When the Quiet Things Bloom
• a lee sangwon fanfic, boys ii planet
• Genre: ⏳Slow-burn, 🎢Pull and Pull, 😔Soft Angst, 📚High School Romance, ☁️Warm Fluff, 🥀INFP Sangwon
• Setting: Seoul’s #1 elite high school — Saebom Academy
Chapter 2: A Touch Too Close
The Saebom Winter Festival was the kind of event that turned the school courtyard into something cinematic: lanterns strung above the garden paths, booths run by students selling handmade jewelry and spicy rice cakes, a stage echoing with performances and cheers.
This year, the committee had partnered with the local community to make it bigger than ever—complete with a towering striped circus tent, glowing food stalls, and even two ferris wheels twinkling against the winter sky. Locals were welcome to join in, turning the festival into a vibrant mix of school spirit and hometown warmth. Cotton candy stalls bloomed like pastel clouds, and rows of food trucks run by professional chefs pumped out the delicious scent of funnel cakes, corn dogs, and all the delicacies you can think of. Laughter and pop music tangled in the air above the crowd, and people moved like a stream—drifting between fortune wheels, claw machines, and oversized plush toys waiting to be won.
You weren’t going to go. You told everyone that—told your friends, told your group chat, told yourself.
Sophia had rolled her eyes. Manon and Megan had spammed you with memes. Lara threatened to drag you there in your pajamas if she had to. Daniella and Yoonchae sent voice notes full of dramatic gasps and fake cries. Still, you stayed firm—until the Saebom Winter Festival actually began and you showed up.
Wrapped in your grey wool coat — structured, perfectly pressed — you looked every bit the girl who was always prim and proper. The pleated skirt peeked out beneath the hem, paired with warm lined tights and polished boots that made every step sound deliberate. A classic chain-strap Chanel purse rested neatly at your side, and your hair, curled just enough to look effortless — but of course you had. Especially lately. Especially when it came to him.
You met up with your friends, all of you huddled together in scarves and laughter, boots crunching lightly against the snow-dusted pavement. The cold bit at your cheeks, but their energy was warm and loud — familiar.
You weren’t even looking for him at first.
Until Leo’s laugh rang across the crowd and you turned on instinct.
There he was. Lee Sangwon, as fashionable as he always was, standing against the soft hush of snow with a face that looked kissed by winter itself. His jacket, a rugged camo puffer. The earthy tones and detailed bark-like pattern of the jacket somehow made his skin look even fairer, his lips pinker from the cold. And then there was that ridiculous yet endearing beige faux fur bucket hat sitting snug on his head, making him look like a lost puppy who stumbled out of a fashion shoot in the middle of a forest. His hair peeked out in wisps, lashes dusted with frost, gaze soft and curious — like he didn’t know he was unintentionally breaking hearts just by standing there.
The whole group was with him—Leo holding a caramel stick, Junseo filming Anxin dancing for a TikTok video, Geonwoo and Kangmin locked in a heated game booth duel.
And in that brief second, everything paused. Not dramatically—but like the way pages pause before being turned.
He made his way toward you before you could decide to move away.
Your friends spotted him. There was a moment of collective silence, then a flurry of chaos.
“Abort mission,” Lara whispered dramatically.
“I’m not third-wheeling on a situationship,” Manon chuckled, already backing away.
Behind him, you saw Leo gave you a thumbs-up like a proud dad before spinning on his heel with the rest of their group.
And just like that, they all scattered like petals in the wind, not even bothering to be subtle about it. You didn’t even get a chance to protest — they were gone.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said, offering you a cup of hot chocolate without asking if you wanted it. The cup was warm, his hand briefly brushing yours in the transfer.
“I didn’t come for you,” you said, instinctively playing the game again.
But your voice was softer than you meant.
He didn’t smile. Just looked at you like he knew exactly what you were doing. And let you do it anyway.
“You’re not cold?” he asked, nodding to your ungloved hands.
“Why, you offering me yours?”
You walked through the festival side by side, quiet for a while, your coat occasionally brushing his jacket as the crowd pressed around you. He didn’t step away.
At the calligraphy booth, you were asked to write a wish for the new year.
You wrote yours quickly and tied it to the wishing tree. He didn’t peek.
“You not writing one?” you asked.
“I already made mine,” he said, watching your paper flutter in the breeze.
Then, slowly: “That I stop being a coward.”
He didn’t elaborate. You didn’t push. But the air between you shifted—closer, warmer, more dangerous.
Later, near the lantern pond, you nearly slipped on the frost-glazed stone path.
His hand caught yours. Fully. Firmly.
And for once, neither of you let go right away.
You got detention. Technically, he got it too. It was Anxin and Leo’s fault, honestly, for dragging you both into a prank that involved confetti cannons and the school PA system.
You were assigned cleanup duty in the gym storage room. Just you and Sangwon.
“I blame you,” you said, tossing a stray basketball into the bin.
He raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who hit the mic button.”
“You’re the one who dared me to.”
He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
That made you pause. “You dare me to things a lot. You think I’m reckless?”
“No,” he said, seriously now. “I think you’re brave.”
The storage room fell silent except for the sound of brooms and breath.
Then he added, quietly, “And I think I wish I was, too. Around you.”
He leaned against the wall, hands in pockets. “You always say what you feel. You don’t hold back. I always—think too much.”
You stepped closer, almost unintentionally.
“You think too much around me?”
He looked down. Then up. His eyes were dark and impossibly sincere.
“I do too,” you admitted. “But I pretend I don’t.”
He laughed, low. “You’re good at pretending.”
You shrugged. “So are you.”
Neither of you spoke after that. But the silence… it wasn’t awkward. It was full. Like a page waiting to be written on.
It was the day before school break. Everyone was buzzing, passing year-end notes and shouting across corridors, but for once you were quieter than usual.
You were sitting under the old cherry tree in the back garden—bare now, branches skeletal and poetic—and he found you there.
“I thought you left,” he said.
You didn’t look at him. “Wanted to think.”
He sat down beside you, shoulder not quite touching yours, but close enough.
After a moment, he asked, “About what?”
You looked at him now. “About how long we’re going to keep doing this.”
He didn’t pretend not to understand. He just exhaled.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s like—I’m scared if I say it, it’ll mess everything up.”
You nodded. “And if you don’t say it?”
“It’ll still mess everything up.”
You turned to him fully now. Heart fast. Voice steady.
“Then maybe stop thinking.”
“I don’t know how,” he admitted.
You smiled, bittersweet. “I’ll wait till you do.”
You stood up and walked away.
But far enough to give him space to follow—when he was ready.
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