyard anymore, but toward the uncomfortable realization itself. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have noticed.
A few months ago, y/n would’ve blended into the hundreds of students moving around campus every day. Not really because there was anything forgettable about her, but because she had never given people a reason to look twice. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself. Half the time she seemed perfectly content existing just outside the center of things.
The weather was unusually good, good enough that nobody wanted to spend lunch indoors. The football field, basketball court and every bench around campus were crowded with students taking advantage of the rare sunshine. Conversations echoed across the courtyard.
Seonghyeon sat on a low concrete wall near the basketball court with Martin, Keonho, James and Juhoon. Or rather, everyone else was sitting. Martin had somehow convinced himself he was the next basketball prodigy and had spent the last ten minutes repeatedly shooting the same ball at the hoop missing every time.
“You know,” James said, watching another failed attempt, “at some point this becomes a public safety hazard.”
Martin caught the rebound.
“You people don’t understand greatness.”
“Stick to football, please.”
Martin looked offended.
Beside them, Keonho was lying dramatically across the wall as if he’d just survived a life threatening event.
“I’ve decided something.”
Nobody reacted.
“I’m serious.”
Still nothing.
“You guys never support me.”
Juhoon didn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s because your ideas are usually terrible.”
“See? Exactly what I’m talking about.”
James sighed.
“What realization have you had now?”
Keonho sat up immediately.
“I should get priority in the cafeteria queue.”
‘’Why?’’
‘’Because i’m an athlete.’’
‘’…and so are we.’’
‘’Yeaaaaah- whatever.’’ Keonho immediately leaned back again.
The bookstore had always felt different after sunset.
Because there were fewer people around, or because the street outside became quieter once the shops started closing for the evening. Whatever the reason, everything seemed softer at night. The warm yellow lights reflected against the shelves, the air smelled faintly of paper and old wood and somewhere near the front counter low music played quietly enough that it blended into the background. It was one of the reasons you came here so often. Nobody bothered you. You could spend an hour staring at the same shelf and nobody would question it.
Which was exactly what you had been doing for the last ten minutes. At least until a familiar voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the store. You didn’t react immediately. At first your brain simply registered the sound as familiar. Then a second passed. Then another. And suddenly your head snapped up.
For a brief moment you genuinely convinced yourself you were imagining things. The possibility would’ve been less embarrassing than the alternative. Slowly, you stepped around the end of a bookshelf and glanced down the next aisle. Immediately, your stomach betrayed you.
Because standing near the back of the store was Seonghyeon. Not somebody who looked like him. It was him. Seeing him here felt like spotting a teacher at the grocery store. Not wrong exactly, just unsettling enough to force your brain to restart.
He was standing beside a rolling cart filled with books, listening while the owner explained something. Every now and then he would nod before reaching over to place another book onto a shelf. Judging by how comfortably he moved around the store, this clearly wasn’t his first time here. Then the owner noticed you. His face brightened instantly. “Y/n.”
Oh great, Seonghyeon was turning around too. For a second, surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. The same smile that had become increasingly dangerous for your emotional wellbeing over the past few months.
“Hey.’’
It still managed to make your heart forget how to function. The owner looked between the two of you before immediately deciding this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all week.
“You two know each other?”
The silence that followed felt unnecessarily heavy. Technically, the answer was simple. Still, none of you spoke immediately. Eventually Seonghyeon answered first. “We go to school together.”
The owner looked unconvinced. You understood why. Because there was something suspicious about the way Seonghyeon had smiled while saying it. As if the answer was technically true. Just not the entire truth.
The owner eventually disappeared toward the front of the store after receiving a late delivery, leaving the two of you alone with several half empty shelves and a cart stacked with books that apparently needed to be reorganized before closing. The task itself wasn’t particularly difficult, but the aisle he had assigned you to was.
It was narrow enough that every time one of you moved, the other had to adjust accordingly. At first neither of you paid much attention to it. The conversation flowed naturally. It should have felt normal. In theory, it was normal. Still, somewhere between reaching for the same stack of novels and arguing over whether a book belonged in the mystery section or literary fiction, you became increasingly aware of how little space actually existed between the two of you.
You noticed gradually rather than all at once. One moment you were focused on sorting books, the next you found yourself noticing things that shouldn’t have mattered. The sleeves of Seonghyeon’s hoodie were pushed up to his forearms. His hair kept falling into his eyes every few minutes. Every time it did, he would push it back before continuing whatever he was doing. It wasn’t remarkable.
It wasn’t even interesting. Yet for some reason, your attention kept returning to it. Across from you, Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. He had spent the last several weeks trying very hard not to think too deeply about certain things, only to discover that being alone with you outside school made that task significantly more difficult. At school there were distractions. Friends, classes, teachers, noise. Here there was only the soft hum of the bookstore, the occasional turning page from a customer somewhere in the distance, and you.
You reached for a book resting near the top shelf at the exact same moment Seonghyeon stepped forward to place another back in its place. Neither of you noticed the timing until it was already too late. The aisle was far too narrow for both movements to happen at once. One second you were focused entirely on the shelf in front of you, the next you found yourself stopping abruptly as Seonghyeon did the same. Far too close.
You hadn’t walked into him. Neither of you had. Yet somehow the distance between you had disappeared anyway. The narrow aisle had trapped both of you in the same small space and now neither of you could move without brushing past the other. Instinctively, you took a small step backward. Though, your shoulder bumped lightly against the bookshelf behind you, leaving nowhere else to go. The movement seemed to catch Seonghyeon’s attention. His eyes flickered toward you before immediately looking away again. Then back. That was worse.
Because now he was actually looking at you. Not casually. Not the way he normally did. The kind of look that lasted a second too long. The kind that made you suddenly aware of every inch separating you.
Neither of you moved. Somewhere outside, a car passed by. Somewhere inside, somebody turned a page. Neither sound felt real. Not compared to this. Not compared to the fact that Seonghyeon was standing close enough for you to notice details you never should have been able to notice. The faint scent of his cologne. The slight rise and fall of his breathing. The way his gaze kept dropping for the briefest moments before returning to your eyes again.
Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. A normal person would have stepped away by now. That was the logical thing to do. The obvious thing. Yet for some reason, neither of them seemed capable of being the first one to move. His hand was still resting against the shelf above your shoulder. Not touching you. Close enough that it felt like it.
Close enough that every rational thought in his head had abruptly stopped functioning. He couldn’t even remember what book he had been reaching for. Couldn’t remember what either of you had been talking about thirty seconds ago. All he knew was that you were looking up at him and that suddenly felt like a very torturous thing. The silence stretched. Your eyes dropped briefly, then lifted again.
Mistake.
Because the second your gaze met his again, something shifted. Neither of you moved, yet the distance felt smaller than before. Small enough that for one completely irrational second, the possibility crossed both of your minds at the same time. And judging by the way Seonghyeon’s breathing faltered, he knew it too.
The sound of a stack of books being dropped somewhere near the front counter shattered the moment instantly. Both of you stepped back so fast it almost hurt.
The rest of the evening felt strangely disconnected after that.
You had left the bookstore not long after, mumbling some excuse about needing to get home before it got too late. The owner had teased you for leaving earlier than usual, but you barely remembered what you had said in response. Your brain had been somewhere else entirely.
The walk home should’ve felt familiar. You had taken the same route hundreds of times before. The same streets. The same convenience store on the corner. The same traffic lights that always seemed determined to turn red at the worst possible moment. Yet everything felt slightly off, as if somebody had shifted the world half an inch to the left without telling you.
The problem was that your brain had apparently become incapable of behaving normally whenever he was involved. Every time you replayed the evening, you found yourself stopping at the same moment. Your thoughts kept drifting there on their own. The narrow aisle. The silence. The way neither of you had moved. The way you suddenly became aware of absurd things you never paid attention to before, like how close he was standing or how easy it would’ve been to reach out and touch him.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon made it approximately twelve minutes before realizing he was completely screwed.
The bookstore owner had eventually returned to find him standing in the wrong aisle holding a book he had already shelved three separate times. Seonghyeon wasn’t usually the type to get distracted. If anything, one of the things people liked most about him was how calm he was under pressure. Football matches didn’t stress him out, presentations didn’t stress him out. Exams stressed him out a little, but not enough to make him lose sleep. One interaction with y/n had completely destroyed his ability to focus. The owner had asked him a question and Seonghyeon had stared at him for three seconds before realizing he had not heard a single word.
Every time he thought he had moved on, he would remember some tiny detail and immediately get distracted again. The way she looked up at him. The way she froze. The fact that neither of them had stepped away immediately. That part bothered him most. A normal person would’ve moved. A normal person would’ve laughed it off and continued shelving books. Instead, they had both just stood there staring at each other like complete idiots until somebody dropped books near the front counter and snapped them back to reality.
The days after the bookstore felt strangely normal on the surface and completely unbearable underneath. Y/n would be halfway through listening to Haejin before suddenly remembering the look on Seonghyeon’s face in that aisle and immediately losing track of the conversation. Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. Looking for y/n had somehow become a habit. Not a conscious one. His eyes just seemed to find her automatically now, and what bothered him most wasn’t seeing her. It was when he couldn’t.
By Thursday afternoon, students flooded out of their classrooms as the bell rang. Conversations echoed through the hallways while people pushed toward their next lesson. Seonghyeon was walking with his friends, half listening to whatever argument Keonho was currently having, when he spotted y/n a little ahead. She was walking through the crowd. He didn’t think about it. Not really. The words left his mouth before his brain had the opportunity to intervene.
‘’You coming this friday?’’ The second he said it, she turned around.
‘’What?’’
Seonghyeon blinked, for a moment neither spoke.
‘’Where?’’
And suddenly every functioning thought in Seonghyeon’s head disappeared. Apparently, he had skipped an entire conversation.
‘’You know..’’ He started. No, obviously she didn’t know.
‘’The game.’’ She stared. ‘’The football game?’’
‘’Yeah.’’ Only now did Seonghyeon realize how insane this looked. They had never actually discussed her coming. Not once. For some reason though, it had already become a possibility in his head.
‘’Oh.’’ The hallway suddenly felt far too crowded. ‘’You don’t have to.’’ The words came out faster than he intended and he immediately regretted them, because now it sounded like he didn’t care. Which wasn’t true. Not even remotely. ‘’You could- you-‘’ He paused, then looked at her. Actually looked at her. ‘’I’d like it if you did.’’
Y/n’s heart had stopped functioning. There was no reason that sentence should’ve affected her the way it did. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even flirting. Yet standing there in the middle of a crowded hallway, it felt dangerously close to something else. And suddenly she realized he actually meant it.
He wanted her there. A smile threatened to appear, she fought it immediately and failed. ‘’Okay.’’ The answer came out softer than she had intended.
Something shifted in Seonghyeon’s expression. The tension in his shoulders eased and the smallest smile appeared.
By the time you arrived, most of the stadium was still empty. The match wasn’t starting for another hour, leaving the school caught in that strange period between preparation and chaos. Staff moved equipment across the field, a few students wandered through the entrance gates and somewhere deeper inside the athletic building, the football team was getting ready. You honestly hadn’t planned on coming this early. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself. The hallway leading toward the locker rooms was nearly deserted when you spotted him.
Seonghyeon was standing beside a row of lockers, already dressed in his uniform, one hand resting against the metal door while he searched through his bag for something. For a moment, you simply watched. It felt unfair how normal he looked. Like he hadn’t spent the last few weeks slowly becoming the cause of half your problems.
Maybe he felt you staring, because a second later he looked up and smiled. Not the polite smile. Not the one he gave teachers. The real one. The one that always seemed to appear before he could stop it.
“You know the game’s not starting for another hour, right?” The greeting caught you off guard.
“What, you’re kicking me out already?”
“No,” he said immediately, a little too quickly.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here this early.”
You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Maybe I have nothing better to do.”
“That’s depressing.” You stared at him.
“You’re about to play an important match.”
“And you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m helping you stay humble.” A laugh escaped him, and for a moment neither of you said anything else. The conversation should’ve ended there. It didn’t. For some reason, Seonghyeon was still standing there. For some reason, you were too.
“You nervous?” you asked eventually.
“About the game?” You nodded.
“Unless you’re secretly taking a math exam afterwards.” His smile returned.
“A little.” The answer surprised you, it sounded genuine.
“You?” he asked. You frowned. “What?”
“Nervous.”
“Why would I be nervous?” Something shifted in his expression. “Good question.” The look he gave you made your stomach drop because suddenly it didn’t feel like you were talking about football anymore.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. That was the problem. It felt too easy. Too comfortable. The kind of silence that only happened when you genuinely liked being around someone. You looked away first, which immediately turned out to be a mistake because the second you did, you became aware of how close he was standing. Not close enough to be strange. Close enough to matter. When you looked back up, Seonghyeon was already looking at you.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The hallway felt quieter than before, and you couldn’t remember what you had been about to say. His gaze dropped for the briefest second before lifting again. The movement was tiny. It still made your heart nearly stop. For the first time since you had met him, Seonghyeon looked completely thrown off, like he was realizing something at the exact same time you were.
The realization hung between you. Neither of you acknowledged it. Neither of you looked away. The distance somehow felt smaller now. A lot smaller. You weren’t sure whether one of you had stepped forward or if you had simply stopped paying attention to everything except him. Seonghyeon let out a quiet breath. His eyes flickered down again. This time neither of you pretended not to notice. The moment stretched. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for your pulse to start racing. Long enough for him to look like he’d completely forgotten where he was.
Long enough that if either of you moved even slightly-
“SEONGHYEON!”
The shout echoed through the hallway, making both of you jump apart so fast it was embarrassing. A teammate appeared around the corner. “Coach is looking for you.” Seonghyeon genuinely looked annoyed. Actually annoyed. Which somehow made everything worse.
“Yeah.” he muttered. The teammate disappeared again, leaving the two of you standing there in the aftermath of something neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.
Then Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck and let out a short laugh. “I should probably go before he benches me.”
“Probably.”
Then he looked at you properly. Not past you. Not around you. At you.
‘’Stay until the game finishes.’’
You blinked.
‘’What?’’
‘’You came all the way here, it’d be rude to leave earlier.’’ The excuse was terrible, both of you knew it. You were smiling. You gave him a reassuring hum. His own smile softened.
The whistle blew before you were ready for it.
Almost immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The scattered conversations around the stadium disappeared beneath the sound of cheering as both teams surged forward. Whatever relaxed energy had existed before kickoff vanished entirely. Suddenly everything felt louder. Faster. More important. You tried focusing, you really did.
For the first few minutes, your attention stayed where it was supposed to. The ball moved rapidly across the field, players weaving around each other while the crowd reacted to every near miss and interception. It was impossible not to get caught up in it. Even people who barely cared about football seemed invested tonight.
Then your thoughts wandered. Without warning, your mind dragged you back to the hallway. To the silence. To the way Seonghyeon had looked at you. A collective groan erupted from the crowd. You blinked. Apparently you missed something.
“That would’ve been such a good goal!’’ Haejin complained beside you.
“Are you even watching?’’
‘’I am.’’
‘’You’re not!’’
Before you could argue, the game resumed and your attention returned to the field. This time it stayed there for a while.The match itself was good. Really good. Both teams were evenly matched which only made the atmosphere more intense. Every attack felt intense. Every mistake earned a reaction from the crowd. By the time twenty minutes had passed, even you had stopped pretending not to care. A player from the opposing team broke through the defense. The stadium collectively held its breath. The shot missed by centimeters and the entire crowd exploded. Students jumped to their feet.
And before you realized it, you were standing too. For a moment, you just stared then slowly sat back down.
Huh. Maybe football wasn’t completely boring.
The final minutes of the match passed in a blur. The score was tied. Every touch of the ball seemed to pull a reaction from the crowd, every mistake earning groans and every opportunity drawing people to the edge of their seats. Even students who barely cared about football were standing now. The atmosphere had become infectious. Somewhere beside you, Haejin had completely abandoned any attempt at acting normal. She was half standing, half leaning over the railing, reacting to every play as if her life depended on it.
The clock was running down when Seonghyeon received the ball near midfield. The crowd immediately reacted. Maybe it was because everybody trusted him. Whatever the reason, the second he moved forward thousands of eyes followed. Including yours. The play happened so quickly you barely had time to process it. A pass. A turn. Somebody shouting. Then suddenly the ball hit the back of the net. The stadium exploded, the noise that had erupted was unbelievable.
Students jumped to their feet. Teammates rushed across the field. People screamed loud enough to make your ears ring. Somewhere beside you, Haejin grabbed your shoulders and started shaking you like she had personally scored the goal herself. You laughed in surprise.
The first thing Seonghyeon did after his teammates swarmed him was lift his head and look at you. The distance between you was enormous. The field, the track, hundreds of people, yet he found you.
The final whistle blew moments later. The match was over. The celebration wasn’t. Students immediately flooded toward the exits, some heading for the field while others crowded around friends and teammates. The entire stadium seemed alive with movement. You lingered for a while, letting people pass before eventually gathering your things.
You weren’t entirely sure where you were going. Only that suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of people felt overwhelming. The night air was cooler outside the stadium. The noise became quieter with every step until it faded into the background completely. For the first time all evening, you were alone with your thoughts.
You had almost reached the corner of the building when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, it was Seonghyeon. He was still wearing his uniform, still slightly out of breath. He looked at you, the corners of Seonghyeon’s mouth lifted first.
“You were leaving.”
You laughed softly.
“Why does everybody keep accusing me of that?”
“Because you keep doing it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Maybe you would’ve argued. Maybe you would’ve defended yourself. You found yourself smiling instead. The noise from the stadium felt distant now. The world seemed smaller somehow. Reduced to the stretch of pavement between the two of you and the fact that neither of you seemed interested in leaving.
A group of students passed somewhere behind Seonghyeon still loud from the match, still arguing over goals and missed opportunities and who deserved credit for the win. One of them called his name. Normally he would’ve responded automatically. You had seen it happen a hundred times before. Yet he didn’t even turn around. His attention never left you. Something about that made your stomach flip.
For months, Seonghyeon had existed in constant motion. Surrounded by teammates, friends, conversations. There was always somebody looking for him. Always somewhere else he needed to be. Now, after one of the biggest matches of the season, after scoring the winning goal, after spending two hours being pulled in every direction, he was standing here looking at you like the rest of the world had become background noise.
The smile on Seonghyeon’s face faded slightly. Your pulse sped up immediately, you knew. Not what he was thinking, not exactly. However, you knew this moment mattered.
The distance between you felt ridiculous, like it was the only thing both of you could focus on. Every second stretched longer than it should have. Your heart was beating so hard, you became painfully aware of it.
Seonghyeon took a step forward. You hated how quickly your breath caught. You hated how your eyes immediately dropped before finding his again. You hated that he noticed. You were standing close enough to notice details you never should’ve noticed. The faint flush lingering across his cheeks from the match. The way his hair had fallen messily across his forehead. The fact that he looked just as overwhelmed as you felt.
Your hand found the sleeve of his jersey before you even realized what you were doing. The second your fingers curled around the fabric, Seonghyeon’s eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to you. Something in his expression completely softened. Then finally, after a dreadful amount of missed chances and interrupted moments and terrible timing,
Seonghyeon kissed you.
The football field, the crowd, the noise from the stadium, all of it disappeared into the background until there was nothing left except the overwhelming realization that this was actually happening. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it felt like both of you had spent so long circling around this moment that neither of you quite knew what to do once you had reached it. Your grip tightened slightly against his jersey without meaning to, and something about that made his hand find yours.
You had spent weeks turning Seonghyeon into a problem inside your head. Something complicated. Something impossible to ignore. Yet standing here now, there was nothing complicated about it.
Then, your lips crashed against his. Off-center at first, your nose bumping his jaw accidentally before you corrected. You were pulling him closer. Seonghyeon had reacted immediately, his hands reached to cup your face delicately. His lips were warm and softer than you had expected for a boy who felt so intimidating and cold at first. The contrast sent something sharp down your spine.
He shifted one of his hands to your waist, the touch light at first, like he was questioning if you’d pull away. You didn’t, you kissed him harder. He tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and suddenly the kiss fit differently, better, deeper. His chest was pressed against yours. Your heart was pounding, he could feel it. Or maybe it was his own heart.
His thumb was brushing along your cheekbone, tilting your face up to meet his more fully. He kissed you properly now, he matched your energy. He kissed you until his lips were numb, he kissed you with genuine love. He kissed you like he was trying to get inside your skin. He was a mess for you. He took over the pacing, guiding slowly through it.
At some point, neither of you seemed to care how long you had been standing there. When you finally pulled apart, it wasn’t because either of you wanted to. It was because breathing had become somewhat important. The distance between you barely existed. Seonghyeon’s hand remained at your waist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as both of you tried to remember how to function.
You simply looked at each other. Weirdly, after months of wondering and guessing and pretending not to notice, that felt like enough. For the first time since all of this started, neither of you had to question it anymore.
Seonghyeon liked you.
You liked Seonghyeon.
And after everything it had taken to get here, It felt so good.
The next morning felt strangely normal. The school building was still crowded. Students still dragged themselves through the hallways half awake. Somewhere down the corridor, Martin was already being unnecessarily loud before first period had even started.
He was greeting everyone with the biggest smile plastered across his face, he was way too happy at 8:30 in the morning. Not as happy as you though. Your cheeks hurt, genuienly hurt reaching the main building. Everytime you remembered yesterday, another smile appeared before you could stop it. You were very warm, you just hoped it wasn’t obvious externally.
‘’You look happy.’’
You looked up, Seonghyeon was standing beside your locker. Immediately your smile got worse, a strange feeling in your stomach had come from nowhere when you looked at him.
‘’Hi.’’
He smiled.
His hand found yours so naturally it almost sent shivers through your body. His fingers slipping through yours as though they’d belonged there since forever. The action sent a completely unreasonable amount of warmth through your chest.
the two of you started walking toward your classroom. The hallway buzzed with conversation around you, people moving in every direction. A few students greeted Seonghyeon as they passed. He greeted them back automatically. Everything felt familiar. Yet every few steps your attention drifted toward your joined hands again. It was such a small thing.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said after a moment, glancing sideways, “you look less tired today.” You immediately narrowed your eyes. “You said I looked tired.”
“I said you were tired.”
“No.’’
“I meant it differently.”
“Sure.”
You tried very hard not to smile. Failed immediately. Beside you, Seonghyeon looked equally hopeless. The two of you reached your classroom far too quickly. Students were already filtering inside. The bell would ring any minute now. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to acknowledge that. Eventually, Seonghyeon stopped outside the door.
“So.”
‘’So.’’
A smile appeared, and a matching one answered it. Then Seonghyeon sqeezed your hand once before letting you go.
— ☆.ᐟ A dating rumor between Juhoon and a model reader leads them into contact, but awkward meetings slowly turn into genuine feelings as they get to know each other.
HIGHSCHOOL BET @seobspilled
— ☆.ᐟ juhoon is dared by his friends to ask you out, which he does. guilt starts spread inside himself as he realizes he can no longer be in this relationship. resulting in a breakup you wouldve never wished on anyone.
IF THIS IS PRETENDING. @loserloveremployee
Part 2 Part 3
— ☆.ᐟ in which; kim juhoon does not believe in coincidences not when they happen fourteen years too late
MS. UNPOPULAR @meeoowchi
— ☆.ᐟ you’re someone who likes to lay low, a homebody honestly. you enjoy being indoors and having a small circle of friends… so why is mr. popular trying to win you over?
“QUIET THINGS LEARN TO LAUGH” @throughyrs
— ☆.ᐟ an extroverted girl decides she can “bring out” the quiet boy at school until she realizes he isn’t something to fix
STREAMERS SECRECT GIRLFRIEND@coconhovr
— ☆.ᐟ juhoon was streaming when his viewers noticed you behind him, so he reveals you
" 💤 HE WANTS ME HIGHKEY!!”@bananagirl222
— ☆.ᐟ You follow Juhoon on Twitter because you found him attractive and you're not really subtle about it, like at all. Which, luckily for you, piques his interest!
Comment or request and i’ll happily give you specific recs—whether you’re looking for a group to get into or content from a particular idol ♡
contains sfw. fluff. its cold out. sharing hoodies!!! they cuddle. just lowkey. mutual pining and yearning. clingy hyeon!! but he's lowkey nonchalant about it. he's kind of smooth too. warnings none? wordcount 1.8 k
more hyeon x 6th member!reader.
keukeu-note 🥥 hyeonie req 1 out of 4 lol <3
the company's idea of casual bonding content was apparently to drag their 6 idols to the beach at eleven at night, mid november. which, to you, definitely felt less like team bonding and more like a controlled experiment in human suffering.
the ocean stretched dark and endless behind the cameras, waves crashing hard enough to drown out half the staff instructions being yelled across the sand. cold wind tore through the shoreline relentlessly, sending loose strands of hair into everyone’s faces and making the portable lighting tremble every couple seconds.
“i can’t feel my hands anymore,” keonho whined dramatically for the fifth time in ten minutes, huddled near one of the equipment cases. “if i lose my fingers, i’m suing.”
“you said that during summer too,” juhoon said flatly.
“because extreme weather is oppression, even in summer.”
normally, that would have you laughing harder. right now, though, you were too busy trying not to freeze to death. only a half a huff made it past your lips before you shuddered again, pulling your hoodie closer around you.
your hoodie had stopped being effective almost an hour ago. cold air slipped easily through the fabric every time the wind picked up, and the paper-cup coffee in your hands had long since gone lukewarm.
you rubbed your palms against the paper anyway, staring out toward the water while staff reset cameras for the next segment.
god, this was miserable.
“you’re doing that thing again.”
you glanced sideways immediately.
seonghyeon stood beside you now, hands tucked into the pockets of his own jacket while the wind pushed dark strands of hair across his forehead. his cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, nose scrunched faintly like he regretted agreeing to this schedule in the first place.
you blinked once. “what thing?”
“staring into the distance like a divorced father.”
a laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
“wow... okay.”
“it’s accurate.”
“i’m literally just cold.”
“you’ve been sighing for like five minutes.”
“because i’m suffering.”
“dramatic.”
you frowned at him weakly before taking another sip of now-disappointing coffee.
up close, seonghyeon smelled faintly like clean laundry and seawater. probably from the wind. unfortunately, noticing things like that had become a serious problem lately.
actually, everything about seonghyeon had become a problem lately.
the way he always drifted toward you unconsciously during schedules. the way he looked for your reaction first whenever something happened. the fact that every tiny bit of attention from him now felt capable of permanently altering your internal chemistry.
it was exhausting, honestly.
another violent gust of wind swept across the beach. you physically recoiled.
seonghyeon glanced down at you at once. “…you’re seriously cold.”
“no, really?” you deadpanned. “what gave it away.”
not enough for anyone else to notice immediately. and instead of answering, he just stepped closer. just enough that the warmth from his body brushed faintly against your arm through both your hoodies.
your brain stalled instantly.
seonghyeon was warm. unfairly warm.
the cold paper cup between your hands. the wind against your face. the heat radiating off the arm barely touching yours.
“better?” he asked casually.
you just stared back at him.
and he stared right back with complete calm, like he hadn’t just shortened your lifespan by several years.
“…a little.”
“hm.”
his gaze lingered on your face for a second before drifting back toward the ocean.
behind you, staff members yelled about batteries while someone from makeup chased juhoon around with blotting papers. the entire beach felt chaotic and loud and freezing.
and yet somehow, standing next to seonghyeon felt strangely separate from all of it.
another gust of wind hit hard enough to make you shiver visibly this time.
seonghyeon frowned slightly.
then suddenly reached forward.
you blinked. “what are you—”
“hold still.”
before you could process the situation properly, he pulled open the zipper of his oversized hoodie, tugged you forward by the sleeve, and pulled you directly against his chest.
your entire nervous system shut down.
because then—
oh.
oh, this was bad.
really bad.
he zipped the hoodie around both of you in one smooth motion, trapping you together inside the oversized fabric while cold wind continued roaring around the beach outside.
warmth hit you instantly.
but so did seonghyeon.
your shoulder pressed against his chest awkwardly, your arms half trapped between both your bodies while the hoodie stretched around you. you could feel warmth through every layer of fabric, could hear the faint rush of his breathing over the distant sound of waves.
your heartbeat went violently uneven, loud enough that you were convinced he could feel it through both layers of fabric.
“seonghyeon,” you whispered.
“you were cold.”
“that’s not the issue here.”
“you complain a lot for someone receiving help.”
you looked up at him in disbelief.
he looked completely normal. entirely too calm.
meanwhile you were currently zipped into his clothing and actively losing the ability to form coherent thoughts.
“how are you acting normal right now?” you demanded quietly.
one of his eyebrows lifted slightly. “should i not be?”
“…no?”
that finally got the corner of his mouth to twitch. barely.
“you’re overthinking it,” he murmured.
easy for him to say. he wasn’t the one trying not to implode because seonghyeon smelled good and kept glancing down at your face every couple seconds like this was somehow casual.
another gust of wind howled across the shoreline.
instinctively, seonghyeon’s hand settled lightly against your back beneath the hoodie, steadying you closer against him.
both of you froze immediately afterward.
the movement had been unconscious.
and somehow, that made it worse.
because now you were facing him fully, front nearly pressed against his, with barely any space left between you at all.
slowly, your eyes lifted toward his face again.
for the first time all night, seonghyeon actually looked affected too.
only slightly.
his jaw tightened faintly. his ears had gone pink beneath the harsh lighting. his gaze flicked away from yours for half a second too long before returning again.
the realization hit so suddenly it almost made you laugh.
“you’re acting weird too,” you said quietly.
his eyes narrowed a little. “am not.”
“you literally zipped me into your hoodie.”
“you were cold.”
“and now?”
finally, finally, seonghyeon hesitated.
only for a second. but it was there.
his hand flexed once against your back before he answered carefully,
“…still cold, probably.”
except neither of you were talking about the weather anymore.
outside the hoodie, the beach still felt loud and chaotic—staff shouting over the wind, waves crashing violently against the shore, keonho somewhere in the distance threatening to file a formal complaint against autumn itself.
but inside the cramped warmth surrounding both of you, everything suddenly felt quieter somehow.
smaller.
your shoulder rested fully against seonghyeon’s chest now, the fabric of your hoodies tangled awkwardly together while his hand remained steady against your back.
you became painfully aware of every little thing.
the warmth trapped beneath the hoodie. the clean smell of detergent clinging faintly to him. the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek whenever the wind shoved you closer together.
and the dangerous part was that seonghyeon could’ve stepped away by now.
the joke had already lasted too long to still be a joke.
but he didn’t.
if anything, every burst of cold air only seemed to make him hold you a little closer afterward, like keeping you tucked against him had stopped being a conscious decision somewhere along the way.
“…you’re staring again,” he murmured eventually.
you blinked, realizing far too late that your attention had drifted directly to his face.
“sorry.”
“i didn’t say stop.”
your stomach flipped hard enough to physically hurt.
slowly, your eyes lifted toward his again.
big mistake.
because seonghyeon was already looking at you in that quiet, intent way of his that always made it feel like he noticed too much.
the wind howled violently somewhere behind him, pushing another burst of cold air across the shoreline.
instinctively, his hand spread slightly wider against your back, pulling you closer beneath the hoodie before the chill could reach you.
the movement felt so natural it almost hurt.
like his body had already decided where you belonged tonight.
your breath caught softly.
“you know,” you said carefully, “most people would just offer someone their jacket.”
“this is my jacket.”
“you know what i mean.”
the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “this works better.”
it really, really did.
especially because he kept doing it without seeming to realize. every brush of cold air earned another small pull closer, another absentminded adjustment to keep you tucked against him.
you were trying very hard not to think too deeply about that.
failing horribly, but trying.
somewhere behind you, staff called for everyone to get ready for the next setup. and neither of you moved.
your pulse stuttered.
because by now, this wasn’t reflex anymore. seonghyeon was choosing to keep you here.
“seonghyeon,” you said quietly.
“hm?”
“people are gonna notice eventually.”
“probably.”
…and yet he still didn’t let go.
if anything, his thumb brushed once against your back through the fabric of your hoodie before going still again, like he’d done it unconsciously.
“you’re really calm about this,” you whispered.
that finally made him exhale a quiet laugh through his nose.
“i’m actually losing my mind right now…”
your brain went completely blank for a second.
because that was somehow worse. worse than pretending. worse than teasing. the fact that he was feeling this too hit embarrassingly hard.
suddenly, you became hyperaware of how close your faces actually were now. close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breathing against your skin despite the freezing weather surrounding you.
if either of you moved even slightly, your noses would brush.
and judging by the way seonghyeon suddenly went still too, he’d realized it at the exact same time.
his gaze flicked downward briefly.
your heart nearly stopped.
because this close, you could see the exact moment his breathing changed.
slower.
heavier.
like he was thinking about it.
neither of you moved.
the space between you suddenly felt impossibly small, charged with something warm and terrifying and dangerously close to becoming real.
if either of you leaned forward even a little—
“seonghyeon—”
his name barely made it out before he leaned in.
you genuinely thought he might kiss you.
instead, seonghyeon rested his forehead lightly against yours.
small. careful.
like he wanted more and was trying very hard not to take it.
the soft breath that escaped you seemed to knock something loose in him.
his hand tightened faintly against your back. and he shut his eyes for half a second.
“…you’re warm now,” he murmured quietly.
neither of you pulled away immediately.
if anything, seonghyeon only seemed to sink closer for a second, like the contact itself had relieved something in him too.
somewhere behind you, staff called everyone back to set again.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the classroom, broken only by the distant, blood-curdling screams echoing through the hallways and the occasional wet, guttural growls of the infected outside. The air felt thick with fear and the faint metallic tang of blood that had followed you in.
"What the fuck just happened..." Dohyun(one of the other classmates) muttered his voice shaky as he slumped against a desk, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Zombies," Woojin said flatly, pressing himself against the wall beside the covered window. He carefully peeled back a corner of the newspaper to peek outside, his face twisting in horror at whatever he saw. "Actual fucking zombies. This can't be real."
Yoonchae leaned heavily against a lab bench in the corner, her face contorted in pain. Juhoon knelt beside her, carefully propping her injured foot up on a stool. Her ankle was already swelling badly, the skin turning purplish-red from the earlier twist during the escape.
"How is that even possible?" Nayeon whispered, hugging her knees to her chest on the floor. Her voice trembled, tears glistening in her eyes. "Zombies? Like... from movies? This has to be some kind of prank or—"
"We don’t know," Keonho cut in, sliding down the wall with a exhausted sigh. He still gripped the bloodied baseball bat tightly in his hands, knuckles white. "But we gotta stay close and trust eachother"
You stood frozen next to Seonghyeon, his presence warm and steady at your side after he’d pulled you to safety earlier. Yet your eyes weren’t on him. They scanned the room until they landed on Martin, who was hovering protectively near Rora by the teacher’s desk. You checked him over instinctively to make sure he didn't have any injuries. He looked okay, but your mind immediately spiraled to James.
"Shit—James," you gasped, straightening up suddenly. Panic clawed at your chest as you bolted toward the door, heart pounding with the terrifying thought of your brother out there.
"Are you trying to get us all killed?!" Nayeon snapped coldly. She lunged forward and shoved you back from the door with surprising force, her hands rough against your shoulders.
"Y/N" Martin was at your side in an instant, stepping firmly between you and Nayeon.
"James is out there, Martin..." Your voice cracked, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. The argument from this morning flashed through your mind. What if that was the last time you ever saw him?
Martin pulled you into a tight, comforting hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. One hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he murmured against your hair, "He’ll be fine. James is strong. Don’t worry, okay? I promise we’ll find him. I’ll make sure of it."
You clung to him for a moment, drawing comfort from his familiar warmth, even as guilt and fear twisted inside you.
"Okay, enough of that," Dohyun said, his tone trying to sound firm. "We need to focus on what we should do now."
"Our phones are gone too," Yoonchae added weakly. She tried to stand but winced sharply in pain, grabbing Juhoon’s arm for support as he gently eased her back down. Her ankle looked even worse up close...This was bad.
"Guys," you said, forcing yourself to push the panic aside, "let’s try looking through everyone’s bags. Maybe someone hid a spare phone or has something we can use for self-defense."
"Good idea," Seonghyeon agreed softly from beside you, his voice steady and reassuring. His hand brushed lightly against your arm before he moved away.
The group split up quickly, rummaging through abandoned backpacks and drawers with urgent, hushed movements.
"Guys, a phone!" Rora exclaimed, her voice cracking with a spark of desperate hope as she pulled a cracked smartphone from one of the backpacks. The entire group rushed towards her in a frantic cluster.
Nayeon was the quickest, snatching it from Rora’s hands before anyone else could react. Her fingers trembled as she frantically tapped at the screen, only to groan in frustration. "Stupid password..." The lock screen stared back mockingly, demanding a code none of them knew.
Martin moved fast, gently but firmly taking the phone from her. "Emergency calling doesn’t need a password," he said, his voice mocking Nayeon a little. He quickly dialed the emergency number and put it on speaker.
One ring.
Two rings.
Then nothing. Just an endless, haunting silence on the other end. The phone eventually went dead.
The small flame of hope that had ignited moments ago was brutally blown out. Martin lowered the phone and tossed it onto a desk with a heavy sigh. For several minutes, no one spoke. The only sounds were the faint, unsettling groans that still echoed somewhere far down the corridor.
You sank down beside Rora on the dusty floor, your back against a cabinet. She wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The weight of everything pressed down on you and James was still out there somewhere. The image of bloodied classmates and the possibility that you might never see your brother again terrified you.
Juhoon broke the silence first, "We need to get to the broadcast room. If we can send out a message, maybe survivors will hear it. We should also look for bandages and medicine for Yoonchae on the way." He glanced over at her, where she sat with her injured ankle propped up, her face pale and glistening with sweat.
"Do you want us to get killed by heading out there?" Dohyun shot back, his voice sharp with fear. He gestured wildly toward the door. "We barely made it here alive!"
"Guys, listen..." Rora said suddenly, holding up a hand. Everyone froze, straining their ears. The constant growling and screaming had gone eerily quiet. An unnatural stillness hung in the air, broken only by the faint ticking of the classroom clock.
"It’s still not safe though," Nayeon muttered, hugging her knees tighter. "We have no idea what’s out there."
"But we can’t just stay here forever," you spoke up, your voice firmer than you felt. "If we don’t move, we’re going to die by starving, or worse, when they eventually break in."
Seonghyeon nodded from where he leaned against the teacher’s desk, "I think three of us should go for supplies in the infirmary and then meet the rest in the broadcast room. They’re in the same building, so it’s not too far"
The plan made sense. Dangerous, but logical.
"I’m in," you said without hesitation, driven by the need to do something, especially if it meant a chance to look for James along the way. Martin, Woojin, Dohyun, and Rora quickly volunteered as well, nodding with grim determination.
"Oh hell no," Nayeon said immediately, shaking her head. "I’m not going anywhere. You guys are crazy."
"Then feel free to die here," Woojin snapped sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"You’re such a fucking loser, you know that?" Nayeon spat back, her voice rising with anger and fear.
"Hey, hey calm down," Martin intervened quickly, stepping between them and holding Woojin back with a firm hand on his chest. The tension in the room crackled. Everyone was still on edge from the adrenaline and terror still coursing through their veins.
"I don’t mind going to the infirmary first," Seonghyeon said quietly, his voice calm but resolute as he adjusted his grip on a makeshift weapon.
"I’m joining you," you said immediately, stepping forward.
Martin’s eyes widened. "Are you crazy? You’re not going there–" he started, reaching for your arm, but you pulled away. After a tense argument, the groups were decided: you, Seonghyeon, and Martin would detour to the infirmary for medical supplies, while the others headed straight to the broadcast room.
The classroom lab offered limited options, but desperation made do. You grabbed a heavy pair of metal scissors, Seonghyeon took a long ruler that was sharpened at one end, and Martin armed himself with a beaker filled with some kind of liquid he hoped would sting. The others scavenged what they could.
"Okay, we good?" Keonho asked, scanning everyone’s faces. Nervous nods rippled through the group. He cracked the door open slowly, the hinges creaking, and peered into the hallway.
"All clear," he whispered.
One by one, you slipped out into the blood-streaked corridor. The air was thick with the coppery stench of blood. Dohyun and Keonho took the lead, moving with cautious steps. Juhoon and Rora supported Yoonchae between them, her injured ankle making every movement a painful limp. You, Martin, and Woojin flanked the sides and rear, eyes darting nervously, weapons raised.
The walk toward the connecting exit to the next building felt endless. The hallway was a horror scene: smeared handprints of blood streaked the lockers, broken glass crunched underfoot, and several lifeless bodies lay crumpled on the floor. Your breathing grew shallow and ragged as panic clawed up your throat. James… where is he? Is he one of them now? Did he make it?
Martin, walking just behind you, noticed the way your shoulders tensed and your steps faltered. He reached forward and gently squeezed your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. "Hey," he murmured close to your ear. "Breathe"
You managed a weak nod, but the fear refused to loosen its grip.
"Stop," Keonho whispered sharply, throwing up a hand. The group froze instantly.
"Why—" Woojin began, but Rora clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with terror.
Just ahead, right before the corridor connecting to the next building, a group of five or six zombies shuffled aimlessly. Their movements were jerky and unnatural. One still wore a recognizable school jacket, now ripped and soaked. Low, guttural growls rumbled from their throats as they bumped into each other, blocking the only path forward.
Everyone pressed back against the wall, barely daring to breathe. Seonghyeon’s hand brushed against yours for a split second—whether accidental or intentional, it sent a small jolt through you. Martin, on your other side, looked ready to pull you behind him at any moment.
The zombies hadn’t noticed you yet… but one wrong sound, one sudden movement, and that could change in an instant.The group pressed tightly against the cold wall, barely breathing. The zombies ahead shuffled and groaned, their bloody, broken bodies twitching unnaturally under the flickering hallway lights.
Seonghyeon signaled with his hand for everyone to move slowly. “...one step at a time,” he whispered.
You all began creeping forward, hugging the opposite side of the hallway. Your heart pounded so loudly you were scared the zombies could hear it. Martin stayed glued to your side, while Keonho and Dohyun led the way, eyes locked on the infected blocking the connecting doors.
For a few terrifying seconds, it seemed like you might actually slip past them.
Then crack.
Woojin accidentally stepped on a piece of broken glass. The sharp sound echoed through the silent corridor like a gunshot.
Every zombie head snapped in your direction at once. Their cloudy eyes locked onto the group, and guttural snarls ripped from their throats.
“RUN!” Woojin screamed.
The zombies charged with terrifying speed, arms outstretched and jaws snapping. The hallway filled with their horrifying growls.
Yoonchae cried out in pain as she tried to run, her badly swollen ankle giving out beneath her. “I can’t—ahh!”
“I’ve got you!” Rora said desperately, throwing Yoonchae’s arm over her shoulder. Juhoon quickly supported her from the other side. Together they half-dragged, half-carried her down the hall as fast as they could.
You and Martin stayed at the back, protecting the group. Martin swung his glass beaker hard at one zombie that got too close, shattering it across its face and slowing it down. You gripped your metal scissors tightly, stabbing wildly at another that lunged toward Rora.
“almost there!” you yelled, voice shaking with adrenaline.
Screams and growls chased you as your group burst through another set of double doors into the next building. The moment the last person crossed, Seonghyeon and Keonho slammed the doors shut. The zombies crashed into the doors from the other side, banging and snarling violently. The glass rattled but held on for now.
Everyone collapsed against the walls, gasping for air.
“We… we made it,” Rora panted, still holding Yoonchae up.
Seonghyeon straightened up, breathing heavily. “We need to split now. No time to waste.” He looked at you, Martin, and then the others. “We’ll head left to the infirmary. The rest of you go right to the broadcast room.”
Rora nodded nervously. “Be careful. Don’t die.”
“You too,” Martin replied, glancing at the group.
Nayeon looked like she wanted to complain again but stayed quiet, fear winning over her attitude.
You turned to Seonghyeon and Martin. The three of you were now on your own. The hallway to the left stretched ahead, dimly lit and eerily quiet.
Martin looked at you, worry clear in his eyes. “Stay between us, okay? If anything happens… I’ve got your back.”
Seonghyeon gave a small nod, his expression serious. “Let’s move”
With one final look at your friends heading right, you turned left with Seonghyeon and Martin, gripping your makeshift weapon tighter as the three of you ventured deeper into the silent, blood-stained corridor toward the infirmary. The emergency lights overhead flickered weakly, casting long shadows that made every corner look like a threat. Bloody handprints smeared the walls, and the occasional distant groan sent chills down your spine.
“Stay close,” Seonghyeon whispered, glancing back at you.
You nodded, heart racing, your grip tight on the metal scissors. Suddenly, a lone zombie stumbled out from a side classroom ahead. Its jaw hung loosely, blood dripping from its torn neck. Martin reacted fast, shoving you gently behind him.
“I got it—” he started, but Seonghyeon was already moving.
They both lunged at the same time, nearly crashing into each other. Martin swung a broom he found at a corner while Seonghyeon stabbed with the sharpened ruler. Their weapons crossed awkwardly, and they bumped shoulders hard.
“Watch it!” Martin hissed.
“You watch it!” Seonghyeon shot back, but there was no anger. After they finally brought the zombie down in a clumsy but effective team effort, they stood there breathing heavily, staring at each other.
Seonghyeon wiped sweat from his forehead. “not bad...your height is pretty useful.”
Martin let out a short, breathless laugh. “we could make a nice team”
You couldn’t help but shake your head as even in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, these boys found a way to joke around.
A few more close calls followed: another infected nearly grabbed Seonghyeon from behind, but you stabbed it in the head with your scissors just in time. Further down, a blocked hallway forced the three of you to climb over a pile of overturned desks and broken glass.
By the time you reached the infirmary door, all three of you were exhausted, covered in sweat and small cuts, but alive. Seonghyeon pushed the door open slowly.
“Okay… let’s be fast,” Martin said, closing the door behind you and wedging a chair under the handle. “Grab anything useful.”
You split up immediately and searched the drawers near the beds, pulling out bandages, gauze, painkillers, and a small first-aid kit. Martin moved toward the storage cabinets on the far side.
“Jackpot,” he whispered excitedly, pulling out several bottles of fresh water and a few sealed packs of energy snacks. “These will help Yoonchae and the others.”
Seonghyeon headed for the tall supply cupboard in the corner. “I’ll check here for meds or—”
The door burst open violently as he pulled it. The former school nurse, still wearing a torn white coat lunged out with shocking speed and tackled Seonghyeon to the ground.
“Seonghyeon!” you screamed.
He hit the floor hard, the creature snapping its teeth inches from his neck. Seonghyeon struggled, pushing desperately against its shoulders. Martin didn’t freeze. He swung a stick with full force, smashing it against the zombie’s head and knocking it off Seonghyeon.
“Now, Y/N!” Martin shouted.
You didn’t think and just acted. Gripping your scissors with both hands, you drove them straight into the back of the zombie’s skull. It jerked once, then went limp with a sickening final twitch.
Seonghyeon shoved the body away and scrambled backward, breathing heavily. “Shit… that was too close.”
Martin helped him up quickly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, bro?”
“Yeah… thanks,” Seonghyeon replied, still shaken. “Both of you.”
You wiped the blood off your scissors with a shaky hand, trying to steady your breathing. The room felt smaller now, the reality of how quickly things could go wrong settling heavily over all three of you.
Martin handed you a bottle of water. “We should head back to the broadcast room soon. But first… let’s patch ourselves up a little.”
✿ in which you test how long your brooding guitarist—and secret boyfriend—is willing to let you ignore him. you find out it's not long.
STARRING ✿ vernon chwe x fem!reader
WARNINGS & TROPES ✿ fluff, band au, secret relationship, guitarist vernon, jealous vernon, kissing, skinship, a little cursing, reader is being a tease (and she knows it), pet names: vern (vernon's)
LYR SPEAKS ✿ ummm let's not talk about how i've been gone for what feels like years. graduation is next thursday so we're almost there! also just blame my brain for procrastinating updating seokminfilm :/ sigh enjoy jealous bandmate vernon!!! ily guys
LYR PLAYS ✿ everyone's a star ; 5sos
WORD COUNT & WRITING FOR ✿ 656 ; @k-records
no one would think you and vernon chwe dating, let alone on good terms.
the two of you kept up the "bandmates who can't stand each other but get along because they have to" facade up perfectly to the public—he ignored you as much as he could, and you made hidden jabs at his career that critics could obviously see. even your band members had to check up on you two to make sure all was tolerable between you.
the whole world thought the two of you couldn't stand each other.
and it was true...partially.
you couldn't stand how good vernon looked as he focused in on his guitar, producing stunning riffs that sent the crowd into a frenzy. how good he looked with his ring covered hand tightened around the mic stand and how easy the lyrics flowed from his lips. how good he was at making everyone go crazy over the little things he does.
he couldn't stand how your fingers lingered on his hands when you two bumped into each other before a show. how you sing like you don't have a chance to ever sing again. how you dance on stage like no ones watching, drawing all the attention to you in the best way possible.
and so, before either of you two knew it, you started dating.
and nights like this one reminded you just how much you were into vernon chwe.
he had you pressed up against the door of his dressing room, lips on yours the moment the two of you started a fake fight to distance yourself from the rest of the band. his hands were hot against you, fingertips rough from the guitar strings as he grumbles against you.
"damn you." he mumbles, and you feign innocence, looking up at him confused. "why?"
"why do you do that?" he asks, and when you don't reply, he continues. "do things that make me want you in front of everyone knowing good and damn well i can't have you there."
you laugh, sighing when it gets swallowed up by vernon's lips against yours once more. they taste like that strawberry chapstick you see him buy at gas station stops, and you can't get enough of it.
"i just like seeing that fire in your eyes," you answer simply, wrapping an arm around vernon's neck as you pull him towards you. his dark hair is soft against your hand as your run your hand through his hair, and he's swinging his arms around your waist in return.
"vern, why are you so angry?" you ask, and vernon looks away from you for the first time during this whole encounter. jealousy rolls off of his body in waves, broad shoulders tense and arms stiff around your waist.
"you were flirting with that reporter, giving him those eyes i know are only reserved for me. laughing at every stupid joke he made. that damn hug that you know lasted too long." vernon's voice has a growl to it now, and he kisses you again, this time bringing his hand to hold your head and pull you closer to him.
"i wanted to get out of there so bad. i wanted to get him away from you." vernon's voice is harsh against your ear, but you don't mind, too busy being proud of vernon's reaction towards your ministrations tonight.
"i'm sorry, vern. i just wanted to see how long you would let me ignore you and do what i want." the apology sounds light hearted, but you truly mean it, and vernon sees it your eyes, watching them with such a hunger it makes your face heat.
"don't you ever pull that shit again. i'm not going to let you ignore me next time. i'll make it impossible for you," his voice lowers to a whisper on the last part, and the next kiss he gives you assures you of his promise.
🫐 non-idol!keonho x f!reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, profanity, kissing, mental suffocation, violence (?), threats, physical fighting, mentions of charc deaths, drowning, anxiety, burnout, grief, angst/no comfort, written + imgs, harsh depictions of Louis and Woojin from lngshot as antagonists and (just for fiction, i dont stan lngshot and nor do i have bad views on the members.), panic attacks, non-detailed physical aggression, breakdowns, funerals, jealousy, please read warnings!
w.c: 11.3k
You and Keonho have known each other longer than you guys have not. He’s the swimming prodigy of the school aiming for nationals. What happens when the lines in your friendship start to blur, and when jealousy spirals into something you both can’t control?
playlist: aeao by dynamic duo / all that matters by justin bieber / everybody wants to love you by japanese breakfast / beside you by keshi / rewind by wonder girls / genesis by grimes / hello by clairo and rejjie snow / paranoia by the marias / the perfect pair by beabadoobee / attracted to you by pinkpantheress / your eyes only by enhypen / melting by kali uchis / from the start by laufey / earrings by malcolm todd / 7 weeks & 3 days by yungatita / no surprises by radiohead / francis forever by mitski / blue lips by cortis / i cant handle change by roar
iro's notes: no one knows how tumblr irritated me w fuckass MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS hello whats mature ab this ????? why was my work getting labeled but literal smut doesnt?? anyway im sorry i kept yall waiting BUT HERE IT ISS. i think this has to be like one of my most fav works along w 7 star cigs and join me in death....tried to put whole ramenussy into this. also, i think im kinda finding my own writing style now LIKEE OUUU OKAYY
Ahn Keonho—top swimmer in the school, or a prodigy as people liked to call him. Everyone knew him. The guy who walked into class after second lecture trailing the scent of chlorine behind him. The guy who slept through half the day because training exhausted him. The guy who was almost always beside you.
But to you, he was just Keonho. The same dude you’d known your entire life because your parents were best friends. And somehow, by law, that meant you and Keonho had to become best friends too. Which you did.
Time passes quickly. Somehow, throughout your entire school life, you and Keonho always ended up in the same class. Now it’s your third year of high school, and you’ve known him longer than you’ve not known him. At this point, you can’t even remember a version of your life where he didn’t exist. Keonho has been swimming for as long as you’ve known him. But now, for the first time, it actually matters. Nationals, scouts, his future—everything suddenly feels bigger this year. He’s been training like crazy.
And you’ve been right there beside him through all of it.
“Yn?…Yn? Hello?” Moka’s hand waves in front of your face, closer this time—annoyingly persistent.
You blink, snapping back. “Huh?—yeah, yeah, I’m listening. What?”
Moka didn’t answer immediately. She just looked at you—slow, assessing, from head to toe. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “There’s too much work, I can’t just not stay up, Moka.”
“Mm.” She hummed, unconvinced. Then, tilting her head slightly—“Or… you were busy overthinking what to pack your best friend for lunch?”
You didn’t look up. “I told you to stop calling him that.”
“So what’d you make him?” she pressed anyway, leaning in.
“…Just fries.”
“Just fries,” she repeated, like she didn’t believe you for a second.
Then, quieter—right next to your ear— “Aw. Was his wifey too tired to do more?”
You rolled your eyes, elbowing her lightly. “Shut up.”
But you didn’t deny it. And that was enough. You were used to it by now. Sometimes it came from your own friends. Sometimes from Keonho’s. And more often than not—from Seonghyeon. He and Keonho had always been close. The kind of close that didn’t need explaining. And wherever Seonghyeon was, Martin and Juhoon weren’t far behind—even after graduating.
They still showed up like they belonged here—usually around the after hours when athletes stayed back to practice. They always cheered Keonho on and the teachers never stopped them, there was something endearing about their bond. Somehow, along the way, they’d even dragged James into their orbit. The math teacher’s son. He dropped by every now and then, filling in as a substitute when his mother couldn’t make it.
It felt like you and Keonho were always being watched. Like there was no space that was just yours. You’re in class? Well, great. You’ve got Minju, Yunah and then Moka who sits beside you—which, honestly, no complaints. You love them. But right in front of you—Keonho and Seonghyeon. Always. And if you’re at his practice, cheering him on? You’re not the only one. Seonghyeon’s there, obviously. Martin and Juhoon too, whenever they drop by. Even James, leaning against the railings like he’s got nowhere else to be. Moka, right next to you, way too amused by all of it. It’s never just you and him, never that simple.
You and Keonho are only ever alone when it’s planned. When he’s at your place. Or when you’re at his. Sometimes it just… happens. Like when one of you ends up home alone for the night, and the other shows up without really asking. No one questions it anymore.
At your house, it’s quiet, too quiet, sometimes. You sit on the floor of your room, backs against your bed, laptops open—supposedly studying. Keonho reads things out loud under his breath, half-focused, half-distracted. You don’t really talk much, you don’t need to. Every now and then, he nudges your foot with his. Just to check you’re still there.
At his place, it’s different. His room is colder, neater and heavily decorated with multiple medals. You usually end up on his bed while he sits at his desk, towel slung around his shoulders, hair still damp from practice.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he says without turning around.
You hum, already halfway there. Five minutes later, he glances back—and you’ve passed out, cuddled up in his sheets. He sighs, soft, almost amused. Pulls the blanket over you anyway.
Sometimes, you stay over, not often but just when it makes sense. When one of you doesn’t want to be alone. You end up lying side by side, staring at the ceiling, talking about nothing…or everything. It’s easy, with him it’s always been easy.
But if you had to pick—your favorite version of Keonho isn’t any of that. It’s him in the water.
Keonho, as a person, is… quiet, a little shy. Kind in a way that doesn’t look performative. Playful, sometimes—when he forgets himself. Witty, in small, unexpected ways. He fits into spaces easily without realising it. He’s like a shot of espresso, he energizes every room he walks into without really realising it. And by the time he's gone? The feeling still stays. He leaves that kind of impression.
But in the water? He’s different, like completely different. There’s nothing hesitant about him there. No second-guessing. No pauses. Every movement is sharp with certainty and control. Like he knows exactly where he’s supposed to be. Like the water is the only place he doesn’t have to think.
And you think—maybe that’s why you like watching him so much. Because that version of him is just so…so new, so unfamiliar to you. But at the same time, you know him.
The bell rings, sharp enough to cut through your thoughts. A few people groan, chairs scrape, and chatter gets louder now. The next teacher will come to you. You sit up a little straighter, blinking the image of him in the water out of your head.
The door slides open. You don’t look up immediately, you don’t really have to. There’s that faint scent of chlorine slipping into the room before he does. Keonho walks in, hair still damp, uniform slightly off like he threw it on in a hurry. His tie’s loose, sleeves uneven, a few droplets still clinging to the ends of his hair. He pauses just inside the room for a second, scanning—then his eyes land on you.
Of course they do. He walks over like it’s automatic, like there was never another option. The chair beside you scrapes softly as he pulls it out and drops into it with a low exhale, he leans back for a second, then folds his arms on the desk and drops his head onto them.
“Morning,” he mutters, voice rough.
You glance at him properly now. Up close, it’s worse—the damp hair, the faint flush on his skin, the way he looks like he hasn’t had a second to breathe since practice ended. “You look like shit,” you say.
He lets out a small huff, almost a laugh. “Feel like it.”
There’s a pause. Not awkward. Just… familiar. Then his gaze flicks to your bag, still open. You notice it the same second he does. You hesitate—just for a moment. Then you reach in. “…Here,” you mumble, sliding the container toward him without looking straight at him.
He looks at it, then at you, a little confused. “What’s this?”
“Just take it.”
He opens it. Fries. Still warm. Something in his expression softens—just a little, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.
“You made this?” he asks.
“It’s literally fries, Keonho.”
“Yeah, but still.”
You don’t answer that. He takes one, eats it without thinking, like he’s actually starving. Which—he probably is. You watch him for half a second too long. Then look away. “Did you even eat?” you ask, grabbing a pen to write something in your notebook—anything to seem distracted.
He shakes his head slightly, already reaching for another. “Didn’t have time.”
Of course he didn’t. You press your lips together, leaning back in your seat like it doesn’t bother you. It does, a lot more than it should. “Eat properly,” you mutter. He glances at you again, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Okay sergeant,” he says. Then, his attention completely shifts to the fries.
The teacher walks in a few minutes later. Math. At nine in the morning. The lecture goes exactly how you’d expect—numbers filling the board, monotone explanations, half the class barely conscious. You try to keep up, you really do. But beside you, Keonho doesn’t even try. Athlete privilege. His head’s already down, arms folded under it, breathing slow and even like he’s been waiting for this all day. You press your lips together, scribbling something—anything—into your notebook, wishing, for the first time, that Moka hadn’t moved ahead to sit with Seonghyeon.
At least she would’ve pretended to understand this. Somewhere in the middle of it, you feel it. A stare. You turn slightly, of course—Keonho. He’s not fully asleep anymore—just watching you, eyes half-lidded, lazy.
“…What?” you whisper, a small snicker slipping out.
“It’s not comfortable,” he murmurs, voice low, still rough with sleep.
You glance at him. “What do you want me to do about that?”
A pause.
“Give me your jacket… please?”
You stare at him for a second. “…Are you serious?”
He doesn’t answer, just looks up at you. Waiting.
You sigh quietly, already slipping your jacket off. “Unbelievable.”
You pass it over without looking at him properly. He takes it without a word, bunches it slightly under his head, adjusting it. “…Thanks,” he mumbles, eyes already closing again.
For a second, it’s quiet again. Just the scratch of pens, the teacher talking and the low hum of the class. Then, barely above a whisper—“…Smells like you.”
You freeze, your pen pauses mid-word. “…What?” you ask, a little too quickly, not looking up.
He shifts slightly, voice still thick with sleep. “The jacket,” he murmurs. “It smells like you.”
You stare at your notebook, suddenly very focused on absolutely nothing, heat creeps up your neck. “…Okay?” you manage.
Then, softer—“…It’s nice…comforting kinda”
That does it, your grip tightens around your pen, words on the page blurring slightly. You don’t look at him. You cannot look at him. “…Go to sleep, Keonho,” you mutter. But your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to.
As the lecture dragged on, Keonho shifted closer little by little. Not intentionally—at least, you didn’t think so. Just small movements. His chair nudging nearer. His shoulder brushing yours for a second longer each time he moved. Until eventually—he was close enough to feel the warmth of your arm beside him.
And then, suddenly, his hand wraps loosely around your forearm. Like instinct more than anything else. It was gentle, intentional. Before you can even process it, he shifts again, resting his head against your arm with a quiet exhale.
Your entire body went still. You should’ve moved his head, should’ve told him to move away. But, you didn't. Maybe it was because you’d known him forever. Maybe it was because this wasn’t exactly unusual for the two of you. Or maybe—maybe you just liked having him close.
More than you should.
The rest of the lecture passes in a blur after that. You don’t hear half of what the teacher says. Every time Keonho shifts slightly against your arm, your thoughts short-circuit all over again. By the time the final bell rings, the sun is shining brightly outside the classroom windows, painting everything in a bright gold.
Keonho stretches beside you with a quiet groan, rubbing at his eyes. “You coming?” he asks automatically, already packing his things.
You nod before even thinking about it. “Yeah.”
Practice starts an hour later, you could’ve gone home. Probably should’ve. You had assignments piling up, sleep to catch up on, literally anything more productive to do. But instead—you’re here. Sitting in the bleachers with Moka beside you, legs tucked underneath you as the sharp scent of chlorine settles into the air.
The pool is loud today. Loads of whistles, accompanied with the sounds of water crashing and teammates cheering for each other. In the middle of all of it—Keonho.
You spot him immediately, you always do. He stands near the edge of the pool, swim cap hanging loosely from one hand while Seonghyeon says something beside him. Whatever it is earns a small laugh from Keonho—brief, sleepy, gone almost instantly.
Then his eyes flick up, straight to you. Your breath hitches so stupidly fast it almost annoys you. He lifts a hand slightly. Not a full wave— something closer to a “Earth to Yn” kind of motion.
“God,” Moka mutters beside you. “You two are actually sickening.”
You elbow her without looking away from him. “Shut up.”
But your lips twitch anyway. The coach blows the whistle and immediately, everyone dives in. Keonho dives in too and suddenly he’s not the same person who fell asleep on your arm an hour ago. The tenderness disappears. Every motion of his cuts clean through the water, fast and precise, like his body already knows what to do before he even thinks about it.
And around you, people notice too, of course they do. You hear his name constantly at these practices. Mainly cheers from his coach, other students, his friends, and Louis. Especially Louis. He’s always the loudest for some reason. Louis leans against the far railing somewhere on top, arms crossed tightly over his chest while Keonho finishes another lap ahead of everyone else.
You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. Or the way Woojin mutters something beside him that makes them both look toward Keonho again.
Moka notices too. “…They’re staring again,” she murmurs quietly.
You look away from the pool for the first time. And, when Keonho wins? Louis looks irritated and Woojin looks worse.
But Keonho either doesn’t notice—or pretends not to. He just pulls himself out of the water, pushing wet hair back from his forehead as Coach calls out times.
First again. Of course.
The cheers around the pool blur together after that. Because all you can really focus on—is the way Keonho looks exhausted. Even while smiling. He walks over to you, Moka and Seonghyeon. Dropping down onto the bleachers as he soaks everything around him. He turns to look at you. He notices the way your eyes linger on Louis.
“What’s so interesting about him?” You don't respond. A hand swipes in front of your face suddenly—”Hello? Earth to Yn?”
“Huh–yes. Earth to me” You say, your tone airy.
He grabbed his water bottle, “I asked, what's so interesting about him?” He muttered, not looking at you—but at Louis instead.
“What? Nothing interesting about him.”
His gaze finally landed on you, “You’re staring at him, got a crush?”
You looked at his face for a second, then scoffed. “Me? And him? Seriously?” He puts both his arms up in a surrender position, "I'm just saying like, you were very much zoned out looking at him—or, admiring him maybe?”
That earns him an elbow straight to the stomach, “Shut up Keonho.”
Beside you, Seonghyeon and Moka exchange looks—can they be any stupider?
After school and after Keonho’s swim practice, you find yourself sprawled out on his bedroom floor, arms stretched above your head as you breathe heavily. “Keonho turn the AC on, fuck, it’s so hot nowadays.” Keonho simply grabs the remote and hands it over to you, his arm hovering just above your head as he waits for you to take it. But, you don't grab it—instead you tug on his sleeve, signaling him to lay down beside you.
Keonho’s gaze lingers on you for a second before he lowers himself beside you. “What’s wrong?” He says, quietly bringing his head closer to yours as the two of you stare up at the ceiling.
You hesitate for a moment but speak anyway “Don’t you ever think that Louis—” you say, turning your head to face him mid-sentence. Bad idea, he’s already looking at you. He’s close. So close that you can see the faint rosiness on his cheeks from walking home in the humidity and the thin layer of sweat lingering on his forehead. You pause, “Never—nevermind.”
He slides closer to you, “What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrow, “You can tell me anything, right?” He rolls onto his side, head resting against his palm now, his attention fully on you.
“It’s just that–” you were interrupted by the sudden touch of his cold fingers grazing your cheek—he tucks the loose strands of hair behind your ear, “Just what?” But, you couldn't speak. The words jammed up in your throat. His touch was soft, almost comforting. His touch was brief, but it drove you insane.
“I think he looks at you weird.” You blurt out finally.
Keonho glances at you, one eyebrow raised up “You think he’s into me or something?”
That earns him another elbow to the stomach, “Dude, I'm serious. He looks at you really weird.”
He gets up completely, “Well, I don’t care.” Now settling down on the bed as you follow right behind him.
You sit beside him, legs swinging. “No, it’s just…something about his stare is so weird. I mean he’s always had a thing for you—not in a romantic way….but, more in a ‘I hate you’ kind of way.”
“You’re paranoid.” Keonho laughs. “If he hated me that much, he would have done something already.”
“Don’t say stuff like that, you know he’s basically an opp.” His gaze lingers on you before he mutters, “Can’t be that deep, Yn.”
“Don’t come to me crying when he pulls some bullshit.” You say, absentmindedly playing with your bracelets.
Keonho lets out a big sigh, leaning back to lie down “I’m too tired to care Yn,”
“Can I ask you something Keon?” You murmur, looking down at the floor.
“What’s up?”
“Do you ever wish you could stop swimming?” Your voice drops lower.
“Do I wish I could stop swimming? The sport I’ve been doing since I was a kid?” He scoffs, “Come on, and I thought my best friend would know me better.” he says dramatically, raising a hand to his chest. The dramatic grin on his face falters, “Sometimes I think I’m just good at swimming.” A pause, “I like competing. I like the feeling of water just wrapping around me—it covers me head to toe when I dive in…I like that.”
You lie down beside him. Heads close, arms touching. You don’t respond—you don't feel the need to. And somehow, your silence was enough of a response. Keonho speaks up, “Can we go to that canal again?”
And that is how you both ended up leaning against the railings of a bridge, looking down at waters that glimmer under the moonlight. That's the problem with canals—they look almost harmless from up here, like taking a dip wouldn't necessarily cause much harm. That’s the deception. Every few seconds, the current crashes violently against the concrete walls beneath it. You look at the waters, and then at Keonho. Then back down.
“What’s on your mind Keon?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Nothing really,”
You let out a little laugh as you turn your back to the railing, now leaning your head back, “I’ve known you for 16 years, I'm not dumb. What’s on your mind?”
Beside you, Keonho shifts slightly, sneaking a look at you—“Nationals and stuff. And, now that you mention it…Louis and Woojin are both tough competition.”
“You don't need to worry about Woojin, Louis, well…understandable”
He snickers, “You think he’s better huh?”
You let out a giggle, “Better than you? What if I do?”
“You think he’s better than me?” He shoots back, now turning his back to the railing too.
“No. He’s not.”
He turns his head, glancing at you from the side. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
You and Keonho were, for one. Very fucking close. And for two—everyone thought you guys were dating. It was a normal thing. People said it every other day and you never felt otherwise about it. Why should you? The problem now is that telling people—“Oh no, we’re not dating.” makes your chest tighten.
“Earth to Yn? Why do you zone out so much?” Keonho asks, settling down beside you.
“Sorry, morning math lectures just aren't for me.”
He lets out a little laugh, “Yeah, can tell.”
Seonghyeon joined in the conversation, wrapping an arm around Keonho’s shoulder, “How’s prep for nationals going dude?”
“You look drained” Moka joins in, sipping her apple juice.
“I kind of am, it doesn't matter anyway. I work with the water.” He pauses for a second before taking a deep breath in, resting his head against the desk, “Can’t sleep in the water now, can I?”
“Is this about Louis?” James chimes in.
“Oh, I always had a bad feeling about the guy,” Martin joins in with a scoff. “Why does someone from another school keep showing up to our practices anyway? Don’t they have their own pool?” Juhoon nods in agreement.
You look around the room while adjusting your chair to face everyone, “I saw him quite literally shooting daggers from his eyes watching Keon swim yesterday.”
“I told you I wasn't imagining things” Martin mutters, whining. “I never said you were.” Juhoon replied.
“Guys, he’s from another school. Obviously he won’t look at me right,” He gets up, leaning back on his chair. “We’re competing for a spot in the nationals, of course he doesn’t like me.”
“When are the selections for nationals anyway?” Seonghyeon adds, finally moving his arm away from Keonho
“Uh, in two weeks? We have the swim meet today and sometime next week, I don’t know”
Keonho knows exactly down to the minute when he has to dive in. He just doesn’t want to think about it. Not the pressure, not the scouts watching from the sidelines, and definitely not Louis. But now, standing on the starting block with nothing except the sound of water echoing around him, avoiding it is no longer an option. His arms shake slightly as he adjusts his goggles, the chlorine stinging the back of his throat with every breath he takes. ‘Can’t sleep in the water’ he had joked earlier.
Funny. Because lately, swimming is the only thing keeping him awake. Go to school. Go to practice. Come home exhausted. Stretch until his muscles stop aching long enough to sleep. Then wake up and do it all over again. Somewhere along the way, swimming stopped feeling light of sorts. Sometimes, usually late at night when his body hurts too much to move, Keonho thinks about what would happen if swimming suddenly disappeared from his life. He barely studies anymore. Everything he is, everything people know him for, begins and ends with the pool.
It terrifies him more than he wants to admit. Because he does love swimming. He loves the competition. Loves the feeling of diving in and letting the water wrap around him completely, quieting everything else for just a moment.
But as he dives into the pool, deeper and deeper, all he sees is blue. He’s chasing a dream even though he's tired. He reaches the end of the pool only to turn around and do it all over again. Keonho’s zoned out, surrounded by his own thoughts. The sharp sound of the starter pistol echoes in the room. Keonho doesn't dive in and by the time he realizes it, the others are already in the water.
His coach comes up from behind him, “Ahn Keonho what’s wrong with you? Why didn't you dive in?” The coach's voice rings in his ears,
“I-I was zoned out, sorry.”
His coach starts rambling, voice loud “Keonho, nationals are coming up, you–” He’s interrupted by Keonho walking away. “Hey–” He walks behind Keonho, “You—You come back here now.”
“I said I'm sorry,” His voice was laced with annoyance. Seeing Keonho's dazed state, the coach walked away. He settles down on the bleachers, his goggles thrown onto the floor as he runs his fingers through his hair. Someone drops beside him—legs stretched out, wet hair covering his forehead, a towel hanging loosely around his neck. He scoffs, “tough luck huh?”
Keonho turns his head to the familiar figure—It’s Louis. Of course he’s here to torment him. He furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Louis erupts in sarcastic laughter, “Do you know me? You’re gonna know me very well once I take your spot at the nationals.” He pauses, now leaning closer to Keonho. “Funny how the prodigy can’t even hear the starter pistol anymore. They don't tolerate mistakes there Keonho. You won’t get treated like someone special there.”
Keonho gets up, “I don't even know you man.” He walks away before Louis can say anything else. His team is already gathered around the coach for some stupid pep talk before dismissal. He checks his phone—6:20 p.m. “She’ll be here soon,” he whispers to himself.
“Ahn Keonho, speed up! We don't have all day.” The coach yells. As Keonho reaches the circle of swimmers, one of his friends wraps his soaking arm around Keonho, “Our prodigy’s ears have gone numb in love, when’s Yn coming to get you huh?” The team immediately starts teasing him. Keonho responds, unamused, “In 5 minutes actually.”
A few minutes later, the team finally gets dismissed.
The humid air clings to Keonho even after he steps outside. Cool evening air brushes against his skin as he adjusts the strap of his bag, scanning the nearly empty parking lot. Then he spots you. He barely makes it a few steps before Louis stops him in his tracks.
“Ahn Keonho, I wasn't done talking.” He looks at him with his eyes narrowed.
“But I was.” Louis grips Keonho’s wrist.
“Who said you get to walk away that fast?”
“I did.”
“You’re quite egotistical for someone who can’t hear a starter pistol.”
Keonho tries not to snap. He harshly shakes Louis’ hand from his wrist, “Bye.”
Keonho starts walking away. Louis grips the back of his bag, making him stumble backwards before finding his balance, “I’m not done talking to you.”
Keonho grabs Louis’ collar, wrinkling the fabric “Dude, what is it with you? I’m not in the mood to deal with some random dude.”
Louis grabs Keonho’s collar right back, yanking him closer until there’s barely any space left between them. “Someone random?” He lets out a sharp laugh. “I won’t be some random guy once I take your spot at nationals.”
Keonho snaps back. “What is it with you?”
Louis raises his fist, his knuckles going white. As he’s about to swing a blow on Keonho, a cold and fizzy liquid is poured all over him. “Dude, what the fuck?” Both guys finally let each other go.
Louis bends his head down, the sticky liquid dripping down from his hair. When he finally looks up, he throws you a glare. You wheeze, grabbing Keonho’s wrist, pulling him closer to you “Dude, why are you making faces at me? Gosh you look stupid.”
A towel is thrown on Louis’ head by his friend Woojin. He scoffs at Keonho. “You need your girlfriend to fight your battles?”
You don’t give Keonho the opportunity to respond, “You salty you don't have one?” You scoff, dragging Keonho away from the scene.
Louis watches both of you walk away. His voice rings out behind you—”You’re going to regret this.” His words linger behind you. You don’t even realize it at first, but your hand slides down from his wrist until your fingers interlock with his
Once you both are far away from the school, you finally stop walking. Your hands still interlinked with his. Keonho hasn’t looked at you the entire time, nor has he said a word. His gaze lingers on his shoes—he’s avoiding your eyes. You look up at him confused, lowering your head trying to meet his gaze. He still avoids you. “Keon, what's wrong?” He says nothing. “If you don’t want to talk…that's alright I guess.” You continue walking.
Keonho takes a few steps ahead with you before stopping. “Yn.”
You look back, “Yeah?”
“Thanks.” He murmurs.
You give him a warm smile, pulling him closer so that he can match your steps. “You know I got you.”
You both walk with no destination in mind, but somehow end up back at the bridge. The sun has set completely, the moonlight glimmering on the water yet again.
Keonho clears his throat, finally pulling his hand away. “It’s crazy how this area hasn’t changed at all. I mean we used to come here as like five year olds.”
You let out a little giggle, “Still looks pretty even after all these years.”
“Remember how you almost fell into the canal by trying to sit on the railing once?”
You nudge his elbow, “Thought we promised to forget that? I was 8 years old.”
He exhales loudly, “Still funny.” He pauses, “Even if you fell, I would've saved you.” He turns to look at you, “Only because the current wasn’t as harsh that day.”
You take a small step closer to him, tilting your head up at him. “Are you sure it’s not because you love me?”
Keonho freezes, heat crawling up his neck. His ears, now a visible shade of crimson. “W-What?”
“Why are you stuttering?”
He clears his throat, “What? Uh–no reason.”
You tilt your head, trying to catch his gaze again. Which he immediately avoids. “Why are you so stunned?” You get on your tippy toes, now leaning even closer. Your cold fingers lightly brush against his warm ears. “Why are your ears so red?”
Keonho takes a deep breath before grabbing your wrist and moving it away from his ear. “It’s hot over here.”
You tilt your head at him again—a sign you know something's up. Just bodily cues which Keonho has picked up over the years. “Your hands are cold.” Keonho huffs out a laugh, “I completely forgot about our physi—” You interrupt him, “Keonho, your hands are cold. You're lying. It’s not warm here.”
His gaze settles on your face for a second too long. Your lips—plump and glossy, probably glazed with your favourite lip oil. Your hair neatly tucked behind your ear, and your eyes. Your eyes…they’re shining. At least that's how Keonho sees them. To him—your eyes glimmer more than the water beneath the bridge ever could. And the way you look at him—like he’s the only thing worth looking at? Fuck, it’s so hard to stay focused.
“Earth to Keon?” You wave your hand in front of his face, breaking him out of his trance.
“Y-Yeah, I heard you…Uh…so, what were you saying?” He leans against the railing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I just asked you why you’re lying to me.”
Right, you wouldn't let that go. “I don't know, my ears are just naturally flushed or something.”
“Flushed huh?” You say innocently. “Aw, do I make you blush?”
Keonho goes visibly red, biting back a smile. He's a tomato at this point. “What’s…what’s wrong with you?” He starts walking away.
You provoke him further, “Aw, are you shy?” You walk behind him as he speeds up. “Hey!” He starts running. “Hey! Stop running!” You yell, chasing him all the way down the bridge.
He drops you home as always. Before you walk to your door, you tug on his shirt, gaining his attention. “Yeah?”
You glance at him for a second. “I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything when I didn’t deny me being your girlfriend...”
Keonho looks at you, a big smile spreading across his face as he lets out a laugh. “Oh God, you’re worried about that?” He laughs a little louder now, “You’re not worried about how I could’ve gotten punched?”
You finally look up at him. “No, i’m sure you could fight back, it’s just–nevermind. I’ll go inside now. Goodnight Keonho.” You blabber out, turning away.
Keonho clutches your wrist, bending down bringing his face closer to yours. The distance between your faces is minimal. “You’re worried you made me uncomfortable?”
You nod shyly.
“Don’t worry, if it’s you…I don’t mind.” He says with that boyish smile of his. He lets go of your wrist. Now, grabbing your shoulders as he slightly pushes you ahead. “Goodnight, Ynie”
By the time you reach your room, your face still feels unbearably warm. And somehow, every thought in your head leads back to Keonho. Your phone buzzes in your hands.
The next day, you don't wake up to your moms usual shouts. You wake up to Keonho’s voice. “It must be a dream,” you think to yourself before pulling the covers over your head. But to your surprise, this dream feels…real? Why is Keonho in front of you?
“Good morning, sleepy” He says sweetly, pulling the covers off of your head.
Nope. Nope. Not a dream—he’s right there.
You get up abruptly, dazed and groggy. “What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?”
“My mom’s downstairs with her, nothing I can do there, so I thought I’d wake you up.” He murmurs, looking around your room.
You groan, “What’s the time?”
“Uh, 7:30.”
“Keonho.” You stare at him blankly.
“Yes…?” he says cautiously, already backing toward your bedroom door.
“I was supposed to be up 30 minutes ago. I don't have time to get ready.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to hide a smile. “You looked too cute sleeping for me to wake you up.”
He gets no response. You immediately get up and rush to get dressed—mainly because you’re trying to hide how warm your face suddenly feels.
The walk to school feels weird now. Your shoulders brush every few steps, hands occasionally bumping before quickly pulling away again like neither of you knows what you’re allowed to do yet.
“You’re being awkward,” you mumble eventually.
“I’m not.”
“You literally keep looking at me and then looking away.”
“That’s because you keep staring first.”
You scoff, nudging his arm lightly. He grins this time—small and shy and stupidly pretty.
The school day was horrid. You drop him off at the swimming pool only to be met with Louis and Woojin’s glares the second you walk in.
“Why’re they even here this early?” you murmur to Keonho.
“Their school must hate them,” Keonho says, dropping his bag onto the bleachers.
The second you stepped into class, you were swept away by Moka. Who was now bombarding you with questions. “So, did you guys kiss?”
“Moka, what the fuck?”
You later got to know that Moka had already told Yunah and Minju about your conversation yesterday, so they were quick to chime in.
“That’s not a no,” Yunah points out.
“Oh my God,” you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.
The rest of the day goes exactly how you expected it to—Moka interrogating you while you avoid every single question thrown your way. By the end of the day, your head hurts and you haven’t seen Keonho once after you dropped him off. Nationals selections meant he’d be stuck at the pool for basically the entire school day. Thank God it was Friday. The only thing you were looking forward to now was going home and dissociating for the next two days.
The bell rang loudly, the sounds of chatter erupted, muffled sounds of bags being stuffed filled the room. School was over. And, Keonho? Not back in class yet. But, Seonghyeon wasn't in class either.
Yunah turned, “Do you think Seonghyeon used Keonho as an excuse to bunk the last two classes?”
You nodded your head half heartidly, too tired to formulate a proper response.
On the bleachers, Seonghyeon’s sitting beside Keonho, listening to his friend absolutely lose his mind over you.
“And, we were so different yesterday? She’s still the same, but now I can’t stop thinking about her.” He said running his fingers through his wet hair, “I don't know man, I–”
Seonghyeon cuts him off, “Man, do you like the girl?”
Keonho sharply turns his head, “What? No.” He pauses, “No—I mean not no no, just…fuck, I don’t know.…” He stops, trying to figure out what to say.
Seonghyeon stands up and grabs Keonho's shoulders, “So, if I go ask her out right now, would it be fine?”
Keonho’s eyebrows furrow, “The fuck? Fuck no.”
Seonghyeon laughs under his breath, “Alright so you like her. Go ask her out. Today.”
Keonho’s gaze lowers to the floor, “I don’t want to fuck the friendship up man.”
Seonghyeon grabs his bag from beside Keonho, “If you don’t do it soon, someone else will.” He pauses, “Who knows, maybe she likes you too?” a giggle, “Imagine someone else asks her out and she goes out with them because you're too scared to ask her out–”
Keonho looks away so fast it’s almost defensive. “Stop blabbering, man. Jeez.” He gets up. Both of them walk to the class together. But all he can think about is someone else asking you out before he does. “Sean.”
“Yeah?” He says, looking up from his phone.
Keonho stops walking. “I’m asking her out. Today.”
Seonghyeon just stares at Keonho blankly, then nods a little.
As both of them approach the class, Moka, Yunah and Minju are already all over you. You should be annoyed by all the teasing but, honestly? You don't mind. They both enter the class and conversation between everyone erupts naturally. Yunah chimes, “You bunked, again?” as seonghyeon just grins.
Meanwhile, both you and Keonho struggle to say anything at all. Moka looks at you, then at Keonho, and then back at you. Before Moka can physically shove you toward him, Keonho walks over first. “Wanna leave?” You just look up at him before nodding slightly.
He helps you pack your stuff, and before you can grab your bag—he does it. “Keonho, I can do that myself, you don’t have to carry it.”
Keonho simply says, “I want to.” And walks away.
You glance back at your friends. All four of them are smiling way too cheekily. You roll your eyes before muttering a quiet, “Bye,” and hurrying after Keonho.
The walk outside felt suffocating. It didn't slip into the comfortable silence you and Keonho were used to. It was so awkward you almost couldn’t take it anymore.
“Okay, what is wrong with you?” ou said, irritation slipping into your voice
“Nothing?”
“You’ve been so weird since you entered the class with Hyeon,”
Keonho looks away immediately, adjusting the strap of your bag on his shoulder. “Wanna go to the dog park? My sister’s already there with Cookie.”
You blink at him. “In this heat?”
“Give me company?” A pause, “Please?”
Now how can you say no to that? You both walk to the dog park and spot Keonho’s sister with Cookie. Cookie comes running to Keonho, jumping into his arms licking his face in excitement. A second later, Cookie was jumping on you too. You pull Cookie away and whine, “No Cookie, my makeup.”
Both Keonho and his sister laugh at you before his sister heads off. You and Keonho walk Cookie for a while in silence, before settling down on the park benches. The sun’s going down and the chatter in the dog park gets loud as more people come in. Cookie now rests against your feet, huffing from exhaustion.
Neither you nor Keonho say a word. The silence between you is only broken every so often by Cookie’s barking somewhere near your feet. The tension is bad. Very bad.
Keonho clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Yn?”
You don't look at him, “Yeah?”
You see Keonho lean forward, his hands gripping the bench. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah”
He laughs nervously, “Promise you won’t make it weird?”
You look at him now, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
Keonho lets out a quiet laugh, but it sounds more nervous than amused. He runs a hand through his hair before finally looking at you. “When people say we’re dating…” He pauses, “You don’t hate it, right?”
You turn your gaze back to the pavement. You stay silent. Keonho finally looks away from you, gaze lingering on the ground too. “Sorry–I made it weird,”
You look back at Keonho frantically, “What? No–No never.”
He looks back at you, his eyes wide with anticipation. You pause again—looking around the park. Looking everywhere but at him. You inhale loudly, “It’s just that…I don’t know how to say it,”
“I like you.” Keonho blurts out. But this time, you don't look back at him, eyes still wandering around the park. You heard him, loud and clear.
“What if we mess the friendship up? What if we fuck around and end up finding out?”
He finally looks at you, his pinky finger now interlocking with yours. “I’ve been spiraling. I’ll be honest, the only reason Seonghyeon skipped the last classes today was because I begged him to listen to me. I like you, I’m sure I do. If someone else confessed to you before I did—I’d be so mad.” He starts fiddling with Cookie’s leash, “I’d been trying to ignore my feelings for so long, I tried to pretend people calling you my girlfriend didn’t bother me—but fuck it did. Especially since yesterday. Yesterday it just—it felt so real.” He looks away from you now, “I just couldn’t lie to you anymore.”
A smile appears on your face, “Lie to me about what?”
Keonho groans, “Don’t make me say it again.”
You scoot closer to him, “I’m actually confused.”
Heat rises to his cheeks, they’re now visible red. “I couldn’t lie about the fact that I like you..”
You let out a giggle, visibly blushing too. “Well, for the record—I like you too. I can’t even lie, I’ve been spiraling for a while too.”
“Keonho’s face lights up, “You like me too!” He picks Cookie up in his arms, “She likes me back!”
You start laughing, “Keonho, put Cookie down!”
“No, you don't understand the significance of this, I was ranting to him last night.”
Your eyebrows furrow, “You were ranting to your dog?”
He puts Cookie down, He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it did work…right? You’re my girlfriend now…right?”
You roll your eyes, “No stupid, take me out.”
“Right, right. I’ll take you out.”
You look at him, expression plain.
“I mean, can I take you out?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, “Oh you're bad at this, but yes. You can.”
He smiles at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. He leans down, making sure Cookie’s attached to the leash safely—his hand never leaving yours. “Let’s go home, it’s late.” He says all smiley.
The whole walk home, his hand never leaves your. Instead, he seems to pull you closer every time he feels your hand slipping away. You don’t stop by the bridge today—it’s too late. Once you’re at the front door of your house, you try to pull your hand away. Keonho’s grip tightens again, “Do you have to go this early?”
You roll your eyes at him, “Yes, it's a weekend tomorrow and I would really like to sleep.”
He whines, letting your hand go. “Fine, whatever.”
You giggle softly, grabbing his hand again. Standing on your tippy toes, you cup his cheek with one hand before pressing a quick kiss against it. When you pull away, Keonho’s completely frozen. Then your eyes land on the faint glossy print left on his cheek. “…Aw,” you mumble, trying not to laugh. “Keon look! My lip gloss literally stamped your face.”
His eyes widen immediately. “What?”
You burst into laughter, pointing at the mark on his cheek. “That’s so cute.”
Keonho’s face goes completely red. He rubs at his cheek once before stopping halfway—like he suddenly doesn’t want to wipe it off anymore. You roll your eyes at the stupid smile spreading across his face. “Goodnight, Keon.”
He lets out a soft laugh, still looking a little dazed. “Goodnight, Ynie.”
By the time you step out of the shower, your cheeks still hurt from smiling. Your phone buzzes against your bed sheets.
The next day, Keonho updates you every hour. You get pictures with messages like—‘just reached the school, idw practice’
At around 4:59 p.m, you hear a knock at your door. It’s Keonho. He’s standing there with flowers in his hands and his hair slightly messed up and damp from the pool waters. As for you, when Keonho sees you—he almost forgets how to breathe. You had sat in front of your vanity for about an hour trying to make sure your makeup and outfit looked good today. You had a white dress on with a floral print, the sunlight caught in your hair, your lips tinted softly pink and your cheeks were flushed—and honestly, you weren’t sure if it was the blush or Keonho anymore.
Keonho awkwardly holds the flowers out. “You look…beautiful.”
You let out a shy smile, taking the flowers from his hand and placing them carefully by the doorway. “Thank you, Keon.”
Keonho’s ears are red. His hand lingers between you, waiting for yours. You both walk to the café hand in hand. The café is small and cozy, filled with pink and brown decor and way too many desserts. You both settle down near the window, placing your orders. After the waiter leaves Keonho clears his throat, “So, what's up?”
You laugh slightly, “You’re so bad at this Keon,”
Keonho buries his face in his palms, “I’m trying, it’s hard to be normal when you’re nervous.”
“Why are you nervous now? You’ve known me since we were kids.”
“Yeah, but now you’re pretty and it's scary.”
You blink at him. “Now?”
Keonho freezes. “That’s not what I meant.”
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. He groans dramatically while you shake your head at him. Somehow, the awkwardness fades after that. The waiter arrives with your drinks first, then your desserts not long after. Keonho keeps stealing strawberries off your cake despite insisting that he “doesn’t even like sweets that much.”
“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, watching him eat another strawberry.
“I’m hungry.”
“You had practice for like eight hours, of course you’re hungry.”
Keonho shrugs before leaning back on his chair, sunlight spilling across his face from the window beside him. Outside, the evening streets are glimmering in the sunlight filtered from the leaves.
Keonho stirs his drink absentmindedly. “I think this is the first time I’ve relaxed all week.”
You look up at him. His shoulders don’t look as tense now. His expression is softer too.
“Nationals?” you ask quietly.
He nods a little. “Coach keeps increasing practice hours.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “I think everyone expects me to qualify already.”
“You will.”
His gaze flicks toward you immediately. “You sound very sure.”
“I am.”
A small smile appears on his face at that. “You always say things so confidently,” he murmurs.
“Someone has to.”
Keonho looks down at his drink again, smiling faintly to himself. The conversation drifts after that. You both talk about the stupidest things—how Moka interrogated you last night about Keonho and how Seonghyeon reacted when he heard that Keonho’s actually taking you out.
By the time you both leave the café, the sky has already darkened into shades of pink and purple. The warm evening air brushes against your skin the second you step outside. Keonho reaches for your hand instinctively now, fingers slipping between yours naturally like he’s done it forever.
Your heart still reacts embarrassingly fast.
“You’re smiling to yourself,” he points out while walking beside you.
“No I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
You look away immediately. “Shut up.”
Keonho grins, squeezing your hand once before swinging both your arms slightly between you. At some point, Keonho suddenly stops walking.
You blink at him. “What?”
Without saying anything, he pulls his phone out. “…Why are you recording me?”
“You look pretty.”
“Keonho.”
“Stand there.”
You stare at him in disbelief while he laughs quietly, phone pointed toward you anyway. “Stop it.”
“Just one photo.”
“No.”
“Please?”
You narrow your eyes at him before reluctantly standing still for half a second with a forced smile. The second he clicks the picture, you walk toward him. “Delete it.”
“No.”
“Keonho.”
“It’s cute.”
You try grabbing his phone, but he lifts it higher above your head easily. “You’re evil.”
“And you’re too short to grab my phone.”
You roll your eyes at him. “Okay wow.”
He giggles loudly when you nudge his shoulder. Eventually, the two of you end up near his house without even realising it. Keonho glances toward his house before looking back at you. “You wanna come over now?”
You hesitate dramatically. “I don’t know…”
“Yn.”
“Are you sure? What if your parents thing im weird or something”
“You’re like their second daughter, plus they’re leaving soon.” He pulls you to the door. “Just come in,” he mutters, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward his house anyway.
The second you both enter his room, Cookie comes running again, barking excitedly at your feet. You crouch down immediately, rubbing behind his ears while Keonho tosses his phone onto the floor. You settle onto his bed while he disappears for a second before returning with two cold juice boxes from the fridge downstairs.
“You still drink these?” you ask.
“They’re good.”
“They’re made for children.”
“Whatever,”
You and Keonho spent a good 3 hours just sprawled across the bed. You scroll on your phone, petting Cookie every now and then while Keonho’s busy playing some stupid game on his desk. You turn to your side, groaning. “Keonnn, it’s late. I think I'll head back.”
Keonho takes his headset off dramatically, “What? No. You can’t leave.” He stands up and walks over to you. He sits down on the bed, his hands cupping your face. “You’re sleeping over.”
You giggle, “Keon I need to change my clothes, remove my makeup and take a shower.”
“You can wear my clothes—or my sisters, use her makeup remover and shower here.” He leans down to place a kiss on your cheek, “Your parents won’t mind.”
“Ugh, fine.”
By the time you’re out of the shower, dressed in one of his sisters sweatpants and his t-shirt. Keonho’s already asleep on his bed, probably tired from the 8 hour practice. You smile at his sleeping figure as you turn the lights off before crawling into bed beside him. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His chin resting atop of your head.
You try to move but Keonho only tightens his grip around you. “Keonho let me move.”
“No,” he says groggily, placing a sleepy kiss on the top of your head.
The sunlight filters through Keonho's curtains. Keonho tries slipping out of bed quietly, but the second he moves, your arm tightens around his torso. “No,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes still shut. “Five more minutes.”
Keonho lets out a laugh, glancing down at you. “Five?”
You pull him back down beside you immediately, burying your face against his chest. “No. Two more hours.”
“It’s literally noon.”
“It’s a Sunday," you groan dramatically. “Let me be.”
He laughs softly again. His fingers slide lazily through your hair while you slowly start falling back asleep against him. Keonho speaks again, voice lower now. “…I’m sorry in advance.”
You open your eyes slightly. “For what?”
He holds you tighter. “This week’s gonna suck.” He says, drawing patterns on your back absentmindedly. “Selections are next week. Coach already said he’s extending practice again.” A pause. “And the swim meet’s Friday."
You hum against him sleepily. “It’s okay Keon, I get it.”
“No, but like…really busy.” He exhales loudly. “I might barely text.”
You tilt your head up slightly to look at him. His hair’s messy, eyes still swollen with sleep, expression weirdly guilty over something that isn’t even his fault. “It’s fine,” you mumble again. “You act like you’re leaving me forever.”
His lips twitch slightly, but the smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Still,” he says quietly.
You snuggle closer again before he can spiral any further. “You’re being too dramatic about this.”
“I am not.”
“You really are.”
Keonho rolls his eyes before wrapping both arms around you again, pulling you impossibly closer. “But,” he murmurs after a second, “you have to meet me saturday.”
You blink slowly. “Why Saturday?”
“Because.” He pauses. “I wanna see you before the main thing.”
You frown sleepily. “Keon, you know all of us are gonna be there.”
“Yeah, but…” He hesitates for a second. “I wanna meet just you first. Once.”
You giggle into his chest, ‘Alright. As you say, pretty boy.”
Keonho freezes for a second, “Pretty what?”
You finally pull away from Keonho’s chest, looking up at him with a smile. “Pretty boy.” You giggle, cupping his face as you place a peck on his lips.
“H-Hey!” he says, completely flushed now. “You can’t just do that.”
“Too bad.” You say as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.
He sighs, “So I’m not even your boyfriend but you stole my first kiss?”
“Okay. You can be my boyfriend, or whatever”
Keonho just smiles at your answer, “Already knew that.” He thinks to himself as he pulls you away from the crook of his neck before peppering kisses all over your face while you try to shove him away laughing.
The rest of the week goes by in a blur. You and Keonho don’t get to talk as much, his swim practices taking up most of his time. One night, he even tried arguing that he could stay up late just to talk to you, but of course, what kind of girlfriend would want her boyfriend showing up tired the next day? Even though his absence lingered through most of the week, the rare moments everyone saw him during lunch were full of teasing from the whole group—especially James, Martin, and Juhoon. They were the last ones to find out about the two of you.
Martin was sulking. James immediately started whining,, “Okay, so you guys don’t care about us anymore.” Juhoon wasn’t bothered much, but he didn't hesitate to throw in a few teases here and there.
You and Keonho hung out like twice, mostly just him crashing at your house after practice. Your parents were gone for the week—so him sleeping over wasn’t a problem. One thing you couldn’t help noticing was how often Keonho talked about Louis and Woojin now. Their school had been practicing with yours, so of course—Keonho saw them more often than he wanted to. Every time you talked, at least an hour of it turned into Keonho ranting about how annoying both of them had gotten. Especially after they started outright threatening him over nationals.
One time, he explained how Louis had walked over to him sitting at the bleachers, “Gettin’ better huh?”
Keonho looked up briefly, then went back to drinking water from his bottle. Louis didn’t like that. He didn’t like how Keonho didn’t react. Louis immediately slapped Keonho’s bottle out of his hand before grabbing the towel around his neck, roughly pulling him closer. “What’s your problem?”
Keonho didn’t hold back. He shoved Louis away. “My problem? Do you want me to tell everyone about how you’ve been threatening me this whole week?” He scoffed, glaring at Louis. “You think your petty threats are gonna stop me from getting selected?”
“Louis landed a punch on Keonho, but Keonho hit him back three times and harder. That’s when Keonho finally admitted how bad things had gotten. The coach and a few teammates had to physically pull them apart.
After Keonho finishes talking, you grab his face, tugging him closer as you examine the faint bruise blooming across his cheekbone. “Keonho, what is wrong with you? Look.” You turn your phone camera on, angling it toward him. “You’re hurt.”
He chuckles. “It’s such a light bruise. You should’ve seen Louis.”
You smack his arm lightly. “That does not matter, you still got hurt.” You frown, leaning closer to his face as you kiss his bruise lightly. ‘Don’t get into fights for no reason.”
Keonho pulls back, looking at you like he needs to defend himself immediately. ” “He hit me first.”
You groan, “Ahn Keonho.”
That made him sit straight. “Government name?”
“I’m serious.”
Keonho hugs you from the side, “Come on, anyway. You’re coming tomorrow right?”
You tilt your head slightly, “The bridge?”
Keonho nods, “Yeah, around 7?”
You hum, snuggling closer to him.
And so, here you were. At the bridge at 7 p.m. sharp, with no Keonho in sight. “Great, he’s late,” you murmur to yourself. The chilly night air grazes your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. Moonlight glimmers against the surface of the water beneath the bridge, the same way it always does. You lean against the railing, taking a slow breath. Your peace is interrupted by a familiar voice.
“What are you doing here?”
You turn around—only to see Louis and Woojin standing side by side. You roll your eyes. “What do you both want?”
Woojin chuckles. “Your boyfriend to not make it to nationals.”
You eye him up and down. “Are you stupid? How am I related to his swimming skills? What the fuck?”
Louis steps closer, tilting his head slightly, invading your space. “Delay him, make him late to the selections. As simple as that.”
You scoff. “Yeah right. I’m going to sabotage my own boyfriend because you two pussies are too scared to actually compete with him. You’re real funny.”
Louis’ tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. “Either you listen to me now, or I’ll make you.”
You stare at him, confused. “Make me?”
That’s all it takes. Louis’ hand snaps up and grabs your shoulders, yanking you closer. “Are you fucking stupid?” he snaps, voice suddenly loud. “Are my words not clear?”
You try to grab his arms, ‘What’s–” You pause trying to fight back, “What’s wrong with you?” You yell. You grip the low railing behind you, trying to stabilise yourself. Your words and pleas to be let go off are cut of by Louis shouting at you repeatedly, “Gosh, You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Louis, let me go.” to make matters worse, Woojin on the side starts recording, he leans in closer trying to take more zoomed in shots.
Your yelling is cut off by something dropping hard onto the ground. The next second, Louis is yanked backward so suddenly he stumbles away from you. You barely process it before your eyes snap up.
Keonho.
He’s here.
His gaze lands on you — and everything in his face changes. Before anyone can react, he shoves Louis back again, then turns sharply toward Woojin. Woojin barely has time to step back before Keonho’s already on him, forcing him away from the situation entirely.
The space between you all explodes into chaos. Woojin hesitates for half a second—then he’s gone. He backs away fast, like something in him finally clicks that this isn’t a safe space anymore. His running footsteps fade into the distance, leaving only the three of you on the bridge and the sound of your breathing turning sharp and uneven.
Keonho doesn’t even look at him leave. But, Louis does and that little second of distraction is all it takes for Keonho to move. “Don’t you ever touch her again,” Keonho snaps, landing another punch on Louis’ already red cheek.
Louis laughs under his breath, wiping his mouth like he’s annoyed more than he is hurt. “Or what?”
You try to step forward, to get between them, but you can’t. Even if you did—Keonho would push you away. “Keonho, stop—” you start, but your voice gets swallowed by the rising tension.
Louis tilts his head. “You’re really showing up now? This late?”
Keonho takes a step closer instead of answering. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”
Louis scoffs, tightening his grip on Kenoho's collar. “I don’t get to? You think you’re in a position to tell me anything? Can’t even show up to meet your girlfriend on time”
The words agitate Keonho more. You see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his hands curl like he’s barely holding himself back.
“Say what you want about me,” Keonho says, voice sharper now, “but don’t involve her.”
Louis’ smile drops slightly as he punches Keonho. “That’s funny. Because she’s exactly the point.”
You move forward again, panic rising. “Both of you stop—Keonho, please—”
But neither of them is listening anymore. Everything happens too fast after that—raised voices, movement, the space between them filling up with yells and punches. Your words can’t calm it anymore.
“Fuck, why are you here now?” Louis spits.
Keonho doesn’t hesitate. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
Louis’ expression sharpens. “I’m going to make sure you don’t make it to nationals.”
Keonho chuckles. “Try.”
Your hands shake as you fumble for your phone, vision blurred by panic. Your grip tightens on the phone too hard as you hit James’ contact before you even fully think. Your voice comes out broken with deep breaths. “James—at the bridge. Now. Louis and Keonho—just come, please—”
There’s a pause on the other end. “What? Fuck—wait, I’m two minutes away. I’m coming.”
You barely hear it properly before the call drops. When you look up again, Louis is standing closer to you now. He moves suddenly, grabbing you and pulling you behind him like a shield, positioning you so Keonho can see everything clearly.
“Let go of her,” Keonho says immediately, voice breaking into something darker now. “Don’t bring her into this.”
Louis’ grip tightens. “Or what?” he mutters, almost taunting. “You’ll step down from nationals?”.
Keonho doesn’t even hesitate, “As long as you leave her.”
Silence falls in for a second, even Louis was taken aback. Then his grip shifts, dragging you closer to the railing, your breath catching as panic spikes through your chest.
“You really trust him?” Louis murmurs near your ear. “Because I don’t.”
Keonho steps forward immediately. “Don’t.”
Louis exhales, almost amused now. “You know what I think?”
His hand tightens slightly. “I think one push and this all becomes a lot simpler.”
Your stomach drops.
“Let her go,” Keonho says, voice shaking now. “Right now.”
Louis looks at him over your shoulder. Then he smiles. “Why should I?”
Just as Louis tries to scare Keonho further, he sees James running towards the scene in the background.
“Keonho—!” James’ voice cuts through the bridge like a warning.
Louis hesitates, that’s all it takes. Something in his conscience tells him it’s a good idea.
James reaches them in seconds, jumping straight into the situation, as he starts yelling at both of the guys. Louis is completely distracted by James’ rant. Keonho takes the chance, he rushes closer to you. But, just because Louis is focused on James, doesn't mean his grip on you has weakened.
The second Louis spots Keonho trying to grab onto you, he doesn't hesitate. He pushes you harshly. Your breath catches as the grip around you shifts—then releases—and suddenly the world tilts.
The railing is gone, you hit the waters harshly—shouting as you fall.
Silence follows like the world itself doesn’t understand what just happened. James grabs Louis and everything collapses at once. James hits Louis Uncontrollably. Keonho is already moving before the sound fully registers. hitting him continuously as Keonho doesn't hesitate to jump into the harsh currents himself.
The next moments blur. Keonho doesn’t think—he reacts. He’s in the water before the thought fully lands, eyes scanning the surface, searching for you in the harsh currents. He takes a deep breath and dives in. Every time he comes up, he’s breathing harshly.
“Yn? Where are you?” He yells helplessly.
He’s panicking, he’s fighting himself internally.
Why was I late?If I was there sooner—
Such thoughts flood his brain. To him, it’s his fault. That’s all he thinks about. But he has no time to calm himself now. Not when you’re nowhere to be seen.
His world pauses again, he takes a deep breath and dives in again. As he tries to navigate through the cold and dark waters. A hand touches him. He grabs onto it tight as he swims back to the surface. And then, he sees your face. You’re unconscious.
He drags you out of the water with urgency, refusing to accept what his mind is trying to tell him. Every step feels heavy, until finally he gets you onto the grass nearby.
You’re not moving. Not an inch. Your chest doesn't rise and fall—you’re not breathing.
Keonho drops beside you instantly. “No, no, no, stay with me.” His hands are shaking so badly he can barely hold still. His voice breaks completely as he pleads with you, over and over, like his words alone could change reality. “Yn, please. Please look at me.”
No answers. He leans down to you, placing his mouth on yours as he tries to pump air into your lungs. Nothing changes, there's no expression on your face, not a single muscle moves. He pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let you go. His face is close to yours, his forehead touching yours. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry—please…” He starts crying.
James’ voice cuts through Keonho’s sobs—“They’re here.”
James had called people beforehand, just in case something escalated. Which it did. When the paramedics try to pull you away from Keonho, his grip just tightens on you. “No–no.” James pulls Keonho back as he whispers to him, “She’s okay, she’ll be okay. Let them help her.” Keonho can’t help but sob uncontrollably. He knows you’re not okay. There's no pulse. Your lips were blue.
Keonho now stands in front of a stone. A stone that holds your name.
Yn, 2009–2026.
He gets on his knees next to it, placing the same flowers down that he got you on your first date. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He lets out a broken sob. “I’m so sorry. Only if I arrived earlier, only if I—” He can’t speak anymore. Tears run down his face, and he can taste the salt on his lips. His breath is shaky, eyes now red.
“I know I come by here every other week and just cry,” he lets out a hiccup. “I know, if you were here you’d tell me to shut up and say—‘you’re so annoying.’” He touches your grave lightly. “I can’t help but think it’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Yn. I’m sorry. I barely got to spend time with you as your boyfriend—I barely got to treat you right.”
He finally wipes his face, taking a deep breath. He tries to speak again but is interrupted by a camera flash. He looks toward the direction of it quickly before getting up and hiding his face. Five paparazzi start walking behind him, throwing questions like—
How do you feel about winning the Olympic awards for 2032?
How does it feel knowing you achieved so much at just 23?
How does it feel having two Olympic medals just a few years into your career?
Keonho doesn’t answer any of them. He just turns his phone on to check the time—his wallpaper a picture of both of you cuddled up in his room. Tears flood his face again as he rushes to his car.
The driver pulls off while all Keonho can do is sob into his palms, knowing you’re not there to comfort him anymore, knowing you’re not there to support him anymore, knowing you don’t know the two-time Olympic gold medalist Keonho has become.
summary. martin finally sees his girlfriend’s ‘hidden” talent
content. fluff, kissing, established relationship, literally just martin being down bad
the soft hum of equipment and the steady thud of a beat greeted you as you pushed open the heavy soundproof door. it was early evening, and the golden light from the setting sun filtered through the high windows, dusting the room in warm amber. there he was, martin, leaning over the mixing desk, headphones slung around his neck, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the console. he looked so focused, so in his element, a small frown of concentration between his brows that you just wanted to kiss away.
you lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. he was wearing that oversized hoodie you loved, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his blond hair was slightly messy from running his hands through it too many times. when he finally glanced up and saw you, his entire face softened, breaking into that familiar, boyish grin that made your heart flutter every single time.
“hey you,” he said, his voice warm and low, instantly abandoning the controls to stride over to you. he pulled you close by the waist, wrapping his arms tight around you like he hadn’t seen you in weeks instead of just this morning. “didn’t hear you come in.”
“didn’t want to disturb the genius at work,” you teased, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. he hummed happily against yours, deepening it just a little, before pulling back just enough to look at you.
“you could never disturb me,” he murmured, brushing his nose gently against yours. “missed you today.”
“missed you too,” you replied, smiling as you ran a hand through his hair. “how’s it going?”
he stepped back, tugging you along with him toward the desk, his hand never leaving yours. “good, actually. working on this track… but i’ve been struggling with a melody line. something’s missing, y’know?”
he pulled you down onto the sofa tucked in the corner of the room and sat beside you, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart underneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. he played a little bit of the track for you. it was edgy, atmospheric, classic martin.
“it’s great babe,” you told him honestly. “but i get what you mean. it feels like it needs a voice that feels… soft, i guess.”
martin went quiet for a second, staring at the equipment, then suddenly his eyes lit up, and he turned to you with that mischievous sparkle you knew so well. a spark of an idea had just hit him.
“y’know what?” he said, sitting up a little straighter and turning fully toward you, taking both your hands in his. “you should try it.”
he shook his head, grinning. “no, baby. sing it. come on.”
you pulled your hands back, eyes going wide. “martin, absolutely not. i can’t sing! i hum in the shower, that’s it. you’re the musical genius here, remember?”
he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping to that low, persuasive tone he knew worked every time. “c’mon, baby. just for me? please? i promise i won’t judge. even if it’s terrible, i’ll still love you more than anything.” he punctuated that with a quick, sweet peck on the lips, then another and another. “just try a little bit. for me?”
you knew you were going to cave the second he looked at you with those big, pleading eyes. you sighed dramatically, trying to hide your smile. “you’re impossible. fine. but if it’s awful, you’re deleting it immediately and you’re buying me dinner.”
“deal,” he said instantly, beaming, and kissed your forehead.
he jumped up, practically bouncing with excitement, and guided you over to the microphone stand in the booth. he adjusted the height for you, his hands brushing yours gently as he fixed the pop filter. he stood so close behind you that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his chest pressed lightly against your back. he reached around you to put the headphones over your ears, his fingers brushing your hair back tenderly.
“comfortable?” he asked, his voice right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you nodded, suddenly nervous. “alright. just listen to the track. i’ll start it slow. just sing the melody like you hear it. don’t think about it too much, yeah? just feel it.”
he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, lingering there for a second, and whispered, “you’ve got this.”
he stepped back to the desk, giving you a thumbs up. the music started playing in your ears. you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and when the moment came, you sang.
you didn’t think about technique or pitch or anything. you just let the melody flow out, singing the lines the way they felt right, soft and gentle. it felt natural, almost like talking, just… musical. you finished the little section, opened your eyes, and pulled the headphones down around your neck, looking at him apprehensively.
“and?” you asked, bracing yourself. “was it as bad as i thought?”
martin was just sitting there, hands hovering over the board, staring at you with his mouth slightly open, looking completely stunned. he didn’t move or speak for a few seconds, and you started to get worried.
“martin?”
suddenly he shot up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, and practically ran into the booth, grabbing your face in his hands. his eyes were wide and shining, filled with pure wonder and something else: pride, amazement, love.
“are you kidding me?” he breathed, his voice thick with disbelief. “you wanna join cortis?”
“i… what?”
“that was incredible,” he said, almost shouting it before remembering where he was and lowering his voice, though he was still beaming brighter than you’d ever seen him. he pressed his forehead hard against yours, holding you so tightly it felt like he never wanted to let go. “baby… you have no idea how beautiful that was. you’re tone… it’s perfect. how have you been hiding this from me?”
you laughed, shocked yourself. “i didn’t know! i really thought i was just noise!”
martin pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumbs stroking gently over your cheeks. “you sound amazing. like… actually amazing. i’m blown away.”
before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours, happy, and full of so much affection it made your knees weak. he kissed you deeply, pouring every ounce of his pride and adoration into it, his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you flush against him. you wrapped your arms around his neck, melting into him, smiling against his lips.
when he finally pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot. “we are keeping that. and we are doing more of it. you and me, making music together.” he pressed a small kiss to your cheek while nodding his head.
“y’know,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder, then your neck, then turning your head just enough to steal another quick kiss. “i always knew you were perfect. but now? you’re perfect and talented? dang, how did i get so lucky?”
you turned in his arms, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “i think i’m the lucky one. especially since you’re going to treat me to that dinner now, right?”
martin laughed, the sound echoing softly in the studio, and nodded, “absolutely. dinner, dessert, anything you want. but first, one more take? just so i can listen to you sing a little longer?”
you rolled your eyes playfully, but you were already leaning back toward the mic, his arms still wrapped tight around you.
“i love you, you’re genuinely so amazing in every way” he whispered, and as the music started again, you sang for him, and he listened with the biggest, proudest smile.
idols • found family • slow burn • angst • unresolved feelings
MASTERLIST
SYNOPSIS: When BIG HIT announces the addition of a sixth member to the nation's fastest-rising boy group, the backlash is immediate. Fans call her unnecessary, the media calls her a mistake, and some members aren't sure she belongs there at all. Thrown into a group that never expected her and a spotlight that never wanted her, Yona is forced to prove herself over and over again while carrying the weight of being the girl who changed everything.
SYPNOSIS : in which…the guys thought it would be funny to play a little prank on you, not knowing you hadn’t completely healed from the way they used to treat you before debuting.
you had been excited the entire way back to the dorm. seeing the allday project members again after two whole months felt unreal. it had only been two months but it somehow felt longer. maybe because everything had changed so much since then. schedules had gotten busier. promotions had started. everyone was running around nonstop. there was barely enough time to sleep sometimes. so finally seeing them again felt like finally being able to breathe after holding your breath for weeks.
the second you had spotted them you practically sprinted across the room. they barely even had time to react before you launched yourself at them. everyone immediately started laughing while trying not to fall over from the force of your hug. they all wrapped their arms around you anyway. teasing you for being dramatic while simultaneously refusing to let go of you.
you spent hours talking after that. talking about training days. talking about dorm stories. talking about embarrassing moments. talking about debut preparations. talking about absolutely everything and absolutely nothing at the same time.
every time someone brought up a memory another person would interrupt with an even funnier story and somehow all of you ended up crying from laughter more than once.
by the time you left your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
the entire ride home was spent replaying everything in your head. you couldn’t wait to tell the others. they always listened whenever you got excited about something. even if they acted annoyed. even if they interrupted every five seconds. they always listened.
meanwhile back at the dorm the living room was complete chaos.
everyone was sprawled across the couches. keonho was half laying across martin. martin was loudly complaining about it. juhoon was trying to watch something on his phone while seonghyeon continuously poked his shoulder just to annoy him. james sat nearby looking exhausted as usual.
then keonho suddenly sat up. “hey what if we pranked y/n?”
the room immediately went quiet as everyone slowly looked at him.
“prank her how?” james asked.
keonho shrugged. “i don’t know. just prank her. all i ever see her do is glare at us. she needs a little laugh.”
that immediately sparked interest.
martin suggested hiding all your shoes.
juhoon suggested replacing your shampoo with nair.
seonghyeon suggested putting googly eyes on everything you owned.
none of those ideas lasted more than five seconds before getting shut down.
then seonghyeon spoke again. “what if we ignore her?”
everyone paused.
“like completely?”
“yeah.”
the room immediately erupted with agreement but keonho looked unsure.
“i don’t think that’s gonna be funny though.” he muttered.
“it’ll be funny when she realizes it’s a prank.”
“or she’ll murder us.”
“that’s also funny.”
after several minutes of arguing they somehow settled on it.
james already looked guilty. “guys maybe we shouldn’t.”
“too late.”
“we already agreed.”
“i don’t think she’ll like it.”
“it’s gonna last like ten minutes.”
james sighed. he had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.
almost an hour later the front door finally opened. everyone immediately grabbed their phones. their acting skills were terrible but somehow they managed to pull themselves together.
the second you walked inside you practically bounced through the doorway.
“i’m back!” your voice echoed through the dorm.
you blinked. the silence that followed was unsettling.
“hm. did they go out or someth…” your sentence died immediately when you spotted all of them sitting in the living room.
“oh!” you smiled. “you’re here! one sec, i’ll go change and come tell you guys everything.” without waiting for a response you ran toward your room.
the second your door closed everyone released the breath they had been holding. “fuck.” james muttered.
“what?”
“this already feels mean.”
“it’s been thirty seconds.”
“she looked really happy.”
“james lock in.”
“shut up, keonho.”
keonho slowly frowned. “okay maybe today she looked happy.”
for a second nobody said anything, then seonghyeon waved them off. “too late now.”
you changed as fast as humanly possible into a random crop top and james’s old grey sweatpants that had somehow become yours months ago.
you practically ran back into the living room. the smile hadn’t left your face once. you immediately threw yourself onto the couch beside juhoon. “okay so what happened was the second i walked in they saw me and started yelling and then i literally ran over and hugged everyone and then tarzzan almost fell over because apparently i hit him too hard and then we started talking and apparently…”
the words poured out of you nonstop. you were smiling, you laughing, you were gesturing wildly with your hands.
normally by now someone would’ve interrupted you. keonho would’ve asked twenty questions. martin would’ve made fun of you. juhoon would’ve pretended not to care while secretly listening. james would’ve smiled.
someone would’ve reacted.
but there was nothing. you slowly stopped talking.
the silence felt strange as you looked around. everyone was staring at their phones. nobody had even looked up once.
your smile weakened. “…and then…”
nothing. you swallowed. “uh.”
still nothing. “are you guys okay?”
silence.
you looked from face to face. nobody acknowledged you.
not even a glance. not even a hum. not even a nod.
your stomach suddenly twisted. “did you fight or something?”
you stared at them. keonho looked annoyed. martin looked uninterested. juhoon looked focused on his phone. james wasn’t even looking in your direction.
your chest suddenly felt tight because you knew this feeling. you knew it far too well.
sometimes entire conversations would happen around you without anyone involving you. you’d always sit there wondering if anyone even noticed you were there.
you hated those memories. you hated them so much and suddenly they all came rushing back at once.
your fingers curled into the fabric of your sweatpants. “okay…”
your voice came out quieter than expected.
still nobody reacted.
you stood up and the knot in your stomach pulled tighter.
maybe they had argued. maybe something happened while you were gone. maybe everyone was in a bad mood.
but that didn’t make sense because they had all been perfectly fine this morning.
you looked at them one last time hoping someone would finally say something, anything, but nobody did, so you slowly turned around and walked back toward your room.
the second your bedroom door closed behind you the smile you’d been carrying all day finally disappeared.
and out in the living room every single one of them immediately looked up.
martin immediately started laughing while keonho buried his face into a pillow and kicked his feet against the couch. seonghyeon looked way too proud of himself and juhoon was trying not to smile.
the only person who didn’t look amused was james. “guys.”
nobody listened.
“guys seriously.”
still nobody listened. they were too busy talking over each other.
“did you see her face.”
“she looked so confused.”
“this prank is working way better than i thought.”
“she’s probably sitting in her room trying to figure out what she did.”
james immediately looked up. “exactly. that’s the problem.”
the room quieted slightly. “what?”
“i don’t think she’s laughing.”
“well obviously not yet.”
“no. i mean i genuinely don’t think she’s taking this as a joke.”
keonho waved him off. “she’ll figure it out eventually.”
james frowned. he wanted to believe that, he really did, but something about the way your smile disappeared earlier hadn’t sat right with him.
still, nobody listened.
hours passed and you stayed in your room the entire time.
at first you tried distracting yourself with your phone. then with videos. then with music. then by scrolling through old pictures.
nothing worked.
every time you thought about what happened your stomach twisted again.
you kept replaying every interaction from the past few weeks. every conversation. every joke. every disagreement. every possible mistake. had you said something wrong. had you annoyed someone. had you accidentally upset them.
you couldn’t figure it out and that somehow made it worse.
eventually hunger started creeping in. you hadn’t eaten since before meeting the allday project members.
you were starving and fried chicken sounded perfect. the thought alone almost made you smile.
key word: almost.
you got up from your bed and headed toward the door.
even if they weren’t talking to you. you should still let them know you were ordering.
maybe someone wanted something. maybe things would finally go back to normal.
you opened the door and immediately froze, listening to everyone arguing in the living room, laughing together and talking over eachother.
the exact same sounds that filled the dorm every single day.
your heart skipped. for a second relief rushed through you because they weren’t upset or fighting and everything was normal.
you quickly stepped farther into the hallway and the smell of food hit you instantly. your stomach growled.
confused, you followed the noise into the kitchen and the second you stepped inside the room your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
everyone was there. all five of them, sitting around the table, eating takeout with drinks and containers everywhere.
the second they noticed you standing there every voice immediately died. everyone looked away.
your stomach twisted so hard it hurt.
no.
no no no.
please.
not this again.
for a moment nobody said anything as you stared at the table. fried chicken, rice, ramen, snacks.
they had ordered food and somehow nobody thought to tell you.
“you guys ordered food.” your voice came out small.
the second he spoke your chest tightened, because for a brief moment he sounded exactly like he used to before your debut.
before things got better. before he became one of your closest friends.
back when he barely acknowledged your existence. back when every interaction felt like you were bothering him.
your face immediately lost color. you looked as pale as a ghost.
the room suddenly felt too hot. your hands started shaking. you couldn’t stop them.
this wasn’t happening. it couldn’t be happening.
“did you get me anything?”
nobody answered immediately. everyone exchanged glances. the hesitation was enough.
it was enough to make your stomach sink. it was enough to make your chest ache.
finally juhoon spoke. “well, if you wanted something. you should’ve said so. we can’t really read your mind.”
your ears started ringing.
suddenly you weren’t standing in the dorm kitchen anymore, you were back in those old practice rooms. back when you spent lunch breaks alone because nobody wanted to ask if you wanted to come.
back when entire food orders happened without anyone mentioning them to you. back when you convinced yourself you didn’t care. back when you cried in bathroom stalls where nobody could hear you.
your hands trembled harder and your had gone fully numb. your heartbeat was so loud you could hear it. the knot in your chest kept growing.
you genuinely felt sick.
what had happened? what did you do? why were they acting like this?
you looked around the table and nobody met your eyes, which somehow that hurt more than if they had yelled at you, because at least if they yelled you would know what was wrong.
you swallowed hard. “did i… do something?” your voice barely sounded like yours.
nobody answered.
the silence felt suffocating.
you slowly nodded, as if you understood, even though you didn’t. “okay.” your voice cracked slightly. you turned around before anyone could see the tears gathering in your eyes.
back in your room you sat on the edge of your bed for almost ten minutes without moving.
you stared at the floor, your thoughts running so fast you couldn’t keep up. you tried convincing yourself there had to be an explanation.
there had to be. these were your members. your family. your brothers. the people who stayed up all night helping you practice. the people who celebrated your debut. the people who held you when you cried. the people who promised they weren’t going anywhere.
so why did it feel like they already had?
eventually you grabbed your towel and headed toward the bathroom. you needed to think. you needed to breathe.
you needed something. anything.
the shower lasted almost an hour. you sat under basically boiling water longer than necessary.
letting it pour over your head and letting it burn your body, hoping it would somehow wash away the horrible feeling sitting in your chest.
it didn’t.
every time you closed your eyes you heard juhoon’s words again.
‘if you wanted something. you should’ve said so.’
every time you remembered the look on their faces your stomach twisted even more than the last time.
by the time you finally turned the water off your fingers were wrinkled and your eyes hurt.
you changed into your pajamas slowly, not really wanting to leave the bathroom, because eventually you’d have to see them again. eventually you’d have to figure out what was happening.
but when you stepped into the hallway everything was dark all the lights were off.
the dorm was silent which meant everyone had already gone to bed.
for a second that somehow hurt even more.
you quietly made your way toward your room, carefully opening the door.
the room was dark except for the faint glow coming through the curtains from the moon.
james and juhoon were already asleep, their breathing soft and steady, like nothing had happened today.
you stood there for a few moments, just staring at literally nothing, because a part of you kept expecting one of them to wake up and explain everything.
to tell you this was all some misunderstanding. to tell you everything was okay.
neither of them moved.
with a heavy chest, you quietly climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over yourself.
the room felt colder than usual, and despite being exhausted, despite your eyes burning, despite how badly your body wanted sleep.
you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling wondering what you had done wrong.
every time you started drifting off your brain immediately dragged you back to the same thoughts. the same questions. the same horrible feeling sitting in your chest. when your alarm finally went off the next morning you felt worse than when you had gone to bed. your eyes burned. your head hurt. and your chest still felt painfully heavy.
for a few minutes you just laid there staring at the ceiling, listening.
everyone was already awake. you could hear them talking in the living room.
they were all laughing, arguing over something stupid.
completely normal, like yesterday never happened.
you swallowed hard. part of you wanted to stay in bed. part of you wanted to hide in your room forever.
but you couldn’t. eventually you forced yourself up and headed toward the bathroom.
you brushed your teeth mechanically. washed your face. stared at yourself in the mirror for longer than necessary.
you looked awful. your eyes were swollen from crying, your face looked pale.
when you finally stepped out of the bathroom your feet felt strangely heavy. the closer you got to the living room the louder their voices became.
everyone was scattered around like always. keonho was stretched across the couch, martin was sitting on the floor, seonghyeon was leaning against an armrest, juhoon was scrolling on his phone and james was sitting near the edge of the couch.
nobody noticed you at first. you just stood there, watching them.
your throat tightened and your vision started blurring. before you even realized it tears were already sliding down your face.
one after another.
you quickly wiped at them but it didn’t help. a quiet sniffle escaped you, and immediately every conversation stopped.
everyone looked over. the second they saw your face their expressions changed completely.
you stood there crying, looking absolutely destroyed, and suddenly nobody looked very proud of the prank anymore.
another sob escaped you, then another.
and suddenly the words came pouring out.
“i’m sorry.”
the room stayed silent.
“i’m sorry if i did something wrong. i know i can be annoying sometimes and i know i talk too much and maybe i did something without realizing it but can somebody please just tell me what i did?”
your voice cracked so badly you barely recognized it.
nobody moved. nobody spoke.
which only made everything worse.
tears kept pouring down your face. “please just talk to me. i don’t understand what’s happening. if you’re mad at me then just tell me. please. i can fix it if you tell me. i swear i can fix it.”
you sucked in a shaky breath. your chest hurt. everything hurt. “i don’t care if you’re angry at me. i don’t care if i messed up. just please stop ignoring me. please. i can’t do this again.”
everyone looked horrified. you were crying so hard you could barely breathe.
“you don’t understand. i spent all day trying to figure out what i did. i kept replaying everything over and over and over again and i couldn’t think of anything. i couldn’t sleep. i couldn’t eat. please tell me so i can fix it.” your knees suddenly gave out beneath you.
before you could hit the floor james was already moving. he practically launched himself off the couch as he wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you up before you collapsed completely.
the second he touched you a broken sob tore from your throat.
because finally, someone was acknowledging you.
you buried your face into his chest like a child, which you literally were, crying so hard your entire body shook.
james looked sick. his arms tightened around you. “y/n.”
it was the first time any of them had spoken to you properly in almost twenty four hours.
you completely broke. james slowly lowered himself to the floor with you still clinging to him.
he held you tightly, one hand rubbing your back.
the other holding your head against his chest. he kept pressing small kisses against your hair, your forehead, the top of your head. anything he could reach.
“i’m sorry.” his voice sounded horrible. “i’m so sorry.”
you couldn’t stop crying. your lungs felt like they were on fire.
“what did i do?” you whispered between sobs. “please tell me what i did.”
the room fell silent again. nobody wanted to be the one to say it.
finally keonho forced himself to speak. “it was a prank.”
your crying immediately slowed. for a second you thought you heard him wrong.
“…huh?”
nobody answered immediately. your heartbeat pounded in your ears.
keonho looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “we’re really sorry y/n. we thought it would be funny. we weren’t trying to hurt you. we just thought it’d be one of those dumb pranks and we didn’t realize you’d take it like…”
he couldn’t even finish the sentence because suddenly you were staring at all of them completely frozen.
then you shoved yourself away from james like being near him physically disgusted you. And to be fair, at that moment he did disgust you.
you shoved him hard enough that he nearly lost his balance.
everyone flinched.
you slowly stood up, your legs felt weak and vision was blurry from the tears.
somehow you looked angrier than any of them had ever seen you. “what the fuck is actually wrong with you guys?”
nobody answered.
“seriously. what the fuck is wrong with you?”
james stood up slowly. “y/n.”
“don’t.” your voice shook. “just shut up.”
the room immediately fell silent again as you stared at all of them.
“you know exactly what happened when i first moved in.” your voice cracked. “every single one of you knows.”
guilt immediately flooded every face in the room.
“you know how miserable i was.” you pointed at them with a shaky hand. “you know how hard that was for me.” tears kept falling down your face.
“half of you wouldn’t even acknowledge me when i spoke. i’d walk into a room and nobody would look up. nobody would answer me. nobody would include me in anything. i spent months wondering what was wrong with me.”
nobody could look you in the eye anymore. “you made me feel like i wasn’t wanted here.”
silence.
“and after all that, after all the conversations we’ve had, after all the times i’ve told you how badly that affected me.”
your voice broke completely.
“you thought this would be funny?”
nobody spoke. nobody defended themselves, because there wasn’t anything they could say.
“do you know how yesterday felt?”
you looked directly at keonho, then juhoon, then seonghyeon. you didn’t even bother looking at james. for some reason, you were most upset with him.
“i genuinely thought we were back there again.” tears streamed down your face. “when you ordered food without me i thought that was it. i thought you all finally got sick of me and nobody wanted me around anymore.”
james looked like he was about to cry too. martin had his head lowered. juhoon looked absolutely miserable. seonghyeon couldn’t even look in your direction. keonho looked the guiltiest of all of them. you could tell immediately he was the one who had the idea to prank you.
“i spent the entire night wondering what i did wrong, and i couldn’t think of a single thing.” your breathing shook.
you wiped at your face angrily. “have you guys even changed?”
“seriously.” your voice came out quieter this time, more hurt than angry. “have you?”
still nothing.
you shook your head, disappointed, hurt and angry.
you looked at the people who had become your family, and somehow right now they felt like strangers.
“jesus, how can i be younger than all of you but still more mature?”
james took a small step forward. “y/n please.”
you immediately stepped back, and the look on james’s face shattered.
you shook your head, unable to even look at them anymore and then without another word you turned around, walked to the front door, and left.
the apartment door slammed shut behind you. for several seconds nobody moved, or spoke.
because the second that door closed every single one of them finally realized that what they thought would be a harmless joke had just reopened wounds they should have never touched in the first place.
hihi ^^ i really like you stories on here and wattpad ^^
can i request a Park Seung-tae with the reader who’s the complete opposite of him, i’m not the best of coming up with scenarios sorry :<
MELON BREAD;pst
Park Seungtae x reader
Warnings: Description of violence.
NOTE: Hi, this is my first Seungtae shot here, so thank you for requested it, i really hope you like it!
Park Seung-tae lived two lives.
At school, he was the predator. He walked the hallways with his hands in his pockets, surrounded by lackeys who laughed at his cruel jokes, and reveled in watching students lower their heads as he passed by.
And why wouldn't he? He was rich, strong, and had enough power to get out of any trouble.
But at 5:00 PM, when he escaped from extra classes or simply wanted to flee the noise of his idiot "friends," Seung-tae went to the Han River park.
There, on a secluded bench under an old tree, Seung-tae took off his mask of power. He loosened his tie, took off his uniform jacket, and simply stared at the water, smoking a cigarette while hiding it from the nosy old ladies walking past him.
Until you came along.
It was a Tuesday. He was in a bad mood because a teacher had confiscated his phone. He was just about to light a cigarette when a shadow blocked his sun.
"Smoking is going to make your teeth yellow. And you’re too handsome to have ugly teeth."
Seung-tae looked up, ready to insult whoever dared to speak to him that way.
But he was struck speechless.
It was you. You were wearing the uniform of the arts high school two neighborhoods over. A red plaid skirt, a bow at your neck, and a backpack covered in plush keychains that jingled.
You weren't afraid. You had a smile that seemed made of sunshine.
"What do you care?" he growled, though he lowered the lighter.
"I don't care, but I have this left over." You pulled a packaged melon bread and a small carton of banana milk out of your backpack. "My grandma gave me a double snack today, and if I come home with it, she gets sad. Will you help me?"
Seung-tae looked at the bread. He looked at your face. At his school, if someone approached him, it was to beg for mercy or to lick his boots. No one ever offered him melon bread.
"I'm not hungry," he lied.
"Take it. Please." You sat down next to him, leaving a polite amount of space, and placed the food on the bench between the two of you. "I'm ____, by the way."
"I didn't ask."
"I know. But it's rude to eat with strangers. Now we aren't strangers anymore."
Seung-tae glanced at you sideways. You were... strange. Bright. Harmless.
He grabbed the melon bread brusquely, tearing the wrapper. "Seung-tae. My name is Seung-tae."
That was the beginning.
For three months, that park bench became their secret.
You didn't know he was the terror of hundreds of kids at school. To you, he was just Seung-tae, the tall, slightly grumpy boy who was always hungry and listened to your stories about painting class.
He discovered that he liked this version of himself.
With you, he didn't have to be cruel to get respect. He didn't have to prove he had money. He just had to be there.
"Seung-tae!" Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
You were running down the bike path, your scarf flying around your neck. It was cold—November—but your red nose made you look adorable.
Instinctively, he stood up.
"Don't run, you're going to fall," he scolded, but he reached out his arm to catch you when you arrived, panting, in front of him.
"Look!" You pulled a container out of your backpack. "I made cookies! They’re chocolate chip. They got a little burnt on the edges, but they taste good."
Seung-tae took the container as if it were a treasure. "You cooked for me?"
"Well, I cooked for myself, but I thought of you. You always look like you need sugar."
Seung-tae opened the box and ate a cookie. It was hard as a rock and a bit burnt.
It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.
"They are... edible," he said, trying not to smile too much.
"Hey! I know you like them!" You laughed and gave him a little nudge on the shoulder.
He looked at you. The sunset light illuminated your face. Without thinking, Seung-tae reached out and fixed your scarf, which had come undone while you were running.
His fingers grazed your neck. You were warm. His hands were cold.
You stood still, looking at him. "Thanks, Seung-tae."
"You're a mess, ____. If I weren't here to look after you, you'd surely freeze."
"Then thank goodness you're here."
Seung-tae's heart, an organ he believed was armored with cynicism and malice, pounded violently.
He realized, with terror, that he no longer came to the park to escape his daily life. He was coming for you.
"Let's go," he said suddenly, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over his shoulder—looking ridiculous with the plush keychains, but he didn't care. "It's cold. I'm treating you to a hot chocolate."
"With cookies?" you asked, eyes shining.
"With cookies."
They walked together toward the nearby café. He walked on the street side, protecting you from the cars, adapting his long stride to your shorter one.
Inside the café, while they waited for their order, a group of loud boys entered. They were from another school.
One of them brushed past you and shoved you hard to get to the counter. You almost dropped your phone.
"Watch it, girl!" the guy yelled at you.
You shrank back, murmuring an apology out of habit.
But Seung-tae didn't have that habit.
His hand, which had been resting relaxed on the counter, clenched into a fist. His expression changed. The sweetness he had with you vanished, and the Park Seung-tae that many knew surfaced.
He grabbed the guy by the hood of his sweatshirt and jerked him backward violently.
"Hey, asshole," Seung-tae said, with an icy voice that silenced the entire café. "Who do you think you are?"
The guy spun around, furious, but upon seeing Seung-tae's height and murderous glare, he hesitated.
"S-she got in the way..."
"She was standing right there. You're the blind idiot who doesn't watch where he's going." Seung-tae shoved him against the wall. "Apologize to her. Now."
"Seung-tae..." you whispered, scared, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. Nothing happened."
He looked at you. He saw the fear in your eyes. Not fear of the guy, but fear of him. Of his reaction.
Seung-tae blinked, snapping out of his trance. He released the boy with disdain.
"Get out of my sight," he spat.
The guy and his friends ran out.
Seung-tae turned toward you, trying to recover his mask of a normal boy.
"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"I'm okay..." you said, looking at him with curiosity and a bit of worry. "You were very... intense."
"He's an idiot, he could have hurt you." Seung-tae stroked your head, a possessive but gentle gesture. "You're too nice, ____. People take advantage of that. You have to be tougher."
"I don't want to be tough," you replied, taking your hot chocolate. "If we were all tough, the world would be horrible. But I can hire you as a bodyguard, right?"
Seung-tae smiled crookedly. He knew it was a joke, but to him, it sounded very serious.
"I like that job."
In that moment, he thought he could keep the two worlds separated forever. That he could be your hero in the park and the villain at school.
How wrong he was.
Two weeks had passed. It was Saturday. They had arranged to go to the movies at the mall. It was their first official "date" outside the park zone.
Seung-tae was nervous. He had worn his best clothes and combed his hair three times.
He saw you arrive. You were wearing a blue dress that fluttered in the wind and a denim jacket. You looked beautiful.
"Hi!" you greeted, running toward him.
But before you could reach him, a familiar voice shouted behind Seung-tae's back.
"Look who's here! The boss!"
Seung-tae froze.
He turned his head slowly. It was them. His "friends." They were there, with their disheveled clothes, laughing and shoving people around.
"Seung-tae, man, what are you doing here so far from your turf?" asked one, approaching and draping an arm around Seung-tae's shoulders.
Seung-tae tried to shrug him off.
"I have things to do. Leave."
"Things?" The friend looked ahead and saw you, standing a few meters away, confused.
A malicious grin crossed the friend's face.
"Well, well. Is this your 'thing'? She's cute. Very... innocent for you, isn't she?"
"Shut your mouth," Seung-tae warned, taking a step toward you to block their view. "It's none of your business."
"Come on, don't be like that. Introduce us to our new friend." Another one of the boys approached you, ignoring Seung-tae's warning. He looked you up and down shamelessly. "Hey, pretty girl. Do you know who your boyfriend is?"
"Leave her alone," Seung-tae growled.
"Why? We just want to chat." The guy laughed and, trying to be funny, kicked the gift bag you were holding in your hand. The bag fell, and something inside broke. "Ow... how clumsy. I should have asked if it was fragile, right?"
That was it.
Seung-tae lost control. He didn't think about you. He didn't think about the date. He only thought about the humiliation and his natural instinct to always be in control.
He grabbed the boy by the neck and punched him in the face. It was brutal. The sound of the impact made people around them scream.
The boy fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose.
But Seung-tae didn't stop. He got on top of him and hit him again. And again.
"I told you not to touch her!" Seung-tae screamed. "Who do you think you are?! I am Park Seung-tae! When I say something, it happens!"
His other friends, far from stopping him, were laughing and cheering.
"That's it, Seung-tae! Show him who's boss! Give him another one!"
Seung-tae was blind with rage. He felt powerful. He was protecting what was his.
He raised his fist to deliver the final blow...
"Seung-tae! Stop!"
Your scream broke his trance.
Seung-tae stopped, fist in the air, breathing heavily. He looked down. His friend was on the floor, crying and bleeding. His knuckles were red.
He looked up at you.
He expected to see admiration. Or gratitude, like that time in the café.
What he saw was horror.
You were pale, hands over your mouth, backing away. You were looking at Seung-tae as if he were a monster.
"____...?" Seung-tae stood up slowly.
"Who are you...?" you whispered.
One of Seung-tae's friends, who was still laughing, approached you.
"Come on, girl, don't tell me you don't know the King of Sejung. You should feel honored he even noticed a little rat like you."
Seung-tae shoved his friend away. "Shut your mouth!"
He approached you, hands outstretched.
"____, wait. It's not... they provoked it. They broke your gift..."
You looked at the bag on the floor. Then you looked at the blood on Seung-tae's hands.
"You kept hitting him... when he was already on the ground," you said, your voice trembling. "They... They were laughing while you did it..."
"That's how the world works," Seung-tae said desperately, attempting to use his usual logic. "If you don't show strength, they walk all over you. I did it for you. So they would respect you."
"No..." You shook your head, tears in your eyes. "That isn't respect, Seung-tae. That is cruelty."
"I am like this!" he shouted, frustrated that you didn't understand. "Yes, I am, at school. So what? With you, I'm different. With you, I'm good."
"You can't be two people at once..." you said, crying. "You're either good or you're a jerk... The boy... The boy I like can't be a bully..."
"____, please..."
"Don't come any closer."
You took another step back.
"I don't want to be the girlfriend of someone who enjoys hurting others. You scare me, Seung-tae. Right now... you scare me."
That sentence was like a shot to the chest.
Seung-tae froze. He watched as you turned around and ran through the crowd, leaving him alone with his "friends" who were congratulating him on the fight, and with the feeling that he had just lost the only thing that made him feel human.
A month passed.
A miserable month.
Seung-tae went to the park every day. He sat on the empty bench. He didn't smoke. He just waited.
But you didn't show up.
At school, Seung-tae was worse than ever. He was irritable, quiet. His lackeys tried to cheer him up by bothering someone, but Seung-tae just screamed at them to get lost.
He no longer felt satisfaction in seeing fear in others.
Every time he raised his voice, he heard your voice in his head: "You scare me."
And he hated himself.
He realized he had all the money in the world, all the reputation, but he felt poorer than ever because he was missing your burnt cookies and your smile.
One rainy Tuesday, Seung-tae couldn't take it anymore.
He went to your school.
He waited at the exit, in the rain, without an umbrella. He was soaked, hair plastered to his forehead. He looked like an abandoned dog.
He saw you walk out. You were with some friends, laughing, though your laugh didn't reach your eyes.
When you saw him, you stopped. Your friends asked you something, you shook your head, and they left, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.
Seung-tae walked toward you. Not with his usual arrogant stride. He walked slowly, head down.
He stopped two meters away.
"Hi..." he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
"Hi," you replied, hugging your books against your chest like a shield.
You looked at each other in the rain.
"I brought you this."
Seung-tae pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket, keeping it dry. Inside was a melon bread and a banana milk.
"I know you like them," he murmured. "And I know you had a history exam today and were probably nervous and didn't eat."
You looked at the food. Your eyes filled with tears.
"Why are you here, Seung-tae?"
"Because I'm an idiot," he admitted, looking at the ground. "I'm a bully. I'm arrogant. You were right. I'm cruel."
He looked up. His eyes were red, and you didn't know if it was from the rain or because he had been crying.
"But I miss you. I miss you so much it physically hurts. Melon bread is disgusting if you don't give me half of yours."
"Seung-tae..."
"I've changed," he said quickly, as if afraid you would leave. "Or I'm trying to. Really. I don't hit anyone anymore. Last week, one of my friends shoved a kid and I... I helped him up. I felt stupid, but I did it."
You took a step toward him, surprised.
"You did?"
"Yes. And I told my friends that if they bothered the freshmen again, they'd have to deal with me." Seung-tae grimaced. "Now they think I've gone crazy or joined a cult."
A small smile escaped your lips.
"But I don't care," he continued, taking another step, desperate. "I don't care about being the King of Sejung. I don't care if they think I'm weak. I just want to be the guy from the park who you give half your melon bread to. The boy you like. I just want to be Seung-tae for you."
He knelt down. There, in the middle of the wet sidewalk, Park Seung-tae, the millionaire and proud heir, knelt in front of you, soaking his trousers in a puddle.
"Please, ____. Teach me. Teach me to be good. I don't know how to do it alone. I need you."
Your heart broke.
Seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so willing to put his pride aside for you... it was the proof you needed. He wasn't just a bad boy. He was a lost boy who had found his way in you.
You dropped your books, which luckily landed on a dry patch under the bus stop roof, and ran to him.
"Get up, dummy," you said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You're going to get sick."
"I won't get up until you tell me you forgive me."
"I forgive you." You knelt in front of him, not caring about your uniform. "I forgive you, Seung-tae."
He looked at you as if you were a miracle. "Really?"
"Yes. But you have to promise me you'll keep trying. That you won't use your fists to talk anymore."
"I swear." Seung-tae held your face with his cold, wet hands. "My hands will only be for this. To take care of you."
He kissed you.
It was a cold kiss because of the rain, but warm on the inside. Seung-tae kissed you with devotion, as if you were the air he needed to breathe.
When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours.
"So, are we back to being you and me?" he asked.
"You and me," you confirmed. "And the melon bread."
Seung-tae let out a relieved laugh, that genuine sound only you knew.
"Come on, you have to get changed, it's freezing..."
You both stood up. He picked up your books and took your hand.
"Hey, ____..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you could make me those burnt cookies tomorrow?" he asked, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. "I bought some at the bakery yesterday and they tasted like cardboard compared to yours."
You laughed and squeezed his hand.
"Of course. But you're paying for the hot chocolate today."
"I'll pay whatever you want. I'm rich, remember?"
"Shut up and walk, show-off."
You walked in the rain, but Seung-tae didn't care anymore. He was no longer the king of a school.
He was the boyfriend of the melon bread girl, and for the first time in his life, that title was enough.
SYPNOSIS : in which…your vlog celebrating chuseok includes six teenagers who refuse to dress normally.
CORTIS 6TH MEMBER AU
a/n: be prepared for the next chapter cuz angst is coming up😋also i totally failed algebra today omg im not getting anywhere in life
series mlist
your next vlog started the way most mornings in the dorm started.
with suffering.
you had barely fallen asleep a few hours ago, so when your manager suddenly barged into the room, it felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to you.
the door swung open and a second later the curtains were ripped apart, letting sunlight flood the room. the bright light immediately attacked your eyes. without even opening them, you grabbed your blanket and pulled it over your face.
“get up, guys. come on.” your manager sighed.
he walked around the room, making sure everyone was alive.
when he reached your bed, he lightly tapped your foot through the blanket. “up.”
you responded with a noise that wasn’t quite a word, then he left.
the second the door closed, you immediately drifted back toward sleep.
somewhere in the room, james was already awake. nobody knew how he did it. every single morning he somehow became a functioning human being before everyone else.
you could hear his bed creak as he got up.
a few seconds later your manager’s voice echoed from the hallway.
“james. put pants on.” your manager said, voice already tired.
“these are pants.” james replied, sounding just as exhausted as everyone else.
“no they aren’t.” your manager sighed.
“yes they are.” james sounded annoyed.
“james.” your manager said, voice stern.
“what?” james asked.
“put actual pants on.” your manager tsked. he sounded exhausted already and it wasn’t even eight in the morning.
you heard james groan dramatically while your manager walked away to wake the rest of the members.
meanwhile, you had already fallen asleep again.
the room slowly came alive around you. beds creaked. people yawned. somebody dropped something. somebody else complained about being awake. through it all, you remained peacefully unconscious for exactly ten more minutes, then your manager came back.
“y/n. come on.”
you hummed.
“y/n.”
another hum.
“you’re awake.”
you weren’t.
your body was technically conscious, but your brain was still somewhere else entirely.
across the room, juhoon had finally sat up. he was sitting perfectly still in bed, staring blankly at the wall. he looked less like a person and more like a computer trying to load.
at that exact moment, james walked back into the room. your manager immediately pointed at him.
“i told you to put pants on.” your manager said.
“these are pants.” james argued.
“they are not.” your manager replied.
“they literally are.” james insisted.
“those aren’t pants.” your manager said flatly.
you slowly opened one eye. this was literally the same exact argument they had ten minutes ago.
james looked kinda offended. you pushed yourself up slightly and squinted at him.
everything was blurry. your brain was working at approximately two percent capacity. still, you managed to look down at what he was wearing.
“do these look like pants?” james asked, gesturing to himself.
you stared at him like he was insane “those look like booty shorts, james.” you said honestly.
“they’re not booty shorts.” james scoffed.
“they look like it.” you shrugged.
“they aren’t.” james insisted.
you turned toward juhoon who was still sitting in bed with his hair sticking up in every direction imaginable. it looked like he had been electrocuted.
“are you wearing anything underneath?” juhoon asked.
“yeah.” james answered.
“then they’re pants.” juhoon concluded.
“exactly.” james said triumphantly.
james pointed at him triumphantly before walking out of the room.
you continued staring at juhoon’s hair which somehow got worse the longer you looked at it. you weren’t even sure how that was possible.
eventually you forced yourself out of bed and stretched. every muscle in your body immediately complained.
you shuffled toward the door and unfortunately, your manager chose that exact moment to walk back inside.
he stopped, looked at you, then sighed. the kind of sigh that came from years of accumulated stress.
“y/n. please put a shirt on.” your manager said.
you looked down, then back at him.
“this is a shirt.” you yawned.
“it isn’t.” your manager replied.
“it is.” you argued.
“it’s a bra.” he said the word like it physically hurt him.
“it’s a sports bra.” you corrected.
“it’s still a bra.” your manager sighed.
you rolled your eyes and walked past him and he followed.
“this vlog is going online. please put an actual shirt on.” your manager said.
“why?” you asked.
“because.” he answered.
“that’s not an answer.” you pointed out.
“because people are going to see it.” your manager said.
“people see sports bras all the time.” you replied.
your manager rubbed his face. you could practically see his headache forming. at that exact moment, james walked past again, still wearing what definitely looked like shorts. or underwear…or something in between.
you pointed immediately.
“what about him?” you asked.
“what about him?” your manager replied.
“he’s basically walking around in underwear.” you argued.
“ive told him a million times to change already.” your manager said.
“well, tell him again.” you shruggd, unbothered.
“right now, im telling you.” your manager glared at you.
“okay, well i have free will, soo...” you said.
your manager looked ready to quit. “y/n. i’m being serious. the internet is full of cr…”
before he could finish speaking, another door opened. seonghyeon walked out into the hallway, completely shirtless, yawning and looking absolutely unbothered.
your manager froze. for a second he looked like he aged thirty years.
“seonghyeon.” your manager called.
the boy looked over. “yeah?” seonghyeon asked.
“put a shirt on.” your manager said.
“why?” seonghyeon replied.
your manager’s eye twitched. you decided this was the perfect opportunity to escape. while the conversation shifted away from you, you quietly slipped down the hallway. behind you, your manager was still arguing with seonghyeon.
“put a shirt on. right now!” your manager repeated, voice rising.
“i’m a minor. you cant yell at me.” seonghyeon pointed out.
“which is exactly why you should put a shirt on.” your manager said immediately.
“that’s not fair.” seonghyeon complained.
“how is it not fair?” your manager asked.
“because i’m comfortable.” seonghyeon argued.
“i don’t care.” your manager replied.
you couldn’t hear the rest because you had already reached the living room. martin was sitting on the couch looking suspiciously awake considering the fact that nobody had slept.
you didn’t question it.
instead, you collapsed onto the beige leather couch and immediately threw your legs across his lap.
you closed your eyes. peace.
you were seconds away from falling asleep again, but james wandered into the living room brushing his teeth.
“bathroom’s free.” james said, his voice muffled by toothpaste. he suddenly stopped to look around, then blinked.
“what the hell.” james muttered. you opened one eye. “what?” you asked.
“it’s so clean.” james said, sounding genuinely shocked. you slowly looked around the room and immediately regretted it, because now you were awake again.
martin, seonghyeon, and keonho had apparently spent the entire night cleaning. you knew that because they had proudly announced it approximately six hundred times.
the problem was that the dorm still looked awful. sure, there were slightly fewer clothes on the floor, and maybe there were fewer mystery objects sitting around.
but it still looked like a disaster zone.
you honestly didn’t know what they had spent four hours doing. the place looked exactly the same.
you stared around the room, then sighed and closed your eyes again.
eventually, you dragged yourself off the couch and headed toward the bathroom. the second you stepped into the hallway, you immediately noticed something that made you stop.
the apartment door was wide open. you slowly looked around the dorm. “okay, who the hell left the door open?” you asked.
your voice echoed through the apartment and of course, nobody answered. which wasn’t surprising.
half the members were still half asleep and the other half shared a single brain cell.
you walked over to the entrance and noticed the large black box sitting near the door.
immediately remembering what it contained, you grabbed one side and started dragging it across the floor. the thing was heavier than it looked, and by the time you shoved it into the living room, you were already annoyed.
the members looked over.
“if there’s a blue one, it’s mine.” you said.
you immediately pointed at the box. the members nodded absentmindedly. whether they were actually listening was another question entirely. you didn’t bother waiting for responses and walked back to the bathroom.
after finally brushing your teeth and washing your face, you felt slightly more human. not by much, but enough to function. you fixed your hair as best as you could and eventually headed back toward the living room to find your hanbok.
the second you walked in, you immediately regretted it.
martin was standing right in the middle of the room getting dressed.
his room was literally twenty feet away.
“what the hell, martin? you have a room for a reason!” you shouted.
you immediately covered your eyes as martin laughed. “sorryyyyy.”he said dramatically. he did not sound sorry.
you could hear fabric rustling around. “you can look now.” martin announced.
you slowly lowered your hand then immediately glared at him.
martin simply smiled.
you rolled your eyes and walked over to the black box instead.
you dug through the box for a few seconds before finally spotting something blue. you immediately pulled it out, then paused.
“oh.” you said. “it’s a dress.” for some reason, that genuinely surprised you.
you weren’t exactly sure why. maybe because you had spent so much time around boys that you automatically expected everything to be designed for them. being the only girl in the group meant you spent most of your days wearing oversized hoodies, baggy shirts, and sweatpants because it was easier. somewhere along the way, you had gotten used to blending in.
the dress felt different. you found yourself smiling slightly as you looked over the details.
“and it’s blue, so chop chop.” martin said.
he shoved you toward the hallway.
you almost tripped. “martin!”
“move.” he pushed you again. “go change.”
you rolled your eyes and reluctantly headed toward the bathroom.
a little while later, you stepped back into the living room. the dress fit perfectly.
the soft blue fabric flowed around your legs as you walked.
almost immediately, you knew exactly who to find. “seonghyeon.” you spotted him across the room.
he looked up. “yeah?”
“help.” you batted your eyelashes.
he immediately knew what you meant. having a younger sister meant he had been forced to learn things none of the other members knew how to do. over the years, he had somehow become the designated hair person whenever you needed help.
you practically ran over to him. he sighed. “sit down.”
you happily obeyed, grabbing a donut from the table on the way.
a few minutes later, you were sitting in one of the living room chairs while seonghyeon stood behind you carefully braiding your hair. you quietly ate your donut while he worked.
for once, neither of you were arguing, which was a rare sight.
the living room buzzed with conversation around you as everyone finished getting dressed. the camera crew moved around setting things up while the members continued joking with each other.
meanwhile, seonghyeon concentrated on your braid.
“i’ll go get the flowers. wait here.” seonghyeon said. he leaned forward, then took a giant bite out of your donut.
you immediately slapped his arm. “hey!”
seonghyeon nearly choked from laughing and the look on your face. he quickly backed away. “worth it.” he said.
you looked ready to throw something at him. still laughing, he walked over to the black box and dug through it before finding the fake flowers.
when he came back, he carefully placed them throughout your braid. a few minutes later, he finally stepped back.
“done.”
you stood up, turned around and immediately kicked him.
“ow!” seonghyeon stumbled backward, looking offended. “for a lady wearing a dress, you’re surprisingly violent.”he teased.
his smile immediately returned, which only annoyed you more.
“shut up. i’ll kill you.” you threatened, taking a step toward him.
seonghyeon’s smile disappeared as he took a step back. then another. “wait.”
you continued walking.
“y/n.” he took another step backward. “be reasonable.”
you weren’t interested in being reasonable. fortunately for him, martin walked into the room at exactly the right moment.
he clapped his hands loudly once and everyone looked over. “alright. assemble.” martin shouted.
his voice echoed through the living room. one by one, the members shuffled into the living room. everyone was now fully dressed in their hanboks.
you took your place beside the others as the camera started rolling.
everyone bowed. “happy chuseok.” the group said together.
for about two seconds, everything was okay, but then somebody started laughing, which immediately caused someone else to laugh, which somehow made everyone laugh.
after about fuve minutes, everyone straightened up trying to compose themselves.
a second attempt started. everyone bowed again.
“happy chu…”
martin started immediately laughing and the entire group fell apart again.
by the fourth try, everyone was laughing before they even started speaking. you had no idea what was so funny anymore.
nobody did. at one point juhoon laughed simply because james laughed. then keonho laughed because juhoon laughed. then seonghyeon laughed because everyone else was laughing.
it became a chain reaction.
eventually, after what felt like a hundred attempts, everyone somehow managed to hold it together long enough to film the greeting properly.
the second the cameras stopped rolling, the members immediately started laughing again.
now that everyone had finished getting dressed, it was finally time for the actual fashion part of the vlog.
which, unfortunately, meant giving the members complete freedom which a terrible idea.
the living room quickly turned into complete chaos as everyone scattered around the dorm trying to come up with their own unique styles. every few minutes somebody would walk through the room wearing something increasingly questionable.
martin had somehow found a black suit jacket and decided to throw it over his hanbok. he kept insisting it looked fashionable even though you couldn’t quite understand his vision. every time you questioned it, he would start explaining some complicated styling concept before eventually giving up and saying you just didn’t get it.
keonho had taken a much simpler approach. he put on a cap and that was it. that was the entire outfit. whenever anyone questioned him, he would simply point at the cap.
meanwhile, seonghyeon had completely disappeared.
james was somewhere inside your shared room doing whatever james did when left unsupervised. every once in a while you could hear something falling over followed by him muttering to himself.
you decided not to investigate.
you were currently sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone while watching the disaster unfold around you. your hanbok already looked fine. you liked it the way it was. unlike everyone else, you didn’t feel the need to completely reinvent the outfit.
your attention drifted toward the floor where juhoon was sitting cross-legged holding fabric scissors.
immediately, your eyes narrowed because those were the exact fabric scissors you had hidden weeks ago.
specifically because of juhoon.
he had developed an unhealthy obsession with cutting up perfectly normal clothes and turning them into diy projects that nobody asked for. after the third time he nearly destroyed something expensive, you had hidden the scissors.
apparently not well enough because now he was carefully cutting into his hanbok while muttering to himself.
you sighed. of course he found them. of course.
he was currently trying to crop the top slightly. he was also shirtless which somehow made the whole situation worse.
you immediately pictured your manager walking into the apartment right now. he would probably collapse on the spot.
you continued watching for a moment before something else caught your attention.
specifically his jeans.
your eyes narrowed even further because those looked familiar.
you slowly lowered your phone. “juhoon, whose pants are those?” you asked. you stared directly at him.
juhoon immediately froze. he slowly looked up from the floor. “uh… mine?” he said. he sounded incredibly unsure of himself.
“stand up for a second.” you said. you already knew the answer.
juhoon hesitated, then slowly got to his feet. the second he stood up, you recognized them completely. you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt.
“those are literally mine.” you said. you pointed accusingly at the jeans. juhoon immediately looked away.
“how many times have i told you to stop stealing my skinny jeans?” you asked. your voice got louder with every word.
“you stretch them out.” you complained. you crossed your arms.
“but they look good on me.” juhoon whined. “just let me wear them once. please.” he pleaded. he clasped his hands together dramatically.
you scoffed. “hell to the no.” you replied. you didn’t even hesitate. juhoon’s shoulders immediately dropped.
“take them off.” you ordered. you pointed toward the wardrobe room.
“you’re so mean, bro.” juhoon muttered. he sounded like he was personally being victimized while you remained completely unimpressed.
“i always let you wear my shirts.” he continued. he tried one final time.
“because your shirts look better on me.” you pointed out. you immediately shut down his argument.
juhoon sighed dramatically then slowly started walking toward the wardrobe room. he looked like somebody had just informed him that his entire family line had been cursed.
for some reason, you suddenly felt bad. maybe it was because he looked genuinely disappointed. maybe it was because he had spent the last five minutes begging. or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore.
you watched him disappear into the hallway then groaned loudly. “oh my god.” you muttered. you rubbed your face.
juhoon stopped.
“fine.” you called out. you sounded completely defeated. he immediately poked his head back around the corner.
“you can wear them.”
his face lit up instantly. “really?” he asked. he sounded way too excited.
“just this once.” you warned. you pointed at him threateningly.
before you could even finish the sentence, he was already running back. “thank you.” juhoon said. he looked genuinely thrilled.
you regretted your decision almost immediately. juhoon sat back down on the floor and continued cutting up his shirt like nothing had happened.
some people could never be helped.
a few minutes later, keonho wandered into the living room.
“aren’t you styling your hanbok?” he asked, sounding confused.
you glanced down at yourself then shrugged. “no.” you replied, looking back at your phone.
keonho waited.
“i like it like this.” you explained. you didn’t see a reason to change anything.
he nodded slowly. “fair enough.” he said. he seemed satisfied with the answer, then he wandered off again to god knows where.
SYPNOSIS : in which… being a trainee under hybe obviously was not fun. It made your life miserable for a long time. You thought that when the time to debut finally came, things would get better. But when you see who you were to debut with, things get even worse.
CORTIS 6TH MEMBER AU
warnings : happy ending😛 ALSO PLS TELL ME IF U CAUGHT JUHOONS BACON REFERENCE THATS MY FAVOURITE MEME
01 | 02 | 03 | 04
series mlist
after everything that happened that day, something inside you shut down again.
it felt humiliating honestly. you had spent months slowly opening up around the others without even realizing it, only for everything to blow up in your face in the worst possible way. after that night, you stopped trying completely.
you went back to how you used to be when you first entered the dorm.
you stopped sitting in the living room during movie nights. you stopped eating meals with everyone else unless absolutely necessary. you stopped hanging around after practice and immediately disappeared into your room the second schedules ended.
everyone noticed.
especially james.
the first few days, they all kept trying anyway.
martin awkwardly asked if you wanted food while ordering takeout one night and you walked straight past him like he didn’t even speak.
keonho tried asking if you needed help practicing choreography and you ignored him completely.
even seonghyeon tried talking to you multiple times, but the second he approached you during practice breaks, you would immediately walk away before he could even open his mouth properly.
james had it the worst.
because unlike the others, he knew exactly how much you cried when you were hurt, but you didn’t know he knew.
he kept following you around at first, trying to get you to answer him.
“y/n.”
silence.
“okay you can ignore everyone else but at least listen to me.”
nothing.
“you’re seriously not gonna say anything? I didn’t even do anything.”
you kept walking.
eventually even he gave up trying to force conversation.
juhoon asked a few times too, though in his own weird awkward way.
one night while you were digging through the fridge at two in the morning, he looked over from the couch and muttered, “you’re getting bad again.”
you didn’t even glance at him. you didn’t even know why he was awake at that hour.
another time he tossed a blanket at you after you fell asleep at the kitchen table and quietly said, “you’re being dramatic.”
still, you ignored him too.
the worst part was how guilty the others looked now.
especially martin, seonghyeon, and keonho.
they started leaving random snacks on top of your bedside drawer almost every day. drinks you liked. convenience store candy. those stupid little pastries you always bought after practice.
every single time you saw them, you grabbed everything without hesitation and dumped it straight into the kitchen trash.
sometimes they watched you do it but you didn’t care. or at least you tried convincing yourself you didn’t.
honestly, being back at square one felt horrible.
because now you knew what things could’ve been like if everything didn’t get ruined and somehow that made everything hurt even more.
right now it was almost three in the morning, and you were sitting alone at the park near the hybe building with your hood pulled over your head.
the city was quiet.
cold air brushed against your face while your legs curled slightly against the bench. your cheeks felt freezing from the tears you kept wiping away with your sleeves.
you hated crying.
especially over this.
you stared blankly at the ground while picking at your cuticles hard enough to hurt.
then suddenly someone sat down beside you.
“i knew i’d find you here.”
you looked up immediately.
james.
of course.
for a second you almost stood up and walked away immediately, but honestly you were too tired.
you looked back down again instead. “how did you know i’d be here?”
his voice stayed quiet. “you know how i disappear every night and come back late?”
you nodded slightly.
“this is where i come.” he shrugged while looking out toward the empty park. “it’s peaceful.”
you frowned immediately.
“i come here all the time too.” you muttered suspiciously. “i’ve literally never seen you here.”
silence.
then james quietly said, “yeah you have.”
you slowly looked at him again, confused.
your brain immediately started trying to remember every single time you’d come here alone.
there was always one other person.
that guy sitting on the bench across the park with his hood up.
the one who always sat there a few feet away while you cried to your old members about how miserable you were.
the one who somehow always appeared whenever you broke down.
realization hit so hard it genuinely made your stomach twist.
“what the fuck.”
james looked away immediately.
“that was you?” your voice filled with disbelief instantly. “you were listening to all that?”
“not intentionally.”
“oh my god.” you stood up immediately while wiping angrily at your face. “what is wrong with you people? seriously. does nobody here understand privacy?”
“y/n.”
“first the diary and now this?” your voice started shaking again. “were you all secretly spying on me this entire time or what?”
you turned to leave but james quickly grabbed your wrist before you could walk away.
“wait.”
“don’t touch me.”
“just listen first.”
you tried pulling away. “why would i wanna listen to you right now?”
“because i’m trying to explain.”
you stared at him angrily while he slowly let go of your wrist.
for a second neither of you spoke.
then james sighed quietly before leaning back against the bench again.
“after trainee a ended, i stopped trusting people properly.”
your expression shifted slightly.
his voice sounded weirdly calm now.
“everybody got attached to each other and then everything just disappeared overnight.” he looked down at his hands. “i hated it.”
you stayed standing there silently.
“so when i got here and realized we were all probably debuting together, i just…” he shrugged weakly. “i didn’t wanna get attached again if everything was gonna fall apart.”
you frowned slightly.
“it wasn’t because you’re a girl or because i hated you personally.” he said quietly. “i was just being careful.”
for some reason that made your anger weaken slightly.
“then why’d you suddenly start acting normal?” you muttered while sitting back down reluctantly.
“because now i know debut’s actually happening.”
you blinked at him. “how?”
“i searched around.” he shrugged. “apparently once a debut is less than five months away, companies usually can’t cancel it or randomly drop members anymore unless something huge happens.”
you stared at him silently.
five months.
that was it.
you were actually debuting. with cortis. with all of them. there genuinely was no going back anymore.
the realization felt terrifying.
james glanced at you carefully before speaking again. “you should let them talk to you.”
you immediately looked annoyed again. “seriously?”
“i’m not saying forgive them immediately.” he said quickly. “but you guys are gonna be together for years probably. living together while hating each other like this is gonna destroy everybody.”
you stayed quiet.
“they know they messed up.” he continued softly. “especially seonghyeon.”
you scoffed quietly.
“just let them apologize at least.” james sighed. “everything would be easier.”
you thought about it for a long moment while staring down at your hands.
honestly, you were exhausted.
exhausted from being angry. exhausted from avoiding everybody constantly. exhausted from feeling miserable all the time.
eventually you let out a defeated sigh.
“whatever.” you muttered quietly while standing up. “let’s just go back before it gets too late and they freak out again.”
james immediately grinned slightly while standing too. “you mean too early.”
you paused halfway through walking. “huh?”
“because last time we stayed out so long that by the time we got back it was morning so technically it was too early and-”
he stopped talking once he saw your exhausted expression.
“…nevermind.”
you rolled your eyes while continuing toward the dorm.
when you both finally got back, the apartment was completely dark except for the kitchen light.
you quietly walked into your room expecting juhoon to be asleep already.
instead he was sitting upright on his bed staring directly at both of you.
all three of you got startled at the same time.
“jesus christ.” you muttered while clutching your chest.
juhoon looked deeply offended somehow. “could you two stop leaving me out? we’re supposed to be roommates.”
you stared at him blankly.
“why are you awake.”
“because.” he crossed his arms dramatically. “i felt your presence missing from the room.”
you frowned slowly.
james immediately snorted beside you.
you genuinely felt too exhausted to process whatever weird mood juhoon was in right now.
this was probably the most chalant he had ever acted around you in all the months you’d known him. somehow, despite the annoying delivery, you understood what he was trying to say.
this was his weird way of officially accepting you as his friend.
which honestly felt very on brand for him.
you sighed tiredly before climbing into bed.
“whatever, juhoon.”
you buried your face into your pillow while james quietly laughed from across the room.
for the first time in days, the room didn’t feel painfully tense anymore.
the next morning, you woke up staring blankly at the ceiling while the sound of yelling echoed from the kitchen.
plates clinked loudly against the counter while multiple voices talked over each other nonstop.
you sighed heavily while rubbing your face.
your entire body still felt tired from everything lately, but at least your chest didn’t feel as painfully heavy as before. honestly, after talking to james last night, avoiding everyone suddenly felt exhausting instead of comforting.
still awkward though.
you stayed laying there for another minute debating if it was even worth going out there.
then your stomach growled.
unfortunately, food won.
you dragged yourself out of bed slowly and walked toward the kitchen with half open eyes, still looking barely alive. your face felt puffy from sleep and your hoodie sleeves covered most of your hands while you yawned loudly.
the second you stepped into the kitchen, the smell hit you immediately.
burnt eggs.
really burnt eggs.
you blinked slowly at the pan sitting on the stove before grabbing one suspiciously with your fork.
it looked genuinely concerning.
“who made these?” you asked flatly.
“martin.” multiple people answered immediately.
you stared at the eggs again before quietly putting them back down.
absolutely not.
you looked around the table for something edible instead, but the second your eyes landed on the bacon and sausages, your mood instantly worsened.
or at least what was left of them.
which was basically nothing.
the others still hadn’t fully noticed you standing there because they were too busy arguing over something stupid involving juice and expired milk.
then you noticed the only empty seat left right beside seonghyeon.
well, fuck.
you stood there for a second contemplating if starving would actually be easier.
eventually you sighed internally and walked over anyway before sitting down beside him.
the second you did, the entire table went silent.
it wasn’t the uncomfortable type though. it felt more like everybody collectively stopped breathing at the same time because they were scared to ruin the moment.
james barely reacted at all except for the tiny glance he sent you from across the table.
juhoon kept eating cereal like absolutely nothing important was happening.
you ignored all of them completely while looking down at seonghyeon’s plate.
your eyes narrowed immediately.
this idiot had practically all the remaining bacon and sausages piled onto his plate.
you slowly looked at him.
he immediately noticed.
“…what.”
without saying anything, you reached over, grabbed almost all the bacon and sausages from his plate, and dumped them directly onto yours.
seonghyeon stared in disbelief. “hey that’s-”
you cut him off instantly with one glare.
he shut up immediately.
the silence somehow became even more awkward.
martin looked seconds away from laughing. keonho stared at the table trying not to react. james lowered his head slightly like he was hiding a smile.
then suddenly juhoon spoke out of nowhere. “bacon bacon bacon.”
everyone looked at him.
you frowned immediately. “juhoon, what?”
“seriously what does that even mean?” martin groaned.
“he’s lost it.” keonho muttered.
juhoon kept eating cereal calmly like none of you understood his genius. “i’m just ahead of my time.”
“okay you say that every time you say something stupid though.” martin replied immediately.
“you just dont get me”
“we dont want to get you.”
you shook your head tiredly while taking another bite of food. “whatever that means.”
seonghyeon kept glancing at you every few seconds like he expected you to disappear again if he looked away too long. eventually you noticed and sighed dramatically before shoving one piece of bacon back onto his plate.
“there.” you muttered. “before you start crying.”
“oh my god.” martin whispered.
“shut up.” you and seonghyeon both said at the exact same time.
james immediately started laughing.
the tension around the table loosened almost instantly afterward.
conversation slowly started again, though everyone still seemed weirdly careful around you like they were scared one wrong sentence would send you running away again.
to be fair, you couldn’t really blame them.
once you finished eating, you stood up and carried your plate toward the sink while everyone continued talking behind you.
you rinsed it quickly before walking over to the living room and dropping onto the couch.
the dorm still felt warm from all the noise and movement around you.
you grabbed the remote and turned on netflix while pretending not to notice the way multiple people were subtly looking at you from the kitchen.
after a few minutes, you heard footsteps approaching before the couch suddenly dipped beside you.
without looking over, you already knew it was seonghyeon.
he sat there awkwardly for a second before quietly speaking.
“…sorry.”
you kept staring at the netflix screen silently.
he sighed softly. “i know saying sorry doesn’t fix anything. i just…” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “i genuinely didn’t realize how bad things got for you.”
you stayed quiet for a moment.
then finally muttered, “you guys suck at communicating.”
he laughed quietly under his breath. “i know.”
“like really badly.”
“i know.”
you finally glanced at him briefly. “if anyone touches my stuff again i’m actually setting this dorm on fire.”
“i know.”
then, after a second, he carefully pushed a small unopened chocolate milk toward you.
“…friends?”
you stared at it suspiciously, then grabbed it anyway. “coworkers.” you corrected him.
from the kitchen, martin whispered dramatically to keonho, “we are so back.”
“can you shut up? we still haven’t apologised.” keonho groaned.
“wait fuck i forgot.”
you rolled your eyes while opening netflix properly.
you sat quietly on the balcony while the sun slowly disappeared behind the buildings.
the city looked pretty from up there. warm orange light reflected off the windows of nearby apartments while the sky slowly darkened into soft shades of pink and purple. cars moved below like tiny lights, distant conversations echoed from the street, and for the first time in a while, your head actually felt quiet.
everything had changed so quickly these past few weeks that it almost made you dizzy thinking about it.
a month ago you were convinced you’d never survive living in this dorm.
but now things were…okay.
you leaned back further in the chair while staring at the sunset silently, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands absentmindedly.
then suddenly you heard muffled arguing through the glass door behind you.
you frowned immediately before turning around.
martin and keonho were standing right outside the balcony door looking painfully awkward.
both of them froze the second they realized you noticed them.
martin immediately pointed at keonho. “you open it.”
“why me?” keonho whispered aggressively.
“because she likes you more.”
“she literally does not.”
“okay but she definitely likes you more than me.”
“can’t you just open it? you’re the leader!”
you stared at them blankly through the glass for a few seconds before rolling your eyes.
idiots.
you stood up and slid the balcony door open yourself before immediately walking back to your chair without saying anything.
both of them looked weirdly relieved.
they stepped outside awkwardly before hesitating again once they realized there was only one empty chair left.
martin immediately sat down, so now keonho just awkwardly stood there near the railing while shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
for a few seconds nobody spoke.
the silence wasn’t bad though, just awkward.
eventually martin cleared his throat dramatically. “so.”
you glanced at him. “so.”
“…we suck.”
you nodded.
keonho sighed heavily while leaning against the railing. “he’s trying to apologize but he practiced this speech in the mirror for twenty minutes and now he forgot everything.”
martin ignored him before looking back at you again, expression unusually serious now. “we genuinely didn’t realize things got that bad.”
you looked down quietly at your hands.
he continued softly, “that’s not an excuse by the way. we still acted horribly. i just…” he sighed. “i think all of us got too caught up in stress and stupid competition stuff.”
“and being idiots.” keonho added immediately.
“yeah.” martin nodded. “that too.”
you stayed quiet for a moment before finally speaking honestly. “it felt personal.”
both of them immediately looked guilty.
“like genuinely personal.” your voice stayed calm now, but quieter. “because no matter what i did, it always felt like you guys already decided you didn’t like me.”
keonho frowned slightly. “it wasn’t because of you being a girl.”
“i know that now.”
“then what was it?” you finally asked while looking directly at them. “because i seriously never understood what i did wrong.”
martin leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh. “i think everyone was just scared.”
you blinked slightly.
“the debut got more serious.” he explained quietly. “suddenly everything felt real. we all started overthinking everything. rankings, popularity, who fit the group best.” he laughed bitterly. “you came in and immediately fit perfectly.”
you stared at him silently.
“and instead of acting normal about it, everybody got weird.” he admitted. “especially because the company clearly liked you.”
keonho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “plus we already knew each other before you joined. not super close, but enough that it was easier sticking together.”
“which left me by myself.”
neither of them denied it.
martin looked genuinely ashamed now. “yeah.”
silence settled over the balcony again.
this time it felt heavier.
“you know what the worst part was?” you finally asked quietly. “i actually kept trying to convince myself i was imagining things.”
keonho frowned immediately.
“because every time i thought maybe you guys hated me, i’d tell myself i was being dramatic.” you laughed softly without humor. “then i’d walk into the kitchen and everyone would suddenly go quiet.”
martin looked like he wanted to disappear.
“i started memorizing everyone’s schedules because i got tired of feeling unwanted all the time.” you admitted quietly. “that’s embarrassing.”
“it’s not embarrassing.” keonho said immediately.
you shrugged weakly.
before anyone could speak again, the balcony door suddenly opened behind you.
all three of you turned around.
seonghyeon stood there awkwardly holding two cans of soda in one hand.
he looked nervous immediately once he realized the conversation had already gotten serious.
“am i interrupting?”
“yes.” martin answered instantly.
“ignore him.” keonho sighed.
seonghyeon hesitated for a second before stepping outside anyway. he quietly handed one of the sodas to you before awkwardly sitting on the floor since all the chairs were taken.
the four of you sat there in silence for a few moments while the sky continued getting darker.
then finally seonghyeon spoke quietly.
“i’m really sorry.”
you looked at him. he looked exhausted.
“not just about the diary.” he continued slowly. “about everything.”
his voice sounded genuine enough that it made your chest hurt slightly.
“i honestly didn’t realize how bad things got until i read that page.” he admitted quietly while staring down at the soda can in his hands. “which makes me sound horrible because obviously i should’ve realized before that.”
nobody interrupted him.
“but reading that…” he swallowed slightly. “it genuinely made me feel sick.”
you stayed quiet.
“because while you were sitting there feeling miserable, i thought we were all just being awkward around each other.” he laughed bitterly. “i didn’t realize you were hurting that badly.”
“you still shouldn’t have read it.”
“i know.”
“that was seriously messed up.”
“i know.” he repeated quietly.
for once, nobody tried defending themselves. nobody made excuses. they just listened.
and honestly, that mattered more than you expected.
the conversation kept going after that.
martin admitted he sometimes got defensive and competitive without realizing it. keonho admitted he usually copied the mood around him instead of thinking for himself. seonghyeon admitted he avoided difficult conversations so much that problems just kept growing worse instead.
you admitted things too.
that you isolated yourself too quickly. that you struggled trusting people. that you bottled everything up until it exploded all at once.
at some point the conversation stopped feeling tense entirely.
martin eventually started making stupid jokes again halfway through the conversation, which somehow made everything feel more normal.
keonho complained about his legs hurting from standing so long.
seonghyeon quietly stole your soda at one point and immediately got yelled at for it.
and somewhere during all of that, you realized your chest didn’t feel heavy anymore.
you looked around at the three idiots sitting around you while the city lights flickered below the balcony and for the first time since joining the company, you were actually happy with how things were.
one month before debut, life became actual insanity.
every single day blurred together into practice rooms, vocal lessons, camera tests, interviews, dance rehearsals, recording sessions, fittings, meetings. sometimes you woke up genuinely confused about what day it was because everything felt exactly the same.
everyone looked exhausted all the time.
james kept falling asleep in random places whenever he sat still longer than five minutes. martin became even louder somehow because apparently sleep deprivation made him incapable of using an indoor voice. seonghyeon looked permanently annoyed at existence. juhoon started drinking enough iced americanos to concern everybody. and keonho had developed the terrifying ability to sleep sitting upright in vans between schedules.
you weren’t much better.
you had started forgetting entire conversations halfway through them because your brain constantly felt fried. there were days where your legs hurt so badly after practice that you had to drag yourself into bed.
your manager eventually started looking concerned.
especially because half of you looked seconds away from collapsing during rehearsals.
so after almost three straight hours of dramatic begging from all six of you, your manager finally sighed and gave in.
“fine.” he rubbed his forehead tiredly while staring at everybody. “one day off.”
the room immediately exploded.
martin screamed loud enough to scare the staff outside.
keonho literally dropped to his knees dramatically.
james looked close to tears.
“but only because y/n won’t stop pulling the ‘i’m fifteen’ card every ten minutes.” your manager pointed accusingly at you.
you gasped dramatically. “that’s discrimination against minors.”
“go away.”
“thank you dad.”
“i’m not your dad.”
“thank god for that.”
after that, everybody somehow became even more unbearable from excitement.
honestly though, things had been going unbelievably well lately.
you genuinely loved these idiots now.
somewhere along the way, the dorm stopped feeling temporary.
it actually felt like home.
you trusted them completely now, which still felt insane considering how things started between all of you. sometimes you’d randomly think back to those first few months and physically cringe from how awkward and miserable everything used to be.
now you couldn’t imagine life without them.
you all acted like siblings at this point.
especially after allday project debuted successfully a month before cortis.
everybody had been nervous about how the public would react to another co-ed group, but people loved them almost immediately. suddenly everybody online started talking about how refreshing co-ed groups were again.
then cortis got officially announced.
and the internet completely lost its mind.
clips from your auditions leaked somehow. people started digging up old trainee videos. fan accounts appeared overnight. there were literally compilation videos of james breathing already.
“this is terrifying.” juhoon muttered one night while staring at twitter.
“someone edited sparkles around my face.” martin sighed.
“someone edited you into shrek.” keonho replied immediately.
“what”
you honestly tried not thinking too hard about debut itself because every time you did, your stomach twisted violently.
it was too huge.
right now though, none of that mattered because for once, all of you were finally asleep without alarms set for early schedules.
which should’ve been peaceful.
except it absolutely wasn’t.
you were deep asleep under your blanket when suddenly freezing cold water hit your entire body.
you screamed so loudly your own throat hurt while violently sitting upright.
“what the fuck?!”
there stood keonho holding an empty water bottle while smiling proudly like he’d just accomplished something life changing.
across the room, martin dumped another bottle of water directly onto james while seonghyeon absolutely drenched juhoon with a huge black plastic bucket. you honestly felt bad for him.
the entire dorm immediately erupted into chaos.
“you actual psychopaths!” james shouted while trying to shield himself with his blanket.
“you’re the definition of a bitch!” juhoon yelled.
martin was laughing so hard he could barely breathe while seonghyeon nearly fell over trying to escape juhoon throwing wet pillows at him.
meanwhile you were still sitting there soaked in freezing water while your brain slowly processed what just happened.
“you guys are actually so fucking…” you looked down at yourself mid sentence before freezing.
your soaked white shirt had become completely see through.
you stared at keonho in disbelief.
“…i’m wearing a fucking white shirt, you perv!”
keonho’s smile disappeared instantly.
“what?!” he immediately screamed while violently covering his eyes with one hand and turning away. “i didn’t know!”
“you’re disgusting!”
“i literally can’t see anything right now!”
martin collapsed onto the floor laughing.
james looked over, immediately choked on air, then aggressively shoved seonghyeon toward the door. “everybody out!”
“i didn’t even look!” seonghyeon defended himself immediately.
“sure.”
you groaned loudly before standing up while wrapping your blanket tightly around yourself.
“i can’t even enjoy my damn…” you walked past keonho before harshly kicking the back of his knee hard enough to make him nearly collapse.
“ow?!”
“…mornings anymore.” you finished grumbling while dragging yourself toward the bathroom.
halfway there, you suddenly stopped.
“…i forgot clothes.”
you stared blankly at the wall for a second before sighing dramatically and dragging yourself back toward your room.
the chaos somehow got worse in the thirty seconds you were gone.
james and juhoon were both yelling at martin and seonghyeon while soaking wet pillows flew across the room. meanwhile keonho had apparently recovered enough to start filming everything on his phone while laughing.
“this is evidence for future documentaries.” he announced loudly.
“delete that before i kill you.” juhoon snapped.
you shoved keonho hard while walking past him again.
“ow?! why twice?!”
“because you deserve it.”
you shot him another glare before opening your closet.
your closet.
honestly, the sight still made something warm settle in your chest sometimes.
a few months ago, all your stuff stayed packed inside your suitcase because part of you genuinely believed you wouldn’t last here long enough to unpack properly.
now your clothes hung messily beside the others’. your skincare sat scattered across the desk beside juhoon’s stupid protein powders. random hoodies belonging to james somehow kept ending up on your chair. your shoes cluttered the floor beside everyone else’s.
you had even gone back to your old trainee dorm weeks ago to grab the rest of your belongings.
the stuff you purposely left behind because you thought there was no point bringing them here if you probably wouldn’t debut anyway.
but you were debuting.
with them.
the realization still hit you randomly sometimes.
you grabbed a dry shirt before pausing when you noticed something sitting on the top shelf of your closet.
your pink diary.
for a second you just stared at it quietly.
then behind you, james suddenly spoke while still aggressively fighting seonghyeon for the water bottle.
“why are you staring into your closet like that.”
you immediately rolled your eyes. “shut up.”
“she’s having an emotional moment.” martin gasped dramatically from the floor.
“i hate all of you.”
“no you don’t.” keonho grinned.
you sighed quietly while closing the closet door.
annoyingly enough, he was right. You wished he wasnt though.
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