❥ genre: teachers x forced proximity x enemies to lovers
❥ summary: y/n, a high school teacher, recently moved closer to work, meaning a change in her bus route was inevitable. coincidentally, she now shares the same bus as her colleague sim jaeyun. despite their constant on-edge interactions at school, the unavoidable commute together adds a new layer to their relationship. as they navigate the shared bus rides, the tension between them becomes a well known dynamic among their students. now, both have to endure the daily bus journey, unsure of how this forced proximity might change their relationship over time.
❥ schedule: no idea yet! so sorry <3
❥ taglist: just drop a comment to be added! 𑣲⋆
❥ a/n: heyo! so, these chapters are still being written and drafted, but I just wanted to give y'all a preview of my idea for this chapter fic, and I hope you get excited! i'm planning on putting a lot of effort and thought into this one, hoping it will come out good and longer than anything I've ever done. I'll keep you updated with it and my timeline for everything once I figure all that out! 𑣲⋆ (6.1.2026
okay so, i'm feeling a little torn on the new series i'm trying to start on, i did a vote like a month ago, asking whether it should be for heeseung or jake and heeseung won by 20 more votes than jake, 40 out of 61 total. The only reason i'm feeling torn about writing it about heeseung now is because heeseung also just won the vote for the finale of my "to all the boys" series and I already have more heeseung fics compared to the rest of the members. What do you guys think, do you agree that I should maybe do a different member (jake) or should I just stick with heeseung?
(it's gonna be a school teacher fic where the two teachers kinda hate each other but grow to like each other because of something pulling them together, so kinda like enemies to lovers x forced proximity series) I'm not gonna give away too much yet. ;)
revote for the school teacher series
do jake instead
stick with heeseung
Voting ended onMay 29
please read this and think about it. I really appreciate it! <3 I don't want to be inconsiderate of your votes, I just feel like i've been writing a lot of heeseung lately. anyways, lmk. whoever wins, I'll write the series for, I just thought i'd give it another try!
❥ summary: seven years after secretly crushing on heeseung at a pc bang in junior year of high school, you unexpectedly reunite with him as a coworker, only for an old unsent love letter to accidentally end up in his hands...
❥ a/n: the finale is out!!! crazy that this series is ending, please let me know if you guys enjoyed it, and what you might want to see me write in the future. This is the longest fic i've written, so i'm hoping it flows well. Again, hope you enjoy the finale of to all the boys i've loved before and i'll see you soon! tysm for all the support <3
❥ wc: 8k
As the years went on, you naturally stopped thinking about the pc bang as often. Not because you forgot him.
You just…grew up.
College happened, then internships, and then, eventually, a full-time job that left you too tired to romanticize old crushes from the past. The letters stayed hidden in the same box you swore you’d throw away one day, but never did. Every once in a while, you’d reread them and laugh at yourself a little.
“Cute gamer guy from the pc bang.” It sounded ridiculous now. Still, sometimes when you passed one late at night and heard the familiar clicking of keyboards through the door, you’d think of him for a second. Wonder where he ended up. Wonder if he still plays the same games even 7 years later. Wondered if he’d ever remember the awkward high school girl who kept sitting a few seats away from him.
Then you’d move on with your day. That’s why it felt so unreal when you saw him again. The elevator doors had opened in the lobby of your office building, and you were too busy checking your phone to really look up. You only glanced up because someone held the door before it closed.
“Going up?” You froze. Not because you recognized the voice first, but the face. You looked up too quickly, nearly dropping your phone in the process. And there he was. Older, obviously. Taller than you remembered, dressed in black with an ID card hanging around his neck. His hair was longer now, pushed back slightly from his forehead.
But it was still…Heeseung. Your pc bang crush, Heeseung. Well, not your anything.
Just…him.
You never realized he was working in the same company…you never thought you'd see him again, and for one horrible second, all you could think was, “Oh my god.” Because suddenly you were eighteen again, sitting three seats away from him, pretending not to stare. And the worst part? He stared at you in confusion.
“Uh,” you managed, avoiding his gaze as you stepped into the elevator. “Thanks.” The doors closed. You stood on opposite sides, your heart beating so hard it was embarrassing.
There was no way. No actual way the universe would do this to you.
You tried not to look at him directly, but every small glance made things worse. He still had the same calm expression. Same quiet presence. Even standing in an office elevator at eight in the morning, he somehow looked exactly like the boy at the pc bang. Just older.
You pressed your floor button. Then watched, horrified, as he didn't press one.
No, no, no.
“You work on fourteen?” he asked casually. You nearly forgot how to speak. “Yeah.”
“New?” he asked. “A few months,” you responded quietly. He nodded once. “Hm.” That was it.
Meanwhile, you were internally spiraling hard enough to pass out. Because this wasn’t just some random reunion. This was the crush, the one you were obsessed with throughout junior year of high school. The one that has a letter buried at the bottom of your closet. The one that was only supposed to exist in memory because memories were safe.
Real life wasn’t safe.
The elevator opened, and you thought maybe that would be the end of it. Maybe you’d never see him again after today.
Then he walked toward the other side of your department. You wanted to die a little. How did you never notice him on the other side of the department, back facing yours, but still…he was there the whole time.
A week after the elevator incident, you convinced yourself things were normal again. Well, mostly normal. Okay, not normal at all, because apparently, Heeseung has been here this whole time, and you just never seemed to notice. Which was horrifying.
But somehow, after the initial embarrassment wore off, things became… easy.
You’d run into each other around the office floor sometimes. Coffee machine. Elevator. Lobby. It was dangerous, honestly. Because teenage crushes are supposed to stay teenage crushes. They’re not supposed to turn into real people standing beside you asking you about the weather.
And yet. Somehow, they did. The problem was the letters.
You had forgotten they existed after you wrote the last one. They’d been shoved into an old storage box along with high school notebooks, game cards, and embarrassing photos you refused to look at.
Until your mom called one weekend.
“I’m at your place, I made some food, thought I’d drop some by,” she said. “I’m cleaning too, you need to take care of your house more.” You sighed as you heard it. Your mom, typical, is cleaning up your messes.
So later that day, you went home.
And unfortunately for you, your mother was the type of person who believed everything should be organized immediately. Which meant she’d already separated your old papers into piles by the time you got there.
She held one pile that included the letters. Every single one addressed to boys you never confessed to. Including Heeseung…
“Do you need me to stamp and send these?” she asked. “No, no.” You said, panicked and stuffed them into your bag without checking properly, which would’ve been fine if you weren’t also carrying work documents for Monday’s presentation.
If only your life didn’t apparently enjoy humiliating you specifically.
On Monday morning, you walked into work late, juggling coffee and folders while trying not to drop anything. Your coworker and friend, Mina, stopped you halfway to your desk, asking about presentation drafts, and in the middle of trying to hand things over, papers slipped from your bag onto the floor.
Papers scattered everywhere. “Seriously?” you muttered under your breath, crouching immediately to gather them. Your coworker, Mina, laughed from beside you and bent down to help. “You carry your entire apartment in your bag, I swear.”
“I know, I know, just hand me those, please.”
You reached for a stack near her feet, too focused on separating presentation drafts from old notebook paper to notice what she’d picked up. Then someone from across the office called your name. “Meeting room three in five minutes!”
Your head snapped up. Right. The presentation. “Oh my god,” you groaned, shoving the papers you had put back into your folder. “If they start without me, I’m actually dead.” Mina waved you off. “Go. I’ll clean up the rest.” She smiled. “You’re saving my life,” you said, standing. “I know,” she ended.
You barely thought twice about it. You grabbed your laptop and hurried toward the meeting room before your manager could come looking for you personally. Which was how you completely missed Mina looking down at one of the envelopes left on the floor.
Cream-colored. Slightly bent at the corner. Your handwriting across the back. “Heeseung.”
Mina blinked once. Then twice. “…No way,” she whispered to herself. Because there was only one Heeseung on your floor. And unfortunately for you, Mina was both incredibly nosy and incredibly fond of romance. Which meant instead of minding her business like a normal person, she stared at the envelope for another few seconds before glancing toward the glass meeting room where you now sat suffering through the monthly reports.
Then her eyes drifted across the office, straight toward him.
Heeseung sat at his desk near the windows, headphones around his neck, typing something. Calm. Unbothered. Completely unaware that your entire high school feelings were currently sitting in Mina’s hands. A dangerous smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is insane.” And before common sense could stop her, she walked over.
Heeseung looked up when her shadow fell across his desk. “Hm?” Mina held out the envelope carefully between two fingers. “I think this belongs to you.” His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “What?”
“She dropped a bunch of stuff before the meeting.” Mina tried, and failed, to hide how entertained she was. “I saw your name.” At first, he just looked confused. Then he took the envelope from her. Then his eyes caught his name on the back.
“Heeseung,”
Something shifted in his expression. Mina leaned against his desk shamelessly. “Sooo… are you gonna open it?” He glanced up at her once. “Should I?” He asked, “Yes,” she responded, quickly.
He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head a little before looking back down at the envelope. For some reason, his chest felt strangely tight. Because he already knew who it was from. He didn’t know how he knew. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was because he’d caught you staring at him in that elevator. Or maybe it was because he recognised you from back then…The pc bang.
The girl who always sat a few seats away. Peach iced tea. Big eyes pretending not to look at him whenever he won a game.
Slowly, he slid a finger beneath the seal. The first few lines made him blink. Then reread them. Then go completely still, not embarrassed still, soft still. Like something had quietly caught him off guard. He didn’t say anything after that. He just kept looking at the letter in his hands for a few seconds longer than normal, like he was trying to decide what to do with a piece of the past he hadn’t expected to find.
Mina, on the other hand, looked like she was one second away from combusting. “So?” she pressed quietly. “What does it say?” Heeseung finally closed the envelope again. Not fully. Just enough to hold it together. “…Nothing important,” he said. Mina squinted. “That is the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” That actually made him smile a little. “Go back to work.”
But she didn’t leave right away. Not until he carefully set the envelope inside his desk drawer instead of tossing it away like it meant nothing. Which, for Mina, meant it meant something.
And across the office, you were currently fighting for your life in a meeting. Completely unaware, absolutely oblivious. You sat straight, nodded at the right moments, pretended you weren’t thinking about how your bag had nearly exploded earlier, and did everything in your power not to spiral over presentation slides.
When it finally ended, you felt like you had survived something life-threatening. “Good job,” your manager said on the way out. You nearly cried from relief. “Thank you.” By the time you got back to your desk, the mess was gone. Clean and organized, as if nothing had happened.
Mina was nowhere in sight. Probably in another department or pretending to work while actually gossiping. You frowned slightly. “…Weird.” But you didn’t think much of it. Instead, you powered through the rest of the day like usual. Emails. Revisions. Normal chaos.
By the time evening came, you were exhausted in a way that made everything feel far away. You packed up your things slower than usual, slinging your bag over your shoulder while mentally listing everything you needed to do tomorrow. Somewhere between leaving the office and getting on the train home, you felt something missing and just felt a strange, small sense of unease, but you shook it off.
At home, everything was the same. You kicked off your shoes, dropped your bag near the door, and immediately went into autopilot, changed clothes, heated something quick for dinner, scroll your phone for a while. Normal, Comfortable.
The letters didn’t cross your mind once, not even when you passed the old storage box in your room, not when you cleaned your desk later that night, or when you eventually fell asleep on top of your blanket. Because to you, everything had been retrieved that morning.
At the office, long after everyone else had left, Heeseung sat alone for a while longer than usual. The envelope was still in his drawer, but not forgotten. Because he’d already read enough to recognize a name he had never properly learned back then, but somehow remembered now.
And for the first time in a long time, he found himself thinking about the pc bang again, too. Not just as a place, but for those moments. The girl sitting a few seats away, pretending not to look at him.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a second. “…So it was you,” he muttered quietly to himself. Then, after a pause, he exhaled a soft laugh. Like the universe had just handed him something it had been holding onto for years.
The next morning felt completely normal. You woke up late, rushed through getting ready, grabbed your bag from the floor by the door, and left for work while half-brushing your hair in the reflection of the elevator. The day already felt loud before it even began, emails waiting, and a meeting you were slightly underprepared for. Nothing about it told you that something was missing.
At the office, Mina was already at her desk when you arrived. Way too alert for someone who claimed she “barely slept” when she texted this morning. She looked up the second you stepped in. “Oh, you’re alive,” she said casually. You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you say that like I wouldn’t be?” you asked.
“Just checking.” That tone immediately set off something in you. “…Why are you being weird?” you frowned, “I’m not being weird,” she smiled. “Yes, you are.”
Mina spun slightly in her chair, trying and failing to look innocent. “How was your night?” she asked. “Normal,” you said slowly, putting your bag down. “Why?”
“No reason.” That was worse. You frowned. “Mina.” She hummed. “Y/N?” There was a beat of silence. Then she stood up. “Actually, I need to show you something.” Your stomach dropped for no logical reason at all.“That sentence is never good.” You said quickly.
“It’s good this time,” she insisted, already walking toward the small lounge area near the printers. “Probably.” She laughed softly. “Probably is not comforting.” But you followed anyway, because of course you did.
She stopped in front of the counter in the break room, leaned down, and pulled something from her bag. An envelope, cream-colored and familiar in a way your brain refused to accept at first.
You didn’t move. “…Where did you get that?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended. Mina looked at you carefully now, like she was suddenly aware this was real. “It was on the floor yesterday. Under your desk.” She shrugged. Your fingers went cold.
“No, that’s…” You stepped closer, “That’s not… I took everything home,” you gulped in between sentences. “No, you didn’t,” she said gently. “You missed this.” She said. “…Did anyone see it?” you asked.
Mina hesitated. That was all the answer you needed. “Oh, my god,” you groaned, pacing. “It’s fine,” she rushed quickly. “Well, mostly fine. Heeseung saw it.” That made your brain short-circuit. “He what?”
Mina winced slightly. “Yeah. Long story. I thought it was his because his name was on it. Kind of...” Your vision went white for a second. “No,” you said again, more urgently this time. “No, no, why would you-” You said, freaking out. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” she defended immediately. You covered your face with both hands.
For ten seconds, you just stood there. Then you dropped your hands slowly. “…He read it?” Mina nodded, a little quieter now. “Yeah.” Your throat felt dry. “And?” She hesitated again, which was somehow worse than anything she could’ve said. “…And he kept it.” That hit differently. “He what?” You asked, “In his desk,” she said carefully. “I saw him put it away.” You looked confused and pale. “Then what are you holding?” You stared at the envelope in her hands as if it might bite you. Then Mina added, almost too casually, “Oh, and he wrote back.”
Everything stopped. You blinked once. “What?” Then she held it out. Your fingers shook slightly when you took it. You unfolded it, and the first line made your entire body go numb.
Dear Y/N,
I read your letter properly again after you left the office.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel at first. Surprised, I guess. A little confused. But mostly… I just kept thinking that I should’ve noticed sooner that it was you.
I remember you from the pc bang. I don’t think I ever forgot you, actually. You used to sit a few seats away and pretend you weren’t looking at me when you definitely were. You were really obvious about it, just not in the way you thought.
I used to notice when you came in. More than I probably should’ve. I just didn’t say anything because it didn’t feel like something I was allowed to step into.
Back then, you were just another stranger in my day. But turns out you were there every day, more than a stranger, I guess.
I don’t think it’s stupid that you wrote all of that. It felt honest. That’s rare.
And I think it’s even more rare that I got to read it years later and realize you’re still the same person who sat quietly three seats away from me, just… older now. Except now, we're sitting in the same building.
I don’t really know how to respond to something you wrote years ago, but I wanted you to know this much…I remember you.
And I’m glad I do.
- Heeseung
You didn’t breathe properly after that.
You just read, and reread.
And somewhere between “I remember you” and “I’m glad I do,” your entire understanding of the past started rearranging itself in your head.
Because this wasn’t a polite response. It wasn’t confusion or rejection. It was recognition. Like he had been aware of you the entire time you were busy convincing yourself you were invisible.
When you finished, your hands were still slightly shaking. Mina watched you carefully. “So…” You looked up slowly. “…He remembers me,” you said quietly. Mina smiled. Your grip tightened on the letter.
Because suddenly, the pc bang didn’t feel like something that ended years ago anymore. And now, things don’t go back to “normal.” Because once someone answers a letter like that, it stops being a memory and starts becoming a conversation… at least, you think.
The next few days feel weird in a quiet way. Not dramatic, just different. At first, you avoided Heeseung more than you meant to.
Not because you’re mad, but because your brain is still catching up to the fact that he read everything. Every embarrassing sentence. Every teenage version of you that you thought was safely buried in a box.
And now he knows…All of it.
Mina notices immediately. She doesn’t push at first, which is somehow worse, because it means she knows exactly how much she messed things up.
On the third day, she sits in the chair beside you at lunch. “…So,” she says carefully. You don’t look up from your food. “Don’t.” Then, softer, she says, “He hasn’t brought it up at work.” That makes you finally look at her.
Mina tilts her head. “He didn’t act weird. Not even a little. If anything, he’s just… the same.” That’s the part that messes with you. Because you want him to be weird about it.
You want awkwardness. Distance. Something you can hide behind. But instead, he just exists like he didn’t quietly read your entire teenage heart.
Later that afternoon, you see him near the vending machine. You almost turn around, but he sees you first. “Hey,” he says, as if nothing has happened.
Your brain forgets how to function for half a second. “Hi.” He nods toward the machine. “Still the same drink?” You blink. And then realize he’s talking about the pc bang again. Peach iced tea.
Your chest tightens slightly. “Yeah,” you say. “Thought so,” he says, like it’s obvious.
Then there's silence, not uncomfortable, just there.
Heeseung takes his drink, then looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, then he says, quietly, “You don’t have to hide from me.”
That lands harder than anything else so far.
You swallow. “I’m not hiding.” He raises an eyebrow slightly. You break eye contact immediately. “Okay, maybe a little.” That makes him laugh under his breath, and somehow that sound does more damage than the entire letter situation combined.
“Y/N,” he says, your name sounding different when he says it. “It’s fine.” You glance up again, and for the first time since all of this started, he looks a little less like the boy from your memory and a little more like someone standing in your present.
“You wrote first,” he adds. You blink.“…So what now?” you finally ask, quieter than you meant to.
He doesn’t answer immediately, just looks at you for a second, then says, “I think we start from here.”
And for the first time, that doesn’t feel terrifying.
“Like, friends?” you ask. Heeseung looks at you for a moment, like he’s actually considering the question instead of answering too fast. “Yeah,” he says at first. “Friends is fine.”
That should’ve made you feel relieved. It does… a little, but there’s a pause right after. Then he adds, a bit quieter, “I don’t think I can pretend I didn’t read what you wrote, though.”
Your face heats instantly. “Yeah, I was really hoping we could-”
“Forget it?” he finishes, almost gently amused. You nod way too quickly. He shakes his head slightly. “That’s not really how this works.” That makes you groan under your breath. “I knew it.” But he doesn’t let it get uncomfortable. Instead, he just looks at you like it’s obvious. “We can be friends,” he says again, more certain this time. “We already kind of are, aren’t we?”
That stops you. Because… he’s not wrong.
The elevator conversations. The coffee machine talks. The way he remembers small things you didn’t think he’d care about. None of it feels like strangers anymore…Just unspoken familiarity. You exhale slowly. “Yeah,” you admit. “I guess we are.”
Silence. Then, softer you say, “But it’s still really embarrassing.” That finally gets a proper laugh out of him. “Yeah,” he says. “That part’s not going away.” You glare at him lightly.
He just smiles back, easy, unbothered, like he’s decided something quietly in his head and isn’t rushing to tell you yet. “Friends,” he repeats, like he’s agreeing with you… but also settling into it. “For now.”
Those last words make your brain pause.
But before you can ask what he means by it, he already steps back toward his desk. Almost like he’s giving you space. Like he knows exactly how overwhelming this is for you.
“See you later,” he adds casually. And just like that, he’s gone back to work. Leaving you standing there with a drink you don’t remember holding and a strange feeling you haven't felt in a while, sitting in your chest
You replay his words on a loop.
“Friends.” “For now.”
The second part refuses to sit still in your head. Because “friends” should’ve been simple. Clean. Safe. Something you could put in a box and label and stop thinking about at 2 am. But “for now” doesn’t do that.
“For now” sounds like a door that isn’t closed. Just… left slightly open on purpose.
You shake your head before taking a slow sip of your drink. It gives your brain something else to focus on for exactly two seconds before it goes right back to him.
What did he mean by that? You try to be logical about it. You really do.
Maybe he just meant it casually. Like a normal person. Like someone who doesn’t overthink about every word and interaction exchanged in the office hallway.
But then you remember his face when he said it. Not teasing or confused, but certain.
And that’s worse. So much worse…
You barely make it through the rest of the day. Emails blur together. Your computer feels too bright. Mina says your name twice before you even hear it the third time. “You’re going to crash,” she finally says, sliding into her chair beside yours. “I’m fine,” you lie immediately.
Mina stares at you. “He said something, didn’t he?” You freeze. “…No.”
That pause was too long. Her eyes narrow. “Y/N.” You press your lips together. “He said ‘friends,’” you say, finally turning to her. “And?” She questions. You hesitate. “and… ‘for now.’”
Mina goes very, very still, then slowly leans back like she’s just heard the most entertaining thing of her life. “Oh.” You glare. “Please don’t ‘oh’ like that.” She ignores you completely. “He said ‘for now’?”
You nod, “Yes.”
Mina smiles, but not helpfully or subtly, the kind of smile that makes you regret telling her anything.
“That’s interesting,” she says lightly. “It’s not interesting.” You groan. “It’s absolutely interesting.” You cover your face with your hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” she sings, standing up. “You just hate that your high school gamer boy is actually showing interest in you.”
“That is not what this is, and he’s not my anything…” You say. “It kind of is.” She responds with raised eyebrows. You don’t respond because you don’t trust your own voice anymore.
Because the worst part is, you do keep thinking about it.
Even when you finally get home and collapse onto your bed, still in your work clothes, staring at your ceiling like it might explain things to you.
“For now.”
What does that even mean? Is it a joke? A tease? Something deeper he didn’t mean to say out loud?
You flip onto your side, grab your phone, then immediately put it down again. Then, picking it up again. Then, finally, setting it down.
You’re losing your mind over two words. Two words from a guy who used to sit three seats away from you in silence while you convinced yourself you meant nothing to him.
Now he’s in your present and apparently planning a “for now” that your brain refuses to believe.
The next morning, you see him again at the coffee machine. At the same time, again, like nothing has changed.
Except everything has.
He glances at you as you approach, like he already knew you’d be there. “Morning,” he says. “Morning,” you reply too quickly. There's a pause as you try not to explode. You really do, but it comes out anyway. “…What did you mean yesterday?”
He doesn’t pretend to know. That’s the first problem…he just looks at you, calm and a little curious. “Which part?” He says. You exhale sharply. “You know which part.” His expression shifts just slightly, like he’s deciding how much to say.
Then he leans slightly against the counter. “I meant…” he starts slowly, “that I don’t think we’re done figuring this out yet.”
Your brain short-circuits. “That sounds like a problem,” you say immediately. He shakes his head once. “Not a problem…Just not finished.” You stare at him, confused. Because that’s worse, better, and somehow both at the same time.
He pushes off the counter like he’s done saying what he intended to say. Then, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, he adds, “But friends is still a good place to start.” You blink. “Start?” He looks at you for a second longer than necessary. “Yeah.” And walks away like he didn’t just change your entire understanding of the word friends in under ten seconds.
A few days pass, and you don’t get any peace.
Not real peace, anyway.
You tell yourself he probably just meant it casually. That you’re overthinking it, and that “for now” and ”start as friends” are normal things people say when they’re being polite, not something you’re supposed to replay like it’s a coded message meant specifically to ruin your sleep schedule.
But then your brain keeps looping it anyway. “Friends… for now,” “Friends is a good place to start.” And worse than that, the way he looked when he said it was like he wasn’t guessing. He looked like he already knew something you didn’t.
After a few days, you’re exhausted in a way sleep doesn’t fix, and Mina notices immediately, of course. “You look like shit, no offense,” she says, sliding into her seat beside you. “I’m fine,” you reply automatically. She gives you a look as you sigh. “…I just still don’t understand what he meant.”
Mina tilts her head. “Then ask him.” You turn quickly, “I can’t just-” you stop yourself, then lower your voice. “We barely know each other, Mina. Like, actually know each other. He just… remembers me as a kid, and barely at that. That’s it.” She doesn’t look convinced. “And?”
“And that’s weird enough already,” you say quickly. “Now he’s saying things like there’s a hidden meaning behind them…like we’re in some kind of story I didn’t agree to be in.” Mina hums. “Sounds like you’re already in it.”
You glare at her. “That’s not helpful.” But she’s right about one thing…you can’t keep doing this.
So that afternoon, you wait.
When he steps out, he notices you immediately, like he always does.
That part annoys you more than it should. “Hey,” he says. You nod once. “Hi.”
Your throat feels tight, but you force yourself to keep going before you lose the chance. “…Can I ask you something?” His expression changes slightly, attentive. “Yeah.” You take a breath. “You said ‘friends, for now,’ right?” He doesn’t interrupt.
You continue, a little faster now that you’ve started.
“And I don’t really get what that means. Because I get the friends part, I do. But the ‘for now’ and the ‘It’s a great place to start,’ it’s just been stuck in my head, and I don’t know if you meant it like…like a joke, or…” You stop yourself, realizing you’re spiraling.
Heeseung watches you quietly the whole time, almost amused. Just listening. When you finish, there’s silence, and then he exhales softly, almost like he’s choosing his words carefully. “It wasn’t a joke,” he says.
That makes your stomach drop a little. You force yourself to nod. “Okay…That doesn’t make it any clearer, though.” A faint, almost-smile appears on his face. “I know.”
That is not helping your situation. You cross your arms slightly, getting frustrated now, “Then what did you mean?” He looks at you for a moment, longer than usual, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I meant I don’t want to decide what this is too fast.”
That makes you go still.
He continues, steady. “You wrote to me like I was someone you never really got to know, and I didn’t know you either.” A pause. “But now I’m here, and you’re here, and I don’t think pretending it’s just… nothing would be honest.”
Your chest feels weird again. “So,” you say slowly, trying to keep your voice normal, “Are you saying you want to get to know me…Seven years later?” He sighs slightly, like it should be simple. “Yeah, and we take it slow.” And silence. “And see where it goes.” That lands harder than you expect, because it’s not pressure.
It’s not confusion anymore, it’s permission, but real this time. You swallow, “And if it goes nowhere?” He doesn’t hesitate. “Then it still meant something.” You exhale, shaky. “You’re really calm about this.” That finally makes him let out a quiet laugh before nodding.
“So friends,” you say softly. He nods, “Friends.”
This time, no “for now” follows immediately, but as you turn to leave, you hear him add, almost casually, “For now is just… because I don’t want to rush you.” And you stop walking for half a second.
Because it doesn’t sound like uncertainty, it sounds like patience. For the first time since all of this started, you realize something…He’s not confused, he’s just waiting for you to catch up.
As months go by, things don’t stay where you left them. They don’t explode into something obvious, either. They just… shift, slowly, quietly, and in ways you only notice when you look back and realize nothing feels the same anymore.
You and Heeseung become something that doesn’t really have a name at first. Still “friends,” technically, yes, but not the kind you can describe easily to other people.
It starts small, lunch breaks that accidentally line up too often to be a coincidence. Coffee runs that somehow always end with you standing beside him instead of alone, and conversations that begin with work and somehow end with things that have nothing to do with work at all.
You learn things about him without meaning to, just like back then…
He prefers quiet mornings, he forgets to eat when he’s focused, and he has a habit of tapping his pen twice, like he’s organizing his thoughts before letting them out.
And he learns things about you, too.
Like how you pretend you’re fine when you’re stressed by cleaning up everything except your actual problems, how you always reread messages before replying, like they might change meaning if you stare at them long enough, and how you still get quiet for a second too long when he says your name.
Neither of you comments on it, but it’s there.
Mina, unfortunately, is suffering.
“You two are not normal friends,” she declares one day, watching you sit across from Heeseung in the break area. You don’t look up from your drink. “Yes, we are.” Heeseung, beside you, just calmly says, “We are.” Mina squints. “Normal friends don’t look at each other like that.” You choke slightly. “What?” She speaks up, “You look at each other like you’re both pretending not to be something else.”
That makes the air go a little too quiet. You feel Heeseung glance at you for half a second.
And that tiny moment sticks with you longer than it should.
Now everything is understood in pieces, a glance that lasts a second too long, a pause before saying goodbye, or the way he starts walking you to the train station without even asking if you want him to.
Like it’s just assumed, like it’s become a routine.
One night, it changes again.
You’re leaving the office late. It’s raining, of course it is.
You stand by the door, preparing yourself to go out, staring at your phone as if it might magically stop the weather. “You didn’t bring an umbrella again,” Heeseung’s voice says beside you. You don’t even jump anymore when he appears.
That’s how far gone this is. Surprising, right?
“I checked the forecast,” you say defensively. “It lied to you.” He says, you laugh, 'It betrayed me personally, yes.” That gets a quiet laugh out of him before he holds up his umbrella slightly. “Come on.” You hesitate for half a second, then step under it.
Close enough that your shoulder almost touches his. You start walking, and the rain hits the umbrella above you at a steady pace.
For a while, neither of you speaks. Then he says, casually, “You’ve been quieter lately.” You glance up at him. “Have I?” He nods, “Yeah.” But quickly says, “Not in a bad way.” That makes something in your chest tighten slightly. You look forward again. “Just thinking, I guess.”
“About what?” You almost laugh, because you just don’t know how to say it without sounding weird. So you go with honesty, carefully. “…About us.” He doesn’t respond immediately, just keeps walking steadily.
Eventually, “Still confused?” he asks. You huff a small breath. “A little.” Then you add, quieter, “Not in a bad way either.” That makes him glance at you, longer this time. You don’t look away.
The rain sounds louder suddenly. He stops walking, and you stop with him. Under the umbrella, everything feels smaller…closer. Heeseung studies you for a moment, like he’s making a decision he’s been keeping for a while.
Then he says, calmly, “I think we’ve been friends long enough.” Your heart skips. “…Okay,” you say slowly. “And?” He steps a little closer with just enough that the space between you feels different. “And I don’t think ‘for now’ makes sense anymore.”
Your brain goes completely blank for a second. “You’re not helping my confusion,” you whisper. That makes him smile faintly. “I know.” He continues, “But I think you might know where this is going.” And the worst part is, you do.
You stand there under the umbrella, rain hitting it softly, now. However, everything feels louder.
His words sit between you both. They just stay there, like he’s given you something you’re supposed to pick up and understand, except your brain is not cooperating. “You always do that,” you say before you can stop yourself. Heeseung tilts his head slightly. “Do what?” You begin, “Say things like you already know what I’m going to think.” That gets a small pause out of him.
Then, “Do I?” You nod, “Yes,” you say immediately, then soften it because it sounds too sharp. “A little.” He looks at you for a second longer, like he’s deciding whether to agree, but he nods once. “Okay.”
That single word throws you off more than anything else because he doesn’t argue, he just accepts it, like he’s willing to be wrong if it makes this easier for you.
Neither of you moves, but then he says, quieter than before, “I’m not trying to rush you.” You sigh, “I know,” you reply automatically. But your voice doesn’t sound steady anymore. “That’s kind of the problem.” His eyebrows lift slightly. “The problem?”
You exhale, looking away for a second. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to stand with you,” you admit. “Because one minute it’s friends, and the next it’s… whatever this is.” You gesture between you. “I don’t even know when it stopped being normal.”
He doesn’t interrupt.
That’s the thing about him, you’ve learned it over months. He waits until you’re done, always.
When you finally stop talking, he speaks again. “I think it stopped being normal a while ago,” he says simply. That makes your stomach flip once again. You glance at him quickly. “That’s not helpful either.” A faint smile. “I’m not trying to be helpful.” You look at him, “…Then what are you trying to be?”
That question hangs a little heavier than you intended.
Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves the umbrella slightly so it covers you better without thinking about it. Then he says, “Honest.” You blink as he continues, voice steady. “When I said ‘for now,’ I didn’t mean I wasn’t sure about you…I meant I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to respond to something you weren’t ready for.”
Your heartbeat was way too noticeable in the silence. He looks at you, “And I still don’t…But I also don’t want to pretend this is nothing.” You swallow. “…So then, what do we do?” you ask quietly. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate this time. “I guess we keep going like this,” he says. “But we’re honest about it.” You frown slightly. “That sounds complicated.” He nods, “It probably is.” That gets a small, reluctant laugh out of you.
The rain keeps tapping against the umbrella above you. The space between you feels quieter now, but not lighter. Heeseung doesn’t move right away. He just watches you for a second longer than usual.
Then he says, calmly, “I don’t want to keep guessing what this is for you.” Your laugh fades. “Guessing?” He sighs, “Yeah, because I already know what it is for me.” That makes your steps falter.
For a second, neither of you speaks.
“…What is it for you?” you ask, quieter now. He doesn’t hesitate, “That I like you.” Your breath catches.
The world doesn’t suddenly change, but it feels like it shifts slightly off balance. You blink at him. “Heeseung…” His gaze doesn’t move away. If anything, it steadies. Then you say it, the thing you’ve been circling in your head for days, months, maybe longer than that…
“…Is it just because of the letter?” The question hangs there immediately, sharp and vulnerable at the same time, and for the first time since this started, something flickers across his face.
He shakes his head once. “No.” But you don’t move yet, your grip tightens slightly on your bag strap. “It feels like it could be,” you admit quietly. “Like you read them, and then suddenly I’m… someone you already decided things about.” That honestly scares you a little.
Heeseung listens without interrupting. Rain keeps tapping above you, steady and soft, like it’s giving you space on purpose. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, “I don’t like you because of the letter,” he says. “I liked you before I even knew you were writing them.”
Your breath catches again. “What?” You say, confused. “You think I didn’t notice you at the pc bang?” He says, “I did. I just didn’t know what to do with it.” That makes your chest tighten differently.
“You were always there,” he adds. “Always pretending you weren’t looking and always choosing the seat a little too close to mine.” Your face heats instantly. “That wasn’t intentional-” A faint smile appears on his face. “It was a little intentional.” You groan quietly, looking away for a second, and he lets you.
“But I didn’t act on it. I didn’t even understand it properly back then.” His voice drops slightly. “Reading the letter didn’t create anything,” he says. “It just… explained something I already felt but couldn’t name.” You look back at him, slowly. “So what you’re saying is,” you start carefully, “you liked me… before all of this?” He nods once. “Yeah, I think I did.” No hesitation.
That does something to you, because it means this isn’t built on a misunderstanding or a sudden rediscovery.
It’s older than that. You swallow. “That’s kind of unfair.” That gets a small breath of a laugh from him. “How?” You hesitate, then admit, barely above a whisper, “Because I lost my mind over you for years.” His expression softens immediately. “…I know,” he says gently.
That should embarrass you, but It doesn’t. Instead, it makes the space between you feel less terrifying.
He steps a little closer, not enough to overwhelm, just enough that the rain feels like it slows down, “And I’m not guessing anymore,” he says. “About you…Because I like you.” This time, it doesn’t feel like it’s just him stating something…it feels like he’s offering it to you properly.
Your throat tightens as you exhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. “…Okay,” you say, looking up at him again, fully now. “And it’s not just because of the letters…” You add, more firmly this time, like you’re trying to believe your own question got answered.
He shakes his head once. “No,” he says again, “It’s because it’s you.” You stand there for a second longer, rain soft around you, umbrella tilted slightly between both of you like it’s holding the moment in place.
Then your mouth quirks slightly, despite everything. You say it quietly at first, like you’re testing whether the words will actually hold their shape in the air. “I like you too, Heeseung.”
He doesn’t react dramatically, just goes still. But then his gaze softens in a way you’re not used to, “…Yeah?” he asks, almost gently. You nod once, because if you try to say it again, you might lose your courage entirely. “Yeah.” A small breath leaves him, like he’s been holding something in for longer than he meant to.
“So…” you start, then immediately realize you have no idea where that sentence was going. Heeseung watches you, a faint hint of amusement returning. “So,” he repeats. You exhale a small, embarrassed laugh. “This is really awkward.” That gets a quiet laugh out of him, too. “A little.” You glance up at him. “A little?” laughing, “Okay,” he corrects, still smiling. “A lot.”
There’s a pause again, not uncomfortable this time, just new. Like neither of you is rushing to fill it because something important just shifted, and you’re both adjusting to it.
Then Heeseung speaks again, a little more carefully now, “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “Yeah.” He looks at you for a second, then says it simply, “Are you okay with this… being real?” Your brain takes a second to catch up, and when it does, you realize what he means.
Not just feelings or words, all of it.
You take a breath, then nod again, slower this time, “Yeah.” You chuckle, “I think I’ve been waiting for it to be real without realizing it.” He smiles, “Me too,” he says.
Silence, comfortable silence.
“Do you want to go to a pc bang?” Heeseung blinks once, like he’s not sure he heard you right, then his mouth curves slightly. “The pc bang?” he repeats. You immediately second-guess yourself. “I mean…only if that’s not weird. It just felt like the most normal thing I could think of right now.” That makes him laugh under his breath, “No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s not weird.”
Then, softer, almost nostalgic, he says, “It’s kind of perfect.” You glance up at him. “Yeah?” He looks at you, nodding, “That’s where it started,” he says. “For both of us.” Your chest tightens a little at that. “So yeah,” he adds, adjusting the umbrella again as if it’s settled now. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” you smile, and then, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, he starts walking again beside you.
As the city moves around you and the rain keeps falling, it feels a little like stepping back into a place you left behind, except this time, you’re not alone in it.
It doesn’t feel like a beginning anymore…it feels like a return.
Neither of you talks much on the way there, not because there’s nothing to say, but because something is comforting about the silence now, different from the one you used to imagine alone in your room years ago, wondering about a boy you never spoke to properly.
This silence is shared.
When the pc bang sign finally comes into view, your steps slow without you meaning to. For a second, it feels like nothing changed at all. Like you could still be eighteen, standing outside and pretending you’re only here for the games.
Heeseung notices your pause. “You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod, even though your chest feels full in a way you can’t quite name. “Yeah,” you say. “It just… looks the same.” He hums, like he understands, “It does,” he agrees. “But we don’t.”
That makes something settle inside you as you step inside together. The sound hits first…clicking keyboards, distant cheers, the low mumbles of people. The familiar chaos that once felt like a world you had only visited.
And there it is, the far corner.
Heeseung is already looking at you, not just like a memory, but like he’s been expecting you to show up in his life properly this time. “We used to sit over there,” he says, nodding slightly toward a row of computers. You smile faintly. “A few seats away, yeah.”
Heeseung glances at you, “Close enough.” You scoff softly, “I thought I was subtle.” He laughs, “You weren’t.” That makes you laugh, and something in the room feels lighter because of it.
You walk forward together, and when you pass the old row of seats, you don’t stop where you used to sit, but you keep going. All the way to the end, where there are new seats now.
…For something new.
You sit down. He sits next to you. The screens flicker on in front of you both.
The same sound fills the atmosphere, but this time, it doesn’t feel like you’re watching him from a distance. It feels like you’re beside him in it, because you are…
Heeseung leans slightly closer, just enough that his voice reaches you, “Same game?” he asks. You glance at him, smiling a little, “Yeah,” you say. “Same game.” Your fingers hover over the keyboard, and for a moment, everything is exactly how it started…
Screens glowing, soft noises around you, the boy beside you who once felt like a secret.
voting for "to all the boys i've loved before" finale.
The time has come, it's been a good 10 months since I started this series (I took a break after the first chapter was posted for like 5 months). I really hope everyone who read these letters enjoyed them.
For the voting, I will be leaving it up for a few days so you can have time to reread and decide which member's letter you liked the most, and or want a continuation/ending of. As you may see while rereading (if you do so), the first 2 letters are quite short compared to the others. This is because they were supposed to be written while y/n was a younger age and maturity. As you continue through the letters, they get longer or are around the same length. Despite this, I really want you to base your opinion and vote on who you feel like should have the finale. Thank you so much for all the support on the letters, now to voting...
Which member do you want to have the finale?
jungwon: neighborhood mystery
jake: mr smarty pants
heeseung: gamer guy
ni-ki: number 1 dancer
sunoo: baker boy
sunghoon: ice cold cutie
jay: feedback freak
Voting ended onMay 11
Thank you so much for everything! I'm hoping to have the finale done and posted sometime before the end of the month, but I'll keep you updated.
voting for "to all the boys i've loved before" finale.
The time has come, it's been a good 10 months since I started this series (I took a break after the first chapter was posted for like 5 months). I really hope everyone who read these letters enjoyed them.
For the voting, I will be leaving it up for a few days so you can have time to reread and decide which member's letter you liked the most, and or want a continuation/ending of. As you may see while rereading (if you do so), the first 2 letters are quite short compared to the others. This is because they were supposed to be written while y/n was a younger age and maturity. As you continue through the letters, they get longer or are around the same length. Despite this, I really want you to base your opinion and vote on who you feel like should have the finale. Thank you so much for all the support on the letters, now to voting...
Which member do you want to have the finale?
jungwon: neighborhood mystery
jake: mr smarty pants
heeseung: gamer guy
ni-ki: number 1 dancer
sunoo: baker boy
sunghoon: ice cold cutie
jay: feedback freak
Voting ended onMay 11
Thank you so much for everything! I'm hoping to have the finale done and posted sometime before the end of the month, but I'll keep you updated.
❥ summary: you wrote a letter to each of the 7 boys you've ever loved. The last letter you wrote was to your annoying lead at work, park jongseong.
❥ featuring: park jongseong
❥ warnings: ?
❥ taglist: just drop a comment and ask to be added <3
❥ a/n: hey!! last letter, kinda sad. althought we still have voting and the finale, writing the letters was a lot of fun, and it's been like 10 months total. :( anyhow, voting will be posted in two days (the 8th), for a few days as well, so you have time to reread and decide which letter you liked most, or you want a continuation of. i'm super excited to write the finale, although it means the end of this series. however, remember the voting/poll I did last month for the school teacher fic? well, I'm planning on starting to draft that soon, so hopefully more stories/fics will be out soon! tysm, enjoy!
❥ wc: 867
Dear Jay Sunbaenim,
I met you the same way most bad decisions start, in my first week of an internship.
It was right after college graduation, when everything was supposed to feel exciting and full of possibility, but mostly just felt like me pretending I knew what I was doing. The production company was bigger, louder, and faster than anything I’d ever experienced. I was already overwhelmed before I even opened my laptop on day one.
And then there was you…Park Jongseong.
Two years older, somehow already running the place as if he owned it. Not officially, but it didn’t really matter, people listened to you anyway. You were the team lead for my project group, which I learned very quickly meant you were also the reason I suddenly hated feedback.
You weren’t outright mean. That would’ve been easier. You were worse. You were particular. “Redo this.” “That doesn’t match the brief.” “You can do better than that.” You said it all so calmly, like you weren’t actively ruining my confidence one comment at a time.
I remember thinking on my third day that I had been personally targeted by the universe. Because why did you always look so composed while I was one step away from crying over font spacing? And worst of all, you were always right, and I hated that.
But I also couldn’t ignore it.
Because every time I redid something, it was better. Every time you pushed me to fix something I thought was fine, it ended up actually being good. You didn’t praise much, but when you did, when you gave a short “yeah, this works” or a nod that barely counted as approval, it felt weirdly… important.
Like I’d earned something instead of just being tolerated. Still, I didn’t like you. At least, that’s what I told myself. It was easier to believe you were just annoying. Easier than admitting you were actually paying attention to my work in a way no one else bothered to.
Then came the late nights.
Deadlines, revisions, and everyone slowly disappearing from the office until it was just a handful of us left. I thought you’d leave too. You always looked like the type who would.
But you didn’t…You stayed. And you didn’t suddenly become nice about it either.
“You missed the tone again.” “Try it like this.”
You’d lean over my desk, point things out on my screen, and sometimes take the mouse like it belonged to you instead. You were still annoying. Still blunt. Still way too confident in everything you said. But it was different when there weren’t other people watching.
Less sharp. More… patient.
I noticed you started explaining things instead of just correcting them. Like you were actually trying to make me understand instead of just fixing my mistakes. And I started noticing other things too.
The way you always took your coffee black, even though it clearly tasted awful. The way you tapped your pen against your notebook when you were thinking. And the way you’d pause before giving feedback, like you were choosing your words carefully, even if it didn’t sound like it.
You weren’t careless. You just didn’t waste time pretending things were softer than they were. Somewhere along the way, I stopped dreading your comments. Not because you got nicer, but because I started getting better. And because, annoyingly, your approval started meaning something to me.
There was one night that shifted everything. We were both stuck fixing a draft way past midnight. Everyone else had already gone home. The office lights were half off, the city outside glowing through the windows.
I remember messing up again, something small, something I would’ve been scolded for earlier in the job. I sighed, ready for it. But you didn’t say anything right away.
You just looked at the screen, then at me. “You’re improving,” you said. Like it was just a fact. Not praise. Not encouragement, just observation.
But it hit harder than anything else you’d ever said. Because it meant you’d been noticing all along. Not just the mistakes, but me.
After that, things didn’t really change on the surface. You were still the same annoying work lead. Still correcting, still pushing, still making me redo things until they were right. But I started staying a little longer when I didn’t have to. Started asking questions I already kind of knew the answer to. Started looking forward to your feedback in a way that made absolutely no sense.
And I think you noticed that too.
Because you started waiting a little before ending conversations. Started checking my work even when you didn’t need to, saying my name more like you were actually talking to me, not just the intern you were stuck with.
I didn’t know when it stopped being just work for me, or when I stopped being annoyed first and something else second.
But it did, slowly.
The same way all the best distractions start, without you realizing you’re already paying too much attention.
So, in the kindest way possible, you were one of my biggest struggles after college, but I think I slowly began to like you, Jay.
❥ summary: you wrote a letter to each of the 7 boys you've ever loved. The sixth letter you wrote was for the cutie at the ice rink, park sunghoon
❥ featuring: park sunghoon
❥ warnings: ?
❥ taglist: just drop a comment and ask to be added <3
❥ a/n: hii. here's another letter (the longest one so far, I believe). i really hope you all are enjoying this series. I'm planning to release the last member's (jay) letter sometime next week, and then i will post a poll on which member should have the "finale". let me know if you have any ideas or tips on ending the series for me, tysm and enjoy!
❥ wc: 903
Dear Sunghoon,
I didn’t meet you the way most people meet someone they fall for. There wasn’t a conversation that started it. No introduction. Not even a proper first interaction, really. It was more like… noticing you in pieces.
Junior year of college had already blurred into a routine of lectures, group chats, and whatever random plans my friends convinced me to join on weekends. That day, it was the ice rink. I only went because I didn’t want to be the only one staying in my room again. I wasn’t expecting anything. Especially not you.
At first, I didn’t even realize you were part of the rink. I thought you were just another skater practicing during public hours, someone talented enough to make everything look unreal. You moved differently from everyone else. Not faster, not louder, just cleaner. Like the ice wasn’t something you struggled against, but something you belonged on.
I asked my friend who you were without thinking much of it. “Sunghoon,” one of them said. “He works here. Also trains. He’s kind of… always like that.”
“Like what?” I asked. She shrugged. “Cold. Pretty Intimidating.”
Cold.
That word stuck with me more than it should have. Because I started noticing you more after that. Not in a dramatic way. Not like you suddenly appeared in my life. You were just… always there, in the background of the rink. When I went with my friends, when I sat on the benches pretending I wasn’t watching people fall, when I went to get water or warm up outside. You were never at the center of anything happening around you.
And still, I always saw you first. You didn’t talk much. Not to customers, not to coworkers, not to anyone lingering too long near the glass. You gave instructions when you had to, nodded when someone asked you something, and then you were gone again, back to the ice, back to whatever world you lived in that didn’t seem to include anyone else.
It should’ve made you forgettable, but it did the opposite. Because the less you said, the more I started paying attention. The way you paused for half a second before a jump, like you were deciding something no one else could hear. Or the way your expression didn’t change even when you nailed something difficult, like perfection was just expected from you.
And then there were the small, almost accidental moments. Once, I tripped near the rink entrance. Nothing dramatic, just a stupid loss of balance on my skates. I caught myself before falling completely, but when I looked up, you were already there. Not rushing or panicking. Just close enough to make sure I didn’t fall again. At least that's what I assumed.
You raised your eyebrows. Not in concern, or questioning, but almost in disbelief. Then you turned away. That should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t. Because after that, I started noticing when you looked at things other than the ice. Rare moments. Like when someone laughed too loudly near the rink, or when your eyes briefly flicked toward the bench where I was sitting.
It was never long enough to mean anything. But I started waiting for it anyway. That’s the part I don’t really admit out loud. I didn’t know you, not really. I didn’t know what you liked, what you thought about, what you were like when you weren’t being “Sunghoon from the rink.” But I started building something out of what I did know.
A glance. A pause. A voice I only heard when you had to say something. And somehow, that became enough to matter to me. The worst part is, I don’t even think you were doing anything on purpose…You were just existing in your world. And I happened to keep crossing into it.
I started timing my visits without realizing it. Not to see the rink, not to skate better, not even to hang out with my friends. Just to catch those small moments where you were there.
Sometimes I’d see you talking to someone and feel weirdly out of place, like I was looking at something I wasn’t supposed to interrupt. Other times, I’d catch you alone for a second and wonder what it would be like if you actually spoke to me first.
But you never did. And I never tried. Because it didn’t feel like that kind of situation. It felt quieter… Like something that only existed to me. Me noticing you, and you never noticing me back.
So I didn’t say anything. I just kept going back to the rink.
Kept watching you in fragments, skates carving into the ice, hands adjusting your balance like everything about you was controlled, even when no one was looking. And eventually, I started writing it down because…who could I talk to about the “ice cold cutie” from the ice rink?
I didn't write about it because I thought anything could happen. But because I knew I’d forget how it felt if I didn’t. How it felt to watch someone you don’t really know become someone you can’t stop noticing.
Even if, to you, I was the weird girl who kept coming but didn't skate. You probably thought I was odd…if you noticed me at all.
Thank you, Sunghoon, for being the person I looked forward to seeing every weekend at the ice rink.
❥ summary: you wrote a letter to each of the 7 boys you've ever loved. The fifth letter you wrote was for the local bakery's worker, kim sunoo.
❥ featuring: kim sunoo
❥ warnings: ?
❥ taglist: just drop a comment and ask to be added <3
❥ a/n: hey again!! i’m actually astonished that I am getting this one out after only 2 days since the last one, instead of 2 months!! insane, I know. hope you enjoy, I feel like once I came back from my 6 months of writer's block, these have been longer than usual, hopefully you all enjoy that. only two more letters after this one!! have a good day guys <3
❥ wc: 837 (another longer one)
Dear Sunoo,
I didn’t mean to start going to the bakery that often. At first, it was just convenience. It was halfway between my dorm and my morning lecture, and during the middle of freshman year, when everything still felt so unfamiliar.
Same walk. Same door. The same bell that chimed when I stepped inside. And eventually… the same person behind the counter. You. The first time, I barely looked up. I was too busy digging through my bag for my card, mumbling my order, which I had practiced for years. But I remember your voice, bright, warm, like you actually meant it when you said, “Good morning.” I didn’t think much of it. You were just being nice. That’s your job, right? But then I came back the next day. And the day after that. And somehow, without meaning to, it became a daily habit.
I started noticing things. Like how you always tied your apron the same way, slightly crooked, no matter how many times you fixed it. Or how you’d hum quietly when it wasn’t busy, like you forgot somebody else could hear you. You had this way of talking to customers, it was natural, like you could make anyone feel comfortable in less than a minute. It made the place feel… less lonely, and college was lonelier than I thought it would be. So I kept coming back.
At some point, you started recognizing me. It wasn’t anything big. Just little things, like how you’d start ringing up my order before I even finished saying it, or the way you’d smile a little wider and go, “The usual?” like it was an inside joke between us.
I remember the first time you added something extra to my bag. “It’s on the house,” you said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “We made too many.” But there were only a few left in the display that day. I didn’t call you out on it. I just said thank you and tried not to think too hard about why my chest felt warm the entire walk to class.
After that, it wasn’t just about convenience anymore. It was you. I started timing my mornings so I’d show up when you were working. If I got there and you weren’t behind the counter, I’d feel… off. Like something in my routine was missing. And when you were there, you always noticed.
“You’re later than usual today,” you said once, sliding my drink across the counter. I blinked at you. “You keep track?” You just shrugged, smiling like it was obvious. “I notice things.” Yeah.
I bet you noticed all the bad moments too, like when I looked tired, when I was stressed, or when I didn’t feel like talking. But you never pushed, just adjusted, quieter conversations, sometimes just a soft, “Good luck today,” like you knew I needed it.
And I think that’s when it started changing for me. Not all at once. Just slowly, in the way I began to look forward to seeing you more than anything else in my day. In the way a five-minute conversation at the counter could shift my entire mood.
In the way, I started staying a little longer than I needed to, just to keep talking to you.
I found out you were a year older than me by accident. You mentioned a class, something about being tired from finals last semester, and I realized you’d already been through everything I was struggling with. It made sense, there was just something so steady about you. Like you’d already figured things out, well, at least a little more than I had. And I liked that. I liked you.
But I didn’t say anything. Because what was I supposed to say? That the boy who handed me coffee every morning had somehow become the best part of my day? That I’d started looking for you in every small moment, even outside the bakery? It sounded so stupid when I tried to put it into words.
So instead, I wrote it, all of it.
The way you’d say my order before I would. The extra pastries you had said were “leftovers.” Or the way you made a place that was never meant to mean anything… feel like somewhere I belonged. I don’t know when exactly it happened. When you went from being part of my routine…to the reason I never wanted to break it.
However, as the days passed, you started working less. I started overthinking. What if I was too much? Too consistent, too excited, too…creepy? But then the day I was going to finally work up the courage to ask for your phone number, you quit. I never saw you at the bakery again after that.
So, I had to start a new routine, one without you in it. I know it may sound strange considering I was just one of your customers back then, but I miss that routine. I miss you, Sunoo.
❥ summary: you wrote a letter to each of the 7 boys you've ever loved. The fourth letter you wrote was for your underclassmen, dance president, nishimura riki
❥ featuring: nishimura riki
❥ warnings: ?
❥ taglist: just drop a comment and ask to be added <3
❥ a/n: hey guys, another month, another letter. this one is actually pretty long (for a letter). I kept adding details until I couldn't think of more. I plan to get the next letter out this week as well, since I have more time on my hands right now. anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a great week!
❥ wc: 822 (I just kept going)
Dear Riki Kun,
I know I’m not Japanese, but it just felt respectful, I guess. Anyway, in my senior year, I didn’t sign up for dance because I was passionate about it. Everyone kept talking about “last chances” last memories, last dances, last everything. I think I just didn’t want to graduate feeling like I missed something. So I joined on a whim, fully expecting to regret it the second I stepped into that room. But that’s when I met you. Well, noticed you. Everyone already knew who you were, of course. Nishimura Riki, the dance class’s president. I had even heard your name before I walked into that room. You had this reputation, strict, not mean, but just strict. You were insanely talented, kind of intimidating. And when I first saw you standing at the front of the mirrors, arms crossed, watching everyone warm up like you were silently judging us… Yeah, I believed all of it.
You were younger than me, which made it even worse. I remember thinking, "Why is a junior bossing around seniors like this?” And then you called me out. I was half a beat behind. Okay, maybe a full beat. But you stopped the music just to point it out. You didn’t even say it harshly, just blunt. Direct. “Again. You’re late on the turn.” I probably rolled my eyes, and I definitely avoided you the rest of class. At that point, you were just another reason I thought I wouldn’t last a week. But I did. And somehow, you became the reason I stayed. Because the next time I messed up, and I did, a lot. You didn’t call me out in front of everyone again. You just walked over after practice and asked if I wanted extra help. Casual. Like it didn’t matter whether I said yes or no.
We stayed late that day. The rest of the class left. You broke everything down slowly, step by step, like you had all the patience in the world. You didn’t make me feel stupid when I got it wrong. You just kept going until I got it right. “Again,” you’d say, quieter that time. And when I finally landed it, you just gave a small nod and said, “Good.” That was it. But it stuck with me more than it should’ve.
After that, it kind of became a thing. I’d stay after, you’d stay too. sometimes because you had to, sometimes… I’m honestly not sure why. You started noticing things. When I improved, when I was tired, when I was about to give up, before I even tried it. You’d call me out on that too, but differently. Softer. Like you actually cared whether I got better. And I started noticing you more, too. The way you’d run your hand through your hair when you were thinking, the way your voice changed when you counted beats compared to when you were just talking normally, and the way you’d get so focused on the music that everything else disappeared. You weren’t just intimidating anymore. You were…nice, in a quiet way.
Somewhere between late practices, I realized something I really didn’t want to admit. I started looking forward to seeing you. Not just dance class, but you. And that scared me a little, because I knew how this worked. I was a senior, you were a junior, I was counting down the months until graduation, until I left this place behind. And you? You still had a whole year here. So I told myself it didn’t matter. It was just a small crush, something that would disappear once school ended. That I was being dramatic. But then there were moments, small ones, but they made it impossible to ignore. Thanks a lot, by the way.
Like the time I finally got through the entire routine without messing up, and you smiled. Not the small, hardly can see it one, but a real one. Or how, on days I didn’t show up, you’d casually ask the next class if anyone had seen me. Like it wasn’t a big deal. And it probably wasn't, dance president duties, right? But it felt like one to me. I think that’s when I knew for sure. The kind of crush you don’t notice until you’re in deep. And it happened at the worst possible time. Right when everything was ending. So I did what I always do when things get too real. I wrote it down, here.
Every late practice and every small moment meant more than it should've. And all the things I’d never actually say to you…How could I? I was about to leave. So here's a letter, telling you, dance pres, the number one dancer of…probably the century. I really liked you, Riki. And I know it might mean nothing now, but I had to finally get it off my chest.
hey guys, so I was thinking, after I finish up to all the boys- i would write a chapter fic about two teachers, enemies to lovers trope, and slow burn. BUT i was debating whether I should make the “main lead” be Jake or Heeseung. Please help me decide, I will try to come out with the synopsis of my idea for this story at a later time but i’ve just been thinking about writing it (after i finish my in progress work) anyway, thanks.
❥ summary: you wrote a letter to each of the 7 boys you've ever loved. the third letter you wrote was for your pc bang crush, lee heeseung.
❥ featuring: lee heeseung
❥ warnings: none?
❥ taglist: just drop a comment and ask to be added <3
❥ a/n: hey hey! I've been thinking a lot about getting more of these out and figured I should release one since it's been two months since the previous one. anyhow, I know heeseung is technically not a member anymore (still crashing out about this and don't know how to feel) BUT, I will still be writing for him as a soloist because I will support him no matter the outcome. however, because I started this as an OT7 "individual short story," I will be finishing it that way as well. this means, heeseung will be included. so, I hope you enjoy and remember, this is short (longer than the others so far), but it's meant to be brief, yet still show the details of "how the crush started". enjoy!!
❥ wc: 436
Dear Heeseung,
I don’t think you’d remember the first time we met. I mean, it wasn’t anything special, at least not to you. It was probably just another afternoon at the pc bang for you. You were sitting in the far corner like you always did, completely locked into your game. I only noticed you because you didn’t act like everyone else. Most people there were really loud, shouting, laughing, slamming keyboards when they lost. But you were usually quiet, focused. I remember standing there longer than I probably should have. I picked the computer a few seats away from you. Not next to you. I wasn’t that obvious, at least...I don't think I was. At first, it was just curiosity. I’d glance over between my games, pretending I wasn’t watching. And eventually, I just kept going back. I told myself it was because I liked the games. Because it was close to the house and it was cheap. But really, it was because of you. Because sometimes, if I was lucky, you’d be there again in that same spot, at the same time, every time. You never noticed me, or maybe you did, but I was just another high schooler wasting time after class. You probably had a life outside of that pc bang. A job, responsibilities. People who actually knew you. It’s strange, liking someone you never really spoke to. We only exchanged a few words. Once, when I accidentally unplugged your charger and apologized about five times more than necessary. You just smiled and said, “It’s fine." I think about that more than I should. I think I started liking you because you felt safe to like. You didn’t know me, so I couldn’t mess anything up. You couldn’t reject me, because there was nothing to reject. It was just me, building something out of small moments you probably don’t even remember. And I hope this doesn't come off as weird, considering you probably don't remember me. I only know your name because I asked the boy you would come with sometimes. But still, every time I walked into that place and saw you sitting there, I felt it all over again, that quiet, stupid hope that maybe that day you’d look up and see me the way I saw you. Pretty sure you never did, and that's okay because some crushes aren’t meant to go anywhere. Some just exist, doesn't mean it has to be anything, right? You were the "cute gamer guy from the pc bang," and maybe that’s all you were ever meant to be.
