IT TAKES ME A LITTLE WHILE TO WRITE NEW STUFF BECAUSE IM A FULL TIME UNI STUDENT WORKING ON MY DEGREE
───── ❝ my post master-list ❞ ─────
please respect my boundaries by not interacting if you're; homophobic, racist, xenophobic, transphobic etc. do not send hate if i post about someone that you personally do not like, just scroll and go on with your day. and if you are under 14 dni with anything NSFW.
is there an audience out there for this Harry Styles draft to escape its prison??
it’s multiple eras, and covers parts of one direction & solo, from x factor going up to when he released Harry’s House and i can update it to include newer stuff like kissco
these screenshots are the very start
and then random parts somewhere in there after a little scroll
Mike’s whole arc revolving around his dead gf when he could’ve been the deepest, most well written queer character in filmography is a loss I’ll always mourn
𖥻 Min Ho x FEM!reader
𖥻 I really didn't know what to do with this because I wrote the first one so long ago
𖥻 12k words. cringe? part one: here
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The sky outside was a moody kind of gray. The kind that sat heavy on your chest, like it was waiting for someone to cry first.
I was curled on top of my bed, knees drawn to my chest, nursing the last sips of a lukewarm iced tea. Eunice sat cross-legged beside me, flipping through a glossy magazine neither of us were really reading.
“He’s probably just busy,” she offered gently.
I gave a weak shrug.
It had been days. Days of nothing.
No typing bubbles. No mysterious late-night hypotheticals. No dumb bug-related questions or dramatic overuse of ellipses.
Silence. From ??. From Min Ho. From everyone.
Eunice didn’t say it outright, but I could see it on her face — she thought they were the same person too.
But neither of us wanted to admit it. Because if we were wrong…
If we were right and he’d stopped texting me…
I let my head fall onto her shoulder. “Maybe I imagined it all.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “But even if you did, it was a fun hallucination.”
We both snorted softly, but the quiet stretched. Long enough for the ache to settle back in my ribs.
The door flung open, crashing against the wall.
Jayne stormed in like a hurricane in lip gloss and fury, her hair half-up and chaotic, her eyes wide.
“I cannot believe this,” she snapped.
Eunice and I froze.
Jayne tossed her bag onto the desk and paced twice before turning toward us, completely unaware of our already-heavy hearts.
“He knows how I feel. And yet this is what he does? Seriously?”
I blinked. “What—who are we mad at?”
She looked at me like I’d just asked if Seoul had electricity.
“Min Ho!” she shouted, dramatic as ever. “Obviously Min Ho!”
Eunice shot me a brief look, guarded. Neither of us had told Jayne anything. We couldn’t. Not until we knew for sure.
And honestly… I didn’t know anything anymore.
Jayne threw her hands in the air. “I have given that boy so much of my life. My thoughts. My energy. And now this?”
“What happened?” Eunice asked, cautious.
Jayne flopped dramatically into her desk chair. “Leslie told Soo-ah who told me that Aaron saw that new girl, Stella, and Min Ho—kissing.”
My heart didn’t drop.
It freefell.
The room spun slightly. Eunice’s hand found mine on the blanket.
Jayne continued, oblivious. “Like—kissing kissing. Outside the language building. Middle of the afternoon. Not even subtle!”
I tried to keep my face neutral.
Not that Jayne was looking.
She stood again, pacing. “I bet she did that weird baby voice thing she always does. She acts all innocent around people and then bam! kisses someone else’s soulmate!”
Eunice gave me the smallest glance. I didn’t return it.
I was too busy staring at the last text on my phone.
From days ago. Unread since.
?? :
do you think we’d still like each other if none of this was anonymous?
And my answer — the one I regretted sending more and more each day.
ME :
Min Ho?
It sat there. Delivered.
Unanswered.
Unsaid.
Unfinished.
And now… maybe that was all it would ever be.
Jayne was still going.
Pacing. Ranting. Spitting dramatics like it was her full-time job.
“—and Stella’s not even that pretty. I mean, she’s fine, I guess, if you’re into that whole ‘I read Murakami in public for attention’ thing. But Min Ho wouldn’t really like her. Not really. He likes girls like me. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
I blinked. My hands were shaking now.
Eunice gave me a quiet glance. I could feel the tension in my own shoulders — tight, burning, ready to snap.
“And you know what? I’m not even mad at him,” Jayne continued, voice climbing. “I’m mad at Stella. She manipulatedhim. Like—he would never have kissed her if she hadn’t thrown herself at him like that, she’s just—”
“YOU SPOKE TO HIM ONE FUCKING TIME!” I exploded.
The room went dead quiet.
Jayne stopped mid-step, eyes wide.
“I’ve spoken to him multiple times,” she said quickly, her tone clipped, like that would somehow soften the blow.
I stepped forward, anger hot in my chest. “Oh my god, you’re so delusional.”
Her mouth fell open in indignation.
“You spoke to him once, at that stupid rooftop club,” I snapped. “And if I didn’t know Eunice, if Q hadn’t spilled his drink on me, you wouldn’t have gotten a single word in. You never would have even been near him.”
Jayne blinked, offended. “You don’t know that.”
“I do!” I practically shouted. “You’re not in love with him, Jayne. You’re in love with this idea of him — this fantasy where he’s perfect and you’re perfect and you have four perfect kids and a dog and matching sweaters and a fucking summer house.”
Jayne was silent now. Her pout deepened. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“You don’t matter to him,” I finished, voice low and shaking.
She didn’t say anything.
Didn’t move.
Just stared like I’d physically hit her.
I didn’t wait.
I turned and shoved my shoes on, grabbing my coat. I needed air, distance — anything that wasn’t the too-pink walls of our dorm or Jayne’s offended silence.
As I pulled open the door, I heard Jayne gasp faintly behind me. “Eunice—?”
There was a pause.
A long one.
Then I heard the scrape of a chair, the shuffle of steps.
And Eunice’s voice: calm, soft, unflinching.
“She’s not wrong,” she said. “And… I’m really only her friend.”
I looked back just long enough to see Eunice grab both our phones off the desk, sling her bag over her shoulder, and walk past Jayne without another word.
She joined me in the hall.
Neither of us said anything as the door shut behind us with a soft, satisfying click.
But my lungs finally felt full.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
We sat on the grass outside the building, the cool blades tickling my calves through my jeans, Eunice beside me with her knees pulled up to her chest. The air smelled like spring and something soft — like someone down the path was lighting a scented candle in their dorm window. The sun was low, casting golden light across the lawn, stretching the shadows long and quiet.
Neither of us spoke for a while. I was too busy trying to untangle the heat still buzzing beneath my skin, and Eunice just stared up at the slow-moving clouds.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Were you too harsh on her?”
I picked at the hem of my sleeve. “Maybe.”
“She had it coming,” she added, but there wasn’t any real bite in her voice. Just tiredness. “Still. That was brutal.”
“I know.” I exhaled through my nose. “But I was just… done. I’ve held my tongue for so long, Eunice. She’s been spiraling over a guy she doesn’t even know, acting like he owes her something.”
Eunice nodded, her chin now resting on her knees. “She’s delusional.”
“She’s my best friend.”
Eunice tilted her head. “She was.”
I winced. “That’s the part that hurts.”
“She hasn’t asked you about your life in weeks,” she said. “And don’t even get me started on how she treats me. Honestly, I think she just likes having people around who orbit her.”
I fell back onto the grass with a groan, arms flopping dramatically out to the side. “And now I’ve exploded at her and it’s all ruined. And I still don’t even know if it’s him.”
Eunice lay down beside me. “It’s him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she said, turning her head to look at me. “It’s Min Ho.”
“I just… why hasn’t he texted?”
“Maybe he’s scared.”
I turned my head too. “Of what?”
“Same thing you are.” She shrugged. “That it’s real.”
The sky above us was streaked in soft pinks and peaches, like someone had brushed past with a watercolor palette.
“It felt real when we were walking back from the cafe,” I whispered.
Eunice’s mouth tugged into a tiny smile. “You were glowing when you came back. I thought maybe it was sunburn.”
I laughed under my breath, then closed my eyes. “Maybe I’m the delusional one. What if it isn’t him?”
She paused. “Then someone out there still made you laugh every day for weeks, and feel less alone. That’s not nothing.”
I stayed quiet. The sky kept dimming.
“But,” Eunice added, “if it is him… you already know how he makes you feel. And I think he feels it too.”
The dorm door creaked open, and we both looked up as someone stormed out. It was Jayne.
She didn’t look at us.
Eunice raised her eyebrows at me, then nudged my shoulder. “You okay?”
“No.”
“You want me to go inside and steal her hair mask in revenge?”
That got a weak laugh out of me. “God, no.”
“Well,” she sighed, “then I’ll sit here until you’re ready to go inside.”
We stayed on the grass a while longer, the sun slipping down past the rooftops, the sky darkening to lavender and then blue. And in the quiet between us, I thought about what Eunice said.
What if I wasn’t wrong?
What if it was him?
And what if… that changed everything?
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The classroom buzzed with quiet conversation, chairs scraping against the floor and backpacks unzipping. The usual morning shuffle. I slipped into my seat by the window, sliding my notebook and pen onto the desk even though I wasn’t sure I’d use either.
Jayne hadn’t come back last night.
Or this morning.
I knew she was probably in the dorm now, brushing her hair out in the mirror like nothing happened, maybe humming, maybe sulking. She wouldn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to see her either.
“Morning,” Dae said, dropping into the seat next to me like he always did now, a little out of breath like he’d just made it in time.
I smiled, quick and automatic. “Hey.”
He gave me a look — the kind people give when they know you’re lying through your teeth but they’re polite enough not to say it out loud.
“You okay?” he asked, tapping his pen against his desk.
I shrugged, eyes on the front of the classroom. “I’m here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I glanced at him. His expression wasn’t pushy, just… open. Patient.
And still, the words almost caught in my throat.
I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you…” I hesitated, then dropped my voice. “Has Min Ho said anything? About… I don’t know. Stuff?”
Dae raised his eyebrows slightly. “Stuff.”
“Yeah. Just…” I let out a sigh. “Never mind.”
But Dae didn’t laugh it off or wave it away. He leaned in slightly, elbows on the desk, like he was weighing what he could say and what he shouldn’t.
“He’s been… weird,” Dae admitted. “Quieter. Always on his phone. Jumpy sometimes.”
My heart thumped, sharp and sudden.
“I don’t know what it’s about,” he added, “but he’s definitely got something going on. He won’t say, though. Which usually means it’s personal.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, nodded. “Okay.”
Dae nudged my arm with the side of his fist. “You want me to ask?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No. Just… if he ever talks about it, let me know?”
He nodded, simple and sincere. “Of course.”
The professor started speaking then, dimming the lights and launching into a slideshow none of us were truly prepared for.
But as the lecture began, I barely registered the words on the screen. I stared ahead, silent, feeling the weight of too many maybes.
Because maybe Min Ho hadn’t said anything.
Maybe he was scared.
Maybe he was pretending it didn’t mean anything, the walk from the café, the fries, the text messages.
Maybe he wasn’t pretending at all. But something inside me stirred — soft and persistent — telling me that we were standing on the edge of something. And that soon, one of us would have to leap.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The café looked the same.
Same flickering lamp in the corner, same creaky stool by the window that dipped too far to the left, same ivy plant hanging over the cracked brick wall.
I sat at the table by the window — our table, though he wouldn’t call it that — headphones in, music low, the world muffled like I was underwater. My iced Americano was already sweating through its paper sleeve, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface in tiny, silver pools.
I watched it run, drip by drip. Slow. Thoughtless.
Skipping class wasn’t the plan. But I hadn’t meant to sit through an hour of notes and pretend like everything inside me wasn’t falling apart in the quietest way possible.
I’d tried to wait. I had waited.
But the silence was eating me alive.
I slipped my phone from my pocket and opened the thread — the one that hadn’t lit up in days. The name still read “??” because I never dared to change it. Not even after I was almost sure. Not even after he’d texted me about bugs and girls and feelings.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then, slowly, I typed:
ME:
are you upset with me?
I pressed send.
The message blinked.
Failed to deliver.
My stomach sank, but I tried again:
ME:
was I wrong
Failed to deliver.
ME:
did you change your number
Failed to deliver.
ME:
hello?
Failed to deliver.
The screen stared back at me, empty and silent.
Just like him.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
I’d been alone in my dorm for a week now.
No run-ins with Q or Kitty, thankfully. Dae had stayed quiet, didn’t pester me in class. Yuri was confused but sweet — she brought me food twice after Julianna must’ve mentioned I wasn’t feeling great. Julianna and Eunice had stayed over one night, curled on the floor in hoodies and half-hearted comfort. I sent them home before sunrise. I just… needed to be in my own head a little longer.
It was 1 a.m. when I heard the door click open. The metallic jangle of keys, the gentle creak of the hinges. I stayed still, pulled the blanket over my head, as if I could hide inside the dark warmth of it forever.
Jayne was trying to be quiet — her shoes off by the door, breath held as she tiptoed to her bed. She tried to be quiet, slipping into the room like a ghost. But I could feel the weight of her presence. The silence between us throbbed.
I mumbled from beneath the blanket, “I’m really sorry.”
There was a long pause before I heard the creak of her mattress and a tired sigh.
“…Me too,” she whispered.
I peeled the blanket back, blinking in the dim light from the window spilling through. Jayne was sitting on the edge of her bed, her arms resting on her knees.
For a second, it was quiet. Still.
Then she asked, “Do you like Min Ho?”
I froze. I hadn’t expected her to say it — not so plainly, not so gently.
I looked at her, throat tight. “…Yeah,” I said. “I think I do.”
She didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, like it confirmed something she’d already figured out.
“It’s okay,” she said, barely above a whisper.
I swallowed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear, I didn’t want to—”
“I know,” she cut in. “I was angry because it felt like you had something I’d never get. But he… he doesn’t look at me like that. He never did.”
I let the silence wrap around us. It didn’t feel heavy this time. Just… honest.
Jayne leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the ceiling. “It sucks,” she said. “But I guess… I always knew it was in my head. The idea of him.”
I whispered, “I think he might be the one I was texting. The number.”
Jayne turned to me, brows raised. “Wait. Seriously?”
I nodded, cheeks flushing. “I don’t know for sure. But I think… yeah.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “This is so stupidly romantic I kind of want to puke.”
I laughed too, shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. “Same.”
Jayne smiled faintly. “Do me a favor?”
“Yeah?”
“Just… if it’s him… make sure it’s real. Not just what you want it to be.”
I nodded. “I will.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, we went to sleep without anything left unsaid.
Jayne and I soft-smiled for a second, the kind of small, tentative smile you give someone after a storm passes but the air’s still thick with everything unsaid.
Then she groaned and flopped back dramatically onto her bed, hands over her face.
“I should have guessed he wanted you,” she said, muffled by her palms. “I mean, he was like—locked in. Sniper-level focused on looking at you when we were at Noir. I saw him put his arm around your waist! And oh my god—”
She suddenly sat upright, wild-eyed. “He was sitting next to you and I sat between you! I’m so sorry, UGHHHHH!” She collapsed again, dragging her hands down her face in theatrical despair.
I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. I sat up too, brushing my hair back from my face. “It’s not a big deal,” I said with a shrug.
“Yes, it is,” she whined. “I was so far up my own fantasy I didn’t even see it. You poor thing. You were like… in it. And I was just out here blocking passes like a goalie on caffeine.”
I snorted. “Jayne—”
She rolled over to face me, eyes wide with renewed energy. “So. Tell me everything. Come on. I want the full Min Ho debrief. Start from the beginning. The texts. Noir. The one Shirtless Saturday. I want details. I’m about to live vicariously and I’m ready.”
I hugged my knees, blushing already. “You really want to hear it?”
Jayne nodded with all the seriousness of someone about to binge a new show. “Y/N. This is my Super Bowl. Go.”
I sighed, half-laughing, and finally let myself lean in.
“Well… it started with that bad date. And a wrong number…”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Min Ho stared at the glow of his phone in the dark, lying flat on his back, arm draped over his forehead like he was trying to hold the ceiling up with sheer will.
The screen lit his face with a sick sort of hope as he stared at the last message he sent:
ME:
How long have you known?
Undelivered.
He sat up, thumb hovering.
Still nothing.
He scrolled.
ME:
I hoped we'd find each other. I didn't know who I wanted this number to be, but you're so different, Y/N. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot and noticed you sooner instead of wasting my time looking for things that wouldn’t go anywhere when I can feel something with you. I like you as the mystery girl that I dream of and makes me rely on a working phone charger, I like you as the girl that I see across campus with my friends laughing and smiling. I wish I could have said this to you normally, over coffee, while I could reach for your hand. But I’ve felt like it was you since I first saw you in those neon club lights and your roommate dragged me away. I feel seen as myself when I’m talking to you, no matter the situation.
Not delivered.
ME:
Please don’t do this.
Not delivered.
ME:
Did I wait too long? Or do you just not like knowing who I am?
Not delivered.
He clenched the phone in his fist.
Blocked.
She blocked him.
Or changed her number.
Or deleted it all.
Or maybe…
Maybe she found someone else.
Maybe she sent the "Min Ho?" and felt nothing. Maybe saying his name ruined the magic.
He laid back down and closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Just that same sick ache that had crawled under his ribs all week and made everything—class, practice, hanging out with the guys—feel like background noise.
He hadn’t seen her. Not really. He’d kept his head down. Ducking out of rooms when Julianna or Eunice appeared. Walking the long way to avoid the dorms he knew too well. Yuri kept asking what was up and he just said tired.
He was more than tired.
He was wrecked.
When Stella had kissed him outside the library—just one dumb moment, one second of his attention slipping—he’d felt like he was cheating on a girl he wasn’t even dating.
He’d pulled away like she burned him.
And the worst part?
Y/N would hear about that kiss. Of course she would.
He deserved to be blocked.
He held the phone to his chest, screen still glowing.
Still undelivered.
Still unanswered.
Still her.
Min Ho sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, phone slack in his hand like it had betrayed him. The screen was dark now, but the last message still burned in his mind—undelivered, just like all the others.
His head dipped low, fingertips pressing into his temple like he could force the ache out.
Behind him, Dae stirred.
“Dude?” Dae’s voice was gravelled with sleep, half mumbled as he sat up and blinked against the dark. “Are you okay?”
Min Ho didn’t move. Just stared at the floor.
Dae rubbed at his eyes, watching him. “You’ve been weird all week.”
Min Ho finally spoke, voice quiet, flat. “I messed up.”
Dae frowned, trying to shake off the last haze of sleep. “What does that mean?”
Min Ho’s thumb ran over the edge of his phone. “There was… someone. I was talking to someone. And it was easy. Weird, but good. And then I waited too long to say what I should’ve said. And now it’s just—” He gave a humorless laugh, bitter and self-directed. “Gone.”
Dae tilted his head. “You mean Y/N?”
Min Ho’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
Dae blinked. “What?” he echoed. “You just said you were talking to someone. And you’ve been avoiding her like she’s radioactive. You think I didn’t notice?”
Min Ho exhaled, dragging his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”
Dae narrowed his eyes. “Did you do something?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“...Kind of.”
“Okay, that’s not helping.”
Min Ho dropped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might offer divine guidance. “She must have seen me with Stella.”
Dae winced. “Damn.”
“She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her back.” He paused. “Didn’t even want it. But it looked bad.”
“And that’s why you’ve been walking the long way around campus and eating lunch in here?”
Min Ho didn’t answer.
Dae sighed. “Do you like her?”
Min Ho closed his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Then fix it.”
“I don’t think I can fix it.”
Dae raised a brow. “You sure you didn’t do something worse than kissing?”
Min Ho hesitated, voice quieter now.
"She was asking about you.” Dae glanced at him. “Y/N asked if you'd said anything. Like… if you had told me something.” Min Ho's fingers curled around his phone again. “That was a few days ago. And instead of talking to her, you’ve just been sitting here reading your own messages like a tragic poet”
Min Ho didn’t respond. The silence hung, full and heavy.
Dae sat up again, more awake now. “If she was asking about you, she’s not done with you. You’re the one hiding.”
Min Ho looked down. “I think she blocked me.”
“Then go talk to her.”
Min Ho swallowed. “What if she really doesn’t want to hear from me?”
“Then you’ll know. But right now, you’re making yourself miserable over a guess.” Dae tossed a pillow at him. “Fix it. Don’t let it sit like this.”
Min Ho didn’t smile.
But this time, he stood.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
I was hiding in the library.
Or, studying. But mostly hiding.
The thick silence wrapped around me like a second hoodie. My laptop screen glowed with a half-written paragraph I’d read twelve times without absorbing a single word. I stared through it, headphones in but no music playing.
The library was nearly silent, the kind of silence that felt heavy. Final-week heavy. The kind of silence where even the shuffle of a backpack sounded like a scream.
I didn’t hear him approach.
But I heard the thud when a book dropped onto my table.
I looked up.
Min Ho.
His face was unreadable. He stood there, just looking at me—like he was trying to memorize every version of me he hadn’t been able to see this past week.
He opened his mouth.
“Shhh,” came a sharp hiss from the next row.
We both flinched, and he slowly sat across from me, dragging the chair out as quietly as possible.
I didn’t say anything. Not at first.
Not until I saw the way his hands were clenched on top of the table. The way his eyes kept flicking to my phone like it owed him answers.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice low but ice-edged.
He blinked. “I—”
“You blocked me,” I said flatly.
His brows shot up. “What? No. I thought you—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” he said sharply, his voice cracking under restraint. “Y/N, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I tried to text you,” I snapped. “Do you know how stupid I felt sending messages to someone who clearly didn’t care?”
His mouth parted. “You texted me?”
I stared at him. At his stupid perfect face. At the way he sat there like he had any right to just show up after all of this — like I hadn’t been tearing myself up over messages that wouldn’t deliver and nights I couldn’t sleep.
My hand moved on its own. I didn’t shove the phone across the table.
I shoved it into my bag.
I stood abruptly, the legs of my chair scraping hard against the floor. A few heads turned. I didn’t care.
Min Ho’s eyes widened as I started packing up — violently. My notebook snapped shut. My pen nearly bent in my hand.
“Y/N,” he said, standing too. “Wait—”
I was already walking.
I pushed the door open with too much force and marched down the front steps of the library. The cold hit me, but it didn’t matter. Not when I heard his footsteps behind me.
“Y/N!” he called.
I turned, spinning so fast he nearly ran into me.
“You don’t get to pretend like this is all normal,” I hissed. “You don’t get to come into the library like we’re fine, like you didn’t ignore me for a week while I thought I was going insane.”
“So what? You just gave up?” My voice rose, sharp, raw. “You didn’t try to find me, Min Ho. You just decided I was done with you and went back to being... being you.”
His jaw clenched. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I heard about you. With her.” My throat burned. “And it felt like being slapped in the face with every stupid feeling I thought meant something.”
“I didn’t kiss Stella!” he shouted.
“Oh, great!” I snapped. “So you accidentally let her kiss you while you were thinking about me? That’s so much better!”
“I felt like I was cheating, okay?” he barked, stepping closer. “I felt sick because I thought I’d lost you, and she was just there and everything was wrong—”
“You don’t get to play the victim here!”
“I’m not,” he said, voice suddenly quieter. “I’m just... trying to explain. And I get it — I fucked up. I waited too long to say anything. But I swear to you, I didn’t stop thinking about you for one second.”
I froze. The wind brushed past us like it, too, had been holding its breath.
Min Ho looked at me like it hurt to keep going but worse to stop.
“You were the one I hoped it was,” he said, voice hoarse. “I hoped it was you, and when I found out it was, I panicked because I didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”
I stared at him. At his flushed cheeks, his wild eyes, the tension in his shoulders.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
He nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
“I hate that you made me feel something,” I said, louder now. “And I hate that I still do.”
He stepped forward. “Then yell at me.”
“What?”
“Yell. Scream. Hit me, I don’t care. Just... don’t walk away again.”
I blinked. My chest heaved with everything I wanted to say and couldn’t. “I should,” I said. “I should walk away.”
“But you won’t,” he said quietly.
The air pulsed between us, full of all the things we hadn’t said, hadn’t dared to say. My throat was tight. “Why not?”
His eyes searched mine. “Because you feel it too.”
That was it. That single, quiet truth — said out loud — shattered something in me.
“I don’t want to,” I breathed.
“I know.”
“I tried not to.”
“Me too.”
The silence between us deepened, trembling like it might break open into something worse.
“I kept checking my phone,” I whispered. “Over and over. I thought you blocked me.”
Min Ho looked stricken. “I thought you blocked me. I thought I messed it all up—”
“You did!” I cried, stepping forward, voice cracking. “You ruined everything. And you just let me believe that I was crazy. You let me think I made this whole thing up in my head.”
“I didn’t know how to fix it,” he said, hands gripping his sides. “I didn’t know how to come back from it.”
“Try,” I snapped. “Try now.”
Min Ho blinked, stunned. Then slowly, he took one step toward me. Then another. Close now — so close I could see the way his lashes trembled when he blinked, the pink still in his cheeks from yelling.
“I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was,” he said. “I thought if I stayed quiet long enough, it would go away. The feelings. The guilt. The timing. You.”
He let out a shaky breath. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about you when I wake up, when I fall asleep, when I walk past that café and I still remember the way you looked that day — like you belonged there more than I ever would. Like I was just lucky to pass through your orbit.”
My chest burned. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might bruise itself.
“I wasn’t supposed to like you,” I said. “You were supposed to be this dumb, pretty boy that Jayne liked and who didn’t even see me—”
“I saw you,” he said, his voice breaking.
I blinked.
He swallowed, then said it again. “I saw you. At that club. On the rooftop. At the café. Every time I ran into you, it felt like the universe was trying to make a point, and I was too much of a coward to listen.”
I stared at him, everything inside me aching with wanting and fear and fury and longing.
“Do you like me?” I asked. My voice was so small it barely made it out.
Min Ho nodded, a breath of laughter escaping even as his eyes stayed soft and serious.
“I think I’ve liked you since you trauma-dumped about a crypto scammer date, honestly.”
That cracked something in me — a short, disbelieving laugh escaping through my tears.
“You’re such an idiot,” I whispered, voice shaking.
“I know,” he said, stepping even closer. “But I like you. As the girl who ranted about dating disasters. As the girl who texts like she’s writing a secret diary. As the girl who sat alone with coffee and croissants and made the city look slower just by being in it.”
My chest pulled tight. My hands trembled at my sides.
“And I think you like me too,” he said again, gentler now.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I was still too full of everything he made me feel.
Then, like before, he added quietly, “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll walk away. You’ll never have to see me again.”
I stared at him, breath shallow, heart pounding, the whole world narrowed to the two of us under this too-bright sky.
And I didn’t tell him he was wrong.
I just whispered:
“You’re not.”
We stood there in the soft, humming silence of the afternoon. Not quite smiling. Not quite breathing.
It should’ve felt like relief. Like something falling into place.
But instead, there was just… this fragile stillness between us. Me, too aware of how close he was. Him, fidgeting slightly like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
“So,” I said, voice breaking the quiet. “Now what?”
Min Ho scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I thought maybe this would feel… less terrifying.”
“Right?” I said, almost laughing. “This is the weirdest online-friendship meeting ending.”
He gave a half-smile, then looked down at the ground. “Can I ask something?”
I nodded.
“Why’d you stop texting me?” he asked, and there was something quietly vulnerable in it. “After you said my name?”
“I didn’t,” I said quickly. “You stopped texting me.”
“No, I—” He blinked. “I thought you blocked me. I tried to message you a bunch of times, but nothing went through.”
I furrowed my brows. “Same. I thought you blocked me.”
Min Ho reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Okay, wait, what number do you have saved for—” he stopped himself, then hesitated before asking, “...Me?”
I pulled mine out too, suddenly nervous. We compared screens side by side.
We both stood in this delicate, electric tension — phones in our hands now, hearts somewhere between our throats and the floor.
“Wait,” I said, squinting at my screen. “Let me try sending something again.”
I typed a quick “Hi?” and hit send.
Nothing.
“No delivery,” I muttered. “Still.”
“Let me check something,” Min Ho said, his voice low. He opened up his messages, brows furrowing as he scrolled. “Wait—what the—”
He tapped something, went quiet. Then he turned his screen toward me.
A tiny red Blocked Contact banner hovered at the top of the message thread.
My name.
Blocked.
I stared at it, a hot sting building behind my eyes.
“Oh,” I said, quietly.
“What—no. No, I didn’t do that,” he said immediately, shaking his head like trying to physically undo it. “Y/N, I swear. I didn’t block you.”
“You literally—”
“I didn’t!” he stepped forward, his voice sharper, desperate. “Why would I? Why would I pour my heart out and say the dumbest, most vulnerable things I’ve ever said in my life, and then block you?”
He looked genuinely panicked now, thumbing at the screen like it could explain itself.
“I don’t even remember doing it. I must’ve—” He paused. “I don’t know, maybe when I thought you hated me. I was spiraling, I thought you'd ghosted me because you figured it out and wanted nothing to do with me.”
“And I thought you were the one ghosting,” I said, barely holding in everything. “I thought you saw it was me and just… cut it off.”
His expression cracked open. “God. No. I’ve been avoiding you because I was sure I ruined everything. Because Stella kissed me and I felt like I was cheating on someone I wasn’t even dating.”
That hit something deep in me.
“You blocked me,” I said again, quieter. “And I still kept waiting.”
He exhaled, stepping even closer. “I swear, if I’d known… I would’ve run to you. I wouldn’t have let a single day go by. I didn’t mean to push you away.”
There was silence.
Then, just barely, I said: “Unblock me.”
He did it instantly, and for a second, we just… stood there.
Everything was still tight in my chest, but it had loosened — just enough for something lighter to slip through.
I glanced at him, arms crossed. “You’re like… weirdly romantic, you know that?”
His brow lifted. “Weirdly romantic?”
“Not in the way your fan club thinks,” I clarified quickly. “More like… you’re a loser who accidentally flirts really well.”
He scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me—”
“Like, it’s not even intentional half the time, which honestly makes it worse.”
“You’re just mad I’m naturally charming.”
“You’re not,” I said, shoving his arm lightly with the back of my hand. “You’re just accidentally good at it in a way that makes people emotionally spiral.”
He smirked. “At least I’ve never launched a bagel at someone’s head.”
I froze. “That was one time.”
“Once is enough,” he said, smug. “It was a bagel, Y/N. Not a grenade.”
“I was aiming for the trash can!”
“You hit a priest.”
“You’re literally the worst,” I laughed, trying to hide the fact that I was also smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
He nudged my foot with his. “You like me though.”
We stood there on the sidewalk outside the library, dusk settling in slow around us, and for the first time in weeks, something in me felt lighter. Not fixed — not yet — but real.
Like maybe we could get there.
Together.
We stood there a moment longer, the banter fading into a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable—just expectant.
Min Ho cleared his throat, shifting his weight like he was preparing for a high-stakes performance. “So, um…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I was just thinking,” he started, and immediately I knew he wasn’t just thinking. He was spiraling. “Tomorrow… are you—would you want to go for coffee?”
I blinked. “Like we did last time? Or do you mean as in—”
He rushed out, “As in a date. Like, I mean—unless you don’t want to call it that. It doesn’t have to be—well, it is, but—”
I bit back a smile. “Min Ho.”
He shut up immediately.
I stepped just a little closer. “I’d like that.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since 2019. “Cool. Cool. That’s—cool.”
“You said ‘cool’ three times.”
“I panicked.”
I laughed softly, heart doing something traitorous in my chest again.
Min Ho tugged at the strap of his bag like it might ground him. “So. Tomorrow?”
I nodded. “Tomorrow.”
And when we finally walked off in opposite directions, I didn’t stop smiling until I got to my door.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The dorm smelled like hairspray, lip gloss, and perfume.
Yuri was dancing around in an oversized hoodie and biker shorts, holding up outfit options like a stylist under pressure on a reality show. “This skirt says ‘I’m effortlessly pretty’ but this one says ‘kiss me under string lights.’ What’s the vibe we’re going for?”
“I just want to look like I didn’t try,” I said, even though six people were actively trying for me.
“Too late,” Eunice muttered, carefully blending something shimmery on my cheekbone. “You’re about three TikToks away from soft glam royalty.”
Kitty groaned from across the room. “Q, you don’t know anything about shoes!”
Q gasped. “How dare you? I know Min Ho. And Min Ho would one hundred percent notice these shoes.” He dramatically held up a pair of sleek, black platform loafers like they were a sacred offering.
Jayne rolled her eyes, already on her knees digging through my closet. “He’s a boots guy. Trust me. Ankle boots with a little heel—deadly combo.”
“He’s a ‘whatever she’s wearing, he’s obsessed with it’ guy,” Julianna called from behind me, fingers weaving gently through my hair. “God, your hair is so silky, I feel like I’m braiding a shampoo commercial.”
“I’m gonna throw up,” I said.
Yuri laughed. “You’re going on a date, not to war.”
“Same difference.”
“Can I please pick the shoes?” Q whined.
“No!” Kitty and Jayne said in unison, both lunging for the same pair of boots.
Eunice leaned down so we were eye level. “You ready?”
I looked at myself in the mirror—flushed cheeks, soft lashes, hair tucked perfectly behind one ear. My heart was hammering but somehow I looked calm. I looked like a girl who might, possibly, survive a date with Min Ho.
“I think so.”
“You look hot,” Julianna confirmed.
“You look like you’re going to ruin him,” Jayne added proudly.
“And,” Q said, holding up the shoes he was still championing, “these would make him cry. Just saying.”
“I’m vetoing the denim skirt,” Kitty announced, arms crossed. “It’s giving class presentation, not date with a guy apparently secretly who writes poetic texts in the dark.”
“Okay, but this dress?” Yuri held it up reverently. “This screams ‘I didn’t mean to be irresistible but here we are.’”
“Too obvious,” Julianna countered. “She needs to look like she stumbled out of a French film and accidentally ruined his whole year.”
Eunice pulled a silky top from the pile. “Pair this with the trousers she wore to that art gallery party. Minimalist. Chic. Emotionally devastating.”
Q held up a neon green sweater with rhinestone stars. “What about a pop of personality?”
“Absolutely not,” all four girls said in perfect unison.
Q scoffed. “You guys are allergic to fun.”
“Fun doesn’t mean blinding someone at thirty paces,” Jayne said, snatching the sweater from his hands and throwing it behind the bed like it had offended her ancestors.
Y/N was still frozen in the middle of the chaos, arms slightly raised as shirts and shoes flew around her like a tornado of fabric. “Am I even allowed to have input in this?”
“No,” Kitty said gently. “You’re the canvas.”
“We’re the artists,” Yuri added, kicking aside a pile of rejected skirts.
“I’m literally the one dating him,” Y/N said.
“Which means you have the worst judgment of all,” Q muttered.
“That’s it.” Julianna snapped her fingers. “Black wide-leg trousers, cream top with that square neckline, gold hoops. Hair down, effortless waves. Those ankle boots Jayne’s been hoarding like a dragon.”
Jayne held them close to her chest. “They’re my children.”
“Well, one of your children is going to help this girl make Min Ho forget how to breathe,” Eunice said.
“Okay, this is it,” Kitty declared, clapping. “Now everyone get out except me, Eunice, and Julianna. Q, you’re making her sweat with your nervous pacing.”
“I’m not nervous—”
“Out!” the girls all shouted, pointing toward the door.
Q threw his hands up. “Fine. But if he compliments her eyeliner, I taught her that wing.”
“You didn’t!” Eunice shouted as she shoved him into the hallway and slammed the door behind him.
Silence.
Y/N stood in the center of the now-messy dorm, blinking. “So… this is really happening.”
Julianna handed her the final outfit and grinned. “Oh, it’s happening.”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Q opened the dorm door and immediately paused. “…What the hell is happening in here.”
The boys’ dorm looked like a war zone. Not a normal messy room — a tornado made of cologne bottles, rejected shirts, and hair product had ripped through it. Clothes were everywhere. Towels. An open steamer hissed from the coffee table. A brush sat abandoned next to a half-spilled jar of pomade.
And in the middle of it all, Dae was on the couch, completely unfazed, calmly eating cereal from a mixing bowl like he was in a spa commercial.
Min Ho sprinted past behind him, barefoot, bathrobe clinging to him and a towel wrapped turban-style around his head.
“I CAN’T FIND MY MOISTURIZER WITH SPF!”
Q just blinked. “You own, like, seven moisturizers.”
“Exactly!” Min Ho shouted, reappearing from behind the fridge like he’d considered refrigerating one. “I don’t know which one gives me the ‘I drink water and write under a full moon’ glow and which one makes me look like a sweaty ghost!”
Dae took another bite of cereal. “They all make you shiny. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m meeting up with Y/N. I can’t just look fine, Dae. I have to look like she regrets every minute she spent not kissing me!”
“Okay, relax Casanova,” Q said, kicking a pile of button-ups out of the way to get to the couch. “Have you picked an outfit yet?”
Min Ho pointed at the wall where several outfits were thumbtacked like a fashion conspiracy board. “I have five contenders. But I can’t wear anything black or she’ll think I’m trying too hard.”
“You’re literally trying this hard,” Dae muttered.
Q squinted at the wall. “You wore this one to that influencer dinner.”
“Dae said she once called that shirt smug,” Min Ho snapped. “That I looked like someone who pretended to read Hemingway but actually just followed bookstagram accounts.”
“I mean… are you mad because it’s wrong?” Q asked, not even looking up from his phone.
Min Ho flopped face-first into a pile of sweaters and groaned dramatically. “What if she doesn’t even show up?”
“She will,” Dae said. “She was asking about you.”
That got Min Ho to lift his head, hope cautiously blooming behind his eye patches.
“She was?”
Dae nodded. “Kind of in a ‘tell me everything you know or I’ll steal your organs’ way, but yeah.”
Min Ho sat up straighter. “Okay. Okay. Deep breath. Casual shirt. A little cologne but not date cologne. Hair effortless but not messy.” He paused. “Wait. Do I look like I care?”
“You look like you’ve just done skincare for your skincare,” Q said.
“Perfect,” Min Ho grinned.
Then immediately panicked again. “WAIT — WHICH SHOES?!”
Q caught a sneaker thrown in his direction and sighed. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Min Ho was standing shirtless in front of the mirror, towel still on his head, holding two very similar button-downs and glaring at his reflection like it had personally betrayed him.
“Q,” he barked, “do I look more emotionally available in the navy or the oatmeal?”
Q didn’t look up from his phone. “What emotion are you trying to be available for, exactly?”
“I want her to think I’m confident but also like I’d cry if she asked me about my childhood.”
Dae, still unmoved on the couch, said without looking up, “Then wear a turtleneck.”
“IT’S JUNE, DAE.”
Min Ho threw one of the shirts across the room and let out a disgusted scoff. It landed on the lamp. The lamp fell.
Q finally put his phone down, sighing as he stood. “Okay. Emergency fashion triage. Let’s go.”
Min Ho spun to him like a Victorian woman who’d just been asked to dance. “Do I go with the boots that say ‘I respect you’ or the sneakers that say ‘I won’t ghost you’?”
Q held up both pairs. “These say ‘I live on Pinterest,’ and these say ‘I peaked in high school.’ Pick your poison.”
Min Ho dragged a hand down his face. “I should cancel. I should tell her I got tuberculosis. Or food poisoning. Or tuberculosis from food poisoning.”
“Or you could,” Dae said, sipping his cereal milk, “go on your date like a normal person instead of staging a Broadway musical in the hallway.”
Min Ho dramatically dropped into a squat, hands clasped like he was praying to the ceiling. “She thinks I blocked her, Dae.”
“Did you?”
“NO!” Min Ho popped back up. “My phone glitched or some cosmic being is trying to humble me for being too hot or something, but I didn’t block her.”
“You also didn’t tell her for a week,” Q added, flinging the now-fixed lamp back upright. “So.”
Min Ho pointed dramatically at Q. “That’s not helpful. I’m in my Shakespearean tragic love story, and you’re giving me tax accountant energy.”
“I’m giving you ‘hurry up or you’ll be late’ energy.”
Min Ho checked the time and froze. “OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO BE LATE.”
He sprinted to the bathroom, towel falling off his head, leaving a trail of wet footprints, rejected moisturisers, and unhinged muttering in his wake.
Q ran a hand though his hair.
"How was it at Y/N's?" Dae asked
"Like a calm chaos, not this havoc that's happened here clearly. They made tea, it was nice. The disaster prince needs to finally leave the dorm and head to his date, which he is definitely over-accessorised for."
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The knock came exactly one minute after the playlist ended.
We froze.
Kitty let out a sound like a squeal and a gasp had a baby. Julianna’s mascara wand halted mid-air. Jayne ducked behind the kitchen island like we were being raided, and Eunice grabbed my shoulders.
“That’s him, right?” she whispered, as if Min Ho could hear us through the walls.
“I don’t know!” I hissed. “Probably?”
“He knocked,” Kitty said, ducking beside Jayne, “so it’s not food delivery unless the sushi guy’s hot now.”
“Focus,” Julianna barked, tucking a loose strand behind my ear and spinning me toward the door like I was a doll she was about to send to prom.
I stood there, paralyzed.
“You’re ready,” Eunice said. “You're radiant. You look like the soft-focus end of a coming-of-age movie. Go open the damn door.”
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” I muttered.
Jayne popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “If you throw up on your date, I’m retiring from friendship out of secondhand embarrassment.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
The knock came again. Firm. Polite. Too polite.
The knock echoed through the dorm again, and every girl in the kitchen ducked as if the FBI was at the door.
“I swear to god if one of you breathes too loud—” I hissed, already making my way toward the door.
Eunice tugged my arm. “Wait—lip gloss.”
She dabbed a final touch onto my bottom lip like a painter finishing a canvas. Behind her, Julianna crouched in combat boots, clutching a brush like a weapon. Kitty and Jayne were whisper-arguing about shoe theory again, and I was half-certain someone had opened a window to spy out through the blinds.
I took a breath. And opened the door.
Min Ho stood there.
Button-down shirt, casual but crisp. Rolled sleeves. He looked like he’d practiced not looking like he tried, which meant he definitely had. Hair still slightly damp like he’d sprinted to make it in time, a nervous, crooked smile twitching at his mouth.
“Hi,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Hi.”
We stared for a second.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he said finally. “I changed, like, five times. Pretty sure I’m overdressed.”
I tilted my head. “You’re fine. You… look good.”
His smile flickered wider, teeth showing now, but his eyes were still doing that scanning thing like he was trying to memorize this moment.
From the kitchen: a single cough, followed by a loud whisper of “SHHHH.”
Min Ho blinked.
“Is your room haunted?” he asked.
“Only by the living,” I muttered, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door. “The girls are behind the kitchen island.”
“Of course they are.”
I stepped out, gently shutting the door behind me, trying to ignore the squeal I definitely heard the second it clicked shut.
We stood in the hallway, just the two of us now. There was a weird kind of quiet between us—comfortable, but charged. Like we were still feeling around for the edges of something new.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said.
Min Ho rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”
“I mean,” I said, giving him a look, “you did accidentally block me.”
He groaned. “I swear I didn’t. Why would I say all that stuff and then block you?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Men are weird.”
“Okay, fair.”
We started walking slowly toward the stairs, arms close but not touching.
“Wait,” I said suddenly. “I just realised—you were at the club that night. So, when I was ranting to you over text you were standing like 2 steps away from me.”
He smirked a little. “Yeah, I watched you. That's why I wanted to dance with you, Stupid”
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning.
“Loser.”
He gasped. “I am a gentleman. I didn’t once bring up you attacking that bagel.”
“I did not attack it—”
“You yeeted it.”
“It slipped!”
“Your honor, the bagel was launched with intent—”
I swatted his arm, and he dodged, laughing.
And for the first time in a while, I felt it again—that warmth in my chest, that stupid flutter behind my ribs that told me maybe this was real. Maybe we hadn’t ruined everything.
Maybe it was just beginning.
"I didn't think anyone still said yeeted" I snickered
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The café was quiet this time of day—late afternoon glow filtering in through wide windows, casting honey-colored stripes across the floor and the small two-seater table we settled into. It was the same café we’d both been to separately, the one where he walked me home. It felt… full circle.
Min Ho tugged lightly at the cuffs of his sleeves once we sat, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. I felt the same way. My fingers hovered near the handle of my mug for longer than necessary, pretending to read the chalkboard menu even though I already knew what I wanted.
“This is weird, right?” I said eventually, smiling into my tea. “I feel like we already did the part where we confessed feelings, and now we’re rewinding into a first date.”
“Kind of backwards,” he agreed, laughing gently. “Like we hit ‘emotional intimacy’ before we hit ‘coffee.’”
“And blocked each other before we even held hands.”
He winced dramatically. “Too soon.”
We both laughed, and the awkwardness cracked a little more, something easier slipping in its place.
The server came over and took our orders — mine, usual and boring; his, surprisingly elaborate. When they left, he leaned back in his chair and looked at me for a long moment.
“I meant all of it,” he said softly.
I looked up.
“The messages,” he clarified. “What I said. What I tried to say. I don’t know what happens next, and I have no idea how to not be awkward about this, but… I want to try.”
That flutter again.
I sipped my tea and met his eyes. “You’ve been weird about me since Noir, you know.”
“You’ve been weird about me too,” he countered.
“I’m just weird in general,” I said with mock-seriousness.
He smiled, and this time it was relaxed. Unburdened. His leg bounced under the table and I could tell he was still nervous, but there was a lightness in him now—like maybe the week of heartbreak and blocked numbers and too many almosts had finally passed.
“So,” he said. “First date rules.”
I raised a brow. “There are rules?”
“Well, rule one is: no trauma-dumping.”
“You’re the one who trauma-dumped about skincare to Q for three hours yesterday,” I shot back.
“I was exfoliating my grief,” he said solemnly.
I choked on my drink.
The conversation spilled after that—easy, winding, full of stupid jokes and quieter glances when we thought the other wasn’t looking. At one point, I reached for the sugar at the same time he did and our fingers brushed, both of us freezing, smiling stupidly.
When the sky outside began to tint lilac, neither of us had made a move to leave.
“So… do you want to go on a second first date?” I asked, trying to sound breezy.
Min Ho leaned forward, eyes on mine. “Only if I don’t screw this one up.”
“You might.”
“I definitely will.”
We smiled. Because maybe we both already knew: that was okay.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The air outside was cooler now, just edging into evening, the kind of breeze that makes you wish you had a jacket but not enough to complain about it. The sun had dipped low, leaving streaks of gold and violet bleeding across the sky.
We walked side by side, not touching, not rushing. Just existing in the same space with the kind of closeness that said: We could.
Min Ho kicked a small rock along the sidewalk like he was focusing on not saying something too fast. I had my hands shoved into my pockets, hoping the walk would calm the very obvious fluttering happening somewhere in my chest.
“That was fun,” I offered, half into the silence.
He looked at me with a quiet grin. “Even though I drank a coffee that tasted like a cinnamon candle?”
“You ordered it.”
“You dared me.”
I smirked. “You’re supposed to be the cool, mysterious one. Not the one who’s peer-pressured into a seasonal beverage.”
“Cool, mysterious people can be victims of seasonal spice curiosity.”
I nudged his arm with my elbow. “Mmhm.”
He laughed under his breath and looked ahead again. I noticed how his shoulder occasionally brushed mine when we got a little too close on the sidewalk, but neither of us pulled away.
We passed the spot where he’d first offered to walk me home, weeks ago, when everything was still half-known and crackling with mystery. He noticed it too, glancing around and then down at me.
“This feels like déjà vu,” he said softly.
“Except now you know I'm super cool, and I know you use toner.”
“Hey—”
“I’m not judging,” I said, bumping him again.
He looked at me, face turned slightly, and I caught the exact second he debated taking my hand. He hesitated—and then didn’t.
His fingers brushed against mine, then curled around them, gentle and tentative. I looked down at our hands, then up at him. His gaze was steady now, nervous but certain.
I squeezed once. Just enough to say okay.
The walk was slower after that.
Near the entrance of my dorm building, we stopped. Streetlights buzzed above us, soft golden halos around our heads.
“I’ll let you go before you get your group interrogation,” he said.
“They wouldn’t do that.”
“They would absolutely do that.”
I shrugged. “They might already have a PowerPoint ready.”
He laughed quietly, but didn’t let go of my hand.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “About wanting to try. Even if I have to prove it. Even if I already kinda screwed it up once.”
“You didn’t screw it up,” I said. “We just… missed each other. Bad timing.”
Min Ho nodded once. Then stepped back just enough to let my hand go, like he was afraid holding it too long would make this feel too real too fast.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Min Ho.”
And as I climbed the steps to the dorm, I didn’t look back. I didn’t have to. I knew he was still standing there.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Eunice, Julianna, and Jayne were all sitting in a suspiciously casual circle on the floor with mugs of tea they clearly didn’t need. The second I stepped inside, four heads swivelled toward me like owls spotting prey.
“Well?” Julianna demanded.
I kicked my shoes off slowly. “Well what?”
“Oh my god, she’s doing a slow reveal,” Jayne gasped.
“Start from the beginning,” Eunice ordered. “Like… what was he wearing? Did he smell nice? Did he try anything?”
I frowned. “You sound like my mom.”
Jayne waved a hand. “She sounds like all of us, now TALK.”
Before I could answer, the scene cut—
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Q was leaning against Min Ho’s desk with his arms crossed, and Dae was sprawled on the couch like a therapist who was also a little entertained by the situation.
“Well?” Q said.
Min Ho dropped onto his bed, running a hand through his still-perfectly-styled hair. “It was fine.”
“Fine?” Q scoffed. “You sprinted around this dorm like a man possessed and now you’re giving me fine?”
“It was fine,” Min Ho insisted, then after a pause: “She held my hand.”
Dae grinned. “That’s not fine. That’s good.”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
“HE HELD YOUR HAND?!” Eunice screeched.
I winced. “I didn’t even say that yet—”
“She squeezed back?” Julianna asked like we were dissecting a historical event.
I shrugged, biting back a smile. “Maybe.”
Jayne leaned forward. “Maybe my ass. You’re glowing.”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
“You walked her home?” Q asked.
“Obviously,” Min Ho said.
“Did you kiss her?” Dae asked, straight-faced.
Min Ho gave him a sharp look. “No.”
Q sighed. “Tragic.”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
“Did he kiss you?” Eunice whispered dramatically.
“No,” I said, and immediately all four groaned like I’d failed some collective mission.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Dae grinned. “You’re gonna kiss her next time though, right?”
Min Ho rolled onto his back. “…Maybe.”
Q smirked. “He’s definitely gonna kiss her next time.”
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
The morning was deceptively calm.
Coffee in one hand, notes in the other, I was telling myself I’d make it to class without incident.
Then I spotted Dae up ahead… and next to him, all tall, broad-shouldered confidence in a navy sweater, was Min Ho.
Of course.
Dae waved when he saw me. “Y/N! Perfect timing.”
I slowed, my stomach doing something stupid. Min Ho’s eyes flicked to mine and he smiled like we were in on some shared joke no one else could hear. “Morning,” he said, low and easy.
“Morning,” I answered, trying for neutral.
We walked together into the building, Dae holding the door. When we reached the classroom, I headed for my seat like normal—only to have Min Ho follow us in.
Dae dropped into his chair beside me. Min Ho, instead of leaving, leaned forward onto my desk, forearms braced, face tilted just enough that we were eye level.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice a whisper meant to sound annoyed, but my pulse was betraying me.
“Walking with Dae,” he said, then added with a sly half-smile, “And maybe seeing if you still looked at me like that after last night.”
I blinked. “Like what?”
“Like you’re deciding whether to roll your eyes or smile at me.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the professor walked in. Min Ho straightened slowly, like he wasn’t in any hurry, and glanced down at me.
“See you later,” he murmured, before strolling out like he hadn’t just left my brain in total chaos.
Dae watched Min Ho leave, then turned to me with that infuriatingly casual smile of his.
“So…” he drawled, resting his elbow on the desk, “do I get to hear about last night?”
I kept my eyes on my notebook. “I’m sure you already got a lot of answers.”
His brows shot up, and he tilted his head. “You’d tell Q if he asked.”
I gave him a look. “Q’s nosy.”
“And I’m not?” Dae’s pout was almost comical, chin in his hand like he was personally wounded. “Come on. I promise not to tell him if you don’t want me to.”
I stared at him for a long second, debating. He stayed quiet, just watching me expectantly until I sighed.
“Fine,” I muttered, leaning closer so my voice wouldn’t carry. “We got coffee. Talked. Walked around a little. He was… nice. Normal. Not full of himself.”
Dae grinned. “So… you liked it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, looking smug. “I can tell.”
I shoved his shoulder lightly. “Don’t start.”
“Too late,” he said, already pulling out his pen like he wasn’t plotting ways to bring this up later.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
I’d just stepped out into the bright afternoon air when Stella fell into step beside me, her glossy hair swinging with each stride.
“Hey,” she said casually, like we bumped into each other all the time. “You headed somewhere?”
“Meeting Jayne,” I said, tucking my phone into my pocket.
“Perfect. I’ll walk with you.” Her smile was all teeth, the kind people wear when they’re saying something without actually saying it.
We strolled in silence for a moment before she tilted her head, voice light. “You know, I saw Min Ho last night.”
I glanced at her. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” She smirked. “All dressed up, headed into the girls’ dorms. Looked nice. Like… date nice.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for whatever game she was playing.
“And then,” she continued, “Kitty and Yuri came home later, laughing about how you had a date.” She gave a low, amused hum. “Funny coincidence, right?”
Her eyes flicked over me, searching for a reaction.
“Not really,” I said flatly, keeping my expression unreadable.
Her lips quirked upward, but her gaze stayed fixed on me, just a little too sharp. “He’s very… loyal, when he wants to be. But also—” she tilted her head, “—easily distracted.”
The words landed heavy, almost like she knew something I didn’t.
She stepped a little closer, her voice dropping as if she were sharing a secret. “I mean… sometimes you just have to make sure the competition disappears. You’d be surprised how easy that can be.”
For a second, my stomach twisted—not because of what she said, but how she said it. Like it wasn’t a threat. Like it was a confession.
She smiled, full and bright again, as if she hadn’t just casually hinted at being the villain in someone’s story. “Anyway. I’ll let you get to your friend.”
And with that, she turned off toward another building, leaving me standing in the path, pulse pounding for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.
I stood there for a second after she disappeared into the crowd, my mind buzzing.
That hadn’t just been weird.
That had been calculated.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled out my phone and scrolled until Kitty’s name popped up, then hit call.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Y/N? Everything okay?”
“Yeah—well, no. Maybe? I don’t know.” I shifted my bag higher, glancing around like Stella might reappear. “I think… maybe you’re right about Stella.”
There was a beat of silence, then Kitty’s voice sharpened instantly. “What did she do?”
“She just—” I let out a breath. “She said something and it was… off. Like she was testing me. And it wasn’t just about Min Ho, it was like she wanted me to know she could get rid of me if she wanted.”
“Okay,” Kitty said, already in problem-solving mode. “That’s not paranoia. That’s a warning.”
“Exactly.”
“Meet me later,” she said firmly. “If Stella’s playing a game, we’re going to figure out the rules before she does.”
I hung up feeling equal parts uneasy and… maybe a little grateful that Kitty was on my side.
───── ❝ ❞ ─────
Later that night, the dorm was quiet except for the low hum of Kitty’s laptop fan and the occasional distant slam of a door down the hall. I sat cross-legged on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, while Kitty paced like she was building a legal case.
“So,” she said, turning to face me, “tell me exactly what she said. Word for word.”
I went through it again, the part about Min Ho dressed nicely, the girls mentioning my date, the way Stella smiled like she was holding the punchline hostage.
Kitty frowned, arms crossing. “That’s… not casual. That’s a power move.”
“That’s what I thought.” I twisted the blanket in my hands. “And the way she looked at me, it wasn’t like she was curious. It was like she already knew, and she wanted me to know she knew.”
Kitty stopped pacing. “She’s staking a claim. And it’s not because she likes Min Ho—it’s because she needs him for something.”
That made my stomach turn. “You think?”
“I know,” she said, a spark of determination lighting her face. “I’ve seen this before. She’s too calculated to just ‘accidentally’ run into you and bring it up. She wants to get in your head. The more you’re second-guessing yourself, the easier it is for her to move in.”
I looked at her for a long moment. “Why me, though?”
Kitty tilted her head like it was obvious. “Because you’re the threat. And I don’t think she knows how much of one you really are yet.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned at that, but Kitty was already grabbing her notebook and pen.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Starting a list,” she said matter-of-factly. “Step one: figure out her real endgame. Step two: get proof. Step three…” She smirked. “Take her down before she even sees it coming.”
I almost laughed—but the part of me that was still thinking about Min Ho, and Stella’s smirk, couldn’t.
Kitty was muttering something about “cross-referencing her socials” when I picked up my phone.
I stared at Min Ho’s contact for a long time.
The last thread of messages between us was still a graveyard of red Not Delivered warnings.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard anyway.
Y/N: hey
Y/N: can we talk?
I hit send. The bubble hung for a second… then the familiar red text flashed again. Not Delivered.
My chest tightened. I typed again.
Y/N: this is getting ridiculous
Not Delivered.
Kitty glanced up from her laptop. “Not going through?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I got to my feet and shoved my shoes on, the laces tangling in my hurry.
“Uh—where are we going?” Kitty scrambled after me, nearly tripping over her blanket.
“Your dorm,” I said, yanking the door open. “Now.”
We walked fast, Kitty barely keeping pace as she hissed questions I didn’t answer. My pulse was pounding too loud in my ears.
When we reached her dorm, I didn’t hesitate — just pushed the door open and headed straight for Stella’s room. She was lounging on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I stopped in the doorway. “I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut the air, “but I know you’ve done this.”
Her head tilted, all faux-innocence. “Done… what?”
“You know what.” My jaw clenched. “About me being blocked.”
Kitty’s eyes darted between us like she was watching the opening scene of a bar fight. Stella just smiled, slow and deliberate, like a cat stretching in the sun.
Stella set her phone down gently, as if she had all the time in the world. “Blocked?” She blinked at me like I’d just spoken in another language. “Why would I ever… do something like that?”
“Don’t play dumb.” My voice cracked with the edge of how long I’d been holding this in. “You saw his phone. You knew.”
Her lips curved — not a smile, not exactly. More like she was trying one on for size. “That’s an interesting theory. But if Min Ho blocked you, maybe you should be asking yourself why.”
Kitty stepped forward, arms crossed. “That’s not what happened, and you know it.”
“Kitty,” Stella said sweetly, turning her attention like a laser beam. “You weren’t there. Neither of us were. So how could we possibly know the truth?”
I took a step closer, fists curled at my sides. “You don’t get to mess with me. Not with this. You’ve been trying to get in his head since you got here.”
Her eyes glimmered, sharp under the lamplight. “Trying? Honey, I don’t have to try.” She leaned back against her pillows, feigning nonchalance. “And maybe instead of accusing me, you should be worried about why he hasn’t come running to clear this up himself.”
The words hit, hot and heavy, but I forced myself not to flinch.
Kitty sucked in a breath like she was about to launch into a full defense, but I lifted a hand to stop her. My voice was low, unshaking. “If you think I’m just going to let you win, you don’t know me.”
Stella tilted her head, smile cool, unbothered. “Then I guess we’ll see who Min Ho really chooses, won’t we?”
I turned to Kitty, pulse pounding. “Give me your phone.”
Her brows shot up. “Uh, okay…” She fumbled it out of her pocket and handed it over.
I typed in Min Ho’s number from memory before I could chicken out, then pressed call. Kitty’s wide eyes met mine as I hit speaker.
The ring barely lasted two beats before his voice came through, breathless.
“Hello?”
Silence clamped over the room. Stella’s smirk faltered.
“Min Ho,” I said evenly, staring right at her. “It’s me. Y/N. Calling from Kitty’s phone.”
There was a pause — then his voice softened, urgent. “Y/N? Finally. I’ve been— I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”
Kitty’s jaw dropped. “See?!” she hissed, glaring at Stella.
I swallowed hard, throat dry. “My texts… my calls… everything was blocked.”
On the other end of the line, Min Ho sounded confused, panicked. “What? No. No, I would never—” His breath hitched like he was moving around his room. “Y/N, I swear, I don’t know how that happened. I’ve been texting you every night, you didn’t answer, I thought you hated me—”
“Blocked,” I repeated, eyes never leaving Stella.
Her expression had gone carefully blank now, a mask settling over her face.
Kitty muttered, “Busted,” under her breath.
I tightened my grip on the phone, pulse roaring in my ears. “Then tell me, Min Ho,” I said, voice razor-sharp but trembling underneath. “If it wasn’t you… who would want to make sure we never talked?”
Stella’s mask cracked into something smug and syrupy, the kind of smile that made my skin crawl. She stepped closer, folding her arms like she had every advantage in the world.
“Min Ho,” she said, her voice honeyed, dripping into the phone like poison, “since Y/N’s so… upset right now, maybe you’d rather go on a second date with me?”
The air in the room turned ice cold.
Kitty’s jaw dropped so hard I thought it might hit the floor. “WHAT?!”
I stared at her, fury bubbling in my chest. She wasn’t even pretending anymore—she wanted me to hear it, wanted to twist the knife.
On the other end, Min Ho’s voice snapped like a whip, sharp and disbelieving.
“Stella? What the hell are you talking about?”
There was a pause on the line, just long enough for Stella to smirk at me like she still had the upper hand.
Then Min Ho’s voice came through, firm and clear.
“Stella, no. I’ve already told you—I’m not interested.”
Her smile faltered.
“And honestly,” he went on, his tone steel now, “if you can’t tell how obvious it is that I like Y/N, then you’re not paying attention.”
The words hung heavy in the air. My breath caught. Kitty’s hand flew to her mouth to smother a squeal, her wide eyes flicking between me and Stella like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
For once, Stella didn’t have anything smug to say.
