pairing: Idol! Myung Jaehyun x reader (gender not specified)
genre: fluff, comfort
synopsis: sweet, clingy Jaehyun coming home after a long day at work
WC: 430, drabble
Requested? yes! Here!
an: Boynextdoor debut on the blog is finally here! it's a small drabble, but i hope you enjoy! More to come soon...
if there are any mistakes, please let me know! English is not my first language and I wrote this mid heatwave, so
You know the kind of mood your boyfriend is in the second you hear the door open late into the evening. It doesn’t take much guessing, considering Jaehyun had said he hoped to be home by dinner, texted you at six that he’d be late, and the door closed behind him at close to ten instead.
A soft thump of a bag and the shuffling of shoes later, he finally steps into the living room.
“Tough day?” You question, patting the space next to you on the couch that he wastes no time taking.
“Long, just.. Long.” He sighs softly, leaning his body against yours and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Every time I thought we were done we had to redo something or something came up. I love my job but at the same time, I just wanted to get home to spend time with you.”
When you slip your hand into his hair to play with the strands to help him settle down, he smiles against your neck and cuddles up closer like he’s trying to climb into your skin. He’s always affectionate, but today feels a little heavier. It tells you his day was probably a lot harder than he’s letting on, but you won’t push, not yet. You just let him pull himself back together like this.
“You’re home now.”
“And I’m never leaving again.”
“You have a shoot tomorrow morning.”
“I’m never leaving again.” He repeats, a teasing hint to his voice, as he pulls back from the embrace just enough to grin at you. “Just let me stay like this forever, they’ll survive without me.”
You playfully roll your eyes. “Don’t let Woonhak hear you say that.”
Jaehyun just chuckles before wrapping his arms around you again and leaning back, taking you down onto the couch with him. He giggles when you bite back a yelp, a delighted little sound that tells you he’ll be just fine.
“I love when you laugh like that.”
“Hm?
“I just do.”
You don’t tell him why, you don’t need to. Something tells you he knows either way.
When you finally slip into bed an hour later, he feels lighter, like he left his worries on the couch and won’t need to pick them back up in the morning like the shoes he left haphazardly at the front door.
He smiles sweetly when he slips in beside you and quickly pulls you into his arms once more, but it’s less heavy than before on the couch. This time, it’s gentle and loving, just like him.
genre: established relationship, h/comfort (very mild), fluff with angst, ldr (temporary though)
wc: 1k
warnings: temporary separation, yearning, taesan being annoyingly perceptive
a/n: @taestulipss i know you didn't ask me specifically and i might not have done the song justice, but i saw your post and the idea wouldn't leave me alone 😭 hope you enjoy this <3 inspired by maggots for brains.
The first day without Taesan is almost enjoyable.
You sleep diagonally across the bed because nobody is there to complain about your elbows. You order takeout from the place he hates and eat the soggy fries anyway out of spite. You even ignore his good morning text for half an hour, grinning when he sends another one that reads, Wow. Forgotten already.
See? You're perfectly capable of existing without him.
At least, that's what you tell yourself.
The second day is quieter than usual. Not because anything is wrong—the neighbors are still noisy, the buses still rattle down the street, the world keeps moving at exactly the same pace—but because you keep noticing all the spaces Taesan usually fills. You catch yourself reaching for your phone when you see a dog stubbornly refusing to walk in the rain. You make coffee and instinctively brew enough for two. Halfway through a movie, you pause it because you know Taesan would have something to say about the main character's awful decisions.
You sit there staring at the frozen screen. Then you groan and toss the remote aside.
"This is ridiculous."
You aren't one of those people who can't function without their boyfriend. You're independent. You have hobbies. Friends. A life outside of him.
So why does everything feel so unbearably ordinary?
The days blur together after that. You try writing, but every sentence comes out awkward. You scroll aimlessly through social media until your eyes hurt. You wander around your apartment looking for something to do, only to end up staring into your fridge like it holds the secrets of the universe.
It doesn't.
It just holds a bruised peach that's somehow become the physical manifestation of your mood.
You stare at it.
The peach stares back.
"You look terrible," you tell it.
The peach, rude as ever, offers no opinion on the fact that you haven't folded your laundry in three days.
You close the fridge.
A few seconds later, you open it again.
The peach is still ugly.
Nothing changes.
You lean against the counter and sigh.
It's embarrassing, really. Not the peach. The fact that you've spent almost a week feeling like someone quietly removed all the background music from your life.
You miss Taesan.
Not in the dramatic, tragic way movies like to portray. You're not crying into his sweaters or counting the days until he comes back.
You just—
Miss telling him things.
You miss hearing him laugh when you say something ridiculous. You miss how observant he is, how he notices things about you before you do. The other day you caught yourself tapping your fingers anxiously on the table and immediately thought of how Taesan would raise an eyebrow and ask what was wrong.
He always notices.
You once changed your shampoo and he figured it out before your own friends did. Another time, you insisted you weren't upset, and he spent five minutes listing every tiny difference in your behavior until you cracked.
You're still offended by that. Mostly because he was right.
Your phone buzzes.
TAESAN🖤: Just saw a dog that looked exactly like you.
You snort.
YOU: Insulting.
TAESAN🖤: Tiny. Judgemental. Refused to move.
YOU: I don't do that.
TAESAN🖤: Last month you stood outside a restaurant for ten minutes because you didn't like the font on the menu.
You stare at the screen.
He sends another message before you can reply.
TAESAN🖤: You miss me?
You almost drop your phone.
YOU: No.
Three dots appear instantly.
TAESAN:🖤 Liar.
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts. The audacity. The accuracy.
You spend a full minute trying to think of a comeback, only to realize you're smiling. Which is annoying.
Because that's the problem, isn't it?
The apartment hasn't changed. Your routine hasn't changed. Nothing is actually different.
Taesan didn't become the center of your world while you weren't looking. He didn't sweep in and transform your life into something unrecognizable.
He just slipped into the little things.
Into the habit of sending each other pictures of weird clouds.
Into grocery trips where you automatically grab his favorite drink.
Into late-night conversations that start with something stupid and somehow end with the two of you talking about your biggest fears.
He fit himself into your life so naturally that you never noticed how often you reached for him until he wasn't there.
And now every ordinary moment arrives with a tiny hitch.
A pause.
A thought.
Taesan would've laughed at this.
Taesan would've hated this song.
I should tell Taesan about—
The realization hits you while you're standing in your kitchen, staring at the offensive peach for the third time that day.
You don't miss him because you forgot how to be alone.
You miss him because being loved by him has quietly changed the shape of your solitude.
Before Taesan, an empty apartment was just an empty apartment.
Now it's a place full of echoes. Of conversations paused instead of finished. Of jokes waiting to be told. Of affection with nowhere to go.
Your phone rings.
Taesan.
You answer immediately and hate yourself for it.
"You picked up fast," he says, amusement obvious in his voice.
"I was near my phone."
"You sound defensive."
"I'm not."
"You sighed."
You glance at the ceiling. Somehow, impossibly, he can still read you from hundreds of kilometers away.
"You know," he says, gentler now, "you're allowed to miss me."
"I don't."
"You bought my favorite snacks yesterday."
You freeze. "How do you know that?"
"You sent me a picture of your groceries."
You did.
Damn him.
"I think," Taesan says, laughter tucked into his voice, "you've spent the last week trying really hard not to admit something completely normal."
You slide down the kitchen cabinets until you're sitting on the floor.
The peach remains ugly.
Your apartment remains quiet.
Your boyfriend remains unbearably perceptive.
And maybe he's right.
Maybe the ache in your chest isn't weakness.
Maybe it's just love. Not grand enough for poetry. Not tragic enough for songs.
Just ordinary love.
The kind that sneaks into your routines, settles into your days, and leaves behind a Taesan-shaped space whenever he's away.
You still think that's a little horrifying.
But when he says, softly, "I'll be home soon," you realize it's also the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to you.
fluff ; clingy boyfie taesan!!, not proofread… (writing at 3am again)
taesan, who doesn’t like separating from you before you need to crawl out of bed. he wraps his arms around you instinctively when you try to get up, having grown somehow stronger when the threat of you getting too far is made.
you both have early mornings and he knows that. but does he do anything about it?
nope.
instead, he makes a big show out of convincing you to stay home with him and ditch your jobs to be lazy.
“just…20 more minutes,” his face is pressed against your shoulder, muffling his voice that you know is whiny.
you sigh as this has been a reoccurring back-and-forth between the two of you recently. you’ve decided on an earlier shift so you have the nights with him but no matter the time you’re gone, it’s still time without you. “20??— taesan, i could be fired if i show up that late.” you barely have enough room to turn in his hold and finally face him.
“shh, i’ll drive you. that’ll save you tons of time” he smiles lopsidedly at the sight of your face, thinking his plan is foolproof. he starts looking at you with those stupidly cat-like eyes that he knows you’re weak to because he thinks he’s soo clever.
“in order to drive me you also need to be awake.”
…
“we can figure that out later, darling please?” he groans and buries his face back into your neck. taesan is fully willing to let you drop your job and become the main provider. all for 20 more minutes in the mornings.
it came as a surprise to you to find out how clingy he was at home. at least in the beginning of your relationship; in public, he’s a stoic gentleman that keeps a steady arm around your shoulder or your back as you peruse around. occasionally his pinky will reach for yours and eventually engulf your hand as he pulls you closer. but at home? it’s physically impossible to pry him off of you.
taesan is fully on top of you on the couch, watching videos with you as you scroll on social media. he’ll poke at you while you prepare a snack and even keep his chin on your shoulder while you get ready in the mornings.
but that’s exactly the problem. getting from point a, the bed where he’s keeping you trapped, to point b, the bathroom while you do your hair.
you try meeting in the middle, offering 10 minutes and extra kisses. he counters with 17 minutes and his hoodie for the day. you tell him 13 as you consider leaving your hair in a looser style. taesan ponders, resting his forehead on yours as he makes his final decision.
“15 minutes.. and i get you breakfast. but!! you have to eat it in the car. with me. together. before you leave.” he has that dumb smile on his face that you just can’t say no to and that’s when he knows he has you.
his playfulness lately has been affecting you harder each day and seeing him be an unashamed, sillier version of himself melts your heart in a way you can never deny.
and so taesan falls back asleep with a smug grin on his face, so so proud for getting you all to himself while knowing he’ll still ask for 5 more minutes once you turn your alarm off.
like what you see? check my masterlist for more!! feel free to join my taglist if you’d like to be notified!! ↳ @xionvlog , @ivehan , @hraethy
genre: established relationship, soft angst, comfort, fluff
wc: 2.7k
warnings: brief social embarrassment, overthinking, insecurity, fear of being "too much" (no one is ever too much!!!), lovesick Taesan, chronic yapper
a/n: to all my yappers out there, you are loved and appreciated!! @yoonlxlla thank you for proofreading, you're my star!!
You were a yapper.
A chronic yapper, according to your friends.
Not in an annoying way—at least that’s what everyone always insisted. You just loved talking. About stupid little things, about serious things, about things nobody else noticed. You could turn a five-minute story into forty-five if someone let you. Your thoughts moved too fast for your mouth to keep up, and sometimes words spilled out before you even realized you were speaking.
But people usually smiled through it.
They laughed when you got dramatic over tiny inconveniences. They listened when you rambled about a movie theory nobody asked for. They let you explain random facts you’d learned at two in the morning from some questionable internet rabbit hole.
And honestly?
You liked that about yourself.
You liked being passionate. You liked caring loudly.
So maybe that was why it hurt more than it should’ve when the newest addition to the friend group sighed softly halfway through your story and said,
“Can you maybe let other people talk too?”
The words weren’t even harsh.
Her tone was polite. Calm. Casual.
But it still felt like someone had poured cold water directly over your head.
The entire table went quiet for a split second.
Not long enough for anyone to acknowledge it.
Just long enough for everyone to hear it.
Then conversation resumed almost immediately, awkwardly stumbling forward as if nothing had happened.
You felt your smile strain at the corners.
“Oh,” you laughed quietly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
And just like that, you shut up.
You stopped talking mid-thought. Stopped adding onto conversations. Stopped interrupting yourself with excited little side tangents. Even when people directly asked you things afterward, your answers stayed short.
The worst part was how painfully aware you suddenly became of your own voice.
Every time you almost spoke, your chest tightened.
Were you talking too much again?
Were people secretly annoyed all the time?
Did they only tolerate you because they felt bad?
You hated how quickly your brain spiraled.
So instead of risking it, you stayed quiet, and apparently nobody noticed.
Well.
Nobody except him.
Later that evening, the apartment door opened and Taesan walked in.
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
Maybe it was because Taesan naturally carried himself like someone impossible not to notice. Tall frame wrapped in an oversized black hoodie, dark hair slightly messy from the wind outside, rings glinting against his fingers as he pushed the door shut behind him.
Or maybe it was because your stupid heart still reacted to him like it hadn’t learned better yet.
“Finally,” Leehan groaned. “You’re late.”
Taesan snorted. “I brought food. That cancels out the lateness.”
“It absolutely does not.”
“It literally does.”
Everyone started talking over each other immediately.
Taesan laughed under his breath while slipping off his shoes, and then his eyes found you almost instantly.
Always.
It didn’t matter how many people were in a room.
His attention somehow landed on you first every single time.
Your chest squeezed painfully.
You forced a smile before he made his way over, setting the takeout bags down on the table first before dropping onto the couch beside you.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi.”
He leaned down automatically to kiss your cheek.
Usually you’d immediately start talking after that.
You’d tell him something random before he could even settle properly. Maybe about the weird guy you saw earlier, or how Hana almost burned the garlic bread, or some ridiculous thing you read online.
Instead, you stayed quiet.
Taesan pulled back slowly. His brows furrowed almost instantly. There it is, you thought miserably.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He greeted everyone else casually, fell into the rhythm of the conversation for maybe five minutes, but you could feel him glancing at you every few seconds.
Studying you.
By the sixth glance, you couldn’t even focus on the conversation anymore.
Then he leaned closer.
“You’re quiet,” he said softly enough that only you could hear. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head immediately.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
You even smiled a little to make it convincing.
It didn’t work on him for even half a second.
Taesan stared at you for another moment before narrowing his eyes slightly.
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve said maybe six words since I got here.”
You shrugged.
“I’m just tired.”
That earned you an unimpressed look. Because Taesan knew you. Knew you in the terrifyingly specific ways that made lying almost impossible.
He knew your fake smiles from your real ones. Knew the difference between your annoyed silence and your hurt silence. Knew when your thoughts were moving too fast because your fingers twitched against your sleeves.
And right now?
He knew something had happened.
Still, he didn’t push.
Not there.
Not in front of everyone.
Instead, he rested his arm behind you on the couch and stayed quiet.
But you could feel it.
The way he kept looking at you.
The way his jaw tightened every time someone else spoke while you stayed silent.
The way he frowned slightly whenever you laughed too softly at something.
You hated that he could tell.
You hated that you cared this much.
The evening dragged on painfully after that.
Usually you were the loudest person in the room. Usually Taesan spent half his time teasing you for bouncing between topics too fast for anyone else to follow.
Tonight, you mostly just listened.
And somehow that felt worse.
At some point, Riwoo brought up conspiracy theories.
Normally that would’ve been dangerous territory for you because you loved talking about weird things. Taesan especially loved listening to you spiral through theories with dramatic hand gestures and completely unnecessary diagrams drawn on napkins.
Tonight, you stayed quiet, and Taesan noticed immediately.
His head turned toward you.
“You don’t have anything to say about this?” he asked.
You blinked.
“Hm?”
“The conspiracy thing.”
“Oh.” You looked down at your drink. “Not really.”
Now everyone was staring at you like you’d grown a second head.
“Not really?” Hana repeated. “You literally made a thirty-minute presentation once.”
“It was not thirty minutes.”
“It was forty-five.”
Normally you would’ve argued dramatically. Normally you would’ve laughed. Instead, you just shrugged again.
Taesan’s expression darkened slightly.
He looked genuinely concerned now.
And honestly?
That almost made you emotional.
Because nobody else seemed to realize how weird this was except him.
The conversation continued, but you could feel Taesan getting quieter beside you too.
Observing.
Thinking.
Then eventually he leaned down near your ear.
“Come outside with me for a second.”
Your stomach twisted.
You nodded quietly.
Nobody really questioned it when he stood up and held his hand out toward you. You slipped your hand into his automatically and let him guide you toward the apartment balcony.
The cool night air hit your face immediately.
Nights always felt strangely comforting to you. Cold enough to wake you up a little, soft enough to calm you down.
Taesan slid the balcony door shut behind him.
Then he turned toward you fully.
“What happened?”
You looked away instantly.
“Nothing happened.”
“Baby.”
That voice.
That soft, patient voice he only used when he knew you were lying but wanted to give you the chance to tell the truth anyway.
You swallowed.
“It’s stupid.”
“Then tell me the stupid thing.”
You rubbed at your sleeve nervously. Taesan waited quietly. Somehow that made it worse. Because he wasn’t rushing you. Wasn’t dismissing you. Wasn’t acting annoyed. He just looked at you like what you said mattered.
Always.
Finally you sighed.
“I think I talk too much.”
Taesan blinked once.
“What?”
You laughed awkwardly.
“There. See? That reaction alone proves it.”
“What are you talking about?”
You hesitated.
Then quietly explained what happened earlier. The more you talked, the more Taesan’s expression changed. Not annoyed. Not embarrassed. Just increasingly upset on your behalf.
“And I know she didn’t mean it badly,” you rushed to explain. “Like logically I know that. I probably was talking too much. I do that sometimes and I know it can be annoying and—”
“Hey.”
Your words stopped immediately.
Taesan stepped closer.
“You know what I noticed when I got here?”
You frowned slightly.
“What?”
“You weren’t talking.”
“Well obviously.”
“And that bothered me.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly.
Taesan shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before continuing.
“You know what this friend group sounded like before you joined?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“Dead.”
You snorted softly despite yourself.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Nobody talked this much. Nobody got excited this much. Half the hangouts used to be everyone staring at their phones.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s true.”
You rolled your eyes weakly.
Taesan leaned against the balcony railing.
“You talk a lot because you care a lot.”
Your throat felt weirdly tight now.
“You get excited over things. You tell stories like every detail matters. You make people laugh because your brain moves faster than your mouth.” His lips twitched slightly. “Sometimes significantly faster.”
You finally smiled a little.
“There she is,” he murmured immediately.
Your smile faltered from embarrassment.
“You don’t think I’m annoying?”
Taesan looked genuinely offended.
“Annoying? Baby, I voluntarily listen to you explain things I don’t even understand for hours.”
“That doesn’t count. You’re biased.”
“I’m absolutely biased. But I’m also right.”
You stared down at your shoes.
Taesan sighed softly before reaching over to tilt your chin up gently.
“I like listening to you.”
The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to.”
You looked at him carefully, and unfortunately for your emotional stability, he looked completely serious.
Taesan laughed quietly under his breath.
“You know what's my favorite thing?”
“What?”
“The way you start rambling when you’re excited and then halfway through you realize you forgot the original point.”
You groaned immediately.
“Oh my god.”
“And then you try to backtrack but somehow the story gets even longer.”
“Taesan.”
“And your hands start doing this—” He mimicked your overly animated gestures badly.
You smacked his arm instantly.
“That is not what I look like.”
“That’s exactly what you look like.”
“You’re evil.”
He grinned.
“There she is again.”
You hated how easily he could pull you out of your moods sometimes.
Taesan’s expression softened after a moment.
“Do you know how quiet you got in there?”
You looked away again.
“Yeah.”
“I hated it.”
That surprised you.
“You did?”
“Mhm.”
He reached for your hand absentmindedly, playing with your fingers while he spoke.
“When you’re quiet because you’re tired, it’s different. Tonight you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller.”
Your chest ached immediately. Because that was exactly what you’d been doing.
Taesan sighed softly.
“I don’t like when people make you feel like you need to shrink yourself.”
You blinked rapidly.
“It wasn’t even a big deal—”
“It hurt your feelings.”
The simple certainty in his voice almost undid you.
You laughed weakly instead.
“I sound dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.”
“Wow.”
“But you’re also sensitive.” He squeezed your hand gently. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
You stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling,
“I was trying really hard not to talk too much afterward.”
“I know.”
“I kept thinking about everything I said before speaking.”
“I know.”
“And then I got scared to talk at all because what if everyone secretly agrees with her?”
Taesan’s face softened painfully.
Then suddenly he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. The hug caught you off guard enough that you melted into him almost instantly.
“You know what I think?” he murmured against your hair.
“What?”
“I think if somebody genuinely didn’t like you talking, they wouldn’t keep inviting you everywhere.”
You hummed quietly.
“And I think,” he continued, “you’re way too loved for that.”
Your throat tightened embarrassingly fast.
Taesan pulled back slightly just to look at you.
“And personally? I could listen to you talk forever.”
“That’s insane.”
“It probably is.”
You laughed quietly into his hoodie.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The city lights glowed softly around you while distant traffic hummed below.
Then unfortunately your brain started functioning normally again.
“So anyway speaking of conspiracy theories—”
Taesan burst out laughing immediately.
“There she is.”
“No because listen,” you said, suddenly animated again. “Why do celebrities always wear sunglasses inside buildings? That’s suspicious behavior.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious. There has to be a reason.”
Taesan leaned against the railing again while you started talking properly for the first time all evening.
And because he loved you hopelessly, completely, disgustingly much—
He listened. Not the fake kind of listening either. Not the kind where someone nods while waiting for their turn to speak.
Taesan listened like every word mattered.
Like your thoughts were something precious.
You started pacing slightly as you spoke, hands moving dramatically while you explained your ridiculous theory about celebrities, government replacements, and weird airport behavior.
Halfway through, you got distracted by another thought entirely.
“Wait actually speaking of airports, did I ever tell you about the guy I saw eating tuna at like six in the morning?”
Taesan smiled immediately.
The topic switch.
Classic you.
“Yes,” he said fondly. “Three times.”
“Right, okay, but that’s because it was genuinely disturbing behavior.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“No because imagine waking up and deciding tuna is breakfast food.”
Taesan watched you continue talking. Watched the way your face lit up again. Watched your eyes brighten more with every sentence.
And maybe it was pathetic how much affection filled his chest from something as simple as this. But he couldn’t help it. He loved listening to you. Loved the way your thoughts wandered unpredictably. Loved how passionate you got over tiny things. Loved how conversations with you never stayed on one topic for longer than three minutes.
You made everything feel alive.
Even silence felt warmer around you.
You eventually stopped mid-sentence suddenly.
Taesan blinked.
“What?”
You squinted at him suspiciously.
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you stare at me like I’m a cute puppy.”
“I’ve never made that face in my life.”
“You’re literally making it right now.”
He laughed quietly.
“Maybe I just like you.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically.
“Cringe.”
“And yet you stay.”
“Unfortunately.”
Taesan pulled you closer by your hoodie strings.
“You know what else?”
“What?”
“You look happiest when you’re talking.”
That hit you strangely hard. Because nobody had ever said that before, and maybe it was silly. Maybe it was stupid how emotional something so small made you feel.
But Taesan noticed things.
Tiny things.
The kinds of things people usually overlooked.
You looked away shyly.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute.”
“Even more embarrassing.”
Taesan laughed softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
Then the balcony door suddenly slid open behind you. Riwoo peeked outside dramatically.
“Oh thank god,” he sighed. “She’s talking again. We were getting scared.”
You groaned instantly.
Taesan smirked.
“Told you.”
Riwoo pointed accusingly at you.
“Do you know how weird it was in there without you talking about something random every five minutes?”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s not fake,” Leehan called from inside. “Come back and tell us more conspiracy theories.”
You blinked in surprise.
Taesan watched your expression carefully.
That tiny moment of realization. Maybe they did like listening to you after all.
Riwoo grinned.
“Seriously. The silence was depressing.”
You laughed softly before looking at Taesan again, and the look on his face nearly melted you alive.
Fond.
That was the only word for it.
Like he was genuinely relieved to see you smiling again.
You nudged him lightly.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m adorable.”
“You are adorable.”
“Taesan.”
“You’re literally pouting.”
You immediately stopped pouting. Which only made him laugh harder.
Riwoo gagged loudly.
“You two are disgusting. Get back inside.”
Taesan snorted before intertwining his fingers with yours again. As he led you back inside, he leaned down slightly and murmured near your ear,
“By the way.”
“Hm?”
“If anyone tells you to stop talking again, I’m fighting them.”
You stared at him.
“That’s insane.”
“Mhm.”
“You can’t fight people for not wanting to hear me yap.”
“I can and I will.”
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
And that sound alone made Taesan think the entire world was worth it.
Summary: The quiet boy working the night shift at your neighborhood convenience store starts losing control of his strange powers every time you get too close to him and eventually, you begin to notice.
The first time you saw Riwoo, you thought he seemed way too calm to be working the night shift at a convenience store.
The place was small, usually empty, and only a few streets away from your house, so you ended up going there often for instant ramen, drinks, or random snacks whenever you were too lazy to cook.
And he was always there.
Stocking shelves.
Scanning products.
Or standing quietly behind the register with that sleepy, unreadable expression that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
The first time you actually talked was because you were carrying too many things in your arms.
A pack of ramen, cookies, a drink, and a bunch of snacks crushed against your chest while you struggled to pull out your wallet.
Riwoo watched you for a few seconds before silently sliding an empty basket toward you.
“I think you need this.”
You looked up, surprised.
“…Oh.”
He glanced away immediately.
“You’re gonna drop everything.”
A small laugh escaped you as you placed everything into the basket.
“Thanks.”
Riwoo only nodded.
But the second your fingers brushed while he handed you your change, the lights above you flickered once.
Both of you looked up at the same time.
“That’s kinda creepy…”
you murmured.
Riwoo reacted way too quickly.
“The wiring here is old.”
After saying it, he looked at you carefully, almost like he wanted to make sure you believed him.
You nodded slowly.
Even though something about it felt strange.
After that, you started coming more often.
And without realizing it, Riwoo started waiting for you too.
You always showed up late at night in comfortable clothes, walking straight to the ramen aisle like it was part of your routine by now.
“Ramen again,”
he commented one night while scanning your things.
“I’m too tired to cook.”
A small laugh left him.
And once again, the lights flickered softly above your heads.
Your eyes immediately lifted toward the ceiling.
Riwoo went completely still.
“…They really should fix that.”
“Yeah,”
he answered way too fast.
As time passed, you started noticing little things.
Very little things.
Whenever you leaned too close over the counter, the cans behind him would shake slightly.
Sometimes the automatic doors opened by themselves even when nobody was entering.
And one night, while you were trying to reach cookies from the top shelf, the package suddenly fell right into your hands on its own.
You blinked in surprise.
Riwoo nearly dropped the box he was holding.
“Thanks… I guess?”
you laughed softly.
He looked genuinely nervous.
“It was probably stacked badly.”
A lie.
His ears were completely red.
And you were slowly starting to realize something.
Every time you were around him…
things reacted strangely.
The funny part was that Riwoo seemed to notice it too.
Because he started acting even more awkward around you.
More attentive.
More nervous.
He gave you straws even when you didn’t need them, nervously reorganized products whenever you stood too close to him, and avoided looking directly into your eyes whenever you smiled at him.
And still…
he always looked happiest whenever you walked into the store.
The nights slowly started feeling different.
You stayed longer than necessary, leaning against the counter talking about random things while the store sat nearly empty.
You told him about your day.
Annoying things from work.
Stupid internet drama.
And Riwoo listened to all of it.
Every single time.
Even when he pretended to be stocking shelves or cleaning something while you talked.
Sometimes he stared at you so intensely the lights trembled softly above you.
And the more you noticed those things…
the harder they became to ignore.
One night, you were telling him a story while he stocked instant ramen behind the counter.
You laughed at something dumb, and suddenly a bottle fell from the shelf behind him and shattered against the floor.
The sound echoed through the entire store.
Riwoo closed his eyes for a second.
Like he was exhausted.
“Your store is definitely haunted,”
you joked.
He let out a nervous laugh.
“Maybe.”
But that time, he didn’t look at you.
And somehow, that was what finally made you suspicious for real.
Because Riwoo always seemed to carefully control every reaction around you.
Like he was holding something back.
Like he was scared of something.
And honestly…
that only made you want to get closer to him.
Until that night.
The store was completely empty while Riwoo stocked ramen cups behind the counter and you rested your arms against it, quietly watching him.
Weeks had passed since you started showing up there almost every night.
Weeks of noticing the lights reacting to him.
Objects moving slightly whenever he got nervous.
The cameras glitching whenever you stood too close.
And you didn’t want to keep pretending you hadn’t noticed anymore.
“Riwoo.”
He looked up.
“Hm?”
You stared at him for a few seconds before speaking.
“I really like you, you know?”
Silence.
Literal silence.
Riwoo stopped moving completely.
And then every light inside the store went out.
The hum of the refrigerators died instantly.
The automatic doors slid open by themselves.
And seconds later, several things started falling from the shelves.
Not violently.
Just… out of control.
Your heartbeat sped up.
Dim red emergency lights flickered on, covering the entire store in a strange crimson glow.
And there he was.
Riwoo stood frozen in front of the shelves, breathing unevenly while avoiding your eyes.
His hands were trembling.
A can fell behind him.
Then another.
“…I’m sorry.”
His voice came out quiet.
Broken.
“I really tried to control it.”
Something painful tightened in your chest.
Because instead of fear…
all you felt was sadness.
Riwoo finally looked at you.
And he looked terrified.
Not of his powers.
Of you.
Of you running away.
Of you seeing him differently now.
The lights flickered weakly again above you.
“All of this… is because of you?”
you asked softly.
It took him a few seconds to nod.
“It happens when I… when I get too emotional.”
A bottle near the counter vibrated slightly.
Riwoo immediately lowered his eyes again, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,”
he repeated.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
You watched him quietly for a few seconds.
Then slowly walked toward him.
Riwoo tensed instantly.
Like he was bracing himself for you to leave.
But you didn’t.
You stopped right in front of him.
And gently took one of his trembling hands into yours.
The second you touched him, the lights stopped flickering.
