𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄: 𝓓𝐨 𝓨𝐨𝐮 𝓛𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝓜𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝓚𝐢𝐦?
pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 4.3k
summary -> a visit to the orphanage leaves sae-byeok feeling unfulfilled without your presence, unfortunately Cheol notices. warnings -> cheol is a little menace.
(beneath the quiet masterlist)
𝐒𝐀𝐄-𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 sure why she had come so early.
The city was barely stirring when she stepped outside that morning, the sky still tinted with the soft, sleepy hues of dawn. The streets felt quieter, wrapped in the remnants of night, and the cold nipped at her cheeks as she made the familiar walk toward the orphanage.
She told herself it was because she wanted to check on Cheol. That was the logical explanation. But there was a part of her—a part she refused to acknowledge—that was looking for something else.
She buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her hoodie as she stepped through the orphanage gates, her sharp eyes scanning the courtyard out of habit. Kids were already outside, bundled up in their sweaters, kicking around a slightly deflated soccer ball. The staff moved about, setting up for the day, voices blending into the soft hum of morning activity.
She hadn’t expected to be looking for you, and yet, the realization settled uncomfortably in her chest. Her gaze lingered at the door for a moment longer than necessary, waiting for you to step out, to catch that tired but warm smile you always wore, to hear the way you laughed when the kids clung to your arms like little koalas.
But as the hours slipped by, morning bled into afternoon, and ou were still nowhere to be seen much to Sae-Byeoks dismay.
Sae-Byeok hadn’t expected herself to wait, hadn’t even acknowledged that she was waiting until the weight of disappointment settled deep in her chest, heavier than she wanted to admit.
She sat in the orphanage cafeteria, her elbows resting on the table, her chin propped up on one hand as she absentmindedly pushed her food around on her plate. The low hum of chatter and clinking silverware filled the air, the other children engaged in their own lively conversations, but Sae-Byeok wasn’t really hearing any of it.
Across from her, Cheol ate with a carefree energy she almost envied, shoveling spoonfuls of rice into his mouth between excited bursts of conversation about the friends he’s started to make. Every now and then, he’d glance away from the window that displayed the backyard to her, his sharp little eyes flickering with something suspicious.
Sae-Byeok barely noticed.
Her thoughts drifted, looping around the same unanswered questions. Why weren’t you here? Were you okay? Had something happened?
She shouldn’t care this much.
And unfortunately for her, Cheol noticed.
His chewing slowed slightly, his gaze lingering on her as he observed—far too perceptive for someone his age. The way she stared at her plate without eating, the occasional flicker of her eyes toward the entrance, the absentminded sighs that escaped without her realizing.
The sound of two small palms smacking against the table made her jolt so violently that her fork clattered against her tray. A few nearby staff members scurrying around turned their heads at the sudden noise, but Cheol didn’t seem to care about the attention he drew.
Sae-Byeok’s entire body jolted at the sudden, deafening slap of Cheol’s hands against the table. The impact rattled the tray in front of her, sending her fork clattering against the plastic surface. Her pulse spiked, her heart nearly launching itself out of her chest as her breath hitched in startled disbelief.
“Jesus—!” she blurted, her hands freezing in barely concealed restraint as she resisted the urge to smack him upside the head.
Across from her, Cheol sat with the smuggest, most self-satisfied grin she had ever seen. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, his small hands still pressed against the table as if he had just pulled off the greatest prank of all time.
“What’s wrong, noona?” he asked, his voice far too innocent for someone who had just assaulted her eardrums.
Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply, shaking off the initial shock as she shot him a withering glare. Reaching for her fork, she picked it up with a slow, deliberate motion, pointedly avoiding looking at him as she tried to regain some semblance of composure.
“What the hell was that for?” she demanded, her tone edged with irritation.
Cheol simply leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands, elbows resting lazily on the table. His expression remained smug, but his eyes—sharp, assessing—narrowed slightly as he studied her like a puzzle he was about to solve.
“You’re acting weird,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Sae-Byeok stiffened, barely managing to keep her face neutral.
Cheol, unfortunately, noticed everything. The smallest twitch of her eyebrows, the slight downturn of her lips, he could always read Sae-Byeoks emotions, much to her dismay.
His gaze flickered over her, dissecting every microexpression, every twitch of her fingers, every fleeting shift in her demeanor.
“You keep looking around,” he continued, his voice dripping with casual suspicion. “Like you’re waiting for somethin’ to happen.”
His words sent an uninvited prickle of awareness down her spine.
She willed herself to not react, to not give him the satisfaction, yet her fingers betrayed her as they twitched around her fork even tighter.
Her heart did an odd little skip—one she didn’t appreciate—and she immediately shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things,” she grumbled, shoveling another serving of rice in her mouth.
Cheol’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his features, his little face scrunched up like he was deep in thought. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her, tilting his head slightly, the way he always did when he was piecing together a puzzle.
“Nuh-uh. Something’s on your mind,” he finally said, his voice laced with quiet certainty. “I can tell.”
Sae-Byeok stilled, the familiar discomfort curling in her chest like a tightly wound spring.
Why is he so good at reading me?
She tore off a piece of her bread roll and popped it into her mouth, chewing slower than necessary, as if delaying her response would somehow make him lose interest. But Cheol wasn’t easily distracted. He had always been sharp, observant—too perceptive for his own good. And, more importantly, too stubborn to drop something once he caught onto it.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair, hoping that adding a layer of physical distance would shake his scrutiny.
If anything, Cheol only leaned in closer, his elbows resting on the table, his expression the perfect imitation of a detective grilling a suspect under a bright interrogation lamp.
“Tell me what’s wrong, then,” he pushed, voice firm, unyielding, his little face now inches from hers. His eyes, dark and unblinking, searched her features with a patience that was far too mature for someone his age.
Sae-Byeok groaned, tipping her head back, already regretting coming here so early.
“Okay, okay, just—sit back down,” she sighed, reaching out to shove him lightly back into his seat. The force of it barely made him budge, but he allowed himself to be pushed anyway, his triumphant smirk never once faltering.
She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, you’re so annoying.”
Cheol grinned, rocking back and forth slightly in his chair, clearly reveling in the fact that he had gotten under her skin.
“You love me,” he countered matter-of-factly.
Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply, but a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she quickly masked it. Yet, Cheol still saw it. He always did.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Unfortunately for me.”
Once silence settled over them, Sae-Byeok shifted in her chair, suddenly hyper aware of how small the cafeteria felt, how the air felt heavier now, pressing in on her. Her gaze flickered toward the window, as if she could slip through the glass and escape this conversation entirely. She hesitated, her lips parting, mind scrambling for something—anything—to explain away the way she’d been acting.
“Um…” she started, then immediately regretted it. She paused, eyes darting to her tray as if the half-eaten food in front of her could provide a distraction. “I was just—”
Cheol tilted his head, the movement slow, deliberate, his young face unreadable as he waited. He wasn’t going to let this go. She could feel it.
Sae-Byeok opened her mouth again, prepared to grasp at some weak excuse, but before she could dig herself any deeper—
“Are you looking for Miss Kim?”
The words landed like a direct hit, knocking all rational thought from her mind. It felt like the noise of the cafeteria had dulled, as if the world had quieted just for this moment.
Cheol, completely unbothered by the absolute chaos he had just unleashed inside her, simply tore off a piece of his bread roll and popped it into his mouth. He chewed casually, his gaze focused more on his food than on her. Like he hadn’t just sent her spiraling.
Sae-Byeok’s shoulders stiffened. It was instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to being caught off guard, and she hated that it was so obvious. She didn’t confirm or deny it—didn’t even attempt to—but she didn’t have to. Cheol, being the perceptive little menace that he was, already knew.
“She wasn’t feeling good,” Cheol added, his voice maddeningly casual, like he was commenting on the weather. He barely looked up as he spoke, his attention more focused on tearing off another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. “Mama Kim said she had to stay home today.”
The words shouldn’t have meant anything. They shouldn’t have lingered.
Sae-Byeok forced herself to nod, keeping her expression carefully neutral, smoothing out any sign that the information had affected her. She could play this off. She had years of practice at keeping her face unreadable, at swallowing emotions before they could betray her.
It should’ve been nothing.
But the weight of it settled in her chest anyway, pressing down like a quiet, unwelcome presence. The logical part of her—the one that kept her grounded, that reminded her to be rational—told her that people got sick all the time. It was normal. Routine. You’d be fine and sooner than later she’d see you again, healthier and thriving.
And yet, her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Because what if it wasn’t just a cold? What if it had nothing to do with being sick at all?
The thought came unbidden, creeping in before she could shove it away. Her mind trailing back to something she tried not to dwell on—the dark bruise she caught a glimpse of on your wrist just yesterday. You had tried to hide it, slipping your sleeve down quickly when you noticed her eyes lingering, brushing off any concern with a practiced ease that felt too familiar, too well-worn.
She hadn’t pushed even though she felt like she should have. Her jaw clenched slightly, the faintest flicker of heat sparking under her skin, a slow-burning frustration curling in her gut.
She stopped the thought before it could take root further in her mind.
A pause stretched between her and Cheol, just a second too long, just enough for him to notice. His spoon hovered over his plate, his chewing slowing ever so slightly as his sharp little eyes flickered back up to her. His eyes scanned her form, noticing the rigidness in her posture, the way her jaw tensed, the way her grip on her fork tightened but soon faltered under his gaze..
She recognized that look.
He was thinking. Connecting dots. Filing away every detail of her reaction like a detective piecing together a case. Then, ever so slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
“Noona…” Cheol drawled, stretching out the word as if he were savoring it, rolling it around in his mouth like candy, drawing out the moment for maximum effect. There was a certain kind of delight in the way he said it—slow, teasing, the telltale sign of a younger sibling who knew they were about to wreak havoc. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, chin propped lazily in his hand, the very picture of smug satisfaction.
Sae-Byeok’s instincts flared instantly, a subtle prickle running down her spine like the first warning of an impending storm. The way his posture shifted, the way his eyes sharpened, calculating but playful, dangerous in that uniquely Cheol way—set off every internal alarm she had. She recognized the signs. He was leading up to something, and whatever it was, she was already regretting giving him the satisfaction of reacting.
Her gaze snapped to his, narrowed and wary, her muscles tensing like she was preparing for an attack. “…What?” she asked, voice clipped, edged with suspicion.
Cheol’s smirk stretched wider, slow and deliberate, like he was thrilled with the way she had taken the bait. The amusement in his expression was almost infuriating, his dark eyes alight with mischief, practically buzzing with energy now that he knew he had her cornered. He took a moment, dragging it out just long enough to watch her squirm, before tilting his head ever so slightly.
The question hit her like a sucker punch, knocking the breath clean out of her lungs. Her body lurched forward as she coughed violently, nearly knocking over her drink as she pounded her fist against her chest, struggling to clear her airway. Her throat burned, and she gasped for breath, eyes stinging from the sudden attack on her respiratory system.
When she finally managed to recover, she wiped at her mouth aggressively, glaring at him as if he were the problem. “What the hell is your problem?” she rasped, voice still raw from nearly inhaling her juice.
Cheol shrugged, completely unfazed by her reaction, his small frame radiating an infuriating level of confidence as he chewed on his rice, watching her suffer and scramble in quiet amusement. “You heard me,” he said simply, as if he hadn’t just sent her spiraling into a full-blown crisis.
Sae-Byeok scrambled for composure, suddenly feeling much too warm despite the cool air circulating through the cafeteria. It was ridiculous. There was no reason for her heart to be hammering like this, no reason for her skin to prickle with heat as if she had just been caught in some grand confession.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, snatching her fork just to give her hands something to do. She stabbed at the food on her plate, not even bothering to take a bite, her grip just a little too tight around the utensil. Maybe if she focused hard enough on the motion, she could force this entire conversation into nonexistence.
Cheol tilted his head again, his expression too damn smug for his own good. The amusement dancing in his eyes made her want to roll her eyes for the twentieth time.
“You do that thing when you lie,” he noted casually, like he was pointing out the weather, like he hadn’t just ripped through her attempt at denial in a matter of seconds.
Sae-Byeok frowned, instantly wary. “What thing?”
He gestured vaguely at her, the movement lazy, as if the answer was obvious. “That thing. Where you get all stiff and weird.”
She scoffed, sitting up straighter, gripping her water bottle as she rolled her eyes, trying to mask the growing warmth creeping up her neck. “I’m always stiff and weird.”
Cheol hummed in response, unconvinced, leaning back in his chair with the kind of satisfaction that made her want to be annoyed. His arms crossed over his chest, his expression still sharp, still smug, still way too pleased with himself.
Cheol beamed, his grin stretching wide across his face, eyes alight with triumphant glee. “I knew it!” he exclaimed happily, swinging his legs beneath the table, the energy in his voice practically vibrating. He looked like he had just solved the most complex puzzle in the world, and it made Sae-Byeok regret ever opening her mouth, or even sitting down.
She groaned, dragging a hand down her face as if that could wipe away the entire conversation. “Shut up, Cheol. Please.” She murmured exasperatedly.
Cheol didn’t shut up. If anything, her annoyance only fueled his excitement.
“Why? I like her too,” he continued, his voice softening now, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. His legs still swung lightly under the table, his tone turning thoughtful, a quiet sort of fondness settling into his words. “She plays with me when nobody else will.”
That caught Sae-Byeok’s attention.
Her brows furrowed slightly, the tension in her body shifting into something different, something softer, less rigid. Her focus snapped back to him, fully present now as she rested her arms on the table, slightly leaning in. “Yeah?...What else does she do?”
“She paints with me,” he said, his words coming slower now, more deliberate, as if he was carefully considering each one. “Even when it’s not painting hour.” He paused, tilting his head, thinking. “She sits next to me during movie nights. And sometimes…” He looked down at his plate, idly pushing around a grain of rice with his spoon. “She eats breakfast and lunch with me when nobody else will.”
Sae-Byeok felt something shift inside her, something she hadn’t been prepared for.
She hadn’t needed reassurance about you—hadn’t even realized she wanted it—but hearing Cheol speak about you with such genuine fondness, with that soft certainty in his voice, made something settle deep in her chest. The tension she had been carrying, the nagging uncertainty that had lurked in the back of her mind, all of it faded just a little.
A small, unguarded smile crept onto Sae-Byeok’s lips before she even realized it. It wasn’t intentional—just a quiet response to the sincerity in her brother’s voice, to the warmth in the way he spoke about you. The ease with which he accepted your presence in his life, the way he found comfort in it, made something in her chest settle. It was strange, this feeling. Foreign but not unwelcome.
Then, suddenly Cheol inhaled so sharply that Sae-Byeok nearly jumped, her muscles instinctively tensing as if preparing for an ambush. Her head snapped toward him, her dreamy smile falling as her eyes narrowed in immediate suspicion.
“What now?” she demanded, already bracing herself for whatever ridiculous idea had just formed in his little menace of a brain.
Cheol’s face was radiant with excitement, his eyes wide with inspiration, his entire body practically vibrating with energy. He slammed his palms onto the table, shaking the plates as he leaned forward with the enthusiasm of someone about to propose the most groundbreaking idea known to mankind.
“We should get Miss Kim a surprise for when she comes back!”
Sae-Byeok hesitated, her first instinct being to shut it down without a second thought. The idea itself wasn’t bad, but it was unnecessary. You weren’t expecting anything. There was no real reason for it. And yet the way Cheol spoke about you so effortlessly, like you had already become part of his world made her heart ache in a way she couldn't ignore.
Her mind betrayed her, wandering back to every small moment, every instance where you had quietly stepped in. The times you had made Cheol’s days a little easier, a little warmer, a little brighter, and the way you did the same for her even when she didn’t treat you with the same kindness, though you deserved it. The way you stayed—not because you had to, but because you wanted to.
And then there was the other, unspoken truth—the one she wasn’t ready to say aloud. That she had been thinking about you more than she should. That she had noticed things she hadn’t meant to notice. That some part of her, deep down, wanted to do something for you, even if she couldn’t fully understand why she wanted to.
“…Alright,” she muttered, forcing the word out before she could change her mind.
Cheol’s entire face lit up, his grin splitting wide as he bounced slightly in his chair, the sheer excitement radiating off of him so intense that it almost made her want to take it back just to spite him.
“She has a favorite snack!” Cheol blurted out, his entire face lighting up with excitement, as if he had just discovered a life-altering secret. His hands slapped the table again for emphasis, rattling the plates and making Sae-Byeok’s patience thin by the second as she grabbed her water bottle from slipping off of the table. “You should buy it for her, Noona!”
Sae-Byeok let out a slow, drawn-out exhale, tilting her head slightly as she leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “You’re so nosy, Cheol,” she muttered, arms crossing over her chest as she watched him practically buzz with satisfaction.
Cheol’s smirk only deepened, the glint in his eyes growing even more insufferable. He lifted his spoon like some kind of royal scepter, as if he had just orchestrated the world’s greatest scheme and was basking in his own brilliance. “Call it what you want but It’s a skill at the end of the day,” he declared smugly, before shoveling another massive bite of rice into his mouth, his confidence completely unshaken.
Sae-Byeok rolled her eyes, but curiosity pricked at the edges of her thoughts despite herself. She shouldn’t have cared, but now that the idea was out there, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Alright, genius. What is it, then?”
Cheol perked up instantly, barely swallowing before responding. “Choco Pies,” he said without hesitation, his grin widening like he had been waiting for her to ask. “She brings them all the time, but only eats half. Always leaves the rest for the kids.” He chewed thoughtfully, then added, “Or for me.”
Sae-Byeok scoffed, shaking her head. “Of course you’d benefit from this somehow.”
Cheol sat back in his chair with the air of a seasoned professional, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin like a miniature businessman finalizing a high-stakes negotiation. His small hands moved with exaggerated precision, folding the napkin neatly before placing it beside his plate, the entire act dripping with self-importance. He exhaled, nodding as if he had just single-handedly solved all of Sae-Byeok’s life problems.
“I’m a businessman,” he announced, his voice carrying the practiced confidence of someone who truly believed it.
Sae-Byeok arched a brow, unimpressed but mildly entertained. “More like a scam artist,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head, though the corner of her lips twitched against her will.
For a split second, Cheol’s eyebrows flicked up in silent acknowledgment, but then his expression shifted. The smirk that stretched across his face was slow and calculated, widening like a secret he had been waiting to drop. His dark eyes glowed with mischief as he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice lowering conspiratorially, his head tilting downward just enough to add an unnecessary layer of drama.
“And a matchmaker,” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like he was sharing classified information.
Sae-Byeok didn’t even let him revel in his theatrics. Without missing a beat, she plucked a single grain of rice from her tray and flicked it straight at his forehead.
Cheol jerked back, blinking in mild offense as the grain bounced off his skin, his expression shifting into mock betrayal.
“Hey!” he sputtered, rubbing the spot as if she had just inflicted a grievous wound. “That was rude!”
Sae-Byeok smirked, finally allowing herself to enjoy the moment. “Good, at least it finally shut you up.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The sun hung lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the pavement as Sae-Byeok stepped out of the orphanage, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a quiet reminder of how much the day had shifted. The distant sounds of children’s laughter still echoed faintly behind her, mingling with the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze whispered through the streets.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, her steps steady but unhurried as she made her way toward the nearest store. The rhythmic scuff of her sneakers against the sidewalk filled the silence, grounding her, yet her thoughts remained anything but still.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she was doing this. Maybe because Cheol had asked her to, flashing those big, expectant eyes that made it near impossible to deny him anything. Maybe because she hated telling him no—hated the way disappointment looked on his face, how he always seemed to know exactly when she was making excuses.
But even then, that wasn’t a good enough reason.
She had always been firm in her decisions, always known when to draw the line between what she would do and what she wouldn’t. She wasn’t the type to bend so easily, especially not over something as simple as buying a snack.
So why was it so different when it came to you?
Why was it that, despite every rational thought telling her that this was unnecessary, she was still walking toward that store, still thinking about you in ways she couldn’t quite explain? Why did your absence feel noticeable? Why was she remembering the way you lingered around Cheol, the warmth in your voice when you spoke to him, the way he talked about you as if you had already become a part of his world?
The questions pressed at the edges of her mind, quiet but persistent, lingering like shadows that refused to fade.
And no matter how much she told herself this was just for Cheol, just to humor his excitement—
The truth was, that wasn’t entirely why she was there, and a small quiet voice in the back of her head knew it.
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