[1.4k!] ─── 📁. Before you’re even able to wind down and sleep, one of your boyfriend’s members call and (reluctantly) inform you of their late-night festivities, also known as: in which you’re told to pick up a very drunk Choi Soobin.
drunk!soobin, OH and idol!soobin, IDK WHEN HE WAGGLED HIS BROWS I JUST. anyway. mentions of alcohol, like 2 sexual innuendos, i made soobin an affectionate freak (canon?? not canon??? wait does anyone even gaf), reader seems mean but u love him i swear. just fluff, banter, what more could u possibly need
It started with the phone call.
You remember the smile that had formed on your face at the Caller ID, having been expecting a call from your boyfriend. Except, when you answered, it wasn’t actually your boyfriend at all.
No, it had been Beomgyu from his phone—letting you know that they had all treated themselves to a couple celebratory drinks, and it’d seem like some, more than others, had a few drinks too many.
In other words, Soobin was utterly shitfaced.
“We really can’t fend him off much longer,” he’d told you, and you had to bite back the laugh that threatened to spill from your lips at the way he made it seem as though he needed to be tamed. This was serious. You had to be serious. “We know he’ll listen to you! Hence why we were wondering if you could come pick him up…?”
You’d heard enough. So, here you were. Outside the tucked-away bar they were inside of.
Exiting your vehicle, you blow out a breath and make your way towards the door, grimacing at the noise becoming exponentially louder so quickly.
You pull it open and immediately start scanning the room, wasting no time.
You were tired, and your bed was still waiting for you.
After a few seconds of searching, your vision zeroes in on the group sat in the very back, and you’re at their table within seconds, wondering just whose idea it was to get this plastered on a Wednesday night.
“I think I should take you all home,” you suggested drolly amidst their laughter and watch how their attention flicks to you.
On instinct, they cheer out your name. “What are you doing here?” asked Yeonjun, who places his cup down beside the four already empty bottles—either oblivious or unbothered when your eyes widen. Just how long have they been at this?
Beomgyu chimes in. “I called her—Tae! Grab that!”
“Grab that” as in the beer Soobin was slowly reaching for, quickly intercepted, albeit with slight struggle. You purse your lips, entirely dumbfounded at his antics.
“Soobin,” you call, saving them the trouble. Your gazes meet and he perks up, giddy... however, all you really notice is how he really was the drunkest out of all of them. If his glossy eyes and that big, dopey smile of his was anything to go by. “Let’s go home.”
His eyes light up at that. Aw. “Yours?”
“Mine, yes.” You hold out a hand, praying he takes it without any further questions.
He does, thank God.
Missing your hand a couple of times, he finally slots it into yours and you relish in the touch of his skin against yours before pulling him up.
Soobin trips over his feet in the process and collides into you, nearly knocking you both over, but you recover with an arm wrapping around his back. You huff, turning your focus onto the rest of them. “You’re sure you’ll all be fine?”
“One-hundred percent,” one chirps.
With more than enough warnings that they should text you when they got home safely, you nod, steering yourself and the drunken man in your hold through the sea of people and out of the establishment, grateful for the smell of fresh air and the gentle breeze that welcomes you.
There’s a mindless tug on your arm. “I wasn’t done yet,” Soobin mourned to himself.
“You can’t even walk straight,” you grumble, and he leans further into you in response. “That seems pretty done to me.”
Once you reach your car, you open the passenger side door. “In, please.”
He latches onto you tighter.
“Soobin.” Your hands try to pry his arms from around you, to no avail. “Soobin. If you don’t get in the car.”
“Can I sleep with you?”
Persistent in your efforts to get him inside, you sigh and answer absentmindedly: “Yes. You always sleep with me.”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head, and you notice the way he waggles his eyebrows in your peripheral. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Please, don’t laugh.
“Get in the car, pervert,” you reply instead, schooling your expression. You finally managed to free yourself of his grip and helped him into his seat, grabbing the seatbelt and carefully buckling him in. Once you deem him content, you’re rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
And luckily, the drive to your house wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be, save for the times he’d shift imperceptibly closer to you, mumbling something along the lines of “just want to be close to you”—all to which you ignored… skillfully.
It wasn’t until you arrived at your apartment complex that things started going downhill from there.
Because Choi Soobin was nothing if not a leech.
“Soobin,” you say for the millionth time, practically tearing his fingers from the fabric of your sleeve.
He frowns. “Why?”
“We need to go inside.”
The grown man lets out a quiet groan, though his grip on you ceases and you swing open your car door with an irritated huff.
You really wanted to figure out whose idea this was.
Guiding him didn’t seem to be any easier when he’d sway and stray you both off course.
But he continued to cling to you—half because he felt he needed to or else he’d have the worst life ever, and the other half solely because he’d likely fall face-first onto the ground if he wasn’t.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” he slurs into your hair after you both stumble into the elevator, oblivious to the glare you fix him with.
“Please don’t thank me until we’re both in bed.”
Soobin hums, adjusting his position. His arm wraps around your shoulders and his chin plants itself right on top of your head. “I love you.”
Your glower wanes, softening at his words. “You’ll make this easy for me, won’t you?”
“I’ll make it very easy,” he purrs teasingly, the innuendo not lost on you.
Anddd moment ruined. Side-eyeing him, you watch as his eyebrows raise suggestively and his lips form that tight-lipped smile that never fails to deepen the dimples on his cheeks.
You slap his arm lightly. “What is wrong with you?”
The sound of his laugh fills the space and you fight the flutter in your chest while tugging him with you out of the elevator and straight to your apartment.
“Shoes, please,” you tell him once the two of you were inside, slipping off your own while you waited.
He yawns. “‘M so tired.”
“You have the chance to have the bestest slumber of your life if you just take off your shoes.”
Hm. Taking your words into consideration, he (clumsily) rids himself of his shoes and you feel your entire body relax. Devoid of its earlier tension knowing that you’d have what you’ve been wanting soon.
You give a thankful smile. “Alright. Come on, hm?”
“We should go out drinking sometime,” he blurts, and you feel the tips of his fingers reach for the back of your shirt—not tugging; just holding. “Just you and me and Soju.”
Entering your bedroom, you make your way to your closet, feeling the warmth of his presence behind you. Never once fleeting. “We can talk all about it tomorrow,” you assure as you pull out a shirt and sweatpants for him to wear. Meant for cozy nights spent together. Exactly like this.
…in a way.
“Change into these.” The clothes press flat against his torso. “I’ll be in bed.”
“No help?” he asks, and your steps falter.
“You are perfectly capable of changing by yourself.”
“Wait, please,” he proceeds and you heave another exhaustion-filled sigh, turning to face him.
Your eyes narrow. “Soobin.”
He stares at you, beckoning you closer.
With mock-annoyance, you take a few steps closer to him. “What.”
Bending towards you, he plants a soft, chaste kiss to your cheek, the flesh there wasting no time warming up. “Love you so much,” he whispers into your skin. Then, he straightens and enters your bathroom without another word.
Your lips part and you stare at the door, unblinking.
You don’t even have the chance to curse him in your head when a human-like thud sounds, a clatter of items following immediately after. You can only watch as the door opens ever-so-slowly, revealing your (now frowning) boyfriend on the floor.
A small, disbelieving huff of laughter bubbles out of you and you step inside.
A/N: it’s been a minute ok i Admit. but hopefully this means we get jongseob smau from the only ever Ok Mika im talking to u Btw + OH AND HAI first txt post bc i’m still at this video’s restaurant </3
++ taglist below are ones who asked for perm!! however if u’d like to be taken off of a tl (eg, anything txt) just lmk ok?..
🏷️ @wonubug @endoll @chccnne @aesprn @wonwounds @kamxstar @hardbeingcasual @alienslostinworld @sullyswife @seraph1cfae @seomisaho @jiumeow @kyoteas (want tags for any and all things tomorrow x together? hi)
Witty jokes? Didn’t really work. Pick up lines? Been there, done that. Now he probably just thinks you’re corny. These are two of many (many) methods that you used to try and get Choi Soobin, your classmate, your friend, and your husband (though he doesn’t know it yet) to notice you. Come on Soobin!!! You’re practically throwing yourself at him and yet, nothing. Is he blind, or just a robot? It’s time to find out.
Choi Soobin x reader
Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mc is super whipped and soobin is just too anxious to do anything about it, fluff, and a sprinkle of angst
Word count: 3.6K
Warnings: mentions of food, but other than that none.. let me know if I should add anything :)
a/n: I’m literally so stuck with my bigger projects, so instead, I offer this: a token of my love to Soobin and a reminder that I am alive and well. I wrote this while I was half awake, so excuse any typos you might find :( Reblogs and comments are always welcome, and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3
You remember the first time you laid eyes on him.
Well, how could you forget? Choi Soobin, six feet tall, an absolute god standing amongst mere mortals in a coffee shop, looking absolutely stunning as he ordered his drink. You remembered the way your heart stuttered, staring at the man for an unusually long amount of time before moving on with your day, much too tired to attempt to approach him.
You were never the type to be too straight forward, but Soobin simply brought something out of you. The moment you noticed him walking to the same class as you, you felt a smile grow on your face, a slight confidence appearing in your walk as you trailed hopelessly behind him.
A lost puppy; that’s what everyone compared you to. A hopeless romantic that chased Soobin all around campus as though he would be the answer to all your problems, only to have him laugh off your advances politely or simply turn the other way.
What had you done wrong? Did you come on too strong? Though the more you had watched Soobin interact with those around him, the more you saw that he didn’t really pay any attention to the advances that people made to him- he was quite used to it, after all.
Your solution? Try a little harder.
“Soobin!” It was a common word in your vocabulary by now, slipping off your tongue so easily and leaving a taste of honey. You had tried everything in the books: gifts, compliments, witty conversation, jokes, even pick-up lines. Yet he always remained cool and collected, brushing off your attempts with such ease that you sometimes wondered if he was capable of love at all.
Today’s attempt was inspired by your mother’s favorite quote: “the fastest way to someone's heart is through their stomach.”
And, god, if this little treat that you had spent working on all day and night didn’t work to entrap the absolute enigma that was Soobin into your arms, then maybe it just wasn't meant to be.
It was basic routine for Soobin- dealing with you and your advances had become a norm for him, and today wouldn’t be an exception. Though if he had told you that he hated everything that you did to try and get his heart, then he would be an outright liar. From the moment you had sat next to him, dropping the corniest, most overused pick up line- “you come here often?”- he knew that he was done for.
Soobin was never the most outgoing, oftentimes even being mistaken as cold for his reserved personality. But you- you took that in stride and molded all of your attempts in his favor, making sure that you took note of days where he simply did not feel like playing along. And as much as he appreciated it, he sometimes wished that you would lose interest, just so he wouldn’t have to go through the stress of figuring out how to reciprocate.
Yet the more you tried, the more he felt his heart flutter, his cheeks reddening at the endearing ways that you attempted to make him laugh.
He felt like an absolute fool around you, reduced to nothing but a shy little boy that doesn’t know how to handle someone as playful and energetic as you. Whenever you would leave, he could feel the embarrassment seeping into him, the teasing looks and comments of his friends sending him into a frenzy.
It didn’t take long before you had the rest of Soobin’s friend group wrapped around your finger as well, their advice and tips to win the man’s heart only serving to bring Soobin to his breaking point faster. And with today's item wrapped so tenderly with love and care, you knew that you caught him, hook, line, and sinker.
You had him cornered, a six foot flustered man staring down at you with eyes so wide you would think they would pop out at any second. You knew that he had been trying to avoid you once more, catching your eyes earlier and swerving left and right to any hallway or entrance that caught his eye, only to have him cornered in an empty classroom with no one there to save him. (Or rather- ruin the moment)
“Geez, are you avoiding me or something?” You asked, clearly looking to say something that would provoke him. And like the gullible boy he was, he stiffened, shaking his head feverently as he tried to dissuade your claims.
“No, it’s nothing like that!” He stuttered out, ears turning red and face flushing as it began to dawn on him- the way he turned into absolute putty for you, ready for you to control and tug out any reaction you pleased. “I just— was looking for…”
“An escape?” You finished, fighting the grin that tugged at your lips as he began to fight your words once more. “Ah, nevermind. Here, I made you this!”
Straightforward as always, you shoved the pink and white pinstriped box in his face, all tied together with a satin, cream colored ribbon. Soobin felt the guilt pool into his stomach, staring at the box hesitantly.
“Oh, for…. Me?” He quietly asked, watching you begin to nod enthusiastically. Noticing his hesitance, you grabbed his hands, placing the box in them before looking back up at him expectantly.
“Well, are you gonna open it?”
He seemed to snap out of his trance, pretty fingers reaching to delicately take the ribbon off, opening the box to be greeted with-
“Muffins,” he softly said, looking at the treats as though they were the most fragile things in the universe “wow,” He looked back up to catch your endeared reaction, immediately losing confidence and retreating to his reserved self. “These are- they’re so-“ he took the sight of them in, decorated prettily and looking absolutely delicious, his mind coming to a stop as he attempted to splutter out a compliment.
“Cute? Yummy? Awful?” You said, filling in the blanks of his unfinished sentences as you clasped your hands together.
“Yeah,” his eyes widened, “well- not that last one, of course! Uhm,” he laughed weakly, internally crying at how awkward he was being with you, “thank you….”
You hummed in an affirmation, walking closer to him to peak over his arms, studying your work carefully, He stiffened, your scent slowly drifting up to him, sweet and pleasant to his nose, making your presence much more inviting to him- he could almost drop the muffins and engulf you in a hug then and there-
“Do you want to try one?” He jumped at the sound of your voice, fumbling with the box for a moment before settling down with a sigh of relief, meeting your amused eyes.
“Uhm- sure…”
He stared at the array of muffins intently, wondering what flavor they could be, pondering which one he should eat until the sight of your hand taking one snapped him out of his trance. (Soobin has no idea why, but you have a knack of catching him off guard.)
“Say ‘ahh’,” you teased, bringing up the muffin to his mouth- chocolate chip, a favorite of his, so you were told by Soobin’s (and your!) friends- only to feel your heart swell as he followed your orders, opening his mouth shyly as he adverted your gaze.
The bread practically melted in his mouth, the flavors pleasant and well refined as he closed his eyes, fighting back a groan of delight as he ate the food.
“So, how is it?” You had asked, a curious glint in your eyes as you waited for him to respond.
Oh, he was in deep.
✩☆♡☆✩
It was no secret on campus that Choi Soobin was quite the catch; smart, funny, attractive, fashionable, kind- you name a positive trait, and it will be used to describe Soobin.
So, despite all that, you’re not so sure why you were surprised when you noticed others begin to approach him, shamelessly flirting as though they had taken a page straight from your book. The worst part? He seemed immune to it all, looking absolutely uninterested- bored, even- as they attempted to catch his attention, only to fail miserably.
It was then that it hit you- was this what others saw? Was it what he saw? If you concentrated enough, you could still feel the way your stomach twisted at the revelation that day, feeling sick as you began to take in the embarrassment of your actions.
You tried everything- everything - in your power to try and get Soobin to simply look at you in a different light, only to fail every time. And though you still had a pretty solid friendship if you looked past all the hopeless pining, you had yet to get any response from him, any signs of reciprocation being far, far in the future, if there at all.
Were you making him uncomfortable? Soobin was a reserved man who would rather avoid the spotlight, and you doubt he would ever attempt to confront you if had indeed crossed a boundary.
The very thought of it made your stomach churn; your crush on Soobin was supposed to be a harmless thing, but if you were only there to distract and bother him, then it wasn’t worth it to pursue his heart anymore.
Soobin noticed a shift in your mood immediately- though he pretended he didn’t. The moment he went to sit next to you, he noticed your sudden reserved behavior, barely looking his way throughout the whole day, acting as though you had no interest in him anymore.
As much as he wanted to pretend that he wasn’t bothered by this change, he was- he was very, very bothered. And though he wanted to reach out, to ask if you were alright, the thought of doing so seemed like a very dumb thing to do.
-“Hey, are you alright?” -“Yes, why?” -“Oh, it’s just that you’re not flirting with me anymore.” The very thought of it made Soobin shiver. So, begrudgingly, he let you go, watching as you rushed out of the class as soon as you were dismissed, walking away from him without a spared glance, the itch to call out your name and ask what was wrong becoming more and more prominent within him.
But he refrained.
You’ll be ok, right?
✩☆♡☆✩
That night, you ran to Yeonjun’s arms out of pure embarrassment and regret, the words coming out of you like word vomit.
You had expressed all of your concerns about Soobin to him, from the way he brushed you off to the moment you realized you might be a burden to the boy whose heart you were trying to pursue. And though Yeonjun wanted to tell you the truth, that your lack of attention had left Soobin sulking for the rest of the day, solemnly staring off into space as though he were lost in thought, he didn’t, knowing that it was not his story to tell.
The relationship between you and Soobin was probably one of the most annoying things that Yeonjun and his friends had ever witnessed. There you were, throwing your heart out to Soobin, only for him to be too afraid to do anything back. The lack of reciprocation on his part was becoming too unbearable to watch, knowing that it would all stay the same if someone didn’t do anything first.
And well, Yeonjun is gonna be that someone, apparently.
✩☆♡☆✩
Yeonjun’s grand idea?
Group hangout.
It seemed like a nice enough idea at the time, choosing to go to a nearby carnival that had opened up for the season, but now that he sees the way it’s going so far, Yeonjun feels as though he could have done better. (well, it was either this or pretend that everyone was going to hang out at a cafe- only to not show up and have it be just you and Soobin. Blah blah, talking would ensue, and, oh? Kissy kissy!— yeah, Yeonjun scrapped that idea pretty quick.)
Throughout the whole day, you had opted out of being near Soobin, giving him too much space as you chose to talk to Taehyun or Hueningkai instead. (And Soobin, ever the anxious one, couldn’t do much about it no matter how much he wanted to- were you giving him the cold shoulder?)
So, with one last idea stirring up in his mind, Yeonjun led the six of you towards the Ferris wheel.
Ah yes, Yeonjun’s master plan- the Ferris wheel. Wait the day out to ride it last, shove the two of you in a cart and bam! Kiss and make up. (it was his last resort; if this didn’t work, he would just resort to violence.)
So as you stood in line, pretending you didn’t notice the way Yeonjun would continually count the amount of people ahead of him, you couldn’t help but wonder just what it was that he was up to- Yeonjun was the farthest thing from inconspicuous.
And yet, as you dragged Yeonjun for being obvious, your whole “give-Soobin-space” plan (more like “avoid Soobin as much as possible”) was given away immediately, a tense atmosphere overtaking the air whenever you were next to him.
“Next please,” the worker shouted halfheartedly, bringing your attention to the empty cart- that could only fit four people.
“Beomgyu, wait this one out for me,” you said, latching onto the boy's arm as Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Yeonjun quickly got in.
“No way man!” Beomgyu said, throwing you off quickly- you had failed to notice Yeonjun’s pointed (and threatening) glare to Beomgyu- “I’m- tired of standing.. So, yeah.” he said, slowly justifying himself as he climbed on, leaving you with your jaw on the floor.
Before you could curse the four out, they shut the glass door closed, leaving you to watch as the ride began to move once more.
And you were stuck with Soobin.
You didn’t dare to look back, the embarrassment of putting up a fight to avoid sitting next to him (right in front of him too!) setting in to you heavily. Wow, you just couldn’t catch a break huh?
Not wanting to make matters worse, you sucked it up, waiting for the next available cart.
“How many?” The worker asked, staring off into space, and clearly not fully there.
“Just us two.”
It was Soobin that spoke, the deep timbre of his voice setting off butterflies in your stomach, the words ringing out in your head. You tried to ingore the way your hopes were beginning to go up, crushing any possibility of making a move, avoiding Soobin's gaze instead. Stiffly, you entered the cart, sitting straight and looking forward as you waited for Soobin to get in.
You really wished you could control your traitorous heart at the moment, because as much as you wanted to give Soobin his space, you couldn’t deny how stunning he looked, much less under the light of the setting sun. God, how did it end up this way? All you wanted to do was mess with the cute boy you noticed at the coffee shop, and instead you were here, silently sitting at a Ferris wheel due to your clashing personalities.
The ride was quiet and awkward, with neither of you making a move to start a conversation. Many thoughts and ideas to change that crossed through your mind, but you pushed it away, not wanting it to backfire and turn into another awkward moment for Soobin. Meanwhile, in the cart behind you, the rest of your friends sat peacefully, waiting for it all to be over so Yeonjun could stop worrying over his “plan”.
“You good?” Hueningkai asked, watching as Yeonjun practically tipped the cart over from peering into your own cart, completely still as he observed your actions once the carts stopped.
“Shh!” He hissed, frowning as he took in your body languages. “Augh, come on, do something! You literally got the best spot and everything!” Angrily, he pulled out his phone, typing away furiously to Soobin’s number. It quickly reached him, the phone vibrating in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took it out, the message peeking at him as he looked at his phone;
jjun
DO SOMETHING!!!-&1$-& 😡😡😡🤬🤬🥵
jjun
wait ignore that last one lolz
Soobin stared ahead of him and into the next cart, meeting the gaze of an infuriated Yeonjun, who shook his fist at him threateningly, his lips mouthing three simple words:
“Make. A. Move.”
Soobin gulped. Make a move? How? He observed you, sitting stiffly and looking out the glass and nowhere else, undoubtedly avoiding looking at him.
Then it hit him. (Like the dense boy he is) This whole time, it had only been you making a move, constantly approaching him and offering your heart. And yet, he did nothing, far too shy and anxious to try and respond to your actions. Could this be why you were acting this way? Did you get tired of him? The thought made his heart sink, the feeling catching him by surprise.
But this was it. This was his chance! (orchestrated by none other than Choi Yeonjun) and what other time to profess your feelings than during the overplayed sunset at the Ferris wheel scene.
So as he took a deep breath in, Soobin finally took this chance to tell you-
“Are you okay?”
What?
(Okay, that’s definitely not where he wanted this to go. At all. Wasn’t he supposed to have a big speech prepared? Where was his picture perfect confession moment at the top of the Ferris wheel?!)
“Huh?” You said, too shocked by his words to continue the facade to ignore him.
Well, at least you were looking at him again.
“You just- I don’t know…” he said, quietly accepting his defeat, “you seemed quiet. Especially around me. Did I do something wrong?”
If he wasn’t going to have a heartfelt speech, then he would at least be honest with you and get the words off his chest.
Did he do something wrong? That’s a question you’re not entirely sure how to answer.
“I- no, the entire time I thought that I had done something wrong,” you admitted, slouching down at the memories that began to flood your mind.
“You?! Oh god no!” He said, making you sit up with curiosity.
“What? But I thought that…'' you began, shrinking as he quirked a brow in curiosity, “I thought that… I was, um, scaring you off with my,” your voice got quieter, “flirting.”
There. You said it. The official name in the book, and you admitted to it. You were flirting with Choi Soobin this entire time.
And it seemed like that was all that the said boy needed, his loud laugh catching you off gaurd, looking up to find him absolutely endeared with you and what you said.
“No, not at all… actually,” a sudden confidence overtook him as he said,
“I really like you.”
Stop.
Did he actually say that or were you dreaming?
The sun’s last rays shone behind Soobin, casting a soft glow around him that seemed almost too perfect for the moment, your heart floating and a genuine grin taking over your face.
Despite all your desperate pining, the hard work that went into keeping up with Soobin and making sure that you were never crossing the line, (well, maybe toeing at it from time to time, but never crossing it) and the time and energy spent into making things for him; you never fully expected him to return these feelings.
Yet here you were, at the top of the Ferris wheel (and possibly the world) basking in the glory of the words he just uttered to you, wondering what you were supposed to say to that.
“Can you just kiss me please.”
Call it adrenaline, or newfound confidence, but that’s exactly what Soobin did.
His hands, delicate and warm, encased your own as he pulled you to sit next to him, carefully caressing your face before swooping down to initiate the kiss. His lips were soft and plump against your own, the soft scent of the body oils he wore mingling with your own, a soft cacophony of smells and feelings overtaking your mind and making you sigh with happiness.
And as he pulled you close to him, the smile forming on his face contagious and spreading to you, you couldn’t help but laugh, teeth clashing as you both giggled softly, basking in each other’s warmth, wandering hands and lingering kisses making you dizzy. It took quite the fight for Soobin to pull away, the constant chase of your lips bringing him back in for countless more kisses, his lips swollen and cheeks warm.
Placing a gentle hand on your face, he pulled away, laughing softly at your dazed expression, eyes slowly opening as you took in your surroundings.
Your heart burst, the seemingly endless efforts that you put in to woo Soobin leaving you to do one last thing to celebrate;
You scoot back slightly, cheering loudly.
Choi Soobin was yours.
✩☆♡☆✩
-Bonus haha <3
“Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?” You asked, barely containing your smile as you peppered his face with kisses. He whined out your name, gently pushing you away, his cheeks warming up.
“Come on, not here,” he muttered, dimples poking at his cheeks as he watched you cling to him hopelessly, hiding your face in his shirt as you tried to contain your happy giggles.
“Oh my god can you guys just go away?!” You looked back to find your friends staring at you with appalled expressions, suddenly remembering that you weren’t alone. Hueningkai rolled his eyes, continuing to bash the two of you.
“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but their weird ass flirting was more bearable than this.”
You shrugged, turning back to Soobin, who smiled warmly at you.
No, this is most definitely better than the flirting.
after years of being co-workers, he never reciprocated the feelings you had for him. so you buried them and learned to live with it.
that is, until a small encounter leads him to start showing you that he cares.
genre: co-workers to lovers, fluff, slow burn, hospital au
word count: 12k
It's 2 am, and you're at the hospital.
Seated in the doctors' lounge, you go through your previous patients' charts, updating them one-by-one. From their vitals, medications, progress notes, everything has to be precised and double checked.
Being an OB-GYN means your life rarely follows a normal schedule.
Most nights are spent awake. On call, in delivery rooms, watching life come into the world one patient at a time. It’s exhausting, relentless… but familiar. Somewhere along the way, the chaos became routine.
You barely notice how late it’s gotten anymore.
The quiet scratch of your pen against paper is suddenly interrupted by a soft clink.
Then a cup of coffee appears beside you.
You pause, eyes shifting from the chart to the cup, then upward to the person who placed it there.
Park Sunghoon.
Four years of working in the same hospital, and he still has a way of showing up without a sound. White coat neat as ever, expression calm in that almost unreadable way of his. He works as a neurologist, precise, composed, and annoyingly consistent.
“Night shift again?” he asks, already pulling a chair a few steps away before sitting down.
You lean back slightly, exhaling as you close the file in front of you. "Yeah, I wasn't able to finish these in one go so I had to switch schedules with Dr. Choi."
“I get it,” Sunghoon replies, offering a small, understanding smile. “There are days when I end up doing the same thing too.”
“Well, thanks for the coffee, I really needed this,” you say, taking a sip. You pause, then look up at him surprised. “You even remembered my order?”
Sunghoon simply purses his lips and shrugs, as if it were nothing, before reaching for his own cup. “You’re welcome.” Just as he’s about to say more, his phone vibrates.
“They need me there. I guess I’ll see you later.” He stands from his chair and lightly pats your shoulder before heading toward the door.
You glance at the cup of coffee in your hands, a small frown forming. You’d only been to the café together twice: once three months ago, and again just two weeks ago. How could he have memorized my order?
A warm feeling slowly blooms in your chest as you think about Sunghoon and his sudden thoughtfulness.
It reminds you of a time when your feelings for him were harder to ignore. Back during your first week working together, when he introduced himself as the newly hired neurologist. What started as simple admiration gradually turned into something more.
Those feelings lasted for an entire year. But between the long hours, the need to stay professional, and your own reluctance to risk it all, you chose to bury them. You kept telling yourself that workplace romance should be avoided, that work always comes first, and that romance simply wasn’t worth the risk. Eventually, you convinced yourself that being nothing more than co-workers was for the best.
You shake your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “Why am I suddenly thinking about the past?” you murmur under your breath. “He probably just has a really good memory.”
With that, you turn back to your work, forcing the lingering warmth in your chest to fade.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Sunghoon, who was on his way to a patient’s room after leaving you alone in the doctors’ lounge, caught himself smiling slightly, especially when he recalled the look of surprise on your face when you realized he had remembered your order.
Back then, he hadn’t paid much attention to you. He hadn’t gone out of his way to learn the little things. Like how you took your coffee or whether you preferred something sweet on the side. But ever since that small hangout with you and a few co-workers three months ago, something had shifted. A quiet curiosity about you had begun to grow.
It wasn’t just because you were one of the best rookie OB-GYNs the hospital had seen. It was also the way you cared for others, not just your patients, but people in general.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Three months ago…
As the rest of the group prepared to leave the café, you lingered behind, glancing at your phone as if you had just remembered something.
“I just remembered I need to buy something before I go. You guys go ahead,” you told Chaewon, your friend. She nodded, calling out a quick goodbye before catching up with the others.
Once they were gone, you stepped back towards the counter and ordered two croissants and a bottle of water. After paying, you hurried outside, scanning the area as if looking for someone.
What you didn’t realize was that Sunghoon had stayed behind. He had gone to the restroom just before everyone left, assuming he’d catch up with the group afterward.
As he stepped out and dried his hands, he paused when he spotted you still there. From inside the café, he watched as you approached a beggar and a small child sitting near the parking lot.
You crouched down to their level, handing them the food you had just bought. A gentle smile spread across your face as you spoke to them softly, though he couldn’t hear the words. After a moment, you gave a small wave before turning to leave.
Sunghoon stood there a little longer than he meant to, quietly processing what he had just seen. Something about that moment stayed with him. The sincerity, the kindness, the way you did it without expecting anything in return.
It made him realize that maybe you were more than just a co-worker he had known for years.
And somehow, from that day on, he found himself paying closer attention.
──────────────────────────────
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, sealing you into the quiet hum of fluorescent light and mirrored steel.
You pressed your back lightly against the wall, exhaling through your nose as the display above the doors blinked from floor to floor. The senior doctor’s message still lingered in your mind: Come to my office. I need to introduce you to someone.
The elevator slowed briefly at the 5th floor, then continued upward. You checked your watch out of habit, fingers tapping once against your coat sleeve.
Just then, the doors opened with a gentle ding. You looked around to find out nobody there, until your eyes caught movement at the far end of the corridor.
A familiar figure stood just outside the elevator’s reach, hands tucked into his white coat pockets, posture relaxed in a way that somehow still looked presentable. Sunghoon.
He nods slightly when he sees you inside, stepping into the empty space beside you. He presses the button, and the elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime.
“Busy today?” he asks, breaking the silence a few seconds after stepping in.
“Not really. I just need to meet with the senior doctor.”
“Oh? How come?” he asks, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. It’s rare for either of you to be called in, usually only for major announcements or worse, bad news. So when you first read the message, you had been just as puzzled.
You shrug lightly. “I’m not entirely sure. She did mention introducing someone, though. Maybe a new employee.”
Sunghoon nods, taking that in.
“How about you?” you ask, turning to him. “Anything big happening today?”
“Actually, I have a procedure at 5 pm,” he says casually.
You instinctively glance at your watch. “That’s in thirty minutes.”
"I know." Sunghoon replied. "You don't seem like you're in a rush." You replied, noticing his chill attitude.
"Well it's a minor one. Just a lumbar puncture, won't take long." He says, seeing your expression.
“Huh… that’s your version of minor?” You mutter, brows lifting slightly as you look at him.
Sunghoon lets out a quiet breath, almost a huff of amusement, barely there. “You just get used to it.”
You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Still sounds intense.”
“It’s routine,” he says simply, like that alone should settle it. And somehow, coming from him, it almost does.
The elevator hums softly as it slows, the numbers above the door blinking once before stopping.
Your floor.
The doors slide open.
You hesitate for only a second, then shift your weight forward, stepping out into the hallway. Before fully turning away, you glance back at him.
“Good luck, Sunghoon.”
He meets your gaze, calm as ever. “I don't need it.”
That almost makes you scoff, but instead you just exhale a small laugh. “Still, good luck.”
The doors begin to close behind you.
And just before they shut completely, you catch it, the smallest hint of a smile on his face, gone just as quickly as it appears.
You walk straight to the end of the hallway, where the senior doctor’s office is located.
Stopping in front of the door, you knock three times. A voice from inside calls, “Come in.”
Taking the cue, you twist the doorknob open and step inside. Dr. Lim stands near her desk, a folder in hand. Beside her is a young man with sharp, cat-like eyes, standing straight with quiet composure.
You close the door behind you and walk toward them.
“Dr. Kang,” the senior doctor says, closing the file in her hand, “This is Jungwon, a newly assigned resident. He’ll be rotating in OB-GYN under your supervision.”
You turn your attention to him just as he steps forward, extending his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Kang.”
You shake his hand without hesitation, offering a small, welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you too, Jungwon. Welcome to the OB-GYN department.”
He smiles back, his expression calm and professional, no trace of nervousness in sight.
“Alright,” Dr. Lim continues smoothly, already reaching for another document on her desk. “Jungwon, you’ll report to Dr. Kang starting today. She’ll orient you with the ward and your responsibilities.”
Jungwon nods. “Understood, ma’am.”
The senior doctor looks up once more, this time addressing both of you. “OB-GYN is a demanding department. I expect discipline and clear communication. Dr. Kang, he’s your responsibility during this rotation.”
You give a small nod in acknowledgment.
Dr. Lim leans back slightly, signaling the end of the meeting. “Now that’s settled. You may go.”
You turn first, straightening your posture as you head for the door. Jungwon follows a step behind, attentive.
Once you’re outside in the hallway, you turn to face him.
“First things first,” you say, folding your arms lightly. “Call me by my first name, Y/N. No ‘Dr. Kang.’ It makes me feel older than I am.”
Jungwon lets out a small chuckle. “Got it. Y/N it is.”
“As Dr. Lim mentioned, I’ll be your supervisor for the duration of your rotation in OB-GYN,” you continue. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll give you a quick tour of the facilities so you can start familiarizing yourself.”
You gesture forward. “Let’s go.”
The two of you head towards the elevator. “The OB-GYN department is on the third floor,” you add, pressing the button.
When the doors open, you’re greeted by the nurses’ station. The nurses on duty look up from their desks.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Kang,” they greet in unison.
“Good afternoon,” you reply with a polite nod before turning slightly to Jungwon. “This is Jungwon, our new resident. He’ll be working here starting today.”
Jungwon smiles and greets them, and they return the gesture warmly.
You lead him down the left hallway lined with patient rooms. “This is where admitted patients stay, postpartum mothers, as well as those recovering from surgery,” you explain. “The rooms along the right hallway are mainly for regular check-ups and consultations.”
“And over here…” you continue, walking towards the far end where a large door with glass panels stands. “…is the Labor, Delivery, and Recovery Room. LDR for short.”
You push the door open just enough to step inside and the shift is immediate.
A strained breath cuts through the air, followed by a low cry. A patient grips the bed rails, her knuckles pale, while a nurse guides her breathing with steady reassurance.
“Active labor,” you say calmly as you step further in. “This is where things start to pick up.”
Jungwon stays close behind you, noticeably quieter now, his eyes taking everything in.
A monitor beside the bed beeps steadily, then suddenly dips. The nurse straightens. “Doctor, heart rate’s dropping.”
Before the tour can even pause, you’re already moving.
“Position her to the left,” you instruct, your tone calm but firm. “Give her oxygen.” The room shifts instantly, quick hands, precise movements, controlled urgency.
The patient gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as another contraction hits. You glance at the monitor. Then steady again, as the beeping evens out.
“Good,” you murmur, stepping back as if it were second nature. “Keep monitoring.”
“Yes, doctor.”
The tension doesn’t disappear, but it eases just enough. You turn back to Jungwon, your expression composed.
“It can change that fast,” you say simply. “You learn to respond before it becomes a problem.”
He nods, still processing what he just witnessed.
“Come on,” you add, already heading for the door. “Let’s continue.”
“On the opposite end,” you say, pointing down the hallway, “is the operating room.”
You walk in that direction, with Jungwon following closely behind.
You push the operating room doors open, and a wave of sterile, cool air greets you as you step inside.
Bright overhead lights reflect off stainless steel instruments neatly arranged on trays. The operating table sits at the center, surrounded by monitors and machines humming quietly in the background.
“Procedures like cesarean sections and gynecologic surgeries are done here,” you explain, your voice steady as it echoes slightly in the room. “And when things don’t go as planned…”
You pause for a brief moment, your gaze flicking toward the operating table.
“…that is where we take over.”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
The tour continues as you guide Jungwon through the rest of the facility, from the ultrasound rooms to the examination areas, and finally to the newborn units. You explain each section with ease, answering his occasional questions, barely noticing how quickly time slips by.
It isn’t until you glance at your watch that you pause.
“Oh, it’s already 6 pm,” you say, a little surprised. “Perfect timing. My shift ends now, and since I’ve already shown you around the entire OB-GYN department, we can both head home.”
“Wait, really?” Jungwon asks, clearly caught off guard.
You nod. “Yes. Once I leave, there won’t be anyone to supervise you anyway. And since it’s your first day, I’ll let you off early this time. Your real work starts tomorrow.”
“Ah…” Jungwon exhales in relief, a small grin forming. “I’ll be ready by then,” he assures you, determination settling into his expression.
“Good to hear,” you reply with a faint smile. “Well, I’ll get going now. See you tomorrow, Jungwon.”
“See you, Doc,” he says.
You give him a small wave before leaving.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
After gathering your things, you take the elevator down to the underground parking area. The space is quieter now, the hum of engines and distant footsteps echoing faintly. You spot your car a short distance away and walk towards it, pressing your key fob to unlock it.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, you place your bag on the passenger side and reach for the ignition.
You turn the key.
Click.
Nothing.
You try again.
Click. Click.
The engine doesn’t turn over.
A faint frown forms as you attempt a few more times, but the sound only grows weaker until the car falls completely silent and unresponsive.
"Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting your forehead rest briefly against the steering wheel.
You sigh, leaning back as frustration settles in. Your eyes drift to your bag beside you.
“How am I supposed to go home now...”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
A few minutes later, you find yourself standing outside the hospital entrance, arms folded loosely as you scan the road.
You decided to take a cab instead, but even after waiting for several minutes, none stop. The few that passed by are already occupied, their headlights briefly illuminating you before disappearing down the street.
You shift your weight, glancing down the road again, hoping the next one will finally be empty.
Then, a sleek silver BMW pulls up in front of you, the engine purring softly as the window rolls down.
You look over to see who it is.
Sunghoon sits behind the wheel, one hand resting loosely on it while the other drapes over the passenger seat’s headrest, his posture relaxed.
“Need a ride home?” he asks.
“I—”
Before you can even answer, he leans over and pushes the passenger door open. That leaves you with little room to refuse.
You step in, closing the door gently behind you.
Settling into the passenger seat, you sit a little stiffly, your gaze fixed on the window beside you.
It’s your first time riding in a car alone with him, something you never really imagined would happen. And not just any car, but his.
For a moment, the air inside feels thick with unspoken tension. Neither of you says anything, the quiet stretching just a bit too long.
After a while, Sunghoon clears his throat, breaking the silence. “So… what happened to your car?”
You turn slightly to look at him. “The battery died. I’ve been so busy these past few weeks that I forgot to get it replaced.”
“I see.” He nods once. “How long were you waiting out there?”
“About twenty minutes,” you reply.
“Good thing I saw you then,” he says, a faint chuckle slipping through. “You looked like you were about to lose your patience.”
You let out a small laugh. “Honestly, I was. And thank you, by the way. If you hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve ended up walking home.”
That earns another quiet hum of amusement from him.
After that, the conversation fades, but this time, the silence feels different. Softer. Easier. The low hum of the engine and the faint music playing on the radio fill the space comfortably.
For once, it isn’t awkward.
The car slows to a stop at a red light. Sunghoon glances your way, his expression unreadable but calm. “You hungry?”
“I think I’m good,” you reply, but almost immediately, your stomach betrays you with a low rumble. Shit.
You freeze for a second, suddenly remembering that you skipped lunch earlier, too distracted and a little too nervous about the senior doctor’s message.
Sunghoon lets out a quiet laugh at the sound. “Let’s grab something to eat,” he says, already easing his foot back on the gas as the light turns green. “My treat.”
You don’t argue.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
A few minutes later, you find yourselves at a casual Italian fast-food restaurant. The warm lighting and soft chatter from other customers make the place feel cozy despite the rush hour.
You scan the area and spot a small booth tucked into the corner. “There,” you say, heading towards it.
You slide into the seat while Sunghoon remains standing beside the table. “What would you like to eat?” he asks.
“I think pasta’s fine,” you answer.
He nods. “Alright. I’ll order for us. Just wait here, okay?”
“Okay.”
You watch as he walks toward the counter, joining the short line. For a moment, you find yourself absentmindedly observing him the way he stands, calm and composed even in something as simple as ordering food.
A few minutes later, he returns carrying a tray.
He sets a plate of pasta in front of you, his lasagna beside it, then hands you your drink.
“And this one’s for you,” he adds, placing a slice of pizza next to your plate.
You blink, confused. “I didn’t order that.”
He sits across from you, completely unfazed. “I did. I figured the pasta wouldn’t be enough since you’re hungry.”
You cough lightly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Oh… uh, thank you.”
You start eating, your gaze fixed anywhere but him. Somehow, the earlier ease from the car ride has shifted again, replaced by a quiet, awkward tension.
You never really imagined this. Sitting across from him, sharing a meal like this. It almost feels unreal, like something out of place in your usual routine.
You can feel his gaze on you, subtle but unmistakable.
“What happened with the senior doctor earlier?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You look up, surprised, but your shoulders relax now that the conversation has shifted. “She introduced me to a new resident,” you explain. “He’ll be under my supervision.”
Sunghoon nods, taking a bite of his food.
“His name’s Jungwon,” you continue, twirling your pasta with your fork. “From what I’ve seen so far, he has potential. He wasn’t nervous at all, even when we went to the LDR earlier.”
“That’s good,” Sunghoon says. “At least he seems passionate from the start.”
You nod, but then the thought that’s been lingering in your mind resurfaces. You hesitate just for a second before speaking.
“Sunghoon… can I ask you something?” He looks up. “Sure.”
“Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you suddenly talking to me?” you ask, your voice softer now. “I mean… we’ve been co-workers for four years, and this is the first time you’ve bought me coffee or talked to me for more than ten minutes.”
For a brief moment, he looks genuinely caught off guard. His eyes widen slightly, and a faint blush creeps up to his ears as he scratches the back of his neck. “That’s… uh…”
"I just thought that I've been so shy these past years that I don't get to socialize with my co-workers that much. You know, I just recently became close with that dermatologist, Kim Sunoo." He replied.
You nodded, a small smile forming. “That’s good to hear. I remember you skipped the Christmas party for two years straight. It’s nice to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”
He smiles back. “I guess it is.”
The conversation drifts into something lighter after that, and before you realize it, dinner is over.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Soon enough, you’re back in his car, this time parked in front of your apartment building.
You unbuckled your seatbelt, turning slightly towards him. “Thank you for the ride, Sunghoon. And for the food.”
He smiles softly. “Don’t mention it. If you ever need a ride home, you can just call me.”
You stopped. “But… I don’t have your number.”
“Here.” He unlocks his phone and hands it to you. You take it, typing your number into his contacts before handing it back. “There.”
You step out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your skin. “Goodnight, Sunghoon,” you say, closing the door halfway and then you heard him speak, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You pause for just a moment before shutting the door completely, the sound echoing softly in the quiet street.
Later that night, as you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifts back to everything that happened.
The coffee. The car ride. Dinner.
Him.
Your heart beats a little faster, your cheeks warming at the memories.
Those feelings you buried years ago? They’re being dug up by none other than Park Sunghoon himself.
──────────────────────────────
Three weeks after that dinner with Sunghoon, the two of you have grown noticeably more comfortable around each other. He even picked you up from your apartment the morning after that night, insisting so you wouldn’t have to take the subway to work.
And now, you’re back in the thick of it. Endless patients, heavy workloads, night shifts, deadlines, and back-to-back surgeries taking up most of your time.
“Doc, I’m done with my rounds for now,” Jungwon says, appearing beside you while you’re busy taking a patient’s blood pressure.
You finish up, offering the patient a small reassuring smile before noting down the readings on the chart.
“Good,” you say, turning to him. “I want you to check on Baby Jung in the newborn unit. When I assessed the baby earlier this morning, the condition was a bit unstable. If that continues, report back to me so we’ll coordinate with the Pediatrics Department.”
“You got it.” Jungwon gives a quick salute before turning to leave.
“Oh, and Jungwon,” you call out just as he’s a few steps away. “Don’t forget the dessert you promised me for lunch.”
He chuckles, glancing back. “Of course, Doc. See you at the cafeteria later.”
Over the past three weeks, you and Jungwon have also grown closer, spending nearly every day working side by side. You’re grateful to have someone to share the hectic schedules and overwhelming workload with as it makes everything feel just a little lighter.
You grab the clipboard with your patient records and head towards the elevator. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out, about to read the message but you bumped into someone.
The impact causes the clipboard to slip from your hands, papers scattering across the floor.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” a voice says quickly.
You crouch down to gather the papers, the other person doing the same.
As you pick them up and glance up, a nurse you don’t recognize hands you a few sheets. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” you reply, standing up.
“I’m really sorry again, Doctor…” Her eyes flicker to your coat, reading the name stitched onto it. “…Kang.”
You shake your head lightly. “It’s okay. I wasn’t looking either. It’s partly my fault.”
You pause for a moment, studying her. “By the way, what’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
She smiles sweetly. “I’m Jang Wonyoung. I just started working here yesterday.”
“Well, it’s nice meeting you, Wonyoung,” you say with a friendly smile. “Sorry our first meeting had to be like this.”
“That’s alright,” she replies. “Have a nice day, Dr. Kang.”
She gives a small wave before heading off.
You continue towards the elevator and pressed the button. While waiting, you check your phone and read Jungwon’s message. He mentions that the newborn unit is a bit crowded with nurses and a few parents, and that he’ll update you once he gets inside.
Ding.
The elevator doors open.
You look up and see Sunghoon inside.
A smile forms on your lips as you step in, slipping your phone back into your pocket.
“Funny how we always run into each other at the elevator,” you say, turning to him.
“It is,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Maybe I should start charging you for getting to see a handsome face like mine every time the doors open.”
You let out a laugh, and he joins in, the sound light and easy between you.
“Anyway,” he continues once the laughter fades. “Where are you planning to eat lunch? Sunoo and a friend of mine are trying out a newly opened restaurant nearby. Want to join us?”
“I’d love to,” you say, “but Jungwon and I already made plans, and he’s treating me to dessert, so I can’t really say no to that.” You nudge his side playfully.
“Ah, I see.” He nods, though you can’t help but notice the slight disappointment in his tone. “Maybe next time.”
“Definitely next time,” you reply.
The elevator doors slide open at your floor.
You step out, then glance back at him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
And with that, you walked away, unaware of the way his gaze lingers on you just a second longer than usual.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Lunchtime arrives, and you’ve been sitting there for almost an hour.
Your plate is already empty, your drink long finished, and yet there’s still no sign of Jungwon or the dessert he promised.
You let out a quiet sigh, resting your cheek against your palm as you glance towards the cafeteria doors. Maybe I should’ve just gone with Sunghoon instead…
Just as the thought crosses your mind, the doors swing open and Jungwon rushes in, scanning the room before spotting you.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry I’m late, a patient was—” He’s panting so hard he can’t even finish his sentence.
“Woah, hey. Sit down first,” you say quickly.
He does as told, and you hand him your spare bottle of water. He takes it immediately, drinking it down in one go.
Once he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you apologetically. “I really wanted to come earlier, but a patient asked me to stay with her until her husband arrived. I didn’t expect it to take that long… if I had known, I wouldn’t have stayed.”
You nod, your expression softening. “It’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Did you at least eat lunch?” you ask.
“I did,” he replies. “The patient felt bad for making me wait, so she gave me some food.”
“Then I guess that leaves us with dessert,” you say, pointing lightly at him. “Now go get me that dessert you promised.”
Jungwon stands up immediately and heads to the counter.
A few minutes later, he returns, but this time, there’s a slight frown on his face.
“They ran out,” he says. “I guess it’s my fault for getting here late.”
You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “So… what are we supposed to have for dessert now?”
Jungwon pauses, thinking for a moment before his expression brightens. “I know a place. Come with me.”
A short while later, the two of you find yourselves standing in front of a gelato shop in town.
“I come here whenever I’m craving something sweet,” Jungwon says, a hint of excitement in his voice. “They make the best gelato.”
He steps ahead of you, holding the door open.
“You’re really serious about this gelato, huh?” you tease with a small laugh.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Across the street, inside the newly opened restaurant, Sunghoon sits with Sunoo and Jay.
“Is that Y/N?” Sunoo suddenly says, pointing towards the window.
Sunghoon’s attention shifts instantly, his gaze following the direction.
Outside, he sees you with Jungwon.
“She’s with the resident,” Sunoo adds, still watching.
“They seem close,” Jay comments casually. “Maybe a little too close. I can’t even remember the last time I became friends with a resident.”
Sunoo gasps softly, covering his mouth. “Right? I thought I was the only one who noticed.”
Sunghoon’s grip on his fork tightens slightly as he listens, his eyes still fixed on the scene outside. On the way Jungwon holds the door open for you and the way you laugh.
“Do you think maybe they’re—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Sunghoon cuts in, his tone sharper than usual. “Can we just eat in peace and not start rumors?”
Sunoo scoffs, side-eyeing him. “Geez. I was just saying.”
Sunghoon then goes back to eating, but the air at the table has shifted.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
After finishing your gelato, you and Jungwon stepped outside.
Just as you’re about to leave, you spot Sunoo approaching the shop.
You wave at him, and he waves back enthusiastically, a grin spreading across his face.
“What are you doing here?” you ask.
“Getting dessert,” he replies. “Do they have mint chocolate here?”
“Yeah they have tons of flavors, actually. I think you’ll like all of them,” you say with a small laugh.
“Really?” Sunoo’s eyes light up. “I can’t wait!”
He practically skips toward the entrance.
Moments later, Sunghoon and Jay approach.
“Hi,” you greet as they stop in front of you.
“Hello,” Jay replies, glancing inside. “Is Sunoo in there?” You nodded.
“I’ll see if there's a flavor I like,” he says, turning to Sunghoon. “You want anything?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. “I’m good.”
Jay heads inside, leaving the two of you and Jungwon, who has just stepped beside you in an awkward silence.
“Hey,” you say to Sunghoon, but this time, something feels off.
“Right,” you say, trying to ease the tension. “Jungwon, this is Dr. Park Sunghoon, my friend.”
You gesture towards Jungwon. “And Sunghoon, this is Jungwon, the resident I told you about.”
Jungwon immediately extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Park.”
For a second, Sunghoon just stares at it, his thick brows slightly furrowed.
You clear your throat softly. Only then does Sunghoon take his hand, briefly.
“Uh huh,” he mutters.
Jungwon withdraws his hand, the smile on his face still polite, though a little uncertain now.
Just then, Sunoo and Jay return. With Sunoo holding his three scoops of mint chocolate chip gelato.
“Let’s head back,” Jay says. “Lunch break’s almost over.”
The five of you began walking back towards the hospital. Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jay walked ahead, while you and Jungwon trail slightly behind.
“Jungwon… I’m sorry about that,” you say quietly. “Sunghoon isn’t usually like that. I don’t know what got into him.”
“It’s okay,” Jungwon replies, giving you a reassuring smile. “Maybe he just had a bad day.”
“Still… I’ll talk to him.” Before he could respond, you jogged forward.
“Sunghoon,” you call.
No response.
You try again.
Still nothing.
You frown slightly before reaching out and poking his side.
He flinches, finally turning to look at you. “What was that for?”
“You weren’t listening, so I had to resort to that,” you say, pouting slightly. His expression softens just a bit.
“…Sorry. What did you want to say?” He asks as you crossed your arms. “Why were you rude to Jungwon earlier? The kid was just trying to introduce himself.”
“I wasn’t,” he replied, looking away.
“You were,” you insist. “What’s wrong? Are you upset because I didn’t join you for lunch?”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he looks back at you.
“No,” he says quickly. “It’s not that. A waiter messed up my order earlier, so I didn’t really enjoy the meal,” he lied, his voice a little too fast, as if he’s trying to convince both you and himself.
“Oh… that sucks,” you say, your tone softening. “So you really just had a bad day.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. His ears tint slightly red.
“You should leave them a bad review,” you say lightly. “They don’t deserve all that hype.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Maybe I should.”
──────────────────────────────
It was now time for the yearly medical mission, this time held in Gangwon Province.
Early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, doctors were already gathered at the back of the hospital, loading supplies into vans. The atmosphere was focused, everyone moving with practiced efficiency.
Once you finished loading your things into the vehicle, the senior doctor, Ms. Lim, arrived to announce the car assignments. Most of the staff, doctors and nurses alike were placed in the larger vans, while only three were assigned to the smaller car.
That included you, Chaewon, and a pharmacist.
“We better get moving. The drive will take two to three hours, and I don’t want us arriving late,” Ms. Lim said as everyone began heading toward their assigned vehicles.
You stepped into the small car first, with Chaewon following right after. “Great, seatmates,” you said lightly, earning a smile from her as she settled beside you. The pharmacist sat in the front passenger seat, next to the driver.
Even with only four people inside, the space felt slightly cramped, with a few supplies stacked behind your seats, signaling the long drive ahead.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
You arrived in Gangwon Province after two and a half hours.
You stretched your arms as soon as you stepped out of the car. “Finally, we’re here,” you said, glancing at Chaewon beside you.
“Look at the view,” she pointed out.
Ahead of you, mountains covered in green stretched into the distance, the early sunlight rising over them and casting a soft glow across the landscape. The air was noticeably cooler and cleaner, a quiet reminder that you were far from the city now.
Around you, doctors and staff had already started unloading supplies from the vehicles. You moved towards the car again and joined in, helping carry boxes as the medical mission was about to start.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
The medical mission is taking place at a public school gym that is converted into a temporary clinic.
Folding tables are set up in sections for each department, with simple privacy screens dividing consultation areas. Nurses move between stations guiding patients, while rows of chairs line the sides of the gym for those waiting their turn.
You sat at a small table marked for OB-GYN consultations, flipping through charts as a line of patients steadily forms in front of you, the hum of the makeshift clinic filling the space around you.
The check-up began smoothly, most patients were cooperative, listening attentively as you gave instructions and advice. Those who needed minor procedures were guided to the adjacent room for outpatient care, while you stayed at your station, calmly writing prescriptions and updating charts.
From across the space, Sunghoon sat at a parallel table, his gaze occasionally lifting towards you. He observed the way you spoke to each patient, reassuring and always gentle in tone, together with the soft smile you gave even in the middle of a busy line.
“Man, you gotta stop staring at her. There are patients on their way,” Jay said quietly from beside him.
“I— I wasn’t staring,” Sunghoon replied immediately, shifting his attention to the neatly arranged supplies in front of him, pretending to align them even though they were already perfectly in order. “Just… observing.”
Jay let out a small hum of disbelief. “Whatever you say.”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Lunchtime came, with your team providing free food for all the attendees. A long line formed as patients waited for their meals, the gym still buzzing with quiet conversation and movement.
You sat at the table assigned for the doctors, with Sunghoon taking the empty seat beside you.
“Hi,” you greeted as he greeted back.
“How’s the consultation so far? I saw there are a lot of patients in your area,” he asked as he started eating.
“It’s going well. I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” you admitted, earning a small nod from him.
“Good to hear you’re enjoying it,” he said simply.
“I am,” you continued. “It’s always a pleasure helping people.”
The conversation flowed easily as you both ate. When you finished your meal, you reached for the brownie included in the tray, but Sunghoon stopped you.
“Don’t.” You looked up at him, confused.
“It has nuts,” Sunghoon added.
“Oh,” you blinked, then set it back down. “Right.”
A beat passed before you asked, “How did you know I’m allergic to peanuts?”
He cleared his throat, looking down at his food. “I saw you separate the nuts when you were eating that salad last week. And I've seen the EpiPen you always carry in your pocket.”
You stared at him for a second longer than intended, your chest tightening.
“You noticed that?”
He gave a small shrug. “It’s hard not to.”
A quiet warmth settled in your chest, though you kept your expression calm. “Well… thank you for warning me.”
You glanced back at the brownie, then sighed softly. “But it feels like a waste to just leave it.”
Before you could say more, Sunghoon reached over and took it from your plate.
“Always so considerate,” he said, before taking a bite himself.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
It was already night by the time the medical mission ended.
Everyone looked exhausted, evident in the way people moved slower than usual, taking their time packing up supplies. The once busy area had quieted down, replaced by tired chatter and the occasional sigh.
You grabbed your things and made your way to the car, opening the trunk.
“Here, I got it.”
Before you could protest, Sunghoon had already taken the supplies from your hands and placed them neatly inside.
“Thanks,” you say, watching as he closes the trunk.
Just then, Chaewon comes rushing over, slightly out of breath. “Y/N, I asked Ms. Lim earlier if I could transfer to the van since I felt claustrophobic in the smaller car. She said I could, but only if someone switched places with me. I tried asking around, but no one wants to,” she groans, squeezing your hands in mild panic.
You give her a sympathetic look. “Chae, maybe we can—”
“I’ll switch seats with you.”
Both of you turn as Sunghoon speaks up, having clearly overheard the conversation.
“You would?” Chaewon asks, her face lighting up.
He gives a small nod. “Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you!” she squeals, then quickly turns back to you. “But Y/N, is it okay if I’m not your seatmate anymore?”
You smile softly. “It’s fine. I know how much you hate small spaces.”
Chaewon beams before pulling you into a quick hug. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re the best.”
“Everyone, let’s go!” Ms. Lim calls out.
“I have to go, see you at the hospital!” Chaewon says, waving as she hurries off.
You wave back before heading to the car. You slide into your seat, and a moment later, Sunghoon follows, settling beside you.
“She’s right,” he mutters, shifting slightly. “It is cramped in here.”
Your shoulders brush against his from how little space there is.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “We just have to endure it for two and a half hours.”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
The car ride begins, the hum of the engine blending with the low chatter of others. You pull out your phone, texting Jungwon about updates from the hospital. The screen blurs slightly as you blink slowly, fatigue catching up to you.
You let out a quiet yawn while waiting for his reply, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.
“Tired?” Sunghoon asks softly from beside you.
“Mm,” you hum in response, too drained to form a proper sentence.
“You should get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”
"Maybe I should.”
You lean your head against the window, eyes slowly closing as the gentle motion of the car puts you to sleep.
A few minutes pass.
Sunghoon glances at you, noticing the way your head keeps tilting awkwardly against the glass, your body shifting uncomfortably with every bump on the road.
Carefully, he moves a little closer.
Slowly, so carefully you don’t wake, he lifts a hand and gently guides your head away from the window, letting it rest against his shoulder instead.
“There…” he whispers softly.
Your head settles against him, your breathing evening out as you remain asleep, now in a far more comfortable position.
He stays still, not wanting to disturb you. But as the quiet of the ride settles in, he begins to feel his own exhaustion creeping in.
His eyes flutter shut.
And soon enough, he falls asleep too.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Unbeknownst to the two of you, Sunoo, who had already taken the front seat earlier, insisting he wanted to ride shotgun instead of being stuck in the back with the supplies on the van, was quietly watching a movie on his phone.
At some point, he glanced up from his screen and caught a glimpse of the back seat through the rearview mirror.
His brows lifted slightly.
He shifted in his seat and turned just enough to look behind him directly.
There you were, fast asleep, your head resting gently on Sunghoon’s shoulder.
And Sunghoon, also asleep, his head slightly tilted toward yours.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across Sunoo’s face.
He paused his movie and casually raised his phone, snapping a photo of the two of you, clearly entertained.
“Interesting…” he muttered under his breath before returning his attention to the screen, as if nothing had happened.
──────────────────────────────
The morning two days after, you step out of the elevator, heading towards the doctors’ lounge, only to stop in your tracks.
A few feet ahead, you spot Sunghoon walking out of the operating room. He’s in the middle of removing his surgical gown and cap, his hair slightly disheveled as he runs a hand through it to fix it.
For a moment, you just watch him.
You were about to walk over, maybe ask how the procedure went when someone beats you to it.
“Doctor.”
You glance over.
It’s the nurse you met before, Wonyoung.
“How was the procedure?” she asks, her voice softer than usual.
“It was fine,” Sunghoon replies.
“Of course it went well. You’re good at what you do,” she says, stepping a little closer than necessary. “Do you need help with anything, Dr. Park? I can assist you in cleaning up.”
Before he can respond, she reaches out, noticing his collar slightly crooked from removing his surgical gown and fixes it herself.
You freeze.
For a second, you can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. Your lips part slightly as you watch the interaction unfold, something uneasy settling in your chest.
She’s clearly flirting.
You wait, expecting Sunghoon to step back, to say something, to at least react.
But he doesn’t.
He just stands there, looking at her, almost as if he’s momentarily zoned out.
Something about that makes your chest tighten.
“Tsk.” You crossed your arms and turn away, not bothering to watch any longer.
Your steps are quicker now as you head straight to the doctors’ lounge, pushing the door open a little harder than necessary.
The sudden noise makes Jungwon look up from his laptop, slightly startled. “Y/N?” he says.
You pause, then let out a small breath. “Jungwon. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m just working on a report,” he replies, closing his laptop halfway. “What’s up? You look a little… irritated.”
You sit down beside him, crossing your arms as you lean back.
“Jungwon, do you know that newly hired nurse? The tall one who looks more like a supermodel than a nurse?”
He turns his chair toward you, giving you his full attention. His brows knit slightly as he thinks. “Nurse Wonyoung?”
“Yes, her,” you say quickly. “I just saw her flirting with Sunghoon out there. Can you believe that? A nurse who’s barely been here a month, hitting on a doctor?”
Jungwon lets out a small chuckle once you finish.
“Yeah, I believe you,” he says. “You don’t usually get this worked up over something small.”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” he leans back a bit, a teasing glint in his eyes, “you sound jealous.”
“Jealous?” you repeat, almost scoffing. “Of course not. He's my friend and I’m just looking out for him. You know it’s against company rules to date someone new.”
You can feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks.
“…Yeah right,” Jungwon says, clearly unconvinced.
You quickly stood up, not wanting to entertain his teasing any further. “Whatever. I’m going to grab something to eat.”
“Alright, Doc,” Jungwon says with a small teasing grin as you head for the door.
You walk down the hallway, your gaze lowered as you fumble through the pockets of your coat, searching for some cash. Distracted, you don’t notice where you’re going and end up bumping into someone.
It’s Sunghoon.
Your expression shifts almost instantly, your mood dropping the moment you realize it’s him.
“Where are you heading?” he asks, one brow slightly raised.
“Just going to buy some food,” you reply.
“Want me to come with you?” he offers.
“I’m fine,” you say a little too quickly. “I can manage on my own. Besides, I have a hysterectomy scheduled after this. I need to get back right away.”
The lie slips out easily, even though you know the surgery isn’t for another hour.
“Okay… just don’t forget to—”
You don’t let him finish.
You walked past him without another word, your steps just a little faster than before, the image of what you saw earlier still lingering stubbornly in your mind.
Maybe it was better to avoid him and push those resurfacing feelings back down. So that in the end, you wouldn’t end up getting hurt.
──────────────────────────────
The next few weeks stayed the same, you avoided Sunghoon as much as you could.
You grew distant. Conversations were cut short, small talk nonexistent, and every interaction between you was kept strictly professional.
It felt like the friendship you built with him had never existed at all, as you treated him the same way you had for years before.
“Working the night shift again?” He asked as you were waiting for your coffee at the vending machine.
You froze for a split second at the sound of his voice behind you, but quickly composed yourself.
“Yeah.”
The cup dropped into the slot. You took it without looking at him as you walked past him.
Sunghoon could only watch your retreating figure, letting out a quiet sigh as another attempt to start a conversation with you failed.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Sunghoon leaned back against the counter in the doctors' lounge, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere distant. Jay glanced up from his phone and watched him for a moment before speaking.
“You’ve been like that all week,” he said.
Sunghoon didn’t respond.
“Actually,” Jay added, setting his phone down, “ever since she started avoiding you.”
That finally made Sunghoon look at him. “Avoiding?”
Jay let out a short scoff. “You didn’t notice?”
Before Sunghoon could answer, the door opened and Sunoo walked in, drink in hand, immediately sensing the tension.
“Notice what?” he asked casually.
Jay nodded towards Sunghoon. “He just realized.”
Sunoo blinked once, then laughed lightly. “No way.”
“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon frowned.
Sunoo leaned against the table, studying him. “You’ve been acting off for weeks.”
“I haven’t—”
“You have,” Jay cut in. “You’re more distracted. You forget small things, double-check things you normally don’t.”
Sunoo added, “And you keep looking towards her area even when you’re not assigned there.”
Sunghoon’s jaw tightened slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does,” Jay said calmly. A brief silence followed before Sunoo tilted his head.
“You didn’t even realize she was avoiding you until now.”
Sunghoon paused, thinking back. Vague replies, shorter conversations, the way you left early, the lack of eye contact. “…I thought she was just busy,” he muttered.
Jay shook his head. “You don’t believe that.”
Sunghoon didn’t answer.
Sunoo exhaled softly. “You’re not just noticing her.” He smirks slightly. “You’re affected by her.”
The words hung in the air.
Sunghoon scoffed weakly, but it lacked certainty. “I’m not affected.”
“Then why do you look like that every time she walks past you and doesn’t stop?” Sunoo asked simply.
Silence.
Jay crossed his arms. “You didn’t care before.”
Sunghoon frowned slightly. "What do you mean?”
“You used to be fine,” Jay said. “Now you’re not.”
Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "She’s been acting weird...”
Jay immediately corrected him. “No. You’ve been acting weird.”
Sunghoon looked between them, irritation flickering but it didn’t last. Because it was starting to feel… accurate.
Sunoo sighed and pushed himself off the table. “You know what your problem is?”
Sunghoon looked up. “What?”
“You think noticing her is enough,” Sunoo said simply.
That made him pause.
Jay added more quietly, “It’s not.”
Sunghoon frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Sunoo stepped closer, voice steady now. “You don’t get to just notice her forever.”
“You either do something about it or someone else eventually will. Like perhaps, Jungwon?”
That landed differently.
Sunghoon’s expression hardened. "What am I supposed to do?” Jay answered immediately. “Tell her.”
Sunghoon blinked. “Tell her what?” Sunoo lets out a short laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, tapping a few times before turning the screen toward Sunghoon.
The photo from the night of the medical mission appeared. You, asleep, your head resting on his shoulder. Him, leaning slightly toward you, closer than he remembered.
The room went quiet.
“How did you get that?" He coughs. "And you know, that was just an accident. I didn't mean to end up in that position,” Sunghoon said after a moment, but his voice was quieter now.
Sunoo hummed. “Sure.”
Jay added, almost matter-of-fact, “You don’t let people that close.”
Sunghoon didn’t respond. His eyes stayed on the photo longer than necessary. “Since when did I start doing things like that?” he muttered under his breath.
Neither Sunoo nor Jay answered.
Instead, they just watched him, because for the first time, Sunghoon wasn’t denying it anymore. He was thinking.
Then Sunoo spoke again, softer but sharper.
“You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t feel anything. We know.”
Jay nodded once. “Just talk to her.”
Sunoo tilted his phone slightly, still showing the photo. “Before someone else does.”
And this time, Sunghoon didn’t argue.
──────────────────────────────
You push through the operating room doors, the sterile air hitting you instantly as the urgency inside the room becomes clear. The patient is already on the table, breaths uneven, the monitor beside her flashing unstable vitals.
“Doctor, her blood pressure is dropping,” one of the nurses calls out.
“I see it,” you reply, already gloving up. “Prepare for immediate delivery.”
Jungwon stands across from you, already scrubbed in, eyes focused but tense. This is different from the cases he’s seen before, this one is slipping, and even he can feel it. The usual controlled rhythm of the operating room feels tighter, heavier.
You moved quickly, voice steady despite the rising pressure. “Ma’am, stay with me, okay? You’re doing well. Just a little more.”
The woman turns her head slightly towards you, her face pale, lips trembling. “Doctor…” her voice is weak, barely audible. “If something happens…”
You shake your head immediately. “Nothing is going to happen. We’re getting both of you through this.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers weakly gripping the sheets. “Please… just save the baby.”
“No,” you say firmly, without hesitation. “We’re saving both of you. Stay with me.”
“Heart rate dropping!” another nurse calls.
“Let’s move, now.” The room shifts into rapid motion.
“Push,” you instruct, your tone controlled but urgent. “You have to push for me.” With one final effort, the baby is delivered.
A second of silence, then a cry fills the room, strong and alive.
“Baby’s out,” you announced, a flicker of relief passing through the team.
But it doesn’t last.
“Doctor, she’s bleeding heavily!”
You look down, there's far more blood than before as it pooled rapidly.
“Start uterotonics. Apply pressure, now!” you order, your voice sharper now.
Jungwon hesitates for a fraction of a second before moving, following your commands, his movements slightly rushed.
“Ma’am, stay with me!” you call, louder now. “Stay with me!”
The monitor begins to slow.
“No, no, come on,” you mutter under your breath. “We’re not losing you.”
“BP unrecordable!”
“Prepare for resuscitation!”
The flatline cuts through the room. Followed by a long, continuous sound.
“No!” you shout, immediately stepping in. “Start CPR!”
You begin compressions, counting under your breath, your movements precise but desperate.
“Come on… come on…” you whisper, your voice cracking just slightly.
Jungwon watches for a brief moment, then steps in to assist, swallowing hard as he follows your lead.
Minutes pass, but the monitor doesn’t change.
The sound remains flat as your movements slow down.
The weight of the silence settles heavily in the room, no one daring to speak. For a moment, you just stare at the monitor, as if waiting for it to change. It doesn’t.
You inhale slowly, forcing yourself to straighten.
“Time of death,” you say, your voice quieter now, but steady as you glance at the clock. “4:56 pm.”
The baby’s cries echo faintly from across the room, a sharp contrast to the stillness surrounding you.
You turn your head towards Jungwon, your expression composed, but your eyes betray a flicker of something deeper.
“Transfer the baby to the newborn unit,” you instruct. “Go with the nurses.”
Jungwon nods, swallowing hard as two nurses carefully prepare the infant.
He hesitates for just a moment, looking back at you, before following them out.
You exhaled deeply, looking at the patient lying before you. Then you instructed the nurses on what to do with the body, ending with, “I’ll go inform her husband.”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
Pushing the operating room doors open, you stepped out into the hallway. The bright lights feel harsher now, the noise around you dull and distant. Across from you, her husband sits in the waiting area. The moment he sees you, he stands up quickly.
“Doc… how are they?” he asks as you approach.
You take a slow breath, steadying yourself, gathering the courage to say the words.
“I’m sorry, sir… but your wife didn’t make it,” you say quietly.
His shoulders drop as he looks down, his composure breaking as he starts to cry.
“…And the baby?” he asks after a moment, wiping at his tears.
“She’s alive,” you reply gently. “They’ve taken her to the newborn unit. I’ll let you know when it’s okay for you to visit.”
He nods weakly, trying to hold himself together.
“I’m… I’m sorry again for your loss,” you add, trying to sound professional despite the lump in your throat.
“It’s okay,” he says, though his voice trembles. “At least… at least you saved our baby. Thank you for that.”
You nod, offering a small, sympathetic smile as he turns and walks away, his steps heavy and unsteady.
You know it wasn't your fault, but deep down you still feel disappointed in yourself for not saving her.
As a doctor, moments like these are inevitable. But for you, it has only happened six times, including today. You always do your best to save your patients’ lives and you usually succeed. So when the worst happens, you can’t help but feel responsible, as if the loss was yours to carry.
You step aside, pressing a hand lightly against the wall as you take in a sharp breath. Tears begin to fall, quiet at first, then harder as the memory resurfaces, your patient’s face, the way she looked at you, trusting you when you promised to save both her and her baby.
“Y/N?” You heard someone call and you look up to see Sunghoon. You stared at him for a while, your expression a mix of surprise and nervous at the thought of him seeing your vulnerable side.
“Sunghoon, I—”
Before you can finish, he closes the distance and pulls you into a gentle embrace. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder, while the other slowly rubs your back.
“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmurs softly. “You don’t have to explain anything.” He holds you carefully, like you might fall apart at any second.
You stayed like that for a while, crying into his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around you.
You’re not sure how, but the simple gesture made you feel safe. The comfort you didn’t even realize you needed is suddenly there, steady and warm, easing the tightness in your chest little by little.
“I couldn’t save her,” you manage to say, your voice breaking as you pull away slightly, shaking your head. “I tried… but it wasn’t enough.”
“Hey, look at me.”
His hands gently cups your cheeks, guiding your gaze back to his.
“It’s not your fault,” he says softly. “It never was. So don’t blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could.” His voice remains calm, comforting. “I’m like that too, I don’t always get to save my patients. But what matters is that you tried. That’s what counts.”
You swallow, nodding slowly as his words sink in.
“You’re right. Thank you,” you whisper.
He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to thank me. Just know that I’m always here for you.”
Your breath catches at that.
Your brows knit slightly as you search his face, trying to find even the slightest hint that he’s joking, but there’s nothing. Just sincerity, clear and unwavering in his eyes.
“Sunghoon…” you murmur.
“Yeah?” he responds, tilting his head slightly.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask quietly. “I’ve been a jerk to you these past few weeks but you’re still here, comforting me.”
Your gaze drops again, guilt creeping in.
“I don’t think I deserve your kindness… or even your friendship.”
Sunghoon shakes his head almost immediately. He lifts your chin gently with his finger, making you look at him again.
“I don’t care about the past few weeks,” he says. “You needed someone, so I came.”
Something in your chest stirs at that, soft and unfamiliar, yet overwhelming all at once. Your lips tremble slightly as your eyes begin to sting again.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
Before he can respond, you step forward and wrapped your arms around him once more, holding him tighter this time.
Sunghoon lets out a soft chuckle, clearly caught off guard, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gently pats your back, his touch warm and reassuring as you cling to him.
──────────────────────────────
The next day after the incident, you, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Chaewon went out to eat together. It was Sunghoon’s idea, he said it might help cheer you up after everything that happened.
You sat at the table with Chaewon beside you and Sunghoon across from you.
As you waited for your food, you glanced at him and smiled. “Sunghoon, thank you for this. I really needed it. I’m glad to have a friend like you.”
Then you looked over at Chaewon and Sunoo. “And you guys too.”
“Aww, no problem, babes. We’re always here to cheer you up,” Chaewon replied, wrapping an arm around you in a side hug.
“Friends?” Sunoo suddenly echoed, glancing at Sunghoon from the corner of his eye.
You blinked, confused.
“Oh– I mean… yeah, you’re welcome,” he quickly corrected, offering an awkward smile.
Before you could question it further, the food arrived, filling the table and momentarily shifting everyone’s attention.
The conversation died down as you all started eating, the clinking of utensils replacing it.
A few minutes in, Sunoo suddenly stood up.
“I just need to go to the restroom,” he said casually, then turned to Sunghoon. “Come with me.”
Before Sunghoon could even react, Sunoo was already pulling him up from his seat. Sunghoon barely had time to set his fork down, looking completely caught off guard as he was dragged along.
You watched them walk away, brows slightly furrowed.
“What was that about?” Chaewon asked.
You shrugged, just as confused. “I have no idea.”
ᯓ★ ݁˖
As you walked back to the hospital, you decided to bring up what happened earlier.
“So… are you going to tell me what that was about, or am I supposed to pretend it was nothing?” you asked, glancing at Sunghoon.
“What? That?” Sunghoon replied casually, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sunoo was just overreacting about something.”
“Really…” you said, clearly unconvinced. “What kind of something?”
He rolled his eyes slightly, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s just between me and him. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if it ever concerns you.”
You let out a quiet sigh, deciding not to push further. “Okay, fine. I’ll believe you. As long as it’s not about a secret crush or anything, then I’m out.”
“What?” Sunghoon suddenly said, a bit too quickly.
You frowned, studying his reaction. “Huh…?” Then it clicked. “Wait… I’m right?”
“N-no, you’re not,” he denied, but the tips of his ears turned noticeably red.
A laugh slipped out of you. “Hey, relax. I won’t tell anyone,” you said, nudging him lightly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He glanced at you, still unsure whether to believe you.
“I think I already have an idea who it is,” you added, a teasing smile forming. “And don’t worry, I support you.”
“Oh…” Sunghoon exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “T– thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you replied with a small smile.
You looked away after that, your chest tightening just a little, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Sunghoon trusted you with something so personal, and disappointment, because you hadn’t expected him to like Wonyoung back.
You thought you had successfully buried those feelings long ago, but hearing him admit he had a crush still stung more than you were willing to admit.
It’s fine, you told yourself. As long as you stayed good friends, that would be enough.
──────────────────────────────
The fluorescent lights in the doctors’ lounge felt harsher than usual.
Maybe it was the hour. Maybe it was the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. Or maybe it was the way the numbers on the chart in front of you refused to make sense no matter how many times you read them.
Beside you, the cup of coffee you bought earlier had long gone lukewarm.
You reached for it anyway, bringing it to your lips in a half-hearted attempt to wake yourself up.
The bitter taste lingered, but it did little to chase away the heaviness in your eyes. If anything, it only reminded you how tired you really were.
You blinked once. Twice.
Still, the words blurred.
With a quiet sigh, you leaned back slightly in your chair, pressing your fingers against your temple as if that would somehow force your mind to cooperate. It didn’t. If anything, the silence of the room only made your thoughts louder and harder to ignore.
You didn’t even realize you were staring blankly at the same line for the past five minutes.
“You’re going to misread that.”
The voice came from behind you, calm and familiar, cutting through your haze like it always did.
You didn’t turn immediately. Instead, you let out a small breath, somewhere between a tired laugh and defeat.
“I’m not,” you muttered weakly, eyes still on the chart. “I’m just… taking my time.”
There was a pause. Then the sound of footsteps, slow, unhurried, coming closer.
“You’ve been ‘taking your time’ on the same page since I got here,” he replied.
You finally turned, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze. His expression wasn’t mocking, nor was it particularly soft, it was something in between, the kind you had learned to read over the years. Observant. Quietly concerned.
You straightened a little in your seat, as if that alone could prove your point.
“I’m fine,” you insisted, though even you could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
His eyes flickered briefly to the untouched coffee beside you, then back to your face.
“You didn’t even finish that,” he pointed out.
You glanced at the cup, then away. “It’s not working,” you admitted under your breath.
That was when his expression shifted, just slightly.
“…Come on.”
You frowned slightly. “What?”
“Come on,” he repeated, already turning away as if he expected you to follow.
You stared at his back for a second, then let out a quiet sigh before pushing your chair back. The legs scraped softly against the floor as you stood, grabbing your coat almost out of habit.
“Where are we going?” you asked, trailing after him.
“Fresh air,” he said simply. “Since that clearly isn’t working.”
You glanced back once at the abandoned cup of coffee on the table before following him out.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
The hallway was quieter than usual.
Your footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, falling into rhythm with his. Neither of you spoke, and yet the silence felt… comfortable. Familiar. It wrapped around the two of you like something well-worn, something neither of you questioned anymore.
The elevator ride was short.
You leaned lightly against the wall, arms loosely crossed, your head tilting back just enough for your eyes to close for a second. The hum of the elevator was almost lulling, dangerously so.
“You’re actually going to fall asleep standing up,” Sunghoon muttered.
You opened one eye lazily. “I’m not that far gone.”
He didn’t respond, but you felt his gaze stayed on you for a brief moment.
ᯓ★ ݁˖
The rooftop door creaked softly as he pushed it open.
The moment you stepped out, the cold night air hits your face, sharp and refreshing. It stole the warmth lingering on your skin and replaced it with something clearer.
You inhaled deeply.
And for the first time in hours, your head felt lighter.
“…Okay,” you admitted, stepping forward. “That actually helped.”
The wind picked up slightly, brushing past you and tugging at the edges of your coat. Fabric shifted, swaying gently with each passing breeze, the night wrapping itself around you in quiet movements.
You walked towards the railing, resting your hands against the cool metal as you looked out at the city below. Lights flickered in the distance, cars moving like slow, distant streams.
For a moment, everything felt far away.
“Thanks for this,” you said softly.
No response.
You glanced over your shoulder.
Sunghoon stood a few steps behind you, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze wasn’t on the view.
It was on you.
You turned slightly, brows knitting together. “What?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he took a step closer.
Then another.
The faint sound of his shoes against the concrete felt louder than it should have, each step closing the space between you until he was standing beside you, closer than usual.
Close enough for you to notice the way the wind shifted his hair slightly.
Close enough to see the way his eyes caught the city lights.
The way they seemed to twinkle, just barely, as he looked at you, not distant, but focused in a way that made your chest tighten without warning.
Something in your expression must have changed, because his gaze softened a little.
“You know, lately…” he began slowly, his voice lower now, steadier but heavier somehow. “I’ve been noticing things I didn’t before.”
Your breath hitched, just slightly.
“I thought it was nothing,” he continued. “I told myself it didn’t matter.” Then he took another step closer.
You didn’t move.
“But it keeps coming back,” he said, softer now. “No matter how much I try to ignore it.”
Your heart was beating faster now, louder than the wind, louder than your thoughts.
You couldn’t look away, not when he was standing this close, not when his voice sounded like that.
“Look, Y/N…” he said, your name quieter than you had ever heard it from him.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something—”
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Your phone rang.
The sudden noise felt almost too loud in contrast to the stillness that had built up around you. You flinched slightly, breaking eye contact as you reached into your pocket.
Jungwon’s name flashes on your caller ID the moment you pick up.
Before you can even speak, his voice comes through urgently. “Y/N, there’s a woman in active labor with complications. We need you here now.”
“Okay, I’m coming,” you reply, your voice cutting through the quiet rooftop.
The wind is still, almost cruelly calm compared to the urgency in his tone.
You turn to Sunghoon, and for a brief second, your expression softens with guilt. “There’s an emergency. You can tell me that next time, okay?”
“Oh… okay,” he says quietly, the disappointment flickering across his face before he can hide it.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you add, already stepping back.
And just like that, you’re gone.
Sunghoon watches as you rush towards the door, your coat trailing behind you, footsteps echoing sharply before fading completely into the hospital corridor.
The rooftop falls silent again.
He stays there for a moment longer, unmoving, the wind brushing through his hair as if time itself has slowed down just for him.
A small breath escapes him, almost a sigh, as he looks at the empty space where you were standing just seconds ago.
author's note: wow, 12K words, this is actually my first time writing a fic that reached this word count
i really enjoyed writing this, which is probably why it ended up this long haha. as a med student myself, i got especially excited while writing the medical parts. and i think this is, by far, my favorite fic that I’ve written so far
i hope you were able to read it until the end >< even if it didn’t fully meet your expectations, i genuinely did my best to pour my heart into this fic (which I think I somehow did hehe)
well, the words in your mouth sound cool, but i'd rather be kissing your waist
/// chase atlantic, keep it up
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: it takes a long time to fully explore the thin line between love and hate. but seven minutes is a good start.
genre: academic rival!yeonjun / college au / enemies to lovers au
warnings: slow burn, strong language, highly suggestive themes, drag racing, alcohol & drunk people, a lot of flirting, arguing, and not knowing how to behave around each other
words: 9k
masterlist
✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 6, 2025. 1 PM
Thursdays were some of the toughest days of the week in your timetable. You had three back-to-back classes starting at 9 AM—often paired with a deadline for an essay or a presentation—followed by a four-hour shift at the campus library. By your final lecture, you were drifting through the building on autopilot, more asleep than awake.
Reina, your closest friend and flatmate, did her best to jolt you back to life. The class was taught by the most intimidating professor you’d encountered in grad school, and she didn’t want either of you to draw his attention.
“Here,” she said, nudging a water bottle toward you as payment for opening your eyes. “Come on.”
Groaning, you sat up straighter. But just as you unscrewed the cap, you caught sight of Yeonjun sauntering into the room and scowled again.
To be fair, Yeonjun made it easy to scowl at him. He was notorious for only attending lectures when it suited him, typically missing any that began before 1 PM.
Not that it mattered, really.
He could have skipped half the semester (and has, actually, in undergrad) and still passed every exam. Between having parents on the university board and an uncanny ability to predict exam questions, he also used his charm to coax the professors into giving him suggestions on what to revise.
(“Exceptional as always, Mr. Choi,” one of your Statistics professors had gushed a few years back. “So glad you stopped by my office so we could go over your presentation together.”)
By the time you started grad school, he had outperformed you and received the prestigious scholarship for outstanding academic achievements in a school year. All while maintaining an attendance of about 30% in each class.
Now, he entered the room with his trademark grin and a deliberately energetic bounce to his step. Your eyes met briefly across the auditorium, and his grin widened. He could see the exhaustion on your face.
As if eager to prove that he hadn’t been visited by the three spirits last night to help him transform from despicable to at least tolerable, he pouted and clicked his lips, feigning sympathy for your predicament. The moment you shot him a glare in response, he began to grin again.
You considered hurling Reina’s water bottle at his head, just to see if he was waterproof on top of everything else, too.
“I see Yeonjun has blessed us with his presence,” Reina remarked, following your gaze. “Splendid. The rest of us won’t have to participate.”
“The professor won’t even notice the rest of us are here,” you replied, handing her water bottle back.
Yeonjun, in the meantime, exchanged an elaborate handshake with Soobin, his housemate and (unfortunately) Reina’s boyfriend.
Soobin was the only one in your circle who made an effort to defend Yeonjun from your and Reina’s jabs. You both felt they were well-earned. Soobin didn’t always agree.
“We’ve all got to have perfect attendance in this class,” he said now, sliding into a chair to Reina’s left. “Or we’ll fail. Jun’s no exception.”
You shot Reina a betrayed look. It had become a running joke: since she introduced Soobin to you, it was technically her fault that the two of you now had someone defending Yeonjun in your midst.
Despite these occasional blunders, however, Soobin was brilliant. He loved Reina, was funny, considerate and usually smarter than anyone else in the room—but he was modest about it. Really, his only flaw was that Yeonjun usually lurked near him.
“You know he is an exception, though,” Reina said, her voice soft. “The professor’s his thesis advisor. He wouldn’t fail his favourite student.”
“He would if he had to,” Soobin replied. “Jun’s not the best at keeping up with deadlines. Or, uh, being clear and concise.”
Reina snorted. “Oh, yeah, no. He should come with subtitles.”
“He shouldn’t come at all,” you suggested.
Reina clicked her fingers and pointed at you in approval, reconsidering her earlier words.
Soobin turned away, surrendering the argument. He did agree, usually, that a lot of Yeonjun’s academic success felt quite unfair, given how little effort he had to put into it. So, you could forgive Soobin for occasionally taking his side.
“Did you read the article?” Reina switched the topic, addressing you before turning to Soobin. “I’ve personally decided to give up on homework. Didn’t even open the PDF.”
You snickered, but nodded. “It’s nearly fifty pages of nonsense. The first ten had me nodding off.”
“Yeah, I got through half,” Soobin agreed. “Then started daydreaming about dropping out and becoming a farmer, so figured that’s enough. Or just a goatherd, maybe. That’s cool, too.”
You and Reina began to chuckle just as a hush fell across the auditorium. You didn’t need to look up from the laptop on your foldable table to know that the professor had arrived. The man was frightening.
“Good afternoon,” he announced at the front, as if the goodness of the afternoon was a scientific fact, not a mere greeting. “I am very pleased to have received your essays. I know last week’s seminar proved a bit of a challenge, but most of you have done rather well.”
“Most of us,” Reina repeated to you in a mocking whisper.
Your gaze drifted to Yeonjun just as he glanced over at you.
Not fully registering the eye contact, you turned back to the front and leaned towards Reina. “Pleased to receive our essays. As if we had a choice.”
She snorted, recalling the two consecutive all-nighters you’d pulled in your flat, trying to meet the absurd word count. You’d forgotten what sleep felt like, but you sure enjoyed learning how to explain computationalism in layman’s terms.
“For today’s class,” the professor continued, and you heard Soobin and Reina take matching deep breaths beside you as they opened their own laptops, “I thought we’d revisit some alternative behaviourism theories we haven’t yet had the chance to properly discuss.”
You tried to stay diligent with your notes, but the moment the professor started rattling off names and experiments you’d already heard before, your thoughts began to wander. The two previous classes were catching up with you.
Evidently, Reina shared your exhaustion—she usually did—because just as you began daydreaming about an iced latte, your phone lit up with a message from her.
You glanced her way. She met your eye but didn’t acknowledge the text. She didn’t want to speak and risk being called on to elaborate on Skinner’s operant conditioning.
Finally, you picked up your phone and opened the chat.
REINA [1:27 PM]
bin’s going to the race tonight
will have drinks… you could use some
we’ll try my gran’s homemade sambuca
She was very clever. She knew you’d planned to spend the evening working through Marlon Brando’s filmography together. But instead of admitting she wanted to postpone that to see her boyfriend, she immediately rerouted the whole night.
YOU [1:29 PM]
lovely
but i’m heading straight to sleep
She read the message and shook her head before typing:
REINA [1:29 PM]
sounds like a plan
after we’re back from the race
She didn’t directly ask you to come with them; she knew you wouldn’t. You avoided the drag races at the old camping grounds outside campus, not just because of the noise, but also because some of the drivers raced drunk, when they could barely race sober. You wanted nothing to do with that.
You’d said as much out loud, a couple of years back, when Soobin and Reina first started dating and Reina wanted you at the race with them. Yeonjun had cynically declared that your reasons were “laced with moral superiority.” You told him his face was laced with moral superiority, and that your reasons were simple common sense.
Reina knew this about you and usually respected your decision.
Other times, she made a different decision for you.
For a few moments, the two of you sat in the quiet auditorium, fervently shaking your heads at one another.
Then, Reina picked her phone back up.
REINA [1:32 PM]
NO.
you are not making me go alone
(please)
if yeonjun wins anything, i might end up arrested for assault
You snickered quietly into your fist. Yeonjun was already unbearable on a normal day, but if he won—in his obnoxious, classic blue Nissan Skyline with its obligatory grey stripes on the bumper—he unlocked new, unseen levels of insufferability.
YOU [1:33 PM]
so don’t go
let soobin celebrate with him
Reina’s response came seconds later, and it was everything you’d expected her to say:
REINA [1:33 PM]
i want to spend time with my boyfriend, though :(
YOU [1:34 PM]
hard to do when your boyfriend’s boyfriend is also there
Reina fixed you with another long look. You met it head-on.
REINA [1:35 PM]
i have a feeling that if you’re at the race, then yeonjun won’t win
you’re his bad luck charm
an omen, if you will :)
She saw your struggle to keep a straight face and her own smile spread in quiet triumph.
YOU [1:36 PM]
i wish
Discouraged but far from defeated, Reina opted for a different approach.
REINA [1:36 PM]
you can’t miss seeing me in the dress we got last week!!
You raised a questioning eyebrow. She only grinned, mischief tugging at the corners of her lips, and turned back to the front of the auditorium.
The two of you had gone shopping together last week, and you found her a dress that looked like it had been designed with her in mind. She hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet, so naturally, she was now deploying it as a weapon.
You did want to see if the dress suited her as well as you’d imagined, and if she felt good in it.
YOU [1:37 PM]
you’re wearing it to the race?
That hardly seemed like an occasion suited for such an outfit. But Reina tucked a determined strand of hair behind her ear and texted back:
REINA [1:37 PM]
yes
YOU [1:37 PM]
fair
i’ll look at it at home <3
She turned in her seat to glare at you once more, mouthing a loving “fuck off” before returning to her phone.
REINA [1:38 PM]
i won’t show it to you at home
You smiled at your phone.
YOU [1:38 PM]
mean :(
REINA [1:38 PM]
you’re coming with us
She was done negotiating.
But after hearing you groan, she quickly added:
REINA [1:38 PM]
ok we love you bye
With a resigned sigh, you typed back a succinct:
YOU [1:39 PM]
:(
Then placed your phone screen down on your desk.
You’d go, then. Or Reina would bury you under the bare hydrangea branches behind your flat.
Innocently, she leaned back in her seat, nudging your shoulder. You refused to meet her satisfied grin and stared resolutely ahead in one last act of defiance.
✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 6, 2025. 9 PM
The winding hillside roads at the edge of the campus were packed with drunken students and cars that shouldn’t have been driven a decade ago, let alone tonight—the upgraded parts had long outnumbered the originals. Some of the engines couldn’t have powered a bicycle, yet somehow they kept the monstrosities that had once been BMWs moving.
The air reeked of petrol, and the roaring engines drowned out the chatter of the crowds. All around you, people were intoxicated and exhilarated. No one minded the February chill or the frozen grounds still dotted with snowbanks.
The first pair of drivers was already at the starting line. You didn’t recognise all the names on the old blackboard, with numbers scrawled in chalk, but you saw that Yeonjun’s turn was next. His bright blue Nissan was undoubtedly the most expensive model on the grid, and looked almost offensive around the beaten-down Mitsubishis of his opponents.
You were tired and cold as you clutched your coat tighter around yourself and dreamed about going home early. Your only consolation was that Reina did indeed look breathtaking in the dress you’d picked—Soobin had nearly needed an inhaler when he saw her; you’d never felt prouder—even bundled under her heavy winter jacket.
Eventually, the Sambuca she’d brought warmed you up, too, and you agreed to stay longer. It helped, of course, that Reina preferred to light the shot on fire before drinking.
“Beomgyu’s car isn’t here yet,” Soobin observed, and Reina lifted her head from the bottle to glance at the scoreboard.
Beomgyu wasn’t due to start for another three rounds, but you knew he was already here. You’d heard him as soon as you arrived, chatting by the snack table with Yeonjun and a few friends, standing beneath a dangerously leaning wooden pergola, likely assembled by the drivers before your time.
You checked the board again and spotted Taehyun and Kai’s names underneath Beomgyu’s. They were both a year below you, but Kai—being Beomgyu’s roommate—and Taehyun—being your companion during dull campus parties—had quickly become part of your group as well.
“I heard he had an engine problem last week,” Reina said, waving when Beomgyu’s gaze drifted your way. “Said it sounded like a cage of wild squirrels.”
You snorted at the image, and Soobin smiled, too. You’d driven Beomgyu’s Audi before; it always sounded like that.
“Nothing new. Even if he says he’s fixed it,” Soobin said. “Let’s see how long that lasts, knowing his dedication to hit every kerb in sight.”
Reina was about to reply—Beomgyu’s Audi held a special place in her heart—but someone nearby set off a cherry bomb, cutting her off and making all three of you jump. To be fair, it was Soobin’s startled yelp as he reached for Reina that scared you more than the firework; those were typical for drag race nights anyway. Someone always brought explosives for the noise, rather than for the light.
As you scanned the crowd for the culprit, you felt hands on your shoulders and startled once more.
“There you are!” Nara exclaimed, pulling you close and grabbing Reina’s arm, too. She was clearly very tipsy already. “Been searching all over the grounds for you!”
Nara was a part of your cohort as well, and ever since you’d met her in your freshman year, she had always drunk until she physically couldn’t anymore.
You hugged her back and then slid out of her surprisingly strong grip.
“Why?” Reina managed to ask, still within Nara’s reach.
“The sambuca,” she explained, though judging by her swaying, she really could have done without any more spirits.
Reina seemed to share your thoughts as she gathered her hair out of Nara’s hands and glanced at you.
“I’m not even drunk,” Nara declared drunkenly. “And I came for just a—just one shot anyway. I’m more of a Corona girl. Liquor’s not for me. Is it true you put coffee beans in it?”
“Yeah, it—”
“Well, I don’t like Espresso Martinis,” she went on. “Not very fond of gin, but this—”
“Espresso Martinis aren’t made with gin,” Soobin chimed in. He had taken up bartending at one of the bars downtown last month. The job, it appeared, came with an unwritten duty to correct all misconceptions about alcoholic drinks.
Nara gave him a sceptical look. “But it’s a Martini.”
Soobin shrugged. “Just a name.”
“Alright.” She responded with a shrug of her own and turned back to Reina. “Pour.”
Reina poured, then flicked her lighter. Nara barely waited for the flame to burn before she blew it out and threw her head back, downing the shot in one determined gulp.
You were about to offer a—belated—warning, but Nara had already swallowed. Her face froze in a half-scowl, half-gag, and you stepped closer to place a concerned hand on her back.
“You alright?” you asked, trying not to laugh as Soobin’s expression morphed into comical amusement behind her. You and Soobin have already tried the drink before—brutal on the first go, but much smoother on the second.
Nara clicked her tongue, then licked her lips.
“Yeah,” she said. “Shit. Right. I can’t stand liquor, so if I—”
She bent down and gagged dramatically. All three of you took a cautious step back. Then she straightened, waved you off with one hand, closed her eyes, and finally burst out laughing.
“I’m okay,” she decided. “Actually, wasn’t even that bad. Considering another one.”
You and Reina looked at each other again. She capped the sambuca bottle. You retrieved the water bottle from your bag.
“Have you considered,” Reina said, holding up the shot glass while you poured water into it, “that you shouldn’t mix liquor with beer?”
“Beer before liquor,” Soobin offered helpfully, “never been sicker.”
Nara rewarded his rhyme with another scowl, then mindlessly took the shot from Reina’s hand. She knocked it back without realising it was water, then spluttered halfway through a swallow.
“Hmph,” she began, her gaze locked on something behind you, “is that Amy?”
You turned, despite not recognising the name, then glanced at Reina to see if she was confused, too. She was not. She was squinting at a group of girls in the crowd, evidently having connected the name to a person.
“It is!” Nara exclaimed. “Where’s Yeonjun?”
You leaned in closer to Reina. “Who’s Amy?”
“Yeonjun’s ex,” she whispered back, nodding ahead. “It does look like her, yeah.”
“Ah.” You pulled back, losing interest. “Okay.”
You’d heard that Yeonjun had been in a relationship; everyone had. But he’d never seemed to bring his girlfriend to any of the parties you’d been to, and you never bothered to find out who the poor girl was.
Reina turned back to Nara. “I heard she’s taken the year off, though.”
“Yeah, she was working at her dad’s company in Milan,” Nara replied, then paused, waiting to hiccup. “Sh-she’s back, though. Moved in with this girl, Jiyoung. My friend from high sch—high school.” The second hiccup caught her off guard. “We think she wants to get back together with Jun again.”
You turned back at the group of girls Reina had indicated before. There were three of them standing close together, but only one faced your way—likely Amy herself, given how quickly Nara noticed and recognised her.
If that was indeed the case, Amy was beautiful. She had long black hair and wore a white coat that looked like it cost half of your tuition. You watched her laugh at something her friends said, and felt yourself smile instinctively. Her movements and the slow, deliberate softness of her speech all pointed towards generational wealth. And still, she seemed sweet and approachable.
You thought she was outrageously out of Yeonjun’s league.
“Is she… masochistic?” Reina asked Nara, opting for a more diplomatic word than the one she’d originally considered.
Nara snorted, and you noticed Soobin turning away—presumably to stop himself from reprimanding the girls for making fun of Yeonjun again.
In the meantime, the music quieted around you, and the first pair of cars at the starting line revved their engines.
“They’ve been on and off for years. She’s used to him,” Nara said, running her fingers through her hair and swaying slightly on her feet. “Off for a while, though. She’s been seeing this other bloke, but guess that’s done now.”
“So now she wants Yeonjun?” Raina questioned. You nodded when she cast you a look, seeking your backup. “Of all people? How have her friends not staged an intervention?”
“They might have,” Nara said, “but you know their parents. They think those two are meant to be. Maybe they are.”
Aside from knowing that Yeonjun came from a wealthy background, you did not, in fact, know his parents. Nara, on the other hand, knew most of everything on campus: the truth and the speculation.
You did not care to ask to elaborate, and neither did Reina; she had developed a distracted smile on her face the moment Soobin bent down to lean his head on her shoulder. Their height difference was already ridiculous, and he always made sure to fold himself around her in ways that only accentuated that.
Bored, you turned towards the field behind you, searching for something else that could help you feel more awake and present. This day already felt like three days stitched together.
You checked the track again. The first pair had just finished their lap when you spotted Yeonjun opening the door of his Nissan. With his helmet perched at the back of his head, he wiped the long strands of his hair from his eyes and turned toward the crowd, seemingly searching for someone.
Could it really be, you wondered, surprised, that he was looking for his ex?
That would mean he actually had a heart, thus disproving your long-held theory that he was a poorly developed bot that had escaped from some IT-obsessed student’s basement.
Just then, Yeonjun locked eyes with you across the field. And grinned.
You did not have enough time to hide your confusion.
Satisfied with your perplexed expression, he winked, too—just to see you blink, then roll your eyes at him.
With that, he slid his helmet on and climbed into the car, having successfully found the one motivation that would push him to the finish line ahead of everyone else.
✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 7, 2025. 12 AM
Yeonjun won all eight races he’d entered.
You’d never stayed long enough to actually see the final tallies before, but an exhilarated Soobin told you that this had never happened. No one had swept every race in a single night.
Still, Soobin’s energised cheers failed to make you feel excited. Your feet ached from standing so long, and the heavy air—thick with liquor and exhaust fumes—was beginning to sting your eyes. Not to mention, Yeonjun and his entourage were howling in unadulterated thrill, and that only made you reconsider your own life choices.
“Maybe he cheated,” you suggested to Reina while Soobin ran ahead to congratulate his friend.
“Had to,” Reina agreed. “If they weighed his car, they’d probably see it’s floating.”
“Not in the rules, Rei!” Soobin called over his shoulder. “They inspect the engines, and his was top-notch. It’s a brilliant car, actually. We shouldn’t be surprised. Probably the best one here.”
“So, then he only won because he can afford the best car,” you said. “That’s hardly a skill.”
Soobin made a sound of dissent, but couldn’t find a weighty enough argument. Yeonjun did have an outstanding car, which likely did half the work for him.
“So much for being the bad luck charm, huh?” Reina said to you, watching Soobin disappear into the exuberant crowd that was butchering a victory song—to the tune of Happy Birthday—in Yeonjun’s honour. “I’m sorry if you had a shit time here.”
“S’alright,” you replied, pausing briefly to roll out your tired ankles. “Least I saw you in your new dress. The night wasn’t too bad.”
Reina smiled, but her response was drowned out by champagne corks popping as the crowd doused Yeonjun in celebration.
The two of you lingered at the edge of the scene until Yeonjun pulled Soobin in for a hug, and the champagne showers from the crowd stained him too. Soobin screeched—in horror, disgust, and disapproval—and dashed off towards Reina.
After a momentary chase—during which Reina assigned you to bodyguard duty to keep the champagne off her clothes, and Soobin nearly sent all three of you toppling into an icy snowbank—you finally joined the rest of your friends.
“No, I already told you,” Yeonjun was saying as you approached, his black hair flattened from the helmet, his right hand tightly gripping Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Your engine’s got a thermal inefficiency. Suboptimal combustion dynamics. Heard you choking from the third lap like a fucking asthmatic at a marathon.”
“Respectfully,” Beomgyu replied, “I’ve no idea what the fuck you’re on about right now”
“Your carburettor’s not bringing in enough air, love,” Yeonjun went on. He loved explaining things almost as much as he loved aggressively flirting with everyone. “Causes an incomplete combustion cycle. You’re backfiring and bleeding horsepower. And you’ve got a dodgy clutch, too.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Beomgyu asked.
Reina squeezed your hand and leaned in to whisper, “the lecture’s about to start.”
You snorted, but didn’t have time to respond, because, of course, Yeonjun had to continue.
“Transmission’s backwards,” he said to Beomgyu. “You lose more energy shifting gears than you gain on the straigh—”
“Alright,” Soobin interjected before Yeonjun could go off on a proper tangent. Several people around you exhaled in relief while you and Reina stifled a fit of giggles. “After-party at ours?”
Although he didn’t look sure about the decision—crowds at his house meant he’d have to do the cleaning—Soobin offered everyone a good-natured grin. Drinking at home also meant he didn’t have to worry if his friends got home alive or slipped on the ice and accepted death. He glared at Kai just to make sure they didn’t repeat last winter again.
Yeonjun finally pulled back from Beomgyu and nodded, approving the suggestion. Unlike Soobin, he did enjoy the crowds at their house.
“It’s not that far away,” Soobin continued, “s’warm, and we’ve got booze there, too.”
A drunk chorus of whoops and other incoherent but enthusiastic cheers followed.
The decision had been made.
That wasn’t what you’d planned for the rest of the night, so you turned to Reina—who had no choice; Soobin already had her hand and was gently tugging her along.
“Actually,” you said, catching her pleading gaze, “think it’s time for me to go home.”
“Come on,” Reina still tried. “Just for an hour?”
“I don’t think so,” your voice was apologetic. “I’m falling asleep standing up.”
“I know you’ve got an hour in you,” she pushed gently.
“I don’t know, it’s already late—”
Although you did not mean to advertise your decision to skip the party, Yeonjun—forced to wait for Soobin—had heard it and, predictably, scoffed.
“Aw,” he crooned, interrupting you. “Mummy and daddy set a strict bedtime? Shame. Was looking forward to spending time with you.”
You gritted your teeth, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you angry.
You pondered for a moment whether you were petty enough to waste the night just to irritate him right back.
Reina watched your clenched jaw until you met her gaze. She nodded, reading through the thoughts in your head.
“Okay. Well, in that case,” you said, grabbing Reina’s other hand. “I’m coming. Can’t have you staying up all night, thinking about how much you regret not talking to me more.”
“So kind of you to accommodate my wishes, love,” Yeonjun replied, never missing a beat. “Anything else you’d like to do for me?”
Everyone else had already strolled off. Aside from Reina (currently mid-sigh) and Soobin (currently mid-longer sigh), no one was left to hear the two of you bicker.
You nodded at the scarf in Yeonjun’s hand.
“I’d love to strangle you with that scarf, for instance,” you said. “But can’t risk going to prison. Not worth it.”
He snorted, ran his tongue over his lips, and nodded twice.
That was about as close to surrender as Yeonjun would ever give. But you knew better than to take pride in your victory; he had plenty more ammunition hidden behind his delighted grin.
✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 7, 2025. 12:30 AM
And so you ended up going to the after-party—mostly out of spite, but partly for Reina. She had a talent for making you feel essential, like she couldn’t function without you. Really, she just thrived on having someone to exchange judging glances with at parties. Usually, you loved being that someone for her. You only hoped you wouldn’t come to regret this night.
Yeonjun and Soobin lived in a house about fifteen minutes from the camping grounds. The girls in heels had every right to argue with Soobin’s earlier claim that the house was ‘not that far away.’
The entire fifteen-minute walk—mostly uphill, to make matters worse—your friends continued to holler and praise Yeonjun. They carried him on their shoulders half the road, too, and only dispersed after Taehyun nearly carried Yeonjun right into a streetlight.
Observing this, you and Reina pulled another few classmates into an intentionally loud discussion about the toxicity of male sports fans.
You’d never been to Yeonjun and Soobin’s house before, and the modest, lively building at the end of the street wasn’t what you’d pictured Yeonjun living in. It certainly suited Soobin, though. Perhaps he’d taken Yeonjun in as a stray.
Yeonjun stood by the door, holding it open and ushering everyone inside. Just as you approached, he theatrically switched the hand on the door, forcing you to step back in surprise. A smug grin spread across his face as you stumbled slightly on the uneven patio.
You bumped his chest with your shoulder in retaliation and walked inside.
Several of your friends noticed this, but carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And it hadn’t, really.
You and Yeonjun had been unfortunately grouped together since undergrad, long before you began competing for grades. Both of you were the oldest among your peers, having dropped out of separate programs—Biology for you, IT for him—taken gap years, and landed here, in Sociology.
It was sometime during freshers’ week, five years ago, when you introduced yourselves, and Nara, somewhat tipsy, declared that you and Yeonjun were kindred spirits – all because you’d missed your first shot at university. You questioned that reasoning, but arguing with a drunk Nara was a losing game.
She changed her mind, however, once classes started and Yeonjun began picking fights with you in almost every seminar you attended together.
Aside from that, not much has changed now that you were in graduate school. You remained in the same program with most of your friends, and you and Yeonjun still possessed a relentless distaste for each other.
Tonight was the first time you were at his house.
You quickly discovered that the corridor here was surprisingly spacious, but not spacious enough to hold everyone. Some people were already meandering through the house unsupervised.
About three seconds later, you heard music—someone had found the speakers—and before long, the house was echoing with the clinking of glass bottles, too.
“Feel right at home, friends,” Soobin called belatedly, laughing when he was greeted with appreciative cheers.
Yeonjun locked the door behind him and shouted to the crowd lingering in the corridor. “Go on straight ahead for the sofa, yeah? We’ll all fit there. Did you find the drinks?”
They had.
You stepped further in—past a group of people, carrying a bottle of wine each—and scanned the space: a kitchen and a living room divided by a large, round dining table. You could all fit here, and bring another crowd of a similar size. You could host classes here. Small concerts, even. Perhaps an uprising.
Soobin had definitely not taken Yeonjun in as a stray. It was likely the other way around.
“We found the wine and the champagne!” someone yelled from the kitchen. “But not the corkscrew.”
“I’ve got it,” Soobin said to Yeonjun.
They exchanged a nod. Soobin removed his coat and followed the sound of clattering bottles.
It didn’t take long for everyone to settle into the boys’ living room, filling the sofa, the chairs, and the cushions on the carpet. Yeonjun was the last to join, bringing in four six-packs of Heineken.
“Yeonjun,” Nara called out. Drunk Nara, although argumentative, was your favourite. She did not ask questions; she demanded you talked to her. “How come I saw Amy at the race, yet she isn’t here?”
The room responded to the name with a sudden hush, but Yeonjun did not react. You took a long sip of your beer.
“You’ll have to ask her that, love,” he said, distributing the drinks around.
“Well, did you invite her?” Nara pressed.
“Everyone’s invited,” he returned, offering her a smile and a bottle, both of which seemed to briefly pacify her.
You leaned your head against the back of the armchair, locking eyes with Reina across the room. She stood beside Soobin by the home bar—an impressive cabinet with a built-in fireplace—and he appeared to be mixing her a cocktail that the rest of you did not deserve, because the resident bartender was not in love with any of you.
You smiled at this and momentarily zoned out of the conversation taking place in the room.
“Have you talked to her at all?” Nara was asking Yeonjun.
“Haven’t had the chance,” Yeonjun said, settling onto the sofa.
He sat just far enough from your armchair that you couldn’t catch the scent of his cologne, but close enough to watch him finish half of his beer in one go.
“Are you going to?” Nara pressed.
Yeonjun swallowed and gave her a lazy grin.
“I guess we’ll see,” he said. “If I do, Nara, you’ll be the first I tell, okay?”
Realising she’d been prying but not caring one bit, Nara shrugged.
“I could help,” she said, “if you’re interested in reconnecting.”
You didn’t see Yeonjun’s reaction because Beomgyu leapt from the sofa and pointed an accusing finger at his friend. He then spun towards Nara and pointed at her, too.
“How about you don’t help him with anything,” he demanded, “until he explains himself.”
Yeonjun blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We had a presentation last week,” Beomgyu said. “Nara, me, and you. And you didn’t bother to show up.”
“Oh!” Nara straightened abruptly, sloshing her beer across the floor. You heard Soobin’s sharp inhale from across the room as droplets splattered onto the grey carpet. “That’s right! He abandoned us.”
“I didn’t abandon you,” Yeonjun said, unconcerned. “I had plans.”
Beomgyu scoffed. Nara clicked her tongue. Neither looked impressed.
“We didn’t get an A because you weren’t there,” Nara said, her voice softening. Another thing about drunk Nara was that her drunken confidence never lasted long. It always melted into slurred sentences and muted words as her eyes began to droop. She’d fallen asleep at the drag race last week.
Wordlessly, Yeonjun stood up to grab a gin and tonic from Soobin, then joined him and Reina at the cabinet. Right away, Reina drifted away from them and perched on the armrest of your chair.
“I’m sure that’s not why,” Yeonjun told Nara.
Something in his casual tone made you sit upright, nearly knocking Reina off the armrest. Reaching out a steadying hand to keep her in place, you took a swig of your beer and tuned into their conversation with a fresh curiosity.
“It is why,” Beomgyu insisted. “Now you’ve got a make-up paper to write. So, we didn’t get an A, and you got—you got that.”
“Yeah,” Nara added, smacking the armrest of the sofa. “You dumbass.”
Her friends chuckled and patted her shoulder in sympathy.
Yeonjun only smiled and walked over to the other end of the sofa—unfortunately, right beside your armchair. He looked almost relieved that Nara didn’t press the issue further.
You couldn’t resist taking over.
“Is that why you didn’t come?” you asked, the armchair dipping as you scooted to the edge. “Because you sensed you wouldn’t get an A?”
The provocation in your question brought another silence into the room.
You hadn’t meant for this to be a dramatic confrontation, but now everyone tilted toward the two of you. No one had thought of his absence in this way—Yeonjun skipped too many classes to keep track—but now it made sense.
He cleared his throat and shuffled on the sofa, tugging a pillow from behind his back and tossing it on the floor. A classic sign of discomfort, you noted, and took another sip to hide your smile.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t come because I had plans.”
Heads turned your way, as if this were a tennis match and yours was the next serve.
You swallowed your beer. “Why apply to grad school if you’ve got other plans?”
“Getting a graduate degree is also one of my plans, love,” he said, batting it straight back.
“But, clearly, not a priority.”
He shifted again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees—closer. You felt Reina sigh beside you, sinking deeper into the armrest to get further away from him. You did not move.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
You tried to remain unfazed by his closer proximity. The lean-in had the feel of an intimidation tactic if you’ve ever seen one.
“You were doing a presentation with Reina last week, too,” you said, palm slick from the condensation on your bottle. “That one wasn’t even graded, but you still didn’t show up. I had to step in.”
“Aha!” Beomgyu shouted, victorious, as he plopped back down on the sofa. “So it’s a pattern with you.”
Yeonjun ignored him and continued to stare you down.
Reina, in the meantime, was surprised you’d brought this up at all. Normally, she avoided arguments with Yeonjun, finding them a waste of time rather than an opportunity to prove him wrong. But she was wholeheartedly on your side and was prepared—should you need her—to use all five feet of her height in a fight.
Without looking away from you, Yeonjun took a sip of his gin.
“Aren’t you glad?” he asked, a winning sparkle in his eyes. “No one to steal your spotlight.”
“Everyone in a team shares ‘the spotlight’ equally,” you countered. “But I get why you’d be confused. Teamwork isn’t part of your vocabulary.”
“Not part of yours, either,” he said. “Unless it means doing everything yourself and making sure everyone knows it. S’your whole act.”
His eyes stayed on yours, and he watched, cautiously, the way the bluntness landed and made you hesitate for two long seconds. Then, your expression sharpened again.
You forced yourself to swallow, then ran your hand down your thigh, the denim brushing against your rings.
“So, what were your so-called other plans, then?” you chose to ask, far from ready to admit defeat. “Buying new cars with Daddy’s money?”
He tipped his head back and downed his drink. When his eyes met yours again, he wore a golden grin.
“Actually,” he said, gaze drifting to your classmates, “I used Daddy’s money to go skiing. Kai nearly broke his neck trying out snowboarding.”
You heard Kai laugh, not bothered by the almost-accident at all; he usually almost broke his neck doing pretty much anything. Now he proceeded to high-five everyone who stood within reach.
“Good for you,” you said. “Not all of us can throw our money down the drain, but I’m thrilled that some can.”
“Oh, okay, then.” Yeonjun leaned back against the sofa, an intrigued glimmer in his eye. “And what does Her Responsible Majesty do when she’s not at the library, graciously sorting books for the rest of us?”
Although you held your glare, you were still surprised that he knew you worked at the library.
“When I’m not working,” you replied, “I still have classes to attend, obviously.”
“Well, obviously,” he echoed with an exaggerated, mocking pout on his lips. “Because you’ve got no life outside of them.”
“No, I’ve got a life,” you countered. “It just doesn’t make me skip presentations or let my teammates down. Must be a foreign concept for you, but—”
“Reading alone in your room is not a life, love.”
You felt your jaw clench. This time, you couldn’t hide the fury behind your teeth.
“You think you know everything I do?” you asked.
He lazily lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Hard not to, when you don’t do anything.”
Your grip on the Heineken bottle tightened so much that it was a miracle the glass didn’t shatter. “I—”
“Guys, oh my God!” Nara jumped to her feet suddenly, eyes alight. “You know what would be so funny?” Once she had the room’s full attention, she paused dramatically. Then spoke again. “If we locked you two in a fucking closet, so we wouldn’t have to hear you argue anymore.”
“Oh my God, yes!” Beomgyu, her partner in crime, cried out. “Seven Minutes in Heaven!”
You had just enough time to realise that drunk Nara may retire from being your favourite, when a supportive shriek—“fuck yes!”—was heard in the room. A jolt of goosebumps zipped down your spine.
“Nara, you technically argued with him first,” you tried to inform her, but she was already leading a new chant—closet! closet! closet!—and therefore no one heard you.
“That’s a childish—” Yeonjun tried as well, but even more raucous yelling drowned him out.
There was no time to protest, no chance to seek out Reina’s help, or even identify the voices of your friends for later revenge. Several people surged forward, gripping your upper arms and dragging you into the corridor. They’d noticed the door into the small wardrobe room as soon as they’d arrived; it was a disaster waiting to happen.
You opened your mouth to say you’d rather they locked you in the basement and left you the rats for company, but the door of the wardrobe was flung wide, and you were swallowed by plastic hangers before you could speak.
The so-called wardrobe room was certainly larger than a regular wardrobe, but still offered no real space. Once they shoved Yeonjun in after you, even lifting your arms required a special sort of acrobatics.
Laughter filtered in from outside, followed by the sound of something heavy being propped against the door—in case you thought your friends weren’t serious about this.
You wondered if they’d even remember you in seven minutes.
“Lovely,” Yeonjun remarked, arms folded as he stared at the wardrobe door. He gave it a shove. It didn’t budge.
You both sighed in unison.
“Well,” you said, leaning your back against the wall, palms measuring the width of the plywood, “thanks for this.”
Yeonjun tried to whirl around and suffered from an elegant poke of a hanger right into his eye. You swallowed back your laughter and regretted the dim lighting; you couldn’t see the expression on his face.
“Fuck,” he pushed the hanger aside, “how’s this my fault? You started it.”
You glowered at his silhouette, offended by the accusation. “All I did was ask you a question. You’re the one who started it.”
“All I did was answer your question,” he bit back, “but you kept at it.”
“You kept at it.”
“You kept at—okay.” He groaned, and you watched as the edges of his silhouette blurred; he must’ve run a hand over his face. “This is why we’re in here right now.”
You exhaled and glanced up. There wouldn’t have been enough space here even if you’d climbed onto the beams under the upper storey shelves.
“You can still save the situation by revealing you’ve got a fire escape here somewhere,” you said. “Or at least, a hiding spot with drinks.”
Your eyes finally started to adjust to the faint light seeping through the cracks between the floor and ceiling. You could see Yeonjun push a few more hangers aside and shake his head.
“Got none of that,” he said. “I’ve never even been in here with the door shut.”
“Really not much of a wardrobe room, then.”
“Well, I can still walk around in here,” he said, stepping forward to prove it. “I just choose not to.”
He was taller than you, but not enough to feel intimidating when he was suddenly closer. Still, you retreated further into the back wall—as if you could vanish into it with enough effort—and turned your head away in an unintentionally theatrical manner. Then immediately hated yourself for the drama.
Yeonjun’s smirk returned.
“You can also walk back,” you said.
“And if I choose not to?” he challenged, amused by your determination to maintain as much distance between you as possible.
“You’ll be the reason I leave here with whiplash,” you retorted, stubbornly straining your neck and staring at the corner.
That didn’t faze him much. “I can live with that.”
Realising there was nothing you could bite back with, you slowly returned your head to its normal position but refrained from breathing. He was standing so close that one accidental flinch from either of you would have resulted in your foreheads colliding.
“Happy you came to watch me race,” he said, drawing your gaze back to his face.
“I came to spend time with Reina,” you returned. “You just happened to be racing there.”
He scoffed, but remained undeterred.
You wondered if anything could dent his confidence. Perhaps a kick in the teeth. Then you wondered if your foot could reach that high in this Harry Potter’s cupboard.
“You didn’t have to stay so long,” he said. “Admit it; you wanted to see me win.”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d crash,” you replied. “Preferably in a violent burst of flames.”
This made him laugh out loud, and your own lips twitched at the sound.
“Sorry to let you down, love,” he said, planting his palm on the wardrobe wall. His frame now completely boxed you in, and you turned your head again. “Maybe next week?”
You took a deep breath, chasing air that wasn’t saturated with the woody scent—laced with citrus and vice—of his cologne.
“Not going to be there next week,” you said.
Yeonjun noted your discomfort and decided to offer more.
“Hmm.” He leaned in closer and grinned at the sound of your sharp inhale. Then, pulled back, smug. “Reina’s definitely coming, though.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Soobin will be there,” he replied, softening his tone in what you assumed to be a mockery of Reina. “And, gee, she just wants to spend every moment she can with him. Especially now that he’s landed that bartending job, and she can’t see him as much. So tragic.”
A kick in the teeth no longer seemed like enough. You imagined stringing him up in place of a scarecrow on your grandparents’ farm.
“I can’t understand why Soobin talks to you about these things,” you muttered, lowering your voice. He was forced to lean back in to hear you. “You couldn’t tell your girlfriend from your ass. What good are you at relationship advice?”
His expression, partly obscured by the darkness of the wardrobe, appeared highly entertained.
“You want to discuss my girlfriends,” he said, “while you’re trapped in this wardrobe with me?”
You gave him a flat look despite the unexpected clenching of your stomach.
“Might as well,” you said. “What else can we do?”
Laughing, Yeonjun removed his hand from the wall to rub the corner of his right eye.
“I’ve no idea,” he said. “I am actually good at relationship advice, though. Too good, even.”
“Must be why you’re single.”
He smiled and leaned his shoulder against the wardrobe door. He was clearly restless, and all of his fidgeting pulled more of him into your personal space. It was already too warm here.
“Why are you, then?” he asked.
“What?”
“Single.”
You glanced at him before shifting your gaze to the hangers behind his head. “Guess I’m also too good at relationship advice.”
“I bet.” He smirked. “And your advice is always right, yeah?”
“Wouldn’t be giving it if it wasn’t.”
“Hmm.” He bent slightly, brushing your arm as he glanced down at his shoes. You shivered at the contact with his skin and tried to blink it away. “Does it come from experience?”
Straightening again, he caught your eyes and didn’t pull away. His arm stayed pressed against yours.
You swallowed. “You want to discuss my boyfriends while you’re trapped in this wardrobe with me?”
His smirk deepened.
“Nice,” he said. “Alright, I don’t. No point flicking through old pages, right?”
“Right,” you said. “Unlike you, once I break up with someone, it’s really over.”
Yeonjun paused. There were hints of something other than superiority in your voice, but he couldn’t say what.
“Despite what Nara thinks,” he said, “I haven’t spoken to or even thought about Amy in a very long time.”
He looked like he wanted you to believe this, and you couldn’t resist:
“Well,” you said, “she was at the race tonight. Are you sure you didn’t just bottle it after you saw her?”
“Haven’t seen her,” he replied. “I was looking for you.”
The lack of oxygen in his wardrobe made your heart skip a confused beat. You forgot the follow-up comments you’d planned.
“You were looking,” you repeated, “for me?”
He shrugged.
You stared at him. “Did you get a concussion?”
He snorted and gave an amused shake of his head.
“Knew how much seeing me win would piss you off,” he said. “Boost of motivation.”
“Oh. Flattered you think of me when you race.”
“Helps me not to crash,” he replied. “Who’d get on your nerves if I got myself killed?”
You shut your eyes to keep them from rolling to the back of your head, and pressed your tongue into your cheek.
“Alright,” you said dryly. “Glad you’re aware of what I feel for you.”
His gaze traced your face while you kept your eyes closed. “I think you feel too much for me, actually.”
You scoffed. “Oh, sure, sure. Hard not to when you’re obsessed with constantly being in my line of sight.”
“Ah.” His breath shifted into a laugh. “Of course you’d see me everywhere you look. In the shapes of the clouds, too, perhaps?”
You clicked your tongue and opened your eyes, fixing them on the ceiling.
“It must be exhausting,” you said, “carrying all that ego everywhere.”
“Wouldn’t know,” he said. “How about you tell me?”
“Hm.” Your glare faltered with your breath, and you turned away again. “Fuck. Really not much to breathe here.”
Yeonjun turned to the clothes hangers behind him. As though they were the problem, he offered: “Want me to move these out of your way?”
“It’s fine,” you said, half a sigh passing your lips. “It’s only seven minutes. Surely we’re halfway through by now.”
His lips curled into a fresh grin. “Surely.”
He loved the way you made your discomfort obvious—all eye-rolls, sighs, and suppressed groans—but each time the two of you fell into a silence, he could feel your pulse against the side of his arm. He could hear your breathing.
You weren’t nearly as annoyed as you claimed to be, but he certainly enjoyed watching you pretend.
“I’m surprised there’s any room here at all,” you said, gaze flicking to the hangers. “Considering you own more clothes than everyone else in this house combined.”
“You like them?” he asked, nudging a hanger your way, then reading the writing on the hoodie on it. “I don’t mind lending you something.”
“I don’t like them,” you replied automatically. “I worry whether you own a washing machine, or just buy a new outfit for every day of the week every week.”
“Of course, you worry.” Another grin. “Would you lend me your washer, then, if I didn’t have my own? You seem like the sort to offer.”
For a second, you genuinely considered using him as a battering ram to break down the wardrobe door.
“Is that what you think I do in my spare time?” you asked. “Look after charity cases?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “But you go out of your way to make sure everyone likes you, so it’d make sense.”
You pressed your lips together. It was hard to defend yourself without coming across as aggressively defensive and burying any chance of putting him in his place.
“‘Everyone’ doesn’t include you,” you ended up saying.
He smiled, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. “M’curious about that, actually. You may not be who I thought you were.”
His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips again—most likely an unintentional response brought on by your forced proximity. Still, you found yourself looking away.
“Who did you think I was?”
“Boring,” he replied straight away. “Prideful and fake. You walk around like you’re auditioning for Most Liked in a high school yearbook. And all the while, you’re hoping no one notices that you’re actually judging every single person in the room. You’re an optical illusion of warmth and kindness. Have to squint to really see through your shiny surface.”
You felt your chest tense, but you were getting much better at ignoring the signals it was sending you.
“Wow,” you muttered, maintaining a flat tone. “Do you just sit around at home, then, coming up with this shit?”
“I read a lot,” he said. “That helps.”
“Oh, and you think of me when you read your Freudian bullshit?” You tilted your head. “Again, I’m very flattered. But not interested.”
He laughed, chest lifting just enough to brush yours as it moved. Your heart, momentarily forgetting how much you loathed him, made an attempt at a somersault. He felt it—in the stuttered breath you took, and in the way your arm pressed into his harder for a split-second.
“Look at that, love,” he said in a jaunty tone. “You’re not very shiny with me.”
“I don’t care about you,” you shot back. “That probably helps.”
“Yeah?” His smile was a sharp blade. “I almost believe you.”
Something dipped in your stomach—a warning bell, hinting at his peculiar ability to see beneath your composure.
You ignored it, too, and raised a defiant eyebrow instead. “Almost?”
He hummed, but did not answer right away.
There was a calculated precision in the way he leaned in just a little closer, his arm fully pressing against yours. You took in what little breath you could.
His eyes swept across your face like you were the only thing worth looking at in this wardrobe. There was nothing unintentional about it; he wanted to look.
“You’re not that easy to read,” he murmured. “Are you?”
“I’m not one of your books.”
“No. You’re definitely not.” His eyes flickered to your lips as he parted his own. “Hm. Guess it’s fucking with my head a bit.”
You felt your throat tense up when you tried to swallow.
“Well,” you said, oblivious to how much quieter your voice had become, “you’re fucking with my head, too.”
“How so?”
“Want to jump out of a window every time you open your mouth.”
You held his gaze as you said it, and he couldn’t help his smile. He could tell you really wanted to mean every word, but there was a curious sort of anticipation in your eyes. An approaching storm.
Yeonjun felt his blood run faster.
“That so?” he asked, barely audible now. You had to watch his lips to catch it. “Have I really got that big of an impact on you, then?”
It was the proximity, surely, that made searing heat push against your ribs. It was his cologne, and the soft cotton of his t-shirt, gently brushing against the tips of your fingers when you dropped your hands to your sides, and found him right there, in front of you, and all around you, all at once.
It was terribly, terribly warm here.
“Why?” you countered, breathless. “Thrilled at the thought?”
“Mmhmm.” The soft resonance of his voice wrapped around the wardrobe walls. Your chest tightened again. “Really enjoying the look in your eyes every time you see me. Could kill someone with it.”
“Hopefully you.”
“Funny.”
He was already in front of you, and now the space between your bodies had shrunk to practically nothing. Not nearly enough room for a breath, let alone a fly.
It was impossible to determine what happened first: your hand making tentative contact with his chest, or his mouth with yours.
The touch of your lips was soft, tentative, and uncertain—but soon the kiss turned rushed.
His body pressed into yours, backing you into the rear wall as your lips responded to his. Your tongues found each other, allowing for the kiss to deepen, and he exhaled helplessly into your mouth, evidently struggling for a breath, too.
He rested one hand against the plywood beside your head, trapping you between the wall and his chest, while his other hand cradled the side of your face. He didn’t take complete charge of the kiss (contrary to what one might have expected from someone like him), and allowed you to touch him and kiss him in any way that you wanted.
And you wanted. He couldn’t breathe from the realisation that you wanted.
You were absolutely dazed from the lack of oxygen, and completely drunk on the pressure of his mouth against yours. There were moments when you didn’t feel like you were entirely conscious.
But there was one moment of vivid clarity, when Yeonjun pulled away just enough to part from your lips, yet still breathed the same air.
You felt his chest rise and fall in rhythm with yours.
His wide, glossy eyes searched your face in the dark.
The tips of his fingers caressed your cheek.
In that moment, as clear as day, you were the one who leaned back in.
Yeonjun responded to your kiss instantly, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, tilting it at just the right angle that allowed him to taste your mouth better. Deeper.
The space inside the wardrobe seemed to expand because, suddenly, you could not get close enough. The air grew thick as your heavy breaths mixed with the soft, wet sounds of your tongues and your lips and your hearts.
His hand slipped lower, drawing your hips to his. The breathy hum that escaped your lips in response—half-gasp, half-plead—made his head spin.
Suddenly, he was kissing you harder, faster. His world narrowed to the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair and the way you pulled him in.
“Fuck,” he exhaled against your mouth, soft enough to barely register, but still electric enough to send sparks coursing through your body.
His hand travelled up and down your spine, then reached the edge of your shirt. He paused for barely a second, toying with the hem, then slipped his hand underneath. Another curse passed his lips when he felt the warm skin of your lower back beneath his fingertips.
His mouth was hot against yours, and you were most certainly burning up. The taste of his tongue felt dangerous in a way that liquor did to a recovering alcoholic. You felt dizzy to the point of wanting nothing more than to—
“Seven minutes are up, lovebirds!” a voice shouted outside.
Both of you flinched violently, limbs smacking into the wooden panels of the wardrobe as you pulled away from each other.
The wardrobe shrank at once, and you felt trapped again.
“Hope you’ve worked through your unresolved tension,” Beomgyu added, laughing as he and Nara pulled the door open, dragging aside whatever they’d used to block it.
They gave you about three seconds to get yourselves together, which was quite generous of them. But as the door opened and you squinted at the light, you saw that Yeonjun’s face was still flushed, his lips rosy and more swollen than usual.
You suspected you didn’t look much better.
As the two of you walked out, a few classmates—led by Nara and Beomgyu, of course—delivered playful punches to your shoulders.
But nothing more than that.
Everyone was drunk—bless—and no one cared. Soon, they all drifted back to join the rest of the group in the living room, where the drinks were. And the music.
Had the music always been playing?
There was a buzzing in your ears, and you weren’t convinced if you hadn’t accidentally gone deaf.
Clearing your throat, you risked a glance at Yeonjun.
“I, um—” You paused, forcing the bite back into your voice. “Just so we’re clear, I still can’t stand you.”
“Right,” he said, not looking at you. “See you in class.”
He took a step to the corner of the corridor, swung the bathroom door open, and disappeared inside.
His cologne lingered—sharp, persistent, unyielding.
You weren’t sure if your heart had caught up with your head.
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dedication
to @eleni-cherie who is the only reason i finish what i start 🙏🏻 thank you so much for taking the most intense idea for the plot, and sending it to me on a random night before i had a shit dentist appointment, just like, "you'd probably like this 👀" because i sure did. you revived a fic that i've already buried, and now we're back babyyy.
also, thank you so much for our 6-hour calls where we spend 75% of the time talking about fanfiction. and thank you for kicking my ass when i give up on writing, and for reigning me in when i decide to turn the whole plot upside down. thank you for thinking out of the box and immediately finding solutions to plot problems that have been kicking my ass for days. thank you for listening to me yap endlessly until i get to the point. thank you for always having ideas that have us giggling and kicking our feet at 1am. thank you for your support and feedback, for your improvements and adjustments. realising now that i'd never finish this note if i actually thanked you for everything, so just thank you for you 🥺
considering that this fic has been 2 years in the making, i am confident to say it would not exist without you 🤍
p.s. cheers to never joining a cult about fruit :)
You spent months chasing Jeon Wonwoo, the quiet boy who never once made it easy. Cold stares and silence were all he gave you. But something shifted along the way, and now he who hated attention, he who pushed you away at every turn—has finally said the words you thought you’d never hear.
"I can't go, Minyoung. Something came up, I'm really sorry," you muttered over the phone, quickening your pace as you followed the man striding several steps ahead.
"Fine. Whatever. It's not like you're ditching me for the first time." Minyoung's voice was laced with disappointment.
"Hey—are you mad?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.
"Of course not. I understand," she replied flatly, but the way her sigh lingered louder than her words cut straight into you. Before you could apologize properly, the line went dead. You stopped for a moment, frustration clawing at your chest.
"I'm such a terrible friend..." you whispered, guilt threatening to crush you. But as much as you wanted to turn back, your feet betrayed you. You had already chosen whom to follow.
"Jeon Wonwoo! Wait!" you called, half running to catch up. He stopped abruptly, and you collided with his back.
"Ouch!" you hissed, rubbing your forehead.
Wonwoo turned, his face darkening. "You're impossible," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the air. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop following me?"
"Every time," you answered simply, your tone sharper than you intended. "I just ditched my best friend for you, Wonwoo. The least you could do is not act like I'm the plague."
His jaw tightened, eyes colder than the autumn wind that bit at your skin. "I didn't ask you to do that. You did it on your own. Don't expect gratitude from me."
Your lips parted, but no words came. The distance between you felt wider than the steps you had run to close.
"You're a stalker," he added, each syllable heavy and deliberate.
A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "Then you're stuck with the prettiest stalker in this university."
Wonwoo didn't bother replying. He simply turned away, rolling his eyes as though your existence was nothing more than a persistent inconvenience. His strides swallowed the space between buildings, and you chased them as if they were your lifeline.
Jeon Wonwoo was the coldest man you had ever met. Reserved. Distant. Unreachable. He cared for nothing beyond the books he buried himself in, and still, the entire campus seemed to revolve around him. The most admired women, the ones with beauty, wealth, and power, bent their pride at his feet, only to be discarded one by one. Every rejection was a spectacle.
But you weren't one of those girls. You had no power, no beauty that could turn heads in the corridor. All you had was sincerity, a heart foolish enough to chase after a man who refused to be caught.
It would be a lie to say you hadn't first noticed Wonwoo for his looks. His sharp lines and cold eyes made him stand out, but that wasn't what trapped you. What ruined you was the subtle concern he showed in moments he probably didn't even remember. Like carrying your books once, stopping you from tripping over a stair, lending you his notes without a word. To him, those might have been nothing. But to you, they meant everything.
You had seen glimpses of warmth behind his walls. Maybe you were the only one who had. And that was enough to convince yourself there was something worth chasing.
The lunch hour emptied the lecture hall until only the quietest remnants of noise remained: the hum of voices in the hallway, the muffled thud of shoes moving past the door, the faint rattle of utensils from the cafeteria downstairs. But inside, the air was still.
Wonwoo sat where he always did—at the far end, near the corner window, his body curved protectively over his desk. His bag rested neatly against the chair leg, his books stacked with surgical precision. He looked as if nothing in the world could reach him.
"Come on, let's eat lunch. My treat," you said, resting your chin on your hand while watching him.
Wonwoo didn't even look at you. He closed his book, stacked his notes neatly, and slipped them into his bag. "Lunch is provided," he said flatly. "And I don't want to eat with you."
You bit the inside of your cheek. Rejection was expected, but it still stung. "It's fish today," you countered quickly. You knew he hated seafood. "You won't eat that anyway."
His eyes flicked toward you, disgust darkening his expression. "Then I'm not eating."
"Stop being ridiculous," you pressed, irritation spilling through your concern. "You're already thinner than me. You'll starve yourself into the ground."
His glare snapped to you like a whip. "Even if I starve to death, it's none of your business." His words were knives—precise and deliberate.
You laughed dryly, forcing yourself not to flinch. The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you forced a crooked smile. "Our cafeteria's just like you, you know. Doesn't care. Doesn't bother considering some people."
That made him pause, only for a second. Then his eyes hardened again.
"If you're not eating, then neither am I," you declared, folding your arms. Your stomach growled traitorously but you ignored it.
For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then Wonwoo suddenly pushed back his chair, his movements clipped and stood. Without a word, he slung his bag over one shoulder and crossed the room, settling in the farthest corner near the board. It's the only spot hidden from the doorway's view.
You blinked, startled, but still quickly stood and followed.
He caught you mid-step, his glare sharp as steel. "Stop following me." His voice was low yet commanding but not loud enough to draw attention.
"Then stop moving away," you said firmly, pulling out the chair beside him and sitting down again. The space was cramped, your shoulders brushing, but you lifted your chin stubbornly. "If you think I'm just going to leave you alone here, you're wrong."
Wonwoo exhaled through his nose, visibly annoyed. He leaned back with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you.
Finally, his voice dropped, colder and sharper. "Then don't let yourself be seen—" he ordered. " or better yet, leave."
Your brows knitted. "Why? What's the point—"
He cut you off, his tone like ice. "Because I don't want to be seen with you. I don't want anyone talking. I don't want to be associated with you—or with any girl."
The bluntness of it pierced deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth, but the words lodged in your throat.
Then the classroom door banged open. Minyoung's voice carried across the room as she hurried toward you. Her eyes darted to the corner, narrowing the moment she saw you beside him. Without hesitation, she grabbed your arm and pulled you up.
Wonwoo didn't move. He lowered his head into his folded arms, shutting the world out like none of it mattered.
Minyoung yanked you into the hallway, her whisper sharp and urgent.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to be seen with him? Do you want your name on the school page tomorrow?"
She wasn't exaggerating. Wonwoo wasn't just admired, he was watched. Every movement, every word and every accidental glance became something for people to talk about. And anyone who stayed too close to him became a target. You'd seen it before. Some girls get ridiculed online, called desperate and were accused of chasing clout, all because they'd been spotted in his orbit. It wasn't fists or violence you had to fear but the weight of a thousand eyes and the sting of invisible words, the kind that clung to your name long after the noise had died down.
You pulled your hand free, your voice shaking with defiance. "I don't care. I don't want him alone."
Leaving her standing there, you slipped back into the classroom.
Wonwoo was exactly where you'd left him, eyes closed, cheek pressed to his arm as if asleep. You sank into the chair beside him again, your heart aching at the sight.
And then, without opening his eyes, his hand reached out, brushing against your hair before pressing gently against the back of your head, lowering it until your cheek rested on the desk too—just inches from his.
"I said... don't be seen," he muttered, voice hushed, almost like a sigh.
Your pulse thundered in your ears. His words were cold, but the warmth of his hand lingered. It was both confusing and dangerous, everything you both wanted and hated.
You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out—staring at him up close was overwhelming in a way you couldn't explain. His features were too sharp, too precise, and yet there was a fragility in the way he breathed that made your chest tighten. Your heart felt lodged in your throat, beating so hard it was almost painful. You held your breath, trembling from nerves and tension, hoping foolishly that he might somehow notice it. Maybe, if he listened closely enough, he'd hear how loudly it screamed his name.
You could barely process the heat in your own body and the queasiness twisting in your stomach. Your hands felt clammy, your knees weak and the room around you seemed to blur and shift. You forced your eyes away for a moment, trying to focus on anything else, but he was all you could see. Every small detail about him. His eyelashes resting against his cheek, the slight rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair fell into his forehead, it's impossible to think straight.
"I must be insane," you whispered under your breath, pushing yourself upright. Your chair scraped against the wall as you stood abruptly. He didn't stir. Either his sleep was deep, or more likely, he simply didn't care, as usual.
"I—I should eat," you stammered, barely able to get the words out. Your stomach twisted again, forcing you to take a step back. You stomped your way out, trying to force some control over the chaos inside you.
You pressed a hand against your forehead, trying to calm the storm of heat and nerves inside. The hallway outside felt unreal. It was too bright, too loud and too normal while your mind replayed every detail of him, up close, too vivid to ignore. You slowed your pace, almost expecting him to call out to you, to reach for you, but the silence mocked you.
Even as you walked toward the cafeteria, the image of him stayed with you, haunting every step.
By the time you sat down, food untouched in front of you, your mind was exhausted from the effort of pretending normalcy. You told yourself it was okay, that this feeling would fade, but a small, stubborn part of you knew it wouldn't.
Not anytime soon.
The following days slipped by, seemingly ordinary on the surface. You attended classes, scribbled notes, and walked the same hallways as usual, but every glance in his direction made your heart stutter. Wonwoo moved through the days like he always did—quiet, untouchable, seemingly unaware of your existence. While you were there, noticing the little things about him. Like the way he rubbed his eyes when tired, the slight slump in his shoulders after long lectures, the faint tension in his jaw when he walked past. All the simple things.
You tried to catch his attention, to speak to him, even to smile from across the room, but he never looked back. It was maddening, frustrating, and yet somehow, it only made your thoughts about him more persistent. You found yourself chasing after him, imagining small ways to help, to be near, even if he never seemed to notice. Each failed attempt weighed on you, but you refused to let go, especially when you began to notice subtle signs that something was off.
You approached him cautiously, noticing his pale lips and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were heavy, glassy, as if the weight of the world, or perhaps just his own body, was pressing down on him.
"Wonwoo, are you okay? You look... sick."
He buried his face in his arms, slumping further over the desk. "Give me a rest," he muttered, a soft but firm protest. It wasn't just the lecture he was ignoring, it was you. His voice carried the exhaustion of someone physically burning up and someone mentally worn out by your constant attention. He wanted both literal and emotional space, yet he couldn't escape either.
Instinctively, you reached out, brushing your fingers towards his neck to check his temperature. The heat radiating from him made you recoil slightly. "Oh god..." In that instant, he lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Wonwoo, you're burning!"
"Don't touch me." His voice was weak, far from the commanding tone he usually wielded, but still edged with the pride that made him refuse help. You could sense the strain in him and this wasn't defiance for the sake of it. He was genuinely struggling and it terrified you.
"We have to get you to the clinic." He didn't feel fine. His skin was chilled despite the heat, and his vision swam.
You hesitated for a split second, unsure if drawing more attention to him was the right thing to do, but the sight of his pale, sweating face left you no choice. You raised your hand slowly, catching the professor's eye, your movements deliberate and urgent. The professor immediately understood from your expression that something was wrong and quickly excused you from the lecture. You felt a small surge of relief, but it did little to calm the worry gnawing at your chest.
Wonwoo stiffened the moment he realized the professor was watching. His posture was rigid, his jaw tight, and his sharp glare aimed squarely at you. He clearly despised the unwanted attention. Yet no matter how hard he tried to mask it, the sag in his shoulders, the tremor in his hands, and the slight wobble in his stance betrayed him completely. He was weak, and he needed help.
You stepped forward, helping him up despite his attempts to shake off your hand. Even as you walked him to the clinic, he refused to hold your hand for balance. You hated seeing him suffer because of his pride, but you couldn't force him to accept help.
Wonwoo's vision grew blurrier with every step. He stopped to grab the wall for balance, and you instinctively held his arm when he almost tripped, but he shook your hand off again.
"My feet are fine. I can walk by myself."
"Seriously??" you fumed, your patience wearing thin. He clearly couldn't walk properly on his own, but he refused to take your hand. Maybe he just wanted to show he could manage by himself and fine, you got it but not this time. "What's so hard about accepting my help? I'm not taking advantage of you."
Wonwoo's eyes narrowed, and a sharp edge entered his voice. "I don't need your help. Just leave me alone." He didn't know why he snapped like that, only that he wanted you out of his space, wanted to feel in control even as his body screamed otherwise. Each step made his vision blurrier, each movement heavier than the last, but he pushed himself forward anyway.
You didn't flinch. "That won't work on me. Now take my hand and let's get this over with. I hate seeing you weak." You reached for his arm again. This time, he didn't push you away. Not because he wanted your help, but because he had no other choice. He felt a flicker of frustration at needing anyone at all.
Step by step, you guided him down the hallway. He kept his hands to himself, resisting your guidance wherever he could. You stayed close, keeping him steady without forcing him. Each movement was a battle between his stubbornness and the limits of his own body.
By the time you reached the clinic, he was exhausted, pale, and finally had no choice but to let the nurse take over. She led him to a vacant bed and helped him lie down, and you stayed by his side, silently watching. Even weakened and frail, there was something captivating about him. Every shallow breath, every tense muscle and every fleeting frown pulled your attention in.
You realized just how deeply you were infatuated with him. No amount of stubbornness or irritation could change that.
"You can return to your class now. He needs rest until the medicine takes effect," the nurse said, breaking the spell of your thoughts.
"I'll stay until his fever subsides," you said firmly. You couldn't leave him alone, couldn't let your worry fester from afar. Your mind wouldn't focus in class anyway so there was no harm in skipping the rest of your subjects to watch over him.
The nurse studied you briefly, reading your concern like an open book. She didn't stop you. "You can take the bed next to him," she said, returning to her work.
You pressed a small smile and sat beside Wonwoo, who was already asleep. His forehead was creased, eyebrows knitted, and soft grunts escaped him now and then. You placed your hand gently over his, hoping it would offer comfort, though it was you who felt restless seeing him so defenseless.
There wasn't a single reason why you liked him. It was everything about him. The way he carried himself, the small acts of kindness and the thoughtfulness hidden beneath his sharp edges, all of that drew you in. Your mind wandered back to your first interaction, the one that had unknowingly sparked these feelings.
It was a bright morning. You were hurrying down the stairs, juggling your bag and a stack of papers, when your foot caught on the edge of a step. You stumbled, heart leaping, and the papers flew everywhere, scattering across the stairs.
A steady hand grabbed your arm and helped you stand. It was Wonwoo. Before you could even react, he was gathering the papers for you, stacking them neatly.
Then, without waiting for your thanks, he simply said, "Be careful next time," and walked away, leaving you flustered. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your arm, the way he had steadied you, even after he left. You had tried to thank him several times since, but he never let you speak. That small act of kindness had spiraled into countless moments where he helped you, and somewhere along the way, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for him.
For someone like him.
You leaned slightly closer, voice barely above a whisper, speaking to the sleeping figure. "Why won't you let me help you, you little piece of sh— I... I just... want to make sure you're okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
This time, he couldn't snap at you or shut you out. You could finally speak your mind...
But maybe not as freely as you thought.
"Well, why do I even want to be with you? You hate me so much." You sighed deeply. You feel bad, but Wonwoo should feel worse because you had no idea how long you'd stay beside him.
Unknown to you, Wonwoo had been awake for a while. He didn't open his eyes at first because he wanted to listen. His eyes were closed, heavy with exhaustion, but he heard every word. Every soft, trembling syllable reached him.
He could hear the way your voice softened when you spoke to him, how you struggled to balance your worry for him with the sharp sting of your own helplessness. There was a trembling honesty in you, one that Wonwoo had never allowed himself to witness before.
If he had opened his eyes too soon, you might have stopped, or worse, grown self-conscious. So he stayed still, letting you spill your thoughts, letting your words wrap around him like a tether he wasn't sure he deserved. He had always thought you were just like the other girls who expressed interest in him, which is why he shrugged you off. But hearing this now, maybe he was wrong. Each line you spoke felt like a thread pulled gently, tugging at something inside him he usually kept locked away.
He wanted to listen to every word, every whisper, until the end.
"Maybe you shouldn't have helped me that day. You should've known that you can't be responsible for my feelings, then I would've just let myself be embarrassed for once and get over it. It would probably hurt less."
The memories of your wasted efforts, your small, genuine concerns, your endless chasing, all washed over him like a tide. For once, Wonwoo didn't try to mask the flicker of guilt and something more complicated, something unspoken within him.
He let out a small, almost inaudible grunt, restless under the weight of your words. You scooted closer, sensing him waking, unaware that he had been awake all along.
"Are you better now? How do you feel?" You bombarded him with questions before he could even sit up properly.
"I'm fine. Don't overreact." His voice was sharper but there was a softness beneath it, just enough to betray him. He pushed himself up, steadier now.
"Tell me the truth." You asked again, sensing he might be covering up.
"It's just a fever." He shrugged lightly. His skin was clearer and his lips had regained color. You checked his temperature with your hands again, letting out a relieved breath after.
"Thank god. Wonwoo, can you please, please, take care of yourself?" Your worry was relentless and he couldn't help but notice it. He hated that he had made you feel so restless over him, yet even now, he felt grateful.
"I will." His eyes met yours, sharp and steady, holding a flicker of something rare. Then, almost softly, almost as if it was just for you, "Thank you." He cleared his throat, forcing himself back into his usual composed demeanor. "Let's go. We still have classes."
You froze on the bed, body immobile, as if someone had pressed pause on the world. The words had barely left his lips but they lingered in the air, delicate and impossible. Thank you. It was so simple and yet it carried a weight you weren't prepared for. Your chest tightened.
Wonwoo stepped back, forcing himself to move, but his mind lingered in the room long after his body had. Telling you those words felt foreign on his tongue but it was strangely necessary. He had a hundred ways to respond and to brush off your concern as he always did, but the honesty in your voice earlier had disarmed him.
He stood outside the door, waiting. He glanced back once, as if expecting you to call him out, but you hadn't moved.
And somewhere between the hesitation and the heartbeat, he realized that, maybe, this small act was just as significant for him as it was for you.
Wonwoo had never felt so unsettled by your presence since the day he heard your honest thoughts. It was one thing to listen quietly, but now your gaze, your concern and your quiet insistence all pressed on him, unfamiliar and strangely heavy. He didn't know how to process it. You had clearly left a mark on him, yet he still couldn't place what it meant.
He watched you carefully, staying just far enough away that he could control the interaction, yet close enough to notice every movement. He hadn't planned on speaking first, but something inside him had shifted. For once, he wanted to ask, not command.
"I want to be alone," he said quietly. The words were calm, soft even, but there was a gentle firmness behind them.
"Oh, come on..." You started, your voice betraying your instinct to refuse.
"Please?" His eyes met yours, steady and blank, but there was an undeniable plea buried in their intensity. Something in that single word made your chest tighten. It wasn't arrogance or pride. It was a request, and it carried weight. You faltered.
"What's going on?" The words slipped out before you could stop them. He wasn't acting like the usual Wonwoo, the one who would snap "leave me alone" in an instant. He was different. "Fine... just be careful on your way home," you muttered, a hint of frustration in your voice even as your heart betrayed you. You hadn't expected to actually yield.
Wonwoo felt a flicker of relief as he saw you hesitate. He had always thought asking for space would be ignored. Yet your pause, your silent consideration, was proof you were listening. He allowed himself a tiny breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"You too. Take care." He offered a small, fleeting smile, barely there, before turning away. That smile, soft and genuine, was a quiet acknowledgment of your decision, and it felt heavier than any argument you'd had with him.
The words hung in the air longer than they should have. Take care. You found yourself staring after him, smiling like an idiot, the simplicity of the gesture catching you completely off guard. The way he said it was so soft and the way he smiled somehow felt like he had carved a space for you in his world, however small. It weighed more than any argument and any time he had pushed you away.
Maybe he actually meant it. The thought hovered in your chest, fragile but persistent. Maybe he really cared, even a little.
And yet... there hit a pang of nostalgia mixed with the surprise. You remembered when Wonwoo would at least talk back, when he would snap or argue. Even if it stung, there was a rhythm, a way to understand him. Now, the quiet unsettled you. He didn't react. He didn't argue. At all.
The following days brought a slow ache. Wonwoo no longer seemed to notice you. He quietly requested for space, without annoyance, without snapping. The spark of hope from "Take care." faded, leaving only the emptiness of his silence. Something in the usual rhythm between you two felt disrupted, yet you let him take the lead, letting him regain energy before you pushed back, because that had become the natural order of things.
Still, the words echoed in your mind. It was a stubborn reminder that he had, at least once, cared about you. But the silent treatment that followed made it feel heavier than any sharp word and any confrontation.
Minyoung's voice broke through the silence. "Why the long face?" she asked, sliding into the empty seat beside you.
"Call me air," you muttered, barely looking at her.
"Air?" Her brow furrowed, confused.
"Yeah, air. Always here but never noticed." You let the words hang, meant for Wonwoo, though you weren't sure if he would even hear. "Anyway, I need some air."
You almost slammed your hand against the table before walking away, leaving the building behind, moving to an open stretch of the courtyard. You stopped there, letting your body relax as your eyes stare off into the distance. The breeze tugged at your hair, but you didn't move. You didn't even blink. You just let the silence stretch around you.
From a distance, Wonwoo watched you linger, your body tense as you moved. Every step was heavy but there was softness in you now, a quiet weight he hadn't realized before, and it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
The way you let yourself just exist there. No words, no chasing, just your presence. It spoke louder to him than anything you could have said.
Wonwoo stayed where he was, quiet, absorbing it all, realizing he had begun noticing more than he was prepared to admit. The space between you two was heavy and entirely unspoken.
You sat on the bench, phone in hand, scrolling through the school's "Campus Confessions" page to distract your mind. A new thread had caught your attention. The posts were anonymous, but each word made your stomach churn and you knew instantly they were about you.
"She's obsessing over Wonwoo again. When will she learn to leave him alone?"
"Why is she always showing up around him? It's pathetic."
"She has to stop stalking him. It's honestly creepy how much attention she gives him."
"That girl follows Wonwoo like a shadow. It's actually embarrassing to watch."
Every notification that popped up on the thread felt like a slap. Your fingers gripped the edges of the phone tighter than necessary. The comments were anonymous, but their target was obvious. Every word and every tone was crafted to make you question your presence and your choices. Even your right to care about someone you liked.
Obviously, it was a deliberate effort to isolate you, to make you realize your actions were shameful. Some reactions were implied in the replies. Like the subtle upvotes, laughing emojis, no intervention. Even as the words burned, a stubborn part of you refused to look away. You knew what they were trying to do.
You barely looked up from your phone when a girl stepped into your path, perfectly put together, sharp eyes, and a smirk. You didn't recognize her. She wasn't someone you'd seen in your classes. But her confidence radiated like she owned the space.
"Enjoying the attention?" she asked, tilting her head.
You straightened your posture, trying to keep your voice steady. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, please." Her grin widened. "Everyone knows exactly who you are. You think playing dumb makes you safe? It doesn't."
You clenched your phone tighter, the anonymous messages from the campus forum still glowing on the screen, stinging like fire. "And you think posting words like that makes you brave?"
"It's not about bravery. It's about truth. Wonwoo doesn't want you around. Obviously. You make things... uncomfortable for him."
Your chest tightened. You wanted to argue, but the way she carried herself with her confidence made it impossible to feel like you were in control.
"Who are you?" you said finally, voice steady. "And why do you even care about how I treat him?"
Her smirk faltered, just a little, before she let it settle again. "Someone just has to tell you the truth. That you're making things difficult. And not just for him."
You stared at her, the wind tugging at your hair, the posts on your screen flashing in your mind. "You don't get to decide that. Not you. Not anyone..."
"Yeah, but are you not even embarrassed?" she cut in sharply. "When you openly bother him like that?"
You felt it—the choke of being exposed, the rawness of being singled out. The words you had used to steel yourself for days seemed to evaporate. You wanted to argue, to defend yourself, but your voice caught in your throat.
Her smirk softened just a fraction, the glint of satisfaction faint but unmistakable. "I just hope you understand... this isn't about me."
You tried to turn away, you didn't know how long you could stand there, but somewhere deep inside, a stubborn ember of resolve refused to die. You wouldn't leave him.
Your throat tightened. "I... I'm not doing anything wrong," you said, voice barely audible.
"Oh come on, I know enough," she said, tilting her head, letting the words linger like a blade. "And frankly, you're making everyone uncomfortable too. Do you even realize how ridiculous this looks?"
You swallowed hard, the weight of her presence and her accusations pressing down on you from every side. Your fingers curled around your phone until it ached.
Before you could respond, the air shifted. A familiar, deep voice cut through the tension.
"She's with me."
You froze. The girl did too. And then you felt it—warm fingers sliding around your hand, firm and steady. Wonwoo's hand. He laced his fingers with yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his grip calm but unyielding.
Your breath caught. You looked up at him, but he didn't glance at you. His eyes were locked on the girl, sharp and unwavering.
The girl blinked, her confidence cracking. "W-what?"
"You heard me," Wonwoo said, voice low but cutting. His thumb pressed lightly against the back of your hand, a subtle anchor, as he stepped closer. "She's with me. So who the hell are you to speak to her like that?"
Her smirk faltered, lips parting in shock. Her gaze dropped to your joined hands, disbelief written all over her face. "You mean... you two are—"
"Together," Wonwoo finished flatly, not bothering to soften the word. "Got a problem with that?"
You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. The heat of his hand in yours was dizzying, your pulse thundering so loud it drowned out everything else. He said it so simply, so firmly, like it wasn't even up for debate. Like it was fact.
The girl's composure collapsed completely, retreat flickering across her face. "I... I didn't know," she stammered, voice trembling.
"Exactly," Wonwoo said, his tone dismissive. "So stop pretending you do."
You stayed frozen, your hand still locked in his, the shock running down to your bones. You hadn't been able to prepare, hadn't been able to play along—because this wasn't a game. It was Wonwoo, saying it out loud, claiming you without hesitation.
When he finally glanced at you, the edges of his expression softened, just slightly. "You okay?"
"I... I don't..." Your words tangled, and you shook your head faintly. "I don't know."
His grip tightened just a little, steady but not overbearing. "It's okay," he said, voice low, almost gruff. "I'm here now."
It wasn't flowery. It wasn't tender. But the way he said it was as if it was fact and it made your chest tighten.
The girl, now rattled, turned and left in silence, her earlier confidence shattered. But you barely noticed her retreat.
Because all you could focus on was your hand in his. His fingers were threaded through yours, firm and grounding, as if he had no intention of letting go. The weight of it, the heat of his palm against yours, felt too real and too much.
Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you pulled your hand free. The motion was abrupt, almost clumsy, leaving behind an emptiness that hit harder than you expected.
Wonwoo's gaze flicked down at the sudden loss of contact, then back to you. For a moment, he didn't say anything, his jaw working as though he'd thought of words but swallowed them back. His expression didn't crack, didn't soften.
The silence stretched between you, thick and unsteady, and you gripped your phone tightly, as if that could anchor you. But nothing could quiet the echo of his voice, still ringing in your head.
You searched for words that didn't sound broken. "Wonwoo..."
He glanced at you again, and the weight of his gaze almost made your chest cave in.
"Thank you." The words slipped out raw. "I just... I didn't expect you to—" You stopped yourself. Then, softer. "Why did you do that for me?"
For a second, his eyes flickered, something unreadable shifting there. He looked away, jaw tightening as though he hadn't planned on answering.
Why did he do it? It wasn't like him to step in, to draw attention, to care so openly. He hated the spotlight, hated the way people stared but the moment he saw you standing there, cornered and breaking, something inside him had snapped. He couldn't stand by.
His chest tightened. Then, quietly, almost too low to hear, he spoke.
"Because it was you."
He didn't even know when this quiet shift inside him started. Maybe it was when you walked him to the clinic. Maybe it was the way you never gave up on speaking to him, no matter how many times he brushed you off. Maybe it was all the little things you thought he hadn't noticed. He couldn't name it, couldn't trace the moment it began. All he knew, right then, was that he cared.
The words echoed in the space between you. Impossible to ignore and impossible to forget.
You froze where you stood, heart stumbling over itself. "I— what do you mean by that?"
He turned slightly, his eyes catching yours for the briefest moment. His lips pressed into a thin line, as though he was weighing the risk of saying more.
Finally, his voice came, low and steady, each word measured.
"I just—couldn't watch it happen. Not to you."
The air seemed to thicken around you. It wasn't an elaborate confession but the way he said it, the quiet conviction beneath it, spoke louder than anything else.
His gaze lingered on you just a heartbeat longer, softening, before he turned away again. "Don't ask me more than that," he added, his tone regaining its guarded edge. "It's better if you just... leave me alone."
"You know that's not gonna work on me... For the hundredth time."
He let out a humorless laugh, frustration bleeding into his voice. "You're getting dragged into things because of me. I can't let that keep happening."
“So what, you’re just going to push me away again? If being with you like this makes things harder, then fine—let’s just be friends. As long as I still get to stay by your side, I can live with that.”
His jaw clenched as he took a step back, putting space between you. His voice was quieter now, weighted. "It's not because it's hard. That's... not it." He paused, struggling, then finally admitted, "I don't want the kind of friendship you're talking about, either. And I... I don't even know what I'm saying."
Your heart skipped. "What do you even mean?"
"I don't know. These past few days, half the time, I don't understand what I feel around you." His voice was tight, frayed at the edges.
Your breath caught, your chest tightening. "Then tell me what you do know."
Silence. His shoulders rose and fell once, slow and uncertain.
He shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to yours before dropping again. "Being around you—it's different. I think about it too much. I just... care. More than I should."
The rawness of it made your heart skip. He wasn't confessing like someone sure of his feelings—he was confessing like someone standing on the edge, terrified but unable to step back.
You blinked at him, startled. The words felt heavier than they sounded, sinking deeper the longer they lingered. Your chest tightened, breath catching as the meaning finally reached you.
"Wonwoo..." His name left you in a whisper, half awe, half disbelief. "Oh my god."
A silence stretched, heavy and unsteady, and for a moment you almost couldn't bring yourself to say more. But then, cautiously, your voice broke through, fragile but insistent:
"Do you... do you think you like me back?"
The question hung in the air, raw and uncertain. For a moment, Wonwoo just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Inside, though, his thoughts stirred.
Does he like you back?
He remembered how he used to avoid you—how he thought you were just persistent, maybe even annoying at times. Back then, it was easy to keep his distance. Easy to pretend he didn't notice.
But now? He thought of the little things. Like the way you sat with him in silence when he didn't have the energy to speak, how you never gave up even when he pushed you away and how you stayed even when he didn't ask. He thought of how his chest tightened every time he saw you laugh with someone else, how his feet moved before his mind did when he saw you cornered earlier.
Somewhere along the way, everything had shifted.
His throat tightened. He didn't care before. But now he does. Too much.
At last, he drew in a quiet breath, meeting your eyes. His voice was low, almost steady, but the weight behind it made your heart stumble.
"...Yeah. I think I do. I like you."
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't perfect. But it was real. And that was enough to turn your world upside down.
Your breath hitched, the world tilting around you. For a second you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Then the words crashed into you all at once, stealing the ground from under your feet. A sharp gasp tore out of you—half a sob, half disbelief.
"Fuck," you whispered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that could steady the rush of heat flooding there. Your voice cracked on his name. "Wonwoo... I never thought I'd hear you say that."
His gaze softened, though his jaw stayed tight. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For taking this long to figure it out. For making you wait..." He broke off, shaking his head.
Something in your chest gave way, and you let out a shaky breath. It almost felt unreal, like you were dreaming with your eyes open. For so long, this moment had seemed impossible. Back then, you were the one chasing shadows, hoping he'd turn his head your way just once. And now? He was the one holding your gaze, saying the words you thought you'd never hear.
"You really don't know what you've just done to me," you whispered, your smile unsteady but real.
A faint, almost shy smile curved his lips. "Maybe I don't. But... I meant it." His voice was low, steady in its simplicity.
Your breath caught, your head spinning. "This... this is real, right?" you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I'm not dreaming? You're not going to vanish on me the second I blink?"
Wonwoo's gaze lifted, calm but unwavering, and for the briefest second, the corner of his mouth twitched as though he almost smiled.
Your breath caught as you glanced up at him. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back, lingering just long enough to make your pulse race.
"Wonwoo..." you breathed, not sure if it was a question or an invitation.
He hesitated, swallowing hard, then leaned in slowly, carefully, as though giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn't.
When his lips finally met yours, it was soft, almost tentative, but it carried every unspoken word he hadn't been able to say.
For a moment, it didn't feel real. After everything. All the cold shoulders, the silence, the distance, it was surreal to feel him this close, his warmth seeping into you, his lips gentle but certain. Your heart thudded in disbelief, in wonder, in something dangerously close to happiness.
You'd dreamed about this, but the reality was different. Better. Fragile and clumsy, yes. But undeniably real.
When you finally pulled back, your breath still uneven, Wonwoo's gaze stayed on you. Steady and grounding.
"This is real," he said quietly, as though reading the doubt in your eyes. His voice was low, almost rough, but certain. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Your chest tightened at the simplicity of it, and a shaky laugh escaped you, half-disbelief, half-relief. "God, I can't believe you just kissed me."
The corner of his mouth lifted, a quiet huff escaping him. "Neither can I."
The silence stretched, but now it was warm and alive. His hand lingered against yours, thumb brushing as though to remind you again: real.
"You know, if you'd figured this out sooner, we could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble."
The corner of his mouth lifted, a quiet huff escaping him. "Probably. But then again..." His thumb brushed against your hand, almost absentmindedly. "You wouldn't have chased me so hard."
You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Are you... being serious right now?"
His eyes dropped, but there was a small smile playing at his lips. "Maybe."
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Unbelievable. First confession, first kiss, and you're already smug about it."
"Not smug," he murmured, his voice low but certain. "Just... grateful."
And with that, the silence returned. But now it was warm, steady, and full of promise.
And for once, neither of you felt lost anymore.
"Finally awake from your dream, huh?" Minyoung teased, plopping down across from you with a knowing smirk.
Wonwoo was now your seatmate, but the days of you trailing after him endlessly, pestering him for attention, had quietly faded. To anyone else, it might have looked like you'd given up. Minyoung certainly seemed to think so.
"Maybe it wasn't a dream after all," you murmured, sneaking a sideways glance at the boy beside you. "Or maybe my dreams just turned real." The faintest smile tugged at your lips as you casually flipped the page of your book.
Minyoung frowned, studying you. "I seriously don't get you anymore. You're not clinging to him, you're not chasing him around and you're smiling way too much for someone who supposedly gave up."
You stifled a laugh, shrugging innocently. "Maybe I finally learned my lesson."
"Mm-hm. Sure." She narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.
You ducked your head, hoping she wouldn't notice the warmth rising in your cheeks. Beside you, Wonwoo kept his gaze fixed on his notes, as if he hadn't heard a word. But under the desk, his hand found yours, squeezing once, firm and sure.
Your breath caught, and you risked a quick glance at him. For just a second, a fleeting smile tugged at his lips—gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Minyoung groaned, throwing her hands up. "You're hiding something. I'll figure it out, just watch."
All I can say is, I miss Jeon Wonwoo. Anyway don't forget to vote for Seventeen on all the nominations they're in. And also, CxM is comingggg.
-belle♥
Now playing: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• falling - Harry Styles
Pairing: Jaehyun x you
Genre: angst, friends-to-(almost) lovers
Word count: 1,168
Tagging: @seesinblur
Warnings: none other than heartbreak
○READ PART ONE HERE FIRST●
He sees the missed calls at 12:17 am.
One. 11:57 pm.
Then another. 11:59 pm.
Then, the third—all within the same five minutes.
12:02 am.
You called him three times in a row and he didn't answer.
He was on the phone with someone else. Laughing, distracted. The kind of conversation that fills space but doesn't mean anything. Just noise. Just comfort in the shape of a voice that doesn't reach the parts of him that only you've ever touched.
So, when your name appears in his call log, he freezes.
You never call. That's the thing.
You send memes, pictures of cats you saw when walking home, even a chaotic voice note when you're annoyed at something trivial. Your affection always came in soft drops. Not demands, not declarations. And never in the shape of three missed calls.
It's always blurry sunset photos and inside jokes he forgot he told you. You text. You wait. You never ask for much. You mostly share tiny, thoughtful things—songs that remind you of him, quotes from books he never reads but always says he will, even blurred photos of the sky you wanted him to see. You lived in the in-between, soft around the edges and quiet in a way only people with loud hearts can be.
But a call?
That means somethings happened.
And he missed it.
He types quickly:
"Hey, did you call?"
The message feels small. Childish. As if pretending like he doesn't already know that something's wrong.
So, he follows up with, "Sorry, was on the phone with someone."
Jaehyun sits there, thumb hovering over the keyboard, heart pulling in his chest like it's bracing for something that's too late to stop.
You reply six minutes later.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a random moment. Don’t worry."
A moment.
He reads it again. A random moment. As if it didn't take everything in you to reach out. As if you didn't almost talk yourself out of it three times before pressing call. As if you weren't sitting somewhere, curled in on yourself, swallowing back tears you didn't want anyone to hear.
He stares at your words like they're written in another language. He doesn't believe you. Not for a second.
There's something hollow in your response, something missing between the lines. You're good at pretending. Always have been.
He rereads it four more times.
Because he knows you. Knows your "I"m fine," doesn't mean fine. Knows your "random moment" is code for "I didn't know who else to call, and I hoped it could be you just this once."
But it wasn't. He didn't pick up.
Something in him clenches. Not guilt, not yet. Guilt comes later. This is dread. The cold, creeping kind that wraps around your throat and whispers: You're losing something important. You just haven't felt it all the way yet.
He replies again. "You sure? You can talk to me. Always."
And he means it. With everything he is and everything he has.
But it's too late for that, isn't it?
You reply quickly this time. Too quickly.
"I'm good. Promise."
It's a lie. He can tell; he always can when it's you. Not a malicious one. Not even a dramatic one. Just the kind of lie people tell when they've learnt the truth won't be received the way it deserves to be.
And suddenly he remembers the last time he saw you. The way your laughter caught in your throat too often. The way you lingered in the doorway when you left, like you were waiting for something to hold you back. The way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes, and yet like you were trying to memorise what loving him felt like before it stopped being yours to feel.
He thought you were just tired. He should've known better.
He stares at the empty screen, an ache spreading across his chest like frost. He should call. Should ask. Should say all the things he's been avoiding.
But Jaehyun has never been good at catching things before they slip. He lets moments rot in his hands until they fall apart. Until someone else calls instead. Because deep down, he's always been too scared.
He doesn't know what you wanted to say when you called. But he knows that he wishes he had picked up and told you how his heart lurches out of his chest every time he thinks of you.
He types. Deletes. Types again.
"Come over."
"I miss you."
"I think I've been in love with you for a long time, and I was too blind to see it."
"Call me again. Please."
All the things he wants to say. All the things that feel too dangerous to send.
In the end, he settles for: "Okay. Sleep soon, yeah? Sweet dreams ❤️"
Because the truth is heavy in his throat—too full of hope, too full of risk—and he's terrified you won't feel the same.
He watches the message deliver. Watches the "seen" pop up.
But no reply.
The silence rings louder than your calls ever could.
He lets the phone fall to the bed beside him. Closes his eyes. And tries to breathe through the ache twisting in his chest.
You weren't just reaching. You were asking.
For something. For him. And he wasn't there.
He thinks about how often you've stayed on the edge of his life — close, but never close enough. How you sit beside him like a question he's never had the courage to answer.
There were so many chances to say something.
That night you walked home with him in the rain, shivering and laughing, shoulders brushing too often to be accidental.
That quiet moment when your hand hovered too long over his before you pulled away.
The time you fell asleep on his couch, and he watched you breathe like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He never said anything. Always too careful. Too cowardly.
Because if he said it —if he gave it shape— it would become real.
And maybe it was easier when it wasn't.
He wonders if you turned your phone off. If you stared at the screen, watching the seconds stretch out, hoping he'd notice.
If you cried in the dark, thinking, "I knew he wouldn't pick up."
He wonders if your hands were shaking. If your voice cracked on the second ring. If your heart broke just a little when it went to voicemail the first time.
And the second. And the third.
He can't help but call you back.
It rings once.
The straight to voicemail.
He doesn't leave a message. As he can't find the courage to speak—not into the empty silence, not when those words should've been yours to hear long ago.
Because if the world was ending—if the stars fell and the oceans burned—he knows now, too late, whose name would've been the only one on his lips.
Now playing: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• JP Saxe - if the world was ending
Pairing: Jaehyun x you
Word count: 931
Genre: angst
Warnings: none other than heartbreak
○READ PART TWO HERE●
If the world were ending, you'd call him.
You know it's selfish. But if everything was crumbling—if buildings were burning, if the sky was falling in pieces—you wouldn’t call your family, or your best friend, or even try to save yourself.
You'd call Jaehyun.
You'd call to hear his voice one last time. To be with him in your last moments and maybe just maybe, as the world around you started burning down, you'd even have the courage to tell him how much you love him.
Because despite everything—despite the way he never really looked at you the same way you looked at him, despite all the swallowed words and quiet nights and laughter that never felt quite yours—your heart still spells his name like a prayer.
So when your mind starts spinning, when the weight of being unloved gets too heavy, you call.
Just to hear his voice one last time.
The clock says 11:57. Three minutes to midnight.
The phone rings once. Then twice. Then—
Busy.
You freeze. Try again. Busy.
And just like that, something in your chest caves in.
You sit in the dark, phone screen lighting your face, and it hits you: you were never his first choice.
You were the in-between. The almost. The could’ve been.
He’s probably on the phone with her.
Maybe she’s crying. Maybe he’s laughing. Or maybe she’s telling him that if the world ended, she’d want to be next to him. And maybe—just maybe—he says it back.
You try not to cry. You really do.
But your hands start shaking, and your eyes sting in that way that always happens when you pretend to be okay for too long.
You leave the call log open. He won’t know how many times you tried. How many times you whispered his name like it’d bring him closer.
Then, a message buzzes in.
"Hey. Did you call?"
You read it five times. The pain in your chest sharpens.
He noticed.
You could still tell him. You could say it right now—finally, honestly.
That you love him. That it’s always been him. That even if he never felt the same, you needed him to know before the clock ran out.
You type, “Yeah. I needed to tell you something.”
Then delete it. Re-type: “I miss you.”
Delete. Type: “I love you.”
Delete. Delete. Delete.
You stare at the blinking cursor like it owes you something.
Another message pops up.
“Sorry, was on the phone with someone. Everything okay?”
And that’s what breaks you.
Not the fact that he was talking to someone else.
But the fact that it felt normal for him. Like you weren’t someone who sat in silence aching for his voice. Like you weren’t seconds away from telling him everything.
You send back: “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a random moment. Don’t worry.”
You even add a smiley. Like a coward. Like someone who never loved him at all. Like you weren’t sitting here crying your heart out.
He replies quick.
“You sure? You can talk to me, always.”
And you know he means it. You know he cares—in his own quiet, careful way.
But he doesn’t love you. Not the way you want.
Not in the way where you’d be the first person he thinks to call if the sky starts falling.
So you lie.
"I’m good. Promise."
The empty promise tasting like ashes in your throat.
"Okay. Sleep soon, yeah? Sweet dreams ❤️"
You stare at the heart emoji like it’s a punchline to a cruel joke. You want to tell him it doesn’t mean the same thing when it comes from him. That love from him feels like rain falling on someone else’s window.
You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to forget.
But all you do is power your phone off and sit in the dark, heart aching with everything you never said.
Because nothing hurts more than loving someone who’d never think to call you if the world was ending.
–ᝰ.ᐟ✮ In which Wonwoo ends up being Joshua's daughter unspoken favourite uncle because she fell asleep on him once.
pairing: uncle!wonwoo x joshua's daughter (3 y/o)
genre: fluff, awkward uncle turned softest uncle, quiet affection, doe eyes & toy cars
word count: 2.7k
a/n: can you tell im digging into the seventeen being dads and uncles era? anywayss wonu gives off awkward uncle with kids just because he rarely interacts with kids. but then turns most comfortable and warm uncle,, he gives off warm hugs energy that lulls kids to sleep in his arms
The house is full today.
Music plays low in the background. Voices echo through the hallway—laughter, overlapping conversations, the sound of clinking glasses and chopsticks tapping against bowls. It’s one of their usual group get-togethers, the kind that feels like a reunion, a birthday, and a full-blown family party all at once.
Joshua’s daughter is here too, of course.
She always is, when they gather. Just three years old, she’s become something like the group’s shared baby—their collective sunshine. She bounces from uncle to uncle with no hesitation, fully confident that each one will drop whatever they’re doing to hold her or play with her or answer her questions about her imaginary friends.
Well. Most of them.
Wonwoo’s around, sure. Always is. But he’s not one of the main players in her orbit. Not like Seungkwan who brings her snacks and mimics cartoon voices. Not like Mingyu who hoists her onto his shoulders and pretends she’s flying. Not like DK who lets her paint his nails with glitter polish and says it’s fashion.
Wonwoo is… there. A background constant. He knows her, of course. Says hello. Lets her offer him a bite of her animal crackers now and then. But they’ve never really had a moment. And he’s not sure he’d know what to do if they did.
Which is exactly why he blinks, slightly alarmed, when he finds himself in her playroom... alone with her.
It happens like this.
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, talking with Mingyu and DK while Chan plays on the carpet with her, little blocks and figurines scattered in colorful chaos.
Then Hoshi leaves for the kitchen—“I haven’t eaten anything yet, I swear I’m gonna pass out, you guys”—and a few minutes later, DK and Mingyu are summoned out to “help Joshua un-ruin” a dish he was apparently too confident about.
“Back in five,” Mingyu promises as he follows DK out.
But they don’t come back.
And Chan?
Chan’s lying on his side now, motionless. His arm is draped over a plushie and his mouth is slightly open. Asleep.
So it’s just her and Wonwoo.
She doesn’t seem to mind. She's still playing, humming to herself, stacking blocks and mumbling a little storyline under her breath that involves a fairy, a pancake, and a dinosaur wearing glasses.
Wonwoo stays where he is. On the floor. Glued to his phone. Not scared of her—just… uncertain. She seems to be fine. Kids are good at playing by themselves, right?
He tries to scroll through his feed like he’s totally unbothered. Like the room isn’t too quiet now. Like he doesn’t feel her eyes flick over to him now and then, curious.
She doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t either.
Until—
bump.
Something taps against his knee.
He lowers his phone.
A tiny toy car rests against his leg, pushed there deliberately by a small hand.
He looks up.
She’s watching him, eyes wide, almost shy—but not quite afraid. Her bunny is clutched under one arm. Her other hand is still resting on the car, fingers curled around the back of it like she’s waiting to see what he’ll do.
It’s the look that gets him.
Those same round, gentle eyes that Joshua has. The soft silent question in them. Not a demand, not a whine, just… an ask.
Wonwoo blinks.
Then clears his throat.
“…Was that on purpose?” he says, voice quiet.
She tilts her head.
“I think it wants to play,” she says simply.
He exhales a laugh before he even realizes he’s smiling. “The car wants to play?”
She nods. “But he’s shy. So I helped him.”
“I see.”
A beat passes.
Then Wonwoo reaches out and gently nudges the toy car back in her direction. It rolls lazily across the rug and bumps against her slippered foot.
She gasps like it’s the most delightful thing in the world.
And suddenly, just like that, the air shifts.
—
They end up playing a game. Nothing complicated—he pushes the car to her, she pushes it back. But every time it bumps into one of them, she giggles like it’s brand new.
After a while, she starts giving the car a voice. A little high-pitched squeak: “Oh noooo, I crashed! Someone call the firetruck!”
Wonwoo, unexpectedly, obliges.
He picks up a nearby red block and mimics a siren with zero skill.
She squeals. “That’s silly! Try again!”
So he does.
He ends up making car noises. Dinosaur noises. At one point, he’s holding a sparkly wand and she tells him it’s his “magic booster stick” and he just… goes with it.
He doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until Mingyu pokes his head back in.
“Oh my god,” Mingyu whispers, eyes wide. “You’re… playing.”
Wonwoo scowls. “Shut up.”
But the toddler beside him just beams. “Uncle Woo’s fun.”
Wonwoo pauses.
And then, quietly, almost under his breath: “Yeah?”
She nods. Then, without warning, crawls into his lap with her bunny and settles there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He freezes for a second—hands in the air like she’s fragile.
But when she rests her head on his chest, still clutching her toy, he finally lets his hands settle gently around her back.
“…You’re warm,” she murmurs, drowsy.
“Yeah,” he says, heart suddenly full in a way he can’t explain. “You too.”
Joshua’s been walking around the house for five minutes now with a tiny pink sippy cup in hand, humming softly as he peeks into each room.
“Sunshine?” he calls out, quiet enough not to disturb the conversations going on around him. “It’s milk time. Nap time too. Where’d you wander off to, huh?”
She usually comes running when she hears “milk time.” But the house is full today, and sometimes she gets so distracted by her uncles that she forgets to keep track of her own rituals.
Joshua tries the kitchen first. No sign. Then the hallway. The guest bedroom. He finally ends up outside her playroom door, hearing nothing from within.
Strange. Usually it’s a cacophony of squealing laughter and full-grown men arguing over imaginary tea party etiquette.
He pushes the door open slowly—
And freezes.
There, in the middle of the colorful, toy-strewn room, is Jeon Wonwoo.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor. Completely still. Cradling his daughter in his arms.
She’s sound asleep.
Her cheek is smushed against his chest, arms tucked between them. Her bunny is dangling from one loose hand, and her lips are slightly parted in the peaceful rhythm of deep, drooly toddler sleep. And Wonwoo?
Wonwoo looks like a man who hasn’t moved in twenty minutes because he’s afraid of waking the tiny creature sleeping on him.
His back is straight. His phone is face down beside him. His hands are carefully braced around her like she’s made of glass.
Joshua’s heart squeezes.
But also—
He slowly, silently, pulls his phone out.
click.
Wonwoo’s head jerks up instantly at the sound. He blinks, wide-eyed, like he’s been caught red-handed.
“Hyung—!”
Joshua grins, lowering his phone with a hand over his heart. “Oh, don’t move. This is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I—she fell asleep,” Wonwoo whispers, like he’s explaining himself to a judge.
“I can see that,” Joshua says, trying not to burst out laughing. “On you. Mr. ‘I don’t know how to play with kids.’ Mr. ‘She doesn’t even talk to me much.’ Now she’s taking full-body naps on you like you’re her favorite pillow.”
Wonwoo scowls, looking mildly panicked. “I didn’t do anything. We were playing. She said I was warm. Next thing I knew, she just—” he gestures vaguely to the sleeping toddler in his lap, “—did this.”
Joshua tiptoes closer, looking down at them with a softness in his eyes.
“You must’ve done something right,” he says gently, crouching down beside them. “She doesn’t fall asleep on people she doesn’t trust.”
Wonwoo’s eyes flick to his daughter, her little nose smushed against his shirt, breathing slow and even. His arms tighten slightly around her before he can stop himself.
“…She’s heavier than she looks,” he mutters.
Joshua grins. “That’s all the cookies DK feeds her.”
There’s a quiet beat.
Then Joshua nudges his shoulder, eyes twinkling.
“Hey. Thank you.”
Wonwoo looks up.
“For what?”
“For… letting her choose you,” Joshua says, smiling. “I know you didn’t expect to be left alone with her today. But… I’ve never seen her this comfortable with you before. I think she really likes you.”
Wonwoo’s ears flush pink.
“…She’s not bad,” he says after a pause.
Joshua lets out a laugh. “She’s a three-year-old, not a new brand of earbuds.”
Still, he’s beaming. Because he knows what a big moment this is—for both of them.
And he’s definitely saving that photo.
Forever.
Joshua carefully scoops her up from Wonwoo’s lap, one hand supporting her head, the other wrapped around her little back.
She stirs slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, before sighing and snuggling closer to her father’s chest.
Wonwoo watches, suddenly aware of how warm his arms feel now that they’re empty.
“She’s due for a nap anyway,” Joshua says quietly, brushing her hair back. “I’ll put her in my room—it’s the furthest from all the noise.”
Wonwoo nods once. Still quiet.
As Joshua heads out, he pauses at the door and glances back at him.
“She really liked you, you know.”
Wonwoo shifts a little, ears still pink. “...She’s alright.”
Joshua smiles and disappears down the hall.
It’s sometime after dinner prep and before the food hits the table when she wakes.
The living room is still lively, voices overlapping—Hoshi is yelling something about rice texture, DK is explaining a dramatic dream, and Seungkwan is lecturing Vernon about hydration.
None of them notice the small figure slowly padding in from the hallway.
Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, one hand rubbing at her lashes, the other dragging her bunny behind her.
She pauses just inside the room.
Tiny. Barefoot. Blinking around blearily.
Looking for one person.
Joshua’s not there.
He’s still in the kitchen, checking on the final dish.
And like most toddlers—still slightly disoriented from sleep, still tucked inside the softness of her nap-brain—she defaults to the first face she feels safest with.
The one she remembers from before she fell asleep.
The one she chose.
She walks past the group.
The members notice her and immediately light up.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” DK coos, reaching out a hand.
“You want to sit with me?” Seungkwan asks, already making space on the couch.
But she keeps walking.
Right past all of them.
The entire room goes quiet as her tiny footsteps carry her, slowly and silently, across the carpet.
Until she reaches the end of the couch.
Where Wonwoo is.
Still quiet. Still observing from the edge of the chaos.
She doesn’t say anything. Just stands in front of him, blinking up at him.
Wonwoo lowers his phone.
And she lifts her arms.
Not in a dramatic way. Just a simple, sleepy toddler gesture—two hands raised wordlessly, like she knows what she wants and doesn’t need to explain it.
Wonwoo hesitates.
Then leans forward and scoops her up gently, settling her into his lap like he’s been doing it for years.
She exhales, small and content, and rests her head against his chest again—same exact spot as before. As if she remembers. As if she meant to return.
No one says anything for a full five seconds.
Then—
“What just happened,” Vernon whispers.
“She passed all of us,” DK breathes, scandalized.
Hoshi stares. “Even me.”
Joshua walks in from the kitchen then, wiping his hands on a towel. “Oh,” he says, pausing at the sight. “Right. She’s fully attached now.”
Wonwoo looks up from the little girl snoozing against him.
“…She’s yours now, bro,” Joshua says with a grin. “Congratulations.”
Dinner is finally ready.
Joshua sets out the plates and calls everyone over.
“Let’s go!” he says. “Food’s hot—grab your spots!”
She’s already sitting at the table, perched on the booster seat beside him, pressed up against his arm. Her cheek is still flushed from sleep, bunny dangling off her lap.
Hoshi makes his way over and gestures to the chair beside her.
“Can I sit here?”
Before Joshua can even answer, his daughter immediately shakes her head and plants her little hand on the chair.
Hoshi freezes. “Oh?”
She doesn’t say a word. Just guards the seat like a tiny security guard.
Then she turns her head, scanning the room.
Eyes locked on one person.
“Uncle Woo.”
Everyone turns.
Wonwoo, who had been hanging back near the couch, blinks.
She pats the seat beside her. Once. Then again, more insistently.
With the softest voice, she says, “Here.”
Wonwoo blinks again. “You want me to sit there?”
She nods.
And Hoshi dramatically clutches his chest. “Betrayal.”
Wonwoo awkwardly walks over and sits down, and the moment he does, her hand grabs his sleeve like a tether.
All through dinner, she eats slowly but steadily, one hand always on him. Sometimes she rests her head against his arm. Sometimes she just holds his pinky while chewing a bite of rice.
No one lets it go.
“Hyung,” Minghao says around a bite of kimchi, “you’ve been chosen.”
“She’s imprinted on you like a baby duck,” Seungkwan says.
Joshua just laughs. “She used to follow me around all the time. Now I guess I’ve been replaced.”
Wonwoo glares at him. “This is your daughter.”
“Not anymore, apparently.”
Later that night, when most of the guests have started packing up, she’s still glued to his side.
As Joshua walks around tidying up—clearing plates, refolding blankets—he keeps glancing over his shoulder.
Every time, he sees her clinging to Wonwoo’s hand. Tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his. Following him from the dining table to the couch. From the couch to the hallway. Like a shadow.
And Wonwoo?
He doesn’t even seem to notice anymore.
He just lets her follow.
At one point, when she yawns and stumbles a little, he picks her up automatically and adjusts her against his side, one hand braced under her thighs, the other gently patting her back.
Joshua watches them from the hallway, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his lips.
“She's yours now, bro,” he says again.
Wonwoo rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go.
It’s one of those easy Sunday afternoons again.
Seungcheol's house, same familiar chaos. Someone’s already brought fried chicken, Mingyu’s brought wine “for the aesthetic,” and Chan is setting up a game on the TV like they won’t get distracted halfway through.
Joshua arrives a few minutes later, hand-in-hand with his daughter and her ever-present bunny.
Everyone lights up at the sight of her.
“Ayyyyy, it’s the princess!”
“Come here, baby, come give Uncle DK a hug—!”
“You missed me the most, right?”
She blinks up at the room full of extended family.
Pauses. Scans. And then?
She lets go of her dad’s hand and runs.
Not to DK.
Not to Seungkwan.
Not to Mingyu, who’s already kneeling with arms out dramatically like he’s waiting for a K-drama reunion hug.
No.
She runs straight across the room—like, full toddler zoom mode—toward the quiet figure standing near the edge of the kitchen counter.
Wonwoo blinks.
“…Oh,” he says.
Before he can say anything else, she barrels into him with all the force of a three-year-old tornado and wraps her arms around his legs.
“Uncle Woo!!”
Wonwoo freezes for a half-second.
Then slowly leans down and picks her up like it’s second nature.
“Hey, you,” he murmurs.
She tucks her head under his chin, bunny hanging by the ear in one hand. “I missed you.”
Behind them, the entire room explodes.
“WHAT?!”
“No way!”
“She didn’t even look at me!!!”
“YOU DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING!!”
“WONWOO HYUNG, TEACH ME!!”
Joshua is wheezing by the front door. He hasn’t even taken off his shoes yet.
“She picked him, guys,” he says proudly, clapping Mingyu on the back. “It’s over. You all lost.”
“She ran past me,” DK says in shock. “Like past. Like I didn’t even exist.”
Wonwoo, still holding her, looks slightly overwhelmed but not unhappy. She’s babbling something about the cereal she had this morning and a sticker she wants to give him later.
Joshua saunters over with a smug little grin. “Feels nice being someone’s favorite, huh?”
“She’s not—”
“Don’t even lie,” Joshua cuts him off. “She chose you and now you’re stuck. You’re gonna have to come to every hangout now or she’ll riot.”
Wonwoo glances down at her. She’s playing with the string on his hoodie, half-listening to the room’s chaos.
“…Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess I’m hers now.”
And she? She just leans her cheek against his shoulder, completely content.
Because to her, it’s simple: She chose him. And she always will.
