đđđ đđđđđ âââ you visit the beach every week to watch the sunset because of your first love
â bf ! keonho Ă fem!reader
word count ââ 5.9k
Ë᯽ ÝË đđđđđđâđ đđđđ coco speaking here! I'M STARTING TO LOCK IN WITH LONGER FICS! but warning uhm this is angst but obviously i don't do sad ending so⌠oh and make sure to listen to the beach by the neighbourhood 𼰠𧧠đđđđđđđđđđ
The first time you realized you were still in love with him, it wasnât because you saw his face or heard his name.
It was because your chest ached at the sound of waves.
The ocean folded into itself again and again, white foam dissolving into darkening water, and something inside you folded with it, quiet, involuntary, bruised. The sound was the same as it had always been.
Unlike him.
You came to the beach every week.
You told yourself it was for the sunset. For the quiet. For the way the horizon swallowed the sun whole and bled color across the sky, bruised violets melting into molten gold, streaks of rose unraveling like torn silk. You told yourself it was therapeutic. That watching something end so beautifully made endings easier to accept.
That was a lie.
You came because this was the last place you had felt whole.
The wind brushed against your skin, cool and salted, tangling your hair and kissing your cheeks with a softness that felt almost intimate. The air smelled like brine and damp sand and fading warmth. The tide rolled in and out with a rhythm that felt almost cruel, consistent, dependable, never faltering.
Unlike everything else in your life.
You sat in the same spot you always did, as if the sand remembered the shape of you. Your toes buried themselves beneath the surface, grains slipping between them, cool at first and then gradually warming. You hugged your knees to your chest, arms wrapped tight as though you were trying to keep your own pieces from falling apart.
The sky was streaked with pink and orange, the sun hovering low like it was reluctant to leave.
It was beautiful.
It hurt.
Your throat tightened before you even realized why. The pain was subtle at first, a dull pressure beneath your ribs. Then it deepened, spreading like ink in water.
You didnât notice you were crying at first.
You rarely did anymore.
The tears didnât come in dramatic sobs. They slipped out silently, hot against your wind-chilled skin. One traced the curve of your cheek, then another. You blinked slowly, confused by the blur, until you tasted salt that wasnât from the ocean.
It always started the same way.
A fragment of memory.
A laugh that wasnât there.
The phantom feeling of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, warm, secure, familiar. The imagined brush of lips against your temple. A voice, low and teasing, calling you baby like it was the most natural word in the world.
And suddenly your vision would cloud.
Your breath would hitch.
Your fingers would curl desperately into the sand, nails digging in as if you could anchor yourself to something solid. As if you could grab onto the past and drag it back with you.
But the sand always slipped through.
Just like he did.
Because he wasnât there.
There was no warmth pressed against your back. No steady heartbeat beneath your ear. No hand reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear when the wind got too bold.
Keonho wasnât there.
And yet somehow, impossibly, he was everywhere.
In the way the water shimmered under the fading light, because you remembered how he used to grin at you with that same glow in his eyes.
In the way the wind wrapped around you, because it almost felt like his arms.
In the shared silence of the sunset, because this was where he once kissed you slow and sweet, like time was something the two of you owned.
The beach had moved on. The tide had moved on. The sky had moved on.
But you hadnât.
You were still sitting in the ghost of his embrace, watching the sun sink below the horizon, waiting for something that had already left.
And every week, when the last sliver of light disappeared and the sky turned dark, it felt like losing him all over again.
You remembered the way he used to drag you into the ocean like it was his favorite game, like your protests were just part of the routine he adored.
âCome on, baby,â he would laugh, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist, warm and insistent as he tugged you toward the shoreline. His grip wasnât rough, but it was impossible to escape, not that you really wanted to.
âDonât be scared.â
âIâm not scared!â you would argue immediately, even as your steps slowed, even as your toes curled at the edge where the water lapped at the sand.
The first wave would rush forward, cold and sudden, splashing over your feet and ankles, and youâd gasp despite yourself.
Heâd noticed.
And then heâd grin, that knowing, teasing grin, like he had every single one of your reactions memorized. Like he could read you better than you could read yourself.
âNot scared, huh?â heâd tease, raising a brow.
Youâd glare at him, but thereâd already be a smile tugging at your lips. âShut up.â
Another wave would come, stronger this time, climbing higher, up your calves, your knees, soaking the hem of your clothes. Youâd squeal, trying to pull back, but heâd only tighten his hold, laughing as he dragged you deeper with him.
The ocean would surge around you, rising to your thighs, your waist, your ribs, cold enough to steal your breath, but somehow never unbearable.
Not when he was there.
Not when his laughter filled the air, bright and unrestrained, blending with the crash of the waves.
Eventually, youâd stop resisting and give in
And then youâd both just be there, standing in the water, completely drenched, hair sticking to your cheeks and neck, clothes heavy and clinging, laughing like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.
You remembered how it felt.
Weightless, easy, alive.
He loved sneaking up behind you.
Even when you were expecting it, heâd still manage to catch you off guard.
Youâd be distracted, watching the way the sunlight danced on the surface of the water, or trying to smooth your soaked hair back, when suddenlyâ
His arms would wrap around your waist from behind, strong and secure, lifting you just enough for your feet to leave the ground.
Youâd shriek, the sound breaking into laughter almost instantly.
âKeonho!â
Heâd laugh against your shoulder, the vibration of it sending warmth straight through you despite the cold water.
âGot you,â heâd say, like it was some kind of victory.
Heâd spin you once, just once, before letting you drop back down, the water splashing up around you both.
âIâm gonna kill you!â youâd gasp, breathless, turning to shove at his chest.
Heâd barely budge. Instead, heâd lean in, pressing a wet, lingering kiss to your cheek, warm despite everything, lips soft against your skin.
âBut you love me,â heâd murmur, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
And you did.
God, you did.
It was in the way your heart would stutter when he looked at you like that.
In the way your hands would instinctively reach for him, gripping onto his shirt, his arms, anything, just to stay close.
It was in the quiet moments too.
The softer ones.
After the laughter faded and your energy dipped, when the sun began to lower and paint everything in gold, youâd both make your way back to shore.
Youâd collapse onto the sand, exhausted, limbs heavy, breaths still uneven. The cool air would hit your damp skin, sending a shiver through you.
âCold?â heâd ask softly, already reaching for the towel.
There was always only one.
There didnât need to be more.
Heâd drape it around both of you, tugging you closer until your sides pressed together, your thighs touching, your shoulders brushing.
His arm would slip around you naturally, like it belonged there, pulling you into his chest.
And youâd go without hesitation.
Your head resting against him, cheek pressed to the warmth of his skin, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
It was strong.
Grounding.
Real.
You used to think that sound would follow you forever.
His fingers would move gently, carefully, brushing your hair away from your face, untangling strands with a patience that made your chest ache even then.
His touch would soften after the chaos of the ocean, thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns along your cheekbone, your temple, like he was memorizing every detail.
Like he didnât trust the world to remember you properly, so he had to do it himself.
âStay still,â heâd murmur quietly when you shifted.
âI am still,â youâd mumble back, eyes half-lidded.
âMm,â heâd hum, unconvinced, but thereâd be a smile in his voice.
The sky would deepen around you, gold slipping into orange, orange melting into pink, pink dissolving into something darker, richer.
And then, heâd tilt your chin up.
Always gently. Always with two fingers beneath your jaw, careful and deliberate, like even the slightest pressure might hurt you. Like you were something fragile in his hands, something rare he didnât quite trust himself to hold, but couldnât bear to let go of. His touch would be warm despite the ocean air, grounding in a way that made your breath hitch before you even realized why.
Your eyes would meet his.
And everything would slow.
Not just metaphorically, it truly felt like the world softened around you. The crashing waves dulled into a distant hush. The wind that had been tugging at your hair moments ago seemed to pause, like it didnât want to interrupt. Even the fading light of the sun, slipping lower and lower behind the horizon, stretched itself thin, lingering just a little longer.
Like the universe was giving him time.
Giving you time.
It all blurred into the background.
Because in that moment, the only thing that existed was him.
The way his gaze softened when it landed on you, like you were something he could never quite believe was real. The way his thumb would brush lightly along your cheek, slow and absentminded, as if memorizing the exact shape of your face. As if committing you to memory without even realizing he was doing it.
His lips would find yours.
There was never any rush in the way he kissed you. Never any urgency to take more than what you were already giving. It wasnât desperate. It wasnât demanding.
It was certain.
Certain in a way that made your chest ache even then, though you didnât understand why at the time. Like he knew you werenât going anywhere. Like he believed, wholeheartedly, that this, you, him, the ocean, the sunsets, would always be there waiting.
Like he had all the time in the world to love you.
And you could feel it in every second of it.
In the way his lips pressed against yours, slow, lingering, just a fraction longer than necessary. Your fingers would curl into his shirt without thinking, holding onto him instinctively, like your body already understood something your mind didnât, that this was something worth keeping.
That this was something that mattered.
âPretty,â heâd murmur against your mouth, his voice low and warm, breath fanning softly across your lips.
The word would melt into you, quiet and sincere.
Youâd roll your eyes like it didnât affect you. âYou say that every time,â youâd mumble, your voice softer than you intended, your forehead brushing against his.
âBecause itâs true every time,â heâd reply, without hesitation.
And then heâd kiss you again, but softer this time that felt slower, and deeper.
His hand would slide to the back of your neck, holding you there gently, his thumb tracing slow circles just beneath your ear.
Youâd lean into him without thinking because being close to him felt naturalÂ
You thought those moments were endless.
You thought there would always be another sunset. Another laugh. Another kiss waiting just around the corner. You thought time was something generous, something that would stretch for you because you wanted it to.
You thought the sunsets would keep coming, one after another, with him sitting beside you every single time. That no matter how many days passed, heâd always be there when the sky turned gold.
You thought the warmth of his arms would always find you. That his laughter would always fill the spaces between your thoughts. That his lips would always meet yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You thought all of it was permanent.
You didnât realize you were memorizing it.
The exact weight of his hand against your cheek. The way his voice softened when he called you pretty. The rhythm of his breathing when you rested against him. The way the world felt quieter, kinder, when he was close.
You didnât realize your heart was holding onto every detail because somewhere deep down, it knew.
It knew this wasnât forever.
And by the time you understood thatâ
it was already gone.
That was the cruelest part, not the leaving, not the silence, not even the empty space he carved into your life.
It was the innocence of that morning. The way it felt ordinary. The way the sunlight filtered through your curtains like it always did, soft and golden, brushing across his face as he stood by your door with nervous excitement in his eyes.
There were no warning signs. No dramatic music swelling in the background. Just him, your boyfriend, adjusting the strap of his bag and smiling at you like heâd be back in a few hours.
He told you he had an audition.
He said it casually at first, like it was something small. Like it didnât carry the weight of a future behind it. He had always loved music. Always hummed under his breath, tapped rhythms on your thigh absentmindedly, sang into the ocean wind like it was his personal stage. But he said this was just a chance. Just a âwhat if.â Just a dream he wanted to test the waters with.
âI donât even know if anything will happen,â he had shrugged, almost shy.
You believed him.
You wanted to believe him.
You supported him. Of course you did. You stood in front of him that morning and held his face in your hands, your palms warm against his cheeks, your thumbs brushing softly under his eyes like you were steadying him. You told him he was talented. That he was special. That theyâd be stupid not to see it. You smiled so brightly he didnât see the flicker of fear behind it.
You kissed him before he left.
You stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his. The kind of kiss youâd shared a hundred times before. No desperation. No finality. Just routine affection. He smiled against your mouth, hands resting comfortably at your waist.
âBring me back a star,â you teased, grinning up at him.
His eyes crinkled in that way you loved, the way that made you feel like the only person in the world.
âIâll bring you the whole sky.â
You laughed.
You thought heâd be back for dinner.
You even planned what you were going to say when he walked in, some dramatic gasp, maybe a playful bow if he failed. You pictured him shrugging it off, collapsing onto your couch, pulling you into his lap while complaining about nerves.
Instead, he came back with trembling hands and shining eyes.
You knew before he spoke.
There was something different in his posture. Something electric in the way he stepped inside. His breath was uneven, not from running, but from adrenaline. His fingers twitched like he didnât know where to put them.
âI passed,â he said, voice barely above a whisper, like saying it too loudly might make it disappear.
Your heart stopped.
He was going to debut.
You remembered how your smile froze for half a second too long before stretching wider. You threw your arms around him immediately, because thatâs what you were supposed to do. You hugged him tight, telling him you were proud. That you knew it. That you always knew.
And you meant it.
You were proud.
But beneath the pride, something else bloomed â something heavy and sinking and inevitable.
Because you knew.
You knew what that meant.
Training schedules that stretched past midnight. Dorm rooms filled with strangers. Managers. Cameras. Fans. Interviews. A life that demanded perfection and privacy and sacrifice.
A world that didnât have space for you.
He held you that night on the beach.
The same beach.
The sand felt colder under you. The wind sharper. The sky burned in shades of red, not soft rose or gentle coral, but deep, violent crimson, like the horizon itself was splitting open. It felt like a warning. Like an omen neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
âI donât want to lose you,â he whispered into your hair, his voice trembling in a way you had never heard before.
You wrapped your arms tighter around him immediately, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like you could keep him anchored by force alone.
âThen donât,â you said, the words breaking on the way out.
He didnât answer right away.
And his silence was louder than any confession.
It stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the truth in it. The understanding that some dreams demand everything. That sometimes love is not enough to compete with destiny.
He kissed you like he was memorizing you.
His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadnât realized were falling. His lips moved against yours with a kind of aching tenderness that made your knees weak. Not rushed. Not careless. Every second deliberate. Every touch lingering.
Like he was trying to store the feeling, because he knew heâd need it later.
âYouâre my home,â he murmured against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven.
And you believed him.
You believed that home was permanent. That it couldnât be taken away. That if two people loved each other enough, the world would bend around them.
But homes can burn down.
And sometimes, people choose their dreams over the ones who love them, not because they love you less, but because they love the dream differently.
He left two weeks later.
There wasnât a dramatic fight. No screaming. No shattered glass or slammed doors. No betrayal you could point at and blame.
Just distance.
It started small.
Texts that came a little later than usual. Replies that felt shorter. Phone calls cut off because he had practice. Because he was tired. Because he had schedules.
You told yourself it was temporary.
Late replies turned into missed calls. Missed calls turned into apologies. Apologies turned into exhaustion in his voice. And then, slowly, heartbreakingly, they turned into silence.
The last thing he sent you was a picture of a sunset.
A city skyline you didnât recognize stretched across the bottom of the frame. The sky was fading into orange and gray behind tall buildings. It was beautiful, in a distant, unfamiliar way.
It wasnât as pretty as yours.
It wasnât as warm.
It didnât have sand between your toes or his arm around your shoulders.
There was no caption.
No âI miss you.â
No âI love you.â
Just the image.
You stared at it for a long time.
Your fingers hovered over the screen, ready to type something, anything, to bridge the growing gap.
But what could you say?
That you felt him slipping away?
That every sunset without him felt like losing him again?
That you were scared he was already gone?
You didnât answer. You didnât need to. The silence said everything.
And somewhere between the waves and the skyline, between the dream and the girl who loved him, he let go first.
You told everyone you were fine.
You perfected the smile. The casual shrug. The âwe just grew apartâ explanation delivered with a softness that made it sound mutual. You laughed at the right moments. You nodded when people said, âYouâll find someone better.â You pretended the ache in your chest was just nostalgia, harmless, distant, manageable.
At night, when your room was quiet and your phone screen stopped lighting up with distractions, you would lie on your back and stare at the ceiling, whispering to yourself that you were okay. That you were stronger than this. That love wasnât supposed to feel like an amputation.
You told yourself you had moved on.
You repeated it so often it almost felt true. You deleted old photos, or at least moved them into a hidden folder you never stopped reopening. You stopped checking his name online. You forced yourself not to search for interviews, not to look for glimpses of him in crowds. You built a routine without him. You learned how to exist in the empty space he left behind.
You dated once.Â
He was kind, patient, and chill.
You tried. You really did.
You let him take you to dinner. You let him hold your hand. You let him kiss you goodnight outside your door.
But when his lips touched yours, there was no earthquake. No familiar warmth that unraveled your spine. It was pleasant. Polite.
It wasnât him.
He didnât pull you into his chest like you were something he needed to protect. He didnât whisper pet names like they were sacred secrets meant only for you. He didnât look at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
No one wrapped a towel around you the same way. No one kissed you like you were something holy.
So you kept coming back here.
Every week.
Rain or shine. Cold or warm. You would sit in the same stretch of sand as if it were reserved for you, as if the beach itself recognized your grief and made room for it. You told yourself it was habit. Muscle memory. That your body just didnât know where else to go when the sky started bleeding into evening.
But the truth was uglier.
You were waiting.
You told yourself you werenât. You rolled your eyes at your own foolishness. âHeâs not coming back,â you would whisper as the tide rolled in. âYouâre being ridiculous.â
And yet.
Every time a silhouette appeared in the distance, your heart would jump violently in your chest before logic crushed it back down.
Every time you heard laughter behind you, youâd stiffen.
Every time the wind brushed against your neck just right, youâd swear it felt like him.
The sky was turning lavender now, soft purples blending into deepening blues. The sun dipped lower, painting the water in molten gold that shimmered and fractured across the waves. It was breathtaking.
It was unbearable.
Your chest tightened again, a slow, squeezing pressure that made it hard to breathe. You wiped your cheeks impatiently with the heel of your palm.
âGet over it,â you muttered to yourself, voice cracking. âItâs been years.â
Years.
He was probably famous now. Probably standing under blinding stage lights while thousands of people screamed his name. Probably smiling for cameras, signing albums, waving from airport gates.
Probably calling someone else baby.
The thought made your stomach twist so violently you had to press a hand against it.
âStop,â you whispered. âStop thinking like that.â
You hugged yourself tighter, arms wrapped around your own torso like you could hold your broken pieces together. The wind picked up suddenly, sharp and cool, carrying the scent of salt and something achingly familiar.
Your breath hitched.
You closed your eyes.
And for one fragile second, you let yourself pretend.
You could almost feel it, strong arms sliding around your waist from behind, pulling you into a familiar chest. You could almost feel the warmth of him at your back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing against your shoulder.
You could almost hear it, that low, quiet laugh he used to let out when you got dramatic. The one that vibrated softly against your ear.
Your throat tightened painfully.
âStop,â you whispered to yourself again, shaking your head. âStop pretending heâs here.â
âY/N.â
Your heart stopped.
The sound didnât feel imagined. It cut through the wind too clearly. Too solid.
You froze.
You had imagined it before. The voice. The footsteps. The presence behind you. Grief was cruel like that, it replayed memories so vividly they felt alive.
Sometimes you imagined him walking out of the ocean like some kind of miracle.
Sometimes you imagined him standing behind you, hesitant, unsure.
You didnât turn around.
You were afraid that if you did, and no one was there, something inside you would finally snap for good.
âY/N.â
Your breath caught so sharply it felt like something inside your chest tore.
For a second, you didnât move. Didnât breathe. Didnât even blink.
Because if you turned around, if you looked, and he wasnât there⌠you didnât think you could survive that kind of disappointment again.
Slowly, painfully slowly, you turned your head.
And there he was.
Keonho.
Not softened by time. Not blurred by memory. Not a cruel trick your mind was playing on you.
Him.Â
Heâs real.
Standing a few feet away like he had just stepped out of every memory youâd been trying to bury.
His hair was darker now, shorter, styled but messy from the wind. His shoulders broader, posture straighter, like the world had shaped him into someone stronger, someone more put together.
But his eyesâ
His eyes hadnât changed at all.
Still soft and warm. Still looking at you like you were something he could lose again.
You stared at him like he might disappear if you blinked.
âYouâreâŚâ Your voice broke completely. Your throat tightened so painfully you couldnât even finish the sentence.
He took a step closer. Like you were something fragile he didnât have the right to touch anymore.
âI came back,â he said quietly.
And something inside you snapped.
âWhy?â The word tore out of you, sharp and shaking. âWhy now?â Your voice cracked, rising without your permission. âWhy would you come back now, Keonho?â
He flinched. His hands trembled at his sides as he swallowed hard, eyes glossy.
âBecause I kept looking at sunsets in other countries,â he said, voice uneven, breaking between words, âand they never looked right.â
A broken laugh ripped out of you.
âThatâs not fair,â you said, shaking your head, tears spilling faster now. âYou donât get to say that. You donât get to come back and say things like that like it fixes anything.â
âI know,â he whispered. âI know I donât.â
There were only a few steps between you. But it felt like years stretched across the sand.
âI thought leaving was the right thing,â he continued, voice cracking. âI thought if I made it⌠if I became someone⌠I could come back and deserve you.â
Something in your chest twisted violently.
âDeserve me?â you repeated, your voice rising again. âYou think thatâs what I needed?â
Your tears were falling uncontrollably now.
âYou already did,â you choked out, your voice breaking apart. âYou were already enough. You were everything.â
His face crumpled.
âI wasnât,â he said, barely holding himself together. âI was scared. I thought Iâd hold you back. I thought you deserved someone betterââ
âI didnât want better!â you cried, your voice echoing across the empty beach. âI didnât want bigger, or stronger, or famousâ I wanted you!â
The words ripped out of you like theyâd been trapped for years.
âI waited for you,â you continued, sobbing now, your chest heaving. âDo you know how long I waited? Do you know how many nights I stared at my phone hoping youâd call me?â
He shook his head slightly, tears spilling down his own face now.
âI dated someone,â you said, your voice trembling harder. âI tried to move on. I really did. He was nice. He was everything a person is supposed to wantââ
Your voice broke completely.
âBut every time he touched me, it wasnât you,â you whispered, shaking your head violently. âEvery time he kissed me, I kept thinking about you. I kept wishing it was you.â
Keonhoâs breathing hitched, his shoulders shaking.
âI couldnât love him,â you sobbed. âBecause I never stopped loving you.â
Silence shattered around you, filled only with your broken breathing and the sound of waves crashing too loudly against the shore.
âYou left me,â you whispered, your voice smaller now but somehow more painful. âYou left me here⌠and I didnât know how to stop loving you.â
Tears streamed down his face freely now.
âI know,â he said, voice cracking completely. âI know, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I did that to you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was justââ his voice broke, ââI was just a coward.â
âYou were,â you said, not even hesitating.
He nodded.
âI was,â he agreed, his voice shaking. âI was a coward who walked away from the only person who ever felt like home.â
Your chest tightened painfully at that.
âI never stopped loving you,â he said again, stepping closer despite the tears blurring his vision. âNot once. Not when I was on stage. Not when people screamed my name. Not when I was surrounded by everyone else.â
His voice dropped into something quieter. More fragile.
âIâd go back to empty rooms and wish you were there. Iâd look at sunsets and think about you sitting here alone and it killed me.â
âYou shouldâve come back sooner,â you whispered.
âI know,â he said immediately, his voice breaking. âI shouldâve.â
There was barely any space between you now.
âCan IâŚâ His voice trembled. âCan I hold you? Please. Justâjust once.â
You shouldâve said no.
You shouldâve turned away.
Instead, you broke.
You stepped forward and collided into him, your hands gripping his shirt as a sob tore out of your chest.
And the moment his arms wrapped around youâ
everything shattered.
He held you like he was terrified youâd disappear, his grip tight, desperate, his face buried into your hair as his shoulders shook.
âIâm so sorry,â he kept whispering, over and over, his voice breaking each time. âIâm so sorry, baby, Iâm so sorry.â
You clung to him just as tightly, your fingers digging into his back as you cried into his chest.
âYou hurt me,â you sobbed. âYou hurt me so bad.â
âI know,â he cried. âI know, I knowâIâm sorryââ
âI couldnât breathe without you,â you choked out. âEverything reminded me of you. The beach, the sunsets, everythingââ
âI know,â he repeated helplessly, his voice wrecked.
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
His face was soaked with tears.
So was yours.
He reached up instinctively, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands, just like he used to.
âStill crying at sunsets?â he tried, but his voice completely broke halfway through.
You let out a shattered laugh.
âEvery week,â you whispered.
That destroyed him.
âGod,â he sobbed softly, pressing his forehead against yours. âI didnât know. I didnât know it was this bad.â
âYou didnât ask,â you whispered again.
âI know,â he said, closing his eyes tightly. âI know.â
He leaned down slowly, so slowly it almost hurt to watch, his movements hesitant, restrained, like every instinct in him was telling him to close the distance but fear was still holding him back by the collar.
His eyes flickered between yours, searching, asking, begging without words. Giving you an out. Giving you time to step back, to turn away, to protect yourself from him all over again.
You didnât.
You couldnât.
Not when he was right there. Not when he was real.
The second his lips touched yours, it shattered any illusion of control either of you had left.
It hit you like a wave breaking too hard against the shore, sudden, overwhelming, impossible to brace for. Years of suppressed longing unraveled in an instant, every unsent text, every sleepless night, every quiet âI miss youâ whispered into empty space pouring into that single point of contact.
His mouth moved against yours like he was starving, like heâd been deprived of this for far too long and didnât know how to take it slowly anymore.
His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading tightly into your hair, not rough, but firm, anchoring, like he needed to keep you there, needed to make sure you wouldnât slip through his hands again.Â
Your hands grabbed onto his shirt almost painfully, fists bunching the fabric, pulling him closer until there was no space left between your bodies, like you were trying to erase the years that had existed without him.
The kiss turned messy almost immediately.
Your breaths collided, uneven and desperate, breaking apart only for a second before crashing back together again. Your lips missed, found each other again, clung, over and over, like neither of you could get enough, like every second apart, even for air, felt wrong.
You could taste everything.
Salt from your tears.
Salt from his.
The faint, familiar warmth of him that hadnât changed, even after all this time.
A broken sound escaped you, half sob, half gasp, and he swallowed it, kissing you deeper, more urgently, like he didnât want to hear your pain, like he wanted to replace it with something else. His thumb pressed against your jaw, trembling slightly, and you realizedâ
He was shaking.
His lips faltered for just a second, not pulling away, just⌠weakening, like the weight of everything between you was catching up to him too. A quiet, wrecked sound left him against your mouth, something fragile and human that youâd never heard from him before.
âIââ he tried, but the word dissolved the second it left him, replaced by another kiss, deeper this time, more emotional than anything else, less about urgency, more about need. About holding on.
Your grip tightened instinctively, like your body was afraid heâd disappear mid-kiss, like this was all some cruel, fleeting moment youâd wake up from.
He kissed you like he couldnât breathe without you.
Like he hadnât been breathing without you.
Like every day he spent away had been something he survived, not lived.
And it poured out of him in the way his lips lingered too long, in the way he kept coming back even when he pulled away for air, in the way his forehead pressed briefly against yours before he dove back in again, unable to stop, unwilling to.
When he finally pulled back, it wasnât because he wanted to.
It was because he had to.
Both of you were trembling, your bodies still pressed together, your foreheads resting against each other like that small point of contact was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your breaths came out uneven, mingling in the space between you, warm and shaky and completely out of sync.
His eyes didnât open right away. When they did, they were glassy and overwhelmed. His nose brushed lightly against yours as he exhaled, a broken, unsteady breath leaving him like heâd been holding it in for years.
âBaby,â he whispered, voice trembling, completely wrecked. âIâm so sorry.â
You closed your eyes, tears slipping down again.
âI never stopped loving you,â he said, barely audible. âNot once. Not ever.â
Your chest heaved.
âYou broke me,â you whispered.
âI know,â he cried softly. âAnd Iâve been broken without you too.â
The last bit of sunlight disappeared completely, leaving only twilight wrapped around both of you.
You didnât know what tomorrow would look like. You didnât know if he would stay. You didnât know if your heart could survive this again.
But as he slipped his jacket over your shoulders and pulled you back into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let goâ
hit me with your psi-blast!
ę¨.. â â taesan x f! reader. as part of the xs and os x-men au series!
synopsis: dongmin is your enemy - in every sense of the word. with the intersquad tournament coming up, there's only one thing in your mind - crush han dongmin once and for all, even if it comes with fireworks and explosions. (wc 15.3k)
tags: enemies/rivals to lovers, x-men au.
a/n: you can read woonhak & sungho's fic set in the same universe here!
WEEK ONE, WEDNESDAY (4PM): X-MANSION LIBRARY
you were going to kill han dongmin, revive him, and kill him again.
âwow, thinking about me like that? you really are obsessed with me,â dongmin smirks from across you, the chess piece still floating in the middle of his palm.
âmake your fucking move,â you seethe, staring at the checkerboard.
dongmin places down his piece, âcheckmate.â
you resist the urge to lunge across the table and choke him out.
âwoah,â dongmin dramatically winces, pulling back in mock hurt as he wraps his arms around himself, âi didnât know you were into freaky stuff like that.â
â[y/n], no!â chaewon grabs you before you telekinetically flip the table in your anger and wring dongminâs neck out like a towel, âno killing dongmin!â
âlet me at him!â you yell.
âthat man is not worth an expulsion to the pit!â yunjin grabs your arms in an attempt to subdue you.
you freeze suddenly, and dongmin blinks innocently at you, a smile curving onto his face.
âyou know what? youâre so right, yunjin. he is so not worth being sent to the pit.â
you sit back in your chair and chaewon breathes out a loud sigh of relief.
âiâll just make sure heâs in the right place at the right time next time weâre playing whack-a-mole in the danger room.â
you crack your knuckles and dongmin smirks.
âyeah? iâd like to see you try.â
WEEK ONE, THURSDAY (9AM): CLASSROOM 530
âalright class, settle down,â professor kwon announces, his tablet glowing as he begins to shakily write words on the chalkboard - fighting with, against, and using telepathy and the likes, the thin piece of chalk too fragile within his claws, âfrom our last session, what are the three cardinal rules of telepathic combat?â
your hand shoots up immediately, but dongminâs smug voice echoes in your head before you can speak.
donât strain yourself, dummy. iâll handle this one. he drawls as he raises his hand up as well.
i will end you. your mind voice seethes.
âmr han, since you seem so eager, please share with the class.â
dongmin leans back in his chair two rows behind you - you can feel his satisfaction and smugness radiating like heat from a stove, âmaintain your shields, never force entry into a guarded mind, and always have an exit strategy.â
âperfect. good job, mr. han.â
you twist around in your seat to glare at him. he wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. woonhak sweats between the two of you and pretends not to notice your obvious stare by staring down at the table.
âmiss [l/n], please face forward,â professor kwon sighs, âitâs been two years, i swear, you two are still the same. you never learn.â
âprofessor! itâs not my fault heâs an irritating, grade-grubbing, unethic -â
âthat was not an invitation to tell us about your personal and interrelational grievances,â professor kwon interrupts, tapping his chalk against his whiteboard. you clench your fists as you deflate in your seat.
beside you, chaewon scribbles furiously in her notebook and slides it over: youâre going to give yourself a mental aneurysm before finals.
yunjin leans over from your other side, whispering, âtwenty bucks they make out by the winter ball.â
âwhat?!â you yelp out loud. your cheeks burn. you hadnât been thinking about that. not exactly. maybe once - in a nightmare.
the entire classroom turns to stare at you.
professor kwon pulls down his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, âdetention. both of you. next friday after combat training.â
âme?â dongmin points a finger at himself, clueless, âbut i didnât do anything? she was the one who yelled out loud.â
âno, you definitely did something,â professor kwon gives a knowing look and shakes his head, offering no further clarification or information, much to dongminâs chagrin.
WEEK ONE, THURSDAY (12PM): THE QUAD
âi fucking hate han dongmin,â you fume, aggressively stabbing your pasta, âi canât believe he got me detention.â
kazuha pats your shoulder sympathetically while eunchae tries not to giggle into her sandwich.
âto be fair,â chaewon says diplomatically, âyou both kind of brought this on yourselves.â
âabsolutely notâ you whip your head around to stare at her, âhe started it! heâs always in my mind, always one-upping me in class, always -â
âliving rent-free in your head?â yunjin grins like a cat.
you launch a cherry tomato at her with your mind. she squeals and dodges.
across the quad, you can see dongminâs squad lounging under their usual tree. donghyun is explaining something, the birds perched on his finger animatedly performing what seems like the worldâs most dramatic reenactment of romeo and juliet while woonhak laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench. dongmin, infuriatingly, is already looking directly at you.
he raises his juice box in a mock toast.
enjoy your lunch, partner, his voice purrs through your mental link. next time, donât get us into detention?
itâs not like i wanted to, you mutter.
i think you just want to spend more one-on-one time with me, dongmin arches an eyebrow at you, tantalising smirk dancing on his face.
you slam your mental shields up.
kazuha shakes her head as you stab your fork through the container of your pasta, the aluminium no match for your rage.
eunchae snorts, â[y/n] so going to murder him by the winter ball.â
âthe winter ball is in, like, a month,â chaewon points out.
âexactly.â
WEEK TWO, WEDNESDAY (2PM): DANGER ROOM
âalright, everyone,â sakura claps her hands, âtoday weâre doing something you all will be quite familiar with. individual assessment in the danger room. whack-a-mole scenario.â
the class groans collectively.
âand for anyone new or somehow forgot over the summer,â sakura continues, âthis is a free-for-all simulation. the arena floor will randomly generate blocks that drop from above or shoot up from below. your job is simple: donât get squished. last person standing wins.â
this is barbaric, kazuha mumbles through your mental link.
tell me about it, yunjin groans.
remember chaewonâs trip and flip? eunchae giggles.
hey! chaewon says indignantly. i thought we promised we werenât going to bring that up ever again! that block was in my blind spot!
âin the field, threats come from everywhere,â sakura says diplomatically, like she heard your grievances through your telepathy, âyou need to maintain constant awareness. use whatever abilities you have. adapt or get eliminated.â
âdefine eliminated?â woonhak asks nervously, fiddling with his fingers.
âthe blocks are simply a simulation. theyâll stop a few centimeters from actual contact and register you as âoutâ. but theyâre programmed to feel real, so i suggest not testing them,â sakura smiles mysteriously, âany questions?â
yunjin raises her hand, âare we allowed to sabotage each other?â
âof course,â sakura says, too breezily, âallâs fair in this game. this is about survival and tactics, after all.â
you canât help but glance across the prep area. dongmin is already looking at you, and his smirk makes you want to put him through a paper shredder until heâs mush.
confident? his voice slides into your mind, smug as ever.
incredibly, you counter. remember when you said youâd like to see me try to get you?
vaguely, dongmin drawls, i donât really remember such insignificant things.
you grit your teeth. watch yourself, han dongmin. todayâs the day i destroy you.Â
youâre welcome to try. but you might want to worry about your own survival first.
oh, i can multitask.
âeveryone, the danger room is open!â sakura calls, âyou have a minute to find your starting positions. once the simulation begins, blocks will begin spawning. they will get faster and more frequent as time goes on. good luck!â
the door hisses open. the arena is set up as a wide open space. no cover, nowhere to hide. just a flat expanse where blocks can spawn from any direction without warning.
twenty students fan out across the floor, eyeing each other warily.
you position yourself near the center - for maximum awareness of the space. dongmin, naturally, takes a position directly across from you. even from here, you can feel the subtle prod of his attention focused on you through the permanent mental link you and him somehow have.
youâre staring, you project.
just making sure i know where you are. for when the blocks start dropping, he replies casually.
thoughtful. you know - iâm really going to enjoy watching you get flattened.Â
âbegin!â sakuraâs voice echoes through the chamber.
for exactly three seconds, nothing happens.
then the first block drops.
itâs massive, easily two meters across, and it falls from the ceiling with terrifying speed, aimed directly for a student near the east wall. they barely manage to roll away in time as the block slams into the floor with a loud, echoing, metallic clang before disappearing into pixels.
two more blocks shoot up from the floor simultaneously. one student gets clipped and vanishes in a flash of light - eliminated.
ânineteen left!â sakura announces.
the blocks start coming faster. drop from above. shoot from below. sometimes it gets quirky and does both at once. donghyun jogs after a dog that trots across the floor far too leisurely for the situation and gets nicked, disappearing into pixels. you telekinetically nudge a block away from you and scan the space with your mind, simultaneously juggling perspectives from a few select students. woonhak is yelling triumphantly in his mind about how his powers are suddenly in sync with what he needs. eunchae is standing in the corner and actively hacking the simulation with her technology manipulation so none of the blocks even dare touch her. chaewon is repeating donât trip like a mantra in her mind. you learn to dodge left, sidestep right, and throw up a telekinetic shove if a block or person gets too close.
and out of the corner of your eye, you can always see han dongmin.
his reflexes are good - infuriatingly so. heâs always moving right before a block appears, like he can sense them coming. he hasnât even broken a sweat.
tired? he projects mockingly, i can feel your mental signal around the entire room.Â
he dodges three blocks in rapid succession, spinning into another corner.
not even close, you hiss.
well, i could do this all day, he drags out his vowels. really emphasising how much of a walk in the park this is. fucking loser.
ooh, touch a nerve? you can hear his grin through his taunt, scared youâll lose first?
you elect to ignore his idiotic comments and watch his pattern instead. he favours moving to his right, and heâs cocky enough that heâs not paying attention to the students around him, just the blocks falling from the sky or blooming from below.
iâve got you, han dongmin.
a block spawns to dongminâs left. he moves right - exactly as you predicted. you reach out with your telekinesis and give the block a little extra push, changing its trajectory as it falls down. the block trails after him, moving horizontally in his direction.
hey! dongminâs angry voice fills your mind as he ungracefully swerves and dives forward to avoid getting hit. thatâs cheating!
itâs tactics! you shoot back gleefully.
students start to drop like flies.
âten left!â
the blocks are spawning faster now, more unpredictably. youâre breathing harder now, and thereâs less minds to see through. youâre splitting your focus between survival and sabotage - specifically just sabotaging dongmin. every time he dodges, youâre there. every time he telekinetically pushes a block away, youâre there. every time he telepathically tries to reach out, youâre there.
youâre really committed to this.
dongminâs annoyance is palpable as he barely avoids two block you definitely redirected at him
i said iâd get you!
bad news then! youâre going to have to try harder!
he retaliates by telekinetically shoving you backwards towards a spawning block. you immediately throw up a telekinetic barrier and the block bounces off your shield, nearly hitting kazuha - who disintegrates it into ash just in time.
âsorry!â you yell.
âif you could stop flirting!â kazuha suggests before rolling away.
âi wasnât -!â you gape, side stepping a block that solidly blocks kazuha from your view, effectively ending your attempt at a debate.
flirting? dongminâs mental voice is amused, is this what this is? do you talk to your squadmates about us?
iâm going to kill you.
aw, is that our version of i love you?
another three students get eliminated in quick succession. woonhak gets eliminated with a dramatic noooooo as he finds himself stuck between two blocks. eunchae screams as someone bumps into her and distracts her long enough for a block to squarely fall onto the both of them. the arena is getting so crowded with blocks spawning so fast thereâs barely room to move.
âseven left!â
youâre starting to tire. maintaining telekinetic control is draining your mental reserves faster than youâd like, even after giving up those telepathic connections. but youâre not stopping here, not when dongmin is still standing. you could come second, but itâs only if han dongmin isnât first.
students get tagged one by one. chaewon gets shoved into a wall by another student and is immediately shot into the sky by a block and kazuha doesnât manage to dodge a series of unfortunately timed blocks. meanwhile, dongmin is starting to look panicked too, eyes wide as he flips away from a block in the nick of time.
âthree left!â
you. dongmin. yunjin.
you lock eyes with dongmin. he smirks at you. yunjin eyes dart between you two and she sighs in defeat.
âscrew this. i hate you two.â
she steps directly into the trajectory of a falling block, eliminating herself from the competition.
âtwo left!â sakura calls.
looks like itâs just you and me, partner, he teases.
donât ever call me that. itâs disgusting, you hiss.
a block drops directly above. you sense it fast enough and dodge it - straight into dongminâs path. you smack into him, hard, and suddenly youâre both scrambling as blocks spawn around you in rapid succession.
move left! he projects urgently.
you move left! you yell back.
the two of you both dodge left in perfect synchronisation, narrowly avoiding two blocks that wouldâve eliminated you both. for a moment, dongmin is pressed into your side, surrounded by falling blocks and rising squares.
this is all your fault, he notes.
screw you! you shove him into the trajectory of a falling block as you stand back up straight.
hey, that wasnât very nice, he tuts as you wrench yourself away from him.
you spot your opening: three blocks about to spawn in sequence, creating a perfect trap if you time it just right. you wait until dongmin has a split moment of nonreaction and telekinetically implant a suggestion of a block spawning behind him -Â
he jerks forward, right into the path of the actual blocks.
but he realises your trick far too quickly for your liking.
the first one drops, and he rolls smoothly under it.
the second one shoots up from the floor. he jumps, easily hurdling over it.
the third one descends, and he looks like heâs about to clear it until -
you push out a hand, and dongminâs eyes widen as you telekinetically shove him back, straight into the shadow of the box. then, you feel his telekinesis wrap around you and suddenly youâre being yanked forward, straight into his -
ew, ew, ew! you mentally scream. get your filthy hands off me!
dongminâs arms only tighten around you as the two of you tumble onto the floor. the block slams down with a force of a thousand suns, and you let out loud oof! as you feel dongminâs entire weight and more crush down onto you, his arms braced around your head as the block disappears behind his head in a flash of light and the simulation powers down. his breath is warm against your neck. for a second, you didnât move; for a second, neither did he.
âfirst place, [y/n] [l/n]. second, han dongmin. third, huh yunjin. good work, everyone,â sakuraâs polite and carefully placid voice rings out from the intercom. you can hear yunjin gleefully scream kiss, kiss, kiss! through both your mental link and the background of the intercom. eunchae updates you with a quirk in her voice.
so glad i invested early in the poll. itâs at sixty-three percent now.
what poll? you say a little too quickly and harshly.
whether you and dongmin will get together by the end of the school term? eunchae says innocently.
what?!
i mean - if it helps, twenty one percent think youâll kill each other, and the rest think somehow both will happen.
i voted for all three, yunjin sounds like sheâs crying with how hard sheâs laughing. iâm getting a cash out either way!
then there better be a poll on whether our squad will break up, too!
you throw dongmin off of you unceremoniously as you jump to your feet.
âa little thank you would be nice? i got you first place, you know? even though you cheated. which, by the way, is extremely typical for you.â
you look down at dongmin, red hair messy from the exercise as it droops down into his eyes. his chest heaves up and down in exhaustion.
âi didnât ask for you to do that,â you hiss, âso iâm not going to thank you.â
what use was first place when you didnât even beat dongmin on your own terms? you have to look into how to stop involuntary movement because of telekinesis after this.
you stomp away, hellbent on shutting down eunchaeâs betting pool and getting to the library before dongmin can check out all the books you wanted and not return them for two weeks like he did last time.
see you friday, dongminâs presence is still in your head, as it always is. detention, remember?
unfortunately.
you tap your foot against the floor as you wait for the danger roomâs security protocol to power down so you can open the door and get out of this hell hole.
you love it. you love me.
in your dreams, han dongmin. i hate you.
must be a dream then, he replies far too cheerfully for your liking. because i think i heard you say in your head once how good-looking i -
you cut the connection before he could finish that sentence, cheeks burning, but your head still hums with the echo of his presence - like a song you couldnât shake. annoying, persistent, ever-present.
WEEK TWO, FRIDAY (5PM): X-MANSION LIBRARY
âsince youâre both telekinetics,â sungho raises an eyebrow, âyou can start with organising all of these books.â
he points to the whole trolley of books before him. you nod - easy peasy, youâll get them on the shelves and then get the hell out of here. a second longer spent with han dongmin is a second longer spent in hell.
you more or less snatch the list of books from sungho and gestures for dongmin to take the trolley.
âyou push, i sort,â you bark, already scanning the list. someone seems to have taken out the entire history of the mutantkind section of the library.
âiâm not going to take orders from you,â dongmin crosses his arms.
âjust do it,â you hiss.
ânope,â he has the gall to turn his head away and pretend he doesnât hear you.
âhan dongmin -!â
you surge forward and yank his collar towards you as he lets out a squeak at the sudden action. sunghoâs polite cough stops you from chucking dongmin out the window of the 3rd floor library through sheer will and a little help from telekinesis.
âi would suggest starting soon if you want to be completed before nightfall,â sunghoâs eyes shift between you two, âand a word of advice - keep romance out of professional relationships.â
âromance?â you splutter. dongminâs collar is gripped in your fist as the two of you whip around to look at sungho.
âright, because this -â dongmin points between the two of you, âis the definition of romance.â
âi would rather die than consider dongmin a rom - roman - ugh, i canât even say it!â you let dongmin fall to the ground as you release your hold on his collar. he lets out a soft ouch! when his bum hits the floor, and you step quickly away like he has the plague.
âbesides, youâre one to talk about romance in working relationships,â dongmin raises an eyebrow at sungho, who chokes on air and coughs loudly into his fist.
âthatâs different,â he argues weakly.
âyouâve been thinking about her ever since she arrived!â you accuse, âweâve been listening to sungho: the sad emo playlist this entire week.â
âiâm just worried about her!â sungho defends, before his eyes widen, âstop distracting me! go do your work!â
he stomps away, the most flustered youâve ever seen him, and settles into the corner of the library, book in hand. when you prod his mind you can hear him muttering about kids these days and touring and leaving -
âand keep out of my head,â sungho warns, mental shields slamming up so hard it gives you physical whiplash, jerking your head backwards. dongmin snickers and you glare at him.
âokay, fine,â you mutter, turning back to read the list - if only dongmin hadnât pulled it out of your grasp before you can.
âiâm better at memorisation,â dongmin angles his chin up at you, âso iâll do the list.â
âso does that mean you admit iâm the better telekinetic?â you raise an eyebrow at him.
ânot exactly - i still think you suck,â dongmin snipes back, âjust that your telekinesis is better than your goldfish memory.â
you snort, âsays the person who canât even remember our conversation from two days ago - hey!â
your conversation is interrupted by dongmin telekinetically shoving the trolley into your knees, you stumble and dongmin doubles over laughs, as if nearly crippling you was the funniest thing in the world.
âoh, come on. it was a light tap, donât be so dramatic,â dongmin gives one last laugh as you shove the trolley away from you.
âcongrats on learning an elementary skill,â you say, irritated.
âjust get moving,â dongmin rolls up the list and smacks you on the head with it.
sungho shakes his head and mutters to himself, âkids these days. all they do is bicker.â
he watches you make a book whack dongmin in the back of his head before landing on a shelf.
âwhy does this damn library have so many shelves?â
you troop through the library, finally complete with the history section.Â
dongmin raises an eyebrow, âyou tired?â
ânever,â you say snidely, even though the repetitive telekinetic movements are making you sleepy and the heater blasting doesnât help.
âi can feel your mental signature going haywire,â dongmin points out, âand you put the last three books in the wrong order.â
you watch as the three books reshuffle themselves on the shelf behind dongmin and you frown.
âmustâve been your fault for reading the list wrong,â you grumble, folding your ankles over each other and leaning against the bookshelf.
ânow, no need to lie to cover up your mistakes,â dongmin offers a wry smile, âbut for the sake of your dignity, i will accept it as my fault.â
you watch as he scans the list again with his brown eyes.
âcan you stop doing that?â you say, your sentence tinged with anger.
dongmin stops and sighs, âwhat is it?â
âyouâre always letting me get away with things,â you count on your fingers, âlast semesterâs volleyball match, professor kwonâs internship, the whack-a-mole from this week, now.â
you grumble, âstop going easy on me. i want to feel the satisfaction of crushing you fair and square, like the crunch of a bug under my shoe.â
dongmin raises an eyebrow, âand here i thought you cared about me. youâve picked a very weird thing to be angry about.â
âeven if you were the last person on earth, han dongmin, i would not give a flying fuck about you!â
âthatâs not what you said when we did the civilian saving simulation,â he raises the pitch of his voice, âyou were all like âoh my god, dongmin, are you okay? do you need help? stay with me - dongmin!ââ
you respond to him with a book to his forehead. the smack echoes between the shelves.
âshut up,â you hiss, cheeks burning, âi was acting - for the grade! you were a civilian - and a very bad one at that! couldnât stop squirming.â
dongmin peels the book off his face, grinning like a cat that got the cream, âokay, little miss actress, you deserve an award or something. very convincing.â
âiâll kill you, han dongmin,â you hiss.
âthatâs my girl,â dongmin says, almost proudly.
you were going to do it. one day - you were really going to kill him.
WEEK TWO, SATURDAY (12PM): SQUAD HQ
âokay party people!â
all of you jump when chaewon suddenly slaps her ruler against the whiteboard, eunchae squeaks and nearly drops her phone.
âlisten up! the intersquad comps are next week and we need to place at least top three,â chaewon bristles.
âbut weâre seventh,â kazuha points out, âthatâs like, second to last place.â
âi know,â chaewon emphasises, âwhich is why we need to put our best foot forward and beat everyone.â
âi donât think we got this,â yunjin shakes her head.
âi had eunchae crunch some numbers, and all we need is to at least get into finals and avoid this,â she points her ruler at the word scribbled at the top of the whiteboard.
âlosing?â you supply helpfully.
âexactly,â chaewon affirms with a satisfied nod.
âeasier said than done,â yunjin mumbles.
âi had eunchae run a simulation -â
âdid you make eunchae do everything?â
ânot right now - [y/n],â chaewon glares at you, âwhat i was going to say - losing is bad. but thereâs one thing worse than it.â
she tears away the paper from the whiteboard.
âenhypen?â yunjin gasps, slightly horrified.
âlosing enhypen?â kazuha stops, âwait - weâre not killing them, are we?â
âno, no, no,â chaewon slaps her ruler against the whiteboard, âwhat i meant was - losing to enhypen.â
the marker makes a squeak when she hastily adds on the word.
âshouldâve thought of adding that earlier,â eunchae quips.
âokay, letâs never speak of this again,â chaewon says gravely, âpoint is - enhypen is ranked first in squad rankings right now. if we can beat them, then weâll gain enough points to at least secure a top five ranking. itâs not ideal, but itâs good.â
âeunchae, pull up the brackets,â chaewon nods at eunchae, who dutifully projects the bracket onto the whiteboard. you track your squad name - if all goes to plan, you would meet enhypen at the semi-finals.
you scan the brackets for team koz - seeded on the opposite side, so that meansâŚ
âweâre going to the finals,â you say abruptly, far too quickly and rushed.
âgirl, what? do you know how hard - ohhh, you wanna beat dongmin, huh?â yunjin grins.
you cough, âno! yes? what i mean is - we need to get a good score!â
âit doesnât matter!â chaewon interrupts, âeveryone, we all need to be more [y/n]! eyes on prize! understood?â
kazuha parrots a yes while yunjin grins at you from across the circle.
you like him, admit it, she projects into your mind.
yunjin, youâre actually insane.
the people have spoken, eunchae cuts in. the kiss poll is at seventy two percent now. someone said they saw you kissing in the library during detention.
what? you say incredulously, nothing like that happened!
you can keep your secrets from us, yunjin says sagely, but weâll find out eventually.
thereâs nothing to keep secret! you fume.
âokay, people having a telepathic conversation while being in the same room!â chaewon flicks both of you in the forehead with her ruler and you wince, âbefore we think about crushing dongmin and team kozâs ass, we gotta deal with enhypen first.â
she points at the crude diagram sheâs scribbled onto the whiteboard, âfrom eunchae and iâs analysis, their center is also their leader - heeseung. get rid of him and the rest of the team will crumble.â
âmostly from my analysis!â eunchae chimes.
âignore her. point is, we need to get rid of him first - and fast.â
chaewon nods at eunchae again, and you watch as the projection flickers to a breakdown of team enhypen.
âheâs a level three telepath. not too strong, but their glue,â chaewon taps on heeseungâs profile and turns to look at you, âthankfully, we have a level five telepath. youâll be able to take him down, right?â
"i can do that,â you crack your knuckles.
âgood! always up for a challenge!â chaewon slaps her ruler against her palm and all if you jump again, "and thatâs why [y/n] has the highest combat score out of all of us!â
"okay, question?â kazuha holds up a finger, "theyâve got, like, two whole years of experience on us. how are we supposed to deal with that?â
âit doesnât matter, weâll catch up,â chaewon pulls out her phone and your own buzzes, âeunchae and i have collected and analysed their previous plays. you all need to get familiar with them.â
you pull out your phone and -Â
âthis is a five hour long video?â kazuha says, incredulousness and amazement mixed into a question.
âiâll watch all of it,â you say immediately.
âamazing! thatâs why youâre my favourite!â chaewon turns her gaze onto the other members of the team as yunjin lets out a quiet i thought i was your favouriteâŚ?
âso hereâs the deal, they seem to favour the jjj approach - opening with jake, jay, and jungwon. theyâre strong because they work together, and the key to that is heeseung, so its impertinent we take him out first. yunjin, youâre in charge of teleporting [y/n] close enough to heeseung so she can work her magic. eunchae and i will work on breaking through the triple j formation and kazuha - go burn sunghoon to a crisp or something.â
"why does it sound like weâre going to kill them?â kazuha whispers.
"weâll do whatever we need to win,â chaewon sighs and places a reassuring hand on kazuhaâs shoulder, as if losing enhypen was some kind of necessary evil.
"weâre so screwed,â yunjin sighs.
WEEK THREE, TUESDAY (2PM): THE QUAD
youâre glued to the screen of your tablet, your salad drooping from your fork as you watch, for the twentieth time, the five hour compilation of enhypen when chaewon suddenly slams it down.
"hey! i was watching -â you protest, indignant.
itâs them! enhypen! chaewon hisses through your mental link.
speak of the devil, eunchae wryly adds.
you twist and see them saunter onto the quad. all seven of them move with this effortless coordination thatâs honestly annoying. heeseung is at the front, saying something that makes sunoo laugh. they all look infuriatingly confident - extremely high and mighty. it makes you want to shove them through a car wash.
stop staring. i know youâve got a thing for red-haired telepaths but now is not the time, chaewon tuts.
what? iâm analysing.
no, youâre totally glaring, yunjin correct, thereâs a difference.
iâm engaging in tactical observation!
youâre doing something, kazuha finally says, ending the conversation effectively.
heeseung must have felt your gaze, because he glances over at you. for a second, your eyes meet, and he has the audacity to smirk and raise his fingers in a mock salute.
you crush kazuhaâs fork with your telekinesis.
âi was using that,â kazuha whispers sadly, staring helplessly at her bowl of spaghetti.
youâre staring, dongminâs voice suddenly appears in your head, and you realise heâs sitting three tables over with the rest of his squad, watching you with something indescribable in his eyes.
why is everyone saying that? you let out a frustrated groan. iâm analysing! observing!
youâve been obsessing over heeseung this entire weekend. it was like listening to a radio thatâs broken and wonât stop repeating.
i am not obsessing! heâs the key to beating enhypen!
sure he is.
whatâs that supposed to mean?
nothing. just interesting youâre focusing on him specifically.
you turn around to glare at dongmin. he waves cheerfully, as he always does, but his smile doesnât quite reach his eyes.
âstaring at me?â
you nearly jump out of your skin when heeseungâs voice tickles your ear.
âhow many times do i have to say it? i wasnât!â you hiss, pushing yourself back into kazuhaâs figure.
âsure, you werenât,â heeseung straightens up, his red hair flopping into his eyes as he flashes a sweet smile at you, âbut iâve been watching you.â
you narrow your eyes.
âlevel 5 telepath. youâre good at what you do.âÂ
you donât like how he sounds genuinely impressed.
âwhich is good -â jake cuts in, âbecause we prefer opponents who actually put up a fight. makes it more interesting when we win.â
âwhen?â you raise an eyebrow, âthatâs pretty confident for someone who hasnât even faced us yet.â
âweâve faced plenty,â sunghoon snipes, âyouâre not special.â
âwhat?â you stand up and all seven of them take a cautious, coordinated step backwards, âyou know what? maybe we will be!â
heeseung leans slightly closer, breaking from formation, and you notice his eyes are actually quite striking up close - sharp and intense.
"what about this? you manage to stand for more than five minutes against us, iâll save you a dance at the winter ball. call it a consolation prize.â
"resorting to extortion to get a date to the winter ball. no wonder no one wants to go with you!â you ball hands into fists at his smug smile, resisting the urge to fling him into the sun through sheer will and perfectly honed skill. chaewon and yunjin exchange glances from across the table.
should we stop them? you can hear them faintly converse at the back of your head.
nah, this is funny. yunjin replies.
âscared that you wouldnât make it pass five?â jay raises an eyebrow, "besides, heeseung has plenty of people lining up to take him to the winter ball! heâs just likes -â
heeseung elbows jay in the stomach and shushes him.
âyou people are ridiculous,â you sigh loudly and shake your head, âwhen we win, you all can apologise, right here in the cafeteria during lunch break - loudly - so everyone can hear.â
âdeal,â heeseungâs smirk widens, âlooking forward to it.â
then enhypen just moves on, leaving in synchronisation as they turn on a heel and stroll away, leaving your entire table staring at you.
you project, and faintly hear their conversation through their mental links.
are we really doing that if we lose though? sunghoon whispers.
we wonât, heeseung sounds as confident as he does when speaking.
heeseung just wants that date, jungwon teases, and you block out the rest of that conversation faster than eunchae can say hippopotamus.
â[y/n]? my darling? do we want to sit down?â chaewon says carefully, as if every word could trigger a landmine.
you sit down forcefully and the entire table shakes. kazuha shakes her head.
âthis is what school is made for,â yunjin grins happily, looking between you and heeseungâs departing figure, âwhat a time to be alive.â
âi hate this school,â you mumble, picking up your fork.
âheeseung just totally bet on your failure and asked you out.â eunchae quips.
"he didnât ask me out, he made a threat,â you grumble, "underestimated us. thought he could crush us easily. that five minutes was a mercy. iâm going to destroy them.â
âi donât know - dongmin just exploded his juice box with his mind,â yunjin points a discreet finger over her shoulder.
you glance over at dongminâs table, and for the first time in a while heâs very deliberately not looking at you. a juice box that looks like itâs been run over ten times by a tank lies abandoned on the table as he talks to donghyun and his pet mouse about something with exaggerated animation.Â
âwhat did he do all that for?â you cock your head, and kazuha just sighs and shakes her head.
âhey,â yunjin interrupts cheerfully, âwhatâs the betting poll at now?â
âseventy eight percent for kiss,â eunchae announces, âand a new category just emerged - [y/n] and heeseung get together. that one has eight percent.â
âeight? everyone really has their thumb on the pulse,â kazuha makes a thoughtful observation, like sheâs analysing stock prices instead of your literal fate.
âthatâs crazy, i hate this school,â you stand up abruptly, âi hate everyone here. iâm going to the danger room - to train.â
âoooh, perhaps a training session with whomst?â yunjin calls after you. you flip her off without looking back.
âtwenty dollars that dongmin runs after her in less than ten minutes?â yunjin suggests.
âmake it twenty-five,â eunchae replies.
âdone. letâs shake on it.â
all you can do is sigh.
youâve been in the danger room for at least ten minutes by now. you know there are 2384 tiles on the ceiling and your feet slightly hurt from the massive amount of the pacing youâve done. youâve just activated a simulation of enhypen to practice against when you feel dongminâs familiar presence at the edge of your mind.
you made jungwon too tall. his voice chimes in your head, and you turn around to see him casually standing at the doorway of the danger room, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
i hate you. you say half-heartedly - it might as well be your version of hello.
the insults are a little unenthusiastic today. he notes.
what are you doing here? you hate the danger room. you shoot back, says itâs too quiet yet loud at the same time. whatever that means.
maybe iâm branching out. personal growth and all that.
the door clicks quietly shut behind him as he steps into the danger room.
you scoff, âyou canât lie to me.â
you point to your temple, where dongminâs thoughts are always a subtle background noise to your life - ever since you two accidentally linked up in the first class of introduction to telepathy.
âyouâre here about the heeseung thing, arenât you?â
âthatâs just a concerning sideplot,â he holds up his tablet, littered with notes on his next opponents, âi also wanted to use the danger room.â
you walk towards him, âwell. youâll be glad to hear that there isnât a heeseung thing.â
âbut he asked you out - to the winter ball,â dongmin says flatly.
âhe asked to get his ass kicked, thatâs what,â you reply humourlessly.
âbut you smiled at him,â dongmin falters, âand you never smile at anyone.â
âi did not smile at him! and i smile at a ton of people!â
âyou smiled at him!â dongmin insists, âand you only smile at your friends! not at people youâre about to compete against.â
he steps closer, and you don't need telepathy to feel his frustration bleeding through, âwhy him?â
âdongmin - youâre acting a little insecure now,â you laugh nervously, âwhy do you even care?â
âbecause -â he stops and presses his hand over his face in that way he does when heâs stressed or agitated, hiding the way his nose scrunches up, âbecause youâre supposed to be focused on training. on the competition. not on lee heeseung.â
you fold your hands over your chest, âi was literally just studying his combat style!â
âyouâre obsessed with him.â
âiâm not!â
the door rattles in its doorframe behind dongminâs figure.
âreally? because from where iâm standing, you havenât been able to stop thinking about him. youâve been mentioning him constantly these few days. you light up when someone says his name -â
âi do not light up!â
âyour shields drop,â dongmin says quietly, âevery time. like you keep forgetting to maintain them because youâre too busy thinking about him.â
âi -â you sigh loudly, of course youâve been slipping - chaewon runs 6 am practice like itâs the army and lee heeseungâs name has become your own personal hell. youâve barely gotten any sleep. all because you needed to beat⌠him.
âheâs the obstacle between me beating you,â you finally admit, âthatâs why iâm focused on him so much. if i want to face you, i have to get rid of him. youâre my end goal.â
dongmin immediately shifts his eyes up to look at you, âiâm your end goal?â
âi want to beat you,â you mumble, âi know - youâre gonna crush the competition on your side. and i - i want to face you properly. not in practice or whatever - but in an actual competition.â
dongmin sniffs, âi donât like you, [y/n] [l/n].â
âtrust me, the feelingâs mutual,â you say bluntly.
âso iâll beat you at the finals,â he says carefully, âwhich means you have to beat enhypen first. which means you need to take down heeseung.â
he nods - and then his whole expression shifts, like a lightbulb just went off.
âand does that mean -â he shifts on his feet, âyouâve been thinking about me this whole time?â
âbecause iâve been thinking a lot about you too,â he adds quietly.
âi - iâm only thinking about you because i need to beat you!â you stutter through your excuse, cheeks burning up at his admission.
âbeating me? weâll see about that,â dongmin gives you a strained smile, a semblance of the ones he was used to giving you, âand if - if heeseung wants to take you to the winter ball or whatever. thatâs fine - whatever, your choice.â
âare you je -â
âand no matter what happens,â he interrupts, growing louder, âiâm not going to go easy on you.â
âi wouldnât want you to.â
âgood,â he starts to pull away, then stops, âand for the record? i think youâre better than heeseung, and you shouldâve asked him for something more embarrassing as his punishment. donât let him get into your head.â
âyou talk like weâre going to win.â
âi know you will,â he says wholeheartedly, like heâs seen your victory foretold in a prophecy that came to him in a dream.
âgood. you better not mess up, too. if you lose, your punishment is taking me to the winter ball, and i know youâd hate that.â
dongmin shudders as he backs out of the danger room, âi would hate that.â
the door slides shut, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.
yunjin: eunchae owes me 25. he ran after you after nine minutes. i timed.
eunchae: this sucks :( i hate that loverboy
WEEK THREE, WEDNESDAY (3PM): DANGER ROOM
the room crackles with energy as your squad faces off against the first team. theyâre new - inexperienced, and don't know each other well enough yet. youâre supposed to be focused on trying out your new formation, but your mind keeps drifting to whatever made you say all that to dongmin.
guys, yunjin chuckles nervously, reminder that our thoughts are still on mic here.
special reminder to [y/n]! chaewon pipes and you scrub every thought of dongmin from your mind.
iâm focused! you insist, dodging a laser beam from the opposing team. you grab a fallen down tree with your telekinesis and throw it in the general direction the shot came from - they go down with a squeak and the log splinters with more force than necessary.
âsave the aggro for next monday!â kazuha calls out as she easily turns someoneâs weapon into ash.
the rest of the match goes as expected - you down all the other members of the team without losing a single one of your own. chaewon allows approximately 5 seconds of celebration before snapping you all back into formation and running drill after drill. eunchae is analysing enhypenâs strategies frame by frame. kazuha perfects her disintegration timing. yunjin is practising her blinking down to the second. by sunday, youâre exhausted - but ready.
WEEK FOUR, MONDAY (10AM): DANGER ROOM
chaewon had you up bright and early, and thatâs how all of you ended up tired, cranky, and ready to beat enhypenâs ass on the danger room floor.
âthey brought their breakfast,â eunchae whispers, casting a look to where jake is chowing down on a grilled cheese ten minutes before the match starts, âiâm so freaking hungry, man.â
âguys,â you snap your fingers, âthis is psychological warfare. we just need to stay strong and beat their asses - the faster we do it the earlier we break for lunch.â
âlunch? what are we having for lunch?â kazuha mumbles through a hunger-crazed daze.
âstop thinking about lunch!â chaewon slaps kazuha on the back and she startles, â[y/n]âs right - the faster we beat them, the sooner we can eat.â
you take a deep breath in. this was it. the semi-finals. dongmin and the rest of his squad had smashed through their side of the competition like it was as easy as breathing. now - youâre one step away from the finals - one step away from facing dongmin and the rest of team koz in the finals. the thought sent a flutter through your chest that you tried to ignore.
âfocus, ladies,â you say as steady as you can. youâre unsure if youâre saying it more to you than the rest of your squad.
âi was born ready,â yunjin jumps to her feet and cracks her knuckles, "letâs show those losers what weâre made of.â
the doors to the arena open as the rest of the students file onto the observation deck. chaewon grabs your shoulder and the five of you huddle for chaewonâs most threatening pep talk yet.
âremember - heeseung first. take out their center and everything falls apart. we all know the formation, alright?â
all of you nod in understanding and chaewon smiles cheekily, âletâs go out there and crush them!â
you all cheer just as enhypen lets out their own - it sounds like a bark that chimes the beginning of your end.
guys, donât be nervous, kazuha thinly laughs.Â
you can feel dongminâs stare even from the danger room floor, his presence pulses softly just outside of your mindâs space. you look up but all you can see behind the tinted glass is sungho, sakura, the professor, and indiscriminate faces.
you turn around and enhypen is already positioned, arranged in their signature jjj formation - as predicted, the three of them are planted up front like a living wall. heeseung stood behind them, calm and collected, a confident smile already in place.
you lock eyes with him across the arena and he tilts his head. you resist the urge to flip him off and have to physically clench your fists.
âwelcome to the semi-finals! on the left - team le sserafim! on the right - team enhypen! whoever wins will be moving onto the finals, facing off team koz,â sakura leans into the mic, âfight to the death, last one standing wins for their entire team.â
the environment around you changes into quadrants - a lake, a forest, mountains, and just a plain open field.
sakuraâs voice rings through the danger room - âbest of luck to both teams! three, two, one - begin!â
all of you spring into action immediately. jungwon speeds past all of you in a flash but chaewon reacts quick enough to throw up a force field and jungwon smacks squarely into it, groaning as he stumbles. chaewon capitalises on it and engages with him in a battle of reaction and speed.
fan out! chaewon yells through the link. eunchae dodges a fireball from jake as kazuha returns her own, singeing the top of sunghoonâs hair just as they duck behind a boulder.
yunjin! you project urgently.
right beside you! she blinks in next to you, grabbing your arm and immediately blinking again. the two of you fall through space and time before suddenly reappearing in heeseungâs bubble. he stumbles back, shocked, but quickly regains his footing.
âhi!â you say cheerfully, you telekinetically pull a sizzling log (courtesy of either jake or kazuha, who knows) towards you and nearly taking out heeseung from behind. he, infuriating, evades and spins like he saw it coming from a mile away, the log smacking uselessly into the side of the arena.
âhey, you,â he replies, smiling as well.
you frown at his laissez faire attitude and direct a psi-blast towards him, which he parries easily with one of his own.
âimpressive. dongmin did mention you were good.â
âhe said what?â you slow for a second and heeseung uses that opportunity to launch himself into your mind.
you slam your shields up and he is immediately ejected from your head. frantically, you telekinetically send him backwards with a shove. he manages to catch himself before he touches the water, regaining his footing as he directs a psi-blast that hits you squarely in the middle of the temple. in your dizziness, you hear faintly about how sunoo has eunchae stuck on the ceiling; yunjin is laughing about how ni-ki canât catch her; and chaewon has confined poor jungwon to an invisible box in a corner of the arena so it looks like heâs doing the worldâs most realistic pantomime.
âdistracted?â heeseung arches an eyebrow as he dusts himself off.
âyou wish!â you yell.
"he said you were weak to force,â heeseung narrows his eyes, "letâs see if he was right.â
you feel all of heeseungâs telepathic strength smash into you. for a moment, his mind melds with yours. you can hear the shouted commands between his team - jumbled up with the yells of your own team. his own thoughts invade your own. but heâs predictable - youâve studied how to break through such an attack easily. you concentrate your thoughts onto a singular thought - heeseungâs thinking about ramen somewhere in his mind, and you slam onto it. the temporary control he has over your mind breaks and the two of you break apart - each clutching at your heads.
"that - that was unprecedented," heeseung picks himself up.
"iâve got a lot more where that came from,â you wipe your sweat from your face and dodge just in time to evade heeseungâs prod, his speed creating a breeze that flutters against your cheek.
you react quickly, bringing a boot down against his back as you round onto him. he catches it and easily tosses you into the sand. youâve dealt with this in one of chaewonâs drills - roll and jump, hit them if you can.
you roll away from his approaching feet and jump to your feet, sending a psi-blast at the same time that catches heeseung by surprise and nicks him in the chin.Â
rock incoming! yunjin projects urgently into your head.
you spin around and duck just in time as jay throws a rock at you with a yell. you telekinetically send it back and jayâs figure disappears behind it with an equally loud scream, landing with a splat against the wall.
âfive minutes on the board!â sakuraâs voice rings.
heeseungâs expression hardens. heâs moving faster now, more aggressive. you feel his telepathy signal wrap around yourâs, searching for weaknesses and trying to worm his way in.
heeseung was strong, but he was also someone you could predict. he moved slower when thinking, overcommitted to his offenses, and relied on the rest of his teammates to feed him information from other perspectives.
maintain your shields, never force entry into a guarded mind, and always have an exit strategy.
heeseung was guarded, but his shields werenât perfect. you slither in with a pinpointed strike, narrowing your eyes. heeseung startles as your signal suddenly floods in and overrides his own and he feels the world go silent.
you - you closed off my links! you can feel his telepathy trying to push through yours - but youâve been trialed against dongmin, who has a battering ram in the form of telepathy (so unrefined, you always tutted). heeseungâs pushes feel more like feather kisses than the torment dongmin put you through.Â
out of the corner of your eye, you see sunghoon look around for heeseung in confusion, hesitant enough for kazuha - wonderful, brilliant kazuha to immediately capitalise on the situation and launch him into the ceiling next to eunchae (still stuck) with a fire bolt.
i got him! kazuha yells triumphantly in your mind.
enhypen links down! you report back, just as heeseung manages to hit you in the jaw.
âhey!â you direct another psi-blast at him and he folds into himself from the pain as it lands against his forehead.
âyou really donât hold back,â he hisses through gritted teeth.
[y/n] - behind! chaewon urgently cuts through and you spin to see jake charging at you with a flaming fist. you jump backwards and immediately project yourself into his mind.
what dur? you hear his mental voice echo inside your brain as you rifle through his thoughts. methodical and precise. one strike and heâs over. you pick through his memories, rearranging the last few minutes in a different order. as you retreat back into your own body you see jake slow in his footsteps and turn around in confusion, his flames puckering out with a sigh.
âwait - whatâs happening -?â he gets cut off by yunjin blinking in, delivering a swift punch that knocks him out for good.
heeseung tries to take your feet out from behind you but you see it coming - pivoting and dodging, grabbing him telekinetically and sending him straight into the air. the force sends him sprawling and he lands in the lake with a soft plop and sigh. his hair flops sadly as he emerges in the shallow end and spits out water.
the moment he hits the water, it was over.
âenhypen, eliminated!â sakuraâs voice booms, âadvancing to finals - squad le sserafim!â
your squad erupts into celebration. chaewon and kazuha grab you and the three of you go down, while yunjin manages to catch eunchae as she is freed from her gravitic prison, blinking to the floor as they join the rest of you in a pile on the floor.Â
yunjin catches your eye and grins, squeezing your arm, âso, ready to beat dongmin?â
you feel your cheeks warm, âitâs not just him -â
âitâs the rest of team koz too!â chaewon whoops, âand weâll beat their asses!â
âexactly!â
sakuraâs announcement cuts off the next of yunjinâs teasing comments: âthe final match will take place friday at 2pm. team le sserafim versus team koz.â
guess i owe you an apology. heeseungâs voice slides into your brain. you catch his eye over kazuhaâs shoulder and he smiles at you.
you sure do, you project back, and remember to be loud.
youâll hear it. he says off-handedly.
nice work - someone else rings inside your head.Â
you gave heeseung info about me! you accuse. you can see dongminâs innocent blinking in your head.
he was quite interested in you, dongmin says - a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice. i said i wouldnât make it easy for you.
and that includes tipping off my enemy?Â
an enemy of an enemy is a friend. dongmin retorts. but i wouldnât call him one. i just wanted to make life more difficult for you.
i hate you.
do you?
yes! so you better be ready to take me to the winter ball. you bite.
only if you win. you can hear the smile in his voice.
WEEK FOUR, TUESDAY (1PM): DORM ROOM
youâre taking the best nap of your life after heeseung and crew loudly apologised in the form of a song and dance number when your local angsty soap opera on legs arrives.
i hate being back in this place - you hear her mumble in her head as she quite literally drifts past your door and into the library close by.
not again, you faintly hear dongmin groan through your mental link at the same time and you canât help but prod further on whatâs giving him so much woe.
sungho, you bastard. you can't keep your love life simple or your thoughts to yourself, you hear him tut.
must be in the library too, you think to yourself, settling against your pillows as you try out that new trick you learnt in telepathy class. you literally feel yourself detach from your body and float away, projecting your mind into the library.
âconstantly," you manage to hear dongmin pop cheerfully to the singer, âespecially -â
he suddenly locks eyes with your corporeal form and scowls.
âsomeone else is here,â he grumbles in annoyance, suddenly invested his âsix ways to triumph in telepathyâ book that heâs cradling in his lap.
just because you can read doesnât mean you can beat me and do this - you tease, and he shoots you a warning look.
at least i know how to use a psi-blast correctly, he snipes back.
popstar - in all her sparkly galore, looks around the library, straight through you.
"what?" she asks, confused. you donât need telepathy to read her thoughts - itâs just us here.
âanother telepath,â dongmin makes a sour face at you, âshe canât stop boasting about how she can project her mind into other spaces. itâs very annoying, because i canât do that yet.â
you admit it! you say in delight.
oh, shut up. he replies grumpily.
he raises his voice intentionally, "i can feel you listening, you know? itâs very creepy - and annoying."
look at you, meddling in sunghoâs love life because you donât have one.
âno - you nosy littleâŚâ
i know donghyun has posters of her on his wall. oh my god, donât tell me you do too. is this a secret crush?
âsheâs not!â
oh, she sure is. does sungho know about this? poor sungho.
âcan you stop being so annoying?â
mm, i donât know. youâre the one who inserted yourself into their drama. iâd say youâre the annoying one here.
âno. youâre definitely the annoying one here -â
for someone who canât project, you do have a lot of confidence. you say seriously and dongmin throws up his hands in defeat.
tell her to stop being dramatic and commit to something for once in her life.
âshe says you need to âstop being dramatic and commit to something for once in your lifeâ,â dongmin parrots after a slight pause.
"she said that?" she asks in disbelief.
"her words, not mine," dongmin holds up his hands in surrender as he shoots you a look, "youâre not being exactly subtle, you know?"
"does everyone in this mansion have an opinion on my relationship?" she grumbles.
"woonhak started a betting pool. but sungho busted it and said it was âinappropriateâ," he grumbles before settling down in his armchair again.
ugh, donât remind me. you cross your arms, sungho better close down all these betting pools. they have one for whether weâll get together! gross.
i know, dongmin says, even though we hate each other.
exactly, you agree, iâm going to tell sungho after this.
you should, he says, flipping through the pages of his book. you look between him and the popstar, who - as per usual, is spiraling through a whirlwind of incoherent and melancholic thoughts.
sheâs a mess, you shake your head.
no shit, dongmin grumbles.
tell her that being scared of saying something is just being scared of being known.
tell her yourself!
no, you!
no, you!
fine! you abruptly end your back and forth, maybe i will!
you whip around and stomp back through the walls to your dorm room a few rooms down, settling back in your body. itâs uncomfortable - no matter how many times you do it, it takes a million years to get used to your mind and body behind one again. it starts with a twitch of your fingers, then a numbness that overtakes your arm before a prickling sensation starts - your nerves firing again as you regain control over your limbs and muscles that leaves you slightly sore for a few minutes after.
except, that is whatâs supposed to happen, but you suddenly register the power has gone out and an explosion rattles the walls so much it snaps you back into instant reunification and consciousness.
jesus christ - you nearly tip out of bed with the splitting headache youâre nursing as the walls shake again.Â
the power is out. emergency lights flicker in a sickly red hue. alarms wail somewhere in the distance, muffled by the stone walls of your dorm room.
you wrench open the doors to the hallway and everyone is less panicked than you expected them to be, despite the pyjamas and mismatched shoes shoved on in a rush.Â
west wing! safe room! you hear someone - sounds like heeseung, ring throughout your head - everyone head there!
â[y/n]!â you hear yunjin call, and you turn to see the rest of your team emerging from their rooms.
âwhat happened?â you demand to know, falling in step with them.
ânot sure,â chaewon shakes her head and replies grimly, âthe only info i have is that itâs an attack and we need to get to the safe room - theyâve got a power jammer and came in through the library.â
library. dongmin.
another explosion rocks the mansion - this one is close enough that dust starts to rain from the ceiling. you can hear the faint sound of gunfire and your blood runs cold.
â[y/n],â chaewon warns, âsafe room, now.â
âbut -â
âno buts,â chaewon cuts you off with the same authoritative tone she uses when calling plays during competitions - the one that means no negotiation.
but youâre already turning on your heel, you can feel something pulling at the edges of your mind - past the current drone of information shared by the telepathic network of the mansion.
dongmin!
without thinking, you reach out through your mental link. the response is almost immediate: a flash of urgency, determination, and something that reads like stay safe.
â[y/n]!â kazuha grabs your arm, but you telekinetically push her back - towards the west wing, and take off running down the hall.
iâll catch up! you project urgently through your mental link before shutting it down immediately - before you hear chaewonâs screams for you to come back.
you round the corner and bump squarely in professor xavier and his gang of lost mutants.
âmiss [l/n],â professor xavier inclines his head, âyou should be in the safe room.â
âi have to find dongmin,â you say matter-of-factedly. you hear someone mutter in their thoughts that youâre crazy, and someone else clocks the fact for further proof for the poll.
âah, mr. han,â the professor nods knowingly, âhe is currently in the war room, accompanying sakura.â
âthank you,â you nod - he doesnât even try to stop you, itâs like he can - well, he can read your thoughts.
professor xavier sighs and points down the corridor, âdo try not to get yourself killed. it would be a shame to miss out on the finals tomorrow.â
youâre already moving before he finishes.
you swear you were trying to not get yourself killed.
âhands in the air!â
your arms shoot straight up when two soldiers happen upon you, guns trained to your chest as they draw in closer.
you narrow your eyes and feel around for their mental signal - guarded, but not incredibly so. unimpressive work from a shoddy telepath.
âtelepath!â one of them realises as yells just as you charge in, shattering his shields - his grip on the gun falters as you force him to drop it, but the other presses a button on a small device in his hands that immediately ejects you from the soldierâs body.
theyâve got power jammers! you gasp, hoping hearing - anyone, could hear your thoughts through a weak mental link.
the soldier regains his senses and shakes his head - laser unwavering once again.Â
âiâm not afraid to shoot,â he warns, ânow take a step back and locate the popstar for us.â
[y/n]! dongminâs voice floods your own, sounding more like static and broken up than his usually clear voice - where - you?
âi canât really use my powers with the jammer you have on,â you say through gritted teeth and the two soldiers exchange glances.
ânice try, but you will do as we say,â the guards approach and your head spins as they near.
the cold barrel of the gun presses against your stomach as one of them nudges his rifle against it.
âhey,â you canât hide the trembling in your voice as they force you into a wall, âthis isnât very nice.â
[y/n]! dongminâs voice is barely a whisper in your head now, donghyun - over - help!
your brain is, for the first time since forever, silent, the only thing you can hear is dongminâs faint pings and signals. you telekinetically reach for a piece of rubble behind the soldier but it barely moves, just vibrates slowly before stilling.
âthat jammer of yours,â you try for calm - for prolonging the situation before they blow your guts out, âwhere dâya get it?â
âwouldnât you like to know,â the one holding it smirks and presents it proudly, âweâve amassed quite the collection of mutants - including one that can put together any machine we ask. this baby? tailor made to react with the x-gene and dampen it.â
the other soldier elbows him in the stomach.
âstop talking, theyâre just stalling!â they demand, before turning back to you in fury, pressing the barrel further into your flesh, âuse your powers! i know you can! search for them -â
âbuddy, iâve never even met them before -â you interrupt, âhow am i supposed to search for them? do you know how many people live in this damn mansion? one hundred and for -â
youâre cut off by a yell, then a dog that sails into your kerfuffle and cleanly bites the hand of the soldier holding the jammer. it clatters to the floor and bounces across the floor, before any of you can react, someone steps on it, heavily, and it cracks and shatters. you immediately feel what feels like thousands of voices flood back into your head as the jammer breaks and you take this split second of hesitation to telekinetically fling the soldier with his gun your stomach out the window.
âwha -â the other soldier wildly swinging his rifle as the dog latches onto it, playing the worldâs most dangerous game of tug youâve ever seen.
âdown!â you hear someone yell, and the dog immediately lets go, sending the soldier stumbling with force of his own momentum. you see your saviour grab him by the shoulder, spin him around, and roundhouse kick him into the wall. the soldier crumples to the floor and goes limp, the rifle falling out of his hands.
â[y/n]?â
you can hear the worry lacing donghyunâs voice as he lowers his leg, clutching his fishbowl with a hand covered on top to prevent the dust from falling in and water from splashing.
âdonghyun?â you choke out, âwha - what are you doing here?â
âdongmin sent me,â he shuffles on his feet, âare you okay?â
âiâm fine. you should be in the safe room, not listening to dongmin!â
âbut - but i had to come to get my fish and my mouse,â he holds his fishbowl up gently and his pet mouse pops a furry snout out from his sleeve. you groan out loud.
âi donât know whoâs worse - you or your girlfriend!â you grumble.
âme, probably,â donghyun mumbles as his dog winds between his legs, urging him down the corridor.
âwe should go before the east wing collapses,â he says, straightening up.
âbut dongmin -â
[y/n]! dongminâs voice is clear - and itâs laced with panic and terror, are you there?
iâm here. you confirm, donghyun found me.
good. dongmin sounds relieved.
were you worried about me?
you feel his hesitance over your mental link - ⌠yes.
where are you? you demand.
war room. dongmin finally lets out.
stay there, iâm coming.
you turn to look at donghyun, who blinks at you.
âis something wrong?â he asks gently.
âyes, you,â you grumble.
professor, you tap into his mental signal, i found donghyun. iâm sending him your way.
understood - his reply is immediate, stay safe.
you let donghyun, in tow with his fishbowl and pet mouse and dog, down the corridor towards where you split up with the professor and proceed towards the war room.
the war room is a nest of monitors and flickering screens, most of them dark now that the powerâs out. emergency generators hum in the background, casting everything in that same sickly red light. sakura stands at the center, tablet in hand as she surveys the conditions.
and then thereâs dongmin, crouched near a monitor, head tilted slightly as he relays information through the mental link to other telepaths within the mansion.
both of them look up when you burst through the door.
â[y/n]?â sakuraâs tablet lowers slightly and you can feel surprise flashing through dongminâs mental connection.
âyou should be in the safe room,â he hisses.
âso should you,â you grab him by the shoulders and pull him up - âlet me help, dongminâs a better telekinetic than he is a telepath.â
âi am not -â he stops himself, and sets his mouth into a thin line, âfine.â
âgood,â you nod at sakura, âwhatâs the situation.â
âten,â sakura taps her tablet, âfrom what dongmin has detected, three are after sungho - the rest are scattered throughout the mansion. weâve mobilised teams but they will need backup.â
âunderstood,â you do a general sweep of the mansion, tagging onto the unfamiliar signals chasing sungho and his little situationship down a corridor. you try searching for the rest in a sea of panicked minds.
dongmin stands with pursed lips beside you, and you can feel the subtle hum of his presence in your shared mental space - a constant background radiation of his attention. you've gotten used to it over the years, though you'll never admit that out loud.
âtwo detected - east corridor, second floor,â dongmin relays and sakura quickly punches it into her tablet.
you follow his directions and feel a familiar signal pulsing there as well - âheeseungâs there - and his team.â
[y/n]? heeseung immediately responds when he feels your prod, are you okay? are you hurt?
iâm -
do you need support? dongmin butts into your conversation and you shoot him a look.
oh - um, heeseung chuckles awkwardly through the mental link, no. i think we have this under control.
his tone softens, stay safe [y/n].
wow, nothing for me? dongmin delivers dryly before you can respond.
heeseung laughs, and you too, dongmin.
iâm keeping them safe, donât worry, dongmin says decisively before cutting your connection abruptly.
âthe popstar,â he says quickly, before you can address the elephant in the room, âtheyâre still after her.â
âsungho wonât let them get her,â you say with more confidence than you feel.
âsunghoâs in love with her,â dongmin replies flatly, âloves clouds judgment.â
âyeah?â you shoot him a look, âi guess you would have a lot of experience with that, based on how worried you were a few minutes ago.â
âthatâs different,â dongmin snaps, his ears red.
âhow is it different?â
âjust focus on the intruders,â he turns pointedly away from you, pout evident on his face.
it doesnât last for long as the doors to the war room rattle in their frames and sakura exchanges glances with the two of you - slamming her hand down on a few buttons just in time for two intruders to kick the door down, sending it flying into sakuraâs frame. she parries it easily with a wave of her hand and ducks behind a console to evade the spray of bullets. dongmin pulls you down quickly and the two of you huddle behind the island console that usually displays a holographic map.
iâve sealed the secondary exits! sakuraâs voice fills both of minds simultaneously, i will take one, you two neutralise the others.
got it! you watch as sakura raises a hand and mist fills the room. red lasers sweep across the room as you and dongmin crawl closer to the door. one of the gunmen stumbles on his feet, tripping over an exposed wire as the wind around him picks up speed. out of the mist, sakura flies into him with fury, taking him out of the room and into the corridor.
the remaining soldier pivots around to scan the room - still smothered in mist by quickly thinning out. you exchange a glance at dongmin and he nods in understanding.
âhey, over here!â you shoot up to your feet and the rifleâs laser quickly swings in your direction. for a split moment, you freeze at the gun but dongmin acts a second after, using his telekinesis to pull the gun from his hands - it slams against the wall and clatters to the ground.
âyou,â the soldier growls, voice distorted.
âwho are you? what do you want?â you demand, trying to prod his mind, but he grins and pulls a dagger out from his belt, and you donât have the time to pick it apart as he suddenly lunges at you - heâs faster than you imagined.
â[y/n] [l/n],â he recites your name slowly as he turns around, âtelepath. telekinetic. level five. not bad. your abilities would be greatly appreciated with us.â
âhow do you know my name?â you feint right just in time for dongmin to strike the soldier in the back of the temple with a stray piece of debris.
âthat -â he cackles, âyou donât need to worry about - and you, han dongmin. yes - i know a lot of about you. youâre quite wanted by a few⌠investors.â
âoh, great. i hate being wanted,â dongmin grumbles, sidestepping as the soldier jumps at him, knife flashing his hand.
you narrow your eyes and throw out a hand to telekinetically pull the soldier away from him. the soldier stumbles as his body is torn between two directions and you take the moment to slam your entire telepathic power into his mind. the soldierâs grip on the knife loosens but he manages to shake your influence out of his head -
until dongminâs own signal batters into his head too - his mental shields shatter and suddenly the two of you are sharing control over his body.
get out! dongmin whispers urgently.
you get out! you yell back, but oblige as you slither your way out of his psyche, catching dongminâs limp body in your arms as he completely takes over the body of the soldier. you slowly lower yourself and him onto your knees as you watch the soldier convulse, drop the dagger, and crumple to the floor.
dongminâs fingers twitch as he returns, and you smack his arm to help him get the numbness out.
âthat hurts,â he whines.
âthen itâs working!â you grin at him and he glares at you.
âyouâre evil.â
he groans as he sits up from the floor, massaging his limbs as sakura flies back in, looking just as good as this morning - before the explosions, and dangling the soldier in between her hands.
âare you two alright?â she scans the two of you as she deposits the soldier next to his friend.
âfine,â you nod and dongmin echoes it.
sakura tilts her head, as if listening to something from further away, âsungho says all the soldiers have been apprehended. we are safe - for now.â
you let out a sigh of relief, just as dongmin scrambles to his feet and picks his way over to the soldiers.
âokay, but - they knew our names somehow, and our powers,â dongmin frowns.
sakura lands lightly on her feet, âi have observed that too. dongmin, [y/n], can you find out where they are receiving this information from?â
you and dongmin exchange looks.
âiâm bad cop, youâre good cop,â you crouch down beside dongmin as he flips them over so theyâre lying on their backs.
âthatâs not how it works,â dongmin grumbles as he places a palm on the forehead of a soldier. you do the same to the other and rifle through his memories.
strange, you frown. you go through his memories again. it starts from the corridors outside the war room, the first few explosions, them planning for the strike on the mansion, and then just⌠stops. thereâs nothing beyond - like his memories have been wiped entirely clean.
you open your eyes and rub at them.
âthereâs nothing,â you say quietly to sakura.
âwhat do you mean thereâs nothing?â sakura kneels down as well.
âsheâs right,â dongmin also pulls away his hand, âi looked - thereâs nothing beyond this morning. but that doesnât make sense, they donât act like one day old babies - there must be - something must have happened between us taking them down and now.â
âthat canât have been more than five minutes,â you cross your arms, âis that possible?â
âsomeone professional, no doubt,â sakura places a hand on both your shoulders, âis there anything we can glean from the memories we do have, then?â
âthey have a map,â dongmin says quietly, âof the entire mansion.â
you nod, âi saw a list - names, powers, other information. prices.â
âprices,â sakura taps her chin, âunderstood. weâll look further into this - perhaps the other soldiers have more information they can provide.â
she stands up, âbut for now, i ask for the two of you to pay a visit to the med bay.â
you let dongmin pull you up to your feet, âare we still doing the finals?â
sakura shoots you an incredulous look, âmed bay. now.â
WEEK FOUR, TUESDAY (6PM): MED BAY
the aftermath of the attack has been chaotic. two soldiers neutralised in the war room. two more apprehended in the east corridor and one more soldier that woonhak accidentally sent to the arctic with kyujinâs help. the rest had been apprehended by a chaotic danger room command that included disco music and metal claws. sunghoâs thoughts have been rattling around every telepathâs mind for the past few hours - worry and love tangled so thoroughly together that even you felt secondhand embarrassment.
the mansion has been secured by the next morning, with things quietening down. minds were wiped clean, soldiers were dropped off, and the danger room was restored, albeit with a few new scuffs on the walls.
professor xavier insisted that the tournament continue: âwe cannot let fear disrupted our traditionsâ, he says. you just think they already wasted too much money on the decorations for the winter ball.
the attack left everyone on edge and more focused. for you and dongmin, the unspoken moment in the war room - the shared panic, the relief, hung between you, unaddressed. there was no time to talk. only to prepare.
WEEK FOUR, FRIDAY (2PM): DANGER ROOM
so the finals proceeded as scheduled, because the x mansion never lets a measly explosion get in the way of anything - including tournament finals and mid-terms. so here you are, standing in the danger room with your squad, just a little exhausted, but overridden with excitement to finally destroy dongmin and team koz once and for all.
dongmin stands directly across from you, and he looks scarily focused. serious. thereâs no smirk, no teasing remarks floating through your mental link.
chaewon squeezes your shoulder, âletâs do this,â she says.
âletâs,â yunjin agrees - the three of you to make it fair, because two of team kozâs teammates have decided to take a break.
âbegin!â sakuraâs voice echoes.
itâs chaos from the first second. yunjin blinks toward woonhak, but heâs already moving, somehow manifesting exactly what he needs to evade her frustrated grabs. chaewon is currently debating the ethicalness of fighting donghyunâs animal friends and decides she canât do it and instead settles for launching cautious orb force fields at him instead.
and then thereâs you and dongmin.
you donât exchange words. you donât need to. you lunge, and he throws himself into action already. your telekinesis throws a rock in his direction and it clashes with a perfectly angled stick. it shatters into pieces and splinters fly everywhere. chaewon squeals and throws up an invisible barrier for the two of you, splinters bouncing off and falling to the floor. you keep advancing, gaining on him as you try for a physical strike - a punch aimed at his chest - but he quickly pushes it away and counters it with a low kick.
you leap over it and press down telekinetically, trying to pin him to the ground. he resists, his own power pushing back against yours. it feels like trying to hold back the tide with your bare hands.
âyou got better,â he says through gritted teeth.
âso are you,â you admit, shifting your strategy.
you feint left, then right, testing his reflexes. he matches you move for move. itâs frustrating, annoying, and exhilarating. youâve trained against him dozens of times, but itâs different this time - itâs the finals. this is everything youâve been working towards.
you feel the moment the tide shifts. your mental link flares with clarity - years of training, of being connected to him, of knowing exactly how he thinks. you easily slip into his mind just slightly, and you feel the tinge of his thoughts. when he moves left, youâre already there. when he tries to telekinetically throw something at you, youâve already moved the projectile.
dongmin realises quickly what youâre doing and his eyes widen just for a fraction of a second - and then he smiles.
he doesnât back down. instead, he pushes harder. his telekinesis works faster, whipping up multiple things at once, and youâre forced to dodge everything thatâs launching towards you head-on. the two of you stand locked in a battle of pure force, neither willing to give an inch.
around you, your teammates are winning. woonhak gets a stroke of bad luck and is currently begging for mercy from yunjin - unfortunately for him, yunjin is unforgiving. chaewon has cornered donghyun and tags him out in a perfectly timed hit.
team koz is crumbling, but you and dongmin are locked in a stalemate.
you change your approach. you wrap your telekinesis around him and yank dongmin towards you. he stumbles forward and you press your advantage, launching a psi-blast that he barely manages to deflect.
youâre tiring, he points out the mental link, i can feel it.
so are you, you counter.
he smirks - the familiar smirk youâve come to know so well, âgood.â
he suddenly grabs your arm and pulls, and youâre caught off-balance. before you can recover, heâs onto you, his physical strikes fast and precise. you respond in kind and suddenly youâre locked in hand-to-hand combat, movements flowing like a choreographed dance.
he spins and sweeps your legs out from under you.Â
you fall, and for a moment you think this is it - heâs won. but you manage to roll backward, coming up in a crouch, but dongminâs already advancing.
the arena is nearly empty now. donghyun has somehow avenged woonhak by tagging yunjin out and he and chaewon are circling around the two of you, ready to jump in whenever needed.
âeliminate one team member, and they are out,â sakura announces, her voice crackling with anticipation.
dongmin launches himself at you one final time. you meet him halfway, and this time - this time you know exactly what to do. you've studied him for years. you know his patterns, his tells, his habits. you know how he breathes before he strikes. you know how his eyes flicker just before he commits to a move.
you dodge his punch and grab his wrist, using his own momentum against him. you telekinetically lift him slightly off the ground, just enough to throw him off-balance, and drive your knee up. he blocks with his other arm, but the impact sends him back.
he lands hard, and you press your advantage. telekinesis converges on him from all sides, but heâs not done yet. his own power erupts outward, a shockwave of force that sends you flying backwards.Â
you crash into the edge of the arena, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. for a moment, everything spins.
dongmin is getting to his feet, chest heaving. heâs close to his limit too.
you push yourself up on shaky legs and meet him in the center. your final gambit is different - no strategy, no planning. just pure instinct and will. you move. he counters. you adapt. he matches.
and then - thereâs an opening.
dongminâs guard drops just for a fraction of a second, exhaustion catching up with him. you donât hesitate. you telekinetically shove him backward with everything you have left, putting your entire weight behind it.
he slides backward, toward the edge of the arena.
âshit!â he reaches out, trying to catch himself.
but thereâs nothing to grab.
the two of you lock eyes and he scowls, and he crosses the line and disappears in a flash of light.
âteam le sserafim wins!â sakuraâs voice booms throughout the arena, âour champions, everyone!â
you squad erupts into celebrations behind you, and you let chaewon crush you under her weight as she tackles you to the ground.Â
âtired,â you groan out as yunjin reappears and eunchae & kazuha run into the room, piling onto you like a weighted blanket.
dongmin reemerges soon after, looking frustrated and tired and handsome and -
he catches your eye and smirks.
you think iâm handsome?
shut up, you turn away pointedly, cheeks heating up. youâre thankful for woonhakâs loud distraction in the form of a wail, but you can still feel the gentle brush of his presence in your mind.
i told you iâd beat you.
he doesnât respond, but you can feel something that feels like acceptance and pride through your mental link.
WEEK FOUR, SATURDAY (6PM): BALLROOM
âoh, oh my baby,â chaewonâs eyes are strangely misty.
âyou look amazing,â kazuha says for the hundredth time, adjusting her earring.
âi feel ridiculous,â you mutter.
âthat means you look good,â yunjin grins, already three sips deep into the punch eunchae swear is âdefinitely spiked, probablyâ.
the ballroom is decorated in silver and blue, with twinkling lights strung across the ceiling like captured stars. the band is playing something slow and romantic, and there are couples scattered across the dance floor.
you wouldnât mind another explosion right now - anything to get you out of here.
âyouâll survive this,â chaewon says, her grip on your arm growing tighter by the second.
âi hope so too,â you groan, your feet already starting to hurt.
you scan the room and immediately find dongmin. heâs leaning against a wall, talking to donghyun and woonhak. his hair is slicked back, and heâs wearing a suit that looks expensive.
"hey, [y/n].â
you jump at heeseung's soft-spoken greeting.
"heeseung - you scared the shit out of me,â you run a hand through your hair.
"guess you donât really feel like dancing with me, huh?â heeseung follows your gaze to dongmin, whose own eyes narrow as he straightens up.
"maybe later,â youâre more than distracted to hear heeseung's question properly, thatâs for sure.
heeseung laughs, "donât let dongmin hear that.â
"yeah, i won't - wait. don't let dongmin hear what?"
heeseung just throws you a mysterious wink before sauntering off to join the rest of his six squadmates in a coordinated dance-off.
you look back at dongmin and his eyes meet yours, and your breath stutters.
he brushes off woonhak and starts walking towards you.Â
âoh my god, heâs walking over here,â yunjin whispers urgently, âis he?â
âshut up,â you hiss. your heart did something extremely traitorous and loud in your chest.Â
dongmin stops in front of you, and up close, you can see the exhaustion from yesterdayâs finals still lingering in his eyes. but he smiles - a small, genuine smile that makes your stomach flip.
âhi,â he says.
âhello,â you reply, suddenly very aware of how dry your mouth is.
âso,â he shifts on his feet, âyou won.â
âwe won,â you look around to gesture at your team - until you realise theyâve all mysteriously and suddenly vanished.
âright, âcourse,â he nods, then takes a deep breath, âi believe i owe you something.â
âyou do,â you say, âdonât be a sore loser, now.â
he pouts but holds out his hand, âdance with me?â
in your mind, you hear eunchae hiss, ninety-five percent. iâm getting so much money.
you ignore her - and yunjinâs barely suppressed giggle, and chaewonâs knowing smile from across the room, and the soft oh shit kazuha lets out.
you take his hand.
dongmin pulls you onto the dance floor with surprising gentleness. his other hand settles at your waist and you realise with a start that youâve never been this close at him without first threatening to throw him across a room or something at him.
âyou fought well,â he says as you begin to move with the music.
âso did you,â you reply.
âi let you win,â he says quietly.
you pull back slightly to look at him incredulously, âwhat?â
he shrugs non-committedly, âjust saying.â
âbut you said you werenât going to go easy on me!â your voice raises slightly.
guys, stop fighting! you need to kiss! not kill each other! eunchae complains loudly in your head and you grit your teeth.
âwhy did you do that?â you lower down your voice.
âbecause,â his eyes search yours, âi wanted to see you smile. at me. like how you smile at your squadmates, not the aggressive grin you get before you try to kill me. a real smile.â
you donât remember smiling after the finals, but apparently you did.
âthatâs, like, the most pathetic reason for losing iâve ever heard,â you say, but your voice is comparably softer.
âprobably,â he agrees.
âyouâre so stupid,â you tell him.
âmaybe - for you,â he replies.
the music swells around you - and suddenly it feels like just you and dongmin, his hand warm on your waist.
âi still hate you,â you say, because thatâs what youâve always said.
âi know,â he says, and heâs smiling that small smile again, âand i still love you.â
your breath catches, âdonât - donât just say things like that.â
âwhy not?â he asks, âitâs true. itâs been true for a while. maybe since you threw that table at me in telekinesis class.â
âi did not!â
âyou did. i nearly lost my head,â he says, amused with a cat-like smile, âi knew right then that i was in trouble.â
âdongmin -â you donât know what to say. all your carefully constructed arguments about hating him suddenly feel very flimsy. maybe they were in the first place.
âyouâre insufferable,â you settle for.
âi know.â
âand conceited.â
âsure.â
âand you cheat off me in class!â
âguilty,â he admits.
âand i -â you falter, searching for the right words, âiâm probably going to regret this later, but i donât hate you. i never did. i think - i think i might -â
dongmin closes the distance before you finish, but you react faster, slapping a hand over his lips.
not now! you whisper, theyâll win that stupid bet.
dongmin grins lazily as eunchaeâs whine rings again - guys! guys! youâre supposed to kiss! k - i - s - s!
dongmin tilts his head, âyouâre right. i need to teach woonhak that he shouldnât count his chickens before they hatch.â
you laugh, and peck the corner of his mouth instead.
the room instantly explodes.
is that a kiss? that definitely counts as a kiss right? woonhak yells.
LIPS! ON THE LIPS! yunjin yells louder.
you can feel chaewonâs satisfied âi told you soâ radiating through the connection like sheâs basking in the sun.Â
guys, should we look away? kazuhaâs concern draws a laugh out of you.
âthis is so embarrassing,â you mumble, and dongminâs grip on your waist just tightens.
âyou brought this onto yourself,â he says cheerfully.
later that night, the two of you steal away on a balcony, even if itâs barely private with the way half of the student population is pressing their ears against the door and peeking through the gap.
âdo you still want to destroy me?â dongmin leans against the railing, breath visualised in the winter air.
âabsolutely.â
âgood,â he smirks, âkeep me on my toes.â
he drops his head onto your shoulder, already comfortable shoving himself into your space despite your earlier squabbles.
âdongmin?â you say after a while.
âyeah?â
âi think i love you too.â
he grins - that smug, infuriating grin that youâve come to know so well - and kisses you (on the lips this time).
behind you, the ballroom doors rattle as eunchae bounces away, yelling about how âeveryone owes her money nowâ.
some things, you think to yourself, are worth being embarrassed about.
you were going to kiss han dongmin, complain about it, and then kiss him again.
i went through like five writer blocks during this and it definitely isn't my favourite work ever... (hate writing e2l), but i hope everyone enjoyed regardless! donghyun's fic is next as the last installment of the series <33
⥠or ❠if you enjoyed, support your writers, thank you!!
what did you think? drop your thoughts in my inbox!
description!: fluff, slight sfw skinship, idol woonhak and idol reader, reader in newjeans, reader in 2nd pov, intended lower case, open ending, lmk if i missed anything!
Woonhak, a shy and puppy-like idol, usually avoids letting anyone invade his personal spaceâexcept for you, a fellow idol in NewJeans introduced to him by Jaehyun. As they bond over shared interests like baseball, Woonhak gradually opens up, letting you get close both mentally and physically. Their friendship slowly deepens into something more, leading to a heartfelt confession. Meanwhile, the boys canât resist teasing Woonhak about his obvious soft spot for you, making their growing closeness even more endearing.
pairing!: idol woonhak x idol reader
author's note!: hiii, im so so sorry for this fic being pushed back so much đĽš. Thank you for all the love for the preview, cant believe 68 of you wanted to read this oneshot! spoiler!: it is an open ending because even though I'm younger that unagi, he's still my child and I cannot make myself write a kissing scene đĽš. anywho! happy reading and I recommend reading this oneshot to too close by ENHYPEN! thank you all muah! đŤśđťđĽš
Woonhak had always been particular about space.
The members knew it well, too well in fact, Jaehyun slinging an arm around his shoulders, Sungho leaning in too close just to see his phone, Taesan poking his cheek for fun. Leehan sitting on his lap. Woonhak would wrinkle his nose, squirm away, grumble under his breath like an annoyed kitten being smothered.
More below the cut!:
So when Jaehyun casually mentioned he was introducing him to someone from NewJeans, everyone expected the usual polite bow, awkward smile, and Woonhak retreating back into his shell.
And that part did happen.
He stood a little straighter when he first met you, hands clasped in front of him, nodding shyly as Jaehyun did the introductions. You were bright, eyes wide, smile easy, energy bouncing off you like a happy puppy whoâd just been let outside.
âNice to meet you!â you said, bowing a little too enthusiastically.
Woonhak smiled, small and careful. âN-Nice to meet you too.â
After that, somehow, being around you became⌠easy.
You talked a lot, filling silences so Woonhak didnât have to. You laughed easily, reacted big, celebrated small things like they were achievements. And Woonhak found himself listening closely, smiling without realizing it.
Still, he kept his distance. Habit, really.
Until the first time it happened.
It was after a music show recording, everyone tired but buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Woonhak had just told you some good news, something about a chart ranking or a schedule confirmation, and you gasped.
âNo way!â you exclaimed.
Before Woonhak could even process it, you stepped forward and hugged him.
It wasnât long. Just a quick, instinctive squeeze. Warm, sudden, and full of joy.
Woonhak froze.
Not because it was uncomfortable, but because his brain short-circuited.
You pulled back almost immediately, eyes widening in panic. âOh my gosh- sorry! Iâm so sorry!â You bowed quickly, hands flailing a little. âI didnât think- I know you donât really like people in your personal space, I shouldnât have-â
âItâs okay.â
You stopped.
Woonhak was red. Like, ears-to-cheeks red. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.
âI mean-â he cleared his throat, quieter now. âItâs fine. Really.â
You looked unsure. âAre you sure?â
He nodded, then added softly, almost like it was a secret meant only for you, âIf itâs you⌠I donât really mind.â
That was the moment.
After that, things changed.
You leaned closer when you talked. You tugged lightly on his sleeve to get his attention. Sometimes youâd rest your head against his shoulder when you laughed too hard, or bump into him playfully when walking side by side.
And Woonhak?
He let you.
No flinching. No complaints. No grumbling.
Which absolutely did not go unnoticed.
Sungho was the first to catch on. âWhy does she get to stand that close?â
Jaehyun squinted suspiciously one day when you were practically glued to Woonhakâs side. âHey, didnât you push me away yesterday for doing that?â
Taesan gasped dramatically. âSo this is favoritism.â
Woonhak denied everything, of course. âItâs not like that.â
But his ears betrayed him every time you smiled at him, every time you casually hooked your arm around his for balance, every time you called his name in that cheerful, excited tone.
You were younger than him by a year, but somehow you made him feel softer, lighter, like he didnât have to guard himself so much.
Woonhak knew something was wrong the moment the dorm went too quiet.
It was the kind of silence that didnât come naturally forced, expectant. The kind that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He sat cross-legged on the living room floor, phone in his hands, pretending to scroll while fully aware of the weight of multiple stares burning into the side of his face.
ââŚWhy are you all looking at me like that?â he muttered.
No answer.
Sungho leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. Riwoo sat on the couch, chin propped on his hand, eyes narrowed in exaggerated suspicion. Taesan was sprawled dramatically across the armrest, already grinning. Leehan stood next to the wall, phone in hand as if recording. Jaehyun, worst of all, was standing directly behind Woonhak, peering down at him like a detective about to drop a bomb.
Jaehyun broke the silence first.
âSo,â he said casually, far too casually. âSince when?â
âAnd the aircon is on,â Riwoo added helpfully.
Woonhak groaned, dropping his forehead into his hands. âCan you all stop staring at me?â
Sungho stepped closer, squatting down in front of him. His tone softened, teasing but not cruel. âWeâre just curious. You hate hugs. You hate sudden contact. You complain when we breathe too close to you.â
Leehan leaned in from the side. âBut her?â
Jaehyun smiled knowingly. âYou just stood there.â
Woonhak swallowed.
He remembered it too clearlyâthe way youâd hugged him without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The warmth. The quickness. The way youâd immediately pulled back, apologizing over and over, eyes wide with worry.
And how, without even planning to, heâd told you it was okay.
How heâd meant it.
âShe said sorry,â Woonhak muttered, avoiding their eyes.
Sunghoâs grin widened. âYou reassured her.â
âI wouldâve reassured anyone!â
Riwoo hummed. âBut would you have said, âItâs fine, I donât mindâ to anyone else?â
Silence.
Woonhak picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
Taesanâs eyes sparkled. âOh my god. You like her.â
âI donât!â Woonhak protested instantly, too fast. âWeâre just friends.â
Jaehyun chuckled. âFriends, huh?â
âYes!â
âThen why,â Sungho asked gently, âdo you let her do whatever she wants?â
Woonhak hesitated.
Because she feels safe, he almost said.
Because sheâs bright and warm and doesnât make him feel trapped.
Because when itâs you, it doesnât feel like his space is being invadedâit feels like itâs being shared.
Instead, he mumbled, âSheâs⌠different.â
The room went quiet again.
Then Jaehyun screamed into a pillow.
âDIFFERENT?! He said DIFFERENT!â
Taesan burst out laughing. âThatâs it. Itâs over. Our maknae is done for.â
Woonhak buried his face in his hands, mortified. âYouâre all so annoying.â
Sungho stood, ruffling his hair, careful this time, light enough that Woonhak didnât pull away. âAnnoying, maybe. But weâre not wrong.â
Riwoo smiled softly. âYou look happy around her.â
That made Woonhak pause.
Happy.
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his hand.
A notification lit up the screen.
You: Did you eat yet? :)
Woonhak froze.
Every hyung leaned in.
âOh?â Leehan sang. âWhatâs that?â
Jaehyun peeked over his shoulder. âIs that her contact photo?â
Woonhak yelped, locking his phone and clutching it to his chest. âSTOP LOOKING!â
Sungho laughed. âYou didnât even deny it.â
His ears burned again.
And somewhere deep down, Woonhak realized, with a mix of panic and warmth, that the teasing had only just begun.
As time passed, they started bumping into each other more often.
At first, Woonhak told himself it was just a coincidence.
HYBE was big, but not that big, shared floors, overlapping schedules, similar break times. It made sense that paths would cross. Once or twice was normal.
But when it kept happening?
That was when he started noticing.
The first time after the teasing incident, it was early morning. Woonhak was half-awake, hoodie pulled over his head, earphones in but no music playing. He was padding down the hallway toward the practice rooms, dragging his feet like heâd rather be anywhere else.
Then,
âWoonhak!â
Your voice cut through the quiet corridor.
He stopped so abruptly that the much shorter Riwoo, walking behind him, nearly crashed into his back.
âThere you are!â you said, jogging up to him, eyes bright despite the early hour. âI thought I saw you from the elevator.â
Woonhak blinked, momentarily stunned, before pulling his hood down. âOh. Hi.â
You smiled at him, wide, warm, familiar in a way that still made his chest feel funny. You were dressed casually, oversized jacket, hair pulled back messily. No stage makeup, no cameras. Just you.
Riwoo raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you.
âIâll⌠go on ahead,â he said slowly, clearly amused.
Woonhak shot him a warning look, but Riwoo just smirked and walked off.
Silence settled in.
Not awkward. Just quiet.
âAre you going to practice?â you asked.
He nodded. âYeah. Dance.â
âSame!â you said instantly. âWell- vocals first, then dance.â
âOh.â
Another pause.
You rocked back on your heels, hands clasped behind your back. âDo you⌠mind if we walk together?â
Woonhakâs instinct was to overthink itâto worry about timing, cameras, what people might say.
But then he remembered what heâd told you.
If itâs you, I donât really mind.
So he nodded. âI donât mind.â
Your smile softened, like youâd been a little nervous too.
They walked side by side down the hallway, footsteps syncing naturally. You leaned closer as you talked, animatedly telling him about a choreography change, occasionally bumping his arm with yours without even noticing.
Woonhak noticed.
Every single time.
And every single time, he didnât pull away.
After that, the âcoincidencesâ multiplied.
Sometimes heâd turn a corner and nearly run straight into you, both of you stopping short, laughing awkwardly before bowing a little too much.
Sometimes youâd spot him first and wave enthusiastically, calling his name like it was the best part of your day.
Once, he stepped out of a practice room drenched in sweat, only to find you sitting on the floor outside with a sports drink in hand.
âYou looked tired earlier,â you said, holding it out. âThought you might want this.â
He stared at it for a second before taking it carefully. âYou didnât have to.â
âI wanted to,â you replied simply.
Another time, *you* were the tired oneâeyes drooping, shoulders slumped as you shuffled down the hallway. Without thinking, Woonhak slowed his pace to match yours.
âYou okay?â he asked softly.
You perked up immediately. âYeah! Just sleepy.â
Then, quieter, âBut itâs better now.â
He didnât ask why.
The members noticed too, of course.
They always did.
âYouâre leaving early again?â Sungho asked one afternoon, watching Woonhak tie his shoes.
Woonhak shrugged. âWe finished faster today.â
Taesan leaned over the couch. âHallway route or elevator route?â
Woonhak paused. ââŚHallway.â
Jaehyun grinned. âInteresting.â
And sure enough, halfway down the corridor, there you wereâwalking toward him, phone in hand, nearly crashing into him because you were too busy texting.
âOh!â You looked up, startled, then laughed. âWow, we really keep running into each other.â
Woonhak smiled shyly. âYeah.â
You hesitated, then reached out, lightly tugging his sleeve. âDo you wanna walk together again?â
He nodded, heart thumping a little faster than usual.
Behind them, from a distance, Taesan peeked around the corner.
âOh, theyâre totally doing this on purpose now,â he whispered.
Jaehyun sighed dramatically. âOur maknae doesnât even realize heâs falling.â
Sungho smiled to himself.
And Woonhak, walking beside you, shoulder brushing yours, felt something warm settle in his chest.
Whatever this was, it wasnât just coincidence anymore.
It was late.
Not officially late, no one was breaking curfew, but the building had that quiet, hollow feel that only came after most lights were off and schedules were done for the day. The hallway outside the practice rooms was dim, illuminated only by emergency lights and the glow spilling out from one open door.
Woonhak stepped out first, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp, hoodie hanging loose on him. He was tired in a good way, muscles sore, mind calm.
And then he saw you.
You were sitting on the floor a few steps away, back against the wall, knees pulled to your chest. Your phone rested beside you, screen dark. When you noticed him, you straightened immediately, eyes lighting up like youâd been waiting.
âDone?â you asked.
He nodded. âYou stayed.â
You shrugged, smiling sheepishly. âI wanted to say hi.â
Something warm curled in his chest.
He hesitated, then sat down beside you, leaving just enough space, out of habit more than anything. The hallway was quiet again, the kind that made small sounds feel louder. Your breathing. The rustle of his hoodie. The faint hum of the building.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Then you leaned back against the wall, head tilting slightly toward him. âCan I ask you something?â
âYeah,â he said immediately.
You picked at the sleeve of your jacket. âDo I⌠bother you?â
He frowned. âWhat?â
âI mean-â You laughed softly, but it sounded unsure. âIâm kinda clingy. I talk a lot. I keep finding you in hallways like itâs on purpose.â You glanced at him. âIf itâs annoying, you can tell me.â
Woonhakâs heart skipped.
âNo,â he said quickly. Too quickly. He steadied himself. âYou donât bother me.â
You looked at him fully now, eyes searching. âReally?â
He nodded. âI actuallyâŚâ He swallowed, fingers curling into his sleeve. âI look forward to seeing you.â
The words hung between them.
Your breath caught, just a little.
âOh,â you murmured.
He felt bold, braver than usual, maybe because it was quiet, maybe because it was just the two of you. He turned toward you, meeting your gaze.
âI think I-â
Your phone rang.
Loud. Sudden. Jarring.
You jumped, fumbling for it. âOh- sorry, itâs- â
You glanced at the screen.
âMinji-unnieâŚâ
Woonhak froze.
âOh,â he echoed, the moment shattering like glass.
You hesitated, then answered. âHello?â
Woonhak stared straight ahead, heart still racing, words stuck halfway up his throat. He felt foolish for even starting, embarrassed at how close heâd gotten to saying something heâd never said out loud before.
You ended the call quickly, slipping your phone back into your pocket. âShe was just checking if I left yet.â
âOh,â Woonhak said again, quieter this time.
The silence returned, but it was different now. Thicker. Heavy with what hadnât been said.
You shifted closer, just a little. Your shoulder brushed his.
ââŚYou were saying something,â you said softly.
Woonhak opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He shook his head, forcing a small smile. âItâs okay. You should go. Itâs late.â
You looked like you wanted to argue. Instead, you nodded slowly. âOkay.â
You stood, then hesitated. âGoodnight, Woonhak.â
âGoodnight.â
As you walked away, Woonhak leaned his head back against the wall, heart pounding.
I think I-
He didnât finish the sentence.
But he knew exactly how it ended.
The next day, you were especially clingy.
Not in an obvious way, no hand-holding, no dramatic gestures, but you hovered near him whenever schedules overlapped. You walked closer than usual. You tugged lightly at his sleeve when you laughed. You sat beside him during downtime without even asking.
And Woonhak let you.
Again.
Which immediately caught the hyungsâ attention.
Taesan noticed first, watching from across the waiting area. âSheâs like⌠glued to him today.â
Riwoo nodded. âMore than usual.â
Sungho glanced at Woonhak, at how relaxed he looked, how he leaned subtly toward you instead of away. âSomething happened.â
Jaehyun narrowed his eyes.
Later, when you stepped away to talk to staff, Taesan wasted no time.
âOkay,â he said, dropping onto the couch beside Woonhak. âWhat was that last night?â
Woonhak stiffened. âWhat?â
âThe hallway,â Sungho added calmly. âYou looked like someone interrupted a confession.â
Woonhakâs ears burned. âIt wasnât- â
Jaehyun cut in, grinning. âSheâs been holding onto you all day.â
âI donât mind,â Woonhak said before thinking.
The room went silent.
ââŚOh?â Leehan said.
Woonhak realized too late what heâd admitted. He looked down, mumbling, âI mean- itâs not a problem.â
Jaehyun beamed. âHE SAID IT AGAIN.â
Just then, you came back, eyes immediately finding Woonhak, like you always did. You smiled and walked straight over, dropping down beside him, shoulder pressing into his comfortably.
Sungho watched closely. âDoes she know?â
Woonhak shook his head, barely perceptible.
Jaehyun sighed. âUnbelievable.â
One of the staff members glanced over. âHey, isnât she a little close?â
Woonhak looked up.
Before anyone else could respond, he spoke, quiet, but firm.
âItâs fine,â he said. âSheâs with me.â
You blinked, surprised, then smiledâsoft and bright and just for him.
âYeah,â you said easily. âIâm with him.â
The hyungs exchanged looks.
Leehan wiped imaginary tears. âOur maknae is whipped.â
Woonhak didnât even deny it.
Because when you leaned into him again, warm and familiar, he thought
Next time, I will tell herâŚ
thank you for reading to the end luvlies ŕ´Śŕľŕ´Śŕ´ż(áľááľ) sorry for the open ending </3
the loml's (ËśË áľ ËËś): @nanadreamies (thank you for the request babe á˘đŠ), @ivehan @mukieissukie @sese-blurbs @dj-ami | (permataglist is always open!)
SYNOPSIS. eom seonghyeon doesnât like you. he doesnât like how you challenge him intellectually, he doesnât like how effortlessly charming you are, and he really doesnât like how you somehow manage to creep into every little crevice of his life. but as the year goes on, the line between hate and love seem to blur, and fuck, he hates being wrong, but he's just going to have to swallow his pride and admit it: eom seonghyeon thinks he might actually really like you.
or alternatively, seonghyeon realizes that he mightâve confused love and hate.
GENRE. best friend's brother, kind of academic rivals?,one-sided enemies to lovers
WORD COUNT. 26.1k (whoops! sorry)
WARNINGS. swearing, kissing, seonghyeon's kind of mean in the beginning. emotionally constipated seonghyeon (please bear with him), reader's younger by one year but in seonghyeon's grade
AUTHOR'S NOTE. it's heree!!! ambivalence is my baby and i hope you adore it as much as i adored writing it. the poem that y/n and hyeon analyse in here is called "having a coke with you" by frank o'hara. it's one of my favourite love poems ever and i had to sneak it in somewhere. happy reading and i'd love some feedback on this. much love!!! <3
âYEAH, SHEâS SKIPPING A GRADE.âÂ
Itâs the first day of school, and Eom Seonghyeonâs heart drops when he hears his younger sister Sera say those words. Heâs halfway through a bite of his toast when he hears that you, his sisterâs best friend, is skipping a grade. He nearly chokes on the bread, and the strangled noise that he makes doesnât go unnoticed by Sera.Â
She looks at him suspiciously, and Seonghyeon makes no comment. All he does is awkwardly take a sip of his coffee (another big mistake, itâs piping hot) and forces a smile.Â
The thing is, Eom Seonghyeon doesnât exactly like you.Â
Itâs a little cruel to dislike your younger sisterâs best friend, and Seonghyeonâs well aware of that. But thereâs something just so incredibly infuriating about you, and he just canât help it. Youâre annoyingly clever â clearly, since youâve skipped a grade. Seonghyeonâs always been top of his class every single year, but now that youâre going to be in his grade, he knows that very well may change.Â
Youâre far too smart, well-read and intellectual for someone your age. You read Plato and Aristotle for fun. For fun! Seonghyeon adores reading, but even he thinks that youâre insane. Thereâs no reason for someoneâs ideal lounge-by-the-pool book to be The Republic. While heâs being sprayed with a water gun by Keonho, youâre sitting by the lounge chair learning about justice and the idea of a perfect society.Â
Itâs tiring for him to always be compared to you as well. Words like Seonghyeon, youâre so smart, just like Seraâs friend infuriates him to no end. He knows that itâs not your fault that other people are comparing the both of you, but it doesnât make him feel any better.Â
To say the least, you make Eom Seonghyeon feel stupid. And you donât even intend to.Â
Another thing that Seonghyeon dislikes about you is how effortlessly charming you are. Seonghyeon, for a lack of better words, could sometimes act like a complete dick to you. He gives you curt nods when he sees you at his house, tries to not roll his eyes at your tangents (which Seonghyeon sometimes agrees with, but heâd never let you know that), and silently scoffs when Sera reveals a new fact about you.Â
And you? You always smile at him when you see him in the hallways. You always ask him if heâs eaten today. You even give him book recommendations sometimes when you notice what heâs been reading, and fuck, sometimes theyâre really good. Itâs infuriating.Â
He also dislikes that youâre⌠pretty, or something. He sees you far too often, and there's also far too many times where he has to remind himself that you're his younger sister's annoyingly clever best friend. Especially when he sometimes catches himself staring for far too long in your direction. Seonghyeon tells himself there's just something interesting that catches his eye nearby, like the light switch or a fly. He'd never admit that it's you.Â
Seonghyeon has shoved the thought of you being pretty to the back of his mind many times. Heâs going to do that again right now.Â
Heâs completely lost in his own thoughts about you and he doesnât even notice that his half-eaten toast has fallen onto his plate, and Seraâs calling out his name. âHello? Earth to Seonghyeon?âÂ
He snaps out of it, picking up his toast again and taking a bite. âYeah?âÂ
âI was asking you if you could take a bit of time to look out for (Name) this year.â Seraâs words donât come out like a request, but rather like a command. âObviously, sheâs skipping a grade so she wonât have me there â poor girl â and she wonât know anyone. Youâve seen her so many times over the years, so⌠please? Just make sure sheâs settling in well and everything. She was telling me that she wasnât really sure if she should actually skip a grade, but you know. Too easy for her.âÂ
Seonghyeon nearly chokes on his toast for the second time today. His sister wants him to look after you. Seonghyeon would rather set himself on fire.Â
Heâs being dramatic. He doesnât hate you that much. Itâs just that Seonghyeon would much rather stay away from you if he had the chance to.Â
âPlease,â Sera said, as if sheâs able to read his thoughts. âI know youâre not the biggest fan of her, but come on. Sheâs really nice, if you just got to know her. And she doesnât even care about being top of the class.â Of course you donât care, Seonghyeon thinks. Itâs because youâre too humble for your own good.Â
Seonghyeon sometimes wonders if heâs a bad person for disliking you when youâre basically morally perfect.Â
âOh, and make sure Keonho knows that sheâs off limits. You and all of your friends are. If anything happens, just know Iâm gonna get violent.â Sera says off-handedly.
âWonât be a problem,â Seonghyeon replies, rolling his eyes.
âIs that a yes? To keep an eye out for her?âÂ
âWhatever.â Seonghyeon says, taking another bite out of his toast. Heâs chewing angrily.Â
He just has to agree, right? Does he have to actually do it?Â
Five minutes later, Seonghyeon finds out that the answer is yes.Â
Because you show up at his fucking doorstep, of course.Â
Youâre beaming brightly while Seonghyeon can barely hide the frown on his lips. Youâre holding The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli â of course you are, Seonghyeon thinks â and thereâs around 500 of those colourful plastic tabs that you use to mark where youâve made a note sticking out of the bookâs edge. You greet Sera, him, and his mom with such genuine politeness and warmth, and Seonghyeon hates that he canât call this bullshit.Â
Your uniformâs now the same as his, with the tartan on your tie being the same chequered pattern of green and beige. Itâs an unpleasant reminder that youâre going to be in all of his classes, and that avoiding you will be far more difficult than it used to be.Â
Sera greets you with a big hug, which you return. âI canât believe youâre ditching me in Year 10.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â you say, frowning. âYou know Iâll always be around, though. And Iâm never gonna bail on our after school study sessions anyways. I kind of focus better here.âÂ
Your eyes land on Seonghyeon, and you give him a small smile. Itâs tentative, a little shy, but still has that warmth that makes him feel uneasy. âHey! Did you like the book, by the way?â you ask.Â
Seonghyeonâs puzzled for a second. âWhat book?âÂ
âThe one I gave to you a couple weeks ago. Romance of the Three Kingdoms by Luo Guanzhong? I know you like history and everything, soâŚâ you trail off. Itâs like a lightbulb switches on in Seonghyeonâs brain â oh, right. That book. The book that he found so good he pulled an all-nighter to finish. Your brilliant book recommendation and the fact that youâre attentive to his interests stirs up this strange feeling in the pit of Seonghyeonâs stomach that he canât quite explain.Â
âIt was⌠alright.â he says, feigning indifference. He shrugs before turning curtly to grab his backpack from his room. Behind him, he can hear Sera telling you to ignore him, and that heâs feeling moody today. Sera also recounts to you about how Seonghyeon choked on his toast this morning, and his face flushes pink with embarrassment. And contrary to what Sera was saying, he was not moody. He just⌠didnât like you.Â
When he grabs his backpack from his chair, Seonghyeon spots the copy of Romance of the Three Kingdoms that you gave to him just sitting on his desk. Itâs a glaring reminder of you.Â
He groans and shoves the book in his bag.Â
This was going to be a long year.Â
Everyone looks at you in bewilderment when they see you walk into the 11th grade math classroom.Â
The stunned silence, their wide eyes and gaping mouths tell you everything. Theyâre all asking: why the fuck would you would be here? They all know you as the genius from 9th grade â you left prizegiving last year with so many medals around your neck to the point where you'd nearly fallen over.
Youâre a little late because youâd gone to the administratorâs office to grab your new schedule, since youâd been moved up a year. Your eyes scan the thin sheet of paper, mumbling to yourself the order of your classes and the teachers of each course, just so that you could get that information in your head.Â
You look around the classroom for any familiar faces, and you donât recognise anyone, except for Seonghyeon. Heâs laughing with Keonho â youâve seen Keonho multiple times at the Eom familyâs house. You want to go up to them, simply because you donât know anyone else. But a weird, tight feeling in your chest stops you from doing so, and you opt for a seat at the back of the classroom. Alone.
Itâs next to the window, and sunlight spills through the curtains. It gives you a certain sense of warmth that you find you enjoy. You place your bag down on the floor, unzipping it to pull out your notebooks.Â
Theyâre all organised meticulously and by colour â red for English, blue for math, purple for history, green for science, orange for Korean. You pull the blue math notebook out and set it on the left side of your desk.
Your pencil case is organised just as intentionally â blue pens to the left of the box, black pens to the right. Pens are stacked above your sticky notes. Only yellow sticky notes, never in one of the fun colours, because you found that it made your notes hard to read. You pull out one blue pen and one black pen and put it on the right side of your desk.Â
Youâre so engrossed in making sure that your tableâs organised to your liking to the point where you donât notice that everyoneâs eyes are still on you. Seonghyeon and Keonho included.Â
âI canât believe sheâs in our class,â Keonho whispers to Seonghyeon. âShe must be crazy smart then.âÂ
Seonghyeon lets out a deep exhale. His shoulders are tense as he watches you with hawk-like concentration. âSure. Something like that. You know how she was reading Plato at our pool party.âÂ
âWho the hell is Plato?â
Seonghyeon suppresses a sigh. Keonho was not exactly the studious type. As the schoolâs favourite student athlete, he spent more time at the pool than he did anywhere else, and won more medals for the school than anyone else. Training takes up most of his days, and itâs honestly a miracle that Keonhoâs even here for first period. Seonghyeon would be surprised if Keonho even showed up to half the classes this year.Â
âAncient Greek philosopher. Donât worry about it,â Seonghyeon replies, and Keonho nods. âBut yeah. Sheâs smart smart.âÂ
âAnd you hate her for it?â Keonho asks. Thereâs a teasing smile on his lips, and Seonghyeon lets out another deep sigh to try and release the tension in his shoulders. It doesnât work.Â
Seonghyeon knows that you make him feel stupid. And he doesnât like feeling stupid. But his feelings for you, specifically, are complicated, and Seonghyeon would rather die than focus on dissecting them, so he settles on dislike.Â
He feels uneasy, on edge and thereâs always that constant feeling of wanting to run away whenever youâre near. He must have some sort of aversion to you.
âHate is a strong word,â Seonghyeon musters out. It's all he can come up with. âI donât know. Sheâs just⌠never been someone Iâve vibed with.âÂ
Keonho suppresses an incredulous laugh. âYou donât hate her? You look like you want to bolt out of the room whenever sheâs around, or even when sheâs mentioned.âÂ
âI donât know, man,â Seonghyeon replies. He doesnât want to keep talking about this. âLetâs talk about something else, okay? Weâll have⌠I donât know â the whole year to dissect whatever this is. We donât need to get it over and done with in the first day.âÂ
Seonghyeon pulls out the book that heâs currently reading â No Longer Human by Ozamu Dazai â and flicks to the page where heâd left off on. He scans the words on the page, quickly engrossing himself in the novel. He doesnât notice how Keonhoâs eyeing him with a look thatâs almost like heâs trying to crack open Seonghyeonâs skull to see what he thinks about you.Â
As Seonghyeonâs best friend, Keonho knows of his aversion towards you. But thereâs this odd feeling thatâs telling Keonho that thereâs more than Seonghyeonâs letting on, and heâs determined to get to the bottom of it.Â
Keonhoâs eyes flick from Seonghyeon, to you. Seonghyeon, to you. Seonghyeon, to you.
Youâre a little freaked out. Keonho is looking at you like heâs trying to uncover your deepest secret, and for a boy youâve only spoken to once at a pool party, you really donât know why heâs eyeing you with the energy of Sherlock Holmes trying to solve a case. All you know about Ahn Keonho is that heâs Seonghyeonâs best friend, heâs a swimmer, and that he got a bruise after cannonballing into the Eom family pool.Â
You turn away, a little too aware of Keonhoâs scrutinising eyes on you. But then youâre surprised by the sight of an unfamiliar girl, who gives you a smile that you arenât quite sure is genuine. âHi. Iâm Haeun.â she says, and you nod.Â
âHi. Iâm (Name),â you say. Your voice is small â Seonghyeon, though his eyes never leave the pages of his book, notices. He realises that this is rare. Heâs never heard you sound this shy, hesitant and unsure.Â
âWe heard you skipped a grade?â Haeun asks, and you nod. âSo you must be really smart then.â
Youâre not quite sure what to say. Agreeing would be cocky. Saying no would be a lie. You settle for saying âYeah, I did skip a grade.â You donât make any reply to the last thing Haeun said to you.Â
Her voice lowers, and she gives you this sickeningly sweet smile that makes you feel uneasy. âSo⌠um⌠hypothetically. If I were to say â a friend of mine, that is â was unable to do her work due to some⌠circumstances, would you be able to maybe be so kind to⌠help out?âÂ
This is the strangest first day of school experience that youâve ever had. What were you even supposed to say? Haeun clearly wanted you to do her homework, but you followed a strict moral code â no was obviously going to be the answer, but you didnât really want to get ostracised by the entire class. Everyone was looking at you expectantly. First period hadnât even started and you didnât really want to be making enemies.Â
You hear an exasperated sigh, followed by a voice that was all too familiar.Â
âHaeun, stop trying to get people to do your homework.âÂ
Eom Seonghyeon was now standing in front of Haeun, and you think that things mightâve gotten even stranger. The last person you expected to even try and help you out was Seonghyeon â heâd always been cold and aloof to you. A stark contrast from the way you saw him act with Keonho.Â
Seonghyeon had always been distant towards you â unreachable, even. You tried your best to hash out whatever issue there was between you two, but you really couldnât even figure out what the issue was. You were Seraâs best friend, so you sort of expected to be able to get along with Seonghyeon, considering that you had much more in common with him than Sera.Â
You both adored books. You both adored history (perhaps a little too much). You two even liked the same type of music, according to Sera. But Seonghyeon seemed adamant on keeping his distance. Even your book recommendations didnât help. You thought youâd nailed it with Romance of the Three Kingdoms. You were a little disappointed when he told you that it was âalrightâ this morning.
Haeun rolls her eyes before walking back to her seat. Youâre sitting there in stunned silence. Seonghyeonâs about to walk back to his desk. Keonhoâs looking at you two like heâs watching the greatest K-drama thatâs ever been made.Â
âSeonghyeon.â You say his name without thinking. Fuck, whyâd I do that? you think.
And Seonghyeonâs thinking, fuck, why did I get up and tell Haeun off? Seonghyeon also finds something new that he dislikes about you right at this moment. He dislikes how his name rolls off your tongue so sweetly, like honey dripping off the comb. He doesnât know why his breath catches in his throat because of it. Itâs absurd.Â
âYou didnât have to do that.â you tell him.Â
âI kind of did. Sera told me to take care of you,â he shrugs, and you let out a small âohâ. The idea that it was more obligatory on Seonghyeonâs end makes you feel a little disappointed, but youâre really not surprised that Sera had asked. She was always looking out for you. âAnd honestly? If you do Haeunâs homework, youâre going to end up doing the entire classâ homework. Except for mine.âÂ
You look at him, tilting your head as you ponder on what to say. âSo.. do I stay away from her?â you ask about Haeun, and Seonghyeon nods in response. Heâs about to turn to leave again when you suddenly speak up.Â
âThanks for sticking up for me, Seonghyeon.â you reply, giving him a small smile. There it goes again, his name rolling off your tongue like itâs honey. Seonghyeon makes a small noise of acknowledgement thatâs akin to a âdonât mention itâ without actually saying the words.Â
âI get it now,â Keonho says, voice teasing when Seonghyeon slides back into his own seat, picking up his book again. âYou donât hate her. You like her.âÂ
Keonhoâs words are so insane to the point where Seonghyeon drops his book. Not even onto his desk, but onto the floor.Â
âWhat?â Seonghyeon thinks thatâs the most absurd thing heâs ever heard in the world â so absurd that he thinks it makes him a little sick. Those three words land like an odd blow to his chest too. It contradicts everything that heâs told himself for the past ten years, and itâs honestly so ridiculous that it does make Seonghyeon question whether or not he likes you.Â
âYou like her.â Keonho repeats.Â
âYouâre ridiculous.â Seonghyeon retorts.Â
âYouâre not denying it.âÂ
âI donât need to deny it when itâs that ridiculous. Your psychoanalysis of me is incredibly wrong.âÂ
âWhatever you say,â Keonho says, in that sing-song voice that makes Seonghyeon want to elbow him in the side. âYou know itâs true. Plato would agree.âÂ
âYouâve never read Plato.â Seonghyeon replies, matter-of-factly.Â
âWhatever. The Greeks had Plato, you have me.â Another ridiculous statement from Keonho, but Seonghyeon chooses to laugh at it a little, because of the sheer absurdity. The first thing he said was also absurd, but Seonghyeon found it to be no laughing matter.Â
Seonghyeonâs going to ignore it. What does Ahn Keonho know about love anyways?Â
Who cares that he was born on Valentineâs Day, right?Â
So far, your first day as an 11th grader is nothing remarkable by your standards.Â
You donât really click with anyone â you chat with your deskmate Leean from history about the Cold War. Actually, youâre really the one talking, and sheâs taking notes about what youâre saying. She calls you a lifesaver, because apparently Mr Jung is incompetent. You donât think any proper friendship will come out of it.Â
Seonghyeon, whoâs sitting two tables in front of you, listens as you basically give an oversimplified lecture about the Cold War in the ten minutes that it takes for Mr Jung to show up to class. Seonghyeon knows that you know everything about the Cold War like the back of your hand â he does too. He makes a mental checklist in his head to make sure youâre mentioning all the things that he wouldâve mentioned. You tick off every single box.Â
You opt to sit with Sera and Nayeon at lunch like you always do. Seonghyeonâs table, where he sits with Keonho, Martin and Juhoon is just two tables down. Usually, Seonghyeon would avoid looking in your direction. Today, itâs the opposite.Â
Youâre talking with Sera, and you look a little less energetic than usual. Youâre picking at your food â heâs never seen you do that before. Youâre letting Sera and Nayeon talk much more, which is not too strange, but youâre not even interjecting with your own short remarks. Youâre just picking at your food and listening. However, The Prince is next to your lunch box. Seonghyeon can tell youâre itching to open it and read it, because your fingers are tapping rhythmically against the fabric-bound cover of the book.
Seonghyeon doesnât even realise he knew this much about your habits until now.Â
âThinking about something? Or⌠someone?â Keonho asks with that shit-eating grin on his lips. Seonghyeon rolls his eyes and stabs his salad with a little more aggressiveness, as if to tell Keonho to not provoke him. Heâs got one hand holding his book, and every now and then his eyes flick towards your table. Martin notices, and he looks in your direction too.Â
âOh yeah, I heard (Name)âs in your grade now,â Martin says. Seonghyeon furrows his eyebrows â how does he know you by name? Martin never really talked to many of the younger students (he only clicked with Seonghyeon and Keonho because of the music committee). Seonghyeon also knew Martin would never join philosophy club.Â
âHowâd you know her?âÂ
Martin looks at Seonghyeon sheepishly, as if he was a little embarrassed. âShe tutored me for ethics. For like⌠a month.âÂ
âShe⌠tutored you?â Juhoonâs stifling a laugh, and Martin is not amused. âBro, sheâs like two years younger than you!âÂ
âWell, desperate times call for desperate measures, and sheâs the only person in our entire school probably who actually reads stuff about it. Letâs be real, Iâm pretty sure she knows more than Mr Hwang about stuff like⌠deontological ethics. Donât quiz me on that, by the way. I purged all of that from my memory after the test.â Martin shrugs, and Seonghyeon fails to find any reason to disagree.Â
Keonho nudges Seonghyeon, leaning in to ask a question. âDo we have to know deontoââÂ
âYou donât need to know, bud. I donât even think youâre enrolled in ethics.âÂ
Keonho flashes Seonghyeon a thumbs up and a wide grin before going back to scarf down his lunch.Â
Two tables down, Seraâs asking you questions about your first day as an 11th grader. You shrug, picking at your lunch with your fork. âItâs been alright. Nothing too fancy. Maths got harder, I will say. Science⌠not horrible. History was fun. Did some stuff on the Cold War. Iâm hoping that maybe we could venture into something like medieval history, but I donât know if Mr Jung is really qualified to teach that. Heâs not⌠great.â you say, and Nayeon laughs.Â
âTell me about it. Heâs hopeless, honestly. We had him this morning too. You should just teach the class instead,â she quips, and you shake your head. Youâve been told that far too many times, but you fail to agree. You donât really think youâd be the best history teacher â you find yourself going on and on and then venturing into areas of history that arenât remotely relevant to the topic at hand. âBut what about everything else? Made any new friends?âÂ
âEh,â you reply. Your tone is dull, because your entire day has been underwhelming. Your first dayâs been shaping up to be academically mediocre and socially lonely. At least in 10th grade it would be academically easy and socially vibrant â youâd have Sera and Nayeon to talk and joke around with. âI talked to Leean. Or well, I lectured Leean about the Cold War. And someone named Haeun tried to get me to do her homework for her before Seonghyeon stepped in.âÂ
Seraâs pleasantly surprised at the mention of her brother. âSeonghyeon stepped in?âÂ
âYeah,â you say, taking a bite of your food. âTold her to go away. Nice of him.âÂ
You donât have much to say about Seonghyeon. You never do, because he never really gives you anything to talk about, even if you see him every single day at school and after school. Youâd think that after being friends with his sister for ten years, youâd be close with him already. But Seonghyeon seems to want to avoid you like the plague, and youâve got no idea what youâve done to cause him to have such an aversion towards you. Him interjecting into your conversation with Haeun was utterly shocking â perhaps itâs why itâs stayed in your mind all day.Â
And you wouldnât lie. Perhaps you had been harbouring a small crush on Seonghyeon ever since⌠forever. When you first became friends with Sera and headed over to the Eomsâ house, youâd always try and see what he was up to. Youâd often find his nose in some history book, completely engrossed in it as if he was in his own little world. Youâd actually started getting into history because of how interested Seonghyeon seemed in it. Perhaps heâd talk to you after you two had something in common.Â
But then you realised how much you loved it too. You spent all your lunch breaks reading about historical events, figures, everything â while the other kids played in the playground, you kept your nose buried in a book just like Seonghyeon. When you started middle school, it was apparent to everyone that youâd be dux by the time 12th grade rolled around.Â
Much to your disappointment, after youâd started reading more about the things that Seonghyeon liked as well, he only seemed to move further away. You tried to start conversations about historical topics that you knew he enjoyed, and heâd only give you a short response or a nod, before saying that he had homework to do and retreating into his room.Â
Frankly, youâre not sure what you were expecting. Perhaps to Eom Seonghyeon, all youâd ever be was his little sisterâs annoying best friend. Nothing more.Â
You look at Seonghyeon, whoâs sitting two tables down from you. The shitty cafeteria lighting is somehow making him look like a fucking Greek god.Â
The light hits just right on certain parts of his hair to emphasise his blond highlights. Heâs laughing at some random joke that Juhoon just made, and the way laughter bubbles past his lips is so beautiful, it makes your stomach flip. He comes up with some retort that makes the table erupt in laughter. Your best friendâs brother is smart, funny and beautiful. Heâs perfect, but he hates you.Â
Seonghyeonâs eyes wander around the cafeteria before they land on you. Thereâs a look in his eye. Soft, unrecognisable, nothing like youâve ever seen before. Maybe he doesnât hate you.Â
But then his entire body stiffens, and the smile on his lips disappears. He coughs, and then looks away. You let out a dejected sigh before you tear your gaze away from him. That small glimmer of hope dissipates.
Eom Seonghyeon probably still hates you.Â
Itâs been a week since you started 11th grade, and you think youâre getting more used to it now.Â
Leean actually makes for great company, and she ends up being the person you speak the most to in class. Through Leean, youâve also befriended a girl named Hayoung. Keonho sometimes makes conversation with you when heâs here, but you canât help but feel like heâs trying to psychoanalyse you or figure out your feelings for Seonghyeon.Â
And as for Seonghyeon, things are just about the same. He still gives you short and clipped responses, he barely speaks to you in class, and when he sees you after school, he simply glances at you and makes a noise of acknowledgement before heading back to his room. You thought maybe being in the same grade would bring you two closer together. You were incredibly wrong.Â
English is your last class of the day, and youâre more than ready to go home. Youâre craving for a much-needed afternoon nap in your bed before you head to Seraâs house to do your homework. You donât think youâve done much schoolwork in your actual house, now that you think about it â you just seem to work better at the Eomsâ house. Â
âLooks like Keonhoâs not here. Weâll need to put you in a pair with someone else, Seonghyeon,â Ms Kim says as she scans the register. Seonghyeon nods â he knew Keonho had a swim meet today. Seonghyeon just prays to God that he wonât get a partner thatâs not going to do any work for this class. He knows today's lesson is about poetry analysis, according to the Google Classroom. Heâs not excited.Â
Youâre sitting alone again because Leeanâs sick, and Ms Kimâs eyes land on you. Youâre already highlighting a line in the poem that you found particularly intriguing, and youâre mid-grab for a sticky note when Ms Kim calls your name out.Â
â(Name), could you go work with Seonghyeon for this? Itâs a paired exercise.â Ms Kim says. You suddenly sit up straight, stiffening as you look at her. You then look at Seonghyeon, and heâs looking down at the poem. Anywhere but you, of course. Itâs like another blow to your heart. He wonât even look at you.Â
Seonghyeonâs hiding his face, because if anyone saw his expression right now â eyes blown wide in alarm, jaw slack and panic settling into his lungs â theyâd think something was incredibly wrong. But firstly, Seonghyeon doesnât really want to work with you, because heâs sure he dislikes you. Youâre going to be making him feel stupid for the next 45 minutes.Â
Secondly, Keonhoâs words from a couple of weeks ago are still in the back of his mind, and he absolutely despises it. Seonghyeon oscillates between his own thoughts of what he assumes to be dislike towards you, and thoughts of Keonhoâs claims stating that he actually likes you.Â
However, he knows that heâs going to have to do it â Ms Kim is strict, and Seonghyeon thinks that 45 minutes canât be that bad. You werenât mean to him anyways. Seonghyeon just had to try and suppress those feelings of frustration that always bubbled up when it came to you. Â
âOh, um⌠itâs okay,â you say quietly, and Ms Kim raises an eyebrow at your words.Â
âItâs okay as in⌠youâre going to go, or youâre not?âÂ
âJust come.â Seonghyeon says, patting the empty seat next to him.Â
His eyes havenât left the poem, and heâs highlighting with a bright yellow marker. Still not looking at you, always keeping a distance. Your heart is beating too fast. You hesitantly get up from your seat and walk towards Seonghyeonâs table, and even sitting down feels risky.Â
âI donât bite.â Seonghyeon pipes up, almost reading your mind. Heâs still not looking at you.Â
Well, you kind of hate me, you think. âNo, I know. UmâŚâ you trail off. You shake your head, and you think itâs best if you focus on the poem. Youâre now the one that doesnât dare to look at Seonghyeon, and you miss the way heâs looking at you somewhat expectantly, waiting for you to finish your sentence. âNever mind. Letâs just focus.âÂ
You and Seonghyeon work surprisingly well together. Youâre bouncing ideas off of one another like youâve done it a million times before.Â
His analysis of the poem is incredibly insightful, like you expected. Seonghyeonâs always been brilliantly clever. Heâs seeing these tiny, miniscule nuances and implications in the text that you donât think youâd ever be able to notice.Â
He points out a line that he finds intriguing with his finger. Youâre too engrossed in the commentary youâre making about a separate line on a sticky note, and instead of waiting (why would he?) he reaches over to grab an blank sticky note so he can write down his own thoughts.Â
The action brings Seonghyeon impossibly close to you. Heâs never been this close before, and you can smell the lavender and birch from his cologne. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pause writing momentarily. Seonghyeon pretends not to notice.Â
You clear your throat and you get back to writing. Neither of you speak about it.Â
Seonghyeon twirls his pen in his hands as he watches you finish what youâve been writing. Your handwriting is impossibly gorgeous, with letters that look too neat to the point where someone could say that it was typed. You stick your commentary next to the line that youâve highlighted in purple.Â
âWhyâd you use purple instead of yellow here?â Seonghyeon asks, pointing at one line.Â
âItâs the hinge of the poem,â you explain. âItâs the only line in the poem thatâs short â itâs two words, after all. And then you realise that the rest of the poem is about the poet talking about the beauty of looking at their partner.âÂ
As you explain your interpretation of the line, Seonghyeon realises that your voice isnât as small as it was that morning when Haeun had basically asked you to do your homework. You sound confident and assured â you always have, when speaking to him. Heâs looking at the poem and nodding along to what youâre saying. He thinks youâre right â of course you would be, heâs never doubted your intellect â but for the first time Seonghyeonâs not compelled to roll his eyes at your tangents.Â
âI look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world,â you say, reading out the line. Seonghyeonâs eyes snap up to look at you, even though he knows that lineâs in the poem. Itâs also the one youâve been talking about for the last two minutes.Â
But thereâs something about the way youâve said the words, or perhaps maybe the way Seonghyeonâs interpreted the manner of your speech. You say it with a breezy cadence, not stating it with any intention or deliberation. Itâs a line from the poem, after all â but for some reason, the words strike Seonghyeon's chest. It makes his heart twinge in the strangest possible way.Â
âYeah,â Seonghyeon breathes out. He shoves his thoughts to the back of his mind. âAnd then he mentions the Polish Rider right after. Perhaps heâs saying that painting is the only one comparable to his loverâs beauty?âÂ
Your eyes light up at his words. âThatâs brilliant â write that down.â Â
Seonghyeon doesnât know why that weird twinge in his chest returns when he sees that look in your eyes. He nods, scribbling that thought out onto a sticky note before pressing it down next to the line that youâd highlighted for him.Â
He looks at the paper â thereâs annotations and highlighting on practically every page. Your effortlessly gorgeous handwriting in blue dances across the page and mixes with his slightly italicised handwriting in black. He reads every single annotation that youâve put down on the paper, nodding along as he begins to understand your interpretation of each line. Your analysis and interpretation is brilliant, and Seonghyeon makes a mental note to actually learn a little bit from you.Â
He also realises that for the first time in years, he hasnât had to do most of the work in English. You two work together seamlessly, and Seonghyeon doesnât think that heâs worked on a better literary analysis than this in a long time.Â
âWe did a good job,â he says, nodding approvingly. He puts his pen back into his pencil case before smoothing down the sticky notes on the page. âMs Kimâs going to be really happy.âÂ
âYou think?â you ask. Youâve never been taught by Ms Kim before, and you knew that she was notorious for being strict. English had always been one of your favourite subjects, but you knew that it got harder in 11th grade. It was a step up from anything that youâd had to do before, and you certainly didnât expect this level of intensity early on in the year.Â
âI know,â Seonghyeon says with assertiveness. âDonât worry. Youâre good at English. The class wonât be too difficult for you.âÂ
Heâs still giving you these shorter, clipped responses, but you notice how his tone lacks that sort of iciness that you were accustomed to. It still doesnât have that sort of melodic warmth that is evident when he speaks to his friends, however, you enjoy the slight change. Itâs nice and gives you just enough hope that he doesnât despise you as much as you think he does.Â
âThanks,â you reply. You give him a soft smile. The corner of his lips quirk up just enough that you take it as a return of your gesture. He then refocuses his attention to the poem, reading it from start to finish once again. Â
The end of the poem sticks out to Seonghyeon.Â
it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience which is not going to go wasted on me which is why Iâm telling you about itÂ
Itâs printed on the page with no capital letters, no punctuation in between, and thereâs no period at the end. It reads like a tangent, breathless and a little rushed, but itâs ever so romantic. The words leave an enduring mark in Seonghyeonâs mind. He wonders if this sort of love â breathtaking, all-consuming and fervent â is even attainable.Â
As these thoughts run rampant in his mind, thereâs a strange, compelling urge for him to divert his eyes to you. Seonghyeon listens to that urge.Â
That twinge in his heart returns. Maybe heâs just having casual heart palpitations at the young age of 16. That conclusion is completely illogical, but for the first time ever, Seonghyeon wants to believe in something that doesnât make sense.Â
His thoughts, the weird twinge, the ambivalent feelings heâs having towards you... Seonghyeonâs not going to tell you about it.Â
The route to the Eomsâ place is something you know like the back of your hand.Â
Youâve changed out of your uniform, opting for a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Your books, laptop and pens are in your bag, and youâve brought a tub of acai that your mom had bought a couple days ago from the supermarket. Sera had been talking about how much she was craving it at lunch, and you figured that since you hadnât opened the tub yet, you might as well share. You werenât going to finish all of it anyways.Â
You knock on the Eomsâ door, tapping your foot on the concrete as you wait for someone to open it. The door swings open, and itâs Seonghyeon who answers the door this time. He looks a little stunned to see you at his doorstep, but he quickly recovers. Heâs no longer in his uniform too, and heâs got a striped t-shirt and dark-washed jeans on.Â
The blond highlights frame his face a little too well, with a few strands falling just in front of his face. You muster up a smile at him so that youâre doing something to acknowledge his presence rather than just gawking at how perfect he looks.Â
âHey,â he replies, opening the door a little wider to let you in. âSeraâs asleep. Iâll go wake her up.âÂ
You kick your shoes off and place them neatly on the shoe rack while Seonghyeon closes the door. âOh, itâs okay. I just woke up from a nap too,â you say, waving him off. âShe can come study with me once she wakes up. âÂ
Seonghyeon nods at your words. He hopes that you didnât notice how he quite literally seemed to short-circuit when he saw you at the door. He knows he shouldnât be surprised that itâs you, but heâd really never been the one to greet you first; it was always Sera.Â
Heâs about to head back into his room until he sees you pull a cooling bag out of your already overstuffed tote bag. Heâs eyeing you with a certain sense of intrigue, and he plans to stay silent until you pull out a tub of something that looks like ice cream.Â
âDid you bring ice cream? We have like, three tubs in the freezer already.â he pipes up, and you turn to look at him.Â
âItâs not ice cream,â you say, shaking your head. âItâs acai. My mom bought it a couple of days ago from the supermarket, and Sera was talking about how she wanted acai at lunch, so I figured Iâd bring it over. Iâm not going to finish this anyways, and my parents donât like acai, soâŚâÂ
âOh, I see,â he says. Seonghyeonâs trying to hide his excitement over the fact that youâd brought acai. He doesnât think you know how much he loves the stuff, but god, itâs taking everything in him right now to quite literally not devour the entire tub before Sera wakes up. âThanks for that.âÂ
âDo you want some? I can just put it in the freezer later so it doesnât turn into melted soup before Sera wakes up.â Your offer is exactly what Seonghyeon wants to hear right now, and he nods in response.Â
âYeah. Iâd love some, actually. I havenât really eaten.â he says, and you nod, opening the tub of acai. He heads towards the kitchen to grab two bowls, two spoons and an ice cream scooper, rinsing them with water before setting them on the table in front of you.Â
âDo you want toppings, or anything?â he asks, opening the fridge. âWeâve got strawberries. And thereâs cornflakes in the pantry if you want to put them on top of it, or something.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay,â he hears you say. Youâre busy scooping the acai out into a bowl, and you give Seonghyeon a generous amount considering that he told you he hadnât eaten much. Seonghyeon takes out the strawberries and cornflakes for himself anyways. âThanks for asking, though.âÂ
He returns to the table, sitting down on the chair next to you. You realise heâs never done that before, and you try and ignore how your stomach does a flip as you wrestle with the ice cream scoop to get more of the acai out of the tub.Â
You push a bowl towards him. âHere, take this one. If you want more, just let me know.âÂ
âThanks,â he replies. He opens the box of strawberries, placing them on top of the acai in a deliberate, artistic manner like heâs a staff member at the most popular shop in the city. He sprinkles just the right amount of cornflakes on top of it, and when you peer over to look at his bowl, it genuinely looks like something you wouldâve bought at the store.Â
âYouâve decorated it nicely,â you hum, and Seonghyeonâs eyes flick over to you.Â
âHmm?â he looks back down at his bowl. âYeah, I suppose so. Thanks.âÂ
You put the lid back on the acai tub, placing it in the freezer next to the three different ice creams that theyâve got in there. Thereâs mint chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla â the vanilla one has a sticky note on top of the lid thatâs got Seonghyeonâs name scrawled on it in big, bold capital letters along with three exclamation marks. You smile to yourself at the sight.Â
You sit back down next to him, pulling out your math notebook from your bag before taking a bite of the acai. Seonghyeon sits there awkwardly, observing you as he takes another bite of his acai.Â
He realises that he doesnât exactly know how to act around you, after being cold and distant for ten years. English today made him realise that he didnât really mind you that much. You were nice to work with as a study partner, you two got the work done in half the time it took everyone else to, and Ms Kim had said it was âthe best analysis sheâs read by 11th graders.âÂ
âSoâŚâ he starts, scooping up more acai with his spoon and taking a bite. âHowâs the first week been?âÂ
Youâre surprised that Seonghyeon is making small talk with you. Eom Seonghyeon. Your best friendâs older brother who has been avoiding you for ten years like his life depends on it. Youâre so stunned to the point where you momentarily forget to answer his question until you snap out of it.Â
âOh, um⌠itâs been chill,â you reply, shrugging. âItâs not great, not horrible.âÂ
Seonghyeon nods. âYouâll get used to our class. Itâs just the first week,â he hums, taking another bite of the acai. You can hear the cornflakes crunch as he chews. âTheyâre all mostly nice people. I know youâve been getting close to Leean and Hayoung.âÂ
He noticed. You thought Eom Seonghyeon wouldnât even spare a glance at your direction. You nod, unsure of what to say. This time youâre the one giving shorter, clipped answers, and Seonghyeonâs actually talking to you more. His voice isnât as monotonous as it used to be, itâs even a little warmer than it was in English, and you think â hope â the change in tone is signaling a change of heart. Regardless, todayâs been incredibly confusing.Â
Thereâs an awkward silence that falls between the two of you amidst bites of acai. You donât know how to make conversation with him anymore â should you bring up history? Math? Science? You just want to talk to him.Â
Seonghyeonâs almost finished, and youâve barely gotten halfway. He clears his throat as if itâs a signal that heâll be heading back to his room now, and you just get the sudden urge to say something so that maybe youâll be able to talk to him for just a little longer.Â
âIs the acai good?â you ask, and Seonghyeon nods.Â
âYeah, itâs really good. If you could, ask your mom where she bought it. Sera and I like the stuff a lot, so⌠would be good to have some at home all the time.â he says, getting up. Heâs holding his now-empty bowl in one hand as he scratches the nape of his neck with the other. His eyes dart around the room, as if heâs unsure where to look. Seonghyeon thinks this might be the longest conversation heâs ever had with you, apart from in English today.Â
You learn a new fact about Eom Seonghyeon today. He likes acai. You keep that fact safely tucked in the back of your mind. âSure,â you reply. âItâs good to know that you â you guys â like it.âÂ
The quick correction of your words doesnât go unnoticed by Seonghyeon, but he chooses not to say anything about it. Instead, he gives you a small smile, one thatâs a little more obvious than the one he gave you in class. Your heart does a somersault.Â
Seonghyeon washes his bowl in the sink before he walks back to his room, and youâre left reeling from the interaction. You donât even know if he said goodbye â thatâs how out of it you were. Your acaiâs starting to melt, and you only jolt out of it when you hear Sera loudly announce her arrival and give you the tightest hug ever for bringing acai.Â
And as you complete the worksheet Ms Seo had given to you today about integration, you still canât get Seonghyeon out of your mind.Â
Three weeks pass, and you and Seonghyeon fall into a strange sort of rhythm.Â
Heâs not as distant as he used to be, but he still keeps you at an armâs length. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement when you pass by him in the hallways rather than ignoring you, accompanied by the faintest hint of a polite smile â even when Keonhoâs blabbing his ear off about how ridiculous his swimming coach is.Â
But then thereâs also this strange sort of dynamic where you two are competing for the top of the class. Every now and then, you pull ahead after a quiz, but a week later Seonghyeon would snatch the top spot by just the slightest margin. You donât pay too much attention to whoâs leading â you just want to do your best, but it adds an extra awkward element to whatever youâve got going on with Seonghyeon.Â
Sometimes heâs a little colder, especially when thereâs an upcoming test. You knew that Seonghyeon was competitive. You notice how his jaw tightens ever so slightly when Leean makes some off-hand comment about how Seonghyeon used to be the top of the class. Past tense.Â
The math topic test is coming up next week, and you genuinely would rather gouge your eyes out than to try and solve another equation. You were a humanities student â maths and science never came easy to you, but you managed to get good grades purely out of sheer effort rather than natural intellect.Â
But 11th grade math might actually kill you. Youâre sitting at the Eomsâ dinner table, eyebrows knitted together in frustration as you try to figure out what went wrong in the last integration problem youâd solved. Your handwriting is neat and legible across the page, but thereâs so many different answers that youâve started and ditched to the point where it looks almost like a warzone by your standards.Â
âI donât get it,â you groan, and Seraâs so taken aback by your words to the point where she drops her pen. You? Not understanding something? That was completely unheard of. âThe math in 11th grade is so difficult. Or maybe Iâm just not doing it right â no, scratch that, Iâm definitely not doing it right â but I donât know what Iâve done wrong.âÂ
Sera peers at your paper, and her face contorts into one of confusion. âYeah, I have no idea what that means,â she says, shaking her head. âI donât know how you and Seonghyeon are doing this. I'm dreading next year already.âÂ
Seonghyeon somehow miraculously appears at the sound of his name. He bounds down the corridor holding his empty mug, smoothing down the creases in his hoodie as he heads towards the kitchen to refill his cup.Â
He looks over at you and Sera as he pours more water into his mug. He spots you with your head in your hands, shaking your head. âUmâŚâ Seonghyeon looks at Sera â heâs never seen you this distraught over academics before. He assumed that everything was a complete breeze for you, considering your intellect.Â
âMaths. Itâs killing her too.â Sera whispers, and Seonghyeon furrows his brows.Â
Itâs like his body moves before he can think. He sets his mug down on the table, sitting down on one of the empty chairs. And then without thinking, he says: âCan I see the question?âÂ
Itâs too late, and Seonghyeon wants to slap his hand over his mouth. Why would he say that? Heâs technically competing with you for the top spot in the class, and also, he thinks that he still doesnât like you very much. The latter was slightly debatable after spending a whole month in the same class with you, but still â Seonghyeon had no idea why he said that.Â
You slide the paper towards him, hands still covering your face. You were so tired and you quite simply never wanted to see a question about integration ever again. Also, you didnât really want Seonghyeon to see your embarrassing work. His eyes scan the paper and your working, trying to figure out what youâd done wrong.Â
âOh, I see,â he pipes up. He taps your shoulder ever so gently, and youâd be lying if you said that his touch didnât linger. âThereâs a concept here that you didnât apply â thatâs why you donât get it. Iâm pretty sure we learnt it last year, but⌠you skipped a grade, so you never learnt it.âÂ
He gestures towards the blue pen next to you. âMay I?âÂ
You nod, handing him the pen wordlessly. Seonghyeon writes down the working and the answer on a blank piece of refill paper, and an explanation of the concept that you didnât learn. He hands the pen, the worksheet and the explanation back to you.Â
âHere,â he says. He still doesnât know why heâs helping you. âAsk me if you have any other questions.âÂ
Fuck, he thinks. Heâs speaking before he thinks again. He tries to hide a grimace before he gets up from the chair, ready to head back to his room to finish his book. He glances at Sera, whoâs looking at him like she doesnât recognise him.Â
âWhen were you two chill?â she mouths at him, and Seonghyeon furrows his brows. He wants to know the answer to that question too. Were you and him chill, per se?Â
He still had that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw you, he still disliked how you always were able to seamlessly challenge him in everything, and seeing you all the time did not help out at all. That wouldnât necessarily describe chill.
But then again, Seonghyeon sometimes works with you in English, and that tension between you two seems to dissipate. And now, heâs helping you with the very same math worksheet that he had complained about to Martin mere hours ago. So maybe⌠you were chill.Â
Youâre reading Seonghyeonâs explanation of the problem, and it all makes so much more sense now. Heâs written the steps so clearly you think a child could understand it, and youâve never been more grateful. âOh,â you say, and Seonghyeon notices the excitement in your voice, how your eyes light up and how the corners of your lips pull upwards into a smile. âI get it now! Thanks, Seonghyeon.âÂ
He nods, gulping when you say his name. Your voice is smooth and mellifluous â Seonghyeon thinks heâs going insane. His thoughts about you contradict every other second. Seonghyeon thinks he dislikes you, but then you manage to captivate him in a way that he just quite canât explain. Something inside him compels him to look out for you, care for you â why?Â
âAll good,â he chokes out. Sera looks at him with confusion plastered all over her face. Seonghyeon grabs his mug from the table, and turns around curtly to head back to his room. He closes the door and locks it. Then, Seonghyeon lets out a deep sigh that he didnât know that he was holding back in the first place.
Heâs so confused. Heâs convinced himself that he doesnât like you, but then his body, his words, his actions â all of it betrays his mind. He wasnât this unsure and hesitant of his feelings when he was avoiding you like the plague, so should he start doing that again?Â
But then he hears you laugh, and Seonghyeon knows that he canât stay away. He hates himself for immediately thinking that itâs one of the most beautiful sounds heâs ever heard. He knows youâre probably at some joke that Sera made â he just hopes itâs not at his expense â and that strange twinge in his heart that heâd dismissed as early onset heart palpitations returns.Â
âWhatever,â Seonghyeon grumbles, trying to convince himself that he doesnât care that much. He grabs the first book he sees lying on his desk before settling into bed. He checks the cover before he starts reading, and of course itâs Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Itâs like the universe is either giving him a sign, or playing some sick prank thatâs making Seonghyeon lose his damn mind.
There are glaring reminders of you everywhere. From you quite literally being outside, to the book that heâs holding in his hands right now.Â
So, like always â Seonghyeon pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, and tries to lose himself in the book.
Nobody likes exam week.Â
Everyoneâs stressed and running on four hours of sleep. The cafe line is packed, with students drinking an ungodly amount of caffeine to even be able to function.Â
11th grade is taking a far bigger toll on you than you expected, or maybe itâs just because you feel like you really need to impress in the first round of exams this year. Sera tries to convince you to watch a movie with her just to take a break one Tuesday evening, but you reject her suggestion and opt to do another chemistry worksheet. You think the periodic table is going to be burned into your brain by the end of the week.Â
The cafeteria is much quieter than usual, with most students deciding to study. Seonghyeonâs tapping his foot on the cafeteria floor as he tries to write a practice essay for English. He writes two or three sentences, takes a bite of his food, and then picks up his pen to start writing again. Itâs a cycle that lasts for most of lunch. Â
His eyes scan the cafeteria when heâs giving his hand a break from writing too much. The muscle of his hand hurts, and he winces a little as he massages it to try and ease the pain. He spots you two tables down. Seraâs talking to you, and youâre nodding at her words as you write.Â
Seonghyeon notices how youâre tapping on the cover of the book that heâs seen you carry around all week â Platoâs Symposium. The sheer presence of the book reminds him that youâre just that well-read for your age, but this time, Seonghyeon doesnât grit his teeth in frustration when he sees it.Â
Maybe his feelings towards you have changed, he thinks. The two of you talk much more now after he helped you with math, and he notices that youâre actually comfortable with him. You always have been, but you seem to be a little bit more upfront with it now â perhaps itâs because you two actually have an excuse to talk because of school, but Seonghyeon finds that he actually likes speaking to you.Â
You're a great conversationalist, and you're somehow able to make even the most boring topics interesting. Seonghyeon has never enjoyed ethics class, but hearing you talk about morality in a class last week might've been one of the most interesting things he's ever heard.
Sometimes heâll even be the one to start a conversation with you. Never in a million years would he have thought that would happen.
But Seonghyeon notices how your fingers are drumming on the cover quickly in a nervous manner, and your eyebrows are knitted together tightly. Your shoulders are tense, and he thinks you havenât breathed in the last fifty seconds. He knows what you look like when youâre concentrating. But this was something different.
You were anxious.Â
When you were concentrating, your eyes would never leave the paper. Your eyebrows would still be furrowed, but not knitted together this tightly. Your shoulders were also never this tense, and Seonghyeon doesnât think that heâs ever seen you fidget this nervously before.Â
He sees Sera say something to you before getting up, and he notices that you donât really seem to register it â you just nod, but itâs in an absentminded manner. His eyes quickly flick back to his own paper when he sees that Seraâs walking up to him, and he would rather die than get caught staring at you by his own sister.Â
âHey, Hyeon,â Sera says, sitting down next to him. âCould you tell Mom that Iâll be home a little late today? The art committee is having a meeting today after school and Yeseo was saying that weâve got a lot to go through.âÂ
âYeah, sure,â he nods. âHow late will you be? Do you need her to pick you up?âÂ
Sera shakes her head no. âIâll probably be at home just before dinner. And it's fine â Iâm gonna take the bus. I think (Name)âs still going to come over to study though. She says she focuses better at our place,â her eyes flick towards you, and youâre writing at an alarming pace. âExam seasonâs not treating her well.âÂ
âIs she okay?â Seonghyeon asks. Thereâs a flash of surprise on Seraâs face â she didnât expect Seonghyeon to ask. She knew that he wasnât as distant as he used to be, but she also didnât think that Seonghyeon would notice how stressed you were.Â
âI mean, not that I care that much.â Those words make Sera look at him with an even stranger look on her face. âNo, not like that. Iâm just saying⌠tapping on that book that quickly is sure to shake a window nearby, or something,â he stammers. âAnd she just looks really tense. You should probably check up on her.âÂ
Sera eyes him suspiciously, and Seonghyeonâs eyes dart towards the first thing that isnât her. They settle on Keonhoâs lunch. âYeah,â she says. âIâm gonna go do that. Or⌠you could. After school today.âÂ
Her voice is insinuating in that one way that Seonghyeon doesnât particularly like. If they were at home right now, he knew that she was going to prod him for answers about how he feels about you. But with Martin, Juhoon and Keonho around, she knew better. Thank god for that.Â
âSure,â he says breezily â as if heâs not internally freaking out over the way Seraâs looking at him like she just knows his deepest secret. âThanks for taking care of my best friend.â Seonghyeon doesnât like the amount of emphasis she puts on the fact that youâre her best friend. Heâs well aware of that. Far too aware.Â
Sera walks away, and Seonghyeon lets out a small sigh of relief. Keonho notices, and heâs about to say something before Seonghyeon stops him by holding his hand out.Â
âNot a word.â Seonghyeon says, and Keonho obliges, but that teasing smirk doesnât leave his lips.Â
When heâs home, it actually hits him that youâll be coming over. Heâs never had one-on-one time with you in his own house. Itâs always been you, Sera and him. He jumps out of his bed, rummaging through his closet to find a better outfit to wear â heâs already felt enough embarrassment today after making it obvious to Sera that he was worried about you.Â
The least he could do was look somewhat presentable and change out of his pyjamas. He opts for a band tee and changes into a clean pair of sweats. As heâs pulling his shirt on, Seonghyeon realises that heâs trying to impress you. The realisation really sinks in when heâs looking at his reflection in the mirror, tucking in his shirt in just the right way. He gives himself an approving nod when he thinks that he looks half-decent before walking out into the living room, his cheeks tinted pink already from that realisation.
He pours two cups of water, one for him, one for you, and sets it on the table. He makes sure to take out the mug that you always use whenever you come over â itâs pink, with doodles of cherry blossoms on it. He pulls his notebook and laptop out of his bag, placing it on his side of the table. Just then, he hears the doorbell ring.Â
Seonghyeon heads to the door a little too quickly.Â
He opens it, and there you are â Seonghyeon swears that those heart palpitations return just at the sight of you.Â
You give him a bright smile, waving with your free hand. The other is holding a new book â Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil.Â
âYou finished Symposium?â he asks, and youâre stunned at his words. You never told Seonghyeon that you were reading it. âYouâve been carrying it around all week,â he quickly adds. âWas it good?â
âYeah, it was,â you stammer. You didnât know that Seonghyeon actually paid attention to you like that. âHave you read it?â
âNo, not yet,â he says, gesturing for you to come on in. âShould I?â
âI think so,â you chuckle. âItâs one of my favourite books, actually. That was actually a reread. Itâs a short one too, so you can get it finished quickly. Exam weekâs just cut into a lot of my reading time, so I picked a shorter one.â
You put your bag down next to one of the chairs on the Eomsâ dining table, taking out your notebooks, laptop and pencil case. You notice how Seonghyeonâs seemingly filled the cup that you always use when youâre at his house with water.Â
âThanks for the water, by the way.â you beam, sliding into the chair. Seonghyeon sits down next to you, opening up his laptop. Â
âDonât worry,â he replies. âWeâve got soda in the fridge if you want some. And thereâs tea. You know which cabinet itâs in.â The Eomsâ house is practically your second home, considering how often youâre there. You think youâve spent more time at their house than your own, oddly.Â
You thank him, taking a sip from the mug. The two of you make casual conversation as you both do your work â itâs remarkable how the two of you can still stay focused even while talking.Â
You find that studying with Seonghyeon is comfortable. Youâve never really hung out with him alone, with the exception of working together in class. Whenever youâre at his house, Seraâs usually always there too. For someone who you thought had hated you for the longest time, getting along with Seonghyeon is unexpectedly easy, and you really enjoy his company.Â
However, it really doesnât help when it comes to the crush you have on him. The more you speak to him, the harder you fall. Itâs hopeless, but you can only pray that youâre hiding it well enough from both him and Sera.
âI really hope Ms Kimâs nice enough to give us a good poem for the unfamiliar text paper,â you groan, highlighting a line in the poem that youâre analysing. âI looked at all the past papers that she gave the last year group â one of them was straight up evil.âÂ
âTheyâre all evil,â Seonghyeon sighs, shaking his head. âHonestly, the play that she gave us two days ago to analyse mightâve been worse. At least we can mention more language techniques in poems.âÂ
âTrue, but then I just feel like Iâm rambling,â Youâre quickly writing a note next to the line that youâve highlighted so you remember what you want to mention in the essay. âHopefully she wonât be so mean to give us something horribly difficult for the actual exam. We only have 45 minutes for each unfamiliar text, for god's sake.âÂ
âI donât think sheâs given us anything easy for weeks,â Seonghyeon sighs. âMaybe itâs good that weâre getting challenged before the exams? Like⌠sheâs preparing us for harder content so maybe the exam will seem easier because weâve already gone through hell.â
âHopefully,â you chuckle. âI do remember one poem that I really liked though. The one she gave us in the first week that we had to work on together?â you hum, highlighting another line in the poem that youâre working on. âThe one where he mentioned The Polish Rider.âÂ
âI liked that poem too,â Seonghyeon smiles. âEspecially the last stanza â and the last line, actually. I thought it was really simple but also really romantic.âÂ
âYeah, definitely!â you say, putting down your highlighter as you nod in agreement. âI also really liked that he mentioned The Polish Rider. I love Rembrandtâs paintings. Theyâre all so lifelike â weâve got this visual arts assessment coming up, so I think I might do a commentary on a painting of his. I was thinking maybe Iâd do the painting he did of Aristotle, kind of merge two of my interests into one.âÂ
âSorry, I just realised I went off track from what we were originally talking about.â you chuckle.
âNo, itâs okay. What do you like about the painting? Like the Aristotle one.â Seonghyeon genuinely seems interested in what you have to say â perhaps you never noticed it before, but you think this may be a first.Â
As you go on about what you like about the painting, Seonghyeon takes in every single word. From the way youâre talking about the thick paint that Rembrandt always used, the colours that heâs chosen, how Rembrandtâs depicted Aristotleâs eyes â he listens to every bit you say intently, burning it into his brain.Â
He also doesnât miss the way your eyes light up in excitement, the way your hands are gesturing to describe it all, and how the corners of your lips turn upwards ever so slightly when youâre talking about something youâre so passionately interested in. Itâs awfully endearing, and Seonghyeonâs heart skips a beat.Â
He then realises that he hasnât even seen the painting. He types the title into his search engine â Aristotle with a Bust of Homer â and it pops up on his screen. Itâs exactly as you described it, just based on your memory. The thick paint highlighting the brushstrokes. The dark colours of the painting. How Aristotleâs eyes are concealed by deliberate shadows that youâve interpreted as him being lost in thought.Â
âYeah, that one!â you say excitedly, pointing at the screen. âIsnât it great? Now you get why the poet and I are so keen on Rembrandtâs work.âÂ
âIt is great,â Seonghyeon says. Heâs more so impressed by how amazingly well youâve remembered the painting and how eloquently youâve described and analysed it. Dare he say, it may be more impressive than the painting itself â but Seonghyeon was biased. âHave you ever seen it in person?âÂ
âNo,â you reply, shaking your head. âI do want to, though. But itâs all the way at The Met, and Iâm really not planning to go to New York any time soon.â
He clicks off the painting, typing up Rembrandtâs name instead. The first link â a paid ad, which Seonghyeon usually hates â is a link to an art gallery.Â
âThereâs going to be an exhibition of his work in here in a few weeks,â Seonghyeon pipes up. âYou might wanna go.â
Your eyes snap towards his screen, and when you see the details of the exhibition, your eyes light up. âOh my god. What a crazy coincidence â I have to get tickets,â
âYou should come!â you blurt out. Seonghyeon looks at you, surprise evident on his features. âIf youâre interested in this kind of stuff. I donât think you take visual arts, but Rembrandtâs work is really, really nice.â you add hastily, to not make things awkward. Itâs definitely not because you want to talk to him more and that you enjoy his company far too much.Â
Seonghyeon lets your invitation hang in the air as he processes your words. Seonghyeonâs never been one to wander around art galleries willingly â he was far more fond of history museums, and could spend all day in them.
But Seonghyeon finds that he wants to go to this art gallery. With you.
âIâll come,â he says, and the excited smile on your lips makes him all the more certain of his decision. âIt sounds like fun.â
âIt will be! I hope you donât mind me rambling about the paintings, though. Iâll try and shut up about it.â
âNo, itâs fine,â Seonghyeon says, giving you a soft smile. âI like hearing you talk.â
He wants to slap himself across the face for letting those words slip. He can see your stunned expression, and all he can do right now is hope he hasnât freaked you out with his words. His cheeks heat up out of sheer embarrassment.Â
Should he say something like âbecause you talk about really interesting thingsâ, or âyouâre a great storytellerâ? Seonghyeon doesnât know if he should add anything to alleviate the awkwardness and tension that his words had just inadvertently created. Gosh, think before you speak, he thinks.Â
âOh,â you stammer out before he can say anything new. Your cheeks are heating up at his words. âThatâs kind of you.â You give him a soft smile as well, unsure of what to say next.Â
Seonghyeon realises that he wants you to smile at him like this forever. Itâs also then when he realises that he definitely doesnât hate you at all. Nobody would feel butterflies in their stomach and a blooming warmth across the chest when they see their archnemesis smile. And after studying with you today, he doesnât really think he even cares about being the top of the class anymore.Â
Seonghyeon realises that logic needs to take precedence now. What heâs feeling is most definitely not early onset heart palpitations. He should never have believed in something so incredibly unrealistic and illogical.Â
Fuck, he thinks. He might actually like you. Â
Seonghyeon gets a violently sick feeling when he sees Sung Minjun walk up to your desk.
His jaw immediately tightens, eyes widening in the slightest hint of alarm. Sung Minjun is bad news, and everyone in the grade knows it. But youâre new to the year, and you havenât been told about his reputation for messing with peopleâs feelings.Â
âHey, (Name).â Minjunâs voice is sickeningly sweet in a way that makes Seonghyeon want to throw up. Itâs never been more obvious that this sweet guy act is just a facade of his. Youâre definitely unaware of his reputation, and you simply smile at him.Â
âHi, Minjun. Whatâs up?â you ask.Â
âI was just wondering if you were free this afternoon? Iâve got two tickets to this amusement park, and I wanted to go with someone who I find pretty cool,â he says, and Seonghyeon rolls his eyes at Minjun's feigned shyness. âWould you wanna come?â
âOh,â your voice is hesitant. âThank you for the offer, but Iâve already got plans.â
Minjun pouts, and Seonghyeon examines your face for any sort of reaction. He swears that he sees your eyebrow twitch in just the slightest way.
âReally?â Minjun asks, disbelief evident in his tone. âCome on, they canât be that important. And the amusement park is fun â itâs one afternoon.â
You nod, sure of your decision. âIâm good, really. Thank you though.â Seonghyeon fails to hide the smile on his lips.Â
âWhatâs got you so giddy?â Keonho asks, nudging Seonghyeon gently with his elbow.Â
âOh, nothing,â Seonghyeon replies breezily, eyes still fixated on your conversation with Minjun. Keonhoâs eyes follow in the direction Seonghyeonâs looking at, and when his eyes land on you, he lets out a knowing âahâ.
âAdmiring your girl?â Keonho quips, and Seonghyeon takes in a sharp breath.Â
âNot my girl,â Seonghyeon mutters.
âYeah, definitely not your girl if you donât make a move soon. Look at Minjun.â Keonho says, and Seonghyeon groans. Minjunâs giving you that awfully fake smile, leaning in closer to perhaps make you try and feel something for him just because of proximity. Seonghyeon just hopes for your sake, Minjun didnât spray that dreadful cologne that he uses all the time.Â
âSheâs not into it.â
âYou donât know that.âÂ
âI hate you.â
âYouâre jealous of Minjun,â Keonho teases. âAnd itâs because you like (Name). Tell me Iâm wrong all you want. Youâll never be able to convince me otherwise.â
âMinjunâs a dick anyways,â Seonghyeon says. âIâm justâŚâ
âWhat?â Keonho interjects, an amused smile on his lips. âLooking out for her because your sister said so? Which excuse is it going to be today, our lovely Seonghyeon?â
Seonghyeon doesnât reply, eyes fixed on you and Minjun. Heâs still trying to get you to go to that damned amusement park with him â Seonghyeon saw the advertisement for it online and he distinctly remembers that it looked like shit. Or perhaps his distaste for Minjun spending one-on-one time with you was clouding his judgment at the moment.Â
Oh. Oh.Â
He really was jealous.
âWhat is it that you have to do then?â Minjun asks. âCould I join you?âÂ
Before he can even think, Seonghyeonâs already walking towards your desk. He interrupts your conversation with Minjun, and the boy looks almost offended.Â
âHey, (Name), Sera has another art committee thing thatâs going to run late today. Youâre still welcome to come study and stay for dinner like usual, though.â Seonghyeon wasnât lying, Sera had told him that this morning. But heâs shocked that he somehow came up with something so coherent and true when this was completely impromptu.Â
Seonghyeon notices how you visibly relax in his presence. He smiles softly at you, and you return the gesture. âHey, Seonghyeon. Thatâs okay â Iâve got plans later today, so donât worry,â you beam. âI also donât want to trouble your mom again.âÂ
âNonsense,â Seonghyeon waves off your worries. âYou know she loves having you around anyways.âÂ
Minjunâs watching you and Seonghyeon interact with a stunned expression on his face. His eyes darted from you, to Seonghyeon, and then back to you again. He didnât know that you and Seonghyeon were close at all â but seeing how you smiled brightly when Seonghyeon showed up out of the blue, and how comfortable you seemed to be in conversation, Minjun knew that he stood no chance.Â
âAlright, Iâm gonna⌠go,â he announces. Seonghyeon lets him leave, not even bothering to look back.Â
âHeâs not got a great reputation in our year,â Seonghyeon says, when Minjunâs out of earshot. âYou dodged a bullet.âÂ
âWell, you helped me dodge that bullet,â you reply, putting your books in your bag to pack up. âAnd I have heard murmurs, to be fair.âÂ
âMakes sense â word does spread fast around here. So⌠are you still coming today?â Seonghyeon asks as you put your last notebook in your bag. You shake your head as you zip it up, and he looks at you with furrowed brows, clearly confused. It was unusual for you to not be studying at his place in the afternoon. And Seonghyeon would never admit it out loud, but he really wanted to see you.Â
âIâm going to a bookstore to pick up some books,â you hum, slinging your bag over your shoulder. âI ordered them a while ago, and James is only opening up shop Thursday afternoon this week.âÂ
âOh,â Seonghyeon didnât know that you were on a first-name basis with the owner of the bookstore. âIs this like a small shop?âÂ
âYeah, I found it a few years ago â James actually went to our school! He graduated two years ago. Theyâve got a really good selection of philosophy and history books, so I go all the time. I really love it there. Once, I spent like⌠6 hours just reading there. Time went by so fast,â you laugh.
âYouâre more than welcome to join me, if youâre not busy. I think youâd like the place.â you add hastily. Youâve never brought anyone to Jamesâ bookstore, but Seonghyeon seemed like the perfect person to bring. He loved reading, Jamesâ bookstore had a fantastic history book collection, and you enjoyed his company. He was already coming to Rembrandtâs exhibition with you, but you did want to grasp at any opportunity that you may have to spend time with him. After all, you had been pining for basically 10 years now.
Seonghyeonâs somewhat stunned by your invitation. You want to spend time with him. Alone. It fills him with a sense of joy that makes him feel like heâs floating on cloud nine. Take that, Minjun, he thinks. A smile spreads across his lips before he nods.Â
âYeah, of course. I donât have plans after school today, and I do need to look for some new books to read, actually.â he replies, and you smile at him. Seonghyeonâs heart flutters again.Â
âPerfect! Iâll meet you after last period,â you beam. âItâs not far from here, so we can walk there.âÂ
âSounds like a plan,â he says, and you bid him goodbye, saying that youâve got to meet Sera now. Seonghyeon nods, waving at you before he walks back to his seat, a giddy smile on his lips.
âLook at that smile,â Keonho comments. âYouâre in love.âÂ
For the first time, Seonghyeon doesnât correct him.
The walk towards the bookstore that you love is quite short.Â
Or perhaps time just flies when youâre having fun.Â
You and Seonghyeon talk the entire way there. It first starts off with complaints about Mr Jung being an absolutely hopeless teacher, to the dreadful worksheet that Ms Seo had given for Math, and then into every other thing that somehow pops into the two of your minds.Â
You find out a lot more about Seonghyeon on the walk there. He shares his favourite music with you, telling you which albums and artists that he likes. You download them, making a mental note to listen to them when you study next. He tells you that he hates mint chocolate, and that he always has to watch a movie before bed.Â
âI watched Everything Everywhere All at Once last night,â he hums. Your eyes light up â itâs one of your favourite movies in the world. âDo you like it?âÂ
âI love it,â you reply. âI think I cried like three times. But to be fair, I am a crier when it comes to movies. I never leave the theatre without crying at least once. Unless itâs a comedy.âÂ
Seonghyeonâs eyes crinkle into crescents when he laughs. Your heart beats faster in your chest at the sight. âIâm going to have to see this for myself â weâre going to have to go and watch a movie together.âÂ
It slips out before he thinks (again), and his eyes widen slightly in alarm. He looks at you, and you simply nod happily. He lets out a sigh of relief â he was so worried that heâd embarrassed himself just then.Â
Seonghyeon finds that this happens all too frequently with you. He prided himself on knowing exactly what to say at the right time and always thinking before speaking. But when it comes to you, all of that just goes straight out the window â he lets comments that he planned to leave in his head slip and heâs stammering and stumbling over his own words. Nerves, he claims. He thinks he has an inkling of an idea of where those nerves may come from.Â
Meanwhile, all you can think about is how Seonghyeon wants to watch a movie with you. Now, youâre sure that he doesnât mind your presence â rather, he seems to enjoy your company. Youâve never been happier â maybe you do have somewhat of a chance.Â
âHere it is,â you say, pointing at the bookstore. Itâs tucked away in the corner of a back street. You open the door, the windchimes hanging on the handle jingling as you gesture for him to enter. He does, thanking you politely as he takes everything in.Â
He sees shelves and shelves of books, all organised by genre. The smell of books and bergamot infiltrates his senses, and the soft yellow light from the chandelier he sees hanging from the ceiling illuminates the entire room. Thereâs a record player in the corner thatâs playing some music from the 80sâ, and thereâs a small corner with a table and a few chairs for people to read at.Â
Seonghyeon knows why you love this place so much instantly. Itâs so distinctly⌠you.Â
âJames!â you call out, and the boy working at the cashier turns to look at the two of you. His eyes light up, giving you a wave. Seonghyeon suddenly recognises James â theyâve never spoken, but heâs pretty sure James was the captain of the dance team.Â
â(Name)! Thanks for coming today â Iâve got some of the books youâve ordered here,â he says, gesturing to a pile in the corner. His eyes then land on Seonghyeon, and he looks at him with an intrigued smile. âYou brought a friend!âÂ
âI did,â you beam. âJust gonna show him around the place and maybe pick out a few things before I come and pay for everything, if thatâs cool.âÂ
James nods in response. âTake your time,â he replies. âI was just finishing up an essay for uni anyways. Weâre open until 7, by the way, just in case you two wanted to stay and read a few things.â Â
âSounds good,â you reply. Your eyes land on the marigolds on the counter, perched in a porcelain vase. âNice flower choice for the vase this week, by the way. Marigolds are my favourites.âÂ
You like marigolds. Seonghyeon makes sure to remember that. You then turn your attention to him, whoâs looking around the store and bobbing his head to the music.Â
âIâll show you the history section, since I know you love the stuff. Iâm pretty sure they just got some new books about the Cold War in.âÂ
âPerfect â thatâs my favourite topic, by the way,â he says, eyes lighting up.Â
âI know,â you laugh, and Seonghyeonâs surprised that you do. âYou talk to Keonho about it all the time in history. Itâs my favourite topic too, to be honest. Mr Jung does teach it horribly, though.âÂ
You lead him to the history section of the bookstore, and thereâs three whole shelves dedicated to books about the Cold War. You look at how Seonghyeonâs eyes light up, immediately scanning the section to see what interests him. He notices a few that heâs already bought, but thereâs also so many that heâs never heard of before â you were right. This place truly was a treasure trove of books, and Seonghyeonâs stunned that heâs never heard of this place.Â
You watch as he pulls out books from the shelves, flicking through the pages with his brows furrowed in concentration. A soft smile makes its way to your lips before your eyes flick back to the shelves too, picking out your own books as you hum along to the music that James has picked.Â
Youâre mid-grab for a book about the Middle Ages when you hear Seonghyeon ask you if youâve got any recommendations. You can see that heâs picked out three books about the Cold War, one of which youâve read.Â
âThat oneâs really good,â You tap your finger on the spine of the book, nodding approvingly. âI think youâll like it. But recommendations⌠do you want them to be Cold War related or something else?âÂ
âAnythingâs fine,â Seonghyeon shrugs. âYou always seem to give me good recommendations anyways. Even before this year.âÂ
Youâre somewhat shocked. You didnât think that Seonghyeon actually liked your recommendations. You still remember when he said that Romance of the Three Kingdoms was just âalrightâ. You gulp, drumming your fingers on the edge of one of the shelves as you try and think of books that you think Seonghyeon might like.Â
âMaybe The Art of War,â you hum, eyes scanning the shelves to see if you can spot it. Your eyes light up when you do, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to him. âFlick through it to see if you like it first, though.âÂ
âWhatâs the last book you really really liked?â you ask him, your eyes still fixated on the shelf in front of you.Â
âOh, umâŚâ Seonghyeon is silent for a moment as he thinks about your question. Heâs read so many good books this year â it was hard to really pick one. â Probably No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai. I read it a while ago, though.âÂ
A book immediately pops into your head. Itâs something you read recently as well.Â
âCamus,â you mumble, trying to find the book that youâve got in mind. Seonghyeon follows you as you wander off to the philosophy section. âAh, this â The Myth of Sisyphus. Itâs a little bit more on the philosophy side, if you donât mind. I quite liked it though, obviously.â Â
Seonghyeon stacks the book on top of the ones heâs picked out. You look at him, tilting your head at him quizzically. âYouâre not gonna flick through it to see if itâs your taste?âÂ
He merely shrugs in response. âI trust your recommendations,â he says casually. âPlus, youâve kind of made me develop an interest towards philosophy books.âÂ
The smile that graces your face is absolutely infectious. Youâre overjoyed, and you immediately look for your favourite books on the shelf to recommend to him.Â
âYou have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, holy shit!â you say, and your excitement is evident in your tone. Youâre pulling out books here and there from the shelf, and Seonghyeon can barely keep up. âOkay, Symposium is one of my absolute favourites, and itâs short. But you can just take my copy, to be honest.âÂ
Youâre mumbling to yourself as you pick out all of your favourite books, stacking them on top of one another. When youâre done, you look at a pile of eight books â you didnât realise that youâd picked out so many.Â
âOh. Thatâs way too many. Weâre going to have to thin this herd,â you hum, eyeing the books youâve selected. âMaybe The Prince. Itâs quite short, like Symposium. So you can kind of get a taste of how these books usually are, and if you end up liking them, just let me know. We can always come back here.âÂ
Seonghyeon nods, taking the book from you and adding it to the pile that heâs holding.Â
âI saw you reading The Prince on the first day,â Seonghyeon hums. âYou had a lot of tabs in there.âÂ
âOh, yeah,â Youâre surprised he remembered, but you feel as if you shouldn't be. Seonghyeon was incredibly observant, as you've noticed throughout the year. Itâs kind of why I figured that you should probably get your own copy, because Iâve written all over it. I think I had a lot of opinions on that book.âÂ
âWe can talk about it when Iâve finished it then,â he smiles softly. âI think Iâm gonna go put these on the counter and pay for them first, because my hands are starting to hurt. Do you wanna take the ones youâve picked out and put them there as well?âÂ
You nod, following him to the counter where James is sitting. Heâs engrossed in watching an anime, and you clear your throat. His eyes snap up, and James immediately changes his tab to his essay.Â
âYou saw nothing,â James hisses jokingly, and you raise an eyebrow. âIâm just procrastinating, okay? You and your friend here found some books you liked?â he asks, changing the topic.Â
âHeâs picked his out. Iâm gonna go grab something else from the history section, and Iâll be right back.â you say, and James nods. You give Seonghyeon a smile before placing the books that youâve chosen on the counter, and you run off. Seonghyeonâs eyes follow your figure before James clears his throat to catch his attention.Â
âYou like her, donât you?â When youâre out of earshot, James looks at Seonghyeon with a teasing smile. He picks up a book from Seonghyeonâs pile, scanning the books that heâs planning to buy. Seonghyeonâs eyes widen, cheeks heating up as heâs caught off guard by Jamesâ words.Â
âWhat?â he stammers â if a stranger that heâd only met five minutes ago could tell, surely everyone else would know. Heâs hoping that James is just excellent at reading people, because god â if anyone else knew, especially Sera, he was done for. His friends at school already knew enough, with Keonho incessantly teasing him about it whenever heâs around.Â
âYou like her,â James repeats. âItâs all in the eyes, man. And youâre buying all of her recommendations. I wouldâve thought that youâd be buying Symposium too.âÂ
Seonghyeon furrows his brows â how did James manage to hear the entire conversation? He opens his mouth to speak before James stops him, seemingly reading his mind.
âYes, I heard. This store is small enough for me to eavesdrop on everyone. And even though I was focused on the anime, I was also focused on listening to you two.â James places a sticker on one of the book that Seonghyeonâs buying before putting it into a paper bag.
âSheâs giving me her copy to read,â Seonghyeon stammers. âAnd well, about the other thing, I wouldnât⌠Iâm not sure.âÂ
âNo, deep down youâre sure.â James says, as if heâs some love expert. âI think you just donât really want to admit it to yourself yet.âÂ
Damn, Seonghyeon thinks. James is really good at reading people. Too good to the point where it makes Seonghyeon a little uncomfortable.Â
âShe doesnât just take anyone here, by the way. Sheâs been coming here for four years, and Iâve never seen her show up with anyone. Said itâs her secret spot, or something,â James adds breezily.Â
Seonghyeon stiffens at his words. He may be saying this in a casual manner, but the fact that James is basically saying that Seonghyeon is special to you makes his heart stutter. âSo maybe she likes you too â but she keeps going on about this one guy named Sâ!âÂ
âJames!â you cut him off just as heâs about to reveal a name, and Seonghyeon winces at the missed opportunity to figure out who youâve been raving about to James. âDid this just come in?âÂ
âYeah,â James replies, taking the book out of your hands. âDream of the Red Chamber. Youâll like this one, since you liked Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Speaking of that book â you bought two copies, right? Did the person you give it to like it as well?âÂ
Oh. Oh.Â
You bought the book specifically for him. All along, Seonghyeon thought that it was your copy that youâd given him. He supposes that he shouldâve guessed, considering how there werenât any tabs sticking out the edges and the pristine condition of the book. He was going to give it back to you too, but he just found himself rereading it over and over and over again.Â
But now he just feels guilty. Youâve been too kind to him for all these years, and it was only until a couple of months ago â weeks, even â that Seonghyeon was sure that he didnât hate you. The feeling settles in his stomach, and he knows that he has to do something to make it up to you.
âI actually gave it to him,â you chuckle, gesturing towards Seonghyeon. You recall the words that heâd told you on the first day of school â that it was fine. âI donât think he was a big fan.â Your voice is sheepish, and Seonghyeon shakes his head at your words.Â
âNo, no,â he hastily interjects. âI really liked it.â
You look at him, surprise evident on your features. âI thought you didnât like it that much,â you say, puzzled. âYou told me it was fine on the first day of school.âÂ
Seonghyeon scratches the nape of his neck, unsure what to say. He wasnât going to straight up say that he had to hide how much he liked the book for the sake of his pride, but there really was no other logical explanation.Â
âI⌠reread it,â he mumbles. âI liked it better the second time.âÂ
You nod, letting out a soft âohâ. Seonghyeon doesnât think youâre actually convinced, but you donât end up questioning it. James is much more obvious about how unconvinced he is, eyeing Seonghyeon suspiciously. The teasing smile on Jamesâ lips is still there, as if heâs quite literally telling him to keep thinking about what he said earlier.Â
âSo⌠do you want this one?â James asks, holding up Dream of the Red Chamber. Â
You nod without thinking, and James stacks it on the pile of books that youâre planning to buy. He looks at the large pile, and chuckles. âYouâre going to be singlehandedly paying for my lunches for the next few weeks with this order. Thanks, (Name.)âÂ
âGlad that my allowance is going towards something good,â you say. âI think thatâll be all for today.â
Seonghyeon looks around the store quietly as James finally finishes scanning all of your books. âThatâs 250,000 won with the discount,â he says. âDo you have enough?â
You count together the notes in your wallet. Shit. Youâre about 5,000 won short. You hiss before shaking your head, looking through the titles of the books youâve selected to see which one youâll just have to get next time. Itâs a difficult choice, though â all of them are books that you want to read really badly.Â
âI can pay for her,â Seonghyeon pipes up.Â
Your eyes snap up to look at him. âSeonghyeon, what? No â I couldnât let you do that.âÂ
âItâs fine,â he fishes his wallet out of his pocket, taking out his card. âThink of it as a gift, or something Iâm doing in return for the book that you gave me.âÂ
âSeonghyeon, that was one book!â you exclaim, holding up one finger. âThere are eight books! You must let me pay you back if youâre going to pay.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay,â he says, tapping his card on the reader before you can protest more. âIâm more than happy to pay for these â youâre going to read them anyway, and I know how much you like books.âÂ
James is watching the interaction between you two like itâs his favourite television show. The two of you are bickering like an old married couple as you frantically search through your wallet for 250,000 won so that you can pay Seonghyeon back. Heâs trying to grab onto your wallet so he can shove it back into your bag so you donât have to.Â
Seonghyeon wins the battle, and you reach out to grab your wallet. âIâll only give it back if you promise not to pay me back.âÂ
âSeonghyeon, I canât do that! 250,000 won is an insane amount.â you say, and Seonghyeon shakes his head, holding your wallet even further away from you now. You groan as you try once again to grab it from him, but to no avail.
âIâve been saving.â Seonghyeon shrugs.Â
âJust let the man pay,â James interjects, and Seonghyeon smiles.Â
âThank you â see, (Name)?â he says, and you groan.Â
âOkay, okay,â you sigh. âThank you, Seonghyeon. That was really nice of you.âÂ
Seonghyeon nods, finally satisfied. He hands you back your wallet, albeit eyeing you with a certain sense of caution as if heâs worried youâll try and shove money into his backpack.Â
âYou really didnât have to do that.â you say, tucking your wallet back inside your bag, making a mental note to yourself that you have to get him something in return.Â
âI wanted to.âÂ
Those three words carry far more weight than either of you expected.
A blush creeps up on Seonghyeonâs cheeks as he lets those words slip out without thinking. Your cheeks are hot as the gravity of those three little words sink in. James silently packs your books in a paper bag with an amused smile.Â
James hands you your books, and you thank him gratefully. Itâs incredibly heavy â to the point where it nearly knocks you off balance. A little âoomphâ escapes past your lips as you get used to the weight of the bag. Youâre honestly more concerned that the bag is going to break.Â
âI can carry it for you,â Seonghyeon says softly. âIt looks heavy, and weâve got to walk back home.â
âYeah, that may be best,â you say, handing him the bag with a grateful smile. âThank you, Seonghyeon.âÂ
Your heart is pounding in your chest right now. Every single interaction that youâve had with him at the bookstore feels awfully romantic, but you donât want to delude yourself into believing that Seonghyeon perhaps has feelings for you too.Â
Maybe heâs just realised that he actually enjoys your company as a friend. Or maybe he just has an obligation to take care of you as his little sisterâs best friend. The prospect of that makes your heart sink a little, because youâve always wanted him to be something more.Â
Even James knows that, considering how much youâve talked about Seonghyeon to him.Â
âThanks for coming today, (Name) â sorry I had to get you to come after school, I know how much you value your study time. I hope it wasnât a big hassle,â Jamesâ voice cuts through your thoughts, and you wave his worries off. His eyes divert to Seonghyeon, and itâs then when James realises that he hasnât asked for Seonghyeonâs name.Â
âAnd you areâŚ?âÂ
âSeonghyeon.âÂ
Jamesâ eyes widen in a comically exaggerated manner. âYouâre the Seonghyeon? Oh, no wonder youâre the first person sheâs ever brought here. (Name)âs said so much about youâ!â
âOkay, thanks James! See you next week!â you cut him off, practically pushing Seonghyeon towards the door. Your voice is panicky, and Seonghyeon barely has time to register everything until the two of you are outside the shop.Â
âPlease ignore him,â you say, cheeks hot from embarrassment. âHeâs always pulling shit like that on me.â Seonghyeon looks at you, and he can tell that you donât want him to pry about what youâve been telling James. But oh, he is so curious.Â
âIâm was just telling him that youâre in my class and how youâre Seraâs brother,â you lie through your teeth. You hope Seonghyeon thinks itâs an acceptable answer â James really didnât have to air out all of your dirty laundry by basically implying that you had been going on and on and on about him. âItâs⌠not like he made it out to be.âÂ
âOh, look, an ice cream shop!â You donât give him time to ponder over why heâs disappointed, as you change the topic. His eyes flick over to look at where youâre pointing, and sure enough, thereâs a quaint little ice cream shop across the road thatâs neatly tucked away from all the hustle and bustle from the main street. âLet me treat you to ice cream â itâs really the least I can do after you paid for all of my books. And then we can head to your place to study, since we left Jamesâ earlier than I expected.âÂ
Seonghyeon nods, thanking you as you lead him towards the shop. He opens the door for you, and you smile at him gratefully. It makes his heart flip.Â
The two of you look at the ice cream case for what flavours the storeâs got. Seonghyeon always gets vanilla â in a cup, never a cone â so he doesnât really know why he even bothers. You hum in satisfaction when youâve made your decision.Â
âHi,â you say, calling over to the girl whoâs working the cashier. âCould I get one scoop of the chocolate?âÂ
Heâs about to pipe up about what he wants until you say his exact order. âAnd a scoop of the vanilla?â you turn towards him, tilting your head questionably as if youâre asking him to confirm if youâre correct. He nods, and you turn back again to look at the girl. âSeparately, please. Thank you.âÂ
Heâs stunned. He doesnât know how you know that he always gets vanilla. âHow did youââÂ
âYou guys have three tubs of ice cream in your freezer, and the vanilla one has your name on it. With like three large exclamation points. I figured that it was your favourite â Iâm glad I got it right.âÂ
Seonghyeon didnât know how attentive you actually were to his interests. From his favourite history topics, to books, and even to ice cream. You noticed things about him too.Â
You pay for the ice cream, handing Seonghyeon his cup. He takes a bite, and itâs really good. Much better than the tub that he bought from the supermarket, even if it is just plain vanilla. âWoah,â he says, taking the wooden spoon out of his mouth. âIâm surprised Iâve never been to this place.âÂ
You seem to be similarly shocked at how good the ice cream is. âYeah, oh my god. Iâve been to Jamesâ too many times to even remember and Iâve never even thought of coming here. Iâm glad I did, though â we have to come back again.âÂ
We. Itâs an invitation. You want to spend more time with him.Â
âYeah,â he beams. âIâd like that.âÂ
As you and Seonghyeon walk back to his house, making casual conversation as the two of you finish up your ice cream. Your shared laughter rings through the summer air, and his eyes flick over to look at you.Â
Thereâs an undeniable feeling of being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Warmth and all-consuming affection settles in his chest, and for the first time, heâs comfortable with letting it linger.Â
Everything clicks into place.
Eom Seonghyeon is certain now. He does like you.
âOkay. I need your help.âÂ
Keonho, Martin and Juhoonâs ears immediately perk up. Seonghyeon asking for help? This was unprecedented. It was usually Seonghyeon running around to help the three of them.
âWell, not me,â he says, sliding into his seat next to Keonho. He opens his lunch box to buy him time on figuring out what heâs supposed to say. âI have a friend who needs help.â Seonghyeonâs voice is unconvincing, and Keonho raises an eyebrow.Â
âSoâŚâ Seonghyeon starts, drumming his fingers on the table as he tries to articulate his thoughts properly. âMy friendâs a little bit stuck on how they feel about someone, because they thought they hated them for the longest time. But I â sorry, my friend â thinks that they might actually like them now. Maybe a little too much and maybe as something more than friends. So⌠how should they go about it? Like should I â my friend â confess, or just⌠I donât know. Wait it out?â Seonghyeonâs slip of the tongue makes Martin smile in amusement.
âI fucking knew it!â Keonho yells, pointing at Seonghyeon. The entire cafeteria goes quiet, and Seonghyeonâs eyes dart to you, sitting two tables down. Youâre looking at Keonho with a confused look in your eye, clearly startled by his outburst. Your eyes then land on Seonghyeon, who feigns confusion too. You two share a small smile as you chuckle at Keonhoâs antics, shaking your head before your eyes return to your book. Seonghyeon is absolutely mortified.
âDude, be quiet,â Juhoon says to Keonho, before focusing his attention back onto Seonghyeon. âBut yeah, we all fucking knew it. It was just a matter of time.âÂ
âWhat?â Seonghyeon sputters. âYou donât even know who this friend is.âÂ
Martin looks at him with a deadpan stare. âCome on, man. You clearly said âIâ before you changed it. Itâs fine â we all thought you were gonna admit this at some point. I donât really think you ever hated (Name).âÂ
âOr maybe the hatred was fueling that romantic tension,â Keonho says with a shit-eating grin. Seonghyeon regrets asking for advice now, and he buries his face in his hands to hide the blush thatâs creeping up on his cheeks. Juhoon, ever so attentive, notices how the tips of Seonghyeonâs ears turn pink too.Â
âYou like (Name),â Keonho teases, and Seonghyeon groans, his hands never leaving his face. âI swear that weird feeling you always said you got when she was around was just you being nervous and not knowing how to act around her. And another thing â being annoyed that she was smart? Admiration. Maybe a bit of jealousy too. Youâre just emotionally constipated and donât know how to deal with your feelings.â
Fuck, Seonghyeon thinks. Why is Keonhoâs psychoanalysis of him right?Â
âOh, and another thing!â Keonho pipes up. Seonghyeon just knows Keonhoâs going to have 500 of these âanother thingsâ to bring up. âYouâve always looked out for her this year. Itâs so obvious. First, the Haeun situation. Then youâre helping her with math. And you were glaring at Minjun so hard that day I thought you were trying to make him explode.âÂ
âOh my god,â Keonhoâs eyes light up as if heâs had an epiphany. âYou care about her. Youâve always cared too much about her. Maybe thatâs why you didnât like her. You care too much that sheâs really smart, sheâs really charming and sheâs always around! And you also care about what she thinks of you â which is why you were so opposed to her being in our year. Because you donât want to seem stupid in front of her.âÂ
Juhoon hums, pointing his finger at Keonho in agreement. âAlso, donât forget about the time where you told Sera to make sure she wasnât feeling too anxious because you saw that she was tapping her fingers on the cover of her book too quickly. Only a lunatic or someone madly in love would notice that.â
Was he that obvious, or could his friends just read him that well? He stays silent as he digests everything that his friends are saying. But then he remembers James reading him like a book on the first time that theyâd met. Fuck, maybe he was obvious, Seonghyeon thinks. Was he the only one oblivious to his own feelings?Â
âYoohoo, earth to Seonghyeon?â Martin asks, waving his hand in front of his face. âI know youâre daydreaming about (Name) again, but we were saying that you should probably do something about it.âÂ
âLike what, though?â Seonghyeon stammers. His voice drops to a whisper. âI donât⌠you know Iâve never really liked anyone before. How am I supposed to go about this?âÂ
âHeâs growing up,â Juhoon coos.Â
âYou and Martin have literally both never had a girlfriend â you canât be saying that to me right now.â Seonghyeon says pointedly. Then he realises that none of his friends will be of help, because theyâve simply never confessed to anyone.Â
âWoah!â Martin says, shocked by the sudden mention of his name. âWhat do I have to do with what Ju said?âÂ
âNothing,â Seonghyeon replies, drumming his fingers on the table as he tries to think of what to say to you. Juhoon was awfully secretive of whoever he liked â Seonghyeonâs convinced he has a crush, he just wasnât talking about it. Keonho, despite being the crush of far too many people in the year group, was too busy with swimming to even consider a relationship. Martin was a romantic, but heâd never found someone he actually liked enough to direct his affections to.
Theyâd been able to analyse him correctly because they knew him well. But they wouldnât be able to help him devise a plan on how to confess. None of them knew you well â except maybe Martin, who you tutored.Â
âI just⌠I donât know if you guys will be able to help, actually. No offence â itâs just⌠you guys donât know her at all.â
âI think you should just tell her how you feel,â Martin hums. âWhatâs the worst she could do? Reject you?âÂ
Seonghyeon looks at Martin like heâs crazy. âYes? Obviously thatâs the worst, and I donât want that to happen. Sheâs Seraâs best friend, remember? If she rejects me, Iâm still going to have to see her all the time.âÂ
âWell, your other option is to silently pine forever,â Keonho says, and his eyes dart over to Minjun, whoâs sitting nearby your table. Seonghyeon looks in that direction, and that ugly feeling of jealousy creeps up his spine again. His jaw clenches, and Keonho doesnât miss it. âAnd I know for a fact youâre not going to do that when Minjun could very well make another move.âÂ
Keonhoâs right. Of course he is.Â
Seonghyeonâs eyes land on you, and youâre laughing at something that Seraâs saying. The look of pure unadulterated joy on your face is infectious, and the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile.
You somehow catch his eye, and you beam at him, waving before returning to your conversation with Sera. Seonghyeon gently raises his hand to wave at you back.
âAnd you never know,â Martin hums, watching Seonghyeonâs expression with a knowing smile on his lips. âShe might like you back.â
Itâs another late night of studying for you and Seonghyeon. Sera complains that youâve replaced her with her own older brother, but sheâs the one who decides to sleep early while you and Seonghyeon make your way through the stack of practice papers that youâve printed out.
But something tonight just feels a little different. The silence feels a little too loud, the scratching of your pencils is too unsettling, and the brushing of yours and Seonghyeonâs knees every now and then makes your stomach flip.
The room is dimly lit, with the only light on being the one from the kitchen. Seonghyeonâs eyes flicker towards you every now and then. He tries to talk to you a little bit, but thereâs a certain sort of tension that he just canât quite name that seems to stifle any conversation from continuing.Â
His stomach grumbles, cutting through the silence. He looks at you, wondering if you heard. âSorry,â he mumbles, getting up from his chair. âIâm gonna grab some of the acai â do you want some?âÂ
You stretch your arms, nodding. âYeah, that would be nice. Iâm also just going to take a little bit of a break too. Iâve been writing far too much.â You get up from your chair as well, grabbing two clean bowls from the cabinet and setting them on the counter. Seonghyeon grabs the tub of acai from the freezer and two spoons.Â
âHere,â He scoops a generous portion into one bowl, and he hands it to you first, along with the spoon. âEat first.âÂ
âThank you,â you beam, taking a bite of the acai. Itâs cold, and you wince as it hits your tongue. Seonghyeon chuckles gently at your expression â you know he doesnât mean it mockingly. Thereâs a hint of affection thatâs evident in the way he smiles afterwards.Â
The tension between you two still remains, and youâre just not quite sure what to say. Thereâs something about the way the kitchen light illuminates his features that makes your heart flip, and you find yourself at a loss for words. You like Eom Seonghyeon far too much, but after 10 years, youâve kind of become an expert at acting ânormalâ around him.Â
But right now, it was different.Â
You donât know how to act around him right now.Â
At school, things were normal. It was only when you got to the Eomsâ house, something had seemingly changed. Perhaps it was how nice Seonghyeon looked in the gray striped shirt. Or how heâd fixed you a plate for dinner before making his own. Or how his touch had lingered when your hands had brushed while you were grabbing a sticky note.Â
Either way, small little moments that you had initially deemed insignificant had snowballed into creating tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife.Â
The two of you eat your acai quietly, but you canât help but steal glances at Seonghyeon every now and then. It just so happens that he does the same too â only when youâre not looking at him.Â
Itâs driving him crazy. After realising his feelings for you, everything felt right. He finally had all the answers.
But having to act on them was making him go mental. Because Seonghyeon simply doesnât think that he can bottle up all his feelings and wait â you were always there, and if you werenât, reminders of you were everywhere. His mind, more often than not, is consumed with thoughts of you.Â
You set your bowl on the counter, and you steal a glance at Seonghyeon again. This time, heâs already looking at you. Your eyes flick towards a smudge of acai on the corner of his lips.Â
âYouâve got something there.â Without thinking, you reach up and swipe it away with the pads of your thumbs. Seonghyeonâs breath catches in his throat.Â
You donât know why you did that. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and your face heats up. The tension between the two of you becomes even more intense â you didnât even think that was possible â and youâre hesitant to even breathe. The two almost empty bowls of acai are left on the table, completely forgotten now. Your touch still lingers on the corner of Seonghyeonâs lip, and on instinct, he gently reaches up to touch where your thumb had been.Â
Your eyes flick to Seonghyeonâs lips. You realise that you really, really want to kiss him right now.Â
He notices.Â
You donât know when you and Seonghyeonâs faces inch even closer to one another â it just happens. You gravitate towards each other like two magnets, and suddenly your face is just mere inches away from his.Â
Itâs tonight when Eom Seonghyeon swallows his pride and finally admits it. He likes you far too much, and he has to do something about it before he drives himself mad.Â
âSeonghyeon,â you whisper his name like youâre begging for him to close the distance. He can feel your breath on his lips, and exercising restraint right now is agonising torture.Â
He hates you. He hates that you make his heart race, hates how you make him lose all clarity and self control, and he hates how much he wants to just press his lips to yours right now. But when your eyes flick to his lips once again, Seonghyeon just canât hold back anymore.Â
Self control be damned.
His lips find yours in a manner that you can only describe as desperate. He kisses you like heâs been wanting to do this forever â urgent, certain, determined. You kiss him back, and you donât miss the soft, small sound that escapes past his throat when you do. Itâs one thatâs barely audible, like heâs surprised that youâre kissing him back with the same kind of certainty.
As your lips mold against his, you allow yourself to believe that maybe Eom Seonghyeon never hated you in the first place. Maybe he just didnât know how to show it all along. Maybe he had always secretly longed for you, and everything just finally clicked.Â
You can taste the acai that still lingers on his lips, and the smell of lavender and birch from his cologne envelopes you in a way that is maddeningly intoxicating. When Seonghyeonâs hands find your waist and pull you closer, pressing your body to his, you allow yourself to melt like putty in his hands.Â
He whispers your name against your lips, and the low hum of his voice sends shivers up your spine. You press your mouth against his like youâre trying to memorise the outline of his lips, and his breath stutters.Â
Seonghyeon is too aware of everything right now; from the smell of your shampoo, from the way youâre clutching onto his shirt like your life depends on it, and from the taste of your mint lip balm.Â
He kisses you with more urgency, and Seonghyeon doesnât know how heâs lived so long without having you like this. He canât believe he had actually convinced himself that he despised you for 10 full years. Because with his lips on yours, all Seonghyeon knows is that he is maddeningly and absurdly addicted to you. The world melts away, and itâs like you and him are in your own little bubble.Â
âYouâre so pretty,â he mumbles against your lips. You melt against him â every touch of his lingers, and youâve waited 10 years for this moment. For Seonghyeon to finally see you as something more.Â
Sheâs off limits. You and all your best friends are.
The bubble pops.
Fuck. Seraâs voice suddenly rings in his head, and Seonghyeon stops even if he doesn't want to. He pulls away momentarily, confusing you. You chase his lips again, but he puts the slightest bit of distance between you two.
âWe canât.â Seonghyeon mutters silently against your lips. But those words ring loudly in your ears. âYouâre⌠youâre her best friend.âÂ
Youâre stunned for a second. His words strike like a knife to your heart. Of course. To him, you were always his little sisterâs annoying best friend. Why would it change, even after he kissed you like that?
âRight,â you gulp. Your heart is heavy.Â
You slip away from his grasp, and Seonghyeon already misses having your lips on his. You hastily collect your things and put them in your bag. The air is thick with tension, and not the kind that filled the air before Seonghyeon kissed you like you actually meant something to him. You blink back tears â you feel stupid for leaving your heart right in the palm of his hands.
Eom Seonghyeon only kisses you once before he loses you.Â
He watches you disappear past his front door without a word, and he realises:
He already wants you back.Â
Youâve been avoiding both Seonghyeon and Sera like the plague.
You canât get the kiss out of your mind. Seeing Seonghyeon hurts. Seeing Sera means that itâs only a matter of time before the dam breaks and you tell her everything.
Seonghyeon notices â you never show up to his house after school to study anymore. You pair up with Leean for English now. You donât even look at him in class. Keonho catches him staring at you a little too much, but a gut feeling of his tells him not to pry.Â
You know that heâs trying to come find you so you two can talk it out, but youâre somehow able to expertly dodge him for an entire week. Itâs making him go insane.Â
You make some lame excuse about needing to study in the library to Sera so you donât need to sit with her at lunch. You notice the hurt that flashes across her face before she agrees, and you feel awful for lying to her. It gets worse when you tell her that youâre going to study at home for the next week or so.
Itâs a Wednesday afternoon when Sera corners you in the history classroom.Â
âWhy are you avoiding me?â she asks you bluntly. You canât even bear to look at her face. All you can see is that her arms are crossed over her chest, and after 10 years of friendship, you know that her eyebrows are likely tightly knit together in anger. If she was furious, you wouldnât blame her.
âIâm not,â you lie through your teeth, shifting uncomfortably as you stare at the floor. She looks at you incredulously. âIâm just busy, Sera.â
âWeâre best friends, (Name). I know when youâre lying to me. What happened?â Your stomach twists with guilt when you hear the hurt in her voice. Your eyes flick up to look at her, and you just canât lie to her anymore.
The dam breaks. You let out a choked sob and Seraâs face immediately contorts into one of alarm. She quickly wraps her arms around you in a hug as you cry into her shoulder, your tears staining her uniform.
âIâm sorry,â you choke out. âI didnât mean to.âÂ
âItâs okay,â Sera gently pats your back in a move to comfort you, her voice soft and understanding. âWhatâs wrong? What happened?â
You donât say anything for a few seconds, taking deep breaths to compose yourself before you speak. The feeling of guilt, hurt and pain twists in your stomach when you think of Seonghyeon. You think of how he kissed you and how sparks flew, and then how he crushed all of that hope that youâve been holding with just a few simple words.
âSeonghyeon and I kissed,â you confess. You can hear Sera take in a sharp breath. âA week ago.â
âYou⌠and Seonghyeon?âÂ
You nod. âI thought maybe it couldâve been something. I thought maybe I⌠meant a little more to him. And then he said we shouldnât.âÂ
Seraâs brows furrow in confusion. âWhat? Why?âÂ
âBecause Iâm your best friend,â you mumble. âI get it. Iâll just⌠always be his little sisterâs annoying best friend, right?â
âDo you like him?âÂ
Of course you do. You like him a little too much, even. Even though he crushed your heart in his hands, you still canât bring yourself to hate him.
âYeah,â you whisper. âI do. I really, really do.â
âAnd I hate how much I do, actually,â your heart hurts as you pour out all the feelings that youâve been keeping to yourself for the past week. âFuck, Sera â I know heâs your brother and everything, but Iâve liked him ever since I can remember. I started reading these goddamn history books because I wanted to find something in common with him just so we could talk. Before this year, I didnât even think anything would happen â he always tried to avoid me, hell â he barely could look at me even when we were in the same room. I donât even know why I kept on yearning when it was obvious that he didnât want me around.âÂ
âBut then, this year,â you chuckle, thinking about how Seonghyeonâs entire demeanour had changed. âHe cared. Maybe begrudgingly at first and at your request, but then I noticed that he actually cared about me. He noticed these things about me that I never even noticed about myself â like how I apparently tap on the covers of my books too quickly when Iâm nervous.âÂ
âAnd then we started spending more time together, and I fell even harder. He was just so easy to talk to, so nice, and we had so much in common. Then he paid for my fucking books at the bookstore when it was ridiculously expensive. And he had no reason to!â you exclaim. âAnd after, I just started thinking that maybe I wasnât crazy to have waited for so long, because it was going to pay off.â
âAnd then when he kissed me, I allowed myself to have that sort of hope. That something would actually come out of my years of yearning. That I meant something more than just being your best friend. That⌠he actually liked me.âÂ
âIâm sorry. I know this isnât what you want to hear. Your best friend is in love with your brother,â you say, shaking your head. You know how awkward it is for Sera to hear this â she hated whenever anyone came up to her and asked her if Seonghyeon was single. It must be worse hearing it from her best friend. âThis is all so stupid.â
Thereâs a moment of silence that falls between you and Sera. Itâs incredibly nerve-wracking, and your heart sinks. Youâve already messed up your relationship with one of the Eom siblings. You canât bear to lose the other one too.
âI always told myself that if I got to pick who Hyeon ended up with, I would want it to be you,â Sera confesses. You look at her through teary eyes, your face evidently shocked. âI mean⌠you two are too similar and too compatible. To me, it was just a matter of time until he realised that he didnât dislike you, he just⌠never got to properly know you.âÂ
âAre you serious?âÂ
âYeah, Iâm dead serious. And for the record, Iâm not mad at you, (Name),â Sera replies. You search her eyes to see if sheâs being honest, and youâre certain she is. You let out a sigh of relief â the last thing you wanted was your friendship with Sera to be ruined. âI get why you were avoiding me, as much as I didnât like it. And that somewhat explains why Hyeon has been so⌠weird this week.âÂ
âLook. Iâm going to go talk some sense into him,â you gulp hearing her words. âI will most definitely yell at him and smack him over the head. I donât want to promise anything, but⌠would you be okay to speak to him if he came up to you?âÂ
You take a deep breath. Youâre not too sure how you can face Seonghyeon right now. But some sense of closure, some explanation to that night would be better than nothing. If things didnât end up the way you wanted them to, at least you could move on.Â
âYeah,â you say. âIâll have to mentally prepare myself a bit, but yeah. Might as well get that conversation over and done with. I donât want to avoid him forever.âÂ
Sera gives you a comforting smile before hugging you a little tighter. âGreat. I love you, okay? And if itâs my loser brother who makes you happy⌠then of course Iâm okay with it. I just wish youâd told me at first, so I could actually be a good wingwoman.âÂ
Her words lighten up the atmosphere, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. âI love you, Sera. Iâm sorry I didnât say anything earlier â I just didnât want to make things strange between us, you know?âÂ
âI know,â Sera nods. âYou donât have to justify yourself. Seonghyeon on the other hand though⌠heâs going to have a lot to explain.âÂ
âGo easy on him,â you say. Sera looks at you like youâre crazy.Â
âI canât believe he broke your heart and youâre telling me to go easy on him,â Sera groans. âYouâre too kind for your own good.âÂ
âI donât know,â you mumble, staring down at your shoes. âI think unfortunately, Iâm just in love.âÂ
âEom Seonghyeon!âÂ
Heâs woken up to Sera hitting him with a pillow. He didnât even realise that he fell asleep â his copy of Platoâs Symposium is now somewhere near the foot of his bed, and he realises that heâll have to flick through the entire book again to pick up from where he left off.Â
But right now, the more pressing matter is how his little sister is looking at him with a glare so intense he thinks sheâs trying to shoot a laser through his skull. Her eyebrows are furrowed, anger evident on her face. Seonghyeon knows that heâs fucked up. He doesnât need Sera to remind him.
âHow fucking dare you?â she hisses at him. Her voice is laced with venom, and Seonghyeon has never been scared of his little sister before, but thereâs a first time for everything. âYou kiss my best friend and then you tell her that âyou canâtâ? Are you serious?âÂ
âSera, Iââ
âIâm not finished.â
âI told you at the beginning of the year to look out for her, and this is what you do? Fuck with her feelings? Sheâs been avoiding me for a whole week because of you!â
âIt wasnât supposed to happen,â Seonghyeon stammers. âI didnât intend for it to.â
âNo shit, Seonghyeon â couldnât you have thought it through before you made a move like that?âÂ
âI didnât intend to actually end up liking her, Sera!â Seonghyeon exclaims. âYou don't think I feel guilty for saying that and pushing her away? Because itâs all Iâve been thinking about for the past week.âÂ
âI replay that kiss in my mind every second. I hate how just mere moments later I pushed her away. I hate that I made her feel like she meant nothing to me, because she doesnât â I⌠I⌠fuck.â Seonghyeonâs voice cracks. He clutches his head in his hands as he tries to fight back the tears threatening to spill past his eyes. âI donât⌠I donât know how it happened â it wasnât supposed to. I thought I hated her, and then somewhere along the way I guess I started liking her. I donât think I ever hated her, actually. I just⌠I just didnât realise it.âÂ
Sera looks at him in stunned silence. She lowers the pillow, seemingly unwilling to attack Seonghyeon again now.Â
Thereâs guilt, regret and desperation written all over Seonghyeonâs face. As Sera looks at him a little closer, she notices the eyebags and the dark circles from tossing and turning at night, losing sleep because Seonghyeon just canât stop thinking about you.Â
She looks at the book thatâs at the foot of his bed â Platoâs Symposium. Seonghyeon had never shown remotely any interest in philosophy, and Seraâs shocked that heâs actually reading a book of that genre. But then she notices that thereâs multiple plastic tabs sticking out of the book, and Sera knows only one person who does that when reading.Â
Itâs your copy.
âYouâre in love with her,â she gasps.Â
âYeah,â Seonghyeon admits quietly. He thought it was just like initially, but when his heart physically hurts at the thought of losing you, it must be something more. It must be love.
He thinks he should feel some sense of relief at that realisation, but all he feels is guilt. How could he not when all heâs replaying in his head is kissing you like that before he just had to push you away?Â
He sees you in class and all he notices is that youâre awfully quiet, you barely smile, and thereâs a certain dullness in your eyes that wasnât really there before. Seonghyeon hates knowing that heâs the reason why.Â
âI am. And I fucked it all up.âÂ
âI didnât want to make things weird with you and her. You told me at the beginning of the year that she was off limits to me and my friends,â Seonghyeon mumbles.Â
âBut this is killing me, Sera. Iâm rereading this goddamn book like a madman.â he says, holding up Symposium. He really thinks that he might be going crazy without seeing your face. âI keep trying to find her and try to talk to her, but she wonât even look at me and avoids me every chance she gets. I think that even if she did want to talk to me, I wouldn't even be able to gather up the courage to say anything. That's how fucked I am."
âWhen I said that she was off limits⌠it wasnât a definite thing. You shouldâve just talked to me, Seonghyeon,â Seraâs voice is a little softer now, sitting down on the edge of Seonghyeonâs bed. âI want you both to be happy, and if youâre the one making her happy, why wouldnât I be okay with that?â
âI donât know,â Seonghyeon confesses. âI didnât realise I didnât hate her until a few months ago.âÂ
âYeah, youâre pretty bad with emotions,â Sera replies bluntly. âSorry. Like I told you earlier in the year, you didnât hate her â you just never got to know her properly.â
âLook, Iâm probably not supposed to be telling you this, but⌠she told me today sheâs liked you ever since she can remember.â Sera jabs her finger at Seonghyeonâs chest.Â
Seonghyeon's breath catches in his throat. Youâve liked him for that long. Youâve waited for him.Â
âI, for one, canât believe I was so blind. But seriously, Seonghyeon â I know my best friend, and sheâs not going to stop liking you anytime soon. She really likes you and Iâm more than willing to bet money on the fact that sheâs going to give you another shot. But you really have to apologise and tell her how you feel, because I know you feel the same way.âÂ
âShe told me to be nice to you,â Sera pipes up. âEven when you were a dick.âÂ
God. Seonghyeon had hurt you that badly, and you were still asking Sera to be nice when you really had no reason to even extend the slightest amount of kindness to him. The guilt is eating him alive, and he knows that he has to do something about it. He has to find the courage to actually tell you how he feels.
âGo fix things tomorrow. You have to talk to her.âÂ
âI will,â Seonghyeon sighs softly. âI just⌠donât really know what to say.âÂ
Sera scoffs. âYou donât need to say something perfect, Seonghyeon.âÂ
âJust say something real.âÂ
Youâre nowhere to be seen.Â
Seonghyeon is freaking out.Â
Heâs been running around the school like a madman, sprinting across campus just to see if youâre around. Keonho notices how restless Seonghyeon is in class, tapping his foot anxiously on the floor and barely listening to the teacher. Heâs never seen Seonghyeon act this way before.Â
When the bell rings, Seonghyeonâs the first one out the door. Seonghyeonâs sheer speed as he runs out the door makes Keonho question whether or not he should try and convince him to try out for athletics.Â
By third period, Seonghyeonâs nearly convinced himself that youâre dead. You never miss classes, let alone three of them. You also show up when youâre sick, so whatever your situation is â it must be dire.
He canât find Sera because theyâre in different grades, so he decides to go up to the person youâre closest to in class, besides himself.Â
âLeean, I need your help.â Seonghyeonâs breathless as she approaches her desk â after all, he had been running around the entire school today to see where you were. It was unusual for you to not be in class at all.
âIs this about (Name)?â She doesnât seem surprised, but thereâs a certain coldness in her tone thatâs never been there before. She must know, he thinks.Â
Usually Seonghyeon would be embarrassed and flustered that for some reason his classmate knew that he was looking for you, but he didnât care anymore â he had to make things right.Â
âYeah, yes â where is she?âÂ
Leean looks away, clearly hesitant to tell him. âLook, I donât know if I should tell you,â she sighs. âSheâs not⌠really doing well. You know why.â
âPlease. I messed up,â Heâs desperate. He doesnât even care that Leean probably knows everything heâs done. âI have to make it right.âÂ
She, too, notices the dark circles under his eyes and the urgency in his voice. His hair is unbelievably messy, probably from running his hands through them all day in frustration. She's never seen Seonghyeon â the boy known for looking too perfect and put-together â look this distressed and disheveled.Â
Then it hits her. The desperation in his eyes, the worry in his tone, even how his hands are shaking slightly â Eom Seonghyeon is in love with you.Â
She remembers how you were describing that night when you confided in her about everything. You couldnât tell Sera, but you had to tell someone â bottling up your feelings simply felt awful. The hope that you had of him maybe liking you back, and then the heartache when heâd pushed you away. Leean knows that youâre in love with him, and you wouldnât stop loving him anytime soon.Â
She knows that she really shouldnât tell him. But she also really couldnât get in the way of what she now realised was real love.Â
âFine,â she exhales. âSheâs not here today. Sheâs out all day at an art gallery for a visual arts assignment. I donât know how youâre going to be able to find her, since thereâs so many in the city.âÂ
Art gallery. Visual arts assignment.Â
Rembrandt.Â
Seonghyeon knows exactly where you are.Â
âOkay,â he says, nodding. Leean notices the shift in his demeanour. âIâm gonna go. Please tell Ms Seo Iâm not going to be here for math.âÂ
Leean thinks Seonghyeonâs crazy. Missing any other class without a valid reason was fine, but missing math with Ms Seo was a death sentence. âYouâre missing math? For what?â she sputters.
âI have to find (Name),â he says, running his fingers through his hair. He takes his phone out of his pocket, searching for the art gallery that he knows youâre at. Itâs a 15 minute drive away â heâs just going to have to call a car to pick him up. âYeah. Iâm not gonna make it back in time for class.â
âSeonghyeon, Ms Seo is literally going to kill you. I know youâre worried about (Name), but can it wait? Maybe until lunch?âÂ
âIâve stalled for too long,â he shakes his head, clicking onto the rideshare app he rarely uses. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Seonghyeon has never felt this desperate. âItâs fine. Iâll take the detention and the six different worksheets sheâll give me. Iâm going to go crazy if I donât do this.â
The conviction in his voice is enough to tell Leean that nothing sheâll say is going to stop him. She sighs, nodding. âAt least just head to admin and sign out? Say that you have some health appointment â I don't think (Name) would want you to face Ms Seo's wrath either.â
âYeah, yeah, sure,â Seonghyeon says absentmindedly. He looks at his phone, and he sees that the cab is almost here. âOkay, Iâm gonna go.â He slings his backpack over one shoulder, thanking Leean hastily before he runs out the classroom.Â
He runs right past the nurseâs office and the admin office â Seonghyeon really doesnât care about the repercussions right now. Ms Seo is definitely going to kill him. His motherâs going to scold him when she finds out. Keonho, Martin and Juhoon are going to tease him about this mercilessly.Â
But love makes people do crazy things, and Eom Seonghyeon thinks that this is going to be one of the craziest things heâs ever done. Â
When Seonghyeon steps into the art gallery, heâs reminded about why he doesnât go there willingly.Â
He likens them to mazes. To him, thereâs no logical direction like there is in a history museum. Seonghyeon also especially hates that the map that he was given at the door doesnât tell him where a specific painting is.
He's stopped by a ridiculously overpriced flower shop right at the front of the gallery, and he doesnât hesitate to buy a bouquet of marigolds â your favourites. The ticket is also insanely expensive, but it doesnât really matter. He can justify it to his mother later.Â
And considering that he has to find you in this maddeningly confusing place, Seonghyeon thinks that heâs really got his work cut out for him. He runs past every single painting, eyes flicking up to check if itâs the one that you mentioned. Much to his disappointment, the first few corridors that he runs down donât have the painting displayed on the wall.Â
The other people in the museum â tourists, artists and critics â all look at him disapprovingly as his footsteps clack loudly on the wooden floor, disrupting the quietness and serenity of the space.Â
Seonghyeon grimaces when he spots someone glaring at him, muttering an apology for disrupting them. But heâs too preoccupied with finding you.Â
The stupid map heâs holding is of no help, and Seonghyeon practically wants to rip it apart until he wanders into a corridor that he thinks heâs never been to before. He doesnât know where he is at this point, and heâs clutching onto the flowers for dear life as if theyâll somehow keep him sane. Heâs been running around for 15 minutes, and he hasnât found you yet. Heâs starting to think that perhaps heâd gotten it wrong â maybe you werenât here.Â
Seonghyeon turns the corner. His eyes flick up to the painting quickly, prepared to already groan in disappointment before he has to slink down another hallway that looks just about the same. But this time, he gasps.Â
Aristotle with a Bust of Homer.Â
Most people who go to art galleries would marvel at the painting for a few minutes before looking around the space.Â
Seonghyeonâs eyes immediately go to the figure sitting on the bench in front of the painting.Â
Itâs you.
Youâre writing something down in a notebook, one earphone in your ear with your brows furrowed in concentration. To Seonghyeon, you look unbelievably beautiful â you always do. His breath hitches in his throat, and suddenly all the words that he was preparing to say in the car are lost on him.Â
He canât even bring himself to speak just yet â he just stands there for a few seconds, admiring you. Is it bad that he doesnât care much about the painting?Â
Seonghyeon takes a deep breath before he clears his throat to catch your attention. You turn to look in the direction of the noise that had disrupted the silence, and youâre stunned when you see Seonghyeon standing there, with a bouquet of marigolds in his hands.
âHi,â he says breathlessly. âI thought Iâd find you here.â
You furrow your brows, setting your pen and notebook on the bench. âHowâd you find me?â you ask in disbelief, taking out your earphones. Youâd be lying if you said you werenât happy to see him, but the ache from that night still stings a little.Â
âRembrandt. You told me about his paintings and how you wanted to make your assignment about this exact work once when we were studying. AndâŚI had to come find you,â he says, taking a hesitant step towards you. âI messed up that night.âÂ
The mention of that night makes you grimace. âSeonghyeon, itâs fine â we really donât have to talk about it. It was like a spur of the moment thing, or something. Just go back to class before Ms Seo literally kills you.â
âIt wasn't,â The certainty in his voice surprises you. âI meant it. I wanted to.âÂ
You donât say anything in response, and Seonghyeon takes it as a cue to continue talking. Seraâs words ring in his head â just say something real.Â
âI always thought I disliked you,â he blurts out. Wow, bad start, he thinks. It couldnât get any worse, could it? He sees your face fall slightly. âNo, no, that came out wrong â um, let me finish. I donât hate you. Iâm just⌠really bad at realising my own feelings.âÂ
âI always felt nervous around you, I never knew what to say, and I suppose I jumped to conclusions and thought that I hated you. But then this year⌠I realised that it was actually the opposite. My nerves really just stemmed from the fact that I⌠I cared about you. Cared about how well you were doing in school, cared about how you were always around, and I really cared about what you thought of me. I didnât want you to think I was stupid or anything or that I couldnât match your intellect, as strange as it sounds.âÂ
âAnd then this year I realised that I just knew things about you, even though I â stupidly â never made any attempt to try and get to know you better earlier on. Like how you tap the cover of your books when youâre nervous, and how you only use purple sticky tabs for pages in your books with annotations, and that you only use blue pens for essay subjects and black pens for subjects with numbers. His throat burns as he rambles. âJuhoon said that only a lunatic or someone madly in love would notice these things, and I know Iâm the latter.â Seonghyeon doesnât miss the way your breath catches in your throat when you hear him say that heâs in love with you.Â
âIâm sorry. Iâm not good with emotions. Iâm really stupid to only have realised it now. And Iâm sorry that I pushed you away that night when I felt like⌠this. I got scared â everything got too real, I suppose, and thinking about what Sera said about you being her best friend and everything⌠I didnât want everything to become strange.âÂ
âBut this week made me realise that I donât think I could possibly live with myself without telling you how I feel and giving this a shot. I keep reading Symposium over and over again because it just reminded me of you, and I just⌠yeah. I know they're kind of mostly talking about platonic love there, but this line stuck out to me and I think it works. It was something about love being the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole, and... yeah. You just make me feel whole.
"I don't even know if that makes a lot of sense," he sighs, but Seonghyeon could not care less about looking dumb right now. "But Iâm so stupidly in love with you.â
âI love how passionate you are about the things youâre interested in. I love how much you chat my ear off about Plato and Aristotle and Rembrandtâs paintings. I love how much you care about everyone â and how you care about me, such as knowing what kind of books I like, or my favourite flavour of ice cream when Iâve never even mentioned it to anyone before. It was that day at the bookstore where everything clicked for me â that I really, really liked you. And after that realisation, everything just finally felt right.âÂ
âAnd I suppose what Iâm trying to say here with all my rambling, is that if youâd still have me⌠Iâd really want to be yours.âÂ
He lets out a deep exhale after he pours his heart out to you. He quickly looks back down at his shoes once heâs finished speaking. Heâs hesitant to even look at you and witness your reaction to his words. Heâs never said anything this raw, this genuine, this honest â especially not regarding his feelings. But saying it out loud feels right. He loves you. Seonghyeon has never been more sure of anything in his life.Â
There's a beat of silence that falls between the two of you. Seonghyeonâs heart drops.
âDo you really mean all that?â you pipe up. You blink rapidly, as if youâre still trying to digest everything that he just said.
âYeah,â Heâs never said anything more real. âI do. Every word.âÂ
âYouâre⌠youâre insane,â you finally breathe out. Seonghyeon looks at you, and there are tears in your eyes. But you donât seem angry or repulsed, and youâre not running away. He wants nothing more than to reach out and wipe the tears from your eyes for you, but he doesnât know if youâre willing to let him get that close.Â
âI know,â he admits. His voice is low in a whisper, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. âBut I love you.âÂ
He hopes itâs enough.Â
You step closer towards him, and Seonghyeon slowly looks up at you. âI thought Iâd be the one to say all that first,â you shake your head almost in disbelief. After pining for him for so long, Seonghyeon ended up being the one who had confessed. You donât think you ever saw that coming.Â
âSo are you saying â you feel the same?â Seonghyeon stammers, panic evident in his tone. He doesnât know why heâs actually asking that, considering that both Sera and Leean had confirmed it for him. He supposes that after that night, he didnât know if you would actually still have feelings for him. âLike, I know itâs a lot to process, and I can waitââÂ
Your hands grab the lapels of his uniform, pulling him closer to you and capturing his lips in a kiss. Heâs slightly taken aback at first before he kisses you back. One hand cups your cheek as the other finds your waist like heâs done this a million times before, and Seonghyeon kisses you like youâre oxygen and heâs struggling to breathe. Finally, he thinks. Everything feels right.Â
It was messy and desperate, but it couldnât have been more perfect. It was the kind of kiss that conveyed every single emotion that the two of you felt for the last week after being separated for so long.
There couldnât possibly be a more picturesque location for a first â well, second â kiss. The world crumbles away, and itâs only you and him. Seonghyeon doesnât care that thereâs other people in this damned art gallery that are acutely aware of their presence and what theyâre doing. Theyâre no doubt either glancing at them oddly, or understanding that this is just young love.Â
When you pull away, your lips quirk up in a wide grin. âI love you too. I have, for a really long time now.â you say, whispering against his lips.Â
âI know,â he replies, remembering what Sera had told him. âIâm sorry I kept you waiting.â
âDid Sera tell you everything?" You donât seem surprised, but you are slightly embarrassed that Seonghyeon knows how long youâve been waiting for him to like you back. He nods in response, and you try to hide the flustered expression on your face. âI figured. God, I canât believe you know that I started reading history books just because I wanted to talk to you more.âÂ
Seonghyeon now looks shocked. âYou did?âÂ
Your eyes widen â great, youâd just tattled on yourself. You groan, embarrassed as you bury your face in your hands. Seonghyeonâs airy laughter rings through the gallery, his hand gently caressing your shoulder. âYou donât have to be embarrassed. Thatâs⌠really sweet of you, actually. But Iâm sorry for pushing you away all these years. And for pushing you away that night. I was a massive idiot.âÂ
âIâm glad you know that,â you joke, but youâre still slightly embarrassed by revealing that small fact about yourself. âI really did want to speak to you, but I was just scared of getting rejected by a guy Iâve liked for a really long time. But I suppose this grand gesture does make up for most of it, though. I canât believe youâre skipping Ms Seoâs class just for me.âÂ
âThis was important. And I know all the content anyways,â Seonghyeon hums. He suddenly remembers that the bouquet of marigolds is still in his hands, and his eyes widen in alarm. He checks them to see if the arrangement is ruined, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when theyâre not. He nervously hands them out to you, and you accept them with a bright smile. âSorry, I forgot to give you these earlier.âÂ
âMarigolds,â you grin, admiring the flowers. You press a quick peck to his cheek and watch as his cheeks tint pink. âYou remembered. Theyâre gorgeous.âÂ
âIâm happy that you like them.â he beams. You think about every word that Seonghyeon said in that confession, and your heart blooms with warmth. âBut I hope Iâm not distracting you too much from your assignment with my confession. You wouldnât mind if I stayed here with you, right?âÂ
You shake your head. Youâre more than happy heâs here, but youâre genuinely worried that Ms Seoâs going to kill him when she finds out that heâs skipped her class. âIâm kind of done, I think. I made my notes and everything, and I just have to put everything together when I get home. But I was planning to stay and walk around the gallery a little bit more, since Iâm signed out for the whole day. I just donât want Ms Seo to⌠you know⌠make you suffer for the rest of the year?âÂ
âIâll tell my mom to maybe lie for me,â he replies, and you can tell that itâs sinking in for him that Ms Seo is not going to be easy on him unless heâs somehow able to pull an acceptable excuse out of his ass. âSurely my mom would understand. Sera would help me convince her too. Or maybe, Ms Seo would be totally okay with me saying that I had to pull off a grand gesture to get the girl I love back.âÂ
You laugh, shaking your head. âThat would be lovely, but also⌠no chance.âÂ
âIâll take the 15 worksheets sheâll give me. This was worth it,â he gives your hand a tight squeeze. âSo⌠will you show me around the gallery? Just tell me everything about all of his paintings. We can start with this one?âÂ
âI kind of talked way too much about this during that study session, Hyeon,â you laugh. You called him Hyeon. A giddy smile creeps up on his lips. âWouldnât you get bored?â
âIâd never get bored of hearing you talk.â he replies. You chuckle before flicking open your notebook. You read out the commentary youâve made on the painting, pointing up at the specific parts that youâre mentioning. Seonghyeon listens to every single word with your hand laced in his, putting in his own thoughts here and there.
The two of you wander around the entire museum, and miraculously, with you by his side, Seonghyeon doesnât get lost at all. Suddenly, he thinks that he loves art galleries.
He sneaks in a couple of kisses here and there as youâre rambling. He smiles in amusement as you completely forget what youâve been saying after he presses his lips to yours.Â
The last painting the two of you see in the museum is The Polish Rider, and Seonghyeon finds it awfully fitting. The last painting he sees with you in this exhibit is the painting mentioned in the first poem that had in some ways, brought you two together.Â
As youâre telling him about the painting, he allows his eyes to wander a little. They land on you, and instantly, a lovesick smile stretches across his lips.Â
And itâs then when he just knows that the kind of love that had been described in the poem that you two had analysed together â breathtaking, all-consuming, fervent â was very much so attainable.Â
Because he feels it.
Despite being surrounded by paintings revered by all, Eom Seonghyeon would much rather look at you than all the other portraits in the world.
Š martinflms 2025.
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SUMMARY Âť
seonghyeon's practically your number one fan, and when he finally meets you, he absolutely malfunctions, losing his potential chances. but unbeknowst to him, his failure at acting smooth and nonchalant is what flatters you
GENERAL Âť
á°ââ 6th!illit!member!reader | main!vocalist!reader | both are 09 | yearner!seonghyeon | an extensive amount of fumbling on seonghyeons part | đmutual pining đŚŻ
ââ MASTERLIST
oh my god it's happening. SEONGHYEON'S meeting you. you. Â
who knew all he had to do was debut in a group of the same company? Â
alright, there was a bit more to it than just that, but it was really all he could think about in the moment. Â
he's been a fan of yours since your debut. when he first stumbled upon your music video 'magnetic', while searching for something to watch with his breakfast, he watched it on repeat about five times before remembering that he had a bowl of cereal in front of him. Â
he was just enraptured by the specific sound your group had. but there was one part he always replayed, in every song you went on to release, he always searched for that distinct part in the track. your part.
you were illit's main vocalist, and god, wasn't it obvious? Â
you were hypnotizing. it nearly felt siren-like, as if listening for too long would put him in a trance. Â
ever since he heard you for the first time, he's been hooked. and not just to your incredible visuals and jaw-dropping performances, but to you.Â
you have this undeniable charm, this radiant warmth. your humble tendencies to blush and deny praise. your professionalism yet easy-going nature in interviews. your elegance on stage, mistakes and mishaps barely affecting you. Â
SEONGHYEON thought you were so cool. Â
it sounds a bit silly, like a compliment from a kid to their favorite superhero. but you just were. you had this presence that he oh-so wanted to witness. Â
a few months after his debut with cortis, his members found out about SEONGHYEON'S celebrity crush. Â
he shouldn't have been smiling so wide at his phone. of course, they were going to snatch it from him. what they were expecting was probably text messages between a crush, but what they found was an edit of none other than you. it was relentless teasing after that.Â
but SEONGHYEON was growing nervous. he was finally going to meet you. face to face. this worry was boiling inside of him, insatiable and heartless. Â
god he was gonna fuck this up, wasn't he? Â
â§âËâŞđá°ââ
today was the day. Â
cortis was in a practice room, waiting for illit to arrive for their small dance video collaboration. james was stretching, martin was laughing at his phone with juhoon, and keonho was beside SEONGHYEON, endlessly teasing.
"you excited?" keonho said with elongated vowels.
SEONGHYEON sighs, rubbing his temple. "I'm stressed out," he mutters, nearly sheepishly.
keonho laughs at his despair as he springs up from the floor.
"c'mon man, you're lovable!"
he plants his face into his hands, groaning with anguish.
"stop this!" keonho laughs, taking hold of SEONGHYEON'S hands, dragging him up with an unstable wobble. "just be cool, girls dig the mysterious type."
"how the hell am I supposed to act 'mysterious' when I'm her literal number one fan?"
keonho snorts, falling quiet as he doesn't seem to have a sensible answer.
"I'm being serious, did you see my spotify wrapped? number one in the world," SEONGHYEON states, emphasizing punctuation in between words.
the fact makes the rest of them laugh, hysterically at that, but it doesn't itch SEONGHYEON out of his misery.
"god, she'll think I'm such a weirdo!" he complains, tucking his face into his hands. SEONGHYEON has been stressing since this morning, much to everyone else's dismay.
"bro, don't tell her you're a die-hard fangirl," martin chimes in from across the floor. SEONGHYEON looks up from his hands. "just, act nonchalant."
james cackles, queuing SEONGHYEON to give him a squinted glare.
"nonchalant?" juhoon chuckles.
"well yeah!" martin agrees. "y'know: 'oh, I've never heard of you, but you seem cool.' that type of thing!"
"you're ridiculous-" james tries, but SEONGHYEON interjects with a newfound readiness.
"alright," he nods. "no, that might work."
"as if anything'll work," keonho snickers, earning an elbow to the rib by a blushing SEONGHYEON.
as keonho dramatically grabs his side with an exclamation, staff hurries over to collect the group.
"they'll be here any minute," their manager says.
SEONGHYEON is practically sweating at this point. how on earth is he supposed to keep his composure? it's insatiable, really; you're merely human. how bad can it be?
the door into the room opens slowly, and SEONGHYEON'S heart starts doing somersaults; he doesn't even want to begin thinking about how red he must be.
their manager steps in first. they're followed by moka, minju, wonhee, and then you.
oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
it's echoing, blaring in his head. he needs to get himself together. but you're there, and your eyes meet his, and oh lord, you smile at him. soft and genuine.
is this how people feel when their idols notice them in the crowd?
SEONGHYEON doesn't register when the rest of his group bows, the sound of their greetings echoing. james âwho's beside SEONGHYEONâ puts a hand on his back to guide him into a bow. he merely follows the movements.
their managers talk, martin talks, james and keonho do too. but it's all a bit blurry. voices are obvious, but the intention is unclear. they split into groups, two from illit and two from cortis, stepping off. another group steps off, one he didn't count properly.
"SEONGHYEON, right?"
the voice rings far too many bells in him, and a cruel warmth spreads up his neck. his head turns quickly to the nerve-inducing sound. you're smiling, and at him, and god, you're even prettier in person. dressed in baggy sweatpants and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt. it's grungy, yet you're wearing these cute star hairpins and handmade bracelets.
"that's me," SEONGHYEON says in a weird punctuation, far too long after you asked.
"cool," you nod, picking at a thread on one of your bracelets. "I'm-."
"yeah, I know," SEONGHYEON breathes out in a fell swoop. it has the intention of saving time, but when it leaves his mouth, all that it 'intends' is creepiness.
he closes his eyes tight, brows furrowing. one minute in, and you're already signing restraining orders. "that's not-," he tries to excuse, but you laugh, a soft chuckle that easliy gets his heart beating for other reasons. his eyes open to witness the easy smile on your face and the crinkle of your eyes.
"hm, you a fan or something?" you joke, but the comment burns a rocket-propelled grenade-sized hole in his abdomen.
he chuckles. "no, no, I guess I'm just-." okay, now he's just being rude. "I'm just well-educated, I guess." fuck that was cringe. but you utter another laugh.
"okay, SEONGHYEON," you nod as staff drag you to iroha to film. but you give him these eyes as you turn. this look that he can't place. but what he can place is the forest fire burning beneath his skin.
â§âËâŞđá°ââ
"and then I said 'I'm just well-educated, I guess'," SEONGHYEON whispers. "what the hell is that?"
keonho snickers in their quiet discussion. the rest of them are filming the 'jellyous' choreography. "keonho, I'm stressing over here!"
"it's not that big of a deal-."
"we spoke for a matter of seconds, and I'm already fumbling."
"nah, you're good, you're good, just," keonho ponders for a few seconds. he claps his hands together quietly enough to not draw attention, as if he just found the perfect idea. "get in a group with her."
"what?-"
keonho continues: "y'know film with her. there's the dance to talk about! so you don't accidentally mention the fact that you fall asleep to edits of her."
SEONGHYEON smacks his arm. "that was one time." but ends up nodding to the idea. "yeah okay-."
"alright!" illit's manager calls out right as they finish the choreography. "let's do, leader with leader and maknae with maknae."
SEONGHYEON freezes for a split second. that's you and keonho. oh my lord-.
"I don't really feel comfortable as 'maknae.'"
SEONGHYEON practically stops breathing. what the hell is he doing.
"y'know, SEONGHYEON is just one month older, I don't think it's fair."
martin bites back a chuckle.
"and either way, SEONGHYEON is way more young-minded, I mean, he's practically a year younger than my mentally."
SEONGHYEON rubs a slow circle against his temple.
"he should do it, not me."
an awfully slow beat passes. he sighs into his palm, insatiably embarrassed to be sitting next to him.
"yeah, I agree," martin deadpans with a sly grin, mischief in his glance. SEONGHYEON wants to die where he sits. their manager looks down at their papers.
"hm, me too."
those bells start ringing again, aggressively at that. he looks up, meeting your steady gaze. "he can be maknae for half an hour, can't he?" you suggest to your manager, and with a sigh, they agree.
â§âËâŞđá°ââ
okay, okay, okay. Â
this is fine, completely fine. Â
'you're cool,'Â SEONGHYEON kept repeating in his mind. but he really isn't; he's warmer than concrete on a hot summer day, practically radiating. you were going through the steps one by one for your newest release, 'not cute anymore.'Â Â
it was fairly simple; SEONGHYEON nearly knows it by heart at this point, yet he couldn't quite grasp it fully. just not right now. he felt a bit too preoccupied, because despite your voice narrating your moves, he kept focusing on the wrong things. Â
your mismatched nail polish, the words on the beads of your braclets, the soft shimmer of eyeshadow on your eyelids. he wanted to know what polish you buy, what pearls and thread you prefer working with, the name of the teal and pink colors on your eyes.Â
âgot it?â you asked, smile numbing. Â
âyeah, absolutely.â Â
âalright! weâll go one time all the way through and then weâll film, yeah?â Â
SEONGHYEON nodded, smile careful. he felt tense. he really needed to loosen up; he was far too mechanical in his tone, far too stand-offish in his mannerisms. SEONGHYEON wants you to like him, for god's sake; he canât be acting so strange.Â
you count the two of you in, the song being naturally quite slow. with a soft exhale, SEONGHYEON focuses properly, eyes narrowed on his own reflection, mouth subconsciously mumbling the lyrics. Â
alright, okay, absolutely. Â
you ring like a siren in his head. because you were close, your elbow almost bumps into his more than once. your voice was soft in the whisper you held. your voice is just so remarkable, he could nearly hear the song in your tone.Â
but he was going to have to set his focus on other things. he canât expect you to see anything in him if heâs walking around with wide googly eyes, a zipped mouth, and an awkward stance.Â
âyou just must be a fan.âÂ
okay, yeah, sure, itâs fine. Â
SEONGHYEON acts as if heâs been caught red-handed, cheeks blooming red and eyes growing wide. Â
âyou seem sure of yourself,â he tries to laugh off. but you continue, and god, it's as if you eat him alive.Â
âhm yeah, Iâm quite sure.âÂ
youâre grinning, and itâs killing him. he puts his hands in his back pockets, shoulders awkward. Â
âyou know the lyrics,â you state.Â
âyâknow, Iâm just doing-.â he swallows. âjust doing what you did, and you muttered the lyrics while you-, so yeah.âÂ
you chuckle, a full, real laugh, and it sends a soft strike of accomplishment beneath his ribs.Â
âhm okay, sure.âÂ
SEONGHYEON swears he sees you step closer.
âbut while I was doing what I did, you were a bit too busy staring to actually observe.â oh my lord heâs perished. âand then you just â poof â knew the entire thing perfectly.âÂ
it almost seems mean, but your tone, your body language, your breath-taker of a stare is nothing but teasing â admiring.Â
"yeah uhm, yeah," he peeps, a nervous smile infecting his cheeks as his brows furrow.
SEONGHYEON'S red and hot to the touch; his throat feels clogged. here he was thinking heâd barely get a word in with you, yet youâre here bantering with him for crying out loud. it keeps this insatiable tension burning at his skin that he hates just as much as he loves. Â
âit's okay,â you assure with a calm laugh, your hand coming in soft contact with his bicep, a form of compassion; a sign of comfort. either way, it pumps a palpitating rhythm into SEONGHYEON'S heart. âitâs flattering.â Â
his heart stops for less than a second. flattering. did he do something right? did he compliment you? all heâs been doing is sputtering out the first thing that comes to mind and standing with tense shoulders.Â
before he can think through the implications, their manager ushers the two of you to a camera. youâve been going at it for twenty minutes now, itâs no wonder their urging.Â
but okay, okay. filming. the next part, and it goes by awfully fast. it feels rushed despite the patience of their staff. because in reality, they spend a good five minutes filming and propping up properly. but his hair still manages to feel imperfect in the nonexistent rush, and his pants feel too saggy in his apparently fast movements. Â
but he gets through it without too much trouble in the end, and of course, so do you.Â
why was that so stressful? SEONGHYEON thinks to himself. and why was he breathing so hard?
he threads his hair back, an easy motion, but you step close, and he catches your perfume. soft and fluffy in his presence. it's subtle yet infinitely effective. so of course, his hand decides to hook onto a knot in his hair, and he ends up standing there with his arm up and awkward, wrestling with his hair. you chuckle as he unclasps himself.
"we did it!" you proclaim with a gentle glee, aiming for a high five.
he smiles, meeting your hand with an echoing slap. but as your hands fall to waist height, you linger, finger brushing. mismatched nail polish against humid skin. SEONGHYEON swears his heart implodes as you walk away with that far too real smile.
before he can process the warmth in his chest or the teasing brows that james shoots his way, their manager hoots. "alright guys, that was the last of it."
he sinks along with the pit in his stomach. his eyes land on you as if on autopilot, and you meet his gaze. and it's almost as if you're experiencing the same fall beneath your ribs. his brows grow too heavy, and he has to look away.
it all happens a bit too fast. you bow your goodbyes. voices in unison. it feels like something should happen; that something more was supposed to happen.
SEONGHYEON watches as you wave; you're the last to leave, and it damn near hurts watching. you give him a final glance paired with that easy smile, and then the door closes behind you.
a silence lingers in the thick air. SEONGHYEON chokes on a breathy chuckle. "I fumbled so fucking bad."
exhales and airy laughs are passed through the members.
"plenty of fish in the sea, twinski," martin assures with a tight, puckish smile.
SEONGHYEON scoffs. "what happened to 'oh, don't worry! you'll get her next time!'"
"bro after that fiasco, I don't really think I can."
SEONGHYEON wants to collapse onto the floor. but before he can turn to smack martin, the door opens in urgency.
"so sorry!"
just beat him with the bells, why don't you?
"god, I think I dropped a bracelet."
worn thread and thrifted beads.
"oh, we'll help you-."
"there!" you exclaim, running over to the ring of ribbon, right where the two of you practiced.
SEONGHYEON gets nudged in the shoulder by keonho. he turns his neck to give him a glare, but he's met by every one of his members practically staring him down. juhoon's mimicing a phone to his ear and then points to you across the floor. SEONGHYEON swallows, eyes squinting with nerves.
this could be one of the last times he meets you in person.
he's suddenly pushed by keonho. gliding him against the floor and ultimately, closer to you.
SEONGHYEON chokes out an imprecise calling of your name.
despite the crack in his voice and the heat on his tongue, it perks your attention, and you raise yourself off the floor, eyebrows high on your forehead as you put on your lost bracelet.
"hm?" you acknowledge, guiding him to continue. it catches in his throat, and an overwhelming silence spreads in the space between you two. SEONGHYEON hears how martin clears his throat, and it eases a smile out of him; it loosens his shoulders.
"okay, yeah, uhm," he blabs, and his mind blanks as you watch him with observant eyes.
"you're pretty," he states matter-of-factly, and despite the burn on his neck, it eases a flushed laugh out of you, a gentle smile settling on your lips.
it urges him to continue, so he does, along with the shake in his tone.
"and.." and now he's at a loss for words. he begs himself to find anything sensible inside his brain. but he's blank, and that manages to propel a spiel from his lips.
"and I really suck at this," he laughs as his head lowers.
SEONGHYEON hears the light chuckle that leaves your lips, and suddenly, his embarrassment is worth it.
"and with all this summarized," he gathers himself in a big breath. "I felt that maybe we could.. sometime-, I don't know, uhm."
he meets your gaze, and oh, aren't your eyes gentle. you're wearing this airy smile, like you already know the question, and you seem so glad to give your answer. and its all so easy in the end, isn't it?
SEONGHYEON exhales. "could I maybe get your number?"
it's subtle, but he notices how your eyes light up slightly. it makes a smile utter against his lips.
"of course you can, SEONGHYEON."
"cool," he peeps within his overpowering glee.
SEONGHYEON was insatiable after this. he flaunted your contact info to the other members as if it were a pile of gold. even their staff grew annoyed at him after a few days. oh well, he was happy, so who cares?
let's just hope he doesn't fumble as much on your first date.
ââ MASTERLIST
ââ SCHEDULE ; FUTURE FICSÂ Â
ââ REQUEST HERE
IN WHICH Dongmin swears youâre just friendsâbut his little sister clearly has other plans. what was supposed to be a cozy Christmas trip to his hometown turns into playful teasing, shared scarves, and laughter that wonât stop bubbling up between you. between the snow, the fairy lights, and the way he keeps looking at you like you hung the stars yourself, âjust friendsâ starts to sound a little less convincing.
pairing(s) â han dongmin x fem!reader
genre(s) â fluff, friends to lovers, christmas au
cw(s) â (none!)
a/n â yearner dongmin (ËśË áľ ËËś) i honestly kiiinda like this one? itâs a bit rushed (â⸠â) but iâm not used to doing long fics yet⌠YET! i loooove xmas and will def binge watch some movies for ideas⌠merry christmas, everyone!!! âď¸
status â finished! | wc. 2k
catalogue upcoming
"We're not dating, mom." Dongmin muttered under his breath for the third time in ten minutes, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets as his mother shot him another pointed look across the dinner table. His younger sister, kicked his ankle under the tableâhardâwhile pretending to sip her soup innocently. The steaming broth smelled rich with garlic and ginger, and the warmth of the tiny family restaurant did little to ease the tension thickening in the air.
Outside, Gwangjuâs winter had turned the streets into a glittering mess of half-melted snow and neon reflections, but inside, the heat was suffocating. You focused very intently on separating a piece of kimchi from the rest, acutely aware of Dongminâs father clearing his throat before asking, "So, how long have you two known each other?" in that tone that suggested he already had the wedding date picked out.
Dongmin choked on his rice. "Nine years," you blurted at the same time he said, "Its not like that," which only made his sister snort into her napkin. The silence stretched like taffy until Dongminâs sister leaned forward, elbows on the table, and smirkedâthat particular smirk she'd perfected at fourteen that meant trouble. "Then what about the giâ"
His palm slapped over her mouth so fast her chopsticks clattered onto the porcelain plate. "Eat your food," he hissed through gritted teeth, but you'd already caught the tail end of that word. Your own chopsticks hovered mid-air. "Gift?" you repeated slowly, tasting the syllables like unfamiliar spice. The overhead lanterns flickered then, casting shadows across Dongmin's face as he shot his sister a murderous look.
. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ý á¨â đ °
Three hours laterâafter an escape disguised as a "walk to digest"âyou're wedged shoulder-to-shoulder against Dongmin's childhood bedframe, knees knocking together under a quilt his grandmother stitched from old hanbok fabric. The scent of pine from the tiny plastic Christmas tree on his desk mingled oddly with the menthol of his cologne. On screen, some American actor fake-slipped on ice in a scene that was supposed to be romantic; Dongmin snorted, tossing popcorn into his mouth one-handed. "This is so bad it's painful," he muttered, but his fingers twitched where they brushed yours beneath the blanket.
You should've worn thicker socks. The draft from his perpetually cracked window gnawed at your ankles, but shifting would mean admitting the coldâadmitting you'd chosen aesthetics over sense when packing for this trip. Instead, you curled your toes inward, focusing on how his forearm radiated heat where it pressed against yours.
The popcorn bag crinkled as you blindly reached in, fingers colliding with his instead of kernels. Neither of you pulled away. On screen, snow swirled around the fictional couple while real frost crept across Dongmin's bedroom window, etching fragile patterns in the corners. His younger sister had drawn smiley faces in the condensation earlier; one was now melting into a lopsided grimace. You exhaled sharply through your noseâhalf-laugh, half-unwilling admissionâand Dongmin tilted his head just enough for you to catch his smirk reflected in the darkened TV.
"Cold?" he asked, stretching his legs out with deliberate nonchalance until his socked foot bumped yours. The contact sent warmth prickling up your calf even through layers of fabric. You could've pointed out that he'd stolen all the blankets twice already, or that his elbow kept digging into your ribs, or that the movie was objectively terrible. Instead, you found yourself mirroring his position, knee pressing against his under the quilt like a secret Morse code.
Outside, a snowplow rumbled past the apartment complex, its yellow lights sweeping across the ceiling in slow arcs. Dongmin tracked the movement with lazy eyes before suddenly rolling onto his side to face you, dislodging the popcorn bag between you. A kernel tumbled onto the pillow. "Oh no," he deadpanned, "looks like we'll have to share the last one." His breath smelled faintly of butter and the cinnamon gum he'd been chewing since dinner, and when he held the final piece of popcorn between two fingers, his pinky brushed your lower lip.
You could hear his sister giggling from the next room over some late-night variety show, the sound muffled through paper-thin walls. The clock on his bedside table ticked louder than it had any right to, counting down the seconds until one of you movedâuntil someone acknowledged how his thumb was now tracing idle circles on your wrist where it rested between you. The movie had switched to some insipid credits sequence neither of you were watching. His grandmother's quilt suddenly felt like the only thing holding the universe together.
"Wanna see the lights?" Dongmin finally blurted, sitting up too fast when the silence stretched too long. The words tumbled out half-formed, like he'd been rehearsing them in his head and still messed up the delivery. You blinked up at him, momentarily distracted by how his hair stood up in three different directions where he'd been leaning against the pillow. He cleared his throat, already yanking open his closet with unnecessary force. "The park across from the apartmentâthey do this dumb light display every year," he continued, tossing a faded university hoodie at your face before you could answer. It smelled like his detergent and something citrusy underneath. "Put this on. And these," he added, kicking a pair of wool-lined gloves toward you while avoiding your eyes. "Your fingers looked like they were about to fall off earlier."
. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ý á¨â đ °
The cold hit your lungs like a sucker punch the moment you stepped outside, turning every exhale into a fleeting ghost between you. Dongmin's parents barely glanced up from their drama when he shouted "We're going out!"âhis mother just waved a spoon in their general direction without looking. The sidewalk glittered treacherously underfoot, and before you could slip, his hand found yours with practiced ease, fingers slotting together like they'd been doing this for years instead of hours. Neon signs reflected off the ice in fractured reds and yellows, highlighting the way his nose had already gone red at the tip.
Silence settled between you in a comfortable hush until you nudged his shoulder. "So," you prodded, breath clouding between you. "What was that about at dinner?" He stiffened immediately, grip tightening on your hand as his boots scuffed the snow. For a terrifying second, you thought he might bolt, but then he released a shuddering breath that curled white in the air.
Dongmin suddenly stopped walking and turned to face you fully. The parkâs string lights cast erratic shadows across his face as he hesitated, then reached outâslow, deliberateâto tuck an escaped strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your temple, warmer than they had any right to be in this cold. "I bought you something," he mumbled, gaze flicking away to the illuminated fountain. "Few somethings, actually."
You grabbed his sleeve before he could retreat into awkwardness again. "Where are they?" The words came out louder than intended, bouncing off the frozen trees. His sisterâs teasing smirk flashed in your memoryâthat unfinished word, gift. Dongmin groaned, rubbing his nape with his free hand. "She found the main one," he admitted. "Snooping little goblin."
The confession hung between you like the icicles dripping from the lampposts. Somewhere distant, children shrieked with snowball laughter, but all you could focus on was the way Dongminâs throat moved when he swallowed hard. "I want to see it," you demanded, stepping closer until your boots bumped his. His exhale was half-laugh, half-defeat as his forehead dropped to rest against yours.
The first snowflake landed on his eyelashes. Then another, and anotherâsoft as moth wingsâbut neither of you moved. "Fine," he whispered, breath mingling with yours.
"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering." His voice cracked on the last word, roughened by cold and something deeper. His thumb brushed your cheekbone as he continued, "He never forgot anything, not even how she scrunches her nose when she's concentrated."
Your pulse thundered in your ears loud enough to drown out the distant Christmas carols bleeding from a shop across the street. The snow had settled in his hair like powdered sugar, and when you reached up to brush it away, his fingers caught yours midairâhis palms were clammy despite the cold. "That boy is me," he murmured. "And that girl, is you."
Dongmin exhaled sharply through his nose when you didnât respond immediately, shoulders tensing as if bracing for rejection. The neon sign above the park bench flickered, painting his profile in erratic reds and blues. You opened your mouthâ"Dongmin, Iâ" but he interrupted with a strangled noise, digging into his coat pocket with frantic urgency.
The velvet box he produced was small, the kind that wouldnât make noise rattling around in a schoolbag for years, five years more exactly. Your breath hitched when he flicked it openâthere, winking under the fairy lights, was the ruby ring youâd pressed your nose against a jewelry store window to admire at sixteen. The one youâd sighed over while he pretended to check his phone beside you. "Bought it three days later," he admitted, thumb rubbing the worn hinge.
A snowflake melted on your eyelashes, or maybe it was a tearâyou couldnât tell, couldnât breathe, couldnât stop staring at the way his hands shook as he plucked the ring from its cradle. The silver band had tarnished slightly, but the stone still burned like a live coal against the winter gloom. Dongminâs voice cracked when he whispered, "I justâcouldnât stop thinking about how you looked at it."
You swallowed hard, throat tight. "So youâve been carrying this around since... high school?" The question came out hushed, disbelieving. He ducked his head, snowflakes catching in his lashes. "Yeah, well." A shrug. "Kept waiting for the right moment." You blinked at himâat the boy whoâd once cried when you stepped on a snail by accident, who still remembered your favorite childhood lullabyâand something molten unfurled in your chest.
His fingers trembled where they hovered near yours, the ring catching stray flecks of park light. "Look, I know itâsâ" Dongmin started, then stopped, jaw working. The words hung between you like the frost in the air. His exhale fogged the space between your faces when he finally whispered, "Can I be your boyfriend?" so softly it barely qualified as sound.
You let the silence stretchâthree deliberate heartbeatsâbefore pulling back with exaggerated solemnity. "Hmm," you mused, tapping your chin with one finger, savoring the way his pupils dilated with every passing second. The snowflakes clinging to his scarf. The way his breath hitched when you finally sighed dramatically. "No."
Dongmin's face fell so fast it was almost comicalâuntil you burst into laughter, grabbing fistfuls of his coat collar and yanking him down into a soft kiss mid-protest. His lips were chapped and cold at first, then warm, then insistent as he caught up with the joke, hands flying to cradle your face like you might disappear. The ring dug awkwardly into your cheekbone where he still clutched it between two fingers, but neither of you cared.
A snowflake landed on the tip of your nose as you pulled back, melting instantly into a tiny droplet. Dongmin made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan, swiping his thumb across the bridge of your nose with exaggerated exasperation. "Of course, dummy," you breathed against his lips, grinning when his ears went pink. "I've been waiting for years." His laugh was startled, bright, shuddering through both of you as his forehead bumped yours.
"Oh, you really scared me there, you tease," he muttered, but the way his voice cracked ruined the effect entirely. His fingers found your nose againâpinching it lightly in retaliationâbut you caught his wrist before he could retreat, pressing his palm flat against your stuttering heartbeat.Â
The ring was warm when he finally slid it onto your finger, his own hands still shaking. Somewhere behind you, a group of teenagers shrieked as they skidded across the frozen fountain, their laughter bouncing off the snowbanks. But Dongmin only had eyes for the way the ruby caught the light when you flexed your fingersâhow it looked like it had always belonged there. "So," he said after a beat, clearing his throat pointedly. "Does this mean I get to tell my mom she was right?"
10 things I hate about you | ëł´ě´ëĽě¤ëě´ H.DM, TS
Between the things I hate
â Taesan x reader
In Summary
You swore it was 'hate at first sight.' But when a Shakespeare project forces you to analyze Subject B (Han Dongmin), you realize heâs the exception to your logicâand the Patrick Verona to your story.
Enemies to Lovers, Academic rivals, Forced Proximity, University AU, black cat boy x Logical girl
wc. 5.1K
The room got quieter when your names were called together.
Like two black holes colliding.
You didn't move. Neither he
You just engaged in a silent staring contest from across the room. He was the first to break it, pointing a finger at me, then pointing at the empty seat next to him.
A command. Not a request.
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, picked up your bag, and walked over. This wasn't going to be a collaboration. This was going to be war.
After the sound that echoed in the silent lecture hall by your professor âYour semester project will be a critical analysis of Shakespeareâs work. And you gonna pair up into eleven group by me...â â itâs not the worst part for the one who hate doing group work. Statistically speaking, group projects are designed to fail. And you did not design for failure.
ââŚGroup 4 âs topic is Shakespeareâs The Taming of the Shrew through the lens of its modern adaptation: 10 Things I Hate About You...
⌠Members of group 4: âL/N Y/Nâ and⌠Han Dongmin.â
Damn, group projects are designed to fail. But being paired with him wasn't just a failure; it was a calculation error by the universe.
You marched over to his desk, slamming you bag down. He didn't flinch, but looked up with those heavy, unbothered eyes.
"Let's get this straight," you started, voice sharp, ignoring his reaction "I don't do romance. It's illogical, chemical nonsense. So, if we're analyzing this movie, we're tearing it apart. We focus on the sociological flaws, not the... feelings."
He blinked. Once. Twice. Like a cat watching a human throw a tantrum. Then, he sighed, closed his book, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms
"You're loud," he said simply. His voice was calm, deep, and annoyingly attractive. He took the earphone out of his left ear and let it dangle. "And you're wrong.".
"Excuse me?"
"The movie isn't about flaws. It's about how someone chaotic can find rhythm in someone else." He smirkedâa faint, arrogant curve of his lips. "Just because you don't understand the melody doesn't mean it's noise, y/n."
He leaned forward, encroaching on your personal space with that nonchalant confidence. "You handle the plot summary. I'll handle the emotional analysis. Clearly, youâre not equipped for it."
Your jaw dropped. Did this âbrooding, artistic definition of arroganceâ just call me emotional illiterate? Challenge accepted.
You claimed the table by the window in the main library, bathed in the quiet afternoon light. It was a strategic choice on your part to sit across from him, rather than next to him. You needed the width of the table as a safety zoneâa guarantee that your elbows wouldn't brush, that your knees wouldn't accidentally touch under the desk.
Between you two lay a chaotic sprawl of literature. Stacks of The Taming of the Shrew, critical analyses, and thick biographies of Shakespeare formed a paper barricade separating your territory from his.
The silence was heavy, but not empty.
He was focused. Annoyingly so. He held a hardcover edition in his handsâa book you wouldnât have touched with a ten-foot pole if your grade didn't depend on it. But there he was, eyes scanning the archaic text with a level of absorption that made the rest of the world disappear.
You mirrored him, busy with your own book to avoid looking at the way the sunlight hit his profile silently.
But the silence didnât last... It couldn't. âNot within the sheer amount of nonsense written in Act 2.
"This is absurd," you muttered, slamming The Taming of the Shrew shut. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet zone. "Petruchio isn't a romantic lead. He's a gaslighter. He starves her into submission. Thatâs not 'taming,' thatâs abuse."
Taesan didn't even look up from his book. He just turned a page, his movement slow and deliberate. "You're reading it literally again," he said, his voice low but cutting through the silence. "Itâs a performance. A game. They're matching wits."
"Matching wits?" you hissed, leaning forward over the stack of books. "He treats her like a falcon to be trained! Itâs illogical to call this a love story."
Finally, he looked up. That sleepy, nonchalant gaze was gone, replaced by a glint of challenge. "It's about breaking down the ego to find the real person underneath," he countered, leaning in until his face was inches from the book barricade. "Just because you're too stiff to understand the rhythm of their banter doesn't mean it's abuse."
"Excuse me? I am not stiff!" your voice rose an octave. "I am analytical. And statistically, relationships based on manipulation fail 100% of the time!"
"And statistically," he shot back, his volume rising to match yours, "people who over-analyze everything end up alone because they kill the vibe before it even starts."
"Vibe? You and your damn vibe! We are talking about literature, not a noisy concertâ"
"SHHHHHH!"
The aggressive hiss came from the librarianâs desk like a whip crack. Every head in the library turned toward you two. The librarian adjusted her glasses, glaring daggers. "This is a place for study, not for lovers' quarrels. Get out or be quiet."
You both froze. Lovers' quarrels? The audacity.
You were about to retort, but Taesan always faster.
He snapped his book shut, stood up in one fluid motion, and grabbed his bag. He looked down at me, not with embarrassment, but with pure determination.
"We're not done," he stated, ignoring the librarian's glare completely. "Decide place. Now. We're finishing this."
You shoved your books into your tote bag, glaring right back at him. "Fine. My place. And Iâm still right."
You stormed out of the library, not to make peace, but simply to find a battlefield where you could express your thoughts without interruption.
The drive to your apartment was suffocated by lingering irritation. Taesan didnât touch his phone once; he remained fixated on that damn bookâwhile you had mentally checked out the moment the plot mentioned a gaslighting male lead.
Shoes were scattered at the entrance, which meant your two roommates were home. The chaos inside confirmed it before you even saw their faces.
âOh! Hi! Thatâs an unexpected combination.â It was Jaehyunâyour roommate and the source of all that noise. He was also the reason you and Taesan knew each other in the first place, thanks to that hellish General Ed Law class freshman year.
Taesan simply raised a hand in greeting, silent as ever.
âWorking on a pair project? Cool. Iâll head to my room then. You guys use the common area.â
 âWe might be a bit loud.â you warned her.
âGo ahead.â Your other roommate walked past us, heading straight for her bedroom. She swept past Jaehyun, completely ignoring the homemade food he had been trying to push on her for the last hour. Cold as ice.
âTrying to poison her?â You asked.
âRespect my recipe, pleaseâ Jaehyun pouted, before shifting his attention to his best friend. âWhat subject?â
âPhilosophical Literature.â
âOh. That reminds me, my Social Philosophy paper isnât done yet. You guys work. If youâre hungry, eat whatever I made.â
And with that, he left us alone.
The silent appeal again.
âLet me guess,â Taesan said, breaking the silence. âThe last person at the TV table was you.â
It was a rhetorical question.
The table was exactly as you had left it this morning: organized chaos. Research papers scattered everywhere, scraps of paper with cryptic handwriting only you could decipher, an empty cup of ramyeon next to a half-drunk water bottle.
And on the floorâa pile of plushies, thick blankets, and fluffy pillows arranged like a fortress of solitude to cut off the outside world.
He walked past you without a hint of awkwardness, scanning the mess with those unreadable eyes, like an inspector assessing a disaster zone.
âMessy.â he commented. His voice was flat, monotone.
âIt's an organized systemâ you snapped, rushing to grab the ramyeon cup and some trash to throw in the bin. âSit anywhere. Just don't touch myââ
He didnât wait for you to finish. He dropped onto the sofa, placed his bag in the empty space beside him, and swept your scattered papers into a neat pile with one hand. Then, he reached for the shelf behind the couch.
âWhat are you doing?â You demanded, voice sharp.
âSetting the vibeâ he replied deadpan. He had grabbed Jaehyunâs Bluetooth speakerâwhich hadnât been used in monthsâand pulled out his phone. âI donât work in silence. Especially not with you. Just looking at your state right now is depressing enough.â
âIt is not depressing! I prioritize efficiency! And I donât need yourââ
Click.
A slow, rhythmic R&B track filled the room. It was smooth, vintage, and annoyingly good. It was the kind of song that makes you want to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling, not argue about Shakespeare or stupid red-flag fictional men.
Finally, he turned to look at you. He crossed his legs, arms folded, looking completely relaxed in your personal spaceâlike a black cat that had just decided this territory now belonged to him.
âAlright,â he said, nodding toward the pile of softness on the rug opposite him, correctly guessing that was where you buried yourself to work on headaches like this all night.
âProve me wrong. But try to do it without yelling. The acoustics in here are terrible. Honestly, Iâm surprised your two roommates are used to this.â
Great. He never disappoints. Before you could even start to prove him wrong, he managed to prove you rightâthat hating him at first sight was the correct decision all along.
âFine.â You accepted the challenge, dropping onto the rug amidst your fortress of pillows and pulling your laptop open.
âYou want me to prove you wrong? Letâs start with your so-called âvibeâ.â
You gestured aggressively at the speaker.
âYou think this song is soulful? Itâs just math, Han Dongmin. Itâs a standard I-IV-V chord progression with a Major 7th added to manipulate the listener into feeling false nostalgia. And that beat? Itâs exactly 80 BPMâthe average human heart rate at rest. Itâs calculated to lower your guard. Itâs not âart,â itâs a psychological hack.â
Taesan didnât look impressed. He just drummed his fingers on his knee, perfect exactly in time with the beat you just analyzed without counting BPM that you used right now.
âYou know the formula,â he said, his voice low and raspy, barely looking up from his phone.
âBut you still tapped your foot. Your body likes it, even if your brain hates it.â
You froze. Your foot had been tapping against the carpet. Traitor.
âReflex action,â you dismissed quickly, smashing the spacebar to play the movie file on your screen.
âLetâs focus on the project. Look at this.â
You didn't walk over to share your screen. You just signaled him with a slight jerk of your chin. Come here.
He lazily sits next to you after moved fluffy bunny plushies (thatâs you didnât realized it yours, maybe itâs your roommatesâ stuff) to aside.
The scene on the screen showed Heath Ledgerâs Patrick Verona charming Kat Stratford. You paused it immediately, freezing his face in a pixelated smirk.
âSee that?â You pointed at the screen.
âThatâs not romance. Thatâs predatory behavior. Heâs encroaching on her personal space to assert dominance. Heâs a classic gaslighter disguised as a bad boy.â You turned to glare at Taesan. âKind of like what youâre doing. Invading my room, controlling the music, sitting on my sofa like you own it. Itâs manipulation 101.â
Taesan slowly rested his chin on his hand, looking at you with lazy amusement. âIf I wanted to manipulate you, Y/N...â he drawled, his eyes locking onto yours. âI wouldn't be sitting all the way over here. And I certainly wouldn't be letting you do all the talking.â
The air in the room suddenly felt thinner.
âItâIt doesn't matter.â
you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your neck. You needed to regain control. Logic. You needed logic.
âMy point is, what you call âchemistryâ in this movie is just a biological defect. Increased heart rate, sweaty palms... itâs just cortisol and adrenaline. Itâs the bodyâs fight-or-flight response to a threat. Itâs not love. Itâs fear.â
âIs that so?â He raised an eyebrow.
âYes! And I can prove it.â
Driven by pure stubbornness, you scrambled up from the rug and leaned in close to himâtoo close. You invaded his space this time, putting your face inches from his, challenging him to react.
âSee?â you whispered, forcing your voice to be steady. âIâm in your space. Your heart rate might be up, your pupils might dilate, but itâs just biology. Itâs just a survival instinct reacting to a sudden proximity. It means nothing.â
You waited for him to back away. To blink. To flush.
He didn't flinch. Not even a millimeter. Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, then back to your eyes.
âInteresting theory,â he murmured, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated in your chest. He slowly reached outânot to touch you, but to point at your hand that was resting on the back of the plushie stack, right next to his head.
âBut if it's just survival instinct...â he tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. âWhy are your hands shaking?â
You hate him so much. You think
You snatched your hand back as if burned by fire. "Low blood sugar," you lied through your teeth, scrambling back to your side of the rug. "And caffeine overdose. Don't flatter yourself."
He didn't reply. He just smirkedâthat infuriating, knowing smirkâand turned his attention back to the screen.
The R&B playlist had looped twice. The aggressive debate had died down, replaced by the furious sound of typing and the scratching of a pen on paper.
The apartment was dead silent. Jaehyun, your self-proclaimed "peacekeeper" had popped his head out around 9 PM, promising to sit with us to prevent a homicide. But nature took its course; he had lost his battle against sleepiness and retreated to his room by 10. As for your other roommate? She hadnât made a sound all nightâclassic behavior. She lived like a ghost, existing in the shadows to avoid social interaction, which, honestly, you envied right now.
So, it was just you and Taesan. Again.
You blinked, your eyes burning. The clock on your screen read 03:14 AM. You looked up. Taesan was still on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other. The "arrogant charming black cat" facade had slipped just a littleâhis hair was messy from running his hands through it, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing veiny forearms that were... distracting.
He was reading your handwritten notesâthe chaotic scribbles you were sure no human could decipher.
"You have terrible handwriting." he murmured, without looking up. The silence made his voice sound softer, less combative.
"Damn, it's encrypted for security." you mumbled, voice hoarse. You stretched your arms until your back popped. "Why are you reading that garbage? I haven't typed it up yet."
"It's not garbage." He finally looked at you.
"Your analysis on Katerinaâs social isolation... itâs solid. Cold, but solid."
It was the first time he had agreed with you. You didn't know how to react. "Of course it is," you sniffed. "Logic wins."
"But" he continued, ignoring your victory, "you missed the point on the poem scene. She didn't cry because she was 'hormonal'. She cried because she realized she was seen."
He stood up and walked to the kitchenette (treating your room like his again). He pulled open the fridge.
"Hey! Private property!"
"Do you have anything edible?" he asked, peering inside. "Besides water and... is this Jaehyunâs fried rice?"
"Yeah. And I wouldn't touch it if I were you. He calls it 'Fusion Experiment No. 5'." thatâs why itâs a cause of chaos noise from before you entrance your room early.
He stared at the Tupperware container for a second, sighed, and closed the fridge door. Clearly, he wasn't brave enough to risk food poisoning at 3 AM.
He walked back, not to the sofa, but to where you were sitting on the floor. He reached into his bag and dropped a protein bar onto your keyboard.
"Eat" he commanded. "Your 'low blood sugar' is making you cranky again. And we're not sleeping until this outline is done."
You glared at the protein bar, then at him, before tearing the wrapper open with aggressive force. "Fine. But I'm charging you for emotional labor."
He didn't answer. He just sat back downânot on the sofa this time, but on the floor next to you. He pulled his laptop closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.
You stiffened, but you didn't move away. You were too tired to fight the gravity pulling you two together.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of typing, quiet debates, and the shared rhythm of work. By the time the sun began to bleed through the blackout curtains, the outline was done.
He packed his bag in silence. At the door, he paused, looking at you one last time. You were disheveled, exhausted, and surrounded by papers.
"Get some sleep," he said, his hand lingering on the doorknob. "You're less annoying when you're unconscious."
"Get lost, Han Dongmin," you shot back, though it lacked your usual venom.
He smirked, and then he was gone. You thought that was it. Project done. Truce over. Back to being enemies in the lecture hall.
You were statistically, logically, and completely wrong.
Two days after "The Truce," your phone buzzed during a lecture.Â
Notification:Â Han Dongmin shared a playlist with you: "Noise Control."
You frowned and opened it. No caption. No explanation. Just a link. It wasn't random. It was a curated list of 50 songs. Lo-fi, vintage R&B, and obscure jazz tracksâthe exact genre you had secretly tapped your foot to in your apartment that night.
You typed back furiously: I didn't ask for this. Taesan: Read.
You looked at the playlist description. It read:Â "Because your brain is too loud. Listen to this when you work. Or don't. I don't care."
That evening, you were cooking dinner (or attempting to), with the playlist blasting from your phone. You told yourself it was just to analyze the BPM, nothing else.
"Woah," Jaehyun walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air for food but stopping when he heard the music. He leaned against the fridge, looking impressed. "Since when do you listen to vintage Jazz? This sounds exactly like Taesanâs car playlist."
You froze, nearly dropping the spatula. "It's just... random recommendations," you lied.
Jaehyun narrowed his eyes, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Right. Random. Just like how he 'randomly' stayed here until 6 AM the other night? You guys are weird." He grabbed an apple and walked away before you could throw the spatula at him.
The following week, outside the library. Taesan walked past you. He didn't say hello. He didn't stop. He simply shoved a heavy object against your chest as he breezed by.
"Take it," he said, not even looking back.
You fumbled to catch it. It was a book. Not just any book. It was a vintage, first-edition commentary on The Taming of the Shrew from the 1960sâthe one you had complained was "impossible to find" and "too expensive" for a student budget.
You stood frozen on the sidewalk. "Wait!" You shouted after him. "This costs a fortune! Why?"
He stopped, turned around slowly, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked bored, as if buying rare collectibles was as casual as buying gum.
"Your citations were weak," he stated flatly. "I can't have my partner citing Wikipedia. It reflects poorly on me."
"Butâ"
"Keep it. Don't lose it." He turned back around and walked away, his black coat swaying with his stride.
It was the "Patrick Verona buying the Fender Stratocaster" move. But instead of a guitar, it was a dusty academic book. And instead of a smile, you got an insult about your citations. Why did your chest feel so tight?
Later that night. You sat at your desk, staring at the book he gave. The playlist "Noise Control" was playing in the background.
You grabbed your notebookâthe one strictly for researchâand flipped to a blank page. You needed to categorize this chaos. You needed to quantify your annoyance.
Your pen hit the paper. You didn't just write a list; you wrote a hypothesis.
¡    Variable 1: His 'God Complex' and the arrogant assumption that he is always the smartest person in the room.
¡    Variable 2: His messy hair that looks calculatedly unkempt. (Note: Highly inefficient styling).
¡    Variable 3: Auditory Manipulation (The Playlist). Why does he know my music taste better than I do?
¡    Variable 4: The way he taps his fingers perfectly in time with any BPM. Itâs annoying.
¡    Variable 5: Unsolicited gifting of high-value assets (The Book). Specifically, the way he bought it just to insult my citations.
You paused, chewing on your pen cap. You were angry. You were definitely angry. So you kept writing.
¡    Variable 6: His smirk. Itâs predatory.
¡    Variable 7: His eyes. They are... distracting. They ruin my focus during lectures.
¡    Variable 8: The way he leans into my personal space to "check my screen."
¡    Variable 9: Olfactory Trap. Why does his cologne smell so good? Itâs illogical.
"He likes you."
You jumped so hard your knee hit the desk. You spun around. Your roommate was standing in your doorway holding a mug of tea. She rarely spoke at all, and when she did, it was usually to ask Jaehyun to get lost.
"What?" you squeaked, slamming the notebook shut (but not fast enough).
She nodded toward the vintage book on your desk, then at the phone playing his playlist. Her expression was completely blank, as usual. "The book. The music. He's courting you. It's obvious."
"Courting?!" You laughed nervously, a high-pitched, hysterical sound. "No, no. He's arrogant. He's controlling. He's just... trying to optimize our project grade. It's purely logical!"
She took a sip of her tea, unimpressed by your panic. "Logic doesn't buy first-edition books for people they hate, Y/N."
She turned and floated back into the darkness of the hallway.
You sat there in silence for a long time, the truth of her words sinking in. You looked back at your notebook. You had stopped at number 9.
Slowly, painfully, you opened it again. You pressed the pen down, your hand trembling slightly as you wrote the final variableâthe one that defied all your logic.
¡    Variable 10: The fact that despite variables 1 through 9... my hypothesis is failing. I don't hate him. Not even a little bit.
Three days before the final presentation. You booked a private study room in the library. Just the two of you. The air conditioner was freezing, but your palms were sweating.
"The transition between slide 4 and 5 is choppy," Taesan critiqued, leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen. "We need to link the sociological aspect to the modern adaptation better."
"I have notes on that," you said, distracted, typing furiously on your laptop. "I wrote down a connection between Petruchioâs bargaining and modern dating apps somewhere..."
"Where?"
"In my notebook. The black one."
You didn't look up. You were too busy fixing a typo on the slide. You heard the sound of a notebook sliding across the table. The sound of pages flipping.
"Found it," he said.
"Great. Read me the part about transactional relationships."
Silence.
"Y/N."
"What?"
"There is no section on transactional relationships."
"It's there. Page 12."
"I'm on page 12." His voice sounded different now. Laced with amusement. "But the header says... 'Hypothesis: 10 Statistical Variables for Disliking Subject B'."
Your heart didn't just stop; it evaporated. You slammed your laptop shut and lunged across the table. "GIVE IT BACK!"
You were fast, but Taesan was faster. He simply raised his arm high above his head, keeping the notebook out of reach. He smirked, his eyes scanning the list.
"Let's see the data," he teased, reading aloud.
"Variable 1:Â His 'God Complex' and the arrogant assumption that he is always the smartest person in the room." He hummed. "Valid. I usually am."
"Variable 2:Â His messy hair that looks calculatedly unkempt." He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. "It's natural, actually."
"Variable 5:Â Unsolicited gifting of high-value assets (The Book). Specifically, the way he bought it just to insult my citations."
You were clawing at his arm now, face burning. "Stop it! Itâs private research!"
He ignored you, easily fending you off with one hand while reading the next points, his smirk fading into something softer, more intense.
"Variable 9:Â Olfactory Trap. Why does his cologne smell so good? Itâs illogical."
He paused at number 9. The room went dead silent. He lowered his arm slowly. You could have snatched the book back, but you were frozen by the look in his eyes.
"And finally..." he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky register as he read the last point.
"Variable 10: The fact that despite variables 1 through 9... my hypothesis is failing. I don't hate him. Not even a little bit."
He closed the notebook gently and set it down on the table. You were trapped between the table and his body, your chest heaving, your secret completely exposed. It was exactly like the movie, but instead of crying in front of a class, you were about to have a heart attack in a private study room.
Taesan leaned in, trapping you. He wasn't looking at the book anymore. He was looking at your lips.
"Variable 9," he murmured, bringing the conversation back to the scent. He tilted his head, exposing his neckâa silent dare.
"We need to verify the data, Y/N. Does it still smell good up close?"
He moved in until his breath brushed your ear. "Or do you need a larger sample size?"
His breath was warm against your skin. The scent of wood and rain filled your lungs, clouding your judgment, scrambling your data.
You looked into his eyesâthose arrogant, intelligent, infuriating eyes. And in that silence, suspended between a library table and the man who had tormented your semester, you realized the ultimate irony of your research.
You hated his God complex. You hated his perfect playlist. You hated that he bought you a rare book just to prove a point. You hated that he was right about everything.
But mostly... you hated him for making it impossible to hate him anymore. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.
â bonus scene â
Freshman year. "Introduction to Legal Philosophy." An elective you chose because you thought it would be intellectually stimulating. You were wrong. It was 8:00 AM, and the small seminar room was deadly silent.
You sat next to Jaehyun, your new neighbor in the apartment complex. He was actively taking notes (or drawing cartoons, you weren't sure), radiating that golden-retriever energy even this early in the morning.
Slumped in the seat directly behind Jaehyun was... a lump in a black hoodie. You assumed it was a person, though they hadn't moved since the class started.
"Let's discuss the Heinz Dilemma," the professor said, pacing the room. "Is it moral to steal medicine to save a dying spouse? Who stands by Kantian ethics here? Duty above consequences?"
You shot your hand up. You were the only one. "I do," you stated firmly. "The act of stealing is inherently wrong. If we allow moral flexibility based on outcomes, the law loses its objective authority. We can't build a society on 'what ifs', we build it on principles."
You smiled. Textbook perfection.
"That," a deep, groggy voice rasped from behind you, "is the most naive thing I've heard all morning."
The black hoodie shifted. The guy leaned back in his chair, finally revealing his face. Dark hair falling over sleepy eyes, a sharp jawline, and an expression of pure boredom. Han Dongmin.
"Excuse me?" you turned around in your chair, offended.
Taesan didn't even blink. He spun a pen in his long fingers, looking at you like you were a particularly slow child. "Principles are a luxury for the privileged," he drawled. "In a survival scenario, 'duty' is irrelevant. The only moral imperative is the preservation of life. Your argument assumes a fair world. The law isn't about morality; it's about order. Don't confuse the two."
The professor pointed a finger. "Excellent counterpoint, Mr. Han. Order versus Morality. Let's discuss."
You sat there, mouth slightly open, face burning hot. He hadn't just disagreed; he had dismissed your entire logic as "privileged fantasy." And then, he just... went back to sleep.
When the class ended, you were aggressively packing your bag, ready to storm out.
"Y/N! Wait!" Jaehyun grabbed your arm, smiling brightly. He turned to the guy behind him. "Taesan, you're alive! I thought you died during the lecture."
Taesan stood up, stretching his arms. He was tall. Annoyingly tall. "Almost did," Taesan muttered. "The debate was... uninspiring."
Jaehyun laughed, oblivious to the tension. "Y/N, this is Taesan. My best friend. And Taesan, this is Y/N. My new roommate! She lives in 402."
Taesan froze mid-stretch. He looked at Jaehyun, then slowly lowered his gaze to you. "Roommate, huh?" he said, his voice low. "So, you're the one moving into the room next to Jaehyun's karaoke chamber."
"I can handle noise," you snapped, narrowing your eyes. "I just can't handle arrogance."
Taesan paused. For a second, he looked surprised. Then, a small, barely-there smirk touched his lips.
"Feisty," he commented to Jaehyun, ignoring you completely. Then he looked back at you one last time. "Smart, too. For a freshman who believes in fairy tales."
He walked past you towards the door, where a group of loud boys were waiting in the hallway, waving at him.
You stood there, fuming. "I hate him," you declared to Jaehyun, watching Taesanâs back disappear into the crowd.
Jaehyun just grinned, patting your shoulder sympathetically. "Give it time. He's an acquired taste. Like black coffee."
"I hate black coffee," you grumbled.
You turned away, opening your notebook to a fresh page to write down the date. But instead, you found yourself staring at the blank paper, your pen hovering. Without thinking, you wrote down your very first observation about him.
Hypothesis #1 Established:Â Subject B is an enemy.
(Sub-note from 3 years later: You were wrong. You ended up addicted to black coffee, and he wasn't the enemy... he was just the prologue to your favorite love story.)
A/N
Inspo:Â 10 Things I Hate About You. (Obviously)
Fun Fact: In the 1500s, starving a girl to "tame" her was romance. In 2024, itâs a felony. So, rest assured, Subject B(Taesan) is safe here. He is annoying, but unfortunately, he still deserves human rights.
Anyway! Feel free to interact. Or just observe. Both are fine. (á´ÍËŹá´Í) â ŕžŕ˝˛â Í × Ë â ŕž âŞ
ă ¤ ÂˇË ę° santa doesn't know you like I do ęą âË Ë
ă ¤ă ¤Ë ŕŁŞ âš ( âď¸ ) so, tell me what's on your wishlist,
㠤㠤㠤㠤㠤I wanna make it come true .á ŕ¨ŕ§
ۜৠSYNOPSIS : Taesan never cared much for Christmas, but dating you has made the season feel strangely new to him. A few weeks into your relationship, you bring him Christmas shopping, determined to find him the perfect gift, only for him to dismiss every option without explanation. You think heâs being picky, but really, Taesan's hiding a wish he stubbornly can't bring himself to say, and it has nothing to do with anything sold in the mall. ۜৠPAIRING : (non)chalant taesan x reader ۜৠGENRE(S) : sweet as candy cane fluff !! ۜৠWARNING(S) : none! just Taesan desperately waiting for his Christmas mwuah! ۜৠPLAYLIST : santa doesn't know you like i do - Sabrina Carpenter ۜৠWORD COUNT : 5.1k words
ۜৠA/N : hihi !! sorry this post is delayed by a few days bcs I've been really busy and sickđthis fic is part of "12 days of kpopblr" !! I'm truly honored to be working with so many lovely writers for this event !! I hope you all enjoy this fic and Merry Christmas Eve (It's December 24th where I am already ~) !! đđ¤
The first time Taesan held your hand, he'd laced his fingers through yours like he was afraid you'd disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. Four weeks into dating, and he still hadn't quite figured out how to look at you without his ears turning red.
You noticed. Of course you noticed.
But you never called him out on it, not in a mean way, at least. You'd just smile, soft and knowing, and pretend you didn't see the blush creeping up his neck whenever you leaned too close or laughed at one of his dry observations about the world.
Tonight was no different.
"Are you cold?" you asked, swinging your intertwined hands between you both as you walked down the lamp-lit street. Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the sidewalks in white and clinging to the wool of his black coat. The city looked softer under the blanket of winterâstreetlights haloed in gold, storefronts glowing warm through frosted windows.
"No." His voice came out low, quiet. He squeezed your hand once, a silent reassurance that he was fine, that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere. "Are you?"
"Not really." You tilted your head up to catch snowflakes on your lashes, grinning at the sky like it had personally arranged this moment just for you. "I love this weather. Everything feels like it's waiting for Christmas."
Taesan glanced at you, the kind of look that lingered too long to be casual. Your cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, your breath fogging in the air as you laughed at nothing in particular. Snowflakes clung to your hair, melting slowly against the warmth of your skin. He didn't understand how you could be this happy about snow, lights and holidays that meant crowds, noise and forced cheer.
But he liked watching you be happy.
He liked it more than he'd ever admit out loud.
You turned to him suddenly, catching him mid-stare. "You're staring at me," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.
His ears burned. "I'm not."
"You are." Your grin widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's very obvious."
"I was just looking at the snow."
"Sure you were."
"I was."
"Uh-huh." You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet street. "It's okay, you know. I don't mind."
He wanted to say he wasn't staring, that he was just observing, just taking in his surroundings like any normal person would. But the words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the other things he couldn't say yet. Things he kept locked away in the spaces between breaths, in the pauses before he spoke, in the moments when you weren't looking and he could let himself feel everything without fear of it showing on his face.
So instead, he just held your hand tighter and hoped you couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating.
You walked in comfortable silence for a while, your footsteps crunching softly against the snow. Occasionally, you'd point out holiday decorations in shop windowsâa ceramic reindeer here, a string of silver bells thereâand he'd nod along, committing every detail to memory. Not the decorations, but you. The flash of excitement in your eyes. The animated gestures you made with your free hand. The bounce in your step when you spotted a particularly elaborate window display.
He'd never been good at thisâat being open, at showing affection in ways that were obvious and easy to read. But with you, he was trying. Holding your hand when you walked together. Texting you good morning even though he wasn't a morning person. Listening to you talk about your day and remembering the small details you mentioned in passing.
It felt like learning a new language. One where he stumbled over pronunciation and mixed up grammar, but you were patient enough to let him figure it out at his own pace.
When you reached your apartment building, you turned to face him, still holding his hand. The streetlamp above cast a warm glow across your features, and Taesan found himself memorizing the curve of your smile, the glint of snow in your hair, the gentle rise and fall of your breath in the cold air.
"Thanks for walking me home," you said.
"It's not far."
"Still." You squeezed his hand. "I like it when you do."
His throat felt tight. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell you that he'd walk you home every night if you'd let him, that these quiet moments at your doorstep had become his favourite part of the day, that leaving you here and going back to his empty apartment was getting harder each time.
But the words stayed locked in his chest.
Instead, he just nodded.
You stood there for a moment longer, and Taesan realized how near you were. His attention snagged on the details of your face, on the urge to lean forward and close the distance.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
âDo it,â a voice in his head urged. âJust close the distance. She's right there.â
But what if you weren't ready? What if he'd misread everything and you pulled away? What if he ruined this fragile, precious connection between you by moving too fast?
The fear paralyzed him, locking him in place, stealing movement and thought alike, leaving him suspended in the moment with no idea how to proceed.
"Goodnight, Taesan," you said softly, and there was a flicker of disappointment in your eyes that he didn't catch.
The moment broke, tension dissolving all at once, the fragile stillness giving way as reality pressed back in.
"Goodnight," he managed, voice rougher than he intended.
You gave him one last smile before disappearing into your building, and Taesan stood there in the falling snow, hands shoved deep in his pockets, wondering when he'd become such a coward.
He stayed there for longer than he should have, watching the light in your apartment window flicker on a few floors up. When your silhouette appeared briefly behind the curtains, he finally forced himself to turn and walk away.
The cold bit at his face, but all he could think about was how warm your hand had been in his.
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
The thing about Taesan was that he didn't do Christmas.
He never had.
Growing up, it felt like a holiday designed for people who thrived in chaosâendless family gatherings where relatives asked invasive questions, last-minute shopping trips through packed malls, the performative joy that everyone seemed obligated to display whether they felt it or not. He preferred quiet. He preferred routines that didn't get disrupted by red and green decorations, carols playing on repeat in every store, strangers wishing him happy holidays with forced enthusiasm.
December had always been a month to endure, not celebrate.
But then you came into his life, and suddenly Christmas wasn't just tolerable.
It was you.
You, who hung miniature ornaments from your bag that jingled softly when you walked. You, who hummed carols under your breath while waiting in line for coffee, unconsciously swaying to rhythms only you could hear. You, who talked about holiday plans with so much genuine excitement that he started looking forward to December just because it made you smile.
He'd never cared about mistletoe, snow or twinkling lights strung across buildings.
Now he noticed every single one.
He found himself paying attention when you pointed out decorated storefronts, when you dragged him to see the giant tree in the city square, when you made him try peppermint hot chocolate even though he insisted he wouldn't like it. (He did like it. He'd never tell you that. You already looked too smug about being right.)
The shift happened so gradually he didn't realize it at first. December stopped being an inconvenience and started being a countdown to moments with you. Each day brought new decorations you'd get excited about, new plans you'd make, new reasons for you to look at him with those bright, hopeful eyes that made his chest feel too small for his heart.
And Taesan, who'd spent years being indifferent to the holiday season, suddenly found himself wishing it would last longer.
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
"Taesan."
He blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. You were standing in front of him in the campus library, hands on your hips, eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. Your scarf was slightly askew, and there was a dusting of snow on your shoulders from the walk over.
"You weren't listening," you accused.
"I was," he lied, closing his textbook. Chemistry could wait.
"Then what did I just say?"
He opened his mouth, closed it. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to recall even a single word you'd spoken in the last thirty seconds.
Nothing.
You burst out laughing, the sound earning you a few annoyed glances from nearby students trying to study. You didn't seem to notice or care.
"You silly kitty," you said, shaking your head as you pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "I said we should go Christmas shopping this weekend. I still need to get gifts for people, and youâ" You leaned forward, poking his textbook for emphasis. "âyou need to tell me what you want."
"I don't need anything."
"That's not how this works."
"I'm serious." He met your eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. "You don't have to get me anything."
You frowned, tilting your head as you studied his face. "But I want to. That's the whole point of giving gifts. I want to get you things that'll make you happy."
His chest tightened at the earnestness in your voice.Â
"You already do," he said quietly.
"Do what?"
"Make me happy."
The words came out before he could stop them, and he immediately wanted to take them back. Too much, too honest, too revealing. But you just smiled, soft, genuine and breathtaking, and Taesan forgot why he'd been embarrassed in the first place.
"That's sweet," you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice. "But I still want to get you a real present. So start thinking about what you want, okay?"
He wanted to tell you that he'd been thinking about it for weeks. That there was one thing he wanted more than anything else, but it wasn't the kind of thing he could ask for without risking everything you'd built together.
Instead, he just nodded.
âOkay."
"Good." You leaned back in your chair, looking satisfied. "So, Saturday? We can make a day of it. Shopping, food, maybe ice skating if you're feeling adventurous."
"I don't ice skate."
"Then you'll just have to hold onto me the whole time." You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I won't complain."
His ears burned red, and you laughed at his expression.
"I'm kidding. Kind of. But seriouslyâSaturday?"
"Yeah," he agreed, because he'd never been good at saying no to you. "Saturday."
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
Saturday arrived wrapped in fresh snow and clear blue skies.
Taesan met you at the train station, hands buried in his coat pockets, breath fogging in the frigid air. You showed up five minutes late, cheeks flushed from running, apologizing profusely even though he didn't mind waiting.
"Sorry, sorry! I couldn't find my good scarf and then I had to go back for my walletâ"
"It's fine," he interrupted gently, and without thinking, he reached out to adjust the scarf you'd finally found. It was the blue one he'd complimented once in passing. He didn't think you'd remember. "We're not in a rush."
You went still under his touch, eyes wide. For a second, neither of you moved.
Then Taesan realized what he was doing, how close he was standing, how intimate the gesture seemed, and quickly stepped back, clearing his throat.
"We should go," he said, avoiding your gaze.
"Yeah," you agreed, voice slightly breathless. "Let's go."
The train ride into the city was crowded, forcing you to stand pressed close together near the doors. Every time the train swayed, you'd bump into him, and Taesan would steady you with a hand on your elbow, hyperaware of every point of contact between you.
"Thanks," you'd murmur each time, and he'd just nod, not trusting his voice.
By the time you reached your stop, his heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the cramped space or stuffy air.
The mall was worse than he'd anticipated.
Crowds of shoppers moved in chaotic streams through decorated corridors, children shrieked with excitement near the massive Christmas tree in the center atrium, and holiday music blared from speakers mounted to the ceiling. Garland and lights covered every available surface, red and gold ornaments dangled at eye level, and the scent of cinnamon and pine hung heavy in the air.
Taesan felt overwhelmed within minutes.
But then you grabbed his hand, threading your fingers through his, and suddenly the noise faded into background static.
"Don't lose me," you said, grinning up at him.
As if he ever could.
You dragged him towards the first store with determined purpose, eyes scanning the displays for gift ideas. Taesan followed dutifully, content to let you lead even though he had no idea what you were looking for.
"Okay," you announced, stopping in front of a display of winter accessories. "First priority, figuring out what you want."
"I told youâ"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't want anything." You waved him off, already picking up a dark gray scarf. "But humor me." You held it up to his neck, considering. "What about this?"
"It's fine."
"Fine doesn't mean you want it."
"I don't."
You huffed, setting it back down with more force than necessary. "Okay. What about a sweater?" You gestured to a nearby rack of knitted pullovers in various neutral tones.
"I have sweaters."
"Everyone has sweaters. That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is getting you things you'll actually use and enjoy." You turned to face him fully, hands on your hips in that way that meant you weren't backing down. "Work with me here, Taesan."
He bit back a smile. You looked cute when you were frustratedânose scrunched, lips pressed into a determined line, eyes blazing with stubborn resolve.
"What about a mug?" you tried again, pointing to a display of ceramic cups with various winter designs.
"I have mugs."
"A hat?"
"Don't need one."
"Gloves?"
"I'm fine."
"Aâwait, let me thinkâ" You tapped your chin, scanning the store with narrowed eyes. "A record? You like music. We could go to that vintage shop on the third floor."
"I can find my own music."
You groaned, and Taesan couldn't help it. He laughed, just a quiet huff of amusement, but it was enough to make you whirl around and glare at him.
"You're doing this on purpose," you accused.
"Iâm not."
"You are. You're being deliberately difficult because you think it's funny."
"I'm being honest."
"You're being impossible." But there was no real anger in your voice, just exasperation tinged with fondness. "There has to be something you want. Everyone wants things."
âNot things you can buy,â he thought. âNot things I can ask for without ruining everything.â
"I just don't need anything," he said instead, voice careful. "I'm good with what I have."
You stared at him for a long moment, scanning his face for an answer he didnât know how to offer. Then you exhaled, your shoulders easing downwards, the weight of the moment settling into you.
âFine. But I'm not giving up. We have all day.â
He knew you wouldn't.
That's what scared him.
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
Two hours and seven stores later, you'd asked him about dozens of potential gifts.
Books. Headphones. A watch. A wallet. A plant. A desk lamp. Fancy pens. A puzzle. A cookbook he'd never use. Art prints for his apartment. A throw blanket. Cologne. A journal. A chess set.
His answer was the same every time : polite refusal, vague deflection, insistence that he didn't need anything.
And each time you grew more determined, more frustrated, more convinced that you just hadn't found the right thing yet.
Taesan felt guilty watching you search so earnestly for a gift he couldn't tell you didn't exist in any store. But how could he explain? How could he look at you and say that the only thing he wanted for Christmas was to be brave enough to close the distance between you? To stop hesitating at your doorstep? To kiss you without fear of it being too soon or too much?
He couldn't.
So he stayed quiet and let you pull him through store after store, and he memorized the concentrated furrow of your brow, the determined set of your jaw, the way you'd light up briefly before realizing he'd say no again.
"I don't get it," you said as you left another shop empty-handed. You'd stopped in the middle of the mall corridor, forcing other shoppers to flow around you both like water around a stone. "You have to want something. What about hobbies? What do you do for fun?"
âListen to music."
"Which you said you don't need help with."
"Read."
"You rejected the book idea."
"Sleep."
You leveled him with an unimpressed look. "I'm not getting you a pillow, Taesan."
He almost smiled. "Noted."
"This is ridiculous." You crossed your arms, and Taesan noticed the way your coat had ridden up slightly, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck to the cold. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled your collar up gently, fixing it.
Your breath caught.
He froze, hand still resting against your collar, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. He could see the flecks of gold in your eyes, could count each individual eyelash, could feel the warmth radiating from your skin despite the cold air.
"Sorry," he murmured, but he didn't step back. Couldn't step back.
"It's okay." Your voice came out softer than usual. "You're always doing things like that."
"Like what?"
"Taking care of me. Little things." You smiled, shy and sweet. "I like it."
His heart slammed against his ribs.
âSay it,â the voice in his head urged. âTell her right now. Just be honest for once.â
But the words lodged in his throat, too heavy and too terrifying to speak aloud.
Someone bumped into him from behind, breaking the moment. Taesan stepped back quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at your face. "Should weâ" He cleared his throat. "Should we get food?"
You blinked, clearly wanting to say more, but finally nodded. "Yeah. Food sounds good."
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
An hour after getting food (hot chocolate, after you vetoed real food and he gave up arguing), youâd dragged him back into the shopping chaos with renewed determination.
"There has to be something," you insisted, pulling him towards a store that sold elaborate home goods. "What about candles? Everyone likes candles."
"I don't use candles."
"Decorative ones? For ambiance."
"I don't need ambiance."
"Taesan." You stopped walking, forcing him to face you. Your expression was caught between amusement and genuine frustration. "I just want to get you a gift. A real gift. Can you please give me something to work with?"
He hesitated, throat tight.
There was one thing. One thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. But it wasn't the kind of present you could wrap or put under a tree. It wasn't the kind of thing he could just ask for without making everything weird and complicated.
"There is⌠something," he admitted, voice barely audible over the mall noise.
Your eyes lit up. "Really? What is it?"
"It'sâ" He stopped, courage failing him. "It's not important."
"Yes it is." You stepped closer, and he could smell the faint scent of your shampoo, could see the earnest concern in your eyes. "If you want it, it's important. Tell me."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Because I'm terrified. Because I don't want to pressure you. Because if I say it out loud and you're not ready, I'll ruin everything we have.
"It's just not the kind of thing you can buy," he said instead, looking away.
You were quiet for a long moment. When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, understanding in a way that made his chest ache.
"Oh."
That single syllable carried so much weight. Realization. Comprehension. Sympathy.
His ears burned red, mortification creeping up his neck. He wanted to disappear, to rewind the last thirty seconds and keep his mouth shut.
"Taesan," you said softly.
"Forget it." He started walking, needing to move, needing to escape the vulnerability of the moment. "Let's justâlet's keep looking."
You didn't press. You just caught up to him, slipping your hand into his, and he was grateful for your understanding even as he cursed his own cowardice.
You continued through the mall in relative silence, the earlier playfulness replaced by a tension neither of you acknowledged. You still pointed out potential gifts, but your heart wasn't in it anymore. And Taesan still deflected, but now it felt hollow, performative.
The day was slipping away, and he was wasting it.
By the time evening arrived, the mall had grown somehow more crowded. Families with small children, couples on dates, groups of teenagers laughing too loudâeveryone seemed determined to take advantage of the last few hours before closing.
"Let's go this way," you said, tugging him towards a quieter hallway. "I think there are some smaller boutiques down here that we haven't checked yet."
Taesan let you lead him away from the main corridor, grateful for the decrease in noise and bodies. The hallway you chose was narrower, less decorated but somehow cozier. White lights were strung along the ceiling in delicate loops, casting everything in a soft, warm glow. Small shops lined either side, their windows displaying handmade goods and artisan crafts.
It felt more intimate here. Private.
You slowed your pace, no longer rushing from store to store with frantic energy. Instead, you walked close to him, shoulders brushing with each step, hand warm in his.
"This is better," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.
Taesan hummed in agreement, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles on the back of your hand, a familiar, grounding rhythm.
And then you stopped.
The change was subtle but unmistakableâyour stillness, the way your gaze fixed above, like youâd been pulled out of the moment without warning.
âWhat?â he asked confused, brows knitting with concern. âWhat are you looking at?â
You didn't answer right away, just kept staring upwards with an expression he couldn't quite read.
He followed your gaze.
His heart stopped. His breath hitched.
Mistletoe.
A small sprig of it hung directly above you both, tied with a red velvet ribbon and nestled among the garland draped across the hallway entrance. The white berries caught the light from the string of bulbs above, and for one frozen moment, Taesan couldn't breathe.
This was it.
This was the moment he'd been thinking about for weeks, the moment he'd imagined a dozen different ways and still didn't feel prepared for.
You noticed a second later, following his gaze. Your eyes widened, and then you laughed, soft, surprised, a little bit shy.
"Oh," you said. "That's... that's pretty convenient."
Taesan's pulse thundered in his ears. His palms were sweating. His mind was racing through every possible outcome, every way this could go wrong.
But you were looking at him now, waiting, and he realized with sudden clarity that he couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep hesitating, keep holding back, keep letting fear dictate his choices.
"We don't have toâ" you started, voice careful, giving him an out.
"I want to."
The words came out raw, honest, entirely too revealing. But he didn't care anymore.
Your lips parted in surprise. "What?"
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold your gaze even though every instinct told him to look away.
âThatâs what I want,â he said, voice quiet, rough around the edges like he was holding himself together by sheer will. âThatâs what Iâve wanted. For⌠longer than I probably should admit.â
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, shaking his head. âI kept telling myself to wait. To be normal about it. To not read into every time you stood a little too close or looked at me like that.â
His thumb brushed your sleeve, tentative, like he was checking whether he was still allowed to be this near. âI didnât know how to ask without making it weird. Or without making you feel like you had to say yes.â
He glanced up at you then, eyes soft, hopeful in a way that made your chest ache. âI didnât want to rush you. Or mess this up. Or be the guy who moves too fast and risk losing whatever this is between us.â
A small, almost shy smile tugged at his mouth. âSo I waited. And waited. But⌠if you want it tooââ
He swallowed, Adamâs apple bobbing as he hesitated for just a second too long. His gaze searched your face, careful, hopeful. âCould I⌠could I kiss you?â
You stared at him, eyes wide, and for a terrible moment he thought he'd ruined everything.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across your face, warm, fond, impossibly tender.
"Taesan," you said, and your voice was soft enough that he had to lean closer to hear. "You're an idiot."
He blinked. "What?"
"I've been waiting for you to kiss me for two weeks."
His brain short-circuited. "Youâwhat?"
He blinked at you, trying to process the words. Two weeks? You'd been waiting for two weeks?
"Butâ" He struggled to form a coherent thought. "You never said anything. You neverâI thoughtâ"
"I was trying to be patient," you said, and there was amusement dancing in your eyes now. "I didn't want to pressure you. You always seemed so nervous, and I figured you'd do it when you were ready."
"I almost did," he admitted, the words tumbling out now that the dam had broken. "So many times. That night I walked you home in the snow? I wanted to kiss you at your door so badly I could barely think straight."
"I know," you said softly, and his eyes widened.
"You knew?"
"Taesan, you stared at my lips for like ten seconds before saying goodnight." You were trying not to laugh now. "It wasn't exactly subtle."
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my god."
"And then you just... left." You pulled his hand away so you could see his face. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Or that I'd misread everything."
"You didn't misread anything," he said, voice muffled by embarrassment. "I was justâI'm an idiot."
"Yeah," you agreed, but you were smiling. "But you're my idiot."
And then, before he could overthink it, before he could talk himself out of it, before fear could paralyze him againâ
You rose up on your toes and gently pressed your lips to his.
It was soft at first, tentative, like you were giving him room to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He'd never wanted anything less.
Instead, he melted into it, one hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other found your waist, pulling you closer. His heart was racing, his palms were still sweating, and he was pretty sure he'd forgotten how to breathe properly.
But he didn't care.
Because you were kissing him, and it felt like every wish he'd been too afraid to voice, every want he'd kept locked away, every moment of hesitation finally made worthwhile.
Your lips were soft and warm, and you tasted faintly of the hot chocolate you'd had earlier. The kiss was unhurried, gentle, like you had all the time in the world. Like this moment could stretch on forever and neither of you would complain.
When you finally pulled back, not far, just enough to breathe, your foreheads stayed pressed together. Your eyes were still closed, lips curved in a smile, and Taesan committed the image to memory with desperate intensity.
"Was that okay?" you whispered.
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell you that "okay" didn't even begin to cover it.
"Yeah," he managed, voice wrecked. "That wasâyeah."
You opened your eyes, and they were bright with happiness, with relief, with affection so clear it made his chest ache.
"Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing lilt, "Merry Christmas, Taesan."
He couldn't help itâhe laughed. Quiet, breathless, disbelieving.
"It's not Christmas yet."
"Close enough."
And then you were kissing him againâno hesitation this time, no space left for doubt. The careful edges of the moment blurred, and he stopped caring about technicalities.
He stopped caring about the crowds in the mall, the noise of holiday music, the pressure of gift-giving. Stopped caring about his fears, insecurities and all the reasons he'd convinced himself this would go wrong.
Because you were here, held securely in his arms, kissing him with the quiet reverence reserved for what is cherished. Like this moment had been waiting for you both all along, patient and inevitable.
When you broke apart for the second time, you didn't step away. Instead, you tucked yourself against his chest, arms wrapping around his waist, and he held you close, chin resting on top of your head.
"So," you said, voice muffled against his coat. "Did you get what you wanted for Christmas?"
He thought about it, the weeks of wanting, the fear of asking, the relief of finally having this. "Yeah," he murmured into your hair. "I did."
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes sparkling. "Good. Because I was running out of gift ideas."
He laughed and you grinned, clearly pleased with yourself.
"Come on," you said, taking his hand again. "Let's get out of here. We can grab dinner somewhere quiet."
"Okay."
You started walking, pulling him along, and Taesan followed without hesitation.
 ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
Later, when you were walking home through snow-dusted streets, your head resting against his shoulder and his arm wrapped securely around you, Taesan realized he didn't hate Christmas anymore.
He didn't hate the lights, the crowds, the music that played on repeat in every store.
Because now, Christmas meant you.
It meant your laugh, your smile, your hand in his. It meant mistletoe in mall hallways and first kisses. It meant the warmth of your body pressed against his side, the comfortable silence between you, the promise of more moments like this to come.
It meant being brave enough to want things, and learning that sometimes the best gifts were the ones you couldn't wrap.
"Hey," you said suddenly, voice drowsy and content. "What are you thinking about?"
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, soft and unthinking.
"Nothing important."
"Liar."
He smiled. "I'm thinking that this was a good day."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You hummed in agreement, snuggling closer. "Best Christmas shopping trip ever."
He couldn't argue with that.
When you reached your apartment, you turned to face him at the door, and this time there was no hesitation. No wondering if he should, no fear of moving too fast.
He just leaned down and kissed you again, slow and sweet, and you kissed him back with a smile on your lips.
Santa might not have known what he wanted.
But you already knew.
And youâd given him exactly what heâd been hoping for.
description: fluff, comfort, happy tears, skinship, pet name (baby), idol taesan x idol reader, reader in 2nd person, established relationship, intended lowercase (lmk if i missed anything!)
Spending Christmas far from home leaves you quietly battling homesickness she doesn't know how to voice. When Taesan spends the day with her, small gestures, shared warmth, and unspoken understanding begin to fill the empty spaces. As the night stretches toward midnight, the quiet becomes something gentler-turning a lonely holiday into one neither of them will forget.
pairing: idolbf! Taesan x idolgf! Reader
qord count: 2.8k
author's note: happy christmas everyone!!! đ Muah! Happy holidays! I'm actually proud of this fic i hope it does well đĽš, and uhm dont mind that reader didnt get taesan something, i couldnt think of anything ww. Love you guys MUAH! đđ happy reading! I recommend reading this whilst listening to "Wrapped In You - Room."
Christmas morning arrives without ceremony.
You wake up because your phone vibrates against the mattress, not because someoneâs calling your name from the kitchen or because the smell of food drifts down the hallway.
For a few seconds, you forget where you are. You expect warmth, noise, familiarity. Instead, youâre met with stillness, thin winter light pressing through the curtains, the room faintly cold despite the heater humming somewhere in the background. You turn onto your side and stare at the wall, blinking slowly.
Back home, Christmas mornings were never this quiet.
There was always movement, always something happening before you even opened your eyes. Someone arguing about music, someone else complaining it was too early, laughter slipping through half-open doors.
Here, the silence stretches on, heavy and unbroken, until it settles in your chest.
Your phone lights up again.
"Merry Christmas! - Mom"
Photos of trees you donât recognise. Tables crowded with food. Smiling faces framed by warm yellow lights. You type out replies carefully, short, upbeat and convincing enough. You add hearts, snowflakes, little festive emojis.
You donât mention the way your throat tightens or how your fingers pause before hitting send, like youâre bracing yourself. You tell yourself itâs fine. You chose this career, far from home. This is part of growing up, part of chasing something bigger.
Still, the ache doesnât leave.
By the time Taesan visits you, youâve already decided not to talk about it. He finds you sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, scrolling through your phone again.
The room is decorated just enough to feel intentional, string lights looped along the shelves, a small tree glowing softly in the corner, but it still feels unfamiliar, like borrowed space.
âMorning baby,â he says, voice gentle.
âMorning,â you reply easily, smiling on instinct. Youâre good at this part.
You always have been.
Taesan shrugs off his coat and sets it aside on the hanger, glancing around before his eyes return to you. He doesnât say anything at first. He just watches, like heâs trying to read something written between the lines of your expression.
âHave you eaten yet?â he asks.
âMm, not really.â âI can make something.â âThatâs okay,â you say quickly.
Too quickly.
âIâm not that hungry.â He hums softly, accepting the answer without arguing, but he doesnât stop looking at you.
Thereâs something careful about the way he sits down, not too close, not too far, like heâs trying not to spook you.
You talk about small things. Schedules. A video you watched earlier. Something funny a member said. You laugh at the right moments, nod when you should. From the outside, it probably looks normal.
Comfortable, even.
But every now and then, your attention drifts. Your gaze lingers on the blinking lights a little too long. You zone out mid-sentence and have to backtrack. Your smile slips when you think no oneâs watching.
Taesan notices all of it.
âYouâre quieter than usual,â he says eventually, tone light but observant. You shrug. âAm I?â âYeah.â You force a small laugh. âGuess Iâm just tired.â He accepts that answer the same way he accepts most things you give him, without pushing, without cornering you.
Still, he shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours, solid and warm. Itâs subtle, but grounding, and you donât pull away.
Later, as evening settles in, the cold seems to creep deeper into the room. You curl in on yourself again, fingers tucked into the sleeves of your hoodie.
Taesan stands up without a word and disappears down the hallway. You hear movement, drawers opening, soft thumps, footsteps pacing back and forth. You wonder what heâs doing, but you donât call out. A part of you doesnât want to interrupt whatever quiet plan heâs forming.
When he comes back, heâs holding a paper bag, crumpled slightly at the top like itâs been handled one too many times. He hesitates in front of you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
âSo,â he starts, dragging the word out like heâs buying himself time. âI had an idea.â You tilt your head. âThat sounds dangerous.â
He huffs out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. âYeah, probably. But- itâs Christmas. And you lookedâŚâ He trails off, then clears his throat. âNever mind. Just- open it.â
You reach for the bag slowly, curiosity stirring beneath the heaviness youâve been carrying all day. Inside, folded neatly, are matching Christmas pajamas.
The fabric looks soft, warm, patterned with tiny winter details that feel almost absurdly festive. For a moment, youâre speechless. âThey were kind of a joke,â Taesan says quickly, words tumbling out. âLike, I thought itâd be funny. You know. Matching pajamas. Super cheesy.â
You lift them out of the bag, fingers brushing over the material. Theyâre warmer than anything youâve worn all day. The sight alone makes something in your chest loosen, just a little.
âTheyâre really cute,â you say quietly. He blinks, as if it was the most unexpected answer from you.
âThey are?â
You nod. âYeah.â
His shoulders relax, tension melting away like heâs been holding it in longer than you realised. âGood. Because I already changed.â You look up at him, startled. âYou didnât.â
He grins, pointing down the hallway. âGo on. Put them on. Itâs freezing.â You hesitate, then stand, clutching the pajamas to your chest as you head toward the room.
When you come back a few minutes later, Taesanâs already sprawled across the couch in the matching set, pretending not to look at you while very obviously looking at you. His expression softens when your eyes meet.
And for the first time all day, the quiet doesnât feel so lonely anymore.
Taesan pats the space beside him on the couch, casual like itâs nothing. You sit down anyway, knees brushing, the fabric of the matching pajamas warm against your skin. The couch dips slightly under your combined weight, and for a moment neither of you speaks.
The room feels different now. Not louder, not brighter- but fuller. The soft glow from the tree reflects faintly in the window, lights blinking in an uneven rhythm.
Outside, the city hums quietly, distant and far removed from the small bubble youâre in.
âYou look better,â Taesan says eventually, voice low. You glance at him. âBecause of the pajamas?â
âThat too,â he says, lips curling into a small smile. âBut you were⌠kind of gone earlier.â You donât deny it. He reaches for the remote and flips on the TV, scrolling past channels before settling on something familiar, one of those old holiday movies that everyoneâs seen at least once.
The volume is low, just enough to fill the silence without demanding attention. You lean back into the couch, shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. A little while later, Taesan stands up again. âWait here.â
âWhere are you going now?â you ask, amused. âYouâll see.â He disappears into the kitchen this time. You hear cabinets opening, the clink of a mug against the counter, the sound of water running.
When he comes back, heâs holding two cups, steam curling faintly into the air. âIâm not very good at this,â he warns, handing one to you. âSo donât judge.â
You take a careful sip. Itâs sweet. Too sweet, maybe, but warm, and unmistakably made with effort. âItâs good,â you say.
He looks skeptical. âLiar.â You laugh softly, cradling the mug between your hands. The warmth seeps into your fingers, then your chest. Taesan sits beside you again, closer this time, knees touching without either of you moving away.
âWhat do you usually do on Christmas?â he asks, eyes fixed on the TV but attention clearly on you. You hesitate.
âAt home?â you say quietly.
âWe wake up early. Someone always burns breakfast. Thereâs music playing way too loud. And⌠we stay together all day. Even when weâre not doing anything.â Your voice dips at the end, betraying you. Taesan nods slowly, committing every word to memory. âThat sounds nice.â
âIt is,â you admit. âI didnât think Iâd miss it this much.â He doesnât tease you. Doesnât brush it off. He just reaches out, pinky hooking gently around yours, tentative like heâs asking permission. You let him.
âWell,â he says after a moment, âwe canât burn breakfast now. But we can do the staying together part.â You smile, small but real. Time passes quietly.
The movie continues, mostly ignored. Taesan occasionally points out scenes he likes, whispering commentary that makes you laugh. At some point, you rest your head against his shoulder without thinking. He stiffens for half a second, then relaxes, tilting his head slightly so it rests against yours as your body leans against his till he was somewhat spooning you.
The clock on the wall ticks closer to midnight. Taesan glances at it, then at you. Thereâs something unreadable in his expression, nervous, maybe, but also determined. He stands up slowly, careful not to disturb you too much. âIâll be right back,â he says. You watch him disappear down the hallway again, heart beating a little faster for reasons you donât fully understand.
The room feels expectant now, like itâs holding its breath along with you. When he returns, heâs holding a small, neatly wrapped box. He stops in front of you, suddenly shy. âOkay. Um. This- this is for later.â
âFor later?â you echo. âMidnight,â he says. âYou canât open it until then. Promise.â You nod, curiosity mixing with something heavier, something emotional. He places it gently in your hands, fingers lingering just a second too long before pulling away.
The clock ticks closer.
And for the first time since waking up that morning, you donât feel like youâre counting the hours until the day ends.
The clock feels louder than it should. You sit with the small wrapped box resting on your lap, fingers smoothing over the paper again and again like the motion might calm the strange tightness in your chest.
Taesan is beside you, closer than before, shoulders nearly touching. He keeps glancing at the clock, then at you, then away again. 11:59. Neither of you says anything.
Then the numbers change. 12:00.
âI love you, happy unboxing day?,â Taesan says softly with an amused tone, like the words are meant just for you.
With a chuckle, you look up at him. âHappy unboxing day,I love you too.â He nods toward the box, suddenly shy. âYou can open it now.â You peel the wrapping back slowly. Inside is something flat and heavier than you expected.
When you lift it out, your breath stutters. A photo album.
Itâs simple at first glance, neutral cover, slightly worn edges, but when you open it, everything inside crashes into you all at once.
The first page is a photo of the two of you from months ago. You remember that day instantly: tired smiles, bad lighting, the moment not meant to be important at all.
Below the photo, written in familiar handwriting:
âYou said you didnât like this picture. I like it because you look happy.â
You turn the page. Another photo. Another memory. Some are selfies. Some are blurry, taken mid-laugh. Some are screenshots, printed out and trimmed carefully.
Between them are little scrabbles, doodles in the margins by both him and his members - stars, tiny hearts, inside jokes youâd forgotten you shared. Taesan watches you closely now, barely breathing.
âYou kept all of this?â you whisper. He nods. âI started noticing how you talk about memories,â he says quietly. âLike⌠youâre scared theyâll disappear if you donât hold onto them.â Your throat tightens.
Each page has a note.
âYou were nervous that day.â
âYou laughed a lot here.â
âThis was when I realised I liked being around you more than everyone else.â
âMr loverboy kept smiling at this picture - Jaehyunâ
âHe kept this picture as his wallpaper for months, don't worry we teased him - Sunghoâ
âCan we go to this cafe together too? The donuts look amazing! - Riwooâ
âYou went to the aquarium without me? :( - Leehanâ
âNoona! Visit us more! My only way to tease hyung- - Woonhakâ
Halfway through, you have to stop. Your vision blurs, tears slipping down before you can stop them. âThereâs more,â Taesan says gently.
âBut you donât have to finish it now.â You shake your head, flipping to the last page. Itâs empty, except for a final note taped carefully to the center.
âFor all the days you thought no one was paying attention.
I was.
And I still am.â
The album trembles slightly in your hands. You donât realise youâre crying until Taesan moves, kneeling in front of you, worry etched across his face.
âHey- did I mess up? I just wanted-â You lean forward and hug him.
Hard.
Your arms wrap around his shoulders, the album pressed safely between you as you bury your face against him. He freezes for a second, then hugs you back, just as tightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.
âI didnât think anyone noticed,â you say into his shoulder, voice breaking. âI didnât think I mattered that much to anyone.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft but serious. âYou matter,â he says firmly. âYou always have. To me.â The room is quiet again.
The Christmas lights blink softly, the TV still playing unnoticed in the background. The ache of missing home doesnât disappear- but it doesnât hurt as much anymore. It feels lighter now, wrapped in ink and memories and proof that someone stayed.
You sit back down together, album resting on your lap, Taesanâs shoulder pressed to yours.
Youâre still sitting there, album open on your lap, fingers tracing the edges of the last page like it might disappear if you stop touching it.
The room is quiet again, the kind of quiet that feels earned. Taesan shifts beside you. âWait,â he says suddenly. You look up just in time to see him reach for his phone.
Thereâs a familiar glint in his eyes, not teasing exactly, but fond, certain. âWhat are you doing?â you ask, voice still thick.
âCompleting it,â he replies simply. Before you can react, he scoots closer, shoulder pressing against yours. You barely have time to protest before he lifts his phone, angling it slightly downward so it catches the soft glow of the Christmas lights behind you, the album still open between your hands, your expressions unguarded and real.
âTaesan-â
Click.
The sound is quiet, but it echoes. He looks at the photo, lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. âYeah. That one.â He stands and disappears again, returning with tape and a pen like he planned this all along.
Carefully, almost reverently, he places the photo onto the last empty page of the album, smoothing the edges down so it stays.
Then he hesitates, pen hovering.
âWhat are you writing?â you ask softly. He doesnât look up. âJust⌠something.â When he finally hands the album back, your heart twists.
Beneath the photo, in his familiar handwriting:
âEnd of the year.
Not the end of us.â
You laugh, breathless and wet-eyed all over again. âYouâre so cheesy!â
He shrugs, cheeks pink. âYou love it.â You do. You lean into him, head resting against his shoulder, the album balanced between you.
He wraps an arm around you easily now, like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
This feels like enough.
You wake up late the next morning, sunlight spilling across the room in soft gold patches.
For a second, youâre disoriented, until you realise youâre warm.
Really warm.
Taesan is still asleep beside you, hair messy, face relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. The blanket is tangled around both of you, matching pajamas wrinkled from the night before. The photo album rests on the table nearby, closed now.
Carefully, you slip out from under the blanket and open it again. You flip through the pages slowly, reliving every memory, every scribble, every quiet moment you didnât know heâd been holding onto. When you reach the last page, you pause.
The photo from last night stares back at you, soft smiles, tired eyes, Christmas lights glowing behind you like proof. From behind you, Taesan stirs.
âBabyâŚYouâre up already?â he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. âYeah,â you say quietly. âI was just⌠looking.â He comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms loosely around your waist. âWeâll add more,â he says. âThis year.â
You lean back into him, smiling. For the first time in a long while, the thought of the future doesnât feel scary.
It feels warm.
Thank you so much for reading to the end MUAH LUV YOU!( ŕŠ Ë ÂłË)ŕŠâ°･ââĄâ§âË Merry Christmas! đ
â a handwritten letter leads you back to your first love and the words you didnât manage to say before ŕż*:ｼďž
ëŠěě§: loosely based off their mama performance!! and merry christmas to those who celebrate âĄÂ
it was a name youâd never forget; kim woonhak. he was your first love. kinda. you loved him, and that was undoubtedly true. but did you also happen to reject him when he had confessed his feelings for you? perhaps.Â
in your defence, he hadnât just confessed â he confessed, gave you a bouquet, and kissed you. on the lips. it wasnât to say that you didnât like it, but pure shock. if you were given a second chance, another try of the same scenario, you wouldnât waste a second to kiss him back and declare your undying love for him. for as long as you could form proper thoughts, you liked woonhak. you just kept it to yourself, knowing he wouldnât feel the same. but of course, the one time you were given the opportunity to possibly date the guy of your dreams, you fumbled it.Â
what made it worse was that he lived just next door. if he fled across the country, existing in a completely different time zone, maybe youâd forget about the terrors of meeting his face again. however, with him being your literal neighbour, there was no way of avoiding him. you would spot his face in the dark hours of midnight while you threw away bags of trash, and the dull realization that he was the biggest loss you never won would sink deep into the pit of your stomach.Â
even though itâs been a whole year, you couldnât get over it. you just wish the moment would repeat itself as if it were magic. because this time, youâd tell him the truth.Â
more under the cut!Â
the cold winter air slapped you like a slap to the face, freezing your feet that managed to slip out of your blanket. you quickly scrambled to slip on a hoodie as you noticed how the hairs on your arms sat straight on your skin, covering yourself in a thick layer of warmth.Â
as you walked downstairs, your mother handed you a thin envelope, decorated with a small smiley face in the corner. âwoonhak came over earlier and wanted to give this to you. not sure what itâs about but he seemed nervous,â she said, eyeing the paper from where she was standing. âsuch a sweet boy, i wonder why he stopped coming over so often.â your mother sighed, unknowingly speaking directly to the reason behind it.Â
knowing the letter would likely break your heart, probably about how heâd lost feelings for you or something along those lines, you decided to go back up to your room, throwing yourself on your bed. you carefully tore into the letter, making sure to preserve the envelope just in case it was the last thing youâd get from woonhak. the letter was folded up four times, looking extremely small in the huge wrapping. you unraveled the now very creased paper, reading words that were obviously rewritten a couple times, proven by the eraser marks.Â
hey, do you remember me? itâs me, woonhak from next door!Â
last year, you rejected me⌠i cried all night ă ă Â
even my hyungs cried with me!!Â
but today, iâm bravely confessing again! youâll listen, right?Â
come to the park @ 11:29pmÂ
i hope iâll see you there, y/nÂ
-kwhÂ
your heart couldnât help but tighten at his words. of course you remember him, you donât think you could even force yourself to forget him. after all, heâs the first love of your life, and hopefully your last, too.Â
just ten minutes before 11:29pm, you left your house, dressed in the same hoodie you had on in the morning. as you walked out of the front door, small crystals fell from above you, peppering the sleeve of your hoodie with white. the park looked beautiful. all the equipment had been littered with snow, except for a tall figure sitting on the swing, steadily swinging to and fro. it was woonhak.Â
once he noticed you, he got up, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. âyou came,â he said with a weak smile, as if he expected you to ignore his request. âi know i already ruined things last time, but i canât help but think about you all the time, y/n.â he sighed, breath turning into steam in the cold air. âcould you just⌠listen? you donât need to answer me or anything. i just need you to be here.âÂ
you nodded, standing just in front of woonhak. ây/n, iâm sorry about last year. i really didnât mean to kiss you, it was just a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, andâŚâ woonhak looked down to his feet, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. âi thought that you rejecting me would help me, yâknow⌠get you out of my mind and stuff, but youâre still there.â his eyes finally gazed at you, his expression downhearted. âi know itâs selfish to tell you this again, but until now, i like you. i donât think this feeling is gonna leave me soon, or ever for that matter. i donât expect you to say you like me too, considering what i did, but i need to let it out before my feelings eat me whole.â he lets out a long breath as he finishes his confession.Â
the tension between you two is suffocating. woonhak opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but promptly puts his lips back together, unable to find the right words.Â
âwoonhak,â his head darts up, looking at you with hopeful yet unanticipated, bracing himself for his second heartbreak. âever since the day we started talking, iâve had a crush on you.âÂ
the words hit him like a brick to the head, waking him up like he had been splashed with water. âw-what? y/n, you-â heâs blinking faster as if itâll help him figure out what to say, but his mouth runs dry.Â
âlet me talk, woon.â you chuckle, sniffling at the chilly weather. âthat night, when you confessed, i didnât reject you, woonhak. i couldnât get a word out because you kissed me, and when i tried to speak, you left my house and didnât show up the next day.â you can slowly see the pieces fitting into the puzzle in woonhakâs mind just through his eyes. âi like you. a lot. so please, give me another chance?âÂ
rather than telling you a yes or no, he took your face in both of his hands and pressed his lips to yours. it was like dĂŠjĂ vu. last year, you told yourself youâd never let the moment slip out of your grasp if it ever managed to come back, and today, youâd fulfill that.Â
he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. but you donât. when your lips meet, itâs soft â feeling warm despite the cold. you kiss him back properly this time, filling it with the desire you wish you had given this time last year. you can feel him smile against your lips, like heâs been waiting for this exact moment, because he probably has.Â
when you pull away, your breaths mingle in small clouds. âlet me make it up to you for last year and let me treat you right, if itâs not too late. please?âÂ
âšâËâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨A Day For Youŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§Ëââš
---
description: fluff, comfort, happy tears, nonidol Taesan, reader's birthday, reader in 2nd person, established relationship, kissing, petname (baby)
It's your birthday, and Taesan has a whole day planned for you. From quiet mornings to moments that make your heart swell, the day is filled with little gestures, gentle laughter, and time spent together. Surrounded by soft light and warm care, you can't help but feel how deeply someone can see and cherish you.
pairing: nonidol bf! Taesan x gf! reader
word count: 3.2k
authors note: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY WAHHH ŕ´Śŕľŕ´Śŕ´ż(･â˘Ě ,<)~âŠâ§â i feel so old ugh. I'm honestly so proud of this oneshot and reading it gave me diabeties, let me praide my own work this once www anywho, i hope you guys love this as much as i do! MUAH LUV YOU ALL âââ(ËśË áľ ËËś)ââžâž
Taglist: @nanadreamies @ivxae @mukieissukie
Taesan wakes up before the alarm, long before the sun fully rises. For a few seconds, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling, then he turns his head toward you. Youâre curled up and cuddled beside him, blanket pulled up to your chin, face relaxed in sleep. Seeing you like this always makes his chest ache a little, in a good way.
Itâs your birthday.
He carefully slips out of bed, wincing when the floor creaks, and freezes until heâs sure you didnât stir awake. Once heâs safe, he exhales quietly and heads to the kitchen. The apartment is dim and peaceful, the kind of quiet that only exists in the early morning.
He ties an apron around his waist, checking his phone again to reread the recipe he saved days ago. Seaweed soup. Simple, but meaningful. He soaks the seaweed, chops the beef a little too carefully, and stirs the pot with focused determination. At one point, he tastes it and frowns, adding just a bit more seasoning.
âGosh⌠Pease turn out okay,â he mutters to himself.
As the soup simmers, the smell spreads through the apartment,warm and comforting. He sets the table properly instead of just placing things wherever, adding rice, side dishes he knows you like, and even cutting some fruit neatly. He hesitates, then adds a small candle next to your bowl, smiling at how silly but sweet it looks.
When everythingâs ready, he goes back to the bedroom, the mattress dipping as he sits on the edge and gently shakes your shoulder.
âBaby,â he whispers. âWake up.â
You groan softly, burying your face into his side. âFive more minutesâŚâ
He laughs quietly. âYou canât. Itâs your birthday, silly.â
That gets your attention. You blink your eyes open, still half-asleep, and let him guide you to the table. The moment you see the food, your tiredness disappears.
You stare at the seaweed soup, then at him, heart swelling. âYou made this for me?â
âOf course,â he says, sitting across from you. âYou were born today. Itâs important.â
As you eat, the soup tastes even better than usual, maybe because of the effort behind it. Taesan watches closely, relieved when you smile after the first spoonful.
âItâs really good,â you say sincerely.
He grins, shoulders relaxing. âGood. I practiced.â
After breakfast, you get ready together, and he keeps glancing at the time like heâs guarding a secret. When you finally step outside, the air is fresh, the city slowly waking up. You are bundled up in a coat and scarf as snowflakes fall. He laces his fingers through yours as you walk as if second nature, warmth spreading through your hand.
âSo where are we going?â you ask curiously.
âYouâll see,â he replies, pretending to be mysterious, though the smile tugging at his lips gives him away.
When you reach the aquarium, your eyes widen.
âWait, are you serious?â you say, turning to him. âThe aquarium?â
He chuckles. âYou always say you like it here. Especially the jellyfish.â
âI love them,â you say immediately, your eyes turning into stars.
Inside, everything turns cool and blue. The lighting is soft, the sounds muted, and it feels like stepping into another world. You wander from tank to tank, pointing things out excitedly, while Taesan listens, amused and fond.
Then you reach the jellyfish exhibit.
You stop in your tracks.
The tank glows gently, filled with jellyfish drifting gracefully through the water. Their bodies pulse with light, floating like living stars. You step closer, eyes wide, completely absorbed.
âTheyâre so pretty,â you whisper. âThey look unreal.â
Taesan stands beside you, hands tucked into his pockets. He doesnât look at the jellyfish for long. Instead, he watches you, the way your eyes shine, the way your expression softens, the small smile you donât even realize youâre wearing.
âI knew youâd like this,â he says quietly.
You turn to him, smiling. âThank you for bringing me here.â
He shrugs, pretending itâs no big deal. âI wanted today to be about you.â
You lean closer to the glass, watching the jellyfish float upward, slow and calm. Taesan steps closer too, your shoulders brushing. After a moment, he gently slips an arm around your waist, pulling you just a little nearer.
You donât pull away.
Standing there, surrounded by soft blue light and drifting jellyfish, everything feels peaceful. Like the world has narrowed down to just this moment, your birthday, his quiet care, and the gentle reminder that youâre deeply loved.
And this is only the beginning of the day.
You end up lingering at the jellyfish exhibit longer than you expect. Every time you think youâve seen them all, another one drifts into view, glowing softly as it floats past. You lean closer to the glass, your breath fogging it slightly.
âThey move like they donât have anywhere to be,â you say. âLike theyâre not rushed.â
Taesan hums in agreement. âKinda like you right now.â
You glare at him. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
He smiles, amused. âYouâre usually thinking about ten things at once. Right now⌠you look calm.â
You donât deny it. Instead, you rest your head lightly against his shoulder, eyes still on the tank. He stiffens for half a second before relaxing, adjusting his arm around you more securely.
The two of you move on slowly, wandering through the rest of the aquarium. Taesan reads the little information plaques out loud, occasionally mispronouncing words just to make you laugh. At one tank, you stop to watch tiny fish dart around in groups, changing direction all at once.
âHow do they know where to go?â you wonder.
âTheyâre probably just following one brave fish,â he says. âOr one confused one.â
You snort. âThat explains a lot.â
At the tunnel exhibit, you walk beneath a curved glass ceiling as fish glide above you. Shadows ripple across the floor, light bending through the water. You instinctively reach for Taesanâs hand, and he squeezes it gently.
âHey,â he says softly. âMake a wish.â
âFor what?â
âBirthday rules,â he replies. âYouâre under water, kinda. It counts.â
You close your eyes for a brief moment, lips curling into a small smile. Taesan watches you carefully, wondering what you could possibly wish for when you already have that look on your face.
At the touch pool, you hesitate at the edge, eyeing the water nervously.
âYouâre scared,â he teases.
âIâm cautious,â you correct.
He rolls up his sleeve and dips his hand in first. âSee? Theyâre friendly.â
You follow after him, laughing when something brushes your fingers. Instinctively, you grab his arm.
âOkay, that startled me.â
He laughs too, the sound echoing softly. âYouâre too cute.â
You glare at him, but thereâs no real bite behind it.
Eventually, you find a bench near another jellyfish tank, smaller and dimmer, quieter than the rest. You sit together, shoulders touching, watching the jellyfish pulse slowly in the water.
Taesan breaks the silence. âI wanted today to be slow,â he admits. âNo rushing, no schedules. Just things you like.â
You turn to him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. âYou really thought about all this.â
âOf course I did,â he says, meeting your eyes. âItâs your birthday.â
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The blue light washes over you both, softening everything. Taesan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, pretending to check something, but instead he angles it toward the tank.
âCan I?â he asks.
You nod.
He takes a picture not of the jellyfish, but of you, illuminated by the glowing water. When you notice, you protest half-heartedly, but he only smiles.
âI wanted to remember this,â he says. âYou look really happy.â
You lean your head against his shoulder again, this time without hesitation. He rests his cheek lightly against the top of your head, careful, gentle.
As you sit there together, watching the jellyfish drift endlessly in the water, you realize something.
This isnât just a birthday date.
Itâs a quiet promise, one full of care, attention, and all the small things that make you feel seen.
And you wouldnât want to be anywhere else.
You donât mean to spend so long in the gift shop, but the moment you step inside, your eyes light up. Plushies line the shelves, postcards and magnets neatly arranged, everything filled with pastel blues and ocean-themed designs.
Taesan watches you wander from shelf to shelf, smiling to himself. He doesnât rush you. If anything, he slows his steps just to stay beside you.
Then you stop.
âTaesan,â you say softly, pointing at a small rack near the counter.
He leans closer, and thatâs when he sees them. Two jellyfish keychains hanging side by side. One is a soft, translucent blue, the other a gentle pink. Theyâre simple, but cute, their tiny tentacles dangling.
âTheyâre matching,â you say, almost to yourself.
You lift them carefully, comparing the two. âLook⌠blue and pink.â
Taesan chuckles. âYou already picked which one you want, didnât you?â
You smile sheepishly. âThe pink one.â
âOf course,â he says without hesitation. He reaches for the blue one. âThen this oneâs mine.â
You blink. âWait, really?â
âWhy not?â he replies. âMatching makes sense.â
Your heart flutters at how easily he says it, like itâs the most natural thing in the world. You turn the keychains over, fingers brushing lightly against his as you hold them up together.
âTheyâre jellyfish,â you say. âIt fits today.â
âAnd you,â he adds. âYouâve been staring at them all day.â
You laugh softly, cheeks warming. âI canât help it if they are pretty."
At the counter, Taesan pays before you can even protest. He hands you the pink keychain, carefully attaching it to your bag strap himself, fingers gentle, unhurried.
âThere,â he says. âSo you donât lose it.â
You watch him clip the blue one onto his own bag next. Seeing them together makes something in your chest feel full.
âItâs kinda like weâre carrying today with us,â you say quietly.
Taesan glances at you, expression soft. âThatâs the idea.â
As you step back outside, sunlight filtering in through the glass doors, the keychains sway slightly with your movements, blue and pink, side by side, just like the two of you walking forward together.
And somehow, it feels like the perfect birthday souvenir.
By the time you get back to the apartment, the day has settled into a comfortable calm. Your feet ache just a little from all the walking, and the moment you step inside, you kick off your shoes and head straight for the couch.
You curl up instinctively, pulling a cushion into your arms, still smiling to yourself. The jellyfish keychain rests against your bag, swaying slightly as you move.
âIâm gonna sit for a bit,â you mumble, eyes closing as you sink deeper into the cushions.
Taesan hums in response. âRest. Iâll be right back.â
You donât think much of it, assuming heâs just putting things away. Youâre half-distracted, zoning out, when you hear the fridge open⌠then close.
A moment later, the lights in the living room dim slightly.
âBaby?,â you say, snapping back to reality, confused.
Taesan then appears from the kitchen, holding a small cake carefully in both hands. A single candle flickers at the top, its light warm and steady.
It takes you a second to process it.
Strawberry shortcake.
Your favourite.
You sit up immediately. âTaesanâŚâ
He smiles, eyes soft, his whisker dimples appearing. âI told you, todayâs all about you.â
He sets the cake down on the coffee table and crouches in front of it, lighting the candle properly before looking up at you.
âHappy birthday,â he says again, quieter this time.
Your chest tightens as you stare at the cake, the fresh strawberries, the cream layered just the way you like it. He remembered. Of course he did.
âYou didnât have to do all this,â you whisper.
âI wanted to,â he replies simply.
He waits patiently as you close your eyes, hands clasped together. You make a wish, lips curving into a small smile before you lean forward and blow out the candle. The smoke curls upward, fading just as softly as the moment feels.
Taesan claps once, a little awkwardly. âWish granted.â
You laugh, brushing at your eyes. âYou donât even know what I wished for.â
He tilts his head. âI donât need to.â
He cuts the cake carefully, making sure your slice has extra strawberries, just like always. When he hands it to you, you take it with both hands.
âItâs perfect,â you say honestly.
You take a bite, and it tastes just as good as you hoped, light, sweet, familiar. Taesan watches your reaction closely, relieved when your face lights up.
âGood?â he asks.
You nod immediately, a smile on your face. âReally good.â
He sits beside you on the couch, close but not crowding, and the two of you eat quietly for a moment. The apartment feels warm, filled with the soft hum of the fridge and the afterglow of the day.
You lean your head against his shoulder without thinking.
âThank you,â you murmur. âFor today. For everything.â
Taesan doesnât say anything right away. He just rests his head gently against yours, strawberry shortcake in hand, and smiles.
âAs long as youâre happy,â he says softly, âthatâs enough for me.â
You think the night is winding down after the cake, the apartment settling into a quiet comfort. You change into something cozy, the two of you moving around each other easily, like itâs second nature. The lights are dim now, the city outside quieter than before.
Youâre just about to head to the bedroom when Taesan clears his throat.
âWait,â he says.
You turn around. Heâs standing near the table, hands tucked behind his back, expression a little too careful.
âThereâs one more thing.â
Your heart skips. âYou already did so much, baby.â
âI know,â he says, smiling softly. âBut this oneâs⌠important.â
He sits beside you on the couch again, then reaches for a small bag heâd hidden earlier. From it, he takes out an envelope first, simple, cream-colored, your name written neatly on the front.
âA letter?â you ask, surprised.
He nods. âRead it.â
You open it slowly, unfolding the paper. His handwriting is familiar, but seeing it laid out like this makes your chest tighten.
He doesnât rush you as you read.
The letter isnât long, but every word feels intentional: him thanking you for being yourself, for the small habits heâs grown to love, for the way you make ordinary days feel lighter. He writes about how proud he is of you, how much today, no, everyday matters to him because you matter to him. And at the end, he wishes you a happy birthday, promising to keep choosing you, day after day.
By the time you finish, your vision blurs slightly.
You look up at him, speechless.
Before you can say anything, he reaches back into the bag and pulls out a small box. He opens it carefully.
Inside is a delicate necklace, simple and eleganr, the cat charm catching the light just enough to sparkle.
âI saw it and thought of you,â he says quietly. âNot too much. Just⌠you.â
You swallow, nodding as you hold it gently. âItâs beautiful.â
âCan I?â he asks, gesturing toward it.
You turn around, lifting your hair. His fingers brush lightly against the back of your neck as he fastens the clasp, movements careful, almost reverent. The necklace settles perfectly against your collarbone.
He meets your eyes when you turn back around. For a moment, neither of you speaks.
âHappy birthday,â he says again, softer than before.
You step forward without thinking, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back immediately, holding you close, steady and warm.
âThank you,â you whisper. âIâll remember today forever.â
He rests his chin lightly against the top of your head. âGood. Thatâs what I wanted.â
You sit there quietly, the letter resting in your hands, the necklace cool against your skin. The apartment is calm, almost too quiet, and thatâs when it all finally hits you.
The morning soup.
The aquarium.
The jellyfish keychains.
The cake.
The letter.
The necklace.
The whole day.
Your grip on the paper tightens as your vision blurs.
âHeyâŚâ Taesan says softly, noticing the way your shoulders start to shake and your hands tremble. âWhatâs wrong, baby?â
You try to laugh it off, but the sound breaks instead. Tears spill over before you can stop them, dropping onto the letter in your hands.
âI just-â you pause, wiping at your face, but more tears come. âNo oneâs ever done this for me before. Not like this. You thought about everything.â
Taesan freezes for half a second, then gently takes the letter from your hands and sets it aside. He moves closer immediately, kneeling in front of you before the couch.
âHey, hey,â he murmurs, voice full of concern. âLook at me, baby.â
You shake your head, overwhelmed. âI feel so thankful it hurts. Today was perfect. You made me feel⌠really important.â
Something in his eyes softens deeply at that. He cups your face, thumbs brushing away your tears with so much care and gentleness it makes you cry even harder.
âYou are important,â he says quietly. âTo me.â
You lean forward without thinking, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as you cry, clutching lightly at his shirt. He wraps his arms around you right away, holding you close, one hand resting reassuringly on your back.
âI didnât do this to make you cry,â he says gently with a chuckle.
You laugh weakly through your tears. âTheyâre good tears. I promise.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you again, eyes searching your face. The necklace catches the light as you move, and his gaze drops to it for a second before meeting your eyes again.
âI wanted you to remember today,â he says. âAnd to know how much you mean to me.â
Your chest feels too full. You nod, tears still slipping down your cheeks. âIâll remember it forever.â
Taesan hesitates, just a moment, then leans in slowly, giving you time. You donât pull away.
His lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss, gentle and full of care. Itâs not rushed or dramatic, just warm, steady, and real. A quiet promise after a day filled with love.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
âHappy birthday,â he whispers.
And even through your tears, you smile, because youâve never felt more loved than you do right now.
Later, as you finally head to bed, the necklace cold against your skin and the letter tucked safely away, you note something.
The best part of the gift wasnât the cake, or the aquarium, or even the necklace.
It was the way he made you feel seen, cherished, and deeply loved.
And that feeling stays with you long after the lights go out.
Goodness, thank you for reading to the end! MUAH LUV YOU ALL, this oneshot is too sweet omydays Ëâ§ÂşÂˇ(Ë ËĚŁĚŁĚĽáˇâẸ̣̼̈ᡠ)â§ÂşÂˇË
description: fluff, idol au, reader in 2nd person pov, reader in ILLIT
During a comeback promotion, Taesan appears on an ILLIT memberâs quiet cooking show, where initial awkwardness gives way to shared laughter, spilled sauce, and an unexpected sense of comfort. What begins as mutual admiration slowly simmers into something warmer through late-night texts, gentle teasing, and the realization that some connections donât need to be loud to be real.
pairing: Idol Taesan x Idol Reader
word count: 2k
author's note: Hiii! I'm not that proud of this oneshot but I hope you guys enjoy this oneshot! I'm posting this earlier because I'm flying today, the other one blew up so thank you guys so much ಼ďšŕ˛Ľ ! I recommend reading this oneshot whilst listening to the song "bad - Wave To Earth"! I had so much fun and I hope you guys like this oneshot! (â§ăŽâŚ) đ
Tag: @mukieissukie - thank you so much for thiis request! đ
---
Taesan agrees to appear on your cooking show with the same polite enthusiasm he brings to every schedule, but privately, his mind refuses to stay calm. He knows your name. Everyone does. Youâre an ILLIT member with a reputation for being soft-spoken, thoughtful, and quietly talented, the kind of idol people describe as comforting rather than flashy.
Heâs watched clips of your show beforeâhow you move around the kitchen with an ease that feels natural, how you listen more than you speak, how your guests always seem to relax by the end without realising when it happened.
He tells himself itâs just another promotion stop during BOYNEXTDOORâs comeback, nothing more than good exposure. Still, when he steps onto set and sees you standing there in an apron thatâs a little too big, hands clasped nervously in front of you, something in his chest tightens.
You bow first, smiling politely, and he mirrors you a second later, a little too stiff. The cameras havenât even started rolling yet, but the air already feels awkward in a way thatâs impossible to ignore. You greet him formally, voice gentle but careful, and he responds the same way, both of you maintaining a distance that feels unnecessarily wide for two people standing in the same kitchen.
When filming begins, that awkwardness doesnât disappear... it multiplies. You measure ingredients with almost scientific precision, narrating steps youâve done dozens of times before as if youâre afraid of forgetting them. Taesan nods along, offering comments that are polite but brief, hands hovering uncertainly before committing to chopping or stirring. Every accidental brush of fingers feels loud, every pause in conversation stretches just a little too long.
At first, it feels like two people who admire each other too much to know how to act.
Then, somewhere between stirring sauce and waiting for something to simmer, you ask him about producing. The question is casual, but genuine, and Taesan answers without thinking, his voice warming as he talks about melodies and ideas and how music feels different when itâs written late at night.
When he admits that he listens to ILLITâs songs while working, especially the quieter tracks, you freeze for half a second before looking up at him, surprised in a way that canât be faked. You confess, just as softly, that BOYNEXTDOORâs B-sides are on your playlists too, that thereâs something comforting about them. The tension shifts then, not gone but softened, like something fragile finally set down gently.
However halfway through cooking, the sauce becomes the problem.
Youâre standing at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, staring down at the pan with the kind of concentration that suggests youâre overthinking it. The heat is just a little too high, the sauce thickening faster than you want it to, and the calm rhythm youâd settled into earlier starts to slip.
âItâs reducing too quickly,â you murmur, more to yourself than to the camera.
Taesan leans closer, peering into the pan like itâs a science experiment. âMaybe lower the heat?â
âI already did,â you say, frowning. âI think I added the soy sauce too early.â
He nods thoughtfully, then reaches for the ladle without quite realising how close that brings him to you. âWe can fix it. Maybe some water? Orâwaitâbroth?â
Before you can answer, he pours a little in.
Too much.
The sauce reacts instantly, bubbling up in protest, popping loudly as it splashes over the edge of the pan and onto the stove top. You gasp, stepping back just as a few drops land on your apron.
âOh- oh no,â Taesan blurts out, eyes wide. âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean- â
He rushes to grab a towel, but in his panic, he bumps your elbow. The spoon slips from your hand, clattering against the stove as more sauce splatters, dotting the counter, the pan, andâunfortunatelyâthe front of his sleeve.
For a second, the kitchen is silent.
Then you laugh.
Itâs soft at first, surprised, like you canât quite believe what just happened. Taesan freezes, still holding the towel, staring at the mess like heâs just committed a crime.
âI ruined it,â he says miserably.
âNo,â you reply, still smiling, wiping at your apron. âItâs⌠kind of impressive, actually.â
That makes him laugh too, relieved and a little breathless. He kneels to wipe up the spill, moving quickly but carefully, muttering apologies under his breath. You crouch down beside him, helping, your shoulders brushing as you both reach for the same spot.
Up close, he smells faintly of soap and something warm, like laundry just out of the dryer. You notice the way his ears are pink, how he keeps glancing at you like heâs waiting for reassurance.
âItâs okay,â you say quietly. âReally. Cooking alone is boring anyway.â
He looks up at you then, eyes soft. âIâm glad I messed it up with you.â
For a moment, neither of you moves. The cameras catch it, the shared smile, the closeness, the way the chaos seems to have dissolved the last of the stiffness between you.
When you stand back up and return to the stove together, Taesan lets you take the lead this time, hovering close but careful, passing ingredients when you ask, listening intently. The sauce, slightly altered but still good, simmers gently now, and the kitchen feels warmer than before.
By the time the food is finished, conversation flows more naturally. You laugh when he almost burns something, teasing him lightly, and he grins back without thinking twice. Sitting side by side at the table, tasting what youâve made together, the cameras capture something subtle but real, the way you lean in when you talk, the way Taesan listens like nothing youâre saying is wasted. It feels less like content and more like a moment accidentally filmed. When the staff call cut, neither of you moves right away, as if standing up would break whatever calm has settled between you.
âIt was fun,â you say quietly, almost to yourself.
âYeah,â Taesan replies. âIt didnât feel like work.â
You hesitate, then ask if he wants to exchange numbers, for work, you say, quickly, like youâre reassuring yourself as much as him. He agrees immediately, and when you part ways, he realises heâs smiling without knowing when it started.
Texting becomes routine faster than either of you expects. You send him photos of half-finished dishes, joking about how cooking is harder without a guest. He sends you short audio clips of melodies heâs unsure about, asking what you think. Some nights you talk about music until past midnight; other nights, the conversations drift into small things, how tired you are, what you ate that day, how strange it feels to live life on a schedule that never really belongs to you. Thereâs no pressure in it, no defined shape, just an easy back-and-forth that starts to feel necessary.
It doesnât take long for the people around you to notice.
The ILLIT members tease you first, pointing out how often you check your phone, how your mood lifts after certain messages. The BOYNEXTDOOR members were no subtler, catching the way Taesan smiles down at his screen, how he grows quieter when someone mentions your name. You both deny it reflexively, insisting itâs just friendship, just music, just coincidence. And maybe, for a while, you believe that too.
But feelings donât stay quiet forever.
They show up in the way Taesan watches your schedules more closely than he needs to, in how you feel a little steadier knowing heâs just a message away. They show up in the small ache of missing each other during busy weeks, in the comfort of shared silence during late calls. Slowly, without either of you naming it, admiration turns into something deeper, something warmer, more personal.
When the realisation finally settles in, it isnât dramatic. Itâs gentle. Like understanding youâve been leaning on something solid all along.
And maybe thatâs why it feels right, not rushed, not overwhelming, just two people who found comfort in each other when they werenât looking for it, and chose to stay.
The episode goes live a week later.
You watch it curled up on the couch after a long schedule, phone balanced against your knee, a bowl of convenience-store ramen cooling beside you. You expect to cringe, at the awkward pauses, at how carefully you both spoke at first, but instead, you found yourself smiling. The comments are already filling up, fans laughing about the sauce incident, pointing out how Taesan hovered near you by the end, how his eyes crinkled, how his whisker dimples appearing, and how relaxed you both looked once the mess happened.
"They look comfortable together. So cute! Gah! đť"
"If they were dating, they would be so cute and the next IT couple!"
"Be-Lift please! Invite him again, they're so cute!"
Your phone buzzes.
Taesan: I just watched it.. I think I owe you an apology for the sauce :(
You smile before you can stop yourself.
You: It tasted fine, don't beat yourself! Fans seem to like the chaos.
Taesan: Iâm just glad you laughed.
The conversation drifts easily, like it always does now. About the episode, about how busy promotions are, about how tired you both feel. At some point, the replies slow, not because thereâs nothing to say, but because neither of you wants to be the one to end it.
âIâll see you soon,â he texts finally. "For schedules, I mean."
You stare at the message longer than necessary.
You: Yeah. Iâd like that.
A few days later, your paths cross again at a music show. Itâs brief, just a shared glance in the hallway, a small smile passed quietly between groups. But it feels different now, heavier with understanding. Thereâs no need to say anything. You both already know.
That night, Taesan calls you for the first time instead of texting.
âI was thinking,â he says softly, after a moment of silence, âmaybe next time⌠we cook without cameras.â
You laugh, heart warm. âOnly if you promise not to ruin the sauce again.â
âI canât promise that,â he admits. âBut I can promise Iâll clean up.â
The thought settles comfortably between youânot a confession, not a label, just an intention. Something youâre both choosing, carefully.
As you hang up, you realise that whatever this is, it doesnât need to be loud or fast to be real. Itâs growing the way the best things do, quietly, steadily, built from shared moments, small messes, and the simple decision to stay.
description: fluff, idol au, reader in 2nd person pov, reader in Le Sserafim
Han Taesan has admired you long before meeting you, finding comfort and familiarity in the music you help create. When a chance TikTok collaboration finally brings you together, a shared love for songwriting and the same nostalgic bands quietly draws you closer, setting the foundation for something tender that grows in the spaces between music, timing, and unspoken feelings.
pairing: Idol Taesan x Idol Reader
word count: 1.6k
author's note: hiii, my first one shot <3, inspired by Taesan doing Le Sserafim's Spaghetti TikTok challenge with Chaewon, he was so sassy doing it www (Ëśáľ áľ áľËś). I recommend reading this whilst listening to 'Dont Look Back In Anger - Oasis'. It's my and Taesan's favourite song from them, I love oasis. Anywho, I had a lot of fun writing this so happy reading Îľ(´･â˘áâ˘`)㣠đ
Tag: @nanadreamies - thank you for requesting this đ, @leehanaholic
---
Han Taesan learns your name long before he ever hears your voice in person.
Itâs there in the songwriting credits, tucked neatly beside producers heâs studied since trainee days. Itâs there in interviews, when you speak thoughtfully about melody over trends, about wanting songs that feel lived-in rather than loud. Itâs there in the way your group, Le Sserafim, B-sides linger, soft Brit-pop influences, guitar lines that feel almost nostalgic, like something he mightâve heard drifting out of his parents bedroom.
Oasis, he thinks the first time he hears it.
Definitely Oasis.
By the time BOYNEXTDOOR debuts, Taesan already secretly knows he admires you in a way that feels dangerously close to reverence. Youâre a 4th gen sunbaenim, untouchable in his mind, someone who exists behind glass, framed by award stages and perfect lighting. He doesnât imagine himself ever speaking to you, not really. Youâre someone he listens to through headphones at two in the morning while shaping unfinished demos, someone whose taste feels aligned with his in a way that makes him feel less alone.
So when his manager casually mentions that Le Sserafim agreed to film a TikTok with them during promotions, Taesan almost misses it.
âWait,â he says, a beat too late. âLe Sserafim?â
His members laugh at the way his ears turn red, especially Jaehyun.
The day of the recording, heâs quiet in a way that surprises everyone. He rehearses the choreography more than necessary, fingers tapping against his thigh as if counting time. He tells himself itâs just another schedule. Just another senior group. But his heart doesnât listen at all.
You walk into the hallway like sunlight slipping through a cracked door.
Thereâs nothing exaggerated about you - no dramatic entrance, no aura that demands attention but Taesan feels it anyway. The ease with which you move, the calm confidence of someone who knows who they are. You bow first, smiling as you introduce yourself, and when your eyes land on him, they donât pass over him like he expects.
âTaesan, right?â you say. âIâve heard about you.â
That alone nearly short-circuits his brain.
The TikTok filming is quick, almost too quick. Youâre focused, professional, but thereâs a lightness to you that makes the space feel comfortable. When you laugh at a small mistake, Taesan finds himself smiling back without thinking, his eyes crinkling revealing his whisker dimples. For a few seconds during the last take, youâre standing close enough that he can hear your breathing between counts.
When itâs over, staff start to disperse, but neither of you moves right away.
âYour timing is really clean,â you say, genuinely impressed. âI have watched all your stages since debut.â
He bows, flustered. âThank you. Iâumâ Le Sserafim sunbaenimâs stages helped me a lot when I was training.â
Your eyebrows lift. âReally?â
âYes. Especially your B-sides. Theyâre⌠warm. They feel like music you listen to when youâre not trying to be impressive.â
Something soft settles in your expression. âIâm glad it feels that way.â
The conversation unfolds naturally after that, like a thread neither of you wants to let go of. You talk about producing, about the difference between writing for yourself and writing for a group, about how rare it is to meet another idol who genuinely cares about albums as a whole.
At some point, Taesan mentions Oasis without thinking.
You stop walking. âWait, really?â
He nods, suddenly shy. âYeah. âDon't Look Back In Angerâ is one of my favourites.â
Your face lights up in a way that feels dangerously personal. âMine too. No one ever gets why I like them so much.â
For the first time, Taesan forgets to be nervous.
Before you part, he hesitatesâheart pounding, palms dampâbut he steps forward anyway.
âWould it be okay if⌠we exchanged numbers?â he asks. âJust...about music.â
You smile, warm and easy. âOf course.â
That night, he adds your contact under your name, staring at it longer than he should.
You text first.
From there, everything grows quietly.
You send him demos youâre unsure about. He sends you melodies he hasnât shown anyone else. You talk about chord progressions and lyric structures, about how Oasis songs feel raw because they donât try to be perfect. Sometimes the conversations driftâabout exhaustion, about pressure, about how strange it is to be watched all the time and still feel unseen.
Taesan starts associating your name with comfort.
Months pass. Schedules overlap. You sit beside each other at award shows, careful but close, knees almost touching. He notices how you hum melodies under your breath when youâre thinking, how you always listen fully, like what he says matters.
At some point, admiration becomes something heavier.
He realizes it late one night in the studio, headphones on, listening to a demo he wrote with you in mind. The track is softer than usual, built around a guitar progression that feels like dusk. He imagines you singing it without trying, voice low and honest, and the thought makes his chest ache.
He likes you.
Not as a sunbaenim.
Not as an artist he respects.
As a person he wants to stand beside.
He doesnât say anythingânot right away. Heâs careful, always careful, unwilling to risk the fragile, beautiful thing youâve built. But you notice the change. The way his messages linger. The way he looks at you now, like heâs memorizing something.
The night it finally comes out is unplanned.
Youâre both in an empty studio, lights dimmed low, sharing one set of headphones as an Oasis track plays quietly between you. The room feels suspended, like the world outside has paused.
âThis song,â you murmur, âalways makes me feel less alone.â
Taesan swallows. âYou make me feel that way.â
The words slip out before he can stop them.
You turn to him slowly. âTaesanâŚâ
âI like you,â he says, voice steady despite everything inside him trembling. âI know youâre my sunbaenim and we're both idols, and I know this is complicated, but I wanted to be honest.â
For a moment, he prepares himself for distance. For a gentle rejection.
Instead, you smile.
âI was wondering how long it would take you,â you say softly, reaching for his hand. âI like you too.â
It doesnât feel dramatic. It feels right.
Like a song written without forcing the chorus.
And as Taesan sits there beside you, fingers intertwined, he realizes that some connections arenât loud or explosive. Some are quiet, steady, and realâbuilt slowly, honestly, until one day you realize youâve been standing in the same light all along.
The studio is quiet in a way that feels intentional, like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
The Oasis track fades out, leaving only the low hum of equipment and the faint ringing in Taesanâs ears. Your hand is still in his, warm, grounding, real. Heâs acutely aware of the space between youâhow small it is, how easily it could disappear, how terrifying and precious that thought feels all at once.
âI donât want this to hurt you,â he says finally, voice low. âYouâve worked too hard. I donât ever want to be something that complicates your life.â
You squeeze his hand, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. âTaesan⌠liking someone doesnât have to be loud to be real.â
He looks at you then, really looks. The tired curve of your shoulders, the softness in your eyes that you never show on stage, the way you seem smaller here, more human. Not as a sunbaenim. Not an artist he admired from afar.
Just you.
âIâve always had to be careful,â you continue. âAbout everything. About who I am, what I say, what I feel. But with youâŚâ You trail off, searching for the right words. âWith you, it feels safe to be honest.â
Something inside him gives way.
Taesan shifts closer, slowly, like heâs afraid the moment might break if he moves too fast. You donât pull away. Instead, you lean in too, foreheads touching, breaths mingling. He can feel your pulse where your wrist presses against his palm, steady but real.
He hesitates, just for a second, then lifts his free hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin, as if asking permission.
You answer by closing the distance.
The kiss is soft. Careful. Almost reverent.
Itâs not rushed or hungry; itâs a quiet meeting, lips brushing like a promise rather than a claim. Taesanâs heart feels too full, like it might spill over if he doesnât breathe. He kisses you like heâs been holding this feeling in for months, like heâs grateful youâre here at all.
You kiss him back just as gently, lingering, as if youâre memorizing the shape of this moment. When your hand slips up to rest against his chest, he feels itâhow fast his heart is beating, how it calms just a little under your touch.
When you pull back, neither of you goes far.
Your noses brush. Your foreheads rest together again.
âThat wasâŚâ you whisper, smiling softly.
He lets out a breathy laugh. âYeah.â
For a moment, nothing else exists. No schedules. No cameras. No expectations. Just two people sitting on a studio floor, holding onto something fragile and warm.
Taesan realizes then that love doesnât always announce itself with fireworks. Sometimes it arrives quietly, like a song you donât skip, like a melody that stays with you long after it ends.
And as he stays there with youâhands still linked, heart still racingâhe knows one thing for certain.
SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought youâd never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the âlowkeyâ relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.
PAIRING: popular!jake x reader
WORD COUNT:Â 26k+
GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes
WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, ragbaiter!bf Jake, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but⌠I loved writing this fic so much.Â
â
a year ago.
Itâs the last year of high school, on a relatively normal walk back home. The same cracked sidewalks, the same autumn breeze, the same shy boy matching his steps beside you like he always did. Just like any other day.Â
Until he decided to ruin it.
âDo you wanna⌠like, date?â Jake asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his uniform pants pockets, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. âYou know⌠put a label on us. Or whatever.â
You remember almost running away out of pure instinct, soul escaping your body. But instead, you laughed. Because what the fuck was he on about?
You? Jake? Date?
The two of you were barely even supposed to be friends. He's a straight-A student teacher constantly compared you to, with those thick-rimmed black glasses glued to his face and unkempt bowl of hair. A striker on the football team who watched matches from the sidelines just as much as you did⌠and you weren't on the team.
And on the other hand, thereâs you. N-so-pleasant you. Considered a troublemaker because you always showed up late to class, talked back to ill-meaning adults, and picked fights with boys who catcalled too much. A rumor spread through school that your dad was a terrifying loan shark with gang ties. Heâs a banker.
Assigned classroom cleaning duties was what brought you two together in the first place. It wasnât fate. Nothing notable. You more or less picked him up on your shoulder and claimed him as a personal assistant. Someone who would fetch you water when youâre thirsty or give you answers to math problems when you were too lazy to solve them yourself.Â
So why in the world did he think you two should date?
âWho put you up to this?â you wheezed between bursts of cackling. âIâm gonna beat their ass.â
Jake scratched the back of his head, clearly not amused.
âI mean⌠You and me?â you continue, tears of laughter blurred your vision. âWe would make the worst couple everââ
âI donât think so.â
You froze mid-step. Jake had slowed his strides a long time ago, but now he was completely still. You turned to find him a few steps behind, face flushed and hands by his sides.Â
Heâs holding something. A small, turquoise box. One that looked suspiciously likeâŚ
You felt like throwing up.
âI-Iâve been thinking about it for a while,â he stammered. âWhat itâd be like if I were your boyfriend. If we⌠went on dates and stuff.â
Oh, hell no.
Itâs like an immediate sense of panic overcame your body. And before your brain could process a single rational thought, you broke out into a sprint. Running down the street like a maniac. In hindsight, you probably shouldâve known that you couldnât outrun an athlete. But you werenât really thinking, period.Â
You feel a tug on your waist. Jake had already caught up to you. He spun you around, like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms, and pulled you into him. His face was close. Too close. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and a bead of sweat clung to his temple. And it wasnât from running.
It was from you.
He looked nervous. Ridiculously nervous.
The ring box pressed into your back, and you put your palms sternly against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. It wasnât helping.
âJake,â you warned. âLet go of me or I scream.â
He shook his head, his arms only wrapped tighter around you. âOnly if you promise you wonât run,â he replied, a sort of desperation laced in his voice. âAnd that youâll listen to what I have to say.â
You bit your bottom lip, suddenly too aware of his intense gaze and how they searched yours through those big, fat lenses. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to come out right. The moment his grip loosened, you broke your agreement almost immediately. Your feet moved on their own, like fight-or-flight, as you tried to rush out of his arms. But he was one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist to bring you back right where you were.
âReally?â he asked, exhausted. âThatâs not gonna work a second time.â
You glared, but your eyes betrayed you. They slid down to the turquoise ring box, still in his hand. Jake's eyes flickered in the same direction, clearing his throat awkwardly.Â
âI can put it away if itâs freaking you out,â he muttered, slipping it back into his pocket. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but not when his large hand was still wrapped around your wrist.
â...Thank you,â you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. âNow make it quick.â
âThe worst thing she could say is no!â the internet had told him. This was a lot worse, actually!
â[Y/N],â he started sharply, and the sound of your name on his lips sent shivers down your spine. He released you, only to set both his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze up to meet his.
âI⌠I thinkââ He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. âNo. I know. I⌠really⌠really⌠l-like you.â
His voice was as shaky as his hands, and for a brief second, almost every part of you wanted to knock him out with your backpack because your heart was beating too loud in your chest. It pissed you off. But you held back and just⌠stared.
Jake, ever the hopeless romantic, had fallen for you the moment you asked him to clean the entire classroom alone while you skipped duties to hang out with your friends. He said yes, only because he has a hard time saying no, especially to someone he found so pretty. But then you laughed and told him you were joking. Told him not to bend over backwards just to please other people. Spent time with him that day when usually, others paid him no attention.
He was enamored ever since.Â
But the silence between you two was suffocating. Heavy enough to stall his breathing. Jakeâs palms were growing damp against the fabric of your uniform blazer, and his heart felt like it was ready to fall to the floor. Maybe this was a bad time to do it. Or maybe the ring really freaked you out. Was it too big a gesture? The WikiHow tutorial he consulted had told him to bring a gift, after all.Â
âHello?â Jakeâs voice cut through your thoughts. He gave your shoulders a tiny shake, trying to pull you out of your entranced state.
âHm? Sorry⌠say that again? I donât think I heard youâŚâ
Jakeâs expression fell as he dropped his hands back to his sides in defeat.
âOkay,â he muttered, voice small. It wasnât worth it. Everything went off script anyway. âNever mind. Pretend I didnât say anything.â
He brushed past you, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets again. He was fidgeting with the ring box, wishing he could throw it into the nearest bushes. God, he felt dumb.Â
So fucking dumb.
Of course youâd say no! He was nobody. Just Jake. Just some guy you latched onto at the start of high school so you could poke fun at him for the next few years and make him pay for your boba addiction. And you, with your cool-ass friends with eyebrow slits and really underground music tastes. Youâre way out of his leagueâ
âJake,â you called out, surprised at how loud your voice could get if you were desperate.Â
He turned around immediately, wearing such a pronounced pout even from a few meters away. Somehow, seeing his face again made your throat close up. He liked you. He really liked you.
âSay it again,â you demanded, arms crossed with doubt written all over your features. âI need to hear you say it one more time.â
You walked toward him until you stood close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was this it? Would you actually give him a chance? Jake pressed his lips together and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself.Â
âI like you,â he said as softly as a whisper. âWould you⌠Be my girlfriend?â
You looked at the ground, feigning a calmness when your mind was racing with thoughts too insane to vocalize. When you finally looked up again, your heart betrayed you. It skipped a beat at the way his gaze fell on yours, wide and hopeful. It almost hurt. He was too bright, too cute.
(Okay, so what if you liked him back. He didnât have to know that.)
âSure,â you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. Jake froze.
Then his entire face lit up. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear to ear, jumping in place like a dog begging for a treat. âReally? Like really? Youâll go out with me?!â
He took your hands in his, tenderly. Like he wasn't entirely sure the moment was real. You felt the dampness of his palms first, then the tug of his fingers intertwining with yours, like he had already rehearsed this part of his confession a thousand times in his head. Your cheeks warmed.
âWhat a weirdo,â you thought to yourself. Itâs not like heâd just won the lottery. What was he so happy about?
âJust donât make it weird,â you grumbled. âKeep it on the down low.â
Jakeâs smile faltered, brows knitting together so tightly you were sure itâd leave a wrinkle on his cute face.
âLike⌠you donât want people to know?â he asked, voice quieter now. You nodded, confused by his confusion.Â
âWhy would anyone need to know?â you asked genuinely. He frowned, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, silently asking you to reconsider.
âNot even Sunghoon or Jay?â
You scoffed. âEspecially Sunghoon and Jay.â
âWhy not?â he groaned. You just shrugged.
âI donât want our dynamic to change just âcause weâre dating,â you reassured him, letting go of his hands to ruffle his hair. Like you always do when you tease him. Like that would make it all better. âAnd all that coupley PDA stuff draws too much attention anyway.â
Youâd spent years cultivating your intimidating persona, and in your mind, it was simple. No one else needed to know that you were vulnerable to something as cringe-inducing as dating. The other students would only use it against you. For what? Who knows.
But you could just imagine the teasing glances and whispers in the hallways. If Jake were really serious about dating you, surely heâd be understanding of your aversion towards embarrassment. Right?
âSo⌠what would be the difference then? Between us now and before?âÂ
He didn't seem entirely convinced. At all. You sighed and stepped past him.
âIt's what we'd do in private, you know?â you muttered over your shoulder. âKissing and all thatâŚâ
You didnât see it, how Jakeâs ears completely reddened or how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched at his side, like he was already imagining what itâd be like to hold you properly. To touch you. To kiss you. Like real couples do.
âD-do you want to see the ring I got you?â he blurted out, catching up to you. âI swear itâs lowkey. It has a âJâ engraved inside the band. I got a matching one with your initial, too! No one would even notice if you wore itââ
And you feel your heart thunder in your chest, scaring you into another sudden sprint. âGet the hell away from me, weirdo!âÂ
Your joined laughter echoed down the street as he chased after you. And even though he could catch up to you, he let you have your fun, staying just a little out of his reach.
â
Jake is very good at obeying orders, always has been. Especially after the first few times you glared at him for accidentally reaching for your hand in the cafeteria. He learned fast.
He tried his best not to show affection publicly, no matter how badly he wanted to wrap his blazer around your shivering frame when you would nap during class. He forced himself not to linger near you when you were loitering with your fellow delinquents by the school staircase, laughing at a joke he didnât quite understand. He suppressed the urge to defend you from teachers who reprimanded you out in the hallways. Tried not to look behind at you for too long during football games he never played in anyway.
Once, someone asked him about his love life, and he instantly turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. And they laughed it off. It was Jake. No one thought twice. He was always like this. Awkward. Flustered.
The parasites he calls friends, Jay and Sunghoon, would probably go into cardiac arrest if they ever found out how he doted on you in private. How soft he was. How gentle.
You pretended not to notice. But ever the observer, Jake sees how your defenses weaken, ever so slightly, each day.
You let him put his arm around you in dark movie theaters instead of yanking it away. Let him stay for dinner with your parents when he comes over to help you study (because lord knows you need it). You stopped flinching when he called you âbabeâ in private, sometimes responding without even questioning who he was speaking to. It was baby steps, but to Jake, it was everything.
Was it awkward? Yes. The way his glasses got in the way when he finally kissed you for the first time. Your noses bumped together. Too much tongue involved. It was a mess. Still life-changing, nevertheless.Â
He replays the memory often. The two of you on your bed, him holding your plushie hostage, you trying to rip it out of his arms. The way you fell on top of him with your lips accidentally crashing on his. He pretended like the make-out session that occurred immediately after didn't absolutely ruin him.
Jake edged past the warmer parts of you when no one was around to bear witness. And you both were so good at keeping secrets. No one would have believed it anyway. Youâd made sure of that.
â
âYou two are very strange,â Jay commented, maybe a couple of months into your secret relationship. Every senior was gearing up for graduation, choosing which universities to attend or which path to take in life.
And of course, Jay and Sunghoon found out that Jake and you would both be attending the same university. Not just any school. A top one. Yonsei.Â
Jake had earned a full-ride scholarship after finally getting off the damn bench and scoring four goals in a single match against the best high school team in the nation. Jake could've gone abroad to an Ivy League, but he chose not to. Because at Yonsei he could visit family more often, save a lot of money, and⌠well, keep you close, most of all.
And by the will of a higher being (Jakeâs relentless tutoring), you somehow made it in as well.
âI thought you said you wanted to go straight into the workforce,â Jay questioned you. âNow youâre telling me you somehow, in some way, got into the same school as Jake? This fucking nerd?â
Sunghoon chimed in with a smile he always wore before teasing you. âI didnât even think you could get into college, honestly.â
You wanted to hit him so bad, but you stopped yourself. It was your resolution for the new school year to turn over a new leaf. Donât hit annoying boys over the head with your fists. You could get arrested for that from now on. So instead, you used your words.
âYouâre mad I got in, and you didnât,â you snorted, sticking out your tongue as Jake snickered beside you. You sat close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder, but far enough apart to keep Jay and Sunghoon from noticing.
âYou guys have no faith in her,â Jake sighed earnestly. âSheâs really smart when she applies herself. She just needed a push, that's all.â
You glared at him, not sure if his comment was entirely a compliment. Yes, he played a role in your achievements. No, he could not credit himself for the hard work you put in to get that high-ass score on the college entrance exam. Even your teachers apologized for doubting you.
âShouldâve put those hours of tutoring her into me instead,â Jay groaned. âNow youâre gonna be all alone with no friends.â
Jakeâs brows furrowed. âWhat do you mean? S-sheâs my friend.â
He stumbled over the words, clearly thrown off by the ominous comment. You watched him, amused. God, he was so obvious.
Sunghoon just looked between you two, doubt etched all over his face. âBarely,â he scoffed. âTrust me, bro, you are getting left behind as soon as she finds another victim willing to pay for all her food.â
You can start your resolution next week. This time, you really smacked him, sharp on his bicep. Sunghoon yelped.
âWhy are you always so aggressive?â he whined, rubbing the sore spot with his arm. You raised your hand threateningly again, but you stopped yourself short.Â
At the corner of your eye was Jakeâs soured expression, a flash of worry obviously overcoming him. But you couldnât comfort him. Not now. You wouldnât hear the end of it from these two.
âYou never know,â Jay chirped, faking thoughtfulness with a hand on his chin. âJake might be too cool for us once school starts.â
Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.
âAinât gonna happen!â Sunghoon cackled, putting his whole gut into it. You joined in hesitantly, though your eyes kept drifting to your sullen boyfriend. And he wasnât amused. Not at all.
Because he never found it funny, the idea of you leaving him behind.
â
âDo you think Iâm weird?â Jake asked one evening, with you curled up beside him on your bed. Your knee draped over his stomach, his glasses pushed up just enough to rest comfortably against your pillow. On his late-night visits, your parents would come in to check if you two were truly studying as you claimed. After Jake gained their trust, they learned to leave the two of you alone (when they probably shouldnât have).
Your eyes were shut tight to prepare yourself for an oncoming nap.
âYes,â you said quickly, not even giving him time to process the response.
âLike⌠bad weird?â he asked after a second. Heâd been thinking lately, after the conversation with his friends, how different the two of you really were.
How easy it was for you to stand up for yourself. Go against the grain. How you donât automatically default to nods as he does or lose your train of thought mid-conversation. How you hated being touched by most people but would smack someoneâs shoulder when you genuinely found something funny.Â
He wanted that, wanted to see the world the way you saw it. To move around without hesitation. Even when people called you a troublemaker. Even when teachers scolded you for wearing your uniform skirt shorter than the dress code. How was confidence so natural for you?
âBad weird,â you teased, eyes still closed. âBut itâs okay. Iâm used to it by now.â
A small ache tugged at his heart. âYou still like me though, right?â
You laughed. Jake loved to do this sometimes. Bait for reassurance. But youâre not that kind of fish.
âWho said I ever did?â
You said it jokingly, but a silence followed. You donât quite catch it as you drift to sleep, the way Jakeâs eyes dimmed.
âOh,â he said disappointingly, staring at the ceiling.
Sometimes, he wondered if the reason you wanted your relationship to be private in the first place was because of him. If his inability to relate to your friends with secret tattoos and chains on their jeans made you embarrassed to be his girlfriend.Â
Because you got along well with his friends just fine, could tease Jay and Sunghoon like youâd known them your whole life. But it was so hard for him to do the same with yours. To look natural when he joined that one karaoke hangout, where they looked at him expectantly because you had bragged that he could sing well.
You said it so proudly too, and he wanted to prove himself to them. That he was worthy to be in their presence. And then his voice had to crack.
âShould we get your friend some water?â someone joked, and the whole group laughed. With his cheeks red with embarrassment, Jake sat back down next to you, silent for the rest of the night. It was lame of him. Even he knew that.Â
But even as he watched you defend him with all your heart, he couldnât find himself to cheer up. Because in your world, he had always felt out of place.Â
â
And so Jake did what heâs known to do best. Research. He avoided WikiHow tutorials on how to ask out a girl and headed straight into the most honest part of the internet. Reddit.
âmakeover tips for guysâ
âhow to gain more confidenceâ
âhow to be attractive enough that your girlfriend isnât ashamed of you (serious responses only pls)â
He frequented the self-help section of the school library, took notes on everything from fashion advice to fixing his posture. He practiced eye contact with himself through the mirror until they watered, joined Sunghoon in the gym, and copied his weirdly intense routine.
Jake kept this new routine to himself, much like your relationship. He was good at that. Keeping secrets.
He would reinvent himself for university. Become someone youâd be proud to show off because he didnât want to feel like this anymore. Like he would fall behind. And knowing you⌠he wasnât sure if youâd bother to look back and see if your loyal puppy was still there trailing behind you.Â
â
present.Â
So thatâs how your relationshipâs been going so far. While Jake was on this great journey to metamorphosis, there were no real complaints on your side.
So why was it like this now?Â
Waiting for your very late boyfriend, who was making you miss the first minutes of the universityâs freshman orientation ceremony. You almost text him a paragraph about how, usually, you're the unpunctual one in the relationship, but a stranger approaches you.
âBoo!âÂ
You almost let out a scream when you notice who it is. Or who you think it is. Is it who you think it is?
Because instead of wild, unruly hair hiding his eyebrows and big black frames resting on his nose bridge, your boyfriend looked like someone else entirely. His hair was styled in a middle part, framing his handsome features perfectly. Instead of his usual oversized hoodie with holes on the sleeves masking his athletic body, heâs wearing a varsity jacket and a simple white shirt that clung way too well to his muscular frame. You could even see the faint outline of contact lenses in the whites of his eyes.
Your eyelashes flutter in confusion. You literally just saw him yesterday. When did he find the time to get a haircut and invest in a new closet?
Jake steps forward with a small, hopeful smile and holds out a box of egg tarts. Did it add to his already late ETA? Yes, but he always thinks about you and what you'd like to eat. Could you blame him for getting you a sweet treat?
But that wasnât the part you were really focused on.
âWho are you and what did you do to Jake?â you ask, fists raised like a boxer. He chuckles nervously, bringing the pastry box back to his side.
âDo I look weird?â he asks quietly, shifting his feet. The vulnerability in his voice made you lower your hands instantly.
âSoâŚâ you start, eyes looking him up and down. âThis is on purpose? Like, Sunghoon didnât put you up to this? Or Jay?â
He pouts. His mom practically screamed, âSo handsome!â when he showed her his new look over video call. So, why was your reaction like this?Â
âI just thought⌠new school year, new me! No?â he says, puffing up with pride.
You shake your head, moving your hand on instinct to ruffle his freshly styled hair. But he catches your wrist before you can touch him. You pull away, heart squeezing a bit, knowing that he dodged one of your rare bouts of affection. Or whatever you call it.
âIt took me forever to get my hair to look like this,â he mutters, looking away. âDonât want my hard work to go to waste.â
You click your tongue, trudging past him. Since when did he care about what his hair looked like? This was the same guy who showed up to graduation with a T-shirt and sneakers and got confused when the teachers asked him to go back home and change.
âWhatever,â you sigh. âNo more standing around. We have to goââ
âStill not wearing the ring?â he asks, catching up to you. He noticed it earlier when he caught your arm.Â
When Jake gave it to you just a year before, he set no expectation for you to wear it. He really hadnât⌠But it has been a year. Wasnât it about time? He wears his everydayâŚ
You suck in your teeth and glare at him. âWhy would I?âÂ
He flinches. And you start to feel guilt bubbling in your chest as his steps start slowing next to you.
âItâs justâŚâ he mumbles. âItâs not like weâre in high school anymore. No oneâs even gonna notice. And no oneâs gonna care if weâre dating.â
You roll your eyes. You care. You still had a reputation to uphold. Maybe not as a troublemaker anymore. But still. Something about wearing your boyfriendâs ring for everyone to see and question seemed like your own personal hell. Who would want to be the center of attention as a university freshman?
âItâs the principle,â you say, not really knowing what you mean by it either. Because you are wearing it. Just not on your finger. It hangs around your neck, hidden underneath your blouse. But Jake didnât have to know that. You would rather die than give anyone the satisfaction of knowing you were smitten with this man. Soft, but only for him. Your biggest weakness.
âSo are we always just gonna be a secret?â he sighs. You turn to face him, but you keep it pushing. Itâs too much to explain right now. Or ever.
âCome on,â you insist. âWe need to get to the orientation.â
â
Indeed, it wasnât high school anymore. Because everywhere you turn, Jakeâs name is being brought up.
âThe hot guy on the football teamââ
âHe set the curve on the first exam and proved Professor Kim wrong on the boardââ
âI saw him help a grandma cross the street. Soooo dreamyââ
It was enough to almost make you pull your hair out of your head. This was Jake they were talking about! The guy who was too shy to ask for no pickles in his damn burgers, who used to let Sunghoon copy off his homework and then rewrote his own just to make sure the teachers wouldnât catch on. This was your Jake.
You take a moment to breathe.
You sound crazy. Deranged, even. It shouldnât even matter. Jake was always good-looking! People just never noticed or took the time to appreciate him outside of his ability to decode the most difficult of physics equations.
âA couple of guys from the team think Iâd look good with a sweatband,â he says, showing you a photo during a late-night walk. Heâs shoving his phone screen to your face, and you pout at the sight. His hair pushed back, forehead glistening. A perfect view of his beautiful, dark eyes.Â
âNah,â you say dismissively, trying to push down the fluttering in your heart. He tilts his head, staring at the photo once more.
âReally?â he mutters. âI thought it looked pretty good.â
âDo you really wanna look like Jay in junior year? Heâs gonna tell you that you copied him.â
He gives a small sound of acknowledgement. You could tell heâs taking your comment seriously, like you said something truly eye-opening.
âYouâre right,â he nods. âThen, how do you feel about a lip piercing?â
Your brows furrow at the thought of metal against his pouty lips. The way his teeth would tug on it. The effect he would have on all of his newfound admirersâŚ
âAbsolutely not!âÂ
Yeah, you were losing it.
â
No, really, you might actually be going insane.
It was hard enough for you to create genuine friendships at Yonsei, full of stuck-up rich kids who only managed to get in through elite cram schools and expensive tutors. But after a few polite conversations, their masks fell to show their true intentions. You know now that you are being used as a shortcut to get on Jakeâs radar.Â
Because why do people youâve never met before feel comfortable enough to ask you to introduce them to him? Why do they request to follow you on Instagram only so they can find his account more easily? And what pisses you off mostâthe question they always ask, without fail: âIs he single?â
And you know there's a quick answer you can give. A very simple solution to your eye-twitching problem. Because every time someone high-fives him in the corridors or bats their eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction, you have the overwhelming urge to just pounce on him. To wrap your arms around his middle and never let him leave your sight.Â
But you canât. Your pride is too big, your ego too fragile to admit that someone actually managed to slip past the cold exteriors of your heart. So instead, you're waiting impatiently for him to reply to your text.
He's not at practice. He's supposed to be on his way. So where the hell was he?
jake: sorry! study group went for a lil bit longer than I thought. everyone kept asking me for help haha. omw!
And then he sends a photo. It's a group selfie, with him in the middle. Three girls on his right and another two on his left, surrounding him like a piece of meat.
you: dont bother coming. im sick.
With envy, maybe. But you're perfectly healthy.
jake: im sorry babe :( you feeling okay? want me to get you anything from the store?
you: Nah.
You almost scream. There's so much you want to say and admit, but your fingers wonât type any of it. You really don't deserve him. He's so nice, and you're so⌠Fuck.
Why is it so hard to admit to your own boyfriend that you miss him?!
jake: ok :( I love you!
Your stomach flips.
Haha⌠You needed professional help. Really.
â
Jake was better at football than the bench in high school ever suggested. A starter as a freshman was practically unheard of at Yonsei. Senior hierarchy was everything in this university. How he managed to level up from being a designated benchwarmer to being on the field at all times felt like whiplash.
Did he just have this in him this whole time?
You guess he looked kind of cool out there, all sweaty and serious-looking. Shouting call-outs to his team mid-game. Your legs squirm at the sight. He really needs to put on his damn glasses. (Though knowing you, that might only make things worse.)
You sit there, wearing the university colors of white and blue, holding onto a sign that says âGo Team!â
You would have made something with his name on it, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You could not bear to give the stupid boys beside you the ammo of watching you scream Jakeâs name and go crazy over his goals. So instead, you silently watch and admire as he steals the ball yet again.
Jay and Sunghoon, decked out in the rival schoolâs red for no reason whatsoever (they donât even attend that university either), stood on either side of you with a level of passion youâve never seen from them before.
âGET HIS ASS!â Jay screams. âPlay the mental game! When Player 15 cries, he calls his mom firstââ
Player 15 would happen to be Jake.
âThe guy with âSimâ in the back of his jersey loves to sing Celine Dion in the showerââ
You groan as heads turn, not enjoying the various glares and snide remarks from your surrounding schoolmates. You still haven't made any substantial friends yet at university. Being associated with these bozos would only make it that much harder. This would be the last time you sneak them into the student section.Â
âCan you two please sit down?â you mutter. âWeâre ahead by like four goals. Psychological warfare is not enough for Jake to lose.â
Sunghoon drops back into his seat with a huff, cracking his neck.
âThis wonât do,â he mutters. âJakeâs gonna surpass me in Instagram followers if he wins this.â
Jay chuckles on your left side, still standing and selfishly blocking the view of everyone behind him. âIf he wins, you think heâll invite us to their celebration party after?â
Your brows furrow. âWhat party?â
Jay finally sits down when the opposing team calls a time-out, one eyebrow raised at your confused expression. âIsnât that like a thing every school does? First big game of the year, thereâs bound to be something.â
Sunghoon nods in agreement. âYeah, thatâs like common knowledge.â
You almost pout before catching yourself. Jake never mentioned anything about a party.Â
So when the game ended and, of course, Yonsei won, the two boys could not help but ask.Â
âSo thereâs a party, right?â
âAnd youâre taking us?â
Jake looks between the two of them, forehead glistening and hair damp with sweat.
âWhat party?â he asks, and you smile gingerly. Thatâs right! You werenât crazy. He wouldâve told you if there wasâ
âYou have to go to the party, Jakey!â a voice chirps from behind you.
You recognize her. The team manager of the football team. Short hair and a cute button nose. Very pretty. Your eyes cut between Jake and her. Wait.
Jakey? Who the hell calls him that?
Jay and Sunghoon give each other some shifty glances and step aside, letting the girl join the conversation. You feel this weird inclination to move closer to Jake, but you suppress the urge.Â
âHm?â Jake finally replies, confused more than ever. âNo one told me about a party.â
The girl giggles. What even was her name?
âOh, Jakey! Since youâre a freshman, Iâll give you the rundown.âÂ
She scooches in between you two, pushing you slightly to the side. The boys donât seem to notice, and you have half your sense not to shove the girl right back.
âWhenever we win,â she starts, âthe whole school goes to En Bar nearby and takes it over! Free drinks and everything. Youâre our star player, so you definitely canât miss it. Your friends are invited too, of course.â
She looks between Jay and Sunghoon, not even sparing you a glance.
Jake scratches the nape of his neck. âSorry, Iâm actually feeling pretty tiredââÂ
âWeâll be there!â Jay and Sunghoon say instantly. You raise your eyebrow at them, and the two brush it off.
âWeâll make sure he comes,â Jay laughs, slapping Jake on the shoulder. Having gotten hit by the ball in that exact spot just an hour before, he winces.
âIâm not reallyââ
âGreat!â the girl smiles, clapping her hands together. âIâll see you all there then?âÂ
Of course, her back is fully turned towards you. Dumb and dumber nod in unison, and as the girl walks off, they push at each other excitedly.
âFirst college party,â they cry out in joy.
âOh my god,â you mutter. âYou two are pathetic.â
Jake nods slowly in agreement. âWell⌠you guys have fun. I think Iâm just gonna head back to my dorm and showerâŚâ
âAnd get ready, right?â Sunghoon says dangerously, wagging a finger at him. âBecause you are coming, right?â
Jake shivers under his friendsâ threatening glares. But what really scares him is when his eyes find yours. You look pissed. Fuck. What did he do this time?
âI mean⌠I guess I could pop inâŚâ Jake says reluctantly. He sneaks in another glance in your direction and sees that your frown grows even deeper. Was that the wrong thing to say?
â
âBabe?â Jake calls after you as you stride across campus, shivering in your t-shirt and mini skirt. âWhy are you walking so fast?â
Itâs dark now, save for the dim street lamps. You stop abruptly, and he almost bumps into you. When you turn, your jaw is already clenched.
âAm I crazy, or did that girl just completely ignore me?â you ask genuinely, voice at the seams of losing composure. Because what the fuck was her problem?
Jake laughs nervously. âChoa? I thought she seemed pretty friendly?â
Your expression sours. âYeah, maybe a little too friendly,â you say under your breath. Jake catches it.
âWait,â he says with a shit-eating grin, leaning in. âBabe⌠are you jealous? Hm?â
Your cheeks heat up, arms crossing like a toddler. âFuck off.â
He laughs now, twisting you around and guiding you forward with an arm around your shoulders. âYouâve got nothing to worry about, babeeeeâŚâ
He notices how you donât pull away from his touch, when normally you would hiss something like, âpeople are watching,â or something like that. Jake bites back an even bigger smile. You just let him hold you.
The walk to his dorm was peachy for him, save for the fact that his sweaty arm stank up your shirt. You! Jealous. This has to be a dream. When you reach his room, shared with a sophomore named Heeseung who never seems to be around, you sit on Jakeâs bed, still reeling from the earlier interaction.
âAm I overreacting?â you ask him, not at all bothered that he was taking his jersey off right in front of you. Youâre well past the stage of pretending his bare torso flusters you. âLike⌠did it not seem like she wanted you?â
Jake laughs, wiping his underarms with a nearby towel. âMe? Babe, no. Thatâs out of the question. She's like four years older than usââ
You roll your eyes. âSo where the fuck did âJakeyâ come from?â
He shrugs, catching his reflection in the wall mirror hanging on his door. His muscles flex in a way that makes your eyes travel down his well-toned back⌠You snap your gaze back to the wall. No. Focus. Youâre supposed to be mad.
âNew year, new nickname?â he offers, teasingly.
You throw a pillow at his head. Like the athlete he is, Jake dodges it. He turns to you, laughing, amused by how sulky and adorable you look on his bed. Brows furrowed in contemplation, tugging your legs close to your chest. Your plush thighs in your pretty little skirt that would have gotten you dress-coded back in high school with your knee-high socks andâŚ
Fuck.Â
âItâs not like I care,â you mumble, unconvincingly.Â
Jake huffs out something that sounds like a chuckle, but his thoughts are elsewhere. His mind (and eyes) are on the edge of your skirt. He places a hand on your thigh and rubs it softly. To you, it felt like reassurance, and it was. But he was also incredibly horny.
âBabe,â his words drawl. âLook at me.â
Your eyes meet his for a split second before he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. âHeyââ
He chuckles as he plants another on your nose. Then your chin. And then your other cheek. And now youâre trying to push him away, but he holds your wrists to prevent you from stopping his incessant attacks.Â
âJakeâYou stinkâFreak!â You try to say as his lips find yours, while heâs giggling up a storm. So cute. You're so fucking cute.Â
His next kiss is deep, drawing out your breath sharply. Your back is on the bed now with Jake on top. His hands still wrap around your wrists.
Jakeâs lips move against yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure. His tongue prods and pushes in, taste so sweet and heavy as you breathe in his weirdly intoxicating scent. Like fresh laundry doused in the salt of his sweat. You clench his biceps as he comes up from the kiss to catch some air.
He looks at you, face flushed and mouth parted.Â
âIâm hard,â he blurts out, and you smack him on his naked chest.
âWhat do you want me to do about that?â you mutter as you start to feel him press against your stomach. âDonât you have a party to go to?â
He shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. He lets out a groan, grinding onto you just to feel any part of you against his football shorts. You let out a squeak, clenching at his toned muscles harder.
âYouâre not coming with?â he asks, and you can hear the shakiness in his breath. You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and shifting up so that his tent could meet your core. Jake fit between you so snugly.
His head lifts to meet yours, pupils already so dilated.
âWhy would I?â you say through hooded eyes, and you could visibly see him gulp. It almost made you laugh. But instead, you tease him, moving your hips up to graze his bulge.Â
âI have time,â he groans quickly. âFor this. Or whatever you want to do. Like Iâm really down for anyââ
You roll your eyes, gripping the back of his head to smash him back down to your lips. Your movements are messy, tongues clashing at a feverish pace. Heâs still sore from earlier, but like hell he would let this opportunity go. Not when you looked this fucking good. Angry too. Those things arenât mutually exclusive.
With trembling fingers, he lifts your shirt and almost moans at the sight of your bare skin. He wants to thank you for saving him the trouble of not fiddling with a bra clasp. And you pat yourself on the back for leaving your necklace at home, knowing how frisky Jake gets after the adrenaline of a good win runs through him. You donât think you could handle Jake seeing you so jealous AND having his ring resting on your chest? Yeah, youâd probably die right in front of him.
His hands grab your tits softly, massaging them between his fingers. Jake dips down, swallowing a nipple in his mouth as he watches you sigh out in pleasure.
Heâs confident in one thing when it comes to you, and it was this right here. He could make your tough exterior melt just as long as you were under him. Or over him. He has no preference.
His tongue circles your bud, tugging with his teeth lightly.Â
âJakeââ When he hears you squeak, his dick twitches with anticipation. So pliant now. What happened to that dominance earlier? Heâd like to see it come backâŚ
He moves on to the other breast, licking and massaging so it doesn't feel too neglected. Jake loves your tits, could be buried between them for the rest of his life if you let him. But now wasnât the time! He has a very mean and very jealous, but also very hot, girlfriend to please. And maybe some party to make it to, who knows.
Jake pulls his shorts down roughly, just enough so that he can take his dick out. Already so big, the bulbous tip weeps with desire for you. Heâs palming himself, relishing in how your eyes shut tight, lips parted open as his wet, pink muscle traces circles over your sensitive skin.
Heâs nipping the top of your breasts now, careful not to leave marks in visible areas. Jake knows how you get about that sort of thing.Â
His fingers drag your white, damp panties off your legs, but keeps your skirt on. And the knee-high socks for good measure. His hand meets your core, pushing down on your clit with a heavy pressure he knows you like.
You gasp, covering your eyes with your forearm. Youâre so embarrassed. The noises you're making are unbecoming of you. All he does is laugh. Still so sensitive during sex after a whole year of dating. And heâs supposed to be the shy one.
His fingers drag slowly on your folds as he spreads your juices all over his digits. Jake might just cum in his pants with how soft your tits feel as he nestles his head in between them.Â
He pushes two fingers in right away, and you draw out a sharp breath. You almost hit him on the shoulder. He has no idea how big his hands are. How sometimes you would eye them whenever he helps you with homework. Veiny, like his cock.
Heâs moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, wet squelches echoing through the room.Â
âNghâMmmââ you groan, arching your back to meet his movements. Impatient. Youâre always so impatient.
âJAKE!â you cry out, when he rubs over a certain spot.
He looks up at you from his comfortable position between the valley of your chest, and with a teasing glint in his eyes, he says, âYou mean Jakey?â
And itâs not an exaggeration in the least to say that you start seeing red. You grab his wrist, the pads of your fingers digging into his flesh. He stops his movements, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes like he did something wrong. And he did. Something very. Very. Wrong.
âSorry, I just wanted to teaseââ
You pull his fingers out of you. With one swift movement, you grab him by his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. Youâre hovering over him now, eyes dark. Jake swallows nervously. Whyâd you have to look so hot when provoked?Â
âDid I ruin the vibe orâŚâ
âShut up,â you growl, crashing your lips onto his. He tries to hold your waist to offer support, but you hold his wrists down onto the sheets. He could probably push you off very easily. But he doesnât. Because he loves seeing you like this. Loves the urgency in your touch.
You want him! And youâre showing it! His heart is practically doing backflips in his chest.
Your tongue explores the inside of Jakeâs mouth, licking the roof of it in a way that has him seeing stars. Youâre so rough. Biting his lip, sucking his tongue, moving so desperately against him.
âBabeââ he tries to say in between your assaults on his mouth. But it comes out in a breathless whisper when he feels you grinding your wet folds against him.
âI said,â you say through gritted teeth. âShut. Up.â
He almost moans when his leaking tip hits your clit. Just the contact alone has the back of his head hitting the pillow roughly. But he forces himself to watch as you move against him as he offers no assistance. Your grip on his wrists moves to the sheets as you focus on grinding against his dick. Swiveling yourself on him back and forth. Rubbing and rubbing. But itâs not enough. He needs to be inside. Needs to feel you right now.
Your breath is on his neck now, riling yourself up at his stunt. Jakey? What grown woman calls someone that? Choa and her nice ass bob. Fuck her!
âNghââ he lets out as you suction an erogenous zone on his neck, sucking and biting him like a vampire. Your tongue lapping at his skin to soothe him from the brutal assaults of your teeth. You close your eyes to relish in his taste. So salty from sweat, but still so sweet. But youâre distracted now as Jake breaks free from your hold. He grips your ass with one hand, the other guiding his pulsing member to your entrance.
âWhaââÂ
Heâs looking at you with pleading eyes. âCan I, baby?â Jake begs, cheeks tinged pink. âPlease?â
You bite back a smile. What a fucking loser.
You push down on him, just slightly, just enough for his bulbous tip to slip inside. His grip on your ass is now slack. He doesn't even want to fight back, really.
âFuckââ Jakeâs mouth parts open, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes when you come back up. No longer inside you, he groans.
âWhyyy,â he whines. âI said Iâm sorryââ
He inhales a sharp breath when you engulf his tip again, tightening around him just a little harder.Â
âDo you like being called Jakey?â you question darkly. âLike it when other girls feel up on you?â
He shakes his head desperately. âNoâOnly youââ he says through pained groans.
And then you lift again, laughing at his pathetic form. âI donât believe you.â
Heâs practically writhing underneath you now, his mushroom tip pulsing against your folds. Your skirt hides it all from view, and he just wishes he could rip it off you. Give you a new one, much, much shorter, so he can see everything better.Â
But only if you let him.
âYouâre literally torturing me,â he whimpers, hips jutting up messily. He keeps missing your entrance, the one he desperately needs to be buried in. âNeed to feel you right nowââ
âWhatâs it to me?â you ask meanly, your thumb prodding at his bottom lip. His tongue comes out to lick at the pad of your thumb, sucking it ever-so-slightly. You enjoy this view. Him underneath you. Pleading. Whining. Like he's starving.Â
âIâll make you feel so good, baby,â Jake offers through the haziness of his lust. Not entirely conscious of how desperate he sounds. âYou can use me however you want. Iâll literally do anything. Just pleaseââ
And then you sink, so slowly that his eyes roll to the back of his head. The devil. His girlfriend is the devil.
âBabeââ You shut him up with another open-mouthed kiss. Messy, just how he likes it.
He grips his hands into yours as you suckle his tongue, intertwining your fingers together. You try not to wince as you sheath him fully, realizing now that you were overconfident in taking control before he could properly prep you.
Usually, sex was an hours-long ordeal with Jake. He likes to finger you, then eat you out, then repeat, until he can slip into your slick warmth with little issue. Sex is the only time you donât deny him the pleasure of seeing you flustered over him. Over what he could do for you. What he could provide you if you let him tell everyone in the world that heâs yours.Â
Regardless, Jake will always be long and thick, and he still stretches you out so deliciously. Your mouths clash against each other, swallowing back both of your moans as saliva pools at the sides of his bruised lips.
Depraved. Thatâs all you could think of when Jake bottoms out inside you. Heâs so sweaty now, the scent so musky that it drives you insane. Do other girls smell these pheromones when heâs around? Or is this just you and your hypersensitivity to everything that involves him?
Youâre moving up and down now, with shallow thrusts that do little to satiate the flame in your stomach. You donât do this enoughâtake control enough. Your knees are already weak, wobbling, as you grind down on him.
But you push through it as you continue to impale yourself on his cock, gummy walls clenching him tightly with each thrust. You want to get him off like this, even if your whole body is trembling above him.Â
And itâs not like Jake doesnât notice. But like the little shit he is, he doesnât feel like helping. Because he enjoys the feeling too much, of your breasts bouncing filthily against his chest. When you lift yourself from his lips so that you can focus on riding him, he finds it so endearing. How you put your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself, how you fuck yourself on his length. How much you struggle to take all of him in. Not sure what to do with yourself.
âMy poor baby,â Jake thinks, chuckling at how tight your eyes shut just to feel him better.Â
âNeed help?â he hums, his hand drawing circles on your hip. You shake your head, teeth gritted.
âN-no,â you try to muster out, but itâs unconvincing. Your movements are stuttering, moans slipping out of your mouth too easily. He smirks. His little pillow princess.Â
Jake, with his grip on your hips, pulls you down onto his cock. Hard. You gasp as his hips snap up with it.
âAhââ you cry out, your nails now digging into his shoulder blades. He pounds into a spot that had you almost come undone at that very moment. How did he get so good at this?
Jake lifts you, all the way until his pink tip is the only thing in your wet pussy. Then, as harshly as he could, he pushes you down on him, his thickness grazing at your deepest parts. And he does this. Again and again. Until you collapse onto his chest from the roughness of his thrusts.
âIâm gonnaâNghâFuckâYouââ you try to say through your moans, try to sound angry. But you love it. Love how tight he grabs your bum. Love the slight stretch of pain as he stuffs you full of him. Love that trickle of spit that falls out of his mouth as his back lifts off the bed to feel you better. Ugh, you hate him.
âJAKEââ
âShhh,â he whispers, forcing your face into the crook of his neck. âJust take it.â
Jake plunges up into you, propelling your hips down with his harsh grip. He lifts a heavy hand, smacking your ass from behind as you try to match his timing. You scream. He does it again, massaging the tender spot. The pain mixes with the pleasure, as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You feel your climax building now as your lips find his neck again, sucking and biting. Marking him. Let everyone know that heâs yours. That you own him.
âBabeâŚâ he whines, too lost in the suctioning of your tightness to really care. Because heâs close too. So fucking close.Â
Jakeâs arms move up to your back, caging you into a bear-like embrace. His feet plant themselves on the bed, as his dick shoves into you with newfound energy. Heâs going so fast, you could practically hear the speed. Feel it too. The wet squelches of his balls slapping against your ass. You move with him, trying to sync your rhythm to his.
âMmmâAhhââ your moans jumble into each other. Your legs are trembling, even more than they were before. A searing feeling within you continues to build and build. A single, full thrust from him has you biting into his neck brutally, stifling your moans as your orgasm crashes through you in waves.Â
âShitââ he cries out, from both the pain of your teeth and the pleasure of the constricting grip of your wet folds. You grind down on him, whimpering into his skin, back arched to ease yourself through the sensitivity.
Jakeâs dick twitches in you once, then twice. He pushes you off of him and onto the bed, harsher than he intended. But he doesnât have a condom on, and he likes the way you look in white.
He hovers over you now, his painfully hard length in his hand. Heâs stroking himself with urgency, fist wrapped around himself with a panicked grip. Heâs watching you intently as you splay out underneath him. So fucking pretty. Lips parted so sensually. Legs opened with your juices glistening on the inside of your thighs. Maybe he should stuff his cock into yourâ
âFuckââ he groans, mouth parting at the sight of his thick ropes of cum spurt out of him, coating your stomach and tits. He strokes slowly, pumping all that heâs worth onto your body. You welcome it, eyes drinking in his flushed demeanor.
âI love you,â Jake mutters as he comes down from his high. And you donât say anything back, distracted as your fingers coat themselves on the sticky fluids on your skin. Such a mess, both of you.
You hear it then. Intense vibrations on his nightstand. Jakeâs phone, very much neglected, is blowing up with texts and calls. Was it going off like that the whole time? Then his eyes go wide like saucers.
âShit! The partyââÂ
Your eyes narrow. Before he can pick it up, you grab the nape of his neck to pull him down into another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrap around Jake once more, smirking as you feel him melt into you with little resistance.
âWhat party?â
â
morning after.
âYouâre a bitchhhh,â Sunghoon cries out, over a FaceTime call that Jake was forced to pick up at nine in the morning. You were already gone by then, running late to your morning lecture.Â
Heeseung, thankfully, still hadnât returned to the dorm. Or else you wouldnât have been able to stay over and let Jake devour you a few more times, but thatâs besides the point. He starts humming happily to himself with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind.
âThey wouldnât even let me into the bar because I was wearing the wrong colors,â his friend continues to complain.
âI get it, I get it,â Jake replies, only half-listening. Heâs fixing his outfit in the mirror, admiring how well a polo shirt fits him. Itâs weird. Heâs getting used to not looking like a dweeb all the time, just a few weeks into his big transformation, even with his glasses on right now.
âYo, do you think these pants look better with a belt or nah?â he asks, not really sparing Sunghoon a glance. He adjusts his shirtâs collar slightly untilâ
âWHAT THE FUCKââ
Jake jumps, phone nearly dropping from the desk he sat it on.
âWHAT IS THAT?!â
âWhat? What?!â Jake snaps his head to look behind himself, like Sunghoon might have seen a ghost.
âDid you get eaten by a fucking lion?!â Sunghoon gawks. Jakeâs cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Damn. He forgot.
âW-what are you talking about?â he mutters unconvincingly, slowly coming out of frame. He strips the polo off in a panic, digging through his closet until he finds a turtleneck. Itâs autumn anyway. This is fine, right?
âOur friendship is done,â Sunghoon deadpans at the camera. âYou got fucking laid and didnât tell me?! I mean, I understand Jay, heâd make it weird. BUT NOT EVEN ME?!â
Jake shakes his head, tugging the turtleneck on. He tries to roll up his sleeves to look more casual, but now he looks like Steve Jobs. Shit, he should put his contacts on.
âSo who is it?!â Sunghoon presses. âWhoâs the unlucky girl?âÂ
 When Jake doesnât reply, Sunghoon gasps.
âUnlucky guy?!â
âMan, shut up!â Jake cries, snatching his phone off the desk and coming back into frame. âPlease donât tell Jay.â
â
âOkay, so he told Jay,â he blurts, shielding himself with his arm like youâre about to hit him. âPlease donât get mad at me.â
You almost asked why he was wearing a turtleneck in relatively warm weather when he tugged the collar down to show his neck. Absolutely purple and bruised. A dark, suppressed part of you jumped with glee. The more rational part started cursing yourself out.
âI canât believe youâd video call him the morning after,â you groan, massaging your temple with your fingers. âUgh, Iâm so stupid. What was I even thinking?!â
Jake gives you a sly smile. âI mean, Iâm not complainingââ
You shoot him another icy stare, and he stops.Â
âW-well, itâs not like they know that itâs you! They probably think itâs someone elseâŚâ
You inhale a sharp breath at the thought. Was he gonna tell them the hickeys on his neck were from someone else? Who? Choa?
âWhatever,â you mutter, whipping around. Your bag smacked his bicep on purpose. You walk off, fists clenched, ignoring Jakeâs calls out to you.Â
Fucking Choa.
â
A full week has passed since the disaster that was Sunghoon seeing Jakeâs bruised neck. Your boyfriend only felt safe enough to see the two idiots once the marks faded, and even then, he was a little disappointed to wake up and see them all gone.Â
âSo run it through with me again,â Jay requests, leaning over the boiling hot pot broth. The boys sit in a dimly lit restaurant with a stage in the back.Â
âLike, you were just walking back to your dorm and boomâyou found a rando to hook up with out of nowhere?!â Jay questions, dropping tofu into the soup so aggressively that it splashes Jakeâs wrist.
âWhy are you making up fantasies in your head about my sex life?â Jake mutters, pushing his glasses up his face. He was too lazy to put his contacts on just to hang out with these two. âI plead the fifth.â
âBro, I thought you were a virgin this whole time!â Sunghoon adds unhelpfully. âExcuse us for trying to be supportive.â
Jake rolls his eyes, struggling to grab an udon noodle with his chopsticks.
âWait,â Jay says through the hot pot steam. âWerenât you walking with [Y/N] that night?â
Jake gulps, throat bobbing as he fiddles with the noodle more to avoid suspicion.
âRight!â Sunghoon snaps his fingers, and for a second, Jakeâs life flashes before his eyes. They know. They have to! Fuck, youâre gonna be so mad at himâ
âWhy donât we just ask her who it was?â
Jake stares at them and breaks out into a nervous laugh. Never in his life was he happier to have a more idiotic set of childhood friends.
âPlease do,â Jake smiles, wondering how you would weasel out of that conversation with them. âShe knows her very wellâŚâ
A piercing sound of microphone feedback ricochets through the restaurant. The three cover their ears as everyoneâs attention turns to the neglected stage.
âWho wants to sing?! It's open mic night!â the restaurant owner booms. When a deafening silence fills the air, Jay lifts Jakeâs hand straight into the air without hesitation.
âThis guy loves Celine Dion!â he cries out as Jake tries to yank his arm back down. He curses at his friend, but to no avail.
âOkay!â the owner shouts excitedly. âCome on right up, sir!âÂ
Jay and Sunghoon practically drag Jake up the stage, laughing themselves all the way back to their seats in the far back of the restaurant. Jake stands frozen as dozens of strangers stare at him, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket, and brushes his hair back. He couldn't bear to look at all these blank faces staring at him. Confidence. This is all about confidence.
When âMy Heart Will Go On' starts echoing through the restaurant walls, Jakeâs face flushes all the way red. This is exposure therapy; he tries to cope with himself. If he could do this, he could probably build up the courage to ask you about going public. So that his friends stop thinking heâs a loser. Maybe for you to stop thinking it, too.
He sucks in a deep breath. Whatâs the difference between this and a showerhead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!
âEvery night in my dreams, I see youuuu⌠I feel youuuâŚâ he starts slowly, welcomed with a soft gasp from an audience member. Jay and Sunghoonâs laughter dies as Jake sings. Shit. He was actually doing it. And he sounded good, too. Like an angel. Was Jay crying?
Jake loses himself in the slow melody of the song, singing his heart out as he does in every postgame shower. âThis oneâs for you, babe,â he thinks. Wherever you areâŚÂ
When the song ends and Jakeâs eyes open, heâs met with a standing ovation. At a damn hot pot restaurant. Jay and Sunghoon are cheering the loudest, holding their hearts like their once-nerdy best friend was their child at a talent show. The owner comes up to the stage, sniffling.
âGive it up for this random kid!â
As Jake makes his way back to the table, he holds his head up high. Itâs like taking off his glasses gave him super powers. He couldnât have imagined doing this a year before, let alone ordering food at a kiosk without stuttering.
âExcuse meââ Jake turns around. A girl with long flowing hair stops him.Â
âAre you Jake Sim? The new guy on the football team?â she asks, eyes bright. He nods. Does he know her?
âIâm Suji from the Dance department.â She bows slightly. âYour performance was incredible, by the way!âÂ
He nods, giving a small âthanks,â before he turns back around.
âActually!â She calls after him. He stops again. âI just wanted to ask if you were interested in auditioning to be the male lead of our upcoming musical! Itâs about a football player who finds passion in singing and dancing. I just thought it would fit you so well!â
Jake turns back to face the stranger. He ponders deeply. A musical? Him? Heâd never thought about it before, but what the hell! He guesses heâs the type to try new things now. The power of a good haircut, maybe.
âIâll think about it,â he says with a polite smile.Â
Suji grins back. âAuditions start tomorrow. Weâd love to have you.â
By the time Jake finds his way back to his seat, his friends are already geeking.
âYou pulled another?!â Jay cries in anguish, biting his fist. âI should have gone up there. That should have been me! Damn it!â
âItâs not fair,â Sunghoon wails, leaning his head dramatically against the wall. âYou had no play in high school. Like absolutely zero bitchesââ
Jake snorts, scrounging for his glasses once more to slip them back on. âShe was just asking me to audition for some musical.â
âIâm sure she was,â Jay says with a smirk. âIâm sure sheâs staring straight at your back right now because she wants you in that musical sooo bad.â
Jake shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and sure enough, Suji is watching him. She shoots up her arm to wave at him. He looks back at his friends with a confused glance.
âMaybe theyâre desperate?â
Sunghoon groans. âIâm gonna call [Y/N]. Letâs get her expertise on this.â
âDonât!â Jake lunges, trying to grab Sunghoonâs phone as he takes it out of his pocket. But then flashes from last night start playing in his head. You above him. Riding him. Gripping his shoulders. Your lips on his neck, marking him until he whined your name. All at the mere mention of Choaâs weird pet name for him. Jake clears his throat and sits back, not even trying to hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
â...Yeah,â he says more casually. âAsk her.â
â
ma baby: Come over. Now.
Jake receives your text after Sunghoonâs impromptu call, bringing his hands together in a prayer position to the sky. Thank you to whatever higher being was watching over him.
When he reaches your residence hall, youâre waiting outside your door in pajamas, foot tapping impatiently against the carpet. You start glaring at his silhouette even before he comes into view.Â
âSo,â you start slowly, âyou just let anyone talk to you these days?â
Jakeâs already giddy. Yes⌠Be angry with him⌠Let him in your dorm room and reprimand him, while youâre at itâŚ
âBabeeee,â he teases, his arms already reaching for yours. You dodge him. âAre you mad at me?â
âNo,â you reply flatly. âIâm just wondering when you started serenading restaurants and accepting invitations from random girls?â
âJust thought I could finally get some appreciation for my many talents,â he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you.Â
âAre you saying I donât appreciate you?â you ask, not at all amused by his playful gaze. âI tell you all the time that youâre smart!â
He chuckles. âEveryone and your mom knows that by now, babe.â
You narrow your eyes. âHeâs learning how to fight back,â you think sourly.Â
âSo you enjoyed that girl's appreciation, then?â you counter, knowing that you were riling yourself up by asking such a loaded question. Jake bites his lip to stifle a smile. There it is.Â
He shrugs. âI donât know,â he says, pushing his glasses up. âI think I might actually consider auditioning!â
And this part is genuine. Heâs always enjoyed singing. It could be a cool new experience, especially since he shied away from doing theater back in high school. Maybe now was his moment to shine. But when he notices how your expression darkens, heâs suddenly excited to audition for the musical for a whole different reason.
You look around the hallway, checking to see if anyone's coming by. Then you pull him by the collar and into your dorm room. The door shuts behind you two as you push him to sit on the bed. Jake looks up at you, eyes bright with pure anticipation as you climb onto his lap.
âWhatâs up, babe?â he asks, feigning ignorance. And you fall for it, because your cute, nerdy boyfriend couldnât possibly have ulterior motives⌠Right?
âYou have class tomorrow?â you ask as you adjust yourself on him, legs encasing both sides of his thighs. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer.
âIt depends,â he says, knowing full well he has an 8 a.m. physics lab. âIs your roommate coming back anytime soon?â
Oh yeah. Her.Â
âNot tonight,â you mutter, already peppering his neck with small kisses. âSheâs visiting her parents.â
Jake smirks, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as the wheels are already turning in his head. He fakes a cough.
âYou know⌠I think the musical is actually a romantic comedy.â
â
Youâre on your knees, carpet harshly grazing your skin.Â
âFuck,â Jake groans, head thrown back as his hand clutches your hair. Heâs pushing you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your cheeks hollow around him. How you take his whole length into your mouth without your usual snappy commentary. Look at you. Underneath him. So eager to please, but so in need of control. He bites his bottom lip at the view. It's addictive.
âJust like that,â Jake encourages, stroking your cheek so lovingly. Your tongue licks the underside of his thickness, careful not to have your teeth graze his sensitive skin. Heâs so flushed above you, a darkness blooming in your heart. The sight of his glasses pushed so low on his nose bridge. So focused, so desperate for release.
âMy Jake,â you think to yourself. âAll mine.â
You bob your head up and down, your mouth plunging down to the base of his member with the help of his tight grasp on your hair.
âY-yes,â he sighs, his hips coming up to meet your lips. Jakeâs gaze never leaves yours, unable to tear his eyes from the tears forming in your eyes from just how much he filled you up. You always had something to say. Always rolling your eyes at him. Now, your eyes were rolling back for a different reason. His mouth falls open.
âF-fuckââÂ
You smirk as his hips start to lose rhythm. You remember the first time you gave him head. Just like this, knees on the floor of his room back home, with his parents watching TV downstairs. Glasses perched and foggy. He came within seconds. You were proud, just a little, that he was able to last this long now.
âB-baby?â he tries to cry out. âIâm closeââ
You pull away from him with a pop of your lips, teasing the slit of his tip with the flat of your tongue. He groans in frustration, but his hands donât push you down to take him in again.
âAlready?â you say, eyes batting up at him. âWhy should I give you the satisfaction?âÂ
He whines, his grip on your hair tightening just a little.Â
âPlease?â he asks, not really sure what you want from him. Itâs not like he asked you to just fuck him with your mouth! That was all your doing. Okay, yes, maybe he did provoke you. But did that mean he didnât deserve to orgasm?!
Youâre pumping him slowly with your right hand, gripping tightly and stroking enough so that heâs still edging close to his climax. But not close enough to actually reach it.
âI thought I was supposed to be showing you appreciation,â you say pointedly. âTake my time with you and all that.â
He shakes his head ferociously, his hips snapping up into your fist.Â
âBabeâPleaseâIâm soââ he groans when he feels you slow your pace again.Â
âSo what?â you ask, feigning naivety. You really are the devil.
He shakes his head. He canât speak. Canât even think. Just frustrated with how your lips arenât wrapped around his fucking dick anymore.
âIâm sorry,â he cries. âIâll do anything, baby. PleaseâJust stop teasingâPleaseââ
His sobs are music to your ears. Your wristâs pace on him quickens, as your mouth engulfs his swollen tip. Your tongue circles the head, pumping him up and down with all your strength and might. Jakeâs hands are clutching the sheets, hips pistoning up into your sticky fingers. He feels his load threatening to spill over.Â
âFuckâYes, babyâThereââ He pulls your head back, hand encasing yours, pumping ferociously with you. Your mouth is wide open, tongue stuck out, eyes looking directly up at his. An invitation.
Spurts of his hot, white release coat your pink tongue. He unloads everything within him all over your features. Your cheeks. Your chin. Your cute ass nose. All covered in his cum. His mouth parts at the sight.
So pretty. His girlfriend is so fucking pretty.
âI love you,â he whispers, as he wipes dribbles of his liquid off your chin with his thumb. âI love you so fucking muchâŚâ
You hum back in approval as he lifts you back up and onto his lap. Your face, still stained with his orgasm, comes up to kiss him. He grimaces slightly. You taste infinitely better than he does. Heâs almost thankful you part ways with his lips so that you could pepper kisses down his neck.
And when you start sucking and nipping in the same way you did that game night, he smiles. His arms wrap around your waist as you suction his pulse point.
âI could get used to this,â Jake thinks.
â
The audition the next day went surprisingly easily. He truly was the only one trying out for the main role, while Suji was already pre-selected to play the female lead. Jake thinks itâs a bit unfair. What if other people wanted to audition too? But whatever. At least he got the part.
He finds you in between your lectures, holding out a boba for you in his hand. Jakeâs not wearing a turtleneck this time, proudly wearing the battle scars of your teeth on his neck. No oneâs brave enough to bring it up to him yet, to his dismay. Except you, who promptly smacks him in the arm for his shamelessness.Â
âYou look like a pervert,â you grumble, still taking the drink from him.
He chuckles at your cute expression. You say that like it wasnât your intention to have him show the bites off. To show that he is very much occupied with someone else. Not Choa. Or whoever this other girl was.
âI was wearing my jacket the whole day,â he reassures. âJust took it off when I came to see you.â
He flexes slightly. âYou think Iâve bulked recently?â
You roll your eyes and ignore his obvious fish for compliments. âSo howâd it go? The audition?â
He smiles. âYouâre looking at the male lead of Singing Striker,â he says proudly, hand to chest. âAnd before you ask, the name was not my choice.â
You scoff at the cheesiness. âCongrats,â you say through small sips of your gifted drink. âBreak a leg.â
âBabe⌠when you say it like that, I feel like you mean it the other way.â
You shake your head, speaking robotically. âSo whoâs the female lead? Itâs a romcom, you said?â
âThe girl,â he starts, snapping his fingers like he doesnât already know who she is. âSuji. From the restaurant. The one who recruited me.â
Your eyes morph into a squint, like youâre glaring at him.Â
â...Interesting,â you say, willing yourself not to overreact. So Jake is hot now (always was). Girls just love to approach him with invitations to stuff. And he gets to act in a musical with someone that Jay described as âthe baddest girl Iâve ever seen in my life.â Great! You love that, actually.
You bite down hard on the boba straw. âYou know what⌠Are they casting for extras?"
â
And it's like a bad habit now. How you nip and scar his neck like youâre feeding off him every time a girl even so much looks in his direction. Itâs easier than saying youâre jealous, easier than admitting that you have a sick sort of need to control who Jake interacts with.
You almost bent a metal spoon in the cafeteria when a girl asked for his number while you were sitting right in front of him. Granted, you did denounce being in a relationship with him pretty heavily the first few weeks at school. You knew she had every right to shoot her shot, but that didn't stop you from taking Jake right into a janitorial closet and making you eat him out as an apology.
âFuck, baby,â he moans into the space between your thighs as your hands push him deeper into your wetness. âI've never even seen that girl in my lifeââ
You grit your teeth, angry that he even mentioned her. âDid I ask?â you growl through sharp breaths. âJust shut up.â
He smiles against your clit, sucking harshly to elicit more of your beautiful noises. He hums into you. Happy that you're mad at him. Happy that he gets to do dirty things with you without having to practically be on his knees and begging. Well, really, he already was.
His tongue laps at your folds, thrusting in and out to prolong his stay in between your thighs. Maybe he is teasing, but really, heâs just taking it all in. Your addictive noises. Your sweet taste. The feeling of his fingers digging into your ass just to hold you up. The way you clench around his tongue when he arches it into you, real deep. Yeah, he needs you bad.
Jake is lapping at you, your legs constricting around him even tighter when he finds his way back to your clit. When he tugs on it with his teeth, you jolt.
âJakeââ He does not care. He nips again, flattening his tongue to soothe the slight pinch. You arch your back into him, riding his face until you stop yourself. You look desperate. Pathetic even. But Jake groans.
âKeep going,â he huffs. âUse me, babe. Use me like Iâm your fucking toy.â
You tsk, wondering where he learned to talk like that.Â
âFucking pervert,â you mutter through harsh breaths. But your grip on him does tighten, and he whimpers at the feeling of you tugging on his locks.
âYou like it when I'm like this, don't you?â You grit your teeth, pushing him in further. His nose is practically buried into your clit as he fucks his pink muscle into you at a merciless pace.
âLike when you get attention. Like when everyone fucking wants you.â
You're seething, practically riling yourself up. He tries to speak, but you clench around his tongue, trapping his voice. He hums into your folds instead, licking the roof of your warm hole as he finds the exact spot he's been searching for. You mewl.
âFuck! T-there!â
You're grinding onto his face now, smothering him with your scent. Yes, he thinks to himself, please suffocate him. Tremors go through your body as you feel something intense build in the lower pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close.
Jakeâs grip on your ass loosens as he lets you do all the work. Your legs over his shoulder pump into his face. Like, Jake is just a mere vessel for your climax. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He doesn't even nurse his own hard-on, one that's painfully stretching his jeans.Â
You're fucking his tongue, whining with each thrust, eyes starting to roll back, fingers almost pulling Jakeâs hair from his scalp. Your hips stutter and thenâ
âFuuckâŚâ Your orgasm pulses through you in ways that have you screaming silently. Your legs are trembling as his mouth vibrates with his hums against your core.Â
Jakeâs lapping up all your juices with an urgency. Everything. He wants to taste everything. When you gently push him off from the oversensitivity, he resists at first. He holds you in place until he gets his fill, until tears are threatening to spill over. But your legs finally find the ground as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.
âI love you,â he whispers, out of breath.Â
âWhoreâ you want to say out loud, but you know that would only make him hornier. Heâs weirdly into stuff like that. But you smile as you comb through his hair. He doesnât have complaints about you messing it all up as long as youâre fucking him, huh?
Jake, still on his knees, looks up at you with a lick of his lips, savoring the remaining taste of you on it. You wish he could see how he looked. Flushed. Damp. Yours. You almost lift him up to kiss him whenâDing.
The loving gaze you two share is cut off by the sound of his phone. He finally gets up from his knees, checking the notification.
âOh shit,â he mutters. âSuji says I missed the costume fitting. I think I need to head out soonââ
You smash your lips against his, interrupting his train of thought. You moan at the taste of yourself on his devious tongue. Jake smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. Maybe you could add a few more hickeys to his collection for good measure.
â
jake: letâs head to jayâs together?
Itâs one of your weekly hangouts, the nights you try to avoid because they always end with you ignoring the pile of assignments youâve already been putting off.Â
you: sure. wya rn?
You smack your forehead the second you realize how quickly you sent that text. You swear you werenât waiting. It wasnât like you were staring at the last message he sent five hours ago, ruminating over whether it was appropriate to tell him how much you missed him.
jake: meet me by the bleachers :D practice is ending soon.
The speed at which you change outfits is impressive, already heading to the damn field before you realize it. Heâs there, dribbling with a couple of his teammates. You sit at the top of the stands, a bit out of his sight. He catches a glimpse of you anyway, waving, and you shoot him a simple smile of acknowledgement that dampens almost immediately. Because you also see Choa, handing him a water bottle. When Jake reaches for it, trying to avoid brushing her hand, she purposefully finds his fingers anyway. Itâs enough for your stomach to sink.
Even though heâs just smiling politely. Even when it looks like their conversation lasts for two seconds. It doesnât feel any less bad. Choa notices you staring, and she scoffs.Â
âThis is a closed practiceââ
âSheâs with me,â Jake corrects her immediately. âI told her to come. Thatâs okay, right?â
You lift an eyebrow, challenging her. Jake said it the nice way. If she had to hear you speak, you would have probably been escorted off the field by now. She coughs awkwardly and nods, instantly folding under Jakeâs attention. Your boyfriend, by the way.
âO-of course,â she stammers. âJust make sure she doesnât see the playbook.â
The guys continue playing, and you move down a few rows, keeping Choa in your line of sight. Itâs like she feels the daggers you send her way because she whips around to glare at you.
âItâs kind of pathetic,â she starts. âHow you cling onto him.â You squint at her, not sure if you heard her correctly. You turn around, too, to check if she really had the audacity to speak to you in that way.
âYou talking to me?â you ask, pointing at yourself mockingly. She clicks her tongue.
âWho else?â she bites back. âDo you even have a name, or do you usually just go by Jakeâs guard dog?â
Your cheeks burn in anger. Oh, if you were in high school⌠Sheâd have been on the ground by now, makeup stained with turf and pebbles. But unfortunately, youâre trying to stick to your resolution. A reformed delinquent girl at a prestigious universityâ
âYou mute too?â Choa adds in for good measure. You stand, and itâs like Jakeâs Spidey senses tingle because he stops to watch, monitoring if he needs to step in.
âYou know,â you say, voice cool and devoid of emotion, âyouâve got a lot to say for someone who has to talk like a baby to get a manâs attention.â
She snarls. âExcuse me?â
âJakeâs not gonna let you hit,â you mock, scanning her up and down with a disgusted face. You only say the next part just to piss her off. âYouâre not really his type.â
âAnd you are?â She steps in closer. âYouâre stuck in the fucking friendzone, acting like hot shitââ
Oh, if only she knew. The truth is sitting on your tongue, burning, begging to be spoken just so you can wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But youâre not that angry yet. Not enough to expose yourself.
âYou seem like such a loser,â she continues, voice laced with malice. âEveryone already thinks you look like some stray puppy following Jake everywhere he goes. Donât you have a life of your own? Any hobbies? Isnât it sad showing up where youâre not wanted?â
Ouch. Jake was your puppy. He follows you around everywhere.Â
She digs right into that ugly little fear in the back of your mind. That you look as pitiful as you feel. That you truly were just biding your time in this dumb university until Jake showers you with attention. Is this what a relationshipâs supposed to feel like? Like youâre waiting for him, all the damn time.
You inhale a deep breath. Youâre better than this. Better than catfights over someone thatâs already yours. A man who sleeps on your chest almost every night. But youâre not above being petty.
âAnd did he tell you all that,â you ask with fake sweetness, âor are your delusions that Jakeâs gonna fuck you starting to get to your brain?â
She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. âIâll make sure to put in a good word for you,â you continue, sarcasm dripping in your voice. âMake sure Jakey knows exactly the kind of girl you are.â
Choa bites the inside of her cheek. âNot like I said anything wrong.â
âOh, right.â You pitch your voice up to that grating baby tone she uses with Jake. âIâm sure heâll appreciate you calling me a âfucking loser,â since you care so much about what he thinks.â
You could laugh at her suddenly hunched shoulders. You drop back down onto your seat, fake scrolling through your phone. âDonât you have a team to manage?â
Choa whips her bob around, stomping back toward the group and desperately hoping that no one heard. But Jake is already staring. He doesnât look mad. Just resigned.Â
âChoa?â he calls out, voice low and almost inaudible.Â
âYes?â she answers immediately, with that lilted tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Heâs not smiling like usual. You donât hear the conversation that takes place, so curious as to why Choaâs expression suddenly drops.
âDonât ever talk to her like that,â he says, and the entire team stiffens around them.Â
âAnd next time,â he adds, walking past her, âJust mind your fucking business.â
â
You never, in all your years of living, thought youâd be sitting in an auditorium seat watching your boyfriend act like he was in love with another girl on stage. But here you are, leg bouncing and forearms itching from the irritation bubbling in your chest.
âBut don't you get it?!â Jake rehearses, script in hand. His hands flail in fake exasperation. You cover your mouth to hide the wince forming on your lips. âHow can I choose between the stage and football?!â
âYou don't have to choose,â Suji steps in, acting much better than Jake, at least. âYou can do both.â
Jake sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. He's facing her now.
She's pretty, you think. Really pretty. Probably one of the most gorgeous girls you've ever seen in your life. And Jake is staring right into her eyes. You canât help but wonder if he thinks the same. You grit your teeth at the thought.
âBut what would people think of me?â he sighs. Suji shakes her head, moving closer. Your brows knit. That's not part of the script.
âWho cares what other people think?â she says softly, resting her hand on his chest. Your expression darkens immediately. âIf it feels like you're alone⌠Then I can be there to support you.â
Maybe Jake's character should care what other people think, especially if heâs gonna prioritize singing on stage with some pretty girl over his football careerâ
You slap your own cheek lightly. Relax.
âCut,â the musical director calls out. âGreat job, you two! After this is the dance scene. We can rehearse that tomorrow. I think that's all for the day.â
When the actors and stage crew finally funnel out, you watch Jake stay behind, chatting with his costars onstage. So radiant, smiling at them with his toothy grin and cracking jokes as he says goodbye. He never used to be like that. Used to be so painfully shy that Jay had to accept his academic awards for him in high school.
And yeah, you feel like shit when he's standing there, surrounded by people who have stars in their eyes when he talks, while you're grumpily waiting in a faraway seat with no real excuse to interrupt. You're just part of the stage crew, after all. Just one of the invisible people who move props in between scenes while Jake and Sujiâs characters fall deeply in love with each other. Yuck.
But youâre not gonna do the usual thing of dragging him to the nearest secluded area and fucking his brains out. No. Youâre better than that. Youâre not a loser! Youâd let this pass.
âBye, Iâll catch up with you guys soon! My friendâs waiting for me.â
The word âfriendâ digs deep into your heart. But thatâs your own fault.
Jake walks toward you, and the quick smile he throws your way is cut short the moment he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stops in front of you, forehead still glistening from the stage lights, eyes glued to the screen even as he talks.
âI have practice in like thirty minutes,â he sighs, scrolling through his calendar. âAnd then the crew wants to have, like, a group dinner later tonight.â
He cranes his neck to release some tension, finally looking up at you. âDamn. My character is lowkey right. It really is hard balancing the two.â
You roll your eyes and stand up. âThe crew? Like Jay and Sunghoon?â
He shakes his head as he walks beside you, still a bit occupied with his phone. He's sending text messages to some massive group chat, text bubble after text bubble popping up.
âThe main acting crew,â he says, emphasizing the second word. âI think they wanna run the lines at En Bar and get a couple of drinks.â
You almost stop in your tracks, but you force yourself to continue walking with him, arms crossed. Good for him, you think. And you mean it. He's adjusted so well to university life, while yours feels like it revolves around him.
What's Jake up to? Is his practice done? Who's he talking to? Is it Choa? Is it Yizhuo? Is it every girl that makes eye contact with your newly socially adept boyfriend, who just so happens to have the most gorgeous face known to mankind?
You want to punch yourself real bad.
âDo you wanna come?â he asks when he notices you've fallen silent. He thinks it's cute when you're jealous. Sulking and poutyâwhen itâs obvious why youâre upset. Not when you're quiet. Not when you're creating distance between you two as he walks beside you.
âI can ask them if we can reserve more chairsââ
âIt's fine!â you interrupt, but even you donât convince yourself. âI have work to catch up on anyway.â
His lips part as if recalling something important, something he promised you.Â
âI'm so sorry, babe!â he gasps. âI totally forgot that you needed help studying for your exam tomorrow!â
You shrug your shoulders. Youâre a cool girlfriend. Super chill. Not crazy at all.
âNo, it's okay,â you say, chain necklace feeling heavy on your chest. âI'll just go to the tutoring center. You're busy, I get it.â
His eyes are still laced with concern. You sound so disconnected, so not yourself. Did he do something wrong?
âI can come over tomorrow?â he suggests, but it almost comes out as a plea. âWe can watch the new movie you wantedââ
âMy roommateâs gonna be home.â
âOkayâŚâ he says, voice fading. âWhat about my dorm?â
You shake your head. âI'm not really up for a movie, I guess.âÂ
Jakeâs expression sours. It feels like youâre shoving sheets of metal down his throat. He can take you angry. Can handle you screaming, kicking, crying, and calling him names. He canât take whatever this is.
âI can just cancel,â he says quickly. âIâll come over tonight!â
And Choaâs voice resounds in your ear.
âYou seem like a fucking loser.â
You bite your bottom lip and stare at his wavering gaze. You wonder if he pities you.Â
Has he noticed? How quickly you reply to his texts? How often you show up to his extracurricular activities? How you canât seem to admit that youâre hurting, even when heâs right here in front of you? God, you hate this feeling.
âItâs okay,â you say, and itâs small like a whisper. âNeed some alone time anyway.â
âAlright,â he breathes, relenting to whatever boundary youâve set with him. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, but when you flinch, he retracts his hand instantly.
âI love you?â he tests.
You give him a small smile and nod, pushing past him. He moves like he wants to catch your hand and stop you. But as always, he lets you walk just a little too out of his reach.
Because you still donât say it back.
â
This is what it feels like to twiddle your thumbs and try not to scream as Jake misses yet another hangout. Heâs busy with his daily practices and rehearsals. You get that. But itâs still physically torturous to sit through Jay and Sunghoon stoking the fires of your insecurities.
âHeâs gotta be seeing someone,â Sunghoon sighs, reclining into the beanbag in Jayâs apartment. âDude just abandons his friends without any pussy involved? Thereâs no way.â
You smash a throw pillow from the couch and into his face, and Jay throws another one for good measure.
âWhy do you always think with your dick?â Jay mutters. âJust let Jake be. This is his moment. Not like he had much to work with in high school.â
Sunghoon sighs. âYeah,â he mumbles, almost apologetic. âHe was pretty lame back then.â
You never thought so. Maybe you joked about it, but you never really meant it. He was kind. A little shy. So eager to please and follow you around. And now that the roles were reversed, you werenât sure how to feel anymore. Fuck. Why couldnât you just be happy for him?
He has this amazing life outside of you now. Cool friends (not Jay and Sunghoon). Great prospects for the future. Itâs like a bird leaving the nest. Your carefully cultivated nest.
You felt like a cloud raining over his head when youâre around him now. After Choa, you started to notice the whispers around campus a little more. How people avoid him when youâre around because you canât carry empty conversations about upcoming exam scores the same way Jake can.
Itâs just different. He is. And it feels like you are too. But not a good different. Itâs the kind that makes you feel like this isnât how you should be. That you arenât who you want to be⌠Maybe Choa was right.
And now a pillow is thrown in your direction. You shoot daggers at Sunghoon with your glare.
âWhat?!â you yell. He pounces in fear.
âI asked,â he coughs. âIs college treating you okay? You making friends?â
You roll your eyes. âAre you my dad?â
Jay sighs. âWe always talk about Jake. Sue us for wanting to know how youâre doing for once.â
The words linger. What are you doing?
â
Youâre stewing in it, marinating in how lonely it feels to stand in a corner with the stage crew while Jake, Suji, and the rest of the main cast laugh amongst themselves. Whatever.
âThose two are so cute,â a girl beside you says. Gaeul. So sweet, so cute. So oblivious to how tightly you clench your teeth. âTheyâd be like the it couple on campus, no?â
When you look between Jake and his toothy grin and Suji with her sweet laugh, you canât help the way your heart constricts. âYeah,â you mutter in disgruntled agreement. âI guess.â
Jake sends you sneaking glances, ones you donât notice despite your eyes lingering on him.Â
Youâve not been the most responsive these days. He texts you a lot. In between practices and rehearsals. Whenever he has the chance. He asks to come over. Asks you to come over. And youâve turned him down almost every time. You didnât attend his last two games, youâre skipping rehearsals that you used to sit through for hours, and Jay knows where you're holed up more than he does. Heâs worried about you. Worried that youâre avoiding him. Were you avoiding him?
âI heard you two are really good friends,â Gaeul asks you with sparkling eyes. âHe seems like such a catch. Howâd you not fall in love?â
You shrug. What answer are you supposed to give? Itâs not like you were resistant to his charm either.
âHe went through a transformation recently,â you admit. âWe were both kind of outcasts in high school.â
âMe too!â she says excitedly. âI bleached my hair, and everything before uni started. What about you? Were you two like super shy?â
You shake your head. âJake was. I was just a bad student. Got in trouble a lot. My parents literally laughed when I told them I wanted to go here.â
And your heart thuds in your chest from a memory. Because Jake believed in you. Sat through hours of studying, teaching you the difference between derivatives and whatever the fuck linearization was, just for the chance to attend the same university. So he could spend time with you, so he could be with you. And now you barely see him.
âReally? Iâm not surprised, though. You seem like such a chill girl. Like you donât care what other people think of you.â
âTrust me. Iâm far from it.â You catch Jakeâs glance again, but you turn away.
âStarting to think it was a mistake joining this thing,â you mumble, âwith how often everyone forgets their lines.â
She laughs. âI like how straightforward you are,â she says with a wide smile. âDonât really mince your words, do you?â
You smile too, in what feels like forever. It felt free to talk about somethingâanythingâoutside of him.
âUnfortunately, I donât know how to hold back what I say.â Which is a lie. Because you hold back a lot. More than you let on.Â
âAlright!â the stage manager yells. âLetâs get in position for the final scene.â
The kiss scene. The one youâve dreaded for so long. You and Gaeul move across the stage, setting up the mics and instruments in their right place. You move past Jake with your head down. He frowns. So you are avoiding him.
âPlaces, people!â
You watch, from the wings, as Jake pours his heart out into the lyrics. A song about breaking free from stereotypes and whatever other inspirational stuff this whole musicalâs about. Heâs good. Really good. He moves like a natural on stage, throwing Suji these soft, tender glances that look so painfully real. She glows under the lights, stars in her eyes. And as the song comes to an end, he picks her up to spin her.
Just like the script says. And you clutch your forearm at the sight.
âI feel like I can really be myself with you,â he says to her. âLike I donât have to hide or pretend.â
Whatever.
âAnd you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.â
The two stare at each other. A pause. Jake leans in. And so does she. Fuck.
You canât do this. Canât watch. You turn and walk out the back exit. Your chest is heavy, constricted with that ugly pang of envy.
Fuck this feeling. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt? You hate the tears that well up in your eyes, hate the shivering of your shoulders as you hug yourself in the parking lot of the stupid auditorium. You need to go back in. Save face. Show how little it affected you because youâre supposed to be his friend in the eyes of everyone else. You clutch your necklace through your shirt, fingers twisting the ring.
Jake, who loves you. Who desperately wants your relationship to be public, to show you off. The same Jake on stage kissing another girl for a stupid musical you didnât even want to be a part of.
You couldnât do this anymore. He doesnât deserve this. This monstrous version of you, who cares too much but gives too little. Overbearing to the point of suffocation.
So you walk back in, face steeled and tears wiped. Heâs talking to the director with Suji, like nothing happened. Like all semblance of your self-esteem wasnât just ruined a few minutes ago. But you need to stop. Because it wasnât his fault. It wasnât even Sujiâs. Itâs yours.
You hurt your own feelings.
Jake sees you and immediately lights up, calling your name as he jogs over. You donât smile back.
âI have some time after rehearsals,â he says lovingly, his hand tugging your arm. âWait for me?â
This would be the last time you would.
â
He tries to hold your hand on the walk back home to steady his heart rate. Opening night creeps closer and closer, and preparation alone wonât save him from the nerves. But when you pull away before his fingers can intertwine with yours, he flinches.
Maybe there are too many people around, Jake tells himself. Youâre probably worried about being seen. And even though his chest feels heavy, he continues his merry yapping. He doesnât notice the defeated glint in your eyes or the slow steps you take next to his. Heâs still riding the high from rehearsal, still proud he finally made it through every line without stuttering or needing the script.
Maybe heâll do well enough on opening night that youâll let him kiss you afterward. Maybe youâll walk toward him with flowers while he wraps you in his arms. Heâd spin you around, brag to the whole world that youâre his girlfriend. Say it loud and proud in front of annoying ass Jay and Sunghoon, who got front row seats.
The thought pulls a grin onto Jakeâs face, making him skip ahead a little. And you both keep walking toward the dorms. Just like any other day.
Until you ruin it.
âIâm dropping out of the stage crew,â you say, casually. He stops in his tracks. All semblance of a smile wipes from his face. The show is sold out. Itâs too late to get you tickets.Â
âYou wonât be able to watch,â he says, panic laced in his voice. Youâre at a standstill, in the middle of campus, surrounded by trees and concrete. âYou shouldâve told me! I can see if I can pull some stringsââ
Heâs already taking his phone out to text someone. Probably the director. He doesnât even ask why. Just goes straight to problem-solving. Your Jake. Too good. Too kind. Too forgiving.
Itâs too much.
âIâm not coming to watch,â you say, harsher this time, stopping him from sending the message. Guilt washes over you instantly. Because he looks at you with his brows knit together, eyes wavering.
âI donât understand.â You donât want to come? You donât want to support him?
Your mouth opens to say something. Anything. But your throat feels hoarse, shoulders too heavy. Shit. Donât cry. You donât cry in front of anyone.
âJake,â you start, clenching your quivering hands open and closed. âI canât do this anymore.â
His heart drops.Â
âDo what anymore?â he swallows, his mouth dry. âIâm confusedââ
âI think we need to break up.â
Numb. Everything is numb.
âW-what?â Tears sting Jakeâs eyes before he can blink them back. âDonât⌠donât say that.â
You shake your head. âJake,â you whisper, careful not to get too close. Careful so you donât make the mistake of taking back your words. âI donât think weâre good for each other.â
He inches forward. You take a step back.
âDo you think that? That Iâm not good enoughââ
âNo,â you interrupt. But he isnât listening. And he doesnât want to. Because this feels like a fucked up joke, a prank on him thatâs been taken too far. Wonât you stop?
âBecause if itâs something I did, I can change it,â he begs. And your heart breaks a little at how desperately he searches for a hint of emotion in your face. But you donât relent. You can be the bad guy. You always are.Â
âPlease. We can talk this through.â
âIâm sorry,â you say, an unusual softness in your voice. âI donât want to change my mindââ
âWhy not?!â he asks, voice louder. The quiet that falls between you two is masked by the rustle of surrounding trees, orange and red leaves falling around you two. The cool, autumn air brushes your face. His eyes sting with redness.Â
âWhy donât you tell me anything?â His voice cracks. The aching in your heart makes you want to give in, to take it all back. But you arenât like Jake. You canât adjust, canât welcome change so openly.Â
So as you look at him with his slicked back hair and sharp features, so different from a year ago, it feels like you've already lost something. The version of yourself who had more to give than hollow excuses and marks left on his skin. You couldnât admit to it even now. That you hate who youâve become.
âIâm telling you right now,â you gulp, bracing your own words. âThat I want to break up.â
And the first semblance of tears falls down Jakeâs cheeks as he lets out a bitter laugh. He doesnât believe it. Canât accept it. He wonât let this be the end.
âIf itâs because of what Choa saidââ
Your brows furrow. âYou heard what she said?âÂ
His hands are in his hair, tugging at it with frustration. You seem angry, but he doesnât know why. He never does.
âI told her to mind her business,â he explains quickly. âIt doesnât matter what she thinks. So if youâre breaking up with me just because she called you clingy or whateverâŚâ
And he doesnât know it, but the words trigger something in you. Something youâve been pushing down over and over again. The feeling of seeming weak, of needing him. The need to monopolize. It sickens you.
âIt matters what I think Jake!â you finally burst out. Frustration etched in your voice, shaky from the cold air and your wavering emotions. Donât cry, donât cry, donât cry.
âAll I ever do now is wonder who youâre with, why youâre with them, and I just⌠I just feel so fucking lonely.â
He reaches for you, but you push him away. Your feelings spill out of you before you can hold them back.
âIâm paranoid of anyone who talks to you. I couldnât even fucking watch you do that stupid kiss scene,â you continue.Â
âWe didnât even kiss!â
âThatâs not the fucking point!â you scream, before you can stop yourself. You inhale sharply when he flinches. Calm down. This is not his fault. Why are you getting angry with him?
âIâm sorry,â you mumble, taking one more step back. He holds your wrist gently to keep you in place. Jake stares at you with his lips parted, stunned.Â
âSo why canât we just go public?â he pleads. âYou wouldnât have to feel this way ifââ
âThatâs not the issue either,â you scoff, but you canât even convince yourself. Because isnât this how it all started? Your unwillingness to be embarrassed, to seem vulnerable in front of others. Was this not the root of it all?
âThen what is?!â he cries, his grip on your wrist tightens, not to hurt you, but so that you donât run. Because youâre good at that. Running.
âI get insecure too,â he tries to reassure, but you look past him now. âBut I tell you. I tell you when Iâm hurt, I tell you when Iâm down. Because I⌠I want you to understand me. I want to understand you tooâŚâ
He swallows hard before continuing. âSo I donât get why you would even bring up breaking up before we even try to solve the problem togetherââ
âBecause I donât want to solve it, Jake.â
His hold on you loosens instantly, arm dropping to his side. You feel colder as he steps back. Jake stares at you, hurt laced in his gaze. Like you stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife in to marinate.
âYou're always like this,â he mutters under his breath. âAlways saying hurtful things without thinking about how they make me feel.â
He feels his throat close up as he draws in some baited breaths. The tears come in more heavily, his cheeks damp as they roll down his pained face.Â
âSo you see what I mean?â you say, your own tears threatening to spill over without you even realizing. A part of him instinctively wants to wipe your tears away. To pull you close and make it stop. But all he feels is anger. Because youâre the one breaking up with him. Youâre the one choosing to end things. What right do you have to cry? What right do you have to look shattered when he's the one in pieces?
âIâm horrible to you,â you let out with pained laughter. He shakes his head immediately.Â
âNo, youâre notââ
âI always pick fightsââ
âYou donâtââ
âI act like a fucking bitchââ
âDonât call yourself thatââ
"I feel like Iâm insane when Iâm around you,â you let out, before you can stop yourself.
âI donât think that at allââ
âBut I do, Jake,â you cry. âI hate how jealous I get when youâre surrounded by other people. I hate feeling like Iâm holding you back. I hate what Iâve become sinceâŚâ
And you canât finish because his tears have stopped. Heâs looking at you with a new kind of anguish. The kind that you donât necessarily expect. The kind that feels like disgust.Â
âSince you started dating me?â he says like he correctly finished your statement. But thatâs not what you were going to say. Never that.
âSince you didnât need me anymore,â you whimper. âIâm not a good girlfriend, Jake. Youâd be so much happier without me. Everyone would think it if they knew.â
He stands in front of you, hollow. If they knew. He has to laugh. Thatâs the problem. No one does. You donât want them to. Itâs clear now.
âFine,â he says, and the steadiness of his voice makes you shudder. Good. This is what you wanted.Â
Heâs staring at you, jaded like he had come to terms with it. He used to love how insistent you were about your point of view on things, how firmly you stood by your opinions. Used to envy it. But now, he detests it. That stubbornness.Â
âWhatever you want,â he sighs, hands slipping in his pockets. âLetâs break up. Pretend we never happened.â
Your mouth parts. âExcuse me?â
Jake scoffs, hands tightening into a fist. Theyâre trembling, but he wonât let you see. He can do what you do. Act like heâs okay. Act like you didnât just kill him. Heâs gotten very good at that. Acting.
âIâm being honest, Jakeââ
âYou donât love me,â he cuts in. And your heart sinks. âThatâs all this is. You never show it. You never say it. And Iâm tired of hearing you pretend like youâre doing me a favor when Iâm practically begging you not to leave.â
His voice cracks, but he continues. âSo fine,â he mutters. âHave it your way. You wonât ever have to admit that we dated, start a clean slate without me. Just like you want.â
He presses his lips together and gives you one last look before he takes his hands out of his pockets. Heâs fiddling with the ring. His ring. The ring that matches yours.
âYou know,â he starts, voice trembling and bitter, âwhen it was the other way around⌠when I felt like shit about myselfâŚ. I never once thought of leaving you.â
His gaze is on the ground. âBecause I always thought I was better with you than without. Because you made me want to be better.â
His voice falters. He looks at you now, sniffling.Â
âI tried to be better.â
And in one swift motion, Jake takes off the ring. â...But you didnât even respect me enough to stay.â
âJake, noââÂ
But itâs too late. You see him throw it, the bushes rustling nearby. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and walks past you to the direction of the dorms.
âThere,â he says quietly behind you. âLike we never happened.â
He doesnât look back, doesnât even spare you a glance. Itâs only when heâs fully out of sight that you dig through the orange and red pile of leaves. Through dirt and branches, tears streaming down your face as you sob. Searching for it like a mad woman. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.Â
But you canât find it. And you clutch onto yours like itâs your lifeline. He threw it away. How could he throw it away? No matter how hard you try to find a silver glint in the greenery, there is nothing.Â
And you wonder then if you made the biggest mistake in your life.
â
You thought the pit in your stomach would fade once you ripped the bandage, but the hole in your heart opened wider. And itâs only been a week.
Jake used to dodge questions about his love life, but now he admits to anyone with ears who walks by that heâs single. You have ears. And you walk by often. Youâre not sure if heâs taunting you or if you just want him to be.
When your eyes meet his at the one lecture you still share, heâs the first to turn away. Jake used to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, tilting his laptop so you could keep up when the professor switched the slides too quickly. When you pass the football field, you try not to wince when you see Choa latch onto his arm like she belongs there. He used to always pull away.Â
The worst part is that these stolen glances are all you have of him. Heâs blocked you on everything, which feels weird to think about. Jake, whoâs always gentle, always forgiving, always offering second chancesâeven to people who donât deserve it. Maybe this time youâre one of them.
You have no right to be upset. Not anymore.
And so you wrap yourself in your studies, check out new extracurriculars, even try to make new friends on campus who know nothing about Jake. You try to rebuild, try to go back in time before that fateful day in high school when you met him. But itâs been far too long.Â
He was a part of you, so deeply ingrained in your daily life. How could you act like you two never happened? Like your relationship never existed? How could he do it so well?
And then, you have to remind yourself. You'd already been doing that anyway.
â
âSo what did he do?â Jay questions, tuning his guitar while Sunghoon and you sit in his living room. âDid he tell you he was done paying for your stuff orâŚâ
âShut up,â you grumble, already agitated enough as you scroll through Sujiâs Instagram. You couldnât even muster the energy to be jealous over a photo of Jake and her holding up peace signs next to each other. You just feel empty. âNothing happened.â
Jay rolls his eyes. âHeâs usually texting one of us to get you to answer his messages by now. Itâs been crickets from him for the last two weeks.â
You swallow hard. He used to do that?
Jayâs gaze flickers toward you and sighs as he fiddles with his guitar strings. âYou know, I really donât get the two of you,â he mumbles. âLike you already rejected him in high school, youâre practically just stringing him along at this pointââ
You sit up. âExcuse me?â
He shakes his head, dropping the guitar onto his lap. âJake told us,â he starts hesitantly. âThat you ran away when he tried to confess last year.â
âBut thatâs not the full story,â you want to scream out loud.Â
âYeah,â Sunghoon laughs as if recalling a memory. âDude! Remember in the summer when he started going to the gym with me?â
Jay cringes. âYeah, and he told us it was because heâd be starting this season, but we knew it was just because you said you liked macho guys.â
You shake your head, ears warming at the thought. Thatâs insane.Â
âOh, and that stupid ass ring,â Sunghoon adds, clutching his stomach. Your hand instinctively clutches at your necklace, fingers brushing the chain. âHis mom beat the shit out of him when she found out how much he spent on it.â
You twiddle with the ring through your shirt. You should've taken it off by now. He'd already thrown his away. So what use was it leaving him if all you were going to do was hold on?
âWhy would he do all that for me?â you mutter, not realizing that you said your thoughts out loud.Â
Jay shrugs. âLove makes you do stupid things.â And then he sighs. âGo easy on him, okay? You know how he is. Jakeâs a sensitive boy. Especially when it comes to you.â
You look down at the ground, shame bubbling up in your chest. Jake loved you. He really did.
â
You smile from your view of the auditorium, even from the back, feeling like a speck in the full house. A bouquet is in your hand as you nervously find your seat. You bought a ticket off a student who could no longer make it. Jakeâs right. Everyoneâs here to watch.
You could see Jay and Sunghoonâs tiny heads toward the front, pushing down the bitterness of not being able to sit as close as they were. They donât even like musicals. You shake your head.
This isnât about you. Itâs Jakeâs big night.Â
The lights dim. Your boyfriendâex-boyfriendâsteps onto the stage in a football jersey that looks almost exactly like his real-life one. The audience quiets at his entrance. As he delivers his cheesy opening monologue, you mouth the words with him. Heâd practiced it so much in front of you. Pride wells up in your chest. He doesnât stutter once.Â
Even when Suji joins him on stage, even as they sing together during their charactersâ first meeting, you couldnât help but smile.Â
The scenes blur as you lose yourself in the show. You watch the characters as they are and not as your ex and the girl you desperately wanted to hate. It was actually fun. The cheeky glances, the perfectly rehearsed dance scenes. The way the main character so seriously thought that singing was going to affect his football career. It made you laugh, made you tear up, made you suck in a deep breath when Jake leaned into her.Â
And because youâre still you, and because the wounds still feel fresh, you close your eyes. You donât have to know if he really did it or not. It doesnât matter. Itâs his moment.
âIf only I felt like this the whole time,â you thought to yourself. Then maybe you wouldnât have to psych yourself up to find him afterward and pour your heart out to him. You shiver at the thought.
But Jay had said it: love makes you do stupid things.
And you do. Love him.Â
Enough to buy him flowers. Enough to admit that youâre done hiding. Enough to risk asking him to love you againâeven if thereâs a chance that he already moved on.
â
âBro,â Jay started, with tear-stained cheeks. âDonât ever do that again. I canât be crying like that in front of everybody.â
âQuit football,â Sunghoon says, patting Jake on the back with unusually red eyes. âJust focus on this musical shit. I swear you could make it big time.â
Jake chuckles, watching as the auditorium empties of guests. âThanks, guys. Iâm glad you two liked it.â
He wishes you were here. He could imagine exactly what youâd say when you walk up to him, with a small smile you try to suppress. Saying good job while ruffling his hair. Trying to act like you didnât cry like everyone else. Jake smiles, quietly, at his own thoughts. Itâs ridiculous, coming up with hypotheticals when youâd already made it clear. You don't want to be with him anymore.Â
âJake.âÂ
His heart instinctively skips a beat.
When he turns, the air in his lungs escapes him. Youâre holding a bouquet so big it hides most of your frame, looking at him expectantly as you push it towards him. His eyes widen, unable to speak or even take the flowers from you. Is he dreaming?
âYou did a good job,â you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, wanting him to feel your sincerity. âYou killed it up there.â
âThanks,â he says shortly, finally taking the flowers from your hands. He canât help but stare.Â
âIââ you try to push out, but Suji rushes to the stage to tap Jake on the shoulder.
âHey.â She smiles up at him. âWe're heading out soon for the celebration. Did you still want a ride with me?â
âDamn, even musicals got afterparties?â Sunghoon mutters to Jay, who attempts to shush him.
Jake returns a smile. âYeah, just give me a second.â
And when he turns around to look at you, to finally hear what you have to say, your eyes are glossed over. Maybe youâre too late. Maybe this is idiotic after all. It's been weeks. There's no guarantee he'll even listen.
âI just wanted to say congratulations,â you mutter, though you've changed the words you meant to say entirely. It's supposed to be: âIâm so proud of you. Will you take me back? Iâll stop being so mean. We can tell everyone weâre in loveâyes, even Jay and Sunghoon.â
But old habits die hard. And Suji. Beautiful fucking Suji crushed every ounce of confidence you had to come up to him in the first place.
âThat's all,â you say, shooting him a small grin. It doesn't quite reach your eyes. He notices. Jake always does. Just never knows the reason why.
Before you can step back, he grabs your wrist, spinning you into his arms. Like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms.
âDon't,â he whispers. âPlease⌠don't run away this time.â
You stare up at him, searching his gaze.
âMan, what the fuck is going onâŚâ Jay whispers behind the two of you. Sunghoon shrugs.
âYou think they finallyâŚ?â
Jake turns his head to give a disgruntled look to his two idiotic friends, and they shrink, making their way down the stage to finally give the two of you more privacy. He turns his attention back to you, wrist still in his hand, and gently moves it down to take yours in both of his.
âI thought you didn't want to come,â he starts, licking his lips through the nerves. âWhy are you here?â
Your cheeks heat up. Fuck. Where do you even start?
He draws circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. âWhy?â he asks again, more confident this time.
It would be easy to act like your old self and push out a half-assed excuse. That you just want to be supportive, even after youâve broken up. That you donât miss him at all. But you're too tired to pretend like Jake's absence in your life didnât feel worse than when you were with him.Â
âBecauseâŚâ you start, with a shaky breath. âBecause I wanted to talk to you.â
His brows furrow. âAbout what?â
And you feel your heart pumping in your chest, your palms slick with sweat. This is harder than you thought.
âI wanted toââ You swallow, taking in a deep breath before continuing. âI wanted to apologize. With the ring. The one you threw away.â
You see Jake's ears turn a bright shade of crimson. âActuallyââ
âBut I couldnât find it,â you cut in. âNo matter where I looked. I tried. I really, reallyâŚâ
You start to choke up. Because fuck. He'd gotten you that ring to confess to you. Spent all his pocket money so that he could get something he knew you'd love. Had it engraved with the letter J. Your Jake. Your handsome, talented, smart, and wonderful Jake.
â...really want to get back together,â you finally let out, eyes shining underneath the stage lights as tears threaten to spill over. âI'm sorry, Jake.â
His breath hitches. âYou broke up with me.â
You nod. âI-I thought I needed to. To find myself. But⌠you were right. I was just running away from my problems.â
You swallow hard, correcting yourself. âOur problems.â
He lets out a bitter laugh. âSo is this the part where you expect me to forgive you?â
Your heart clenches. âI'm sorry,â you say again softly.
âYou still havenât even given me a reason,â he scoffs. âSo tell me why.â
He squeezes your hand in his. Itâs tender, despite his harshness. âWhy do you want to get back together whenââ
Itâs like slow motion, what you do next. You take Jakeâs face into your hands, crashing your lips onto his. In front of Sunghoon. In front of Jay. In front of the whole cast and crew who were packing up to leave. The same people heâs had to make excuses about why he suddenly looked so distraught these past few weeks.
âBecause I love you,â you say, loud enough to elicit gasps from your watchers. You donât even have it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Because the words fall naturally from your lips, like breathing. And it was music to his ears.Â
âI fucking love you,â you repeat, hands still on his cheeks. His mouth parts open, breathless. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Jake swoops in, his lips finding yours. His mouth moves against yours in tandem, slow and passionate. Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in the taste of him. You missed him so much. When he pulls away, a shit-eating grin lights up his face.
âFinally,â he whispers, cheeks flushed. âYou finally said it back.â
You lightly swat his shoulder. You should've known he was trying to egg you on. Jake and all his damn questions.
âI love you too,â he mutters against your temple, squeezing you against him. âI love you so much.â
He peppers kisses all over your face, and you hear gagging on the sidelines.
âDonât ever leave me again,â he mutters into your hair. âThat shit fucking hurt.â
You smile sadly. âI promiseââ
âYOU TWO WERE DATING?!â a familiar voice cries out. Of course. Nosy-ass Sunghoon. You resist the urge to drop kick him right then.
âI have a better question,â Jay pipes in. âAre we invited to this afterparty too orâŚâ
Jake furrows his brows, turning to the idiotic duo. âWhat afterparty?â
â
And when Sunghoon and Jay chase after you with questions about your secret relationship and who was gonna call the taxi after Suji left them behind, the two of you run far away from the auditorium. No stupid friends to drag you anywhere. Just you two.
When you both reach his dorm, he doesn't waste one second after you close the door to lift you over his shoulder. You yelp as your feet lift off the ground, squeaking when your back hits the mattress with a soft bounce. He sets the bouquet softly on his nightstand before hovering over your frame, and his knees sink into the mattress as he traps you underneath him.
Jake strokes your cheek lovingly, his hand trailing down and down until it reaches the edge of your skirt. Still as short as ever. Thighs so pretty underneath the thin fabric.
âI missed you,â he sighs, hands trailing to the edges of your panties. He strokes your plush skin, sending shivers down your spine. You want to roll your eyes, deflect the warm stirring in your core as he scans your figure, eyes clouded with lust. But youâre supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Honesty and all that.
âImissedyoutooâŚâ you mutter lowly, rushing through your words.
He moves closer, ear practically touching your lips. âHm?âÂ
You lose patience, baring your teeth and nipping his helix. He flinches, glaring at you with a playful scoff.
âYou said you weren't gonna be mean anymoreâŚâ Jake sighs, tone dripping in mockery as he pouts. And you want to say something more, but Jakeâs hands land on your ass, giving you a subtle squeeze.
You know what. You'll humor him. Just this once.
You bring your lips to the ear you just bit, kissing it lightly. Steady hands trail down the fake football jersey he adorns, and to the painful bulge of his shorts. Jake sucks in a deep breath. You chuckle, amused at how suddenly it appears. So easy to arouse.Â
âSorry,â you whisper, licking his outer shell. He shudders against your touch, your breath on his neck triggering goosebumps all across his arms. You squeeze him through the fabric, his head falling to your shoulder. âIâll stopâŚâ
âDonât,â he lets out through ragged breaths, as you stroke him languidly. You chuckle. Heâs so cute. Cheeks tinged with pink. It makes you want to do worse things.
âLie down,â you command him, and he gladly takes your place on the bed. Your knees encase him now, tugging his stupid jersey over his head. âLet me make it up to youâŚâ
His muscles are so well-defined, glistening under the light of your dorm room. You trail kisses down his chest, licking down his abs. Salty. Just how you like him. Jake squirms underneath you as you tug his shorts down, his dick slapping your chin on the way up as it springs free. Jake almost cums from the sight, tip flushed red and pulsing with need. To feel you. To be so buried deep inside you that he can feel the head poking through your stomach.Â
When you move your head down to kiss his hardness, he digs his fingers into your shoulder. âNo, baby,â he mutters. âCome up here, hm?â
You furrow your brows. Why the fuck was he trying to interrupt you during your apology?
âWhaââÂ
Jake cuts you short, manhandling your waist as his fingers press into your hips. He positions your knees on both sides of his head, turning you around. He pushes your mini skirt all the way up to scrunch around your midsection. Yes, you might have an amazing view of his throbbing cock, but now you can't see his beautiful fucked out face. He breathes in the scent of your panties with hooded eyes, nose grazing your clothed folds.Â
You pout. âI thought I was the one making it up to youââ
âYou are,â he chuckles, interrupting you instantly. He pushes your ass down to his face with one hand, using the other to press your back flush against his body. Your face inches closer to his member. Oh. That's what he's doing.
âPervertâŚâ you mumble, coyly reaching out for him. So thick and large that you need to use both hands to engulf him, pre-cum dribbling out of him as if on command.Â
âI am,â he mumbles, pulling your panties low enough to give him access to your cunt, lying just below your knees. He licks a stripe up your drenched folds all the way to your puckered hole. You wither against him. âCall me whatever you want, baby. Just sit on my face when you do it.â
Your hips land down on him softly as your thumb spreads his liquid down his engorged length. This position was new to you, meaning it was also new to him. But Jake moves expertly like the quick learner he is. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your folds, pink muscle lapping at your labia like a man starved. Your tongue sticks out to offer kitten licks over his tip.Â
But Jake hasnât had you in weeks. And he knows what he wants. And itâs not the weak jutting you do against his face, or the shallow sucking you offer his engorged cock. No. He wants all of you. The sick part of you that would degrade him, that would rile yourself up like all those nights before. And he doesnât want to have to mention a stupid nickname some stupid girl said to bring it out of you. There were more healthy methods, heâs sure, to guide you right where he wants to be.
And so Jakeâs hands grip your ass, pushing you down on him harder. Forcing your hips to grind back and forth against his face at the rabid pace he sets, nose sticking in between your folds slightly as his tongue laps at your clit. Like this. Dirty. Raunchy. Aggressive. He fucking loves it.Â
âNghââ you cry out, propelling him to push himself deeper in your mouth. You take a deep breath so his cock can slide through more easily, taking as much of him as you can to drown out your warbled moans. Your tongue finds the underside of his thickness, tapping him as you start to gag. And when Jake reaches the back of your throat, he gives you a second to calm yourself before he bucks his hips up into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, remembering to hollow your cheeks as he shoots forward. But itâs hard to stay focused when his wet, pink muscle pushes into you.Â
âFuckâTaste so good, babyââ The squelching sounds that mix with Jakeâs moans against your bundle of nerves are obscene, sucking and flicking his tongue with a fervor you try to match now. Your tongue curls up to meet the underside of his girth, bobbing your head up and down with ferocity. Anything to please him.Â
âMmmmââ you moan around him. Your mouth feels so fucking good, but your pussy on his lips was like actual heaven. He could eat you out all day. As a reward. As a punishment. Anything.Â
And he breathes your scent in again, groaning once more. He pushes his nose closer to your folds, the tip of it engulfed in your wetness. You almost gag around his dick at the intrusion, saliva pooling at the base of his cock. You wrap your thighs around him tighter, bouncing on his face like he was nothing but a sex toy. Erratic. Desperate. Yes. Just like that. Fuck him like you never want him out of your sights again.
He knows you're close, knows by the way you start scratching at his thighs like an agitated kitten. But, no. Jake needs it. Needs you to cum all over his face. Make a mess on him. Of him. His tongue plunges into you now, index finger coming up to play with your clit.
His cock pops out of your mouth with little resistance as your body goes slack with pleasure. You're just licking at his dick with a loose hand, eyes rolled back from ecstasy.Â
You whimper against the slickness of his sloppy mouth, drool continuing to fall out of the corners of your mouth through your slurred speech.
âNghâNoâLet meâFuckâJakeeeeââ you try to say, but it all sounds nonsensical. Jake understands, more than you know, as his heart constricts so deliciously. His poor baby, he thinks. Just wants to make him feel good. Wants to make it up to him so bad. But you donât know that the only thing that could make him happy right now is for you to choke him out with your sopping cunt.Â
âMmmâNghâAhhââ Heâs too good down there. Too fucking messy. Why does he do this? Why does he love making you sound like a fucking animal? Your toes curl, the grip around his shaft tightening as your back arches even more into him.Â
You feel it. But it's different from usual. It feels like too much. Like an impending explosion. You claw at his thigh even more, all of a sudden panicked. âJakeâLet goâJakeââÂ
When he shakes his head, his tongue swipes your clit left and right. His grip on your ass pushes his nose more deeply into your soaked folds. You whimper, cheek nuzzling against his length in desperation.Â
âI'm seriousâŚ.â you whine as you try to pull away. This is weird. You feel weird. You try to run away from it, that foreign feeling. But it's no use. Jake's too smart, too quick. He presses you down on him harder, hugging your waist, suctioning your clit, cheeks flushed from how quickly his mouth works against you.Â
âJAKE!â you scream as your thighs clamp around him, hips shuddering uncontrollably. Like a hose turning on for the first time, a spray of your juices lands onto Jake's chin and neck, coating him in your dampness. He welcomes it, tongue sticking out to taste as much of it as he can.
You cry above him, tears landing on his dick still rubbing against your heated face. He laps up every last remaining bit of your climax desperately, like theyâd dry up too quickly if he didnât. You whine, grinding yourself on him to steady your heart rate. When heâs fully satisfied, Jake frees you from his clutches, lying you down on the bed so your head can finally rest on a pillow.
His dick is still incredibly stiff. And you're still in tears.
âYou⌠fucking⌠dick,â you say in between sniffles, not believing you could ever climax that hard in your life. âWhere the fuck did you learn how to do that?â
And he knows whatâs going through your head. Because old habits do, in fact, die hard. And now you probably think he was out fucking anyone and everyone during the weeks-long hell that was your breakup. Jake chuckles, pulling your skirt down. He bites his bottom lip at the sight of your folds. Glistening with his saliva and your juices. He fists his cock tightly.Â
âStill so jealous, baby?â He smirks. God, please just let him indulge in his pouty girlfriend at least once more.
âNo, but be honest,â you mumble. âDid youââ
âFuck other girls?â he finishes your sentence, scoffing playfully at the ridiculousness. Your eyes narrow.
âWell, did you?â
Jake spent almost every day crying, unblocking and blocking your number over and over again just to see if you noticed. But he can tell you all that later. Because right now, you're giving him a death glare that only makes his cock throb harder.Â
âNo, babe,â he mutters, swiping his wet tip against your even more drenched folds. So puffy after all he's put it through. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. âYou know Iâd never.â
And you do. Heâs only ever been with you. Will only ever be with you. You know that. But still. The wheels are already turning in your head. You know⌠you're usually the one worried about these things. He deserves a taste of his own medicine.
âImagine if I didââ
And he slams his dick into your plushness, eliciting a scream from you. He doesnât even let you complete your evil plan.
âFUCKââ
âDon't finish that sentence,â he glowers, brows furrowed. You lick your lips deliciously. "That's not funny."
âSee how it feels?â you whimper, as he delivers another harsh thrust, your shirt riding up your stomach from the impact. You arch your back off of the bed as Jake groans into your neck, licking a stripe up your jaw.
âAll this just âcause I made you squirt,â he mumbles angrily, wincing as you squeeze his length into a tighter grip. âSo fucking immature.â
You chuckle evilly. âImmature like who? Sunghoââ
His childhood friendâs name doesn't even leave your lips when Jake clamps his teeth into your neck. Hard. âOWââ
A taste of your own medicine. But his skin grazes something thenâa thin chain that he's seen before but never questioned. You never wore it when you fucked. A circular hardness underneath your shirt that weirdly looks likeâŚ
He tugs on it before you can protest, and there on the chain is a ring. With J engraved on the inside. His gaze softens. And you become a blumbering mess underneath him, shy with embarrassment. âI canâExplainâJustââÂ
Jake pulls out enough so his tip is the only thing suctioned in your folds before pistoning into you harshly once more. You whimper.
âShut up and let me fuck you,â he mutters into your ear, before engulfing your lips in his. With a newfound energy, Jake pounds into you with urgency, pace brutal against your already sore pussy. His hand comes up to grab your tits, spilling over your bra from the impact of his movements. So rough. So mean. Damn, you were rubbing off on him.
And you have this aching desire to flip him over and ride him back into submission, but the slapping of his hips into yours devolves your thoughts into unintelligible moans.Â
âNgahâFuckâOh my godââ
Jakeâs mouth leaves yours as his eyes travel downwards to the piece of jewelry. He likes how it looks on you. Sitting so nice between your bouncing breasts. Maybe, heâd buy you a necklace next. A pretty Tiffany necklace to go with the pretty Tiffany ring on his pretty girlfriendâs pretty finger. Fuck. Youâre so fucking pretty.
He brings the ring up to his mouth, biting down on the metal, before he lowers himself onto your lips once more. With the ring in between his teeth, he grabs at your jaw to open for him. Jake transfers it over to your parted lips as you catch the ring with your tongue, coated in his saliva. He dives down into you, your tongues battling as the coolness of the metal moves between your mouths. His thrusts are slower now, but you moan just the same.
Drool drips down both of your lips, the ring getting passed between you two in the movements of your open-mouthed kisses. He lets up, the necklace falling wetly onto the pillow. He admires the red marks the chain leaves on your neck. Maybe a Tiffany choker instead?
And his thrusts deepen, until your cervix repeatedly kisses his mushroom tip. He wished you could see your expression right now. So needy. So perfect.Â
âJakeâBabyââ When the pet name leaves your lips, Jake lets out a deep, guttural groan. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for you to say it.
âYes, baby?â He repeats after you, sweat beading down his forehead as he continues to split you open, pumping into your tightness with urgency. His hands are pushing your thighs open now, admiring how the ring sits sloppily on your neck as he jackhammers into you.
âI love you,â you moan out, your hands reaching for his face. âI love you so much.â
He looks at you with glassy eyes, soft and tender. He kissed you again, sweeter this time.Â
âI love you too.âÂ
And he spreads you apart further, fucking you into the squeaking mattress with his pulsing dick, so big that it fills you everywhere you need him. He pushes in and out, evoking a new set of tears to stain your cheeks. âBaby,â you cry out. âI'm almostââ
âWait for me,â he pleads, elbows falling to the sides of your head. He buries himself in the crook of your neck. âCan you, baby? Pleaseââ
You try to nod as he's ramming into you as deep as he can go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, about how good you are for him, how pretty, how perfect, how he loves the marks you leave him, how he wants you to control him, how youâre the only one heâd ever be with any lifetime ever.
âNghââ His hips snap forward with everything he can give. He feels it now, too. That coil that threatens to spill inside you. But he can't. No condom. No birth control.Â
And when your hips rise, clenching around him, your orgasm hits you like a truck. You mewl out in pleasure, crying as Jake tries to pull out of you. But you suction him so well, too well, that it's a little too late. He twitches inside of you. And his mouth falls open as the first spurts of cum spill, but nothing escapes his lips.Â
âFuck, baby,â he whines. He needs to pull out. But it feels so damn good inside⌠So warm⌠So wet⌠And so much of himself has already spilled inside you⌠It should be okay to push it all inside, right? But he has self-control. He swears it.
âNoâŚâ You whimper when he actually pulls away, his seed dribbling everywhere.
â...âm sorry, babe,â he groans, as his hand wraps around himself, stroking languidly. âIâm so sorry.â
Jakeâs cheeks are flushed as he pumps the remainder of his climax on your drenched folds, painting your clit a milky white. He sees the first of his juices push out of you, his fluids like cream all over your puffiness.
âFuck,â he moans, his fingers coming up to spread it all across your folds. But when you look down, all you feel is empty. All you feel is the need to push down against his fingers and take him all over again.Â
Jake's eyes widen as he lets out a shaky breath. You look so desperate. For what? He's not sure. But he can't deny his baby anything. He can't deny himself either. He wants to see it just once. Seems like you do too.Â
âCan I?â he asks in a low whisper, fingers spreading your folds apart to watch more of his load seep out of you. And you nod, shyly, relieved you didnât have to beg for it yourself. This is already too much exposure therapy for one day.
And so Jake gathers the cum that's gushed over his digits, and with a shaky breath, he pushes them back into you. You tighten your grip on his biceps.
âFuuuuckââ You cry out when he starts pumping it in and out, slow but still so fucking deep. His veiny fingers always know which parts to caress.Â
Jakeâs eyes are in a daze, obsessed with how his cum goes back in so easily. Even when youâre still so tight and so sensitive. Everything feels so fucking drenched. And like this, he wants to see you come undone again.
âOne more, babyâŚâ he pleads in a low whisper, pressing butterfly kisses on your eyelids. He licks the tears that spill from your eyes. So pretty like this. âYou want to make it up to me, right?â
You can only whine in response, hands shaking as they clutch onto him for dear life.Â
âHm?â He asks for confirmation, curling his fingers up to the spongy spot inside you. He grinds his palm on your engorged clit. Whimpering out a pathetic âyes,â you let the pleasure overtake you once again. Your body feels like it's on fire. Too hot. Too much. But still, your back arches up into him, whimpering.
âCome on,â he whispers into your ear. Low and steady. âGive it to me.â
And you can practically hear the mess that his three fingers are creating as they pump into your folds, can feel the stickiness of your mixed juices coat your inner walls. But you shut your eyes, letting the warm tingling overtake your core. YesâRight thereâFuckâ
âI'Mââ you screech, but it's no use. Your head falls back against the pillow as you sob. And Jake curses underneath his breath as you spray all over him once again, massaging your clit as he pulls his fingers out to watch. Your hips rise to meet nothing, just your body spraying so beautifully against his torso that his dick could harden once more any second now. He relishes in your body, admiring his work as his cum pushes out of you again. Thick and creamy.
You look down too, seeing the fucked-out state he's put you in. Maybe you would've been right to flick his forehead and call him every insult in the book for filling you up like that. But fuck. Could you ever have him cum outside of you again if it felt that good to have his cum inside you? No, you'd definitely need to get on the pill ASAP.
Jakeâs gaze falls onto your face now, at your bruised lips and your dried tears. But the ring catches his eye once more, the one he hadnât seen in a year. And his heart flutters.
âBabe?â he starts, lying softly next to you. He wraps you in his arms, not minding the dampness of the sheets below. Heâll clean you up later.
âMmm?â You respond, on the brink of unconsciousness. Satiated. He touches your chain, the other hand wrapped around your stomach, giving a reassuring squeeze.
âHow long have you been wearing our ring like this?â Your breath catches. You'd hoped that he'd forgotten, that the conversation could wait for the morning when your heart wasn't thumping so loud. It takes you a second before you respond.
âSince you gave it to me,â you admit, slowly. Jake can feel the warmth creep up to your ears. And he wonders how he's never seen it, how you seem to hide it so well after all the times he's undressed you before.Â
But then again, youâve always been good at keeping secrets. Still, he smiles. Because even after you walked away, even when you said you were done, you still kept this piece of him. Wore it so beautifully around your neck.
Fuckâheâs never letting you walk out on him like that again. If you even hint at breaking up, he might actually end up begging on his knees andâ
âNot like it matters anyway,â you cut through the silence grumpily. âYou threw yours away.â
He lets out a surprised laugh and pulls you closer, squeezing you tighter. You pout. Whatâs he so jolly for?
âWhat do you mean?â he asks cheekily. âThat never happened.â
You turn around abruptly, facing him with furrowed brows. âI literally saw youââ
Your words are cut short when his mouth finds yours, one hand steadies your jaw as the other reaches blindly into his nightstand. A drawer opens. He pulls back just enough to show you the turquoise box, one eerily similar to the one you have in your closet, as he flips it open.
His ring. Silver and engraved with your initial. But how�
âI guess I'm really good at pretending to throw things,â he answers before you can even ask. Thought Iâd be a little dramatic that dayâŚâ
You smack his shoulder, but your hand massages the spot, swallowed by the wave of relief that crashes over you. He didn't really let go like he made it seem. He was still yours, even when you thought you lost him.Â
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?!â you grumble, pinching his cheek. All he does is chuckle.Â
In one smooth motion, Jake lifts your necklace and unclasps it, letting the ring unfurl out and into his palm. You donât stop him.Â
He looks at you for a second, as if asking for permission. You offer Jake your hand instead of speaking. He slips the ring onto your fingers, kissing your knuckles. Then he slides his own ring back where it belongs, to where heâs always kept it. Jake smiles up at you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips.
And you know youâll wear it proudly this time. Without him having to ask.Â
âI love you?â he says, gently, like he needs to hear you say it back just one more time. Just to make sure. And you kiss him again, warmth coating your features.
âI love you too.â
His heart clenches in the best way possible.
Damn, he could really get used to this.
â
epilogue
Jake runs to the benches, grabbing at his water bottle like itâs his last salvation. He gulps it all down in seconds, sweat seeping down his body. Practice was way too intense today.
âOh my god, Jakey,â a lilting voice punctures through his ear. âYou're literally dripping.â
His eye twitches as she enunciates the last word.Â
âChoa,â he starts, shooting daggers at her. He's too exhausted to put up with this today. Or ever. She was graduating in a few months anyway. He might as well say his piece. âFirst of all, my name is Jake. And second of all, it makes me really uncomfortable when you say things like that.â
Choa pouts, tugging his sleeve like a toddler. âWhy?â she giggles. âDo I make you nervous?â
âNo.â He pulls away, not even bothering to look at her. âI just don't appreciate how you talk to me.â
She glowers, thrown off by his disposition. He's usually so sweet, so polite. What happened?
âIt's âcause of your friend isn't it? You know she was so fucking rude to meââ
âMy girlfriend,â he corrects immediately. Choaâs hands drop down to her sides. Jake pays her no mind, packing his stuff into his duffle bag instead.
âW-what?â she stutters out. âSince when?â
He shrugs, finally slinging his bag over his shoulder. âSince forever.â
âWhat?!â she screeches. âHow come you never toldââ
âOh Jakeyyyy,â you sing out in an octave higher than your regular speaking voice. He presses his lips together to prevent the laughter that almost seeps through his mouth.
âYeah, babe?â He calls out, looking past Choa. You're standing with your arms crossed, eyeing down the girl from a few meters away. A bright new necklace shining above your shirt.Â
Your gaze flickers back to him, not bothering to waste your precious energy on the small, vicious girl. You tilt your head to the side, beckoning him over in a silent command. And he follows.
Your loyal little puppy.
Choa scowls as you both walk away, holding in your snickers. Jake takes your hands into his just to really rub salt on the wound, your matching rings clinking against each other.
âDo you remember Gaeul from the backstage crew?â you announce proudly, the bob-headed girl long-forgotten. âShe wants to hang out with me tomorrow!â
Jake smiles, ruffling your hair. âThatâs great!â
âShe's throwing something at her apartment this weekend, too,â you slide in. âMaybe⌠we can go together?â
âOh yeah, Suji told meââ And he stops himself. But itâs too late. Youâre already frowning.
âOkay, so let me go ahead and take Jay insteadâŚâ And he pouts at your words.
âNot fair,â he mutters, but you see the smile he suppresses. What a freak, you think to yourself.
You click your tongue, squeezing his hand a little tighter. â...I'm biting the shit out of you later.â
If Jake had a tail, it wouldâve started wagging.
not just anyone.
ę¨.. â â woonhak x f! reader. superhero au.
synopsis: woonhak is eager, hard working, and wants to do good. he also cannot get a grip on his powers - which is where you come in, unfortunately. (wc 14.3k)
a/n: happy birthday hakhak! THEE grumpy x sunshine trope. heavily references x-men, but you don't really need to know a ton about it to read this fic! just understand the 'mansion' is something akin to a boarding school for superpowered people. also i didn't watch wandavision i just like the quote. mhm. thank you to rosy who beta read for me! couldn't have done it without you <3 @taestulipss
the danger room is a maelstrom of simulated chaos.
drones whizz through the air, lasers pointing with calculated accuracy. the terrain beneath woonhakâs feet shift as he runs away from the rubble, jumps out of the way of a falling tree, and manages to shove a simulated enemy into a wall before tripping on his feet.
woonhak is having a very bad day.
âsentinel approaching from your six,â sakuraâs voice cuts through the chaos, crackling over the comms. woonhak spins to see just that - a giant robot stomping its way across the room to him, repulsor rays pulsing.
panic runs through him and his powers flare to life - he can feel it, an electric tingle dances under his skin and he knows something is about to happen -
and suddenly heâs phasing through the floor.
âno, no, no, not intangibility! i need something that can help punch -â his voice is muffled by concrete because heâs currently waist-deep in the floor, and the sentinel is still stomping across the floor. this is not how woonhak imagined he would die - stuck in the ground like the worldâs worst lawn decoration.
he feels the tingle in his nerves change slightly and now he has a new power. telekinesis? maybe? he throws out a hand like he saw the other telekinetics do but nothing happens and his power changes before he can even attempt another fancy hand move.Â
super speed? he feels his feet kick at inhumane speeds and he vibrates so hard his teeth chatters, but heâs also still halfway into the floor so heâs now just stuck and nauseous.
the sentinel brings its fists down and woonhak squeezes his eyes shut.Â
âterminate the simulation.â
sunghoâs voice cuts through the comms and immediately the room stops whirring. drones stop dead in their track and the form of the sentinel shimmers before it disappears. woonhak finally becomes tangible enough to pull himself out of the concrete floor before he becomes a permanent tripping hazard.
woonhak slumps to the ground (solid!) in an undignified heap. he lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. his powers are still flickering through him like a broken radio - for a second he has enhanced hearing (he can hear sungho sighing in the observation deck), then night vision (useless, the lights are on), and what might be echolocation (also useless).
âthird time this week, woonhak,â sungho says, the door to the danger room opening with a soft hiss. he doesnât sound angry, just tired, and that is somehow worse.
âi know,â woonhak says, still on his back, âiâm sorry. i just panic - and everything goes crazy, and then i panic more because itâs crazy, and -â
âand you create a feedback loop,â sungho extends a hand, pulling woonhak to his feet.
âyeah, that.â
woonhak clasps his hands and allows sungho to haul him back onto his feet.
âyour powers are manifesting your subconscious needs and emotional state. fear creates chaos, and chaos creates even more fear.â
âso i just need to be⌠not scared when a giant robot is trying to turn me into a woonhak flavoured pancake?â
sungho gives him what can only be described as a ghost of a smile, âyou just need⌠targeted advice. someone to tell you what your subconscious is trying to do before the fear takes over.â
woonhakâs power flickers through him again - this time it feels like electricity. he shakes it out of his hands and shudders.
âdoes someone like that exist?â
âiâve learnt that thereâs a person for everything,â sungho checks his watch, âget cleaned up. weâre taking a field trip, and our advisor does not like sweaty teenage boys.â
youâre on the beach, not the nasty kind where sand gets everywhere and sticks to your skin, but a beach where everything is perfect and there are no responsibilities and no one is asking you to carry their emotional baggage and codify it into helpful advice for them in the worldâs worst therapy session.
your phone is ringing. you ignore it. the beach is more important. thereâs a pineapple drink with a little blue umbrella in it.
the phone keeps ringing.
âgo awayâŚâ you mumble into your pillow. your dorm is blessedly dark - youâve duct-taped blackout curtains over the windows after your roommate moved out last semester. the aircon is blasting and no one is around to judge you for napping at 2pm on a tuesday.
the ringing stops. precious silence.
then it starts again.
âmy god,â you lurch up and grab the phone and stab the accept call button, âwhoâs dying?â
the person on the other end clears their throat, âno one⌠yet.â
you frown at the voice you donât recognise and pull the phone away to stare at the caller id. âbig sâ. âencrypted callâ. whatever that means.
âwho are you again?â you ask, trying to clear the grogginess in your voice.
âitâs sungho.â
âoh! sungho. hi. great. love this for me. whoâs going on a rampage this time?â
âno one. we need you to come in for a consultation.â
âiâm in⌠in the middle of something.â
âyou sound like you just woke up.â
âyes, exactly. i was in the middle of my nap,â you rolls your eyes and pull the covers over you and pray this call takes less than five minutes, âget jiwoo to do it. or lily. you know, the actual telepaths.â
âthis isnât a telepath situation. itâs a⌠you situation.â
you groan, âsungho. i have a biochem lab tomorrow. you canât do this to me.â
âlisten -â
â- i already helped you last time when you called me to help diffuse the situation with a guy who could only speak in colours.â
âand you did a wonderful job.â
âand i missed my organic chemistry test because of it,â you drag a hand down your face, âiâm trying very hard to maintain a normal life here, sungho. and normal lives donât include ditching class to translate emotions for literal walking talking bomb threats.â
âi understand, and i apologise. but this is important. we have a new recruit whose powers we believe will thrive with the right guidance. your guidance.â
âget someone else, sungho.â
âthere is no one else.â
thereâs a deep seated hatred for sungho growing in your soul right now as you suck a deep breath in. calm. ocean waves against sand. pineapple drink with a blue umbrella.
âwhatâs so special about this new guy?â you sit up in your bed.
âhis powers manifest randomly based on emotional need, but, as you might expect, he has no understanding of what they do or how to control them. he needs an interpreter, and you're the best interpreter we have.â
you stay quiet for a long moment, weighing your options. you could say no, go back to your delicious nap, and pretend this conversation never happened. but thereâs something in sunghoâs voice - he wouldnât be asking you this if it wasnât a last resort.
âthis is a consultation, right? quick evaluation, i give you my professional opinion, and iâll be back for lab tomorrow?â
thereâs a pause thatâs a few seconds too long.
âsungho.â
âweâd prefer you to run some preliminary field tests with him.â
âyou lost me.â
â[y/n]-â
âfields test equal danger room. equal at least a whole day. equal barely anytime to prepare for lab. equal my gpa falling. equal -â
âi understand,â sungho interrupts, âweâll compensate you for your time.â
âi donât want compensation. i want a degree!â
âwhat if,â sungho says carefully, âwe arranged for⌠academic support? professor xavier has connections with the university. he would ensure your professors are understanding about your absences.â
âthatâs called academic dishonesty.â
âitâs accommodations for a student with unique demands on her time,â sungho corrects.
you flop back onto your bed, you can feel the beginning of a headache forming - not from your powers, just from sheer annoyance of the conversation.
âyouâre not going to let this go, huh?â
âno.â
at least heâs honest.
âhis name is woonhak. heâs eager, well-meaning, a quick learner, and also currently a danger to himself and others because he canât predict what his powers will do. yesterday he manifested laser eyes and put a whole through the entire left wing of the mansion. last week he phased through five floors and ended up in the sewers of chicago,â sungho says, like heâs pitching you a ikea put-it-together-yourself! project instead of a person.
you feel a flicker of sympathy. you remember being new and young, being uncertain about her powers, not knowing what exactly you could do.Â
âyou think i can help him?â
âi think youâre the only one who can.â
you sigh. long, loud, and exaggerated, to make sure sungho can hear how deeply inconvenienced you are from the other side of the line.
âfine. but compensation. and i bill by the hour and by cups of coffee from my favourite spot.â
âdeal.â
âand professor owes me a personal apology letter to my biochemistry teacher.â
âiâll draft it myself.â
âand i want -â you try to think of something to demand in the exploitation of this unfair power dynamic, but you blank - âwhatever. iâll be at the mansion in an hour.â
âactually, weâre outside already.â
âyouâre what?â
âin the parking lot. blue car. thought it would be more efficient.â
âyou donât have a license,â you mutter suspiciously.
sungho laughs nervously, ânobody needs to know that.â
you look around your room. laundry everywhere, books opened and furiously coloured with highlighters, three coffee mugs on the table.
âgive me twenty,â you mutter.
âunderstood. thank you, [y/n].â
you hang up without responding and drag yourself out of bed. you look like a mess - because the better the nap the more wild you look.
ânormal life,â you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair, âi could have a normal life. be a chef. work at a bookstore. but no, i just had to have weird emotion-reading powers.â
you finish in eighteen minutes, a new record. the air outside is warm and sticky as you push open the doors, autumnâs humidity clinging to you like a second skin. your biochem book is in your hands, because youâll study in the car, and your shoelaces are untied. the campus is busy - students chattering everywhere, heading to classes, laughing with friends, living normal lives. you weave through them, gritting your teeth at how suddenly itâs everyone's first day on a university campus and no one knows how to act. you think about how nice it would to be worried about nothing more than exams and which party to hit up next.
you spot the blue car immediately. itâs ugly, as you expected. no superpower could fix bad taste. sungho sits sprawled out in the driverâs seat, and in the passenger seat is a guy around your age, all nervous energy and fidgeting hands. you watch how he keeps checking himself in the mirror every few seconds. you catch his eye in between blinks and your eyes meet.
even from a few feet away, you can feel the absolute chaos of his emotional state - anxiety, excitement, hunger, fear, determination. all swirling together like a storm in human form.
âwonderful,â you mumble, wrenching open the passenger door, âthis is going to be a disaster.â
you fling your book into the backseat and slide in after it.
âhi!â the guy twists around to face you, his smile bright and genuine and way too energetic for 3pm tuesday, âiâm woonhak!â
ânoted,â you say curtly.
âitâs so nice to meet you. sungho told me about your powers and i just think its so rad that you can -â
âcoffee first,â you interrupt, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the headrest, âtalk later.â
sungho starts the car, âthereâs coffee at the mansion.â
âare you trying to poison me?â you scoff, âi want the expensive coffee. from my favourite place.â
sungho sighs, âweâll stop on the way.â
woonhak is still turned around, still looking at you with those earnest, eager, hopeful eyes. you can feel his emotions without even trying - heâs nervous about making a good impression, excited at the prospect of maybe making sense of his powers, anxious about how it entirely works, hopeful this might be the answer heâs been looking for.
itâs exhausting.
âyou can turn around now,â you remind him, eyes still closed.
âoh, yeah,â he faces forward, clicking his seatbelt into place, but heâs still vibrating in his seat and youâre pretty sure heâs peeking at you through the mirror.
âcoffee. now. and get woonhak a doughnut. heâs practically broadcasting hungry.â
you made the right decision to detour for coffee. you clutch the latte in your hands like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to the normal world as sungho pulls through the gates of the mansion.
woonhak hasnât stopped talking, not since heâs finished his doughnut.
â- last night, i dreamt that i was floating, and when i woke up - bam! i really was! my nose was touching the ceiling and everything. but i got scared and i immediately fell down and i got even more scared so i manifested, like, absorption impact. it was weird. i ended up blasting a hole into hyungâs room and -â
you wonder if he ever stops talking. you think you prefer your lab partner, whoâs biggest flaw is that he doesnât wash the beakers properly and you have to go back to the sink every time to do it yourself. you take a long, deliberate sip of your coffee.
sungho ushers you inside, and youâre immediately hit with the familiar sensation of the mansion - dozens of emotional signatures layered on top of each other. students worried about controlling their powers, teachers stressed about lesson plans, heroes anxious about their next mission, and the constant, buzzing fear that comes with being a superpowered mutant.
youâve learnt to filter it out over the years, like white noise, but woonhak emotions cut through everything else like a siren - wee woo wee woo-ing his excitement and fear.
â[y/n]!â sakura appears in the hallway, âsorry for such short notice! thanks for coming.â
âi go where iâm needed,â you grumble.
âthe professor is waiting in his office. we need to brief you on the situation before we begin the comprehensive tests.â
âcomprehensive tests?â woonhak perks up, âi thought we were just doing an evaluation?â
sungho and sakura exchange a look.
âno - i agreed to preliminary field tests, only. the one day type situation. comprehensive tests means multiple sessions and iâm not -â
âletâs just let the professor handle it,â sakura interjects smoothly, already guiding you down the hall.
you shoot sungho a withering look, at least he has the decency to look somewhat apologetic.
professor xavierâs office was always too tacky for your liking. too many old books and it always smelt like tea - deliberate ambience. it couldnât deceive you. you know heâs a complete fool.
â[y/n],â the professor greets you warmly, âitâs wonderful to see you again. how are your studies progressing?â
âwould be progressing better if i wasnât here,â you mumble, xavier gives you the textbook definition of a tight smile.
âi apologise for the sudden summon. iâve already sent a notice to your professors explaining youâve been called away for a family emergency.â
âa family emergency,â you repeat, âis that what weâre calling this?â
âwell, in a sense, we are family here,â xavier gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, âplease, sit. both of you.â
woonhak practically throws himself into a chair, still alight with nervous energy. you hope youâve achieved more grace with the way you take to your seat slowly.
xavier steeples his fingers, his expression losing that hint of warmth and more serious, âwoonhak, i understand sungho has explained why weâve asked [y/n] to consult on your training?â
âyes, sir,â woonhak quickly replies, sitting up straight, âbecause my powers manifest randomly and i donât know how to control them. and [y/n] can read emotional intent and translate it into⌠um⌠instructions?â
he glances at you uncertainly as the ending of his sentence falters.
âclose enough.â
âyour power is quite unique, woonhak,â xavier nods knowingly, âweâve seen adaptive powers before - minji absorbs abilities through touch, and yunah can copy powers, but your manifestation is different. you donât copy or absorb. you generate entirely new abilities based on your subconscious emotional needs in the moment.â
âright. so, to summarise,â you set down your coffee cup, half empty, âyou donât know what youâre doing half of the time.â
woonhak slumps, âyeah, itâs like, iâm just constantly surprised by what my own body is doing.â
âprecisely,â xavier turns to look at you, âand thatâs where you come in. your ability to sense and interpret⌠emotional intent - makes you uniquely qualified to help woonhak understand what his subconscious is trying to accomplish before the power fully manifests.â
woonhak perks up, âitâs like your power is made for mine!â
you ignore him, his relief and excitement stinging over you like electrical signals.
you take in a deep breath, âso iâm basically going to be his instruction manual.â
âthink of it more as⌠a translator,â xavier suggests gently, âhis powers speak a language he doesnât yet understand. you can interpret that language for him.â
âand you believe this will help control his powers?â
âwe believe, with proper guidance and experience, woonhakâs powers will stabilise. it wouldnât eliminate the randomness - that appears to be intrinsic, but it will give him the tools to work in tandem with his powers rather than fight a battle against them.â
you roll the suggestion around in your mind like sisyphus pushing a stone up a hill. you can feel woonhakâs hope radiating off him like a heat from a furnace, his desperate desire for this to work, for someone to finally put sense to his chaos.Â
âlet me ask you something,â you finally say, turning to woonhak. he straightens at your voice.
âwhat do you want to do with your powers?â
âi want to help people,â woonhak answers without hesitation, âi want to be good.â
âdefine good.â
âlike, doing the right thing,â woonhak says, less confident than before, you feel hesitation trickle down his spine, âsaving people.â
you frown. unconvincing.
âplease,â woonhak says quietly, desperation rolling off him in waves, âi just want to be useful. i canât be useful if iâm falling down sewers or floating away every time thereâs a threat. i just want to protect whatâs important to me.â
he looks down at his hands like heâs mourning what he could do. regret pings off him in sparks and shame fills your lungs - his. you watch as he flickers between them and your figure - hopeful, but also telling himself he canât be.
âhow long?â you finally ask, the question directed back at the professor, âi can do a one-time evaluation, maybe a few trial tests. but i canât put my life on hold for - for a guy.â
xavier and sakura exchange looks. youâre starting to hate these looks. just pretend you donât acknowledge each other like normal telepaths do.
âwe were hoping,â sakura says carefully, âthat you might consider more⌠ongoing arrangement.â
âdefine ongoing?âÂ
âa few sessions per week. possibly more if it's urgent.â
âa few sessions per week,â you repeat slowly, âwhile iâm a full-time student, with a course load that people without a secret superhuman consulting job find way too much already.â
âwe will take the necessary measures,â xavier suggests, leaning forward in his wheelchair.
âlike what?â
âproviding academic support, and i have connections with several of your professors -â
âso youâre gonna bribe them or do your telepathic mumbo jumbo to them. got it.â
âi prefer to think of it as letting them know youâre doing valuable work outside of the classroom.â
you breathe in, âand what if it doesnât work?â
âit will,â sakura says firmly, like she has complete faith in professor xavierâs brainwashing capabilities.
you look at the two of them skeptically, âthis is insane. youâre asking me to drop everything.â
âyou have a gift, [y/n]. a gift that could help someone who needs it. is that so insane?â
âitâs like a full-time job,â you say.
âweâll try to be understanding of your other commitments.â keyword: try.
you look at woonhak, who has been uncharacteristically quiet through the whole exchange. his emotions swim around him in a miasma - guilt that heâs causing problems, hope that youâll say yes, fear that youâll say no. and under all that, a deep, aching loneliness he thinks no one will understand.
the stone rolls down the hill.
âdamn it,â you mutter.
âis that a yes?â xavier asks, the slight smile on his face suggesting he already knows the answer, probably because he saw your metaphorical sisyphus rock roll down the hill through his telepathic bullshit.
âyes, maybe,â you grumble, âone month. if itâs not working and woonbaby over here doesnât improve, or my grades slip, or your connections with my professors arenât connecting - iâm out. no guilt tripping and no âbut he needs you!â speeches. and no puppy dog eyes.â
âthat seems more than fair.â
âand a better coffee machine. the mansion coffee tastes like it's been there since the 1980s.â
âunderstood. iâll speak to the kitchen staff,â xavier says, amusement clear in his voice.
âand if weâre going to do this, woonhak,â you turn to him and he jumps at his name, âyou need to be honest with me. about what youâre feeling, what youâre struggling with, all of it. i canât help you if youâre hiding things.â
âi can do that,â woonhak says immediately, âiâm an open book. way open. people tell me i overshare sometimes and -â
âgreat. perfect. wonderful,â you cut him off, âwhen are we starting?â
âhow about now?â sakura suggests, âthe danger room is unoccupied.â
you look at your half empty coffee cup. you think about your untouched biochem textbook and your comfortable bed back at dorms.Â
you look at woonhak, who is looking at you with said puppy dog eyes and like you just offered him a life raft in the middle of an ocean.Â
âfine,â you sigh.
âokay,â you say, inserting your data into the computer, âletâs establish some ground rules.â
you hold up a finger, âfirst, when iâm reading your emotions - itâs not telepathy. iâm not in your head. iâm sensing what the purpose of the emotions are, which means -â
âyou experience my emotions secondhand,â woonhak finishes, âbut unlike me, you also know what iâm actually feeling and what my emotions are manifesting into.â
âlook at you, clever kid.â
âfeeling other peopleâs emotions all the time - it must be painful. is it painful?â
âsometimes,â you admit, because youâre too lazy to lie, âbut thatâs not your concern.â
âit feels like it should be my concern,â woonhak frowns.
âjust trust me,â you breathe in, âthis is about you working with me, not worrying about me. concentrate on yourself.â
woonhak nods, but you can feel his anxiety spike anyways, leaving you with goosebumps down your arm. great. thirty seconds in and everythingâs already worse than when you walked in.
âsecond,â you try to recalibrate, redirect - âwhen i give you an instruction, you follow it immediately. no ums and ahs. no hesitation, second guessing, or talk backsies. your power responds to emotion and intent - if you doubt yourself, youâll lose the power.â
âthird, if at any point you feel like youâre losing control. you tell me. immediately. no dilly dallying. donât push through it, donât try to be tough. just tell me.â
woonhak fiddles with his fingers, âwhy?â
âbecause your powers are connected to your emotional state. if youâre spiraling, youâre losing control, and i canât help you. i need to know so i can help you course correct before something explodes.â
woonhak eyes widen, âexplode? me?â
âitâs just a figure of speech, letâs hope it stays that way.â
you press your palm against the scanner on the door to the danger room, and the panel slides open. you can feel sakura and sunghoâs simmering anxiety when you step closer to the observation deck. the danger room whirrs to life around you, but it doesnât change appearances - baby mode, you deduce, for dummy testing.
âletâs start simple,â you step away from woonhak, âi want you to try to manifest a power. any power. just focus on needing something and see what happens.â
âer,â woonhak stands in the middle of the room, looking like a lost baby chick, âlike this?â
âlike⌠that,â you wave non-committedly at him.
woonhak closes his eyes and concentrates. you watch him, extending your power carefully. you feel his emotions shift - determination, focus, performance anxiety.
and then, like a switch flipping, you feel his power activate.
it hits you like a wave of vertigo. the world suddenly has too many dimensions, space folding in on itself in ways that makes your stomach lurch. spatial manipulation? reality warping? something that fundamentally breaks geometry and laws -
âgot it,â you press a hand to your forehead.
woonhakâs eyes fly open, âwhat? did i do something wrong?â
âno, you did something right,â you hiss through teeth and wait for the sensation to pass, âiâll give you a gold star sticker later. right now, concentrate on the power. probably some kind of spatial distortion ability. do you feel it?â
woonhak looks down at his hands, confused, âmy hands are kinda tingly.â
âthatâs it trying to activate. your subconscious generated the power, but you don't know what to do with it, so it's just sitting there.â
âthen what should i do?â
âthink about what you need.â
âi donât know? to understand what iâm doing.â
âdeeper, woonhak. be more introspective. your subconscious manifested spatial manipulation for a reason. think. what do you need space for?â
woonhak is quiet, thinking. you can feel him sorting through his emotions like a stack of cards, trying to identify the source.
âi need room,â he starts, quiet, âi feel⌠cramped. like my powers are too big for my body and i need more space to contain them.â
you blink, âgood.â
âwhat now? how do i use it?â
âcanât. too advanced for day one,â you step closer, watching him carefully, âi want you to let it go. release the power.â
âi can do that?â
âletting go is part of control, woonhak. you need to learn when to hold a power and when to release it.â
he looks uncertain, but he closes his eyes again. you feel him struggling with it - his instinct tries to hold on, and he tries to force it out in a push, like it could pop out of his body if he clenched hard enough.
âdonât force it,â you bark, âthink of it like releasing a breath, not forcing out a stool.â
woonhak snorts, but slowly, gradually, you feel the spatial distortion power face. the vertigo eases and the world returns to normal geometry.
âdid i do it?â
âyou did,â you give him a small encouraging smile, âfirst lesson - manifestation and release. youâre going to practice that until itâs second nature.â
âwhenâs that?â
âwhen i say youâre done.â
he groans but nods.Â
âits nice. having someone who understands whatâs happening. usually iâm just flailing around hoping i donât phase through a wall again.â
âdonât get used to it. you need to learn to rely on yourself, too. one month, remember?â
âright. trial period,â he nods furiously, but his emotions tell a different story - like heâs already hoping youâll stay longer, already imagining what it would be like to have someone who actually understands.Â
but you love to disappoint.
rule two: never question me. always trust me.
woonhakâs room is quiet except for woonhakâs occasional frustrated breathing. youâre nestled on woonhakâs bed - on your laptop that youâre supposed to be taking notes about organic chemistry on.
âagain,â you say, without looking up.
âbut iâve done it fifteen times already!â
âyouâve only done it fifteen times,â you correct, âyou need to hold your power for at least two minutes. youâre only at forty-five seconds.â
woonhak sighs like a kid being told he has to finish his homework before he can play on the ipad and closes his eyes. you watch as his power activates again - itâs like a buzzing under your skin, an emotion sharpens into focus.
alertness, tension wound tight around awareness. a strain and desperate need to not miss a single thing.
âheightening perception,â you say slowly, âhearing? other senses?â
woonhakâs eyes open in surprise, âyeah! i can hear⌠everything. like taesanâs record player from upstairs.â
âmakes sense,â you say, highlighting a word on your document, âsome part of you is probably afraid of missing something important. now, the critical part is not fighting it, acknowledge the need and let the power do itâs job.â
you can feel him trying, holding onto his power but not tugging on it. his feelings stabilises slightly as his frustration mellows out.
forty-five seconds.
fifty seconds.
a minute.
ânew record,â you whisper.
one minute fifteen.
one minute thirty -
the power flickers out like birthday candle. woonhak slumps to the floor, shaking his head like an oversized dog.
âminute thirty seven,â you announce, âgood job.â
âreally?â he lights up immediately, all exhaustion forgotten, âthatâs like two minutes!â
âitâs like one minute and thirty-seven seconds. you do know how time and minutes work, right?â
woonhak rolls with it, unperturbed, âiâm celebrating!â
he sprawls onto his back, grinning at the ceiling, teeth and all, âminute thirty-seven, thatâs like, way better than yesterday.â
âuh huh. yesterday you managed fifty-two seconds before you put your hand through the wall because you accidentally manifested super strength.â
âin my defense, i panicked and got too excited.â
âi know,â you deadpan, âi was there, and you panic a lot. thatâs your default reaction to everything.â
âiâm working on it,â he looks at up at you curiously, âhow do you deal with it? all those emotions at once.â
you consider the question, "learnt to tune it out. it feels like background noise now - irrelevant, uncessary. like when youâre at a party and twenty different conversations are happening around you but you gotta concentrate on the desperate guy trying to tell you about his vhs collection in front of you.â
"iâm never been to a party,â woonhak mumbles.
"youâre not missing much,â you stab a key on your keyboard, "practice. you still havenât reached minute two yet.â
"okay, okay,â he sits up and closes his eyes again, and you scoff at how he never questions you - what a rule abiding goody two shoes.
rule three: always tell me if something is wrong
"i canât do it.â
you look up from your biochemistry notes, because your life isnât complicated enough by basically being an emotional sponge, and squint at woonhak, whoâs sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.
"tell me,â you prompt.
"i canât do anything of it - the powers, the control drills. they just keep shifting before i can figure out what they are! iâve been at it for an hour!â
you lean forward in his chair - elbows on your knees, "what happened?â
"i donât know!â he stares down at his fingers, "i was doing so well yesterday! i was hitting three minutes consistently - sometimes even four! but i canât even feel it today. itâs like - like my own body doesnât want to listen to me!â
you push his sweaty hair out of his eyes with a delicate finger and a feeling pops out from where your skin grazes his skin. itâs gnaws at you like a dog with blunt teeth - it doesnât hurt, but it chews.
"homesick?â you say softly, "a call from home?â
woonhakâs swallows harshly, "i canât hide anything from you, can i?â
"nope,â you lean back in his chair, wiping your finger against your shirt, "tell me.â
woonhak is back to fiddling with his fingers, because he canât sit still and his brain runs a mile a minute like heâs trying to break the record for worldâs most anxious marathon.
"my mom called, said she misses me. asks if iâm eating well and if training is too hard. i told her i was learning to control my powers and everythingâs great. but - but i donât know if thatâs the truth.â
"you held a power for five minutes yesterday,â you point out, "i know youâre bad at maths and telling the time, but do you know how many things you can do in five minutes, woonhak? a lot - you can do so much.â
"but what if thatâs just a fluke? what if its just a lucky try?â
youâre quiet for a moment, "come on.â
"where are we going?â woonhak asks as you stand up.
"training room.â
"i told you. i canât do it today -â you shush woonhak.
"iâm hearing a lot of this chattering but i want,â you clap your hands together, "silence."
woonhak nods dumbly as he stumbles to his feet.
"trust me."
you back out into the hallway of the mansion and woonhak patters after you like a sad dog in pouring rain, confusion radiating off of him. you can practically see the question mark over his head.
the training simulation is simple. a few swaying targets, a basic obstacle course.
"manifest something,â you stand back, "anything.â
woonhak frowns - "canât.â
"donât talk back,â you snap, and woonhak straightens in attention. you watch as he defeatedly sighs and closes his eyes. something flickers through him - anxiety? but itâs gone as soon as it comes and leaves the lingering bitterness of doubt.Â
powers swing through his body, his feet is alight with super speed and next itâs anchored down by metallic armour. his fingers tingle with telekinesis until it shatters into time manipulation. he doesnât even have a second to manipulate, though, but itâs just replaced with simple super strength.
"see?â he sighs, "canât.â
"again.â
you say forcefully.
"itâs not going to -â
"again.â
he tries again to the same results.
"[y/n] -â
"again.â
"i canât do it!â
"again!â
something in him breaks and frustration bursts out of him like water breaking through a dam. a target explodes into smithereens and both of you cough as fine dust spreads through the room.
woonhak stumbles back, eyes wide, "what was that?â he manages through his coughs.
"frustration,â you say, wiping at the tears that gathered at the edge of your eye. the training roomâs machine activates as it starts cycling clean air back in - never a stranger to unintentional simultaneous combustion.
"youâre trying to control it - but you canât. thatâs a feeling too. it manifested as a spark - an explosion, because thatâs what you feel. thereâs no specific manifestation, just pure power.â
woonhak frowns, "but thatâs not useful, making things explode is not handy at all.â
you tap your head, "first of all, many problems can be solve via explosion. secondly, your powers arenât failing. youâre just anxious, scared, which makes your power unstable.â
you place a hand on his shoulder, "you canât let your anxiety control you, woonhak.â
"i donât trust myself,â heâs trembling under your touch.
"then trust me. lean on me. but also learn to accept yourself, and the fact youâll make mistakes, and the fact that itâs okay.â
"youâre really bad at bringing the mood up. no wonder you donât like parties,â woonhak laughs wetly.
âexcuse me. my kindergarten teacher told me i was a joy to have in class,â you squeeze his shoulder as your tone softens, "do you know what i feel from you right now?â
"failure?â
"no, fear. youâre scared of disappointing your mom, youâre scared of wasting peoplesâ time. but do you know what else i feel? determination.â
you poke him in the chest, over his heart, "itâs just so teeny tiny down here that you want to ignore it. but itâs there. i know you want to try - so hard. thatâs all you need, woonhak.â
âis that enough?â
âof course. trust me.â
rule four: letâs be open to each other.
you twist and turn around in the bed. the pillow smells like a garden after rain, which of course it does, because thatâs the perfume woonhak uses. he insisted you take the bed (you wrinkled your nose when he said he had a sleeping bag) and demoted himself to the floor. you pull the blanket up as your cheeks heat up at the fact that you are wrapped in his scent and it just makes it worse. it smells like him but sweat free, and it smells comforting, like cool dew dripping from leaves and the earthy tones of dirt.Â
"are you asleep?â you whisper softly, muffled by feather down and soft moonlight.
you hear woonhakâs sleeping bag shuffle before a zipper gets pulled down.
"no,â he whispers back, speaking into the cool midnight air. you can feel his anxiety hum through the air.
"you should sleep,â you frown.
"but youâre awake.â
"no talking back,â you grumble, and woonhak chuckles.
"why are you still awake?â
"exam in four days,â you stare out into the darkness, "i donât think i know the content.â
"iâll quiz you tomorrow. you should sleep.â
"quiz?â you scoff, "woonhak, you donât even know which blood cell carries oxygen.â
"i can still read from your textbook!â woonhak defends himself, his sleeping bag rustling more now. you can imagine the wide eyed look he always gives when he thinks heâs been wronged.
"tomorrow, you can try,â you let scepticism bleed into your voice.
"i want to help you too,â woonhak starts playing with the zipper on his sleeping bag. it makes a clinking noise, "youâre doing so much for me.â
you let silence consume the room.
"can i tell you something?â
"always.â
you take in a deep breath, "my first mission. i was fifteen, fourteen? it was supposed to be a simple undercover mission at some company building. the goal was to get in, disable some security codes for the main team, and get out. but somehow they found out about it - the enemy. they ambushed us. we were completely caught off guard. i donât remember much - just suddenly the entire building exploded into intense panic. i felt like i had ants crawling all over my skin, iâve never been burnt but i guess it would be something like that. it was so scary. my brain completely shut down and i wouldâve died if my partner didnât drag me out.â
you grab a fistful of blanket - "the worst part was - was there were injuries. we couldnât prevent them. for some people it might have just been a temporary upset, or a guilt - because injuries heal and it wasnât our fault, however they justify it. but - but i wasnât for me. i felt their fear, panic, and pain. it felt like i broke every bone in my body. you canât forgot emotions like that.â
you bury your face into woonhakâs pillow, "i was so scared of my powers afterwards. quit the institute and packed my bags to go home. i kept thinking about what would happen if i failed one day, if someone died, and what would happen to me if i could feel that. i could live with background noise emotions, but i had nightmares about what ifs. i never linked myself up so - so closely up with other people like that ever again.â
you sprawl out, suddenly feeling too hot and the bed too small for your big feelings. the slight breeze cools the heat that pools in your palms, "i donât do this for just anyone, woonhak. youâre helping me already - just by being yourself. iâm learning to not let my powers control me, too. iâm trying to be brave again.â
you hear him shuffle before a warmth envelopes your fingers. you realised heâs grabbed your hand that dangle over the edge of the bed when a flurry of emotions - not yourâs, settles like a light layer of snow over you. nervousness at his actions, sadness at your story, gratitude that you trust him enough to let him know.Â
"iâm sorry that happened,â he picks his words carefully. you still canât see him over the edge of the bed and the darkness, "youâre being really brave. thank you for telling me.â
he squeezes your fingers.
"you were vulnerable this morning,â you let out an unamused huff, "itâs my turn. relationship economics.â
"okay,â he whispers, "letâs be open to each other, from now on.â
"okay,â you move your hand so youâre gripping him too, "deal.â
"thank you for not giving up on me.â
"oh, no, donât mistake me. the paperwork would be a nightmare if you quit.â
woonhak chuckles, "youâre honest, even if you wound me.â
"iâve learnt that hiding emotions donât actually do much in the end,â you give his hand a squeeze, this time, "thatâs why i like you. you wear your emotions on your sleeve.â
"you like me?â
"youâre easy to read,â you correct.
"iâll take that as a compliment,â his voice drops into a quieter volume, "you should go to sleep. we still have training tomorrow.â
"okay,â you settle back into the mattress, "goodnight, woonhak.â
"goodnight, [y/n],â his thumb rubs comfortably across your knuckles as you finally let sleep take over.
"are you ready?â
sakura appears in the door of the danger room. woonhak has suddenly taken to doing push ups on the floor while you chug your water, exhausted by the recent training session. woonhak can consistently hold a power for five minutes now, and heâs becoming overly self-confident - he thinks doing push ups makes him look sexy. youâre still thinking how best to humble him.
"ready?â you look up at sakura as woonhak claps dirt off his palms, "woonhak can do five minutes now. weâre working towards six.â
"that will have to do,â sakura purses her lips, "what about you?â
"what about me?â you ask, before realisation dawns on you when you feel sakuraâs hesitance dance across the room.
"oh. oh no. i am not field mission material.â
"youâre field mission material for this mission alone,â sungho appears behind sakura, tablet in hand, "we need you two specifically.â
woonhak jumps to his feet, suddenly on high alert, "weâre ready!â
"no - no weâre not. donât listen to him,â youâll let him do as many push ups he wants to do, "iâm not ready.â
"iâm afraid youâll have to be,â sungho shakes his head, "itâs a situation i believe only you two can handle.â
"what situation?â woonhak blurts, he avoids your burning stare - you didnât raise him to have free will!
sungho crosses the room in easy strides while tapping on his tablet. he stops in front of you two and you groan as you pull yourself up to your feet. the screen shows aerial footage of a small town shrouded in thick mist.
"mist,â you say flatly, "youâre worried about mist? just uncondensise it with your powers or something. you can literally control the weather.â
"no, thatâs not it,â sakura cuts in, tapping the screen so it zooms in. you watch as silver flashes under the mist, curling and unnatural.
"the mist appeared two days ago in millbrook, approximately forty miles north. population of about 3000, now completely cut off from outside contact,â sungho finishes.
he swipes to another video - one taken from the edge of the phenomenon. buildings are visible through the fog, but theyâre⌠wrong. twisted. you watch a particularly thick patch of fog temporarily covers a building and when it drifts away the roof is angled in the opposite direction. a street sign is readable but the letters keep moving and glitching like a computer screen.
âit doesnât comply with normal physics. space and logic break down inside it. weâve sent in reconnaissance drones but they either stop functioning or come back with stuff that looks like this.â
âsounds like a job for not us,â you say flatly, tugging down your sweater sleeve, âwoonhak barely has any field experience. send someone who can, like, punch the weird mist away.â
âweâve tried,â sakuraâs expression is grim, âlily attempted to enter telepathically. she said the emotional landscape inside is too incomprehensible, too chaotic and layered. everyone whoâs tried to enter physically has been turned back within minutes, disoriented.â
âso naturally youâll send in the reserve member and the rookie,â you nod, âmakes total sense.â
âwe want to send in the adaptive power manifester and his emotional interpreter,â sungho corrects, â[y/n], if the mist is responding to emotional states, as lilyâs analysis suffests - youâre our best chance at understanding it, and woonhakâs power will adapt to need. inside the mist ,he might manifest exactly what you need to navigate it.â
woonhak is vibrating with barely contained energy. heâs jumping on his heels when he responds; âwe can do this. weâve been training. iâm so much better than i was -â
â- three weeks ago you could barely hold a power for thirty seconds,â you interrupt.
âand now i can hold one for five minutes! thatâs a thousand percent improvement!â
âthatâs not how percentages work.â
âwhat i mean is - weâre ready! put me in, coach!â woonhak stares pleadingly at you. you look at him, then at sakura, then at sungho - both of whom are strangely very calm about this situation, or maybe woonhakâs excitement is so overwhelming to your senses that everything else seems baseline and normal. you stare at the video on the tablet - thick smog churns and swirls like itâs alive - and waiting.
âwhat about the people inside? the 3000 residents?â
âwe donât know,â sungho admits, âno response when we tried to make contact. but we need to assume theyâre trapped and need help.â
âyou want to do good, right?â you turn to woonhak and he nods furiously, âare you sure youâre ready?â
âi am!â he insists, âyou said all i need is determination! and - and iâm determined!â
youâre quiet for a long time. three week ago you wouldâve said no immediately. found an excuse to pack up your bags and go back to normal life again. said you couldnât use your powers properly anymore. even though you could. what were you scared of? yourself? the pain of others? you play with a loose thread from your sleeve. you could turn away - sakura and sungho couldnât force you into doing something you didnât want to.
woonhakâs hand find yours, clasping around your fingers gingerly again, like heâs too scared to actually commit to holding your hand and settled for the next best thing.
âitâs time to be brave, [y/n],â he says quietly, soft enough only you can hear.
youâve gotten soft.
âif i die in weird mist,â you say finally, âiâm gonna be so annoyed.â
woonhakâs face lights up like bright red lights on a christmas tree, âis that a yes?â
âand for the record, i never said determination is the only thing you need. itâs just something you need.â
you say gruffly, slapping your water bottle into his chest, âwhen do we leave?â
âtwo hours,â sakura says, a relieved smile breaking over her face, âweâll brief you on everything we know right now on the flight.â
ânot much, i suppose,â you grumble, âfantastic. great. love this for me.â
you look at woonhak, âgo get your gear. and maybe do some breathing and meditation exercises. your excitement is going to make me throw up.â
woonhak rushes out, stilling grinning like an idiot and clutching your water bottle, leaving you alone with sakura and sungho.
âhe trusts you,â sakura observes.
âwell, yeah. heâs an idiot,â you swipe your training equipment off the floor.
âno,â sungho says, with a far too serious tone than the situation called for, âheâs someone who finally found someone who understands him. thatâs not stupidity, thatâs hope.â
for once, you donât have a response.
woonhakâs leg bounces with nervous energy as he sits next to you in the small cockpit in the x-jet. your hand shoots out to settle on his knee, forcing him to still.
âyouâre going to burn yourself out if you spend all your energy worrying about something,â you say, âdo the breathing exercises i taught you.â
âokay,â woonhak says, somewhat breathless, he sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes as he exhales with the force of a rocket taking off into space.
ânow listen while i go over the protocols,â you pull out a notebook from your suit - you havenât worn it in years, and itâs just as uncomfortable as before.
âwe have protocols?â
âwe have now,â you huff, âi made them up on the way to the jet.â
âone. stay within ten meters of me at all times. i am squishy and also i need to be close to read whatâs happening.â
âcopy.â
âtwo. when i say do something, you do it immediately. do not second guess me. we worked on this in training but itâs real now.â
woonhak lets out a particularly loud exhale, âi understand.â
âthree. if at any point you feel like your powers are not under your control or if i am in distress, you pull us out. it doesnât matter if the mission isnât complete. you get us out.â
âbut -â
âno buts. iâm serious, woonhak. i know how much you want to help, but if iâm compromised, i canât help you, which means youâre like a blind rat in a maze full of cheese. youâll be disoriented and flying solo in a place that literally doesnât follow physics. thatâs how people and rats die.â
heâs quiet for a moment, his emotions dulling from a bubbling excitement to something more somber.
âokay. rule three. if youâre in trouble, we extract.â
âgood,â you snap your notebook shut, ânow letâs lay out what we do know. the mist appeared suddenly, two days ago. no warning or building. that suggests -â
âa trigger event,â woonhak interrupts, âsomething happened that caused it.â
âglad youâve been paying attention. pop quiz - since lily said the emotional landscape is chaotic and layered, this implies -â
âmultiple sources? one really confused source?â woonhak scrunches up his nose in confusion.
âtrick question. could be either,â you tap your pen against the cover of your notebook, âthe fact that space and logic breaks down inside suggests reality manipulation - or something like that. perception alteration. your powers might adapt to counter, or they might get weird because rules donât function the same in there.â
âweird?â
âyeah - code for âi donât knowâ.â
woonhak laughs, âthree weeks ago i would have been terrified to do this. but now? i mean, i'm still scared, but i also feel like... like maybe we can actually handle it?"
you glances at him. his emotions are steadier than youâve ever felt them - still anxious, but grounded and determined.
"we will handle it," you say, steady and convincing, âyouâre gotten better at control, and iâve gotten better at reading you specifically. weâre functional.â
âfunctional,â woonhak repeats, grinning - all of his teeth showing, âyou believe in me.â
âof course i do,â you snort, âif i didnât - i wouldnât have come here.â
âyou complimented me.â
âdonât make me regret it,â you cross your arms.
âtoo late. itâs imbedded in my brain forever,â woonhak sits back in his chair with a grin that makes him look like a kid who got into the candy jar.
sungho clears his throat awkwardly from his co-pilot seat, âweâre approaching. town to your two oâclock. you should be able to see the mist in about thirty seconds.â
woonhakâs eyelids fly open as he presses his face into the window, you settle for a peek that doesnât scream eager and desperate.
the mist rises like a wall, perfectly vertical and straight. it stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction. itâs churns and drifts between white and gray, other colours swirling through it that definitely makes it not normal fog.Â
you extend your awareness carefully, trying to grasp some of the emotional signatures pinging off the fog.
pain, confusion, fear, loneliness. all twisted together in a horrible stew that makes her head spin just by touching the edge of it.
âsomeoneâs hurting,â you supply.
âwho?â
âwonât know until we find out,â you look sideway at woonhak, âare you sure youâre ready for this?â
he takes a deep breath, then nods, âready.â
sakura sets the jet down in a clearing about a hundred meters from the mist wall. as you disembark, you can feel the discord from even there - dancing like static on your skin and a pressure in your ears.
sungho hands you both a small disc, âstay in contact. this is a tracking device. if it stops moving or loses signal, weâre coming in after you.â
âwith what?â you stare at it with an eyebrow raised as woonhak attaches to his wrist, âyou said drones donât work, and everyone who tried got turned around.â
woonhak salutes, which is dorky but somehow appropriate. you just nod.
they approach the mist together, the air growing warmer as they step closer. you can feel woonhakâs anxiety spike in real time - a blood rushing through your ears suddenly - his powers start pinging in response.
âhey,â you say quietly, just before the wall, âlook at me.â
woonhak turns.
âyouâve got this - we got this,â you try to keep your voice as steady as you can - because in a duo mission, one person freaking out is the limit, âyou trust me to read you, i trust you to manifest what we need. thatâs the deal, right?â
âright,â his voice is steadier than his emotions.
âthen letâs go find out what is making this mist and stop it.â
you offer him your hand, and after only a momentâs hesitation, he takes it.
together, you step into the mist.
and everything goes sideways.
your stomach flips, like the worldâs most dangerous rollercoaster. once that settles the first thing you notice is the noise. each footstep you take returns three echoes, one from your feet, one to your side, and one echoes from faraway, like it didnât come from you but another person, far far away. woonhakâs breathing is inside your head. in the unexplainable and illogical, woonhakâs hand in yourâs seems like the only real thing in this world.
"okay,â you say, your voice rippling out like skipping a stone across water, "this is strange.â
"[y/n],â woonhak says, his voice tight, "i - i can see buildings. but theyâre not right. oneâs - oneâs turned upside down, and the building that was on our right is now on the left, but we didnât move.â
you look. heâs right - the pink building that was on your right hand side has suddenly plopped itself onto your left, in between the upside house and the house thatâs l shaped. youâre pretty sure the yellow house wasnât there either.
"architecture playing musical chairs,â you mumble, "how wonderful.â
"what - what should we do?â woonhak loses all the confidence he has before, leaving only nervousness.
you squeeze his hand, "power check?â
woonhak shuts his eyes, "feels kinda dizzy.â
dizzy. you shift through woonhakâs feelings. peeling back a layer of nervousness and a tinge of panic, you find an intense curiosity.
âspatial manipulation? does your hands feel tingly?â
woonhak shakes his head, âno, not like last time. it feels more like a humming under my fingers.â
âtime related, then. chronokinesis, iâm thinking something like psychometry.â
âthatâs a big word,â woonhak laughs nervously. the chuckle echoes back at him through the mist a few seconds later and the both of you jump.
âyouâll be able to see the historical memories of objects,â you touch the lamp post that suddenly sprouts up from the ground next to your feet, âyou should try it - like, before it disappears.â
woonhak slaps his free hand against the cold metal and winces, but his eyes instinctively shut. you feel his emotions dip out of your awareness, like his existence isnât completely on the same reality as yourâs. itâs suddenly quiet. youâve been connected to him for three weeks now, and the sudden feeling of emptiness leaves you cold and nervous.
âwoonhak?â you try, and he gasps as his eyes fly back open and he folds onto himself like he has a horrible tummy ache.
âdid you see anything?â you prompt as his emotions - loud as ever, flood back into you through your hands - panic, disbelief, disorientation. it makes the world in front of you spin for a moment - or maybe it actually has, seeing that the lamp post has completely disappeared out of view after woonhak pulled his hand off it.
âoh, yeah,â woonhak finally straightens up - maybe the trumpet reignited the marching band kid in him, âthat way.â
he gestures towards a thick wall of mist.
you gulp. for once, you donât know what will happen and where youâll end up.
âlead the way, then,â you try to sound confident, but woonhak squeezes your hand like heâs trying to remind you heâs right here, next to you.
he starts walking, still holding your hand, and follows. you walk toward the wall of mist, and just when youâre sure they're going to hit something solid, the mist parts and youâre on a street that shouldn't exist.
thereâs people here.Â
but theyâre frozen mid-motion, like a video that someone hit pause on. thereâs a kid jumping off a curb, a woman reaching for a car door, a man with the trash bag he was throwing out suspended in mid-air, and an elderly man watering a potted plant that has spiraled impossibly through the air.
âare they,â woonhak swallows, âalive?â
you extend your powers out cautiously.
âthey are,â you gestured to the woman by her car, âsheâs anxious about being late for something, but itâs looping - like, like a broken stereo.â
woonhak winces, âthat sounds like it sucks.â
âyeah,â your head is starting to pound - thereâs too many emotions, too many people, too much of one thing is never good, thereâs at least a dozen knots of emotions on this block alone.
âwe should move. the sooner we find the center, the better.â
you walk through the frozen town, the pavement twisting right before your eyes, and woonhakâs power shifts.
you feel it like a key turning in a lock - the psychometry fading and being replaced by something else. this one is more obvious - it hits you harder. your eyes water as your vision blurs.
âenhanced vision,â you say through gritted teeth, trying to blink away the sensation, âcan you see the pattern of the mist? signals?â
âthereâs a path,â woonhak says, wonder tinges his voice despite the hellscape, âlike - like a river. if we follow it upstream -â
âweâll find the source,â you finish, âletâs go.â
you move faster now, woonhak pulling you along the invisible current only he can see. his power shifts again and this time it makes your muscles vibrate at the wrong frequency. his urgency is palpable - it singes like friction. enhanced speed? teleportation? time dilation? whatever it is, youâre covering ground faster than you should be able to.
the frozen people dot the path. they become more frequent, popping up like weeds that refuse to go away. a bunch of kids mid tumble, a couple whose fingers just about graze each other, a dog suspended mid bark.Â
then you turn the corner and find the town square. thereâs a foundation with water thatâs frozen but still flowing - huddled up near it, a girl, with mist pouring off her.
she canât be more than fourteen. her eyes are closed and her face is peaceful despite the chaos that surrounds her. the mist swirls around her, curling up her legs and weaving inbetween the strands of her hair. you can feel the wisps trouch you - and its like emotion made visible, friend and confusion and fear and loneliness spiralling outwards in waves.
âfound her,â woonhak breathes.
you extend your powers towards the girl and immediately regret it.
the emotional impact is like being hit by a truck - hell, actually being hit by a truck would probably hurt less. you feel the pain cut through your flesh like a knife and it worms into your bones - deep and absolute. death in the family? you vaguely wonder. recent - someone she loved more than anything. it broke her and her mutation activated in her grief - stopping time like all of us wished we could.
â[y/n]?â woonhak's voice sounds far away, â[y/n], youâre shaking.â
you realise it when he says it, your entire body trembling from the force of the emotions that latched onto you. itâs too much, your head screams, youâll overload your brain and explode. itâs too raw and too -
woonhakâs power shifts again, but this time it feels gentle and soothing, like you were suddenly slathered in a thick layer of aloe vera gel.
it dampens the overwhelming input of emotions just enough so you can breath. emotional buffer? psychic shielding? you gulp down air and focus on the feeling of your hand in his - whatever his power is, itâs grounding you so you donât turn into a pile of emotional slop.Â
âiâm good,â you gasp out.
âwhat do we do?â woonhak asks, worry etched into his brow, âshould we wake her up?â
âcanât. not too suddenly,â you force yourself to think through the pain, to recalibrate, âcould make it worse. her mutation is reality manipulation, i think, emotion - shit. sheâs trapped in her grief, mist is a physical manifestation.â
âso what? do we just - leave her?â
âno -â you look at the girl, at the mist pouring out from her, âwe need to go in.â
âin⌠in her brain?â
âher emotional space,â you force out over the pain thatâs building again, âi need you manifest something - something useful. if we connect our powers i might be able to create a bridge into her consciousness.â
âthat sounds dangerous.â
âit is.â
âis it the only way?âÂ
âi canât think of any other way thatâs quicker,â you offer.
woonhak frowns, âand what if we fail?â
âthen weâre stuck in weird mist town forever, and i fail my midterms,â you try for humour, but your voice cracks on the word fail, âwoonhak. i can feel what sheâs feeling. she doesnât want this but her mutation kicked in instinctively - itâs protecting her but its trapping everyone else. we have to help her.â
woonhak is quiet for a moment, his emotions cycling through fear and uncertainty and then settling on determination - growing by the minute.
âokay,â he says, taking both of your hands, âtell me what to do.â
âi need you to trust me. no hesitation or doubt. your powers respond to emotional need - iâll try to extend it towards herâs.â
âiâm nervous,â he admits, his teeth catching his bottom lip.
âi know. but iâll here, iâll guide you through it,â you squeeze his hand, âi wonât let you get lost in there.â
his eyes meet yourâs, and for a moment, there's nothing but trust between them. pure, absolute trust.
"okay," he says softly. "let's do it."
you close you eyes and extend your awareness towards woonhak. you feel his emotions like itâs yourâs - determination, fear, hope⌠you feel his power stirring, responding to his desperate desire to help, to connect, to understand.
the power blooms under your hand like a flower. itâs not flashy or obvious, but subtle, intimate. a psychic bridge forms between you two and you gently nudge it towards the girl. woonhakâs consciousness slips in and out of yourâs, beside you. you feel the moment the both of you reach the edge of the girlâs mindscape and -
you fall in.
âi want to barf.â
woonhakâs voice echoes and it makes you even more nauseous. you hold your breath until you can get your bearings, and breathe out once you do.
ânot right now,â you shake your head, âi donât know the effects of psychic vomit.â
you look around you - youâre standing in what looks like a living room thatâs fractured. the furniture exists in multiple states at once - a couch which is pristine but covered in dust and scratched up on the other end. the coffee table switches between intact and shattered, a cracking sound accompanying it everytime it glitches. the frames on the wall show smiling faces that disappear the longer you look at it.Â
but, god, the space is alight with emotions, like a fire tearing through the room.
you can barely stand under the weight of them. every surface is slick with grief, every object screams loss. woonhak makes a pained sound next to you, he can feel it too - through your connection.
âstay with me,â you say, though you werenât sure to him or to your soul thatâs threatening to drift away any moment, âwe have to find her.â
you slowly move through the living room - a feat that is harder than twenty rounds of sunghoâs training regiment. itâs a house - you realise, a house that radiates grief and absorbs sadness, a collection of items that scream despair. you push open a door to another room - itâs the same. every room exists in multiple states, caught between before & after, unable to move forward but also impossible to return to what once was.
â[y/n],â woonhak says, his voice strained. you look at him and his face is screwed up in hurt and worry, âyour nose is bleeding.â
you touch your face and your fingers come away stained red. the strain of being this deep in someone elseâs emotional space while also channeling woonhakâs manifested power is taking a toll.
âitâs okay,â you lie.
âitâs not,â woonhak stops walking, turning to face you, âthis is too much. we should -â
âwe need to keep going. the people outside are trapped. sheâs trapped. weâre really close, woonhak. come on.â
his face projects conflict - caught between concern and his need to help the girl. you feel his power shift again.
this time, you feel strength flood into your limbs - endurance of some kind. his subconscious is trying to help you - give you what he thinks you need to continue.
âthank you,â you breathe, and woonhak just wipes the blood off your face with his sleeve.
you climb the stairs together and stall at the door at the top. unlike everything else in the house, the door is real - solid, unchanging.
behind it, you can taste the bitterness of concentrated grief.
âsheâs in there,â you say, trying your best not to let nervousness bleed into your words, âbehind that door is where sheâs hiding from her own pain.â
woonhak reaches for the doorknob and hesitates, âwhat should we say to her?â
âi - i donât know,â you admit, âletâs just be honest - weâre not here to fix her⌠just talk to her.â
âokay,â woonhak nods, âwhen all else fails, try honesty.â
he pushes open the door.
inside is a bedroom - thereâs posters on the wall and books on the shelves and a desk covered in textbooks and homework. sitting on the bed, knees pulled to her chest, is the girl from the town square.
but this time, sheâs wide awake, and crying.
âgo away,â she says thickly, âthis isnât real.â
âweâre real,â you step forward, slowly, âweâre here to help you.â
âi donât need help, i need -â her voice breaks, âi need my mom.â
the words chokes you, her grief becomes clearer. mother died - suddenly, recently. mutation activated in response to grief and pain.Â
âiâm sorry,â you say, and you mean it, âiâm so sorry you lost your mom.â
the girl finally looks up, her eyes red, âyou donât understand anything.â
âno,â you agree, âi donât understand, not completely - but my powers let me feel what other people feel. i can feel youâre sad, and that you loved her so much.â
the girlâs face crumples, âit hurts. it wonât stop hurting.â
woonhak moves forwardly, slowly, inching closer to the girl, âi know what it feels like - to have emotions that feel too big for your body. like they might tear you up and eat you alive.â
âyou do?â she looks up.
âyeah,â he nods, âmy powers - theyâre super random, manifests based on what iâm feeling. i couldnât control it at all in the beginning. everything i felt suddenly was dangerous - chaotic. i wished iâd stop feeling things, at one point, because i didnât want to hurt anyone.â
âdoes it ever go away? this feeling?â
âit gets better,â he gently says, âitâs hard but it gets easier to control.â
the girl is quiet for a long moment.
"i didn't mean to do this. to trap everyone. i just - when mom died, i felt like the whole world should stop. like nothing should keep moving when she's gone. and then my power activated and-" she gestures helplessly, "and now it won't stop."
"because you won't let it," you say gently, "your power is responding to what you need - like, you need everything to stop because moving forward feels like leaving her behind."
"isn't it?" the girl's voice is small. "if i let go, if i move on, doesn't that mean i'm forgetting her?"
you move closer, until youâre standing at the edge of the bed. youâre sure you look like a mess with blood running down your face - you can taste the copper on your tongue and your head is pounding like the worldâs loudest rock concert.
âmoving forward doesnât mean forgetting,â you say, âit means carrying her with you instead of being buried by losing her. i know it sounds hard, and i know it feels like the pain might never end. but we have to be brave now - we canât let this drown you, and everyone else.â
the girl looks around the room, at the fractured house beyond the door, "i don't know how to let go."
"that's okay," woonhak says, "nobody really does. but you don't have to know how. you just have to want to. and we'll help you."
"how?"
you extend your hand, "by feeling what you're feeling, and showing you that you can survive it. that's what i do - i translate emotions, i help people understand what they're experiencing. and right now, you're experiencing grief. real, terrible, overwhelming grief. but you're also experiencing love. so much love for your mom. and that love doesn't go away just because she did. you can remember her - but it doesnât have to be painful."
the girl stares at your hand for a long moment.
then, slowly, she reaches out and takes it.
the moment your fingers connects, you feel everything.
grief hits you like a tidal wave. quite literally. you feel like youâre drowning, like water is filling your lungs and youâre being pulled under a wave thatâs too strong to fight. her pain is everywhere, in everything, an unhealable wound.
you struggle to breath. as you start doing your own breathing exercises you can feel her overwhelming grief - and under that, even more overwhelming love. itâs blinding and heavy and unexplainable. memories of her mother flood your brain, it sounds like laughter and feels like safety. it tangles into grief - inseparable, because you canât have one without the other.
âitâs not just pain,â you rush out, âdo you feel it? love?â
the girl is crying harder, but she nods, âi forgot. it hurt too much.â
âthatâs grief,â you can barely hear yourself over the thunder in your ears, âgrief is love, your love has always been there.â
woonhak moves closer, pressing his shoulder against yourâs. you can feel his power activating again, dully, it feels like emphatic healing or something - you canât think straight, but itâs flowing through your connection to the girl, stabilising.
âyour mom loved you,â woonhak says softly, âyour grief - itâs your love persevering. its all the love you never got to tell her.â
the girlâs grip on your arm tightens, âbut the town - the people. i trapped them because i -â
âtheyâll understand,â you say, âyou didnât mean to hurt anyone. your power was just trying to protect you. but now you can let them go. you can let yourself move forward.â
âiâm scared,â she whispers, âwhat if i forget her? what if moving on means sheâs really gone?â
you think about how you spent years trying not to feel too much of anything, put up a wall between your normal world and the world you left behind. then you think about your past three weeks with woonhak. how you tried to not care. how that failed spectacularly because you couldnât help but fall in anyways. how you started to care - for godâs sake.
âyou wonât forget her,â you say, âi promise you wonât. emotions like love and care never goes away.â
the girl takes a shuddering breath. then another. and slowly, gradually, you feel the grip of the grief starting to loosen. not disappearing, but no longer drowning.
"okay," the girl says, "okay. i'll try."
"that's all you need to do," you said, "just try."
the girl closes her eyes, and you feel her reaching for her power. it releases like an exhale - the fractured house around them starts to solidifying and the mist starts to thin. woonhak squeezes your hand in careful excitement.
and then you start feeling something shift wrong inside your own body.
the strain is catching up to you. holding woonhakâs power and emotions that made an entire town freeze in time. you realise in horror that blood is dripping onto the bedsheets and you can taste iron in the back of your throat. you cough - once, twice, and your vision drifts in between black and blurry.
â[y/n]?â woonhakâs voice echoes in your brain and is muffled like heâs underwater, âyour nose!â
you canât find the strength to respond. you hold the girlâs hand tighter - you canât severe the connection now, not at this moment. you need to help her find her way back.
you register the faint chirping of birds, and everything goes white.
youâre on the beach. thereâs a pineapple drink with a blue umbrella. you pick it up and itâs delightfully chilly. the sun is beaming - literally, it feels like heaven on earth.
â[y/n]! come on - please, [y/n]!â
someone is calling your name. you peer over your sunglasses around the sandy beach but thereâs no hot beach boy calling for your attention. you settle back into your beach towel.
â[y/n]!â
someone shakes you and you gasp as your beach dissipates like a popped bubble.Â
âw - what?â
the sky above you is clear - no mist, no fractured reality, just a normal sky with normal clouds.
â[y/n],â someone curses under their breath as their hand slaps your cheek gently, âover here.â
âugh,â your head pounds as woonhakâs face swallows the blue of the sky - he looks terrified.
âplease tell me it worked,â you croak.
âyou literally stopped breathing for at least a minute,â his voice is rough and wild, âi thought you died on me!â
âwoonhak,â you touch his arm, âanswer the damn question.â
he sits back on his heels, looks around at the normal town with normal cars and normal plants, âyeah. yeah - it worked. the mist is gone, people are unfrozen. the girl - her nameâs ellie. sheâs okay, just disoriented.â
âgood.â
you try to sit up and immediately regret it. the world spins violently. woonhak lets out a worried squeak when you flop back against the concrete - âokay, maybe iâll just stay down here for a bit. i did die for a minute.â
woonhakâs face scrunches up like heâs about to cry, âthe x-jet is coming. sunghoâs coming with medical.â
his hands hover over you, like he wants to help and doesnât know how, âyou scared me. like, really, really scared me.â
âsorry,â you close your eyes - maybe that will help with the spinning, âoccupational hazard.â
âdonât - donât say that. you - you were convulsing, your body shutting down from the strain, hell - you stopped breathing for a really, really long time! i could feel it - but i couldnât stop it. i - i didnât know how to.â
âyouâre being overdramatic,â you force your eyes open again, finding his face, âit was just a minute - not a really, really long time. besides. you did help. your powers - you were manifesting exactly what i needed. if you hadnât been there, i wouldnât have made it that deep.â
"if i hadn't been there, you wouldn't have been hurt! the only reason you had to push yourself that hard is because you were connected to me and my chaotic powers while also dealing with ellieâs emotions."
"woonhak -"
"no."
his voice is firm in a way youâve never heard before.
"no, you don't get to do that. you don't get to act like you being hurt is just part of the job. every time my power shifts, it hurts you. and today it literally - " he stops, voice breaking. "it literally killed you."
youâre quiet for a moment, processing his outburst. you can feel his emotions even now, even though youâre barely holding onto consciousness - you can taste the fear, the guilt, the desperate need to protect you, even from himself.
âhey,â you say softly, âlook at me.â
he does, and he sniffles, his eyes wet.
âitâs not your fault. i chose to go that deep. i chose to hold the connection. that girl needed help, and weâre the only ones who could help her. you get it - right? you said you wanted to help people.â
ânot if it means you die!â
âi didnât die,â you hold up a finger, âokay, i technically did. but iâm alive again - so itâs not that bad.â
âyouâre trying to be funny,â he frowns.
âlisten, iâm just stating the facts here.â
â[y/n] -â
âwoonhak,â you interrupt, âwhen i agreed to this whole arrangement, i knew this was a possibility. your powers could push me to my limits. but in the end, i think it was worth it. youâre worth it.â
he stares at you, âwhat?â
âdonât make me repeat it,â you grumble, âi am very injured and it was embarrassing enough the first time.â
but you let a slight smile ghost over your face, âyouâre worth it, woonhak. these past three weeks, watching you grow, seeing you learn to trust yourself - it's been worth every headache and nosebleed and death - well, one death.â
âi donât -â he stops, swallowing hard, âi donât know what to say.â
âyou donât have to say anything,â you throw an arm over your eyes, âjust keep manifesting those healing abilities. i might pass out again.â
as if on cue, you feel his powers shift. a familiar, gentle energy washes over you, numbing the worst of the pain. it smells like a garden after rain. he's getting better at manifesting specific powers when he needs them. the control they've been working on is paying off.
âsee?â you murmur, âweâre a good team.â
"the best," he says, and there's something in his voice - something warm and soft and impossibly fond - that makes your heart do a complicated flip that has nothing to do with the strain of the mission.
fuck, you thinks distantly. when did that happen?
but you donât have enough time to think about it too deeply because the x-jet is landing nearby and sungho is running towards you with a medical kit and suddenly there are people everywhere checking and prodding and asking questions youâre too tired to answer.
through it all, woonhak doesnât let go of your hand. you realised heâs never let go since you two stepped into the mist hours ago.
and, well, you didnât let go of his.
the bed is comfy, and youâve managed to bribe sungho into installing blackout curtains. youâve been in the hospital wing for two days, recovering from what has been clinically described as "severe neurological strain from prolonged psychic bridging while experiencing secondary power manifestation feedbackâ.
you just called it âpulling an empathetic hamstring and now everything hurtsâ.
youâre sitting up in bed, shifting through your biochem notes because your exam is in three days and extenuating circumstances doesnât cover âinjured because of mindscape deep diveâ. your head still pounds if you concentrate too hard, and youâre not allowed to actively use your powers for at least a week, but at least youâre not a permenant stain on the street of millbrook.
thereâs a knock on the door.
âcome in!â you yell, expecting sungho with more medication.
instead, itâs woonhak. he hovers by the door, a cup of coffee and a bag of pastries and a face of uncertainty in tow.
âhey,â he says, âis this a good time?â
"is any time a good time when you're stuck in a hospital bed?" you jest, "get in here."
he enters, setting the coffee and pastries on your bedside table, âi got it the way you like it, and the cookies you always order.â
âyou remembered!â
âi watched you order it, like, fifty times.â
he sits down in the chair besides your bed, and passively you can still feel his emotions seeping out of him - concern, relief, and something else.
âhow are you feeling?â
âbetter than yesterday,â you reach for the coffee and take a grateful sip, âgod, thatâs good. i swear, the mansion coffee is actively trying to make me worse.â
the room is quiet for a moment, the comfortable kind of quiet youâve developed over weeks of training together.
âi talked to ellie,â woonhak says finally, âsays she wants to say thank you and sorry, and sheâs in therapy now.â
âoh, good. thatâs good,â you set down your coffee, âand the people?â
âbetter, still processing, but no one was hurt. just confused and scared,â he pauses, âshe asked if she could come say thank you in person - when youâre better.â
"she doesn't need to thank me. we were just doing our job."
"see, that's what i keep saying! but everyone keeps insisting what we did was extraordinary."Â
he grins, but it fades quickly. "i've been thinking."
"uh oh. that's dangerous."
"i'm serious." he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "i've been thinking about what you said. about how working with me pushes you to your limits. and i don't - i don't want to be the reason you get hurt."
you raise an eyebrow. you know where this is going.
"woonhak -"
"let me finish." he takes a breath. "i talked to sungho. and i just - just wanted to let you know that if you donât want to work with me anymore itâs okay."
he fiddles with his fingers.
âno, itâs okay,â you say simply.
âwhat?â he blinks, âyou - you arenât going to go away? but - but you literally died and -â
âand iâd die again,â you interrupt, âpop quiz! do you know why?â
âbecause youâre really stubborn.â
âno, dumbass,â you sit up straighter, âbecause youâre worth it.â
you hold his gaze, âi said it on the field - and i canât believe youâre making me say it again, but i meant it. yes - working with you is hard, but woonhak - seeing you go from someone who couldn't hold a power for thirty seconds to someone who can manifest healing abilities to save people? that's not something i want to give up."
âeven if it hurts you?â
âi told you -â you take his hand, âiâm being brave. i donât want to live in constant fear of what i can or canât do anymore, and how am i supposed to do that if i keep doing what makes me comfortable?â
âare you sure?â
âyes. a thousand percent,â you squeeze his hand, âyou might drag me into weird mist towns to save people, but i wouldnât have it any other way.â
woonhakâs emotions wash over you - relief and delight and something deeper - something that makes your pulse quicken.
"you really want to keep working with me?" he asks quietly.
"yes - i want to keep working with you. and i like you. as a partner. as a... friend."
the word friend sounds weird on your tongue. you donât really want to dissect why just yet.
woonhak's face breaks into that bright, genuine smile - the one where his eyes disappear and his teeth show.Â
âi like you too, even when youâre grumpy and sarcastic and pretend you donât care about things.â
âharsh, but okay,â you roll your eyes and he laughs.Â
âso,â he fiddles with your fingers, carefully, âif you're willing to keep putting up with me and my chaos, i promise i'll do everything i can to keep my powers from hurting you. i'll train harder, focus better, manifest that healing ability more consistently -"
"woonhak."
"- and i'll carry extra tissues if you have nosebleeds again, and i'll make sure we always have coffee that wonât kill you nearby, and -"
"woonhak."
he stops, looking at you.
"you're rambling," you say softly.
"i ramble when i'm nervous."
"why are you nervous?"
he's quiet for a moment, his emotions swirling. "because i almost really lost you. and i realized that somewhere in the past three weeks, you became really important to me. and i don't know what to do with that."
your heart is doing that complicated flip thing again, and this time you can't blame it on coming back from the dead.
"you became important to me too," you admit, "which is inconvenient, because i was trying very hard not to get attached."
"how's that working out?"
"bad."
you both laugh, and the tension breaks slightly.
"so," woonhak says, "partners? still?"
"partners," you confirm, "but i have conditions."
"of course you do."
"one: you have to stop asking if i'm okay every five seconds. i'll tell you if i'm not okay."
"copy that."
"two: you have to actually study the emotional manifestation triggers i wrote up for you instead of just saying you'll memorise them later."
"ugh, fine."
âthree: you have to deal with my grumpiness in the mornings, because i hate getting up.â
âgot it,â he nods, âiâll get used to itâ
you're both smiling now, hands still linked.Â
"when youâre better⌠would you take me to the coffee shop?â
he scratches his cheek.
"like a date?â
embarrassment washes over him, "y - yeah. something like that.â
"hmm,â you tap your chin, "i think i can fit you into my schedule.â
"really? you can?!â
"iâm a very busy woman, woonhak. i donât do this for just anyone.â
"i know,â he grins, "but iâm not just anyone, right?â
"no, youâre just someone very special to me. thatâs all.â
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