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[ivehan]

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[dazedinadream]

NINE AND THREE QUARTERS ⋆⁺₊❅ pt 1 .

⭑.ᐟ Roommates to Lovers - Park Sunghoon

Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross, you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. And in one faithful night, everything shifts. Suddenly, living together isn't awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe, just maybe, home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

💿 SOUNDTRACK 〢🖇 SERIES MASTERLIST 〢⛸️ MORE coming soon wc pt 1 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ 28,007

ᵎ!ᵎ WARNINGS ──── GRAPHIC CONTENT! Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, EATING DISORDER, mentions of date-rape drugs, being drugged, mentions of the police, vomiting !! Please refrain from reading this fic if themes like dieting, bulimia, and anorexia could be triggering for you. Please take care of yourself, lots of love <<3 # TAGS ──── SLOW-BURN Figure skater!Sunghoon, Architecture student!Y/N, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ

Hallucinating. You had to be hallucinating.  Maybe Jaemin was right. Maybe the sleep loss was catching up with you. You were starting to hallucinate.  You were pretty sure that there was a hot guy flipping through the first pages of one of your fashion magazines.  In your living room. Surrounded by moving boxes.  You cleared your throat. “Hi?”

The guy looked up and smiled at you.  Oh god. 

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon.” Sunghoon set the magazine down on your sofa table. “I’m your new roommate. I don’t know if Mister Kang told you that I am moving in today instead of on the first. I had a more or less spontaneous change of plans.” 

No. 

No, Mr Kang did not. 

You opened your mouth before closing it, willing your face into a small, tight smile. 

“Hi,” your voice was pitched a notch too high, and you cringed. “I am Y/N. Are you sure you are in the right apartment? I mean, considering you probably got the keys from Mr Kang, yes, but he didn’t tell me anything about a roommate? I know Apartment 4B is a free room?” 

Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows. “This is Apartment 4D, right? I definitely signed a contract for the smaller room in Apartment 4D.”

“Oh,” you just said and blinked at him.

The smaller room in your apartment had been rented out for as long as you lived here. Not by you, but by some mystery girl that seemed to have no interest in living in this apartment. Mister Kang didn’t care if the other girl came or not, as long as the rent was paid on time, and told you you were free to use the room until she did indeed show up. 

So that is what you did. 

You transformed the small room into your studio. 

And you knew for a fact that the desk and the floor were a cluttered mess at the moment. 

Heat shot up your neck at the realisation.

“I–uhm–I didn't know you were moving in at all. I’ve been using the room as my studio. Just give me like an hour, and I’ll move all of my stuff into my room,” you sighed, already feeling a headache coming. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at your words, then glanced toward the hallway leading to his supposed new room. "You’ve been using it as a studio?"

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah. I mean, it’s been empty since I moved in. Not technically empty? Someone rented it out, but she never came, and Mr Kang said I could use the room if my supposed roommate didn’t want it. So I just… took over? I’ll be really fast, so you can start putting all your stuff in there."

Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in amusement, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So, I’m kicking you out of your studio?"

"Technically, yes. But it’s not your fault. Mr Kang just kind of forgot to tell me you were coming? At all? So I didn’t know I had to clean it out." 

He nodded, glancing back toward the hallway before looking at you again. "Well, if you need help moving your stuff, I don’t mind."

You shook your head, taking off your jacket, unceremoniously dropping it onto the sofa. "No, it’s fine. It’s mostly styrofoam, pens and sketches. It's fine."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind." 

He moved toward the sofa, lifting a box and putting it onto the floor before flopping down on the green fabric. “Are you a design student?”

“Oh. No. I study architecture.” You shook your head and made your way through the maze of boxes and furniture in your living room towards the hallway that separated your room and now apparently Sunghoon's room. 

“Oh, that's cool. I am in PE,” he grinned at you.

You just nodded again, not in the mood to talk with anyone right now, even less with the mysterious girl, well, boy, you now had to live together with. "Ah. That's nice. Just… make yourself at home while I clean, I guess?"

Sunghoon grinned. "Will do, roommate."

The word made you wince.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stood in the doorway of your studio, well, Sunghoon’s room, mentally preparing yourself for the hour of cleaning ahead. The small space was overflowing with architectural sketches, blueprint rolls, rulers, model pieces, and textbooks.

This was… embarrassing.

You usually were a really organised person, but with work and your deadline coming up, you just didn’t have the time and energy to clean up behind you. The last few weeks had been horrible; you were chasing one deadline after another, had worked endlessly on your projects and studied at the same time. Sleep was a luxury and cleaning was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you religiously did every day was cook. 

With a tired nod, you started moving, piling all of the cut-up styrofoam and paper into a trash bin, carrying unused styrofoam into your room and getting a broom from the kitchen. 

After around half an hour, Sunghoon slightly knocked on the doorframe to his room, startling you from where you were sorting through your sketches and designs. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, walking into the room, doing his best not to step on anything. 

You swallowed, ignoring the crawling feeling under your skin while he looked around with a curious look on his face.

“No, it's fine,” you mumbled, tiredly smiling at him. “I usually am a really clean person. It’s just…exam season.” 

Your head was aching, a slow pressure building behind your eyes, and you were hungry. You just wanted to eat something and roll up in your bed, but you weren’t about to make Sunghoon help you clean his room when it should have been clean from the get-go. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm. No worries. If it’s just your space that you use for creative chaos, I don’t have any problem with that.”

You pressed your lips onto each other and gave him a small nod before turning back to the stacks of paper on the bed. Most of them were half-finished sketches and drafts you never bothered to throw away, in case you needed them again. It would not be the first time. 

Sunghoon’s voice startled you. "What's this?” He gestured to a half-finished architectural model on his desk, a sleek modernist building carefully cut out of foam board and assembled with tiny, precise details. You spent countless hours on it, just for your professor to ask if you could start over since he didn’t think it was the best you could do.

You hesitated before replying. “It was supposed to be my final project. For my design class.”

Sunghoon bent down slightly, inspecting it. 

“This is insane,” he murmured, his fingers hovering near the structure but not touching it. “It looks like something you’d see in an actual firm.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just gave a small nod. You watched him inspect the model for a second longer before he reached for a stack of your books. 

“W-What are you doing?” Your hands stopped mid-motion, the papers in them unrolling slightly again. 

“Helping,” he said simply, not looking up. “You’re going to take forever if you do this alone. I’ll just put them into your room, okay?”

“O…kay,” you mumbled, focusing back on your sketches.

An hour and a half later, the room was clean. Well, mostly clean. Your things were now safely in your room, and Sunghoon’s moving boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, ready to be unpacked.

After you gave Sunghoon a tour of the kitchen and went over the house rules, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the living room when you were done. 

"Uhm… do you, uh, need anything else?"

Sunghoon looked up from where he was stacking his books on the shelf. "Nope. I think I got it."

"Okay, um, good. Well, uhm, goodnight then."

His lips curled slightly, amused at your awkwardness. "Goodnight, Y/N."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

When you woke up and made your way to the kitchen at 6:30 am the next day, you felt like you had just risen from the dead. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were half-closed, and your body was running purely on muscle memory as you wandered towards the kitchen.

There was light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen, and for a second you wondered if you forgot to turn it off yesterday or if you were just hallucinating again. But when you rubbed your eyes and looked up, you realised something far worse than hallucination was happening.

There was a half-naked man in your kitchen.

Sunghoon stood by the counter, one hand resting on the counter, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his bare upper body was exposed to the warm air in the kitchen. 

He turned, his eyes heavy with sleep, and blinked at you, standing frozen in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he yawned again. "Morning."

"Uh", you cleared your throat, snapping your gaze away from his body. Ogling at your admittedly stupidly attractive new roommate was very inappropriate. "Morning."

Your voice sounded way too high-pitched.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just poured himself a cup of coffee, completely unbothered.

You walked to the fridge, pretending not to care that he was standing next to it and grabbed one of your containers with porridge inside. 

By the time you turned back around, Sunghoon had disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, he re-emerged, now wearing a T-shirt.

"Do you have any plans today?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter as he took a sip of his coffee.

You glanced at him, still feeling a bit weird to have seen him half-naked after knowing him for not even twenty-four hours. "Uh… yeah. I have work today."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You work during the break?"

"Yes?" You frowned. "I mean, my scholarship covers a lot, but I still have to pay for food, transportation, materials, and extra costs. It adds up."

Sunghoon hummed, nodding. "What do you do?"

"I work as an intern at an architecture studio," you grabbed a spoon and honey, setting them on the counter. "I mostly organise files, scan documents, and do small tasks for the senior architects. I also make coffee and refill the printer paper, which is apparently the most important job in the entire office."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle at that. "Sounds fun."

You shrugged. "It pays. Do you have plans for today?"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward your food as you peeled off the lid of your porridge and took a small spoonful. "The only thing I’ll be doing today is train. Probably up until I get thrown out again."

You blinked at him. "Training?"

"Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "The season ended, but I’m still training. I’m working to qualify for the Olympics."

You froze mid-bite.

"The…Olympics?"

"Yeah."

Your spoon slowly lowered. "You’re an athlete?"

Sunghoon nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’m a figure skater.” 

“Oh,” you just answered, not knowing what else to say.

Both of you went silent for a long moment until he cleared his throat again. “I’ll probably come home pretty late. Do you mind me showering here or should I shower at the rink? I don’t want to, like, wake you up or something.”

You hummed and shook your head. “No, that’s all right. I sleep well even if there is noise around me.”

“Okay,” he nodded again. 

“Are you really training for the Olympics?” You asked after a bit of silence. 

"Hopefully," Sunghoon shrugged. "If I qualify."

For a moment, you just stared at him and tried to imagine him in one of those pretty dresses the figure skaters wore. Then, you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. "That’s really impressive."

Sunghoon just shrugged, like it was no big deal.

You took another bite of your porridge, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. You never did anything that made you special. Or something impressive. 

Your roommate took another sip of his coffee, watching you. "You always eat that little? I feel like if that was the only thing I ate for breakfast, I’d starve all day."

You swallowed, a bit caught off guard. "I meal-prep my portions."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Are you on a diet? Or just because it’s convenient?"

You hesitated for a second, the porridge suddenly heavy in your stomach, and just gave a tight smile. "It’s convenient."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon came home. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to come home to an empty apartment. In the last week that he had been living here, he had barely seen you around. 

You were usually out of the house when he rolled himself out of bed, and aside from a few short greetings in the kitchen, when both of you were at home, you barely talked. 

He figured you were just shy or maybe just didn’t like talking to people in general. 

Not that he had a problem with that. 

He himself wasn’t much of a talker either, and he really enjoyed the fact that you weren’t as noisy or nosy as his previous roommate. 

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched his arms over his head, sighing as he made his way into the living room. 

He poured himself a glass of water, hoping it would help him cool down a bit. Even though it was almost ten p.m., it was still unbearably hot outside, and the apartment wasn’t nearly as cold as he wished it to be. You rarely turned on the AC when you weren’t home. Sunghoon didn’t mind that; he was at the rink most of the time anyway, but today he felt like he was melting. 

The remote for the AC was on top of the fridge, and it came to life with a small humming sound after he turned it on. His eyes flickered over the pictures and postcards that were held up by colourful magnets on the fridge doors. Most of them seemed to be from the same place, all of them portraying the beach.

Before he could stop himself, he had reached forward and carefully picked one of them up. He knew he shouldn’t be doing that, but he was curious. He really didn’t know much about you, even though you were living together. For all he knew, you could be a serial killer who would strangle him to death while he was asleep. 

The thought made him chuckle. 

You were more than a head smaller than him and didn’t look strong enough to do that; you were rather petite.

Sunghoon turned the postcard around. 

Hi Bug! Busan is as beautiful as ever. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing well in Seoul. Take care. See you soon.- Love and miss you, Donghyuck :) 

Oh. 

He didn’t realise you had a boyfriend. 

Not that it would make him think differently of you, but he thought you would have mentioned it to him at least once. 

Donghyuck definitely sounded like a boyfriend's name. 

Your hometown was close to Busan after all. Maybe he went to Busan to study, and you went to Seoul, and the two of you were sending postcards back and forth? 

Sunghoon had asked around if someone might know you, and surprisingly, Jay recognised you after he had shown him your profile picture. 

He knew your brother, or well, a very close friend of your brother, Jeno, who had dated one of Jay’s friends for a while. Jay had told Sunghoon that the three of you came from a small town near Busan, but couldn’t tell him more about you; he hadn’t met you in person and had only seen pictures. 

Sunghoon shook his head and took another sip of water. 

He should really get to know you a bit. He really didn’t want to stumble into you and your boyfriend without warning.  

When he was just about to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, the front door opened. Sunghoon’s fight-or-flight response immediately set in, but when he saw your figure walking into the hallway, he relaxed again.

You seemed exhausted; your shoulders dropped, and your head hung low as you let your bag fall onto the floor, kicking off your shoes. You rubbed at your temple and took a deep, audible breath before lifting your gaze to meet his. The dim kitchen light cast soft shadows over your face, emphasising the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised. “Were you at work until now?” 

“Yeah, we were short-staffed in the cinema today,” you mumbled, walking past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.

“The cinema?” Sunghoon repeated. “I thought you worked at the architecture studio?”

"I do," you sighed, filling your glass with water just like he did a couple of minutes before. "This is my second job."

His eyebrows rose. "You have two jobs?"

You let out a small huff of laughter, but it was completely devoid of amusement. "Sadly, yeah."

Sunghoon blinked. “That sounds like a lot.”

You just nodded. “It is. But I get to stay in Seoul, and have at least a bit of money to spend on myself. So it’s worth it.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The sunlight was drifting in through the sheer curtains in the living room, heating up the bare skin of your legs. You didn’t mind the sun or the heat; you preferred it over the artificial cold coming from the ACs that were everywhere. Now that you barely had time for anything but working and studying, even during the summer break, you were almost desperate to catch a bit of sunlight. 

You were curled onto the sofa, reading a book from your to-be-read pile that accumulated during the semester, when Sunghoon shuffled into the living room, still half asleep. His hair was standing up in every direction, and he had red streaks on his face that came from sleeping on wrinkly fabric. He let himself fall next to you on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes again, grumbling sleepily. “Good morning, Y/N.”

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you said softly, turning your attention back to your book. You had noticed over the course of the last week that Sunghoon wasn’t a morning person. He was always grumpy in the morning, but still polite and nice to you.

For a long moment he just sat there, his eyes closed. The slow and soft breathing that came from Sunghoon made you think he had fallen asleep again, so you almost flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "Got any plans today?"

"Not really," you murmured, tucking your feet under yourself to make some more space for him.

Sunghoon opened one eye. “You don’t have work today?”

 "The studio is closed on weekends, and since I usually work on weekdays in the cinema, I have weekends off. "

"Mm," he grunted. "At least two days of the week, you don’t have to run out the door at seven.”

You let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. It’s nice to sleep in."

The conversation faded into silence, and you shifted your focus back onto your book. 

Just as you were finishing your chapter, his voice suddenly broke the silence in the living room again.

“Do you not like the AC?” 

You looked up and blinked at him. "The AC?"

He hummed. “Yeah, you rarely turn it on.”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “I like to open the windows in the morning. I like it warm, so I only turn it on when it gets unbearably warm. We can switch it on if you’d like to?” 

Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it’s fine. I was just wondering. Would you like me to open mine as well?” 

You hesitated. On the first day, you had thought about asking him if he could open his window, so there would be better airflow, but decided against it.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to overstep."

He exhaled a soft laugh. "Don’t worry. I'll just open it myself. Then you can’t overstep anything."

You smiled faintly. "Thank you."

For a while, there was nothing but the occasional rustling of your pages and the sound of cars in the distance. 

Then Sunghoon spoke again. 

He didn’t seem like a person who talked a lot. 

But apparently, he had the desire to talk to you sometimes. He would come to your room or the kitchen when you were there and strike up conversations. It was nice. Sunghoon was nice. 

You googled him and asked Jaemin about Sunghoon when you were working the Wednesday shift in the cinema together. Wednesday was always slow, not that you minded; it gave you plenty of time to talk to Jaemin.

According to him, Sunghoon was really nice. 

"Do you miss home?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, only to find that he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

You hesitated before answering. "Sometimes. Tongyeong has a certain charm to itself."

Sunghoon nodded slowly. „It must be weird to move from such a small town to Seoul. I grew up in Suwon, but I think I spend more time in Seoul than anywhere else. My childhood and teenage years took place in ice rinks in Seoul.“

You thought for a second. 

It was weird. 

The house you grew up in was always loud. Either your brothers or the guests downstairs in the restaurant were constantly talking or making noises, and suddenly you were in this apartment, all alone, and it was silent. 

You never realised how much you would miss your brothers until they weren’t just across the hall.

„Yeah. It’s weird,” you hummed. It’s so quiet and loud here at the same time. At home, you rarely hear this many cars passing by, but my family is quite loud, so living alone is very quiet,“ you put in a bookmark so you wouldn't lose your page. 

You assumed Sunghoon was in the mood to talk right now. 

„Really? Do you have siblings?“ He tilted his head slightly. His hair flopped down. 

You hummed and nodded. “Three brothers. All older. Seven years, four years and two years. What about you?“

„I have one sister. Five years younger than me. And a dog,“ he chuckled.

„Oh, that’s nice. I always wanted a pet. But my parents wouldn’t allow it. They were busy enough with 4 kids and a restaurant.“

"Your parents have a restaurant?" Sunghoon asked.

"Yeah," you nodded

"Do you help out?" He sat up, turning fully to you, his arm coming to rest on the backrest of the sofa.

"Not really," you admitted. "My parents always told me to focus on my studies and made my brothers help them. I would help if they let me. I usually cleaned out the flat, though. I like the area I live in to be really clean, and growing up, my brothers weren’t the cleanest.“

Sunghoon hummed. „Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think that’s pretty nice. That you are such a clean person, I mean. I love my old roommate, but he left his shit everywhere and should be sued for noise complaints. That guy never shuts up.“

„Oh, that sounds annoying,“ you chuckled. You could see how that would annoy Sunghoon. 

“It’s all right,” he hummed and lifted himself from the sofa. “Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about going for a run and getting something from the Creek. My friend’s girlfriend works there, and I can get us free stuff?”

“I, uhm. I already ate. But thank you so much for offering,” you smiled at him.

“Sure, always.” 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped back into the apartment. By the time he finished his run and stepped into the small cafe across the campus, the sun had started blazing. 

He peeled his shoes and socks off and had to stop himself from just ripping his drenched shirt off his body. Sure, you had seen him half naked once, but that was an accident, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it, so he sighed and moved towards the bathroom after dropping off the bag of baked goods in the kitchen. 

Sunghoon had expected you to have gone back to your room, but when his gaze flickered toward the living room, he noticed the top of your head peeking over the sofa backrest. 

“Y/N?” He stepped closer to the sofa. 

You were asleep.

Your legs were slightly bent, and your arms were in awkward positions, one sprawled across your face, blocking your eyes from the light coming in through the living room windows, the other one resting loosely over your stomach. The book you had been reading was lying on the floor next to you, seemingly having slipped from your hand when you fell asleep. 

Sunghoon reached down to pick it up, placing it onto the sofa table, before quietly wandering towards the bathroom to wash off the sweat still running down his back. 

He made his way back to the kitchen twenty minutes later and cursed the architect who designed your flat for deciding on building an open-style kitchen. It was actually what sold him on the place, but now, with only a kitchen pass-through separating the two spaces, it also meant that if he used the coffee machine, it would definitely wake you up. He signed and grabbed the orange juice jug in the fridge instead. 

As he poured himself a glass, his eyes landed on the vase near the window.  The tulips inside were starting to wilt, slowly letting their heads hang down. A few petals had fallen onto the windowsill.

Without thinking, he got up, grabbed the vase and changed the water. Maybe that would keep them alive for a bit longer. 

Sunghoon took another sip, glancing at your figure again. He was thinking about waking you up, so you could go to your bed and get proper rest, but before he could move, you stirred. 

At first, it was just a sleepy shift, a small stretch of your legs. But then, your eyelids fluttered, and with a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself up, blinking blearily at the room.

“Hi.”

Your gaze flickered to him, still half-asleep. 

“Hi,” you murmured back, your voice soft.

He hesitated for a second before nodding toward the counter. “I got you a salt bread.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, then you followed his gaze to the extra plate. You stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I got them for free, so I thought I’d just bring you one too.”

You hummed again before flopping back onto the sofa, stretching your arms above your head with a sleepy little sigh. Sunghoon watched you for a second, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching. You looked tired, even though you had just slept.

When you finally pushed yourself up from the couch, he glanced back down at his juice as if he had been doing that the whole time. He heard your soft footsteps on the floor and then watched you pad over to the kitchen again, yawning as you sank onto the stool across from him. Your hair was a little messy, one side pressed flatter than the other, and you still looked half asleep when you picked up the pastry and stared at it for a moment before tearing off a small piece.

“Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said quietly. “I really like these.”

He only hummed and leaned back slightly, watching as you took a bite.

“Me too. But I can’t really eat bread during the season,” he said. “So I have to stuff myself with anything gluten now, before I won’t be able to.”

You looked up at him, brows drawing together a little. “Why?”

He gave a small shrug. “I get stomach aches sometimes, and bloating is honestly the worst before practice. I really do not need to feel like I’ve swallowed a rock when I’m trying to jump on ice.”

You blinked once, then nodded slowly like you were processing that. “So it’s like a diet thing?”

He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just my stomach being dramatic.”

That seemed to ease something in your face, and you lowered your eyes back to the pastry in your hands. He watched you break off another piece, smaller this time. 

“I kind of get that,” you said after a moment.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “My stomach is pretty sensitive, I guess. I kind of have to eat small portions more often; otherwise it gets upset.”

That made him look at you properly. “Really?”

You nodded, almost like you were apologising for it. “And gluten makes it worse sometimes. Not always, but enough that I usually just try not to have too much of it at once.”

“Hm,” he hummed, because he didn’t really know what else to say. That sounded annoying, honestly. “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said quickly, then seemed to catch how fast you had said it and softened a little. “I mean. It’s annoying, but I’ve had it for a while.”

He nodded once. That made sense enough.

“Do you meal prep because of that?” he asked.

You looked down at the pastry again. “Mostly. It’s easier that way. If I have small portions ready, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Fair,” he said. “I meal prep during the season as well.”

That got your attention. You looked up again, a little surprised. “Really?”

He gave you a look. “Of course. I have to eat a lot, but cooking every day is a pain.”

Your mouth curved slightly at that. “You hate cooking?”

“I don’t hate it,” he said, though that was being generous. “I just don’t want to do it after training. I need a lot of protein and carbohydrates every day, so meal prep is the only way I stay sane.”

You nodded slowly, like you were filing that away. “That makes sense.”

“It’s annoying that I have to eat the same thing three days in a row,” he added. “But it works.”

A small laugh slipped out of you, soft and warm, and he glanced up before he could stop himself. “I actually like cooking,” you said.

He blinked once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, more certain this time. “It’s kind of one of the few things I don’t mind doing. I like making food for people. I like not eating alone.”

Sunghoon grinned at you. “That’s convenient.”

You frowned a little. “How is that convenient?”

He shrugged. “Because if you ever feel like cooking for me, I would definitely not stop you.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and a little disbelieving. “You would want me to cook for you?”

“I might even sit still and not get in your way while you’re in the kitchen,” he said seriously.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, but he could tell you were amused. “Wow. Generous.”

“I know,” he said, completely deadpan.

You took another bite of the pastry. 

“How often do you train?” you asked after a moment.

“Every day.”

Your brows lifted. “Every day?”

“Usually once,” he said. “Sometimes twice if Coach is being annoying.”

“That’s intense.”

“It’s normal for me,” he said, because it was. “But I burn a lot of calories, so I have to eat enough to stay at my weight.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with that same thoughtful expression you always got when you were actually trying to understand something. “You really have to eat that much?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

That made you smile faintly. “You make it sound like a chore.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted. “I’d rather skate and then disappear into bed, but apparently my body disagrees.”

You laughed softly. “Oh no, poor you.” 

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “if you ever feel like cooking, you can definitely make me something. I can’t promise I’ll be useful, but I can at least wash the dishes.”

Your eyes flicked to him. “That might actually be a good deal. I hate doing the dishes.”

“It is a good deal,” he said. “I’m very fair.”

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the sound of birds outside filtering in through the open windows.

“Sure,” you hummed and took another bite. 

Sunghoon leaned onto his arms. “So what do you do on your day off?”

You shrugged. “Laundry. Grocery shopping. Paint sometimes, but most of the time I just sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really making the most of your free time.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t have much free time, so I have to use it well.”

Sunghoon thought about that for a second. It made sense. He understood what it was like to have every second of your day planned out, to always have something you were supposed to be doing.

His eyes wandered towards the framed canvas hanging against one of the kitchen walls. He had always thought it might have come with the apartment, just like the furniture in his room, but when he took a closer look, there was a stamp with your initials on it. 

“Did you paint that one?” He asked, nodding towards it. 

Your gaze flickered to the painting, and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you mumbled. “Last summer break. It’s oil, so it took an eternity to dry. But, uh, the sun helped.”

He tilted his head back toward the painting. “Oh wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s so cool. Are the other ones yours, too?”

“Uh. Yeah,” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nodded again. “I was feeling…really inspired last year. And my brother got me oil paints for my birthday so I just painted. But we can take them off the walls if you don’t like them? I don’t mind, and you live here too, so you should also feel comfortable and if–”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckled, interrupting your rambling, and your gaze flickered up to his face before you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “It’s fine. I like them. It makes the apartment feel a bit homier. You’re really talented.” 

“I–,” you nodded again, and Sunghoon had to suppress a laugh. You suddenly seemed so flustered. 

“I never really had the chance to paint with oils before since they’re super expensive. But, uh, money well spent, I guess?”

He looked back at the paintings again, his gaze lingering for a moment. It was really well done. “They are really well done. You should think about selling them, Y/N. Not many people are able to do this.” 

You quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze. And then, you laughed. A weird, nervous little laugh, your cheeks flushing a bit.

“Oh, no, I mean–it’s just practice, really,” you blurted out, waving a hand in the air. “It’s not like–it’s not, like, some crazy talent or anything. It’s just… You do it enough, and it sort of, um, happens?”

“Still,” he said, amused now, “it’s really cool.”

You made a weird, stiff nod, then immediately picked up your water and took the smallest possible sip.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stepped into your apartment, shivering slightly at the cool air pressing against your skin. 

Sunghoon must have turned on the AC again. 

It was almost unbearably hot outside, the pavement heating up during the day and not cooling down even in the dark of the night, but inside, it was much colder. 

You never really liked using the AC too much; the temperature drop always left you uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind the cold. 

You placed your shoes neatly next to his by the door and stepped further into the cool apartment. The sound of the television playing in the background hummed through the air. Sunghoon was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, eyes focused on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, not really sure what to say, if you should say anything at all. You didn’t want to disturb Sunghoon and make him miss something in his show, but before you could decide, Sunghoon reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

His head turned toward you. “Hey.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Hi.”

He sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “How was work?”

You sighed and shrugged, making your way into the kitchen. “It was fine. Busier than usual.”

You and Sunghoon had somehow become something like friends during the last two weeks; it was nice having him around, filling the silence whenever it became unbearable, but also staying quiet when the world was a bit too loud.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed and nodded before pulling the freezer open and shuffling through the bags of frozen food. “It’s usually not that packed during summer shifts, but today was weirdly busy.” 

You found the familiar container of kolddugi muchim that you couldn’t stop thinking about all day, pulling it out underneath a bag of frozen broccoli Sunghoon had bought the day before. “At least Jaemin was there. It was fun with him.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze flicking back to the screen for a moment. “Who’s Jaemin?”

You hesitated slightly before standing up from the crouching position you were in. “My friend and coworker, I guess. He works the counter with me.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly. “You work with him a lot?”

The question made you frown a bit. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” he said, shrugging. “Just wondering. I’m just trying to keep on track with all of the names and people you tell me about.”

You nodded slowly before turning back to the counter to start defrosting your food. Your favourite pot was still in the dishwasher; it hadn’t been run today. There weren’t any new dishes in the sink either.

You hesitated for a second. 

“Have you eaten today?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Sunghoon looked at you, almost like he was caught off guard by the question. “Uh… no. I was too lazy to cook after I came from the gym, so I just had a protein shake.”

You frowned slightly. 

A protein shake was not a meal, especially not if he had been training today. 

You shifted your weight, debating for a second before clearing your throat. “Do you… Want some? I’m making kolddugi muchim and rice.”

His eyes lit up a little, his usual neutral expression shifting. “Oh, for sure. That sounds way better than another shake.”

With a nod, you turned back to the counter. “Okay.”  

Sunghoon stood up, stretching slightly. “Need help with anything?”

“Um,” you thought for a second, going through the list of things you might need. “Could you go to the GS25 down the street and get some mu kimchi? Only if it’s no trouble. I can go too.”

He waved you off, already grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

The apartment fell silent again as the door shut behind him.

You stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint dialogue from the drama still playing on TV. Then, shaking off the quiet, you turned back to the stove.

The scent of simmering garlic and gochugaru filled the air, thick and warm. It clung to the fabric of your clothes and seeped into the walls of the small kitchen. 

You closed your eyes for a second.

It smelled like home.

Like summer afternoons in the restaurant, your mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. The sharp tang of kimchi mingling with the sweetness of caramelised fish sauce. The distant sound of seagulls outside, the heavy heat of the South pressing against the window screens.

You exhaled, opening your eyes again.

It had been a while since you were home. 

You wanted to go home during the summer break, leave Seoul and all its stress behind for a couple of weeks, but then you were offered your internship and couldn’t go it. 

Swallowing the sudden ache, you focused on stirring the sauce, watching the deep red paste thicken over the heat. 

Cooking had always been something comforting, something familiar. 

You never saw yourself working in the restaurant after you finished high school, but you missed living by the sea, close to your family. 

Donghyuck had moved to Seoul a year after you did, and you were glad. He came to visit you a lot, claiming that he needed a break from seeing his roommate’s face from time to time, only to end up bringing Jeno along. He had been Donghyuck's best friend for so long, Jeno was basically your older brother as well, so it was a given that you cooked for him as well. 

The sound of the door being unlocked ripped you from your thoughts, and your head snapped up to watch Sunghoon step back inside the apartment, a small plastic bag in his hand. “Got it.”

“That was fast.”

He shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. “I have long legs.”

You glanced inside, pulling out the package of mu kimchi. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. “If you’re cooking for me, it’s the least I can do, Y/N.”

His eyes flicked to the stove. “It smells really good.”

“It’s my mom’s. She gives me containers of this stuff every time I visit home. Sometimes I have to eat kolddugi muchim for days after I’ve been home because it won’t fit into the freezer,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t complain about eating kolddugi muchim for days. If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll gladly help you eat some of the kolddugi muchim you can’t fit into the freezer.” Sunghoon grinned and reached up to grab two sets of plates and bowls from the cabinet. 

You just nodded and smiled at him while dropping the still slightly frozen baby octopus into your mom’s premade sauce. The sizzling of the pan was the only sound for a few moments. 

“I’ll go and turn off the TV. I’ll be right back,” Sunghoon said and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later, the music box he placed in the kitchen made a sound, and Sunghoon’s playlist hummed through the speakers, while you finished cooking.

Somehow, the two of you had picked designated seats at the kitchen table across from each other, so whenever the two of you had eaten together, there was no question who would be sitting where. 

You watched Sunghoon pile some of the baby octopus onto his plate. “It may be a bit spicy. I kinda put a lot of sauce in there. 

He just shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t mind the spice.”

“Okay,” you nodded, scooping some rice onto your spoon, trying to not obviously stare at him while he tried the food. 

His brows lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod. “This is good.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Really?”

He hummed. “Yeah. This is nice.”

A strange sense of relief settled in your chest. You took a small bite yourself, humming in delight when it did taste good. Not as good as if your mom made it freshly, but it was still good. 

You would have to call your mom later to thank her for cooking for you. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon stood outside your door, listening to the faint sound of music coming from inside. He knocked once, then again when you didn’t answer right away.

When he had opened up the fridge this morning, both your shelve and his shelve were almost empty. He knew you would be going grocery shopping today as well, so he figured he could just ask if you wanted to go together.

A few moments later, the door opened just enough for him to see you standing there, paint smudged on one sleeve.

“Hey,” he said, glancing past you into your room. “You busy?”

You turned slightly, following his gaze back to the canvas on your desk. “Um. Just painting.”

He took that in for a second. It looked like another food painting, if the bowl that was already finished was any indicator. The room itself was a little messy in the way yours always was when you were working, brushes, paper and tubes of paint spread out over your desk.

“Right,” he said, then leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I was gonna go grocery shopping for the week. Do you want to come with me?”

You looked at him like you were actually considering it, which made him wait instead of filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing back into your room before your shoulders shifted and you gave a small nod. “Okay. Give me like twenty minutes to get ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

You disappeared back into your room, and Sunghoon wandered over to the living room. He dropped onto the sofa and pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his TikTok while the apartment stayed quiet around him. Every now and then he glanced toward your room, half expecting to hear you rushing around, but there was only the soft thud of you closing your closet door and then nothing.

When you finally came out, he looked up almost automatically.

For a second he just stared.

Your hair was braided back neatly, the way it usually was, and you were wearing a white dress that fell loosely around you, soft and flowy. 

Sunghoon blinked once and sat up a little straighter. “You always braid your hair.”

You glanced at him, your lips pursed. “Yeah?”

He pushed himself off the sofa and tucked his phone into his pocket. “No, I mean. Always always. I don’t think I’ve seen it open more than like once.”

You shrugged lightly, already reaching for your keys. “I just prefer it that way.”

He hummed as he followed you to the door, though he couldn’t stop looking at the braid. It was neat, simple. “Doesn’t it get annoying to braid every day?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Sunghoon let out a small breath through his nose, stepping out into the hallway after you. “I think you should leave it open; it’s pretty.”

You just hummed, keeping your face turned away from him. He knew there were certain things you didn’t like talking about, shutting down conversations before they could even begin, and apparently your hair was one of them. Sunghoon shook his head as the two of you started down the stairs together. 

It was hot outside, the kind of heat that clung to your skin the second you stepped out of the building, and Sunghoon immediately regretted not waiting until later in the evening.

“It is so stupidly hot,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Why does Seoul have to feel like the inside of an oven in summer?”

You glanced at him, then back ahead. “It’s not that bad.”

He turned to look at you, offended. “What do you mean, not that bad?”

You gave the faintest shrug. “It’s warm.”

“Warm?” he repeated. “This is not warm. This is hostile.”

That got the smallest hint of a smile out of you, and he caught it just long enough to feel mildly satisfied with himself.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The grocery store wasn’t far, but by the time you got there, Sunghoon’s t-shirt was drenched. You walked beside him without complaining once, hands relaxed at your sides, braid resting between your shoulder blades.

The doors to the store opened, and when the two of you stepped inside, Sunghoon sighed in relief, the cold from the AC washing over his body as he got a cart for the two of you. He steered the two of you deeper into the supermarket, one hand resting loosely on the handle while the other occasionally reached out to grab something from the shelves without really stopping.

You stayed beside him, quiet in the way you usually were when you were thinking, eyes moving over the rows of products without lingering anywhere for too long. 

“Wait,” you said, stopping the cart when you passed the oatmeal section. “I think mine are almost done.”

Sunghoon hummed and followed you inside the aisle.

“I was thinking of getting these for the week,” you said, squatting down and grabbing a flashy box. 

He hummed, reaching for it, reading the front of the package when you handed it to him.

It was a white oat, fruits and nuts mix.

“Which one do you usually buy?”

You shrugged. “Just the plain one.”

He made a face when he turned the box around in his hands. “You should get the protein one.”

You looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because it has more energy,” he said, pointing at the nutrition table on the back with a fingertip. “And better ingredients. See?”

He held the package out a little so you could look at it, before grabbing the one brand Wonyoung always raved about. “You said you’ve been feeling tired all the time; maybe you need some more protein. That helped a friend of mine, and she really likes that one.”

You reached forward, and your fingers closed around the cardboard before you turned it around once, then twice,  before nodding and tossing it into the cart.

The two of you continued down the aisle, casually stacking more things into the cart. He kept filling his own side with random food. Rice, vegetables, eggs, protein drinks, a few snacks. 

Your side looked different, a lot more specific. You spent a lot more time deciding between products, pondering the different choices, checking the list on your phone, checking the boxes whenever you added something to the cart.

He glanced at your list at some point and then at you. “Do you shop the same stuff every week?”

You looked up from your phone. “Most of the time, yeah.”

“That sounds boring.”

You gave a small shrug. “It’s not bad. There are a lot of things I can cook with that.”

“You mean loads of things you can drown in gochujang?”

You didn’t answer that, just moved to the next shelf and reached for another bar of dark chocolate. Sunghoon watched you for a second before stepping closer and taking one of the protein bars from the shelf.

“You should get these too,” he said, holding it out. “They’re good.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your hand, scanning the front before flipping it around to the back. You read the label for a second longer this time. 

He watched you drop it towards your side of the cart before you put the dark chocolate back into the shelf. 

The second you stepped into the frozen aisle, you started shivering, wrapping your arms around your body, while you followed him, so Sunghoon just grabbed a few packs of chicken breast off the shelf and dropped them into the cart one after another.

You glanced down at the pile of them, then back at him. “What are you gonna eat that with?”

He looked over his shoulder. “No idea.”

You blinked. “You just eat it plain?”

He gave you a look like that was a stupid question. “Most of the time, yeah.”

That made you hum softly to yourself, more thoughtful than amused, and you reached into the freezer case beside you before he could say anything else. A bag of frozen broccoli went into the cart, then another pack of vegetables, then some carrots.

Sunghoon looked down at what you were adding. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m keeping my end of the deal, and I won’t let you eat plain chicken.” 

He laughed at that, short and warm, and shook his head a little. “You wanna cook for me?”

You glanced at him, already reaching for another bag. “Well, yes. You’re the one paying. I’ll be the one cooking for the both of us. It’s convenient if we don’t get the kitchen dirty multiple times a day.”

That made him laugh again, a little louder this time, and he nodded once. “Fair.”

After a beat, you reached into the freezer again and added another pack of mixed vegetables to his side of the cart. He looked down at it, then at you.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said.

You hummed. “You’re paying.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re enabling my laziness by cooking for me. How am I supposed to learn how to cook?”

“If you only want to cook, feel free. I won’t be stopping you.”

“I never said I don’t want to cook.”

“You did imply it.”

He gave you a long look, then broke into another grin and nodded once. “Okay, maybe I did.”

You were already looking away again, focused on the shelf in front of you, but the corner of his mouth stayed tilted up as he kept pushing the cart.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You left the grocery store with more bags than Sunghoon had expected. He had ended up carrying most of them, insisting you took the smaller bags, ignoring how you complained about him thinking you were weak. Considering you asked him to open bottles sometimes, he was sure you would have handed him the heavy bags anyway. 

The heat outside hit Sunghoon like a wall. He hated it: the warmth, the sweat and the clammy feeling all over his body that came with it. Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shifting the bags higher in his grip.

“God, it’s still disgusting out here,” he muttered.

You only hummed, apparently unaffected in a way that made him feel slightly betrayed by his own body. The two of you were chatting, talking about nothing and everything while walking back to your apartment complex, before you went quiet for a moment. 

“Can we stop by the flower shop?”

He turned his head. “The one you always talk about?”

You nodded. “If it’s okay.”

He shrugged, though the bags in his hands made the movement awkward. “Yeah, sure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bell over the door chimed when the two of you stepped inside. 

It smelled like water, leaves, and something soft he couldn’t quite place. Flowers lined the narrow room in neat clusters, some already wrapped and waiting near the counter, others still standing in buckets along the floor and tables.

The woman behind the counter looked up immediately and smiled when she saw you. “Y/N,” she said warmly, “what a lovely surprise.”

You brightened a little, your face easing in a way Sunghoon had never seen before. It was pretty. 

“Hi.”

She came around the counter, hands wiping briefly against her apron before she reached for one of the buckets near the front. “You haven’t been here in a while. I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Work has been a bit much,” you admitted, shifting the bag in your arms.

The woman made a sympathetic noise and then glanced toward Sunghoon, her eyebrows raised, as she looked back towards you. "And who is this?”

You turned slightly. “Oh, this is Sunghoon. He’s my roommate.”

Sunghoon gave her a polite little bow, suddenly feeling nervous about making a bad impression. You and the lady seemed close. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

Her expression softened instantly, as if the bow had been the correct answer to some invisible test. “Roommate,” she repeated, then looked at you again with a knowing sort of smile. “So you do have company at home now.”

You blinked at her, and Sunghoon noticed the red creeping up your neck. “Ajumma.”

She ignored that completely and waved a hand at the flowers. “Come, come. Let me show you what I have today.”

You followed her deeper into the shop, Sunghoon trailing after you a little awkwardly with the grocery bags still in hand. The woman moved around the buckets, looking for something specific, before lifting out flowers one by one and holding them toward you.

“These are lovely today,” she said, showing you a handful of blooms with pale petals that were slightly open already. “Not the freshest ones, but the shape is still very nice.”

Sunghoon frowned a little as he watched you take them in your hands and turn them gently from side to side. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected you to reach for the brightest, newest ones. Instead, your attention seemed to settle on the flowers that looked a little less perfect, the ones with petals that had started to curl at the edges or lean slightly to one side.

"Why not buy fresh ones today, my child?" She asked, handing you another battered-looking one. "I got some beautiful tulips just this morning."

You looked up at that, then smiled a little sheepishly. “I think they’re also pretty.”

The woman shook her head fondly. “You and your strange taste."

You adjusted the flowers in your hands and gave a small shrug. “I like the ones that no one else would pick; you would throw them out anyway. And even if they just live for a day in my kitchen, at least they got some love, Ajumma. I'm sure someone will buy the tulips.”

The woman’s expression softened at that, and for a moment she just looked at you with more love and care in her eyes than a stranger should have for their customer. Then she let out a quiet hum and started wrapping the stems in paper.

You smiled, small and pleased, and Sunghoon had the strange feeling that he was seeing a piece of you that didn’t usually show itself anywhere else. Not at the apartment, not at the store, not when you were quietly making tea or sitting beside him on the sofa. 

The woman finished tying the bouquet and pressed it into your hands with the kind of care that felt almost maternal. “There. These suit you better than the tulips would anyway.”

You looked down at the flowers, then up at her with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said immediately, as if the thanks were unnecessary. “And don’t wait so long before coming again. Your face looks tired.”

“Ajumma,” you said again, but this time it was gentler.

She only waved you off. “Go home, eat properly, and come back soon."

“I will,” you promised.

Then the two of you stepped back outside, the flowers held carefully against your chest while Sunghoon adjusted the grocery bags again. You glanced down at the bouquet, then up at him, and there was a small smile pulling at your mouth.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon had just finished mixing his protein shake when he heard keys jingle and the front door swing open.

He frowned, setting the shaker bottle down. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. It wasn’t even 4 p.m. Had your class ended early? 

Still, he greeted you out of habit. “Hey, Y/N–”

But the person standing in the doorway was definitely not you.

Sunghoon froze. The guy in the doorway froze, too.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, equally confused.

Sunghoon slowly lowered his shaker bottle. Who the hell–

“Uh…” the guy started, blinking a few times like he was trying to process the situation. Then, he pointed at Sunghoon. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No,” Sunghoon said flatly. “I’m not.”

The guy frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Then… who are you?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “I live here. Who are you?”

The guy’s face shifted as realisation dawned on him. His confusion melted into something amused.

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. Then, he grinned and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m Donghyuck. Nice to meet you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait.

Donghyuck, as in your boyfriend Donghyuck?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward the fridge before he could stop himself. The slightly curled postcard from Busan hung beside a few photos he had found himself staring at more than once in the past month. Donghyuck was in a lot of them. Always close to you, arms slung around your shoulders, laughing together.

Sunghoon quickly cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. I’m Sunghoon.”

Donghyuck hummed, already toeing off his sneakers. “Is Y/N still at class?” He dropped his bag by the door and strolled toward the kitchen.

Sunghoon, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, hesitated before answering. “Uh… yeah? She usually gets home around 4:30. Sometimes a bit earlier.”

Donghyuck nodded, completely unfazed. “Alright, cool.”

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he reached into a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Sunghoon nearly choked on air.

“What?” He spun around so fast that he nearly knocked over his protein shake.

Donghyuck just shrugged, sipping his water like this was a completely normal conversation. “Y/N didn’t tell me she was seeing someone. Or, well… seeing someone seriously enough to let him move in with her.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. What. The. Hell.

“I hope it’s been at least half a year and you didn’t just sweet-talk her into letting you move in after, like, two months.” Donghyuck narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why–why would I be Y/N’s boyfriend?” Sunghoon blurted.

Isn’t Donghyuck the boyfriend?! What was happening?

The other gave him a look. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just said you live here.”

“Yeah, because I’m her roommate,” Sunghoon said, still trying to process this conversation. “I pay rent and shit to be here.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Wait. You’re her roommate?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gestured vaguely at the apartment. “What else would I be?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, considering. Then he shrugged. “I dunno, her boyfriend?”

Sunghoon let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Dude, I thought you were her boyfriend.”

Donghyuck burst out laughing.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, nah.” He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m her brother.”

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Brother.

Oh. Okay.

Now that he really looked, Donghyuck did have similar features to you. 

Your brother just grinned, clearly entertained by the situation. “Damn, you really thought we were dating? Siblings dating seems pretty weird, doesn’t it, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon groaned, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t–”

Donghyuck cackled.

Before Sunghoon could come up with something to say, the front door suddenly swung open again.

“Oh my god,” your voice rang through the apartment, full of surprise and excitement. “Hyuck?!”

Sunghoon turned his head just in time to see you practically launch yourself at your brother. Donghyuck barely had time to put down his glass before you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming! I thought you were still at home!” You grinned up at him, eyes shining.

Donghyuck ruffled your hair like it. “I wanted to surprise you. Taeyong packed you a snack box from home. Mom and Johnny’s Mom added some stuff too. You know, since you can’t come home.”

Your face lit up. “No way.”

Donghyuck smirked. “Way.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, just watched as you glowed with excitement.

But before he could fully process how different you looked right now, so happy, so genuinely overjoyed, Donghyuck turned to you with an easy grin.

“So…” He dragged out the word, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Your expression twisted in confusion. “What?”

Donghyuck jerked his thumb toward Sunghoon. “You didn’t tell me you were dating your roommate.”

You were silent for a beat. 

Then, your entire face went red.

Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you from where he stood.

“What?” you repeated, blinking rapidly.

Donghyuck just smirked, clearly enjoying this. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” He gestured toward Sunghoon, who was just standing there like an idiot.

Your eyes darted towards him like you were expecting him to say something, but Sunghoon’s brain was still buffering.

Because all he could think about was how genuinely happy you had looked when you saw Donghyuck.

So expressive. So open.

The way your face had lit up, the way your voice had lifted into something bright and completely unfiltered. It was cute. And, selfishly, Sunghoon wondered why.

Why did you always hold back a little around him? The small, bashful smiles, the careful responses. Was he that intimidating? He was trying so hard to get to know you, to be a good roommate who would turn into a friend. 

“We’re not dating.” Sunghoon finally managed, his voice a little more rushed than intended. “I’m just her roommate.”

You exhaled, pressing your hands to your very red cheeks. “Yes. He’s my roommate.”

Donghyuck raised a brow, clearly not convinced.

“Right,” he said slowly, crossing his arms. “So you just let random guys move in with you now?”

“I didn’t–it’s not–,” You groaned. “It’s a long story.”

Sunghoon, for some reason, felt the need to defend himself. “It’s not weird, okay? We barely even knew each other when I moved in. You don’t have to worry about us dating or anything.”

Donghyuck snorted. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. 

You groaned again, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Mr Kang is renting the second room to Sunghoon.”

“No way. Your studio?” Donghyuck asked and looked at Sunghoon as if he had personally had the intention to steal your studio from you. 

“Yeah. It’s all right, though. I always knew he could rent it out to someone who will show up,” you leaned against the counter next to Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck was still looking at Sunghoon, but his facial expression had changed from accusation to something that looked like interest.

“Anyway,” he said, focusing back on you, “Do you wanna open the package? I am praying that Johnny put in some of those dope cookies from the bakery under his office. If he did, I am claiming one-half.”

At that, your face brightened again, and Sunghoon caught himself watching the shift in your expression again. 

The way your eyes widened, the slight bounce in your stance, the way you leaned in just a little closer to Donghyuck.

Your brother unzipped the bag and pulled out a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it on the counter with a slight thud.

Your hands were already on the tape, peeling it open. “You had four weeks to eat the cookies from ppangjib. You get one. Or maybe two."

Donghyuck grinned. “Deal.”

Sunghoon, though still a little confused by the whole situation, couldn’t help but glance into the box as you pulled back the flaps. Inside were neatly packed bags of homemade snacks, a few small wrapped gifts, and a handwritten letter sitting on top.

You immediately grabbed the letter, unfolding it with the kind of excitement that was usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

While you skimmed it, Donghyuck reached into the box and pulled out a small bag of yakgwa, grinning. “Oh, sick. Mom made you some yakgwa.”

“No way.” You grabbed the bag from him, grinning just as wide.

Sunghoon glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen door. 

Shit.

He had to get to training.

With a sigh, he grabbed his shaker bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“I gotta head out.” 

You looked up from the letter. "Oh, right! You have training tonight.”

He nodded, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to eat something later, or will you eat somewhere else?” Your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him, and Sunghoon had to suddenly swallow dryly before being able to answer. 

“I’ll eat with the others, thank you, Y/N." He nodded at your brother. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. Have a nice evening, you two.”

Donghyuck, already chewing on a piece of yakgwa, gave him a lazy salute. “Have fun, man.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh before turning toward the door. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bus stop was already fuller than you had hoped for.

You slowed when you got close, eyes briefly flicking over the small crowd waiting in the rain. Uni had already been enough on its own, and the thought of standing around in the wet for the next ten minutes did not exactly improve your mood.

With a sigh, you lined up behind a girl who was fully immersed in her phone, not looking up even when the line moved forward slightly. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and found Sunghoon a few steps away, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

“Oh,” you said, a little flatly before you could stop yourself. “Hi.”

He gave you a small smile and stepped closer, shielding you from the rain by holding his umbrella over your head. For a second, neither of you said anything.

It was not exactly awkward in a bad way. 

Just quiet. 

Sunghoon glanced at you once before looking back at the road. “You got work later?”

You nodded, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah.”

He hummed. “Do you want me to cook then?”

That made you look at him. “You can if you want to?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ve wanted to try out a dish Wonyoung recommended. She’s been hyping it up for weeks now.”

“Wonyoung?” You asked, trying not to sound too curious. Sunghoon often talked about one of his girl space friends, but this was the first time he had mentioned a name. 

“She’s one of the skaters I train with, and she’s pretty strict about her diet and eating healthy. She’s also the one that recommended the oatmeal I made you buy,” Sunghoon hummed and gave you a small smile. “Yours is empty, right? I’m gonna go grocery shopping before cooking. I could buy you some before you run out?”

“Oh,” you blinked once, a little caught off guard by how normal that sounded now. Apparently that was just what you were doing these days. Just cooking and buying groceries together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you said after a second, and then, a little quieter, “Thanks.”

He only nodded, like it was no big deal.

When the bus finally came, the two of you ended up standing through most of the ride, holding onto the railings and swaying slightly whenever the bus turned. 

By the time your stop came up, you were both more than ready to get off.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet at first, Sunghoon holding his umbrella above both your heads, trying his best to keep you dry. 

After a while, you glanced over at him. “How was your day?”

Sunghoon let out a small, humourless breath through his nose before answering. “Shit, honestly.”

You looked at him a little more closely. “Really?”

He nodded once, jaw tightening slightly. “This whole week’s been shit.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He looked ahead again and shrugged. “Coach is on my ass. Everything feels off. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get back on track for nationals at this point.”

His voice was flatter than usual, but there was frustration under it, thick enough that you could hear it anyway. He sounded genuinely upset, not just annoyed in the dramatic way he sometimes was when he complained about training.

You hesitated for a second, then said, “I’m sure you’ve been doing well.”

That got a quiet laugh out of him, though it did not sound amused. He shook his head slightly and looked over at you. “You haven’t seen me skate.”

You blinked, then shrugged one shoulder. “I know how much you train.”

He gave you a look at that, something tired and a little resigned in it. “Training a lot doesn’t mean I’m doing well.”

You frowned a little, looking down at the pavement as you walked. “Still. You’re probably doing better than you think.”

Sunghoon huffed again, but there was less edge to it now. “You know,” he said casually, “you should come to one of my competitions sometime.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “Your competitions?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slightly. “There you could see me skate properly and then think about if I really am doing better than I think.”

You gave him a little smile. “I’ll think about it. I am sure you’re amazing on the ice, dear roommate.”

That made him smile, too.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The cold had come quickly this year, creeping into your apartment and into your room. 

You had spent your day at uni freezing and had been looking forward to just curling up on the sofa or your bed until you fell asleep. Sunghoon had picked up training for his competition, so it was almost rare that you got to see him during the evenings, but today he had been at home when you opened the front door. 

He was studying at the kitchen table, his hair held up by one of his hair bands and a thick pair of glasses on his nose. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, peeling your boots off your feet with your fingers stiff from the cold. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he gave you a tired look, glancing up from his iPad.

“Don’t you have training today?” Your coat was wet from the rain, so you spread it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry before dropping your bag on top of it. 

Sunghoon sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “They are doing some checks with the building, and we aren’t allowed inside, so no.”

“Oh,” you hummed, moving into the kitchen to heat up some water. “You don’t sound happy about that?” 

He huffed and shrugged. “I wanted to train today. I still feel like shit about not being able to land my combo when I was able to before the summer break. I was off the ice for like two weeks, and it’s just gone.” 

“Because of the break?” 

"Yeah." Sunghoon nodded and watched as you got out your favourite mug. “That happens sometimes and is super annoying. If you lose a jump, you usually need double the time to relearn it again.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to get it again?” 

Sunghoon shrugged again and let his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. “Yeah, it will just take time.” 

You hummed and watched the kettle rattle as it brought the water for your tea to a boil. 

"Y/N", he lifted his head, “a few of my friends want to come over and check out the apartment. Is that fine with you? I know you’ve got work tomorrow, but I promise we’ll keep it down when you want to head to bed.”

You smiled, the question barely making you think. “Oh, that's not a problem, Sunghoon. You live here, too. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from having friends over.” 

He relaxed at your response, the tension in his posture easing as he gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’ll let them know we’ll keep it low-key.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “No worries. You do you.” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Just don’t be too loud around midnight. I haven’t really had parties here, so I don’t know if our neighbours are cool with noise or not?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “You can come hang out later. If you want to. We’re gonna order pizza. I know you don’t do lactose or gluten, but if you want a piece just…you know join us?”

You nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small wave. “Ah. Uhm. Thanks. But I think I’m good. I’ll go to sleep soon anyway.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You did, in fact, not go to sleep soon. 

It was almost eleven, and you were still reading, curled up in your duvet, a low light illuminating the room slightly. Your stomach had started growling a while back, and the more you tried to ignore it, the more urgent your hunger got. 

With a long and annoyed sigh, you kicked the duvet off and begrudgingly put your book away before you stood up from your bed. 

You hesitated for a moment when you reached your door. 

Sunghoon and his friends were in the living room, playing something on the switch Sunghoon had brought with him when he moved in, so you would have to pass by them if you wanted to get to the kitchen.

You were wearing a pair of loose joggers and one of your brother's hoodies that he forgot at your apartment that you never bothered to return, so you were definitely not dressed for guests, let alone Sunghoon’s friends. But your stomach growled again, making you push the handle down and step into the hallway. 

The laughter grew louder the closer you got to the living room. As soon as you entered, four pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

“Oh, hey!” one of them greeted you, giving you a smile, while his car came to a stop. “You must be Y/N.”

“Oh, uh–hi,” you said, your voice coming out slightly too high.

Sunghoon grinned at you. “This is Jay, Heeseung, and Jake,” he said, nodding toward each of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, abandoning his character as well. “Dude, your apartment is so nice,” he said. “Did you decorate it by yourself?”

You blinked. “Uh–what?”

“The apartment,” he repeated, still smiling. “It looks really good.”

“Oh! Um–yeah, I did?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, I just… put some things together. I like interior stuff, so…”

“Man, Sunghoon lucked out,” Jay said, shaking his head. “My first roommate had, like, one folding chair and a mattress on the floor.”

“Hey!?” Heeseung said and turned to Jay, “I was your first roommate?”

“Yeah. And we have been living in our dorm for 3 years now. The only reason why we have a decent apartment now is that your mom insisted on helping decorate it,” Jay deadpanned. “And the main piece of decoration in your room is your keyboard shrine.” 

Jake and Sunghoon snorted while Heeseung tried to defend himself: ”I asked her for help because you wouldn’t stop complaining, you stupid piece of shit.”

“See, I am really happy to have Y/N as my roommate. She has rugs and decorations. And a normal amount of keyboards.” Sunghoon grinned at you. “She is even painting the paintings to fit the vibe of our apartment.” 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. He just grinned.

“Did you paint all of them?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Mostly last summer.”

“Damn,” Jake said, shaking his head. “That’s sick. I can barely draw a stick figure.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you.”

Before you could recover, Sunghoon gestured toward the pizza box. “Are you hungry? We ordered way too much.”

“Oh–no, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I was just going to warm up something from the fridge.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I swear this is so much, and we are all supposed to watch over our diets. You’d be doing a good thing by eating a slice or two,” Jake said before stealing a gummy bear from Jay.

“Maybe just one slice?” You mumbled.

Jake’s smile widened. “Sure, take as many as you want.”

He slid a plate toward you, and you shuffled over, still feeling painfully awkward. You perched on the arm of the couch next to Sunghoon, back stiff.

Your roommate glanced up at you, giving you a smile. “Have you finished your book?”

You hummed and took the plate Jake offered you, shaking your head. “Thank you, Jake. Almost? I need like three or four chapters. I’ll definitely finish it today.” 

“So you’re going to read your vampire book?” Sunghoon teased. He had read the back of it and had been making fun of you ever since. 

“No,” you took a bite and swallowed before continuing, watching the TV as they started another round of Mario Kart. “I’ll be waiting until Halloween. I have the morning shift, so I’ll have the whole evening to finish it.” 

“Are you not gonna party on Halloween?” Heeseung asked, not taking his eyes from the TV. 

You frowned, shrugging. “Not really? I’ve not been invited to any parties? And aside from that, I’m not really someone who goes to parties.” 

“You’re just using that as an excuse to stay in bed to read your vampire steamy book, or what did you call it?” Sunghoon teased again, nudging your thigh with his shoulder. “I never thought you’d be one of those girls, Y/N.”

You felt heat rushing up your neck, your cheeks flushing, but before you could defend yourself, Jay already came to your aid. 

ne,” he glanced at Sunghoon and regretted it mere seconds after, driving off the road. “Fuck.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” your roommate grinned.

Your stomach dropped at the words.

It was stupid, really. 

He had only been teasing. 

You knew that, but somehow it felt weird.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the plate, and forced a small laugh through your nose before you looked back at the TV. 

It was suddenly too loud in the room, too warm, too bright. 

You could feel your pulse in your throat, fast and annoying, and every second that passed made you more aware of yourself.

Sunghoon shifted beside you.

He must have noticed the change in your mood, because when you glanced at him for half a second, he was already looking at you. 

Not teasing, just watching. 

His expression softened the moment he saw your face.

You looked away instantly.

No. No, it was fine. It was nothing.

He didn’t say anything right away, but the apology in his eyes was obvious enough that it made your chest tighten worse. He probably realised he had pushed too far.

It was all right. Nothing had happened; he didn’t mean it in a bad way. 

You took another bite of pizza just so you would have something to do with your mouth, but it didn’t help. Not even a little. Your stomach felt weirdly hollow and too full at the same time, and you kept your face angled toward the TV while your entire body screamed at you to get up and leave before you embarrassed yourself any further.

Heeseung glanced between you and Sunghoon, clearly catching something in the air. For a second, the room went a little quieter, the game noises continuing in the background.

Then Heeseung spoke.

“Actually,” he said, a little more carefully now, “do you maybe want to give partying one more try?”

You looked over at him, caught off guard.

His expression was gentle, not pushy. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I mean, instead of spending Halloween alone reading by yourself.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“There’s gonna be a big Halloween party hosted by the swimmers,” Jake said from the floor, spinning his controller between his fingers. “You could come. If you don’t want to go alone, you can bring a friend too. Just tell the guards we invited you; they’ll know.”

You blinked at that. “A friend?”

He nodded. “Sure. If that makes it less weird.”

“Or safer,” Jay added, not looking at you but clearly trying to help in the least aggressive way possible. “Whatever works.”

You glanced down at your plate, your fingers suddenly very aware around the rim. The room was still buzzing with the game, but your pulse had not slowed.

You forced your shoulders to stay loose.

“I don’t know,” you said, and tried very hard for the words to sound normal. “I’m just… not really into parties.”

Jake nodded immediately, as he understood. “That’s fair.”

“But,” Heeseung said, still soft, “you don’t have to be into parties to come to one once.”

You hesitated.

“I haven’t been to one in forever,” you admitted, which was worse than saying no because now it sounded like a confession.

Jake’s face brightened a little, not in a mocking way, more like he had heard a challenge he wanted to win. “Then it’s definitely time.”

“No pressure,” Heeseung added quickly when you didn’t answer right away. “Seriously. But if you want to try it, we’ll look out for you.”

Jake leaned back and grinned at you. “Think about it, yeah?”

You nodded once.

Heeseung smiled, gentler than before. “And seriously, you can bring a friend if you want. No pressure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Except that it was pressure, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. 

So the next day, Jaemin immediately noticed that something was off the second you clocked in. “Okay, spill.”

You frowned, wrapping your apron around your waist. “What?”

“You look weird. A bit constipated. What are you thinking so deeply about? 

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s nothing.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

You exhaled, already knowing you weren’t going to get away with it. “Sunghoon’s friends came over last night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The hockey players?”

You blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”

At the same time, you weren’t really surprised. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything and everyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly.

“Just a gut feeling", he grinned. “Tell me more.”

You sighed, opening the door towards the main room of the cinema. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just came over to see the apartment and hang out with Sunghoon. I ran into them when I went to the kitchen.”

“And?” Jaemin prompted, eyes gleaming with interest. 

“And… they were nice,” you admitted. “They complimented the apartment and–” you hesitated, then added reluctantly, “my paintings.”

Jaemin gasped dramatically. “The beautiful paintings that are all over your apartment that everyone compliments? No way!”

You rolled your eyes. “Jaemin.”

“What? Am I lying?” he shrugged, grinning at you.

You groaned, covering your face. “Can you leave me alone?”

Jaemin cackled. “No.”

You shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. In fact, you love me enough to schedule your shift so they’d clash with mine and we have even more time to hang out," he said, waving a hand. “So what happened afterwards? Just meeting them wouldn’t make you this thoughtful.”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “They… invited me to their Halloween party.”

Jaemin froze.

His expression went from shocked to utterly gobsmacked in less than a second. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Wait, like, the swimmers' Halloween party?”

“I think?”

He gawked at you. “You think? Y/N, do you even realise how exclusive those are?” He leaned in. “You have to know people to get in or be important enough to be invited.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… I know people now?”

Jaemin smacked your arm lightly. “Oh my god, this is huge.”

“It’s really not. They even offered that I could bring a friend.”

“Oh, my god.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have to take me with you.”

You groaned. “Jaemin–”

“Please.” His eyes widened. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’d be insane not to go.”

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know… I feel like I’d just be awkward.”

Jaemin softened slightly. “You might. But you might also have fun.”

You sighed.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you,” he promised. “I swear.”

You hesitated before finally mumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear. We’re going,” he said, gripping your wrist.

You groaned. “Jaemin.”

“Please.” His eyes widened dramatically. “Do you even understand what this means? This is like–like being invited to the Met Gala of frat parties.”

You gave him a look. “You are so dramatic.”

“Am I?” He scoffed. “Y/N, do you realise how hard it is to get into one of these? And you got invited. You!” He clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped. “Not that big of a deal? Y/N, if I had even breathed in the direction of these parties before, I would’ve been escorted out.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If not even Jaemin had been invited to one of these parties, they probably were a big thing. Johnny was always talking about how he enjoyed going to parties. You loved hearing his and Taeyong's stories every time they came home. 

They did romanticise uni life a bit in your opinion. 

Or maybe you were just doing something wrong. 

Maybe you could try going to that party.  

Jaemin's face softened slightly. “Look,” he said, “I get it. Big parties aren’t your thing. And, yeah, it might be overwhelming at first. But, Y/N, you deserve to have fun.”

“I do have fun,” you muttered.

Jaemin gave you a knowing look. “Working, studying, and just being in your apartment alone all the time doesn’t count.”

You sighed.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he promised. “I swear. I won’t ditch you. But at least try.”

You hesitated, staring at the counter, before finally mumbling, “…Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin grinned as he had already won. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Pushing open the door to your apartment felt like trying to push an elephant out of the way. Your arms were heavy, your brain was pulsing against your skull, and your eyes threatened to fall closed any second now. Somehow your shift at the cinema had been horrible today; it had been loud and hot and entirely overwhelming, so the only thing you wanted to do was to sleep.

But today was Halloween, and you had promised Jaemin and Sunghoon you would go to that stupid party. 

Part of you, a very loud and insistent part of you, wanted to just cancel, tell them that you were too exhausted to go, that you were having a migraine, but another part wanted to go, almost desperately. 

You knew they were right, Johnny, Taeyong, Jaemin, hell, even Sunghoon and his friends. You should try going out more, living life, meeting people, and experiencing things you would usually avoid; it was part of growing up, of living. 

But it was hard. You hated crowds, you hated parties, and you hated being perceived, and that Halloween party would definitely get you to be perceived, especially with your stupid costume.

Somehow Sunghoon and Jaemin, who had almost immediately started forming a coalition against you as soon as you introduced them, convinced you to dress up as one of the puppets from Squid Game. 

With a sigh, you peeled off your shoes and made a beeline straight to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, hoping you would feel better after a nap.

About two hours later, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed. Your head was still heavy, a constant throb beneath your temples. 

You could feel your nerves creeping up as you walked out of your room, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sunghoon.” 

Your roommate was standing in the bathroom, the door open, as he styled his hair in the mirror. 

He flinched at your voice, and his eyes flickered to your figure standing in the doorway. “Hi, Y/N. Are you good? You look tired.”

You hummed, leaning against the wooden frame. “My head is pounding. I think I have a migraine coming.”

Sunghon frowned, turning around to look at you properly. “Do you want to eat? Maybe it will get better if you get some food into your system."

“I’ve eaten,” you said, pursing your lips and shrugging. “Jaemin and I ate bibimbap during our lunch break, so my stomach is still pretty full, but I think I’ll take an ibuprofen. Sometimes it helps with the migraines.”

“It has been a while since you had your last one," Sunghoon stated, pushing away from the sink, moving towards and past you into the hallway. “Do you think you’ll be able to go to the party? If you’re not feeling well, you should stay home, Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I'll just leave earlier?”

"Sure, that’s no worries." He moved towards his room before coming back, holding up white face paint. You smiled, though it was still a little tight around the edges. Sunghoon caught your glance and, after a moment of silence, his expression softened into something more reassuring. 

“Come on, it’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll get there, and we’ll just hang out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

You gave a reluctant nod, grateful for his words. You stretched out, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The moment you stepped into the house, the overwhelming mix of loud music, sweaty bodies, and flashing lights hit you all at once. The air smelled like alcohol, something vaguely fruity, and whatever cologne the guy who just stumbled past you had drenched himself in.

You were already regretting this.

You had been holding it together on the walk over, but now that you were actually inside, the migraine that had been sitting at the edge of your skull all evening seemed to sharpen all at once. The lights flashing across the room made your eyes sting, and the noise in your ears felt like it was pressing in from every direction.

Sunghoon was right beside you, guiding you deeper into the house with a hand hovering near your back so you didn’t lose him in the crowd. You kept your arms close to your body and did your best not to brush against anyone.

Before you could fully orient yourself, a voice cut through the music.

“Y/N!”

You barely had time to turn before Jake came crashing into you, arms thrown around your middle in a hug that was far too enthusiastic for your current state. You froze immediately.

Everything in you tensed.

Your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides while he rocked you a little, laughing into your shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he slurred happily. “I knew you’d come! I told Sunghoon you were gonna come!”

You stared past him, looking for Sunghoon without even meaning to.

He was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a grin that was way too amused. You glared at him in silent betrayal.

He only smiled wider.

Hesitantly, you lifted one hand and gave Jake a few awkward pats on the back. He seemed delighted by that and finally let go.

Jay appeared a second later. He didn’t tackle you, thankfully. He just gave you a quick half-hug.

“Glad you came,” he said, easy and warm.

You managed a small nod.

“Uh. Yeah,” you said faintly. “Thanks.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon was leaning against the sofa, half-listening to Jay argue with Jake about their next beer pong shot. His own cup sat untouched beside him. 

He was pacing himself, knowing he had practice tomorrow. 

His coach was already on him for falling last week, so he didn’t want to even try his luck and skate hungover. The music thumped through the house, bass vibrating beneath his feet, and the heat of too many bodies in a small space was starting to get to him.

If he was completely honest, parties weren’t his thing either. Sure, he’d come along if he got invited, and it was fun most of the time, but he wasn’t as crazy as his friends. He didn’t understand how the hockey players were doing all of this after every game; his coach would kill him if he knew Sunghoon was drinking.

Sunghoon glanced over the table, watching you and Jaemin talk to a small group of baseball players. 

He knew some of them from other parties or sports events but never really got around to getting to know any of them closely. 

He watched as one of them, a little taller than the rest, leaned in slightly while talking to you.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure why, but something about it made his jaw tighten as he saw you taking a slight step back, your smile reverting back to the small, reserved ones you always had when you were uncomfortable or felt especially shy. 

He hadn’t seen that in quite a while now, but it hadn’t left your face all evening.

The way you moved and glanced around made it clear that you weren’t too happy with the situation, and Sunghoon felt guilty. He knew he should have convinced you to stay at home when he saw you step out of your room, your face pale and your hair flattened from your nap. He knew you wouldn’t like being here, and he was sure the sound and the stuffy air inside the house weren’t helping your migraine get any better.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, setting his cup down on the beerping table with a soft thud. He didn’t know if he was overthinking things, but he did promise you to help you out if you needed an out. So he slowly started making his way toward you. Sunghoon had barely taken a step toward you when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Park,” a familiar voice drawled.

He turned to see Hyunjin, one of the more senior skaters. Despite the loud music and chaotic energy of the party, Hyunjin looked as relaxed as ever, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Haven’t seen you drink much,” Hyunjin noted, tilting his own half-empty cup toward Sunghoon. “You’re really out here being responsible?”

Sunghoon snorted. “Some of us have practice tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head. “Well, some were clever enough to tell Coach that they wouldn’t come tomorrow so they can drink.”

Sunghoon hummed in agreement, but his attention was already elsewhere. You seemed to suddenly have let loose, your shoulders sagging as you giggled, you giggled, at something the baseball player said. In the one and a half months that he had been living together with you, he never saw you giggle; laugh, sure, but giggle, never. 

He shifted his weight, keeping one ear on whatever Hyunjin was saying while his eyes flickered back to you.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of Sunghoon’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

Sunghoon blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Sunghoon‘s eyes flickered back to you. „Yeah,“ he started, moving, patting Hyunjin's shoulder. „You know what, I’ll be back in a second.“

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The music thudded in your chest, vibrating through your bones. Your head was pounding, your vision blurry, and there was a weird, giddy sensation bubbling up in you.

 You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying, and you couldn’t grasp a clear thought; everything felt mulled over. It wasn’t unusual for you to get a migraine, especially with the noise and lights in a place like this, but this was different. It felt like your mouth was moving without you even thinking about it when you were answering whatever question Injang just asked.

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for tomorrow? You know there’s an after-Halloween party for those who couldn’t come today,” he grinned at you, leaning in slightly, his voice a little too loud to make it easy to follow.

You could feel his eyes on you, more intent than necessary. “Um. I have to–I have to study? I can’t party.”

“Oh really? Jaemin mentioned you’re into architecture? It’s probably really hard. Especially for a pretty girl like you, right?" He said, his grin widening. 

You nodded, and the room tilted for a second. 

You blinked hard. 

That wasn’t normal. Your migraines were awful, but they didn’t usually make your body feel this heavy.

“I–I don’t know, maybe?” you replied, your voice trailing off.

„Oh, but I‘m sure you‘re doing a good job, sweetheart.“ 

Somewhere in the back of your brain, you registered the condescending tone he was using, that he was making fun of you, but somehow your thoughts felt detached from everything else. 

They were slow, fuzzy, and your vision started to swim a little as you tried your best to stay nice and polite and look at Injang while he was talking to you. 

Maybe you should have eaten more or drunk more water. 

“Hey, Y/N, you’re okay? You seemed a little drunk." he was suddenly standing closer to you, the heat radiating from his body making your body feel even more uncomfortable. 

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze in your brain, but instead, the dizziness swirled, and the world started spinning around you.

“I... I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t even sure you believed it. Your words were slurred, and your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to shake your head. 

You couldn’t understand what was happening; the only thing you had been drinking all day was water. Why did you feel drunk all of a sudden? 

Injang kept leaning in, his hand brushing a few strands that came loose from the ponytail you had tied your hair in behind your ear, his smirk growing wider. You tried to focus on him, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure in your skull and the odd sense of lightness in your limbs.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to drink some more of your water? I’m sure it will help," he asked again, leaning even closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. His voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. 

“I... yeah,” your hands almost automatically guided your cup to your mouth; maybe he was right, and water would help. “I’m just–I’m just a little tired, y’know? I think–I think I should go to my roommate?” 

You glanced towards where you knew Sunghoon was standing, not seeing anything besides the stobling lights flickering over your blurry vision. Your legs felt unsteady, as though they weren’t entirely yours, when you tried to push past the baseball player. 

You could hardly keep your balance, and the noise became so much louder, as if it were vibrating inside your skull. You placed a hand on the wall for support, just trying to stay on your feet. 

The room was spinning, and you tried to focus, to remember where the kitchen was, where you were, but it felt like you had to move through molasses. 

Injang's hands were on you again, and this time it wasn’t just a touch. He was almost painfully gripping your waist, pulling you back. You tried to tug away, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, alright? Just let me get you outside; I’m sure some fresh air would help.” Injang’s voice was thick now, too close for comfort. 

His touch sent panic through you.

You couldn’t go outside with him; you shouldn’t. Everything felt wrong.

You knew you needed to get away from him, but every part of you felt so heavy, and your movements weren’t your own. 

You were trapped in this slow, sluggish fog.

"Seriously, Y/N, you're so cute," he continued, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his body at your back. "I’m just worried about you. You sure you’re not feeling anything... weird?" 

You flinched, trying to pull away, but he kept his grip, his fingers brushing down to your waist in a way that made you feel exposed and uncomfortable. “Come on baby, don't be shy. It's just a party. We’re just having fun, right?”

You tried again to shake him off, to get awy, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate.

Noise drung through he fog, it semed like someone was fighting, but you weren’t sure. They were muffled and you couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

The next thing you knew, there was a quick movement and Injang’s hand left your waist. 

Without his additional support, your knees buckled underneath your weight and the world tilted, before everything went black. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The second you collapsed, it was like time stopped. 

Sunghoon watched how Injang let go of your body, trying to defend himself, saying something about wanting to get you some water. He watched the way you swayed and, finally, how your knees seemed to give up underneath your weight. 

He barely managed to catch you in time, feeling the weight of your body press into him as you fell limp in his arms. His heart slammed in his chest. 

"Y/N?" He shook you gently, then a bit harder when you didn’t respond. 

You felt like a rag doll, no resistance in your body as he went down to the floor, still trying to shake you awake. “Y/N, what’s going on? Wake up!”

Jaemin was suddenly kneeling next to him, helping him hold you up, keeping your head straight. 

“Oh my god," he gasped, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. 

His eyes flickered between Sunghoon and you.

"What happened to her? What's wrong with her?" Jaemin’s voice was panicked. His gaze darted between your pale face and Sunghoon’s frantic movements. 

Sunghoon's mind raced as he tried to figure out what could have happened. “She had–”, he combed his hair back in a frantic movement with one hand. "She said she’s having a migraine. She took some painkillers. Has she been drinking?” Sunghoon's eyes flickered towards Jaemin's face, still holding your body in his arms. “Has she been drinking, Jaemin?” 

Jaemin shook his head, the panic in his face evident. “She didn’t. She only had water. There was nothing–we didn’t even do shots or anything. I–what's happening, Sunghoon? Has she been spiked? That has to be what's happened, right? She’s been spiked.” 

Sunghoon looked around the room, eyes searching for the guy who had been sticking so damn close to you earlier. His hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Call 911,” Sunghoon mumbled before repeating it louder. “Call 911!”

“Jay’s on it, Sunghoon,” Jake’s voice came from behind him. He hadn’t even realised that Jay and Jake had followed him and were now standing behind him, his sole focus on you. “They said help is on the way.”

Sunghoon barely heard him.

All he could focus on was how limp you felt in his arms, how wrong it was that your body had gone so still so fast. He shifted you more carefully against him, his heart slamming so hard it made everything else feel distant and blurry. “Y/N,” he said again, lower this time, as he could somehow pull you back with his voice alone. “Come on. Wake up.”

You didn’t move.

“Where is that guy?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. He couldn’t let that guy go; it had to have been him. You had nursed one cup of water Sunghoon had personally given you, and that guy had been dancing around you all evening. It had to have been him. 

“Jake, Jake, get that guy.” Sunghoon carefully moved your body, cradling you against his chest as he slowly stood up. “He can’t leave, do whatever is necessary. You’re a hockey player, you know how to throw punches.”

His friend looked between him and wherever the guy from just now had escaped towards. “I can’t just–”

“Yes, you can,” Sunghoon cut in, sharper now, eyes wild. “Do whatever you need to do to keep him there. He does not get to walk out.”

Jake opened his mouth again, then shut it when he saw the look on Sunghoon’s face. “Sunghoon–”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon said, more to keep himself from losing it than to silence Jake. “We have to keep him here until the police get him.”

He looked up at Jake again, anger and fear mixing into something almost unbearable. “Don’t let him go,” he repeated, voice rough. “If he moves, stop him.”

Jake’s expression tightened. “Let’s get Y/N out of here first. We’ll deal with Injang later, Sunghoon.”

“No. Get him now.”

That came out harsher than Sunghoon meant it to, but he didn’t know what to do if he escaped. His skin felt too hot, his pulse too fast, his hands shaking where they held you.

Jake stepped closer, one hand raised in a placating gesture. “Sunghoon, listen to me. Let’s get Y/N outside, let’s wait outside for the ambulance to come. We have enough witnesses to get Injang in trouble, okay?”

“What if he gets rid of the evidence?” Sunghoon shot back, eyes darting over the room again, searching for the guy who had been too close, too hands-on, too wrong. “He doesn’t get to do this and walk away as if nothing happened.”

“Sunghoon,” Jaemin said carefully, trying to get his attention, “we need to focus on Y/N right now.”

“I am focused on her.”

“No, you’re not! You’re focused on beating Injang senseless. Get her out of here.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe once, then twice, but it did almost nothing. His chest was too tight, his hands were still shaking.

Then Jay appeared at the edge of the room, pushing through the crowd. “Ambulance is here,” he said quickly.

For a second, Sunghoon didn’t move.

Then his head snapped up. “Police?”

“On their way,” Jay said, voice clipped. “Let’s get Y/N outside.”

That finally broke through some of the haze. Sunghoon looked down at you again, still cradling you tightly, and his expression changed from furious to wrecked in the space of a breath. “Okay,” he said, though it sounded more like he was telling himself than anyone else. “Okay.”

He tightened his hold on you just a little and bent his head closer. “You’re okay,” he said, though it sounded like a promise he was trying to make true by force. “Help’s here. Just stay with me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon sat in the back of the taxi, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind was racing while his pulse was hammering in his ears as the city lights blurred past the window. His body moved on autopilot when the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hospital. He couldn't get the image of you collapsing out of his head, the way you crumpled to the floor, lifeless in his arms. He insisted on coming to the hospital but wanted Jaemin to be with you in the ambulance, just in case you woke up. 

The chances were low, but he didn’t want you to be with him. 

You barely knew each other. 

You did, technically, he would say; you’ve grown to be something like friends, but he was sure Jaemin was the better, the safer choice for you. 

He barely remembered paying the driver before rushing inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright fluorescent lights making his head pound.

The waiting area was quiet except for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional murmur of nurses. It didn't take much of an effort to find Jaemin.

He was curled up in one of the plastic chairs, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and when he looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were bloodshot.

Sunghoon hesitated before stepping closer. "Any news?"

Jaemin shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. His voice was hoarse. "She's stable, but she's not awake. They said they would send some of her blood to get checked for drugs." His breath hitched slightly. "But it’s gonna take a while until they get the results."

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the waiting room swung open, and Donghyuck rushed in, wearing a vampire costume, his hair swept by the wind and the blood that belonged to the costume smeared across his lower face. 

His face was full of panic, darting from Jaemin to Sunghoon and back. "Where is she?"

Jaemin gestured toward the hallway leading to the ICU. "They're doing tests."

“Is she going to be okay? What did they say, Jaemin? Will she be okay?” Your brother shook Jaemin’s shoulders frantically.

Jaemin nodded, wrapping his hands around your brother’s arms. “She’ll be okay, Hyuck.”

A sob escaped your brother's lips, and he wrapped his arms around Jaemin, deflating against him, as a sob wracked through his body. 

Sunghoon had to avert his gaze for a second. 

He had never felt so helpless as when he was holding your lifeless body at that party, handing you over to the paramedic, watching you get loaded into the ambulance. 

He knew he probably should stay composed, stay focused, but he felt panic run through his veins, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. 

 "I don't know what happened, Donghyuck,” Jaemin's voice was shaking as he was pressing Donghyuck against his chest. “She was fine. We were just hanging out, talking to some of the baseball guys I know, and then she… she just collapsed. She was just drinking water. She didn’t drink any–any alcohol."

Donghyuck shook his head, pushing himself away from your friend, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's okay, Jaemin, it's not your fault that this happened." 

A nurse approached them, and the attention of all three of the men snapped towards her. "Mr Lee?" 

"Yes," Donghyuck straightened up immediately.

“The doctors had a few additional questions regarding Y/N,” she said gently. “Have you spent the day with her? Would you know her condition before she fainted?” 

Donghyuck blinked at her, still breathing hard from crying, before he shook his head. "I didn't see her today."

The nurse glanced at Sunghoon and Jaemin. "What about either of you?"

“She’s had a migraine since this morning," Sunghoon cleared his throat. “She took painkillers earlier.”

The nurse’s gaze flicked toward him. “Do you know which painkillers?”

Sunghoon shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

The nurse hummed and made a note. “Did she eat anything with them? Any food or drink?”

“I don’t think so,” he frowned, trying to remember. "I don't think she ate dinner. She said she wasn't hungry because of the headache."

“Did she eat anything besides that?” The woman looked between the two of them

Jaemin straightened from his chair, rubbing at one of his eyes before answering. “Yeah. We had lunch at work, and she had snacks later too.”

“What did the two of you eat?” The woman looked at Jaemin expectantly. “Are you feeling unwell as well?”

“No? No, no, I’m okay, maybe a bit tipsy but like nothing besides that.” He went through his hair, bunching the pink strands together. “We ate bibimbap and mandu for lunch at like three pm.”

"Did she drink any alcohol?"

"No." Sunghoon’s answer came instantly, almost interrupting the nurse. "She only drank water."

"Any recreational drugs? Prescription medication besides the migraine tablets?"

"No."

The nurse looked between them all for a moment, then her eyes settled on Donghyuck again. “Mr Lee, would you like to come in and see her?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Darkness. That was the first thing you noticed. Heavy, suffocating darkness clung to you like a thick fog, making it impossible to think, impossible to move. Then came the sound. Distant at first, like you were hearing everything from underwater. A rhythmic beeping. The faint hum of voices. Rubber soles moving across the floor. You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, and a noise escaped your lips. The footsteps stopped. “Y/N?” You forced your eyes open. Harsh white light flooded your vision, sending a sharp pain through your skull. You squeezed them shut again with a faint whimper. “That’s okay,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Take your time. You’re safe.” Something shifted beside you, followed by the quiet click of a switch. The light behind your eyelids softened. You tried again. This time, you managed to keep your eyes open, although everything remained blurred around the edges. A woman in dark blue scrubs stood beside the bed, one hand resting near the monitor to your left. “Can you hear me?” You gave the smallest nod, blinking at her. “Good. My name is Mina. I’m one of the nurses looking after you.” She leaned slightly closer. “Can you tell me your name?” Your lips felt dry and strangely numb when you answered. “Y/N L/N.” “And do you know where you are?” Your gaze drifted around the space. You noticed a pale curtain surrounding the bed you were lying on, thin wires disappearing beneath the blanket covering you, tape against the inside of your arm, holding an IV line in place. “Hospital,” you whispered. “That’s right.” The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for the blood-pressure cuff around your arm. “Do you know what day it is?” You stared at her, swallowing dryly when you realised you didn’t. You didn’t know what day it was. The question should have been easy, but your thoughts scattered the moment you reached for an answer. You remembered getting dressed. Sunghoon standing in the bathroom with white paint smeared across his face. The heat inside the party. Flashing lights. After that, there was only a blank stretch of nothing. Your answer came out as a whisper, as your throat tightened. “I don’t know.” “That’s okay.” Her voice remained gentle. “Do you remember what happened tonight?” You swallowed, your throat aching with the movement. “I went to a party.” “Anything after that?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to push through the fog. You remembered music, someone talking to you, the room tilting beneath your feet. Then nothing. “No.” The nurse checked the monitor, then shone a small light briefly across each of your pupils. “Are you in pain?” “My head.” Your voice barely carried over the insistent beeping. “It hurts.” “On a scale from zero to ten?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gauge how painful the throbbing was, ignoring the feeling of panic flaring up in your chest. “Seven. Maybe. I get these migraines sometimes.” “And do you feel nauseous?” “A little.” She nodded and made a note on the chart beside the bed. “You were brought in after losing consciousness at a party. Your friends called an ambulance. Your vital signs are stable now, but you were very difficult to wake when you arrived, so we’ve been monitoring you closely.”

Your fingers tightened weakly around the blanket. “Why?” “We’re still waiting for some of the laboratory results,” she explained, smiling gently at you. “The doctors are concerned that you may have been given something without your knowledge. One of them will speak with you now that you’re awake.” Your stomach tightened. Before you could ask anything else, the curtain shifted, and a doctor stepped inside. He introduced himself, then repeated several of the nurse’s questions. Your name. Where you were. What you remembered. Whether you had consumed alcohol or taken any medication. “I took ibuprofen,” you murmured. “For a migraine.” “Anything else?” You shook your head carefully. “Did you drink alcohol tonight?” You blinked, trying your best to remember anything from the day before. “I…I don’t remember.” The doctor nodded, his expression serious but not alarmed. “Your initial blood work is reassuring. Your blood sugar and electrolyte levels are stable, and there are no immediate signs of a serious injury. We’re still waiting for the toxicology results, so I can’t tell you exactly what caused the loss of consciousness yet.” You stared at him, trying to follow every word despite the fog pressing against your thoughts. “Was I drugged?” “It’s a possibility,” he said carefully. “Your symptoms and the account provided by your friends are concerning for that, but we need the laboratory results before we can be more certain.” Your stomach twisted violently. You’ve gotten drugged. You went to that stupid party, and someone had mixed something into your water. You blinked at the doctor, your brain feeling weirdly blank all of a sudden. You’ve gotten drugged. “Your brother is waiting outside,” the nurse added softly. “Would you like us to bring him in?” Donghyuck. The thought of him sitting somewhere beyond the curtain made something inside you loosen and tighten at the same time. You nodded. The nurse disappeared through the curtain. A few moments later, hurried footsteps approached, slowing only when Donghyuck stepped into view. He was wearing part of a vampire costume. His dark shirt was wrinkled, and the fake blood around his mouth had smeared across one cheek. His eyes were swollen and red. The sight of him made your chest ache. “Hey,” he breathed. He crossed the space between you in two steps and reached for your hand, holding it carefully between both of his. “Hey, Bug.” You stared at him. “What happened?” His expression crumpled for half a second before he forced it back under control. “You collapsed at the party.” His thumbs moved nervously over your knuckles. “Jaemin came with you in the ambulance. They think someone put something in your drink.” Your stomach twisted. “My water?” “We don’t know yet.” The room felt strangely distant again. The monitor continued beeping beside you, steady and indifferent. Someone had put something in your water. You pulled in a shallow breath. “Where’s Jaemin?” “He’s outside.” Donghyuck glanced toward the curtain. “Sunghoon too. They’ve both been here the whole time.” “Can they come in?” Donghyuck studied your face for a moment. “Are you sure?” You nodded. He squeezed your hand before stepping out to speak with the nurse. A few minutes passed before the curtain opened again. Jaemin entered first.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and the moment he saw you awake, his hand flew to his mouth. He crossed the room quickly but stopped beside the bed as though he was afraid to touch you without permission. “Oh, my God.” You gave him a weak smile. “Hi.” His face twisted, and tears filled his eyes almost immediately. Behind him, Sunghoon stepped through the opening in the curtain. Most of his costume was gone, but traces of dark makeup remained around his eyes. His hair was dishevelled, and his face looked drained of everything except exhaustion. He stayed near the end of the bed rather than approaching. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. You looked at him, searching through the missing pieces of the night. “You caught me.” It came out more like a question than a statement. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” his voice was rough. “You scared the hell out of us.” The words were quiet, almost restrained, but something in his expression made your chest tighten. The nurse returned before anyone could say more. “I need to check her blood pressure again,” she said gently. “You can stay for a few minutes, but she needs rest, and the doctor will want to reassess her once the remaining results are available.” Donghyuck immediately shifted aside. Jaemin wiped quickly at his face. Sunghoon remained where he was, one hand resting against the metal rail at the end of the bed. The cuff tightened around your arm. You stared at the ceiling while the machine hummed, trying to understand how the night had gone from flashing lights and music to a hospital bed surrounded by three frightened faces. No matter how hard you tried, the space between those two moments remained completely empty. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The rest of the day passed in a blur. The hospital staff checked in on you frequently, making sure you were eating and drinking, and that the drug was fully leaving your system. Your body still felt sluggish, like moving through water, and your head pounded in a dull, persistent ache. By the time the evening rolled around, you were discharged with strict instructions to rest, stay hydrated, and come back if anything felt off. Donghyuck refused to let you go home alone, ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t be, that Sunghoon would be there with you and insisted on coming to your apartment. So Donghyuck, Sunghoon, and you settled into the couch in your living room, the TV casting a soft glow across the dimly lit living room. There was nothing particular you wanted to do or watch, everything feeling a bit over- and understimulating at the same time, but you knew your brother was worried. So you just let him pull you onto the sofa, opening Netflix and starting the first show that was on your recently watched list. You were looking at the TV, seeing the pictures, hearing the sounds, the music, the monologues, but you could barely focus on following the story. Your whole body still felt off, heavy, sluggish. Every movement required double the effort. It felt like there was a fog over everything, making it impossible to think too hard or even process what had happened. So you just sat there, curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in one of the throw blankets.

They had given you medication against the nausea, so you could eat at least a bit. Your stomach felt upset nonetheless, no matter how much you drank or shifted your position, so at one point you had just given up, slumping into the sofa, willing yourself to stay awake for at least the first episode of whatever you were watching. Donghyuck was chattering away, commenting on everything that was happening, even roping in Sunghoon into muttering a few comments here and there. At one point, your brother turned to you, seemingly wanting to see if you agreed with what he had just said. “Right, Y/N?” You blinked slowly, shifting your eyes to focus on his face instead of the TV. “Huh?” Donghyuck’s teasing expression faltered slightly, and his eyes softened. “Never mind,” he said gently. “Are you tired?” You nodded, barely holding back a yawn. Donghyuck reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.” You were about to agree, but when you tried to move, your entire body protested. Even sitting up felt like too much effort. “Mhm, I’ll go after this episode.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement and turned back to the TV. Somewhere in the middle of the episode, your body gave in to exhaustion. You woke up in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to realise you were curled into Donghyuck’s side, your head resting against his chest. His arm was draped over you protectively, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room. You adjusted slightly and closed your eyes again. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The apartment was quiet. Sunghoon stood in the kitchen, rolling his shoulders back as he stared at the half-chopped apple sitting on the cutting board in front of him. His eyes kept flicking toward the living room, where you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Again. Donghyuck had left a few hours ago, only after making you swear you would be okay. He assured you and Sunghoon that he would be back in seconds if he was needed. Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon knew that you wouldn’t be on top of your game less than a day after being drugged, but his heart clenched every time he walked past your sleeping figure on the sofa. You had dragged yourself from your room into the living room, claiming your room was too cold to be in, wrapping yourself in multiple layers of blankets before passing out not long after. Donghyuck had insisted you ate lunch while he was there, wanting to see you eat at least a bit, seeming satisfied after you ate a whole bowl of rice and some soup before you took painkillers and suppressants against the nausea. Sunghoon had called his mom after he had woken up today, having the desire to speak to someone who was truly adult about the whole situation. She had offered to come to Seoul, taking care of the two of you for a few days, or at least until you were feeling a bit better, when she learned that your mother couldn’t. He had declined her offer, but gratefully accepted her recipes for an upset stomach. Starting with serving you some vegetables that were easily digestible. So he neatly arranged a banana, a few pieces of cucumber, carrots and some graham crackers before setting the plate down on the coffee table. Maybe you felt like eating a bit when you woke up, and the meds had kicked in. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You jerked awake, shooting upright so quickly that the sudden movement sent a sharp pulse through your head. For a few seconds, you didn’t know where you were. The apartment was silent around you, the curtains pulled almost completely shut. Thin lines of sunlight filtered in around the edges of the fabric, cutting pale strips across the living room floor. The television had been turned off at some point, and the only sound came from the low hum of the air conditioner and your own uneven breathing. You were sweating. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your back, and damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead and the side of your neck. At the same time, your skin felt cold beneath the blankets wrapped around you, a strange chill sitting deep inside your body despite the heat trapped underneath the fabric. You slowly started peeling the blankets away. Even that felt like too much effort. Your arms were heavy, your fingers clumsy as they caught in the folds, and it took you much longer than it should have to free your legs. By the time the last blanket slipped onto the floor, your heart was beating too quickly for someone who had done nothing but sit up. For a long moment, you stayed there. Your feet rested against the cool floor while you leaned forward, elbows braced against your knees. You took one breath, then another, trying to orient yourself. Your body felt wrong. Heavy and hollow at the same time. Your head still hurt, though the sharp migraine from the day before had softened into a dull, persistent pressure behind your eyes. Your muscles ached like you had been running for hours, and every part of you seemed to lag a second behind your thoughts. Then your stomach growled. The sound was loud in the quiet apartment, followed by an uncomfortable twist that made you place a hand against your middle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten properly. You swallowed, but there was barely any moisture in your mouth. The movement scraped against the back of your throat and made you wince. Water. You needed water. Maybe something small to eat as well. Rice. Toast. Something plain enough that your stomach wouldn’t protest. You placed both hands against the sofa and pushed yourself upright. The world tilted immediately. You tightened your grip on the backrest, your fingers digging into the fabric as the living room shifted sideways. Black spots flickered briefly at the edges of your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing slowly until the floor seemed to settle beneath you again. When you opened them, the room was still. Mostly. You waited another few seconds before carefully letting go of the sofa. Your legs felt unsteady, but they held. The distance between the living room and the kitchen had never seemed particularly far before, but now every step required concentration. You moved slowly, one hand occasionally brushing against the wall or the edge of the furniture, as though your own apartment had become unfamiliar overnight. A small Post-it note was stuck to the refrigerator door. You stopped in front of it. Sunghoon’s handwriting covered most of the yellow paper, neat but slightly tilted to one side. I cut up some fruit and vegetables for you. It’s in the blue box you always use. My mom said you should get well soon. A tiny smiley face had been drawn beneath the message.

You stared at it for longer than necessary. Somehow you were weirdly touched and embarrassed at the same time that Sunghoon had told his mom, probably asked her what to do and then had taken the time to cut up fruit for you. With a quiet huff, you pulled the refrigerator door open. The light struck your eyes immediately. Pain shot through your skull, sharp enough to make you recoil. You let the door fall closed again and raised one hand to cover your face, blinking rapidly against the burning behind your eyes. For a moment, you stood there with your palm pressed against the counter. The dizziness returned, softer this time but still enough to make your stomach shift unpleasantly. Maybe food could wait. Maybe you should drink something first. The pounding in your head might be dehydration. The dry mouth definitely was. If you drank some water and sat down again, you might feel normal enough to eat the fruit afterwards. A half-full bottle of water stood on the counter. You reached for it, rubbing the heel of your free hand against one eye before twisting the cap open. Your fingers felt weaker than usual, and the thin plastic crumpled slightly beneath your grip. You brought the bottle to your mouth and took three large swallows. The water was lukewarm, but you didn’t care. It felt good against your throat, washing away some of the dryness. For approximately two seconds. Then it didn’t sit right. Your stomach tightened so suddenly that you froze with the bottle still near your lips. A hard, unpleasant twist pulled through your middle. Not quite pain. Something worse. Something shifting and unstable, as if the water had disturbed whatever fragile balance your stomach had managed to find while you were asleep. You stopped breathing. For a second, you simply stood there, staring at the cabinet in front of you. Maybe it would pass. You had drunk too quickly. That was all. Your stomach had been empty, and you had swallowed too much water at once. It would settle if you stayed still. You lowered the bottle carefully. Your mouth filled with saliva. Your stomach rolled again, sharper this time. No. Your hand flew to your middle while the other placed the bottle onto the counter so quickly that it tipped onto its side. Water sloshed against the plastic, but you barely noticed. No, that was not good. You turned instinctively toward the sink, bending forward slightly as another wave passed through you. Please, no. The thought came before anything else. You pressed your palm harder against your stomach, as though enough pressure might hold everything in place. Your breathing became shallow and careful. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly. Calmly. It was nausea. Just nausea. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. You had drunk too quickly. There were a dozen reasonable explanations for why you felt sick. This was different. It had to be different. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your throat tightened every time you swallowed. The nausea rose and fell in unpredictable waves, and panic followed it immediately, hot and violent beneath your ribs. You could not throw up. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t allow yourself to.

The thought sounded irrational even inside your own head. People threw up when they were sick. It happened. It meant nothing. Your body was trying to protect itself after everything it had been through. But your body did not seem to understand that this was supposed to be different. It remembered. The pressure beneath your ribs. The saliva gathering beneath your tongue. The instinctive way your body folded forward before you even decided to move. You knew every step that would come next. That knowledge terrified you more than the nausea itself. You inhaled through your nose. One. Exhaled slowly. Two. Again. In. Out. It would pass. It had to pass. You stayed perfectly still, one hand braced against the counter and the other pressed over your stomach. Gradually, the pressure eased. Only slightly, but enough that you could take a fuller breath. You opened your eyes. The kitchen came back into focus around you. The closed refrigerator. The tipped bottle. Sunghoon’s note fluttering faintly beneath the air from the vent. You were okay. You were getting through it. Maybe if you stood there for another minute, the nausea would disappear completely. Then you could go back to the sofa. You could lie down, pull the blankets over yourself and pretend none of this had happened. You lifted your head. The movement itself was small but still enough to set the next wave of nausea into motion. Your stomach clenched so violently that your knees almost gave out beneath you. You covered your mouth, a broken sound catching in your throat as you stumbled away from the counter. No. No, no, no. You barely made it into the bathroom. Your shoulder collided with the doorframe on the way inside, but you barely registered the dull pain. One hand caught the edge of the sink while the other remained clamped over your mouth. The cold porcelain pulled you back into reality for half a second. Then your stomach twisted again. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet. The position was too familiar. That was the first clear thought that cut through the panic. Your knees against the cold floor. One hand gripping the toilet seat. Your head bowed as your body prepared itself, completely ignoring every desperate command you gave it. You stared down into the empty bowl. Your breathing came too quickly now, shallow and uneven, and every inhale seemed to catch halfway into your lungs. You were sick. That was all. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. Your stomach was irritated. This was not something you had chosen. This had nothing to do with before. But the tiles beneath your knees felt the same. The pressure behind your ribs felt the same. The helpless, ugly awareness of what your body was about to do felt exactly the same. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the toilet. “No,” you whispered. The word disappeared into the quiet bathroom. Your mouth filled with saliva again. You swallowed forcefully, fighting against the reflex, but that only made the nausea rise higher. “No. Please.” You pressed one hand against your stomach, trying to force your breathing back into something manageable. A small, broken sound escaped your lips, and you bent forward further. The worst part was that you knew what came afterwards. The relief.

That brief emptiness. The sudden quiet after your body had stopped fighting itself. You hated that your mind remembered it. You hated that some distant, buried part of you anticipated it. The bathroom door opened behind you. “Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was sharp, immediately awake despite the sleep still roughening its edges. You froze. Shame hit you so quickly that it almost drowned out the nausea. He couldn’t see you like this. You turned your head slightly, but not enough to look at him. “Go.” The word came out hoarse and weak. There was a brief silence. “What happened?” His footsteps moved closer. “No.” You shook your head, though the motion immediately made the room tilt again. “Go away.” He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. You heard him cross the bathroom in two quick steps before he crouched beside you. His presence seemed to take up the entire small space, warm and solid against the cold air. “Hey, hey.” His hand hovered uncertainly near your back. “Are you going to be sick?” You flinched away from him. Your hand left the toilet long enough to press weakly against his chest. You tried to push him back, but there was barely any strength behind the movement. “Go,” you rasped again. “Go away, Sunghoon. I’m fine.” The lie sounded pathetic even to you. His brows drew together. “You’re not fine.” “I am.” You pushed at him once more, but he barely moved. Everything about the situation became unbearable at once. His closeness. His worry. The fact that he was looking at you, taking in the sweat on your face and the tears already gathering in your eyes. You were good. You weren’t doing this anymore. You hadn’t done this in years. Sunghoon had to leave. But before either of you could say anything else, another contraction pulled through your stomach. You doubled over, both hands returning to the toilet seat as your throat tightened around a sob. The nausea rose hard and fast, forcing your body forward. Sunghoon’s hand landed carefully between your shoulder blades. You tried to shrug him off. “Don’t.” “I’m just trying to help.” “I don’t need help.” Your voice cracked at the end. You hated this. You hated how familiar the cold floor felt beneath your knees. You hated that your body knew exactly what position to take, how to brace itself, how to wait for the inevitable. Worse, you hated the small, traitorous thought moving beneath the panic. If you threw up, you would feel better. You knew that. Throwing up always helped. The nausea would disappear. The pressure would ease. The terrible fullness in your chest and stomach would finally be gone. The thought was almost reassuring. That realisation made terror flood through you all over again. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. You did not know whether you were asking him to stay or begging him to leave. “I know,” he said quickly. His voice was tense. “I know. Just breathe, okay? Don’t fight it too hard.” A miserable sound escaped you, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He went still. “No, I mean…” He shook his head rapidly, realising too late that he had said the wrong thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few laborious breaths, trying to get yourself under control, fighting your body even more.

“Do you want water?” he asked, panic creeping more openly into his voice. “Or your medication? Maybe the pills they gave you can still help.” You shook your head. The movement made your stomach lurch again. You folded forward, one hand flying to your mouth as a choked, helpless noise tore out of you. Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “Okay. Okay.” His breathing was too quick now. “Don’t move. I’ll call the hospital.” That sentence broke through the fog immediately. “No!” Sunghoon had already started to stand, but he stopped halfway and looked down at you. “No?” “Don’t call them.” Your voice shook so much, you weren’t sure he understood what you said. “Y/N, you were discharged less than a day ago.” “I’m fine.” “You’re crying on the bathroom floor.” “I said I’m fine,” you snapped, moving away from him. He stared at you for half a second, disbelief and fear moving across his face. Then he crouched beside you again. “You’re not fine,” his voice was quiet. His hand reached toward your face, hesitating before carefully brushing the loose strands of hair away from your damp forehead. “Let me call them. I can explain what’s happening and ask if this is normal. We don’t even have to go back unless they tell us to.” Your chest tightened further. The thought of the hospital made the humiliation burn hotter. Doctors asking questions. Someone writing down your weight again, discussing your body, telling you that this wasn’t healthy. Donghyuck finding out. Everyone watching. Everyone knowing that you could not even be trusted to recover normally. “If I could just…” You swallowed hard, another wave building beneath your ribs. “If I could just get it out, it would stop.” The words left your mouth before you could catch them. Sunghoon’s expression changed, only slightly, a small crease forming between his brows. “What?” Your entire body went cold. You turned your face away from him. “Nothing,” tears spilt down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Sunghoon’s hand stilled against your back. “For what?” You shook your head. For making him sit here. For making him see you like this. For knowing exactly what would make the nausea stop. For the horrible, quiet relief that had already started forming in your mind before your body had even done anything. “You shouldn’t have to…” Your voice broke. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” “Don’t,” the word came out louder than he intended, but you flinched nonetheless. His face changed immediately. “Sorry.” He softened his voice, moving his hand more carefully over your back. “Don’t apologise. Okay? You don’t have to apologise to me.” You stared down at the tile. “You just got out of the hospital,” he continued. “You’re sick. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with being sick.” But there was. He didn’t understand. You weren’t doing this anymore. A sob pushed its way out of your throat. You covered your mouth, but it was too late. You weren’t the girl who knelt on bathroom floors anymore. You weren’t the girl who waited until everyone was asleep. You weren’t the girl who planned how long to run the tap so nobody would hear. You felt weak, embarrassed, dirty, wrong. Sunghoon kept one hand between your shoulder blades while the other hovered uncertainly near your arm. He clearly did not know whether touching you was helping or making everything worse. “Oh, Y/N.”

The pity you thought you heard in his voice made your throat close. You hated it. You hated the idea of him feeling sorry for you. You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that, but the nausea rose again before you could speak. Sunghoon saw the change in your face. “Shit.” You turned toward the toilet. One hand caught the sink while your stomach contracted hard enough to make your entire body jerk forward. Sunghoon’s hand returned to your back immediately. The sound that escaped you was horrified and miserable, followed by the violent tightening of your stomach as what little remained inside it came up. Your eyes burned. Your throat burned. Your fingers slipped against the cold porcelain, and Sunghoon moved closer, supporting your shoulder when you shook too hard to keep yourself steady. “It’s okay,” he muttered, the words sounding more like something he was telling himself than something he expected you to believe. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You hated that he was there. You were grateful that he was there. Both feelings existed so violently beside each other that you could barely separate them. Your body contracted again. Then again. Each time, the pressure eased slightly. And there it was. Relief. Small at first. Then unmistakable. The nausea retreated. The painful fullness beneath your ribs loosened. Your breathing became easier between the sobs catching in your throat. You noticed it immediately. That was the worst part. The nausea had terrified you. The relief terrified you more. Your body remembered this. Some part of you still recognised the emptiness afterwards as something clean and quiet. You hated yourself for feeling it. When it was over, you remained bent above the toilet for several seconds, trembling hard enough that your teeth almost knocked together. Sunghoon’s hand moved slowly across your back. You sat back on your heels. A sob escaped you before you could stop it. Sunghoon reached forward and flushed the toilet quickly. “I’ll get you water,” he said. “Stay here. Don’t stand up.” Before you could answer, he was gone. You heard his footsteps hurry through the hallway, followed by the sound of drawers and cabinets opening in the kitchen. The second he disappeared, you pushed yourself upright. Your knees protested, and the room tilted again, but you grabbed the edge of the washing machine and forced yourself to stand. Your mouth tasted awful. Acid burned at the back of your throat. The bitter taste clung to your tongue, and you could still smell it in the small bathroom. You needed it gone. Immediately. Your hand reached for your toothbrush before you had consciously decided to move. You knew you were supposed to rinse first. Some distant, reasonable part of your mind remembered being told that brushing immediately was bad for your teeth. You did not care. The taste made your skin crawl. It made everything too real. You squeezed toothpaste onto the brush with shaking fingers and started scrubbing. The sharp mint burned against your tongue. You brushed harder; the repetitive movement quieted something inside your head. Back and forth. Across the front. Along the sides. The taste of mint replacing the acid. The foam gathering in the sink. For a second, it almost felt meditative. Automatic. Familiar. That thought made your hand falter.

You spat into the sink and rinsed your mouth. It wasn’t enough. You could still feel it at the back of your throat, could still taste something sour beneath the mint. You cleaned the toothbrush, squeezed more toothpaste onto it and started again. Harder this time. Your gums hurt, but you kept brushing. You needed every trace of it gone. After a minute or maybe more, you rinsed your mouth again, and cleaned the toothbrush more carefully than necessary before placing it back into its holder. When you finally lifted your head, your reflection stared back at you. You looked awful. Your face was pale, almost grey beneath the bathroom light. Your hair had fallen loose around your shoulders, damp strands sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, your mouth trembling faintly even though the vomiting had stopped. Your cheeks looked hollow. You stared at them. At least your face looked smaller. The thought arrived before you could stop it. Disgust rose through you so quickly that you almost gagged again. What was wrong with you? You had just been drugged. You had spent the night in a hospital. You had collapsed in front of a room full of people and woken up with no memory of how you had gotten there. And this was what your brain chose to notice. The shape of your face. The emptiness in your stomach. You gripped the edge of the sink. Your stomach felt hollow now. Not simply hungry. Truly empty. The sensation sat beneath your ribs, strange and familiar, making you aware of every angle of your body. The slight pull of your shirt against your waist. The bones beneath your hands. The absence of anything heavy inside you. It had been years since you had felt like this. Years since empty had meant more than hunger. Years since you had treated that hollow ache like proof that you had done something right. You stared at your reflection for too long. Your hand remained braced against the sink, the other hanging uselessly beside you. The girl in the mirror looked just as shocked as you felt. Sunghoon shifted behind you. You had almost forgotten that he was there, but he was watching you quietly, holding a glass of water and a bucket in his hands. You looked up and met his gaze through the mirror. He wasn’t looking at you with disgust. That almost made it worse. His expression was soft and worried, his brows drawn together as he took in your shaking hands and tear-streaked face. Heat spread across your face despite the cold sitting beneath your skin. He placed the bucket carefully beside the sink, then he held the glass of water toward you. “Rinse with this,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to drink it yet.” You took it because refusing would require looking at him. Your fingers brushed his, and you pulled your hand away too quickly, making some of the water spill over the rim. “Sorry,” the word escaped you almost automatically. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Stop apologising.” You stared into the glass. He stood there for another second before clearing his throat. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” You looked up at him through the mirror. “What?” His expression changed slightly, as though he immediately regretted the way he had phrased it.

“Not like…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for the first time. “I just mean so I can hear you if you need anything. If you get sick again.” Your stomach dropped for a completely different reason. Humiliation crashed through you so quickly that your eyes stung all over again. To him, it was probably practical. He was worried because you had been in the hospital. He wanted to make sure you did not faint or choke or need help while he was asleep. But all you heard was that you could not be trusted alone. That you looked bad enough to need watching. That he had seen something in you that made him believe you were not safe in your own room. You swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” The words came out thin and unconvincing. Sunghoon looked at you. You could tell he did not believe you. He did not challenge you immediately, though. “Okay,” he said carefully. “But if you’re not, you can say so.” You nodded because you did not trust yourself to speak, before you drowned the glass and placed it back on the counter with shaky hands. Sunghoon watched you for a moment, then he stepped a little closer, still far away that he couldn’t touch you. “You don’t have to go back to your room,” he said quietly. “That’s all I meant.” You folded the towel over the metal rail, smoothing it twice even though it was already straight. “I know,” your voice was quiet, almost fragile as you answered. Sunghoon glanced down at the bucket beside the sink before looking back at you. “I can put this next to the bed,” he said. “Just in case.” You nodded again. He reached for it, then hesitated. “Do you want me to call Donghyuck?” “No.” Your answer came so quickly, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No,” you repeated, softer this time. “Please don’t tell him.” Something shifted in his expression, but he did not ask why. “Okay.” He picked up the bucket and stepped into the hallway. You stayed in front of the mirror for another second before you turned off the bathroom light and followed him outside. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ Sunghoon’s room was darker than yours. The curtains were pulled almost completely shut, only a thin strip of light slipping through where the fabric did not quite meet in the middle. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, tape, charger cables and one of his training jackets thrown carelessly over the back of the chair. A faint trace of his cologne still clung to the room, mixed with laundry detergent and the colder air from the AC. You stood near the doorway for a second, suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, being in here. You had helped him move into the room months ago. You had brought him coffee while he studied at his desk, stood in the doorway while talking to him, and occasionally walked in to steal one of his chargers after knocking. But you had never been inside his bed. Sunghoon placed the bucket on the floor beside the nightstand and moved one of the pillows closer to the wall. “You can take that side,” he said, gesturing toward it. “It’s closer to the bathroom.” You nodded. The practical explanation only made your embarrassment return. He must have noticed something in your expression because he quickly added, “Not because I think you’re going to be sick again. Just in case you get dizzy when you stand up.” “I know.” Your voice sounded small in the quiet room.

You climbed onto the mattress carefully, trying not to move too quickly. Your body still felt weak and uncertain beneath you, as if even sitting down required more coordination than it should have. Sunghoon pulled the blanket back for you before stepping away. You lowered yourself onto the far side of the bed, turning onto your side with your back toward the wall. The mattress dipped beneath your weight and smelled faintly like him. Clean fabric, shampoo and something warmer you could not identify. You pulled the blanket up to your chest. Sunghoon remained standing beside the bed for a moment, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “You can sleep,” you murmured. “You don’t have to watch me.” “I wasn’t going to watch you.” You turned your head enough to look at him. He was already frowning slightly, as if he had only just realised how strange that sounded. “I mean,” he added quickly, “I’m not going to sit there and stare at you.” Despite everything, a small breath of laughter left you. It barely made a sound, but Sunghoon’s shoulders loosened when he heard it. “Good,” you whispered. He nodded, then walked around the bed and lay down on the other side. The mattress shifted beneath him. Sunghoon stayed as close to the edge as possible, leaving a wide strip of untouched bedding between the two of you. There was enough room for another person to lie comfortably in the space separating your bodies. He turned onto his back and pulled the blanket up only as far as his waist. You remained on your side, facing the room. The room fell silent. You could hear the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock on his nightstand. Somewhere outside, a car drove past, its headlights briefly slipping through the gap in the curtains before disappearing again. You closed your eyes. Your body was exhausted. Every muscle felt heavy, your head still ached, and the cold emptiness in your stomach had been replaced by a dull soreness. You should have fallen asleep immediately. Instead, your mind refused to become quiet. You could still feel the edge of the toilet beneath your fingers. The bitter taste beneath the toothpaste. Sunghoon’s hand against your back. The way he had looked at you through the mirror. You pulled the blanket a little higher, pressing your lips together as if that could stop the memories from moving through your head. Minutes passed. You were not sure how many. Sunghoon shifted slightly on the other side of the bed. The movement was careful, almost hesitant, as though he was trying not to disturb you. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes opened. For a second, you thought you might have imagined it. You slowly turned your head toward him. Sunghoon was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms rested stiffly at his sides, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “For what?” His jaw moved slightly before he answered. “For convincing you to go.” Your brows drew together. “What?” “To the party.” His voice was quiet. “You didn’t want to go.” You turned onto your back so you could look at him properly. His profile was barely visible in the darkness. The line of his nose, the slight tension in his jaw, his eyes fixed stubbornly above him instead of looking in your direction.

“You had a migraine,” he continued. “You looked exhausted before we even left, and I still told you it would be fine.” “Sunghoon–” “I should’ve told you to stay home.” “No.” The word came out more firmly than anything you had said since leaving the hospital. Sunghoon finally looked at you. You pushed yourself slightly higher against the pillow. “No,” you repeated. “You didn’t do anything.” “I convinced you to come.” “And I’m glad you did.” He stared at you. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry your throat still felt. “I mean it,” you said. “It was fun.” His expression did not change. “At the beginning,” you added quickly. “When I was with you and your friends. And Jaemin. I was having fun.” Sunghoon’s brows pulled together. “You don’t have to make me feel better.” “I’m not,” you turned more toward him, ignoring the way the room shifted faintly with the movement. “I never go anywhere,” you said. “You know that. I work or study or stay at home. And I wanted to go. I was nervous, but I wanted to.” He looked unconvinced. “You said yourself that you didn’t like parties.” “I don’t usually.” “That’s not the point.” “It is,” you took a breath, trying to arrange your thoughts into something that made sense. “I had fun when Jake hugged me even though it almost killed me,” you murmured. “And when Jay started arguing with Jaemin about music. And when you made your team lose at beer pong the whole time because you kept throwing the ball everywhere else instead of the table.” Sunghoon’s mouth shifted faintly. “I wasn’t losing.” “You were terrible.” “I had one bad round.” “You missed the table with like every shot.” “It was crowded.” A tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. For a moment, the tension in the room eased. Then Sunghoon looked away again, and it disappeared. “You still wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked you.” You stared at him. “No,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t make it your fault.” He remained silent. The guilt in his expression made something uncomfortable twist in your chest. “It was mine.” Sunghoon turned his head sharply. “What?” You looked down at the blanket gathered beneath your hands. “It was my fault.” Sunghoon pushed himself onto one elbow. “No.” “I should have paid attention.” “No.” “I didn’t even think about having to watch my cup.” “Y/N.” “It was just water, right? Why would someone spike water?” Your voice began moving faster, the thoughts spilling out now that you had started. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to watch your drinks at parties. I was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention, and then everyone had to deal with it. You and Jaemin had to deal wth me being unconscious. You had to call the ambulance. Donghyuck left whatever party he was at and came in his costume. You missed training today and had to sit there all night because I–” “Stop.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through yours. You froze. He was fully turned toward you now, the empty space between you suddenly feeling smaller despite neither of you having moved closer. “That is not what happened.” You looked away. “It is.” “No,” his answer was immediate. “You had fun at a party and trusted the people around you to not have any bad intentions. That’s what you did.” “I should’ve been more careful,” you pressed your lips together.

Sunghoon’s voice stayed controlled, but there was something sharp beneath it now. Not anger directed at you, but anger that seemed to fill the space around him. “He put something in your drink,” he said. “He did that. You didn’t.” “I still drank it.” “Because you thought it was water.” “I should’ve noticed.” “How?” You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “How were you supposed to notice?” he asked again. “Was it supposed to smell different? Look different? Were you supposed to know what he was thinking?” You stared down at your hands. Sunghoon sat up slightly, his back resting against the headboard. “You trusted someone not to poison you,” he continued. “That isn’t a mistake.” Your throat tightened. “It feels like one.” “I know,” his voice was firm. “But it wasn’t, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault.” You blinked rapidly, refusing to look at him. “If I had been more careful–” “Then he might have done it to someone else.” You looked at him. Sunghoon’s face was difficult to read in the darkness, but his eyes were fixed on you. “That doesn’t make it better,” he said. “And it doesn’t make you responsible. It means he made a choice to hurt someone.” Your chest felt too tight“You don’t know that he wanted to hurt me.” “He drugged you,” his voice hardened again. “He watched you get confused. He watched you lose control of your body, and he still kept touching you.” Fragments flashed through your mind. A hand at your waist. A voice too close to your ear. The wall beneath your palm. Then Sunghoon’s voice cutting through the music. You squeezed your eyes shut. “That was his choice,” Sunghoon said. “Every part of it.” The mattress shifted. For a second, you thought he might move closer, but he did not. He remained on his side of the bed, leaving the space between you untouched. “Not yours,” he continued. “You didn’t choose to be drugged. None of this is your fault. It's not mine or Jaemin’s. It’s Intak’s fault.” You turned your face toward the wall again. The darkness blurred slightly as tears gathered in your eyes. Sunghoon was quiet for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “And you’re allowed to feel awful. You don’t have to be okay.” Your fingers tightened against the fabric. “You were drugged,” he said. “You woke up in a hospital without knowing what happened to you. You feel sick, and tired, and scared. You’re allowed to feel all of that.” A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and disappeared into the pillow. “You’re allowed to be angry,” he continued. “Or upset. Or disgusted. You’re allowed to hate everything right now.” His voice cracked slightly on the next sentence. “You don’t have to make it easier for us if it’s hard for you, Y/N.” That hurt more than you expected. You swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out of your mouth, because what were you supposed to say? You were you fine? The silence stretched between you, but he did not fill it immediately. He did not ask whether you understood. He did not make you promise that you believed him. He simply remained there, close enough that you could hear his breathing but far enough that you did not feel cornered. You stared at the wall. Your body still felt wrong. Your stomach was hurting, your throat was burning, shame was still sitting heavily beneath your skin. Nothing he had said made those feelings disappear.

But for the first time since waking in the hospital, you did not feel as though you had to argue with them. You did not have to insist that you were fine. You did not have to explain. You could simply lie there and feel horrible. A quiet sob caught in your chest. You pressed your face further into the pillow, trying to hide it. Sunghoon did not move closer. He did not reach across the space between you without asking. He did not try to fix it. He did not ask you to stop crying. He was simply there. And eventually, with your body still trembling faintly and his breathing steady behind you, exhaustion pulled you under.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

AN ──── FINALLY! ITS HERE! Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you all had a great time reading...at least the fluffy parts. The next parts could be tiggering even more to those suffering or healing from an ed, so i am advising you to not continue reading. Its gonna be very angsty. Also if anyone is wondering why this took so long, ill let you know tht just formatting this to tumrbl text format took me 3 hours and reading over the text before that took 2 1/2 hours 😀. So i'd be really gratefull to hear your thought, I need that lil dopaimne, please don't be a quiet reader 😔🫶🏻

𝜗𝜚 @enhastolemyheart @dreamiestay @elairah @vviolynn @engenemilia  @firstclassjaylee @mangoescrazy @ddolleri @goldenmellow @en-boyz @bananasrme @classicroyalty @stars4kooo @evilangel404 @angelhyuka @heeseungiess @minjsui @enhaverse713586 @vtyb23 @andieekosmos @dearestdreamies @kyunlov @rizz00 @aquitkuro @vixialuvs @typewonnie @sunnimia @teenagecheesecakereview @wintereals @enhapagluuuuu @kristynaaah @libby0705 @enhypenina @drewstarkeyloverilikemysuitcase @nishimurarizzler @sectusempraa @sweetshinypuppy @vissnipherwifeey @vtyb23 @melancholatte @ikeufied @wobblymug @heexyzy @deluluscenarios @hadesnumber1daughter @sievenderz @sugarcwtie @babyt0matoes @bluepains @wonsitosworld

[gigisnextdoor]

Hello, can i be added to your perm taglist, please? Thank you in advance🥺❤️

Hi, of course I'll add you darling🥰💗💗

[gigisnextdoor]

Hello, can i be added to your perm taglist, please? Thank you in advance🥺❤️

Hi, of course I'll add you darling🥰💗💗

[jakey1115]

Thank youuu🫶🫶🫶

[n1shinik]

When the Leaves Stopped Falling—Y.JW

synopsis: You’re expected to smile, make new memories, and leave the past behind—but every classroom, every birthday, every milestone only reminds you of the one person who should have been there beside you. You still write letters he’ll never read. You still visit his grave. You still wonder who he would’ve become.

pairing: dead!boyfriend!jungwon x grieving!reader

warnings: references to a school shooting event (past tense). death of a romantic partner, ptsd, depictions of flashbacks, triggers, and the long-term psychological effects of trauma, chronic grief & survivors guilt: the struggle of being "frozen in time" and the guilt of surviving, depression & emotional isolation: long-term struggle with hopelessness and disconnection from others, melancholy & despair: a heavy, oppressive atmosphere of sadness

They say grief fades with time.

They’re wrong.

They also tell you that grief is a circle, or a wave, or a mountain you eventually climb. They tell you that time heals, that the edges of the wound eventually soften into a scar that you can touch without flinching.

But for you, time didn’t move in a circle. It stopped.

It stopped on a Tuesday in late October. A normal college day that was supposed to be like every other. But in one precise second the air was ripped apart by the sound of gunfire. It stopped in the hallway of the West Wing, where the air smelled of floor wax and old lockers, and where the light had been golden and dusty. It stopped the moment you felt his hand slip out of yours, and the warmth of his blood soaked through your sleeve, turning your world into a blur of screams and static.

Now, ten years later, you are a ghost inhabiting a living body.

You walk through your life like a stranger. You have a job, a small apartment, and a collection of friends who occasionally call to check on you—people who look at you with a mixture of pity and confusion. They are married now. They have mortgages and children. They have moved through the seasons of their lives, shedding their youth like the autumn leaves.

But you are still in that hallway. You are still eighteen, staring at the pale, peaceful face of a boy who was supposed to grow old with you.

In your bedroom, there is a box. It is the only thing in your life that remains untouched. Inside is a grey hoodie that still smells, faintly and impossibly, of Jungwon’s cologne and the lingering scent of peppermint candies he always kept in his pockets. There is a handwritten note from a chemistry class you both hated, where he had doodled a small heart in the margin and written "i’m only here because i get to sit next to you."

You touch the paper with trembling fingers, and for a moment, the walls of your apartment vanish. You can hear the echo of his laugh—that soft, melodic sound that used to settle your nerves. You can see the way his eyes would crinkle into tiny crescents when he smiled, and the way he used to lean his head against yours when you were tired, a silent promise that he was never going anywhere.

A lie.

Because he went somewhere.

Somewhere out of reach.

"I’m still here, Wonnie," you whisper into the empty room. "I’m still waiting for you."

He can’t hear you.

You are waiting for someone who will never return.

And that hurts.

The guilt is a cold, heavy stone in your stomach that never quite dissolves. Why did you get to keep breathing? Why did your heart keep beating when his stopped? You remember the way he looked at you in those final seconds—the sudden, crushing realization in his eyes—and you spend every night wondering if you could have reached further, if you could have pulled him back from the edge of the void.

You had tried to date once, three years ago. A kind man you tried to pull you into the light. But when he had kissed you, all you could taste was the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. When he held you too tight, you didn’t feel safe; you felt trapped, the walls of the room closing in like the lockers of that hallway. You had broken down in his arms, sobbing for a boy who had been dead for half a decade, and you realized then that you couldn’t love anyone else.

To love someone else would be betrayal. To move on would be to admit that Jungwon was truly gone, and as long as you stayed in this state of perpetual mourning, you could pretend he was just… away. That he was waiting for you in a place where the leaves never stopped falling, where the air was always golden, and where no one ever had to say goodbye.

You walk to the window and look out at the trees. The leaves are turning red and gold, drifting slowly toward the earth. Everyone else sees the change of season. They see the coming of winter.

But you just see the day the world ended.

You pull the grey hoodie tight around your shoulders, closing your eyes and leaning into the silence. You are twenty-eight years old, but in your heart, you are still eighteen, standing in a hallway, holding a hand that is slowly growing cold.

And you realize, with a devastating clarity, that you don’t want to be healed. Because if the ever closes, you’ll lose the only thing you have left of him: the pain.

a/n : sorry… very very sorry.

[sundayniche]

nothing screams girlhood more than reading fanfics late at night in bed

[jakey1115]

Someone please write fluff fanfic, i can't find fluff everything is smut. I'm not gwenchana.

[echoesofjakehoon]

A CROWN OF SILENCE — LEE HEESEUNG

Synopsis: Forced into an arranged marriage with the cold and distant Crown Prince, you struggle to survive palace life while trapped in a loveless union built on duty instead of choice. But beneath Heeseung’s icy exterior lies something far more complicated than you expected—and getting too close to him may destroy you.

series warnings: Arranged marriage, emotional angst, emotional neglect, loneliness/isolation, toxic family dynamics, cold/avoidant love interest, unhealthy communication, royal court politics, power imbalance, abandonment issues, jealousy, emotional repression, anxiety, verbal arguments, themes of duty over love, grief, manipulation, social pressure, and slow-burn romance. eventually smut and fluff.

AN: woah… its been so long hello all… ive been writing this one for quite some time it might be a long one so stay tuned! this is also my first time writing such a long fic so i really hope you guys enjoy it and feel free to dm/cmt with any tips or suggestions for this series! tysm for reading!

enhypen masterlist

Teaser

The Arrangement

Cold Palace Walls

Cracks in the Ice

Rumors & Jealousy

The Argument

Almost

Betrayal

The Distance Between Them

Confessions

The Crown & The Choice

[klinkiye]

why is it so damn hard to find fluff, cutesy fics nowadays.... everything's smut and explicit im gonna fucking combust

[onementally-unstabel-kid]

How it feels when your looking for fluff or angst but all you can find is smut

[seasonsofateez]

For those who write fluff, your work is valid. This is not to put down smut, but I genuinely get so tired when smut is all I see on my dash and crave more fluff interactions between characters. I know smut is far more popular but please don’t let the lack of interaction, or lesser interactions with fluff discourage you from writing whatever you want.

Smut is fun, but so is fluff. There are readers who will appreciate the small moments you craft up. Please continue to create for your own joy 🥹

[sunishake]

BAD REPUTATION PART 2 ‪‪ ❤︎‬ sjy

After your best friend is left heartbroken by the infamous campus legend Jake Sim, you make it your mission to teach him a lesson — the one he won’t forget until he’s practically begging for forgiveness. What starts as a simple plan quickly spirals into chaos, pulling you into a web of complications you never saw coming. Lines begin to blur, intentions get messy, and you realize things aren’t as black and white as they seemed. After all, a bad reputation is a heavy burden to carry on both ends, isn’t it? — CONTINUING FROM THE LAST PART ✦

content tags: tooth rooting miscommunication, jake pmo, enemies to enemies to lover, y/n cries a lot, angst, mid ass slow burn, college au, emotional turmoil, long ass fic, crack, blonde jake, lots of kisses, campus romance (?), fake relationship. NOT PROOFREAD !!

Divider credit: @uzmacchiato

# 6 amor fati

"oh my...is that a freshman?"

"So cute… can’t wait to eat him up."

"hey! stop! can’t you see the poor boy is scared? awwww, is he going to cry?"

Jake hesitantly fixed his hair again, trying not to give attention to the senior girls laughing across from him, or rather laughing at him. His eyes wandered searching for an escape, but wherever he looked, there were only unfamiliar faces and chaos. That one classmate who brought him here was dragged away by a group of seniors as soon as they stepped here and since then he has tried his best to avoid the unnecessary stares and comments. He pulled his hoodie cap further down, trying to shield his face as an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.

Fresh air. He needed fresh air right now.

The pool behind the big ass house felt far more welcoming compared to the suffocating atmosphere inside. There was no one outside, thanks to the mid december chill. He adjusted his jeans and plopped down on the ground, not caring about the dirt. A bunch of texts popped up as soon as he unlocked his phone.

Curious messages from his parents, asking for pictures from the welcoming party and a selca to see what he was wearing. Then he saw messages from Riki, complaining about how much he hated Jake for moving so far away for college, followed by a very expected “Bring me Hot Wheels.” There were also a bunch of pictures of him making silly poses with Layla.

Jake’s eyes burned. He missed home so much. This place, the weather—the people made him feel out of place.

Suddenly he flinched at the sound of footsteps behind him. When he peeked over his shoulder, he discovered someone crouched down, searching the ground for something. Curious, he got up and walked closer.

“Excuse me?” he asked cautiously and person looked up at him.

“I’m sorry!—I dropped my tissue here, and I can’t really find it.”

Your panicked voice only confused Jake further. Why would someone be searching for a tissue outside at this hour, away from the party?

“tissue? but why…?” he asked, eyes scanning over you, trying to spot a stain, maybe spilled juice or something. But you looked completely spotless.

Your panic only intensified as you mumbled, “No, no, you don’t get it—I need the tissue now.”

He scratched his head. “We can go inside, and I can help you find a new one—”

You suddenly clutched both his arms tightly “No, no, you’re not getting it! I need it—na—aa—ACHHOO!”

Clear snot landed on the brand new hoodie his parents had gifted him last Christmas.

Eyes widening in bewilderment “Oh no, no, no… I’m so sorry!” you yelped, quickly backing away only for another sneeze to fight its way out.

“Give me your hoodie, I’ll wash it—ACHHOO—”

Before similar disaster could happen again, Jake immediately pressed his handkerchief against your nose, blocking the impact.

“ACHHOO!” The room filled with whispers of annoyance as you hurriedly adjusted your mask, trying your best to hide your face. Unfortunately these were your classmates and there was no way they couldn't recognise the culprit. “Now miss y/n can you please excuse the class and me from spreading spores at 11 a.m.? I really need to finish this lecture.” Professor Min sounded as insensitive as ever. You tried to choke out a faint apology before lowering your head. What a pathetic state of life.

After enduring a few more insults and causing unintentional disturbances, the class finally ended, releasing a sense of relief wash over you. You walked out, clutching a familiar spongebob themed umbrella in your hand. You needed to return this to Jake, and most importantly, explain everything to him.

So what the deal was off? As promised there were no texts, no calls, nothing from Jake since last night. You should have been out shopping for new clothes, getting a hair spa, maybe even planning a vacation with your girlfriends. Instead, you were stuck in one place, unable to move on from this whole lotta mess situation without talking to him.

So what if he treated you like shit? You had it coming after everything you pulled on him. Bad reputation, my ass. Nothing is real. But your feelings for Jake? Those were very very very much real. And if you had to face them the hard way, then so be it. Taking a deep breath, you entered the campus library, the only place you were sure you would find him. Your confidence wavered the moment when despite of looking around you couldn’t find that starking bolnde bed hair. Jake wasn't there.

But when one door closes, another opens right?You turned and started walking toward the basketball court.

Just like you imagined he wasn’t there either. But you didn’t let that thought discourage you when you noticed his laptop open and his belongings scattered nearby. That meant he was somwhere around here. You carefully stepped over his things and sat down right in front of the laptop screen. He was working on some marine engineering project. Your eyes drifted over the books, then to his handwritten notes. Woah that’s some ugly ahh handwriting—

“I didn’t think you were this shameless to show up even after all this.”

You jolted on your feet, the umbrella slipping from your grip in the process “Evelyn…” Had they made up? Did he tell her about the whole fake relationship? Were they together now—like, actually together? The radar system in your brain was severly damaged.

Evelyn looked you up and down like she was window shopping then scoffed “touching someone else’s stuff like that, what the fuck is your problem?” You stammered, tongue struggling to form a proper sentence. “I—I just want to talk to Jake—”

“Well he doesn’t want anything to do with you. I hope I made that pretty clear.” Evelyn raised a finger and shoved your shoulder lightly. “Now get the fuck out unless you want him to hate you even more.”

No. Never.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking as you turned and rushed out of the court.

There was a lot going on inside Jake’s mind. Why was he so salty about you hugging Heeseung? Just why? He had never thought about you like that. But the flowers? Oh shut it was just because he felt guilty. And when he treated your wound? Anyone who cares about someone would do that, right?

Oh…right.

He did care about you. Well again in his defence that just happens automatically when you’re around a particular person for a long time. Yes that was it. This was just another case of attachment to someone who had caused him trouble after trouble over the past months. He never should have paid so much attention to you in the first place.

Jake stared down at his hands as the water kept running over them, the skin on his fingertips turning slightly wrinkly under the pressure.

“Dude you need help with that.”

He came back to reality at Soobin’s voice who was staring down at the open zipper of his pants.

“Yeah, suck it” Jake growled, quickly zipping them up.

The moment he entered the court he noticed his worn out old spongebob umbrella lying beside his laptop. His heart nearly leaped out of his rib cage and he bolted toward the exit, whipping his head left and right, just in case he can catch the familiar sight of your single braid, or even the cherry colored top you always wore.

“I’m so pathetic… fuck,” you sniffled, rubbing the back of your palm over your eyes again and again, trying to wipe away the tears before they could stain your cheeks. The tofu sandwich you were forcing down your throat, half out of hunger and half out of self pity tasted as shit as your life lately.

“Uhh… Y/n?”

You took a shaky breath and looked up, only to find Sunghoon crouched in front of you, concern written all over his face. He scratched his head unsure of what to say before slowly sitting down beside you. You scooted a little to make space for him. After a long minute of silence he finally spoke “are you....and Jake… fighting?”

You shook your head slowly “we uhhh…he’s mad at me.”

“oh...like mad mad?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell again as Sunghoon absentmindedly fiddled with your Kuromi keychain. “You know…Jake isn’t really what everyone makes him out to be…”

You stopped chewing and slowly turned to look at him. He stared ahead eyes distant and searching for the right words “sure he can be an asshole sometimes, making promises and not keeping them. But I don’t really blame him. He loves his space.” Sunghoon sighed, letting go of your keychain before turning to face you “But that’s the problem. Everyone else loves Jake’s space too”

“I met him here right in this place when he used to eat lunch all alone. Don’t worry, he looked less pathetic than you,”

“Back then Jake missed home so much that he would force himself into groups that didn’t even want him there. Yeah Jake being a pushover doesn’t really sound real does it?”

You stayed quiet while listening.

“But I guess everything changed when some jerks got jealous because their unloyal girlfriends started finding him cute. And that’s how the whole ‘Jake is a womanizer’ thing started.”

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, trying to piece everything together.

“And Jake never once minded that title. Sure it did some bad thing his image but it also made him popular. People from different departments started approaching him wanting to be friends, and he never said no.”

You nodded slowly unsure of what to say. Your entire life's carefully built rule — stay out of trouble and never get involved with a guy like that — crumbled instantly as you realized you had never really known Jake at all.

So what if you did not know Sim Jake at all? You weren’t going to give up. You were going to relearn him and tell him exactly what you needed to in his language.

“And as I was saying, Ja—”

“Sunghoon,” you cut him off, determination settling in your voice. “I need your help.” Sunghoon stared at you for a moment before breaking into a wide grin “atta girl.”

# 7 gbogh

“They locked you inside the art department, Sadie was the reason for your injured finger, and now you’re telling me Evelyn kicked you out when you went to talk to Jake?!”

Chaerin tried her best to stay composed while listing the damage done to you though it was very clear she was mentally calculating the damage she was about to do to certain girls from the engineering department. You shook your head “Chaerin no… listen it was my fault too—”

Chisa and Jurin immediately grabbed her hands as she hissed, “Either Evelyn is getting killed or I’m staying celibate my whole life.”

“Oh we all know the first one sounds more possible—AHH, FUCK!” Chisa screamed when Chaerin yanked her freshly silk pressed hair.

You clutched both sides of your head still unsure how Sunghoon was supposed to help you. Speaking of which you hesitantly glanced toward their table, the one you had been avoiding looking at because seeing Jake would completely shatter your composure. Still...one look wouldn’t hurt right?

When you took a careful glance you discovered the chair empty where he usually sat. Huh? Was he skipping lunch? Afterwards your eyes met Sunghoon’s. He immediately started making weird gibberish hand signs, signaling you to check your phone. You unlocked the device that had been on silent since morning and saw a bunch of texts from him.

Today after classes you’re going grocery shopping.

??? I don’t need groceries though.

Just do what I’m telling you!! Go to the Family Mart nearest to our college.

You’re weird.

Evelyn is having Jake for lunch btw.

FUCK YOU.

You shot him one last glare before slamming your phone down. Across the room, Sunghoon giggled, catching Jungwon’s attention “?” Sunghoon just shook his head muttering a quiet, “You’ll see.”

“Family Mart… near college… uhhhh….oh!”

You finally spotted the store Sunghoon was talking about. It wasn’t that hard to find as the location was within walking distance from the dorms. The bell chimed as you stepped inside. Since it was a weekday the mart was mildly crowded. Kids ran around with lollipops in their hands, their moms complained about the quality of potatoes, and a group of elderly women bombarded the young cashier with overly personal questions like when they were planning to get married.

Ignoring all of it you made your way to the snack aisle.

Why the hell did Sunghoon send you here? Did you make a mistake asking him for help? I mean he was Jake’s friend at the end of the day…trying to calm your overactive mind, you reached for a familiar packet of potato chips.

At the exact same time one of the kids who had been running around earlier grabbed it too. The two of you stared at each other with visible irritation. You forced a sweet smile “uhhh this is very unhealthy. I don’t think you should be eating this young ma—”

“Shut up, hag.”

WHAT? Aw hell no.

You tightened your grip on the packet, the plastic crinkling under your fingers as you tried your best not to lose it. “Excuse me?? That’s so rude.”

“And you’re too old to fight over chips with a kid.”

Okay, screw this kid and his mo—wait, no. Kids like this get their audacity from their dads. Yes, that’s it. Hope the dad steps on a lego block.

With one final tug you snatched the packet away easily from his comparatively loose grip. He stared at you in disbelief mixed with frustration.

“Aww, are you going to cry? Aww–well that’s what happens when you challenge grown ups you little shi—”

“Here, take this.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin almost knocking the entire aisle over as the exact reason Park Sunghoon had sent you to this mart appeared out of nowhere like some biblically accurate angel. The kid’s face lit up instantly as he took another packet of the same chips from Jake’s hand. He stuck his tongue out at you before running off. And just like that fate had you standing there, face to face with Jake.

Jake completely ignored your shocked expression as he began picking out more snacks, leaving you battling your inner demons.

“Jake, hi!” you exclaimed, crouching down and grabbing the exact same snack he was picking. His ignorance continued as he stood up, dumped everything into his cart, then walked right past you. You trailed behind him like a lost duck struggling to hold the snack packets in your hands since you didn’t even bother to get a cart. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you at lunch today! Did you skip it?” you rambled as he placed his groceries at the counter.

Still no answer.

Jake didn’t even spare you a glance. God, am I that ugly?

“Uhh… what are you having for dinner by the way????”

By now the cashier had started giving you weird looks, which you ignored completely cuz this was way more important. Jake picked up his packed groceries and started walking towards the exit. You quickly dumped the chips on the counter and followed him, ignoring the cashier yelling behind you.

Soon enough you found him sitting on a bench near the mart, his groceries resting beside him. You sat down on the other end silently praying he wouldn’t get up and leave. And he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed a packet of chips and tore it open, crinkling plastic being the only sound cutting through the awkward silence. You fiddled with the hem of your top, unsure how to end this painfully one sided conversation.

“Jake…I’m sorry.”

The words finally left your mouth after a long moment. No response as usual came from the other side. But you didn’t stop.

“I wasn’t really thinking before I spoke that day. I was just frustrated… and–and you’re right, it is my fault. Since day one, it’s always been my fault…”

You did prepare a whole apology in your head, but right now with him sitting beside you, only his grocery bag giving you the mercy of not letting him see your ashamed, embarrassed face — it all felt too personal.

“I guess I felt a little entitled when you asked me to be your fake girlfriend because you’re right. No one’s ever really chosen me for anything. My first boyfriend well he kind of dated me because of peer pressure. Of course never said it out loud but sometimes...you just know”

Your voice faltered a bit “But with you… even though it was fake and even though there was nothing between us...I felt chosen. I know that sounds pathetic, and I—I know I shouldn’t even be approaching you after what I did—” You felt trickle of warm tears on your cheeks again “but I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jake, I—”

Something dropped onto your lap.

You blinked, picking it up. Your blurry gaze slowly became clear. A small bracelet. The ones that came free with a certain brand of potato chips for kids. You had them plenty in your childhood. You turned to Jake and found him casually finishing off the crumbs from the same packet, completely unfazed.

Then he stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans then glanced at you over his shoulder.

“Apology not accepted. Do something better.”

Jake waited no second before casually walking out of the area, an all too familiar smile lingering on his face, completely unnoticed by you.

For a moment you just sat there pissed, annoyed and frustrated as hell and definitely ready to strangle him if you ran fast enough, yet a small laugh escaped your lips “ahhh… he’s such an asshole,” you murmured softly, slipping the bracelet around your wrist.

The idea of chasing a guy was far from the rules of ideal relationship advice 101 you and Chaerin wrote in the back of your history notebook at the age of eleven. Yes it was practically blasphemous, but at this stage of having a hopeless crush on ahem Jake Sim felt far more damaging to your health and mental peace.

Sunghoon groaned as you proudly held up a cute oat milk packet, a small ribbon tied around it along with a chibi version of a grumpy Jake that you had drawn yourself. “Cute, right?”

Sunghoon facepalmed. “Jake is allergic to oat milk.”

Your smile dropped instantly “what? I thought every athlete drinks that???”

Erm apparently everyone did, except Jake. You pouted at your hard work before sadly placing it on top of a vending machine. May some poor soul who craves oatmilk finds it.

“Circles by Post Malone…” you scanned through the large collection of Post Malone albums at a CD store that you found in google maps after hours of searching. You noticed jake often quietly mumbling lyrics under his breath clearly he was a front row level fan.

“You’re coming home with me,” you smiled, finally spotting the album you wanted.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, God…” Chaerin muttered as she handed you a heart shaped paper cutouts. You carefully pasted them one by one onto the khaki wrapping paper you were using for the album trying to make it look more presentable. “Chae, my baby, the love of my life, I hope you get dicked down by Jay again.” Chaerin shot you a deadpan look which immediately shut you up and forced you to focus on your work again.

“Why are you so late—and what the fuck is that??! Jake isn’t into big-ass books by the way!” Sunghoon whisper yelled the moment you rushed inside the library, already half an hour late from the original meeting time. You panted scooting closer to him “that’s not a book” sunghoon rolled his eyes and pointed toward a section “I just saw him go in there.” You took a deep breath and started walking slowly toward your destiny. But your steps halted the moment you heard a familiar laugh.

No way.

You carefully peeked as your heart dropped. Jake and Evelyn were sitting on the library floor. She was pointing at something in his hands as he tried to shield it. They were sitting way too close for your liking and you couldn’t even see Jake’s face clearly, but the way Evelyn leaned into him, her hands wrapped around his arm....

Your grip on the album tightened, nails pressing through the paper wrapping.

Jake must’ve heard the crinkling sound. But when he looked up, you were already gone.

Sunghoon flinched the moment you threw the album at him. It made a loud noise, sliding towards him in a careless manner “you forgot to mention he’s having a good time with her.”

“Her? Who—?! Eve… Evelyn???” he mouthed, as you felt your throat tighten. Sunghoon picked up the album, name slightly visible beneath the torn wrapping. He sighed “Y/n… Jake already has this album. It’s literally displayed on his study table…”

Oh. Another disappointment. You scoffed at your useless tries. You really couldn’t do anything right, could you?

“right...well i have a class now. I should go,” you muttered, already turning your back to him.“The fuck am I supposed to do with this?” Sunghoon called out. You raised your hand without turning back.

“Just throw it out.”

Plan failed.

Chaerin let out a long disappointed sigh as she stared at your message. Poor girl she is never catching a break. She was just about to turn off her phone when another notification popped up from way too familiar name. Her throat went dry as “Jay 🩷” appeared at the top of her chat list after months. With shaky fingers she opened it.

I’m sorry for reaching out like this

but I really need your help right now.

Can you come over?

She chewed on her bottom lip and glanced at the time. 5 p.m. It’s not like this was her first time visiting his room but the last time she went there they ended up—FUCK NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. Chaerin shook her head, trying to push away the memories of what had happened after she ended up there. “It’s okay… sometimes history doesn’t repeat itself…” she whispered to herself typing a small ‘ok’ before hitting send.

Jay paced frantically around his room. Fuck. He actually did it. After five nights of contemplating, overthinking and torturing himself with worst possible outcomes he had finally texted Chaerin. “Okay, calm down… she’s just coming to help. Nothing else should happen.” The words of consolation felt too weak already. At some point the doorbell rang, making him jump. He unconsciously fixed his hair before walking to the door.

“Hi…”

Chaerin stood there her hair slightly messy but still neatly styled, usual brown leopard print glasses resting on her nose. Jay took a breath and stepped aside silently inviting her in. Chaerin’s eyes immediately landed on the mess on his bed,

hair color packets, brushes, and various hair care products scattered everywhere.

Resting his hands on his hips Jay rehearsed what he had practiced minutes before her arrival “I’m meeting my family this weekend… and they’ll kill me if I don’t dye my hair back to a normal colour.” He gestured toward his platinum undercut. She paused for a second. God….she loved that haircut on him—

“Listen, you don’t have to do this if you feel uncomfortable. Actually, I—I texted you impulsively. I just remembered you once saying you did a hairstyling project in eighth grade, and how your dad wanted you to take over the salon, and how your brother sold your favorite shampoo to buy a limited edition of death note set…”

Jay exhaled deeply after rambling, leaving Chaerin completely stunned. When had she told him all that? Sure they were close once, but she didn’t remember ever sharing that much.“No, I’m completely okay!” she replied quickly offering him a small smile. “so what color are we doing?”

The bathroom soon filled with giggles and soft splashes of water as Chaerin deliberately poked behind Jay’s ear with the brush.“ow—that tickles!” he laughed, trying to cover his ears while she threw her head back, laughing freely. They waited for the color to set before washing it out. As much as Chaerin had expected this meeting to be awkward, surprisingly it wasn’t. They fell into their places and It just felt like two old friends catching up after a long time.

While washing her gaze lingered on Jay’s face, his crescent shaped eyes when he smiled, the faint dimples forming at the corners of his lips. Ex Friends. Yeah maybe That’s what they were and she had promised herself not to cross that line again.

Chaerin focused on the hand shower letting the warm water rinse away the new brown dye. Her fingers gently worked through his hair, messaging his scalp. Jay relaxed against the bathtub.

“hey Jay…”

“hmm?”

“When did I tell you about my eighth grade hairstyling gig?”

He let out a soft laugh, turning his head slightly. “For someone majoring in engineering with math as your main subject, you sure have a bad memory…” then he turned toward her fully, splashing a bit of water in her direction. She yelped, backing away.

“At that party silly” he continued, smiling unconsciously as he walked down the memory lane “when we both got drunk, you told me about your dream of becoming hairstylist for jungkook and kept playing with my hair saying it looked like some ugly kombucha orange color. I was so confused—like, what the fuck does that even mean?”

Chaerin laughed along with him as the memory slowly resurfaced. She crouched down closer to his level. Jay looked almost boyish now excited as he elaborated “and then you said you wanted to fix my hair. You basically forced me to show you my entire hair color collection—and let’s not forget, you called every single one of them ugly.”

She covered her face, laughing.

“And then,” he continued, softer now, “you grabbed my hair and said platinum would look so much better and then…”

He paused suddenly.

“Then?” chaerin prompted, smiling faintly.

But Jay couldn’t continue. His words got stuck somewhere between his throat and his heartbeat which was suddenly too loud in his ears. The bathroom felt too close only two breathes synching together. Chaerin notices the flush slowly growing from his neck to his cheeks and eventually his ears. She frowned slightly “and then? What happened after that Jay?”

Jay looked into her eyes, pretty lashes behind the thick glasses. Suddenly he reached forward, grabbed her arms and pulled her into the tub. She barely had time to gasp.

“Then you grabbed my hair like this…” he murmured, his fingers gently tugging at her already half undone ponytail. Chaerin's breath hitched.

“And then… you painted my hair platinum silver” His voice dropped to a whisper, before she could process anything he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

You stared hard at the application form in front of you.

“A field trip? And that too architecture and engineering departments collaborating?????? This feels like a planned murder,” Chisa huffed as she finished filling in her details. “Oh, come on! This is such a sweet moment for Y/n to finally show pda with her boyfriend,” Jurin teased, winking at your direction. You let out a whin “ohhhh shut ittttt, he's not even my boyfriend…”

“I’m manifesting for you baby.” jurin blew a kiss.

“I think I’m gonna dump Evelyn’s body here,” Chaerin said casually, pointing at the river on the campsite map attached to the form making both Chisa and Jurin burst out laughing. Your eyes drifted across the room landing on Jake who was busy discussing something with Jay, most probably about the upcoming match with Sunshine City College.

“I’m more worried about insects and mosquitoes, though…” Chisa made a disgusted face then pointed at Chaerin’s neck “speaking of which—the fuck kind of evolutionary insect bruised you up this bad?”

“girl that’s not an insect, that’s Jay.”

The three of you froze mid action, slowly turning to stare at Chaerin. Her cheeks flushed bright red as she cleared her throat and took a bite of her hotdog.

“I told y’all,” Chisa threw her hands up dramatically “this bitch cannot survive celibacy!”

“Jake’s birthday is two weeks away.”

You gaped at Sunghoon then repeated his words in your head. Jake’s birthday. JAKE’S BIRTHDAY. Your eyes widened with a sudden spark of hope as you sat up straight. Right now you and Sunghoon were sitting in a random café, because of course discussing your goal in Jake's proximity would completely ruin the plan.

“All of us—I mean, you know the boys, we’re planning to surprise him. And we need someone who can make proper home cooked meals. Usually Jay does the cooking but he messes up at least one dish,” Sunghoon said, finishing his coffee before crossing his arms. “But the problem is, you’ll have to stay undercover the whole day—or even the whole week. We cannot let him know you’re involved. That’s what will make it the biggest surprise.”

You nodded eagerly quickly pulling out your phone to note down important points about the plan.

The two of you spent rest of the afternoon discussing details, completely unaware of a certain figure capturing pictures from afar.

Operation Jake’s Birthday was officially in motion. With the help of Jungwon and Sunoo you gathered information about his favorite foods. Yes, Professor Min still embarrassed you in front of the entire class for falling asleep mid lecture, but what else were you supposed to do? Staying up all night to design his birthday banner and plan decorations took time.

You did your best to not make Jake uncomfortable with your hopeless stares as much as you could. I mean I don't think he's that eager to see me anyways. You concluded your own theory often catching him ignoring you even if both of you were standing at an approachable distance from each other. That shit hurt so bad. But hey pain is a part of growth after all. You cannot just expect Jake to magically fall for you after the level of weird stuffs you pulled at him.

“I feel like a criminal for ditching you,” Chaerin muttered as she finished touching up her makeup. You smiled softly and shook your head “It’s okay, Chae. You’ve done enough….go enjoy your date tonight.” She squeezed your hand tightly before pulling you into a light hug.

“Text me if something goes wrong, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Balloons… wrappers… paper cups and plates… what else…” you muttered while scanning the small shop. You were out buying decorations since Jake’s birthday was just a few days away now. You hadn’t seen him since last wednesday after jungwon told you he basically locked himself up in his room to finish the final parts of his assignment — and while it helped you stay focused, you missed him more than you wanted to ever admit.

Everything on your list was checked. You waited while the cashier prepared your bill, eyes wandering around the shop…then you looked outside, through the see of people at the crossing, high school students returning home together in a flock, the troubled traffic guard, street food shops just setting up their cart taking in glow of last sunrays of the day, and finally stopped at the store across the road.

It looked like some usual high end clothing store. But the red shirt displayed under warm yellow lighting caught your attention instantly. After paying you crossed the street, failing to contain your curiosity.

It looked even better up close. The small logo on the left side practically screamed expensive. You glanced at the price tag naturally and shrieked. 169 bomboclat dollars.

Soon you sank in disappointment. If only it were a little cheaper…maybe…Your heart ached at the thought of Jake wearing it. Why is capitalism even a thing?

“Found you again.”

You jumped as a hand landed on your shoulder. Heeseung! He scanned you up and down, lips curling into a small smile when he noticed the decorations peeking out of your bag. “Shopping for a friend?”

You shook your head “for Jake.” His smile faltered for a split second before he followed your gaze toward the shirt “out of your budget?”

“I mean wayyyy out of my budget.”

Before you could react he grabbed your hand and started dragging you inside ignoring your little protests “Heeseung what the fuck?! Are you crazy—wait!”

Within minutes both of you were standing at the counter. Shirt neatly packed in a gift box, with a note that read: From Y/n. You tried your best to snatch heeseung's card away, but he shot you a look that made you step back immediately, a pout forming on your lips. Heeseung stared at you for a moment then sighed, patting your head. “Fine. Pay whatever you can—I’ll cover the rest.”

The two of you walked out laughing about how annoyed the store staffs looked while you were arguing over the bill.

“Do you think Jake will be mad if he finds out?” Heeseung asked pointing at the note that now read From 'Y/N and Heeseung'. You clicked your tongue “let him stay mad. I know he’ll wear it. You have no idea what a softie he actually is....bro literally buys chips that has little gifts inside” you laughed raising your wrist to show him the familiar beaded bracelet.

Heeseung smiled warmly his gaze lingering from your wrist to your face. “Yeah…it’s pretty.”

You went quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Thank you Heeseung….I mean I just don’t know how you always show up when I need help the most!— It’s almost like you’re my guardian angel....what you’re laughing?! I’m not joking!” He covered his mouth trying not to attract too much attention, then flicked your forehead “see when your head is empty you say nonsense like this.”

“asshole get away from me!”

# 8 mixed up

“The field trip is a crucial part of your syllabus as well as this semester …” the dean's voice echoed through the big hall filled with restless engineering and architecture students.

Jake yawned, words blurring into noise. He hadn’t been getting proper sleep lately. Assignment had drained him and even after submitting everything he felt uneasy for some reason. Probably the all nighters finally catching up to him. And to make it worse the guys kept gathering in the living room at midnight, whispering about something—and kicking him out whenever he tried to join.

It felt like everyone has taken a challenge of ragebaiting him and he indeed was raging inside.

“Jake Sim, 4th semester, ID number 100902, engineering department.”

His fatigue disappeared soon, attention snapping back into attention as the dean announced his government name from the dais with a very serious look. What's happening? Whispers filled the hall as others started looking at jake while whispering.

“please meet me in my office after your classes.”

“Sunoo no wait!” you yelled as he nearly poured the wrong batter into the bowl. He gave you a sheepish smile and corrected himself immediately. Behind you a whirlwind of chaos unfolded as Sunghoon and Jay kept bickering about the banner placement. Not far away from them Chaerin helped Jungwon to blow up the balloons and lastly Chisa and Jurin tried their best to help you in the kitchen.

The cake was ready and you were icing it carefully. Your mind raced with unfamiliar emotions. God, i hope he likes it.

You kept double checking everything, asking Sunghoon about other potential allergies, preferences, anything. It was extremely exhausting but warm. Everyone had skipped their classes to help you. You wanted to invite Heeseung too but he had a boxing match today. Soon your eyes flicked to the clock. 5:30 p.m. only half an hour more till Jake comes back. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“I’m sorry…what?” Jake’s voice came out hollow as his trembling fingers scrolled through a particular segment of the project he submitted three days ago. It stared right back at him through the dean’s laptop screen. Something was horribly wrong.

“Jake,” the dean sighed, folding his arms “you are one of our very talented students and no doubt your academic performance has been excellent since the first semester. But this is unacceptable.”

Jake couldn’t speak. The information on the screen wasn’t what he remembered writing.

“Even a high school student could tell the amount of ai usage here,” the dean continued. “You’re aware of Decelis rules right? Unsupervised ai usage for assignments and exams is strictly prohibited. I don’t know why you’d risk something like this, especially for such an important project.”

It felt like needles were piercing his skin. This couldn’t be real. He hadn’t used ai at all, not even once. Everything had been his own research from authentic books and verfied sites which he checked numerous times before putting the statistics in.

“We are unfortunately bounded by rules and have to deduct a portion of your credits, I hope you think twice before committing such atrocities like this again. You’re dismissed.”

His head felt too light when he came out of the office. The hallways was suffocating, as expected everyone was staring at his pale face and shaky hands. No stop. Dont look at me. Please go away. He clenched his teeth but before he could proceed any further, a hand grabbed his, pulling him in a nearby empty classroom.

“Jake, I know this isn’t the right time but…I know who messed with your project.” Evelyn's voice felt like some kind of distant noise.

A very weird feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he gathered energy to respond back “what?”

“It’s Y/n.” Evelyn stated firmly. The confidence in her voice knocked the remaining air out of his lungs.

“I saw her messing with your stuffs weeks ago when you were doing your assignment in the basketball court.”

His body stiffened realising exact which day Evelyn was talking about. The spongebob umbrella laying beside his laptop. He remembered everything all too well .“I don’t know if you’ll believe me,” Evelyn continued, her voice dripping with venom, “but she’s evil jake...she's not done ruining your life. I think we both know she’s been behind everything weird that has happened to you this semester.”

The room felt too cold to his liking as Jake tried his best to stand still. The sheer thought of you messing up with his assignments just wasn't making any sense. But whatever information Evelyn provided, pointed at no one but you being the reason for this damage.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but look!” she shoved her phone in front of him “she is now going for two men at once after she is done with you! And not surprised one of them is your friend!” Blurry but clear enough to see there were pictures taken from a distance of you and Sunghoon laughing together. Jake hurriedly snatched the phone from her hands and swiped — the next one was outside a newly opened Ralph and lauren store. You and Heeseung holding hands as he was pulling you inside the store.

“See?” Evelyn muttered. “Going after two guys at once of course with a privileged background. Not surprising at all! typical small town behavior.” Jake couldn't hear the rest. None of Evelyn’s words reached him and his cloudy state of mind. His fingers tightened around the phone.

“Did he forget his way…or what…” Chisa yawned followed by Jurin. Both of them were slumped on the couch. Sunoo had fallen asleep, head resting on Sunghoon’s shoulder as the older guy called Jake for the fifth time — each one going straight to voicemail. Jay and Chaerin exchanged worried looks, and you felt your stomach twisting uncomfortably. It was almost 9 p.m but Jake still wasn’t here. Did he somehow find out you were here…? Is that why he wasn’t coming?

The sound of the apartment door unlocking caught everyone’s attention. Jurin shoved Chisa awake before she could fully pass out and Sunghoon quickly helped you light the candles while a half asleep Sunoo carefully flipped off the switches.

The room was instantly filled with a warm yellow glow from fairy lights and flickering candles. You held the cake, waiting and after what it felt like waiting for an eternity, Jake finally stepped in.

Right then Jay and Jungwon popped the party crackers, colorful confetti bursting into the air with a loud snap.

“Happy birthday Jakeeeee!” everyone shouted in unison, waiting for his reaction.

But nothing came.

“Turn the lights on.”

You turned to Sunghoon, who looked just as confused beside you. Why did Jake sound like that? He hesitated and stepped forward “bro look uppp! See who’s here—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Hoon.”

Sensing things were escalating Jungwon immediately turned the lights on. Your throat went dry when you saw Jake’s face. He looked empty and dreaded. Did something happen?

“Where were you on 6th September?”

You flinched. Nearly two months into being a professional troublemaker in jake's life but his voice had never sounded so distant. So cold.

“Jake, what’s going on—” Jay stepped forward but Jake cut him off.

“Y/n I’m asking you. Where the hell were you on 6th September?!”

You flinched at his sudden yell. After quickly doing a mental math, you gathered the courage to answer “I—I attended Professor Min’s class, and then I…” you trailed off. Right, then you were searching for him to return his umbrella.

“I… went to the basketball court to return your umbrella, but you weren’t there, so I—”

Jake let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “So you edited out a whole paragraph of my assignment and replaced it with some ai bullshit!”

Huh?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you heard Chaerin’s footsteps approaching as stepped closer. Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me be honest with you Y/n....I don’t know why you came into my life, but I do know you’ve brought nothing but problems and misery.”

What's happening?

Sunghoon quickly took the cake from your hands realising you were shaking and set it aside. “Jake, you really need to start giving context before I beat the shit out of you,” he snapped, clearly irritated. The ground beneath your feet felt like it was moving slowly. What was he even talking about? Replacing his assignment with ai?

“Oh yeah?” Jake scoffed “Now you want to beat me for her? Why though? Because secretly both of you are fucking?” he spit out and instantly Sunghoon’s fist collided with his face. “Sunghoon no!” you screamed grabbing him as Jake lunged forward to hit back only to be held back by Jay. Everything in your head blurred together as you dragged Sunghoon afar. Sunoo and Jungwon tried to calm him down as he breathed heavily.

You ignored Chisa who tried to stop you with a worried expression before walking back toward Jake.

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for whatever impact was coming.

“Jake let’s talk outside.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to command me y/n” he stayed stubborn. Fine. You let out the breath you had been holding for so long. “I did not edit your assignment. And before you point fingers at me, remember Evelyn was there the whole time. Even before I entered the court.”

He raised his eyebrows, face morphing into something purely influenced by ignorance “yeah that's your defence mechanism??? Putting the blame on Evelyn isn't going to solve the issue you created from your own fucked up feelings against me—”

Fucked up feelings? Against him? putting blame on Evelyn?

“SO WHAT?!” you screamed finally at your breaking point. “You want to act all righteous and mighty even though you never once saw me editing your assignment with your own eyes?!”

Jake felt a pang in his chest, as every single person in that room witnessed everything you had been holding back spill out.

“If you don’t want to believe me, then don’t! But goddammit Jake you—you are so cruel....both you and evelyn can go to hell for all I care! And fine—I’ll never show my face again! I hope you don’t either you ungrateful shit! I hope I fall and die in a ditch before expressing my feelings for you!” With trembling hands you tore the bracelet off your wrist, elastic band snapping in the hurried process and you threw it at him, beads scattered instantly across the floor. You could not afford to waste any seconds after that and stormed out of room number 15 of the boys’ dormitory with Chaerin, Chisa, and Jurin rushing after you.

Jake stood there, a pit of silence and emptiness feeling his senses. His eyes fell on the broken bracelet near his feet then slowly he looked around. The entire apartment was decorated exactly how he had always wanted birthdays to look as a child. As for his parents fancy dinners had always mattered more than something like this.

He then looked at Jungwon and Sunoo who seemed just as shaken. “Happy birthday,” Jungwon muttered quietly before slipping out with a clearly displeased Sunoo. Now it was just him, Jay and Sunghoon who looked like he was gonna jump him anytime if he turns around. Jay waited for him to speak but when he said nothing, he stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder

“Stop favoring your heart and start using your brain before it's too late”

“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much oughhhh I feel like mixing rat poison in his food!” you cried out, voice muffled by the pillow pressed tightly against your face. Chaerin tried calming you down in every possible way, but she knew it was useless. After fifteen minutes of yelling and cursing Jake, you finally lifted the pillow and threw it across the room. “Chae…”

She crawled closer at the sound of your hoarse voice. “Mm-hmm?”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze as your fingers absentmindedly scratched at the bedsheets. “W-what is the punishment for using ai in assignments…? will—will they fail him?”

Oh, you poor girl. Chaerin shook her head gently as she tried to tie your messy hair into a bun. “If it were a regular student, maybe. But since it’s the department topper…..I don’t think so.”

You didn’t know what kind of comfort that brought to your already bruised heart, but you clutched her sleeve anyway.

“…Am I a disappointment to feminism?”

Chaerin cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at her. “No, you’re not, Y/n. You can dislike and like a person at the same time. And NO one in this world has the right to shame you for that” You immediately scooted away from her. “I don’t like him.”

“Not even a bit?”

“No. Not at all.”

She laughed softly and lay down, her head resting on your lap. “Then why did you cook his favorite food? go out of your comfort zone to plan his birthday? and write him—”

“That’s just because… I… because I, uh…”

you started, ready to argue, but no matter how hard you searched for an answer, your mind came up blank. Chaerin propped herself up on her elbow, looking at you knowingly. “See?”

“Not my fault! I want to know too why I’m doing all this even though I hate him… so much…” The anger in your voice slowly faded by the end of your sentence. Chaerin took your hand then placed it over your heart.

“You’re looking for answers in the wrong place, baby.”

Wrong place huh?

Your heartbeat against your palm felt fast, tired from running, worn out from being wrongly accused. So much for liking a dumbass. Jake didn’t trust you. In fact, he never even tried to open the door of his heart to let you in. You were doing everything alone like a complete clown trying to impress someone who didn’t even want to be impressed. There had been so many signs. So many chances to give up. To realize that maybe you just didn’t belong in a world where Jake would ever look at you the way you looked at him. You couldn’t even remember the last time he had truly looked at you.

All you remembered now was that cold, distant expression, pushing you away every darn time you tried to get closer. It was about damn time mission relearning Jake should be aborted.

# 9 intentions

The apartment felt too empty after Sunghoon and Jay finished cleaning everything up. Jake had locked himself in his room after taking a shower. The only sounds he could hear were the faint clatter of utensils from outside, probably Jay putting food away and the ticking of the analog wall clock on his wall. A few minutes ago he had received a text from his computer science major friend felix

I’m trying to glaze our sports instructor for the CCTV footage.

But he’s acting like a total bitch.

Don’t worry bro. I’ll avenge your credit points.

And he knew felix had enough influence to actually get the footage — legally or not.

See? That part wasn’t hard. What was hard was taking back everything he had said just a few hours ago. His grip tightened around the small note he had found inside the gift box alongside the bright red Ralph Lauren shirt now resting on his study table. He had already read it five times. Slowly he lifted it up to eye level again.

His eyes burned as the pressure finally gave way. Fresh, warm tears spilled out almost in no time. God, he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve your attention, your effort, your time. He didn’t deserve Sunghoon, the first person he had truly grown close to after joining this shit ass college. He didn’t deserve Jay, who always showed up whenever he was in trouble. He didn’t even deserve Riki, who had texted him happy birthday with a video of him and Layla wearing birthday caps and yet Jake still hadn’t found the time to reply.

Soft knocks interrupted his sniffles as he slowly sat up.

“Open up.” Sunghoon’s rough voice came from outside. Without saying anything Jake dragged himself to the door and opened it. Sunghoon stood there, eyes just as red rimmed. He probably cried in his room but he would never admit it to jake by the way.

Without a word, Sunghoon pushed past and walked in, then plopped down on the bed. He patted the empty space beside him. Jake followed and sat quietly.

“I’m not paying for your rhinoplasty by the way” Sunghoon muttered after a long silence resulting in Jake letting out a weak snicker “your weak-ass punch did nothing chill.” Sunghoon kicked him lightly in the shin “don’t rile me up fucker.”

Jake sighed while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow “you’re apologizing to the wrong person.”

Jake swallowed, staring straight ahead. Yeah. He knew that. But he wasn’t sure if the person he should apologize to would even want to see him anymore.

“…Mhm. Pass the apology to her, then.”

Sunghoon shot up, startling him and grabbed his shoulder “Jake, my guy—get your shit straight.”

“I am straight.”

“Your brain starts lagging every time you see Y/n.”

Jake pulled himself out of Sunghoon’s grip and groaned “No it doesn’t! It’s just—there’s never been any normal start between us at all!—”

“And??” Sunghoon cut him off sharply “that girl did so much just to give you a normal start. Do you have any idea?!”

Jake fell silent. The words hit like a punch to the gut “…yeah. And I hate myself for it.”

“As you should, asshole.” Sunghoon glared at him, but his expression softened when he noticed that familiar kicked out look on Jake’s face, the same one he had seen three years ago when Jake used to sit alone on the bleachers during lunch. “What are you thinking Jake?” he asked quietly.

Jake avoided his gaze. “I… don’t know hoon....I don’t know what I’m thinking....what I'm feeling…”

Sunghoon crouched down in front of him “Oh, really? You don’t?” then without warning, he reached under Jake’s bed and pulled out something. A Post Malone album. Similar to the one displayed nicely on his desk, but this one was wrapped in khaki paper, decorated with small paper hearts.

“…Then what the fuck is this doing here? Cuz last time I took it here I remember keeping it in the waste storage boxes to throw it out later!”

Jake couldn’t answer. Sunghoon stood up again then walked to his study table. He yanked open the drawer and pulled out a small piece of paper — a chibi doodle of a grumpy Jake. The fading sticky glue was still noticeable behind it, clear it had been nicely ripped from something. Or better from a certain oatmilk package. "Oh we sure are gonna ignore this one right?"

Then he strode back, grabbed Jake’s wrist, and pulled up his sleeve. A beaded bracelet, very much identical to the one you had torn and thrown earlier was there around his wrist. “And this too?? Did Y/n know these bracelets came in pairs?”

Sunghoon exhaled sharply before continuing, “Why did you even get mad at the idea that I might be hooking up with her? Or fine—let’s be respectful—what if I was hitting on Y/n?”

Jake pressed his lips together ignoring the feeling he was trying to suppress gnaw at his heart. “I don’t really care.”

Sunghoon let out a dry chuckle “Oh really? You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between them again as Jake slowly pulled his hand back from his friend's grip. Sunghoon stood still for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time.

“I think we both know what that means, Jake.” Jake said nothing. His fingers brushed over the bracelet on his wrist as he realized how brutally Sunghoon had stripped his feelings bare.

You adjusted your airpods unconsciously, realizing the amount students were staring at you, turning their heads, whispering, and giggling to their friends weren’t just a coincidence. You looked down at your clothes, checking if you had worn it inside out or if your jeans were unzipped. But everything was perfectly fine. After taking your usual seat in the classroom, you noticed even more eyes on you, making it unbearable. Within a minute, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You removed one airpod and turned around —only to find Heeseung looking at you with a worried expression. You forced a small smile amd he shifted beside you subtly shielding you from the stares.

“You okay?”

“mm hmm… don’t worry,” you sighed and flipped a random notebook to distract yourself. Heeseung took the bundle pages from your hand while shutting it “you want me to beat those people up?”

You let out a frustrated huff “I mean–I don’t even know why they’re staring at me like that…”

Heeseung frowned for a moment “yeah, ignore those dumbasses—”

“Hi, Y/n!”

Both of you flinched as a group of girls from your class suddenly appeared in front of you “uh… hi?”

“Did you really do it??” one of them asked, making you even more confused.

“…Do what?”

They started giggling among themselves. Beside you, Heeseung tensed. He grabbed your hand trying get your attention “Y/n let’s skip this class—”

“You know…hommie hopping between Sunghoon and Jake!”

“And here I thought Jake was the biggest slut”

They burst out laughing.

Your blood ran cold and you turned to Heeseung with a horrified expression. He only shook his head and mouthed 'Let’s get OUT.'

You know what they say about bad reputations. They always catch up. And when they do, they strip your sense of 'self' away, your peace along with whatever little strength you have left.

You stared blankly at the college forum. A picture of you and Sunghoon was posted with a bold caption: “New slut on campus.”

You didn’t know what to think or what to say anymore. Everything inside you was building up, pressure rising with every passing second, threatening to explode into something ugly. “The fuck are you looking at?” Chisa snapped at a group of juniors staring at your table. You clutched your head which was already starting to hurt despite of skipping all lectures since morning.

“She needs her campus pr privileges revoked. This is literally quiet literally a violation of privacy,” Chaerin snarled, pointing at the small ‘by Sadie’ under the post.

“Look who shamelessly showed up…”

Your skin prickled as Sadie and Yunjin approached your table, wearing priceless expressions and victory of their final blow.

“Yeah Sadie, learned that shit from you. True inspiration,” Jurin shot back instantly, wiping the smirk off Sadie’s face.

“Watch your tone, or the three of you will wake up to the same kind of judgment tomorrow.” She hissed to which Chaerin stood up abruptly, her chair crashing to the floor due to the impact and nearby students fell silent. “uh huh? Is that it???” she mocked and before Yunjin could come up with another attack in Sadie's defense, Chaerin grabbed the container of spaghetti Chisa had been slurping from just minutes ago— then threw it straight at Sadie.

The whole cafeteria instantly broke out with gasps and whispers. You tried to pull Chaerin back, terrified as Sadie who was now shaking, gooey red spaghetti sauce dripping down her perfectly styled pink blow dried hair, shot the most sinister look at your table. Yunjin lunged at Chaerin to avenge her, but before her hands could even touch the targeted girl, Chisa grabbed a chunk of yunjin's hair and yanked her back “hoe really thinks her authority works here....it’s a democracy bitch!”

Chaos broke out instantly. Some students screamed, others started chanting 'fight fight!', while the rest pulled out their phones to record. You felt your head spinning when you spotted professors and staff rushing in. It’s a mess. It’s a whole fucking mess—From the corner of your eyes you saw Sadie charging straight at you with her claws out, looking no less terrifying than the red demon from insidious.

Suddenly warmth wrapped around your wrist. “What the fu—”

Sadie’s mortified face, Chisa dragging Yunjin, the upside down cafeteria including screams of students mixed with professors yelling —Everything blurred within seconds as the hand dragged you far far away. No direction or whatsoever, you were just running. Your heart hammered less from the run, but from the strands of blonde hair peeking out from under his hoodie.

Soon you found yourself inside a cramped space between lockers. Pants and gasps filled the small area as you leaned against the cold metal for support. Jake’s hand was still interlaced with yours which you slowly pulled away after realisation. Outside, the dean’s voice echoed faintly “Suspend everyone who was in the cafeteria!”

For seven long minutes neither of you spoke, just trying to catch your breath and avoiding each other’s gaze. But eventually you had no choice. As you looked up, Jake’s sunken eyes met yours. He swallowed hard to hydrate his dry throat “you… okay?”

You nodded not even having the energy to speak. Silence fell again and you suddenly became aware of how close you were — his uneven breaths brushed against your ear and the height difference made your face was nearly level with his chest, the thin silver chain he always wore dangling in front of you. “I should go,” you whispered, your voice smaller than ever. You tried to move but his hand grabbed your wrist again.

“Y/n I—that day, I was—”

“It’s okay Jake,” you replied shortly, shutting him up.

He stared at you for a moment then shook his head “it’s not okay.”

You clenched your jaws. Of course as always he was right. It was infact not okay at ALL. Nothing like this should have ever escalated but guess what? Your staurn being weak was finally catching up to you.

“Jake… let’s just forget anything ever happened,” you whispered, ignoring the lump in your throat. He stiffened for a moment then scoffed “you said you wanted to start fresh with me so how can we just forget—?” You looked up at him through your wet lashes, “yeah… because YOU said you wished we met differently!”

Jake shook his head “but this is not how I—”

“Then what the fuck do you want?!” you yelled, hitting his chest. He flinched even though your noticeably small palm made little to no impact then grabbed your wrist “chill—why do you have to be so violent all the time?”

“CHILL?!” you screamed again and he immediately covered your mouth, glancing outside to check if anyone heard. Tears welled up in your eyes as his hand slowly dropped.

“Jake how—how can I be calm after everything?” your voice trembled. “Think practically for once. From the beginning it was just me. It was always me chasing you, bothering you, approaching you with half baked assumptions… and yeah, maybe I should’ve seen this coming…”

You inhaled deeply, feeling your lungs running out of air “but I tried….I—I tried to mend our relatio—I mean fix whatever 'ship' was between us...and this is what I get for not giving up”

You hit his chest again, softer this time “Jake I’m tired…” You looked up searching his face to see if he had anything to say. But nothing came out. Was his heart made of stone? Did he feel nothing at all?

He slowly stepped back, your wrist slipping from his grasp and your back hit the lockers again.

“I’m sorry… I just—I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have accused you without proof…” he whispered.

Proof.

And he still needed physical evidence to believe you would never do that to him. Ha! What a joke you made out of yourself. It was really just you and your feelings against the whole world, and jake belonged to that world. A hollow laugh escaped your lips as you contemplated to meet his eyes for almost twenty minutes “you don’t trust me, do you Jake…?”

He opened his mouth “no no I do—I just—”

“You don’t trust me. My opinions, my feelings and you’re ashamed of me—”

He grabbed your shoulders and shook you slightly, voice turning hoarse. “Watch what you’re saying...I never said I’m ashamed of you!”

You harshly removed his hands away “That’s the problem Jake! You never say anything at all! So of course my thoughts will fill the gap with everything I ever speculated from your silence!”

“If you’re not ashamed of me, then why are we hiding here like criminals?!”

Jake ran a hand through his hair “You’re getting it wrong—they—”

“They?!” you cut him off shortly “I don’t want to hear about them! Say what’s in your mind. Say it!”

You finished in one sentence and breathed heavily for fresh set of oxygen. He stared at you for few seconds then gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/n… I think…”

Your heart thumped loudly and you fiddled nervously with your fingers. Is this it??? Was he finally going to—

“I think Sunghoon likes you and I don’t want to get in between you two… so I just wanted to clear things that...I don’t hold any grudges against you… or him.”

Eh?

Ehh???

EHHHH?????

Your face morphed into something very distant and distraught “Sunghoon what now?”

Jake nodded “yeah I know it sounds crazy, but….I think he’s bothered after witnessing us getting stuck again and again in some crazy positions—” He gulped, glancing up and down “I—I mean in life.”

You took a deep breath. What on God’s green earth was Jake even saying? Was he using even a single brain cell he used while studying?

“I think… I think we need to stay away from each other, as MUCH as we can” you whispered knowing you weren’t crazy for wanting that. Jake only nodded in response “yeah… let’s just try not to run into each other without any reason.”

Right. And that was exactly why Jake had very chalantly dragged you here to this vampire coup kinda space. In his defense he just wanted to save you from the mess that was probably still going on inside the cafeteria and to confess Sunghoon’s feelings.

Confess Sunghoon’s feelings…right....not his. Of course no.

He didn’t feel anything. Not at all.

“I still can’t believe birds are chirping and the sun is shining after that mess we survived yesterday,” Chaerin groaned, burying her face into your shoulder. You ignored her and focused on your books.

“You still haven’t told me where you disappeared, by the way.”

You scrunched your nose, trying to come up with a convincing lie “told you—I got scared and ran into the bathroom.”

Chaerin stared at you intently before clicking her tongue “I don’t know…..something about your testimony is not fucking convincing me.”

You shrugged “just stating facts.”

“Yeah, right. Also why are you ignoring Jake again?”

“I’m NOT???” Even if you tried, the desperation to suppress your emotions was obvious in your voice “and even if I am, what’s the problem? I don’t think I can sacrifice my major for something as trivial as Jake.”

“Funny how you say that when I can clearly see the tension—”

“Chaerin, stop. There’s genuinely nothing between us. Not anymore.”

Your best friend sighed, finally giving up as she lay back on your bed “we’re going shopping this weekend. You coming?”

You shook your head “assignments.”

A common class was arranged for the departments participating in the field trip, and the moment you realized that meant none other than just a bunch of grown engineering and architecture students crammed into one classroom, including the a very specific person you swore you weren’t trying to avoid.

You could practically hear the saxophone blaring in your ears.

Since the cafeteria mess happened for the first time in decelis — the principal and deans had let everyone off with just a few guardian calls and warnings. But you knew for Sadie, Evelyn, and the rest of that group, it wasn’t over yet. You had also noticed things seemed better between Chaerin and Jay. She now sat with him during the joint classes, and even though it got a little lonely sometimes you weren’t about to hold your best friend back for your own comfort. Still, you found yourself missing Chisa and Jurin a little more these days, considering they weren’t even from your department to begin with.

Too bad Heeseung wasn’t participating either, he was busy with his boxing gigs and practices as usual. That left you with Jungwon and Sunoo, who stuck together, and Sunghoon, who occasionally sat with you….and sometimes with a certain blonde student who preferred the very last row.

And now, as you stared at Sunghoon doodling absolute nonsense on your notebook, you couldn’t help but wonder what had even made Jake think about such bullshit. God, you wanted to ask Sunghoon about it so badly. But then again, getting involved in more mess sounded far worse than just staying confused.

“I hope this trip will be memorable for our two most loved departments,” an unfamiliar professor concluded her speech, probably a new recruit for the trip. You stretched your neck, trying to ease the stiffness.

“You need help?” Sunghoon asked glancing at your exhausted state after days of barely sleeping. You shook your head, forcing a tight lipped smile “no….I’m okay.”

“Damn, you look rough as hell.”

Jake flinched at the familiar deep voice. Felix gave him a casual salute before slipping into the seat beside him “about the footage, I’m still trying—”

“It’s okay, Felix. I…I don’t need it anymore,” he sighed, gaze unconsciously fixing on your back, which was unbeknownst to you slightly slouched against Sunghoon’s shoulder. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest. Whatever.

“But bro, your credit points—” Felix pouted. Jake let out a small chuckle “I can still score well in the field trip research and finals…” making the other guy mumble something along the lines of “I don’t know how you people manage this,” before getting completely lost in his own thoughts.

“Excuse me… uhm?”

The nineteen year old looked up and instinctively leaned back a little “yes….can I help you?”

There was no way his eyes were deceiving him at 8 a.m. on a class day. Standing right in front of him was the same girl who had sneezed a few days ago and, very unfortunately left clear snots on his brand new hoodie.“Are you okay now?” he asked, a bit cautiously, glancing at his current shirt as your cheeks turned pink.

“Y-yeah…” How embarrassing. You bit your lip and pulled out his belonging you had been meaning to return ever since that day. God, this guy had been hard to find. You were a freshman too but at least you had friends. It seemed like no one in his department even knew him — or maybe they were just discovering him for the first time whenever you asked about him.

“Thank you for that day,” you said, avoiding eye contact as you held out the properly washed and dried handkerchief, the letter ‘J’ neatly stitched in one corner. He took it back and scratching his brown hair awkwardly “you could’ve just kept it…”

What??? Did he think you couldn’t afford a handkerchief or something?...

But you were incapable of carrying one—

Shut the fuck up author.

“I’m really sorry for causing you trouble that day,” you added, this time more clearly while bending down to give him a small apologetic bow. “I’m Y/n from the architecture department by the way!”

An unnecessarily cute smile spread across his face, and you could practically feel the nervous giddiness radiating off him.

“No need to apologize, Y-Y/n… I’m Ja—”

“All architecture students are requested to assemble in the auditorium… I repeat, all architecture students…”

You mentally groaned at the sound of your dean’s voice echoing through the corridor “nice meeting you uhh I should go.” You gave him a quick wave before turning away.

Jake raised his hand to wave back, but you were already gone by then.

“…Bye...y/n.”

# 10 the heart wants what it wants

“No way what—” you gasped in horror, staring at the full sleeved outfits you were planning to pack for the trip. They were ruined with very noticeable holes staring back at you from almost every piece. “Are you fucking kidding me???? Even after paying a bloody amount of fees Decelis dorms have rats in the closet?” you cried immediately yanking every piece of clothing out of your wardrobe and throwing them onto your bed.

Except you were a little wrong. There weren’t any rats in Decelis. They were in your own house, ehich, unfortunately you had failed to notice while packing your winter clothes.

You glanced at the clock — almost 11:30 p.m. Chaerin was out shopping with the girls and you were pretty sure they had wrapped up by now. Calling them for your emergency would be pointless. You just needed some basic clothes for the three day trip. You hesitated for a moment then dialed Sunghoon’s number. He picked up within a few rings.

“At your service ma’am”

You could hear a few familiar voices in the background, but you ignored them and spoke frantically. “Sunghoon, can you accompany me to the mall???? There’s a huge emergency.”

He immediately sensed your panic “wait hold on—”

A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “Is it okay if I bring—”

“Yes, it’s okay! You can bring whoever you want!!” you nearly yelled, already slipping into a pair of jeans and a thin top, not even paying attention to whatever Sunghoon said next before hanging up.

And you wished so badly that you could take back your words. The weather was awful and the top you were wearing did absolutely nothing except sit on you like a useless decoration. Your phone was at 12%, and right beside you stood a very unaffected Jake with Sunghoon, of course. Even when you tried not to look, you kept stealing glances at him.

Ughhh what am I supposed to do??? He looks mad fine in that maroon leather jacket, alright?!

You hugged yourself tightly despite having just argued with Sunghoon about how you weren’t cold at all. From the corner of your eye, you could see him giving you a pitiful look.

You heard the faint rustle of leather shifting beside you and gulped. No matter what happens...you are not going to accept Jake’s offer if he tried to give you his jacket. Not at all. Even if you freeze to death right here.

You glanced at him again, only to find him pulling the jacket closer around himself and buttoning it all the way up to his neck.

Your ears burned hot. Whatever asshole.

You quickly marched up to Sunghoon who was walking a little ahead, completely missing the way Jake’s gloved hands had subtly moved, almost like he had been about to reach out for you. He let out a quiet breath when your presence disappeared from beside him, and slipped his hands back into his pockets.

Looking at the clearly pissed staffs who were definitely not expecting a uni student to go shopping at nearly 11:50 a.m., just ten minutes before closing — you realized you didn’t have the luxury to pick and choose. You grabbed whatever full sleeved, warm clothes you could find on the racks and started mentally estimating the total. You looked around trying to find where the other two boys had gone, only to spot them hanging out near a rack of oversized tees.

You sighed. At least things were better between Jake and Sunghoon. Otherwise the guilt of being the reason for their friendship breaking apart would’ve eaten you alive for the rest of your college life.

“Uh….ma’am, I don’t think these are your size…”

You flinched, not realizing a staff member had been watching you inspect the pile of clothes you had picked. She studied them for a moment, then grabbed a few more items from the rack and handed them to you with a bright smile.“You can try these in the trial room!”

And thank God you did. Because every single piece you had chosen was completely the wrong size. You almost cried in relief when you tried on the clothes the staff had picked. God bless that sweet girl.

Along with basic tops and tees, she had also included a baby pink dress with frills and tiny pearls. Too girly for your taste but it wouldn’t hurt to try right?

You slipped it on and froze. Wow.

Maybe you should start wearing dresses more often. It fit you perfectly. You turned slightly, only to notice the zipper was still open, exposing your bare back. Ugh.

You tried reaching behind, attempting to pull it up yourself, silently praying you wouldn’t ruin the dress.

“Ack!” you yelped in frustration when the zipper refused to budge.

“excuse me?” you called out, hoping the staff was nearby “I need a bit of help here!”

No one responded. You waited for another fifteen minutes and were just about to give up with an expression already turning sour, when the trial room door suddenly opened.

You sighed in relief, still craning your neck awkwardly to look at the zipper “uhm—sorry to bother again, I just need—AHHWHATDAFUCK!”

Your sentence ended in a sharp screech when you saw who was standing behind you in the mirror. Jake bit his lower lip, clearly trying to look anywhere but your bare back as he stammered, “T-the staffs are cleaning up…and there was no one around, y—you were calling—uhhh”

“Well then hurry up idiot now that you’re here!” you panicked, ignoring the sudden heat pooling in your stomach.

He nodded quickly, placing one hand lightly on your shoulder while the other reached for the zipper. Through the refelection you noticed his gaze wavering, shakily tracing the expanse of your back before he startled and looked up. You mentally facepalmed when your eyes met his in the reflection.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to look—the chain is stuck—”

“And who set this system up?! Look at the chain if that helps you!” you snapped again.

He swallowed and looked down again. After a few more minutes of struggling and his rough finger pads occasionally brushing against your back, sending unwanted goosebumps down your spine — Jake finally managed to pull the zipper up. Both of you let out a breath of relief. Then his eyes lifted again, scanning your reflection. You forgot for a moment, that Jake was even inside the trial room.

The dress looked….perfect. Yeah. You were definitely keeping this.

You noticed his lips moving behind you and turned slightly “you saying something?”

He shook his head quickly. “Nah… it’s nothing.”

After giving yourself one last look and checking for any damage, you pushed Jake out of the room and locked the door behind you.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” you whispered, sliding down against the door and covering your face.

“Fucking sexy.”

His ass wasn’t slick at all. You definitely heard what he whispered and a part of you wanted to hear it again. Too bad he was a fucking pussy. A knock came from outside, Sunghoon’s voice reminding you that the poor staffs probably wanted to go home. You checked your reflection one last time, trying to calm yourself down before facing Jake again and then you stepped out.

The walk back to the dorm wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be except for the fact that your stomach kept rumbling, constantly reminding you that you skipped dinner. You wanted to go back and order something but Sunghoon protested, insisting he knew a nearby ramen place that stayed open until almost 3 a.m. Ignoring your protests he grabbed your arm and dragged you in the direction of the shop, with Jake trailing behind.

And honestly you were so glad you listened to him. The moment warm smell of the spicy soup hit you, your hunger spiked. The shop was small, almost like a pocket version of Decelis cafeteria, barely able to fit ten people at once. And at this hour it was completely empty.

The owner looked more than happy to see customers, probably not expecting to make any money this late.

As you relaxed into the small wooden chair, your eyes drifted toward Jake. He was looking at something on his phone, smiling to himself.

There was something about the way the corner of his lips curled when he smiled. It felt familiar. Maybe because you had noticed it before but never paid much attention to? considering he barely smiled back when you two were busy pissing each other off.

You cleared your throat. I mean he still pisses me off.

Your train of thought didn’t get to reach its destination before the owner arrived with three bowls of perfectly cooked katsu ramen. And in no time you dove headfirst into the soupy madness of noodles and vegetables. While eating you noticed Sunghoon quietly picking out spring onions from his bowl and dropping them into yours. You snickered when he met your eyes and soon both of you were giggling.

Across the table Jake tightened his grip on his chopsticks, then picked up a few pieces of chicken katsu and dropped them into your bowl.

Both you and Sunghoon looked up at him, mouths slightly open, waiting for an explanation. He shrugged “I don’t like katsu…”

Sunghoon immediately kicked him under the table “did you hit your head or something??? You literally said you wanted to eat katsu ramen!”

Jake licked his lips, ignoring your questioning look and turned to Sunghoon “ well I just decided I don’t like katsu anymore”

“Please log out.”

“Ahhhh, I’m so full,” you yawned after devouring an entire bowl including the spring onions from Sunghoon and the katsu pieces from Jake. The chilly weather reminded you that you still had to walk back to the dorm. Thankfully it wasn’t that far from the ramen shop.

“Sunghoon you just introduced me to a gem. I’m bringing the girls here next time!” you said doing small excited jumps. Sunghoon chuckled “sure.”

He stared at you for a moment then suddenly stepped closer and grabbed your jaw gently, lowering his voice “there’s something near your eye.”

You paused confused, as Sunghoon’s broad figure hovered so close, his fingers brushing lightly near your eye. Maybe your mascara had smudged a bit, you weren’t really sure. After a few seconds, he pulled back only to trip slightly in the process, making both of you burst into laughter.

Jake bit his tongue trying to stop himself from screaming or doing something he would only regret while watching sunghoon hovering over you, his back facing him. Sunghoon kissing the girl he claimed he might be interested in? Not okay. Sunghoon touching you like that? Definitely not okay.

He can’t.

Why?

He just can’t.

Why? Because he’s a coward who can’t admit his own feelings? Or is it because he was extremely jealous and radiating off black aura realising he never got to kiss you within a normal circumstance.

Jake was acting weird. Like, very weird.

You chewed on a protein bar as you continued packing your clothes. The bus was leaving early at 7 a.m. tomorrow, and since the destination was far you decided not to waste time on your phone tonight and just sleep early. But deciding something and actually putting that into action were two completely different things. You kept tossing and turning, the incidents from the past few days crowding your mind. You and Jake had barely interacted — it felt like time had rewound itself to when you only knew him as someone with a bad reputation, and he probably wasn’t even aware of your existence.

You placed your palm over your chest, feeling your heart beat steadily.

Chaerin did say something about listening to your heart a few days ago. You almost forgot about it.

Nope. There was nothing your heart had to say.

You squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep. Within ten minutes, your body finally relaxed under the covers.

# 11 moonstruck

“I can’t believe they’re making us travel at 7 in the morning… ugh,” Chaerin groaned, her face still puffy and voice laced with sleepiness. You laughed while pinching her cheeks as you tried to help her sit up properly on the bus seat. Outside, the view slowly shifted, from tall skyscrapers to wide stretches of greenery, with the occasional factories passing by. The gentle jerks of the bus made you drowsy, and you rested your head against the window.

After almost an hour and a half of traveling, three buses packed with students from both departments finally reached their destination.

The decade old heritage building, subject of this trip's research stood tall just a few minutes away, within walking distance of the accommodation everyone was staying in. After the professors finished handing out room keys, Chaerin grabbed your hand.

“Y/n…me and Jay—we’re staying together…”

You gave her a sly smile “oh ho…?”

But instead of smiling back she looked worried. You noticed it immediately and patted her back. “It’s okay Chaerin. I’m not sad about you leaving me alone—I’ll have the room all to myself anyway.”

She tightened her grip on your hand “uhm… but his roommate—”

“Oh, don’t worry they can stay with m—wait, what?” You went quiet. How did you forget about that detail? Panic creeped inside you as you whispered, “Who is his roommate?”

“Sunghoon,” Chaerin replied almost instantly. You let out a breath of relief. Okay then, sharing a room with a guy wasn’t exactly something you had mentally prepared for, but it was just Sunghoon after all—

“But Sunghoon is sharing a room with Sunoo and Jungwon… which leaves you with Jake.”

Chaerin’s words cut through your thoughts, and your brain immediately stopped working then did a complete reboot.

Everything felt unreal like some crazy new york bestselling author’s bullshit until you and Jake were really standing in the doorway of a single room with your respective luggage.

“See, I’m not doing that ‘you take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch’ shit,” you rambled, shoving Jake aside as you entered. Partly because you wanted to claim the better side of the bed and partly cause you didn’t want him to see your tomato red face. Jake followed silently as you continued, “Bathroom usage should be no more than twenty minutes—and that includes showering and shitting—what the fuck, hey! that’s my side!”

You gasped as you saw Jake already dumping his duffel bag and stretching out on the side of the bed you had clearly intended for yourself. He shrugged “first come, first serve.”

Insufferable prick.

You tossed your bag onto a nearby beanbag and stormed into the en suite bathroom. Just before shutting the door you peeked your head out and shot him a dead glare “and since I’m the first one to use the bathroom I won’t be coming out for an hour.”

“What the fuck—?! That’s not fair, what?!” He sat up straight for the first time, making direct eye contact.

You stuck your tongue out. “First come, first serve right back at you.”

Since it was the very first day there wasn’t much scheduled — just self exploration and students hanging out. The actual research would begin the next day. You were in the middle of sorting your outfits when a notification popped up in the group chat.

Professor Han: Mandatory physical activities for students will take place in five minutes. Please wrap up and come outside.

Are you kidding me? It was nearly 3 p.m. Who in their right mind even does physical activities at this ungodly hour? You huffed while slipping into a pair of trousers and a white baby tee. Since Jake was still in the bathroom, you changed in the room and decided to head out before him.

The sun was slowly softening, air turning breezy. You noticed people already forming groups and jogged over where jay sunghoon chaerin was chatting. After catching up and you ranting to Chaerin about Jake stealing your side of the bed, everyone soon found themselves gathered in front of two large cardboard boxes. Professor Han stood at the front with a mic, alongside a few other assistant professors.

“Since this is a conjoined trip, we believe team bonding is very important before anything else.”

A wave of groans and sighs rippled through the crowd, clearly reflecting the ongoing tension between architecture and engineering departments.

Ignoring that, “So, we’ve decided to pair everyone up using a lottery system!” Professor Kim announced. That earned actual curses from the students. “No bad words!”

“First line, please come forward one by one and pick a random slip from either of these boxes. Announce your partner’s name, and they must stand beside you but—” Professor Han paused for effect making sure he had everyone’s attention.

“—here’s a twist.”

The crowd leaned in.

“If you don’t like the partner you get you can exchange them with someone you do like!”

That instantly caused an uproar this time of relief. At least no one would be stuck with someone they didn’t want. The lottery began. Some got their friends, some exchanged and some were left awkwardly unmatched. And then finally it was your turn. You walked forward and picked a slip without much thought. The name slipped out of your mouth before your brain could fully process it.

“Jake Sim, engineering department.”

You heard few girls snickering behind you.

Without missing a beat you spoke again, “I want to exchange my partner with Park Sunghoon!”

You ignored Sunghoon’s confused expression, doing everything in your power to not look at Jake, who stood somewhere behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Sunghoon whisper yelled. You crossed your arms and ignored the tug in your chest. “Just doing what he wanted.”

“He wanted that? What—when?! How?!” Sunghoon looked genuinely lost.

“Quiet! No commotion… next one, please come up,” Professor Han continued. One by one, everyone got their partners. And then it was Jake’s turn. He was wearing a cap so you couldn’t clearly see his expression. He picked up a slip, stared at it for a moment then looked up.

“Evelyn Jung, engineering department.”

Your arms dropped to your sides. The composure you had been holding onto shattered instantly. He’s going to exchange his partner right? Right???

Jake said nothing as Evelyn with her bubbly energy skipped over to him in no time, immediately starting a conversation. And to your absolute demise you saw the corner of Jake’s lips curling upward.

Fuck him. Fuck both of them. You were so done.

The warm up session began with everyone helping their partners with stretching, sit-ups, and a few breathing exercises.

“So what the fuck was that?” Sunghoon asked again, pressing your feet down as you did a set of sit ups. “No idea,” you replied kicking him slightly when you felt his grip weakening. “Ouch! Okay, damn!” he winced then glanced toward Jake and Evelyn, who were doing the same exercise not too far away.

“Is Jake going insane after that assignment incident?? The mf said he doesn’t like katsu anymore, and now he just accepted Evelyn as his partner?!” Sunghoon sounded like he didn’t believe a single word coming out of his own mouth. You exhaled sharply. Enough of Jake, Jake, Jake, and Jake. He could go fuck himself with a dildo named Evelyn—

“augh!”

Some students paused nearby at the sound of Evelyn’s voice. Even though you didn’t want to look you still glanced over at the commotion.

“Jake—it hurts!” she winced, pointing at her ankle which looked completely fine. Jake gently rubbed the spot “sorry I might’ve put too much pressure...” She shook her head in denial muttering how weak she felt nowadays then suddenly leaned forward — her lips barely grazed his cheek.

You saw red. You kicked Sunghoon again, freeing your feet, and stood up abruptly.

“Wha—woman what the fuck happens to you from time to time?!” Sunghoon groaned. You ignored him already walking back toward the accommodation. “Tell Professor Han I don’t feel well.”

And for a long time you didn’t. You stayed curled up covering yourself, biting your lips until they nearly bled as your mind filled with a storm of thoughts. By the time Jake entered the room tired and sweaty you were already fast asleep. He crouched down beside your bed, his thumb gently brushing away the dried tears still clinging to your face “why are you always in distress when I’m not looking…”

Your lips moved slightly making him pause before leaning in closer to catch your faint whisper.

“Jake you piece of shit….I hope you get chlamydia…”

Day one of the field trip began with you waking up tucked under the duvet, your voice groggy and your face puffy. You sat up quickly realizing you had slept through the entire night like a baby. Frantically searching for your phone your eyes drifted to the empty space beside you. Seems like someone didn’t come back last night. He was probably with Evelyn.

You sighed, already tired of Jake being the first thought after you opened your eyes, and decided to freshen up. It was officially research day.

After joining everyone for breakfast in the buffet area and successfully avoiding Jake, who seemed to be avoiding you too, you chatted with the others as if nothing was wrong.

“You’re acting weird again,” Sunghoon whispered casually picking spring onions off his plate and dropping them onto yours. You munched on a piece of toasted bread and shot a glare at Jake’s back, where he stood talking to Jay.

“Well I was born with it. Deal with it cause If you’re going to get romantically involved with a person you should like them as a whole.”

Sunghoon scrunched his face in disgust “why the hell would I get involved with you?”

“Exactly—why the fuck would you?!” you snapped “So go ahead and shove that idea into your friend’s thick skull!” and stuffed a piece of bread into Sunghoon’s mouth which hung open in shock.

“Look at these marvelous old money designs! Oh how beautifully they balance with the mechanical structures without hindering the engineering of the base!” The assistant professor walked ahead followed by a group of students including you. Other groups trailed behind different faculty members each being guided through the heritage building. “Oh—and did you know these bricks weigh nearly ten kilos? My my….how did they carve such fine designs…”

Yeah. You couldn’t wait to dig up a brick tonight and smash it on your roommate’s head. Suddenly you were shoved aside as a swaying figure of Evelyn appeared in front of you “Sorry my leg is injured,” she faked a smile before walking up to the professor and whispering something. After she finished, the professor clapped to get everyone’s attention.

“Our lovely student, Miss Evelyn has proposed a plan to take some beautiful photos of the building for later research purposes in pairs! So why don’t we follow the same pairing process we used yesterday?”

And just like that you wished you could dig up two bricks. Because murdering Jake wouldn’t be enough. Evelyn had to go too.

When you were six, there was this strange shaman lady who used to live next door. She would always look at you like something was terribly wrong and tell your mother that your planets were not aligned. While growing up you never really thought of her again until now, at this moment when you just finished drawing out a slip and read the name, the same damn name again, you truly believed your planets were at this point crashing with each other.

“Jake Sim, engineering department,” you called out in a robotic voice. Then you looked up at the crowd.

“I would like to exchange my partner. Park Sunghoon come out.”

“Okay what is your deal actually?” Chaerin smacked your hands as you tried to focus your phone camera on a plain white pillar.

“I want to go home,” you replied almost instantly. She nodded “yes, we all do, but—”

“No, you don’t!” You swatted her hand away, clearly irritated. Chaerin followed your clearly distracted and distressed stare, beyond the plain white pillar and spotted Evelyn taking pictures of Jake while he was busy scribbling something in his notebook. She sighed then grabbed your hands again. “Y/n why are you pushing him away like this when the universe is literally trying to make it work?”

Your mind was still burning from getting paired with Jake for the second time only to exchange him for Sunghoon — and practically hand him over to Evelyn with pink ribbons yet AGAIN. You snapped “I hope the universe fucking blows up tomorrow.”

Chaerin quickly stepped in front of you blocking your view before you could throw hands at the nearby girls who heard your comment while giving you looks. Then she crossed her arms.

“The more you push him away the more you’re going to get hurt,” she said firmly. “If you really want him gone say it to his face. Say you want no trouble and want to graduate without being in his presence. Say you’re done with everything—Right. To. His. Face.”

You clenched your jaw. Like hell you weren’t going to do that. Oh you definietly would. You just needed a little time. Just a little.

As the day ended with a few more lectures, note taking, and you actively avoiding the sight of Jake and Evelyn working together — you found yourself lying on the hotel bed completely exhausted and sweating, even in the chilly November weather. Too tired to even scoot away from Jake who seemed equally worn out. You shifted slightly trying to find a comfortable position under the air conditioner when his hand lightly brushed against yours.

You shot up “how scandalous!”

Jake rolled his eyes “never expected you to have such big words in your dictionary.”

“Not my fault you’re uneducated,” you huffed, tossing the pillows and duvet off the bed that were bothering you. Jake turned to the other side facing the window while you also turned the opposite way, staring hard at the beige wall.

He wasn't even gonna bicker with you now? Wow....well good for you. At least that saved you some time and your mental peace. You bit the inside of your cheek trying not to make a sound as a sob threatened to escape your throat.

Want him gone? How could you want him gone when your stupid heart refused to even accept that this was real? Sure you never wanted trouble. But things were far past that now. Why was Jake making you feel so confused? One moment he pulled you close like nothing had ever happened. The next you were left feeling tossed aside. God—you had even thrown off the duvet. Now there was nothing to muffle your tears or even cover yourself.

“Y/n?”

You heard Jake’s voice, softer this time. And though you wanted to answer, nothing really came out. See, this was your problem. Of course Jake would keep tossing you around if you couldn’t even stand up for yourself.

“Are you asleep?” he asked again.

You opened your mouth to answer but then felt arms encircling your waist and pulling you back, that instantly shut you up. Your back hit with jake's chest, warmth radiating off it. And as you tried your best to not wiggle you felt his breathe on your earlobs. "I'm sorry it's too cold...I'm so sorry...Just let me stay like this for a while..."

His sleepy voice faded into quiet breaths, then soft snores. You let out a careful breath and slowly relaxed into his hold.

Avoiding Jake at this point felt easier than avoiding Professor Min’s eyes. Why the hell was that hag even here? He called the two of you aside during breakfast, eyeing both you and Jake carefully. “I’ve noticed some ongoing tension between you two….not to mention the rumors about you sharing the same room are circulating among the teachers.”

You waited impatiently as he went on about how he shouldn’t catch you doing anything unethical with him blah, blah, blah.

You gulped. Does Jake remember what happened last night?

You glanced at him and found him looking somewhere else completely unfazed. Does he not remember anything at all? The answer had already been clear that morning when you woke up, tucked neatly under the duvet again, while Jake’s side of the bed was spotless, like no one had ever slept there except you. Why was he doing this?

“Y/n, Jake I’m talking to you.”

You snapped back to reality as Professor Min held out a fishing rod toward you both. “You two should go fishing. Consider it bonding time”

What now??? He can’t be serious right????

What shocked you even more was Jake casually taking the fishing rod without any protest, muttering a quiet “thank you.”

He turned and walked away, as you followed behind.

“Jake!—wait—you’re not actually serious about the fishing thing, right?! We have tons of paperwork!” you called out to him as he walked a few meters ahead. He didn’t turn back “There’s still time to think….and if you don’t want to come with me then don’t. I’ll just find another partner.”

Another partner??? What??? He couldn’t possibly mean Evelyn….right?

You let out a frustrated sigh and stomped past him, your steps heavy against the green field even if they barely made a mark.

Day two of the trip officially ended with a lot of note taking and observation. Fortunately everyone worked individually this time saving you from the emotional turmoil of being paired with Jake again. You scrubbed yourself harshly in the shower, tired, irritated, and somewhere close to feeling like dying. This trip was supposed to be your final push to move on. Seems like you were just stuck in the same place forever. That’s it. You slammed the handheld shower back into place and grabbed your towel.

You were going to move on. That was it. No more excuses and accepting anything from Jake.

After skipping dinner for two days straight you couldn’t risk it anymore. You needed fill your stomach before something else went wrong again.

“Slow down oh my God,” Chaerin muttered. You ignored her stuffing your mouth with whatever was on your plate. Sunghoon quickly held out a glass of water when you choked but immediately stopped when you shot him a glare.

“Are you trying to kill yourself or the chicken?” he muttered under his breath witnessing you stabbing the piece of meat repeatedly. Jake was nowhere to be seen. Not like you cared. He was a grown adult, it was his responsibility to eat on time. But your heart dropped when you overheard Jay telling Sunghoon that they hadn’t seen Jake since the afternoon. You slowed down, chewing more carefully, trying to come up with logical reasons. He’d come back eventually. He always did.

Beside you Chaerin noticed your uneasiness and nudged your shoulder. “Y/n did Jake say anyth—”

“Don’t involve me with him anymore,” you cut her off coldly, wiping your mouth with a tissue. Yeah you weren’t getting tangled in this shit again.

Back in the room you went through your usual skincare routine and flopped onto the bed, wishing yourself a very heartfelt goodnight. But even after tossing and turning across the entire bed sleep refused to come. Your hand instinctively reached for your phone.

11:30 pm.

It was pitch black outside, except for the dim lights near the entrance. Where the fuck was Jake? After five minutes of thinking and another five minutes of cursing yourself, you finally slipped on your hoodie and walked out of the room.

As you stepped out of the accommodation, you dialed his number. As expected it went straight to voicemail. He should honestly throw that phone away if he wasn’t even going to use it for its actual purpose. You shivered. The cold felt harsher now that you were out in the open, surrounded by vast, empty fields. From this distance, the site and the accommodation looked like tiny ants. You kept walking. What started as irritation slowly turned into worry. You dialed Jake’s number again but it was no use. A frustrated groan escaped your lips. When was the last time you saw him? Where could he even be—You forced yourself to calm down.

Think. And then it hit you. The image of him taking the fishing rod from Professor Min flashed across your mind.

The small lake behind the heritage building! You retraced your steps toward the old building. Your lungs burned craving warmth, as the air grew even colder near the lake. You turned on your phone’s flashlight.

“Jake?” you called, turning your head frantically. “Jake?!” eventually yelling louder.

What the fuck. You coughed, your throat dry from running and panting. Then you walked further. Slowly your vision adjusted. An old wooden bridge stretched across the lake. And there a hazy figure sat at the edge, shivering, alone, holding a fishing rod.

Fucking hell.

“JAKE!” you screamed with everything you had. The figure looked up. Soon jake's blurry figure stood up a little wobbly, maybe because he was sitting there for long. He dropped the fishing rod on the bridge and started running towards you. After a while his face became visible and you realised the reason he seemed blurry was not because of the weather but because of your own eyes tearing up. You quickly wiped your tears before he could get any closer.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, slightly breathless, clearly not expecting anyone to come looking for him. You clicked your tongue. You wanted to push him straight into the lake. Commit firstndegree murder right there and be done with it. But your trembling hands and racing mind just needed to see him safe.

“It’s almost midnight ” you muttered looking down, fidgeting with your fingers. Jake ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “I know….go back. It’s late—”

“What about you?” you cut in. He stepped back slightly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Oof. The same fucking conversation. You crossed your arms and finally looked up, your embarrassment, your shame, everything gone. You didn’t care if he saw you like this anymore, all ugly, devastated, hurt and confused.

“Nothing really matters to you except your own feelings, does it?”

Jake clenched his fists “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just—”

“Yeah, you were just out here fulfilling your duty as an obedient student right?” you snapped. “Leaving everyone worried sick!”

Your head rang with every word. Jake frowned. “No one’s worried Y/n, I texted Professor Min before coming here. I also let Hoon and the others know.”

Oh. So it was just you acting like a fucking madwoman.

“What about me then Jake…?”

Your voice cracked and you didn’t have the strength to repeat it. Jake opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His mind refused to cooperate.

“Everyone gets an explanation while I’m left stranded here like always…” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He reached for your cold hands. “I’m sorry I thought you wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?”

He bit his lower lip “wouldn’t want to associate with me anymore.”

Yeah right. Thank fucking God he reminded you of that dumb excuse you’d been hiding yourself behind. “Yeah??? Would wanting to make a difference?” you snapped. “You didn’t even take me seriously when I wanted you for myself.”

The words slipped out through gritted teeth. Jake bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he needed to let go of whatever he was holding back—but he just couldn’t.

“Why would you even want me—”

“Yeah, right—I don’t anymore idiot!” you cut him off. “Go fuck yourself! I don’t care if you freeze to death and fall into the river—I don’t care if I never see you again! I don’t!” You shoved his shoulder mid sob.

Something slipped from his clenched fist and fell to the ground.

Under the faint yellow glow of a nearby lamppost you noticed it...a bracelet. Brown beads strung together. You recognized it instantly. The beads were arranged unevenly, clearly fixed after being broken.

Jake bent down to pick it up but you were faster. You grabbed it and noticed the white elastic string—the same one you had snapped weeks ago. Another wave of tears blurred your vision.

“W—what is that…?”

Jake reached out to take it back, but you stepped away.

“Y/n give it back. The beads are still not—”

“It’s mine,” you said, shaking your head.

“I never said it wasn’t yours—it just needs fixing—”

“Damn it Jake I said it’s mine! Stop bothering me!” You pushed him again, this time hard enough for him to stumble back. Jake inhaled sharply. And then walked toward you in long strides. You tried to move but it was pointless. He grabbed your arms and pulled you toward him. You yelped as jake squished your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him.

“Stop acting like a brat,” he hissed, struggling to keep his composure.

Brat? Oh, he wanted to call you a brat right now? Fine. You will show him what a real brat looked like.

You took a sharp breath and threw the bracelet into the lake. A small splash echoed in the silence.

You stood there, breathing heavily, as Jake’s hands slowly fell away from your face. He stared at the water. You didn’t even know why you did that but you were done. Completely done.You turned to walk away but froze mid step when a louder splash cut through the air.

What the fuck—No. No this can’t be—

“JAKE!” you screamed, running toward the edge of the lake.

You shrieked as icy lake water splashed onto you, the reality crashing in — titanic level of shit was going to unfold if you didn’t pull Jake out right now. “Motherfucker I will strangle you if you don’t come out this instant!” you yelled. But he disappeared under the water. No…what?

“Jake…?” you called again. But no response came. Your heart dropped to your ass. Soon you muttered a quick prayer, rolled up your pants, and stepped into the lake. The freezing water bit into your skin turning it numb almost instantly but you were way past caring about that.

“Jake!” you screamed again. Before you could take another step a hand grabbed your leg. You screamed as you slipped into the water.

After what felt like forever, almost twenty minutes of struggling you finally managed to drag Jake’s coughing body out of the lake.

Your strength gave out immediately. Both of you collapsed onto the grass, soaked and shivering. Jake looked like he was about to pass out.

Panic surged through you as you pulled his upper body onto your lap and began pressing your hands against his chest, trying to help him breathe.

“J–Jake can you hear me?? Are you okay?” you whispered, leaning closer to his face. He gave a weak nod. Then slowly lifted his left hand. The bracelet tangled around his fingers.

And through ragged breaths he managed to choke out a faint yes.

You felt an invisible weight lift off your shoulders the moment you heard his voice. Jake tried to sit up, gripping your arms, but you didn’t let him. You clutched his soaked shirt and buried your face against his rising chest.

“Why would you do that?!”

He didn’t reply. You bit your lip hard until it almost bled. “You’re so fucking dumb…so so fucking dumb…”

Jake’s fingers moved gently moving your tangled dripping hair to see your face and he sighed “why would you throw it, dumbass…?”

“Does that thing mean more to you than me?” you snapped looking up at him, eyes red from crying, a tear streaked face, and a very ungraceful runny nose. Jake exhaled slowly.

“I don’t know…”

“Then what the fuck do you know—”

“I just knew I had to pick it up,” he cut in. “Otherwise I’d lose it forever… and I don’t want to lose it.” He looked straight into your eyes. You pressed your lips together holding back another sob then tugged his arm.“Let’s go back…”

He didn’t say anything else and he stood up with your help. And the two of you walked back slowly, close enough for your hands to stay intertwined, toward the faint light of the accommodation.

No words were exchanged but somewhere deep inside, your heart knew something still needed to be said.

The last day of the trip started with both you and Jake getting scolded and grounded by almost every professor after someone snitched about seeing you two wandering the halls at midnight looking like swamp zombies.

Thankfully Jake seemed fine after a long sleep. You made a mental note to have a proper conversation with him once you are back in Decelis.

“Thank you, everyone, for participating in this field trip. Every student here did an excellent job in their research…including the ones indulging in unethical activities…”

You rolled your eyes discreetly at Professor Min’s words. He can go to hell for all you care. You just wanted to get back to the dorm

“...And now, for the most anticipated announcement I received from the principal last night—the date for this year’s gala has been finalized. It will take place on the 7th of October that is few weeks from now.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. Wait what? Chaerin grabbed your arms, practically bouncing. “Oh my God!!! Y/n!!! Finally the gala week!”

But…your talk with Jake?

“I wish all students good luck for their semester ending exams next month. Enjoy your gala,” Professor Min concluded. And just like that everyone scattered to pack their bags and rush toward the buses. You glanced at Jake. Sunghoon was already bombarding him with something talking nonstop. Jake looked up, as your eyes met with his. And you immediately looked away. Fuck your heart still wasn’t ready to face him. Fine. You’d talk to him. No matter what, hefore the gala. You had to.

# 12 billet-doux

“You’re not coming?? Bitch your grandma is coming,” Chaerin scoffed after you gave her the weakest excuse imaginable for skipping the gala next Saturday. She wasn’t having it.

“Y/n, be fucking for real. How long are you going to lock yourself up and waste your youth?”

No shit your youth was currently busy running after someone who seemed very occupied this week. Jake was elected by his classmates to be the face of the department this gala and that made him almost untouchable (not like he was not anyways). He was constantly surrounded by seniors, being briefed on responsibilities, and all that formal bullshit. And every time you wanted to get up and pull him aside for a little chat you would get bombarded by your classmate who still thought you were two timing with him and sunghoon. Everything was so fucking tiring but you were not giving up until you were seeing the end of it.

“Y/nnnnn!” Chaerin whined again.

You sighed “fine. I’ll go...I guess.”

The girl infront of you stopped spinning on your study chair and jumped. “REALLY??? Oh my God! We need to go shopping this is so happening fina—”

You cut her off the moment she said shopping and walked to your wardrobe.

You cut her off hearing the shopping part and walked towards your wardrobe. "I don’t think i need to buy anything chae...i already got....this one!" You pulled out the same pink dress with frills and pearls you bought before trip and chaerin's mouth hung opened. "Where and when did you buy this gorgeous dress???"

You blushed a little and scratched your neck "well it's a long story"

Jake had been zoning out a lot these days. Well it wasn’t exactly his fault. His head felt light all the time like he was stuck somewhere else but now, at least he knew what he had to do. He stared at the bracelet he had retrieved from the lake that night, the voices of seniors and professors fading into a blur in the background. He needed to return what was yours to begin with.

“Yo.”He looked up to see Sunghoon sliding into the seat beside him.“You…coming for practice later right?” Sunghoon asked but his eyes quickly fell on the bracelet in Jake’s hand. A smirk spread across his face. “Still not giving up? I thought you were done with your feelings.” Jake sighed and slipped the bracelet back into his pocket. “Yeah Hoon. I’m done giving two fucks about waiting.” He leaned back slightly, that familiar smugness returning on his face “I’m going after your crush so watch out.”

Sunghoon blinked “Excuse me???? Hey—Jake! Where are you going—Jake!”

You sat still as Chaerin applied highlighter to your cheekbones. It was already past 7 p.m., which meant the gala would start any moment. You exhaled slowly. It was tonight or never. You needed to talk to jake no matter who comes in between you won't fucking back up.

“Chae, sit down. Let me do yours too” you said, giggling as you made her switch places with you in front of the mirror. By the time you and Chaerin joined Chisa, Jurin, and Heeseung, it was almost 8 p.m. The campus looked something straight out of barbie charm school shit, leaving the freshmen and sophomores who hadn’t experienced the gala before completely starstruck.

“I can’t believe we almost lost this gorgeous ritual because some weirdos gave each other concussions!” Chisa exclaimed, already posing for a selfie as Jurin joined her.

You spotted Sunoo and Jungwon, who immediately dragged you toward the main area. Everywhere you looked it was just gorgeous women with their partners and professors looking dazzling once in a while. Sunoo kept asking you how the field trip joined and as you guys chatted jay ran up to chaerin and kissed her cheeks. Chisa and Jurin elbowed each other silently and you snickered, noticing how red Chaerin had turned. You were so glad she got her happy ending.

A question was stuck inside your throat since evening but you refrained to ask it to others knowing no one could’ve answer that. You knew jake wouldn’t be with his friends.He had more important responsibilities as the department representative.

You felt someone poke your shoulder. Turning around you found a very much awestruck Heeseung staring at the food stalls like he had just discovered heaven.

“We need to try them before they run out,” he said lightly shaking your shoulders. You giggled and followed him. You felt eyes on you when heeseung put his arms around your shoulder. Jobless people probably whispering how greedy you were to go for yet another guy while you were playing jake and sunghoon. But at this moment you were long past the line of giving a fuck. Heeseung and you stopped infront of a cozy stall selling various kinds of tanghulu.

While waiting your phone buzzed suddenly. You turned it on only to find a text from Jake.

Basketball court. Within 5 mins. We need to talk.

Your chest tightened.

“Heeseung I have somewhere to go,” you said quickly shoving the payment into his hand.

“Wait—what? At least take a bite—” he held the tanghulu stick up to your lips. You leaned in and took a quick bite, unable to resist his confused expression and the sweet smell from the syrup. Then you ran.

“Ouch—sorry!” Someone bumped into Heeseung right after you disappeared from his sight, causing your half eaten tanghulu to fall to the ground.

“Oh my God, I’m—I’m so sorry!” the girl panicked. Heeseung shook his head trying to convince that it wasn't even his portion to the poor girl who was panicking at this moment. “no no it’s okay…it wasn’t even mine—”

But before he could finish speaking the girl asked for an extra tanghulu to the shopkeeper and turned at him “these new contact lenses I’m wearing are fucking useless.”

Heeseung blinked unsure how to respond. His eyes drifted across her face and stopped on a fading bruise above her eyebrow. Without thinking, he crouched slightly and touched the spot gently. The girl flinched and stepped back. He immediately pulled his hand away. “Shit, I’m sorry! Did someone hurt you??”

She gave a sheepish smile and shook her head. “No….I just do boxing gigs sometimes.”

His eyes widened. “Really? Me too!”

She grabbed the fresh tanghulu and turned back to him, smiling brighter this time.

“Oh my, we should totally exchange numbers! Also—this is for you, as an apology for dropping yours.”

She held it out.“oh I’m Rina by the way! You??”

“Can you ring my phone once? It was just here…” Jake asked as he pushed through the crowd to Soobin, his hands digging through his pockets again and again. Soobin nodded and pulled out his phone to call jake's number.

Jake exhaled and glanced around. The campus was packed — hallways overflowing, everyone dressed up, almost unrecognizable. It felt suffocating. He just wanted this whole gala to end so he could finally find you and talk. His gaze drifted to a group of girls staring at him with heart eyes. One of them was wearing a baby pink bodycon dress.

His mind wandered. What were you wearing?How did you do your makeup today? Did you use that same glittery gloss…or something new? Damn it—he wanted to see you so badly. He came back to reality when Soobin tapped his shoulder “someone picked it up and said they found it in the basketball court.”

Shit he must’ve left it there earlier when he went to clear his head.

He really needed to start using his phone more often.

“Thanks Soob. Gotta go,” Jake muttered, patting his shoulder before heading towards the court.

Your heels echoed through the decorated hallways, spaces that had looked so plain just days ago, now transformed into something almost unreal. You couldn't help but feel a little anxious, it's been a while since you last saw jake, and everything related to him had turned such a sensitive topic to you. The corridor leading to the basketball court was nearly empty just a few bored guards lingering around. Everyone else was inside main hall, lost in the gala.

As you approached, you noticed the door slightly ajar. Maybe he was already there. You swallowed hard, trying to hydrate your sandpaper equivalent throat and clenched your fist while your steps fastened. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears when you stood in front of the door. The light spilling from inside felt almost like a portal. You closed your eyes.

You had to face him. No running this time. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The court was empty just as you expected. Hoops standing tall, a few basketballs rolling lazily across the floor. Everything was in it's position but something inside you churned uncomfortably.

Infront of you was jake standing still, you recognised his fading blonde and stiff composure. And then your eyes fell Evelyn, the red gown glowed on her tanned skin, her hands were encircled around jake's torso, engulfing him in a hug as she made a direct eyecontact with you. A sickening smile spread on her lips.

Before you could process anything, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips against Jake’s.

You stumbled back, your heels hitting the floor hard.

“What the fuck—?” Jake shoved her away instantly.

His head turned at you next but you were beyond any headspace to deal with whatever you just witnessed happening in front of your own eyes. You turned back quick and started running.

Ignoring the sound of Jake's footsteps chasing after you.

“Evelyn what are you doing here?”

Jake was both surprised and irritated as he saw her inside the court, his phone in her grip. She adjusted her gown and smiled “oh hi Jake! I was just passing by and heard a phone ringing…I recognized your ringtone so…”

Jake didn’t waste a second before snatching his phone back. The fact that his unlocked phone had been in her hands irritated him more than he expected. He was ready to leave but Evelyn grabbed his arm.

“J–Jake! Can we talk?”

He frowned scanning her expression. “No. I have to go I—”

“Jake I’ve waited for this moment for so long…” her voice trembled. “I don’t care what happened in the past—I still really like you. No… I think I love you.” Her grip tightened around his arm. Jake clenched his jaw clearly irritated “you can’t just 'think' you love someone Evelyn” he said flatly “and I didn’t expect you to be this dumb—to not get the hint that I do not feel the same.”

Her lips quivered. “But… I did so much for you!”

“And?” Jake replied. “Did I ask you to do any of that shit?”

A flicker of anger crossed her face “really? You're fucking rejecting me for that rat y/n!?—the—the one who made you lose your credit points by replacing the foundation of marin engineering part in your assignment!”

Jake’s expression changed instantly from confused to something disgusted. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it off his arm harshly.

“I’m sorry? Come again?” he stepped closer. “Say that again.”

Evelyn faltered under his gaze.

“Evelyn Jung,” he continued, voice low, “I think we both know Y/n would never do something like that. And I never told anyone which part of my assignment got replaced.”

A bead of sweat rolled down her neck.“T–that doesn’t prove anything!” she stammered. “Who else would do that to you? Me?! Ha! That’s ridiculous!”

Jake scoffed.

“I don’t care, Evelyn. But take this as a fair and last warning—don’t ever interfere in my academics or personal life again.” He paused a bit before continuing “and that includes Y/n too”

She gasped. Then suddenly hugged him.

“Jake, I admit it—I did everything!” she cried. “But it was out of love! I didn’t think it would affect you this much—”Jake stiffened, trying to push her away, already annoyed at the thought of her makeup staining his shirt. But then she stopped crying, her gaze shifted past him. Before he could follow her gaze, she rose on her toes.

The sharp scent of some cheap drugstore lipstick hit him as her lips pressed against his.

Jake pushed her away instantly. And then he heard clear sharp sound of heels against the floor. He looked up just in time to see a glimpse of a flowing pink dress disappearing through the door.

He knew that dress very well.

“Shit.”

You ran ran and ran, trying to erase everything you had seen in the last fifteen minutes. The bruises on your feet caused by the heels you borrowed from Chisa, dug deeper with every step, but you didn’t have the energy to care. Your vision blurred as you rushed past the glowing lights of the gala, past the loud laughing crowd, past the decorated halls and rooms of Decelis. Soon you found yourself in front of the same bleacher where you cried for the first time after jake avoided you like plague.

You collapsed onto the cold seat, hugging yourself tightly against the chilly air. Goosebumps rose on your skin when you slipped the heels off your feet and saw the deep ugly blisters.

Your gaze dropped to your hands. The acrylic nail on your pinky was barely holding on. Your carefully styled hair had turned into something close to a bird’s nest.

Look at you! such a poor state. And here you were thinking you’d finally make a move on Jake.

Ha! Where the hell did you get that kind of audacity from? How could you even think of standing in front of him like this when Evelyn, with her perfect face, perfect bun, perfect red dress on her perfect figure, had been in his arms? “Ack! I’m so pathetic…” you sobbed, covering your face and curling into yourself, trying to disappear from this cruel place filled with equally cruel people. Everything hit harder than ever. At the end of the day you were still nobody. Still the unchosen one.

“Wahhh…m-mom…” another wave of sobs broke out of your chest as you looked up at the star claded night sky. Why am I such a crybaby?! You rubbed your eyes harshly, knowing your makeup was long ruined anyway.

“Y/n?”

You sprinted up to your feet at the familiar voice.

“I’m sorry Jake! Look away—I look like a mess!” you cried, backing away as your lips trembled uncontrollably. Jake quickly closed the distance between you.

“Go! Goddammit Jake just go! I don’t want you to see me like this—I don’tffh”

Your words got muffled as he pulled you into his arms, pressing you firmly against his chest.

“Fine,” he whispered softly. “I’ll close my eyes. I won’t look at you.”

You let out a frustrated cry, tears spilling all over again, and slowly looked up. He really had his eyes shut tight, as his lips quivered. “But i won't let you go”

You stared intensely at his face. It's a shame Jake got tangled up with you, he really was that beautiful how you remembered your classmates describing him since first year. Up close he almost looked unreal. How could he just hold you like this? You were sure your tears bled on his ironed shirt. You were so pissed. “W-why Jake…?” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay steady in his hold. “Why won’t you just let me go…?”

He shook his head slightly and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t,” he murmured “and I don’t want to let you go…”

"But why?!" You hissed, smacking on his chest lightly as your lips wobbled again "look at me...! I'm the prime example of I became what I once hated...I'm such a mess...and sadie probably got new contents to write about me in the forum..." you let out a sigh then grabbed his jaw making him face you. His eyes were still closed.

“Look at me Jake… you might want to reconsider this.” you mumbled as his eyes finally opened. He stared into your tired, red rimmed eyes then looked up at your eyebrows, your sniffling, flushed red nose, your pouty lips, the gloss long gone and your full cheeks. Then slowly one of his hand came up as he wiped a rolling tear gently from your eyes, thumb caressing your cheek.

“You’re still as beautiful as the night I first saw you… behind Jackson hyung’s house.”

Your heart leaped. Jackson…? That senior who had already graduated? But—but that was years ago! You didn’t even know Jake back then.…or did you? He chuckled softly at your stunned expression and planted a loud kiss on your forehead.

“Even that night you looked like a mess, nose all red searching for a damn tissue outside in the cold....you really think I could resent you after you sneezed and your snot fell on my hoodie....I never met a girl so upright disrespectful at the very first meeting....but I guess I felt happy that finally I found someone real among the sea of pretentious people around me”

Your eyes widened. Oh. OH.

Jake's blonde hair was instantly replaced by a dark brown hair as a very baby faced, thick glasses on nose, awkward looking freshman's face floated in front of you. Everything different except the same darn smile.

That's him! You remembered him! How could you even forget the guy you embarrased yourself in front of, right after attending the first ever college party???

“T–that was… you?” Your voice came out small laced with very much shock, and Jake laughed. For the first time in a while you saw him really laugh. You didn't know what happened but the sorm inside you instantly softened into pitter patter of rain.

“Oh my gosh—Jake! This is so embarrassing—” you whined, bumping your forehead lightly against his chest, arms still trapped at your sides because of how tightly he was holding you. “Leave me alone, Jake! I told you to never show me your face again—you’re such an asshole.”

Jake squished your cheeks, forcing you to look up despite your attempts to resist. Your breath hitched at the seriousness in his expression.“Shut the fuck up and take that back. Right now.”

“I won’t! No matter what happens I won’t!” you protested, shaking your head stubbornly, nearly knocking into his nose. Jake turned you around and pinned you gently against the nearest pillar.

“You won’t huh?” he raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, he pressed a quick smooch on your lips.“Wha—?!” you gasped, your legs kicking lightly against his, but that almost did nothing as Jake didn’t even budge.

“Take it back.”

You bit your lip and denied profusely again. “Not happening.”

His hand slipped from your jaw to your hair as he gently tugged them. Then he captured your mouth in a slow kiss. You who promised yourself to not give into his dirty as ever tricks felt your knees buckle when his another hand caressed your hips over the thin material of your dress.

“Still no…?” Jake asked softly, his breath uneven as his eyes flickered between your glistening lips and your dazed expression.

“Huh?” you murmured, completely lost and off track. Jake let out a quiet laugh, then pressed his lips on yours again, this time pausing between kisses to whisper against your lips,

“Take it back…that you don’t want to see me. Because we know damn well you do.”

And there it was. The hard pill you refused to swallow. You were caught red handed.

“What if I said I do…” you whispered glancing down at the frills of your dress before daring to look back up. A soft smile formed on Jake’s lips.

“then I'd like to let you know the feeling is mutual.”

You stepped back slightly, overwhelmed. “I—Jake right now I'm not really the person you want to associate yourself with...I got this whole image of playing you and Sunghoon and heeseung and—and—”

Jake pulled you back toward him, intertwining your hands.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“But you did enough to hurt me before…” you whispered, your voice breaking again. Jake’s expression softened instantly. He pulled you into another hug—this time gentler.

“I’m sorry baby…you should’ve just left me to drown in that lake—Ouch!” he winced when you elbowed his ribs.

Both of you stayed in that position a while. Then you pulled away. Your eyes fell on his shirt, now stained with tears and snot and your eyes widened “oh my god I’m so sorry!” you muttered trying to wipe it off. Jake caught your wrists “It’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Walking back to the dorm with Jake beside you felt different.

Your bruised feet still hurt, heels still unforgiving, but it didn’t matter as much anymore. A fuzzy warmth spread through your chest as his fingers slipped into yours, intertwining naturally. The night was still young. And so were both of you.

“Wanna know how I got my reputation?”

“Jake, I will break your face.”

# 13 all that's left behind

Your eyes fluttered open at the familiar sound of your alarm. Yawning, you fumbled around blindly, trying to find your phone and shut it off. But instead, your hand landed on something soft. You yelped while squirming slightly, still half asleep, and failed to notice the arm draped around your waist— until the warmth of a palm resting against your bare stomach registered. You froze. Slowly, you turned your head and came face to face with Jake.

For a second, you were convinced this was just another one of your ridiculous hallucinations. But when his soft snores grew louder, loud enough to almost make you smack him, you sucked in the scream that threatened to escape.

Jake Sim was cuddling you. Limbs tangled, bodies pressed close. And then everything from last night came rushing back. He walked you back to your dorm. Helped you wash up, ordered food, let chaerin know you were back because you felt sick. And after tucking you in like he always did, you asked him to stay. Barely even conscious, just mumbling in your sleep.

And yet he stayed.

Heat rushed to your face as the realization settled in. This wasn’t a dream. This was very, very much real. Carefully, you searched around and finally found your phone. A few messages from Chaerin and the girls lit up your screen, along with a selfie from Heeseung showing off a new friend he had apparently made. But what caught your attention was the flood of notifications from the college forum.

A sense of dread crept into your chest. What now...? You swallowed hard and tapped on it.

What goes down inside the basketball court.

Under the title two videos were attached that looked very much like cctv footages. You clicked on the first one with shaky fingers and gasped as you realized what it was. Evelyn crouched over a laptop—Jake’s laptop to be precise—typing something frantically. You skipped to the next video and almost lost it. It was footage from last night, right before you found Evelyn all over Jake. With very clear audio of her and Jake having a fairly civil conversation, until she suddenly decided to act like a freak.

Your heart pounded as you scrolled through the ridiculous amount of comments. People were going batshit crazy under the post.

“I can’t believe I’m witnessing this in real time,” Chaerin almost cried tears of joy as a very defeated and furious looking Evelyn, along with Sadie and her little group of minions, were summoned to the principal’s office, not long after the post becoming viral and everyone began confessing how they had been wronged by them.

The sun was indeed shining, and the birds seemed louder than ever that day.

You had never looked forward to a college day like this before. Life felt a little easier after the college forum was finally shut down and every bad reputation disappeared along with it. Sure, people still talked shit, gossiped, and spread rumors, but it all stayed within their little circles. Not that you cared anymore. Your attention had shifted to something entirely different and that's how to stay composed while Jake behaved like an absolute slut in front of you with is infuriating smirk that never left his face whenever you were around him—ugh, he was just as annoying as ever.

But at least he was yours. Well…not in like literal sense, since he hadn’t asked you out yet. But he would eventually right?…Right??

You cleared your throat softly when he plopped down on an empty chair, right beside you in the library. Even though you and Jake had come to a mutual understanding that whatever was going on between you two was definitely more than just some aftermath of collateral damage—you still needed time to process everything.

You clicked your tongue when he started kicking your legs lightly under the table, staring at you intently. Was Jake always this clingy? No no—it’s not like you weren’t enjoying the attention—Suddenly he kicked you harder, making you gasp “what are you?! A dog???” you hissed, kicking him back with full force. Jake giggled and scooted closer. “You refusing to look at me is very entertaining, not gonna lie.”

Fucking hell he was still irritating as fuck. You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the paragraph in front of you.

“Whatever, I’m busy.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing close to your ear as he whispered “Ruff, ruff.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. You stood up immediately, gathering your things, trying your best to ignore the stupid smirk you wanted to wipe off his face so badly. The dynamic between you and Jake wasn’t something that changed overnight. Or maybe it did just a little. You weren’t going to deny that. But it still felt weird. Six months ago, Jake himself felt like a completely different person to you and yet some invisible string kept tugging at your heart.

What was Jake to you, anyway? A lover? Nah that sounded too soon and too cliché. You liked him a lot. But he hadn’t really made any move apart from stealing kisses from you every now and then, ignoring your weak protests and pouts.…Okay, fine. You were done pretending you didn't liked that at all.

“C–Chaerin… uhm… if I like someone… and the feeling is mutual… do they automatically become my… something…?” You stared at her as she flipped through her notes. “Not necessarily,” chaerin replied casually. “People date, then they ask each other out, and then if they still like each other, they get into a relationship… and then, I guess, they get married.”

So many steps and you were on none of them.

You and Jake weren’t dating. Neither of you had asked the other out.

“Should I… do it…?” you whispered to yourself, staring at the ceiling only to yelp when Chaerin smacked your head.

“I will bury Jake’s body five feet underground if you ask him out. Let him do the job.”

You pouted. Jake didn’t seem like someone who cared about all that stuff anyway.

“Oh, by the way,” Chaerin added, “I heard from Jay that Jake’s been doing a lot of packing. Are you guys, like, skipping straight to the honeymoon phase or what?” She smirked.

You sat up straight. “A lot of packing…?” He didn’t tell you anything about that.

Chaerin noticed your expression, and her smirk slowly faded.

“Y/n… don’t tell me I’m the first person you’re hearing this from… no way.”

As much as you hated to admit it—you nodded slowly.

“Why would he be packing near the sem finals unless he’s getting transferred—oh” Chaerin stopped mid sentence, finally noticing the dread on your face. “He can’t possibly be getting transferred right now… right?” you asked quietly, not even sure if you were asking her or yourself. Was that why he hadn’t asked you out yet? Because he was leaving? Was he really going to go away?

A very much half naked Jake, fresh out of the shower and wearing only sweatpants, eyed you up and down, on his gaming chair before screeching, “What are you doing here?!” He hugged himself defensively. You rolled your eyes and threw a pillow at him. “Jake Sim, why didn’t you tell me you were moving away?”

“Move awa—what?—oh.” He paused mid sentence, finally realizing why you were there as you pointed at the big suitcase standing near his desk. He smiled goofily and crossed his arms, his muscles flexing in just the right way, making your throat go dry.

“Aww, Y/n, I thought I would surprise you—owh!” he yelped when you threw the Post Malone album from his desk at him this time.

“Go fuck yourself,” you muttered, jumping off the chair, annoyed at how he still managed to look that good while getting on your nerves.

“Y/n wait.” Jake closed the distance between you and pulled you into his arms. You nearly froze when your hand brushed against his bare chest as out of habit he squished your cheeks and forced you to look up at him. “Stop running away dimwit.” You tried your best to ignore the feeling of his heartbeat against yours and whined, “Let me go Jake, since you were planning to ditch me anyway.” He stared at your puckered lips before quickly pressing a smooch to them. You let out a weak scream and started tickling his ribs to break free.

“Ahhh! Stop—stop, Y/n fu@@£#£@£!!” Jake dissolved into gibberish, making you laugh as the two of you tumbled onto his bed.

“I’m not leaving you baby,” he breathed out between laughs, making you fluster all over again.“Then why did you pack that big suitcase?” you pouted. He pinched your nose lightly. “I’m visiting my family in Brisbane for a week…”He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Layla’s sick, and Mom, Dad, and Riki missed me…so I figured I’d visit them before finals week starts.”

Oh. So that was it. You groaned inwardly, completely embarrassed for overthinking everything. Covering your face, you hid under Jake’s duvet, making him chuckle.

“Don’t talk to me. I’m embarrassed!”

The day Jake left for Brisbane, you couldn’t see him off at the airport because of stupid Professor Min who held everyone back for extra classes. You spent the entire lecture silently praying for that man’s downfall so intensely that Heeseung had to double check you weren’t literally emitting smoke from your ears.

“Finally the last week as a sophomore student,” Chisa huffed slamming her fist onto the bundle of notes in front of her. You and Chaerin were slumped against each other, laughing as Jurin tried to mimic Evelyn’s expression from the time she was dragged into the principal’s office. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what happened to Evelyn and Sadie after that. Not that you cared. Someone from your class did mention that they got suspended, but that was about it.

Right now though, you were waiting for some kind of update from Jake. The last text you received from him was hours ago, right after he landed at Brisbane Airport. He was probably tired, busy with his family. Ugh…it felt so wrong to feel this way. But damn it you missed him more than you thought you would.

“Holy fuck!—every one of these is limited edition!”

Jake laughed at Riki’s reaction as the younger boy stared at the set of Hot Wheels he had brought from korea with stars in his. In his arms, Layla, the cream border collie, clung to him, refusing to detach herself from the moment he stepped into his parents’ house. Now, sitting inside Riki’s room, Jake was being bombarded with questions about his second year shenanigans, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he told him everything that had happened.

Riki whined and smacked Jake’s arm. “Then why didn’t you bring your girlfriend with you?”

Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “Girlfriend? Y/n isn’t my girlfriend though…”

Then he paused. Right. Y/n wasn’t his girlfriend…so what the hell was she to him?

Riki looked completely bewildered at his brother's response and shook his head. “Get out. I can’t believe you’re my brother.”

You swore you were going absolutely insane. The thought of being nothing to Jake irritated you more the longer you dwelled on it. He texted you occasionally, sending pictures of his neighborhood, Layla, his high schooler brother Riki, and sometimes half baked thirst trap coded selfies that made you question your sanity. He wanted you dead. That had to be the only explanation.

Fine. You were done pondering. If Jake wasn’t going to ask you out, you were going to do it yourself—no matter how much Chaerin cursed you or preached about how guys were supposed to make the first move. You were done pretending you didn’t want Jake Sim all to yourself.

Jake pondered, laying on his bed in his childhood room, staring at the ceiling. The bed felt a bit cramped now as it's been years since he grew out of his teenage body. The Spider Man posters around his room along with his medals and trophies that were displayed on the wall from his school days made him feel oddly nostalgic — but right now, he couldn’t care less.

Why hadn’t he asked you out yet? He was so fucking stupid. God knew what you were thinking right now. All week, he’d kept himself busy spending time with his family, sending you occasional updates. You sent him pictures back too, Sunghoon and Jay bickering as always, brunch outings with the girls, even a sticker of Professor Min with horns drawn on his head that made him laugh.

God, he couldn’t wait to go back and hold you again.

“You’re acting weird,” Riki whispered, catching Jake mid thought as he imagined your face. Jake laughed. “How?”

Riki made a face and shrugged “I don’t know…I have this classmate named Rei who does this exact thing when I look at her—I mean, she’s cuter than you, but still, hyung….stop.”

Jake was finally coming back today, and you made sure no lecture and no professor min could stop you from picking him up at the airport. You and Sunghoon arrived right on time, and as your stupid heart did its usual stupid thing at the thought of seeing Jake again after so long, you couldn’t help but bounce a little when you spotted him walking toward you with his suitcase and that big smile. But then you noticed his hair and paused.

His blonde was gone, replaced by a soft shade of brown that made him look exactly like the same guy you’d bumped into years ago and gifted your snot to on your very first meeting—

Author can we stop bringing that up?

He ran straight to Sunghoon and pulled him into a warm hug. “Ahem.” Sunghoon cleared his throat and stepped aside, sensing the very obvious tension between you and Jake as your eyes met with his. It took only a second before Jake lunged toward you with his arms wide open, and you squealed, jumping straight into them.

Sunghoon chuckled to himself recalling how you were ranting in the cab just few minutes ago about the concept of pda being so cringe.

After helping Jake unpack his luggage in his room, Sunghoon headed out to grab ramen from the same place the three of you had eaten at a month ago. Before leaving, he made sure to ask Jake if he was still in his 'I don’t like katsu' phase. Thankfully, this time Jake had no excuse to keep up the act.

The moment Sunghoon disappeared from your sight, you turned to Jake. He had an equally endearing expression playing on his face as both of you were soon on his bed, kissing each other and giggling. Jake's hands lovingly caressed your back as he pulled away between your very needy kisses.

"Y/n, I need to tell you something right now."

You whined, too dazed in euphoria to even comprehend Jake's words, and leaned in to chase his lips again, but Jake grabbed your jaw firmly, keeping you in place.

"Y/n Y/l/n."

You paused after hearing your government name from his mouth for the first time and noticed how serious he looked. Your stomach flipped as you looked into his eyes. Jake took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"I'm ready to share all the manga links I have from illegal websites with you..."

You chuckled. "Uh huh? That was it?—"

He pressed his index finger to your lips, shutting you up oh so gently. "I am also ready to give you the drive link of all the pirated movies I have downloaded..." You nodded with a smile, staring at a very flustered and adorable Jake, taking in the sight because you knew he was serious with everything he said when he had that look on his face.

"I am uhh...right now I don’t have anything else to offer, but in the future I will for sure. For the time being, I just wanted to ask..."

"Uh huh?"

"Shut up, you make me nervous," he whined, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as your body shook with laughter. He looked up again, his serious face softly morphing into something genuine. "Y/n, will...will you uhh...can we visit my parents the next time—no, that's not what I meant to say!—"

Jake started groaning again, but this time you cupped his cheeks and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Yes, I would...but before that, would you go out with me, Jake?"

Jake shrieked. "That was my line! Oh my god, that's it. I'm ending it all! Fuckkkkk."

You cackled at his reaction as he kicked his legs. A very visible pout formed on his lips making you almost melt into a puddle.

"Why—why would you—"Jake genuinely felt like jumping out the window. Fuck his stupid body and mind for becoming absolutely uncooperative when it came to you. He bit the inside of his cheek and pulled you impossibly closer. "If I say no, then what?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Say it, I dare you."

That stupid smug look was back on Jake's lips as he wiggled his shoulders. "No Y/n, I will absolutely not go out with y—"

You climbed on top of Jake without any warning and kissed him hard. His words died in his mouth the moment your tongue licked his lower lip, eliciting a low grunt. Holy shit. Even after fighting for dominance, Jake couldn’t keep up. His hands helplessly grabbed your hips, trying to ground you from doing anything that would make Jake the junior awake—though he wasn't sure if that wasn't already happening from the way you were almost devouring him.

"Fuck..." you almost moaned, pulling back and discovering Jake's stunned expression, lost in an entirely different dimension from the wild ride he had just hopped on. "Still no?" You mumbled against his lips, too shy to look into his eyes, and Jake let out a laugh mixed with a whine. "Allat for just saying no...I wonder what will happen if I say yes..."

He sat up a little, lips planting small kisses along your jaw, and panted, "I don't have any health insurance done here Y/n."

You giggled, smacking his chest, and chased his lips again.

Suddenly the door flew open as a very petrified looking Sunghoon screamed making you and Jake almost fall off the bed.

"You horny fuckers couldn't even wait! UGHHHH MY POOR EYES!"

Long story short, Jake did end up saying yes to you — because what else could he have done? You had become more than just a habit in his life, and he was very much against the idea of letting you slip away now.

Finals came and went like a whirlwind of chaos, but this time, unlike before, you had Jake beside you while studying. He helped you with your subjects as much as he could, and you realized his knowledge went far beyond just textbooks. It was a shame that the curtain of ignorance, built in the name of his bad reputation had kept you from seeing how ridiculous that whole concept truly was.

Decelis forum was back up again, but this time with certain limitations and consequences. And no, Sadie wasn’t part of the pr team anymore—in fact, she wasn’t in any clubs at all. There was a new girl named Rina. Heeseung had introduced you to the sweet junior just a few days ago.

At the end of the day, you couldn’t really care less about people spreading rumors about you, or Jake, or anyone in your group. Not when you had Jake beside you. And that mattered far more than holding onto any stupid reputation.

THE END. ©sunishake

tags: @juwonsicle @fentyluxury @sa1ky @jakey1115 @imsojuliaaaaaa @seungminslover33 @prkhoonlvr @choke-on-flowerz @citymare @heeseungrizz @simpikeu @enhajungwonheart @swaggniks @naraemin @xeiramz @iadoremiles @redrosesarerosie @ot7archives @chanchamm @zenhypen @simj4k3 @notforallbs @veemegatron @savahnaaa @sunghoon-my-dear @haloomicheese @not--christ

[jakey1115]

Good fic = good life

Thank you author, this fic is really made my day. Definitely will reread it.

[stllmnstr]

all that glitters — part one.

pairing: park jongseong x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, rich jay au, university au, angst, slow burn

part one word count: 19.6k

warnings: angst, depictions of terminal illness, scenes that occur in hospitals, use of the american (usa) health system (aka receiving medical care is expensive), swearing, slowwwww burn

playlist: this is me trying / cardigan / mirrorball- taylor swift / yellow - coldplay / BIRDS OF A FEATHER - billie eilish / safety net - ariana grande / garden (say it like dat) - sza

note: Well it looks like two part fics are just my thing now so I hope that’s alright with youuuuu. This one is a rollercoaster of angst but also hopemaxxing and optimismmaxxing and yes, eventually lovemaxxing so I hope you enjoy!! Do note the tags for triggers, but don’t let the angst scare you I’m too much of a baby to write anything with a sad ending. Also, younger uni track star Jungwon is still in the works and in the drafts I just needed a quick change of pace after writing so much for him lately. And finally, FIRST STLLMNSTR JAY FIC!!!! EVERYBODY CHEEREDDDDDD

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Park Jongseong is everything you hate. Spoiled, entitled, and the heir to a top conglomerate in the business world you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to break into. You can’t even begin to count how many sleepless nights, skipped meals, and personal desires you’ve sacrificed just for a seat at the table he was born sitting at.

But when a piece of news in your third year of university pulls your world out from under your feet, everything starts to change. Including your feelings towards the one person you thought you’d always loathe.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The back of Park Jongseong’s head is almost as annoying as the rest of him. 

Haloed in a well-kept array of perfectly styled dark hair, it currently blocks your view of the last slide in today’s lecture. Eyes tracing the perfectly mussed strands, you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

It’s an illusion of a carefree nature you know Park Jonseong certainly does not possess. Every strand of hair, down to the very last follicle is exactly where he wants it to be, no matter how hard he tries to pretend like it was nothing but a few strokes of his fingers and the grace of the light afternoon breeze. 

You scoff. As if that control freak would leave anything up to the whims of nature. You’ve seen his planner, even if only in passing. And by accident, of course. 

Filled to the brim with reminders and deadlines and memos, all etched in his infuriatingly neat handwriting, you doubt he’s ever left anything up to chance.

You’d admire the incessant diligence if it came from anyone else. Or at least, you’d respect it. But with Jongseong, or Jay as he insists on being called, you can only resent it. 

Every minute he dedicates to his own meticulousness is only another hour you have to spend studying. Writing. Editing. Practicing. Perfecting your own work and hoping the final result looks half as effortless as his. 

Effortless. That word tastes more bitter on your tongue than it has any right to. But it’s hard not to resent someone that was handed everything on a silver platter and loves to dangle it just out of your reach. 

Park Jongseong. He’s the only son and surefire heir to the conglomerate his father has been grooming him to run since he could check boxes on a spreadsheet. Part of you wonders if his enrollment in university is just for show. Surely there’s nothing he could learn from a bachelor’s in business that he didn’t learn on his father’s lap at the age of ten. That only makes you even angier. 

Mentally, you begin to sift through the day’s to-do list. 

Finish econ homework. Assign roles for your insurance law midterm project. Email your marketing professor for a finalized version of the midterm schedule. Send it to your manager at the cafe so he doesn’t schedule any overlapping shifts. Call your mom. Text Sunoo back. Make sure this month’s stipend didn’t get blocked during transfer again. Ask Kaia if she got an update from the landlord about next year’s rent increase. 

The longer the list extends, the more the words start to swim in your mind. The sound of your professor’s voice begins to lose its sharpness. It fades to a lulling wave before it disappears entirely, replaced by a sudden ringing in your ears. 

Your vision starts to swim, too. Blinking, you try to clear the black spots that suddenly halo Jay’s head. Quickly, the effort begins to strain. Screwing your eyes shut, you lower your head, hoping it will ease the sudden nausea beginning to rise from the pit of your stomach. 

Your skin feels hot. Too hot. Sweat beads at your temple as you fight the urge to be sick. 

Not on the laptop, you pray. Even through the haze in your mind, you’re well aware of just how many notes and assignments you would lose if your laptop died. Never mind the fact that you wouldn’t be able to afford a replacement for at least five months, and even that leaves no room for error in your finances or emergency spending. 

Palm supporting the weight of your clammy forehead, the ringing in your ears sharpens to something piercing. You can feel your consciousness slipping, thoughts fading as soon as they come. 

The urge to be sick is still there, but it’s distant now, fading into some corner of your mind that you can’t quite access. 

I’m not going to puke, you realize. But I am about to pass out.

Forcing breath in through your nose, you feel your heartbeat pounding in your throat. It echoes between your ears as you do your best to hold onto your last threads of coherence. 

You think you hear your name, maybe, somewhere in the distance. Grinding your teeth, you do your best to focus on it. Reach out like it’s a lifeline pulling you through the waves. 

You hear it again, louder this time. You’re closer. The nausea has faded now, more of a mild discomfort than an imminent threat. The vertigo that sent your mind swooping is calming to a gentle rock. 

Hesitantly, you try opening your eyes, just barely. The bottom of your keyboard looks back at you, blurry through your eyelashes. 

Again, you hear the sound of your name. Only this time, it’s clear enough to realize that it’s not a figment of your imagination. 

Too quickly, you lift your head, opening your eyes fully. Doing your best not to wince at the sudden movement, you suppress the sudden chill that traces your spine in a shiver. 

Sat halfway up the bowl of the lecture hall, you meet your professor’s eyes. Your face, previously clammy, suddenly feels impossibly warm as you realize nearly everyone in the lecture hall has their eyes locked on you too. 

Their expressions are a mix of concern and confusion. You can’t decide which one is worse. 

Pointedly, you avoid the weight of the stare coming from directly in front of you. The last thing you want to know is how Park Jongseong is looking at you right now. Because he is. 

You can feel it, the heaviness of his lingering gaze. What expression does he have? Is he confused like the rest of them? Or maybe his eyes are full of nothing but contempt, a sick sense of vindication at your humiliation. 

You did just barely edge him out of the top score on last week’s econ quiz, after all. Maybe he’s been praying for a moment like this. Karmic justice for taking what he must be sure is rightfully his. 

Or, worst of all, his eyes could be shrouded in sympathy. Worry. A reminder that no matter how many sleepless nights you spend studying and extra shifts you pick up just to afford the used versions of the pristine, brand new textbooks he arranges on his bookshelf, you will always be nothing to him. 

Not a threat, even if your GPA rivals his. Not competition, even though the two of you are always fighting for the last word in class discussions. 

You’re just another student. A girl whose place in the lecture hall behind him is funded by scholarships he’s never had to think twice about. A business major who studies the field and knows that ultimately, connections are the only thing that make your name worth anything in this cutthroat industry. 

It doesn’t matter how many networking functions you attend, how many professors you build relationships with, and how much of your own blood, sweat, and tears you pour into this. 

The blazer you found on clearance with loose threads and a stubborn wrinkle that your old iron can never seem to entirely erase will never turn heads the way his limited edition, perfectly pressed designer brand suits do. 

The name your parents gave you, will love and consideration and pride, will never hold the same weight, the same value, as Park Jongseong. 

“I—” you try, but your voice comes out dry, scratched raw. Forcing down a reluctant swallow and hoping your humiliation goes down with it, you try again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question. Could you repeat it?”

Your professor hesitates for a moment, frowning. Eventually, she says, “That’s alright. We’re just about out of time actually.” 

You glance at the clock. Class isn’t scheduled to finish for another eight minutes. And Professor Jung never ends early. Ever. 

Addressing the entire hall now, she adds, “Don’t forget that this semester, we’ll be doing an exam and a project for your midterm. Again, my recommendation is that you find someone to partner with for the project. It’s extensive, and I designed it intending for the work to be split between two people. I won’t stop you if you choose to work alone, but the deadline will come sooner than you think. Finalize your plans and topic now, and send me an email or come see me at office hours if you have any questions. I’ll see you all next time.” 

With her reminders, students begin to shift, gathering their things as a few glance around in disbelief at the early dismissal. Thankfully, the gesture has eased most of the attention off of you. 

But before you can slide your laptop into your bag, her voice cuts through the hall once again. “And, ____?” Startled by the sound of your name, you look up to find her eyes already on you. Her expression is unreadable. “Stay after class for just a minute.”

Shit.     

Nodding, you bend to grab your bag. As soon as you stand from your chair, you feel it again. That same pair of eyes. 

This time, he catches you off guard. You don’t have enough of a warning to avoid the gaze you suddenly meet. 

Over his shoulder, Jay isn’t looking at you with disgust or contempt or even vindication. He’s just… looking. The same way you’ve seen him fine comb a spreadsheet or double check a report when the numbers don’t quite add up. 

Like he’s searching for something. Trying to figure something out. 

Your eyes widen slightly before you turn your head, breaking eye contact. 

When Park Jongseong looks at you, the only thing you want to see is the mild annoyance he has whenever you beat him to a correct answer. The strained frustration whenever you edge him out of setting the exam curve. 

Not his scrutiny, his searching assessment like you’re someone worth a second glance. No matter how much you resent him for largely treating you like a pesky fly, it’s what you’ve come to recognize as the status quo. It’s comfortable. Safe. 

Him giving you any sort of actual attention is very much not. 

Pulling your bag over your shoulder with a bit more force than necessary, you’re pleasantly surprised to find your legs quite stable beneath you, even if that shaky, jello-like feeling lingers slightly. 

Approaching Professor Jung’s podium with trepidation, you do your best not to fidget. She busies herself shutting down the projector and gathering her notes as the rest of the students file out of the hall.  

After a handful of moments, she closes her laptop and looks up at you. Her eyes shift over your shoulder, somewhere near the door. 

“Is there something you need, Jay?” she asks. 

Immediately, a surge of unease pulls at your stomach. The last thing you need is for him to bear witness to this conversation. 

“I…” you hear behind you, hesitant in a way he almost never is. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll ask you next time, Professor.”

You watch as she nods towards him. “You can always send an email, too, if it’s urgent.”

“Right.” His voice is smooth. Sliding around your shoulders and settling in the air. “Thank you, Professor.”

She nods again, a final dismissal. “Take care, Jay.”

You can’t bring yourself to look. Instead, you wait for the soft thud of the door closing behind him. 

Your professor waits, too. She parts her lips to speak, but the words are spilling from you before she can. 

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” you plead. Participation isn’t weighted particularly heavily, according to the syllabus she handed out at the beginning of the semester, but you need all the points you can get. “I promise it won’t happen again. And I really was paying attention, I just had this weird headache all of a sudden, and—”

“Woah,” she reaches out a hand. “Slow down.” Confusion creases her brow at your reaction. “I didn’t ask you to stay to chastise you.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Relief is short lived as confusion begins to take its place. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry that I gave that impression.” She sighs. Silence stretches for a moment before she continues, “Look, ___, you’re one of my top performing students. Maybe the top performing student.”

For a second, you almost wish Jay had stuck around, just to hear that. 

“I’m not concerned about your academic abilities or your focus in class,” she continues. “I am, however, starting to become a bit concerned about you.” 

“Me?” you echo. 

Nearly halfway through the semester, Professor Jung has solidified herself as one of your favorites. She’s in her mid-forties, demanding but receptive, and an absolute genius in the accounting world. 

She’s pushed you to see numbers, data, in a new way. To stop looking at them as some cold, detached thing and start looking for the implications. To consider how salaries and bonuses and business expenses affect not only a company’s bottom line, but also the employees that make it possible. 

Numbers, she always says, are a reflection. They tell you about customer satisfaction, employee well-being. Factors that matter if you care about longevity. Continued success. Ethics and morality. Conversations that are all too often missing or pushed to the side in this industry. 

You’ve been hoping that come finals, she’ll be willing to write you a recommendation letter. Maybe even ask you to TA for one of her lower level classes if your schedule allows. 

In short, you value her opinion. Not just as someone with significant authority over your GPA, but as someone with experience who seems to share your values. In the business world, it’s as rare as striking gold. 

Now, she stands across from you with concern etched across her features. “You’ve been quieter in class,” she says. “And today isn’t the first time I’ve seen you like that.” She nods towards your earlier seat. “Hand on your head like you’re in pain.”

“Oh,” you exhale, not sure what to do with her worry. You never imagined she, or anyone for that matter, would notice. You shake your head, prepared to brush her off, “I’m fine—”

She won’t let it go so easily. “Are you sleeping?”

“What?” you flounder for a moment. “I mean, it’s almost midterms, so I’ve been doing some extra studying, but—”

“So you haven’t,” she concludes, disapproval in her eyes. 

“I have,” you insist. “Just less.” The concern in her gaze doesn’t ease. “A little less,” you amend. 

“Are you eating?”

“Yes,” you nod. Extra hours in the library and the pressure of a potential rent increase might mean your meals are a bit less regular these days, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I even get free things from the case at the cafe during shifts, so—”

“You’re working?” Another flicker of concern crosses her face. 

Shit. 

“Oh, I…” you trail off, unsure what to do with the sudden interrogation. “I mean, yeah. But only part time.”

“You’re taking nearly double the recommended course load and you’re working. No wonder you’re nearly fainting in the lecture hall.”

Swallowing your pride, you admit, “I’m trying to graduate early. My scholarship depends on my class rank, and I—” you bite at the inside of your bottom lip. Your throat suddenly feels full, words getting stuck on the way out. “I can’t—”

“I know what it’s like,” she says, voice gentle. “Believe me, I do.” She pauses for a moment, weighing her words. “You’re brilliant, truly. One of the most impressive students I’ve had in my classroom in a long time. And you have grit, talent, perseverance. A commendable work ethic. You have what it takes to make it in this industry. But you need to take care of yourself, too.”

It’s humiliating, the way a tear catches in the corner of your eye. It spills, despite your stubbornness. You feel small, helpless as it tracks a hot, wet streak down the curve of your cheek. 

Professor Jung’s voice softens even further. “Is there someone nearby that can help? A family member? A friend?”

You’re biting the inside of your lip so hard you’re worried you might draw blood. Another tear escapes as you shake your head in a miniscule movement. 

Friends have long since fallen off your list of priorities. The few relationships you formed during freshman year have long since fizzled after you left one too many texts without a response and canceled on one too many plans. Kaia is the closest thing you have now, but your schedules are nearly opposite each other and as a nursing student, she’s nearly as busy as you. Even after two years of living together, you still call her your roommate. Not your friend. 

Your family is far away. Back in your hometown, the distance between them and the city your university campus sits on feels like an uncrossable ravine. Besides, they have their own worries to take care of. Namely, the restaurant that’s been in your family for generations. An enterprise that has cost your family more than it’s earned them for the last decade. 

Your father, mother, and younger brother all work multiple jobs to make ends meet. It would be nothing short of selfish to ask them for help now. 

“Okay,” your professor nods. The sympathy in her eyes is almost unbearable. “Then I’m going to request that you go visit the university clinic. I’ll call now and make you an appointment for this afternoon.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean, really, I’m fine—”

Professor Jung is firm. “Their services are free for students. It’s a university resource. Your tuition funds it.”

“I work this afternoon,” you protest.

“What time?”

“Three thirty.”

She’s already pulling out her phone. “I’ll see what’s available before then.” 

“Really,” you try to stop her, “I’m fine. I’ll eat a good meal tonight and make sure I go to bed early—”

“Frequent headaches and dizziness can be a cause for concern.”

“I’m sure if I just rest, then—”

“But you won’t rest.” Her gaze is heavy, something almost protective in it. “I know how it is. You tell yourself you just need to push through until midterms. But then there are events and presentations and research conferences. And then there are finals and you’re doing the same thing over again. It doesn’t end with graduation. This line of work rewards people who never sleep, who never rest, who never take a breath. Your competition is always trying to get one step ahead of you, to edge you out. You wear yourself to the bone until you make enough money to pay someone else to do it for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You feel that familiar sting at the edge of your eyes again. The urge to cry, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

“I believe in you,” she says. “I know you have big dreams, and I believe in those, too. So take an hour out of your afternoon and go visit the university clinic. Do it once and the next time you’re feeling unwell, it will be a little easier. Find ways to take care of you, too.”

The hesitation must still be apparent on your face, because she adds, “I’m more than happy to resort to threats if I must. I’ll make the midterm project a mandatory partner assignment.”

Your gaze wavers. “You wouldn’t.”

She just nods. “And I’ll assign partners. Why not pair up the two best students in class? I’m sure if the two of you put your heads together, you could come up with something truly commendable.”

The two top students. That would mean you and— 

No. 

“This doesn’t feel aligned to the Business School code of ethics,” you point out.

“Then go to the clinic,” she instructs, a note of finality in her voice. “And you’ll never have to find out just how terribly malleable that handbook is.”

You clench your jaw for a moment, looking for a loophole, a way out. And then, finally—

“Fine,” you acquiesce. 

“Good,” she nods. “I know the director at the university health center. I messaged him before the end of class. Go now. They’re waiting for you. They’ll see you right when you arrive.”

“You already…” your jaw drops slightly. “But what if I—”

“Just go,” she urges, nodding towards the door. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can get back to running yourself into the ground studying.”

There’s more you want to say, to argue, but she’s right. The quicker they diagnose you with stress induced headaches and fatigue and recommend resting more, the sooner you can get back to doing the opposite. 

Nodding, you make your way towards the door. Fingers around the handle, her earlier words echo through your mind. 

I believe in you. It’s been a long time since anyone told you that.

Turning back, you meet her gaze one more time, trying to swallow the emotions that threaten to rise. “Thank you.”

Professor Jung nods once, an expression you can’t quite read in her eyes. “I’ll see you next week, ___.”  

Halfway between the lecture hall and the health center, your phone dings with an incoming notification.   

You smile as the image spreads across your screen. Sunoo poses next to one of the cutest dogs you’ve ever seen, both of them tilting their heads at the exact same angle. 

A surge of fondness is quickly followed by a pang of loneliness. You’d give anything to see your little brother in person right now. To see that smile in person and wrap him in the biggest hug as he laughs in your ear. 

Looking at the picture a moment longer, you send a quick response before tucking your phone back into your pocket. 

Sunoo. Your brother is only one year your junior, but the protectiveness you feel towards him makes the gap feel bigger. 

He hates it, the way you coddle him. But after a life-threatening tumor nearly took his life when the two of you were in elementary school, you’ve felt more like a guardian than an older sister. 

It’s hard to remember how things were when you were just a kid. Your memories are hazy around the edges, and the passage of time has only dulled them further. 

There was never a time when your family was wealthy, but things were different back then. Your mother smiled more. Her back didn’t ache yet. She came home from long days of taking telephone orders and covering waitress shifts at your family’s restaurant with a smile on her face and enough energy to chase you and Sunoo around the neighborhood playground for hours. 

Your father came home later, usually. After all the cleaning was done and the restaurant was prepped for the next day. After the books were balanced and the cash register was double checked. But he laughed when he saw the two of you. Entertained your requests for endless rounds of hide-and-seek no matter how exhausted he was. 

Sunoo was always a sweet kid. The kind of shy that people gravitated towards. He was gentle, thoughtful, good. His teachers sang his praises and his friends’ parents were always happy to have him over. 

You were a bit rougher around the edges. Not mean or misbehaved, but something in you was always trying to run, to take, to push, even when everyone around you was resting. You had a fierce competitive streak and a hard time losing at anything, especially at school. 

You wanted to be the best at math, at science, at language arts. You wanted to run faster than all of the boys who treated the playground like their domain and draw better than all of the girls who spent every second of free time at the arts and crafts table. 

You wanted to do everything. Be everything. An astronaut. A scientist. A famous singer. A doctor. A lawyer. The president. Your dreams, your hopes, your goals for the future were always shifting, never standing still. 

And then, on a rather ordinary Thursday afternoon when you were in the fifth grade, your world fell apart. 

You rode the bus home alone that day. Sunoo hadn’t gone to school. Complaining of a stomachache and his head hurting in the morning, your mother took a day away from the restaurant to stay home with him. 

When you finally arrived at your stop, the elderly woman who lived next door was waiting for you there. You still remember it now, the awful, aching look of sympathy in her eyes as she greeted you. Called you sweetheart and told you that your family wasn’t home right now. That they had asked her to bring you to them. 

You remember the confusion, the anxiety as she pulled her small car into the hospital parking lot. The terrible ache in your heart, the panic in your chest as you met the tearful, desperate gazes of your parents. The crushing weight of their arms around you as they pulled you into a crushing embrace. 

The utter agony of looking at your baby brother unconscious on a hospital bed, skin pale. So pale. Too pale. 

A tumor, the doctor called it. You were too young to know what he meant, but you understood the weight of it. The implications. The sickening feeling in your gut as you heard him tell your parents to prepare for the worst. That he likely had no more than three months left to live. 

The clang of your mother’s knees hitting the hospital floor still rings in your ears sometimes. The desperate, hushed tones of your father’s whispers as he pleaded with the doctor, begging him to save his son’s life. 

The next year was the worst of your life. 

Week after week, treatment after treatment, doctor after doctor, and your brother only got worse. Sicker, paler, weaker. 

It was a rare gene mutation that caused the tumor, the doctor explained to your family one afternoon. His voice was strange as he tried to juggle the appropriate amounts of professional detachment and sympathy all at once. And it was likely the same mutation making it so resistant to treatment.

The hospital was doing everything in their power, but they thought his chances might be better if he went to a larger hospital, one with more resources, with dedicated departments and doctors who specialized in this kind of treatment. 

Sunoo was moved to a different hospital less than a week later. Your parents took turns staying with him while the other kept the restaurant running. It killed them not to be at his side, you know, but the longer treatment took, the more bills began to stack up. 

There was a silver lining within it all, though. The three month estimate that the doctors gave came and went. And still, Sunoo was alive. Even if only barely.

Your community was supportive beyond words. Donation drives were set up, meal trains funded by strangers you’d never seen before. Your family's restaurant had more visitors than it had seen in decades. But even with their generosity, it wasn’t enough. 

When the revenue ran dry, keeping Sunoo alive was funded by your parent’s meager savings. And when that evaporated, they turned to loans. 

You watched as they worked themselves to the bone. Trying to keep their sick son alive and their only source of income afloat. 

Your parents wanted your life to remain as normal as possible. You still went to school, still lived at home, still rode the same bus. 

The same elderly woman who brought you to the hospital that day was the one who made your meals most nights. Who made sure you were taken care of and got to bed at a reasonable time. She even came to your parent-teacher conference. Knitted you a new sweater and a pair of mittens when autumn turned to winter. 

But no matter how much normalcy they wished for, your life was a shadow of its former self. School was different. Teachers treated you like broken glass. The high expectations they once had were whittled away into nothing in the name of sympathy. 

The friends in your class did their best to be kind, and the easygoing friendships you’d built before were lost somewhere in the rubble of their pity.

You had never felt more alone in your life. 

You only got to visit your brother on the weekends. You remember the way you would sit at his bedside for hours, telling him stories, tidbits from school, random thoughts no one else had the time or ability to listen to. He was unconscious for most of it, but you told him everything anyway. 

And when the weight of your grief was too heavy, when your throat was aching and sore from all the talking, you’d fall asleep like that, curled awkwardly over the edge of the hospital bed, his limp hand gripped tight between your fingers.

In the midst of it all, somewhere in the tangle of agony and grief and loneliness, you lost your dreams. 

You didn’t care about being the fastest runner on the playground anymore. You spent most recesses in the school counselor’s office now, anyway. Whenever you tried to draw, your hands weren’t sure what to do. It was as if they’d lost their spark, their creativity. 

It didn’t matter if someone else was better than you at times tables or if another classmate’s essay won first place.

You didn’t want to be an astronaut anymore. Space suddenly felt so far away and so terribly cold. You didn’t want to be a singer or a lawyer or a scientist, and you’d had enough of doctors to last a lifetime. 

The only thing you wanted was for your brother to get better. For him to come home so the two of you could ride the bus together again. For your mom to smile like she used to. For your dad to take the two of you berry picking on a sunny day again.

When spring finally bloomed, so did the first glimmers of hope. Sunoo was responding to his latest treatment. Much better and quicker than before. 

He was actually awake now when you would visit him. He laughed at your stories, even if it did usually end in a coughing fit that made your mother sick with worry. He would respond to you, ask you to tell him more. 

One weekend, just as the daffodils around your school began to grow, he was even sitting upright when you walked into his hospital room. The next time, you brought him one, and he smiled when the nurse helped find a vase to keep it in the windowsill. 

Slowly but surely, color started to return to his cheeks. Life started to take root in his body again. 

The day after you finished the fifth grade, he stood up from his hospital bed, with his hand on the table for support. You hugged him so tight that your parents nearly had to pry you off of him when his heart monitor started to jump.

At the agonizing pace of a snail, things got better. Day by day, he got stronger. Healthier. Until eventually, finally, he was given a clean bill of health. 

It wasn’t the same as before. A year in the hospital had taken its toll. Your brother was still fragile, still needed the extra support that everyone around him was more than ready to bend over backwards to give.  

By the time summer came, Sunoo was back home. His weekly hospital visits became monthly, then quarterly, and eventually biannual. When autumn arrived, he was back in school. 

Even after a year in hell, life started to become normal again. But some things had changed fundamentally. 

Your family, once financially sound, had begun to struggle immensely with money. Irregular operations at the restaurant made profits plummet to nearly irreparable levels. Beyond that, every penny your parents had saved was gone. 

The hospital bills had submerged them in immense debt. Put simply, your family had no money anymore and nothing but a now failing restaurant to try and dig yourselves out of a hole that felt more like an abyss. 

And you, once fueled by visions of grandeur, dreams that stretched beyond your wildest imagination, lost every desire to become something amazing. It just simply didn’t matter to you anymore. The only thing you wanted to be was Sunoo’s older sister. Someone that could help him and take care of him and stay by his side no matter what. 

You still had drive, still had this fire deep that burned deep within you, but now it was fueled by something else. 

At eleven, it meant helping Sunoo with homework and threatening the boys that teased him on the playground until they cried. 

At sixteen, it meant canceling last minute on your date to the junior prom to take Sunoo to the movie he’d been wanting to see in theaters. 

And when Sunoo, much to your parent’s dismay, decided that he wanted to take over the family business and inherit the restaurant they had never quite managed to make profitable again, you decided to shoulder that burden, too.    

Your brother loved to cook, loved to use food as a means of connecting with other people. He treated food like a remedy, like a gift. He used a warm meal to comfort people in despair and baked cookies whenever he wanted to show his appreciation. For him, he could think of no better way to spend his days than making, preparing, and serving food to all kinds of people. 

You had no talent in the kitchen, but it didn’t matter. Sunoo was the chef, not you. In your senior year of high school, you realized that what your family’s restaurant, what Sunoo, needed was someone who could handle the business side of things. Someone who could look at impossible numbers and make them work in their favor. Someone who could breathe life into a failing business and turn it into the bustling diner of your brother’s dreams. 

You needed a business degree. And not just a degree, but an education. One from a top university where your professors could give you the tools you needed to make Sunoo’s dreams a reality. Of course, that was never going to come without a hefty price tag. 

So you made a plan. You were smart. Academically gifted. You already had impressive college entrance exam scores on your side, but you needed more. While your classmates enjoyed their last months of time together, you worked. Day in, day out applying for scholarships, internships, fellowships. Writing essays, email professors, scouring the internet for every bit of information you could find on business schools. 

You could count on one hand the average number of hours you slept each night senior year. But in the end, it was worth it. You graduated high school with an offer into the most prestigious business school on this side of the country and the scholarship to fully fund it as long as you maintained a high enough GPA and class ranking. 

On top of that, you were even granted a modest living stipend. One to help cover the rent, textbooks, and grocery expenses you could never bring yourself to ask your parents to help cover. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It was enough. 

It didn’t matter that your dreams fell by the wayside all those years ago. It didn’t matter that before all of this, you had no interest in business. 

Your brother, your miracle of a brother, had been given a second chance at life. And now, you had the opportunity to help him achieve his only dream. 

Walking across your university campus now, you almost decide to just ditch the health center. You have work to do. You don’t have time to waste sitting in a doctor’s office.

Besides, the selfie Sunoo sent with the dog, no matter how adorable, is only a reminder of what you set out to do. The longer you take to graduate, the longer Sunoo has to keep the restaurant afloat through a combination of long hours at odd part-time jobs. 

Right now, his current gig is as an assistant at the local veterinarian’s office. Your brother loves animals, but it kills you knowing how much he’d rather spend that time cooking. Restoring your family’s restaurant to its former glory. Surpassing it. 

It would be such a relief to tell him he doesn’t have to pick up extra shifts anymore, to tell your mom that she doesn’t need to keep the job she hates at the grocery store anymore. To tell your dad he doesn’t need to keep taking all of the contract construction work that takes such a hard toll on his body. 

Your family, all three of them, have been through so much. It’s the least you can do to ease some of their strain. To lessen some of their burden. 

But then you hear Professor Jung’s words again. 

Find ways to take care of you, too.

Should you? Part of you is still resistant. But regardless, you realize, you’re no use to your brother’s dream if you run yourself entirely into the ground. 

Besides, maybe the clinic will give you something a bit more effective than Tylenol for your headaches and you can actually get a bit more studying done before your vision starts to swim. 

So, even with feet that want to drag, you force yourself all the way to the university health center. 

You don’t make a habit of spending time in hospitals, but much to your relief, this is one of the more pleasant waiting areas you’ve been in. The ceilings are high, and the windows are large. Afternoon sunlight warms the space where a dozen odd people wait for their names to be called. 

It has a relaxed feel to it. There are patterns on the chair cushions. Conversations in the corner. It doesn’t have that awful, lifeless, sterile feel you’ve been trying to avoid since you were ten. 

When you give your name to the receptionist, she immediately ushers you towards the small hallway of exam rooms. Glancing towards the half full waiting area, a flicker of surprise crosses your features. Professor Jung must have really pulled some strings for you. 

You follow her to room number six, offering a tight smile when she says the nurse will be with you shortly. 

Glancing around the small examination room, it looks how you’d expect. There’s a layer of paper beneath the table you sit on, and it crinkles loudly every time you shift your weight. There’s a computer in the corner, two low stools, and a handful of medical tools whose name you know about half of. 

A handful of posters cover the walls. Reminders about good handwashing hygiene, dates for the latest flu shot, a list of symptoms for upper respiratory infections. There’s nothing unusual, but you can’t quite get your body to relax fully. 

Before long, you hear a quiet knock on the other side of the door. The nurse that enters introduces herself before settling onto one of the stools in front of you. 

Glancing down at her clipboard briefly, she looks up to you with a perfunctory kindness in her eyes. “What brings you in today?” she asks. 

“My professor suggested I come, actually.”

“Mm,” she hums. “Anything in particular bothering you?”

You take a deep breath in. Part of you is still itching to just brush her off, but you came all the way here. Might as well be honest. 

“I’ve been having headaches,” you admit. “They don’t usually last long, but they’re… intense. Sometimes they make me dizzy, too. Or nauseous. I haven’t vomited or passed out, but I’ve come close a couple of times.”

The nurse nods, reaching for the stethoscope. “How frequent are these headaches?”

“It depends,” you nod. “Usually no more than once every couple of days, but it’s been happening more often for the past few weeks.”

Pressing the stethoscope against your sternum, she instructs you to take a deep breath in. Exhale. 

She jots something down on her clipboard. “When you have these headaches, what do you usually do to treat them?”

“Take a Tylenol,” you explain. “Maybe lay down for a while if it’s really bad.” Most of the time, you just grit your teeth through it, but that doesn’t seem like the right answer.  

“Would you describe the pain as manageable?” she asks, picking up another tool. This one, she presses gently into your ear. 

“Usually, yeah.” You think back to your lecture today, the spinning in your head. “Sometimes it’s really intense, but it passes pretty quickly.”

She takes a step back from you, recording another note on her clipboard. “Do you have any other symptoms, anything strange that you’ve noticed since the headaches started?”

“Not really,” you shake your head. 

“Are you sure?” she presses. “No night sweats? Fever chills? A clammy forehead?”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “It’s really just the headaches that are bothering me. I actually have to get to work soon. Is there any—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the nurse frowns. “You’re running a bit of a fever, and your heartbeat is slightly irregular. I’d like to check a few more things. Draw some blood and do a chest x-ray, at least.” 

“Is that really necessary?” You don’t mean to be so curt, but the sudden shift in tone has panic starting to claw at your throat. “Midterms are soon, so I’ve been a bit more stressed than usual. I’m sure it’s just that—”

“Regardless,” she interrupts, not unkindly, “it’s best to be sure.”

So you acquiesce. Push up your sleeve with no resistance so she can draw a vial of blood. Don’t mention your upcoming shift as she guides you to the x-ray imaging room. 

The more rooms she leads you to, the more tests they run, the more a sense of unease begins to build in your stomach. 

Not because you’re worried you’ll be late for work. Not because you’re thinking of your to-do list or an upcoming midterm. 

Because for the first time, you’re beginning to wonder if your headaches aren’t quite as benign as you’ve dismissed them to be. That’s the thing about spending so much time focused on everyone but yourself. You never stop to consider that something could actually be happening to you. 

You’re sure it’s just paranoia. Lingering trauma from all your previous time spent in hospital rooms at your brother’s bedside, but whatever it is, you can’t seem to shake it. 

After another handful of minutes, she gives you the final update. There were no abnormalities detected in any of the x-rays. The blood tests will take a bit longer to process, but they’ll call you within three days. 

Until then, you’re to take it easy and come back immediately if you notice worsening headaches or any other symptoms. 

With a nod, you gather your bag again. Walking past the receptionist, you offer her a tight smile. Glancing at your phone, you check the time. You still have a little over an hour before your shift. 

You should probably eat something, take a quick break before you’re on your feet for the rest of the afternoon, but that lingering feeling of dread in your gut makes both options seem unfavorable. 

Instead, you force your feet to come to a standstill. Not caring that you’re still in the middle of campus, surrounded by other students passing you by, you screw your eyes shut. 

You take a deep inhale. Hold it. Count to five. Exhale. 

You’re fine. You’re just fine. You have to be. 

If you play your cards right, you’ll graduate in two semesters. Sunoo will finally have the restaurant of his dreams. Your parents can enjoy a true retirement. 

You’re better than this. Stronger than this. A couple of fucking headaches are not going to ruin everything you’ve worked for.

You’ve survived worse, and you’ll survive this too. No matter how many sleepless nights and skipped meals and bottles of Tylenol it takes. You’ve worked too hard to watch it all go down the drain now. 

Again, you tell yourself, you’re fine. 

Even in the privacy of your own mind, you can’t quite tell if it’s a lie or not. But at the end of the day, you suppose it doesn’t really matter. 

You’re so close. Fine or not, you know what you need to do.  

…..

Three days later, you’re pouring over your insurance law notes in a library study room when the vibration of your ringtone breaks the silence. 

Checking the caller ID, you hesitate for only a moment before answering. 

Inconclusive, the nurse from the university health center tells you, and you hate that answer more than you expect to. You’ve spent the last three days more anxious than you care to admit, and this only adds fuel to the fire. 

According to the nurse, there are some abnormalities in your blood test. Namely in your blood count. Proper diagnosis is outside the scope of the university health center, but they’ve written you a referral to the nearest hospital proper for further testing. 

It’s called Saint Mary’s. It’s pretty close. Should only take you about thirty minutes on the bus.

Mentally, you scramble. You’re not sure what tests they’ll need to run or how much they’ll cost, but you’re sure the answer isn’t free. Your finances are already tight, and part of you wants to just ignore the nurse’s advice and hope that whatever’s causing irregular numbers will resolve itself. 

But the sheer anxiety of it all is killing you. Maybe the hospital can get you set up with some sort of payment plan. If your rent increase isn’t too high, then you can mitigate this with some extra shifts at the cafe. 

It’ll be fine. Your headaches haven’t been nearly as debilitating for the last three days. Visiting the hospital will give you the peace of mind you need to push through these last few semesters. 

So you make time in your schedule the next day. Erase a study session from your planner and replace it with the hospital’s name. 

Pull out the exact change for the bus fare and sink down into a window seat, pulling your headphones over your ears as you watch the city begin to pass you by. 

It strikes you then, just how little of your surroundings you’ve explored these past two years you’ve been in university. You can hardly remember the last time you stepped foot off campus for something other than a visit back home. 

It feels strange, seeing so many buildings and parks and places so close to you and realizing just how unfamiliar they all are. 

The hospital is only a handful of stops away. You exit the bus just as quickly as you got on, and then you take a deep, steadying breath. 

The process is nearly identical to your university health center. They ask for your name and identification, but this time, they direct you back to the waiting room. It’s the bad kind, this time. The type of sterile, lifeless room that makes you want to run back out the front door the way you came. 

Thankfully, you’re not left to wait long. 

This nurse is kind, too. She asks for your name and gives you hers. The testing they conduct is more extensive now. You’re shuffled from one machine to another, listening as they explain the purpose for each one without really processing anything they tell you. 

And then, when it’s done, they send you to a private room. Inform you with a tight smile that the doctor will be with you shortly. 

You sit alone for long minutes, waiting. You tap your fingers against the top of your thigh, a steady rhythm that grounds you to reality and allows you to escape it in short bursts. 

The doctor enters quietly, introduces himself. You don’t remember his name. You hardly remember yours. 

It’s difficult to focus on anything he says. The ringing in your ears is back, now. Even stronger than before. 

You only gather bits and pieces of what he tells you. But it’s enough. 

Three months. The universe must have a strange, sick sense of humor. Must love the vertigo induced by the worst sort of deja vu. Must revel in the irony of doling out death sentences. 

Three months. 

Sat in an uncomfortable chair in the dead center of a sterile, lifeless office, the doctor pushes his glasses a little further up his nose. Then, he repeats himself with just as little fanfare. 

You have three months to live. 

It’s only an estimate of course, but he’s seen this kind of tumor before. A rare genetic mutation.

Genetic. Of course.

You should have been tested, ten years ago. But money was so tight, and everyone’s attention was on Sunoo, and it just never happened. You slipped through the cracks, along with the identical malignant gene mutation you share with your younger brother.

Yours is small still, just behind your heart. That’s why the x-ray didn’t pick it up. But the MRI today did. It’s why your blood count is all over the place, why your heartbeat is arrhythmic.

It’s why you’ve been having headaches, why you’ve come dangerously close to fainting multiple times in the past few weeks. 

Three months. It may just be an estimate, but no matter how you look at it, it’s not a lot of time. It’s no time at all. 

Grief, pure, raw, aching, hits you with the force of a tsunami wave. 

The realization strikes you, in the middle of the doctor’s office, that you aren’t going to do it. Any of it. You aren’t going to graduate. You aren’t going to see your parents retire. You aren’t going to give Sunoo the restaurant of his dreams. 

No, instead, you are going to die. 

You can already feel it. Sunoo was the exception to the rule, the anomaly. He may have survived this once, but he was always meant for better things. He had the care he needed, got the treatments that brought him back to life even if they bled your family dry. 

Your parents, even if they wanted to, couldn’t do that again. They barely scraped by the first time. And even if they could, you wouldn’t let them. The guilt of it all would be too unbearable. Maybe even a fate worse than this. Your own savings are laughable. Not anywhere near the amount needed for something of this magnitude. 

When the doctor asks if there’s anyone he can call for you, you shake your head. You won’t burden your family with this. Not yet. Not for as long as you can. The weight of their worry would only make it worse. 

He looks at you with pity, then. With sorrow. You hate them both. He writes you a prescription for a pharmacy’s worth of medication, tells you that these will ease the worst of your symptoms but that you shouldn’t expect to be fully functional for more than a month or so with medicine alone. 

He gives you the list of treatment plans and watches as you half heartedly pretend to look them over. The bold faced font seems to mock you. The pictures of smiling families and spring air that you’ll likely never see again.

All of the treatments have fancy names, medical terminology you don’t understand. Glancing over the list, the only thing you see is dollar signs. Money you don’t have. 

When you ask for time before making a decision, the doctor advises against it. Reminds you that time is of the essence, that you’re lucky they caught the tumor now before it progressed further. 

That waiting longer is nothing but a death sentence. 

You thank him and tell him you’ll be in touch shortly. You can’t tell if he knows you’re lying through your teeth. 

The bus ride back to campus passes nearly the same as the journey here did. Again, you sit by the window, pulling your headphones over your ears. The buildings you pass blur into an undistinguishable mix of colors and shapes you realize you’ll never get the chance to parse between, to sort through. 

The ride to the hospital felt like an opportunity, a reminder that there was so much of the world left for you to see. The journey back feels like a prison sentence. The taunting fear that outside the tiny bubble you’ve built for yourself, the rest of the world will remain a mystery to you forever. 

When you reach the stop for your university, you stand, thanking the bus driver as you exit. 

He looks almost surprised at your gratitude, pleasantly shocked someone remembered him at all. 

And then you walk, not in the direction of your apartment, but instead towards the cluster of buildings that make up the School of Business. It’s evening now, and students are far and few between. 

There’s an unseasonal chill to the air, and you pull your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders. You walk until you reach the edge of the campus, the place where a singular, half hidden bench sits just out of view. Sinking down onto it, you let it absorb the weight of your body. Pray that it will hold steady as you unleash the weight of your grief. 

For a moment, you just sit. Your emotions feel out of reach, untouchable in some part of you that’s been locked away for too long you can’t remember how to get there again. 

But eventually, you find them. It starts slowly, a detached feeling of loss, of mourning, before the floodgates open. Before long, you’re sobbing. Alone on the bench, tears stream down your face with little restraint as choked sobs catch in your chest, your throat. You’re nearly screaming at the sky, your entire body shaking with the force of it all. 

Above it, a question circles your mind. 

Why?

Why this? Why me? Why now?

You cry for so long you think you must surely be out of tears. There can’t be anything left in your body besides this horrible disease, this awful fate your own failing nervous system has sealed in stone. 

And then your sobs start to change. Until it’s not tears you’re choking on anymore, but laughter. Terrible, gut-wrenching, bone-cracking laughter at the sheer irony of it all. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, caught somewhere in the crossfire of all your mixed emotions. But eventually, your sobs subside entirely. 

As the night begins to close around you, you’re left with nothing but the weight of reality, the gravity of truth. The disorientation of your world that’s been flipped on top of its head within the span of hours. 

Every impossible deadline, every bit of effort you’ve put into achieving all of your goals these past few years – it suddenly all feels so fucking useless. 

Every sacrifice you’ve made, every self-serving desire you’ve pushed to the side, buried beneath your commitment to your family, they all start to bubble to the surface one by one. Until you're left with something that tastes all too much like regret. 

You’ve never thought about it twice, your decision to pursue business for your brother. Ever since Sunoo’s miraculous recovery, his goals and yours have felt inseparable, like one, united thing. 

But now, alone on a campus bench with a knife hanging over your head, you think, for the first time in a long time, of that little girl who dreamed of being an astronaut. A singer. A scientist. 

You wonder what she’d say to you now. If she’d admire your determination, your grit. Or if she’d take one look at your business degree and simply think, how boring. 

You suppose it doesn’t really matter now. She’s not here anymore. But you are. Even if only for three more months. 

You imagine telling her the truth, that shadowy version of you that the past has long since claimed. 

You part your lips. They feel dry against your breath, dehydrated from your sorrow. “I only have three months to live,” you whisper to the wind. 

You’re not sure how she’ll react. She’s only ten, after all. Death still feels like some abstract concept, you’re sure, not a finite reality. Time still feels malleable. Birthdays still feel far aways. Nights still feel endless. Dreams still feel worth chasing. 

Three months? She whispers back to you, tilting her head in thought. 

You nod. 

Okay, she whispers again. Then live for three months. 

It’s not that easy, you want to explain. I have plans, hopes, goals. Things I still need to finish. 

But maybe you underestimated her. She had her life taken from her too, after all. Maybe she understands your grief more than anyone else ever could. 

And no matter what you tell her, her answer remains the same. 

Live, she insists. For three months. 

So instead of crying or laughing or cursing the universe any longer, you reach into your bag, fingers closing around the spine of your favorite notebook. Pulling a pen out, you open to the next clean page. And then you start to write. 

…..

The back of Park Jongseong’s head is even more annoying than usual today. Has his hair always been this shiny? Even the fluorescent lights that wash everything else out only seem to make it richer, more luscious looking. 

You’re so wrapped up in debating how much pride you would lose by asking him what shampoo he uses that you almost miss the tail end of his argument. 

“Laying off unnecessary staff is the only way to remedy the situation,” he states. Plainly, firmly, as if his opinion is law. As if there’s no room for argument. “Of course the accounting error would have ideally been caught much earlier in the process, but if the company is already in secondary audits, it’s practically a losing battle. It’s best to just cut the losses and preserve what they can.” 

“An interesting perspective as always, Mr. Park,” Professor Jung nods from her place at the podium. Glancing around the lecture hall she asks, “Did anyone have a different interpretation? An alternative recommendation for how the company should proceed?”

Nearly every pair of eyes in the lecture hall turns to you. Even Professor Jung glances up at your seat, although she’d never admit if you called her out on it. 

But your hands remain planted firmly on your lap. Instead, you play dumb. Pretend that it’s strange of them all to assume you’d have something to say. Act as if you haven’t spent every single other class this semester countering every single one of his points. Today, you remain silent as you too glance around the hall curiously, as if expecting someone else to counter Jay’s idiotic analysis. 

Perhaps idiotic is too harsh. A better word might be obvious. That’s Jay’s problem, you think. He’s always had everything he needs. He’s never had to get creative, to think outside the box. He looks at a poorly balanced accounting book and thinks, “How would Dad handle this?” instead of “What would be the best solution for this unique situation?”

Even Jay himself, who sits nearly directly in front of you, tries to shift in his seat subtly enough to take a glance back at you. You don’t think you’re imagining the frown on his face when he finds you sitting silently, a mask of indifference on your face as you pretend to type another row of notes on your laptop. 

“Okay,” Professor Jung continues from the front after the silence extends a moment longer. “If no one else has anything to add, then we’ll look at our next case.” She changes the slide, showing a new set of sample data from year end accounting books. “Business A had a profit margin of roughly 6.2% in the third quarter of the previous fiscal year…” 

Her words trail off as you glance down at your nails. They’re pink. A pretty shade that you selected with spring flowers in mind, even though it’s just the beginning of fall. Call it nostalgia or stupidity, but spring has always been your favorite season. You’ll take it in any form you can. Besides, the shade is gorgeous against your skin. The tip of your ring finger even has a tiny cherry blossom painted on it. 

You smile, thinking of the nearly two hours you spent yesterday afternoon at the nail salon getting them done. You’d never been before, but the process was just as fun as you imagined. The nail artist was sweet, too. She graduated from your university just a few years ago with a history degree. Changed her mind a few months after earning her diploma, and after some time in cosmetology school, here she was. Running her own nail salon.

Changing her mind and seeing where life takes her. Not worrying about wasted time in the pursuit of a happy ending. It’s not jealousy, exactly, but something unpleasant pulls at your heart when you think about it.   

You get why she likes her job so much. You feel pretty, feminine. Love the way it feels when your nails tap against the screen of your phone as you type a message. Or click against your keyboard as you type your class notes. 

They weren’t cheap, though. Despite that, you’d only smiled and nodded when she suggested coming back in three weeks for a fill. You’d have to scratch out another study session to make time, just like you did for this appointment. Old habits may die hard, but no matter how hard you search, you can’t quite seem to find a part of you that cares. 

You’ve always wanted to get your nails done. Always wanted to be one of those girls that walks around with glowing skin and nice hair and new clothes and pretty nails that you fund with disposable income. It doesn’t matter if it’s frivolous or ridiculous or hopelessly girly.

You’ve spent years with jagged cuticles and short, plain, nails because it was practical. Because it saved you money and time and effort that you could spend studying or networking or planning for the future. 

When you finished at the nail salon, you imagined showing your ten-year-old self how they turned out. 

Very pretty, your past shadowy self told you, and the smile that spread across her face made it worth it all over again. 

Even now, Professor Jung’s voice fades to a pleasant blur in the background. You’re going through the motions more than anything. Pretending to write notes even as you alternate between tabs. One for your lecture and one for flight tickets to the nearest beach town that nearly every student at your university has been to at least once for a drunken spring break vacation. 

You’ve never dreamed of going, have never even been to the beach, but you think it might be nice. You can already imagine the feeling of sand between your toes. Of warm ocean water lapping against your skin. The sound of waves lulling against the shore. 

A pleasant seaside breeze rustling through your hair. 

The sound of Professor Jung wrapping up the lecture for the morning drags you back to reality. There’s no sunlight in the lecture hall, and there’s certainly no sea breeze.

There is, however, a reminder.

“Don’t forget about the Goldfellow’s annual charity gala this weekend. As upper division students, you’re all welcome to attend. It’s an excellent opportunity to network and share space with some of the top executives in our local community. If you do decide to attend, remember that it is a formal event and proper attire is expected.” At that, class is dismissed.

The Goldfellow charity event. Although a better label might be ‘a gathering of every silver spoon raised twenty-something within a fifty mile radius.’ You have serious doubts about how much charity is actually being done.

Then again, perhaps you shouldn’t judge. You’ve never attended the event yourself, after all. Usually you would jump at any kind of networking opportunity, but this one is different. Exclusive. 

The stipulation of proper attire has always made it dangle just outside your reach. Until now, it hasn’t bothered you much. You’re sure that most people are there for the ridiculous venue and open bar. And you use that to convince yourself that no real networking is done. 

Standing from your seat, you pull your bag over your shoulder. Glancing up, you find that Park Jongseong has yet to leave his seat, too. He is standing, though. And, even more alarming, he’s looking right at you. 

More specifically, his gaze is fixated directly on your hands, your fresh manicure, as if it’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. 

Then, he looks up at you. “You’re quiet today.”

His tone is infuriatingly neutral. You can't tell if he’s mocking you or deliberately trying to incite your rage, but with Jay, you’ve made a habit of assuming the worst.

“Perhaps you should take notes,” you suggest, voice even.

Jay shakes his head. “If I have something to say, I’ll say it.”

“Well, do you?” you ask. “Have something to say, I mean. Or are you just determined to waste a few more minutes of my time?”

His mouth opens, closes again. This time, his already sharp jawline clenches into something lethal. As if he’s biting back words. Ironic, given what he just said. 

“I suppose I don’t,” he finally tells you. 

“Great,” you intone flatly. “Well, then.” And then you're pushing past him, all the way down the stairs to the door of the lecture hall. You’re not sure if he watches or follows or stays right where he is. You don’t look back, not even once. 

A handful of minutes later, you’re in the library. For nearly the first time since you began your degree program, however, it’s not class notes you pour over.  

Instead, you pull your notebook out from your bag. Your personal notebook. The same one from that night, alone on the bench, screaming at the stars and asking for advice from hallucinations of your younger self. 

Its pages are mostly blank. You don’t use it for much. Grocery lists, mostly. Occasional reminders that aren’t related to school. Over the past two and a half years, you’ve only managed to fill about twenty pages.

Turning to the last one, you half expect to not find what you’re looking for. Parts of that day still feel like figments of your imagination. 

But there it is. Looking back at you in your own neat handwriting.

Bucket List, it reads across the upper margin. 

You nearly snort. You suppose there was no need to get creative, but you really were putting things in blunt terms.

Kicking the bucket. You’re not sure where the idiom comes from, but you guess it doesn’t really matter. There are other things to focus on now. Namely, the neat, bullet point list beneath it.

Get my nails done professionally, the first line reads. You smile, glancing back down at your hands. With a satisfying stroke of ink, you write a checkmark through the hand drawn box next to it.

Done, you think.

Lip caught between your teeth, you scan over the rest of the list.

Get my hair cut and colored professionally

Buy a really expensive dress 

Go on a beach vacation

Ride in a convertible 

Kiss a stranger

And then at the bottom, the item you scratched out almost the second after you wrote it. 

See the Northern Lights

You remember the documentary you watched in elementary school, how magical the sky looked, all lit up in colors, glowing shades of green and blue. But it just isn’t realistic. Auroras haven’t been sighted in your city in, well, forever. And it’s not like you have the ability to fly to an Arctic country on a whim. 

So your list is complete with just six items, one already checked off. 

It’s a mismatched list. A short jumble of whatever random desires struck you in the moment. You can already think of things to add, to amend. 

But part of you hesitates. These were the first things you thought of that night. Your most selfish, vanity driven, purely inconsequential desires that you wanted to do just because. 

It feels wrong to edit them now. So you don’t. Instead, you push your planner to the side, ignoring your perfectly curated study schedule.

It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter if you’re the top scorer on the midterm or if you’re just painfully average. You’re not even sure you'll get the chance to take it. 

So instead, you open your laptop and search for hair salons in the area. You don’t filter them with the lowest priced options first. You just look. See which ones have a nice interior and friendly looking stylists. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re pressing on the ‘confirm booking’ button, despite the fact that the listed prices are nearly a quarter of your monthly rent. 

It doesn’t matter. You’ve never gotten your hair done. You’ve never even let yourself think about getting your hair done. 

But alone on the bench with the weight of your imminent mortality heavy on your shoulders, it was one of the things you wanted to try. 

Like your nails, it’s frivolous. Unnecessary. And that’s what makes it perfect. It’s something entirely for you. For no reason other than the fact that you simply want to. 

Glancing at the next list item, your mind starts to turn. A new hair style and an expensive dress deserve to be seen, after all. 

The Goldfellow charity gala is hardly your ideal party, but you’re not sure how many formal events you’ll be invited to in the next three months. This might be your only chance. 

Sifting through your emails, you find the invitation Professor Jung forwarded to all her students. And then, before you can overthink it, you RSVP yes. 

And then you start looking up department stores in your area.

…..

The dress you wear looks just as good when you put it on Saturday night as it did in the fitting room two days ago. 

It fits you like a glove, flattering your body in a way you didn’t even know was possible based on your experience with the clearance rack. And it’s satin. Has a beautiful, subtle shine and glimmers gorgeously under the soft chandelier lights. 

Walking into the charity gala, the man at the front smiled as he offered to take your coat for you. Didn’t look at you with pity or confusion or poorly hidden disgust. 

He just smiled. Like you belong here. 

For once, you actually feel like you do. At most networking events, especially the ones hosted by the upper echelon, you feel a bit like a toddler in her mother’s closet. Playing dress up with the big kids in a way that’s painfully obvious. 

But not tonight. Tonight, you feel pretty. Worth the second glances people are giving you. You understand it, why people with the resources go through so much trouble. Their attention feels good. You like the way people look at you like they want to know more. 

Settling further into the tastefully decorated convention room, you can picture it all, a life you could have had if you’d been born with money and ambition for this particular field. 

You’d be a charmer, you decide. The kind of girl that needs nothing more than a good dress and thirty seconds to have investors begging at her feet. A true conglomerate sweetheart that understands how the best of deals are made with champagne and well-timed fleeting glances. 

Kind of like the girl your eyes land on now. On the opposite side of the room, her long, dark hair shines under the low chandelier light. She’s gorgeous, and it’s not just because of the deep, red dress that favors her.

Even from a distance, even at a glance, you can tell she comes from money. She carries herself with that kind of grace, that self-assurance that wealthy people always have. Like the room belongs to her.

Whoever she’s talking to seems to agree. It’s a man, you can tell. He has his back to you, but you can imagine his expression easily enough. His eagerness. The way he hangs off her every word, hoping she’ll deem him worthy of her time a little longer. 

You watch for another moment, until he turns. It’s his side profile you see now, and it’s unmistakable. Jay. 

Of course. You want to roll your eyes. 

The two of them are perfect together. A match made in heaven, or maybe a CEO’s board room. 

Either way, it has you adjusting your dress, a bit uncomfortably. All of a sudden, it starts to feel like an illusion again.

One hair cut, one expensive dress. You’re still playing dress up. You just did a better job this time. The truth is that you can wear whatever you want. It will never be enough to make you belong here. Not really. Not in the way they do. 

The next time a waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes, you don’t hesitate to reach out and grab one. 

Taking a long, slow sip, you allow yourself one final look at Jay. At the girl he’s with. He laughs at something she says, and she puts her hand on his arm. 

You pretend like there isn’t something unpleasant starting to swim in your gut. 

And then you make yourself busy. It is a networking event, after all. 

The first person you find is another girl from your class. She hardly recognizes you, and you can’t quite decide if you like that or not. The champagne is starting to form a pleasant, light sort of haze in your mind, and you feel like you can’t be bothered by anything. 

You speak for a minute before moving on. Before long, you start to lose track of all your conversation partners. Another boy from your class. A recent graduate. A startup leader who’s always looking for interns to join his team.

One conversation bleeds into the next, and your glasses of champagne do the same.

The lights start to feel warmer, or maybe that's just the proximity of bodies. Either way, your cheeks are flushed when the waiter passes again. 

Reaching out, you replace your empty glass with a full one. But you never get the chance to bring it to your lips. 

A hand suddenly encircles your wrist, plucking the champagne flute from between your fingers. 

“Hey—” you begin to protest, but a glance upwards stops you dead in your tracks. The hand around your wrist, the champagne thief, is none other than Park Jongseong.  

He’s looking at you with something furious in his gaze. “What is wrong with you?” 

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. And then— “What’s wrong with you?” you return. “I was drinking that.” 

You try to reach around him for your stolen champagne, but he’s faster. He steps to the side, effectively blocking your path. You hate to admit it, but he looks good. 

Of course he does. This is his domain, after all. It comes naturally to him, you’re sure, the styled hair, the spotless suit that’s been tailored to perfection. 

Across from you, he’s looking too. You watch as he swallows, throat bobbing with the action. 

Just like in the lecture hall, his gaze makes you fidget, brings back your previous uncertainty tenfold. 

You’re hoping he’ll get lost, but Jay does the opposite.

“I don’t know what sorrows you’re trying to drown,” he intones flatly, “but a charity event hardly seems the place to do it, don’t you think?”

“I’m not drowning anything,” you argue. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “It’s only my second glass.” Another lie. 

His lips pull into a thin line. “It’s at least your third.” 

God damnit. 

You roll your eyes. “What are you, my father? I’m not even drunk.”

“And it’s probably best we keep it that way.”

“There is no we.” Your eyes narrow. “I can handle myself and my alcohol. So give me back my champagne and go back to flirting with whatever oil tycoon’s daughter you were talking to earlier before she thinks I stole you from her.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, and you curse your misstep. It appears he wasn’t the only one keeping tabs tonight. 

“I wasn’t flirting—”

“I don’t care what you were doing. Champagne.” You nod towards it pointedly. “Now.”

Jay makes no move towards the glass. Instead, he just looks at you for a moment. Assessing. “You’re acting strange these days,” he finally says. He scans you again, all the way down to where your hemline brushes against your heels. “And you look different. Your hair…”

You roll your eyes again. “Yes, well you’ll be delighted to know that even scholarship students have the privilege of getting a haircut sometimes.”

“What?” he blinks. “I didn’t even know you were—” he shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s not just that. The color is different.”

Your hair, the hair you were so terribly fond of less than five minutes ago, you suddenly want to rip out of your scalp. “Try not to faint from the shock,” you say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “but we do occasionally splurge on a box of hair dye, too.”

“In class, too,” he presses, ignoring your sarcasm. “You’re quiet. I mean, the other day in Professor Jung’s, you didn’t even counter my suggestion for mass layoffs from that sample data set.”

He really has some nerve. Some sheer fucking audacity. “Believe it or not, my sole purpose in life is not to correct every one of your idiotic takes in class. I think I’d run out of oxygen if I had to do that.”

“You had no problem doing it before,” he points out.

“And now I’m not. Shouldn’t you be relieved?” Champagne momentarily forgotten, you take a step forward, praying your argument will be final enough to get him to leave. “I mean, the way I see it, you should be thanking me. Everyone else is way too scared to go against you because of your family name. Now that even I’m silent, the entire lecture hall is officially your echo chamber to conquer.”

“I don’t want an echo chamber,” he shakes his head. “You’ve always had good, I mean, interesting ideas,” he amends. “You made me have to think harder, approach problems in a new way. It’s made me a lot better at analysis.” 

You thought you had all but run out of rage, but that comment incites a new flame you hadn’t realized was still there. 

“Well I’m terribly sorry that I can’t be your stepping stone to becoming a better analyst anymore,” you say, eyes narrow as your tone goes dangerously low. “I suppose you’ll just have to do it on your own now.”

“Wait,” he protests as he realizes how you interpreted his words. “That’s not what I meant—”

But you’re over it. Over this conversation. Over this event. And most certainly over him. 

“To be completely honest, Jay, I’m not really interested in hearing about what you meant. In fact, the only thing I really want is to have my champagne and some peace and quiet again. So, I’m just gonna just take my glass back, and you can shove whatever you meant by that right up your—”

He steps to the side again, this time just as your fingers are closing around the stem of your glass. Knocking into your wrist, he sends the contents of your glass flying, spilling down the front of his ridiculously expensive suit. 

It’s his fault, technically, but even with your renowned flippance on finances, you don’t want to be responsible for footing that dry cleaning bill. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He just stands there for a moment, shellshocked. Useless, you think. 

“Here,” you open your purse, pulling out the wad of napkins you keep stashed in case of accidents just like this. He takes them from you wordlessly as you search for more. You’re sure you have another handful somewhere in your bag. “It’s a light liquid, so it should be okay. Just dab at it gently, and then—”

You look back up, the words dying on your lips. 

Because Jay is not dabbing gently at the stain on his suit jacket. In fact, he doesn’t seem concerned with the spill at all. Instead, he’s intently examining one of the napkins you gave him, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

Confusion flickers across your features. Did you accidentally give him a napkin that was already stained with something? Is there a weird brand name written on it? 

“What?” you ask. “Why aren’t you—” you look at the paper in his hands again. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you realize that along with the napkins, you handed him something else. Something you never intended for anyone else to see. 

Panicking, you reach for it. Jay is quicker. Holding it above his head, he keeps it firmly out of your reach. Even in your heels, your fingers can’t quite close around it. 

“___,” he says your name. His voice is entirely too close to your ear. Stopping your struggle for a moment, you look at him. Involuntary, you let out a small gasp at the sudden proximity. As if you’ve been burned, you take a half step back. 

Looking at you with his hand still stretched above his head, he asks in a low tone, “Why do you have such a weird bucket list? And why do you carry it around in your purse?”

“It’s not a bucket list—”

“It literally says ‘Bucket List’ at the top.”

God damnit. Why did you write that?   

“It’s nothing. Just give it back to me—”

He continues to dangle the paper just out of reach. “Does someone have a hit out on you or something? Do you terrorize students in all your classes and now one of them is finally taking revenge?” There’s a playfulness in his tone, but you don’t miss the concern hiding there, too. Even if he tries to disguise it. 

“You know,” he presses on, “‘She’s smarter than me and I hate her for it’ isn’t a legally mitigating circumstance for murder. You can tell the authorities if someone’s acting like it is.”

“No one’s trying to kill me.” In your panic, you almost miss his mangled attempt at a compliment. 

“Then why are you acting like you’re going to die?” He says it so bluntly, so plainly, that you swear you nearly feel the world slip from underneath your feet. 

He doesn't mean it. There’s no way he actually means it, but it sobers you in a startling way. The thought that Jay, someone you’ve only come to know through contempt and competition, can read you like an open book. 

“I’m not—” Your words suddenly feel like chalk in your throat. You’re no stranger to lying, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it. Not with the weight of his gaze, with the weight of your diagnosis, pressing against you from all angles. 

You feel it again, that sickening and all too familiar sensation. It starts as a sharp, localized pain, just above your left eyebrow. You wince. Your breath is suddenly a difficult thing to catch. 

In front of you, Jay’s posture eases slightly. You’d be able to grab your list again now, surely. If only you could get your limbs to cooperate. 

Pain spreads quickly, first through your head. The ringing in your ears is back, too. That high pitched sound you can’t seem to shake as your vision starts to swim. You feel unsteady on your feet as nausea begins to roll in your stomach. 

Beneath you, your legs feel useless. Made of jelly, feeble, about to buckle under your weight. You sway slightly, hand coming to your forehead as you try to think through the pain, through the haze. 

You can’t collapse. Not now. You have to stay standing. You have to be okay. 

“Woah,” Jay says. It’s lost somewhere amongst the high pitched frequency in your ears. Your pathetic bucket list lies discarded on the table behind him as he reaches forward, as if to steady you. His hands never find you, though. They just linger awkwardly in the space between your bodies, still half outstretched. “You okay?”

You try to answer, try to brush him off and grit through your teeth that you’re fine, but it feels different from before. The nausea, the worst of the dizziness should be passing by now. Your consciousness should be coming back to you, not fading into darkness the more you try to cling to it. 

“Hey,” you think he says. Gently, so gently, and you can barely hear him, can barely distinguish words from one another. “Hey, why don’t you sit down. I’ll get you some water or something, and—”

You don’t hear the end of his suggestion. With one final breath, your last tie to consciousness is severed. You feel your body teetering, before you start to slump forward. You think you feel it then, the warmth of his hands on your skin. The weight of your body against the soft fabric of his suit instead of the unforgiving surface of the hardwood floor beneath you. 

Your head rests against his chest. Even as your consciousness fades, you can feel his heartbeat, the way it pounds beneath your cheek. You think you hear him call out, loud at first and then louder. There’s desperation in his voice as he begs, pleads for help. 

With warm hands against your skin, and your pulse ringing loudly in your ears, the world around you fades entirely until there’s nothing but darkness. 

…..

Squinting, the only thing you can make out is light. It’s bright, too bright. The sudden influx of light only makes the dull ache against your temples more pronounced. Blinking slowly, you try to ease away some of your confusion. 

You’re not in your bedroom, that much you know for sure. Eyes opening fully, your surroundings begin to take shape. The ceiling above you is tiled, lined with fluorescents. Turning your head to the side, you see two chairs. A bedside table. A vitals monitor. 

You’re in a hospital. 

Trying not to panic, you push at the bed beneath you, moving your body into an upright position. The monitor next to you doesn’t seem to appreciate your effort. The second you sit up, it starts beeping incessantly, flashing a warning sign you’re not sure how to interpret.

A handful of seconds later, the door bursts open, a nurse flying in. 

“You’re awake,” she assesses. “Good.” Hands pressing against your shoulders gently, she urges you back to a laying position. “You shouldn’t try to sit up for at least a few minutes. Your body is still a little out of sorts right now.”

A little out of sorts. That’s a mild way of putting it, you suppose. 

“I…” you trail off, still a bit dazed. “Which hospital am I in?”

The nurse frowns at you, sympathy in her eyes. “You’re in Saint Mary’s, sweetheart. My name is Hana. I’ve been overseeing your care since your boyfriend brought you in yesterday evening.”

“My… boyfriend?” you echo.

“Mhm,” Hana nods. He should be back any minute. I’ll let him know you’re awake. He stayed here all night, you know. You found a good one,” she winks. Scanning the vitals machine, she adds, “You seem to be pretty stable now, but you took quite a fall last night. You’re lucky he was there to catch you. The doctor will want to speak to you again and get a final prognosis, but I think you should be free to go before the end of the day unless we find anything new.”

“Okay,” you nod, still a bit stuck on the word boyfriend. “Thank you…” you trail off, not able to remember the name she gave you. 

“Hana,” she finishes helpfully. 

You nod again. “Thank you, Hana.”

Just as she turns to leave, the door to your room opens again. This time, it’s Jay that comes tumbling in. Like Hana, he seems to have been in quite a hurry, if the shallowness of his breath is anything to go by. 

His eyes lock on you. You have the sudden urge to fidget under his stare. 

“They told me you woke up,” he states. In the middle of your hospital room, he looks more unsure of himself than you’ve ever seen him. His hands, usually folded neatly or busy with work, hang awkwardly at his sides. 

His hair is mussed. It still looks good, of course, but it’s messier than you’ve ever seen it.

He’s still wearing his suit from last night, from the gala. It’s not so pristine now. He’s removed the jacket, for starters. And the champagne stain still spreads across the front of his white shirt, more obvious now that it’s dried. 

His collar is askew, the top button undone by what appears to have been frantic hands.  

You wish you were here under different circumstances, so you could truly revel in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Park Jongseong looking disheveled. 

“She’s awake,” Hana confirms. “Vitals look good for now.” Looking at you again, she points to the red button on the table beside you. “Press that if you need anything.” Glancing between you and Jay, she ends with, “I’ll give the two of you some privacy.” She winks at you again, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to correct her assumptions. 

But then she’s gone. It’s just you and Jay. 

“You told them you’re my boyfriend?” You arch an eyebrow.  

Jay shakes his head. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“But you let them assume.” 

“It was either that or they called your family.” At the mention of them, something cold and sharp pierces through your gut. 

Still, you bluff, “What makes you think I don’t want them to call my family?”

“Do you?” He calls it. “I can go tell Hana right now.” His gaze narrows, once again assessing you like you’re a particularly stubborn spreadsheet. “But I don’t think you want me to do that. In fact, I don’t think you’ve even told your family you’re sick at all.”

You freeze. “Why would you assume that?”

“Am I wrong?” he challenges. 

Your silence is confirmation enough. 

“I knew it.” He laughs in disbelief, looking at the ceiling for a moment before he returns his gaze to you. “That’s so like you. You know, I get not telling your family when you have the flu or some weird infection you picked up from a party you shouldn’t have gone to, but Jesus Christ, ____. Cancer?”

Your body goes cold at the word. He knows. Jay knows. 

His anger is confusing. And, you think, entirely unfair. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I exactly chose to have it.” 

“No, but you did choose to drink. You know, the doctor told me he specifically warned you about the side effects of alcohol with your medication.”

“That has to be a HIPAA violation. I should sue for dubious ethics—”

“Then I hope every doctor you come across has ‘dubious ethics’ so they can get someone else to help keep you alive,” he exasperates, volume rising, “since you don’t seem very interested in doing it yourself.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You must have misheard him. There’s no way he actually has enough audacity to say that to you. But this is Park Jongseong you’re talking about. 

Of course he does. Of course he fucking does. 

Your voice is low when you enunciate with an unnatural level of precision, “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

Jay has a mind of his own. “I mean, seriously, what the hell were you thinking—”

This time, you won’t let him finish. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you don’t know the first thing about me or my family or my situation. I know you’re used to walking into a room and having your opinion matter more than everyone else’s, but you don’t get to do that here.” Your chest is heaving now. You’re half afraid your vitals monitor is going to start beeping at you again. But you’re angry. “This is my life. My burden to bear. Thank you for helping me get to the hospital safely. Truly. But that doesn’t give you the right to dish out your opinion unsolicited.” 

Across from you, Jay takes a deep inhale. Releases it. 

His eyes scan your face. He sees the anger there. The resentment. He drags a palm across his forehead, and on his next exhale, he says, much more quietly, “I’m sorry.” You can hardly believe your ears. 

“What?” You have to make sure. Surely you heard him wrong. 

But he says it again, more audible this time. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You’re right. I’m just… confused, ____.” He’s looking at you again, in that way that you hate. Like he’s trying to see all the way down to your bones. “I can’t figure this out at all. I mean, the ___ I know fought tooth and nail for every class assignment, no matter how small. You practically ran yourself into the ground every exam season since freshman year. I’ve never met anyone who works as hard, who tries as hard, as you at anything. And that was for test grades. And now… this is… this is your life. And I may not know everything about you or the situation, but from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve just accepted it. I’ve never seen you go down for anything without a fight, and now I’m supposed to believe that you’re just gonna let death take you?” He shakes his head. “It’s just not you.”

“It’s different.” You shake your head. You don’t expect him to understand. The last thing you want to discuss with a conglomerate heir is family finances. So you’ll tell him in vague terms. “Assignment grades, test scores, those are things I can control. The outcome is directly related to my effort. This is… different. There’s something broken in my body. It doesn’t play by the rules, and it doesn’t care about the effort I put in. No matter what I do, it’s just broken.”

“But the doctor mentioned treatment plans. He said there were options to consider—”

“Not for me,” you shake your head. “Those options aren’t things I can do.”

“But why?” he presses. “This is your life. Even if there’s only a small chance, isn’t anything worth trying?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s more honest than you planned to be. But his searching gaze, his rising desperation, have you feeling vulnerable. “I don’t know if it’s the right choice. If I’ll regret it. But it’s still my choice, and this is what I’m choosing now.”

“So what?” he pleads for a bit of understanding. “You just stick it out for a couple of years and then say goodbye to everything?”

“Three months,” you correct. 

“What?”

“The doctor estimated I have about three months left. I suppose it’s a little less now,” you amend. “It’s already been nearly a week.”

“Three m—” His voice breaks on the last syllable, eyes wide where they meet yours. Something releases in his body. The breath that was holding him upright. He deflates. “That’s not— You won’t even graduate. You’ll hardly finish the semester.”

“I know,” you nod. You’ve had time, albeit not much, to process some of your grief, your shock. Watching it play out across Jay’s features in real time is jarring, to say the least. “That’s why I made that stupid list I accidentally handed you at the gala. I know it’s not exactly a good bucket list, but they’re things that I want to do. Things that will make the next three months feel meaningful.” 

He just stares at you for a moment. “I… you’re so calm.”

“Believe me,” you smile ruefully, “I’ve had my fair share of tears and screaming and throwing things. But none of it changes anything.” You look away from him now, eyes on the window. “I don’t want to spend the next three months angry. Not at myself or anyone else or the universe.”

You feel his eyes against the side of your face. He won’t say anything in response. Won’t give any sort of acknowledgement or approval to your acceptance. 

Instead, he tells you, “You have to stay away from alcohol.”

At that, you roll your eyes. “Cut me some slack. You tell a girl she’s got three months to live and you don’t even let her drown her sorrows in a glass of champagne?” It’s meant to be a joke. Or at least a bit lighthearted. Something to diffuse to stifling tension. 

Jay doesn’t seem to appreciate the punchline. 

“Do you know how fucking terrified I was when you collapsed like that?” His voice is low, urgent. Your gaze meets his again, and there’s something desperate in his eyes. “I’m serious, ___. No alcohol.”

The gravity of his tone hits somewhere deep within you. Even if it’s only fleeting, even if it wasn’t intentional, it’s nice to think for a moment that someone else shares this burden with you. That there’s another soul in this world that understands what’s happening, that cares about the choices you make and their effect on you. 

“Okay,” you breathe, voice small. “No alcohol.”

“Good,” Jay nods. His relief doesn’t feel fabricated, not when you watch some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. “Okay,” he nods. “Hana mentioned that the doctor will want to talk to you again. He should be stopping by soon. I’ll wait for you, and then I can drive you back to campus.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You shake your head. “I can just take the bus—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he cuts you off. “I’m already here.”

“Okay,” you nod. You could argue further, but you have the feeling it would be useless. Suddenly, you’re the one feeling unsure of yourself. “Thank you,” you tell him, more a force of habit than anything. 

Silence stretches between you, both of you avoiding direct eye contact. 

As you look around the room, a question strikes you. “I know that this is Saint Mary’s but which ward am I in? It looks different from before.”

“Ah,” Jay nods. “That’s because you’re not in a ward.” Confusion flickers across your features. He’s quick to explain, “This is a private room.”

“A priv—” You nearly choke on your words. You don’t even want to imagine the hospital bill you’re currently racking up. “I didn’t request that.”

“I know,” he says, either oblivious to your panic or ignoring it. “I did.” 

“You…” You try not to let anger be your primary emotion, but it’s difficult in the moment. “Jay, I can’t afford a private room.”

At that, he only looks surprised. “What are you talking about?” He balks. “You don’t have to… I wasn’t going to ask you to pay.”

“Of course I’m paying,” you argue. “You think I’m going to let you cover my hospital bills?” 

“You’re not paying me back,” he shakes his head. 

“Don’t do that,” you warn as soon as you see something dangerous start to enter his gaze. “I might be sick and I might not have money, but you don’t get to pity me.”

At that, he looks genuinely surprised. He’s quiet for a moment. And then, soft but firmer than you expect, he says, “I don’t pity you. I don’t, can’t even begin to understand you, but I don’t pity you. Not today, not ever. My family donates regularly to this hospital,” he explains. “They offered to put you here as soon as I said my name. There’s nothing to pay back.”

“Oh,” you say. Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. And then, just because it feels due, “Thank you.”

Jay looks at you for a moment, expression unreadable. “You can thank me by actually listening to what the doctor says this time. And then by following his advice.”

“I will,” you nod.

“Seriously. Medication side effects are no joke. You have to—”

“I will,” you repeat, firmer this time. 

“Okay,” Jay accepts. “Good.”

As if on cue, you hear a quiet shuffling outside your door. Muffled voices exchanging words, feet turning towards the entrance. The doctor must be here. 

Jay hears it too. He looks at you one last time and instructs, “Behave. And listen.”

Something about the way he says it has your spine feeling rigid. “I already told you I will—” 

The knock interrupts your protests as the doctor enters the room. It’s the same middle-aged man you saw the last time you visited Saint Mary’s. The one who gave you your diagnosis. The one who told you you have three months left to live. 

You don’t remember his name now. Doctor…

Your eyes land on his name tag. That’s right. Doctor Kim.

He looks at you now with an expression that’s hard to decipher. Not pity. Not sympathy. Now that he knows you have someone willing to come to the hospital for you. 

You wonder if he’s curious about it now, the reason you told him you had no one to call before. 

It’s impossible to tell. Doctor Kim’s expression is unreadable. He’s a malignant tumor specialist, after all. He’s used to giving out terrible news, to putting even the worst of circumstances in plain terms. 

Jay greets him before excusing himself. He reminds you he’ll be waiting, when you’re done. And then, he's gone. 

At first, Doctor Kim rechecks your vitals, jots down a couple of notes. And then he says, “I can’t lie, Miss ____. I was hoping the next time I saw you, we’d be discussing treatment plans.”

“Ah,” you intone. You try to keep your voice light, but you can’t quite look at him when you say, “I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“Champagne, was it?” He pulls a stool up next to your beside and sits. There’s no judgement in his voice, not even the frustration that Jay had. He’s just confirming the facts, but that somehow feels even worse. Like you’ve disappointed him. 

“Only a few glasses.” 

“A sip of alcohol is enough to trigger serious side effects with the medication you’re on. You’re lucky all you did was lose consciousness. You’re very lucky someone was there to catch you. If you had fallen, we’d be having a very different conversation right now. If you were able to talk at all, that is.”

The gravity of his words hit you with full force.

“What?” The syllable is small, breathy.

Doctor Kim sighs. “Perhaps the gravity of the situation was not fully conveyed at our previous meeting. I’ll be more clear now. Miss, ____, your body isn’t able to heal itself right now. Your blood cells, even the healthy ones, are deteriorating rapidly. If you fall, if something breaks, if you cut your finger and it becomes infected, the three month estimate I gave you becomes much shorter.”

There’s no ringing in your ears, but his words feel muffled, like you’re listening underwater. 

He continues, “That’s why my primary treatment plan includes a specialized, targeted version of chemotherapy that can—”

You shake your head. “I’m not interested.”

“You’re not interested in what, exactly?” he asks. “Living?”

You’re quiet for a moment. Can’t quite meet his gaze. “Am I free to go?”

“You’re stable for now, but I’d like to keep you one more night if—”

“Is that a yes?”

He sighs. “If you insist on going, then I won’t force you to stay.”

“Thank you, doctor. I’ll be more careful.” 

He has more to say, you’re sure of it, but the room remains silent as he helps detach the monitors from your body. 

And then that’s the end of it. 

The drive back to campus is quiet, mostly. Jay has some old classic rock album on shuffle, but he keeps the volume low. Lets you look out the window and doesn’t say much. Doesn’t expect you to either. 

The truth sits heavy between the two of you now. 

It interrupts your plans, shatters the mirage you’d constructed. 

For the last week, you’ve imagined your death and the moments leading up to it as a solitary endeavor. You know you’ll have to tell your family eventually. But you have to time it right. If there’s any hope, they’ll insist on treatment. Even though it would mean losing the threadbare pieces of their lives that they’ve managed to scrape back together. 

You told Professor Jung that your health checkup went well, told Kaia that the two hundred dollar rent increase coming next year was something you still needed time to think about. 

You’re prolonging it. Delaying it. Death is your dirty little secret. Well, was. 

The evidence of that currently has his eyes trained on the road ahead, knuckles slightly pale against the steering wheel. 

And that presents a problem. 

As you approach the outskirts of campus, you break the silence. “Please don’t tell anyone,” you request. 

Jay sighs. Resigned, like he expected this. “Does anyone know?”

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Your family?”

He already guessed in the hospital, but you confirm it again now. “I’ll tell them when the time’s right.”

“When it’s too late, you mean.” He’s stealing glances at you now. You school your features into something neutral as he does it again. Reads you like a damn open book. Predicts even the darkest of your plans with ease. 

“It’s complicated,” you argue. You’re not sure why you feel the need to justify your choices to him. 

“How so?” he presses.

You deflect. “It’s a long story.”

Jay won’t give it up. “I have time.”

You’re quick, too. “Yeah, well I don’t.”

He doesn’t get it at first. “What? What urgent plans could you possibly have on a Sunday afternoon?”

You’re silent for a moment, just giving him a look while you wait for the ill timed joke to sink in. 

“Oh,” he finally says, slow on the uptake. And then he’s glaring. “That’s not funny.”

“I think it is.” You shrug. 

“Do you really? Or is it just easier?”

That catches you off guard. “What?”

“It is easier,” he repeats, “to treat it all as some big joke? Something meaningless? To pretend like your life doesn’t matter to you, like none of this scares you?

You’re quiet for a moment. Silent, while the wake of his words settles around you. It extends a bit too long, and despite all the boundaries he’s already broken today, he worries he’s overstepped. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I—”

“Of course I’m scared,” you whisper. In the passenger seat of his car, the admission feels like defeat. You feel like you’re on that bench again, by the business buildings. Only this time, you aren’t alone. “Jay, I’ve never been more fucking terrified in my life. Death is so… unknown. I’m scared it will hurt. I’m scared that it won’t, that I’ll feel nothing at all. I’m scared that three months will be over before I have the chance to do anything that matters, and I’m fucking scared that I won’t even actually get all the time the doctor estimated. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I see my parents. My little brother. I imagine them seeing me like that – pale and stiff and wrong – and they just keep—” Your voice breaks. “They’re always crying. And then it’s not just fear anymore. It’s guilt too. I made them feel that way. I couldn’t just stay alive for them. It was my fault, and deep down, maybe they resent me for it, too.”

“Then why—” He whispers, voice cracking too like he’s the one who’s suffering. “Why won’t you get help? Why won’t you tell them?”

“Because believe it or not,” you whisper back, “I think it would be worse if I did. I watched them lose everything, give everything up once. I can’t ask them to do it again for me. The guilt would eat me alive. I can’t be that selfish.”

“And this isn’t selfish? Making their choice for them?”

You shake your head. “It’s my turn to make a sacrifice.”

“Are you insane?” He’s louder now, as if sense can be forced into your head with volume. “Love isn’t some transaction you pass back and forth. You’re lying to yourself,” he accuses. “You’re not telling them because you already know what they would do. They’d do anything for you. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been through hell before. They’d choose to do it again. Always. So put your guilt aside for a second and let people that love you take care of you when you need it.”

He’s dangerously close to striking a vein you don’t want him to find. His arguments are making too much sense, eroding the decisions you thought were set in stone. You need him to stop. “You don’t get it—”

“Because you won’t tell me anything!” His palms splay against the steering wheel now, open in frustration.

“I don’t have to!” You’re loud now too. “I barely know you. It’s not like you would even begin to understand, anyway. You were born with the world at your fingertips, but in case you need a reality check, that’s not what life is like for the rest of us—”

Jay switches into the left lane so suddenly it cuts through your words. Thrown by the force, you grip the armrest for support. “What are you doing? You’re about to miss the turn—”

“I hope,” his voice is low now. Steady, controlled but just barely. “That I’m misunderstanding you.”

He waits until the light is green, then he spins the car through a U-turn. 

“Jay, what are you doing? I need to go back to campus—”

He’s done hearing your excuses. “Are you telling me this is about fucking money?”

In the passenger seat, your blood runs cold. Shit. Shit. You said too much. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you said I wouldn’t understand. Because of my family. Their resources. Their money.”

“I did not say that,” you argue, but it’s futile. Weak to even your ears.

“You implied it.”

“So what,” you scoff. “I’m done talking about it. Like I said, you wouldn't get it. And why did you turn around? Where are you even going?”

“I’m taking you back to the hospital.” His tone leaves no room for discussion. 

“What?” For the second time, your blood runs cold. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” He says it like it’s obvious. Like nothing you’ve said in the past few hours has gotten through to him. “So you can tell the doctor you changed your mind and start treatment.”

You’re panicking now, pulling at your seatbelt. “I didn’t change my mind,” you protest. “I’m not starting treatment—”

“And I’m not gonna drive you back to campus and act like everything’s okay. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you die.”

His words hang in the air, the implication obvious. He has the money, after all. Probably won’t even notice it’s missing. You hate the way it makes you feel small, like you owe him something. Like he’s doing this out of some misplaced sense of obligation.

Your voice is barely audible. “You told me you didn’t pity me.”

“I don’t,” he reaffirms. “This isn’t pity.”

Your words bite, even more than you mean for them to. “Well, I’m not a fucking charity case either.”

“Then it’s not charity.” He shakes his head. “It’s a deal.”

“A deal?” you echo. “What deal could you possibly make with me—”

“Let me finish first in our class,” Jay says, and it catches you entirely off guard. “In all of our remaining courses and overall class rank,” he clarifies. “Let me take first.”

You scoff. “You don’t need me to do anything for that.”

“I do,” he insists. “You and I have been neck and neck since our first year. Competing against you, there’s no guarantee.”

“That’s hardly an equal trade,” you point out. “I can’t even imagine how much money—”

“It is for me.” His jaw tightens. “If I don’t rank first, my father won’t officially initiate me as a shareholder. I won’t have any position or power in the company. And he’s not fond of second chances. I won’t have an opportunity to remedy my mistake later.”

At that, you turn to face him fully, surprise coloring your features. His eyes are still on the road, but you’re sure he can feel that way you scan his side profile, the tense set of his jaw and shoulders. 

You can’t get a read on him, on what he’s thinking. Does it humiliate him to ask? Is he even telling the truth? You can’t imagine someone in your family ever treating you so coldly, but the sudden tension doesn’t seem fabricated. 

You know you’d be stupid not to agree. You don’t need to rank first to keep your scholarship, and that accolade won’t mean much past graduation. You glance at him again. Well, at least not for you. 

And regardless of the consequences, you’d get a fighting chance. Something akin to hope blooms in your chest. You haven’t let yourself feel it, not since that first night. It’s almost addictive now, like water in a desert. You stop yourself just before you start scooping mouthfuls with your bare palms. 

“I can’t—”

“Please,” he whispers. It’s not an argument now. Not a debate. He’s begging you. 

And that’s what does it. Unties the last knot of your resistance.  

You’re quiet for a moment longer, and then—

“Okay,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. Jay keeps his gaze forward, but you watch a flicker of relief ghost across his features. 

“I have two conditions,” he tells you. 

It’s so like him, you think. To get his way and then ask for more. 

“You’re really gonna push it? I could change my mind, you know.” But you won’t. Not when you’ve already tasted water from the oasis. Not when hope is already curling deep within you. Not when you could live. 

Jay calls your bluff, too. “First, you tell your family.”

“But—”

“It doesn’t have to be right now,” he adds. “But within three days.”

You want to argue, to protest. But they’ll want to come see me. They’ll have to take time off work, away from the restaurant. And the transportation costs will be too high. 

Jay beats you to it. “I’ll cover any related costs that you let me. I’ll help you hide it, too. Pretend it’s part of a donation program or a special fund for university students.” 

It’s generous. It’s so terribly considerate that it makes your head spin. You can’t linger on it too long without feeling uncomfortable. 

Instead, you say, “Fine. What’s the other condition?”

“Your bucket list.” Jay nods to your purse that rests on your lap. You realize he must have returned it while you were unconscious, the list you accidentally gave him last night. “You still spend the next three months checking everything off.”

“What?” you frown. You weren’t expecting that. “Why?”

“Treatment is hope,” he explains. “Not a guarantee. You took the time to write it, so you should see it through.”

Part of you hesitates. If you’re really going to do this, if you’re really going to live, then you’ll need every last penny you’ve saved. Sunoo will need it. Your parents will need it. 

But you suppose you can take a sleeper train to the beach to avoid hotel costs and find some old convertible with a cheap rental fee to drive around for an hour. And kissing a stranger doesn’t exactly cost anything. 

Suddenly, the thought of Jay reading that particular list item has heat rising in your cheeks. It’s probably too much to pray he’s forgotten about it. 

But you’ve left enough of your pride in his car and at his feet. 

For a moment, you imagine what this feels like for him. What it would be like to give out such an impossible amount of money so easily. To have a father that gives ultimatums that could change the trajectory of his entire future in an instant. 

And then you think of you. Of the simple truth you’ve been dodging and denying and ducking from since reality slapped you across the face a week ago. 

You don’t want to die. 

You think of that little girl. The one who wanted to be an astronaut, a lawyer, a singer. She wouldn’t want you to die, either. 

And like Jay said, this isn’t a guarantee. But it is hope. 

For you. For Sunoo. For your parents. For her. Maybe, you think, even for Park Jongseong, who's been slowly edging further and further past the speed limit for the last five minutes. 

“Okay,” you tell him, looking out at the buildings you pass. You still don’t know most of them, but there’s another word there now, and it makes all the difference. 

Yet. 

You don’t know most of them yet. 

So you seal your fate with one last word. “Deal.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TO BE CONTINUED...

[jwonnn]

God, you're so annoying - Yang Jungwon

"Just take it, will you?"

────୨ৎ────

Genre --> academic rivals, high school, childhood friends

Summary --> -Jungwon has been the perfect student, son, and class president since the start of middle school. His vice president, y/n, had always lost by one vote. Now that high school has started for the two of them, Jungwon begins to realise his determined vice president has fallen behind, losing her spark day by day. He doesn't even realise it, until he finds himself missing her ever-annoying presence. -

────୨ৎ────

Whenever y/n saw Yang Jungwon pass by in the hallways, she couldn't hide her frustration. It was in his perfect posture, smug face, and broad shoulders that did it. Not once did Jungwon seem intimidated by her. His position had remained the same for all the fourteen years she had known him, the only president her class had ever known.

And, her?

Always second to Jungwon.

She was nothing but Jungwon's vice president. When, Jungwon was sick, she was the replacement. When Jungwon had important taekwondo tournaments, she was the replacement.

And after over a decade of trying, she couldn't take it any longer.

The summer before high school began, y/n had a plan in mind. A "social experiment" - that’s what she told herself. Although she knew deep down it was just her pathetic self burning out. 

It would start off with coming to school late (which, she never had in all her years of school), then missing assignments (that she had to train herself not to reach for and complete), and then refusing to study. 

Bringing her to the horrid situation she was placed in now. Y/n sat in awe at the modest little numbers “89%” on the most recent math test. An A-. How sweet, she thought. 

Instead of crying over a careless mistake that had her one mark off from a hundred, whilst Jungwon stood unfazed, handing his perfect paper properly back to the teacher, she smiled.

She could feel the strain in her cheeks as she kept the smile up. Just one more week. After this semester, I’ll be better than ever. This is just a test. It’s a calculated experiment, I swear. 

She stood up calmly and walked towards the teacher’s desk. Preparing herself for whatever disappointed comment she would receive for her newest grade.

Jungwon stood behind her - waiting to hand back his paper as well. 

"Mr. Perfect probably got a hundred again" - she muttered to herself. 

 He stood confidently tall, paying zero attention to the fuming girl in-front of him. 

“Y/n this is the first time in a while! Even the class average was a 90. This is not the grades a vice president should be achieving. Have you not been sleeping well? I can see your eyebags…” 

“I have miss…” 

She knew Mrs Park was old, but she may have well screamed it in the morning announcements. The same broadcasting club that Jungwon had been the captain of. How irritating.

She winced in embarrassment, and walked back towards her seat. Just as she rolled out her chair, a gentle tug on her blazer sleeve stopped her. Turning around she faced, 

Yang Jungwon.

Looking down on me again - aren’t you?

“What happened?” His eyes narrowed in genuine curiosity.

“Nothing, I guess I just didn’t try” y/n snapped back at the boy.

“You? Not trying? That’s a first” he scoffed turning his head away, before leaving the class with his friends.

And, he didn’t say another word. 

Y/n clenched her fists like a child having a tantrum.

Why does he always have to have the last word? And, why is it so hot in here? Did Mrs Park lose the ac remote again?? 

“Y/n come on, you can blush over your boyfriend later.” Ella screamed from outside a window.

Taking off her jacket, y/n rushed out the door in a hurry. Speaking to herself like an idiot.

Hah. Yang jungwon? Never in a billion years would that guy be my boyfriend. He’s so proud and smart and-

Her thoughts were cut off by the overwhelming noise of the cafeteria. 

Why else?

Certainly not because of the awkward eye contact she had made with him, whilst he sat with his friends. 

The day had gone by quicker than expected in y/n's mind. When you spend all your time resisting the urge to raise your hand it tends to go by even faster.

Guess I don't need to go to table tennis club today. Great. I don't have to witness Jungown win every match for the whole hour either.

She took out her phone with a sigh. Only to see,

"Sweety, can you take the bus today? The car's broken again." : from Dad <3

Oh. It's starting to rain though. And its cold. Where the hell did I leave my blazer now??

Y/n ran back and forth between the hallways, in search of her jacket. Only when she noticed how dark the sky had gotten, she realised there would be nothing worth waiting for at the bus stop.

And, she was right.

She sat in despair.

No jacket? No car? No phone battery. What am I gonna do with my life. Hopless, she hung her head low.

"Nice to see you too." Jungwon cocked his head to the side. A knowing grin plastered on his face,

"Late again, are you y/n?"

"Shut up." Y/n turned away, scrunching up her face in annoyance.

He sat down calmly next to her, watching the raindrops slowly increase. "I would, but you'd be bored then. and your dumbass is just gonna keep whining like usual, and wait for your imaginary bus."

Y/n couldn't really collect her thoughts. She envied how carefree his life was. Naturally gifted. How nice would that be? Must be nice to have a jacket in this weather as well. I bet he he has his driver to come pick him up too. Spoiled.

She turned her head to look at him.

"Where's your chauffer?"

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head, he handed her his bus ticket.

"Oh." Y/n's ears flushed with embarassment.

Thought I knew him at least a little bit...

Even in the now downpour, an old lady emerged from beside the dimly lit bus stop, pushing a trolley of mangoes. For it was Spring.

Without even thinking, Y/n ran quickly towards the lady in the pouring rain.

"Auntie! Aunte!! Please wait."

The lady swiveled her head towards the young school girl, her eyes lighting up.

"One mango please!" Y/n took a quick glance at Jungwon, who had ironically taken "a quick glance" at her too, before changing her request. "Actually, two will do. Thank you!"

She waved the lady goodbye, letting her keep the change, before running back towards the bench. Only to see Jungwon finding the roof of the bus stop incredibly fascinating.

"Nice weather up there?"

She was met with no words. Instead, a blazer was sternly shoved in her face.

Jungwon cleared his throat. "Please take it."

"Why?"

"God, you're so annoying. Just take it, will you? I'm being serious."

Not until then, did Y/n decided to look down at her bright pink bra on full display, underneath her drenched (practically transparant) white blouse.

"Uh-", she reached for the blazer without any further questions.

They sat in silence for the next five minutes, giving Y/n just the right amount of time to reflect on the incident that had just occured.

Monotonously, she handed Jungwon a mango.

"Here. If u wanna eat it now, I have an extra spoon in my lunchbox,"

Jungwon had taken it, but couldn't utter the words "Thank you." To him, he felt it was unnecessary with Y/n to do so.

Y/n didn't expect one either. She sat back in her seat, took out her spoon and began eating the mango herself, comfortable in the warmth of his large blazer.

"I'm good. I'll save it for later."

Still digging into the fresh yellow flesh with her spoon she mumbled, "I actually hate mangoes."

"Who?" Jungwoon sneered

"What?"

"Asked." He stared at her shoes, trying to hold his laughter like a fool. Only Y/n could mess up Jungwon’s poised composure.

"Wow. Mr. Perfect has jokes now huh?" she mocked, rolling her eyes.

"But why eat it then?" he observed her childish behaviour.

"Can't avoid the things you don't like all the time. Can you? Plus, I just felt bad."

"Is that why you aren't avoiding me?" he asked innocently.

"You really are a pain in the ass, Yang Jungwon." she sighed.

"I missed you, you know?" he whispered, as though he were talking to himself.

Y/n stopped having a go at the mango - just to process his words.

"What was that?"

He coughed, flustered. "What I meant was, I missed having competition. Class is so boring without someone worth competing with. So, what happened?"

"I already told you. Nothing." she avoided Jungwon's persistant eyes. Hiding her reddening face.

"Then stop ignoring me, stupid. Come back." Jungwon took out his phone, calling a taxi driver he had trusted. "There, she's here now."

"Who?" Y/n raised her eyebrows, concerned.

"Your taxi driver. She's a woman. You'll be safe. I know her," Jungwon casually said.

"Good to have female connections. Right Jungwon?" She found it hard to ignore the bubbling jealously rising in her heart.

Get a hold of yourself Y/n. Why do you even care? He literally just called a taxi for you.

"She's my cousin, relax. You're cute when you're jealous." He laughed, pointing towards the small white Honda. “And she's here now. Say hi to her for me."

"I hate you." Unsure of what to say, Y/n grabbed her things before getting in the car.

"Love you too," Jungwon replied softly, gazing at her blazer, which he had forgotten to return folded neatly in his bag.

[jayjongie]

we genuinely need to boycott belift. We need to stop streaming on all platforms to make sure their sales and profit drop as much as possible. if we truly want belift to be affected by us, protests aren’t gonna be enough. let’s completely boycott belift.

#bringheeseungback

#enhypenis7

[sunishake]

I will forever be in denial

[jebi-won]

had to come out of hiding because heeseung left enhypen… more like he was kicked out of the group. that being the first thing i saw before going to school ruined my day. i thought everything was just a joke until i searched up enhypen during class and saw “6-membered group” and “former member: lee heeseung” i started crying uncontrollably and have been since.

enhypen is 7 and will always be 7. heeseung didn’t deserve to be kicked out just for wanting to pursue solo activities. in his letter he said something about following what the company wanted, meaning this was not his decision. hybe has so many groups with members who have gone a pursued their solo careers without leaving the group, so why is it different when it comes to heeseung and enhypen?? i don’t know how the boys feel about this but i know they’re not feeling happy.

belift this is not want anyone wants, making heeseung leave the group to go solo isn’t going to benefit anybody. BRING BACK HEESEUNG, ENHYPEN IS FOREVER 7.

sign this petition:

Sign the Petition

Allow Heeseung to Pursue Solo Activities Without Leaving ENHYPEN