Summary : In a high school where popularity and social expectations define everyone's worth, you find yourself caught between your quiet nature and the pressure to conform. When Taerae, the popular yet conflicted boy, starts breaking the façade he's built to fit in, his vulnerability draws you closer, but it also stirs doubt and confusion. As you both navigate the tangled web of identity, loyalty, and personal truths, you must decide whether to risk everything for the sake of authenticity. In a world full of facades, the question remains: Can you both truly embrace who you are, without losing each other in the process?
Genre : Popular!Taerae X Quiet Fem!Reader, School, Fluff, Angst, Romance, Coming Of Age, Drama
Warnings : N/A
Playlist : She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer / Chelsea by The Summer Set / Somebody To You by The Vamps / Classic by MKTO / Talk Too Much by Coin / Complicated by Avril Lavigne / Somebody Else by The 1975 / Television Romance by Pale Waves / This Love by Maroon 5 / Teenage Dream by Katy Perry
Word count : 18k (18,814 exact)
the sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time you leave the library, casting long shadows down the marble-floored corridor. soft golden light spills from the arched windows, filtering through dust motes that drift lazily in the air. the silence is thick, padded by the hush of the evening and the distant hum of the janitor’s cart. your footsteps echo like whispers against the stone, and with each step, your mind replays the day's lectures, the scribbled pages, the quiet ache behind your eyes from trying too hard to disappear.
the footsteps come first—light, unhurried, too self-assured to belong to anyone else.
"hey."
you turn slowly, your fingers still curled around the strap of your backpack. taerae stands there, half in shadow, the loose tie around his neck swinging with each step he takes. his blazer is slung over one shoulder, and that ever-present grin plays on his lips like a secret he’s not quite ready to tell. the hallway lighting catches in his hair, making the copper strands gleam gold at the edges.
"fancy meeting you here," he says, the way someone might say hello on a lazy summer afternoon, not like you're the only two left in this part of campus. his voice is light, effortless, but there’s something behind it—like he’s testing the ground before stepping closer.
"you followed me."
"guilty." he shrugs. "you’re not exactly hard to find. library, third row, always by the window. sometimes you bring coffee, sometimes tea. you tap your pencil when you’re stuck."
you raise a brow, shifting your weight. "do you keep track of everyone like that, or am i just lucky?"
"just you."
the answer comes without hesitation, but he doesn’t look at you when he says it. instead, his gaze flicks to the floor, then up to the high ceiling as if he's trying to act like it doesn’t matter. it does. you know it. he knows it. the air feels different now, charged, brittle.
"i thought you were going home."
"i was. then i wasn’t. plans change."
"sounds impulsive."
"sounds like me," he says with a grin.
you nod once, but say nothing. the silence stretches, fragile but not uncomfortable, like a shared blanket on a cold night.
"you always this quiet?" he asks, stepping closer now, until he’s leaning against the wall across from you. his eyes study you, not searching for flaws, but for openings.
"you always this nosy?"
to your surprise, he laughs—not loud, but genuine, from deep in his chest. it makes something in your ribs shift, like breath where there wasn’t any.
"maybe," he says. "depends on who i’m talking to."
the hallway hums with quiet energy, like the walls themselves are holding their breath. lockers line either side like silent witnesses. you glance past him, toward the staircase that leads out, but don’t move.
"come on," taerae says suddenly, straightening up. "let’s go somewhere."
"why?"
"why not? don’t you ever get tired of this place? the pressure, the silence, the pretending?"
"i don’t pretend."
he gives you a look. not mocking, but curious. "you don’t? ever? not even a little?"
you think of all the days you’ve stayed quiet in class to avoid drawing attention, all the times you’ve bitten your tongue when someone said something wrong just to stay invisible. you think of your hands, always fidgeting under the table, and your throat that tightens when people expect more than you’re willing to give. the invisible armor you wear every day.
"everyone pretends," you say finally.
"exactly," he murmurs. then he grins again. "come on. rooftop. i’ve got snacks."
"you brought snacks to school?"
"you never know when you’ll need to bribe someone into good company."
he starts walking, and to your own surprise, you follow. it feels reckless. it feels strange. but it also feels right.
the rooftop is quiet, windswept, the city below just a low hum of traffic and light. the sky stretches wide and ink-blue above you, streaked with the last traces of twilight. he lays out a small bag of chips and a couple cans of soda like it’s some kind of picnic. the gravel crunches softly beneath your feet as you sit down beside him.
"this is ridiculous," you say, though you’re already sitting.
"so are most good things," he replies.
a breeze rolls over the rooftop, and you both lean back, letting the silence wrap around you. for a while, you just sit there, the both of you sipping soda, staring out over the edge where the stars begin to blink into existence. the kind of silence that says more than words ever could.
"truth or dare?" he asks suddenly, like it’s a game he’s been dying to play all day. his tone is casual, but there's a strange tension in the way he says it—like he's fishing for something he’s not sure he’s ready to catch.
you glance at him. "neither."
the words are soft, but they land heavy between you.
taerae blinks, caught off guard. "neither? you can’t just—"
"i can."
he stares at you for a moment, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t realize was missing pieces. "so you don’t play games."
"not ones that start with pressure and end in discomfort."
the wind catches his hair, brushing it across his eyes. he pushes it back absently, his hand lingering in his hair a moment too long. "you’re something else."
"i get that a lot."
"i meant it as a compliment."
"i know."
the quiet returns, but it’s heavier now. not awkward—just full. charged with possibility.
taerae leans back on his hands, exhaling. "you know, i thought you didn’t like me."
"i don’t."
he laughs again, but this time there’s a note of something else behind it—relief, maybe. or hope.
"but you came up here. you stayed. that has to mean something."
you don’t answer. not because you don’t have one, but because the truth is slippery, and you’re not sure he’d believe it even if you said it aloud.
you watch his profile against the night, the way his jaw flexes when he’s thinking, the way his eyes flicker with something like sadness when he thinks you’re not looking. you wonder what it’s like to be that sure of yourself, that bright in a world full of shadows.
"you always like this with everyone?" you ask.
"only with people i can’t figure out."
"and can you? figure me out, i mean."
taerae turns to you, his face illuminated faintly by the soft orange glow of the rooftop lights. his expression is serious now, stripped of humor.
"not even close," he says. "but i want to."
the wind picks up again, rustling your clothes and teasing the edges of your hair. and for a moment neither of you speak. you feel the edge of something shift inside you—not enough to fall, but enough to lean.
"i should go," you say, standing up. your voice is steady, but your heart isn’t.
"yeah," he says, standing too. "me too."
as you walk back toward the stairwell, he doesn’t try to touch you. doesn’t try to stop you. but just before you reach the door, he says, "hey."
you turn.
"next time, maybe you’ll pick one. truth or dare."
"maybe," you say.
the metal door swings open with a soft creak, and you both step into the dim stairwell. the clatter of your steps echo faintly as you descend side by side.
and you know, as you walk down the stairs with his footsteps echoing behind yours, that he’ll ask again.
and you’re not sure what scares you more—that you might say yes.
or that you already want to.
the morning sun filters through the tall windows of your classroom, painting golden streaks across the floor. the scent of paper, old wood, and faint citrus cleaner lingers in the air as students chatter around you, voices a soft hum of excitement and dread. your desk is warm from the sunlight, and you absentmindedly trace a finger over a small nick in the wood as your teacher clicks through the morning’s slides.
"group project," she announces, setting her remote down with a decisive click. the sound echoes slightly in the high-ceilinged room. "you'll be working in groups of four. research and present a critical analysis of a modern social issue. presentations in two weeks."
you already feel a ripple of anxiety in your chest, threading like cold water down your spine. group work means talking. collaborating. being visible.
"groups are assigned," she continues, her voice too casual for the bomb she's dropping. she begins to read names off a list, each pair of syllables like a tick of a metronome.
as she reads through the roster, your gaze flicks outside. cherry blossoms are blooming in the courtyard, fragile petals catching on the wind and tumbling like confetti. you lose yourself for a moment in the slow, aimless dance of it—until you hear your name.
"taerae, ohseong, areum, and... y/n."
your name lands softly, like a pebble in still water. not unpleasant. just unexpected. you glance sideways and meet taerae’s eyes as he turns in his seat. he catches your gaze and grins—half-charming, half-mocking, wholly unreadable. ohseong, seated two rows up, nods once, as if this grouping had been inevitable. areum leans closer, her expression lighting up.
"we’ve got a good team," she whispers, already uncapping her favorite pen. there’s something unwavering about her. always in your corner, always seeing more in you than you let show.
by late afternoon, the four of you gather in the quietest corner of the library, where dust motes swirl like slow snowflakes in the shafts of sunlight. the shelves tower over you like watchful guardians, and the hum of whispered conversations and pages turning forms a kind of cocoon.
taerae arrives last, as expected. he drops his bag beside the table and slides into the seat across from you with the kind of lazy grace that feels practiced. his eyes sweep over the group.
"alright, team," he says, his smile bright, shoulders loose. "we’ve got this. how do you think we should tackle the assignment?"
his tone is light, but there’s an unmistakable seriousness beneath it, like he’s measuring your reactions even as he plays it cool.
"let’s start by breaking down the requirements," ohseong offers. his voice is calm, thoughtful. "and assigning parts based on our strengths. no wasted effort."
areum shifts closer, her pink notepad already open, pen poised. "maybe we can sketch out a mind map? it might help us see how everything connects."
you nod, grateful for the direction—and her presence. you open your notebook, the one filled with stray thoughts and half-formed ideas, and turn to a clean page. as the others speak, you start to draw, letting the pencil move with quiet confidence.
"topics," taerae says, leaning forward. "throw some out. let’s see what sticks."
"media influence on youth," ohseong suggests.
"or digital identity," areum adds. "there’s a lot of potential there—self-image, privacy, pressure to perform… it branches really well."
you glance up. "it also lets us pull from psychology, sociology, and tech. there’s depth. data."
taerae raises an eyebrow. "you’ve thought about this before."
"a little."
"of course you have," he says softly. his smile shifts—less teasing now, more genuine. "digital identity it is."
the brainstorming begins in earnest. your page fills with interconnected bubbles: public versus private personas, algorithmic shaping of identity, performance culture. areum colors the branches with highlighters. ohseong begins collecting reference materials. taerae starts outlining a structure.
"i can handle visual synthesis," areum says. "i’ll make sure the flow of the presentation is clean."
"organization’s on me," taerae adds. "i’ll tie everything together so it sounds like one voice."
"i’ll fact-check, compile data, and make sure we don’t miss any angles," ohseong says, already scrolling through academic databases.
you sink into your strength—research. critical thought. connecting the abstract with the concrete. the mind map expands into a tangled, beautiful web. your pencil scratches out subtopics, arrows, and small quotes.
taerae leans over occasionally. "this part—maybe tie it to perception versus reality? how we see ourselves versus how others see us online?"
you meet his gaze, surprised by how close he is. there’s the faint scent of soap and paper and something citrusy.
"that’s... a good link."
"figured you’d think so," he murmurs, voice tinged with a small laugh. his eyes linger a beat longer than necessary.
"you’re doing amazing," areum whispers, nudging your elbow. her smile is bright, encouraging. "this is coming together better than I expected."
"thanks," you murmur, feeling something unfamiliar—confidence, maybe—rising in your chest.
"found something," ohseong says, holding up his phone. "a case study on teens managing online personas. it’s solid."
"perfect," taerae replies. "send it to the group chat."
the table becomes a controlled chaos of highlighters, overlapping notes, stray pens, and half-sipped drinks. someone hums quietly under their breath. laughter bubbles up once or twice—light, easy. something about this feels different. less like school. more like building something real.
"this might actually be fun," areum says, stretching.
"we’re a balanced group," ohseong agrees. "no slackers."
taerae smirks. "and surprisingly focused. i was expecting someone to bail."
you raise a brow. "you mean me?"
he gasps in mock offense. "never. but if the shoe fits..."
areum giggles, and even ohseong smiles. your own lips twitch upward, a quiet laugh slipping free before you can stop it. taerae notices. he always notices.
"alright," ohseong says, tapping his watch. "we’ve got a direction. let’s assign individual tasks and reconvene in three days."
"same place?" taerae asks.
"works for me," areum says, gathering her pens.
"i’m in," ohseong replies.
taerae looks at you, expectant. "what about you?"
you hesitate only a second. "yeah. i’m in."
the group begins to disperse. areum and ohseong chat quietly about possible reference articles. taerae lingers near you as you close your notebook.
"hey," he says, low and a little unsure. you pause.
"yeah?"
he glances at you, then away. "you surprised me today."
"how so?"
"you opened up. not a lot. just... more than usual."
you shrug. "maybe i care about good grades."
he laughs under his breath. "sure. maybe."
the library doors swing open with a soft creak. outside, the late afternoon light has turned golden, shadows stretching long across the hall. the silence between you is gentle, expectant.
you don’t look back as you walk away, but you feel the tension between you, strung taut and humming. a thread pulled tight.
two weeks.
a lot can happen in two weeks.
the morning light pours through the tall windows like honey, thick and golden, illuminating the long corridor ahead of you. shadows stretch across the waxed floors, reflecting a soft sheen, and the scent of lemon-scented polish clings faintly to the air. the school hums with motion—lockers bang open and shut, sneakers squeak across linoleum, and the ever-present drone of teenage conversation floats like smoke through the air. your fingers tighten around the edges of your books, the corners digging into your chest like a quiet reminder not to drop your guard.
you tell yourself it’s just another day. just classes. just a group assignment. but the thoughts from yesterday echo too loudly in your head—the ease of the conversation, the way taerae had stayed a little longer than he had to, the glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. you try to focus on your steps, on the path ahead, but your mind keeps wandering.
then—without warning—you round the corner near the science wing and walk straight into someone.
a startled gasp escapes your lips. your books jolt, slipping slightly, and your shoulder hits something solid. you’re met with warmth and motion, and then the two of you freeze in place.
"oh—sorry," he says quickly, hands lifting instinctively like he might catch you, though he never quite touches you. his voice is low, hushed, as if afraid to break something delicate between you.
it’s taerae.
your eyes meet his, and everything else falls into silence. his usual confident grin is gone, replaced by a more uncertain expression—like he’s just realized he stepped into the wrong scene in a dream. his gaze holds yours for a beat too long, then flickers away, searching your face like he’s trying to read a word scribbled faintly in the margin.
"i didn’t see you there," he adds, voice still velvet-soft. you can barely hear it over the hallway’s commotion, but somehow, it reaches you clearly.
"me neither," you manage, your own voice uneven. your heart beats faster, too fast for something so small.
his lips twitch—barely. a shadow of a smile. then it’s gone, like it was never meant to be there. around you, the hallway flows with students rushing to class, laughter bouncing off the lockers, footsteps echoing like waves. still, neither of you moves.
taerae glances back at the tide of people behind him, then at you again. "i... guess i’ll see you later."
"yeah," you say, though your voice is thin, almost swallowed by the noise.
and then he’s gone. swept up in the stream of bodies, his figure disappearing around the corner like a dropped note carried away by wind. you’re left standing still, the echo of your collision still resonating in your bones.
"hey," a familiar voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd.
you turn your head. areum is making her way toward you, eyes wide and curious, eyebrows lifted slightly. she falls into step beside you, head tilting just enough to show she saw everything.
"that looked like quite a moment," she says, nudging you lightly. "you okay?"
you nod, but it feels like a lie. "yeah. just… didn’t expect to see him."
she gives you a gentle, knowing smile. "he looked surprised too. kinda like he’d seen a ghost."
"he apologized," you murmur.
"taerae? apologizing? wow. are we in the same universe?" she grins, then softens. "but seriously. he seemed... i don’t know. softer?"
you nod slowly. "he felt different. not like yesterday. not quite."
areum loops her arm through yours just as the bell rings above your heads—shrill and sharp like a chime dropped in water. "come on," she says. "you know how mr. lee gets when we’re late."
"yeah." your voice is barely more than breath.
you let her guide you forward, but your thoughts lag behind, still lingering in that half-second where his eyes had locked with yours, full of something you can’t name.
later that day, the cafeteria swells with noise. trays clatter, chairs scrape, and dozens of conversations tangle together into a messy, familiar hum. you sit across from areum, picking at your food without much interest. your tray holds a sandwich, an untouched apple, and a bottle of water that’s already sweating in the warmth.
areum watches you with a sideways smile, her head resting in her hand. "you’ve been zoning out all period," she says.
"have i?"
"mhm." she leans in. "so, tell me—what do you think that was?"
you blink. "what do you mean?"
"the hallway," she says, waving her hand. "taerae. the almost-collision. the awkward silence. the look."
"maybe he was just being polite."
"maybe," she says, but you can hear the disbelief in her tone. "or maybe he’s starting to notice you. like… really notice you."
you stare at your sandwich. "you think so?"
she shrugs. "he’s not as careless as people make him out to be. sometimes i think he pays attention in ways others don’t. quiet ways."
her words settle into your thoughts and sit there like stones dropped into still water.
by the time school ends, the sky outside is tinged with lavender. you find yourself back in the library, your usual corner still drenched in golden light. you sit, spreading your notes across the desk, but your focus drifts.
the mind map from yesterday catches your eye—digital identity. self-perception. versions of self. you run your fingertips along the branches, tracing the fragile connections like veins.
then, footsteps.
"is this seat taken?"
you look up.
taerae stands beside the chair across from you, backpack slung low, hair a little tousled. he holds a notebook, his fingers drumming softly on its cover.
"no," you say.
he slides into the chair, opens his notebook. "figured i’d get started. probably smart to be ahead for once."
"yeah. same."
for a few minutes, the only sound is the scratch of pen on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages. but the air between you feels different now—not tense, not distant. more like the hush before a song starts.
"you’re good at this," he says suddenly, still looking down. "the way you connect ideas. it’s impressive."
"thanks."
he glances up. "you don’t say much in class, but when you do, it lands."
you hesitate. "i just… i’m not always sure what’s worth saying."
"everything you say is worth something. at least, to me."
your stomach flips.
he shifts in his seat, then adds, more softly, "earlier today—sorry again. i didn’t mean to rush off. i just got caught up."
"i get it," you say, offering a small smile. "it’s okay."
he looks at you like he wants to say more, but instead he just nods. "still. i’m glad we ended up in the same group. it’s been... unexpected. but nice."
"yeah," you reply. "unexpected. but not bad."
and you return to your work, side by side in golden silence, the noise of the world falling away outside the walls of the library. the sun continues its descent, casting long beams of amber and rose through the windows, coloring the space between you.
and maybe, you think, just maybe—a single moment in a hallway isn’t always an accident. maybe it’s a beginning.
the hum of the classroom is steady and low, like the background score to a film you didn’t choose to star in. the fluorescent lights flicker every few seconds, casting faint halos on the glossy surface of your desk. the air smells faintly of old paper and dry-erase markers. your pencil moves in lazy loops across the margins of your notebook—doodles, half-formed ideas, fragments of thought not quite ready to become words.
outside the windows, the sky is a pale watercolor blue, clouds drifting slowly past like thoughts you haven’t named yet. the teacher’s voice drones on, a soft, unrelenting murmur about literary devices and comparative themes, the kind of voice that threads its way into your ears without ever touching your mind. students around you shift, scribble, stretch, yawn. someone sneezes. someone else whispers a joke that earns a stifled laugh. the sound of pencils scratching against paper is like rainfall on a tin roof—constant, repetitive, oddly calming.
your mind drifts.
your gaze wanders.
you find him again—taerae. three desks ahead, two rows over. he’s angled slightly in his chair, elbow propped on the desk, his cheek resting in his hand. his fingers curl near his temple, almost as if he’s shielding his thoughts from the world. the light hits the side of his face, catching in his lashes. his expression is different today—not unreadable, not guarded, but soft. maybe even lost.
he shifts, turning a page in his notebook. then—almost as if he feels it—his head lifts. his eyes meet yours.
you freeze.
not because you were caught, exactly. but because, for a breathless second, the connection is undeniable. his gaze holds yours, and in it is something raw and strangely vulnerable. his brow lifts slightly, a question without words. his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but not far from one either. it feels like he’s looking straight through you. not past you. not around you. through you. and the startling thing is—you let him.
he doesn’t look away.
a full second passes. then two. then three. your chest tightens, not with anxiety, but something quieter. something closer to hope.
and then he does smile. small. genuine. almost sad.
you glance down quickly, heart tapping at your ribs like it wants to be let out.
a moment later, a folded slip of paper slides across the space between desks. you blink, surprised. it lands neatly on the corner of your notebook. you look up—areum grins at you from one desk over, eyes sparkling.
"he’s so obvious," she mouths, barely moving her lips.
you stifle a sigh, but can’t help the small smile that edges into your lips. you unfold the note.
“do you ever feel like you’re pretending all the time?” it reads. the handwriting is neat. careful. familiar.
your head lifts just enough to find taerae again. he’s back in his notes, but his hand tightens around his pen. his foot taps lightly against the floor, like he’s waiting for something.
yes, you write back. sometimes it’s the only way to breathe.
you slide the note to the edge of your desk, not daring to pass it directly. but taerae is watching. the paper disappears.
a minute passes. then five.
another note returns.
“do you think anyone really knows who we are?”
your chest aches a little at the question. you look at him. this time, he doesn’t look away. his eyes ask everything his words can’t.
no, you write. but i think maybe some people want to.
he reads it. he exhales. his shoulders drop slightly, the tiniest shift. like something inside him just softened.
the bell rings.
students begin to stir, shuffle, rise. the classroom breathes out all at once. chatter fills the space. chairs scrape against the floor. the teacher’s voice fades beneath the rustle of movement. you stay seated a moment longer, fingers still curled around your pencil.
taerae lingers too.
he stands slowly, gathering his things with practiced ease. then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, he drifts toward your desk.
"hey," he says. his voice is lower now, meant just for you.
"hi."
he hesitates. his bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand fidgeting with the strap. "those notes... i wasn’t sure if i should’ve written them."
"i’m glad you did."
his eyes search yours again. up close, there’s a flicker of something behind them. not quite fear. more like... yearning.
"sometimes i feel like i’m playing a part. all the time. and i don’t even know when it started."
"it’s exhausting, isn’t it?"
he laughs under his breath. "you have no idea."
you tilt your head. "maybe i do."
he smiles at that. really smiles. it lights up his face in a way that’s almost too much to look at. his hand brushes against the corner of your desk, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know how.
"we should talk more," he says, voice gentle. "not just about assignments. or... whatever."
"okay."
there’s a pause. the hallway is louder now, students spilling out from other classrooms, voices bouncing off the walls. but in this moment, it feels like the two of you are still wrapped in the hush of that shared glance.
areum appears in the doorway, watching the two of you. her smile is subtle, but it’s there.
taerae glances back at the classroom, then at you. "i’ll see you later?"
"yeah."
and just before he turns to leave, he adds, "thanks. for being real."
you don’t reply. not with words. but your smile, quiet and honest, says enough.
as the classroom empties and the hallway fills with voices and footsteps, that small, unspoken thing between you remains. delicate. uncertain. and entirely real. and even as you pack up your things and follow the crowd, the warmth of that connection lingers—like light after a storm, soft and slow and full of promise.
the morning air is cool against your skin as you walk through the front gates, a hush of wind tugging at your sleeves. it feels different today, though nothing has changed. the same cluster of students gather beneath the tall windows, the same birds chatter overhead. but something in your chest hums with a quiet anticipation.
you don’t know why you’re holding your breath until you’re at your locker, fingers brushing the cold metal, and you see it—tucked just beneath your history textbook, peeking out like a secret waiting to be found.
a folded note.
small, square, and cream-colored. the paper is slightly textured, almost delicate. you glance quickly down both ends of the hallway. students are lost in their routines, lost in their own mornings. no one is looking at you.
you unfold it with slow fingers.
some moments are meant to be cherished.
the words are written in neat, soft handwriting. familiar, maybe. thoughtful, definitely. the kind of handwriting that takes its time. there's something about it that warms your chest, even as your fingers tremble slightly.
"hey, you okay?"
areum’s voice is gentle, laced with the same concern she always carries for you. she leans against the locker beside yours, her eyes flicking to the note in your hand.
"what’s that?"
"i... found it just now. someone left it."
she tilts her head, smiling knowingly. "someone’s got a poetic streak. any guesses?"
you shake your head, though taerae’s face flickers across your thoughts. not because you’re sure—it’s just that his voice has started echoing in your head lately, soft and unguarded. the memory of his eyes holding yours in class, the quiet smile, the folded notes. it lingers.
"another mystery," areum says brightly. "your life’s turning into a romance novel."
"you think it’s taerae?"
"could be," she says, shrugging. "or maybe someone else entirely. maybe a quiet poet who’s been in your orbit this whole time."
"you’re having too much fun with this."
"and you’re pretending you’re not."
she winks and steps away with a laugh, disappearing into the stream of students headed to first period. you linger a moment longer, rereading the note before folding it carefully and slipping it into the back pocket of your notebook.
the day unfolds like a slow bloom. between second and third period, you pause at the bulletin board to check for a field trip signup—and there, beneath the edge of a flyer, another note.
what if every small moment matters more than we think?
you scan the hall again. nothing. no eyes locked on you. no knowing smiles. whoever this is, they’re good.
in english class, your thoughts are restless. the teacher’s talking about metaphor and tone, but your mind is busy weaving questions. your hand finds the corner of your notebook and tears a small square.
why me?
you don’t know why you write it. you don’t know who it’s meant for. but you fold it anyway and keep it.
after lunch, just as you’re about to unzip your pencil case, something falls from the side pocket. your breath catches. another note.
you look for answers in the quiet. i think that’s beautiful.
your fingers tighten around the slip of paper. it’s not just admiration. it’s understanding. like someone sees something in you you’ve barely admitted to yourself. like they’ve been paying attention to the spaces between your words.
you catch taerae’s gaze across the cafeteria. he's laughing at something ohseong says, but there’s a delay. like his eyes linger on you before he turns back to his friend. he doesn't smile this time. he just looks. steady. thoughtful.
areum leans in again, nudging you. "another one?"
you nod.
"you’re glowing."
"am i?"
"you are," she grins. "it’s sweet. honestly, it makes the whole day feel lighter."
"it’s weird... i don’t even know who it is, but it’s like they know me."
"maybe they do. or maybe they just see the parts of you you don’t show often."
the last class of the day stretches with the lethargy of afternoon light. your teacher’s voice drifts in and out. the sunlight pools across your desk. you open your notebook, tracing your fingers over the folded notes tucked safely in the back.
you wonder about the hand that wrote them. the moments they must’ve planned this—the care it must’ve taken to place them where you’d find them. it’s not just admiration. it’s intention. it’s quiet affection turned into ritual.
the bell rings, and the hallways flood with footsteps and chatter. you walk slower than usual, hoping—maybe—for one last message. one more moment.
and you find it. right outside the library door, slipped beneath a display of new releases.
you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted you to know someone sees you.
you stare at the words, your breath caught in your throat. it’s not dramatic. not cinematic. but something in you shifts.
and then:
"you found it."
you spin around.
taerae stands there, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable. but his voice—his voice is soft. hopeful.
"you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
he nods. "i wasn’t sure if it was okay. but after our last conversation... i wanted to try. to be real. to be honest."
you hold up the last note. "you’ve been writing these all day?"
"yeah. i wasn’t going to say anything yet. i thought maybe you’d figure it out. or maybe you wouldn’t. i just wanted you to feel seen. because i know what it’s like to go through a whole day feeling invisible."
your heart pounds.
"why me?" you ask again. this time, not into paper. to him.
he smiles. not the charming grin everyone sees. it’s softer. gentler.
"because you listen. because you see people. because when you look at someone, it feels like you’re really looking. and i guess... i hoped you might look at me like that too."
you don't know what to say. not at first. so you don’t.
you reach into your notebook and hand him the folded note you wrote earlier.
why me?
he opens it. reads it. then looks back at you.
"because... some moments are meant to be cherished. and you—this—you’re one of them."
the hallway grows quieter around you. students thin out. lockers close.
you don’t move. neither does he.
the silence between you feels full. not awkward. not uncertain. just waiting.
"so," he says, tucking your note into his jacket pocket, "can i walk you out?"
you nod.
and as you both step into the fading afternoon light, side by side, the mystery no longer feels like a question. it feels like a beginning.
the morning sunlight filters through the windows of classroom 3-b in slanted golden bars, striping the desks like quiet reminders of passing time. taerae sits near the back, one arm propped lazily against the window frame, though nothing about him feels relaxed. his gaze is distant, trained on a cluster of students gathered near the lockers outside. specifically, on you. and on matthew.
they're laughing. it's soft, nothing flashy, but the way you tilt your head when you smile—taerae knows that look. he’s seen it, felt it, in those quiet moments you two have shared. and now, someone else is on the receiving end of it. someone who doesn’t have to sacrifice anything to make it happen. someone who can just be.
"you've been staring for like five minutes. want me to draw you a picture?" ohseong drops into the seat beside him, cracking open a packet of instant coffee and dumping it into his water bottle like he’s done this a thousand times, shaking it with practiced flicks of his wrist.
taerae doesn’t blink. his eyes don’t leave the window. "was i?"
"painfully obvious. subtlety's not your strong suit today," ohseong mutters, taking a sip of the bitter mixture with a grimace. "what's going on with you lately? you've been acting like your brain's buffering."
taerae exhales, long and slow, pressing his thumb to his temple. "i don’t know. it’s like... i keep doing the math and it never adds up."
"math? since when do you do math voluntarily?"
"not numbers. life. them. me. this whole... thing." he gestures vaguely at the window, at you and matthew. "i feel like i’m two people right now. one who wants to keep things simple, and one who’s... tired of pretending."
ohseong quiets, serious now. he leans back, letting the bottle rest on the edge of the desk. "is this about the notes? about them?"
taerae nods. barely. "i want to talk to her. i want to be honest. but every time i get close, it feels like i’m betraying some unspoken rule."
"whose rule?"
"my dad's. this school. my friends. myself, maybe."
"you know," ohseong says, tapping the bottle lightly against the desk, "when you start listing off people you’re trying not to disappoint and you include yourself last, something's already broken."
taerae looks at him, and for the first time in a while, he looks truly young. not the curated, confident boy people know, but the tired kid behind the act, the one who barely knows which mask he’s wearing anymore.
"you remember last year," he begins, voice low and steady like he's reading from an old script etched into his bones. "when we were doing that fundraiser, and i disappeared for a week?"
"yeah. everyone said you had the flu."
taerae shakes his head. "i was in the hospital. not for me. for my brother."
ohseong stiffens, his grip tightening around the bottle.
"he ran away from home, ohseong. and no one knew. not even me. and when we found him he was horribly sick from the environmental conditions, my dad panicked. said if people found out, it would reflect badly. ruin my chances of a student council recommendation, the family name, all that bullshit."
"jesus."
"so i kept smiling. made jokes. went back to practice like nothing happened. everyone bought it, too. 'taerae's back!' they said. 'still the same as ever.'"
he laughs, but it's hollow, like wind echoing through a forgotten hallway.
"but i wasn't. and now i don't even know who the hell i'm supposed to be."
ohseong says nothing for a moment, just leans forward, elbows on knees. "maybe it doesn’t matter who you were. maybe it matters who you choose to be now."
the bell rings, but neither of them moves. the classroom empties around them, chairs scraping, footsteps fading.
later, in the cafeteria, taerae moves through the motions like a ghost. he grabs a tray, nods at jokes, high-fives a teammate. his laughter is a little too loud, like he's trying to drown something out—something gnawing, persistent.
and then, he sees it.
you and matthew.
the way matthew leans close when he speaks. the way you smile up at him like you’re not just hearing his words but feeling them. there's no hesitation in matthew. no fear. he doesn’t have to choose between versions of himself just to be near you. he just is.
taerae sets down his tray, untouched, his appetite vanishing like fog under sun.
"you okay?" one of his teammates asks, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"yeah," he lies. "just not hungry."
he walks out of the cafeteria, the chatter behind him blurring into white noise, the clatter of trays and laughter melting into something shapeless and distant.
he ends up in the music room, door closed, blinds drawn. it smells like wood polish and worn sheet music. the piano waits quietly in the corner like it’s been holding its breath. taerae sits on the bench, fingers hovering over the keys. he doesn't play. he just breathes. in. out. slow.
a knock comes. soft. hesitant.
"it's open," he says, not looking up.
ohseong steps in, tosses him a canned drink. "thought you might need this."
taerae catches it. "thanks."
they sit in silence for a while, the kind that stretches and settles without asking permission.
"i saw them," taerae says, finally.
"matthew and y/n?"
"yeah. they looked... real. effortless."
"you can't compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel."
taerae huffs. "it wasn't a reel. it was a full movie. indie, award-winning, critically acclaimed."
ohseong grins a little. "you jealous?"
"i don't know. maybe. but not of him."
"of what, then?"
"of the way he doesn't have to split himself in two just to care. of the way he gets to be exactly who he is without having to ask anyone for permission."
"maybe it's time you stopped splitting. maybe you’re allowed to be both. or neither. just... yourself."
taerae runs a hand through his hair, the motion rough. "what if i lose everything? the friends, the respect, the image... my dad’s approval?"
"what if you don’t? what if the people who matter... stay?"
taerae doesn't answer. he stares at the piano keys like they're a map and he's forgotten how to read.
outside, the day moves on. clouds drift, students laugh, bells ring. but inside taerae, something shifts.
not a decision.
not yet.
but the beginning of one.
the afternoon sunlight pools gently through the library windows, the warmth a soft contrast to the sterile hum of old computers and fluorescent lights. you're seated at the large table in the corner—the one usually reserved for group projects—flanked by areum, taerae, and ohseong. textbooks lie open, highlighters scattered across the table like fallen petals, but the energy is fractured, disjointed. taerae’s eyes skim the same sentence three times without registering it.
"so," areum chirps, tapping her pen against her lip, "we’re still on the third section?"
"almost done," taerae replies automatically, but his voice lacks the usual spark. you notice the way his fingers fidget with the edge of the worksheet, folding it back and forth, like his mind is somewhere far from here.
he’s usually so polished, his demeanor wrapped tight like the hem of a school uniform blazer—neat, composed, always the center of gravity. but today, that composure is fraying at the edges. you watch him shift in his seat for the fifth time in ten minutes, glancing toward the windows, toward the exit, toward nowhere.
"you okay?" you ask, your voice quiet enough to almost disappear under the hum of the air conditioning.
he looks up. too quickly. smiles. too easily. "yeah, of course. just tired."
there’s something rehearsed about it. like muscle memory, like he’s used to this line.
you nod, not convinced. there’s something hollow in his grin, like a carefully placed mask. you go back to annotating your paragraph, but you keep watching him from the corner of your eye. the way his knee bounces under the table. the way his jaw clenches when ohseong elbows him with a joke that barely lands.
"hey," taerae mutters to ohseong, his voice low. "come with me for a sec. i need help finding that reference book."
"again? we literally—" ohseong pauses mid-sentence, catching the look in taerae’s eyes. a silent exchange happens between them. ohseong stands. "right. yeah. back in a bit."
they disappear between the tall shelves. you tap your pencil against your notebook, pretending to write. silence blooms at the table like fog settling over the morning.
"he’s acting weird, right?" you whisper to areum.
"you noticed it too," she says, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk. "his eyes look all stormy. definitely something going on."
"i don’t want to pry."
"you wouldn’t be. he clearly trusts you. maybe he just doesn’t know how to say it."
you hesitate. "still. i think i should let him talk if he wants to."
"or," she says with a mischievous grin, "we create the perfect opening."
"areum—"
"shhh. they’re coming back."
you barely have time to protest before the two boys reappear. taerae's shoulders look tenser than before, like whatever words passed between them only added weight to the ones already there. ohseong doesn’t say anything, but his gaze lingers on taerae with quiet concern.
"ohseong," areum says, standing suddenly and nudging him with a practiced urgency, "come help me find that marker set we saw the other day. the neon ones. remember?"
"wait—what? now?"
"yes. now. urgent creative crisis. come on."
she tugs his sleeve. ohseong glances back at taerae, then at you, then sighs. "fine, fine. neon markers. the fate of our project depends on them."
they disappear into the maze of shelves again, their footsteps quickly fading.
you and taerae are left in the quiet. it’s not the sterile kind of quiet from before. it hums now, thick with unsaid things.
"you don’t have to talk about anything," you say, fiddling with the cap of your pen. "i just... you’ve seemed different lately. and i guess i just wanted to say that you don’t have to carry that alone."
he exhales slowly, like the air is heavier than before. "i’ve been trying to keep it together. keep up appearances."
"it’s okay not to."
taerae lowers himself into his seat, fingers laced together. he stares at the notepad in front of him like it holds answers he’s not ready to read. "i’m not brave enough for that. being open. vulnerable. i don’t know how to do that without feeling like i’ll fall apart."
"there’s beauty in imperfection, you know," you say gently.
his eyes flicker toward yours. "what do you mean?"
"i mean... we both live under expectations, right? people assume things based on who we are. who we appear to be. you have your social world, and i’m... the quiet one. but there’s more to both of us than that. maybe it’s okay to let the cracks show. maybe that’s how we let light in."
taerae leans back slightly, gaze not leaving yours. his voice is quieter now. "you always speak like that?"
"like what?"
"like you’ve got all this... quiet wisdom tucked behind your eyes."
you shrug, a little flustered, but you hold his gaze. "maybe. i just think too much."
"or maybe you see more than most people."
you look down at your notes, pretending to adjust a paperclip, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks.
a moment passes. then—
"truth or dare?" he asks, his tone lighter, teasing.
you blink. "neither."
he groans, leaning back dramatically, but there’s a chuckle beneath it. "you always say that. you said you’d choose next time."
"no, i said maybe."
"i’m still trying to figure you out."
you meet his eyes again, steady this time. "you’re a nice person, taerae. but i don’t think you’ll manage that before the other two get back."
he smiles. not the practiced, public smile he wears like a badge, but something softer. something true. "maybe not. but i think i’d like to try."
the silence between you isn’t silence anymore. it breathes. it holds space.
"you’re not what i expected," he murmurs.
"neither are you."
and then comes the laughter, distant at first—areum’s bright and unmistakable, ohseong’s grumbling—and then they’re back, arms overflowing with markers, novelty pens, and at least one fuzzy eraser shaped like a cat.
"mission accomplished!" areum declares, grinning. "we are now fully equipped for academic greatness."
"we’re gonna fail in style," ohseong adds, tossing a neon pen onto the table.
taerae glances at you one last time, something quieter and deeper behind his eyes.
something that says thank you without needing to speak it.
and you— you think this might be the beginning of something real.
the next morning, the hallways buzz with the usual chatter, sneakers squeaking on polished tile, lockers slamming open and shut like a rhythm no one consciously hears anymore. you make your way through the crowd, trying not to focus too much on the little hollow feeling gnawing somewhere under your ribs, like a soft bruise hidden just under the skin.
you pause at your locker, fingers hesitating over the dial. the numbers blur a little as you glance down the corridor and spot taerae. he’s surrounded, laughter bubbling around him from the center of his popular clique. he leans against the lockers, one foot propped casually, tossing a stress ball from one hand to the other as if yesterday never happened. his voice is animated, alive in a way that feels both familiar and distant. when your eyes meet, something flickers—recognition, maybe. but he doesn’t wave. he doesn’t smile. he just watches for a second too long before someone nudges his arm and pulls his attention away.
your fingers tighten around the locker handle. the warmth from yesterday’s conversation feels like a fading echo. that moment in the library had meant something to you. had it meant something to him?
"hey," a voice says beside you, pulling you back to the present. it’s matthew.
you blink at him, trying to reorient. "hey."
he watches you a moment, head tilted. "you alright? you seemed a bit... off yesterday. didn’t really get a chance to say much."
you shrug, eyes drifting back toward taerae and his orbit. "i don’t really wanna talk about it."
"totally fair." matthew’s voice is easy, calm. he doesn’t press. he just stands there with his hands in his pockets, gaze steady. "just thought i’d check in. you looked like someone who could use a lifeline."
you nod, appreciative of the quiet understanding. silence sits comfortably between you for a few seconds until a laugh bursts nearby—sharp, theatrical. taerae’s group is moving closer down the hall, their magnetic energy pulling the attention of everyone they pass like a slow wave.
taerae is right there, but it feels like he’s on the other side of a glass wall. his expression is carefully curated again, polished like the smile he wears when he knows eyes are on him. but those eyes are on you now. watching you beside matthew.
a shift in the air. tension, subtle but unmistakable.
before you can say anything, matthew’s group starts arriving. rebels, outsiders, the ones who laugh too loudly in class and write quotes on their sleeves. a girl with electric blue streaks in her hair tosses a grin in your direction.
"yo matthew. who’s this?"
"this’s the one i told you about," he replies. "quiet storm. they’ve got poetry in their bones."
you laugh, surprised by the compliment.
"we could use someone with brains," the girl adds, elbowing him.
and then—like a storm front colliding—taerae’s clique halts nearby. the two groups lock eyes across the space between them. it’s like oil meeting water. tension, unspoken and electric.
"you gonna recruit every quiet soul you find?" minseok asks, arms crossed, tone pointed.
matthew smirks. "just the ones with actual depth."
"you sure they want to be around your little band of misfits?"
"maybe they don’t want to be another accessory in your curated high school fantasy," matthew says coolly, not missing a beat.
you feel your heart beating in your ears. your gaze flickers between them—between the messy, authentic chaos of matthew’s circle and the perfectly polished frame of taerae’s world. your eyes land on taerae. he’s quiet, jaw tense. but he’s still watching you. his silence is louder than anything else in the hallway.
"we should go," taerae finally mutters to his group. "this is dumb."
but he doesn’t move. his friends start to drift, uncertain, throwing glances back. you wait—for a look, for a word. anything.
nothing comes.
matthew nudges your shoulder gently. "we were gonna hit this cafe after school. the one with the floor pillows and the bad poetry on the walls. it’s kinda great. no pressure, but... you’re welcome."
you hesitate. you could stay. you could wait for taerae to do something, say something. but how many times can you reach out before your hand is left empty?
you nod. "okay."
matthew’s smile is soft. "cool. there’s always room for more at our table."
the girl with the blue streaks slings an arm around your shoulder like you’ve always belonged. their group moves with a fluid rhythm, like they don’t need permission to be who they are.
you glance one last time at taerae. he stands there, frozen. not saying a word.
and then you turn and walk away.
the world outside the school gates feels wider than the one behind. you and matthew talk about books and music, and he tells you about how they once held a protest by sitting in silence on the steps of the school for a full hour.
"weirdest protest ever," he laughs. "but it worked. the principal actually asked to meet with us."
you laugh too, the sound unfamiliar and light. it’s not that the ache in your chest is gone. but with each step, it feels a little easier to breathe.
the cafe is small, tucked between a laundromat and a thrift shop. inside, it smells like cinnamon and old paper. the walls are plastered with poems written on napkins, some beautiful, some illegible, all passionate. mismatched cushions litter the floor, and you sit cross-legged, a warm mug in your hands.
they talk, and you listen. and slowly, you start to talk too. not because you’re expected to. but because you want to.
behind you, back at school, the image of taerae’s face lingers. but it’s distant now, like something viewed through rain-streaked glass.
maybe he’ll reach out. maybe he won’t.
but for now, you’ve found something that feels real.
and that’s enough.
the morning light filters through pale curtains, soft and indifferent to your mood. you wake with a heaviness that settles in your chest before your feet even touch the floor. school feels like a battlefield today, but instead of blood, it’s emotions that stain the ground—confusion, frustration, and disappointment.
you walk through the gates with your headphones in, letting music blur the chatter around you. everyone seems the same, but you’re not. not inside. your thoughts are tangled, raw threads knotted around taerae and every mixed signal he’s thrown your way. the hallway hums with energy, but you feel like a static ghost drifting through the noise.
areum finds you near the lockers. she spots the look on your face before you even say a word.
"okay," she says, dropping her bag beside yours, "what did he do now?"
you sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "it’s not even about what he did. it’s what he doesn’t do. he keeps acting like i matter in these tiny, almost-secret ways. but then the second he’s around his clique, it’s like none of that happened. like i didn’t happen."
areum nods, her brows knitting together. she leans against the locker beside yours and lets you vent.
"i’m so sick of it," you continue, voice low, brittle. "i don’t want to keep feeling like i’m making things up in my head. like maybe i imagined the way he looked at me. or the way he listened that day in the library."
"you didn’t imagine it," areum says firmly. "i saw the way he looked at you too. it wasn’t nothing. he just... he doesn’t know how to not be afraid. he’s trying to be everything for everyone and ends up being nothing to himself."
you shake your head. "then maybe he shouldn’t have started whatever this is."
before areum can answer, someone taps your shoulder. you turn to see matthew holding out a small chocolate bar, his smile soft, hesitant.
"you looked kinda down," he says. "was saving this for later, but i think you need it more than me."
you blink, surprised. "matthew, i—"
"no pressure," he says quickly, waving a hand like it’s no big deal. "just a chocolate bar. hope it helps."
"thank you," you murmur, taking it from him. his fingers brush yours just barely.
he nods once, gives you a small smile, and walks off, slipping through the corridor crowd with that easy grace of his, like he was never meant to interrupt—only to offer something quiet and kind.
as soon as he’s out of earshot, areum raises an eyebrow. "okay that was adorable. sweet and observant? i’m starting to like this guy."
you unwrap the chocolate slowly, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.
"it’s awkward," you mumble. "his group and taerae’s are basically sworn enemies. and now he’s just... being nice? out of nowhere?"
"i’m team rebel," areum declares, leaning her shoulder against yours. "at least matthew’s consistent. that wasn’t a mixed signal. he saw you. he noticed. and he didn’t overthink whether it was allowed. he just did something good. simple as that."
you roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifts slightly as you bite into the chocolate. it melts slowly, bittersweet on your tongue, grounding you just enough to take a full breath. there’s something strangely comforting in the way it sticks to your teeth a little.
"it doesn’t fix anything," you say quietly.
"no," she agrees. "but sometimes it’s the little kindnesses that keep us from falling apart. tiny moments of honesty in a world full of performative smiles."
you lean back against the lockers beside her. students walk past in a blur. conversations rise and fall like waves. but for a moment, the world quiets around you. it’s just you, areum, and the echo of a kind gesture in the shape of sugar and cocoa.
"what if i just stopped caring?" you whisper, the words heavier than you expect.
areum glances at you, her eyes full of warmth. "do you want to?"
you think about it. really think about it. about how easy it would be to just shut off, to close the door inside you that still hopes he’ll choose you over comfort, over popularity. but the truth is, you do care. and that might be the hardest part.
"no," you say finally. "i don’t want to stop caring. i just want it to make sense. i want someone to see me and not run away when it stops being convenient."
"then hold on to that. but don’t wait around for him to decide if you matter. people make time for what they care about. they don’t make excuses. and you? you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like a question mark."
you nod, chewing thoughtfully. your gaze flickers down the hall where taerae usually lingers. he isn’t there right now, and maybe that’s for the best. maybe space is what you need. or maybe it’s what he needs to figure out what he’s really willing to risk.
areum doesn’t say anything else. she just stands there with you, like she’s holding your frustration so you don’t have to carry all of it alone.
you close your eyes for a moment. let the noise fade. let the weight in your chest shift, just slightly. the chocolate is gone, the taste still lingering like a memory you’re not quite ready to let go of.
when you open your eyes again, the hallway hasn’t changed. but you feel steadier. more rooted.
"thanks," you say, voice soft.
areum smiles. "always."
and somehow, in the midst of the chaos, the rumors, the aching uncertainty—you don’t feel quite so alone.
the sky hangs over the school like a sigh held too long, weighed with clouds that never quite burst. the courtyard is quieter today, the edges of winter creeping into the air. even the laughter sounds subdued, as if the world itself knows that something has shifted beneath the surface.
in a tucked-away corner of the school near the art rooms, taerae and ohseong sit on the stone bench beneath the skeletal branches of a leafless tree. their breath puffs in the cool morning air, and taerae’s knee bounces restlessly, betraying the calm front he tries to wear like a second skin.
"so," ohseong says, breaking the silence with a raised brow, "you gonna talk about it, or do i have to keep playing mind reader?"
taerae exhales slowly, his fingers tugging at a frayed thread on his sleeve. he doesn’t look up right away. he hates how obvious he's been.
"you mean about her?"
"you know exactly what i mean. i thought you liked y/n. like, real feelings—not just a passing thing."
taerae lets out a slow, uneven breath. "i do. i really do. but... the group—"
"ugh, the group," ohseong interrupts, waving a hand. "tae, come on. you’re not like them. never have been. they’re just louder about pretending. you’ve always been quieter about it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pretending too."
taerae winces, glancing off toward the distant noise of the school building. "it’s not just about pretending. i’ve built something with them. a reputation. influence. you think that’s easy to just walk away from?"
"nah, it’s not easy. it’s just necessary," ohseong says, leaning back. "you’re clinging to comfort like it’s a life raft. but that comfort’s draining the color out of you, piece by piece. i see it. every time you look over at y/n like your whole day depends on whether they smile at you or not. then you turn around and laugh with the group, like you didn’t just die a little inside."
taerae is quiet for a moment. the wind stirs fallen leaves at their feet, brushing their ankles like hesitant fingertips.
"we talked," he says finally. "during that group session. when areum dragged you off."
"figured something happened. you both looked different after. like something cracked open."
"she... saw through me. really saw me. said we were similar. both caught between who we are and who we’re supposed to be. i didn’t even know how to respond. it scared me how easy it was to be honest with her, how fast it all made sense. and i didn’t know how to let that be real."
"you liked that she saw you," ohseong says gently. "and you hated it. because it meant you couldn’t keep hiding. not from her. not from yourself."
taerae nods slowly, eyes fixed on the ground.
"so why the distance? why freeze her out?"
"because i don’t know how to be both. i want to hold on to what i’ve built, but i also want something real. with her. with them. but it’s like i have to choose."
"sometimes you do have to choose. that’s life," ohseong replies. "but let me be real with you. most of the people in your clique? they’re peaking in high school. this is as good as it gets for them. but you... you’ve got more in you, tae. only if you stop performing."
taerae’s brows furrow. "more how?"
"more heart. more vision. more of the stuff that actually matters. but you’re burning it trying to keep up appearances. and for what? validation from people who wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared from their group chats tomorrow?"
taerae doesn’t respond. the truth sits between them like a heavy fog.
"do you think y/n liked me back?" he asks finally, voice barely audible.
"i think she does like you," ohseong says. "but you made it really hard for her to show it. that day you pulled away, left them standing while matthew stepped in? what did you expect her to do? wait around for breadcrumbs while you posed for pictures with people who don’t see you?"
taerae’s jaw tightens. "matthew... he’s part of that rebel group. i thought maybe they’d hurt her. maybe i was protecting her."
"dude, no. matthew’s the only one who’s been straightforward. he’s been there when you weren’t. and let’s be honest: the rebel group might be intense, but at least they’re real. the worst they’ll do is argue with you. your group? they’ll smear you behind your back while smiling to your face. y/n probably felt safer with him, not because he’s perfect, but because he wasn’t pretending."
taerae closes his eyes for a second, pressing his palms together like he’s holding something fragile.
"i don’t want her to get hurt."
"then stop hurting her with your silence. she put herself out there. you didn’t meet her halfway. vulnerability’s a two-way street."
taerae’s hands tighten. "but what if i open up and she’s moved on? what if she’s done waiting?"
"then you’ll know you tried. but this—this waiting in the shadows stuff—it’s not bravery. it’s fear disguised as patience. she deserves more than uncertainty. and so do you."
the bell rings in the distance. students begin to filter inside, their chatter rising as the cold morning gives way to routine.
taerae stands slowly, his shoulders heavy with the weight of truths too long unspoken. he looks toward the main building, where he knows you’ll be, somewhere between the noise and the silence.
"i’m scared," he says quietly.
"good," ohseong replies, standing beside him. "fear means it’s real. now go do something real."
they walk together, side by side, through the chill and the chaos. but this silence is different—it hums with anticipation, with decisions waiting to be made.
the stakes are no longer background noise. they’re the heartbeats between each step. the difference between being seen and being remembered.
and for the first time, taerae thinks he might finally be ready to stop pretending—and start becoming.
the classroom felt colder today, though the heater hummed quietly in the background. sunlight barely filtered through the frosted windows, casting a pale light across the desks where your group of four sat in a crooked square. the project on digital identity glowed dully on the shared tablet screen in front of you, but none of you seemed particularly focused on it.
areum sat close to your side, legs crossed, her fingers idly tapping her pen against her notebook. her presence was grounding, even in silence. across from you, taerae and ohseong mirrored the closeness, though something about taerae's posture felt restless, like he wanted to close the space between you all but didn’t quite know how. his eyes flickered toward you every few moments, always quickly darting away when they met yours.
"so," ohseong finally broke the stillness, his voice light but not quite carefree, "we need to finalize the media portion today, right? taerae, you were working on that digital footprint comparison?"
taerae nodded, tapping his screen to bring up the visual timeline he’d put together. "yeah, i’ve got the graphs and timeline structure set up. just need to overlay some quotes and analysis. i was thinking we could use some of y/n’s points from last week. they were good."
you looked up at him, caught off guard. it was the first time he’d directly referenced something of yours in this session. "oh... sure," you replied carefully. "if it fits the structure."
he smiled a little—small, hesitant. "it does. i double-checked. it made sense, what you said about the curated versus candid self. it kind of stuck with me."
"thanks," you said, your voice quieter than you expected. there was something in his tone, something too sincere, that made your stomach twist.
he held your gaze for a second longer than necessary, then looked down quickly, his fingers brushing nervously against the side of his tablet.
"we should start dividing the final write-up," areum said, trying to fill the strange air that hung between you all. "we’re almost at the deadline."
as the conversation turned to logistics, taerae leaned in slightly every time you spoke, his responses more thoughtful than usual. he asked for your opinion on font choices, on which quotes to keep, even on color palettes—which was uncharacteristic for him, since he usually deferred to areum or ohseong for aesthetic choices. each time, it made your stomach tighten a little. you weren’t sure if it was nerves or something closer to ache.
"you okay?" areum whispered close to your ear when the others were distracted, her voice barely audible.
you nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. "it’s just weird. the vibe’s off. he’s being... too nice."
she raised an eyebrow. "too nice?"
"like, overly attentive. like he’s trying really hard."
"maybe he is. maybe he’s trying to make up for how things went down."
"yeah, but... i don’t know. it feels fake. or maybe i just don’t trust it yet."
on the other side of the table, taerae glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking. he wanted to say something—he always looked like he was about to, then backed down at the last second. ohseong nudged him once, a subtle encouragement, but taerae only pressed his lips together, visibly conflicted.
you could tell he was struggling. it wasn’t the loud, obvious kind of performance. it was in the way his hands stayed too still, the way he kept stealing glances your way, the way his voice softened just slightly whenever it was directed at you.
"hey," he said suddenly, catching your attention again. "i was thinking about that conversation we had. the one about hiding our true selves. and i’ve been trying to show less of the filtered version of me. more of... the real me. even if it’s messy."
you blinked. "why?"
"because..." he hesitated. "because you were right. it’s easy to perform for everyone else. harder to be honest. and i think—i think i messed up by pretending things didn’t matter when they did. i think i messed up by pretending you didn’t matter."
your breath caught for just a moment. his words lingered longer than you expected them to.
"taerae..." your voice came out quieter than you intended.
"i know it might come off fake," he continued quickly, almost tripping over his words, "but i’m not trying to win you over or anything. i just—i don’t want to lose whatever this was. is. even if it’s awkward now. i want to fix it. i need to."
you looked down at the tablet screen. the timeline of identity flickered back at you, ironically fitting. curated selves versus raw truths. wasn’t that the same thing you were both tangled in?
"i don’t know what to say," you admitted. "part of me wants to believe you. another part is still upset. i don’t like mixed signals. i don’t like feeling like i was just an afterthought."
"i get that. and i don’t blame you. i was scared. i still am. i was trying so hard to be who everyone needed me to be, i forgot who i was when it was just me. and when i was with you, it felt like i didn’t have to pretend. and that scared me even more."
areum and ohseong exchanged a glance but didn’t interrupt. the air around the table stilled, like even the room was holding its breath.
taerae’s fingers tapped nervously against the side of his laptop. "but i’m trying now. really trying. even if it’s clumsy. even if i don’t know if it’ll be enough. i’d rather be messy and real than polished and distant. i want you to see me. really see me. and i want to see you too."
"then stop trying to be perfect," you said quietly. "no one needs you to be perfect. not me. not even your group. there’s something... more honest in imperfection."
taerae’s eyes softened. "you told me that before. that there’s beauty in imperfection."
you nodded.
"i didn’t believe it then. i think i do now."
the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time. it was the kind of pause where something settled, even if just a little. a breath in the middle of a sentence. a comma, not a period.
"so," ohseong clapped his hands together, breaking the moment gently, "should we do a final run-through of the presentation? make sure we’re not all talking over each other again?"
"yeah," areum agreed, standing to grab her notes. "but this time, let’s maybe not get too philosophical mid-slide."
taerae chuckled softly. "no promises."
you offered him a small smile, still guarded, but it was something.
and for the rest of the session, taerae didn’t try too hard. he didn’t overcompensate. he just existed beside you, showing up in quiet ways—in the way he adjusted your mic levels, the way he double-checked your slides, the way he listened, fully and without distraction.
it wasn’t a grand gesture. it wasn’t sweeping or romantic. it was something quieter. something honest.
and maybe, just maybe, it was a start.
taerae sat on the edge of the leather couch in the living room, the plush cushions doing little to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. the chandelier above him flickered faintly, casting soft glows that danced across the marble floors and cold-toned walls. everything in the room was polished to perfection—the glass coffee table without a single fingerprint, the decorative vases lined up along the mantel like soldiers. and yet, none of it brought comfort. the air felt heavy, not because of heat, but because of expectation. his phone buzzed for the third time in a minute, face-down on the coffee table, lit up with messages from the group chat.
minseok: bro, where are you?? we’re gonna head to han river for pics
jungho: taerae don’t be lame, come onnn
minji: bring your dad’s car again lol
he sighed. he didn’t even want to look at the rest. instead, he just stared ahead, focusing on the faint ticking of the antique wall clock. the hands moved too slowly. his dad sat across from him in the armchair, legs crossed, reading some school-related newsletter printed in thick, glossy paper, occasionally flipping a page with a deliberate snap.
"you’ve been quiet," his dad said, not looking up. "how was the prep meeting for the next student council term?"
"it hasn’t been officially announced yet," taerae replied, tone practiced, smooth. "they’re keeping the results confidential until next week."
"well, let me know the moment you find out. you know how much it matters to the board. mr. kwon was asking about you yesterday. said you were a fine example of discipline. i don’t want to disappoint him. or the principal."
his father finally looked up, eyes sharp under the rim of his glasses. "remember, she’s not just the principal—she’s important to me. our reputation reflects directly on her too."
taerae nodded. "i’ll tell you as soon as i hear."
"that’s my boy. we have a name to maintain. you’ve done well so far. the kwons, the jeongs, the han family—all of them see you as the standard. we can’t afford any... dips in image."
taerae managed a polite, neutral smile. "of course."
his younger brother, jihwan, was curled in the corner of the couch, earbuds in and hoodie pulled up, face half hidden. he looked drained, his posture slumped like he was trying to fold into himself, shoulders hunched and head lowered.
"jihwan," their dad snapped, voice sharper now. "sit properly. you look like you just rolled out of bed. straighten up. we have guests visiting this week, and your demeanor reflects on the entire family."
jihwan flinched and sat up slightly, but didn’t say anything. his eyes stayed on the floor, and he adjusted the hem of his hoodie like it might shield him.
"we are not raising delinquents," their father continued. "you understand that, don’t you? taerae can manage himself—why can’t you follow his example?"
taerae’s stomach twisted. his brother didn’t respond, which only seemed to irritate their father further.
"answer me."
"i understand," jihwan mumbled.
"good. don’t embarrass this family. i’ve worked too hard for that. now, i have calls to take. taerae, keep an eye on your brother."
once their father disappeared into his study, the pressure in the room deflated just slightly. taerae let out a quiet breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.
he shifted to face jihwan. "hey. you alright?"
"does it matter?"
"yeah," taerae said softly. "it does."
jihwan didn’t look at him, but his hands were clenched tight in his hoodie sleeves. "i’m just tired. i didn’t even say anything, but it’s like everything i do is wrong."
taerae leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "he doesn’t mean it like that. it’s just... he has expectations. and pressure. too much of it. he’s projecting it onto you. it’s not your fault."
"it feels like my fault."
"it’s not. you’re allowed to be tired. i am too."
jihwan finally looked at him. "you don’t act like it. you always have everything together. you say the right things. you’re always on top of stuff."
taerae gave a hollow laugh. "i fake it. every single day. i fake it so hard sometimes i forget what it feels like to not pretend."
"why do you do it, then?"
taerae hesitated. his phone buzzed again, and this time he flipped it over to see the screen.
jungho: we’re picking you up in 10
he stared at it for a second longer before replying with a simple:
taerae: ok
"because dad likes when i’m with those kids. their families have influence. it makes him feel like we’re secure. like we belong."
"but do you like them?"
taerae swallowed. "not always. they can be exhausting. it’s all about maintaining appearances. even when i’m with them, i don’t feel like i’m really there. i’m just... playing a role."
"then why do it?"
"because if i don’t, dad notices. and when he notices, he starts comparing. to me. to you. and i don’t want him turning all of that onto you again."
jihwan was quiet for a long moment. "i hate it. i hate all of it."
taerae reached out and ruffled his brother’s hair, something he hadn’t done in years. "me too, sometimes. but you don’t have to carry it the way i do. you’re still figuring yourself out. let me be the buffer, okay?"
jihwan’s eyes shimmered a little, but he didn’t let the tears fall. he just nodded, pressing the sleeve of his hoodie against his face.
taerae leaned back again, his head hitting the couch cushion. his phone buzzed again, and this time he didn’t look. instead, he stared at the ornate ceiling, wondering how long he could keep pretending. his fingers tightened around the edge of the cushion.
"i wish i could just... disappear sometimes. go somewhere no one knows who i am. no expectations. no roles. just... be."
"you could," jihwan said, voice muffled. "not forever, but... maybe with people who see you. the real you. not the version you’re forced to be."
taerae thought of you. of that moment during the group project when you said there was beauty in imperfection. when you looked at him like you actually saw through all the layers. it was frightening. and freeing. it was a glimpse of something he’d forgotten he needed.
"maybe," he whispered. "maybe."
jihwan’s breathing had evened out a little. taerae glanced toward the hallway, checking to make sure their father wasn’t about to come back in. the silence felt fragile, like it could break at any second.
"you want me to tell him you’re studying at the library later?"
jihwan nodded. "thanks."
taerae stood up and grabbed a blanket from the armrest, tossing it over his brother’s legs. "take a nap. i’ll handle it."
as he walked toward his room, his phone still buzzing in his hand, he felt the weight of both roles dragging behind him—dutiful son, popular friend. and somewhere underneath all of that, the raw version of himself he hadn’t figured out how to be fully yet.
but he knew where he felt closest to that version. he knew who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, it was okay not to have it all together.
and maybe... that would be enough to keep trying.
the hum of the classroom lights buzzed softly above you, just low enough to be noticed, just loud enough to irritate. your pen moved across the page at a steady pace, filling in each blank with confidence you weren’t even aware you had until now. the pressure in the room was palpable—midterm season always had that effect—but today felt especially thick. maybe it was the way mr. jang kept pacing behind the desks like a caged animal, his shoes clicking against the floor with a rhythm that betrayed his nerves, or maybe it was the small rivalry blooming between students who usually coasted just beneath the radar.
it didn’t matter. not today.
"oh," mr. jang said, pausing beside your desk. "you tackled this algorithm in a completely different way. smart. unexpected."
heads turned. not many, but enough. you didn’t lift your gaze until the rustling stopped. you offered a small smile. "thank you."
that was all it took. by the time class ended, whispers had already started. quiet kid. smart kid. under-the-radar genius. you weren’t sure if you liked it, but it was better than being invisible. the way their eyes lingered longer, more curious than before, unsettled something inside you.
taerae leaned over from the desk behind you, voice lowered. "that was seriously impressive. i’ve never seen anyone solve it that way."
you blinked at him, still unsure if he was joking. "it just made more sense that way."
he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure out what else you were hiding. "you’re always full of surprises."
you weren’t sure how to respond, but before the moment could stretch too long, matthew passed by, giving you a grin. "yo, that was cool. you didn’t even hesitate."
"thanks," you said, voice softer than usual.
matthew raised his brows in a friendly way, like he meant it. "seriously. that kind of clarity? people spend years chasing it. good job."
you watched him walk off, backpack slung over one shoulder, easy and confident in a way that didn’t feel performative. beside you, areum leaned in with a quiet smirk.
"you’ve got the boys buzzing," she whispered.
"stop," you mumbled, nudging her with your elbow.
she only laughed, brushing her hair back as she spotted something across the room. "uh-oh. incoming."
you followed her gaze. ohseong was waving the both of you over, standing with taerae near the back of the room. the two of them looked strangely in sync—taerae with his usual calm expression and ohseong more animated, as if already mid-thought.
areum straightened, then walked a step ahead of you like a bodyguard. her posture was casual but firm, like she was ready to intercept any weird energy before it could reach you. it was something you were used to—her subtle way of saying, "i’ve got you."
"hey," ohseong said as you approached, his tone easy. "so, we’re meeting tomorrow for the final presentation, right? how’s everything looking on your end?"
"pretty much ready," areum said first, arms crossed. "just tightening up the visual references."
you nodded. "we’ve formatted the layout, and i finished the analysis part. i uploaded everything to the shared drive this morning."
taerae looked at you as you spoke, eyes lingering with a quiet focus. it was hard not to notice. you didn’t meet his gaze directly, but you could feel it anyway—like sunlight warming your skin without ever touching it.
"i added the notes to the shared doc," you added. "we just need to finalize the talking points."
"yeah, i saw those," taerae said. "they’re really clear. like, easier to follow than i expected."
"same," ohseong chimed in. "you worded it in a way that makes even the dry parts sound... not so dry. that’s rare."
"thanks," you said again, shifting your weight slightly. group conversations were fine. it was when the focus narrowed that everything felt too sharp.
"we should run through it once tonight," areum suggested, glancing between the three of you. "just to make sure timing’s right."
"agreed," taerae said, still watching you. "are you free later? we can call or something if meeting up isn’t possible."
you nodded slowly. "i’m free after seven."
"cool," ohseong said. "i’ll set something up in the chat. don’t ghost us."
"i never ghost," you said under your breath.
areum gave you a small side glance, the corner of her mouth twitching up. the conversation drifted then, the four of you talking briefly about fonts, color palettes, the layout of your presentation slides, and the fact that taerae still hadn’t uploaded his part of the visual storyboard.
"i’m doing it tonight," taerae promised. "i wanted to double-check something before i commit."
"don’t flake," ohseong warned, nudging him lightly. "you’re the pretty face of the group. we need your slides to be just as charming."
taerae groaned. "no pressure, right?"
a few more laughs were shared, warm and unforced, and then you and areum began stepping away. the hallway buzzed with students, all loud and moving too fast. but just as you neared the door, taerae called out.
"wait."
you turned slightly. areum paused beside you, scanning the area like a second pair of eyes.
taerae caught up, breath a little uneven from navigating the crowd. he glanced toward areum, then to you.
"i meant what i said," he told you. "about earlier. the way you handled that problem? it was impressive. not just the answer, but... the way you didn’t try to make a big deal about it. that kind of quiet confidence? it stands out."
you felt warmth rush to your cheeks, unsure how to respond to that level of sincerity. "i wasn’t trying to stand out."
"that’s why it worked," he said. "it felt real."
there was a pause, not awkward, but suspended in a way that made it feel like something was settling between you. something not quite spoken, but there all the same. his eyes searched yours for a second longer before he smiled, soft and genuine.
"you’ve got this presence," he said. "like... people listen when you speak. even when it’s just a whisper."
it left you feeling exposed, yet oddly comforted. like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t look away.
"thanks," you said finally. "for saying that."
taerae gave a small nod, more to himself than to you. "see you later."
"yeah," you said, and then turned back to areum, who was already waiting.
as you walked away together, she leaned in, voice low. "okay, that? not a mixed signal."
you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. and somewhere deep inside, under the pressure and the expectations, something light and unexpected started to bloom. it wasn’t just about the praise. it was the recognition. the possibility that you could be known—fully, honestly—and still be liked.
and that thought stayed with you long after the crowd faded and the hallway quieted, long into the evening, where a group call loomed with people who might just be seeing more of you than you meant to share.
maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
the classroom was a little warmer than usual, the overhead lights casting a yellowish hue across rows of desks as each group took their turn presenting. everyone was dressed slightly better than usual, a mix of school uniforms and semi-formal additions—blazers, ties, even the occasional collared shirt. nervous energy buzzed in the air, mixed with the hum of the projector and the occasional squeak of a chair. you could feel the low thrum of tension in your chest, the kind that curled around your ribs and held on.
your fingers tapped lightly against the side of your thigh, counting breaths as you waited. your group had rehearsed this presentation, sure. you knew your part. but standing up in front of a room full of your peers, under their eyes and assumptions, was never easy. it never had been.
"you ready?" areum whispered beside you, nudging your elbow lightly. she was all bright eyes and encouragement, a steady warmth beside your growing nerves.
"as ready as i can be," you murmured, managing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
the group before you wrapped up their presentation with scattered applause. the sound felt distant, like it echoed from somewhere underwater. then it was your turn. you rose from your seat with the others—taerae, ohseong, areum—and walked to the front of the room. each step felt heavier than the last.
the screen flicked to your title slide: digital identity: who are we online? a simple title, but it held weight. relevance. questions that didn’t always have easy answers.
areum opened with her usual warmth, introducing the topic with bright eyes and a spark in her voice. she brought energy into the room, making the subject feel fresh and approachable. her enthusiasm was infectious, drawing smiles and nods from even the more apathetic students. then it was your turn.
"according to a 2022 study by pew research center," you began, voice even but calm, "sixty-four percent of teenagers admit to feeling pressure to appear a certain way online, even if it doesn't reflect their true selves."
you clicked the remote and the slide shifted, revealing a graph. clean, sharp lines and percentages marked the screen.
"this presentation explores the psychological effects of digital curation, the pressure of online personas, and how these behaviors affect our sense of self in offline spaces."
your words were polished, academic, controlled. you cited articles, quoted psychologists, broke down data points. your hands were steady, your pacing practiced. you weren’t flashy, but your quiet authority was clear. each fact you offered was a small step into a truth most people didn’t want to confront.
taerae followed you. the tone in the room shifted the moment he spoke. confident, charismatic, his smile subtle but practiced. he didn’t just speak—he performed, weaving his words with a kind of ease that held people captive.
"when we think about our digital selves," he said, stepping a little closer to the edge of the projector light, "we don’t always realize how often we edit our identities to match who we think others want us to be."
the room was still. even the kids who usually tuned out were watching.
"i mean, think about your last post. how many drafts did it take? how many filters? did you delete it after ten minutes because it didn’t get enough likes? yeah. exactly."
laughter trickled in. not cruel, but understanding. relatable.
you glanced at him, and for a brief moment, he looked at you—eyes flickering with something almost apologetic. a silent message you couldn’t quite read. but then he turned away, and the performance continued, effortless and magnetic.
ohseong brought it back to the facts, clicking through the slides smoothly. his voice was calm, anchoring. he connected taerae’s charm with your analysis, bridging ideas and clarifying terms. he didn’t draw attention to himself, but his role was essential—a quiet kind of glue holding everything together. areum wrapped it all up, beaming as she thanked the class for their attention, her voice tinged with genuine pride.
the room clapped, and your group shuffled back to your seats. you sat down, the nearest empty chair placing you beside taerae. areum sat on your other side, and you leaned slightly toward her, grounding yourself in her presence.
taerae said nothing at first. then, quietly, "you killed it up there."
you blinked at him. "thanks."
he hesitated. "i meant it. your part had actual weight. like... it made people think."
you offered a faint nod. "it was supposed to."
a pause. then he leaned slightly closer. "you always talk like that when you’re nervous?"
you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "talk like what?"
"like you have a thousand thoughts all trying to get out at once, but you pick the calmest ones to show."
"and you talk like someone who needs everyone to look at him or else he might vanish."
the words came out sharper than intended. taerae flinched slightly, not offended, but thrown off. areum, sensing the tension, gave your knee a gentle squeeze under the table, then busied herself with her notebook, the buffer between you both.
"you’re not wrong," taerae murmured after a moment, voice low. "i just... wish you didn’t see through me so easily."
the rest of the lesson blurred. the teacher spoke, more groups presented, but your focus was split. taerae didn’t speak again, but he didn’t move away either. he stayed next to you, like proximity could say what he wouldn’t. something about it felt like a question.
by the time class ended, the room began to empty. ohseong and areum had already slipped out, chatting quietly. you hadn’t even noticed. you were still sitting beside taerae, the soft echo of desks scraping and zippers zipping fading away.
"looks like we’re the last ones," he said softly.
you glanced up. "didn’t even realize."
silence settled. the kind that felt too heavy, too intentional.
the light from the window had dimmed slightly, afternoon sun slanting in golden across the floor. the room felt still, like time had slowed. dust floated through the air, illuminated like motes of memory.
"i could never leave you alone," taerae blurted.
you froze. turned your head. stared at him.
"then why are you doing just that?"
your voice cracked, laced with something brittle. betrayal. confusion. exhaustion. the words hung in the air like smoke, like ghosts.
taerae inhaled sharply. his shoulders tensed. "because i don’t know how to not mess things up."
"what does that even mean?"
"it means i care too much. and that scares me. and when i get scared, i retreat into what i know—my friends, the image, the safety net."
you stared at him, jaw tight. "you keep saying you care. but caring means showing up. not just when it’s convenient."
he looked down at his hands. fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. "i know. i just... i grew up learning that appearance was everything. that if i didn’t keep people impressed, i’d lose everything. my dad, he’s always talking about legacy and expectations and... it doesn’t matter how i feel."
your heart softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. "and what about me? do i just get shoved into the background whenever your reputation's on the line?"
"no. never."
"then why does it feel like i’m some secret you don’t want to admit?"
taerae swallowed hard. "because i’m scared that if people see how much you mean to me, they’ll use that against me. or worse, against you."
"that’s not protecting me," you said quietly. "that’s hiding me."
the room was so quiet now you could hear the ticking of the clock.
taerae finally looked up, eyes glossy but steady. "i don’t want to hide you. not anymore. not ever."
you searched his face. this wasn’t the charming, composed taerae from the presentation. this was someone raw. scared. real.
"then stop acting like this is all some game," you whispered. "i’m not a move in your social strategy. i’m a person."
"i know. and i see you. i swear, i see you. more than anyone else."
the final bell rang, distant and hollow.
the moment didn’t break. it lingered, stretching thin between you both like a thread not quite ready to snap.
you stood slowly, gathering your things. taerae rose too, unsure, watching you with that same uncertainty that had been there since the beginning.
"we still have work to do," you said softly.
he nodded. "i’ll do better. if you let me."
you met his eyes one last time before heading for the door.
"we’ll see."
and then you left, heart thudding, unsure if that ache in your chest was hope or heartache—or both. outside, the hallway was quiet, and yet everything felt impossibly loud inside you.
the night was heavy with silence.
the kind of silence that didn’t just fill a room—it filled your chest, too. hours had passed since you’d left the classroom, the tension of your conversation with taerae lingering long after the final bell had rung. you sat at your desk at home, a notebook open in front of you, but the words on the page blurred together. you weren’t really reading. you were remembering.
every glance. every word. every moment he looked like he might say something more, but didn’t. you kept replaying that look in his eyes—soft, trembling, like he had something more to confess but hadn’t found the courage.
you wondered if he regretted saying it. if he even meant it. or if it was just another reflex from the same boy who charmed a whole classroom like it was second nature. your fingers curled slightly, pressing against the paper, smudging the ink you weren’t writing. you thought about how you’d built your own walls, quietly, without drama or spectacle. how easy it was to stay protected when you didn’t let anyone close. but now that someone had gotten through—what now?
meanwhile, across the city, taerae was lying on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. headphones in, no music playing. just static silence. his room was dark except for the dim glow of his desk lamp, casting long shadows across the posters on his wall.
"i could never leave you alone." his voice, in his own head, sounded uncertain now.
then yours, echoing back sharper:
"then why are you doing just that?"
he exhaled shakily, fingers curling into the blanket beneath him. everything he’d built—the polished smile, the calculated charm, the easy laughter—felt like a crumbling tower now. a house of cards built on expectation and fear. he had spent so long being exactly what everyone wanted, afraid that if he wasn’t perfect, he’d become invisible.
he rolled onto his side, staring at the photo frame on his nightstand. a picture of him and his father at a school fundraiser. taerae was smiling wide, perfect teeth and all. his dad had a hand on his shoulder, that proud, stern look carved into his features.
his dad expected perfection. expected leadership. popularity. image. every friendship taerae had was curated, observed, evaluated. especially the ones with the popular clique—the sons and daughters of executives, judges, politicians. taerae knew they didn’t care about him, not really. they liked the way he moved, the way he dressed, the way he maintained the illusion of effortless cool.
but it was exhausting.
and he didn’t want to lie anymore. not to himself. not to you.
he sat up suddenly. the floor was cold beneath his feet, but he didn’t hesitate. quietly, carefully, he crept down the hallway of his home, every creak in the wooden floor loud in the midnight hush. he stopped outside his father’s room, hesitating only a moment before pushing the door open.
his dad wasn’t home. another dinner with school board members, probably. a meeting with the principal. or some parent of another high-achieving student. taerae didn’t care.
the room was dimly lit, smelling faintly of cologne and printer ink. framed certificates lined the walls. the desk in the corner was neat, every pen in place, every folder labeled. he walked over, fingers skimming across papers and folders until he found the tablet his dad used for school-related communication. he tapped it open, unlocked it easily—it was the same passcode he’d used for years.
he scrolled through emails, eyes scanning lines of text until he found it: a school-wide bulletin from the owners of the school.
subject: upcoming school events and calendar reminders.
he clicked it open.
there it was. next week.
a school-wide festival. a full day of competitions, performances, student-run booths, and—most importantly—an open stage. a platform. a spotlight, but one he could control.
taerae stared at the screen, the glow of it lighting up his face in the dark. ideas churned in his mind. quick, racing, half-formed but vivid.
he could do something then. something that wasn’t curated or careful. something that wasn’t for his dad or the popular clique or the school image. something for you. something that would say all the words he hadn’t managed to find in that empty classroom.
his heart thudded louder. faster. hope and fear mixing like storm clouds in his chest. maybe he could rewrite the ending. maybe he could change the narrative.
he closed the tablet gently, set it back exactly where he found it. he took one last look around the room—at the awards, the photo, the expectations—and then he walked out.
as he padded down the hallway back to his room, the faintest curve of a plan was already forming in his mind. he could see flashes of it—a crowd, a microphone, his voice steady this time, eyes searching only for yours.
he didn’t know how you’d react. he didn’t know if he’d be brave enough.
but for the first time in a long time, he wanted to try.
whatever it was—he’d do it that day.
and whatever happened next, would change everything.
the air smelled like sugar and fresh popcorn.
bright paper lanterns swayed lazily in the warm breeze as students hurried past in clumps, laughter bubbling from every corner of the school grounds. booths lined the courtyards, painted in bold, cheerful colors. some were run by clubs selling snacks or trinkets, others hosted games that rang with bells and excited shouts when someone won a prize. the school had transformed into something almost unrecognizable—not just in appearance, but in spirit too. there was a giddy chaos to everything, like the world had tilted slightly, inviting everyone to let go.
and yet, even in the swell of cheer and music, you felt the undercurrent of nerves.
you clutched your drink a little tighter, scanning the festival as if your eyes could catch something that would explain the tension in your chest. areum walked beside you, cotton candy in one hand, the other linking casually through your elbow.
"you think taerae's actually going to show up?" she asked, licking a bit of pink fluff from her finger.
"he said he would," you said softly. "but he didn’t say anything about... today. not really."
areum gave you a sideways glance. "he’s been weird all week. quiet but intense. like he's planning something. it’s like every time i saw him, he looked like he was having a staring contest with his thoughts."
you nodded, your mind drifting back to the few times you’d seen him in class—focused, distant, like he was walking through a fog only he could see.
the crowds shifted, students weaving between booths and performers. somewhere near the back field, music began to pulse through speakers as a group prepared for a dance competition. the smell of grilled meat wafted past from a food stall nearby, and someone bumped into you while chasing a flying balloon. but it wasn’t the competitions or food stalls that kept your gaze wandering. it was something else. something you couldn’t name.
and then, the loudspeaker crackled.
"attention students," a familiar voice began—miss shin, the event coordinator. "we have a surprise performance on the open stage. please gather around if you’d like to watch. it’ll begin in five minutes."
you exchanged a look with areum. your heart stuttered.
"do you think..." she trailed off.
"i don’t know," you whispered, already walking toward the stage.
the crowd gathered slowly, curious murmurs rolling through the air. the open stage was modest—a few steps high, strung with fairy lights and a mic stand in the center. students leaned against each other, whispering theories and gossip as more people arrived. when taerae stepped onto it, time seemed to freeze.
he wasn’t wearing his usual polished look. no blazer. no carefully styled hair. he looked... real. soft hoodie, jeans, hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the mic. but his eyes scanned the crowd until they found yours.
and he smiled.
a nervous, crooked, achingly honest smile.
"hi," he said into the mic, his voice cracking slightly. "um... i wasn’t on the original lineup. sorry. but i asked miss shin for five minutes, and she said okay. so... here goes."
students murmured again. the popular clique was near the front, confused, some even frowning. ohseong stood off to the side, arms crossed but watching closely.
taerae took a deep breath.
"i’ve spent a lot of time pretending to be someone i’m not. i think most of you know me a certain way. charming. put together. maybe even a little fake sometimes. and you’d be right."
a hush fell. the music from the rest of the festival faded in your ears.
"i kept pretending because it felt safe. because it made people like me. and maybe it made my dad proud. but... lately, i’ve realized it’s not making me happy."
his eyes found yours again. locked.
"especially not when it costs me the people who actually matter. the ones who see through all of it. who see me."
somewhere near the back, someone whispered, "what is he doing?"
taerae smiled again, but this one was bittersweet.
"i’m doing something for myself. for once. and maybe for someone else too. someone who... means more to me than i ever let on."
his hand shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded paper. he unfolded it, glanced at the lines once, then looked up.
"i wrote this last night. it’s not a poem. not a speech. just... something i needed to say."
his voice grew steadier as he read.
"to the person who looked past my smiles and still stayed. who challenged me when i was hiding, and stayed gentle when i wanted to shut down. i know i hurt you. i know i pulled away when it mattered most. but you made me want to be honest. and i think... i think i need to tell you the truth."
he folded the paper again, lowering it slowly.
"i like you," he said. clearly. openly. raw.
gasps from the crowd. laughter. murmurs. someone muttered, "no way."
but he kept looking at you. only you.
"i like you, even when you’re quiet. even when you’re guarded. even when you think no one notices. i notice. i always have."
your breath caught.
you weren’t sure when your hands started trembling.
"and i know this might ruin everything," he added. "maybe my friends won’t talk to me after this. maybe people will start whispering more. maybe you... won’t say anything at all. maybe this just ends here."
he stepped back from the mic.
"but i had to try. because you deserve someone who doesn’t hide. who doesn’t lie. who chooses you, even when it’s hard. even when it’s messy. even when i’m scared."
silence. electric.
and then he stepped off the stage, disappearing into the crowd before anyone could stop him. not fast, but not lingering either—like he’d given the moment its weight, and now had to walk away from it.
you stood frozen.
around you, the world moved on—games played, students cheered, music blared again. teachers chatted near the booths. someone won a plush toy and screamed.
but in your chest, everything shifted.
areum touched your arm gently. "you okay?"
you swallowed.
"i don’t know," you whispered. your eyes searched for taerae, already lost somewhere between the tents and the stream of students.
but something inside you had cracked open. maybe fear. maybe hope.
"but i think i have to find him."
and so, as the lanterns swayed above, and the festival roared around you, you stepped forward into the crowd—toward whatever came next.
the night sky stretched endlessly above you, painted with soft shades of twilight and the last hints of the festival's lights flickering below. the hum of the crowd was distant now, muffled by walls and wind as you stood at the base of the staircase leading to the rooftop, breath catching in your throat like a song unsung.
"he has to be up there," areum said beside you, breathless from the search. her cheeks were flushed, her hair tangled from running between buildings. "he always disappears to quiet places when things get too loud."
"he said he wanted to be alone," you murmured, almost to yourself.
"doesn’t mean he should be," she said, her voice soft. she gave your arm a squeeze, then stepped back. "i’ll wait down here. go on."
you nodded, your hand tightening around the railing. your heart was loud. louder than the laughter still echoing faintly below, louder than the pulse of music that had played beneath taerae's confession. louder than your doubt, louder than the wind threading through your thoughts.
each step up the stairs felt like crossing into something unknown, something uncharted. you remembered how he looked on stage—vulnerable, raw, exposed—and it felt like your own skin had peeled back with every word he spoke.
when you pushed the door open, the wind met you first. soft. cold. honest. the night had settled deep and wide, stars scattered carelessly across the sky. taerae stood near the edge, arms crossed over the railing, his hoodie hood half up as if to hide his flushed face from the sky itself. the wind tugged at the hem of his sweater, and his figure looked smaller somehow, silhouetted against the infinite dark.
he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes catching yours in an instant.
"oh," he breathed. "you found me."
"yeah," you said, stepping fully onto the rooftop. "you didn’t make it easy."
the corner of his mouth lifted, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "wasn’t trying to. guess part of me hoped you wouldn’t."
"why?"
he shrugged, turning his gaze to the skyline, where the horizon blurred with clouds. "because if you didn’t... then maybe i could pretend i didn’t ruin everything. pretend i didn’t make a fool of myself."
"you didn’t," you said quietly. "you were brave."
he let out a soft laugh, the kind that stung. "brave. right. it felt more like falling."
you stood beside him now, your arms close enough to brush his. he didn’t move away.
"falling can be good," you said.
he looked at you, brows furrowed. "you’re serious?"
"you said something real," you replied. "and you said it in front of everyone. that takes courage."
"but did it matter?" his voice cracked. "if it just made you uncomfortable? if it made people talk? i saw their faces. half of them were confused. the other half looked at me like i’d betrayed them."
"and what about how you felt?"
the question hung between you like fog. heavy. honest.
taerae’s shoulders dropped. "i felt free. for the first time in... god, years."
"then it mattered."
he turned toward you fully then, his eyes glossy under the rooftop lights, his expression naked with truth.
"i didn’t expect you to come after me."
"i didn’t expect you to say anything." you gave him a small smile. "we’re full of surprises tonight."
he laughed again, softer this time, but warmer.
"do you remember," he said, "the first time i asked you 'truth or dare'?"
"you asked me two times," you said. "i said 'neither' both times."
he nodded. "and you never explained why."
"because choosing meant risk."
taerae leaned against the railing, facing you now. "and tonight? would you still say the same?"
you looked out over the city, the wind tugging gently at your hair, the lights blinking like distant stars below.
"ask me again."
his lips quirked, the mischief returning to his eyes, this time mingled with something rawer. realer.
"truth or dare?"
you turned to him, steady now. "both."
he blinked. stunned.
"you always said 'neither'."
"i’m not the same person i was yesterday."
his smile bloomed slow, like dawn. "okay. truth first."
"go on."
"did you mean it? when you said i was brave?"
"every word," you said. "you were honest. vulnerable. you didn’t have to be. but you were. and it changed things."
he nodded, his voice almost lost in the wind. "your turn. dare."
you tilted your head. "dare me."
"dare to believe me," he said. "when i say i like you for who you are. not who people think you should be. not who you try to be when the world gets loud. just... you."
you stared at him. that was no ordinary dare. it was a lifeline. a bridge.
"i’ll take that dare," you said. "if you’ll take one of mine."
"name it."
"be yourself. from now on. even when it’s hard. especially then."
taerae nodded, slowly. "i think... i want to. more than anything."
"me too," you whispered.
the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was full. peaceful. the kind that came with understanding, with shared weight lifted.
taerae glanced down at the courtyard below, the laughter still trickling in from somewhere near the front gates.
"i thought being popular meant being safe. respected. seen," he said.
"but it’s exhausting when it isn’t real."
"yeah. and now that it’s slipping through my fingers... i think i’m okay with it."
you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his.
"sometimes letting go of what people expect lets you hold onto what actually matters."
taerae looked down at your intertwined hands. "like this?"
"like this."
he leaned closer. "i don’t know what happens next."
"me neither. but... we’ll figure it out."
he nodded. "yeah. we will."
you stood there together, under the stars, away from noise, away from judgment. two people who had unraveled every mask, every defense, until all that remained was something honest. flawed. beautiful.
taerae turned to you once more, a shy smile creeping back onto his face.
"truth or dare?" he asked again, voice softer than before.
"both," you said. always now.
and somewhere between your joined hands and the cold wind brushing past, the world didn’t feel so heavy anymore. it felt like beginning.
change, although often painful and risky, had brought you both here. and here—on a rooftop under starlight, with laughter fading and hearts cracked open—was more than enough.
Summary : In modern-day Seoul, two souls cross paths at a gathering neither planned to attend, drawn together by a connection that feels eerily predestined. What begins as a chance encounter deepens into something tender and complicated, blurring the lines between friendship, love, and longing. As one relationship fades and another begins, they each grapple with the weight of timing, memory, and choices that cannot be undone. tied by the invisible red thread of fate, they must decide whether to follow its pull—or let go.
Genre : Friends With Benefits, String Of Fate, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive, Contemporary Romance, Drama, Fem!Reader
Warnings : Suggestive Scenes (Warnings will be displayed), Betrayal, Complex Relationship Dynamics, Angst (Themes Of Emotional Distress & Longing), Ambiguous Endings / Unresolved Tension (The ending is rushed because I received the maximum 1000 blocks per post notification so it's not my ideal which I apologize for 😔)
Word Count : 19k (19,472 Exact)
Playlist : 2 Soon by Keshi / Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande & Nathan Sykes / NVMD by Denise Julia / Love Affair by Umi / Love is (Not) Easy by Chase Atlantic / Shouldn't Be by Luke Chiang / Bags by Clairo / Blue Jeans by Gangga / Fool For You by Zayn / It's Not The Same Anymore by Rex Orange County
the night begins with a drizzle, not quite rain, but enough to blur the neon lights into soft watercolors on the wet pavement. seoul hums with its usual tempo, a mix of electric buzz and hushed footsteps echoing in alleyways. the kind of night that feels half-dreamt, wrapped in an amber hue and the low murmur of jazz spilling from a second-floor bar across the street.
you arrive at the gathering just past nine, unsure why you said yes. a mutual friend, someone whose name you can’t remember until you hear it again, texted you the location with a smiley face and a promise of good music. you weren’t expecting much. a few faces, maybe some beer, a safe distraction. but instead, the moment you walk in, the world shifts slightly on its axis. there’s a warmth in the room that feels different—like walking into the second half of a story you didn’t know you were part of.
the apartment is tucked above a tea house, its walls lined with vinyl records and mismatched fairy lights that blink like they’re whispering secrets. the scent of ginger tea and sandalwood lingers in the air, blending with the faint scent of rain coming in from an open window. the wooden floor creaks beneath your feet as you wander in. you’re standing by the speaker, holding a half-filled glass of something citrusy, when you feel it—
a glance.
he’s across the room, half-leaning against the kitchen archway, one hand casually curled around a bottle, the other tucked into his coat pocket. he doesn’t smile at first. he just watches, head tilted slightly, like he’s trying to place where he’s seen you before. your eyes lock for a breath too long, and then the music changes.
"drank too much, got the sickness. pray to god and his son for forgiveness..."
your grip on your glass tightens. the song, of all songs, plays now. you haven’t heard it in years, not since those nights on your bedroom floor, earbuds tangled in your hair, pretending the lyrics didn’t sting. it was your song. the one you’d lean on when the silence got too loud.
jiwoong notices. you see it in the way his brow furrows, barely, like a ripple across still water. he crosses the room slowly, bottle still in hand. the crowd around you dissolves into nothing.
"you know this one?" his voice is smooth, low, with just a touch of curiosity.
you nod. "yeah. used to be an old favourite. kinda surprised to hear it here."
"same," he says, pausing beside you. "though... mine’s a little heavier than favourite."
you glance at him, intrigued. "oh?"
he sighs and leans a little closer, his tone quieter now, like this part isn’t for the rest of the room. "when i was younger... my dad used to bring home different women. always drunk. the house would stink of perfume and alcohol. this song? he’d play it when he got home. like some kind of twisted ritual. i’d listen to it too... from the hallway. made me miss my mom like hell."
something flickers in your chest—sympathy, a tug of connection. "i’m sorry. that’s a lot. i didn’t mean to make it sound casual."
he lets out a short, surprised laugh. "no, no, don’t worry. i totally overshared."
"it’s okay," you say gently. "i think... sometimes a song can mean two completely different things to two people and still bring them to the same place."
his eyes soften. "yeah. i like that."
a brief silence hangs between you before you both turn toward the kitchen at the same time.
"drink?" he asks.
"please."
you both reach for the same can of peach soju. your hands brush, and you both chuckle—low, a little awkward, a little charmed.
"you take it," he says, withdrawing his hand.
"thanks."
seconds later, it happens again. this time, it’s a plate of tteokbokki. again, hands pause mid-air, eyes meet.
"okay, this is getting weird," you murmur.
he grins. "you want it?"
"go ahead. i insist."
you find yourselves sitting near the window now, a shared drink between you, the food balanced carefully on your knees. soft indie music pulses in the background as the night spins slowly around you.
"this is going to sound insane," he begins between bites, "but a few years ago, i was at this street festival near hongdae. it rained like hell. i ended up under this tiny awning with a stranger. we shared an umbrella to get to the bus stop. never saw them again."
you blink. "i was there. that festival. i remember the rain."
his brows lift. "did you... meet someone under an awning, too?"
you nod slowly. "we shared an umbrella to the bus stop."
he stares at you, stunned, then laughs. "no way."
"yeah way."
you both dissolve into laughter, loud and genuine. in the space between breaths, you look at him. really look. sharp cheekbones, soft mouth, a faint scar near his left temple like a comma in an unfinished sentence. his sweater is slate grey, almost identical to yours.
"we’re matching," you point out.
he looks down, then back up at you. "same bracelet too."
you both burst into laughter again.
"okay, this is getting freaky," you say.
"what’s next, finishing each other’s—"
"—sentences?" you say in unison.
there’s a pause. a beat of stunned silence. then more laughter.
he reaches for another drink and asks, "can you pass me one of those?"
you do, and your fingers brush again. this time, neither of you laugh. the touch lingers, sparks something—
not quite romantic. not quite platonic. just... potential.
and then you catch it—his scent. leather and something smokier, earthier. it stirs a memory, long buried. something warm and golden. you can’t place it, but it leaves a hollow ache in your chest.
"this is going to sound random," he says, "but did you know seoul has a hidden train station beneath seonjeongneung? completely sealed off. used to be operational for a single month in the 70s."
your eyes widen. "i literally just read about that like twenty minutes ago."
"seriously?"
"yeah, and i was just thinking about the phrase 'ghost echoes.'"
his jaw drops slightly. "i was thinking that exact phrase. right before i walked over to you."
there’s a moment where neither of you know what to say.
then you frown. "shit. my keys. i think i lost them."
"let’s check around," he says immediately, standing.
you both start searching—under pillows, behind furniture, near the balcony. he even checks the bathroom. you look near the bookshelf and remember how earlier, you nearly dropped your coat there.
he’s crouching near the couch now, his hand brushing beneath it. "you sure you brought them?"
"positive," you say, trying not to sound anxious. "i remember locking the door."
he pauses, then straightens up, holding something small and metallic. "found them."
he walks over, places them gently in your palm. your fingers brush again.
"thanks," you say, quieter now.
"you leaving already?"
you nod. "yeah. i’ve got an early morning."
"guess this is goodbye, then," he says, but there’s a question in his voice.
you hesitate at the door. "maybe. or maybe not."
he smiles, soft and unreadable. "i hope not."
you step into the night. the rain’s stopped, but the world is still dripping, shimmering. the quiet hum of the street below, headlights cutting through fog, and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.
behind you, the door clicks shut.
and for some reason, your heart feels wide open. you walk a little slower down the steps, each one feeling like it’s guiding you toward something, even if you don’t know what yet.
the bookstore smells like paper and lavender—faint, almost forgotten. it's the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless you were looking for nothing in particular. tucked between a bakery with a butter-yellow awning and a tailor’s shop that always smells faintly of cedar, the sign above the door reads serendipity pages in flaking gold paint. the letters curl like vines, almost disappearing into the wood. inside, the air hums with stillness, punctuated only by the creak of floorboards, the occasional flick of a turning page, and the distant purr of an old ceiling fan.
the next week, your feet lead you here without much thought. it’s a thursday, too warm for winter but too grey for spring. a day that sits somewhere between moods, with clouds hanging low like a sigh and the wind brushing softly against your coat. you duck inside the shop more for comfort than curiosity, and that’s when you see him.
jiwoong.
he’s leaning slightly, eyes trained on a book perched high on a shelf. he’s wearing a dark green overcoat and his hair’s slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it. he looks like he belongs here—half-character, half-reader—bathed in the buttery lamplight streaming from a brass lamp in the corner.
your eyes meet.
recognition flits across his face like sunlight through blinds. a slow smile tugs at his lips, a bit surprised, a bit amused.
"hey," he says first, his voice warm like old records.
"hey," you echo, a little surprised, a little too aware of the coincidence. you step closer, the scent of old pages and something citrusy on him catching you off guard.
he shifts his weight, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "funny running into you here. bookstore fate, maybe?"
"maybe the universe is shipping us," you joke lightly.
his laughter is low, genuine. "can’t argue with destiny."
"have you been good? since the party?"
"yeah," he nods. "you?"
"surviving. thriving, on certain days. today’s somewhere in between."
he glances down, then back at you. "i like your earrings."
"thank you," you say, touching one absently. they’re mismatched moons and stars. "they’re a little strange."
"strange suits you," he says, his tone light but sincere.
you look away, heart fluttering. then you both reach for the same book—a thin, obscure paperback with an abstract cover in fading blues and greens. your fingers brush. again.
"oh—sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.
he grins. "déjà vu."
you take the book and flip it open. a note slips out—a torn piece of paper, yellowed at the edges, the ink fading but still legible. the handwriting is eerily familiar, curved and slanted in a way that knots something in your chest.
you pause.
"you okay?"
"yeah," you say quickly, folding the note and handing it to him. "here, it fell out."
he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press. you disappear into another aisle, needing a moment to shake the feeling creeping into your ribs.
the shelves are tall, carved from dark wood, and the space between them is narrow, like secret passages in a house that remembers too much. you trail your fingers along spines, letting them guide you. the titles whisper promises and memories you didn’t know you still carried.
between poetry and philosophy, you glimpse him again—through a sliver between the shelves. your eyes meet. it lasts a heartbeat, maybe two, then you turn away, disappearing into a different aisle.
you don’t mean to run into him again, but it happens in fiction. you’re holding your favorite book, ranting softly to yourself, excitement creeping into your voice.
"i swear, this book ruined me in the best way. the pacing, the way the author weaves memory and time together like—"
"like embroidery on fog," jiwoong says, suddenly beside you.
you blink. "yes. exactly. wait—how did you—"
"i read it," he shrugs, hands back in his coat. "you described it perfectly."
"i’ve never met anyone who’s read it."
"you’ve met one now."
you smile, and it feels like warmth blooming in your chest.
you both drift again, comfortably close. a book catches your eye—slipped between science fiction and cookbooks. it doesn’t belong. the cover is worn, the title faded to near-invisibility. you pull it out, curious.
"that’s..." jiwoong trails behind you, staring.
you turn, and his expression is different. softer. distant.
"you know it?"
he nods slowly. "my mom used to read that to me when i was little. before she left. i haven’t seen a copy of it in years."
your grip eases. "i’m sorry. i didn’t know."
"it’s okay," he says, voice quieter. "just brings back stuff. good stuff, mostly."
"you want it?"
he hesitates. "you take it. maybe it was meant for you."
"or maybe," you say gently, "it was meant to find you again."
you both head to the checkout, fingers brushing spines as you pass. at the counter, you each pick a bookmark without much thought. the clerk places them side by side—white lilies, pressed in glass.
jiwoong chuckles. "again? really?"
"we’re a walking coincidence," you reply, smiling.
the bell above the door chimes as you step into the cooling evening. the sky has turned lilac and steel, the air damp with the promise of rain.
"so," he says, shifting the paper bag in his arms, "can i get your number?"
you nod, pulling out your phone. "yeah. of course."
you exchange numbers, your fingers brushing once more. this time, neither of you pull away quickly.
"i’ll text you," he says.
"i’ll reply."
there’s a beat. not awkward, not exactly. just full of something unspoken.
"bye for now," he says.
"bye for now," you echo.
the bell chimes again as he steps back inside. you stand there a moment longer, watching the door, the golden light spilling out onto the sidewalk like memory. then you turn, the floorboards’ creak still echoing in your chest as you walk away into the soft evening.
jiwoong : y/n, js confirming, this is your number right?
y/n : yes hi, it is me
jiwoong : i think i accidentally took your book bag & you took mine
after he texted straight to the point, you then quickly ran over to the book bag you left in the corner of the room from yesterday. you were originally saving the book you bought for another day, so when you finally opened it you realised that it wasn't the book you bought.
y/n : yeah no i just checked my bag, i think it's your book
jiwoong : we still having matching bookmarks though right?
y/n : ofc haha
jiwoong : mind if i come over to swap? i was planning on reading today
y/n : yeah no ofc, i'll send you my address
jiwoong : sweet, see you then
the knock comes just after sunset, soft but deliberate. you open the door to see jiwoong standing there in a dark hoodie, hood half-up, but not enough to hide the bleach-blonde hair that catches the porch light like threads of gold. he’s holding your bookbag in one hand, his tall frame relaxed but still somehow intimidating in the quiet way he carries himself. his dark eyes flicker to yours, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“book swap,” he says, lifting the bag slightly.
you laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “accidental fate?”
he shrugs. “or just my way of getting to see you again.”
inside, he sits on the couch like he belongs there, legs spread slightly, one arm resting over the back. you hand him his bag, and he gives you yours. it’s almost funny, the symmetry of it all—like the universe keeps scripting coincidences and you’re both just reading lines. the book you’d accidentally taken is in your hands now, and you run your fingers along the cover. his name is scrawled on the inside in neat handwriting.
you offer him tea, and he accepts, leaning back as he watches you move through your space like he’s memorizing it. when you sit beside him again, your knees touch—just slightly—but neither of you pull away.
“your place smells like lavender,” he says.
“you smell like leather,” you reply.
his lips twitch, eyes amused, but it fades into something softer, warmer. “you’re easy to talk to,” he says, and it sounds like a confession.
you nod, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing. “so are you.”
the silence that follows is heavy with tension—not awkward, not hesitant, just charged. your fingers brush his again when you reach for your drink, and this time he doesn’t pretend it’s accidental. you look at him, and he looks back, something unspoken hanging in the air between you.
“before this gets confusing,” he says lowly, “i should tell you… i don’t do serious. i prefer something more casual.”
you hesitate, only for a breath. “that works for me.”
he nods once, then leans in, voice a whisper against your skin. “good. then let’s not overthink it.”
SUGGESTIVE THEMES AHEAD
he’s close now, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, and it’s suddenly hard to think. your heart’s doing that thing again, beating like a drum against your ribs. you lift your gaze to meet his, and the intensity of it steals your breath away. there’s something raw and honest in his eyes, a silent question and a promise all at once.
“can i?” he asks softly.
you’re almost lost for words, but you manage to whisper, “yes.”
he doesn’t move at first, just looks at you, his gaze tracing over your face like it’s something to be memorized. then his hand brushes your cheek, and the contact is electric, sending a shiver down your spine. his fingers trail gently along your jaw, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch like a moth drawn to a flame.
his other hand finds your waist, pulling you almost effortlessly onto his lap, thighs straddling his. you’re close, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he looks at you
his hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head back, exposing your throat. he’s silent as he looks up at you, something almost dark in his gaze. then he leans in, his lips brushing softly over your skin, trailing kisses along the sensitive line of your neck. you shiver under his touch, fingers instinctively gripping the front of his hoodie. he laughs softly, the sound warm against your skin.
“you’re sensitive,” he murmurs, nipping gently at your collarbone.
you let out a soft gasp, the sensation a sharp contrast to the tender kisses he was just leaving along your neck. he shifts, pulling you closer, and the movement puts you right against him, his thigh slipping between yours. you can feel the heat of his body, the hard planes of his chest, and it’s dizzying.
he’s relentless, mapping out your body with his lips and hands, like he’s determined to discover every spot that draws out a reaction from you.
his mouth finds the pulse point on your neck, his tongue dancing lightly over your skin. then he sucks gently, teeth grazing the spot. you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part pleasure, and he repeats the motion, savoring the way you arch into him.
his hand is under your shirt now, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. you arch again, your body seeking more of his touch, and he hums, low and pleased, his voice a deep rumble against your skin.
he pulls away for a moment, just long enough to look at you. there’s something almost primal in his gaze, like he’s a predator sizing up his prey. you’re caught somewhere between anticipation and fear, your breath coming in short gasps.
then he cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, and the gesture is unexpectedly tender.
“you’re shaking,” he says, his voice low and rough.
you blink, realizing that it’s true—your entire body is trembling, the nerves under your skin electric. he sees the realization in your eyes, and the edge of a smile quirks at his lips. he smooths a hand along your spine, his touch grounding.
“don’t be nervous,” he murmurs. “it’s just me.”
"easier said then done." you chuckled softly.
he smirked, his grip on you tightening slightly. his thumb traced circles on your hip as he spoke.
"trust me," he said, "i promise i won't bite—unless you ask."
"don't expect that type of question to arise." you chuckled softly
he tsked, mock disappointment on his face. "that's a shame. you should never limit your options."
his hand slid higher up your torso, ghosting just under the edge of your bra. he leaned in, so close that his lips just barely brushed the shell of your ear.
"i'm very good with my teeth."
"well i'm not into biting, sorry." you smiled sheepishly at him
he leaned back a little to look at you better, a smirk still playing at his lips.
"not even a little? you sure about that?" he teased, his hand moving over your stomach, tracing idle patterns on your skin.
"a tiny little bite, right… here…" he lightly nipped the sensitive skin of your throat.
"fine, i guess you can try." you spoke softly
his smirk grew, almost predatory. "ah, see, i knew i'd convince you."
his lips found your neck again, this time more insistent, nipping and sucking your skin with just a hint of teeth. he took his time, testing your limits, finding spots that made you gasp and arch into him.
his free hand moved to your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you flush against him. you could feel the heat of his body, the tension building between you like a coiled spring.
"you're so responsive," he murmured against your skin, his voice a gravelly rasp. "i could do this all night."
"you must've trained your stamina then." you joked
he laughed, the sound low and heady. "oh, my stamina's just fine, don't you worry."
he pulled back, his gaze locking with yours, dark and intense. his hand moved to your thigh, thumb brushing the skin just under the hem of your shorts.
"i can go all night if i need to."
your breath caught at his words, a shiver rippling through you. his touch was searing, sending sparks dancing across your skin. every spot he touched felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't help but press into him, your body seeking more of his touch.
he nipped your neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive area where your pulse was pounding. he knew exactly how to dismantle you, and he seemed to revel in the way your body responded to him.
his lips found your collarbone, tracing a trail of kisses along the bone. he shifted slightly, putting more of his body weight onto you, his thigh pressing against the soft flesh of your inner thigh.
he was everywhere, his presence overwhelming. his hands, his mouth, his body all working together to drive you to the edge. you could feel yourself unraveling beneath him, your nerves singing like a live wire.
he finally moved to your mouth, kissing you hard and deep, his tongue sweeping insistently past your defenses. you melted against him, your world narrowing down to the feel of his lips, the heat of his body, the way your heartbeat seemed to echo his.
he pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin.
"just remember—you asked for this."
"no, you're the one that asked to touch me first." you reminded him
he laughed softly, the sound muffled against your neck. "true, but you didn't say no."
he nipped your earlobe, his breath warm against your skin. "and you're certainly not complaining."
"i never said i was." you replied.
he pulled back to look at you, his eyes glittering with mischief. "so you're enjoying yourself?"
he punctuated his question with another kiss, this one lingering, his mouth possessive, almost savage.
he was so different like this, raw and unapologetically dominant. his hands were everywhere, moving over your body like they were mapping out the territory. his touch was possessive, claiming you as his own.
he finally pulled back, his eyes roaming over your body, and there was something almost feral in his gaze. he took a deep breath, like he needed a moment to compose himself.
"you're so soft," he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. "i could touch you all night."
"you already said that." you told him
he smirked, his hand trailing down your side. "can you blame me? you're delightful."
he leaned back, his gaze raking over your body, taking in every curve and contour. he looked like a predator sizing up its prey, and you couldn't help but feel goosebumps spreading across your skin.
"especially like this," he added, his fingers stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. "flushed and panting and so… compliant."
you scoffed gently with a smile due to the situation.
he laughed again, the sound low and smoky. "don't pretend like you don't like it."
his hand slid under your shirt, the callouses on his fingers lightly scraping over your stomach. "i can feel your heart racing. you're practically begging me to touch you."
"how confident." you chuckled
"i have reason to be." he smirked, his hand continuing its trail across your stomach, the touch sending tingles down your spine.
"i know what i want and i know how to get it."
his other hand moved to your hips, gripping them firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"and right now, all i want is you."
"bedroom then?" you suggested
there was a flash of hunger in his eyes at your suggestion. "bedroom. now."
he got to his feet, pulling you up with him in one fluid movement. he steered you towards the door, his hand on your lower back firm and unyielding.
the morning light filters in through gauzy curtains, soft and golden, painting your walls in warmth that doesn’t quite reach your chest. you blink slowly, the weight of sleep still lingering in your limbs. the sheets beside you are cool. empty.
you turn your head. his side of the bed is untouched now, the imprint already fading. his clothes are gone, the space that held his presence overnight now just a dip in the mattress and a faint trace of his scent—leather, and something warmer. familiar. comforting. and yet, just like steam rising from a mug, it’s disappearing fast.
but not lasting.
on the bedside table sits a note. plain white paper, black ink, folded once in half like a secret passed during class. you reach for it, fingers hesitant.
"enjoyed last night with you. if you ever wanna do it again, just call me up."
there’s a little winky face drawn at the end, slightly off-centre. it makes you snort quietly, your lips tugging into a reluctant smile.
"smooth," you mutter to yourself, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. your voice cracks around the word, too soft and vulnerable in the silence of your room.
you sit up slowly, letting the cool air touch your skin before pulling on a sweatshirt from the floor and slipping into soft cotton pants. the wood creaks beneath your feet as you pad out of the bedroom, the apartment still and quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside. a bird chirps once, then goes quiet. even the world seems to be holding its breath.
then the scent hits you.
nutella. pancakes. and something like coffee. the combination is oddly grounding, like the morning is wrapping you in a hug you didn’t ask for but desperately needed.
your brows lift in surprise as you turn the corner into the kitchen. there on the counter, neatly arranged like a page from a cozy morning spread, is a plate of pancakes drizzled with nutella, slices of banana fanned out on the side. there’s a steaming mug of coffee waiting beside it. he even folded a napkin into a lopsided triangle, clearly an attempt at being fancy.
and another note.
"you seemed like a nutella pancake type of girl. have a good day :)"
you pick it up, reading it twice. that little smiley face drawn at the end is crooked, rushed, like he wasn’t sure whether or not to leave it.
"what are you doing to me, jiwoong," you whisper, then shake your head. "casual. this is casual."
you sit down at the kitchen table, the warm plate in front of you. the first bite makes you sigh—it’s perfectly cooked, just the right amount of sweetness. something about it tastes like a memory you haven’t made yet. the coffee, slightly too strong, balances the sugar. you imagine him hurriedly pouring it, second-guessing if it was the right blend.
"he’s just being nice," you murmur, chewing slowly. "he’s your friend. with benefits. that’s all."
you eat in silence, letting the food ground you, give you something tangible to focus on. outside, the sky is still grey, with faint hints of blue trying to break through the clouds. the city breathes around you, muted and slow.
after the last bite, you wash the dishes with methodical ease, the water hot against your fingers. the mug clinks as you place it on the drying rack. you wipe your hands on a towel, then lean against the counter, eyes closed for a moment, just listening to the quiet.
after brushing your teeth, you shuffle back into bed. the pillows still smell faintly of him, like the memory of a dream that fades just as you reach for it. you bury your face in one for a second longer than you probably should.
you pull your book bag toward you, fingers searching for the spine of your current read. the one you ranted about in the bookstore. the one that left you breathless. you flip it open, the pages worn, your notes scribbled in the margins. you settle under the blanket, legs tucked beneath you.
as you lose yourself in the prose, time slips. the story wraps around you like a blanket, pulling you back into someone else’s world. your body relaxes. your heartbeat settles. words blur into feeling. the rhythm of the sentences echo like footsteps down a quiet hallway.
you pause a few chapters in, your eyes catching on a phrase that reminds you of something he said the night before, murmured in the dark against your neck.
"...like embroidery on fog..."
you smile to yourself, gently slipping the bookmark in. pressed lilies in glass. the same one he picked up. the same one you didn’t even realize you were both holding until it was too late. you run your thumb along the edge of it, the coolness a contrast to the warmth pooling in your chest.
"coincidences," you whisper, closing the book and holding it against your chest. "just coincidences."
your phone buzzes softly on the nightstand. a message from him.
jiwoong: did you like the pancakes? or am i banned from your kitchen forever?
you stare at the screen for a moment before typing back.
you: they were edible. borderline amazing. consider yourself on probation.
his reply is immediate.
jiwoong: damn. brutal. at least i got a smiley face on the second note. progress.
you: barely.
jiwoong: wanna hang out later? bookstore round two? i promise no ghosting this time.
you hesitate. thumb hovering over the keyboard.
then you type:
you: sure. just don’t steal the good books this time.
jiwoong: no promises. i’ve got a sixth sense for hidden gems. see you at four?
you: see you at four.
you set the phone down and lean back, staring up at the ceiling. your heart does a quiet little somersault. outside, a distant siren wails and fades. inside, everything feels still, suspended in a moment that could tip either way.
"casual," you remind yourself again. but it feels a lot like the beginning of something.
maybe something you’re not quite ready to name. not yet. but maybe soon.
maybe.
the bell above the bookstore door gives a gentle jingle as you step inside, the sound blending with the low creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. the scent of old paper, dust, and something sweet—like cinnamon and aged wood—wraps around you as if the store itself remembers you. it feels like stepping into a memory you never had, like the bookstore was holding its breath until you returned.
he’s already there.
jiwoong stands near the table by the entrance, a small pile of books tucked under one arm. his head lifts the moment the bell rings, and when his eyes find yours, they soften, his lips pulling into a quiet smile. there’s a warmth in the way he looks at you, like he’s seeing something familiar in a crowd of strangers.
"hey," he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "you came."
"of course," you reply, brushing your hands over your coat, letting the warmth of the store slowly melt the chill off your fingertips. "you said four. and you owe me a good book."
he laughs under his breath and sets his books down, stepping closer. "right. bookstore redemption arc."
"how’ve you been since this morning?" he asks, his voice dipping a little as he studies your face.
"honestly? pretty chill. had breakfast. did some laundry. read a little. replied to some emails i was avoiding. oh—and your pancakes? still thinking about them."
his grin widens. "i knew the nutella would win you over."
"don’t get cocky," you tease, then pause. "what about you? and hey—about this morning..."
he runs a hand through his hair, eyes glancing briefly away before they return to yours. "i wanted to be there when you woke up. i really did. but work called. one of my clients had a mini meltdown over deadlines and—"
"hey," you interrupt gently. "it’s okay. you left a note. and pancakes. that’s more than most people do."
his shoulders relax just a bit. "still. i didn’t want you to think i just... ghosted."
"i didn’t," you say, softer now. "you checked in. you showed up. and now here we are."
he exhales, almost like he’s been holding his breath. then he rubs the back of his neck. "so, uh... what’s the plan for round two?"
"hmm," you look around the warm, cluttered store. "we could... just wander until something calls to us?"
"like a literary scavenger hunt," he grins. "i’m in."
so you part ways for a bit, letting the quiet hum of the bookstore fill the spaces between you. you wander aisle after aisle, fingertips ghosting over book spines, pausing to flip through pages that catch your eye. somewhere in the poetry section, you catch a glimpse of him through the shelves—his dark hair falling into his eyes, his brows furrowed in concentration. he looks up at the same time, and your eyes meet for a second. you both smile without saying anything.
then you disappear again.
you find something eventually—an old book with a worn cover and gold foil lettering dulled by time. the paper smells like history, like it has soaked in a hundred stories beyond its own. you hug it to your chest and meander to the back of the store, where a small cluster of beanbags and mismatched chairs nestle in a reading nook. soft yellow light filters from a hanging lamp above, casting shadows that flicker with every movement. you sink into one of the beanbags, curling up with your find and cracking open the first page.
the sound of another body shifting into a beanbag pulls you out of the words a few minutes later. you glance up.
jiwoong is sitting across from you, book in hand, brows raised.
"what?" you ask.
he tilts his head and holds up his book. "you’ve gotta be kidding me."
you look down at your own. same cover. same title.
"no way," you murmur, then laugh, turning your book so he can see. "how did we both pick this?"
"great minds," he grins. "or maybe the universe is just messing with us again."
"we do have a knack for coincidences," you smile, setting your book aside. "should we... just share one copy?"
"definitely," he says, already moving over, making space on his beanbag. "come on. let’s make this cozy."
you scoot over, settling beside him. your knees brush. the beanbag shifts under the new weight and you both laugh as you try to find balance. his arm goes around your shoulders without hesitation, and he holds the book open with one hand.
"comfortable?" he asks.
"mmhm," you nod, leaning slightly into him.
"good. now let’s see what all the hype is about."
he starts to read aloud, his voice low and steady, weaving the story between the two of you. you listen, letting the words wrap around your thoughts, but eventually you shift slightly, trying to stretch your neck.
he notices immediately.
"you good?"
"my neck’s just... ugh. this angle."
he gently pats your head, guiding it down onto his shoulder. "better?"
you settle in. "much. thanks."
he keeps reading, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the page. outside, the light is starting to dim, the amber glow of the store’s lamps filling the space with soft shadows. around you, the world feels suspended—just you, him, and the story.
"this part’s good," he murmurs, tapping the paragraph. "listen to this."
he reads it again, slower this time. "'and in the hush between chapters, they knew something had changed—not loud, not dramatic, just a shift. like two stars blinking into alignment.'"
you don’t say anything for a moment.
then, quietly: "that’s beautiful."
"yeah," he whispers, glancing at you. "it really is."
his thumb lingers at the edge of the page before he turns it. the book creaks gently, like it, too, has settled into something more comfortable. your breathing matches his, slow and quiet.
"i used to come here all the time," he says suddenly, his voice soft and almost shy. "back when i didn’t know what i was doing. bookstores were the one place i didn’t feel lost."
"i get that," you reply. "it’s like... the world can fall apart outside, but in here, it’s just stories."
"exactly," he murmurs. "like time slows down for you."
"or maybe just lets you catch up."
he looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, thoughtful.
"you’re easy to be around," he says finally.
"you make it easy," you reply, your voice barely a whisper.
and for a while, that’s all you need. no declarations. no rushing forward. just the shared pages, the steady rhythm of his voice, the warmth of his side pressed against yours.
"hey," he says eventually.
"yeah?"
"thanks for coming today."
you smile, eyes still on the page. "you’re welcome."
and though neither of you says it aloud, you both know—you’ve started something neither of you can quite name just yet.
the soft hum of the ceiling fan spins above you, slicing the air in lazy circles. it's quiet now except for the occasional creak of wood or the rustle of sheets. his room smells faintly of lavender and laundry detergent, something familiar and calming. moonlight trickles through the blinds, casting silver lines across the tangle of blankets.
you're sitting cross-legged in the middle of jiwoong's bed, his oversized shirt draping over your frame like a tent, the borrowed shorts barely holding onto your hips. the sleeves swallow your hands completely, and he keeps glancing over at you like he’s trying not to smile. the cotton fabric is soft against your skin, worn from years of washing, and it smells like him—clean, warm, a little musky.
jiwoong, on the other hand, hasn’t even bothered to dress properly. he’s just in a pair of loose shorts, chest bare, skin warm and flushed from the shower you both took earlier. a damp towel hangs off the corner of a chair by the door, slowly dripping onto the wooden floor. his hair is still damp too, curling slightly at the ends, giving him a sleepy kind of softness.
you tug your legs up closer to your chest, leaning back against the headboard with a satisfied sigh.
"you’d totally be the first one to die," he says suddenly, grinning.
"excuse me?"
"in a zombie apocalypse," he clarifies, like it’s obvious. "you’d trip over nothing and just—bam. zombie snack."
you gasp, dramatically offended. "how dare you. i’m incredibly agile, thank you very much."
he snorts. "yeah, until a moth flies at you and you scream like it's the end of the world."
"okay, first of all, moths are unpredictable. second of all—if i died in a zombie apocalypse, it would only be because i sacrificed myself for you."
"that’s... actually sweet." he tilts his head. "but also wildly unrealistic. you wouldn’t even share your last slice of pizza."
"pizza is sacred. but you know what? i’d die for you."
he smirks. "aww. that’s romantic in a totally self-destructive way."
you narrow your eyes, then grin. "if we’re talking romance... are you a zombie? because you just ate my heart."
jiwoong groans, flopping back onto the bed. "why. why do you do this to me."
"because your pain brings me joy," you say sweetly, poking his bare shoulder.
he groans louder, rolling over. "that’s it. what’s the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard? go."
you laugh. "oh, i’ve got a whole list. but only if you go first."
"fine. are you a parking ticket? because you’ve got 'fine' written all over you."
you burst out laughing. "that’s awful. okay, okay—how about this: are you french? because eiffel for you."
he groans again, hiding his face in a pillow. "this is literal torture."
"you challenged me," you remind him gleefully.
he sits back up. "alright, new rule. straight face challenge. say them with a totally serious face. whoever laughs first loses."
"deal," you say, immediately sitting up straighter and schooling your expression.
"is your name google? because you’ve got everything i’ve been searching for."
you bite your lip, holding it in. "are you a magician? because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears."
"do you have a map? i keep getting lost in your eyes."
you crack, snorting into the oversized sleeve of your shirt.
"ha! gotcha," he points, victorious.
"okay, okay, you win. but only because your face was too ridiculous."
he smirks. "naturally. i was born with this face."
you nudge his knee with yours. "alright, next topic. if we were in a rom-com, what cliché scene would we totally have?"
jiwoong thinks for a second, then smiles. "sharing an umbrella in the rain. you hate me at first, but then the rain softens you."
you giggle. "i don’t hate you."
"yet," he adds cheekily.
"okay, well mine’s better. we get stuck in an elevator together. you’re panicking, and i’m calm because i’m amazing under pressure. we end up trauma-bonding."
"you’re amazing under pressure? you cried watching a commercial last week."
"it was emotional! the dog got reunited with the soldier!"
"you’re right," he says solemnly. "i’m sorry for doubting your strength."
you grin, then pause. "okay but if you were an animal, what would you be?"
"easy. black cat. mysterious. charming. a little chaotic."
"a little?" you tease.
"okay, a lot. but sexy, right?"
"sure. sexy chaos."
"what about you?"
"hmm. maybe a red panda? cute but always looks like it's on the verge of a breakdown."
"nah," he says, grinning. "you’re a pink fairy armadillo."
you blink. "what the hell is that?"
"google it," he says. "they’re weird and rare and look fake, but they're real. just like you."
"you’re so strange."
"thank you."
"wait," you say, squinting. "why do you know about pink fairy armadillos?"
"i read a conspiracy theory once that they’re actually aliens. like, sent to observe human behavior."
you stare. "you’re serious."
"i’m not saying i believe it. just that... it makes sense."
"i’m worried about you."
he leans back, arms behind his head. "speaking of conspiracies—what’s one you secretly believe?"
you hesitate. "okay... aliens are definitely real. like, the government has to be hiding something."
"agree," he nods. "and i think there’s a whole base somewhere dedicated to training psychic children."
you point. "you’ve watched too much netflix."
"birds aren’t real."
you pause. "what."
"they’re drones," he says seriously. "spying on us."
you throw a pillow at him. "you’re going to get famous for being the dumbest man alive."
"and you’ll get famous for winning a watermelon-eating contest on national tv."
"i would win that," you say proudly.
"and then go viral for tripping over your own foot during the celebration dance."
you laugh until your stomach hurts. your faces are flushed from smiling too hard, your voices hoarse from the sheer amount of ridiculous banter you’ve traded. the conversation keeps tumbling forward, wild and free. you lose track of time, of how many ridiculous topics you’ve jumped between. it feels endless, but safe.
by the time the laughter softens, the sky outside is navy-blue, stars scattered like salt. you’re both lying down now, stretched out side by side, legs tangled under the blanket. you can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, steady and grounding.
he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. "hey," he murmurs.
"yeah?"
"thanks for tonight."
"you’re welcome," you whisper, voice barely above a breath.
you fall asleep like that—next to each other, with half the world left unexplored in your conversations, and the rest waiting quietly for morning.
after another one of your intimate physical encounters together, the bathroom light glows softly, casting a warm yellow hue against the tiles. steam still clings to the mirror from the earlier shower, fogging up the edges like a gentle memory refusing to fade. you're sitting on the bathroom counter, legs swinging slowly, heels occasionally tapping against the cabinet. your skin is still warm beneath your pajamas — your favorite pair, worn thin from too many washes, the cotton soft and familiar, hugging your body in all the right places.
jiwoong stands by the sink, a toothbrush in his mouth, hair slightly damp from the shower, his fringe clinging to his forehead. he’s wearing a fresh shirt and the same gray sweats he brought from home, the waistband slightly loose, hanging in that careless way that somehow still makes your breath catch. he squeezes your toothpaste onto his brush and lets out a small grunt of approval.
"yours tastes better," he mumbles around the bristles, the minty foam gathering in the corner of his lips.
"better than what? motor oil?"
he shrugs, eyes flicking to you in the mirror. "don’t knock it. some people have terrible taste."
"are you speaking from personal experience?"
he spits, rinses, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "let’s just say... never trust a guy who brushes with cinnamon toothpaste."
you laugh, low and amused, watching him as he dries his face with the towel that’s still warm from earlier. "you always this picky about toothpaste?"
he turns, leaning one elbow on the counter beside your knee. "only when it’s yours."
you study him, the quiet tilt of his lips, the glow of warm bathroom light on his cheekbones. "tell me something. happiest childhood memory. no hesitation."
he doesn’t pause. "one summer, my family went camping near this lake. no phones, no screens, no signal. just swimming all day, catching bugs, burning our skin, and lying under the stars at night. i remember laughing so much my stomach hurt. my dad tried to roast marshmallows and burned every single one. said they were 'gourmet', like charcoal was part of the recipe."
"that actually sounds kind of perfect," you murmur, resting your cheek on your knee.
"what about you?"
you shift, wrapping your arms around your legs. "mine’s not exactly... lighthearted. i was twelve. my parents were fighting constantly, every night echoing with shouting. one night, my older sibling came into my room, didn’t say anything, just grabbed my hand and led me outside. we walked to the playground near our house and sat on the swings in silence for hours. it was the first time in weeks i felt like i could breathe. like someone really saw me. just me. not as a problem or burden."
he gently brushes his fingers against your calf. "i see you now. every version of you."
"i know," you whisper, and your voice is as fragile as porcelain.
the hum of the fan fills the silence that follows, soothing and steady.
"what did you want to be when you were little?" he asks, tilting his head.
"everything," you say, smiling faintly. "an astronaut, a vet, a marine biologist. i had a solid year where i was obsessed with baking shows and swore i'd become a world-class pastry chef."
"that explains the cupcakes you made last week."
"they were good!"
"they were a sugar bomb with feelings."
you nudge his hip with your knee. "okay, your turn. childhood dream?"
he glances at the floor, then back at you. "voice actor. cartoons, anime, video games — i used to practice voices in my room. even tried recording myself with my phone. never told anyone that before."
"why not?"
"it felt ridiculous. like, who actually makes it in that world?"
"you would’ve," you say, certain. "you’ve got the voice. and the presence."
he looks away, cheeks tinting slightly. "thanks."
"let’s talk fears."
he leans against the wall across from you, arms crossed loosely. "failing. not just messing up, but failing something or someone that matters. i’m terrified of disappointing people who put their faith in me."
"i get that. mine’s... loneliness. not just being alone in a room, but feeling like no one truly knows me. losing someone i love and then... just floating."
he walks over, wraps his arms around you, warm and firm and grounding. his chin rests on your shoulder. "you’re not alone. not with me. not ever."
"promise?"
"promise."
fingers laced, he leads you to your room. the sheets are rumpled, pillows scattered. the air smells faintly of lavender from your diffuser. you both crawl into bed, limbs tangling like roots.
"okay," you whisper, your voice soft in the dim. "what did your past relationships teach you?"
"that i tried to be a savior instead of a partner," he admits. "i thought love was fixing someone, healing their wounds. now... i want peace. softness. someone who wants to heal with me, not because of me. that’s why i keep things casual now. it’s safer. easier."
you trace slow circles on his forearm. "i used to think love meant drama — the big gestures, the fighting, the passion. but now, i think it’s in the quiet. in making tea without asking, remembering how someone takes their toast. showing up, again and again."
"like this."
"like this," you agree.
he shifts, looking at you. "you know my family. tell me about yours."
you inhale. "my parents are complicated. they love through rules, expectations. affection was... conditional. but my siblings and i, we were a unit. we had to be. they taught me what loyalty looks like — even when love is hard, even when it’s loud and messy."
he brushes your wrist with his fingertips.
"do you believe in soulmates?"
you consider. "i believe in people who feel like home. even if they’re temporary. even if they don’t stay. some connections are too real to be coincidence."
"i believe in timing," he says. "in people showing up when you're ready. soulmates, maybe, but not just one. different people for different versions of ourselves."
"do you ever wonder what happens after we die?"
"more than i admit," he says. "sometimes i think we just... return to the world. not in a scary way. more like our energy becomes part of something else. a breeze. a sound. a moment."
"i want to become a star. or a cloud shaped like a duck."
he laughs. "majestic duck cloud."
"exactly."
"what’s a weird habit of yours?"
"i chew straws. like, obsessively. i’ve had to stop myself on dates."
"oh god. horrifying."
"you asked. your turn."
"i once gave a fake museum tour to tourists who looked lost. made up the entire thing. they tipped me."
he stares. "you’re terrifying."
"thank you."
"tell me a moment that changed everything."
you smile into the pillow. "meeting you. not because it was fireworks or fate. but because it made me pause. made me think. you reminded me what it means to be seen again."
he reaches out, touching your face. "mine was quitting my job. it terrified me. everyone thought i was reckless. but i needed it. and now, i’m here. and i think it led me to you."
"what does love mean to you?"
"love is showing up, even when it’s inconvenient. it’s holding space, listening without needing to fix. it’s forgiving, staying, remembering the little things. it’s the choice to be gentle."
"what do you value in a partner?"
"honesty. compassion. someone who lets me be weird and doesn’t flinch. someone who feels like coming home."
"how do you show love?"
"touch, always. and words. i say 'i love you' more than i should. life’s short."
"i leave notes. write letters. i like immortalizing moments. like pressing flowers in a book."
he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "where do you see yourself in five years? ten?"
you close your eyes. "creating. living somewhere warm. maybe by the sea. maybe teaching. writing. not rushing. just being."
"do you see me there?"
you open your eyes, meeting his. "i do. if you want to be."
his smile is slow, quiet. "i want to be."
you fall asleep like that, fingers woven under the covers, breaths syncing in the hush of the night. outside, the world spins on, indifferent and vast. but in that room, on that bed, the future feels soft. like a promise whispered in the dark, waiting to bloom.
another week slips by like a dream you don’t quite remember upon waking, soft around the edges, blurred by routine and warmth. this time, it’s his place. familiar now, not because of its layout or the way the furniture sits, but because of the scent that clings to the air—something clean and boyish, something you know by heart. it smells like jiwoong. it always does. a comforting, grounding kind of scent that makes your shoulders loosen without realizing.
you’re both freshly showered, the steam having long since dissipated into the corners of the bathroom, clinging to the mirror in a stubborn haze. your hair is still damp, sticking lightly to your forehead and curling at the ends. you’re wrapped in one of his old university shirts, oversized and worn thin at the sleeves, the logo nearly faded off. paired with a pair of plaid pajama pants that pool slightly at your ankles, you feel swallowed by him. and maybe, just maybe, you like that feeling.
jiwoong’s wearing a hoodie he must’ve yanked from the back of his closet, the color faded from too many washes and the cuffs stretched out from habitually pulling them over his hands. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, loose and lived-in, as he pads barefoot into the living room, carrying two bowls of food balanced carefully in his hands, brows furrowed in concentration.
"i hope you like overcooked rice and slightly burnt kimchi stew," he says, a proud grin tugging at his lips, though he tries to sound serious.
"a chef and a liar," you tease, taking the bowl from him and settling on the couch with a soft sigh. "what can’t you do?"
"math," he answers immediately, with a straight face, flopping beside you with a mock-serious expression. "but i can feed you. that's a skill."
before you can protest, he scoops up a spoonful and offers it to you with exaggerated care.
"open wide. say 'ahh'."
"jiwoong, seriously?"
"c'mon," he wiggles the spoon like it’s a toy, eyes sparkling with mischief. "it’s part of the dining experience. gourmet service. five stars."
you sigh dramatically, the kind of exasperated affection that only someone deeply comfortable can summon. but you lean forward anyway, lips closing around the spoon, eyes fixed on his as the warmth of the stew spreads across your tongue. it's just spicy enough to make your nose tingle, salty with a hint of smokiness.
"not bad," you admit, chewing thoughtfully.
"you hear that? not bad. i'm taking that as a michelin star. maybe even two."
he feeds himself next, then you again, laughing when you roll your eyes but still open your mouth, unable to resist the playfulness etched into his every motion.
the tv plays some rom-com in the background, one of those lighthearted ones where nothing really hurts and everyone ends up happy. the glow of the screen flickers against the walls, painting soft shadows across his cheekbones, catching the gleam in his eyes. it all feels so normal, so quietly extraordinary in its simplicity.
"you ever think about acting?" he asks between bites, licking his spoon clean before dipping it back into the bowl.
"what, like you?"
"i mean, you're expressive. plus, you lie really well. like when you said this stew wasn’t bad."
"you wound me," you say, pressing a hand to your chest with mock betrayal.
"don’t worry. i’ll heal you with another bite," he grins, already aiming the spoon at your mouth again.
the banter continues, easy and light, laced with inside jokes and half-hearted jabs that both of you know are just your way of saying i like being here with you. i like this.
when you both finish eating, he brings out ice cream from the freezer—two spoons, one pint, as always. you sit cross-legged on the couch, dipping your spoon into the cold treat with a happy hum.
"wait," you say suddenly, eyes narrowing with mischief. "don’t move."
"what now?"
you lean forward and smear a little swipe of ice cream just under his nose.
"what the—"
"mustache," you giggle, biting your lip.
he pauses, eyes crossing slightly as he tries to see it. "do i look dignified?"
"you look like a child who discovered dairy."
he laughs, loud and unfiltered, leaning in to lick it off in the most exaggerated way possible.
"delicious. tastes like revenge."
"you’re impossible."
"and yet, here you are."
after the ice cream is gone and your stomachs are filled with both food and laughter, you both wander to the kitchen, bowls and spoons in hand. you rinse while he soaps, your shoulders brushing every few seconds, movements in sync like a quiet dance choreographed by familiarity.
"we make a good team," he says, stacking a dish onto the drying rack with a small clink.
"we do."
"maybe we should open a restaurant."
"called ‘mediocre meals and stolen toothbrushes’."
he chuckles. "speaking of..."
the bathroom lights hum to life, warm and golden. you take your spot at the sink, placing your spare toothbrush beside his. your toothpaste is already uncapped, ready.
jiwoong reaches for it without hesitation.
"you have your own," you point out, already knowing where this is going.
"yours tastes better. the mint is sweeter. plus, it's tradition now."
"stop stealing my stuff."
"it's not stealing if we live together in the hypothetical future. sharing is caring."
"you mean in the alternate universe where you don't hoard my toothpaste?"
he just grins, brushing his teeth shamelessly, foam collecting at the corners of his mouth.
you follow, brushing in rhythm, watching each other in the mirror. he makes faces between strokes, and you roll your eyes, barely managing not to laugh. there’s foam at the corner of his lips. you reach over and wipe it with your thumb.
"thanks, mom," he says with a wink.
"ungrateful little brat."
after brushing, you both wash your faces, splashing cold water to shake off the last dregs of the day. then it’s lights off, bedroom next.
his room smells like laundry detergent and something uniquely him. the bed is messy but inviting, the sheets soft from use, pillows fluffed lazily at the head. there’s a small lamp on the bedside table, casting a warm glow across the room that makes everything look golden and quiet.
he flops onto the bed first, arms open like always.
"come here."
you climb in beside him, letting your body relax into the mattress, into the warmth of him, into the safety of a space where nothing is expected except being.
his voice is quieter now, softer. half a whisper, half a question.
"will you be mine, forever?"
it’s said like a joke, but there’s something else laced beneath it—a tremble, a hope, something half-serious. maybe a secret wish he can’t quite admit aloud.
"stop joking around," you murmur, even as your chest tightens.
he laughs, but it's not the loud kind. it's quiet, breathy, filled with something tender and unspoken.
"maybe i am. maybe i’m not."
his arms curl around your waist as he pulls you close. his face presses into the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin.
"you smell good," he mumbles.
"you smell like toothpaste."
"your toothpaste."
"you’re ridiculous."
"and yet... here you are," he echoes again, voice nearly sleep-drunk now, thick with comfort.
your hands tangle in his hair, gentle and slow. your heart beats steadily, tucked against his, a soft and steady rhythm that matches his.
you don't say it out loud, but you think it.
i might just want to be yours too.
outside, the city breathes. inside, so do you.
in tandem. in time. together. and maybe, just maybe, forever.
three days pass like breath between words—quiet, unnoticed, but essential. the air feels heavier tonight, though not in a bad way. it's just thick with the kind of quiet that lingers in the corners of a room when you're alone for too long. you're curled up on the couch in your pajamas, wrapped in a fleece blanket, the soft hum of your fan the only sound until your phone vibrates on the table next to you.
jiwoong's name lights up your screen.
"hey," his voice comes through, low and warm, like honey over gravel.
"hey," you reply, softer than usual. the weight of the day still sits on your shoulders, pressing into your bones.
"you doing okay?" he asks, and there’s something gentle behind his words, a cautiousness like he's afraid you might break.
there's a beat of silence. then, you sigh. "not really. today was... a lot."
he doesn't press. instead, he says, "wanna talk about it? or just... talk?"
"both," you admit. "can we talk about something else first? like... childhood memories or something dumb and soft."
"okay," he says immediately. "do you remember those inflatable pool toys? like the ones shaped like whales or sharks?"
"yeah, why?"
"i had one named gary. i cried when it popped on a cactus. held a funeral and everything. i even wrote a speech."
"you cried over a plastic whale named gary?" you ask, laughter bubbling up.
"gary was family," he says solemnly.
"that’s tragic," you laugh, and it's the first time you really feel your shoulders drop today. "okay, my turn. i once buried a sandwich in the backyard because i didn’t want to eat it and i thought if i gave it back to nature, it wouldn't count."
"that’s... poetic," he says. "also a crime against sandwiches."
"no, that’s wasteful. and stupid. i got grounded."
he laughs with you, and the two of you fall into that easy rhythm of shared stories. the kind that live in the deep parts of your memory, softened by time. eventually, it quiets.
"can i tell you a secret fear? one i haven't said before?"
"only if i can tell you one too," he answers.
"deal," you say. "you go first."
"alright. i’m scared that... i'm all talk. like i dream big, but i won't actually make it anywhere. that i'll just keep floating and never find something solid."
you let that settle, then say quietly, "i’m scared of not being enough for the people i love. that i’ll love hard, and they won’t stay. that maybe... i'm easy to leave."
the line goes quiet for a second. then, he whispers, "i'm not going anywhere."
you blink, eyes stinging for reasons you don't want to examine just yet. "thanks, jiwoong."
"always," he says, and just as you prepare to thank him again, the doorbell rings.
you pause. "wait. did you..."
"open the door."
you scramble up, heart racing, and pull the door open. there he stands, hoodie pulled up halfway, holding a familiar plastic cup with condensation dripping down the sides.
"mango alisan," he says, holding it out to you.
you stare at it, then at him. "you didn’t have to—"
"i know," he cuts in gently. "but i wanted to. i figured if i couldn’t fix the day, i could at least bring a little sweetness."
you take the drink, cradling it like it's sacred. "you remembered my order."
"of course i did," he says, like it’s obvious.
you step aside to let him in. he kicks his shoes off at the door like he's done it a hundred times before and sinks onto your couch like he belongs there.
you settle next to him, sipping your drink slowly, the cold seeping into your bones in the best way.
"go on," he says softly. "i'm listening."
so you talk.
you tell him everything that weighed you down today—the miscommunications, the pressure, the expectations that piled up until you felt like you might collapse under them. you speak until your throat is dry and your drink is nearly gone.
jiwoong doesn’t interrupt. he nods, makes small hums of agreement, but mostly he just... listens. and it helps. his silence feels like safety. his presence, like gravity.
"i feel better," you admit eventually, voice small.
"good," he replies. "you deserve to feel light. even just for a little while."
he stands then, stretching his arms above his head with a soft groan. "i should go before it gets too late."
you follow him to the door. just as he opens it, rain explodes from the sky in a sudden, dramatic downpour.
"oh my god," you laugh. "where did that even come from?"
"summer rain," he says, stepping onto the porch. "always dramatic, always uninvited."
a beat of hesitation. then you step out with him.
the rain is cold and insistent, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but neither of you run for cover. instead, you stand there, laughing like children, your hair sticking to your forehead, the sound of water slapping the pavement loud and chaotic.
"we look ridiculous," you say through giggles, shivering slightly.
"we look alive," he counters, reaching over and pushing wet strands of hair away from your face.
you're suddenly aware of how close he is. his fingers linger at your temple, brushing your cheek gently. his eyes lock onto yours, and something wordless passes between you. something heavy. something fragile. something honest.
his hand drops slowly, but his eyes stay locked on yours. the rain runs down his face, dripping from his lashes. he swallows hard.
"i should get going," he says, voice quieter now. "before i get sick."
"yeah," you nod, even as part of you wants to reach for him. "you should."
he hesitates again, then reaches out to tug your sleeve gently. "take a hot shower, alright? don’t get sick too. promise me."
"i promise," you say with a small smile.
he lingers a moment longer, then steps off your porch and into the night. his figure blurs quickly in the downpour, vanishing down the street like a half-formed thought.
you watch him until he disappears around the corner, then you close your door, heart thudding against your ribs. you press your back to the door for a moment, just breathing.
you head to the bathroom, peeling off soaked clothes, turning the knob until steam begins to fill the room and fog up the mirror.
the shower is hot, wrapping around you like a blanket, washing the rain away but leaving the warmth of jiwoong's presence intact. your muscles unwind beneath the spray. the weight of the day begins to dissolve.
his words echo in your head as water streams down your back:
"i'm not going anywhere."
and somehow, in that moment, you believe him.
the buzz of the summer festival surrounds you in a haze of neon lights and distant laughter. strings of glowing lanterns hang above, casting warm light over the crowd as music hums through the air from a stage you can barely see. children run past you clutching cotton candy, the scent of grilled skewers and sweet roasted nuts trailing behind them.
you walk beside jiwoong, your fingers brushing from time to time, though neither of you hold hands. it feels... familiar, but not defined. his hoodie sleeves are rolled up, and his gaze scans the vibrant chaos with lazy amusement.
"this reminds me of those little carnivals they set up behind schools back home," you say, tilting your head toward a cluster of game booths.
"except this one's about three times as loud and ten times more expensive," he replies, smirking.
"and yet you're still here. willingly."
"i was promised good food and questionable decisions. i’m waiting for the latter."
you laugh and nudge his side. "you’re here because i asked."
"yeah, well. that too."
you veer toward a nearby stall lined with glittering trinkets and handmade accessories. the vendor—a guy around your age—smiles brightly as you approach.
"hello, pretty one," he says, offering you a charm shaped like a tiny peach. "it’s good luck."
you grin and lean in to examine the charms, teasing, "are you saying i need luck?"
"not at all. but it couldn’t hurt someone as lovely as you."
a light chuckle escapes you. "smooth."
you take the charm, turning it over in your palm. out of the corner of your eye, you catch jiwoong's expression shift. it’s subtle—his jaw tightening, that usual lazy smirk replaced by something still. unreadable. it flickers and vanishes almost instantly, but it stays with you like a shadow.
but before you can say anything, he speaks up. "ready to go?"
you nod, handing over a few coins to the vendor with a polite smile before turning to follow jiwoong. you both wander toward a quieter area of the festival where wooden picnic tables are scattered beneath glowing paper lanterns. a small fountain trickles nearby, the air cooler here, tinged with the scent of night blossoms and fresh rain on the breeze.
you sit down across from each other, the worn bench creaking slightly beneath your weight.
"so," you begin, poking at a leftover snack from earlier, "books. did you ever finish the one i recommended?"
"the one about existential dread and talking plants?"
"yes, that one."
"i read three chapters. got distracted by life."
"classic jiwoong," you tease. "always quitting just before it gets good."
"hey, i don’t quit. i pause. indefinitely."
"sounds like quitting with extra steps."
he smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. his gaze lingers on you for a second longer than it should, as if he wants to say something else. something deeper. but the moment passes.
"you’re unusually quiet," you observe.
"just tired."
you don’t press. instead, you stretch out your legs beneath the table and nudge his knee with yours. "want some peach candy?"
"nah, i’m good."
but you still hand him one anyway, and he takes it with a sigh, unwrapping it slowly. silence stretches, soft and strange.
your eyes meet. his are darker tonight, unreadable under the flickering light. the quiet becomes heavier, full of what-ifs and things left unsaid. everything around you—laughter, chatter, the clink of bottles—blurs into something distant. the moment extends between you both like a tightrope, delicate and dangerous. your breath catches. his does too.
neither of you speak.
and then someone shouts from across the field, breaking the trance. the spell snaps like a thread.
"cold?" he asks suddenly, already shrugging off his jacket.
"a little," you admit.
he hands it to you without fanfare, along with a small red bean pastry and a plastic capsule from one of the gacha machines nearby. the gesture is so casual, so completely him, and yet it tugs at something inside you.
"you seriously got me a toy?" you raise an eyebrow.
"felt like you needed something silly. open it."
you twist the capsule open and find a tiny keychain shaped like a smiling sun. your lips part slightly.
"how did you know this would make me feel better?"
jiwoong shrugs, looking away. "just did."
you run your thumb over the smooth plastic, heart oddly warm. you look at him, really look. and something stirs beneath your ribcage.
there’s that silence again, soft but filled with something unsaid.
he turns his head then, eyes catching on someone across the field. a man standing near a takoyaki stall, laughing with a friend. jiwoong’s posture changes—shoulders tensing, mouth pressing into a thin line.
you follow his gaze. "someone you know?"
he doesn’t answer right away. then: "someone i used to know."
the air shifts. like gravity rearranges itself.
"do you... want to say hi?" you ask gently.
he shakes his head. "nah. it’s fine."
"jiwoong. go. it’s okay. we’re friends, right? friends don’t hold each other back."
his eyes flick to yours. there's something behind them—hesitation, longing, guilt?
"you sure?"
"positive."
you nudge his arm. "go. say what you need to say. i’ll be here."
he doesn’t move at first. then, slowly, he rises. his hand brushes your shoulder in passing—light, almost reverent.
"thanks," he murmurs.
you offer a small smile. "don’t make it weird."
he laughs, the sound brief but real, and then he walks away. toward that person. toward whatever unfinished story that still clings to him.
you watch him go, fingers curled around the little sun keychain. the jacket still warm around your shoulders. for a moment, you imagine what might’ve happened if you had said something back at the table. if you'd leaned forward instead of just meeting his gaze.
around you, the world begins to fill in again. the music surges. someone nearby lights a sparkler, and the flicker catches in the corner of your vision like a heartbeat.
the laughter around you returns to focus, but the tightrope between you and him doesn’t vanish. it just stretches thinner.
and you wonder—when he comes back, will it still be there?
the music hums softly through the speakers, a gentle current that winds through the quiet of jiwoong’s apartment. warm lamplight spills across the wooden floor, casting a calm glow on the half-empty cups and cupcake wrappers strewn across the table. you're curled up on his couch, legs tucked beneath you, your fingers wrapped around your favorite drink—mango alisan tea, sweet and cold, beads of condensation slipping down the cup. the scent of sweet tea lingers in the air, mixing with the faint traces of vanilla frosting and his cologne.
jiwoong’s next to you, head slightly tilted, idly peeling the paper from the cupcake you brought. he’d called it a sugar bomb the first time he tried it, claiming it nearly gave him a toothache. but now he’s halfway through it again, crumbs clinging to his thumb.
"i still don’t know how this thing hasn’t been banned yet," he mutters around a mouthful.
"yet you’re eating it again," you point out, sipping your tea.
"because i value the thrill of living on the edge. death by frosting. very rock and roll."
his fingers absently trace the little charm on your bracelet—the identical one you both realized you owned when you first met. the coincidence felt small then, amusing even. now it carries weight. it feels like proof of something neither of you can name.
"you still smell like lavender," he says, voice low.
"and you still smell like leather," you reply, glancing at him.
"the good kind, right? not like… car freshener leather."
"the very good kind," you say, amused. "like expensive mystery."
he smiles, turning the bracelet over in his fingers. "how do you always smell like that?"
"witchcraft. maybe i bathe in it."
"would explain a lot."
he leans his head back on the couch, gaze drifting upward, fingers still toying with the bracelet.
"you’re wearing those weird earrings again," he says.
you reach up, brushing your fingertips over the mismatched moon and star dangling from your ears. "they’re not weird. they’re charming."
"they’re strange."
"strange suits me," you say, meeting his eyes.
he gives a small hum of agreement. "yeah. it really does."
you pull out your phone, opening the front camera to check your earrings. your reflection stares back, familiar and a little flushed from the warmth of the room. the earrings are uneven as always, a star on one side, a moon on the other.
"still charming," you murmur, then set the phone aside.
the song changes. ariana grande’s voice flows gently through the speakers, her duet with nathan sykes—almost is never enough. a soft ache winds through the melody, melancholic and wistful.
you listen in silence, the kind that’s full, not awkward. his arm brushes yours, and neither of you moves away. the bracelet swings slightly from his fingertips.
your thoughts drift.
you think about the way your paths crossed. all the little connections that pulled you toward him—the shared bracelet, the overlapping circles of friends, the coincidences that stopped feeling like coincidences. maybe the universe was always nudging you both closer. maybe this was always meant to happen, just like this. maybe you’ve been orbiting each other longer than you knew.
"you know," he says, suddenly, pulling your thoughts back. "i always wanted to learn how to play the piano."
you blink. "really?"
"yeah. when i was a kid, i thought if i could play piano, i'd become one of those people who looked mysterious in a beautiful way. like, silent but poetic."
you snort. "what happened?"
"life. sports. lack of talent."
"you might still be able to do it."
"maybe. though i don’t know if i can pull off poetic anymore."
"you have your moments."
he glances at you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "oh? name three."
"you brought me my favorite tea without me asking. you let me have the last bite of cupcake. and... you didn’t mock my earrings today."
"yet," he teases.
you nudge him with your elbow. "see? poetic."
he leans a bit closer, lowering his voice. "fine. what’s something you never told anyone?"
you hesitate, then glance down at your hands. "i used to write letters to a future version of myself. i hid them in books. i think some are still scattered around."
"that’s kind of beautiful."
"kind of embarrassing."
"nah. it’s like leaving messages in bottles. maybe one day you’ll find one again."
you smile at the thought. "what about you? any hidden letters?"
"i made mixtapes. full of songs that made me feel something, even if i didn’t know what. burned them onto cds."
"emo kid confirmed."
"absolutely. with pride."
the room settles again. outside, the night thickens. inside, the soft lamp glow cradles the two of you.
you don’t say it.
but you know it.
and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for tonight.
weeks had passed since your last encounter, and though you tried to ignore it, you had a creeping feeling that something was shifting. you chalked it up to life, to schedules, to being busy. that’s what adults did, right? they got caught up in work, in errands, in existing. it wasn’t avoidance. it couldn’t be. but when jiwoong asked you to meet at the bookstore, something inside you stilled. your stomach coiled into uneasy knots.
the bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, a familiar chime that used to make you smile. the air carried the scent of aged paper, worn leather bindings, and freshly brewed coffee—a comforting combination, a sensory cocoon you both used to claim as yours. the bookstore had always felt like a small sanctuary nestled in the bustle of seoul, timeless and warm. it was your shared hideaway. today, though, the air felt thicker. slower. the light that filtered through the tall windows didn’t seem as golden as it used to.
jiwoong sat cross-legged on a dark green beanbag in the poetry section. his drink sat untouched on the floor beside him, the lid still on. you settled onto the beanbag across from him, knees brushing the fabric like it might anchor you.
"thanks for meeting me," he said, voice quiet.
you nodded, trying to read the expression on his face. his eyes flicked toward yours, then away. his hands fiddled with the corner of a paperback.
"so," he began again, breath catching in his throat, "i’ve been seeing someone."
you didn’t react immediately. the words just sort of hovered in the space between you, waiting to be absorbed.
"it’s... new. kind of unexpected," he added.
"oh," you said. the word felt like a stone dropping into your gut. you looked at the book in his hand instead of him. "since when?"
"a couple of weeks."
he scratched at his jaw, eyes darting to the floor, the shelves, anywhere but you. "they’re stable. they’re kind. it’s not dramatic or overwhelming. it’s... peaceful."
"peaceful?" you echoed. your lips tugged into a small, hollow smile. "sounds nice."
"it is," he replied. "i think i need that. something that feels... safe. like rest, not like running."
"and we were... running?"
jiwoong winced. "not exactly. but we weren’t resting, either."
a silence pooled at your feet. it stretched high into the shelves, up into the ceiling. you looked around at the books, at the poems lining the spines, memories tucked between pages you’d read together before.
"it was the guy from the festival, wasn’t it? the one who you saw."
jiwoong nodded. "he set me and this girl up on a blind date. i almost said no, but... it didn’t feel right to ignore it. so i went. and now i’m here. telling you. because it didn’t feel right to not tell you, either."
"so that’s it? you’re ending this?"
he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. his expression was heavy, sorrowful.
"i think we should stop. the casual thing. it wouldn’t be fair to you if i kept doing this. you deserve more than someone who’s unsure."
"you think i care about fair?" your voice was sharper than you intended. "jiwoong, this isn’t about what’s fair. it’s about what’s real."
he tried to speak, but you kept going, voice cracking as emotion built beneath your ribs.
"you told me i deserve someone who makes me feel at home. someone who stays. someone who listens, forgives, remembers. you said i should have the person i talked about before. but don’t you see? you already were that person."
his brows knit together. "what do you mean?"
"you brought me my favorite tea without me asking. you came over when i was at my lowest and just... sat with me. no solutions. just presence. you remembered things i didn’t even say out loud. you stayed. even when it was inconvenient."
your hands were shaking now. you clenched them into fists.
"you were already being that person. you were already loving me. even if you didn’t call it that."
jiwoong looked gutted. his mouth opened, then closed. his voice came out ragged. "i didn’t know. i thought... i didn’t think it was enough. i didn’t want to hurt you."
you forced out a breath. it was bitter, tight. "well, you did anyway."
the bookstore seemed impossibly quiet. the soft hum of jazz played from a speaker in the corner. a couple browsed a table nearby, unaware of the unraveling taking place just feet from them.
"you can’t ask me to just—just stand here and smile while you walk into something new. like none of this meant anything."
jiwoong looked up at you then, really looked. there was pain in his eyes, real and aching. "i never meant to leave you like this."
you stood, the beanbag shifting beneath your legs. you grabbed your coat, your drink, anything to keep your hands busy.
you didn’t say it out loud.
just... stay away from me. please.
it echoed through your chest like a drumbeat. an anguished, internal plea. a quiet boundary whispered from the deepest, rawest part of you. not a punishment, not even anger. just a truth you couldn’t carry out loud.
"wait," he said, getting to his feet. "just let me explain—"
"don’t." you turned away. "you made your choice. this is mine. i need space. and i can’t heal if you keep hovering like a ghost."
he stood frozen, arm half-lifted like he didn’t know whether to reach for you or let you go.
you didn’t wait for him to decide.
you stepped into the fading light of evening, your chest tightening with every step. the cold nipped at your skin. you welcomed it. it kept you from falling apart completely.
by the time the drizzle started, you were already halfway down the street. you didn’t stop. you didn’t look back. your face was wet from more than just the rain.
in your mind, one thought kept circling, biting its own tail:
he was supposed to be it.
but he wasn’t.
and now you had to figure out how to be okay again. without him. without almost. without the dream.
just you.
still standing.
still aching.
but still moving.
two days had passed since your conversation with jiwoong, and the world had grown quieter in a way that wasn’t peace but absence. the wind had a strange way of carrying stories in this part of the city—thin alleyways lined with red brick, ivy crawling up forgotten stone, the scent of incense lingering somewhere between memory and myth. you wandered, fingers deep in your coat pockets, following the faded ink of directions scribbled on the back of a napkin, nearly folded in half a dozen times. each fold, a choice. each corner, a hesitation.
it led you here, to a tucked-away shrine that didn’t appear on any map, hidden just behind a tea shop that smelled like burnt sugar, aged wood, and dried chrysanthemums. everything about it felt like a secret you were meant to stumble into. the kind of place that didn’t exist unless you truly needed it to.
you hadn’t planned to tell anyone about him. not really. but the ache had begun to feel like its own kind of silence, and somehow, your curiosity—the why, the how, the if—grew heavier than your heartbreak.
"hello?" your voice was tentative, barely a breath in the dim light. you stepped through the threshold of the shrine, where warm wood creaked beneath your soles. paper lanterns hung from the rafters like forgotten stars, glowing gently. the air was warm and smelled faintly of sandalwood. it felt ancient, yet still breathing.
a man appeared from behind a curtain of deep crimson fabric. he wore robes the color of storm clouds, and his silver hair was tied back with a thread of red. his face was lined with age, not in weariness but wisdom. his gaze landed on you, steady.
"you seek something," he said, his voice low and assured.
you blinked. "how did you—?"
"people only find this place when they’re asking questions they haven’t put into words yet. what is it you think you’ve lost?"
"i... i don’t know if i’ve lost him. or if he was never really mine."
he gestured toward a mat by the low table, and you sat, folding your legs beneath you. the tea he poured steamed quietly in the hush. it smelled like ginger, orange peel, and something earthy you couldn’t name. your hands curled around the warm ceramic bowl. you didn’t drink.
"start from the beginning," he said.
so you did.
"it started at a party. a mutual friend thing. not the kind of place you expect to find anything meaningful. but he was there. and we wore the same color—like we’d gotten dressed from the same closet without speaking. matching tones, shades of navy and bone. we noticed. laughed about it. and then the bracelets—identical. something we’d both bought separately that week. we caught it when we shook hands."
"coincidence," he murmured.
"maybe. but then it kept happening. our conversation glitched. we kept saying the same phrase at the same time, finishing each other’s sentences without meaning to. not like parroting—like remembering. i thought it was just chemistry. or fate trying to be funny."
"what else?"
"the song playing that night—deja vu. he said it was a song that always reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. same for me. we didn’t say that until hours later. and then came all the little things. shared preferences. favorite poet. same type of boba order, down to the ice level. we reached for the same book once. exact same time. our fingers brushed the spine and we both froze."
"and the scent?"
you hesitated. "he told me i smelled like lavender. soft, clean, a little nostalgic. and him... he smelled like leather. not new leather. old. worn in. like a memory you hadn’t dusted off in years. it wasn’t cologne. it was just him."
the scholar nodded slowly. "threads tug in strange ways. what else did you notice?"
"we used to talk through bookshelves. accidentally, at first. then it became a thing. we’d find each other through the gaps. lose track of time. there was this misplaced book once, stuck between cookbooks. it turned out to be one from his childhood. something he thought he lost. and i found it, without looking for it."
"meaningful misplacement," he said.
"yeah. and there was this bookmark—we both bought the same one without knowing. a pressed flower, same color. we laughed when we found out. and the parallel readings—there were times we read the same book without planning it. before we started reading together. once, we swapped books accidentally. i gave him mine, thinking it was his. he didn’t correct me. said it felt like something he’d pick."
you paused, breath catching.
"there was a note. inside the book he let me read once. the handwriting was... it looked like mine. eerie. it wasn’t, but it felt familiar. it had a date. and a quote from a poem we both love. neither of us remembered writing it. it was just... there. like a message from a version of us that had already lived through this."
"what did the quote say?"
"'i knew you before i met you. and now i can’t unknow you.'"
silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. it brimmed.
the scholar tapped the rim of his cup. "the red thread of fate is not a chain. it is a tether. one that stretches across lifetimes, moments, decisions. it ensures encounter, not outcome. people confuse fate with guarantee. but fate is only the meeting. what you do after—that is free will."
"so what if we were meant to meet but not meant to stay?"
"then the thread did its work. and the rest is yours to choose. a thread can stretch across years, across heartbreak. but it can also be let go."
your throat ached. "i loved him. maybe i still do. but he chose someone else. someone who doesn’t remind him of questions. someone safer."
"do you believe he is your home?"
the question landed softly, but it cracked something open in you.
"sometimes. but... maybe home isn’t always where you stay. maybe it’s where you learn the shape of your own hands. maybe it’s where you outgrow the walls."
the scholar gave you the smallest of smiles. "a wise answer. you spoke of the note. and the book. bring it to me."
"why? what will you do with it?"
"there are truths that sink into paper long before we are ready to speak them. books remember what we cannot. sometimes, they remember for us."
you nodded, rising with a strange lightness. like naming the ache had given it boundaries. like the weight had finally shifted.
"i’ll bring it."
"good. i will be here. and so will the thread, should you choose to follow it."
you stepped back into the fading light, the napkin still folded in your coat pocket, its creases like tiny maps. but now, you didn’t need it to find your way.
the path had already begun to form—between memory, myth, and the steady rhythm of your own steps.
and you were walking it.
the street was slick with rain, every puddle on the pavement catching flashes of the city light like broken glass. jiwoong walked with his head low, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. the sound of his shoes splashing through the water echoed in the emptiness around him. he hadn’t meant to wander, but somehow his feet carried him through the winding streets until he found himself standing in front of a quiet teahouse tucked between shuttered stores and steaming vents, the sign above the door barely visible through the misted window.
inside, the world softened. the door creaked open, a small bell above it giving a delicate chime. the warmth hit him like a memory, thick with the scent of roasted tea leaves, dried orange peel, and something vaguely floral. an old couple behind the counter looked up, their faces lighting with recognition, even if they didn’t know his name.
"you’re soaked," the old man said, setting down a clay teapot with care, his voice gravelly but kind.
"come, sit by the fire," the woman chimed in, stepping forward to take his dripping jacket with practiced ease. "you’ll catch cold like that."
"what will you have?" the old man added as he handed him a soft towel.
jiwoong opened his mouth to respond, but the answer slipped out before he could stop it. "mango alisan."
the woman gave a warm nod and disappeared behind a curtain. the old man followed her. jiwoong blinked, realizing what he'd said too late. he could've changed the order, could've stopped them—but he didn’t. he sat down by the fireplace instead, the towel draped around his shoulders, the fabric warm and worn.
the fire crackled beside him, its light flickering off the brass edges of an old bookshelf. he stood, ran a hand along the spines of the books, choosing one at random. he flipped it open and stared at the pages, but the words swam. nothing stuck. he wasn’t really reading. his eyes drifted over the text like rain on glass.
he glanced at the fire again, watched the flames dance like they were trying to whisper something. behind him, the teahouse hummed gently with life. low laughter from a table in the corner. the soft clink of porcelain cups. a spoon stirring. someone whispered something tender in a language he didn’t understand. the ordinary intimacy of strangers pressed around him like a blanket, and he tried to lose himself in it. tried to forget.
but the ache stayed lodged in his chest, unmoved.
he placed the book back on the shelf and returned to the fire just as the old woman brought his drink. the familiar cup, pale yellow in color, steamed in her hand.
"careful, it’s hot," she said kindly, setting it down with a smile that felt like a blanket.
"thank you," he murmured.
his fingers curled around the cup, but he didn’t lift it. he just stared into the swirling golden liquid, watching the shadows of tea leaves move like memories.
he thought of you.
the way your lips curled when you were about to tease him. the way your fingers brushed his wrist when you passed him something. how you said mango alisan was the only drink that tasted like sunshine. he hadn’t even liked it, not really. he liked the way you said it. he liked the way you looked at him after saying it, like it was a secret only the two of you shared.
he pulled a napkin from the table and a pen from his coat pocket. the words came before he could stop them.
a name. a line of poetry. a sentence he didn’t finish. a question. something about stars.
he stared at it, read it once, then crumpled it up. he leaned forward and tossed it into the fire, watching it catch and curl into ash.
his hands slid back into his coat, and that’s when he felt it—a receipt.
he pulled it out, unfolded it. the festival. the night he saw the other man. the night everything shifted. the night he tried to pretend it didn’t mean something to see your eyes flinch like that.
he folded and unfolded the receipt again and again, his fingers moving restlessly. something about it stuck to him, like static. like something unresolved. the way you used to fold receipts into tiny stars. the way you once gave him one with a scribbled note on the back, something about coincidence and inevitability.
his eyes drifted to the window. rain streamed down the glass in thick rivulets, painting the outside world in watery streaks. he reached out, touched the cool pane, and began tracing random shapes, letting his thoughts dissolve into the silence.
he thought about the words he should have said. the ones you waited for. he thought about the night you both reached for the same book, the way your fingertips brushed. the shared silences that felt louder than words. the way you laughed like you were remembering a dream.
he didn’t notice her until she was right there, her reflection catching in the window.
she smiled down at him, the new girl—soft eyes, clean lines, a presence that asked for nothing and offered everything.
he tried to smile back. tried.
she stepped inside the teahouse, brushing the rain from her umbrella before joining him on the floor beside the fire.
"you look like a wet cat," she said, teasing, nudging him gently with her shoulder.
a cat... what he reminded you of, words spoken during one of your late night conversations filled with playful banter and soft affection. his breath hitched slightly.
"huh?" he blinked, the words not landing right.
"seriously, your hair’s all flat and sticking out at weird angles. it's cute, though."
"yeah?" he forced a chuckle, voice thin.
"you okay?" her voice lowered, more careful now.
jiwoong looked down at his drink. still untouched.
"just... tired," he said.
she nodded, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "it’s been a long week."
he hummed in agreement and finally lifted the cup to his lips. it was still warm. still sweet. still more your mango alisan than his.
she leaned her head against his shoulder. he let her.
but his eyes were on the fireplace.
watching the last edges of the receipt burn into nothing.
the rain fell like whispers from the sky, steady, soft, persistent. it was another late night walk for jiwoong, one foot in front of the other, his hood pulled low over his brow, casting shadows over his eyes. the glow of the city lights reflected off the slick pavement, the neon signs bleeding into puddles, forming swirling galaxies of red, blue, and green. they shimmered like thoughts he couldn’t quite pin down—shifting, fading, reappearing in new colors with every step.
his boots splashed through shallow puddles, leaving temporary marks behind him, soon erased by the rain. his fingers brushed against the uneven surface of a brick wall, then slid along the cool, raindrop-covered railing that bordered the sidewalk. the textures grounded him, kept him tethered to the moment. he wasn’t thinking about where he was going, only that he needed to keep moving, as though the motion alone could chase away what he was feeling.
he paused under a dim streetlight, its yellow glow casting a halo around the falling rain. he tilted his head up, watching the droplets fall through the light, catching glints like tiny stars. it made him feel small in a way that wasn't unpleasant. like the world had shrunk to just this intersection of lamplight and rain. he closed his eyes, letting the water gather at the edges of his lashes and fall down his cheeks like unshed tears. he let the cold in, let it settle into his bones, like maybe discomfort could distract from the confusion slowly pooling in his chest.
he pulled his phone from his pocket, screen lighting up his face for a brief second. your name was there, pinned at the top. a draft of a message blinked up at him: "i hope you're okay." his thumb hovered over the send button, heart thudding. then he sighed and pressed back, locking the screen and shoving the phone away. not tonight. maybe not ever.
he kicked at a puddle with the side of his shoe, watching the water tremble and ripple outward. it reminded him of the way you laughed that night you both got caught in the rain, how you threw your head back without caring if you looked ridiculous. how your hand had found his without thinking. he didn't laugh like that anymore. not really. maybe he didn’t know how.
a group passed by, loud with their joy. their laughter bubbled through the air like it belonged to another world. jiwoong watched them go, eyes lingering on the easy way they leaned into each other, touched shoulders without thinking. he felt the distance then. not quite loneliness, but something quieter. the knowledge that he was drifting, somewhere between connection and absence.
he took a breath, then another, the air sharp in his lungs. he welcomed the cold. maybe it would clear his thoughts. maybe not. maybe it would remind him that he was still here, still existing, even if it felt like he was barely doing that.
he walked on, deeper into the heart of the city. his path took him past the familiar bookstore, the one with the dusty windows and warm interior lighting that always seemed to beckon in the evenings. he slowed down, gaze flicking to the window. he saw a couple inside, curled together in the corner beanbag—your corner. his stomach clenched. his feet itched to move toward the door, but he knew better. he didn’t stop. he kept walking.
minutes later, he entered a softly lit cafe, the kind with hanging bulbs, wooden counters, and the smell of roasted beans curling through the air. the bell above the door chimed low and warm. his eyes found her—his girlfriend—seated at a small table by the window, already halfway through her tea. she looked up and smiled when she saw him.
"hey," she greeted, reaching out for his hand. "you look soaked. did you forget your umbrella again?"
he offered a weak smile, sliding into the seat across from her. "wasn’t really thinking."
she chuckled, handing him a napkin to dab his hair with. "you do that a lot. not think."
"guess i do," he murmured, voice barely above the quiet hum of the place. he watched the steam curl from her cup, slow and lazy.
"what were you doing out so late?"
he shrugged. "just walking."
"alone?"
he nodded.
she looked down at her drink, stirring it with the end of her straw. "you’ve been distant lately. is something wrong?"
jiwoong looked out the window, watching the way the rain caught the light again. always the rain. always something between him and clarity.
"i don’t know. i’ve just been... thinking. about stuff."
"stuff?" she leaned forward slightly, eyebrows lifting. "like what?"
he hesitated. "do you ever feel like you're trying to fit into something that doesn’t quite... fit you back?"
"what do you mean?"
"like you're going through the motions, but there’s this pull elsewhere. like a thread you can’t see but you feel it tugging at you. something you were supposed to understand but missed."
she frowned, clearly confused. "is this about your ex?"
he didn’t answer right away. instead, he reached for the menu, though he wasn’t hungry. "we were never really official. it was complicated."
"but it still means something to you."
"i don’t know what it means," he admitted. "sometimes i think about the way we used to talk. the way we just... existed next to each other. it wasn’t loud or dramatic. it was just easy. natural. like something familiar even though we’d just met."
she was quiet for a long moment. then she said, "you said i made you feel safe."
"you do."
"but not seen."
his eyes finally met hers. "i didn’t say that."
"you didn’t have to."
he reached for his cup, lifted it, but didn’t drink. the tea had gone lukewarm. he held it anyway, hands wrapped around the ceramic like it could anchor him.
the rain tapped steadily on the windows. in the distance, a car splashed through a puddle. jiwoong leaned back in his chair, feeling the ache behind his eyes.
"i'm sorry," he whispered. "i thought i could let go. that it was just nostalgia, or guilt. or comfort. but... maybe it’s more. maybe it always was. maybe it still is."
she looked away, blinking. "so what happens now?"
"i don’t know."
"then figure it out. before you hurt both of us even more."
he nodded. "i will. i owe you that."
they sat in silence after that. the kind of silence that doesn’t beg to be filled. he took one last glance out the window, watching the street where he once walked beside you, laughing, sharing something unnamed. something he still couldn’t explain. the rain kept falling. the night held him in its quiet grip.
and he wondered, again, if it was too late.
the rain came down in thick, rhythmic sheets, a pounding storm that painted the world in silvers and greys. water rushed down the temple steps, pooling at the stone base, and dripping from the edges of the worn wooden awning where you stood, holding the book close to your chest like a secret.
you took a breath, steadying yourself. this was the book. the one with the note tucked between pages. the one you'd been circling around for what felt like forever. it felt heavier today, like it knew the gravity of the moment. stepping inside, you felt the shift immediately—the quiet hum of incense, the faint warmth of candlelight dancing along the walls, and at the far end, the scholar waiting with his familiar, calm eyes.
"you brought it," he said, gesturing for you to join him at the low table. his voice was steady, like the stillness between waves.
you nodded and sat down, carefully unwrapping the book from its cloth. rainwater glistened on your sleeves.
"shall we?" he asked, already reaching for the pages.
together, you read. page by page, the inked words laced the air with quiet gravity. you didn’t rush. you let the story hold you. each sentence settled into you like soft rainfall.
then the moment arrived. the note.
it was just a small slip of paper. a little worn. but the handwriting—so familiar, too familiar—caught your breath.
"i knew you before i met you," you read aloud, voice barely above a whisper. "and now i can’t unknow you."
the silence afterward stretched wide.
the scholar didn’t speak right away. he let the note settle between you both, like it needed space.
"meaningful misplacement," he said finally. "it is not always an accident when a note finds a page. sometimes the universe guides it there, just as it guides us."
you looked down at the words again. your fingers trembled.
"you've heard of the red thread of fate, haven’t you?" he asked.
you nodded slowly. "i have."
"it is not always visible. not in the way we expect," he continued. "sometimes it tugs gently. sometimes it tangles. and sometimes... it knots in places we’d rather it didn’t. but it connects hearts across time, across choices."
"he used to feel like home," you said suddenly. the words slipped out before you could catch them.
the scholar tilted his head, thoughtful. "perhaps he still does. but home isn't always a place we can stay."
you sighed. "i don’t know what to do with any of this."
"you don’t have to know yet," he said. "there are truths that sink into the paper long before we are ready to speak them. books remember what we cannot."
you stared at the note again. you could feel your heart pounding in time with the rain.
"would you follow it?" he asked softly.
"follow what?"
"the thread."
you didn’t answer. not at first. you just ran your finger over the edge of the note, the ink, the handwriting you’d once traced in a different life.
"i don’t know," you finally whispered. "i want to. but it hurts."
he nodded. "sometimes the pull of fate is not gentle."
you packed the book away after that. the session ended quietly, like a song’s last note lingering in the air.
the rain hadn’t let up.
stepping out of the shrine, you pulled your hood up and walked down the slope, the world painted in rain’s muted palette. the street curved, and there—there it was. the teahouse. familiar in a way that made your chest ache.
the same teahouse from that rainy night he once wandered into.
and now he stood just outside it, jacket damp, hair slightly tousled, his hands deep in his pockets. he looked up when he saw you. blinked. then blinked again.
for a second—just a second—you both saw it.
the red thread.
thin, delicate, glowing faintly between your pinky fingers.
his eyes widened.
"i was going to text you," he said, his voice low. unsure. "but i wasn’t sure if... if you’d reply."
you didn’t reply. not with words. your eyes searched his, and for a second, neither of you moved.
"i still think about you," he admitted. "a lot."
something in your chest twisted.
"that’s messed up," you said, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. "you have a girlfriend now."
he nodded, eyes dropping to the ground. "i do. but that doesn’t mean i don’t wish... i could still see you. just sometimes. you were—are—my friend."
"with benefits," you snapped. "until things got too real. then you ran."
he winced.
"i didn’t know how to handle it. i’m still trying to figure it all out."
the rain drummed on the roof, slid down the windows, soaked into your sleeves.
"just... stay away from me," you said, voice breaking at the edges. "please."
you turned before he could respond. you walked away from the teahouse, from the thread that still shimmered faintly between you.
behind you, jiwoong stayed rooted to the spot. the image of your face—torn between hurt and longing—burned into his mind.
he didn’t know how long he stood there. maybe minutes. maybe longer. the rain had soaked through his jacket, through his shirt, but he couldn’t feel it.
his chest ached.
he wandered inside the teahouse eventually, not because he wanted tea, but because the weight of the storm pressed too hard. he sat at a table, the same one where he once met a stranger who became his tether.
he stared at the empty chair across from him.
"i still think about you," he whispered again, to no one.
he pulled out his phone. the message was still there. unsent. "i hope you’re okay."
he locked it again.
he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. the scent of wet wood and tea leaves surrounded him.
and for the first time in weeks, he let himself feel it. the full weight of what he had done. what he had broken.
her smile. your eyes. the way it felt when things were easy. the way you never asked him to be anything more than what he already was.
the way he’d left, not with cruelty, but with fear.
"i don’t know how to come back," he said to the silence.
outside, the storm eased into a gentle drizzle, but the ache inside him only deepened.
he didn’t know if the thread would pull taut again.
but he knew it hadn’t snapped.
and maybe that was worse.
he walked home slowly, each footstep heavier than the last. his mind looped the moment your eyes locked with his—how familiar and foreign it felt at the same time. he didn’t cry. not visibly. but something quiet inside him frayed.
he took the long way back. through alleys washed clean by the storm, under flickering streetlamps, past the bookstore he once avoided. he stopped at the window. the beanbag inside, the shelves, the memory of your laugh—it all felt frozen in amber.
inside, people browsed like nothing was different. but everything was different.
he didn’t go in.
when he got home, he stood at his door for a long time before entering. once inside, he turned on no lights. he sat on the floor. opened his journal. wrote without thinking:
"i should’ve stayed."
he stared at the words. then underlined them. slowly. three times.
"i should’ve stayed."
and now?
he didn’t know what to do. not really. not yet. but he knew what he felt. and it wasn’t gone.
jiwoong sat in that darkness a long while. listening to the ticking of a clock he’d stopped noticing. and when sleep finally came, it brought your name with it.
the rain is still relentless, beating down on the streets in a rhythmic pulse that matches the ache in your chest. sitting on a park bench, you find yourself staring at the red thread on the ground. it’s delicate, almost fragile, yet somehow undeniable. you trace your fingers around it but don’t pick it up. it’s a symbol you’ve known for too long, a thread that feels both like a memory and a warning. you try to let it go, but it lingers, an invisible pull, like everything that’s brought you here hasn’t quite let you break free.
jiwoong sits in the teahouse, the same one he found on a rainy night, the same one where you had shared your last conversation. his fingers absently fold and unfold the receipt he thought he had discarded. he watches the rain outside, the sound of it against the glass muffled by the warmth inside. his girlfriend sits across from him, and her presence is soothing, but not quite enough to erase the restless thoughts swirling in his mind. he’s stuck between a past that won’t let him go and a present that’s too quiet, too safe, for his liking.
"jiwoong?" she says softly, her hand reaching out to touch his, bringing him back to the present. he glances at her, offering a weak smile. "yeah," he says quietly, his gaze flickering between her and the world outside. "i'm just... thinking." he adds as he looks up into her eyes. "about what?" she asks, her voice gentle, curious. she doesn’t push, but there's an unspoken understanding that something is off. "about things i can't explain," he admits, shaking his head, his fingers still playing with the receipt. the words he can’t say hang heavy between them. "you know you can tell me anything, right?" she murmurs, squeezing his hand. jiwoong nods but doesn’t answer. he’s not sure she could understand, not sure if he even understands himself.
the air between them feels thick, and despite her kindness, despite the stability she offers, it feels like something is missing. he thinks of you again, the moments you shared, the red thread he didn’t know how to untangle. he wanted to reach out to you, but he couldn’t. not now, not after everything. and yet, as the moments stretch on, he wonders if this quiet life, this peace, is really enough for him. maybe he’s been chasing something else all along, something that feels more complicated, more real.
as the teahouse door opens, he watches a new group come in, their laughter light and warm, but it feels distant. he turns back to his girlfriend, who’s watching him, waiting for him to say something. "will you be mine, forever?" the words slip out, before he can stop them, before he can think. it’s the same thing he had asked you, a long time ago.
"stop joking around," she says, laughing lightly, the same way you did back then, and for a moment, jiwoong’s heart sinks. it’s not the answer he wanted, not the one he needed. but he doesn’t know how to ask for more, doesn’t know how to ask for what he truly wants.
the day passes, and you find yourself walking through the park, letting the rain soak you, letting it wash over you. you keep your head down, not looking back. you’ve already made your choice. the red thread, as much as it still calls to you, is too stretched now. there’s no going back. you’ve tried to heal, to find peace in yourself, but the truth is that some things just aren’t meant to be. some love stories, no matter how destined, just can’t be.
the red thread still tugs at your heart, and for a brief second, you wonder if you’re making a mistake. but you keep walking, your feet steady, your resolve firm. jiwoong is a part of your past now, and maybe someday, in another time, in another place, things will be different. but for now, you let go.
as you walk away, you glance back once, but the sight of him standing there, alone in the rain, is all you need. you keep moving forward, letting go of what was never truly yours. the thread has unraveled, and it’s time to let the past fade into the distance.
hi everyone! sorry for not posting in a while, i haven't visited this website in so long due to academic stress & other issues within my personal life.
i've deleted the valentines day series for zb1 because it's VERY MUCH outdated, i had no passion for it anymore & i don't see the point in writing something that won't be at it's finest quality due to my lack of motivation.
but i'm currently in my holidays, so i will try my best to start writing again!
⋆｡𖦹°‧ faking it for real | sung hanbin | series TEASER : staged hearts
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⊹ summary: when raising actress y/n, is forced into a fake engagement with A-list star hanbin, it’s meant to be nothing more than a publicity stunt, right??
⊹ pairing: actor!hanbin x actress!reader
⊹ genre: rom-com
⊹ status: ongoing
part 1: the rules of pretending
part 2: when the cameras stop rolling
part 3: the risks of falling
part 4: “why do you care?”
part 5: if we do this…
part 6: are we over too?
⊹ note: this is my first time writing, please ignore any mistakes ㅠㅠ
also inspired by @paradise-world (her fic was SOOO good that it inspired me to write my own)
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I slam the script onto the glossy marble counter, barely resisting the urge to throw it at Hanbin’s stupid, smug face.
“You stole my role.”
Hanbin, leaning lazily against the bar, barely glances up from his drink. His lips curl into that infuriating smirk, the one that makes the tabloids call him “charmingly arrogant.” I’d call it “punchable.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” he says, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I was offered the role. I accepted. Simple as that.”
My fingers curl into fists. “I auditioned for it! The director said I was perfect! And then you—” I gesture wildly at him, “just waltzed in at the last second and took it!”
Hanbin tilts his head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Maybe they realized they needed someone with more… star power.” His eyes flicker with amusement. “No hard feelings, right?”
Oh, I hate him.
Before I can hurl an insult, a sudden burst of light flashes in my peripheral vision. I turn sharply—paparazzi. A whole pack of them, cameras clicking, whispering excitedly.
Hanbin notices too, and to my horror, his smirk deepens. “Careful,” he murmurs, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “Wouldn’t want them to think we’re fighting.”
I glare at him. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“Not from their perspective.”
He’s right. From the outside, we probably look like we’re in some kind of intense, intimate moment—my furious expression, his lazy amusement, the way we’re standing too close.
And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Hanbin does something outrageous. He leans in, just a fraction, just enough for the cameras to go wild.
The headlines will write themselves.
I shove him away. “You are insufferable.”
Hanbin chuckles, completely unbothered. “And yet, you can’t take your eyes off me.”
Summary : You and Gunwook are rival debaters at Zero University, constantly outsmarting each other in competitions. When the school announces a scholarship prize for the ultimate debate showdown, you’re both determined to win. But after a heated debate leads to a moment of unexpected intimacy, everything changes. How do you argue with a heart that refuses to listen?
Genre : College, Romance, Frenemies to Lovers, Fem! Reader, College Debater!Gunwook, Suggestive
Warnings : Alcohol, Mentions of Marijuana, Suggestive themes (There's a warning before they occur), Profanities
Featuring : Siyun from AMPERS&ONE, Ayden from EPEX, Yubin from tripleS, Riku from NCT WISH
Playlist : Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae / Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande / Wine Pon You by Doja Cat ft. Konshens / Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey / PILLOWTALK by ZAYN / All Mine by Brent Faiyaz / Never Lose Me by Flo Milli / Confident by Justin Bieber ft. Chance the Rapper
Word Count : 20k (20,368 for exact)
you always knew where you belonged.
middle school, high school, university—it never changed. the clubs, the competitions, the rankings. you were built for them, made to stand behind podiums and command the attention of a room. your voice never wavered, your arguments never crumbled. your words could bend reality, shape perspectives, tear apart weak logic. every competition was another battlefield, and you were always ready for war.
debate was everything. it had always been everything.
and then, of course, there was him.
park gunwook.
he was a mirror image of you in every way that mattered. smart, strategic, sharp-tongued. a force to be reckoned with. the only person who could challenge you, the only one who could match your intensity, word for word, argument for argument. where you stood, he stood. where you excelled, he excelled. the rivalry had followed you both from middle school, through high school, and now here—zero university, the top university in the country.
everyone else might have found new hobbies, new interests, but not the two of you. no, you and gunwook had remained steadfast, sharpening your skills, proving your wit, tearing through debate circuits like you were meant for them. no one else could quite keep up. no one else ever lasted long enough against you. except him. always him.
the moment you stepped onto campus, you had one destination in mind. the debate guild.
the room was grander than the ones you were used to, lined with bookshelves filled with thick volumes on philosophy, history, and rhetoric. the air smelled of aged paper and ambition. the students here weren’t just casually interested in debate—they were dedicated, serious, hungry for victory. a few were already seated at the long wooden tables, flipping through notebooks or engaging in quiet discussions.
and then, like clockwork, you heard the voice that had haunted your academic career for years.
“well, well. i was wondering when you’d get here.”
you turned, already knowing who it was.
park gunwook leaned against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed over his broad chest. he looked almost amused, dark brown eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to excitement. his blue-black hair fell slightly into his face, and he brushed it back with an air of practiced ease.
“gunwook.” you greeted him evenly, moving to claim one of the seats near the front.
“i have to admit, i was worried,” he continued, following you. “thought maybe you finally realized you couldn’t keep up and decided to pursue something easier. pottery, perhaps.”
“funny. i was just thinking the same about you.” you shot back without missing a beat. “but then i remembered you like humiliating yourself too much to quit.”
his grin widened. “see, that’s what i like about you. you never fail to make things interesting.”
“right back at you.”
the rivalry was second nature now, effortless in its rhythm. you had spent years clashing, competing, outmanoeuvring each other. in middle school, your debates had been team-based, meaning the two of you had to take turns switching between first and third speaker. by high school, you had perfected your dynamic. he had the charisma, the presence, the ability to sway a crowd. you had the precision, the unwavering logic, the kind of rebuttals that could dismantle an argument before it fully formed.
in a way, you had made each other better.
and now, it was individual. no teams, no buffers. just you, him, and the stage. the stakes were higher than they had ever been before.
“so, did you hear?” gunwook asked, dropping into the seat next to you, much to your irritation.
“about?”
“the scholarship competition.”
that got your attention.
“elaborate.”
“top debater wins a full ride.” gunwook smirked. “one-on-one battles. elimination rounds. only one winner.”
your heart pounded, adrenaline already kicking in.
“and here i thought university would be boring,” you murmured, a slow grin spreading across your lips.
he laughed. “i’ll be seeing you in the finals then?”
“you’d better hope you make it that far.”
“oh, i will.”
there was something in his voice, something that sent a jolt of anticipation through you. this wasn’t just another debate, another competition. this was everything.
and with that, the game began.
the walk to the university’s orientation hall was filled with the usual back-and-forth between you and gunwook. nothing had changed. same rivalry, same energy, same drive. the moment you both set foot on campus, you had made a beeline for the debate guild, and now, as you joined the crowd of students heading for the main hall, the unspoken challenge still lingered in the air.
“well, if it isn’t our favourite debating duo.” siyun’s voice broke through the noise, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he spotted you and gunwook approaching.
ayden folded his arms, tilting his head. “i’m assuming you two checked out what the debate guild looked like?”
you and gunwook exchanged a glance before nodding in unison.
“of course they did,” yubin rolled her eyes. “they’re obsessed.”
“well! there’s a big announcement for you two—” yubin began, but before she could finish, you and gunwook both cut her off.
“we know.”
siyun chuckled, nudging ayden. “they’re both obsessed with debating, how would they not know?”
with a collective laugh, your friend group moved towards the orientation hall, the air buzzing with excitement and the thrill of a new beginning.
the hall was massive, rows upon rows of seats filled with eager students. a stage stood at the front, a podium waiting for the chancellor’s address. the moment she stepped onto the stage, the room erupted in applause.
you settled into your seat, gunwook taking the one beside you.
“and so it begins,” he muttered under his breath.
the chancellor’s speech began with the standard pleasantries—welcomes, guidance on navigating campus life, academic expectations. but your attention only sharpened when she shifted gears, touching on the scholarship opportunities.
“there is also a scholarship prize for the ultimate debate showdown,” she announced, her voice carrying easily across the hall. “i recommend all those interested to join the debate guild and give it a shot.”
instinctively, you and gunwook exchanged a glance. neither of you had to say anything. you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
“another year of having to deal with you two competing,” ayden muttered, feigning exasperation.
“shut it,” you and gunwook snapped in perfect sync.
yubin snickered. “scary…” she teased.
your gaze locked with gunwook’s once more, but this time, neither of you looked away. the fire in his eyes was a mirror to your own. this year was going to be a long one—full of bickering, arguing, and debating. neither of you were backing down.
not now. not ever.
the orientation continued, but your mind was already racing ahead, formulating strategies, preparing for the battles to come. the scholarship was the ultimate prize. the only question was—who would claim it?
as the chancellor wrapped up the speech, students around you buzzed with chatter, some stretching, others already making plans for the rest of the day. but you and gunwook remained seated, lingering in the weight of what had just been announced.
“so,” he finally spoke, leaning slightly towards you. “ready to lose?”
“funny,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i was about to ask you the same thing.”
he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you never change.”
“neither do you.”
yubin, who had been watching from the side, groaned. “seriously? do you two ever stop?”
siyun smirked. “nope. they literally thrive off of this.”
ayden sighed, rubbing his temples. “it’s like watching a never-ending courtroom drama.”
“except way more entertaining,” yubin added. “should we start placing bets on who wins?”
before you could respond, gunwook leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into a smirk. “i’d say that’s a waste of money. we all know who’s taking the scholarship.”
you raised an eyebrow. “oh? and who would that be?”
“me, obviously.”
“bold assumption,” you mused. “especially when i’m the one who’s going to win.”
“we’ll see about that.”
the conversation carried on as your friend group made their way out of the hall, pushing through the crowd of students dispersing to different parts of campus. the sun was high, casting long shadows across the wide courtyard as you all gathered in a quieter corner near the student centre.
siyun glanced between you and gunwook. “so, what’s the first step?”
gunwook shrugged. “joining the guild officially, of course.”
“already done that.” you shot back.
his expression didn’t falter. “same.”
“figured as much.”
yubin sighed. “it’s honestly like you two were made to argue.”
ayden hummed in agreement. “it’s a wonder you haven’t debated about something completely ridiculous yet. like—i don’t know—whether cereal is a soup.”
you and gunwook exchanged another glance before, at the exact same time, blurting out two opposing arguments.
“cereal is not a soup—”
“technically, it is—”
“oh my god,” siyun groaned, laughing. “you two need help.”
yubin raised a finger. “wait, let’s hear them out.”
as ridiculous as the topic was, you and gunwook immediately launched into a full-fledged debate, rebuttals flying back and forth with the same intensity as if you were in an official competition. by the time you were done, you were slightly breathless, and the rest of your friend group looked equal parts entertained and exhausted.
“this year is going to be insane,” yubin muttered.
ayden nodded. “we should start keeping a tally of how many times they argue per week.”
siyun smirked. “might need a bigger notebook for that.”
as the group dissolved into laughter, you and gunwook shared one last glance, that unspoken challenge lingering in the air between you. it was just the beginning. and neither of you were going down without a fight.
the second day of university was just as hectic as the first. after a long day of classes and finishing up the remaining orientation activities, you wasted no time. the moment you were free, you rushed straight to the debate guild, eager to get a head start.
as you stepped inside, the room was empty, just as you had hoped. no distractions, no noise—just you and your thoughts. the space was larger than you expected, with shelves lined with books on rhetoric, politics, and law. the walls were decorated with framed photos of past champions, their proud faces staring down at you as if daring you to join their ranks. in the center of the room stood a massive mirror, the kind used for practicing speeches and presentations. a few rows of seats were neatly arranged near a stage-like platform, making it clear that this was where major debates took place.
without hesitation, you walked up to the mirror, straightening your posture before meeting your own gaze. you took a deep breath and began.
“ladies and gentlemen, the affirmative side has made some compelling arguments, but let’s not be so easily swayed by eloquent speech alone. logic, facts, and irrefutable evidence—those are the pillars of a strong argument.”
your voice rang out with confidence, your tone firm yet controlled. as you spoke, you gestured sharply, emphasizing key points just as you had been trained to do. you didn’t hold back, letting your passion fill the empty room. the words flowed effortlessly, your rebuttals sharp and precise. you barely noticed how natural it felt, how the adrenaline pumped through your veins.
“but if we dissect their stance carefully, it becomes clear that they have failed to address a crucial point—”
“you look really pretty.”
you froze mid-sentence.
your breath hitched as you turned around quickly, eyes landing on a girl standing near the entrance. she wore a soft smile, her posture relaxed as she studied you. your gaze drifted to the nametag pinned to her blouse: ‘son yejin.’
“thank you… yejin.” you finally managed to say, still trying to recover from the unexpected compliment.
“it’s no worries.” she grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. she lingered for a moment before she turned to walk toward the door.
curious, you called out, “are you… in the debate guild?” your instincts kicked in—potential competitors needed to be assessed.
yejin immediately shook her head, her hands waving frantically. “no! no! i just clean up around here sometimes when my sister isn’t available.” she reassured you quickly. “she’s one of the older members of the guild.”
relief washed over you, and you offered her a small smile. “alright then, have a nice day.”
“you too.” she gave a polite nod before disappearing out the door.
after she left, you turned back to the mirror, briefly touching up your appearance. her words still lingered in your mind, the unexpected kindness making your day a little brighter. but soon, you redirected your focus, turning toward something that had caught your attention earlier—a sleek, high-tech computer setup in the corner of the room.
you approached it cautiously, sitting down in the chair as the screen flickered to life. as you explored the interface, you quickly realized that it contained a treasure trove of information—everything from past debate records to meticulously documented research notes. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, awe creeping into your expression. this was exactly what you needed.
“that’s the electromagnetic research archive machine. be careful with it. it’s worth twelve thousand dollars.”
startled, you turned around swiftly, coming face to face with a young woman who looked to be around your age. she had a confident air about her, her arms crossed as she assessed you with amusement.
“ah, never mind,” she said with a chuckle. “you’re bae y/n. of course, you’ll be careful with it.”
she extended her hand, and you shook it firmly. “son yeeun.” she introduced herself.
your mind instantly connected the dots. son yejin, the girl who complimented you earlier, and son yeeun, the seasoned debate guild member. siblings.
“you already know my name.” you said with a small smirk.
yeeun nodded. “of course i do. the guild has been expecting you and gunwook for a while now.”
at the mention of his name, you instinctively rolled your eyes.
yeeun laughed. “i take it you two still haven’t settled your rivalry?”
“settling it would mean admitting defeat, and that’s not happening anytime soon.”
she raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “fair enough.” she leaned against the desk beside you. “so, i assume you’re here for one reason only—the scholarship prize for the ultimate debate showdown?”
you nodded without hesitation. “of course.”
“good.” she grinned. “then don’t worry. you have a seasoned member on your side.”
your interest piqued. “you’re willing to help me?”
“more like i’m curious to see if you can actually beat gunwook.” yeeun shrugged. “i mean, i’ve seen the records. you two have been neck and neck since middle school. i’d love to see how that plays out in a one-on-one setting.”
you smirked. “well, then you’re in for a good show.”
“i hope so.” she tapped the screen of the electromagnetic research archive machine. “now, let me show you how to actually use this thing. it’s got every past debate topic, every strategy ever used, every judge’s feedback—it’s basically the holy grail of debate prep.”
as she guided you through the system, explaining how to filter research materials and access archived debate videos, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. this was exactly what you needed—a resource that could sharpen your skills even further, give you an edge over gunwook.
as the two of you worked, yeeun glanced at you curiously. “so, real question—do you actually hate gunwook?”
you blinked at her sudden question. “what?”
she smirked. “you act like he’s your mortal enemy, but let’s be real, he’s probably the only person who can challenge you at your level. if anything, you two are just ridiculously competitive.”
you hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. “he’s… infuriating.”
yeeun chuckled. “which is exactly why this is going to be fun to watch.”
as you sat there, absorbing every bit of information she provided, you realized something. this wasn’t just another debate season. this was war. and you were ready to win.
after a while though, you looked over the other side of the room. the podiums stood before you like twin sentinels, regal and imposing, draped in their respective cloths of bold red and deep blue. their surfaces gleamed under the soft overhead lighting, the wood polished to perfection. you could almost see your reflection in them, a sign of how well they were maintained.
"you can stand on them, you know," yeeun chuckled, watching as you hovered in place, taking in the details as if you were stepping into sacred territory.
you glanced at her before shifting your eyes back to the podiums, silently asking for permission to choose one. she seemed to read your mind because she simply shrugged.
"any one," she said. "we’re not debating today, so it doesn’t matter much. i’ll just be assisting you with your presentation technique."
you let your gaze flicker between the two podiums. the blue one was sleek and composed, the fabric crisp and smooth. but the red—there was something about the red. it was vibrant, fiery, commanding. your fingers brushed against the cloth lightly before stepping behind it, gripping the edges gently.
yeeun smiled knowingly. "i had a feeling you’d pick the red side."
you raised a brow. "why’s that?"
"strong girl to strong girl instinct."
you let out a small laugh before turning your attention back to the podium, taking in every detail. its surface was wide, enough to comfortably place notes if needed. your fingers traced along the edges as you slowly circled it, getting a feel for your newfound battleground.
"so, have you ever debated on a podium before?" yeeun asked, leaning against the blue one casually.
you shook your head. "too much for the school’s budget—middle and high school."
she chuckled. "yeah, figures. debate isn’t exactly a money-making sport."
her hand rested flat on the podium’s surface. "this space here," she tapped it lightly, "is perfect for jotting down quick rebuttals. but never pick up the paper, you hear me?"
you looked at her questioningly.
"it’s not team-based anymore. you can’t rely on pre-written notes," she explained, her voice firm but encouraging. "everything has to be on the spot, precise, and sharp. hesitation is the enemy."
you smirked slightly. "i hear you."
a matching smirk formed on her lips. "of course you do. you don’t have an issue debating on the spot, right?"
you shook your head. "not at all."
"good," she nodded approvingly. "if you ever want to do more research for future debate topics, that’s what the electromagnetic research archive machine is for—the one i showed you earlier."
you gave another nod, storing away the information.
yeeun took a step back, crossing her arms as she studied you. "apart from that, your stance and everything else are already solid. you’ve got confidence, and that’s something i really like when mentoring someone."
her words made you smile, a small sense of pride settling in your chest. it wasn’t often you took compliments seriously, but coming from someone who clearly knew her stuff, it meant something.
"let’s test something," yeeun suddenly said, pushing herself off the blue podium and walking toward you. "i know we’re not debating today, but i wanna see how you project your voice."
"what do you want me to say?" you asked, straightening your posture.
"convince me of something," she said. "doesn’t matter what. just make me believe in it."
you took a breath, shifting your weight slightly. you let your mind race through possible topics before landing on one.
"pineapple belongs on pizza."
yeeun’s expression twisted in mild disgust. "oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."
you smirked. "hear me out."
she crossed her arms again, leaning against the podium with a look of playful skepticism. "fine. convince me."
you stepped forward slightly, placing your hands flat against the podium.
"pizza is about balance—sweet, salty, savoury. think about it," you began, voice strong and unwavering. "you’ve got the crispiness of the crust, the richness of the cheese, the tanginess of the tomato sauce. but what’s missing? contrast."
yeeun raised a brow but didn’t interrupt.
"pineapple brings that contrast. the slight sweetness against the salty, melted cheese—it creates an explosion of flavour. people talk about umami all the time, right? that perfect blend of taste? well, this is it." you gestured firmly. "besides, if people can accept dipping fries into milkshakes, why is this any different?"
yeeun clicked her tongue, tilting her head as if mulling over your words.
"also," you leaned in slightly, "if you hate pineapple on pizza, that just means more for the rest of us. so, technically, you should be thanking me for advocating for it."
she let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "okay, that was actually solid. i still hate it, but that was convincing."
you grinned. "so i win."
"you win nothing," she scoffed playfully. "but, i will say, your voice projection is excellent. strong, commanding, but not aggressive. you don’t sound like you’re trying too hard, and that’s important."
there was a pause before she added, "but let’s work on your pacing. you get excited—you rush a little. slow it down, let the words sink in before hitting them with your next point."
you nodded, appreciating the feedback.
"again," she said, motioning for you to repeat the exercise. "but this time, i want you to focus on pacing. pick a new topic."
you took a deep breath, thinking carefully before stepping forward. "cats are better than dogs."
yeeun groaned. "you’re really testing me, huh?"
you smirked. "that’s the point."
you launched into your next argument, adjusting your pacing this time, making sure each point had weight before delivering the next. and just like that, you lost track of time, the room echoing with your voices, your passion for debate filling the space like electricity.
as the session continued, you felt it—this wasn’t just preparation. this was sharpening your sword before battle. and you were ready for war.
the next day, you were more focused than ever. the weight of determination sat on your shoulders, but instead of feeling burdened, you felt fuelled by it. every minute spent in the debate guild was another step towards sharpening your skills, and you weren’t about to slow down.
your fingers flew over the keyboard of a standard computer, the screen glowing with research notes and reference materials. your eyes scanned every word, absorbing information like a sponge. every rebuttal, every counterpoint—your brain filed them away like an archive ready to be accessed at a moment’s notice.
across the room, a soft thud interrupted the quiet hum of productivity. heads turned as one of the newer guild members, clearly exhausted, slumped over the table. a second later, she was out cold.
"we have a case of a newbie giving her life to science!" a male senior member called out dramatically. laughter rippled through the room as he effortlessly lifted her into a bridal carry, walking her over to a couch before setting her down gently.
you felt a hand on your shoulder, warm and steady. you turned to find yeeun standing behind you, her expression amused yet reassuring.
"you don’t have to worry about ending up like that," she said.
"why’s that?" you asked, rubbing the bridge of your nose from hours of staring at the screen.
"because she had no prior knowledge before joining. she just went for this scholarship prize since she’s not good at anything else," yeeun explained, crossing her arms.
"but what about the academic scholarships?" you questioned.
yeeun let out a small sigh before rolling her eyes. "she underestimated debating. according to my sister, yejin—you’ve met her, right?"
you nodded, remembering the girl with the unnecessary nametag and sweet demeanour.
"well, she overheard that newbie saying she was gonna go for this scholarship since it was ‘just speaking.’" yeeun shook her head in disbelief. "can you believe that? just speaking."
you laughed. "yeah, she’s in for a rude awakening."
"she’ll probably get kicked out soon. riku hates babysitting newbies," yeeun muttered, glancing towards the guy who had carried the girl earlier.
"who’s riku?" you asked, following her gaze.
she pointed at him without hesitation. "him. the one who just carried her."
the guy in question, riku, was leaning against the arm of the couch now, arms crossed as he watched the sleeping girl with mild irritation.
"well, i should probably head over before he loses his mind. keep up the good work," yeeun said, giving you a pat on the back before striding towards riku and the unconscious newbie.
shaking your head, you refocused on your paper, switching gears to work on your first term paper. despite being in a room full of competitive individuals, the debate guild had a strange sense of camaraderie that made the atmosphere bearable.
not long after, the chair next to you scraped against the floor. you glanced over and immediately sighed.
"i don’t wanna give my life to science. newbies stay together?" gunwook asked cheekily, referring to the girl who had passed out earlier.
you chuckled. "we’re still in the same friend group, idiot."
"hey, hey. i was just checking," he smirked, settling into the chair next to you before booting up the computer you weren’t using anymore. the screen flickered to life as he started typing away, clearly absorbed in whatever research he was conducting.
time passed in comfortable silence, save for the occasional sound of typing and the quiet murmur of other guild members discussing debate strategies. after what felt like hours, you finally wrote the last sentence of your first term paper and leaned back, stretching your arms above your head with satisfaction.
"already?!" gunwook gasped, eyes wide as he stared at your paper.
"yeah, i just needed the research, which i already did," you replied nonchalantly, putting your paper in your folder with a satisfied smile.
he let out a low whistle. "you play a challenging game, bae."
your head snapped towards him instantly. "bae?!"
he blinked before scoffing. "your last name, idiot."
a beat of silence passed before realization hit you. you burst into laughter, the sound escaping before you could stop it. gunwook groaned, shaking his head as he turned back to his screen.
"you’re ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.
"says the one who just dramatically gasped over my term paper," you shot back, grinning.
he merely smirked, shaking his head before refocusing on his research. the banter between you two was second nature at this point, a rhythm that never seemed to falter.
as you packed up your things, you glanced at him once more. he was still typing away, his expression focused but relaxed. despite the rivalry, moments like this reminded you why you both thrived in this environment.
the debate guild was your battleground, but it was also where you both belonged.
as you finished packing up your things, riku's voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation.
"alright, everyone, gather around!" he called out, clapping his hands together to get the room's attention.
you watched as the guild members, both new and experienced, began to form a loose semi-circle around him. you waited for gunwook to finish shutting down his computer before the two of you walked together to join the group. glancing at the couch, you noticed the girl from earlier was gone. it seemed like she'd already been dismissed, proving yeeun's prediction right.
riku crossed his arms, scanning the group before speaking. "newbies, today's your first practice debate. let's see if you've got what it takes to be here."
immediately, the room buzzed with excitement, whispers exchanged between members. some of the newer ones shifted nervously, while the seasoned debaters looked on with intrigue. then, riku smirked. "naturally, we’ll start with the two everyone’s been waiting for. bae y/n and park gunwook, step up."
you and gunwook turned to each other, smirking like two rivals about to engage in battle.
"called it," gunwook muttered.
"let's make this quick," you shot back, already stepping toward the front.
you both made your way to the podiums. instinctively, you gravitated toward the red one, your fingers running over the smooth fabric draped across its surface. gunwook, without hesitation, stood behind the blue podium.
"knew you'd go for red," he teased, leaning casually on his podium.
"oh please, it suits me," you said with a playful eye roll.
riku stepped forward. "since you both seem so eager, let’s get to it. first, podium colour meanings: red represents 'against' while blue represents 'affirmative'." he let the information settle before continuing. "your debate topic—should the voting age be lowered? gunwook, you're arguing in favour of lowering it. y/n, you’re arguing against it. affirmative always goes first, so gunwook, you're up."
gunwook adjusted his stance, exuding confidence. he glanced at you once before turning back to the audience. "voting is a fundamental right, not a privilege, and the younger generation deserves representation. the current system disregards the opinions of capable, politically aware young individuals. in today’s digital era, information is more accessible than ever, allowing teenagers to educate themselves on policies, candidates, and governmental structures. just because someone is young doesn't mean they're incapable of making an informed decision."
you stood still, listening intently. as soon as riku gave you the cue, you straightened your posture and spoke.
"while the idea of an informed younger generation is appealing, the reality is that maturity and decision-making skills are still developing in adolescence. scientific studies show that the prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain responsible for reasoning and long-term judgment—isn't fully matured until the mid-twenties. impulsive decision-making is common among teenagers, which is why laws restrict certain responsibilities until a certain age. the weight of voting shouldn’t be taken lightly."
gunwook quirked an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "so you're saying younger people aren't capable of understanding the issues that affect them? that seems unfair."
you immediately countered. "i’m saying they may not have the experience necessary to make an informed decision. exposure to politics isn’t the same as understanding it. just because information is available doesn’t mean it’s always processed objectively."
gunwook nodded, taking in your words before launching into his rebuttal. "if experience is the key factor, should we then limit voting to only those over the age of twenty-five? by your logic, shouldn’t we question whether eighteen-year-olds should vote at all? besides, some younger individuals are just as, if not more, politically aware than older voters who don’t even research policies before heading to the polls."
his words were sharp, but you were prepared. "eighteen is a legal threshold that society has agreed upon, marking the transition into adulthood. it comes with responsibilities—like military service, taxation, and independent legal accountability. lowering the voting age below that point would undermine the established social contract."
but gunwook, ever sharp, fired back. "social contracts evolve. they once excluded women, people of colour, and those without property. if we relied on outdated ideas, progress would never be made. lowering the voting age allows young voices to be included in shaping their future."
"but at what cost?" you shot back, voice unwavering. "what safeguards would be in place to ensure votes are cast with full comprehension rather than peer influence or emotional sway? the more we dilute the voting pool with underdeveloped decision-makers, the greater the risk of uninformed choices steering policy."
"and by that logic," gunwook leaned forward, "should we start testing all voters for competency?"
murmurs spread through the room as guild members leaned in, the intensity of the debate gripping everyone present. you didn't hesitate.
"competency tests would be an entirely different ethical debate. the question here is whether reducing the voting age would improve or hinder democratic integrity. and i argue that it would do more harm than good."
back and forth, the two of you exchanged points like well-matched opponents in a tennis match. rebuttal upon rebuttal, neither of you willing to back down. the pace quickened, and soon, the debate felt less like a structured exercise and more like a rapid-fire battle of wits.
riku finally held up a hand. "alright, that’s enough."
both of you fell silent, breaths slightly uneven from the rapid exchange of words.
riku exhaled and gave an approving nod. "that was impressive. exactly what i expected from the two of you."
yeeun smirked from the sidelines, arms crossed as she gave you a look of approval. a few other seasoned members murmured amongst themselves, debating who had made the stronger argument.
after a few moments, riku turned to the senior members. "so? who won?"
they deliberated briefly before yeeun stepped forward as their unofficial spokesperson. she looked at both you and gunwook before announcing the result.
"y/n takes this one."
a wave of satisfaction washed over you as the room filled with applause. standing proudly behind the red podium, you couldn’t help the small, victorious smile that tugged at your lips.
gunwook, rather than looking disappointed, gave you a smirk of his own—one laced with respect.
"not bad," he muttered, clapping alongside everyone else. "but next time, i’m taking the win."
"we'll see about that," you replied, voice light but confident.
the energy in the room was undeniable. if this was only the beginning, you knew the battles ahead would be even more thrilling.
the debate guild was alive with energy as usual, but today, you had a different goal in mind. instead of throwing yourself into practice rounds or research, you were going to use your social influence to gather more intel about the people in the guild. knowledge was power, and in this case, it could give you an edge for the scholarship prize.
you found yeeun sitting at one of the long tables, typing away on her laptop. she barely glanced up when you pulled out the chair across from her, but she smirked slightly. "what brings you here? didn't think you'd be the type to take a break."
"who said this was a break?" you rested your chin on your hand, looking at her with interest. "i just figured you'd be the best person to give me the rundown on the people in this guild."
yeeun raised an eyebrow but closed her laptop halfway, finally giving you her full attention. "oh? looking to make friends or scope out the competition?"
"both." you smirked. "but mostly the second one."
she chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "alright. most of the newbies are still finding their footing, so you don’t have to worry about them too much. a few of them might have potential later, but for now, they’re no threat." she paused. "except gunwook. he’s the only one at your level."
you frowned slightly, though you weren’t surprised. "figured."
"you two are the only ones who have been dedicated to debating your whole lives," she continued. "he's sharp, fast on his feet, and confident—just like you. it'll be close."
you exhaled, nodding. "then i'll just have to make sure i stay ahead."
"exactly." she glanced at her phone. "i have class in ten, so i gotta go. but keep working. i have no doubt it'll come down to you two in the end."
with that, she packed up and left, leaving you to mull over her words.
you tapped your fingers against the table, considering everything yeeun had said. gunwook was undeniably talented, and though you had won the last debate, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t push even harder next time. if anything, you expected him to come back twice as strong. you had to stay sharp.
just as you were about to shift your focus back to research, a loud whine filled the room. you turned your head just in time to see siyun dragging himself into the debate guild like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. he collapsed onto the seat next to you, dramatically dropping his head onto the table.
"why," he groaned, "is life so unfair?"
you blinked at him. "okay, what happened?"
he lifted his head just enough to pout at you. "that girl who got kicked out of the debate guild yesterday? yeah, well, now she’s going for the academic scholarship that i’m aiming for! and guess what? she’s, like, some science genius!"
you snorted. "oh, her? she was using one of the machines yesterday, but she passed out from exhaustion. she got kicked out because she wasn’t taking debating seriously, and apparently, the leader of the guild—i think his name is riku—got tired of babysitting her."
siyun let out another dramatic groan, burying his face in his arms. "great. just great. so now i have to compete with a genius. this is actually the worst."
you smirked. "oh, so now you know what it’s like to constantly compete against someone."
he lifted his head just to glare at you. "don’t even start. i already have to deal with enough stress."
"sounds like a you problem."
he huffed but then squinted at you. "actually, speaking of competition, how’s your thing with gunwook going? you never really talk about it when everyone’s around."
you straightened a little, a small, proud smile forming on your lips. "i beat him in a practice debate yesterday."
siyun’s eyes widened before he grinned. "no way! that's awesome! congrats."
"thanks." you leaned back slightly. "i just really hope i beat him for the scholarship too."
"i hope you do too," siyun said quickly, then paused, looking slightly guilty.
suspicious, you narrowed your eyes. "why do you sound like you have another reason for saying that?"
he shifted uncomfortably before letting out a sheepish laugh. "okay, so don’t be mad, but… i may or may not have bet money on you."
you stared at him. "excuse me?"
he held up his hands defensively. "it’s not just me! ayden and yubin are in on it too."
you crossed your arms. "oh, really? and who are they betting on?"
siyun grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "can’t tell you that. it’s a bet between us, not something you’re involved in."
"oh, come on." you rolled your eyes. "that’s unfair."
"nope. rules are rules."
you let out an exaggerated sigh before picking up the book you had brought with you. flipping it open, you ignored siyun entirely, acting as if he had ceased to exist.
it only took him three seconds to start whining. "you can’t just ignore one of your closest friends for years!"
you turned a page without looking up. "watch me."
he groaned dramatically, slumping in his seat. "this is betrayal. the highest form of betrayal."
silence.
"y/n!"
more silence.
"y/n, please, i’m sorry!"
you smirked slightly but kept reading, amused by his suffering. after a few more minutes, he gave up, slouching in his chair with a pout.
"you’re evil," he muttered.
"and yet, you’re still here." you finally looked up, raising an eyebrow.
he sighed. "yeah, yeah. you win. but seriously, you better win that scholarship. i’ve got money on the line."
you just shook your head, returning to your book as he continued to sulk beside you.
after a few minutes of silence, he suddenly perked up. "actually, wait—why don’t we practice together? i can help you prep for your next debate, and you can help me with my scholarship prep. i mean, you’re smart too. i don’t need science knowledge—just logic and argument skills."
you considered it. "that’s not a bad idea. but do you actually think you can handle my level of debating?"
he scoffed. "please. i might not be a debater, but i can argue with the best of them."
"we’ll see about that," you said, closing your book. "alright, let’s start. first, let’s break down what arguments you think she’ll use for the academic scholarship."
and just like that, your casual conversation turned into an impromptu strategy session, both of you diving into the competitive spirit that had brought you to the guild in the first place.
when gunwook strolled in, he scanned the room before spotting you and siyun at your table. he made his way over, dropping his bag onto a chair before leaning against the table with a smirk.
"what’s up, losers?" he greeted casually.
siyun looked up from his book and gasped dramatically. "oh my god, perfect timing! i can get help from the best debaters i know!"
gunwook raised an eyebrow and turned to you for an explanation. you sighed, already knowing how this was going to go.
"that girl who got kicked out of the debate guild yesterday? she’s now going for the academic scholarship that siyun is also competing for," you explained, watching gunwook’s expression shift from mild interest to amusement.
"ah, so that’s why he’s here," gunwook said, nodding. "but… why are you here? you’re not part of the debate guild."
siyun scoffed, crossing his arms. "ayden has class, yubin is doing a presentation, and i knew at least one of you two would be here. so, i welcomed myself in despite not being a member."
you scoffed, shaking your head with a smile, while gunwook chuckled. "bold move."
"always," siyun said smugly before leaning forward. "now listen, i need help. she’s apparently a genius when it comes to science and logic, so she’s going to be using some strong arguments in the academic scholarship application. i need to be ready."
as soon as siyun started listing potential arguments she could use, gunwook, without hesitation, began shooting them down with rebuttals. it was like a reflex for him, like he was debating purely on instinct. no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure, confident responses.
you raised an eyebrow, amused. "you sure you’re not just a clone of siyun? because this is kinda weird."
gunwook simply shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "what can i say? debating is second nature."
siyun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "ugh, i wish i was you. you’re tall and sexy, and you make debating look effortless."
you nearly choked. "what?!"
gunwook threw his head back, laughing loudly. "damn, siyun. didn’t know you felt that way about me."
you stared at siyun in complete disgust. "he's literally only an inch taller than you! and you both work out! how is that even a factor?!"
gunwook, still grinning, turned to you with a teasing look. "so, does that mean you find both of us sexy?"
you scoffed, completely offended. "you’re both disgusting."
gunwook and siyun burst into laughter, clearly enjoying themselves. you shook your head, regretting every decision that led you to being friends with these idiots.
just then, riku walked into the guild, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. siyun, in a panic, grabbed the closest book and buried his face in it, acting like he was deeply invested in whatever nonsense he had just picked up. wanting to help, you immediately started doing your homework at an accelerated rate, furiously scribbling into your notebook.
gunwook bit his lip, trying to hold back his laughter as he watched the two of you panic over riku’s presence. he leaned over slightly, lowering his voice. "you guys are so obvious."
"shut up," you hissed without looking up, still pretending to be intensely focused on your work.
gunwook chuckled, then leaned back. "anyway, i should probably get some research done if i want to beat you in our next debate. i’ll be using the electromagnetic research archive machine to prepare."
you rolled your eyes. "ugh, piss off."
he laughed as he stood up, ruffling your hair just to be annoying before walking away towards the machine.
once riku seemed occupied with something else, you nudged siyun. "go. now."
without hesitation, siyun slammed his book shut and bolted out of the debate guild, disappearing in record time.
you sighed, shaking your head as you watched him go, then went back to your homework, pretending like none of that had just happened.
just as you started settling back into your work, gunwook’s voice rang out from across the room. "oh, by the way, y/n, if you ever need help with arguments, you know where to find me!"
you didn’t even look up. "as if i’d ever need help from you."
he just laughed in response, the sound of his amusement echoing through the guild as he focused on his research. despite yourself, you found the corner of your lips twitching up in amusement before you forced it down, shaking your head. ridiculous. absolutely ridiculous.
the next morning, you woke up feeling groggy, rubbing your eyes as you stretched out your limbs. the faint sound of birds chirping outside your dorm window reminded you that it was friday, the last day of the week before the weekend officially started. but more importantly, it was the day of riku’s party.
the night before, riku had announced to the entire debate guild that he was hosting a party at his house to celebrate a successful first week. he had insisted that everyone should invite their friends to make it even more lively. you weren’t the biggest fan of huge gatherings, but you figured it was a good opportunity to unwind, especially after how intense the past week had been.
“y/n, hurry up!” yubin’s voice called from the other side of the dorm as she finished applying the last touches of her makeup.
“i’m coming, i’m coming.” you mumbled, still trying to fully wake up.
after getting dressed and fixing your hair, you and yubin made your way to the dorm where ayden, siyun, and gunwook stayed. the moment you opened the door, the smell of spices and sizzling meat filled your nose.
“what’s going on in here?” you asked, stepping inside.
ayden, standing in the kitchen, glanced back with a proud grin. “i’m cooking something to bring to the party. can’t show up empty-handed.”
yubin raised an eyebrow. “you act like it’s a potluck. it’s a party, ayden.”
“yeah, well, food makes everything better,” he replied, flipping a piece of meat in the pan.
meanwhile, gunwook was nowhere to be seen, but you could hear rustling coming from his room. and then there was siyun… who had just walked in, and the moment he did, an overwhelming, unpleasant stench filled the room.
“oh my god—” you covered your nose immediately. “go shower! you stink!”
“dude, what did you roll in?” yubin coughed, fanning the air.
“you’re gonna stink up my food!” ayden called out from the kitchen with a scowl.
siyun frowned, offended. “okay! okay! relax. you guys are so dramatic.” he scoffed before sulking towards the bathroom.
yubin sighed, shaking her head. “soccer boys.”
that made you chuckle. gunwook finally emerged from his room, dressed casually but neatly, hair slightly damp from what you assumed was his own shower earlier. he looked around. “is everyone ready?”
“siyun’s still in the shower,” you told him.
“he shouldn’t take that long.” gunwook nodded before plopping down onto the couch. yubin sat beside him, scrolling through her phone while you decided to check on ayden.
“need help?” you asked, stepping into the kitchen.
ayden immediately nodded. “yes, please. here, mix this while i finish frying.”
you took the bowl he handed to you, carefully stirring the sauce while he focused on the stove. you helped garnish some of the dishes, making sure everything looked presentable before carefully packing them up. siyun finally emerged from the bathroom, looking much fresher, his hair still slightly damp but at least smelling normal again.
yubin looked over. “you good now?”
“yeah, yeah.” siyun rolled his eyes before walking over to check the food. “so we’re done?”
“almost,” ayden said, finishing the last dish before carefully placing it in a container. “okay, now we’re done.”
you and ayden wrapped up the final dishes, placing them securely in a bag before the five of you finally left the dorm. you took the elevator down and made your way to gunwook’s car, the cool evening breeze hitting your skin.
as everyone approached the vehicle, siyun stretched his arms and looked around. “so… who’s taking passenger?”
“y/n should,” ayden said immediately. “just to take care of the food.”
“yeah, fair enough,” yubin agreed.
you nodded and walked towards the passenger seat. before you could open the door, gunwook beat you to it, pulling it open for you. you looked up at him. “thanks.”
he simply nodded, waiting for you to sit before carefully adjusting the food containers. then, without warning, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you.
you blinked. “i can do that myself, you know.”
he just smirked. “just making sure everything’s secure.”
with that, he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. in the back, yubin sat between siyun and ayden as they got settled.
“everyone in?” gunwook asked, turning the key in the ignition.
“yup,” yubin confirmed.
“alright, let’s go.”
the engine purred to life as gunwook pulled out of the parking lot, the night sky stretching out above as you all headed towards riku’s house. city lights flickered as you passed by the streets, the soft hum of music playing from the car speakers. yubin tapped her fingers against her knee to the beat, while ayden leaned back, looking out the window. siyun, on the other hand, was already talking about something, gesturing animatedly.
“so, predictions?” siyun asked suddenly, turning towards the front seats. “what kind of party do you think this is gonna be? chill or full chaos?”
“considering it’s riku, i’d say somewhere in between,” gunwook answered, eyes still on the road.
“depends on how many people show up,” you added, adjusting the bag of food slightly to make sure it didn’t tip over.
“i just hope the food we brought doesn’t go to waste,” ayden muttered.
“oh please,” yubin scoffed. “the moment people get even a little tipsy, they’re gonna be all over whatever food is there.”
siyun laughed. “true. alcohol and free food are the ultimate party combo.”
you shook your head, chuckling as you looked out the window, watching as the car moved smoothly through the streets. the anticipation of the night ahead buzzed lightly in the air, the excitement of whatever was to come lingering between the five of you.
soon enough, you were pulling up to a large, well-maintained house, music and laughter spilling out from inside. gunwook parked the car and turned to you, his dark brown eyes glinting with a challenge. "ready to show these people what we're made of?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. you couldn't help but grin back, the competitive spirit igniting within you. this was going to be an interesting night indeed...
you and the others piled out of the car, the sound of pulsing music and chatter growing louder as you approached the front door. gunwook grabbed the bag of food from the passenger seat, while ayden and siyun took the coolers filled with drinks. yubin linked her arm with yours as you walked, her heels clicking on the pavement. "think there will be any cute guys here tonight?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. you shrugged, not really caring about that. your focus was on the debate rounds tomorrow and unwinding tonight.
entering the house, you were immediately greeted by a surge of activity. people milled about in the living room, some dancing to the loud music, others engaged in heated conversations. the air was thick with the scent of perfume, cologne, and the faint hint of marijuana smoke. you and the others made your way to the kitchen, setting down the food and drinks you brought. gunwook plugged in his phone to the speakers, and the song changed to a more energetic beat.
"dibs on the first slice of pizza!" siyun called out, grabbing a slice and taking a big bite. ayden started uncapping beers and lining them up on the counter. yubin immediately snatched one up, popping it open and taking a long swig. gunwook leaned against the counter, surveying the scene with a critical eye, as if trying to decide his next move.
a group of people approached, some acquaintances and others you didn't recognize. introductions were made, and soon enough, you found yourself pulled into a lively debate about the latest policy changes in the government. gunwook was quick to jump in with his opinion, his voice rising above the din of the party. you couldn't help but counter his arguments, your own voice taking on a sharp edge. the two of you went back and forth, the crowd around you watching with interest, some even cheering at particularly cutting remarks. the thrill of the debate sent a rush of adrenaline through your body, and you could see gunwook was just as affected, his eyes blazing with intensity as he matched you point for point. there was something electric in the air between the two of you, the rivalry and animosity melding with an undercurrent of something else, something more primal.
as the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the atmosphere shifted. siyun grabbed a keg and tilted it over, holding it out to gunwook with a grin. "who wants to go first?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye. gunwook met your gaze, a challenge shining in his dark eyes. "how about you, y/n?" he asked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "i'll go first if you do."
you hesitated for a moment, but the liquid courage pumping through your veins made you bold. "fine," you agreed, stepping closer to the keg. ayden moved to stand behind you, ready to hold you steady as you gripped the top of the keg, tilting back to take a long swig of the passionfruit-flavoured alcohol. the sweet, potent liquid burned as it slid down your throat, and you felt your head growing fuzzy almost instantly.
gunwook smirked as siyun hoisted him up, gripping his legs to hold him in place as gunwook tilted back and drank deeply from the other keg, this one filled with a dragon fruit concoction. the crowd around you cheered and hollered, urging you both on as you gulped down as much as you could stand. gunwook finished first, his breath coming in harsh pants as siyun set him back on his feet. the room spun slightly as you stumbled back, ayden steadying you. gunwook reached out to grab your hand, pulling you back towards him and the keg. "your turn," he said, a dare in his eyes.
you gripped the keg again, tilting it back and drinking deeply, the room blurring and spinning around you as the alcohol hit your system hard. gunwook watched you, a smirk on his face as he held the keg for you, his hands brushing against yours. the crowd around you cheered and hollered, but their voices sounded distant, muffled by the pounding in your ears and the fuzzy feeling in your head.
when you finally stumbled back, gunwook caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. the alcohol had hit you hard, your inhibitions lowered and your senses heightened. gunwook's hands felt warm on your skin, and you leaned into him, your body fitting perfectly against his muscular frame. his breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in close. "careful," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "don't want you passing out on me now."
you could only manage a dazed smile, your eyes struggling to focus on his chiselled features. the alcohol had turned your brain to mush, but one thing was clear - the way gunwook was holding you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the challenge still shining in his eyes... it ignited something in you, something deep and primal and undeniable. you wanted to kiss him. and judging by the way he was looking at you, he wanted the same thing...
SUGGESTIVE THEMES AHEAD
the music pulsed around you, the bass thrumming through your body as you and gunwook stood there, locked in a heated gaze. the rest of the party faded away, the chatter and laughter becoming background noise to the pounding of your own heart. gunwook's hands tightened on your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your hip bones through the thin fabric of your clothes. your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, your eyes half-lidded and hazy from the alcohol. the challenge in his gaze had shifted, morphing into something else entirely - a dark, intense hunger that made your stomach flip and your core clench.
slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, gunwook leaned in closer. his nose brushed against yours, his lips a hairsbreadth away from touching your own. you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath. your own breath came in short, sharp pants, your chest heaving against his. around you, the world seemed to slow, the music and chatter fading away until it was just the two of you, suspended in this charged moment.
then, gunwook closed the distance, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. it was rough and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongues as he plundered your mouth. a moan escaped you, muffled by the force of his kiss, and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, fisting the material tightly. he tasted like dragon fruit and alcohol, a heady combination that made your head spin even more than it already was. his hands slid up your back, splaying across your shoulder blades as he pulled you flush against him, until not an inch of space remained between your bodies.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, your own desire igniting and burning hot and wild within you. your tongue tangled with his, stroking and teasing, giving as good as you got. you nipped at his bottom lip, earning a low growl from the back of his throat. the sound sent a shiver down your spine, your body igniting with a need you couldn't quite understand. your hands slid up his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles through his shirt, mapping out the contours of his body. you wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of his skin, to feel him pressed against you with nothing separating you.
gunwook's hands slid down to your ass, squeezing the globes roughly as he ground his hips against yours. you could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and it made your head swim with want. you arched into him, your body moulding to his like it was made to fit there. he kissed along your jaw, his lips hot and urgent, before trailing down to your neck. he bit down on the sensitive skin there, sucking hard, no doubt leaving a mark. you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access as your fingers tangled in his hair. your body was on fire, burning up from the inside out, and you couldn't get enough of his touch.
but then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. gunwook pulled back, his chest heaving and his eyes dark with lust. he stared down at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "we should probably slow down," he said, his voice a low rasp. "don't want to give the crowd too much of a show."
you blinked up at him, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, before nodding slowly. he was right, of course. as much as you wanted to keep going, to explore this newfound desire between the two of you, now was not the time or the place. you were both drunk, and the last thing you needed was to give your friends, or worse, your rivals, more ammunition to use against you.
with a great deal of effort, you stepped back, smoothing down your clothes and trying to regain some semblance of composure. gunwook did the same, but his eyes never left yours, still shining with that dark promise of more to come. around you, the party was still in full swing, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way gunwook was looking at you.
yubin popped up beside you, her own eyes hazy and a wide grin on her face. "you two are so fucking hot together," she slurred, fanning herself dramatically. "i thought it was getting a little steamy over here!"
you blushed hard, turning to glare at her, but she just laughed, stumbling a little in her heels. gunwook chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "come on, let's get you some water," he said, steering you towards the kitchen. "and maybe somewhere a little more private to... cool off."
as you walked, you could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, could feel the way his muscles flexed and moved beneath your touch. the night was still young, and you had a feeling that this was only the beginning of something much more intense and complicated between you and gunwook. but for now, you let him lead you away, ready to see where this new path would take you, no matter how treacherous it might be...
the next day, the debating rounds for the day were officially canceled. apparently, too many people had gotten drunk at riku’s party the night before, leaving most of the debate guild members either too hungover or too embarrassed to show up. while this was unfortunate, you personally had a much bigger issue at hand: you remembered absolutely nothing from last night.
you weren’t the only one, either. gunwook, yubin, and siyun were just as lost as you were. only ayden seemed to have retained his memory, but when you all bombarded him in the group chat, he refused to say anything. after a while, you all just let it go, figuring that if something truly terrible had happened, someone would have said something by now. still, there was a nagging curiosity at the back of your mind.
you groaned as you rolled over in bed, your head throbbing and your body sluggish. the moment you blinked awake, you felt how warm your face was, like you had spent hours under the sun. you smacked your lips together, immediately noticing how swollen they felt.
“what the hell…” you muttered under your breath, frowning at the sensation.
curiosity gnawed at you. despite the pounding headache, you forced yourself to sit up and drag yourself out of bed. moving felt like walking through quicksand, but you managed to stumble your way to yubin’s room, lazily knocking on the door.
it took a few seconds before a groggy voice mumbled, “come in.”
you pushed the door open, finding yubin sprawled across her bed, her hair a mess and her phone resting on her stomach. she barely lifted her head to look at you.
“does my face look weird?” you asked, standing in the doorway.
she squinted at you, her eyes scanning your features before she snorted. “your face is red as hell, and… wait—what’s up with your lips?”
you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “i was hoping you could tell me.”
yubin sat up slightly, rubbing her temples. “don’t ask me, i don’t remember a damn thing either. i woke up with my shoes still on and my phone under my pillow. i don’t even know how we got home.”
that wasn’t reassuring. you sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “well, ayden knows something, but he won’t tell us.”
she raised an eyebrow. “should we go bother him until he spills?”
you shook your head immediately. “absolutely not. i have a headache, and i’m pretty sure i’ll throw up if i move around too much.”
yubin flopped back onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. “fair. honestly, same.”
you debated visiting the boys’ dorm to see if gunwook or siyun had any hints about last night, but you quickly dismissed the idea. you were exhausted, and besides, you doubted they’d be any more helpful than yubin.
instead of lying in bed all day and suffering, you decided to do the bare minimum to take care of yourself. dragging your feet back to your room, you filled up your water bottle, grabbed a piece of toast and some crackers, and made yourself a simple breakfast. then, remembering how miserable yubin looked, you poured a glass of mango juice from your fridge, grabbed a pack of pain relievers, and carefully made your way back to her room.
yubin blinked up at you as you set the items down beside her. “you’re an angel.”
“i know.” you deadpanned, popping a pain reliever into your mouth and washing it down with a gulp of water.
yubin took hers as well, sipping the mango juice with a satisfied hum. “we should probably stop drinking.”
you snorted, collapsing onto her desk chair. “yeah, that’s not happening.”
“yeah, i know.” she sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “at least not until we figure out what the hell happened last night.”
“agreed.”
as you sat there, your phone buzzed on the desk. reluctantly, you reached over and unlocked it, seeing a message from siyun in the group chat.
siyun: ok so does anyone else feel like they got hit by a truck or is it just me?
yubin chuckled, typing back before you could.
yubin: congrats. that’s called a hangover.
siyun: ok but why do my arms hurt????
gunwook: …why does my teeth hurt????
your stomach dropped slightly at that. had there been a fight? you stared at the screen in mild horror.
ayden finally texted for the first time that morning.
ayden: you guys don’t wanna know.
siyun: NO TELL US
yubin nudged you, grinning. “should we go over there?”
you sighed, rubbing your temples. “give me five minutes.”
yubin smirked, hopping out of bed. “fine. but if i find out you did something embarrassing last night, i’m never letting you live it down.”
feeling slightly more human after hydrating, you trudged back to your room, flopping onto your bed. rather than stress about the mystery of last night, you grabbed your laptop, put on a movie, and curled up under the blankets with your water bottle beside you. whatever had happened at riku’s party would remain a mystery for now. for the moment, all you cared about was getting rid of your headache and pretending the outside world didn’t exist.
ayden soon texted the group chat again, this time with a much firmer stance. he outright refused to tell anyone what had happened last night. his exact words:
ayden: i’m not telling you guys. drop it.
there was a beat of silence in the chat before siyun responded.
siyun: can’t blame us for being curious tho
ayden: i’ll tell you when i feel like you’re ready. which won’t be anytime soon.
that message made you frown. what the hell did he mean by ‘ready’? what could have possibly happened that required mental preparation to even hear about it? you stared at your screen, debating if you should push him more, but ultimately, you just sighed and turned your phone off. it wasn’t worth arguing over right now.
a few minutes later, yubin barged into your room without warning, groaning dramatically as she flopped onto your bed.
“ayden is so annoying.” she grumbled, stuffing her face into your pillow. “why won’t he just tell us?”
you exhaled through your nose, nodding gently. “i don’t know. but if he’s this insistent, it must be something serious.”
“or he’s just being a dramatic little shit.” she countered, rolling onto her side to face you. her eyes suddenly flickered down to your lips, and a knowing smirk crept onto her face. “you know, now that i think about it… your lips are still kinda swollen.”
you groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “yubin, please.”
she ignored your plea, sitting up with an exaggerated gasp. “what if you made out with someone?!”
“shush.” you immediately shut her down, covering your face with your hands.
yubin laughed, nudging your shoulder. “c’mon, it’s a real possibility! maybe it was one of the acquaintances we met last night.”
you scoffed, shaking your head. “doubt it. i don’t even remember talking that long to any of them before i got drunk.”
“so you’re saying you don’t remember?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
you shot her a flat look. “i’m saying even drunk, i wouldn’t have kissed someone i didn’t find attractive.”
yubin tilted her head curiously. “okay, then what do you find attractive?”
you sighed, deciding to humour her. “someone tall, strong, preferably with the same interests as me. but also feisty enough that we can debate all the time without either of us getting bored.”
yubin’s smirk widened. “so basically gunwook?”
you immediately scoffed, rolling your eyes. “you’re ridiculous.”
“am i?” she sing-songed, poking your side playfully.
you were about to brush her off again, but as you scoffed, a sharp pain shot through your tongue. you winced, instinctively pressing a hand to your mouth.
yubin’s amusement quickly shifted to curiosity. “what was that?”
“my tongue hurts.” you muttered. “actually, my teeth kinda ache too, same with my backside.
“your backside too?” she gasped, eyes widening before she burst into laughter. “oh, this just keeps getting better.”
you shot her a glare. “shut up.”
she wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye. “wait, wait. let me get this straight. you woke up with swollen lips, sore teeth, a hurting tongue, and a stinging backside? and you don’t remember why?”
“no, yubin. that’s why i’m sitting here, confused as hell.”
she hummed, tapping a finger against her chin before her expression lit up with amusement. “oh, you’re gonna love this. guess who also complained about his teeth hurting this morning?”
you frowned. “who?”
“gunwook.” she grinned.
you blinked. then, immediately shook your head. “you’re delusional.”
she shrugged. “maybe. but, you know, we don’t actually know what other pains gunwook is dealing with right now…” she trailed off, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “should we find out?”
your stomach twisted slightly at the idea, but you immediately shook your head. “absolutely not. i’m recovering from my hangover. i’m not wasting my energy on something so silly.”
she pouted dramatically. “fine. maybe another day then.” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head before shooting you one last teasing look. “but i know you’re just as curious as i am.”
you huffed, rolling over so your back was facing her. she laughed before exiting your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
you stared at the ceiling, biting your lip. you hated to admit it, but she was right. you were curious. and the fact that gunwook was also in pain…
what the hell happened last night?
since it was a sunday, and your hangover had finally faded, you decided to spend the day studying at the debate guild. most people weren’t there—probably still recovering from the party—but that was exactly why you chose to go. it was peaceful, quiet, and the perfect atmosphere to actually get some work done.
you settled yourself at one of the desks, pulling out your laptop and a notebook before making your way over to the research archive machine. you had been meaning to study more about different argument strategies, and now was the perfect time. as the screen flickered to life, you lost yourself in the depth of information, taking diligent notes, fully focused—
until the door opened.
you turned your head to see gunwook stepping in, looking as put-together as ever despite everything that happened the past two days. he scanned the room briefly before his eyes landed on you. raising a brow, he looked at you questioningly.
“you alone?”
“obviously,” you said, waving him over.
gunwook hesitated for a moment before shrugging and making his way towards you. as he sat down across from you, you immediately leaned forward, clasping your hands together.
“do my homework for me.”
he blinked. “what?”
“please?” you batted your lashes dramatically.
he scoffed. “why would i do your homework?”
“because i’m a good friend, and you love me.” you grinned.
he laughed, shaking his head. “you’re ridiculous.”
“i know. so are you gonna do it or not?”
he let out a long sigh, but eventually nodded. “fine. but only if you get me toast and crackers.”
“deal.” you immediately got up, hurrying out of the room before he could change his mind. luckily, the dorm lounge wasn’t too far, and it didn’t take long for you to grab his snack and return. when you placed the food in front of him, he gave you a small smirk.
“damn, you actually did it.”
“i keep my promises. now, get to work.” you gestured to your notebook, and he rolled his eyes before pulling it towards him.
as he started scribbling away, you leaned back in your chair, watching him. now that you were alone together, curiosity began to creep up inside you. you bit your lip, debating whether or not to ask, but eventually, you gave in.
“hey, apart from the hangover, what type of pain did you feel yesterday?”
gunwook paused for a second before continuing to write. “hmm… my teeth hurt, my tongue felt kinda tingly, my lips were swollen, and apparently, there was a tiny mark on them. oh, and my shirt was wrinkled as hell, plus my hair was a complete mess.”
you froze. those were all incredibly similar to your symptoms. your face heated up as you stared at him, your mind racing with implications you didn’t even want to consider.
gunwook must have noticed your silence because he glanced up, tilting his head. “what? why are you looking at me like that?”
“no reason.” you quickly looked away, trying to compose yourself. you didn’t want to jump to conclusions… but something definitely wasn’t adding up. before you could think any further, gunwook suddenly squinted at your neck.
“wait.” he leaned in slightly. “you have a hickey.”
your eyes widened. “i what?”
“a hickey.” he pointed, smirking. “right there.”
you immediately slapped a hand over your neck, your face burning. “are you serious?”
“dead serious.” he laughed. “damn, bae? what did you get up to at the party?”
“stop calling me that!” you smacked his arm, scowling. “call me by my name, or people are gonna think you mean it differently.”
gunwook only chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “y/n, bae y/n.” he paused for effect, then grinned. “bae.”
you groaned. “you’re the worst.”
“and yet, we’re still in the same friend group.”
you rolled your eyes, but deep down, your mind was still running in circles. the pains, the hickey, gunwook’s similar symptoms… no, there was no way. you shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away.
as gunwook continued doing your homework, he glanced up again. “which degree are you doing again?”
“communications,” you muttered, still partially distracted.
he nodded. “right. i’m doing history.”
“don’t care. just finish my work.”
he chuckled. “as you wish.”
you sighed, leaning back against your chair, trying to shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest.
“y’know,” gunwook mused, tapping his pen against the desk. “it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“what is?”
“all these little things. the pains, the hickey, the fact that neither of us remembers anything.” he set his pen down and studied your face. “don’t you think that’s suspicious?”
you swallowed. “i mean… yeah. but what are we supposed to do about it? we can’t exactly ask ayden—he’s already refusing to tell us anything.”
“true.” gunwook frowned, resting his chin on his hand. “but that just makes me more curious.”
“same,” you admitted, exhaling sharply. “i hate not knowing.”
“we could retrace our steps,” he suggested. “try to figure out what happened.”
you hesitated. “do you really wanna know?”
gunwook raised a brow. “don’t you?”
you bit your lip. “yeah. i do.”
he grinned. “then let’s do it. let’s find out what the hell happened that night.”
"no."
you and gunwook both turned your heads towards the door. standing there with his arms crossed, looking as composed as ever, was riku. his expression was unreadable, but his tone was firm.
"what?" gunwook asked, raising a brow, clearly confused by the abrupt statement.
"no, you heard me," riku repeated, stepping further into the room, his gaze shifting between the two of you.
"why not?" you asked, trying to keep your tone polite despite the growing frustration inside you.
"because it would distract the both of you," riku said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "you two are my best debaters out of the newbies. you both want the scholarship prize from the ultimate debate showdown, don’t you? don’t get distracted."
gunwook leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. "so, you remember last night?"
riku gave him a look. "of course. it was my party, at my house. why wouldn’t i remember?"
that caught your attention. you leaned forward slightly. "can we at least know if it’s… anything bad?"
riku smirked slightly, tilting his head as if considering his answer. "well, overall, it depends on how your sober selves see it."
you and gunwook exchanged glances, confusion evident in both your expressions. his brows furrowed slightly, and you could tell he was just as lost as you were.
gunwook straightened up. "well, can you confirm something for us… since the physical proof is on y/n?"
riku nodded. you furrowed your brows, about to ask what gunwook meant when it suddenly hit you. your stomach twisted. you gasped. "no! that’s so—"
gunwook cut you off before you could finish. "on y/n’s behalf, she has a whole hickey on her neck. did something go down at least between her and someone?"
riku paused, looking at gunwook for a long moment before nodding. "i mean, she couldn’t have given it to herself, obviously. so yes, she got it from someone."
your face immediately burned with embarrassment. even though you had suspected it, hearing it confirmed made you bury your face in your hands with a groan. "that’s so embarrassing…"
"there’s something for you," gunwook said, nudging you lightly with his elbow, his voice laced with amusement.
you lifted your head just to smack his arm in response, making him chuckle. he seemed far too entertained by this whole situation.
riku crossed his arms. "ideally, you both would have to connect some dot points to figure out the whole picture. but i don’t really want you to, since it would be a major distraction."
"that just makes me more curious now," gunwook admitted, scratching the back of his neck, his expression contemplative.
riku sighed, shaking his head. "then y/n gets the scholarship prize."
you immediately perked up, turning to gunwook with an innocent smile. "i hope curiosity gets the better of you, then."
gunwook scoffed, rolling his eyes. "real mature."
riku just chuckled. "anyway, try not to get too caught up in it. there are more important things to focus on."
"yeah, yeah," you muttered, waving a dismissive hand, but you knew his words wouldn’t leave your mind anytime soon.
as riku exited the room, silence settled between you and gunwook once more. it wasn’t an awkward silence, but rather one thick with unspoken thoughts. curiosity was a dangerous thing, and it seemed neither of you could shake it off.
you glanced at gunwook, who was idly tapping a pencil against your notebook, deep in thought. he didn’t say anything, but you knew he was just as invested in figuring out the mystery as you were.
"so…" you began cautiously. "do you think—"
"i don’t know," gunwook interrupted before you could even finish your question. "but it’s weird, right? my symptoms, yours, and now this?"
you nodded slowly. "it lines up a little too well."
he sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face. "this is gonna bother me all week."
"same," you muttered, slumping in your chair. "but we have debating practice tomorrow. maybe we should just… not think about it."
"you really think we won’t?" gunwook gave you a knowing look.
"…no," you admitted, making him chuckle again.
one way or another, you were going to get to the bottom of this. the only question was—were you truly ready for the answer?
the next day, after a long and exhausting schedule, you found yourself finally catching your breath. you had just finished delivering a university presentation, something you had been preparing for over the past week, and submitted your term paper—despite it being incredibly early in the term. the weight of academics was ever-present, but at least for today, you had a moment to breathe.
afterward, you sat in the debate guild’s meeting room, feeding new information into the research archive machine. the dim hum of the machine and the soft murmuring of other students filled the room as you methodically sorted through your notes. you had developed a sort of rhythm when your phone vibrated against the wooden surface of the table beside you.
it was a message from yubin.
yubin: please come to the boys' dorm. i can't handle them alone.
you: what did they do now?
yubin: just get here before i lose my mind.
you sighed, rubbing your temples before shoving your laptop into your bag. this was not what you had planned for the rest of the day, but you knew that if yubin was calling for backup, things had to be getting out of hand.
your walk to their dorm was familiar—cutting across the courtyard, past the bustling student center, through the common areas, and up the elevator. as you approached their room, you could already hear the tell-tale sounds of raised voices from inside.
you knocked before pushing the door open. immediately, you were met with the sight of siyun and gunwook standing chest-to-chest in front of the couch, their heated squabbling filling the room. meanwhile, ayden sat at his desk, arms crossed, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.
“what are they squabbling about?” you asked yubin, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking exasperated.
“cleaning,” she replied, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “something as simple as cleaning.”
“so why are you here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“because ayden requested me to come before he lost his patience,” she answered, tilting her head in his direction.
ayden, still brooding, let out a tired sigh. “i swear, i was going to just leave.”
you sighed, shaking your head before stepping between gunwook and siyun. “okay, okay, that’s enough. you both need to stay, and ayden, you too. just get it done so we can all move on with our lives.”
siyun rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. gunwook let out an annoyed huff but took a step back.
“finally,” ayden muttered, standing up from his seat.
yubin shot you a grateful look as you walked past her, settling into the desk chair. without hesitation, you woke up their computer and started typing.
“what are you doing now?” yubin asked, curiosity creeping into her voice.
“writing a research paper,” you replied nonchalantly.
she blinked. “why?”
“why not?” you shrugged. “i need something to do while i’m here so i don’t get bored.”
as siyun and gunwook finally started tidying up, you focused on typing. your fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling together information on cognitive processes and brain function. it wasn’t long before you leaned back in the chair, stretching your arms before hitting ‘publish.’
“did you just… finish a research paper?” yubin stared at you in disbelief.
“yep.” you grabbed a cooking book from ayden’s shelf, flipping through the pages. “i just wanted to be concise.”
she looked even more confused. “and now you’re reading a cookbook?”
before you could respond, siyun peered over your shoulder. “why are you reading one of ayden’s cookbooks?”
you turned a page without looking up. “go streaking.”
without hesitation, siyun grinned. “alright.”
“wait—what?!” yubin yelped as siyun reached for the hem of his shirt.
“ew, no! stop!” she shrieked, lobbing a pillow at him before he could move another inch.
“relax, i was just messing around.” siyun laughed, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. gunwook was doubled over, wheezing, while ayden simply shook his head, muttering something about idiots.
ayden turned to you. “so, are you actually interested in cooking?”
you nodded. “yeah, i’ve always wanted to learn more.”
gunwook perked up. “oh, ayden’s restaurant is looking for more hostesses.”
you raised an eyebrow. “do you think i could convince your boss to give me a bonus before even hiring me?”
before you could clarify that you were joking, ayden had already pulled out his phone.
“wait—i was kidding,” you said, eyes widening.
but ayden was already speaking into the phone. “hey, boss, i have someone interested in the hostess position… yeah, she's reliable.”
you exchanged a look with yubin, who was watching with barely-contained amusement.
after a short conversation, ayden hung up and turned to you. “you get a bonus after your first shift.”
your jaw dropped. “what?” you paused before squinting. “why did he even hire me?”
ayden shrugged. “he likes connections—says it’s like some kind of web. plus, his daughters know you. based on their description of you, he figured you’d be a good fit.”
your brows furrowed. “who are his daughters?”
“son yeeun and son yejin.”
at the mention of their names, your face lit up. “no way!”
the boys laughed as you celebrated, but after a moment, you frowned. “wait… isn’t this kind of nepotism?”
everyone burst into laughter again, the tension in the room completely forgotten.
“so, when’s your first shift?” gunwook asked after catching his breath.
“no idea.” you turned to ayden. “when am i starting?”
“this weekend,” he said, smirking. “better brush up on that cookbook.”
yubin nudged you playfully. “you go through jobs like it’s nothing.”
“what can i say?” you grinned. “i like to keep things interesting.”
the conversation continued as the evening stretched on, laughter filling the dorm as you all slipped into easy banter. the earlier squabble was long forgotten, replaced by warm camaraderie and teasing remarks. moments like these, you realized, were the ones you truly cherished.
the next day, you found yourself once again at the debate guild, sitting beside gunwook as the practice debates for the newer members took place. the room was filled with a mixture of hushed whispers and quiet concentration as the seasoned and senior members observed carefully, analysing each participant’s debating style and technique. the large meeting hall had an air of both nervous energy and excitement, the scent of old books and coffee lingering in the background as pages of notes rustled under eager hands.
"they’re not bad," you muttered, watching as two newbies went at it, their voices filled with determination yet slightly wavering with inexperience.
"not bad, but definitely needs work," gunwook added, his eyes locked on the podium. "they hesitate too much before making a rebuttal."
"yeah, they don’t seem to trust their own points yet," you agreed, leaning slightly toward him.
with each debate that passed, the difference in skill level between the newer debaters and the more experienced ones became more apparent. occasionally, you and gunwook exchanged small, knowing smiles, silently acknowledging when a debater made a particularly strong argument or when another completely fumbled under pressure. the two of you sat with relaxed postures, arms occasionally brushing as you leaned in to whisper your observations.
soon enough, riku stepped forward, calling the next round. "alright, next up—y/n versus gunwook."
you took a deep breath, standing from your chair as gunwook did the same beside you. he turned his head slightly and smirked. "ready to lose?"
"i should be saying that to you," you shot back with a grin.
you both made your way to the front of the room, stepping behind your respective podiums—yours was the usual red, while gunwook’s was blue. as you adjusted your stance, you met gunwook’s gaze, and despite the impending debate, there was a moment of unspoken respect between you. the room quieted, anticipation settling over the crowd.
riku cleared his throat and read out the topic. "should universal healthcare be implemented?"
your smile faltered for a fraction of a second. you supported universal healthcare, but unfortunately, you had been assigned the against side. gunwook, catching the slight change in your expression, smirked playfully.
"looks like i have the upper hand," he teased.
"we’ll see about that," you muttered under your breath, regaining your composure.
he opened the debate with a solid introduction, explaining why universal healthcare should be implemented. his voice was steady and confident, his argument structured with precision. he spoke about accessibility, fairness, and how the system could improve overall public health. his words flowed effortlessly, backed by statistics and compelling anecdotes that made even some of the senior members nod in approval.
then it was your turn. taking a deep breath, you straightened your posture and introduced the opposing argument. despite your personal belief, you countered with well-researched points—concerns about funding, strain on medical professionals, and potential tax increases. your voice was unwavering, delivering your arguments with calculated precision, matching gunwook’s intensity.
his rebuttal came quickly. "while it’s true that a universal system requires funding, studies show that, in the long run, it actually reduces healthcare costs overall. preventative care lowers the number of emergency visits, and—"
"—and yet, government-run healthcare systems in some countries have led to longer wait times for urgent medical procedures," you cut in smoothly, countering his point before he could finish. "which means that even if care is accessible, that doesn’t guarantee it’ll be provided in a timely manner."
his eyes flickered with amusement. "fair, but those wait times are often exaggerated. many countries with universal healthcare still maintain short wait times for critical cases."
"but at the cost of higher taxes," you shot back. "not every citizen can afford to shoulder that burden."
back and forth, the debate continued, each of you pushing harder, the energy in the room growing more intense. you could feel the engagement of the audience, their eyes darting between you and gunwook as you both delivered rapid rebuttals. it wasn’t just about winning anymore—it was about proving your skill, demonstrating your ability to argue a point convincingly, even if it wasn’t your personal stance.
eventually, the seasoned members huddled together to deliberate before riku stepped forward again. "winner—gunwook."
the room erupted into polite applause. you clapped along with everyone else, flashing gunwook a small smile as you mouthed, "good job."
he grinned. "you too."
as you both stepped away from the podiums, riku approached, motioning for you and gunwook to follow him to the side.
"i have an opportunity for you both," he began, looking between the two of you. "there’s a children’s debate competition happening tomorrow after classes, and they need professional commentary. i was wondering if you two would be interested in joining me."
"oh?" gunwook raised a brow before looking at you. "what do you think?"
"as long as you’re going, i’m in," you answered easily, crossing your arms.
riku nodded approvingly. "good. you’ll have to make your own way there, though. is that okay?"
"yeah, that’s fine," gunwook replied.
"same here," you added.
riku then smirked slightly. "oh, and you’ll be getting paid for this."
at that, your eyes widened with excitement. "wait, seriously?"
"seriously," he confirmed.
you couldn’t contain your delighted giggle, rocking on your heels. "that’s amazing!"
gunwook chuckled at your reaction, shaking his head in amusement. "looks like someone’s excited."
"of course i’m excited!" you grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "who wouldn’t be happy about getting paid to talk?"
riku laughed, nodding in agreement. "just be there on time, and we’ll go over everything before it starts."
"got it," you and gunwook said in unison.
as the meeting continued, you felt a sense of accomplishment, the earlier debate still buzzing in your mind. you glanced at gunwook, who was watching you again—his gaze lingering a second longer before he looked away, a small smirk still tugging at his lips. something about the way he looked at you made your heart skip for just a moment, but before you could analyse it further, riku called for the next debate, drawing both of your attentions back to the session at hand.
the next day, after sitting through your classes, you hurried back to your dorm to get ready for the children's debate event. you were excited—not just because you were going to be a commentator alongside gunwook and riku, but because you were getting paid for it. as you rummaged through your wardrobe, deciding what to wear, yubin suddenly barged into your room without knocking.
"where are you going?" she asked, eyeing the mess of clothes you had tossed onto your bed.
"i have this debate event thing with gunwook and riku," you answered, pulling out a dress and holding it up in front of the mirror. you tilted your head, unsure if it was the right choice.
yubin’s eyes lit up with mischief. "with gunwook? oh, we have to make you look amazing." she rushed forward, taking the dress from your hands and inspecting it before shaking her head. "nah, this isn't the one. you need something better."
you scoffed, though there was a small smile playing on your lips. "why does it matter? it's just a debate event."
yubin shot you a knowing look. "because he is going to be there."
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto your face. unfortunately, yubin caught it immediately.
"oh my god, you’re smiling!" she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she had just witnessed something earth-shattering. "do you—" she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "do you like gunwook?"
you hesitated for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "...he’s cute."
yubin let out an ear-piercing squeal and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you excitedly. "i knew it! finally, some progress!"
you groaned, gently pushing her away. "calm down, it’s not that deep. he’s just... been really sweet lately."
she gave you a sly smile. "mm-hmm. really sweet, huh?" she wiggled her eyebrows before helping you pick out an outfit. after a few minutes, you settled on a simple but elegant dress, and yubin helped you with your hair and accessories. just as you finished getting ready, there was a knock on the door.
yubin immediately ran to open it, and when she did, her expression shifted into one of amusement. "oh. are you here for y/n?"
gunwook stood in the doorway, dressed in a well-fitted suit. he nodded. "yeah."
you walked out of your room, adjusting your earrings before looking up—and immediately stopping in your tracks. gunwook looked... good. ridiculously good. the suit fit him perfectly, and for a second, you forgot how to speak.
yubin, of course, noticed everything. "is this a date?" she asked, her smirk evident.
both you and gunwook chuckled, shaking your heads.
"you look good, though," gunwook said, his eyes scanning your outfit with a look of approval.
you felt warmth creep up your neck as you muttered, "thanks. you too."
quickly slipping on your heels, you waved at yubin before walking out with gunwook. the two of you strolled through the building hallways, your steps in sync as a comfortable silence settled between you. as you entered the elevator, you glanced up at him, noticing how he looked effortlessly composed.
"you excited?" gunwook asked, breaking the silence.
you nodded with a small hum. "yeah. mostly because i’m getting paid, but also because it’ll be nice to watch these kids debate. i love seeing younger people getting into this kind of stuff."
"figured as much," gunwook chuckled.
that sparked something in you, and before you knew it, you were rambling. "i’ve been into debating since i was young. my parents used to say i would argue with the tv whenever a politician was speaking. i’d even debate random stuff with our teachers in school just for fun. honestly, debating has always felt more like a game to me rather than work. the thrill of proving a point, finding flaws in an argument, and outsmarting someone with logic—it’s so satisfying."
gunwook listened attentively, his expression softening as you spoke. what you didn’t notice, however, was the way his gaze lingered on you—taking in the excitement in your eyes, the way your hands moved animatedly as you spoke, the way your lips curled into a smile when you talked about something you were passionate about.
he thought you looked beautiful.
"you’ve told me this before," he said, amused. "but i don’t mind hearing it again."
you blinked. "wait, really?"
"yeah," he nodded, smirking. "you have a habit of repeating yourself when you get excited."
you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "ugh, that’s embarrassing."
gunwook laughed, reaching over to gently tug your wrist so you’d lower your hands. "nah, it’s cute."
you paused, your breath hitching slightly at his words. you weren’t sure if he meant to say that, but he didn’t take it back, and he didn’t look embarrassed either. instead, he just looked at you with that same unreadable but soft expression.
before you could overthink it, the elevator dinged, signalling that you had reached the ground floor.
stepping out together, you let out a small breath. "alright, let’s do this."
gunwook nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "let’s go."
as you both stepped out of the building, the cool evening air brushed against your skin. gunwook led the way to his car, his strides relaxed yet confident. when you reached the vehicle, he pulled open the passenger door for you.
"after you," he said smoothly, gesturing for you to get in.
rolling your eyes at his unnecessary chivalry but smiling nonetheless, you slid into the passenger seat. before you could reach for your seatbelt, he leaned in and buckled it for you. the proximity made your heart stutter for a moment, and you bit back a smile as you mumbled, "thanks."
he flashed you a charming smile in return, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he pulled back. "anytime."
closing the door, he circled the car and got into the driver's seat, adjusting his position before starting the engine. one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift—something about the way he drove, his suit perfectly tailored to him, made him look effortlessly attractive. you found yourself sneaking glances at him as he navigated through the streets.
"so, according to riku's text, the school we're going to is a private institution with a heavy emphasis on public speaking," gunwook started, his eyes flickering to you briefly before returning to the road. "they’ve got some really promising kids, but this is their first time doing individual debates rather than team-based ones."
"oh? that’s interesting," you mused. "must be nerve-wracking for them. i remember how terrified i was during my first solo debate."
he chuckled, shaking his head. "please, you were terrifying. even as a kid, you were ruthless. i still have emotional scars."
"oh, come on." you nudged him playfully. "i wasn't that bad."
"you made a judge cry once."
you gasped dramatically. "okay, that was one time, and he deserved it. he was biased."
"whatever helps you sleep at night," gunwook teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
before you knew it, you had arrived at the school. the grand building stood tall, its architecture sleek and modern. the large windows reflected the dimming evening sky, casting a golden hue across the campus.
as gunwook parked the car, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to you. "stay here for a second."
"why?" you asked, confused.
he was already stepping out before he answered, "just listen."
you sighed but complied, watching as he rounded the car and opened the passenger door for you again. before you could move, he reached in and unbuckled your seatbelt.
"i can do it myself, you know," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.
"i’m just being a gentleman," he replied with an easy grin, offering you his hand.
rolling your eyes yet again—though warmth spread through your chest—you placed your hand in his, letting him help you out of the car. together, you walked toward the entrance of the school, your steps in sync.
inside, the halls were polished and well-lit, the sound of chatter and excitement buzzing through the air. students dressed in pristine uniforms filled the auditorium, their faces a mix of nerves and anticipation. you spotted riku near the front, checking his phone, and the two of you made your way toward him.
"you made it," riku greeted, sliding his phone into his pocket. his eyes flicked between you and gunwook before smirking slightly. "took your time, huh?"
"traffic," gunwook lied effortlessly.
you gave him a knowing glance but decided to let it slide.
your attention drifted to the group of kids preparing for their debate, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. nudging gunwook, you nodded toward two children standing by their respective podiums.
"why do they look like us when we were kids?" you whispered, amusement lacing your tone.
he followed your gaze and let out a low chuckle. "your little pigtails and glasses," he murmured teasingly.
"shut up." you nudged him again, though you couldn't hide your grin.
the debate was about to begin, and the topic flashed on the screen: should the death penalty be abolished?
your eyes widened slightly, and you turned to riku and gunwook. "isn't that a little too intense for kids?"
riku shook his head. "it's just a political topic. they're handling it from a purely logical standpoint, not an emotional one. besides, these kids are smarter than you think."
as the debate commenced, you leaned forward slightly, listening intently. the girl on the red podium, the one who looked eerily like a younger version of you, stood tall and confident as she presented her opening statement against the death penalty. her voice was steady, her points well-researched. she argued about the potential for wrongful convictions, the ethical implications, and the lack of evidence proving it served as an effective deterrent.
the boy on the blue podium, a miniature version of gunwook with the same sharp gaze, countered with impressive composure. he cited statistics, historical data, and economic factors, arguing that capital punishment provided justice for victims and prevented repeat offenses.
as commentators, your job was to provide insight into their debating techniques, strengths, and areas for improvement. gunwook leaned toward the microphone first.
"you can already tell these two have studied extensively," he said, impressed. "the structure of their arguments is solid, and their delivery is confident."
you nodded, adding, "what i really like about the red side’s argument is how she's integrating real-world cases to support her point. it makes her argument more tangible and persuasive."
riku chimed in, "but notice how the blue side is using economic factors? that's a smart approach. when you bring in cost efficiency and statistics, it appeals to a broader audience."
as the debate progressed, the kids' passion became more evident. they were quick on their feet, rebutting each other’s points seamlessly. the three of you continued your commentary, analysing their strategies and giving constructive feedback.
gunwook chuckled at one particularly witty rebuttal from the boy. "that was smooth. reminds me of a certain someone." he cast a pointed look at you.
you smirked. "oh, please. if anything, he debates more like you. all logical, straight to the point, minimal emotion."
"i take that as a compliment," he replied smugly.
the debate eventually came to a close, and the judges deliberated while the audience clapped for the two young debaters. regardless of who won, it was clear both had talent and potential.
leaning back in your chair, you sighed contently. "this was fun. watching them debate like this makes me miss being on that stage."
gunwook glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "yeah. but i like watching you here, too."
you turned to him, blinking. he held your gaze for a second longer before looking away, his ears tinged pink.
riku, having caught the moment, smirked to himself.
"anyway," you cleared your throat, deciding to ignore whatever just happened. "who do you think is going to win?"
gunwook exhaled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "hard to say. but either way, they both did great."
and with that, you all turned back toward the stage, awaiting the final verdict.
as soon as the final decision was announced, the little girl on the red podium—who looked strikingly like a younger version of you—lit up with pure joy. her hands flew to her mouth before she jumped up and down, excitement radiating off her in waves.
streamers and confetti burst into the air, filling the auditorium with an atmosphere of celebration. the audience clapped, their smiles reflecting the enthusiasm of the moment. even the boy who had debated against her offered a small, respectful nod of acknowledgment, though he looked determined to do better next time.
"she even celebrates like you," gunwook murmured teasingly, leaning close enough for only you to hear.
you turned to him with a scandalized look before giving him a playful shove, your cheeks heating up. "shut up," you giggled, shaking your head.
he only chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before looking back at the girl who was still basking in her victory.
after the initial excitement settled, the little girl hopped down from the podium and, to your surprise, made a beeline straight toward you. she stopped right in front of you, looking up with wide, sparkling eyes.
"hi! i just wanted to say you're really pretty~" she chirped, her voice full of admiration.
you blinked in surprise before breaking into a warm smile. "oh, thank you! that's so sweet of you."
she beamed at your response, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "and also, congratulations! you did amazing up there. you really deserved that win."
her smile grew even bigger. "thank you!" she practically bounced on the balls of her feet. "do you do debating too?"
without hesitation, you nodded. "yup! i've been debating my entire life. it's one of my biggest passions."
her eyes lit up like fireworks. "really?!" she gasped dramatically before tilting her head. "what's your name?"
"bae y/n," you introduced yourself with a small wave.
her reaction was instant. she gasped again, her jaw dropping slightly before she clapped her hands together. "no way! my last name is bae too! my name is bae suzy!"
for a moment, you just stared at her in surprise before a chuckle bubbled up from your throat. "well, nice to meet you, bae suzy. looks like we have a lot in common."
while you were caught up in your conversation with suzy, gunwook stood a few steps back, watching the interaction with an amused smile. his gaze softened as he observed you talking so animatedly with the little girl, something warm settling in his chest.
riku, who had also been watching, nudged gunwook’s side. "dude, you’re being so obvious."
gunwook blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "what?"
riku gave him a pointed look. "don’t ‘what’ me. you think she’s attractive."
gunwook scoffed, looking away. "so?"
"so?" riku echoed with a smirk. "you better not get distracted. we both know what’s at stake."
gunwook exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "when’s the showdown again?"
riku smirked, looking past gunwook to catch your attention. "y/n!" he called.
you looked up from your conversation with suzy and walked over. "what’s up?"
riku crossed his arms. "just wanted to remind you both that the debate showdown for the scholarship prize is next week on monday. i’ve already let the other newbies in the guild know. you guys ready?"
you turned to gunwook at the same time he turned to you. the moment your eyes met, a silent but intense challenge passed between you. neither of you wanted to lose. not to each other.
you arched a brow. "you better bring your a-game, gunwook."
he smirked. "oh, don’t worry. i always do."
riku looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes. "you two are literally acting like this is some world championship final."
"it might as well be," you said, and gunwook nodded in agreement.
suzy tugged on your sleeve, looking up at you curiously. "can i come watch?"
you hesitated before glancing at riku, who gave you a small shrug. "if you want," you said with a smile. "but be prepared—we take these debates very seriously."
suzy giggled and nodded enthusiastically. "i want to see it!"
with that settled, riku dismissed you both. as you and gunwook walked back to his car, an unmistakable tension filled the air. not awkward, not uncomfortable—just charged. both of you were already mentally preparing for the ultimate showdown, the excitement of the upcoming challenge settling in your bones.
gunwook opened the passenger door for you, and as you got in, he leaned down slightly, resting his arm on the frame of the car. "don’t go easy on me just because i’m charming."
you scoffed, buckling your seatbelt. "please. you should be worried about me wiping the floor with you."
his smirk deepened as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. once inside, he started the engine and cast you a sideways glance. "we’ll see about that, bae y/n."
as he drove off, the city lights flickering past the windows, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. this was going to be fun.
as you reached the campus parking lot, gunwook parked the car and turned to you. "want to make a bet?"
you raised an eyebrow. "oh? now you’re talking my language. what kind of bet?"
"whoever loses the debate has to treat the other to dinner."
you smirked. "that’s it? easy. hope you have your wallet ready, gunwook."
he chuckled, shaking his head. "we’ll see about that."
you both stepped out of the car and began walking toward the dorms. even as you parted ways for the night, that lingering challenge remained in the air, setting the perfect stage for what was to come.
the weight of monday pressed heavily on your shoulders as you entered the grand hall of the university’s debate guild, the air thick with nervous anticipation. this was it—the ultimate debate showdown. since thursday, you had dedicated nearly every waking moment to preparation. hours spent poring over argument structures, counterpoints, historical references, and statistical data. even during your breaks at your new hostess job, ayden had been quizzing you, throwing counterarguments your way while refilling customers’ drinks. you were as ready as you’d ever be.
as you scanned the crowd, your eyes immediately landed on a familiar set of faces. your friends were scattered throughout the audience, their supportive smiles grounding you amidst the sea of strangers. then, near the middle row, you spotted a small figure tugging at her mother’s sleeve. suzy. she was pointing at you excitedly, her little face beaming.
“good luck, ms. y/n!” she called out, her voice carrying across the room.
a warm smile stretched across your lips as you gave her a small wave. “thanks, suzy!”
taking a deep breath, you slipped through the back doors to where the other competitors were gathered. some were engaged in quiet discussions, others rapidly flipping through their notes, and a few just pacing nervously. your gaze swept across the room, searching for a particular face, but gunwook was nowhere to be seen. with a small shrug, you pulled out your own notes and went over your key points one last time.
just as you started muttering under your breath, a warm breath ghosted against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“you’re prepared.”
you turned swiftly, only to be met with a smirking gunwook, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.
you tilted your head, letting a small smirk tug at your lips. “i know.”
he chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned in slightly. “good luck.”
“you too,” you replied, watching as he walked away, effortlessly exuding confidence.
competitors were called one by one, their debates filling the hall with electric energy. each round passed, the tension in the room escalating as the final rounds grew closer. your nerves hummed beneath your skin, but you kept your breathing steady.
yeeun appeared at your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “hey, you got this.”
“thanks,” you breathed, grateful for her presence.
“just remember,” she continued, her voice calm yet firm, “speak with conviction. keep your rebuttals concise but impactful. don’t let them dictate the pace of the argument—control the flow.”
nodding, you absorbed her advice like a sponge. “got it.”
“good,” she said with a smile. “now go make them regret ever challenging you.”
you laughed softly as she squeezed your hand before disappearing back into the crowd.
stepping towards the mirror in the corner, you did one last check—your outfit was polished, your expression composed. but before you could turn away, gunwook appeared beside you, his reflection meeting yours.
“you look beautiful tonight.” his voice was quiet, meant only for you.
your breath hitched for just a second before you turned to face him properly. “thank you.”
his smirk softened into something unreadable. but before you could analyze it further, the announcement rang through the hall.
“next up, bae y/n versus park gunwook.”
a wave of adrenaline coursed through you. this was it. the moment you had been waiting for.
you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the grand stage. the spotlight overhead cast a warm glow on the polished wooden floor, illuminating the podiums set up on either side. gunwook was already standing at his, adjusting the microphone with practiced ease, his eyes flickering to meet yours as you took your place across from him.
“nervous?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“not at all,” you replied smoothly, despite the tightness in your chest.
he grinned. “good. i wouldn’t want an easy win.”
you scoffed, gripping the edges of your podium. “keep dreaming.”
the moment the announcer’s voice echoed through the grand hall, revealing the debate topic, your heartbeat accelerated.
“the topic for this final round is: should climate change be a government policy?”
the audience murmured among themselves, excitement buzzing in the air. you glanced at gunwook, who stood on the blue podium, his expression unreadable but his posture exuding confidence. he was in favour of the motion, while you, standing on the red podium, were against it. the irony wasn’t lost on you—personally, you believed in climate policies, but your role in this debate was to argue otherwise. and if there was one thing you excelled at, it was adapting.
riku’s voice rang out, signalling the start of the debate. gunwook took the lead.
“climate change is an undeniable crisis,” he began, his voice firm and clear. “the responsibility to combat it shouldn’t fall solely on individuals or corporations—it must be a structured, enforceable government policy. without intervention, the consequences will be irreversible.”
he paced slightly, making deliberate eye contact with the judges and the audience. his hand gestures were precise, emphasizing every critical point. he cited studies, government precedents, and the economic impact of environmental neglect. his confidence radiated, and the room seemed to hang onto his every word.
when he finished, a beat of silence filled the space before you stepped forward, inhaling deeply.
“while my opponent presents a passionate argument,” you began, your voice unwavering, “the fundamental issue with making climate change a government policy is the bureaucratic inefficiency that comes with it.”
you scanned the audience, locking eyes with different individuals as you continued. “policies take years to be implemented, often tangled in political red tape. by the time action is taken, the damage has already worsened. instead, we should prioritize independent innovation and private sector initiatives that adapt at a much faster pace.”
your voice carried across the hall, steady and commanding. you gestured strategically, emphasizing every counterpoint. the audience shifted in their seats, visibly engaged.
gunwook smirked slightly before leaning into the microphone. “but without governmental regulation, how do we ensure accountability? corporations prioritize profits. without laws, nothing stops them from continuing environmentally destructive practices.”
you didn’t hesitate. “but what about cases where government policies have failed? take the paris agreement—several countries signed, yet many still fail to meet their targets. intentions don’t equal execution.”
gunwook raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, but he wasn’t backing down. “so your argument is that because some policies haven’t been successful, we shouldn’t try?”
“not at all,” you countered smoothly. “i’m saying we should focus on tangible solutions rather than empty legislative promises. look at tesla, for example—independent initiative revolutionized the automobile industry without waiting for the government’s green light.”
the back-and-forth continued, both of you countering each other’s points seamlessly. the audience was completely absorbed, whispering among themselves after every rebuttal. the energy in the room was electric, and it was clear to everyone that this was a battle between two powerhouses.
as the debate neared its end, you delivered your final statement.
“it’s not about dismissing the importance of climate change—it’s about finding the most effective way to combat it. government policies take years, often filled with political obstacles, while private innovation moves swiftly and efficiently. if we want real change, we should empower individuals and corporations to act now, rather than waiting for slow-moving policies.”
when the timer buzzed, signalling the debate’s conclusion, a wave of tension washed over the room. you let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing slightly as the judges began discussing among themselves. gunwook met your eyes, and for the first time tonight, you exchanged a small, knowing smile.
you had both given everything.
the wait felt like an eternity. every second stretched endlessly as you stood with the other competitors, nerves thrumming beneath your skin. you inhaled deeply, willing yourself to stay calm, but the anticipation was suffocating.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the judges stood and approached the microphone.
“after a rigorous discussion and thorough review,” he began, his voice firm, “we have determined the winner of this year’s ultimate debate scholarship.”
your hands clenched at your sides, heart hammering.
“and the winner is… bae y/n.”
for a second, you didn’t register the words. the room erupted in cheers, voices blending together in an overwhelming cacophony. your vision blurred as a rush of emotion surged through you, and before you could stop it, warm tears spilled down your cheeks.
it had happened. you had won.
gunwook, standing beside you, turned and took in your teary expression before stepping forward. without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you firmly but gently. the warmth of the gesture caught you off guard, but you melted into it.
his voice was quiet, meant only for you. “good job, y/n. you worked hard. you deserve this.”
you let out a watery chuckle against his shoulder. “thank you.”
you felt his smile against your temple before he pulled back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked at you. there was no trace of disappointment in his gaze—only pride.
the crowd continued to cheer, your friends rushing toward you, voices filled with excitement. yeeun pulled you into a tight embrace, yubin bounced up and down beside you, and even ayden & siyun clapped proudly from the audience. suzy, still sitting in the middle row, was grinning wildly as she turned to her mom.
“see? i told you we have the same last name! we’re probably related!”
that made you laugh even as more tears fell.
this was it. all the hard work, the endless nights of studying, the debates, the effort—it had all been worth it.
tonight, you had proven to yourself and everyone else that you were capable of standing among the best.
and you had won.
once the event had settled, and the cheers had quieted down, you and gunwook found yourselves slipping into the backroom, away from the overwhelming crowd. the adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, but now, in the quiet, the reality of your win was sinking in.
before either of you could say anything, small but hurried footsteps echoed against the floor. suzy burst into the room, her mother trailing behind her, and without hesitation, she threw her arms around you.
"congratulations, ms. y/n!" she beamed, squeezing you tightly. her energy was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile as you hugged her back.
"thank you, suzy," you chuckled, ruffling her hair.
when you looked up, you met the kind gaze of suzy’s mother. her features were gentle yet elegant, her smile warm as she approached.
"i heard you and my daughter share the same last name," she said with amusement in her voice.
"yes... mrs. bae?" you responded, tilting your head slightly.
she nodded with a soft laugh. "well, i do hope my daughter grows up to be like you. congratulations on your scholarship, miss y/n."
her words sent a pleasant warmth through your chest. "thank you, mrs. bae. that means a lot." you exchanged smiles before she took suzy's hand. the young girl waved enthusiastically as they exited the room, leaving you and gunwook in comfortable silence.
it didn't last long before yeeun and riku appeared, walking in with knowing smiles.
"congrats, y/n," riku grinned, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. "looks like i did a good job mentoring you."
"a really good job," yeeun agreed, nudging you playfully. "you were incredible up there."
"thank you both," you said, genuine gratitude lacing your words.
riku then turned toward gunwook with a smirk. "still, good job to you as well, gunwook. it was a tough match."
"thank you," gunwook smirked, running a hand through his hair, but before he could say more, loud footsteps signalled the arrival of more familiar faces.
ayden, siyun, and yubin came rushing in, voices overlapping as they spoke excitedly.
"you two did so well! congrats!" yubin cheered, practically bouncing on her feet.
"it was such a close match," siyun added, shaking his head in amazement. "i thought for a second it could go either way."
"looks like our restaurant training worked," ayden chuckled, giving you a knowing glance. you laughed, wiping away the last of your happy tears.
"let's go out to celebrate!" yubin suggested eagerly, eyes gleaming with excitement.
just as you were about to agree, gunwook spoke up, cutting through the chatter. "uh, actually. i have to take y/n to dinner, we had a bet."
"i thought that was on the weekend?" you asked, blinking in surprise.
he gave you a lazy, almost teasing smile. "well, i wanna take you out tonight. you know… a date?"
silence fell over the group before yubin let out an ear-piercing squeal. everyone gasped, their eyes darting between you and gunwook in utter shock.
your heart did a ridiculous flip, and you swallowed, glancing at him. "sure," you finally replied, a shy but pleased smile playing on your lips.
immediately, the group erupted into celebratory noises. gunwook smirked in satisfaction before leaning down to press a quick, warm kiss against your temple. the simple gesture sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.
"you two drunkenly made out at riku's party," ayden suddenly blurted out.
silence.
everyone turned to you and gunwook in synchronized shock, their mouths agape. except for riku, who merely nodded in confirmation.
"that’s why…" you and gunwook muttered at the same time, turning to look at each other with widened eyes.
"it’s true," riku confirmed, shrugging.
the silence broke into a series of dramatic "ooh~" sounds from the group, making your face burn even more. you instinctively hid your face in gunwook’s shoulder, groaning.
"that was the mystery man~" yubin teased, practically vibrating with excitement.
you let out a small, embarrassed whine. "stop…"
"can i get a sober kiss tonight?" gunwook suddenly asked, his voice laced with playful confidence.
you gasped, swatting his shoulder in sheer mortification. "oh my god, gunwook!"
everyone burst into laughter, and he only grinned wider at your reaction.
"hey, calm down, bae. we have a date to go to," he said smoothly, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers.
"which bae? last name or…" you trailed off, looking at him with mock suspicion.
he simply winked. you knew the answer immediately.
he turned to the others. "bye, guys. i'm gonna treat my lucky girl tonight."
they all sang out a dramatic, "byeee~" in unison as you both walked out together.
once you reached the parking lot, you let out a small whine, nudging him. "you're so embarrassing."
he only chuckled, leaning down slightly. "you're so mine."
you groaned, rolling your eyes, but your racing heart betrayed you. before you could protest further, gunwook effortlessly scooped you up into his arms. you yelped, clutching onto him.
"gunwook! put me down!"
"nope," he replied smugly. "you just won a scholarship, and now you’re my date. you deserve to be carried to my car."
you sighed in playful defeat, relaxing in his hold. "you’re ridiculous."
"and you’re adorable," he shot back as he gently placed you into the passenger seat.
as he buckled your seatbelt for you—just like the first time—your heart skipped a beat. he lingered for a second, looking into your eyes before finally pulling away and shutting the door.
as he walked around to the driver’s side, you let out a quiet breath, realizing that tonight marked the start of something new.
a new chapter—not just in your academic life, but in whatever was beginning between you and gunwook.
and honestly? you were excited to see where it would go.
a/n : i made this fic cuz of the names i came up with for the movies in "act like you love" with that y/n's bit role in this! she's supposed to be son yejin so i hope that was a cute lil thing hehehe but i hope you enjoyed! i'm rlly enjoying writing at the moment! so i hope you enjoy my writing as much as i write. i might make fics for the other movies too! i have no life atm so that's why i was able to make this quickly AHAHAHH
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Summary : You’re an up-and-coming actress, and Hanbin is a smug, arrogant A-list star who stole the role you wanted. When the media mistakes your heated argument for romantic tension, your agency forces you into a fake dating stunt to boost publicity. You hate the way he smirks when he teases you, but the way his hand lingers on your waist makes your heart race. As the line between acting and reality blurs, one question remains: when the cameras stop rolling, will your feelings disappear too?
Warning : The pet name "princess" occurs a lot, smut (there's a warning before it occurs)
Featuring : Hong Seunghyun (Juhan) from BLITZERS
Playlist : New Magic Wand by Tyler The Creator / Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys / Touch It by Ariana Grande / Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars / Into It by Chase Atlantic / Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex / True Love by Pink & Lilly Allen / Norman Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Rey / Scary Love by The Neighborhood / Wrong by Zayn & Kehlani
Word count : 20k (20,910 if you want exact...)
you've always loved slipping into different lives, becoming someone else even if just for a moment. the stage, the screen—it all felt like home. your parents saw that spark early, paying for your first acting lessons when you were twelve. middle school drama club, high school theatre productions—each role you played, each scene you perfected, only deepened your passion. you were never the loudest in the room, never the one begging for attention, but the moment you stepped into character, all eyes were on you. it was the one place you felt invincible.
by eighteen, you were funding your own dream. working odd jobs to afford acting classes, refining your craft, and reshaping yourself—not just in talent but in the way you presented yourself to the world. you started going to the gym, dyed and cut your hair whenever you needed a change, took care of yourself in ways big and small. manicured nails, regular waxes, health check-ups—every detail was intentional, a part of your silent promise to yourself that you would make it. plastic surgery? tempting, sometimes. but you wanted to prove that you were enough as you were. no shortcuts, no regrets.
like most actors, you started at the bottom. background roles, standing just out of focus while others stole the scene. but then came your first real opportunity—han hyojoo, a respected agent, saw something in you. she took you under her wing, guiding you to your first speaking roles. a bit part in "rivalry & roses," a college movie that got decent buzz. then a supporting role in "the rival’s game," a corporate romance that put your face on the map. each step forward was another reminder: you were getting closer.
now, you wanted more. a lead role. not just any lead role—"written in the stars," a fantasy royalty romance that could cement your name in the industry. the kind of film that could turn you from a rising star to a household name.
your hands tighten around the steering wheel as you pull up to the audition venue. deep breath. you’ve worked for this, fought for this. no matter who you have to go up against, you’re not backing down.
today, you’re not just playing a role.
today, you prove you deserve it.
you arrived at the audition venue, a grand hall filled with hopeful actors vying for their chance at a breakthrough. the air buzzed with anticipation, scripts clutched tightly in hands, whispered rehearsals echoing off the walls. you kept your focus forward, but then—
hanbin.
he stood among the crowd, effortlessly commanding attention. his black hair, styled to perfection, and dark brown eyes brimming with confidence. the smug smirk on his lips was enough to make your blood boil. he exuded arrogance, but there was no denying his presence. he was an a-list star, after all. people watched him with awe, whispering about how he would likely claim the lead role.
you clenched your fists, determination burning within you. this role was yours, and you would prove it.
one by one, aspiring actors took their turn before the directors. some stumbled over their lines, others shined, but you refused to let nerves shake you. when your name was called, you stepped forward, every ounce of your training igniting inside you.
"i hate studying, why can't i just go outside & explore like other normal people?" you delivered the line with raw emotion, channelling every ounce of longing and frustration. then, you sang, voice steady, carrying the melody with ease.
"i've got this shake in my legs, shaking the thoughts from my head," you sang, pouring your heart into each note. when you finished, the room was silent for a moment before the directors exchanged glances and nodded approvingly.
"that was incredible," one of them said. "your technique, your voice—it’s all there."
you exhaled, relief washing over you. they motioned for you to step aside, and you did, heart still racing.
then, hanbin stepped forward.
he delivered the same lines, his voice smooth, controlled, effortless. then, he sang more, voice filling the space with undeniable star power. the audience was transfixed.
by the end of the audition, the directors exchanged murmurs before turning back to the anxious crowd.
"we have made our decision," one of them finally announced. "the lead role will be given to... hanbin."
it felt like the ground beneath you had crumbled away.
this was supposed to be your role.
but now, it was stolen.
the moment the words left the director’s mouth, something inside you snapped.
"what?" your voice was sharp, incredulous. your breath came in uneven bursts as you turned toward the panel. "you’re giving the role to him?"
hanbin exhaled a low chuckle, arms crossing over his chest as he looked down at you. "wow. didn’t expect you to take it this hard," he mused. that damn smirk never left his face.
"take it hard?" you repeated, stepping closer, the heat of your frustration rising. "this role was mine. i worked for this. i poured everything into this audition, and you just—" you gestured at him wildly, "—walk in with your celebrity status and take it like it’s your birth right?"
hanbin tilted his head, looking amused rather than defensive. "i mean, can you blame them? talent recognizes talent."
"oh, you arrogant—!" you bit back a frustrated breath, jaw tightening as you stared at him. "you think you’re so untouchable, don’t you? like just because you’re famous, you automatically deserve every role?"
hanbin gave an exaggerated shrug. "hey, if the shoe fits."
something about his careless attitude made your blood boil.
you took another step forward, standing so close you could see the slight gleam in his dark brown eyes. "you didn’t even need this role. you already have a hundred others lined up. this was supposed to be my break."
"maybe you should've acted better, then," he said smoothly, tilting his chin. "the directors made their choice. not my problem if you can’t handle losing."
his words sliced through you, and for a brief second, the hurt almost overshadowed your anger. almost.
you scoffed, shaking your head. "you’re impossible. do you even care about this film, or is it just another stepping stone for you? another notch on your long list of wins?"
hanbin leaned in just slightly, voice dropping into a teasing lilt. "does it bother you that much? knowing they think i'm the better choice?"
the sheer audacity of him made your hands curl into fists. you opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but then a murmur from the crowd made you pause.
you hadn’t even noticed how silent the room had become, how everyone had stopped what they were doing just to watch the two of you. and they weren’t watching like it was a fight. no, they were watching like it was something else entirely. something electric.
"they have so much chemistry," someone whispered.
"i swear i thought they were about to kiss," another person chuckled under their breath.
realization hit you like a slap to the face.
you stepped back abruptly, heart hammering, but hanbin just smirked deeper, as if he had figured it out before you had.
"well," he murmured, eyes twinkling with amusement. "this just got interesting."
the next morning, you sat in hyojoo’s office, a tablet in her hands as she scrolled through endless articles. the headlines were impossible to ignore.
"'a lovers' quarrel? sparks fly between rising actress and a-list star hanbin.'" she read out loud before snorting. "are they serious? a lovers’ quarrel? they must’ve been watching a different argument than the one i saw."
"no kidding," you muttered, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed. "there was nothing romantic about that. we were one step away from throwing punches."
hyojoo tapped the screen, scanning the article. "apparently, the world disagrees. listen to this: 'eyewitnesses describe an intense chemistry between the two actors, their heated exchange dripping with unspoken passion. if this is just an argument, imagine what their on-screen romance will look like.'" she scoffed, setting the tablet down. "unspoken passion? you looked ready to strangle him."
"exactly!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "this is insane. i worked my ass off for that role, and he just waltzed in, took it, and now suddenly we’re a ‘potential power couple’?"
hyojoo shrugged, amused. "people love drama. and apparently, they love you two."
"they love hanbin," you corrected. "i'm just caught in the crossfire."
"not exactly," she said, leaning forward. "your name is everywhere right now. overnight, your social media following doubled. your previous roles are being rewatched. hell, even your old high school drama performances are getting attention."
you blinked. "wait—what?"
"yep," she nodded, picking up her phone and showing you a clip of your past performances. "someone dug up footage from ‘rivalry & roses’ and it’s trending. the internet is eating this up."
"this is ridiculous," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "i don’t want my career to be built on some fake rumor."
"welcome to the industry," hyojoo said dryly. "it’s all about perception. whether it’s true or not, people believe what they want to believe. and right now, they believe you and hanbin have some sort of fiery, love-hate dynamic."
"more like hate-hate," you grumbled.
"doesn’t matter," she countered. "what matters is how we handle this."
you glanced at the tablet again, rereading the headlines. "i just... i don’t get it. how did this even start?"
hyojoo tapped her fingers against the desk. "well, your argument was loud, public, and heated. that kind of energy can be interpreted in different ways. and let’s be honest, hanbin doesn’t exactly help the situation. he was smirking the entire time, looking like he was enjoying riling you up."
"he was enjoying it," you muttered.
"exactly," hyojoo said. "so people saw tension. and in their minds, tension equals chemistry. they think you two are one step away from a dramatic romance."
you groaned. "this is ridiculous."
hyojoo smirked. "not to them. to them, it's the start of the next great celebrity love story."
before you could respond, hyojoo’s phone buzzed loudly against the desk. you both glanced down at the screen.
it was a call from your agency.
you swallowed, heart thudding.
"well," hyojoo said slowly, meeting your eyes. "this should be interesting."
hyojoo didn’t hesitate before swiping her thumb across the screen to accept the call. "you’re on speaker phone," she announced, placing the device on the desk between you both.
"who are you with?" a firm, authoritative voice asked through the speaker.
"up-and-coming actress son y/n," hyojoo replied, her tone professional. but the moment she glanced at you, there was a teasing glint in her eyes. she might as well have winked at you with how smug she looked.
you shot her a death glare, but she just barely held back a chuckle.
"ah, perfect! son y/n?" the voice continued.
"that’s me," you responded, keeping your voice steady even though you had no idea where this conversation was heading.
"we’ll get straight to the point," the voice said without any hesitation. "you need to enter a fake dating arrangement with sung hanbin."
you blinked. then you blinked again.
hyojoo’s eyes widened slightly in mild amusement, but she remained quiet, waiting for your reaction.
"excuse me?" you finally said, convinced you had misheard.
"a fake dating stunt. you and hanbin," the voice reiterated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
you let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "you can’t be serious."
"completely serious," they confirmed.
"why?" you asked, voice laced with disbelief. "why in the world would i do that?"
"because the media has already spun this argument between you and hanbin into a full-fledged romantic story," the voice explained. "the public is eating it up. they think your tension is romantic tension. and we intend to capitalize on it."
your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as you processed their words. "you want me to... what? hold hands with him in public? gaze into his eyes like he’s my soulmate? post cute couple pictures?" you scoffed. "we hate each other."
"that’s precisely why this works," the agency representative countered smoothly. "the push-and-pull dynamic between you two is exactly what the public loves. they’ll eat up every interaction, whether it’s staged or not. and in turn, it boosts both your careers. hanbin’s already at the top, but you? this could catapult you into a whole new level of stardom."
hyojoo let out a low whistle, tapping a finger against her chin. "they’re not wrong, y/n. this could be huge for you."
you turned to her, incredulous. "you’re seriously considering this?"
she lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "i mean, i understand why they’re suggesting it. you’d be everywhere. interviews, magazine covers, brand deals. it’s a free ticket to the next stage of your career."
"at the cost of my dignity," you grumbled. "besides, hanbin would never agree to this. he’s probably laughing his ass off about the rumours."
"actually, he’s already aware of the plan," the agency voice said. "his team has been briefed, and while he hasn’t officially accepted, he’s open to discussion."
you threw your hands up. "of course he is. probably thinks it’ll be fun to torment me even more."
"listen, y/n," the voice softened slightly, but still held authority. "we understand that this isn’t an ideal situation for you. but this is how the industry works. perception is everything. and right now, the world perceives you two as something they want to see more of. it’s a golden opportunity. one that, quite frankly, we highly recommend you take."
you sat back in your chair, exhaling sharply. this was madness. absolute madness.
but the voice wasn’t wrong. overnight, you had gone from an ambitious actress clawing for recognition to someone the entire industry had its eyes on. if you said no, the moment would pass, and you’d fade back into the background while hanbin moved on unscathed. but if you said yes...
"what exactly would this entail?" you asked hesitantly.
hyojoo smirked, knowing you were cracking.
"simple," the agency voice replied. "public appearances together. red carpets, interviews, maybe a few strategically placed paparazzi photos. you don’t have to actually date him, just act like it."
"act like it," you echoed bitterly. "so lie."
"call it what you want," they said. "but make no mistake—this will benefit you both. and if things go well, who knows? maybe it’ll even land you a lead role in your next project."
you swallowed hard. they were dangling everything you had ever wanted right in front of you.
"you have until tomorrow to decide," the voice continued. "a meeting has been arranged at our agency. hanbin and his agent will be there. we suggest you and hyojoo be there as well."
before you could say anything else, the call ended.
the room was silent for a moment. then hyojoo let out a low chuckle. "well, that was something."
you dropped your head onto the desk with a groan. "kill me. just kill me now."
you didn’t lift your head from the desk. "i can’t do this."
hyojoo’s laughter was soft but not entirely unsympathetic. "you’re being dramatic."
"i am an actress," you shot back, voice muffled against the wood. "being dramatic is my job."
hyojoo reached over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "look, i know this isn’t what you expected. but take a second and really think about it. this could be the break you’ve been waiting for."
you lifted your head just enough to glare at her. "at the cost of my sanity? my dignity? my peace?"
she raised an eyebrow. "aren’t those all things you already sacrificed when you decided to be an actress?"
you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "why does it have to be him? why hanbin? of all the people in the industry, why did the universe decide to screw me over like this?"
hyojoo leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "because life is funny like that. besides, maybe this won’t be as bad as you think."
"oh, really?" you snorted. "do you know something i don’t? because last i checked, hanbin was a smug, arrogant, irritating—"
"handsome, talented, incredibly popular—"
"—narcissistic, egotistical menace," you finished sharply.
hyojoo just shrugged. "i mean, all of that is probably true, but so what? your job isn’t to like him. your job is to pretend to like him."
you sighed, resting your forehead against the desk again. "pretending to like him might be harder than actually liking him."
hyojoo smirked. "see? you’re already getting into character."
you groaned again, kicking your foot out in frustration. "this isn’t funny. i don’t even know how to prepare for something like this. what am i supposed to do? mentally rehearse flirting with him? practice gazing into his stupidly perfect eyes without throwing up?"
hyojoo tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. "honestly? yeah, not a bad idea. maybe you should visualize it. picture yourself on a date with him, hand in hand, smiling at each other—"
"stop. just stop," you cut her off, grimacing. "you’re enjoying this way too much."
"i really am," she admitted, laughing. "but all jokes aside, you need to go into that meeting tomorrow with a clear head. don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment. if you go in there all tense and defensive, it’ll make things worse."
"easier said than done," you muttered. "the moment i see that smug look on his face, i might throw something."
hyojoo chuckled. "then maybe don’t look at his face."
you exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. "i just... i need to find a way to deal with this. to make peace with it."
"then start by remembering why you’re doing this," hyojoo said gently. "this is about your career. about everything you’ve worked for. hanbin might be an obstacle, but he’s also an opportunity. you don’t have to like him—you just have to outplay him."
her words settled over you like a strange sort of comfort. you didn’t have to like him. you just had to act like you did. and if there was one thing you were good at, it was acting.
you let out a long breath, nodding. "okay. fine. i’ll do it."
hyojoo grinned. "now that’s the spirit."
you stood up, stretching your arms above your head. "i’m going to take a nap. i need more than eight hours of sleep if i’m going to survive tomorrow."
hyojoo smirked. "sweet dreams. maybe you’ll dream about your new ‘boyfriend.’"
"if i do, i’m blaming you," you shot back before walking away, already dreading the day to come.
the next day arrived too soon, and before you knew it, you were standing outside your agency’s sleek glass building, staring up at the towering structure as if it held all the answers to your problems. beside you, hyojoo nudged your arm, her eyes dancing with amusement at your evident hesitation.
"stop looking like you’re walking into an execution," she teased. "it’s just a meeting."
"just a meeting?" you scoffed, adjusting your blazer for what felt like the hundredth time. "hyojoo, i am about to be legally bound to pretending i like sung hanbin. this isn’t ‘just’ anything."
she smirked, nudging you again. "well, at least you look good doing it. fake it ‘til you make it, y/n."
rolling your eyes, you exhaled sharply and pushed open the glass doors, stepping into the agency’s pristine lobby. the air smelled of expensive cologne and freshly brewed coffee, the kind of place where business deals were made with smiles that didn’t quite reach the eyes. the receptionist greeted you both warmly before directing you to the conference room at the end of the hall. your heels clicked against the polished floors, each step making your stomach churn with nerves.
as soon as you entered the room, the air shifted.
hanbin was already there, leaning against the table with an effortless arrogance that made your skin crawl. his perfectly tailored suit only added to his infuriating presence, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad rather than a serious business meeting. his manager stood beside him, just as polished and professional, but at least he had the decency to not smirk at you the way hanbin did.
his eyes met yours, and there it was—that signature smug smirk. "look who finally decided to show up," he drawled, his voice laced with that insufferable teasing lilt. "i was starting to think you chickened out."
without missing a beat, you shot back, "trust me, if i had any other choice, i wouldn’t be here."
hanbin chuckled, extending a hand. "since we’re going to be spending so much time together, let’s at least pretend we’re civilized."
for a moment, you hesitated before begrudgingly shaking his hand. his grip was firm, warm—too steady for your liking. you withdrew your hand quickly, and he merely tilted his head in amusement. hyojoo and hanbin’s manager exchanged pleasantries before the representatives from your agency entered, carrying thick folders and a laptop.
"let’s begin, shall we?" one of them said, motioning for everyone to take a seat.
across from hanbin, you sat stiffly, determined to ignore the way he stretched lazily in his chair, exuding an infuriating air of ease. his fingers drummed idly against the tabletop—a silent, smug reminder that he was enjoying this far too much.
as the presentation began, a slideshow clicked onto the screen. the first slide displayed various headlines from major news outlets, all pushing the same ridiculous narrative—romantic tension, undeniable chemistry, a fiery love-hate dynamic between you and hanbin. the absurdity of it all made your stomach twist.
"as you can see," one of the representatives began, adjusting his glasses, "the media has already taken your argument and spun it into something much bigger. public interest in your interactions has skyrocketed, and engagement numbers are through the roof."
"we all know the power of a good story," another representative added. "and right now, the story people want is you two."
you scoffed, unable to help yourself. "you mean they want a lie."
"they want a fantasy," the representative corrected smoothly. "and we’re here to sell it."
hanbin hummed in amusement. "so, what’s the plan? hold hands, go on coffee dates, stare into each other’s eyes like we’re in a drama?"
"precisely," the representative replied without hesitation. "but there’s more."
another slide clicked onto the screen, revealing official concept art for written in the stars. but something was different. something was very, very different.
frowning, you leaned forward. "wait. this isn’t the same script."
hanbin’s smirk finally faded as he studied the images. "yeah, this is completely different."
"the script has been revised," the representative admitted. "due to the overwhelming attention your chemistry has received, the directors, producers, and scriptwriters made the decision to add a love interest into the movie."
head snapping up, you barely managed to keep the frustration out of your voice. "excuse me?"
"originally, written in the stars was a story about a child’s journey to becoming the heir to their kingdom," the representative explained. "but now, hanbin’s character will be the heir to a fallen kingdom, and you—" they gestured to you, "—will be the cunning princess of his enemy nation."
hanbin let out a low whistle. "so they rewrote an entire movie because of us?"
"this is why the fake dating stunt is necessary," the representative continued. "if audiences believe in your relationship off-screen, it’ll translate into even greater success on-screen."
fingers curling into a fist, you bit out, "but this whole situation is based on a misunderstanding! it wasn’t romantic tension, it was a heated argument!"
hanbin turned to you with a slow grin. "and yet, here we are."
ignoring him, you focused on the contract placed in front of you. scanning the details quickly, your stomach dropped. the fake dating arrangement would last from now until the end of the movie’s promotion. interviews, social media interactions, public outings—every aspect of the relationship would be meticulously crafted for maximum publicity.
this was insane.
but you had no choice.
hanbin didn’t hesitate. with a flourish, he picked up a pen and signed his contract first, flashing you a look of triumph.
"your turn," he murmured.
letting out a final deep breath, you grabbed the pen and signed your name at the bottom of the page.
"excellent," the representative said, clearly pleased. "this will be the start of something huge."
hanbin’s manager clapped his hands together. "now, to make it official, let’s have you two shake on it."
stomach twisting, your gaze met hanbin’s, and—of course—his eyes were glinting with amusement as he extended his hand. "come on, princess. let’s seal the deal."
your fingers curled at the nickname, but with all eyes on you, there was no way out. reluctantly, you reached out, grasping his hand. his palm was warm against yours, his grip steady, firm.
for a moment—too long a moment—the air felt too thick, too charged.
then, finally, you pulled away, rubbing your hand against your thigh as if to rid yourself of his touch.
hanbin smirked. "pleasure doing business with you."
"don’t talk to me," you muttered, and beside you, hyojoo barely suppressed a laugh.
it was official.
the contract was signed.
the deal was sealed.
your life was officially a mess.
the next morning arrived too soon, bringing with it the first official date of your fake relationship with hanbin. as you approached the quaint café nestled in the heart of the bustling city, you could already see the crowd gathered outside. a sea of flashing lights, paparazzi, journalists, and eager fans swarmed the sidewalk, all jostling for a chance to capture a moment between the two of you. the low hum of their excited chatter blended with the sharp clicking of cameras, making your stomach twist uncomfortably.
"well, well, look who decided to show up," hanbin’s familiar voice drawled beside you, his signature smirk in full effect. his dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he adjusted his coat, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, radiating an air of ease despite the absolute chaos surrounding you both.
"unfortunately," you muttered under your breath, keeping your expression neutral as you straightened your posture. "let’s just get this over with."
"aw, come on, princess. at least pretend to enjoy my company," he teased, leaning in slightly. the move was subtle, but the cameras picked up on it instantly, the intensity of the flashing lights increasing as reporters shouted even louder.
before you could respond with a sharp retort, you felt it—his hand, warm and steady, slipping around your waist. your breath hitched, body tensing instinctively at the unexpected contact. hanbin, of course, noticed immediately.
"relax," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. "you’re acting like i’m about to bite."
"maybe i’m just not used to people invading my personal space," you shot back through clenched teeth, forcing a picture-perfect smile for the cameras. your mind was already spinning with the inevitable headlines this moment would spark.
as expected, the press wasted no time firing off their questions.
"hanbin, y/n! how long have you two been dating?"
"y/n, did you fall for him on set?"
"hanbin, what’s your favorite thing about y/n?"
neither of you answered, keeping to the agency’s carefully planned strategy of maintaining an air of mystery. instead, you allowed the photographers to capture their shots—every tilt of your head, every shift of hanbin’s possessive hold meticulously documented for the public eye. but something felt different. though you knew this was just a carefully orchestrated act, your pulse refused to settle, especially as hanbin’s fingers lingered a little longer than necessary against your waist.
"let’s get inside before you combust from overthinking," hanbin murmured, his breath warm against your ear before he gently guided you toward the entrance.
as soon as you stepped inside, the chaotic noise from outside was muffled, replaced by the soft murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware against plates, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. a waiter, quick to recognize you both, led you to a private booth toward the back of the cafe, ensuring that prying eyes remained at a distance. hanbin slid in beside you without hesitation, and to your dismay, his hand remained on your waist even after you were seated.
"you can let go now," you muttered, shifting slightly away from him.
"but then we wouldn’t look like a couple," he countered smoothly. "this is a date, remember?"
rolling your eyes, you reached for the menu. "whatever. let’s just order."
hanbin, of course, didn’t move an inch. instead, he leaned in closer, his chin nearly brushing against your shoulder as he pretended to study the menu alongside you.
"can you even see the menu clearly?" he teased, voice laced with amusement. "i mean, considering all that complaining about the camera flashes."
your grip on the menu tightened. "i swear to god, hanbin, if we weren’t in public, i’d smack you with this menu."
he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "but we are in public, so you can’t."
before you could retort, a waiter approached, pen poised over a notepad. "good morning! what can i get for you both?"
"i’ll have the american breakfast with scrambled eggs and extra bacon," you said, your tone still tinged with irritation. "and an iced coffee, light on the sugar."
hanbin hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against the table. "i’ll have the same," he said, then added with a teasing grin, "but make my coffee extra sweet—unlike my dear girlfriend here."
you groaned, rubbing your temples. "i swear, this is going to be the longest few months of my life."
once the waiter had left, hanbin leaned back against the booth, his expression turning slightly more serious. "so," he said, fingers absentmindedly drumming against the table, "that was quite the reception outside. looks like we’re officially the hottest new couple in the industry."
"don’t remind me," you muttered. "it’s ridiculous how fast the media spun this narrative."
"it’s the game," he said simply, shrugging. "we just have to play along. besides, it’s not all bad. you get more exposure, more roles. the benefits outweigh the annoyance."
you gave him a sidelong glance. "you say that like you don’t mind being in a fake relationship."
"i don’t," he admitted with a lazy smirk. "if anything, it’s entertaining."
"of course you’d find this amusing," you scoffed. "you’re thriving off my suffering."
"not suffering," he corrected. "just… mild inconvenience."
before you could argue, the food arrived, providing a much-needed distraction. as you dug into your meal, the conversation drifted toward the upcoming film schedule. tomorrow would mark the first day of shooting for written in the stars, and the reality of that hit you harder than you expected.
"it’s going to be weird," you admitted, absently pushing your eggs around your plate. "filming a romance scene with you after… everything."
hanbin arched an eyebrow. "everything? you mean our totally romantic, completely unscripted argument that launched this entire fiasco?"
you shot him a look. "you know what i mean."
he chewed on a piece of bacon before replying, "you’ll be fine. you’re a professional, remember? just don’t fall for me for real."
that earned him a swift kick under the table.
"ow!" he hissed, wincing. "i was kidding! jeez, you’re violent."
"just reminding you of your place," you said sweetly, taking a sip of your coffee.
he sighed dramatically. "see? this is why i called you mean earlier."
"no shit, you have your hand on my waist, idiot."
hanbin feigned offense. "that’s mean, you shouldn’t be calling your boyfriend an idiot."
rolling your eyes, you stabbed at your food with your fork. "how am i going to survive the next few months?"
hanbin grinned. "by falling for my irresistible charm, obviously."
you didn’t dignify that with a response.
instead, you stared down at your plate, mind already drifting to tomorrow’s filming schedule. one thing was certain—this was just the beginning of a very, very long ride.
the morning air was crisp as you made your way onto the set of written in the stars. it was the first day of filming, and even though you had spent years preparing for moments like this, there was an unfamiliar nervous energy in the pit of your stomach. maybe it was the weight of the role, the sudden shift in the script, or the fact that hanbin would be there—smirking, teasing, and generally making your life more difficult than necessary.
walking beside you, hyojoo scrolled through her phone, oblivious to your internal struggle. or at least, that’s what you thought until she casually said, “so, how was your date with hanbin yesterday?”
you groaned, running a hand down your face. “i wouldn’t call it a date. it was staged. a publicity stunt. a nightmare.”
“a nightmare where his hand was on your waist the whole time?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
you shot her a glare. “yes, and it was awful. he’s so full of himself, hyojoo. always smirking, always teasing. he knows exactly how to get under my skin.”
“uh-huh.” she nodded slowly, clearly enjoying this conversation far too much. “but did it make your heart race?”
your steps faltered for half a second, and you hated that she noticed. “no. absolutely not.”
she grinned knowingly. “liar.”
“i'm not lying. my heart raced because i’m not used to being touched like that, okay? it’s a natural reaction. it has nothing to do with him.”
hyojoo gasped dramatically. “so if I touch your waist, will you react the same way?”
before you could stop her, she wrapped her arms around your waist as you walked, hugging you tightly.
“yah! get off me!” you whined, squirming as you tried to push her away. “hyojoo, i swear—”
“but i just wanna see if your heart races~” she sang, tightening her grip.
you groaned loudly, trying to peel her arms off. “you’re impossible.”
laughing, she finally let go, stepping away but keeping that smug grin on her face. “see? no big deal.”
you rolled your eyes and continued toward your trailer, hyojoo following beside you.
inside, the glam team was already waiting. the moment you sat down, they got to work. the makeup artist, a woman named jisoo, studied your face for a moment before pulling out her brushes.
“we’re going for a monochromatic look today,” she said, blending soft hues onto your eyelids. “everything in the same shade range—eyes, lips, cheeks. it’ll look seamless on camera.”
hyojoo sat on the couch nearby, watching the process unfold. “she doesn’t need makeup to be beautiful, but i’m excited to see the final look.”
you smirked slightly. “flatter me more, why don’t you?”
“just stating the facts.”
as jisoo worked, you could see the transformation happening in the mirror. the soft tones blended effortlessly, creating an ethereal yet powerful look. when she reached for the eyeliner, she hesitated for a moment before nodding to herself.
“i think we need a wing,” she decided. “a sharp one.”
a few minutes later, you had the perfect winged eyeliner that made your gaze even more striking. hyojoo gasped dramatically.
“oh, you look so good. like, stupidly good,” she said, eyes wide with appreciation. “if hanbin doesn’t react when he sees you, he’s legally blind.”
“please.” you scoffed. “he’s too in love with himself to notice anyone else.”
jisoo stepped back, admiring her work. “perfect. now for the hair.”
the hairstylist, minji, pulled your hair into a structured yet effortless messy bun. it framed your face beautifully, adding to the regal aura you were meant to exude.
you frowned. “i don’t even know shin mina. this character wasn’t in the original script, remember?”
hyojoo laughed. “true, but if the directors imagined her, she’d look exactly like you.”
you stared at your reflection, taking in the full effect. the monochromatic makeup, the elegantly messy bun, the subtle yet powerful gaze.
“shin mina,” you repeated under your breath. “who is she supposed to be, anyway?”
hyojoo shrugged. “not much information, honestly. but from what i do know, she’s cunning, intelligent, and a total badass.”
you smirked. “well, at least they cast the right person.”
with your transformation complete, the final step was wardrobe. the costume designers helped you into the battle princess gown—an intricate piece adorned with embroidery and a flowing cape that gave it a regal yet formidable aura. when you stepped out of the dressing room, hyojoo let out another gasp.
“you have to be joking.”
you adjusted the fabric around your waist. “what?”
“you look like you just walked straight out of an epic fantasy novel. like… this is it. this is the look.”
you turned to the mirror and took it all in. the dress exuded power, the makeup enhanced every sharp feature, and the hair completed the ensemble.
“well,” you said with a small smile, “i guess it’s time to bring shin mina to life.”
taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the trailer and onto the set, preparing yourself for the day ahead. this was it—the first day of filming. the beginning of something new. and with hanbin involved, you already knew it was going to be anything but ordinary.
on set, the battlefield scene was already in motion. hanbin, clad in tattered yet regal armour, fought fiercely among a horde of actors playing soldiers. swords clashed, battle cries filled the air, and the director’s voice rang out, guiding the action. you watched as hanbin moved effortlessly, his body twisting and dodging with precision. even through the choreographed fight sequences, he made it look natural—almost too natural.
then came the turning point. outnumbered, hanbin’s character was eventually overpowered. a soldier struck him down, forcing him to his knees. two more actors seized him, wrenching his arms behind his back as he struggled. his breath came in ragged gasps, and then, with a rough yank, he was pulled to his feet.
“take him to the kingdom!” one of the soldiers barked.
hanbin gritted his teeth but didn’t resist. his fate was sealed.
transitioning to the dungeon set, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. the stone walls were damp, torches flickered, and the heavy iron bars cast long shadows. hanbin was thrown inside unceremoniously, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. he groaned in pain, curling slightly as he caught his breath.
“the princess is coming!” a guard announced, and the room fell silent.
you stepped into the dimly lit dungeon, the soft clinking of your boots echoing off the walls. hanbin was on the floor, leaning onto his forearm, his expression twisting in barely concealed disdain as he looked up at you. even in pain, he had the audacity to glare.
“welcome to my kingdom,” you greeted smoothly, your tone unreadable.
hanbin scoffed. “i’d rather be anywhere else.”
“oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you said, tilting your head. “i could be cruel, you know. but i won’t.”
he stilled, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied you.
“instead,” you continued, stepping closer, “i’m offering you a choice. marry me, and our lands will unite. refuse, and you will rot in this dungeon.”
hanbin’s jaw tightened. “you expect me to marry the enemy?”
“no,” you mused. “i expect you to survive.”
for a moment, there was only silence. your gaze burned into his, unyielding, and his breath was uneven, as if something within him was warring against itself. then, finally, he exhaled sharply.
“fine,” he spat. “i’ll do it.”
“good,” you murmured, lips curving into the faintest smirk.
“cut!” the director called, breaking the moment instantly.
the set was immediately thrown into a frenzy, crew members running around, adjusting lights, preparing for the next take. you relaxed your posture, stepping back from hanbin, who was still sitting on the dungeon floor.
“you okay?” you asked, eyeing the spot where he had hit the ground. “that looked like it hurt.”
hanbin rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. “i’m fine. makes the acting look more real, anyway.”
“well, as long as you’re not actually breaking anything,” you said, crossing your arms.
he grinned. “aww, you’re worried about me.”
“shut up.”
hanbin chuckled before standing up fully, dusting off his costume. “you know,” he mused, “that whole princess act suits you. you should consider ruling a kingdom in real life.”
“if it means ruling over idiots like you, i’ll pass.”
“harsh,” he teased. “but i kinda like it.”
you huffed, shaking your head. “you are insufferable.”
“and yet, you can’t seem to escape me,” he smirked.
flustered, but still annoyed, you groaned and turned on your heel, making a beeline out of the dungeon set. hanbin’s amused laughter followed behind you, his voice laced with pure entertainment.
“see you at the next scene, princess.”
the restaurant was elegant, the kind of place where every glass gleamed under the soft golden lights and the faint hum of classical music filled the air. the scent of freshly baked bread and seared meat lingered, making your stomach tighten in anticipation. despite the luxury, you couldn't fully relax. not with hanbin’s hand resting on your waist as he led you inside.
it had become a pattern by now—his lingering touch, the way he guided you as if you were truly his. the heat of his palm against your waist was impossible to ignore, but you tried your best to maintain your composure. behind you, hyojoo and hanbin’s manager followed a little awkwardly. well, at least hanbin’s manager did. hyojoo, on the other hand, looked like she was having the time of her life watching you squirm under hanbin’s casual affection.
as you reached your reserved table, hanbin smoothly pulled out your chair for you before taking the seat beside you. hyojoo and hanbin’s manager sat across from you two, their seating arrangement mirroring yours. as soon as you settled in, hyojoo wasted no time in sending you a knowing smirk.
“comfortable?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.
you shot her a death glare. “oh, absolutely.”
hanbin leaned slightly toward you, peering at the menu in your hands before he smirked. “don’t forget to pick something you’ll actually eat this time. we wouldn’t want another tragic salad incident.”
you exhaled sharply, already feeling the irritation bubble inside you. “that was one small incident on set yesterday.”
“and yet, it lives in my memory forever,” he said with mock solemnity. “a tale of wasted greens and regret.”
“you’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath, turning your attention back to the menu.
but hanbin wasn’t done. “you know, being angry all the time isn’t a great look for a loving girlfriend.”
hyojoo cleared her throat, and you already knew what was coming. “he has a point. you two need to look convincing. we are in public, after all.”
her words were professional, but the glint in her eyes told you otherwise. she was enjoying this way too much.
hanbin hummed in agreement, propping his elbow on the table as he rested his chin on his hand. “exactly. my lovely girlfriend should be gazing at me adoringly right about now.”
you rolled your eyes so hard you were sure they could have disappeared into another dimension. “you are delusional.”
hanbin let out a low chuckle before nudging your leg under the table. “and yet, you haven’t denied the ‘lovely girlfriend’ part.”
you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, a waiter approached your table, effectively cutting off your response.
“good afternoon,” the waiter greeted with a polite smile. “are you ready to order?”
you were grateful for the distraction and quickly placed your order, listing off your choices with precision. hanbin followed right after, taking his time as he made his selection. once he was done, the waiter turned to hyojoo and hanbin’s manager.
“and you two?”
hyojoo smiled. “oh, we’re just the managers.”
you barely held back a laugh as the waiter hesitated before nodding and taking their orders as well.
after the waiter left, hanbin’s manager leaned back in his chair and sighed dramatically. “agents never get recognition these days.”
the table erupted into laughter, even you, as the light hearted joke momentarily eased the tension.
as the laughter died down, hanbin’s manager turned his attention to hanbin. “so, how’s filming going? yesterday was the first big scene, right?”
hanbin nodded, leaning back comfortably. “yeah, we started with the battlefield scene and then moved into the dungeon scene. it’s going well so far, considering it’s still the early stages.”
hyojoo turned to you, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “and you? how are you feeling about everything?”
you took a sip of water, thinking for a moment. “it’s… intense. the script changes still throw me off a bit, but the production team knows what they’re doing. the dungeon scene especially was interesting.”
hanbin smirked. “interesting, huh? you mean the part where i got thrown into the dungeon?”
you smirked back. “that was my favourite part.”
hanbin clutched his chest dramatically. “you wound me, princess.”
hyojoo smirked, watching your dynamic with open amusement. “well, the chemistry is working, at least.”
hanbin’s manager nodded in agreement. “i have to admit, the media is loving it. the rumours about you two are spreading like wildfire. people are convinced you’re actually together.”
“which we’re not,” you pointed out quickly, folding your arms.
hanbin leaned in with an exaggerated pout. “but what if i wanted to be?”
“then i’d tell you to wake up,” you shot back, making hyojoo and his manager chuckle.
hanbin shook his head with a grin. “so cold.”
just then, the waiter returned with your drinks, placing them down one by one before disappearing back into the kitchen. you took a sip of your iced tea, letting the coolness soothe your irritation.
“honestly, though,” hanbin said after a beat, “i think the production team really did well with casting. our characters might not have been in the original script, but the tension makes for a good story.”
“you mean you enjoy making me mad?” you asked flatly.
he grinned. “immensely.”
hyojoo shook her head. “well, keep it up. it’s working.”
hanbin’s manager checked his phone before glancing up. “after lunch, you guys have script rehearsals, right?”
you nodded. “yeah. it’s the first official dialogue scene between our characters after the marriage agreement.”
hanbin wiggled his eyebrows. “can’t wait to be your husband, princess.”
hyojoo nearly choked on her drink, and you kicked him under the table.
“ow!” hanbin winced but laughed, rubbing his shin. “abusive wife already?”
“we’re not married!”
“yet.”
hyojoo snorted, and even hanbin’s manager looked amused. you groaned, placing your head in your hands. this was going to be a long lunch.
the rehearsal room was quiet, save for the faint sound of your own voice as you practiced in front of the mirror. your reflection stared back at you, brows furrowed in concentration as you recited shin mina’s lines under your breath, adjusting your tone, your expression, perfecting every subtle movement. you weren’t just memorizing words—you were stepping into character, feeling her emotions, embodying her presence.
hanbin stood in the distance, watching.
he had only come into the room a few minutes ago, but he hadn’t announced his presence yet. instead, he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he observed you. there was something fascinating about the way you lost yourself in your work, completely unaware of his gaze. your focus was unwavering, your movements meticulous, like you weren’t just rehearsing—you were already her.
it was frustratingly impressive.
his smirk deepened as he tilted his head slightly, taking in the sight of you. no matter how much you insisted you couldn’t stand him, you were dedicated to this movie, to this role, to making it as perfect as possible. he respected that. maybe more than he wanted to admit.
but that didn’t mean he was going to pass up an opportunity to tease you.
“are you practicing how to glare at me properly? because if so, you’ve already perfected it,” hanbin’s voice cut through the silence.
you startled, whipping around so fast you nearly knocked over the makeup bag on the table. your heart pounded in your chest, half from surprise and half from irritation when you saw his signature smirk in full force.
“what the hell, hanbin?” you huffed, pressing a hand to your chest. “don’t sneak up on people like that.”
he shrugged, strolling toward you with the same effortless confidence he always carried. “i wasn’t sneaking. you were just too absorbed in your own reflection to notice me.”
you scowled. “i was rehearsing.”
“oh, i know. i watched for a while,” he mused, stopping just a step behind you. “you really take this seriously, huh?”
“of course i do. unlike some people, i actually care about the work.”
hanbin chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “that’s a bit mean, don’t you think? what if i told you watching you work so hard was kind of... charming?”
your breath hitched for just a second, but you masked it with a glare. “if you’re going to distract me, at least be useful. otherwise, go away.”
“harsh,” he muttered, but his smirk didn’t waver. instead, his eyes flickered to the mirror in front of you. “fixing your hair again? you know you don’t have to try so hard. you already look good.”
“flattery won’t get you anywhere, hanbin.”
“you sure about that?” he teased, watching as you touched up your lipstick, carefully blotting it with a tissue.
“yes,” you said flatly, setting the tissue down. “now, if you don’t mind, i’d like to finish rehearsing.”
he didn’t move. instead, he placed a hand on your waist, his usual spot, and grinned at your reflection. “you know what we should do?”
“what?”
“take a photo together. for social media.”
“why?”
hanbin sighed dramatically. “you really have no sense of marketing, do you? we’re supposed to be in a fake relationship, remember? we should at least look like we enjoy spending time together.”
hanbin noticed your reluctance and took the lead. “come on,” he said, more assertively this time. “it’s just a picture. i promise i won’t bite.”
“you’re annoying,” you grumbled, pulling out your phone anyway.
hanbin grinned. “and yet, here we are.”
“look at the camera in the mirror.”
he obeyed, tilting his head slightly with his signature smirk, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. you sighed through your nose but put on a small smile, making sure it looked natural before taking the picture.
you snapped a few more, just in case, before lowering the phone and scrolling through them. hanbin leaned over your shoulder, looking at the screen as well.
“which one’s the best?” he asked.
you both paused.
coincidentally, your fingers hovered over the same photo—one where you looked effortlessly natural, and he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself beside you.
hanbin smirked, clearly satisfied. “see? we make a good team.”
“don’t push it.”
hanbin chuckled, watching as you finally hit post, pairing the image with a soft, romantic song.
“cute,” he commented.
“don’t make me regret this.”
“too late.”
the morning air buzzed with chatter as you stood among the crew, laughing and engaging in gossip about the latest entertainment news. the makeup artists, costume designers, and even the lighting technicians all had something to say about the newest scandal, the latest trending drama, and, of course, the unexpected but widely beloved pairing of you and hanbin.
"you two look so cute together," one of the makeup artists gushed, her hands clasped together in admiration. "honestly, the chemistry is just unreal. i swear, if i didn't know better, i'd think you were really in love."
another crew member nodded in agreement. "yeah, the pictures you posted yesterday? those went viral. everyone is shipping you guys."
"it’s crazy," you laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but thank you. we’re very happy with one another."
saying it felt easier than it should have. the crew all beamed at your response, completely convinced, before the conversation shifted to another topic. you let yourself stay a few minutes longer before politely excusing yourself, the warmth of their words still lingering in your thoughts.
as you walked away, the echoes of their compliments about you and hanbin replayed in your mind. the idea of people seeing you as an actual couple was still strange. fake dating was one thing, but seeing how naturally everyone believed in the illusion made your stomach twist slightly. shaking off the thought, you scanned the set until your eyes landed on the director.
approaching him, you spoke up. "do you have any feedback for me today?"
he looked up with a small smile, handing you a few pages of handwritten notes. "of course. you’re doing really well, by the way. your performance is exactly what we envisioned for shin mina."
"thank you," you murmured, eyes scanning the pages.
as you read through the notes, something quickly stood out to you—hanbin’s name was mentioned more times than you expected. in fact, a significant portion of the director’s comments revolved around your interactions with him, your on-screen chemistry, the way your characters played off one another. it wasn’t a surprise, necessarily, since your roles were intertwined, but seeing it written out so explicitly made you pause.
"a lot of this is about me and hanbin," you noted, glancing up at the director.
he nodded. "that’s because your dynamic is the heart of the film. every scene between the two of you carries so much weight. it’s essential that your chemistry feels completely natural and effortless."
humming in understanding, you flipped through the remaining notes. wrapping up your conversation with the director, you handed the papers back with a quick "thank you" before turning on your heel and scanning the set for hanbin.
he wasn’t hard to find. leaning casually against a prop pillar, he was chatting with a few of the other actors, his signature smirk on full display. taking a deep breath, you made your way toward him.
"we need to talk," you announced as you stopped in front of him.
hanbin turned his attention to you, grinning. "should i be worried?"
"it’s about the notes," you said, ignoring his teasing tone.
he raised a brow. "ah, let me guess. they’re all about how amazing i am?"
rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. "more like how much work we need to put into making our scenes feel as authentic as possible."
hanbin chuckled. "so basically, they love us together. i knew it."
his smirk was as infuriating as ever, but today, you found yourself simply shaking your head instead of snapping at him. maybe you were finally adjusting to his antics, or maybe you were just in a good mood.
"whatever," you brushed off. "we should get ready. we need to let the director know we’re good to go."
as you adjusted your costume and quickly fixed your hair, hanbin watched you with an amused expression.
"you know," he mused, "today’s a special day."
archiving a brow, you gave him a side glance. "and why is that?"
his smirk widened. "because today, i officially become your husband."
scoffing, you shook your head in disbelief before smacking his shoulder lightly. he winced, rubbing the spot dramatically.
"ow," he complained. "i need to start preparing myself for an abusive marriage."
"that’s not a healthy relationship," you retorted.
he shrugged. "maybe, but it’ll be entertaining."
"you’re impossible."
before he could reply, the crew signalled that the set was ready. taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the stage, feeling hanbin follow closely behind.
just another day of filming. just another scene where you had to pretend to be in love with the man who never failed to push your buttons.
only today, he was right. today was different.
because today, he became your husband—at least on screen.
the next day, you found yourself walking alongside hyojoo through the sleek hallways of your agency, the faint hum of office chatter and clicking keyboards surrounding you. the polished floors reflected the overhead lights, and the air smelled faintly of fresh coffee and paper. you glanced at hyojoo, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
"so, what’s this meeting about?" you asked, your tone tinged with mild suspicion.
hyojoo waved a dismissive hand. "nothing to stress over. just some business talk, probably about publicity."
"ugh, more publicity? aren’t we already doing enough?" you sighed.
she chuckled. "clearly not. the public wants more."
pushing open the heavy glass doors to the conference room, you immediately spotted hanbin lounging comfortably in a chair, his agent seated beside him. the moment his eyes landed on you, he shot you his signature smirk, leaning back slightly as if he had been expecting you to arrive any moment now.
"well, if it isn’t my favourite pretend girlfriend," he drawled, his smirk deepening. "miss me?"
rolling your eyes, you walked past him to take a seat beside hyojoo. "in your dreams."
he chuckled, clearly amused by your response, but before he could get another word in, one of the agency representatives cleared their throat, drawing everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"thank you all for coming today," the representative began, shuffling a stack of papers. "we called this meeting to discuss the overwhelming public response to your relationship. the media and fans are absolutely captivated. they love your dynamic—the way you two interact, the playful banter, the chemistry."
hanbin leaned in slightly, shooting you a sideways glance. "hear that? they love our chemistry. you can’t deny it now."
"i’ll deny it all i want," you muttered, crossing your arms.
ignoring your exchange, the representative continued. "with the growing interest in your relationship, we believe it would be beneficial to provide more content to the public. after all, the instagram story you posted the other day gained tremendous traction. fans are still talking about it."
hanbin grinned, nudging your elbow. "see? my idea was brilliant."
"your idea?" you scoffed. "i’m the one who actually took the picture and posted it."
"but who convinced you?" he shot back, his grin never faltering.
before you could respond, another representative jumped in. "regardless of whose idea it was, the fact remains that people want more."
hyojoo nodded in agreement. "it’s true. strategically speaking, this is a great opportunity to further boost your popularity."
"so what exactly are you suggesting?" you asked, exhaling deeply.
"content," the representative stated simply. "more candid moments, more social media presence—perhaps even some planned public outings that allow for natural interactions to be captured."
hanbin chuckled. "so basically, they want to see more of us bickering."
"playful banter," the representative corrected. "it’s charming and refreshing."
crossing your arms, you glanced at hanbin. "well, if they love it so much, maybe you should start paying me extra for putting up with you."
hanbin laughed. "you love it."
ignoring him, you turned your attention back to the representatives. "actually, vlogging has been really popular these days. i recently set up a whole video station at home—computer, microphone, camera, studio lights, everything."
instantly, the representatives perked up, nodding eagerly. "that’s a brilliant idea. it shows you’re in touch with current trends. fans would absolutely love behind-the-scenes content of you two."
hanbin turned to you, grinning. "well then, i guess i’m coming over tomorrow."
"you’re just inviting yourself over now?" you arched a brow.
he shrugged. "of course. you need me there for the content, don’t you?"
sighing dramatically, you leaned back in your chair. "fine. but at least try to look good for the camera."
hanbin placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "please. i always look good."
"right," you said flatly. "just don’t stink up my house."
he gasped playfully. "excuse you, i always smell amazing. you wanna smell me and find out?"
scoffing loudly, you made a face. "absolutely not. piss off."
laughter erupted around the room, even from the usually serious representatives. hanbin looked thoroughly pleased with himself, while you just shook your head, already dreading whatever chaos would ensue tomorrow.
"alright, then. it’s settled," the representative concluded. "we’ll expect some engaging content from you two soon."
hanbin turned to you with a grin. "hope you’re ready for a fun day tomorrow."
sighing, you stood up from your chair. "oh, i can hardly wait."
hanbin winked. "i knew you couldn’t resist me."
hyojoo tugged your arm, pulling you towards the door before you could come up with a sharp retort. as you exited the conference room, you couldn’t help but shake your head, already mentally preparing yourself for what was sure to be an eventful day.
and despite your protests, despite your exasperation with hanbin’s endless teasing, you couldn’t deny the tiniest hint of excitement bubbling in your chest.
the next morning, you were already camera-ready, your outfit perfectly styled and your face glowing under the soft morning light filtering through your windows. your morning routine had gone smoothly—you’d woken up early, taken a refreshing shower, done your skincare, and applied just the right amount of makeup to look effortless yet flawless. your bungalow was spotless after a thorough clean-up, ensuring no clutter would be visible in the background of the video. even the cushions on your couch were perfectly fluffed, and a subtle vanilla-scented candle burned in the corner, filling the space with a warm, inviting aroma.
as you adjusted your camera setup, making sure the lighting hit at just the right angle, a knock on the door echoed through your home. you sighed, already anticipating the teasing that was about to come. when you opened the door, hanbin stood there, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit that made it obvious he had put in effort. his dark jeans and white t-shirt fit him perfectly, and his hair looked tousled in that effortless way that somehow always suited him. his usual smirk was present as he leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning your house before flicking back to you.
"cute bungalow," he commented, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
"thanks," you said, stepping aside, arms crossed as you watched him look around.
he glanced around before his smirk widened. "the one living in the bungalow is cute too."
rolling your eyes, you groaned. "piss off."
hanbin chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked further in. "can't. we have to make some quality content for the public, remember?"
you sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, instead shutting the door behind him. as he wandered deeper into your house, his gaze landed on a shelf lined with old photo frames. he stepped closer, examining them with interest before picking one up. it was a baby picture of you, round-cheeked and beaming at the camera, your tiny hands gripping the sides of a birthday cake that was much too big for you.
"these are cute," he mused, turning the frame slightly. "who knew you used to be so tiny?"
"thanks," you replied, crossing your arms as you watched him.
hanbin turned to you with an exaggerated thoughtful expression. "do you think i was a cute baby?"
"i don’t know, i’ve never seen any of your baby pictures."
he hummed, setting the frame back in its place before straightening up. "fair enough. do i at least look handsome now?"
you blinked at him, taking a moment to study his face. his hair was styled effortlessly, his outfit perfectly tailored to his frame, and his skin looked unfairly flawless. but instead of feeding into his ego, you simply said, "you look camera-ready."
hanbin placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "ouch. i wish my girlfriend actually complimented me."
scoffing, you reached out and slapped his shoulder, making him wince dramatically. "piss off, hanbin."
he laughed, shaking his head before you motioned for him to follow you to your room. as you led him down the hall, he glanced around curiously before his eyes landed on your recording setup. his expression shifted from playful to genuinely impressed.
"whoa," he said, stepping closer. "this looks really professional. you weren’t kidding when you said you had everything set up."
you watched as he examined your camera, microphone, and lighting setup, his fingers lightly adjusting a dial on the mic.
"of course," you replied. "i don’t do things halfway."
he grinned at you. "clearly."
you adjusted the camera’s position, making sure the frame was set up perfectly before glancing at hanbin. "ready?"
he nodded. "let's do it."
you pressed record and immediately brightened, your expression shifting into your public-friendly smile. "hey everyone! welcome back to my channel. today, i have a very special guest with me."
hanbin, standing beside you, placed a hand on your waist as he grinned at the camera. "your favourite boyfriend, of course."
you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead maintaining your smile. "we're doing a q&a today, answering all the burning questions you guys have been sending in. and trust me, there were a lot."
hanbin chuckled. "people are really nosy, huh?"
"they're just curious about our love story," you teased, before grabbing your phone to read the first question. "alright, first question: how did you two meet?"
hanbin glanced at you before smirking at the camera. "ah, the fated encounter. our eyes met across a crowded room, time slowed, and we knew in that moment—"
"stop being dramatic," you interrupted, making him laugh. "we met during casting for 'written in the stars.' simple as that."
he nodded. "yeah, but if you ask me, she fell for me immediately."
you shot him a deadpan look. "next question."
you scrolled down and read the next one aloud. "do you two fight often?"
hanbin smirked. "define 'fight.'"
you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "bickering. arguments. me wanting to strangle you at least twice a day."
he laughed. "then yeah, all the time. but that’s what makes us entertaining, isn’t it?"
shaking your head, you moved on to the next question. "what can we expect from the upcoming movie?"
hanbin adopted a more serious expression. "honestly, i think people are going to love it. the story is compelling, the cinematography is stunning, and of course, our performances are top-tier."
"agreed," you said. "and i think fans are really going to enjoy the dynamic between our characters."
as you continued answering questions, the atmosphere remained light-hearted, filled with teasing remarks from hanbin and your playful eye rolls in response. when the q&a finally wrapped up, you stopped the recording and leaned back in your chair, exhaling.
"that went well," hanbin remarked.
"surprisingly," you admitted as you pulled the memory card from the camera and slotted it into your computer. you began editing immediately, cutting out unnecessary parts and adjusting the audio.
hanbin watched you work for a moment before speaking. "you're really dedicated to this, huh?"
you nodded, not looking away from the screen. "of course. content creation takes effort."
"it's kinda cool seeing you in work mode."
you glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "is that an actual compliment? from hanbin?"
he smirked. "don't get used to it."
rolling your eyes, you continued editing. it took a while, but eventually, the video was ready. you uploaded it, selecting a catchy title and an engaging thumbnail before posting it to your channel.
you leaned back, stretching your arms. "done."
hanbin checked his phone, already seeing notifications popping up. "people are gonna eat this up."
you hummed in agreement. "let’s just hope they enjoy it."
he grinned. "they will. after all, we make a great team."
for once, you didn’t argue. instead, you simply smirked and leaned back in your chair, already anticipating the reaction the video would get.
SMUT AHEAD
with the silence now, hanbin took the opportunity to pull you up from your chair flush against him, one hand sliding down to grope your ass possessively.
"now, where were we before the video, princess?"
you gasp softly, squirming in his hold, but don't pull away. "hanbin, stop it. we're not going to do anything like that on camera." you hiss, even as your body betrays you, reacting to his touch.
hanbin just smirks, undeterred. "you're right, princess. let's take this somewhere more private, hmm?"
with that, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you towards the living room as he pulls the bedroom door shut behind him. he tosses you onto the couch, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"hanbin," you warn, even as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscular form looming above you. "i mean it. no funny business."
he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth possessively. "funny business is my specialty," he murmurs against your lips. "but don't worry, princess. i promise i'll make it feel so good, you'll be begging for more."
you know you should push him away, but your body is already melting under his touch, craving more of his intense focus and desire. you tangle your fingers in his dark hair, giving it a sharp tug, and are rewarded with a low, appreciative moan from hanbin.
"fuck, i love it when you do that," he groans, grinding his hips against yours, letting you feel the sizeable bulge rapidly forming in his jeans.
you bite your lip to stifle a moan, your core clenching with want. you know you should put a stop to this, but the way he's touching you, the hunger in his eyes... you can't help but crave more.
hanbin seems to sense your hesitation, his hand sliding under your shirt to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple through the thin lace of your bra. "tell me you don't want this, princess," he challenges, his voice a low rumble. "tell me you don't want me to strip you bare and worship every inch of your gorgeous body until you're trembling and begging for my cock."
you swallow thickly, trying to find the words to refuse him, but all you can manage is a breathless, "hanbin..."
he smirks, taking your silence as the consent it is. "that's what i thought, princess. now, let me show you what a real man can do."
with that, he tugs your shirt off over your head and tosses it aside, leaving you in your bra as he takes in the sight of your exposed skin with blatant appreciation. "fuck, you're stunning," he breathes, before ducking his head down to press open-mouthed kisses along the swell of your breasts. "i'm going to make you feel so good, you won't be able to think of anything else."
you know you should put a stop to this, should maintain some semblance of control, but the way he's touching you, the promise of pleasure in his eyes... you can't bring yourself to refuse him. you tangle your fingers in his hair again, holding him against you as you arch into his touch, already craving more.
hanbin's lips find your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, his mouth hot and hungry as he suckles at the sensitive peak. his hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve as if committing your form to memory. he slides one hand up your thigh, his fingers dancing along your skin until he reaches the hem of your shorts. with a wicked grin, he slips his hand underneath, cupping your mound possessively.
"you're already so wet for me, aren't you princess?" he murmurs, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit teasingly. "i can feel how much you want this."
you let out a shaky moan, your hips bucking up against his hand as you desperately seek more friction. your core is throbbing, aching to be filled, and the way he's touching you is only stoking the flames of your desire.
hanbin chuckles darkly, clearly pleased by your reaction. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them carelessly to the floor. now completely bare before him, you feel exposed and vulnerable, but also incredibly aroused.
not wasting any time, hanbin parts your thighs, settling between them as he takes in the glorious sight of your glistening folds. he leans in, inhaling deeply, and groans at the intoxicating scent of your arousal.
"fuck, you smell divine," he growls, before diving in and running his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. he focuses on your clit, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with expert precision until you're writhing beneath him.
your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him against you as you grind your hips against his face, chasing your pleasure. hanbin seems to sense how close you are, and doubles his efforts, thrusting his tongue inside your clenching heat and fucking you with it in deep, powerful strokes.
"hanbin!" you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls of your living room. the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy fill the room, mixing with your wanton moans and gasps.
just as you're about to crest the peak of your climax, hanbin pulls away, leaving you wanting. you whimper at the loss, only to gasp as he sits up and strips off his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso. he undoes his jeans next, freeing his impressive erection, and you can't help but stare in awe at the thick, hard length of him.
crawling back up your body, hanbin settles between your thighs again, the head of his cock nudging against your soaked entrance. he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he slowly pushes inside you with a low groan.
"fuck, you feel incredible," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure as he hilts inside you completely. "so fucking tight and perfect, like you were made just for me."
you wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into his ass as he begins to move, thrusting in and out of you with deep, powerful strokes. the pleasure is intense, unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you can't help but clench down around him, drawing him in deeper.
hanbin sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with a passion and hunger that steals your breath away, and you know your neighbours will surely hear the lewd noises spilling from your lips - but you can't bring yourself to care. all that matters is the feeling of hanbin moving inside you, claiming you, owning you in the most primal way possible.
"yes, fuck yes!" you cry out, your nails raking down his back as you cling to him, meeting him thrust for thrust. "harder, hanbin! fuck me harder!"
he complies with a dark chuckle, hammering into you with renewed vigour, the wet squelch of your joined bodies filling the room obscenely. you can feel your climax building again, your walls starting to flutter and tighten around his pistoning cock.
"that's it, princess," hanbin pants, his breath hot against your ear. "cum for me. i want to feel you cum all over my cock like the dirty girl you are."
his filthy words are your undoing, and with a sharp cry of his name, you shatter, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. your pussy clamps down around him like a vice, pulsing and milking his cock as he continues to pound into your spasming heat.
hanbin lets out a guttural moan, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep inside you one last time. his cock throbs and jerks as he finds his own release, spilling his hot seed deep inside your clenching cunt. he collapses against you, both of you panting and trembling in the aftermath of your intense coupling.
as you lie there, basking in the afterglow, you can't help but think that this is a far cry from the hatred and disdain you normally feel for your fake boyfriend. right now, in this moment, you can't imagine wanting anyone else touching you, pleasuring you, fucking you like this. and if you're being honest with yourself... you never want it to end.
the morning light filtered softly through your bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. your body felt heavy, your muscles still a little sore from the previous night. as you stirred awake, you slowly blinked, adjusting to the gentle brightness of the morning. before you could register anything else, your eyes landed on hanbin, standing on the opposite side of the bed.
he was adjusting his shirt, the same one from yesterday, slightly wrinkled from being worn overnight. his movements were slow, deliberate, and oddly careful as if he was trying not to wake you. when he noticed you were awake, his gaze met yours, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"morning," he greeted, his voice softer than usual.
you swallowed, suddenly feeling shy. the memories of the previous night flashed through your mind, heat creeping up your neck. "morning," you murmured back, your voice still heavy with sleep.
hanbin tilted his head slightly, observing you. "how are you feeling?"
"i'm okay... just a little tired still."
he nodded, walking around the bed and crouching beside you. "stay in bed. i'll make breakfast."
before you could protest, he placed a firm yet gentle hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down onto the mattress. you sighed but didn’t fight it. the way he was being so thoughtful and caring made your chest tighten. you weren't used to this kind of treatment.
"okay," you relented softly.
hanbin grinned. "good. i’ll be back in a bit."
he left the room, leaving you to stare at the ceiling, trying to process everything. last night had been... different. the intimacy, the way he had held you—it was new. despite his usual teasing and arrogance, last night he had been passionate. attentive.
within ten minutes, hanbin returned, carefully balancing a tray with a plate full of breakfast and a glass of mango juice. the aroma of warm food instantly filled the room, making your stomach rumble.
"breakfast is served," he announced, setting the tray down on your bedside table before handing you the plate.
"thank you," you said sincerely, picking up your fork and taking a bite.
hanbin sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for a hairbrush on your nightstand. without saying a word, he gently ran the brush through your hair, untangling the knots from sleep as you continued eating. the motion was soothing, almost hypnotic.
"you okay with last night?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.
you swallowed your bite of food and turned to look at him. his expression was unreadable, but there was something behind his eyes—concern, uncertainty. before he could say more, he added, "if you didn’t enjoy it or if i made you uncomfortable, i—"
"hanbin," you cut him off, placing your hand over his. "it was okay. i really enjoyed it."
his shoulders relaxed slightly, but he still looked like he needed more reassurance.
"i just..." you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "i act guarded because... well, it’s just how i protect myself."
he nodded, brushing out a final knot in your hair before setting the brush down. "i get it. i won’t push."
you smiled slightly. "i know."
after a brief pause, he clapped his hands together. "alright, what do you wanna wear today?"
you pointed toward your closet. "that beige knit sweater with the black slacks."
hanbin stood up and went to retrieve them, neatly laying them out on your bed. he made a show of smoothing out the wrinkles, acting as if he was your personal stylist.
"perfect choice, my dear girlfriend," he teased, and for once, you didn’t roll your eyes at his antics.
"thanks, my very considerate boyfriend," you replied, making him chuckle.
after finishing breakfast, hanbin took the tray from you. "i’ll do the dishes. you freshen up."
"you don’t have to—"
"shhh." he placed a finger over your lips before you could argue. "go."
reluctantly, you obeyed, heading into the bathroom. as you stood in front of the mirror, you took a deep breath, staring at your reflection. today felt... different. hanbin was different. maybe things were changing between you two.
once you were fully ready, dressed, and your makeup subtly done, you walked out to find hanbin already by the front door, car keys in hand. he looked up at you and gave an approving nod.
"looking good," he commented.
"you don’t look too bad yourself," you said before realizing what you had just admitted.
hanbin’s smirk widened. "did you just—"
"shut up," you muttered, pushing past him as he laughed.
on the drive to set, the usual bickering and playful remarks were replaced with a heavy silence. not uncomfortable, but... different. hanbin was quieter than usual, glancing at you every so often. the tension from last night lingered between you both, thick and unspoken.
"you’re being weird," you finally said, breaking the silence.
"me?" he raised an eyebrow. "you’re the one being quiet."
you scoffed. "you’re usually unbearable by now. where’s the arrogant hanbin i know?"
he chuckled, shaking his head. "maybe i’m just giving you a break."
you side-eyed him. "or maybe you’re just nervous."
he scoffed. "please. me? nervous? over what?"
you shrugged. "you tell me."
hanbin didn’t answer, instead keeping his eyes on the road. the silence returned, but it was heavier now, filled with questions neither of you wanted to be the first to ask.
when you arrived at the filming venue, hanbin parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt before stepping out. you reached for your own seatbelt, but before you could undo it, your door swung open. hanbin stood there, leaning down slightly as he reached in and unbuckled it for you.
you blinked up at him. "i can do that myself, you know."
"i know." his voice was quiet, almost teasing, but not quite. "but where’s the fun in that?"
he held out a hand, and after a slight hesitation, you took it. he helped you out of the car before releasing your hand, walking beside you toward the set.
though his usual arrogance wasn’t present, there was something else—an unspoken understanding, a shift in whatever this relationship between you two was becoming.
whatever it was, you weren’t sure yet. but as you walked together, side by side, you knew something had changed. the air between you held an unfamiliar weight, something fragile yet undeniable. each glance held a question, each movement seemed more deliberate. it wasn’t just routine anymore. something deeper was settling in, and for the first time, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to fight it—or let it happen.
the atmosphere on set buzzed with excitement as the crew prepared for another day of filming. you were adjusting your costume in front of the mirror when the sound of an unfamiliar voice echoed through the set. turning your head slightly, you saw a tall figure walking in with confident strides, his warm smile effortlessly charming everyone in the room.
"juhan!" you called out in pleasant surprise, immediately recognizing him. it had been a while since you had seen him, but the familiarity between you two was instant.
"hey, look at you! still stealing the spotlight, i see." juhan smirked as he approached, his deep, warm voice carrying a teasing edge.
"please, you flatter me," you laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. "what are you even doing here?"
"turns out, i'm your new co-star. thought i’d spice things up around here." he winked, making you chuckle.
hanbin, standing a few feet away, subtly tensed as he watched the exchange unfold. his fingers curled into his palm as he forced himself to remain composed. he wasn't the type to get jealous—or so he told himself—but something about the way you and juhan interacted made something burn uncomfortably in his chest.
"well, that explains all the excitement," you said, grinning. "i'm glad you’re here. it'll be fun working together."
"yeah, it will be. i mean, with you on set, how could it not?" juhan's smile was effortless, natural. he had this way of making you feel at ease, and hanbin hated that he noticed it.
hanbin finally decided he had seen enough. he took a step forward, clearing his throat loudly. "so, you two know each other?" he asked, his voice casual but his gaze sharp.
"oh yeah, we worked on a project together a couple of years ago," you explained. "juhan was my first on-screen partner."
hanbin let out a slow breath through his nose. "interesting."
"yeah, we had great chemistry," juhan added, nudging your arm playfully.
hanbin’s jaw tightened. "that so?"
you caught the subtle shift in hanbin’s expression, the way his eyes darkened just a fraction. the tension was thick, almost suffocating, and you weren’t sure why it unsettled you. you felt a little guilty—though you didn’t owe hanbin anything, you couldn’t deny that his reaction made you a little nervous.
"anyway, i should probably let you get back to preparing," juhan said with a charming grin. "we’ll catch up more later."
as soon as juhan walked away, hanbin seized the moment to step closer to you. "hey, we should rehearse before shooting."
his tone was light, but there was something about the way he said it that made it clear: this wasn’t just about rehearsing. still, you nodded. "sure. let’s go."
hanbin led you to a quieter part of the set where fewer people lingered. as you went through your lines, you both fell into the rhythm of your characters, but the unspoken tension between you and hanbin lingered. every now and then, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.
just then, soojin, one of the assistants who had always admired your work, approached with a bright smile. "that was amazing! your delivery was spot on."
you smiled warmly. "thank you, soojin. that means a lot."
"i’ve always been such a fan of your work," she admitted, practically beaming. "you bring so much depth to your roles. it’s inspiring."
flattered, you chuckled. "that’s really sweet of you to say."
hanbin, standing beside you, watched the interaction with a growing sense of irritation. it wasn’t that he had an issue with people complimenting you—it was that you were actually receiving the admiration, basking in it. and when soojin placed a friendly hand on your shoulder, hanbin’s patience officially ran out.
"alright," hanbin interjected smoothly, stepping in between you and soojin with a tight smile. "we should probably get back to rehearsing."
you raised an eyebrow. "we were just talking."
"yeah, well, we have a schedule to keep," hanbin replied, not missing the way soojin’s hand dropped from your shoulder.
soojin, oblivious to the underlying tension, nodded. "of course! i’ll leave you to it."
as she walked away, you turned to hanbin, arms crossed. "was that really necessary?"
"what? we do need to rehearse," he said, feigning innocence.
"uh-huh," you said, unconvinced. "or are you just annoyed that soojin complimented me?"
hanbin scoffed. "please, i don’t get annoyed over little things like that."
you gave him a knowing look. "right. and earlier? with juhan?"
his jaw clenched for half a second before he masked it with a smirk. "what about earlier?"
"hanbin," you said, exasperated. "you’re being ridiculous."
he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "am i? or do you just not want to admit that you like the attention?"
your breath hitched slightly at his words. before you could respond, he leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping lower. "it’s funny. i don’t recall you ever touching me the way you did soojin."
heat rushed to your face. "that’s different."
"is it?" hanbin’s smirk deepened, but there was an edge to it now. "you seemed pretty comfortable. i’m just wondering where my special treatment is."
"you’re unbelievable," you muttered, pushing past him, but he caught your wrist gently.
"i’m just saying," he murmured, holding your gaze. "if you’re gonna give out attention like that, don’t blame me for wanting my fair share."
you felt your heartbeat quicken, but before you could say anything else, a crew member called for you both to return to set. hanbin released your wrist slowly, but not before running his thumb lightly over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
as you both walked back, you couldn’t ignore the shift in hanbin’s demeanour. the possessiveness, the quiet jealousy—it was all new, and it was stirring something in you that you weren’t sure how to handle.
whatever was happening between you two, one thing was certain: things were getting complicated.
the air was thick with the heat of the stage lights, the scent of coffee lingering in the air as the crew buzzed around, resetting the cameras and adjusting the lighting for the next scene. you had just wrapped up a particularly draining shoot, and the exhaustion clung to your body like a heavy blanket. the long hours, the constant retakes, the demand for perfection—it was beginning to take its toll.
wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead, you took a deep breath, rubbing your temples as you tried to shake off the fatigue when juhan appeared beside you with his usual easy-going smile. he always had a way of making everything seem less overwhelming.
"looks like we’ve got some time before the next scene," he said, stretching his arms over his head with a dramatic yawn. "wanna take a break somewhere quiet? i know a good spot."
you hesitated for a moment, glancing around. hanbin was nowhere in sight—likely caught up in a costume change. it wouldn’t hurt to step away for a bit. "yeah, actually, that sounds nice."
juhan grinned and led you through the winding corridors of the film set until you reached a secluded outdoor seating area tucked behind the venue. it was small and intimate, the kind of space that felt hidden away from the chaos. a few trees cast soft shadows over the space, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, and the distant hum of the city was barely audible. it was peaceful, a rare moment of stillness amidst the chaos of filming.
he flopped down onto one of the benches, patting the spot beside him. "come on, sit. let’s pretend we’re not actors for a little while."
you let out a small laugh, sinking into the seat next to him. "god, i need this. filming today has been exhausting. i feel like i’ve been running on autopilot."
"tell me about it," he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the wooden bench. "i swear, if i have to redo one more take because of a lighting issue, i might just run away and become a farmer instead."
you chuckled, shaking your head. "i think you'd be a terrible farmer. you'd get bored in five minutes."
he gasped, feigning offense. "excuse you! i’d be an amazing farmer. wake up early, take care of my crops, talk to my chickens—"
"talk to your chickens?" you raised an eyebrow, amused.
"obviously. they’d be my emotional support animals. i’d tell them all my problems," he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "‘hey, mr. cluckles, today’s shoot was rough. what do you think i should do?’"
"and what would mr. cluckles say?" you played along, a small smile tugging at your lips.
juhan pursed his lips in thought before putting on a mock serious expression. "he’d say, ‘juhan, my boy, you need to relax. eat some corn. take a nap.’"
that was it. the first genuine laugh of the day burst out of you, making your shoulders shake. juhan’s eyes lit up at the sound, clearly proud of himself.
"see?" he nudged you. "mission accomplished. got you to laugh."
"okay, fine," you admitted, still chuckling. "maybe you wouldn’t be the worst farmer. but still a terrible one."
he grinned. "fair enough. but honestly, i get it. filming has been intense. and being in the public eye just makes it harder, right?"
as the laughter faded, you nodded, exhaling. "yeah. it’s like, even when i’m not working, i’m still working. there’s always some article, some interview, some comment section picking apart every little thing. it’s exhausting."
juhan hummed in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "yep. you have to be ‘on’ all the time. people forget we’re actual human beings."
"exactly!" you gestured with your hands, getting more animated. "and if you show even the slightest bit of imperfection, it’s like the whole world is ready to pounce on you. it’s suffocating."
he studied you for a moment before nodding. "yeah… it is. and it’s hard to know who actually sees you for you, and who just sees you as some… image."
you sighed, leaning back against the bench. "it’s like no matter what, we’re performing. even when we’re not on camera."
juhan sat quietly for a moment before turning to you with a small, knowing smile. "wanna hear something embarrassing?"
you raised an eyebrow. "always."
he laughed. "okay, so back when i first started acting, i had this tiny role in a drama. like, blink and you’ll miss me kind of tiny. but it was my first real gig, so i was nervous as hell."
"go on," you urged, intrigued.
"so, my scene comes up, and all i have to do is walk into a room, set down a tray of drinks, and say one line. easy, right?" he grinned, shaking his head. "wrong. because somehow, i managed to trip over my own feet, send the drinks flying, and—get this—knock over the lead actress’s chair in the process."
your eyes widened. "no way."
"oh, it gets worse." he groaned, covering his face for a second before continuing. "instead of apologizing like a normal person, i panicked and just… ran."
that did it. you burst into laughter, doubling over as you tried to picture the scene. "you ran?"
"full sprint!" he confirmed, laughing along with you. "they had to chase me down just to reshoot."
"i can’t believe that actually happened." you shook your head, still giggling.
"oh, believe it. i still get teased about it to this day." he sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "truly one of my proudest moments."
as your laughter subsided, you realized how much lighter you felt. juhan had a way of making things feel… easier. like the weight of expectations didn’t matter for a little while.
he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "you know, i don’t think i’ve seen you smile this much all day."
you blinked, caught off guard. "really?"
"yeah," he said, his voice softer now. "i know things have been stressful, but i hope you have more moments like this. where you can just be yourself."
his words lingered between you, warm and genuine. for a moment, you simply sat there, appreciating the rare moment of peace before the chaos of filming resumed.
and despite the exhaustion, despite everything, you felt a little lighter than before.
but the moment of peace didn’t last long.
as you laughed at another one of juhan’s jokes, a familiar presence approached from behind. hanbin’s voice rang out, light-hearted but laced with something else, something sharper beneath the surface.
“i see you two are having a good time,” he said, his tone dripping with forced cheerfulness. “should i be worried that i’ll have to fight for y/n’s attention now?”
his signature smirk was plastered across his face, but his eyes told a different story. before you could react, his hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm and deliberate.
juhan, however, remained unfazed, flashing a grin as he leaned back against the bench. “ah, hanbin. don’t worry, i’d never steal your beloved,” he teased, glancing at you before adding, “unless she wanted me to, of course.”
hanbin chuckled, but you felt the tension rolling off him in waves. his fingers lightly squeezed your side, and you shifted slightly under his touch. something about the way he was acting made the atmosphere heavy, like an unsaid battle was happening right in front of you.
“bold of you,” hanbin mused, cocking his head. “but i think she’s got enough on her plate without you making things complicated.”
juhan laughed, completely at ease. “oh, no complications here. just some friendly conversation while we waited. right, y/n?” he turned to you, offering an easy smile.
you nodded slowly, glancing between them. it was clear to you now—hanbin wasn’t just joking. he was jealous. and while you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about that, you didn’t want to let the tension escalate any further.
“actually, juhan, could you give us a moment?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm.
juhan raised his brows slightly before nodding, his smile never faltering. “of course. i’ll see you later, y/n.” he shot hanbin a knowing glance before walking off, leaving you alone with him.
hanbin exhaled, rolling his shoulders back as if shaking off some invisible weight. he turned to you, a careful mask of indifference on his face.
“you didn’t have to do that,” he said, though you caught the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
you sighed. “hanbin, i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
his lips quirked into a small smirk. “uncomfortable? why would i be uncomfortable?”
“because,” you started, searching his face, “you were obviously jealous.”
hanbin let out a scoff, though it sounded more defensive than amused. “jealous? please. if anything, i was just amused watching juhan try so hard.”
“hanbin, come on. don’t do that.”
he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “do what?”
“act like it doesn’t bother you when it clearly does.”
hanbin studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. then, as if deflecting, he leaned in closer, his smirk returning. “you really care what i think that much?”
“of course i do. you and i—” you hesitated, your throat tightening slightly. “i don’t want you feeling weird about anything. we’ve been spending so much time together, and… after what happened, i don’t want there to be any awkwardness.”
hanbin’s smirk faltered for a split second. his playful façade wavered before he chuckled, shaking his head.
“y/n,” he said, voice quieter now. “we’re a fake couple. remember?”
his words hit like a punch to the stomach. you hadn’t expected that to sting as much as it did. something about hearing him say it so plainly, so casually, made your chest tighten.
“right,” you murmured, looking away.
he must’ve noticed the way your expression changed because his grip on your waist tightened slightly. when you finally met his gaze again, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“y/n,” he started, but you cut him off.
“we spent the night together,” you reminded him, your voice barely above a whisper.
his jaw tensed. for the first time, hanbin had no witty remark, no teasing comeback. he simply stared at you, his fingers tightening for just a second before he suddenly pulled you close.
his embrace was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid of letting you slip through his fingers. his breath was warm against your hair as he held you there, his heartbeat steady but slightly erratic.
“hanbin,” you whispered, but he shook his head against you.
“don’t overthink it,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against your temple. “just… stay here for a second.”
hesitating only for a moment, you let your hands rest lightly against his back. despite everything, despite the confusing whirlwind of emotions swirling between you two, you let yourself melt into the embrace. because for that moment, even if just for a second, you didn’t want to be a fake couple either.
his grip tightened slightly before he finally spoke again. “y/n,” he murmured against your hair, voice barely above a whisper. “what are we doing?”
your breath hitched, but you didn’t answer.
because truthfully, you weren’t sure anymore.
you sat comfortably on the couch in hyojoo’s office, a warm cup of tea in your hands as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. the atmosphere was relaxed, the soft hum of her laptop filling the room. it was supposed to be a casual hangout, a chance to unwind after the chaotic filming schedule, but hyojoo’s sharp voice quickly interrupted the peace.
“so, have you seen the latest articles?” she asked, barely concealing her amusement as she looked up from her screen.
curious, you glanced at her. “what now?”
hyojoo smirked before spinning her laptop toward you. bold headlines from multiple entertainment sites filled the screen, along with several photos of you and juhan laughing together on set. the camera had perfectly captured the effortless way you interacted with him, your expressions open and familiar. beneath the images were headlines like: ‘a new romance blooming? juhan and y/n’s undeniable chemistry sparks curiosity.’
“are you serious?” you scoffed, pushing your cup aside as you leaned closer to read. “they think i’m with juhan?”
hyojoo shrugged, crossing her arms. “well, you’ve been fake dating hanbin, but the media loves a fresh angle. and juhan? he’s got that easy charm that makes people want to ship him with anyone.”
she clicked on another tab, revealing a poll with the question: ‘who does y/n have better chemistry with? hanbin or juhan?’ unsurprisingly, hanbin was winning by a landslide.
“well, at least that’s reassuring,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “the fake relationship is still strong.”
hyojoo gave you a knowing look. “speaking of which… you and hanbin. anything new?”
her tone was too casual, too pointed. your fingers tensed slightly around your phone. “uh—”
“don’t even try to dodge this. spill,” she demanded, her sharp eyes practically pinning you in place. “you have that guilty look.”
you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “we… spent the night together.”
hyojoo’s jaw dropped. “excuse me?”
“after the q&a at my house,” you clarified quickly, your face heating up. “it just happened.”
“oh my god.” hyojoo practically vibrated with excitement. “why am i just hearing about this now? details. now.”
“keep your voice down!” you hissed, looking around despite knowing no one else was there.
she waved off your concern. “i don’t care if the whole world hears. you and hanbin? finally? do you even understand how long i’ve been waiting for this?”
“it’s not like that,” you mumbled, looking away. “it was just… in the moment.”
hyojoo’s grin softened slightly, and she leaned forward. “okay, but be honest—do you like him?”
that question made you freeze. after a long pause, you exhaled. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “it feels different now. like, before, it was easy to separate acting from reality, but after that night, everything feels… real.”
hyojoo studied you for a moment before nodding. “so you do like him.”
“i think so.” you swallowed hard. “but then juhan came along, and now everything is more confusing.”
hyojoo groaned, rubbing her temples. “oh my god, y/n. don’t tell me you’re actually considering juhan.”
“it’s not like that!” you defended quickly. “it’s just… ever since he arrived, hanbin has been acting weird. distant. what if he’s losing interest?”
hyojoo rolled her eyes dramatically. “please. hanbin is the most stubborn, competitive man i’ve ever met. you really think he’d just lose interest in you? he’s probably fuming every time he sees you with juhan.”
“but what if he’s pulling away because of it?” you asked, biting your lip. “what if—”
“you are overthinking everything.” hyojoo cut you off with an exasperated groan. “you and hanbin have been fake dating for a while now, and let’s not forget the private moments you two have shared. if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be acting weird at all.”
you hesitated. “i don’t know…”
hyojoo gave you a deadpan stare. “you are impossible.”
“sorry?”
“you should be.”
you chuckled nervously, sinking deeper into the couch. “so… what do i do?”
hyojoo smirked, leaning back with an air of confidence. “simple. if you like hanbin, tell him. stop making this harder than it needs to be.”
her words lingered in your mind, settling deep in your chest. maybe she was right. maybe it was time to stop second-guessing and finally take a step forward.
the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden glow over the filming venue as you walked out of your trailer, drone floating effortlessly behind you. the soft whirring of its blades was a comforting background noise as you turned to greet the camera, a small smile on your lips.
"good morning, guys," you said, your voice light and warm. "today's a filming day, so i thought i’d take you with me and show you around."
you adjusted the angle slightly before heading toward the hair and makeup section. the usual routine went smoothly—foundation, blush, a bit of contour, all while your stylist teased you about your newfound dedication to vlogging. once you were in costume, stomach grumbling slightly, you decided to grab some food before heading to set.
as you navigated through the trailers, you spotted juhan already at the catering table, casually stacking food onto his plate. his eyes flicked up when he noticed you, his signature grin forming.
"well, well," he mused, glancing at the drone. "should i be worried? am i being watched?"
laughing, you shook your head. "it's for vlogging. figured i’d show people what a day on set looks like."
juhan immediately turned to the drone, his confidence kicking in as he offered a charismatic wave. "hello, dear viewers! welcome to the chaotic world of filmmaking."
you giggled, shaking your head. "you should join me for a mukbang."
"absolutely," he said without hesitation, motioning toward the seating area. "let’s eat."
setting up the camera at a good angle, you both began eating, talking about the different dishes available, juhan occasionally throwing in exaggerated reactions to the food, making you laugh. the energy between you was light and easy, and it was clear the camera was picking up on that.
"so, y/n," juhan said between bites, "is this drone your new best friend? should i be jealous?"
you laughed. "honestly? it’s pretty loyal. always follows me around."
"i’ll have to work hard to compete then." he smirked, taking another bite.
midway through, a familiar voice cut through the conversation. "what’s this?"
you turned to see hanbin approaching, hands in his pockets, eyes flickering toward the drone before landing on you. "you’re vlogging?"
"yep," you replied casually. "figured i’d document a filming day."
hanbin smirked, stepping closer to the camera. "well then, hello to all of y/n’s viewers. you’re welcome, by the way, for gracing this vlog with my presence."
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. juhan, ever observant, seemed to notice the way you were looking at hanbin and took that as his cue to leave.
"i should probably go," juhan said smoothly, standing up. "i’ll see you later, y/n."
hanbin’s smirk only widened as juhan walked away, his hand immediately finding your waist, thumb grazing the fabric of your costume. "looks like i scared him off," he mused.
"you're insufferable," you muttered, but the warmth spreading in your chest was undeniable.
taking the opportunity, you turned back to the camera, gesturing toward hanbin. "so, as usual, here’s my boyfriend."
hanbin’s grip on your waist tightened slightly as he nodded. "proudly so."
your stomach did a little flip at that, and you quickly turned the conversation toward the set, leading hanbin around as you continued filming. despite the constant movement, his hand never left your waist, his presence grounding in a way that was both comforting and thrilling.
after some time, you sighed. "i need to brush my teeth."
hanbin arched a brow. "should the camera come along for that?"
you shrugged with a teasing smile. "why not?"
his eyes twinkled mischievously. "this should be fun."
with the drone floating behind you both, you made your way to the bathroom trailer. hanbin leaned casually against the doorframe, watching as you grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste.
"so, dear viewers," hanbin addressed the camera with a dramatic flair. "this is a rare behind-the-scenes moment of y/n’s daily dental care routine."
you chuckled as you began brushing, watching his reflection in the mirror as he continued talking.
"did you guys know," he continued, crossing his arms, "that y/n is the most meticulous teeth brusher in the world? truly, a sight to behold."
amused, you flicked some water at him, making him laugh. as you moved on to gently brushing your lips, removing any dead skin, he kept talking, his voice a steady, comforting presence.
"also, fun fact," he said, tilting his head. "she takes brushing her tongue very seriously."
you rolled your eyes, scraping your tongue with exaggerated movements just to play along. hanbin chuckled, shaking his head fondly.
"you’re ridiculous," you muttered, rinsing your mouth.
he leaned closer, smirking. "you love it."
you shot him a look through the mirror, heart skipping a beat at the way he was watching you.
as you set your toothbrush down and wiped your mouth, hanbin glanced at you with a raised brow. "you good?"
you swallowed, nodding. "yeah. just… thinking."
his smirk softened into something gentler. "don’t hurt yourself."
you nudged him playfully, the usual banter covering up the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you.
as the drone hovered nearby, capturing the moment, you realized something else.
for the first time in a long time, you didn’t mind being watched.
because if anyone were to see the way you looked at hanbin, they’d know the truth.
you had fallen for him. completely.
the sun was still rising when you found yourself pacing outside one of the quieter sections of the set, the cool morning air brushing against your skin. you had been rehearsing the conversation in your mind all night, but now that the moment had arrived, your heart pounded against your ribs. every inhale felt shaky, every thought swirling in your head more chaotic than the last.
juhan arrived right on time, wearing his usual relaxed smile, hands stuffed in his pockets as he approached. "you wanted to talk?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "you look nervous. should i be worried?"
exhaling, you gestured toward the bench nearby. "let’s sit."
he nodded, following your lead as you both settled onto the bench. the morning bustle of the film set carried on in the background—crew members adjusting lights, actors reviewing lines—but here, in this tucked-away corner, it felt like the world had momentarily paused. birds chirped in the distance, the faint hum of conversation surrounding you, but none of it compared to the pounding in your chest.
"look, juhan," you began, your fingers gripping the fabric of your costume as you willed yourself to speak steadily, "i’ve really enjoyed our time together. you're an amazing person, truly, and i’ve loved getting to know you."
his expression softened, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. "but?"
his voice was gentle, expectant, and yet there was an undeniable edge of resignation in his eyes. you swallowed, meeting his gaze directly. "but i’m dating hanbin. and… my feelings for him are stronger than i ever expected them to be."
juhan held your gaze for a moment before exhaling through his nose, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. "i figured," he admitted, leaning back against the bench. "you look at him differently. i noticed it yesterday."
heat crept up your neck, but you didn’t deny it. "i don’t want to lead you on or let any confusion linger between us. you’re important to me, but i see you as a friend. i don’t think that’s going to change."
juhan was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. the silence stretched between you, not necessarily heavy, but thick with unspoken words. then, with a small chuckle, he shook his head. "you know, i could’ve made this difficult for you. could’ve pretended i didn’t see it, could’ve made things messy." his eyes flicked to yours, playful yet sincere. "but i respect you too much for that. and if i'm being honest? i respect hanbin too."
relief washed over you, a weight lifting from your chest. "so… we’re good?"
he sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "i suppose i’ll live."
it made you laugh, the tension between you breaking just a little. there was still something bittersweet in the air, but you were grateful for the way he handled it. juhan had always been confident, easy-going, but underneath all that was someone who truly cared.
"thank you, juhan. really."
he smiled, his usual confidence tinged with something softer. "you’re worth being honest for, y/n. and hanbin? he’s lucky."
before you could respond, a crew member jogged over, calling out juhan’s name. he glanced toward them before turning back to you, standing up. "looks like i’ve got a costume fix. duty calls."
he hesitated for just a fraction of a second before reaching out, giving your hand a light squeeze. it was brief but meaningful, a silent way of saying that he understood, that there were no hard feelings. then, with a final wink, he turned on his heel and walked away.
watching him leave, you exhaled, feeling lighter than you had in days. the conversation you had dreaded was now behind you, and there were no more uncertainties, no more lingering questions.
only one thing remained—telling hanbin how you truly felt. and this time, you weren’t going to hold back.
you moved through the bustling set, mentally preparing yourself for the next scene. your costume clung comfortably to your form, and the soft hum of conversation between crew members filled the air. then, as you passed a quiet corner where you usually waited for your turn on set, you spotted him.
hanbin.
he was standing there, his posture tense, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. his usually smug expression was absent, replaced with something unreadable—serious, almost hesitant. the second his gaze met yours, he straightened, his features shifting into a more resolute expression. without a word, he stepped forward, his movements purposeful.
“y/n,” he spoke softly but insistently, his voice steady, yet holding an edge of something deeper. “can we talk? before we go back to filming?”
you hesitated for only a second before nodding. something about his tone sent a nervous flutter through your chest. wordlessly, you followed as he led you away from the noise of the set, guiding you to a secluded area tucked between the trailers. it was quiet, private, the sounds of the production fading into the background.
hanbin exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were gathering his thoughts. when he finally looked at you, his eyes were unguarded in a way you weren’t used to seeing.
“i don’t know how to say this,” he started, his voice lower, more vulnerable than usual. “but... i can’t keep pretending anymore.”
your breath hitched. “what do you mean?”
his lips pressed together for a brief moment before he stepped closer, closing the space between you. “this whole fake dating thing... it was never really fake for me.”
your heart pounded as his words sank in. hanbin? the one who had always been so composed, so effortlessly in control, now looked at you like he was baring a piece of himself he wasn’t sure you’d accept.
he shifted, as if struggling with how to proceed, then let out a quiet chuckle—self-deprecating, almost nervous. “i’ve developed feelings for you, y/n. real ones.”
you felt like the world had stilled.
“hanbin...” you started, but he wasn’t done.
“i’ve been trying to ignore it,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “telling myself it was just part of the job. but i can’t anymore. every time i see you, i...” he exhaled sharply. “i want more. i want to be with you, not just pretend. and i know we’ve been playing this game, but it’s not a game to me anymore. it hasn’t been for a while.”
his confession left you breathless. he looked at you like he was standing on the edge of something unknown, waiting for you to either pull him back or take the leap with him.
the realization hit you like a tidal wave—you felt the same.
a slow smile formed on your lips, your voice barely above a whisper. “you idiot.”
hanbin blinked, caught off guard. “what?”
“i’ve been falling for you too.” the words left your lips before you could second-guess them, and the way hanbin’s expression shifted—his lips parting slightly, his eyes darkening with something unspoken—made your stomach flip.
a tension neither of you had ever acknowledged fully before crackled between you. you barely had time to process it before he took a step forward, and then another, until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him. his hand came up, fingers brushing along your jaw, hesitating just long enough to give you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t.
you leaned in first.
and then his lips met yours.
it was slow at first, almost cautious, but the moment hanbin felt you respond, he deepened the kiss. his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. he tasted like mint and something unmistakably him, a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.
your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed closer, his other hand finding its way to the small of your back. he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment forever, like he needed to make sure you understood exactly what he felt for you. his lips molded against yours in a rhythm that felt natural, like you had done this a thousand times before, even though this was the first.
his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you even closer, and you sighed into the kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of him. it was dizzying, the way he made you feel—like you had stepped into something irreversible, something neither of you could take back, nor would you want to.
when you finally broke apart, your breaths mingling in the space between you, hanbin rested his forehead against yours. neither of you spoke for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.
finally, he let out a soft chuckle. “so... i guess that means it’s mutual?”
you laughed breathlessly. “took you long enough to say something.”
hanbin pulled back just enough to look at you, his signature smirk making a return—but this time, it was softer, more genuine. “we should tell the agencies tomorrow.”
you nodded. “yeah. let’s make it real.”
his grip on your waist tightened slightly. “we’ll figure it out together.”
you smiled, your heart still racing, but this time it wasn’t from uncertainty. it was from excitement.
this wasn’t fake anymore. this was real.
and for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should be.
the meeting room was the same as always—bright, sterile, and professional. the long, polished table gleamed under the overhead lighting, and the walls were lined with framed posters of past successful projects. but today, despite the familiar setting, everything felt different.
you walked in with hyojoo beside you, your fingers subtly gripping the edge of your sleeve, a nervous habit you hadn’t quite shaken. across the table, hanbin was already seated. the moment your eyes met, your stomach flipped. you couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or excitement, but his gaze was steady, reassuring. a silent message passed between you: we’ve got this.
“you okay?” hyojoo whispered as she leaned slightly toward you.
you nodded, exhaling slowly. “just nervous.”
“don’t be,” she said with a small smirk. “this is gonna be fun.”
just as you took your seats, the agency representatives shifted in their chairs, clearing their throats as they prepared to begin. hanbin’s agent, a sharp-eyed man with an ever-serious expression, folded his hands together. your agency’s representative, a composed woman in her forties, adjusted her glasses and prepared her notes. the usual routine. you knew exactly what was coming: an update on the status of your fake relationship, potential adjustments to the media narrative, future appearances together.
but before anyone could speak, hanbin leaned forward slightly and interjected.
“actually,” he said, his voice firm but calm. “before we start, y/n and i have something to announce.”
a brief silence filled the room. everyone turned their attention toward the two of you, their expressions shifting from neutral to concerned. hyojoo shot you a side glance, intrigued.
hanbin inhaled sharply, sitting back in his chair as he dragged a hand through his hair. “i can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, his tone tense.
the shift in the atmosphere was immediate. his agent’s brows furrowed. the representatives exchanged uneasy glances. even hyojoo stiffened beside you.
“hanbin—” his agent started, but hanbin held up a hand, cutting him off.
“it’s been unbearable,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “this entire thing… it’s been driving me insane. keeping up this façade, pretending day after day, lying to the world. it’s infuriating.”
he clenched his jaw, shaking his head. his body language screamed frustration, and you could practically hear the silent panic settling in the room. hyojoo’s grip tightened on your wrist under the table, likely holding back a laugh.
his performance was impeccable.
of course, you knew better. you knew hanbin—knew the way his eyes sparkled when he was up to something, the way his lips twitched just slightly when he was suppressing a smirk. he was playing his part flawlessly, making every single person in the room believe he was on the verge of walking out.
finally, after a long, dramatic pause, he exhaled deeply. then, in a complete shift of energy, he leaned forward, reaching across the table to take your hand in his.
“it’s unbearable,” he repeated, but this time, his voice softened. “because the truth is, i’ve fallen for her.”
silence.
absolute silence.
the tension that had wrapped itself around the room just moments ago dissipated in an instant. your heart pounded as you felt his warm palm against yours, his fingers curling slightly around your own.
you swallowed hard, but you didn’t hesitate. “i fell for him too.”
for a split second, no one moved. no one spoke.
and then—
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
hyojoo’s piercing scream shattered the quiet, making you flinch before you burst into laughter. she leaped from her chair, practically lunging at you before wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a bone-crushing hug. “OH MY GOD, FINALLY! FINALLY, FINALLY, FINALLY! I KNEW IT!”
you laughed against her shoulder as she rocked you side to side. hanbin, still holding your hand, watched in amusement, shaking his head slightly.
hanbin’s agent let out a breath of relief, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. “well, damn. congratulations, i guess.” he started clapping, and soon, the rest of the room followed suit, a mix of laughter and genuine well wishes filling the space.
your agency’s representative smiled, nodding approvingly. “well, that certainly changes things. congratulations to you both. we’ll discuss how to move forward from a PR perspective, but first—” she glanced at her colleagues, who nodded in agreement. “i think this calls for a celebration dinner.”
you turned to look at hanbin, your heart still racing. he was already smiling at you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly before he gave it a playful squeeze.
without thinking, you jumped up from your seat and ran around the table, practically throwing yourself into his arms. hanbin caught you effortlessly, laughing as he lifted you off the ground for a second before setting you back down, holding you close.
“well, this is adorable,” hyojoo cooed, crossing her arms as she grinned at the two of you. “so sickeningly cute, but adorable nonetheless.”
you rolled your eyes but smiled against hanbin’s shoulder as he murmured just loud enough for you to hear, “so, we’re really doing this?”
you pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. “yeah,” you whispered. “we’re really doing this.”
hanbin grinned, that signature smirk of his finally making a return. “good. because i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”
you felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, hyojoo let out another dramatic groan. “ugh, you two are going to be one of those disgustingly sweet couples, aren’t you?”
hanbin laughed, finally letting you go, though his hand lingered on your waist. “probably.”
hyojoo pretended to gag. “great. just great. but hey,” she nudged you with a knowing smirk. “you better make sure this lasts even after your movie together releases. no flaking out now.”
you squeezed hanbin’s hand, smiling up at him as he looked down at you with nothing but warmth in his eyes. “oh, don’t worry.” you said. “this is just the beginning.”
a/n : hi everyone! this was my first fic in like a REALLY long time & definitely my longest, i hope you enjoyed it & i'd be very open to advice for improvement! hope you have a nice day :)
Summary : In a web of familial expectations, pretense, and unexpected feelings, Y/N and Zhanghao navigate the complexities of a fake relationship, only to discover the genuine connection that has been there all along.
Genre : Fake Dating, Romantic Comedy, Drama, Contemporary Romance, Coming-of-Age, Slice of Life, Family Drama, Fem Reader
Warnings : N/A
Word Count : 4.8k
In the wake of Y/N's triumphant completion of her bachelor's degree in dentistry, a sense of anticipation and familial expectations cast shadows upon her future. Hailing from a family of affluence and prestige, Y/N found herself standing at the threshold of a two-year clinical practice, the final leg of her journey to becoming an orthodontist. The air was thick with the weight of expectations, as her family, rooted in tradition, pressed for Y/N to settle down before immersing herself in the demanding world of orthodontics.
Amidst the quiet turmoil of Y/N's familial crossroads, a figure from her university days, Zhanghao, emerged as a steadfast companion. Having earned his legal degree and aspiring to carve a path in corporate law, Zhanghao found himself in the anticipation-laden limbo before embarking on his practical legal training. As life beckoned them towards uncharted territories, the bond between Y/N and Zhanghao would face new trials, testing the delicate balance between personal aspirations and societal expectations.
The agreement to catch up had been long overdue, the culmination of their individual journeys post-graduation. Y/N, having successfully completed her dentistry degree and venturing into the realm of clinical practice, agreed to meet Zhanghao, her close friend since their university days. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they found themselves at the familiar entrance of the local coffee shop, a nostalgic spot that bore witness to countless conversations during their academic years.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Y/N and Zhanghao stepped into the warmth of the coffee shop. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, triggering memories of late-night study sessions and laughter echoing within these walls. It was a place that held the essence of their shared past. The barista greeted them with a knowing smile, acknowledging the familiarity that exuded from the duo. They chose a corner table, the same one they occupied during countless university meet-ups, and settled into the plush chairs.
As Y/N ordered her favorite latte, the ambiance of the coffee shop transformed into a sanctuary for catching up. The whir of the espresso machine and the murmur of conversations formed a backdrop as the two friends began to unravel the threads of their daily lives. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, enhancing the atmosphere of nostalgia that enveloped them.
"How's your family been?" Zhanghao inquired, his eyes reflecting genuine interest. Y/N, sipping her latte, felt a nervous flutter in her chest. She paused for a moment before responding, "Well, they're pressuring me to settle down, but you know me—I'm not really ready for a serious relationship." The vulnerability in her voice resonated in the air, setting the tone for a candid conversation. "It's my Dad's birthday soon, though, so he'll be expecting a lot since it's been a while since I've seen them," Y/N added, the weight of familial expectations evident in her words.
There was a momentary silence, a shared understanding lingering between them. Zhanghao, sensing Y/N's unease, broke the quietude with an unexpected proposal. "I can be your fake boyfriend if you want," he suggested, a genuine smile playing on his lips. Y/N, surprised by the offer, looked at him questioningly. "Really? You would do that for me?" she asked, the sincerity of her inquiry hanging in the air. "If it appeases your family, then sure," Zhanghao replied, his smile unwavering. The exchange concluded with a handshake, sealing a pact that would weave their lives into a fabricated dance of companionship for the sake of familial expectations.
After the candid catch-up at the coffee shop the previous day, Y/N and Zhanghao wasted no time. They both hurriedly retreated to their homes, filled with a sense of anticipation and the practicality of packing for the imminent trip. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the echo of shared laughter lingered in their minds, blending seamlessly with the tasks at hand.
The next morning, a gentle knock on Y/N's door heralded the beginning of a new chapter. Zhanghao, punctual and ready for the journey, stood at her doorstep just as the first rays of sunrise painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Y/N greeted him with a smile, her large black duffel bag slung casually around her arm. Zhanghao's eyes met hers, and with a gesture of chivalry, he offered, "Let me take that for you." Y/N willingly surrendered the weight of her bag, and Zhanghao effortlessly carried it to the trunk of his car. With her front door securely locked, Y/N joined Zhanghao in the passenger seat, marking the beginning of a road trip that held the promise of familial expectations and uncharted territories.
As the engine hummed to life, Zhanghao typed the address of the hotel into the GPS, a beacon guiding them towards their destination. The quiet hum of the highway accompanied Y/N as she began to unravel the details of the trip. "So my Dad's a CEO of this technology company," she explained, her words weaving a narrative of corporate grandeur. "Once we arrive at the hotel, we have to explore the city with my family." Zhanghao chuckled, the familiarity of their conversation putting them at ease. "What does that have to do with your Dad being a CEO?" he teased as the scenery unfurled beyond the car windows. "Tonight, we're having a big dinner at this fancy restaurant with his associates, four of his close friends, and more people from my family," Y/N continued, painting a picture of an opulent evening. "Doesn't sound too complex," Zhanghao remarked, steering the conversation into the realm of simplicity. "Well, they're gonna be asking a lot of questions," she added, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Fine by me," Zhanghao shrugged, the easygoing nature of their banter settling any lingering apprehensions.
And so, they continued to drive down the open road, a journey that held not only the promise of a familial charade but also the unspoken nuances of companionship and discovery. The hum of the highway became a backdrop for the unfolding chapters of their shared adventure.
After three hours of traversing scenic landscapes and winding roads, Y/N and Zhanghao finally arrived at the lavish hotel that would serve as their home during this unexpected escapade. The grand edifice stood before them, radiating opulence under the golden hues of the setting sun.
The exterior of the hotel was a testament to luxury, its facades gleaming in the sunlight. "This is not what I expected at all," Zhanghao commented, his eyes scanning the architectural elegance of the building as he unloaded their luggage. "I told you, CEO Father," Y/N chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes, setting the tone for the indulgent experience awaiting them inside. The two embarked on their journey through the polished entrance, stepping into a world where every surface seemed to shimmer with affluence.
Once inside, they found themselves immersed in an ambiance of pure luxury. The intricately designed interior boasted ornate furnishings, gleaming marble floors, and an aura of extravagance. Y/N and Zhanghao approached the reception desk, where the attentive staff ensured their seamless check-in process. After securing a room on the sixth floor, they stepped into the elevator, a cocoon of silence enveloping them.
"Is this overwhelming for you?" Y/N inquired, her eyes reflecting concern as the elevator ascended. "Nope, not really," Zhanghao nonchalantly shrugged, a calm demeanor masking any potential apprehension. The silence lingered briefly before Y/N broke it with a genuine expression of gratitude. "I'm grateful that you came with me," she confessed, a smile gracing her lips. "It's no worries at all," Zhanghao grinned, offering comfort through a reassuring rub on her shoulder.
Upon reaching their designated floor, they traversed wide, fancy hallways adorned with artistic touches, eventually arriving at their room. As the door swung open, natural light poured in, casting a warm glow on every inch of the meticulously arranged space. "I'd love to stay in here for an hour at least," Y/N remarked, appreciating the serenity of their temporary haven. Zhanghao, with a gentle smile, reminded her of their impending plans. "Well, we have to get ready to go to the city," he said, marking the beginning of the next chapter in their venture. With that, they both immersed themselves in the task of transforming their appearances to meet the standards set by Y/N's esteemed family.
To create a lasting impression right from the start, Y/N and Zhanghao meticulously coordinated their attire, both opting for a timeless theme of black and white. Just a couple of steps away from the designated meet-up point, they paused, a shared anticipation hanging in the air. Not yet approaching, they deliberated on the perfect entrance. "What shall we do?" Zhanghao asked, seeking guidance for their grand debut. "What are your boundaries?" Y/N questioned in return. "Nothing really," he shrugged. With an unspoken agreement, she began to wrap her hands around his arm, a gesture of unity as they approached her family, adorned with smiles that concealed any underlying nerves.
As they neared the family, the Ahns greeted them with pleased looks on their faces, the synchronized elegance of Y/N and Zhanghao not going unnoticed. A series of prim and proper greetings ensued as the family exchanged pleasantries. Y/N's mother, after releasing a warm hug, addressed Y/N, "You've never told me about your boyfriend, Y/N." Y/N turned to Zhanghao, already looking at her. With a small hand gesture, she beckoned him closer. "Zhanghao, meet my mother," Y/N introduced, initiating a handshake. "Hello Mrs. Ahn, my name is Zhanghao," he grinned politely. "It's really great to meet you," she smiled back, the warmth of acceptance evident in her gaze.
The entire family embarked on a journey through the city, exploring different landmarks and important buildings. "This city is so beautiful," Y/N commented, her eyes sparkling with amazement. "I know," Zhanghao replied shortly, the unspoken connection between them apparent. They exchanged smiles, a silent understanding that spoke volumes in the midst of the bustling cityscape.
After a leisurely stroll, they decided to venture into a small, albeit pricey, restaurant. "They sell the best Kobe Beef here!" Y/N's brother exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Your family seems very fond of this place," Zhanghao whispered to Y/N. "Mainly my brother, but my sister never really cared," she shrugged. Seated at the restaurant, they indulged in high-quality meals featuring juicy beef. Amidst the flavorful bites, the family continued to socialize, sharing laughter, stories, and creating an atmosphere of warmth that transcended the boundaries of familial expectations.
As they returned to the sanctuary of their hotel room, the air was filled with a comfortable fullness from the delightful dinner. "You did very well to impress them," Y/N complimented, her voice carrying a note of approval. "I hope we were believable at least," Zhanghao smiled, a sense of satisfaction evident in his expression. "I'm sure we were," she reassured, confidence radiating from her. The successful charade had set a positive tone for the evening.
Transitioning from their casual attire, they delved into the realm of elegance. Y/N, with practiced grace, began to curl her hair, while Zhanghao, ever the debonair companion, parted his hair near the middle, revealing a sophisticated look. "You suit this hairstyle a lot," Y/N complimented his appearance, her eyes appreciating the transformation. "I'll keep that in mind when seeing your family," Zhanghao smiled, returning the favor. "But I'm the one that complimented you…?" Y/N looked confused. "Well then, this is the only time you'll see it," he teased before receiving a playful slap on the shoulder. "You're so mean to me!" she complained, the banter echoing through the room.
With their attire carefully selected, they adorned themselves with accessories that added a glimmer to their appearance. "Y/N!" Zhanghao called. "What's up!" she asked. "Can you help me put on my tie?" Y/N left the bathroom and approached Zhanghao. As she fixed his tie with little distance between them, she asked, "Do you not know how to put on a tie?" "This is the first time I'm wearing one," he commented. Looking up at him, Y/N met his piercing gaze. With one final knot, she finished, saying, "There you go." Zhanghao checked himself out in the mirror, teasingly asking, "Would you say I look handsome enough for your family?" "Whatever, let's go!" Y/N jokingly rolled her eyes, and together, they stepped foot outside of their hotel room.
Once again, they walked down the halls, the click of Y/N's heels resonating one step at a time as she walked beside Zhanghao, their coordinated elegance setting the stage for the next act in their charade.
The restaurant exuded an air of exclusivity, its highly polished interior complemented by black-tinted windows that added a touch of mystery. The group was sizable, comprising nine members of the Ahn family, including Y/N's dad, ten of his associates, four close friends from high school, and the three partners of his children, among whom Zhanghao found his place. The entourage of 26 individuals made a grand entrance, the prestigious family name uttered by Y/N's dad opening the doors to the large and luxurious restaurant.
Arriving at a private room with a grand table, the middle seat reserved for Y/N's father, Y/N and Zhanghao found themselves seated next to each other, not too far away from her father. Warm welcomes were extended by Y/N's grandparents, aunt, and uncle, enveloping Zhanghao in a generous embrace. "How did you two meet?" Y/N's grandmother sweetly asked, her eyes filled with curiosity. "We met the moment we entered the same university together," Y/N replied, narrating their genuine story. "How did you two get together?" Her grandfather inquired. "I took her to a local coffee shop nearby, ordered her the same latte she always orders, and asked the big question." Zhanghao answered, and a shared smile passed between them as their eyes met.
As the evening progressed, orders were placed, with Y/N opting for pasta and Zhanghao choosing risotto, both adorned with white truffles. The table was set for a feast of flavors.
Once the meals were served, Y/N's father took the floor. "I'd just like to welcome today, my youngest daughter's boyfriend, who I had just met today." Applause followed as Zhanghao graciously bowed. "So, child, tell me, what are your plans for the future?" Y/N's father inquired, bringing a moment of thoughtful silence before Y/N responded. "Since I'm starting my clinical practice for 2 years and studying orthodontics after that, while Zhanghao is soon to start his practical legal training to begin his journey to become a corporate lawyer, I'd say we're both focusing on ourselves, our stability, and security with our careers and finance." Y/N smiled, but her father's reaction was less enthusiastic. "That's alright, just expected a bit more from you, though, Y/N," he commented, casting a shadow of disappointment over her. She stared at the ground, feeling displeased.
"We would like to get married, though, find a home to permanently stay at, and build a family," Zhanghao spoke up, breaking the silence. Y/N looked up, and her father's grin widened. "After everything else, though, of course," Zhanghao added. Y/N's dad, now pleased, announced to everyone, "That's more like it, everyone!" The room filled with applause, smiles, and nods, celebrating the future plans of Y/N and Zhanghao's relationship.
After indulging in flavorful food and high-quality drinks, Y/N and Zhanghao returned to their hotel room, the echoes of the celebratory dinner still lingering in the air.
In the hushed ambiance of their private space, a storm brewed within Y/N. Panic consumed her as she grappled with the weight of the plans laid out at the dinner table. "It's just so much! Imagine all those hopes and expectations for us." Y/N's voice trembled, her chest constricting, breathing becoming a struggle. The room seemed to spin as she paced hurriedly, a cascade of worries and fears pouring out in a torrent. Her eyes welled with tears, and her mouth felt dry as she verbalized the overwhelming thoughts racing through her mind.
Witnessing Y/N's distress, Zhanghao approached her, gently holding her by her exposed shoulders. "Y/N, it's okay," he reassured, his voice a soothing balm. Drawing her into a soft hug, he whispered, "I'm sorry," as Y/N quietly began to sob. "I only said that because I saw how sad you were at your Dad's disapproval," he explained, tears mirroring Y/N's falling from his eyes. "We can always fake break up, okay? You can make it completely my fault and make me seem horrible so it doesn't have a bad image on you." As he let go of her and looked into her eyes, he added, "You don't have anything to worry about, okay? I'm always here for you anyway." A warm smile accompanied his reassurance as he gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Thank you, Zhanghao, for everything," Y/N grinned, small tears still escaping from her eyes.
"This is gonna sound really weird," Zhanghao began, his voice carrying a gentleness. "But do you want me to hold you tonight, maybe? I just don't want you to sleep in this state." He asked gently. "No, it's fine. Thank you for making me feel better, though," she smiled. As they began to get ready for bed, going through their night routines, they eventually found themselves in the same bed, a pillow placed between them.
As the sun dawned on the next day, signaling the conclusion of their trip, the Ahn family decided to spend their remaining moments at a popular amusement park before heading home.
"I'm scared," Y/N whispered to Zhanghao as they stood in line for the roller coaster. "It's okay, it's just a roller coaster," Zhanghao reassured. Once on the ride, Y/N's screams echoed louder than Zhanghao's laughter, the twists, turns, and drops inducing a mix of fear and exhilaration.
The roller coaster adventure behind them, the family moved on to the towering and colorful Ferris ring car. Anticipation mingled with trepidation as Y/N, feeling uneasy, looked at Zhanghao. "Hold onto my hand if you get scared," he offered with a comforting smile. As they took their seats and the ride began, Y/N gripped Zhanghao's hand tightly. Their eyes met, and in that moment, a strange warmth enveloped Y/N, her heart racing uncontrollably as reality blurred with the spinning motion of the ride.
After trying out various rides, the family decided it was time to refuel. The image of Y/N and Zhanghao holding hands lingered in her mind as they sat down to eat. Zhanghao noticed her distant gaze, and he inquired, "What are you ordering?" "Just a corndog and coke, please," she replied. The shared ferris ring car moment played on repeat in her thoughts, leaving her questioning if Zhanghao was more than just a friend.
A face painting booth caught their attention, and everyone in the family wanted to get their faces painted. Y/N opted for a simple rose on her cheek, and the artist took extra care with the details. Zhanghao approached with a raccoon on his cheek, admiring Y/N's choice. The artist finished the rose, and Y/N marveled at the mirror, finding herself adorned with a beautifully shaded flower. The family then ventured to find accessories, with Zhanghao selecting a rose headband for Y/N. "To match with your cheek," he smiled as they admired her reflection. Y/N, determined to reciprocate, browsed through the limited selection for Zhanghao. Unable to find a raccoon headband, she suggested, "Do you just wanna match?" Zhanghao nodded, and they both snapped mirror selfies with their matching rose headbands before embarking on more rides at the park. The day at the amusement park became a vibrant chapter in their shared adventure, filled with laughter, shared moments, and the blossoming of something more than friendship.
After a day filled with laughter and shared moments at the amusement park, the time came for Y/N and Zhanghao to pack up their bags and return to the realities awaiting them.
"Do you think we were successful?" Zhanghao questioned as they began their journey back. "Definitely," Y/N chuckled, her heart fluttering at the thought. "My dad loves you, and my mum made very nice comments about you, so we were definitely successful." Their smiles mirrored the contentment they felt, the shared success of their faux relationship adding an unexpected layer to their friendship.
As they drove, Y/N found herself admiring the tall trees and the vibrant hues of the sky as the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.
After another three hours on the road, they arrived at Y/N's house. "I'll help you with your things," Zhanghao offered. The two walked up to her door, and as Y/N opened it, Zhanghao placed her belongings on the ground. Gratitude filled Y/N's expression as she said, "I can't thank you enough for this." "Well, I care for you a lot, so of course, I'd help," Zhanghao giggled before pulling her into a warm hug. "I'll see you, Zhanghao!" she grinned. "On our next adventure!" he replied, returning her smile before hopping into his car and driving off. The echoes of their shared escapade lingered in Y/N's mind as she entered her home, grateful for the unexpected turns their journey had taken.
In the unfolding chapters of their individual journeys, Y/N and Zhanghao delved into the intricate realms of their chosen careers. Y/N, now immersed in the bustling atmosphere of her dental clinical practice, found herself navigating through the daily tapestry of oral healthcare.
The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as Y/N moved seamlessly through her responsibilities. Engaging in the artistry of dental procedures, she meticulously performed cleanings, her nimble fingers expertly navigating the contours of each tooth. With precision and care, she executed fillings, infusing renewed vitality into deteriorating enamel. Extractions, while a somber task, became a necessary skill in her repertoire, handled with both gentleness and efficiency.
Dental examinations became a routine, a meticulous inspection of oral landscapes. Y/N's keen eyes scanned for signs of decay, misalignment, or potential issues, each diagnosis a puzzle to solve. As she interacted with patients, she honed her ability to communicate complex dental findings in a way that was both understandable and comforting.
One day, curiosity led Y/N to the orthodontic realm, an area she aspired to explore further. Standing beside one of her seasoned colleagues, she observed the delicate artistry of creating and fitting dental appliances. The metallic gleam of braces adorned the workspace, and Y/N absorbed every nuance, expressing her desire to specialize in orthodontics.
Beyond the technical skills, Y/N embraced her role as an educator. Patient interaction extended beyond the chair, as she imparted valuable knowledge about oral hygiene practices. Her counseling extended beyond the clinical setting, empowering individuals to cultivate habits that would contribute to a lifetime of dental wellness.
In the symphony of dental care, Y/N found her rhythm. Each day brought new challenges and triumphs, as she honed her craft within the clinical confines. As Zhanghao embarked on his own journey in practice legal training, their parallel pursuits carved distinct paths toward professional fulfillment. The separate beats of their careers played on, harmonizing the melody of their individual growth.
Nearly two weeks had passed since Y/N and Zhanghao delved into their respective careers. While occasional texts maintained a connection between them, their focus was primarily on navigating the challenges of their professional lives.
On a Friday evening, the familiar knock echoed through Y/N's doorway. Zhanghao stood on the other side, and Y/N welcomed him into her home with a warm smile.
Seated comfortably on her couch, the atmosphere shifted as Zhanghao began to open up. "I might need your help," he confessed, revealing the source of his stress – the upcoming Legal Awards Gala. "I'm expected to attend, since my mentor who is an experienced lawyer invited me," he explained.
Curiosity piqued, Y/N inquired, "What's wrong with that?" Zhanghao looked up, gauging her reaction. "He said that I should bring a date," he emphasized, and Y/N's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Of course!" she exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug. "Are you sure? I don't want to make you feel forced," Zhanghao questioned, concerned. Y/N assured him with a smile, "No, of course not. When is it?"
"Tomorrow night," Zhanghao replied. The room filled with laughter as they both shared a moment of light-heartedness. "As long as you pick me up, we'll be all good," Y/N playfully added, sealing the deal with a shared sense of excitement.
The night of the Legal Awards Gala had arrived, and Y/N meticulously styled herself in a sophisticated black dress paired with a chic blazer. As she stepped outside, she found Zhanghao waiting for her, looking dapper in a well-fitted suit and tie.
"You learned how to do it yourself, I see?" Y/N teased, observing his refined appearance. "I had to learn for the whole legal training thing," he chuckled, revealing the practical side of his attire.
They entered the car, and as they began to drive, the night sky welcomed them with a breathtaking display of stars. Y/N, feeling the festive spirit, suggested, "What should our entrance be?"
Zhanghao pondered for a moment before proposing, "Our famous arm hold?"
"Let's go with that," Y/N agreed, anticipating the subtle theatrical touch they would bring to the event.
Upon their arrival, the venue unfolded before them – another grand hotel setting the stage for the Legal Awards Gala.
Y/N elegantly wrapped her hands around Zhanghao's arm as the two made their entrance into the hotel. Escorted to the venue, they found themselves in a breathtakingly luxurious ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers. The air was filled with an air of sophistication, and the attendees, donned in opulent attire, hinted at the grandeur of the Legal Awards Gala.
A distinguished man approached them and warmly shook Zhanghao's hand. "Y/N, meet my mentor Ryu Chanwoo," Zhanghao introduced. As Ryu Chanwoo extended his hand to Y/N, she greeted him with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ahn Y/N." Ryu Chanwoo chuckled, "I've heard your family name many times thanks to your father. I'm proud of you for bringing a very prestigious date, Zhanghao; this will definitely help with your professional image."
After Zhanghao expressed gratitude to his mentor, Ryu Chanwoo mingled with others. Y/N, amused by the revelation about her father's reputation, chuckled, "I didn't know people knew my Dad that much." Zhanghao replied, "Well, you're helping me a lot right now." The two shared a laugh before engaging in conversations with senior partners from renowned law firms. Topics ranged from industry trends to legal strategies and potential collaborations.
As the night progressed, they took their seats at a table, joining the company of others. Socializing continued over the elegant dinner, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie among legal professionals. In the latter part of the gala, Y/N and Zhanghao witnessed numerous individuals receiving awards for their outstanding achievements in the field of law. Although Y/N had limited knowledge of the legal intricacies, she graciously smiled and clapped throughout the evening.
The night air was filled with a sense of accomplishment as Zhanghao drove Y/N home after the Legal Awards Gala. However, as Y/N prepared to exit the car, Zhanghao's sudden request halted her movements. "Wait," he said, his gaze piercing hers, prompting her to sit back down.
With a look of genuine confusion, Y/N awaited his words. "Why are we just faking all the time?" he asked, causing her to furrow her brows. As he continued, Zhanghao revealed, "Y/N, we've been friends throughout all of uni." A sense of realization flickered across her face. "Are you saying what I think you're trying to say?" she questioned, searching his eyes for confirmation. "Yes, I am, Y/N," he replied.
A silent pause lingered before he opened up about the feelings he had harbored. "I felt something on your father's birthday trip, or maybe even during uni," he confessed. "I know we've only been fake dating twice, and it's been nearly two weeks. But throughout our adventures, we said we only needed each other for different things. What if we just needed each other, in general?" he asked, a genuine look in his eyes.
Y/N's heart raced as she contemplated his words. "What if I want you to want me instead of being something you need?" she questioned. Zhanghao's response was clear, "I think it's very obvious from what I'm saying right now that I want you." With that, they leaned in for a kiss, a culmination of unspoken emotions. Zhanghao gently held her face, and Y/N placed her hands behind his head. Their hearts raced, and the kiss was now a testament to their newfound connection.
As they reluctantly let go, Zhanghao bid her goodnight, "Goodnight, Y/N," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Goodnight, Zhanghao," she grinned, stepping into her house with the certainty that she was now more than just a fake girlfriend. New beginnings awaited them both.
notes : i hope you enjoyed!! i know this is pretty short but i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!
Summary : "Harmonious Hearts" follows the intertwining journeys of K-pop groups Cheerful Twist and ZEROBASEONE, exploring the evolving relationships and romance between Y/N, the main vocalist of Cheerful Twist, and Ricky from ZEROBASEONE.
Genre : Idol AU, Fem Reader, Fluff, Romance, Slice Of Life, Friendship, Music, Young Adult Fiction
Warnings : N/A
Word Count : 7.8k
In the dazzling realm of K-pop, the effervescent girl group "Cheerful Twist" emerges as a beacon of joy and talent. Comprising members Ha Y/N, Na Eunchae, Im Chaeyeon, Kang Yeji, and Ahn Namjoo, this vibrant quintet embodies the youthful spirit of their cute, girl-next-door concept. Under the management of "WakeOne Entertainment," Cheerful Twist enchants audiences with their infectious energy and harmonious performances.
As the rising stars of WakeOne Entertainment, Cheerful Twist immerses themselves in dedicated practice sessions for their upcoming album, fervently perfecting their vocal and rap skills. At the heart of their preparations lies the main song, a spirited anthem titled "Radiant Harmony." The studio pulsates with anticipation as each member pours their heart into crafting a performance that will resonate with fans worldwide.
Within this harmonious symphony, the vocal powerhouses of Cheerful Twist, Y/N and Chaeyeon, find themselves immersed in a special collaboration. Y/N and Chaeyeon, the vocal powerhouses of Cheerful Twist, immerse themselves in a special collaboration, tackling the intricacies of Radiant Harmony and filling the air with the sweet challenge of harmonization. Y/N, in her role as the main vocalist, gracefully ascends to the high notes, leading the melody, while Chaeyeon seamlessly picks up the thread, weaving a tapestry of vocals that promises to captivate listeners.
Passion radiates from every corner of the practice room, as Cheerful Twist channels their enthusiasm into every vocal nuance and heartfelt lyric. Debuting is not just a dream for them; it's a shared aspiration that fuels their tireless efforts. In the echo of their collective voices, Cheerful Twist stands on the brink of a promising journey, ready to enchant the world with their radiant harmony.
Having meticulously honed their vocal and rap skills, Cheerful Twist transitions seamlessly to the next phase of their preparation, delving into intensive dance practices to elevate their stage presence. The studio, once filled with melodic harmonies, now pulsates with the rhythmic beats of the main song, Radiant Harmony.
In this intricate dance routine, the charismatic Eunchae takes charge, leading the group with finesse as both the leader and main dancer. Her every movement exudes confidence, setting the tone for the synchronized choreography that defines Cheerful Twist's performances. The studio becomes a dynamic space where every member immerses themselves in perfecting their steps.
Namjoo, another powerhouse within the group, effortlessly navigates the dance routine, executing each move with precision. Her prowess as a main dancer shines through as she embodies the spirit of the choreography, infusing energy into every step. The dance practice becomes a seamless collaboration, a testament to the group's dedication.
Amid the whirlwind of movement, Y/N, while still holding her own, grapples with the physical demands of the dance routine. Passionate and determined, she pushes through, her commitment evident in each step, even as fatigue occasionally sets in. Y/N's journey becomes a testament to her unwavering dedication, as she strives to match the precision of her fellow members, overcoming the challenge of physical exhaustion with sheer determination. The dance practice becomes a crucible, forging Cheerful Twist into a unit that harmonizes not only in voice but also in synchronized motion as they inch closer to their eagerly awaited debut.
As the last echoes of the main song, Radiant Harmony, reverberates through the practice studio, a collective sigh of accomplishment fills the air. The time has come for Cheerful Twist to take a well-deserved break, and what better place to unwind than the bustling cafeteria of WakeOne Entertainment.
The cafeteria becomes a lively hub as the members of Cheerful Twist gather, eager to replenish their energy with a hearty meal. Trays laden with vibrant and healthy options, they exchange smiles and anecdotes, reveling in the camaraderie fostered during their intense preparation for the debut.
Around the table, the chatter gradually turns to the imminent debut, a momentous milestone in their journey. Eunchae, with her leadership prowess, initiates the conversation. "Can you believe we're finally debuting? It feels like just yesterday we started this incredible journey together."
Namjoo, savoring a bite of her meal, adds, "It's been a journey filled with hard work and growth. I can't wait for our fans to see what we've prepared for them."
Y/N, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes, chips in, "I'm nervous, but I know we've put our all into this. It's going to be an unforgettable experience."
The conversation weaves through a tapestry of dreams, aspirations, and shared determination. As their laughter reverberates in the cafeteria, the members finish their meals, each fueled not only by the food on their trays but by the anticipation of the journey ahead.
Trays clatter as the members hand them in, bidding farewell to the cafeteria and each other, ready to embark on the next phase of their day. Y/N, fueled by the break and the support of her fellow members, makes her way to the company gym, determined to maintain her stamina and vitality for the challenges that lie ahead.
After a rejuvenating break, Y/N was determined to dive back into her routine with renewed energy. The gym, a sanctuary of determination and hard work, awaited her as she embarked on the next phase of her day.
Reflecting on the recent dance practice, Y/N acknowledged a pressing concern — her stamina. She recognized the need to address this challenge head-on, determined to build the endurance necessary for the demanding choreography. With a steely resolve, she ventured into a series of exercises designed to enhance her stamina and elevate her performance.
The gym became a realm of focused determination as Y/N delved into her workout regimen. Starting with brisk cardio, she embraced the treadmill, setting a challenging pace that mirrored the intensity of her dance routines. Transitioning to strength training, she targeted muscle groups crucial for sustaining energy during performances. Lunges, squats, and core exercises became her allies in the pursuit of resilience.
As the minutes ticked away, Y/N pushed her limits, immersing herself in a high-intensity interval training session. The rhythmic pounding of her heart matched the rhythm of her dedication, each drop of sweat a testament to her unwavering commitment. Two hours and thirty minutes later, she stood satisfied, convinced that she had given her all.
With a sense of accomplishment, Y/N gathered her belongings and headed back to the dorm, the echo of her footsteps resonating with the determination that fueled her journey. The gym, a crucible of effort and perseverance, had become the arena where Y/N sculpted not only her physique but also her indomitable spirit.
As Y/N entered the dorm, the cozy ambiance embraced her like a familiar friend. Namjoo, immersed in the world of a captivating book, looked up and greeted her with a warm smile. The room exuded a sense of comfort, a sanctuary where the members of Cheerful Twist could unwind.
Seating herself next to Namjoo, Y/N couldn't help but inquire about the whereabouts of the other three members. "Hey, Namjoo, where did Eunchae, Chaeyeon, and Yeji go?" she asked with curiosity lacing her voice.
Namjoo, still engrossed in her book, replied without looking up, "Oh, they're still at the studio, working on perfecting some details for the main song. Dedication, right?"
With a nod of understanding, Y/N settled into a sense of ease. The dorm, with its familiar sights and sounds, offered a respite from the intensity of their practice sessions.
As Y/N sprawled on the floor, finding the softness of the carpet surprisingly inviting, she couldn't resist the allure of a brief respite. The soothing atmosphere and the gentle hum of the dorm lulled her into a sense of calm.
The soft glow of the dorm lights painted a tranquil scene as Y/N, succumbing to the gentle embrace of drowsiness, began to drift off to sleep. The rhythmic ambiance of her breathing harmonized with the quietude of the room, creating a symphony of serenity that mirrored the camaraderie of the group. In the dorm, amidst the quietude, Y/N found a fleeting moment of repose, recharging her spirit for the challenges that awaited in the days to come.
A new day dawned for Cheerful Twist, and once again, they filled their morning with the familiar cadence of vocal and rap practice, followed by an energetic dance rehearsal. The studio echoed with their dedication as they fine-tuned their skills, preparing for the upcoming debut.
With the practice sessions concluded, the group made their way back to the cafeteria. The journey to this culinary haven had become a routine, a brief interlude in their rigorous schedule where the aroma of food promised a moment of respite.
In the bustling cafeteria, amidst the quest for sustenance, Y/N found herself in an accidental collision. A serendipitous encounter with someone unexpected — Ricky from ZEROBASEONE, a seasoned idol who had already left his mark in the industry. His group, originally formed from the crucible of a survival show called Boys Planet, had risen to prominence, and Ricky's presence added an intriguing twist to their routine.
Y/N and Ricky exchanged apologies as they navigated the crowded cafeteria. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" Y/N inquired, concern lacing her words.
Ricky offered a warm smile. "No harm done. It happens in these crowded places."
With courteous nods and exchanged words, they parted ways, each retreating to their respective groups, leaving behind a subtle resonance in the routine of their debut preparations.
After the cafeteria incident, Y/N felt a renewed determination to work on her stamina. However, instead of heading to the gym, she chose one of the most public areas of the building – the stairs. The staircase offered a unique challenge, a place where the public eye could witness their dedication.
As she started running up and down the stairs, burning energy with each step, a familiar face appeared. It was Matthew from ZEROBASEONE who had noticed her intense workout. He approached her and asked, "Mind if I join you?"
A smile crossed Y/N's face as she welcomed the company. "Sure, the more, the merrier."
Together, they embarked on a stair-running journey, the rhythmic pounding of their steps echoing in the stairwell. Side by side, they burned energy, pushing each other to new heights in their pursuit of stamina.
The long day took its toll on Y/N, and as night fell, she found solace in her skincare routine. The lounge room mirror reflected her tired but determined gaze as she meticulously cared for her skin.
In the midst of her skincare ritual, the door burst open, and Chaeyeon entered with an air of curiosity. "What's up with you, Y/N?" she inquired.
Confusion briefly clouded Y/N's expression before Chaeyeon asked about the unexpected encounters with TWO members of ZEROBASEONE earlier in the day.
Y/N, still focused on her skincare, responded, "Oh, it was nothing. Just bumped into Ricky, and Matthew joined me for a stamina workout on the stairs. No big deal."
Satisfied with the explanation, Chaeyeon playfully flopped onto the couch, calling Y/N boring. She began to feign sleep, eyes squinted shut, as Y/N continued her skincare routine, the banter between them echoing through the room.
As the sun rose on another day of routine, Y/N made her way to the cafeteria, the comforting familiarity of the journey already settling in. However, her path took an unexpected turn as she passed by one of the practice rooms. A cascade of powerful vocals poured out, making her want to listen more.
Unable to resist the allure of the melody, Y/N found herself standing by the door, listening in on the captivating performance. Lost in the music, she failed to notice the door opening, revealing Zhanghao from ZEROBASEONE. Perplexed, he glanced at her, prompting a panicked response from Y/N.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything. I just really liked your singing," she stammered, apologizing profusely.
Zhanghao, with a friendly smile, reassured her. "No worries. I've heard you singing too. You're really talented."
Grateful for his understanding, Y/N thanked him and, realizing they were both heading to the cafeteria, they began walking together. Casual conversation about their upcoming comebacks naturally unfolded, forging the beginnings of a newfound friendship. As they shared thoughts and experiences, the camaraderie between Y/N and Zhanghao blossomed, adding a delightful note to their routine.
As the music video production kicked into gear, the first step was styling, a process that added an extra layer of excitement to their debut journey. The air in the styling trailer buzzed with anticipation as each member underwent a transformation, donning the same cute, short, blue dresses with short sleeves. The challenge, however, came with the mandatory white wedges — a struggle that united them in shared laughter and camaraderie. Amidst the commonality of their attire, individual touches emerged through diverse accessories, hairstyles, and makeup.
Y/N, styled in a charming blue dress, embraced her own unique flair. Her hair, cascading down in loose curls, framed her features elegantly. Adorned with two layered gold necklaces, two gold bracelets, and a solitary gold ring, she added a personal touch that reflected her individuality.
Eager to escape the confined trailer, Y/N stepped into the open air to admire the natural surroundings of their filming location. The serene backdrop served as a soothing contrast to the bustling energy within the styling trailer.
After approximately 30 minutes of meticulous preparations, each member emerged, ready to face the camera. The cohesive yet individually nuanced styling came to life as they embarked on filming the choreography. The music video production had officially taken flight, marking a pivotal moment in the journey of Cheerful Twist.
Many hours had passed since the group choreography filming, and now it was Y/N's turn to shine in the spotlight. The filming location had shifted to a vibrant flower field, bathed in the gentle hues of the setting sun.
For her solo scenes, Y/N underwent a styling transformation, donning a white tank top under blue overalls paired with white sneakers. Her accessories were simplified to just one gold necklace, and her hair, though the same, now cascaded over her shoulder with a touch of effortless elegance.
As she settled into the trailer, her manager delivered surprising news. With a smile, the manager informed Y/N that they had hired a member of ZEROBASEONE to be her love interest in the music video. Ricky stepped into the trailer, extending his hand for a shake. "It's nice to see you again," he said, his warm smile putting Y/N at ease. Ricky wore a grey shirt with a white button-up as a makeshift jacket, black cargo pants, and black and white sneakers. A single gold necklace adorned his neck, accompanied by subtle gold piercings on his ears. The atmosphere shifted as they engaged in a conversation, initially exchanging introductions, despite already being acquainted.
Discussing the various scenes they were about to shoot, Y/N and Ricky shared laughter and anecdotes, establishing a comfortable rapport before delving into the filming process. Amidst the flower field's enchanting backdrop, they enacted scenes where they sat close, engaged in conversations about the flowers surrounding them.
Ricky pointed to a bunch of orchids and remarked, "Those ones over there are my favorite types of flowers."
While their dialogue wouldn't be included in the final video, it added a layer of authenticity to the portrayal. As the night descended and the flower field became cloaked in darkness, they seamlessly transitioned to a star-gazing scene. Lying side by side, Y/N and Ricky admired the celestial display. Ricky, pointing at a pattern of stars, said, "Don't you think those stars are in a rose formation?"
Y/N looked up and chuckled. "I'm surprised you noticed that before I did."
The two laughed together, the shared moment forging a connection beyond the scripted scenes. In the serene ambiance of the starry night sky, their bond grew, culminating in a poignant confession scene and an intimate moment as they held hands, sealing the artistic tapestry of their music video.
Y/N returned to the dorm, her heart still fluttering from the day's events. The lounge room was buzzing with energy as her members engaged in animated conversation. Y/N joined them, settling into the familiar comfort of their shared space.
Eunchae couldn't contain her excitement and blurted out, "Did they hire a love interest for your scenes?" Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Curiosity piqued, Y/N turned the question to the others, asking if anyone else had a love interest. Yeji and Chaeyeon responded affirmatively.
With a gleam in her eyes, Chaeyeon exclaimed, "I got Kim Jaehwan, the former Main Vocalist from Wanna One." On the other hand, Yeji's response was less glamorous, stating, "I just got some random guy."
Namjoo, ever curious, directed her attention to Y/N, asking, "Who was your love interest?" The room fell silent for a moment as Y/N uttered the name, "Ricky…" Then pandemonium erupted. Excitement and joy filled the dorm as screams erupted. Chaeyeon teased, "First the cafeteria, now this!" The celebration continued, each member expressing their delight.
Eunchae, unable to contain her curiosity, urged Y/N, "Tell us all that happened." Y/N recounted the events of the day, from their interactions during the filming to the budding connection between her and Ricky. As the narrative unfolded, Y/N couldn't help but share her newfound admiration, confessing with a shy smile, "He's actually really attractive." The dorm erupted in cheers once more, the members reveling in the joyous revelation.
It had been a week since the enchanting filming of the music video, and at last, Cheerful Twist's highly anticipated album was out. The dorm was buzzing with anticipation as the members gathered in the lounge room to watch the masterpiece they had crafted.
Seated on the couch, they eagerly focused on the screen, analyzing every dance move and savoring the melodic notes of their voices. As the scenes unfolded, the members couldn't help but get especially animated during those featuring Y/N and Ricky. Eunchae enthusiastically pointed out, "THE WAY HE TUCKED HER HAIR BEHIND HER EAR!!" causing Chaeyeon to playfully tease, "SHE'S LOOKING SO DEEP INTO HIS EYES!" Y/N blushed, feeling the warmth of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.
During the stargazing scene, Yeji added to the excitement by exclaiming, "HE'S LOOKING AT HER LIPS!!" The dorm erupted in cheers, and Y/N could only blush even more. As the confession scene unfolded, Namjoo couldn't help but comment, "THE CHEMISTRY!!"
The dorm had turned into a chaotic mix of laughter, cheers, and playful teasing, creating an atmosphere of pure excitement and camaraderie among the members.
It was the eagerly awaited day for Cheerful Twist — their debut on a music show, and it was no ordinary day; it was Tuesday, the day they would perform on "SBS K-pop The Show." The anticipation filled the dressing room as the members got styled in outfits sharing a common theme, yet each reflecting their individuality.
Y/N, the first to be ready, practiced singing while waiting for her fellow members. The manager walked in and delivered a unique task. "Can you go outside and film the Radiant Harmony Challenge with other idols? Focus on Ricky; you two are getting shipped a lot at the moment," the manager added. Y/N felt her heart flutter at the mention of Ricky.
She headed outside, searching for ZEROBASEONE's dressing room. After a brief quest, she knocked on the door. Matthew greeted her, surprised to see her there. "Hey Y/N! What are you doing here?" She explained her manager's request, and Matthew assured her that Ricky would be out soon.
Ricky appeared, dressed in an elegant all-white outfit and exuding a princely charm. "I heard you wanted to make a TikTok with me," he said, smiling. Y/N chuckled and explained that it was at her manager's request because of the fans' recent shipping. Ricky was willing, and Chaeyeon, dressed casually, volunteered to record.
Y/N, on the spot, taught Ricky the chorus choreography for their TikTok. Chaeyeon counted down, and as the music played, they flawlessly executed the dance. At the end, Ricky casually draped his arm over Y/N's shoulder, sending shivers down her spine.
"Thank you for teaching me your dance," Ricky said with a smile. Y/N, feeling a mix of emotions, replied, "It's no worries." Ricky headed back to his dressing room as Cheerful Twist prepared for their performance.
After a brief wait, the group took the stage. Surrounding them were flowerbeds and a natural setting reminiscent of their music video. As the music started playing, they delivered a stellar performance on their debut stage, capturing the audience with their talent and charm.
Another bustling day filled with activities awaited Y/N, who found herself on Jessi's Showterview. Jessi, the Korean-American Rapper, Singer, and Entertainer, welcomed the rookie girl group member, setting the stage for a lively interview.
The Showterview kicked off with Jessi's signature introduction. "We meet all the hottest celebrities in the World! Show!terview with Jessi." She continued, "Today we have a member of a rookie girl group who recently debuted a very cute & innocent girl, Ha Y/N of Cheerful Twist."
Y/N made her entrance, clad in a grey pullover sweater with a v-shaped neckline, grey track shorts, white socks, brown snow boots, and a half-up-half-down hairstyle. Greeting everyone with enthusiasm, she hugged Jessi before addressing the camera. "Hello, I'm Ha Y/N of Cheerful Twist, nice to meet you all."
As the conversation unfolded, Jessi and Y/N shared their first impressions of each other. They discussed Y/N's album "Sunshine Melody" and its title track, "Radiant Harmony." Jessi inquired about Y/N's feelings being on the show and prompted her to send a message to the fans.
Y/N expressed gratitude, saying, "Hello fans! Although we don't have a name for you yet, Cheerful Twist appreciates all the love & support you've given us."
Transitioning to the up-close interview segment, Jessi complimented Y/N's facial proportions, healthy hair, and flawless skin. The playful banter continued as Jessi teased Y/N's bunny-like charm. The duo engaged in a Random Dance session, showcasing Y/N's versatility.
During the fan-focused Q&A, Y/N signed autographs while answering questions. Jessi delved into Y/N's collaboration with Ricky, asking, "What did you think about Ricky after working with him?" Y/N replied, "He's a very friendly guy." When prompted about Ricky's handsomeness, she diplomatically acknowledged his well-known visuals.
Jessi, known for her candid approach, didn't hold back and asked, "Who is your ideal type in the K-pop industry?" After a brief pause, Y/N blushed and admitted, "Ricky from ZEROBASEONE." Laughter and cheers ensued, bringing a lively end to the entertaining interview.
As Y/N and Jessi concluded their time on the show, the charming member of Cheerful Twist left the fans eagerly anticipating more.
It was brunch time, and Y/N found herself alone in the cafeteria, having skipped breakfast. Her fellow members were occupied with various activities, leaving her to enjoy her meal solo.
Suddenly, a forceful slam on her table interrupted her solitude, causing Y/N to look up and meet Zhanghao's gaze. Curiosity flickered in her eyes as he spoke. "I'll help you." Confused, Y/N questioned, "Help me with what?" Zhanghao clarified, "I watched your interview this morning," and a realization dawned on Y/N — he was referring to the interview where she mentioned Ricky.
Offering a nonchalant response, Y/N said, "Well, I mean, he's an attractive and nice guy." Zhanghao, seemingly unfazed, pressed on, asking, "Would you date him?" Y/N considered her words before replying, "I'd want to become friends with him first." With a determined nod, Zhanghao declared, "So, we'll work on that first."
Taking a seat beside Y/N, Zhanghao invited Matthew, and the three engaged in a conversation revolving around Ricky and Y/N. The impromptu brunch gathering became an opportunity for Y/N to share her thoughts and build connections with members of ZEROBASEONE, fostering friendships that extended beyond their professional endeavors.
It had been a week packed with activities, and as Monday rolled in, the group decided to take a break and kick off the new week with a relaxing day. Zhanghao took charge of organizing a hangout for the two groups, and Hanbin secured a pool for everyone to enjoy.
As the members arrived in an array of swimsuits, Y/N stood out by joining her group in a stylish black bikini set paired with black heeled sandals. She had fashioned her hair in a high bun with two strands framing her face. Upon entering, she couldn't help but notice the ZEROBASEONE members, and her eyes lingered on Ricky, who sported black beach shorts.
Greeting each other warmly, Ricky and Y/N exchanged compliments. Y/N couldn't help but notice Ricky's "Role Model" tattoo down his neck, and she expressed her admiration. Ricky chuckled, "You noticed it just now?" Y/N playfully responded, "Yeah, because I only see the covering tape on it all the time."
As everyone immersed themselves in the pool, the Cheerful Twist and ZEROBASEONE members engaged in playful splashing. Y/N observed that Zhanghao, Matthew, and Ricky were targeting her, probably because of their proximity. Amidst the water chaos, Ricky playfully splashed Y/N more than the others. Y/N retaliated with enormous waves, drenching Ricky's hair and face. To escape the water onslaught, she ran to the side of the pool and pulled herself up.
"You're such a bully," Y/N teased Ricky, while he giggled. "My bad," he replied, and Y/N jokingly ordered him to go away. Ricky, giving her one last splash, retreated, leaving Y/N exclaiming, "You're so rude!" He responded with a playful "My bad!" before disappearing.
In the continued festivities, everyone found their preferred poolside activities, whether it was swimming, soaking up the sun, or enjoying a good book.
As Cheerful Twist returned from their pool hangout, they immediately started discussing the interactions between Ricky and Y/N, which had filled the day with laughter and splashes.
"You're lucky you got Zhanghao as a friend to organize things like that," Eunchae commented, looking at Y/N with a playful grin. "The way he was targeting you, though, was such a cute moment between you two."
"The way you two smiled at each other was so cute to see too!" Chaeyeon added, chiming in on the discussion. "I think everyone could sense something between you two."
"I'm just hoping to become closer to him, though," Y/N admitted, her cheeks tinted with a subtle blush. The members exchanged knowing glances, fully aware that there might be more than just friendship developing.
In the following hours, the members took turns having a shower, changing into comfy clothes, or indulging in their skincare routines. The air in the dorm was filled with a sense of contentment as they gathered in the lounge room, sharing stories and discussing various topics.
As they settled into the cozy atmosphere of the room, the conversation flowed naturally, touching on everything from their recent pool hangout to future plans and dreams. The bond between the members, both individually and as a group, continued to strengthen, creating a warm and supportive environment for each member to express themselves.
And amidst the casual banter and laughter, Y/N couldn't help but replay the moments with Ricky in her mind, wondering where their budding connection might lead. Little did she know, the journey ahead held the promise of new experiences and unexpected twists in their developing relationship.
A new day had dawned, and as lunchtime arrived, Y/N and Chaeyeon found themselves sitting together, discussing the upcoming promotions and the outfits they would be wearing later in the day.
Amidst their conversation, the cafeteria suddenly echoed with the sound of trays being placed on their table. Y/N looked up to find Ricky settling in front of her. To his left was Gyuvin, the friendly face she had just met yesterday, followed by Zhanghao and Matthew, who took their seats next to Chaeyeon.
"Hope you guys don't mind, just all the other tables are filled with people," Ricky explained, his gaze focused on Y/N. She glanced around, confirming that indeed, all the other tables were occupied by groups of staff and fellow artists from the same company.
"Yeah, of course, that's fine," Y/N replied, offering a warm smile to Ricky. Their eyes met briefly, and she couldn't help but notice Zhanghao wiggling his eyebrows mischievously in her direction.
The meal continued in a pleasant atmosphere as they shared laughs, casual banter, and delicious food. The unusual seating arrangement sparked a sense of curiosity and excitement, leaving Y/N wondering what other unexpected moments lay ahead in the days to come.
It was now evening, marking the second day of the second week of promotions for Cheerful Twist. After having experienced "The Show" yesterday and last week, the excitement heightened as they prepared for their debut appearance on "Show Champion."
As they gathered for styling, Y/N embraced the theme of the day: pink knitwear paired with something white and black oxfords. Her hair was fashioned into low pigtails, adorned with white ribbons. Completing the look, she wore a pink knitted sweater, white track shorts, knee socks, and black oxfords. Accentuating her style, she adorned herself with two gold rings on each hand.
In the midst of preparations, ZEROBASEONE's song "Melting Point" began playing on the screen, showcasing various performances. Y/N focused intently, particularly on Ricky's parts. Chaeyeon, noticing Y/N's attention, playfully whispered, "It's your music video boyfriend." Y/N responded with a smile, acknowledging the amusing connection.
Following ZEROBASEONE's performance, it was now Cheerful Twist's turn. As they headed backstage, Y/N and the members watched from the sidelines. During a segment of their choreography where they all crouched down, except for Gunwook, Y/N and Ricky made eye contact and exchanged smiles. Y/N lip-synced to him, "Good job," offering double thumbs up in encouragement.
After their performance concluded, ZEROBASEONE and Cheerful Twist shared affirmations backstage. Ricky approached Y/N with a chuckle, expressing his gratitude, "Thank you for the encouragement." Y/N casually responded, "No worries," as they shook hands, sharing a moment of camaraderie before he walked away. Zhanghao, observing the interaction, couldn't resist teasing, "You two are way too obvious." Y/N playfully retorted, "Whatever, go away," and they exchanged a friendly hug.
With the backdrop transformed into hues of pink and white to complement their outfits, Cheerful Twist took their positions on stage, ready to deliver another captivating performance on "Show Champion."
On a bright, sunny day, as the second day of promotions unfolded, Cheerful Twist entered an elevator, each member holding a camera to capture their experience. Upon reaching the lower floor, they touched a button, and the door slid open, revealing a vibrant and colorful set that prompted gasps from everyone. Observing the indoor shoes provided, they eagerly put them on.
As they settled into the set, a TV screen illuminated, displaying the schedule for the day at the Idol House. The first task was to establish a principle for the group, a guiding philosophy. Eunchae initiated the discussion, asking, "What should our principle be?" Namjoo suggested a simple and essential idea, "Probably just something basic, like we're all equal." The consensus was to adopt this straightforward principle, and Yeji, recognized for her neat handwriting, was entrusted with writing it down. The principle was then proudly displayed on the wall.
Moving on to the next activity on their schedule, the group engaged in a relay game, aiming to complete ten missions in just fifty seconds. Impressively, they succeeded on their first attempt, earning a spot on the hall of fame with a picture of the entire team facing the camera.
Throughout the day, they continued with various games and missions, each member actively participating. The atmosphere remained lively as they successfully tackled challenges. As the day progressed, they approached the final mission that would allow them to exit the Idol House, wrapping up their memorable experience in the variety show.
After completing the second week of promotions, Y/N and Chaeyeon decided to visit the company gym for some casual fun rather than focusing on improvement. Engaging in various exercises, including holding dumbbells and starting with yoga poses, the two friends enjoyed their time together.
As they were in the middle of boat pose exercises, the familiar figures of the ZEROBASEONE members entered the gym. Greeting the two girls, that's when Chaeyeon questioned. "What are you guys here for?" Gyuvin explained, "Me and Matthew are working out; the other two are just here to hang out and protect our belongings." Y/N immediately seized the opportunity and asked Ricky and Zhanghao to watch over their things. Ricky gladly picked up Y/N's bag, and Zhanghao did the same for Chaeyeon.
The four of them started working out together, utilizing different gym equipment. Y/N couldn't help but occasionally glance over at Ricky, who was engaged in a conversation with Zhanghao. Mirrors in the gym allowed Y/N to catch glimpses of Ricky looking back at her as well.
After two hours and thirty minutes of shared exercises, they all concluded their workouts. Chaeyeon, teasingly, whispered to Y/N, "He was totally staring you down," earning herself an eye roll. As Ricky approached Y/N with her bag, "You're sweating a lot," Ricky commented at the state of her appearance. "Oh yeah, I know." Y/N just shrugged and Ricky, without hesitation, grabbed a small towel from her bag and gently patted her forehead. Handing the towel back. "Thank you." Y/N expressed her gratitude with a shy smile. "It's no worries," Ricky replied, and the six of them exited the gym together.
It was a new morning, and Cheerful Twist had been called in early to one of the dance practice rooms. Upon arrival, they were met with an unexpected sight – ZEROBASEONE was in the room with them, accompanied by the two managers sitting in front of multiple chairs. Cheerful Twist took their seats, and Y/N found herself seated next to Zhanghao and Chaeyeon.
The manager of Cheerful Twist made a surprising announcement – both groups would be featured on the same "Weekly Idol" episode to celebrate the success of WakeOne Entertainment. They were tasked with a joint performance, combining their main title tracks. The room held 14 members in total, prompting a division into two groups. For Cheerful Twist, three members would perform "Radiant Harmony," while the remaining two had to learn "Crush." Y/N, Chaeyeon, and Eunchae stuck with "Radiant Harmony."
The main three members began teaching the four members from ZEROBASEONE the dance. Despite its feminine nature, Ricky, Matthew, Zhanghao, and Gyuvin found a way to adapt it to their style. With an odd number of members, they maintained the original dance positions but added two more people on the sides. Center parts were equally distributed.
Eunchae raised a concern. "There's this part in the choreography where I sing & the other four hold hands, are any of you guys not comfortable with that?" The ZEROBASEONE members shook their heads before Matthew spoke up on their behalf. "This is professional business so it should be fine." "So who's pairing up with who then?" Eunchae asked. "In relation to the music video, Ricky & Y/N should hold each other's hands since they were a couple in the video." Leading to Chaeyeon pushing Y/N in front of Ricky. They held hands, their gazes locking. "You two even look like a real life couple!" Zhanghao exclaimed.
Y/N was paired up with Ricky, Gyuvin with Chaeyeon, and Zhanghao with Matthew. As they began practicing the choreography while Eunchae sang, Ricky maintained eye contact with Y/N, creating a captivating moment.
They continued to perfect the choreography, showcasing it to each other. Ricky, Matthew, Zhanghao, and Gyuvin successfully executed "Radiant Harmony," while Namjoo and Yeji tackled "Crush," with Yeji providing some entertaining moments.
As the day of the joint performance draws near, Y/N takes charge of the vocal practice session as the main vocalist, with Chaeyeon providing valuable assistance. The practice room is filled with the sound of harmonizing voices as they work to perfect their vocal parts. Zhanghao excels in his execution, and Matthew manages to hold his own despite a few struggles. The harmonies begin to blend seamlessly, creating a beautiful and well-structured arrangement.
The group decides to make adjustments to the dance positions to enhance the overall performance, ensuring that the choreography complements the newly developed harmonies between the members from each group. Y/N and Zhanghao, being close friends & main vocals, share moments together with their harmonies during the dance sequences. However, unbeknownst to them, someone in the room is quietly observing, even though they know that the two are only friends.
A subtle tension arises during the hand-holding part of the choreography, specifically between Y/N and Ricky. Despite the apparent ease of their platonic interactions, there's a lingering awareness of unspoken emotions.
As the practice session concludes, Ricky approaches Y/N. "You sing very well, especially on your high notes." He compliments. "Thank you, I like your vocals as well." She compliments him back.
With the day of the joint performance just around the corner, the group is filled with anticipation and readiness for the upcoming recording.
As the joint performances unfolded on Weekly Idol, the Crush team delivered a powerful and captivating presentation, showcasing a concept that was new and exciting for Yeji and Namjoo. The Radiant Harmony team, in stark contrast, took the stage with innocent and pure charms, captivating the audience with their endearing performance.
The hosts of Weekly Idol, Eunkwang and Mijoo, introduced themselves warmly and extended a welcoming embrace to both ZEROBASEONE and Cheerful Twist. Each group presented themselves energetically, with the hosts acknowledging the unique concepts of their title tracks. During the conversation about the relationships between the two groups, Mijoo playfully teased Y/N about her friendships with members of ZEROBASEONE, leading to laughter and friendly banter.
"So Y/N, I heard you're the one who has the most friendships with ZEROBASEONE?" Mijoo questioned. "Yes, I am mainly friends with Ricky, Zhanghao, & Matthew." Y/N replied. "How did you meet those 3?" Eunkwang asked. "With Ricky, I accidentally bumped into him when I was trying to get food in our company's cafeteria." Y/N chuckled with embarrassment while Ricky laughed. "I met Matthew next. I was exercising on the stairs to work on my stamina, & for some reason he wanted to join me." Everyone began laughing at Matthew hysterically. "I just wanted a reason to exercise." Matthew explained humbly. "Yeah, he's my gym brother." The two did a sibling like handshake with each other. "And with Zhanghao-" Y/N suddenly got cut off. "She eavesdropped on me singing." Zhanghao explained & everyone began laughing at Y/N. "I TAKE BACK MY COMPLIMENTS FROM THAT DAY." Everyone continued to laugh at the two bickering. "In all seriousness though, he has really good vocals, so I couldn't help but listen," Y/N explained.
The show transitioned to the K-pop Random Dance segment, where Y/N and Zhanghao were identified as the members most knowledgeable about the recent dance trends. The groups then engaged in covering specific songs, with ZEROBASEONE showcasing a mature charm in their rendition of "Tiger Inside" by SuperM. Cheerful Twist, led by main dancers Eunchae and Namjoo, transformed the stage with a captivating cover of "Be Natural" by Red Velvet, demonstrating a sexy and elegant side while highlighting their exceptional dance skills.
The energy continued as both groups participated in various games and challenges, showcasing the diverse charms of idols from WakeOne Entertainment. The episode celebrated the synergy between ZEROBASEONE and Cheerful Twist, leaving a lasting impression on Weekly Idol viewers.
It was the day their joint episode on Weekly Idol was set to air, and Y/N decided to take a break from the hustle and bustle. Disguised with a bucket hat, glasses, and a mask, she ventured into a local library, aiming to enjoy a quiet day of relaxation.
With upcoming schedules and continuous promotions, Y/N sought solace in the tranquility of the library. The cozy ambiance and the scent of books provided a welcome escape. She picked a comfortable corner, settled into a plush chair, and delved into a novel.
As Y/N lost herself in the world of fiction, she felt a presence beside her. Someone had taken a seat, and the familiarity in the voice that called her name caught her attention. She looked up, and beneath the disguise, she recognized Ricky. His blonde hair peeked out from under his hoodie.
"How the hell did you recognize it was me, Ricky?" Y/N whispered, her eyes widening in surprise.
"I can recognize those square french tips from a mile away!" Ricky chuckled. Y/N glanced at her hands and, sure enough, her distinctive nails were a giveaway.
"How do you remember that much about me?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious.
"I love remembering things about you," Ricky replied with a playful smirk, creating a flirtatious atmosphere that made Y/N's heart race. "Whatever, just read with me," she retorted, trying to conceal the fluttering emotions.
They selected books that piqued their interests, finding a cozy corner where they could read together. The silence of the library allowed them to escape into the realms of their chosen stories, occasionally stealing glances and sharing subtle smiles.
Their discussion expanded beyond the books, encompassing their favorite genres and authors. Ricky's passion for mystery novels clashed with Y/N's penchant for heartwarming romance, yet the differences sparked lively conversations that added depth to their connection.
Laughter occasionally bubbled between the bookshelves as they stumbled upon amusing passages. The library became a haven, shielding them from the external pressures of idol life. Y/N and Ricky reveled in the simplicity of the moment, where they were just two people enjoying the quiet company of each other and the stories within the pages.
As they reluctantly returned their books to the shelves, Y/N and Ricky shared a smile. The library had provided a sanctuary, a brief escape from the glamorous yet demanding world of the k-pop industry. With a promise to repeat the experience, they left the library, the shared warmth of their quiet day lingering as they stepped back into the bustling reality outside.
As the curtain rose on the Mnet Asian Music Awards, Cheerful Twist had wrapped up their promotions early to focus on perfecting their performance for the grand event. After rigorous rehearsals, they were prepared to deliver an unforgettable show for their fans.
In the opening act, Eunchae showcased her exceptional dance skills, captivating the audience as she seamlessly moved across the stage. The performance transitioned as four members rose to join her, creating a dynamic and visually stunning sequence. As the tension built, Eunchae appeared behind Y/N and Chaeyeon, and they kicked off the performance of their main title track, "Radiant Harmony."
The stage came alive with vibrant energy and synchronized choreography. Y/N took the spotlight, delivering a powerful solo before gracefully descending below the stage. The backup dancers took over, creating a mesmerizing interlude. On the big screens, Cheerful Twist transformed into animated characters in a video game, with Chaeyeon emerging as the sole survivor. The virtual adventure seamlessly merged with reality as Chaeyeon reappeared on stage, mirroring her character's outfit, and the rest of the members joined her, transitioning smoothly into the chorus of their B-side track, "Sunset Serenade."
The mood shifted as they dived into the heartfelt melody of "Sunset Serenade," revealing a different side of their album, "Sunshine Melody." Each member poured passion into their performance, showcasing a diverse range of emotions within the song.
After the lengthy and impactful performance, the members retreated to their dressing room, only to find all the ZEROBASEONE members holding hearts or roses. Chaeyeon playfully pushed her to the center, revealing Ricky holding a bouquet of roses and chocolates.
"I don't know what chocolates you like, but I've always remembered what flowers you like," Ricky confessed, a genuine smile playing on his lips. Y/N approached him slowly, the anticipation in the room palpable.
"Honestly, I didn't think I'd feel this way for someone. You came along and changed that. It's a feeling I want to pursue, and I'm not lying at all. I really like you, Ha Y/N," Ricky admitted, his sincerity echoing in the room.
The members from both groups cheered, eagerly awaiting Y/N's response. "I really want to pursue things with you too, Ricky. I like you a lot," Y/N replied, sealing their confession with a sweet embrace. After weeks of anticipation, they were finally together, and the joyous cheers of both groups echoed through the dressing room.
A new day of practice dawned for the upcoming Melon Music Awards, and the atmosphere in the room was notably different. Y/N was no longer just waiting for the routine to begin; she was now anticipating someone's arrival at the practice room door.
"Let's have a break, guys," Eunchae announced, signaling a pause in the practice. Members scattered, some energizing themselves, others engaged in conversations. Y/N, however, was patiently waiting for a special someone.
The door swung open, and in walked Ricky, apologizing for the intrusion. "I'm sorry to barge in, but I just have some things for Y/N," he explained. Chaeyeon playfully teased the two before Ricky settled next to his new girlfriend, presenting her with water and a fresh towel.
"Thank you," Y/N said as she accepted the water bottle. Ricky began to gently pat the side of her face, a simple gesture that rekindled the same warm feelings as when he did it for the first time. The shyness between them was evident, but there was a shared comfort in each other's presence.
Ricky initiated a conversation, noting, "You guys seem to be practicing a lot." Y/N shrugged with a smile. "Yeah, there's a lot of award shows to attend so." Despite the newfound level of shyness, their connection remained strong. "You look really handsome today by the way." Y/N complimented. "Thank you." He grinned in response, their gaze locked in a moment of shared affection.
"Break's over, Ricky, you can stay if you want," Eunchae announced, gently breaking the moment. Cheerful Twist continued their rigorous practice for the Melon Music Awards, fueled by the presence of an audience and Y/N's determination to shine in front of her new partner.
The stage was set for a truly special performance for the Melon Music Awards. Namjoo took the spotlight, dancing solo on the stage to a simple instrumental of Radiant Harmony. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, setting the stage for what was to come.
As the instrumental changed and became more powerful, Cheerful Twist joined Namjoo on stage to perform Radiant Harmony. Each member showcased a newfound stage presence, revealing a side of themselves that the audience hadn't seen before. The performance was a testament to their growth as a group, leaving a lasting impression on the Melon Music Awards.
After the powerful rendition of Radiant Harmony, the spotlight shifted to Yeji dancing solo on stage. A seamless transition followed as the focus shifted to Eunchae, who took over the stage with her own mesmerizing performance. The remaining four members appeared on stage, without Eunchae, as the intro of Sunset Serenade began to play. With Eunchae rejoining them, the group launched into Sunset Serenade, infusing the performance with a renewed sense of passion.
The Melon Music Awards performance served as a culmination of Cheerful Twist's journey, showcasing their versatility, growth, and the unique dynamics that had developed among the members. Leaving the stage, everyone in the auidence was now waiting for what would be in store for Cheerful Twist.
note : IKK Y/N & RICKY WERE RUSHED I'M SO SORRY! it's just i have a lot of plans for them, so for the next part of this, you don't have to read it. it's only if you wanna see more of Y/N & ricky.
summary : “harmonious hearts" follows the intertwining journeys of k-pop groups cheerful twist and zb1, exploring the evolving relationships and romance between Y/N, the main vocalist of cheerful twist, and ricky from zb1.
genre : idol au, fem reader, fluff, romance, slice of life, friendship, music, young adult fiction
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