My face scars are finally healing! My hand is also hurting less when I use it so I may soon get back to writing regularly again!
Sorry again to those waiting on a Runaway update. I appreciate the continued and new love as well 🥰🥰
———————
May 30th
Y’all, basically part of my face, my foot, my knee and dominate hand got hurt. It’s difficult to type right now so it will be a while before I have an update for Runaway. Turbulence might get delayed too. I know I don’t have to leave an explanation and I gotta put me first, but I also enjoy writing and leaving updates. So this is more to encourage myself really.
Thank you for your support, patience and understanding.
Genre: Angst/Ex-Lovers/Idol Life
Warnings: Minor 14+ language used at times
Words/Pictures: 1.5k+
Member of @eighteez-net
You leave everything and everyone you love to hide away for three years.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ...
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Authors Note: This is a fictitious LIVE chat scenario. In no way did this chat actually happen. I made it all up. I thought a chapter like this would be fun. Hope you all enjoy!
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The LIVE Chat
Hi!
Hi!
Hi oppa!
San oppa is live
Sannie!
Hi
You look so handsome oppa!
Hi
Hi!
Hmm.. Hello everyone.
Hi oppa
Oppa looks so cute
I love you San oppa!
Hi
I feel tired but you’re online now so I feel refreshed
I’m studying for my exams. Please send some encouragement T^T
Hi!
Hellooo San!
Hi
Hello
Oh, yeah a lot of you in high school have final exams soon. I wish you luck! Study hard and you’ll pass. Wait a minute, why are you watching this LIVE? Hmm… I guess taking a break now and again is good for your brain. But make sure you stay focused later! Don’t waste your future because of me.
Oppa is more important!
Hellooo!
I want to watch San oppa. I could watch you all day
Oppa you look so handsome
Oppa looks sleepy
How do you feel today?
Hi!
Hello
Is San oppa working on a comeback?
I love you oppa!
I’m doing pretty good. I just finished a schedule so I’ll have some free time for the next couple weeks. Perfect time to speak with atiny’s. How are you all doing?
I’m so happy oppa!
I’m happy because oppa is LIVE tonight!
San oppa was so sexy performing on the awards stage!
Oppa looks handsome tonight..
San is LIVE!
Where are the other members?
Hi!
Oppa, who do you like more? Wooyoung or Yeosang?
Haha, thank you. I rehearsed a lot for that stage. All of us did. Captain really wanted to leave a shocking impression on the audience, not just on atiny. So he asked me if I was comfortable with showing my abs. Wooyoungie too. He worked really hard to sculpt his body for this performance.
WooSan is the best!
I loved the performance.. So sexy..
Yeah, I was glad we didn’t run into any issues this time around. We’ve had performances where our mic’s turned off or there were some minor technical issues despite rehearsals going well. We were all really glad there were no problems this time around. We all just kinda had fun with it too. It was fun. I hope it was fun for atiny too.
It was the best performance of the night!
Ateez always rock the house!
Oppa is so handsome tonight
San oppa hi!
My bias is online
Ateez was robbed of the best album award!
I want to marry you oppa!
Hi
Atiny always have fun with your performances
No, don’t think that way. I think the artist that won the award was deserving of it.
It’s okay oppa! Atiny still love you guys
Ateez deserved to win
Helloooo
Oppa, if you were a flavor of cereal what flavor would you be?
I think all the artists nominated were incredible and all deserving, but there’s only one award… and y/n sunbaenim’s album was just really amazing. I actually took a listen to it and was very moved by her story. I hope atiny will take the chance to hear it as well. Many global fans might not know this, but y/n sunbaenim’s comeback hit big here. Her music continues to play everywhere you go. As much as I wished it was Ateez, she clearly earned that win.
I take ateez recs seriously. I shall listen to her album soon!
I wish ATEEZ won
I think the reason her music speaks to so many of us is because she’s very honest in her lyrics. It really sounds like she’s speaking with you directly. If you’ve gone through what she has… feelings of loneliness or sadness… I think you’ll really love her music. It was really nice to see LYRA sunbaenim reunite on the big stage as well. It was a shock to many of us to see their former member join them on stage. They were five again for one night. I’m sure they felt really happy. They’ve been in the industry for ten years now. I always hope we’ll stay as eight forever and have a ten year stage too. Twenty… Thirty… Forty.
Oppa!
Ateez will be grandpa’s dancing on stage
Sannie where’s everyone else?
San oppa looks so sexy tonight, my heart is stolen
Hahahaha yeah could you imagine? All of us with grey hair, still performing our songs for atiny. Although, we probably wouldn’t be dancing anymore. Some of us might not have hair anymore either. Hahaha, maybe Wooyoung would be bald. No no, I think if anyone, it would be Hongjoong Hyung. He stresses a lot as captain. It’s partly our fault… He makes it easier on the rest of us but we make sure to take care of him too. I think we’ll all still be well and hairy then.
Please don’t go bald
I’ll still love Oppa when he’s bald
I love you San!
Oppa looks a little sad today
San, please marry me
I look sad?
Don’t listen! Oppa looks handsome
San oppa don’t be sad!
Are you sad?
I’m just sleepy I think.
San is LIVE? I’m late!
You should get some sleep oppa..
Hi
Maybe I am a little sad, I guess.
Oh no, why is oppa sad?
Atiny love and support you!
Don’t feel sad Oppa!
Truthfully… I am a bit sad these days but not as much as I was initially. I… had a friend that I was very close with. We spoke often and hung out a lot but then one day he told me he didn’t want to be friends anymore. I knew he was going through a hard time… I tried to support him. I wanted him to reach out to me, lean on me, but he decided to stop talking to me. He blocked my number so I couldn’t reach out to him either. It hurt a lot. I think anyone who has experienced this knows how heartbreaking this can be. I was thinking maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe I said or did something wrong that made my friend only want to leave me. I learned he was still speaking to his other friends. I saw him hanging out with them. I was trying my best to be very understanding but there was still this pain of feeling abandoned, you know? Why was I left behind? Why was he still talking to everyone else, but not me? It made me feel like I lacked something. He couldn’t tell me what he was feeling… I think it was just easier for him to leave. To be honest, I understand him. I do… I’m not angry anymore. I was before, but not anymore. I wish he had stayed but I understand why he thought it was better to leave. When you’re in the state of mind he was in… maybe still is… you will believe whatever your mind tells you, right? I think he believed that I hated him… believed that he was weighing me down. But I never felt that way. I sometimes wonder if he’ll see my LIVE one day. If he does, I would want to tell him… hmm… I would want to say to him that… you were never a burden to me. Never. I really loved our friendship. I still think about you to this day. I thought I was fine with you out of my life, but when I happened to run into you recently, I was really happy… but also really sad. It made me realize I still wish we were… friends again. But you looked scared to see me. I think you were afraid I was still upset with you. I promise I’m not. I hope the next time I’m fortunate to run into you again, you’ll be able to look at me confidently. I hope we’re able to have a conversation like we used to… and it just feels like we haven’t caught up in a while. I would tell you… that I miss you. You were a great part of my life.
Oppa sounds so romantic
It sounds like you’re confessing your love to him
What’s wrong with confessing love to a friend? Hahaha I’m just kidding. I feel a little better getting this off my chest now. I don’t think he’ll see this… but it’s okay to hope, isn’t it?
I hope your friend sees this
I can be oppa’s friend!
You don’t need him
We support San oppa
May Oppa and his friend reunite one day
It’s okay, you have your members! They’re your best friends
That’s so sad… sometimes I miss my friend too. I hope oppa will be happy with his friend again. And your friend is healthier now
Yeah… sorry, I brought the mood down haha… Thank you for hearing me out but I think it’s best we move onto something more fun, don’t you all agree? Did you see that video of Yeosang and I? Someone caught Yeosangie gazing at me when I wasn’t paying attention. AH! I wish I noticed but I’m glad there’s proof out there that he loves me too–”
Not in a cute, shy way either. You treated praise like it was a dodgeball being hurled directly at your face.
“Your hair looks nice today.”
“Does it? I think it’s greasy.”
“That photo you took is amazing.”
“The lighting did all the work.”
“You did so well during filming.”
“I literally just stood there.”
It drove everyone in ATEEZ insane.
Especially because every compliment they gave you was true.
“You know,” San said one afternoon, staring at you with narrowed eyes from across the practice room floor, “if you reject one more compliment, I’m going to start charging you emotional damages.”
You looked up from your laptop. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Wooyoung argued immediately. “You wound us every day.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re allergic to self-esteem,” Yeosang muttered.
You pointed at him. “See? That’s rude.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” he said calmly. “That was an observation.”
The others burst into laughter.
You groaned, sinking farther into the couch.
It had started innocently enough. Tiny things the members noticed over months of working with you.
The way you stayed late to help staff clean up after schedules.
How you remembered everyone’s coffee orders without writing them down.
How you always carried pain patches in your bag because Jongho inevitably overworked himself.
How you edited behind-the-scenes photos at three in the morning just because you wanted the members to have nice memories saved somewhere.
You never thought much of it.
To you, those things were normal.
To ATEEZ, apparently, they were proof that you were secretly one of the best people alive.
Unfortunately, they’d decided it was time to make you acknowledge that fact.
Which was how you found yourself trapped in the practice room after rehearsal while eight men stared at you like they were preparing an intervention.
“This feels threatening,” you said slowly.
“It is,” Hongjoong confirmed.
Mingi dragged a chair dramatically across the floor and sat down backward on it. “Today’s agenda: fixing your inability to take compliments.”
“No thank you.”
“Request denied,” Yunho said brightly.
You looked toward the door.
San noticed immediately and lunged across the room to block it with his body.
“San!”
“You’re not escaping growth.”
“I don’t want growth!”
“That’s exactly what someone in need of growth would say.”
Wooyoung clapped enthusiastically. “He’s learning therapy language again.”
“TikTok psychology is dangerous,” Seonghwa sighed.
Hongjoong crossed his arms. “Okay. New rule. Every time you reject a compliment, we give you five more.”
Your face twisted in horror. “That’s evil.”
“Thank you,” he said proudly.
“It wasn’t—”
“Too late. That counts.”
The first attack came from Yunho.
“You make every schedule less stressful,” he said easily. “Even when everyone’s exhausted, you somehow keep the atmosphere comfortable.”
You immediately waved him off. “That’s because you guys are easy to be around.”
“Wrong answer,” Wooyoung declared.
“Penalty compliments!”
“No—”
Seonghwa leaned forward. “You’re one of the most thoughtful people I know.”
“Your smile makes people relax,” Jongho added quietly.
“You always notice when someone’s mood changes,” Yeosang said.
“You smell nice,” Mingi contributed.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“What?” he defended. “It’s true.”
Your entire face burned.
“This is horrible,” you muttered into your hands.
San grinned. “Aw, look. She’s blushing.”
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Wooyoung said immediately. “You literally packed extra snacks for us this morning because you knew we’d skip lunch.”
“That’s just basic preparation.”
Hongjoong pointed aggressively. “There! See? She did it again!”
“Penalty compliments!”
You actually made a distressed sound.
Jongho laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch.
Honestly, that was the worst part.
They were having fun.
An unreasonable amount of fun.
For the next week, it became their favorite game.
You walked into the dorm kitchen one morning wearing an oversized hoodie and immediately froze.
The members were sitting suspiciously quietly around the table.
“No,” you said instantly.
Wooyoung gasped. “We didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You have the faces.”
“What faces?”
“The evil ones.”
San snorted into his cereal.
You tried to back out of the room.
Too slow.
“There she is!” Yunho announced. “The prettiest person in the building.”
You covered your face instantly. “Stop.”
“She’s also talented,” Seonghwa added.
“And funny,” Mingi said.
“And emotionally supportive,” Jongho chimed in.
“And really cute when embarrassed,” Yeosang murmured.
You turned around so fast you nearly walked into the wall.
The room exploded into laughter.
“I’m being bullied,” you complained.
Hongjoong looked genuinely offended. “This is positive reinforcement.”
“This is psychological warfare.”
“Can’t it be both?” Wooyoung asked.
You stopped trusting silence after that.
Silence meant plotting.
Silence meant danger.
One particularly terrifying incident happened during a livestream.
You’d been helping staff off-camera, thinking you were safe because the members were focused on fans.
Then San glanced toward you.
You immediately narrowed your eyes.
He smiled.
That should’ve warned you.
“You know,” he said casually to the camera, “our staff works really hard for us.”
You slowly started backing away.
“And there’s one person especially,” Wooyoung continued smoothly, clearly catching on.
“No,” you whispered.
“She always takes care of us even when she’s tired,” Yunho added.
“She’s honestly one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” Seonghwa said.
You stared at them in absolute betrayal while thousands of viewers watched this unfold in real time.
Hongjoong actually pointed the camera toward you.
“There she is.”
You nearly dropped the stack of papers in your hands.
“Say hi!”
Your face burned so hot you thought you might actually combust.
“I hate you,” you mouthed silently.
The chat exploded.
SHE’S SO CUTE
LOOK HOW FLUSTERED SHE IS
ATEEZ EXPOSING THEIR STAFF AGAIN 😭
PROTECT HER
“See?” Mingi said proudly. “Even ATINY agrees.”
You vanished from the room immediately while their laughter followed you down the hallway.
Afterward, you refused to speak to them for nearly two hours.
Which only lasted until Jongho appeared beside you with your favorite drink and a quiet, “You know we mean it, right?”
That was the problem.
You did know.
You just… didn’t know what to do with it.
Compliments always felt too big inside your chest. Like clothes that didn’t fit right.
You never knew how to hold praise without immediately trying to hand it back.
Maybe because accepting it felt arrogant.
Maybe because part of you genuinely struggled to see what everyone else saw.
Or maybe you were just more comfortable being useful than being appreciated.
Unfortunately, ATEEZ noticed everything.
Including that.
It happened properly one night after practice.
Everyone was exhausted, sprawled around the studio floor with water bottles and sweat-damp hair.
You’d spent most of rehearsal helping reorganize files, fixing a speaker issue, and running around grabbing things people forgot.
Normal.
Unimportant.
At least to you.
You were packing your bag quietly when Hongjoong suddenly spoke.
“You know what your problem is?”
You looked up warily. “That question never ends well.”
“You think people only value you for what you do.”
The room went oddly quiet.
Your fingers stilled against your backpack zipper.
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is,” Yeosang said gently.
“You always brush off compliments about yourself,” Seonghwa added softly. “But if we praise something you did for us, you accept it easier.”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it again.
Because annoyingly enough, they were right.
Mingi sat cross-legged on the floor, expression unusually serious now. “You act like being loved has to be earned every second.”
Your throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Guys—”
“No, listen,” Yunho interrupted carefully. “We’re not complimenting you because you help us. We compliment you because you’re you.”
San nodded immediately. “The helping is extra.”
“You make rooms feel safer,” Jongho said quietly.
“You listen without making people feel judged,” Seonghwa added.
“You care about people in a way that’s rare,” Hongjoong said.
Wooyoung pointed dramatically at you. “And you’re important to us even when you’re doing absolutely nothing.”
Your eyes burned instantly.
Oh.
Oh, that was unfair.
“You can’t just say things like that,” you muttered weakly.
“Why not?” Yeosang asked.
“Because—”
You stopped.
Because what?
Because you didn’t believe it?
Because hearing it made something fragile crack open inside you?
The room stayed quiet.
Not teasing this time.
Just patient.
You stared down at your hands.
“I don’t know how to accept compliments,” you admitted finally, voice embarrassingly small.
“We know,” Wooyoung said gently.
“And I think…” You laughed shakily. “I think part of me assumes people are exaggerating.”
Hongjoong leaned back against the wall. “Do eight grown men seem coordinated enough to collectively lie to you this consistently?”
You snorted despite yourself.
“That’s fair.”
“We’re actually very bad at coordination,” Mingi informed you solemnly.
“Especially Wooyoung.”
“Excuse me?”
“You once set off the dorm fire alarm making ramen.”
“That happened one time!”
“Three times,” Jongho corrected.
Wooyoung gasped in betrayal while everyone laughed.
The tension loosened a little.
Then Seonghwa looked at you carefully.
“You don’t have to believe everything immediately,” he said softly. “But maybe stop arguing with us when we care about you.”
Your chest hurt in the warmest way possible.
You blinked rapidly. “You guys are really emotional for people who spend most of their time screaming.”
“We contain multitudes,” San said proudly.
“You cried because your bread tore weirdly last week,” Yeosang reminded him.
“That was a difficult morning.”
Another laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Yunho noticed immediately, smiling so brightly it almost hurt to look at.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“That look,” he said. “You look lighter.”
You rolled your eyes automatically, but the reaction lacked its usual force.
Wooyoung pointed excitedly. “Wait. WAIT. She didn’t reject the compliment!”
The room erupted.
“Oh my god.”
“Mark the calendar!”
“Historic moment!”
“She’s healing!”
You buried your face in your hands again, groaning while everyone cheered dramatically around you.
But this time…
You were laughing too.
And maybe—just maybe—a tiny part of you believed them.
I stood at my window, pulling the curtain just enough to peek outside. I’m not surprised it’s raining today. Though it’s only mist. Not like I had anywhere to be. Everyone was gone to visit their families for Chuseok. It’s not like it matters. It’s not like I have any friends to miss.
I let the curtain fall back into place and moved about my dark little room. I heard the sound of crinkling paper and the crunch of chips underneath my wool feet.
My brother would hate to see this.
“Maybe I should clean up.”
I let out a deep sigh before walking a couple steps over to my sink. I bent down to rummage through the cleaning supplies. I didn’t know what half this stuff was. Detergent, brushes, gloves, dish soap, sponges, toilet paper—just so much stuff. I only needed a bag.
“Maybe turn a light on.”
I don’t want to.
“Open up the curtains.”
I don’t want to.
“How do you expect to look around in this place? Do you plan to live in the dark your whole life—?”
Shut up!
My foot throbbed where I had kicked it.
So what if I do? So what? What’s it to you or anybody how I choose to live? I don’t care. Neither do you.
Don’t pretend any different.
“Screw it.”
I walked back towards my futon and laid down on my side. I heard a sound from my pocket and pulled out my phone. It was the class group chat. Messages of Chuseok. Pictures of everyone’s families. I ignored them all until I saw one that caught my eye.
“Happy Chuseok everyone! Oppa and I are dressed to a T!” - Mirae
Mirae. That was the girl who was always looking at me funny in class. She was always with that other girl. The quiet one who gave me a tour of the school. The one with the entourage who mistook me for a bully.
A bully…
At least they apologized.
I looked at the pictures, scrolling through the chat. She hadn’t posted anything. Not that she had to, but… I don’t know. I can’t help but wonder if she knew. If anyone else did too. If that was why. Was her Chuseok…?
Why do I care? She’s just some girl in my class.
But…
“Her? That’s y/n’s sister I think. I see them walking home together sometimes with that second year basketball hot shot. Why? Did you hear something?”
She just…
“Hyung…” I spoke out loud, “I met someone who reminds me of you. She’s quiet and seems timid. There are times she lets people speak over her.”
I was guilty of that too.
“It’s not my place but…”
I turned off my phone, looking at my reflection on the black screen. I spoke quietly, just for myself to hear.
Author's Note: This was Wooyoung's POV to lead us into another brief hiatus for the first part of this long series. Because the coming chapters are going to be longer, I will need some time to write them. So, I'm hoping the next scheduled update is Sunday, August 2nd the latest! I may post sooner if all goes well.
You didn’t even realize you were falling apart until Jongho stopped treating it like it was normal.
At first, you thought you were just “busy.”
That was the word you used when you replied to texts two hours late, when you showed up to things slightly more quiet than usual, when you started living on autopilot with a coffee in one hand and a half-finished to-do list in the other.
Busy sounded responsible. Busy sounded temporary.
But Jongho didn’t use that word.
He used: “You look like you’re about to drop.”
And the worst part was, he didn’t say it dramatically. He said it like a fact. Like he was commenting on the weather.
It happened in the practice room.
You’d shown up because you said you would. That was another thing about you—if you promised, you came through, even if your body was basically held together by caffeine and stubbornness.
You were sitting against the mirrored wall, laptop open on your knees, pretending you weren’t slowly losing the ability to focus on anything longer than ten seconds. Someone had music playing in the background. Someone was laughing. Someone was arguing about snack orders.
It all blurred together.
You told yourself you were fine.
You always told yourself that.
Then Jongho crouched in front of you.
Not suddenly. Not loudly. Just… there. Like he’d decided the conversation had officially shifted into something only he could deal with.
“Sleep?” he asked.
You blinked at him. “Huh?”
“When did you sleep last?”
You frowned slightly, already reaching for your usual answer. “I’m fine, I just—”
“Don’t.” His voice wasn’t harsh. That was the problem. It was calm enough that it cut through you cleanly. “Answer the question.”
You hesitated.
“…Last night.”
His eyebrows lifted a fraction.
You tried to soften it immediately. “Okay, not really last night. Like—three hours? I think? I had work and then I—”
“You had three hours of sleep,” he repeated.
You shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”
That was when he stood up.
Not in anger. Not in frustration.
In decision.
“Come on,” he said.
You blinked again. “Where?”
He glanced down at you like the answer should be obvious. “Home.”
“I can’t, I still have—”
“Your laptop is about to fall off your legs,” he pointed out.
You looked down. It was, in fact, slowly sliding.
You fixed it instinctively. “It’s fine.”
Jongho exhaled through his nose like he was physically restraining himself from arguing with your entire personality.
Then he reached down, closed your laptop with one hand, and picked it up like it weighed nothing.
“You’re done,” he said simply.
That’s when you finally looked at him properly.
He wasn’t joking.
“Jongho,” you started, already gearing up for your usual defense system. “I really can’t just—”
“You can,” he interrupted. “You are.”
There was a beat of silence.
Someone across the room called something out—something about grabbing drinks later—but it didn’t reach you properly. Not with Jongho standing there like a wall you couldn’t talk your way around.
“I’m not asking,” he added.
That was the moment you realized he’d already decided.
And worse—
He was right.
You didn’t remember agreeing to leave.
You just remembered suddenly being outside.
The air hit your face colder than expected, and for a second you felt like your body didn’t know what to do without constant motion. Like stopping was the unfamiliar part.
Jongho walked beside you without rushing you.
That was another thing about him. He never dragged. He didn’t need to. He just… stayed close enough that you couldn’t pretend you were alone in your decisions.
“You’re annoying,” you muttered.
“Good,” he replied.
You shot him a look. “That’s not—”
“If you were actually fine,” he said calmly, “you wouldn’t have agreed to leave.”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
He continued, “You’re running on caffeine and stress. That’s not sustainable.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“And?”
You hesitated again.
“…And I was fine.”
Jongho stopped walking.
You stopped too, a step late.
He looked at you for a long second. Not judging. Not angry.
Just seeing too much.
“You’re not fine right now,” he said.
That landed heavier than anything else he’d said.
Because he wasn’t guessing.
He was right.
You expected him to take you straight home.
Instead, he detoured.
“Where are we going?” you asked as he turned down a quieter street.
“You’re getting food,” he said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re getting food anyway.”
You frowned. “That’s not how hunger works.”
He glanced at you briefly. “Your body disagrees.”
You hated that he was correct.
The café he brought you to was small—one of those quiet places that didn’t try too hard. Warm lighting. Wooden tables. The smell of bread and something sweet baking.
You sat down because sitting down felt easier than arguing further.
Jongho ordered for both of you without asking what you wanted.
You noticed.
You also didn’t stop him.
A few minutes later, a plate of warm food and a drink were placed in front of you. Something simple. Something comforting. Something that didn’t require effort to eat.
You stared at it.
“You didn’t even ask me,” you said.
“You would’ve said no,” he replied.
You opened your mouth.
Closed it again.
“…Rude,” you muttered.
He sat across from you. “Eat.”
“I said I’m not hungry.”
He raised an eyebrow.
You stared at him.
He stared back.
It was ridiculous how quickly you lost that battle.
You picked up the fork.
Took a bite.
And immediately realized you were, in fact, starving.
You didn’t say anything for a while after that.
Neither did he.
That was Jongho’s way of being present. He didn’t fill silence just to avoid it. He let it exist until it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.
Halfway through your meal, your shoulders started to drop without you noticing.
It scared you a little.
Because you hadn’t realized how tense you’d been.
“You’re always like this?” he asked suddenly.
You blinked up. “Like what?”
“Running until you collapse.”
You scoffed lightly. “I don’t collapse.”
He looked at you flatly.
You sighed. “Okay. I don’t usually collapse.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
You leaned back in your chair. “I get things done. That’s just how I work.”
Jongho tilted his head slightly. “At what cost?”
You didn’t answer immediately.
Because you didn’t have a clean answer.
Eventually you said, “It’s temporary.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Then: “So is burnout.”
That silenced you.
After food, you expected to go home.
Again, you were wrong.
“Where now?” you asked, watching him stand.
“Somewhere you can actually rest,” he said.
You narrowed your eyes. “Define ‘rest.’”
He looked at you for a second.
“…No work,” he said.
“That’s not a place.”
“It is today.”
You groaned quietly but followed him anyway.
Because at this point, resisting him felt like trying to argue with gravity.
He took you somewhere unexpected.
A small park.
Not crowded. Not loud. Just trees and benches and the soft rhythm of life continuing without demanding anything from you.
You stood there for a moment, confused.
“This is your idea of a self-care intervention?” you asked.
“It’s a start,” he said.
You sat down on the bench before he could tell you to.
He sat beside you.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
It was… strange.
Your brain kept reaching for something to do. Something to fix. Something to plan.
But there was nothing to grab onto.
And Jongho didn’t offer anything.
Just presence.
Eventually, your shoulders slumped further.
You exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t realize I was this tired,” you admitted quietly.
Jongho didn’t look surprised.
“That’s the problem,” he said.
You glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“You notice it last.”
That sat between you.
Not like a criticism.
Like observation.
You leaned back slightly, looking up at the sky through branches.
“I don’t really have time to notice,” you said.
“That’s not true.”
You frowned. “It is.”
He shook his head slightly. “You make it true.”
That made you quiet again.
Because it wasn’t accusing.
It was accurate.
At some point, your phone buzzed.
You ignored it.
It buzzed again.
You checked it instinctively, then froze when you saw the notifications stacking up—messages, reminders, questions, things you’d been supposed to answer hours ago.
Your stomach tightened immediately.
Jongho noticed.
Of course he did.
“Don’t,” he said before you even spoke.
“I need to reply,” you said automatically.
“No.”
You looked at him. “That’s not how responsibilities work.”
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “You are not on call.”
“I might be needed.”
“They will survive without you for a day.”
You hesitated.
That was the hardest part to believe.
Not that they would survive.
But that you were allowed not to be available.
You stared at your phone.
Then slowly turned it face down.
Jongho nodded once, like that was the correct answer.
The next hour blurred.
Not in a bad way.
In a quiet way.
You ended up leaning slightly against the bench without realizing it. Your body finally stopped fighting gravity so aggressively.
At some point, Jongho handed you water.
At another, he quietly took your phone again and put it in his pocket when you reached for it out of habit.
You didn’t argue this time.
That scared you a little too.
Eventually you said, “You’re very bossy today.”
He hummed. “You’re very tired every day.”
You huffed a laugh despite yourself.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
You glanced at him. “Do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Force people to take care of themselves.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“No,” he said. “Just people who pretend they don’t need it.”
That landed differently.
Not heavy.
Just true in a way that didn’t let you look away from it.
When the sun started to shift lower, Jongho stood.
“Come on,” he said.
You groaned softly. “More walking?”
“Home,” he clarified.
You looked at him suspiciously. “For real this time?”
“Yes.”
You stood slowly.
Your body felt… different.
Not fixed.
But less sharp around the edges.
Like something had been softened.
Back at your place, you expected him to leave immediately.
He didn’t.
He stood in your kitchen while you awkwardly hovered, unsure what the rules were now.
“You should shower,” he said.
“I know how showers work,” you replied.
He nodded. “Good. Use one.”
You squinted at him. “Are you staying until I do everything?”
“Yes.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It’s accountability.”
You sighed and pointed at him. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re exhausted,” he replied again.
That stopped you mid-retort.
Because it wasn’t new information anymore.
It was just… something you were finally hearing.
After your shower, you came back out expecting him to be gone.
He wasn’t.
He was sitting on your couch, scrolling his phone quietly.
He looked up when you entered.
“Better,” he said simply.
You pulled your blanket around yourself and dropped onto the couch with a tired sound.
“I feel like I got kidnapped by a very calm person,” you muttered.
He nodded. “Effective.”
You snorted softly.
Then silence again.
But this time, it wasn’t empty.
It was safe.
At some point, your head tilted against the couch.
Your eyes felt heavy in a way that didn’t fight you anymore.
Before you drifted off, you heard Jongho say quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself more than you:
A harmless, slightly annoying, fully predictable Wooyoung kind of joke.
You’re sitting on the couch in the ATEEZ dorm living room, legs tucked under you, half-watching some random variety show while scrolling your phone. The others are scattered around in their own states of chaos—someone is arguing about snacks, someone else is laughing too loudly at something that isn’t even that funny, and you are very deliberately trying to stay out of it.
You are not performing today.
You are not entertaining anyone.
You are simply existing.
Or at least, that’s the plan.
Wooyoung, however, has other ideas.
He appears beside you like a jump scare—leaning over the back of the couch, face upside down in your line of sight.
“Hi,” he says.
You glance up. “Hi.”
Long pause.
Then, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he nods seriously and says, “Entertain me.”
You blink. “No.”
He straightens instantly, offended. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no,” you repeat, returning to your phone. “I’m not a TV.”
“You kind of are,” he argues, plopping down beside you. “You have main character energy.”
“I’m literally just sitting.”
“That’s what main characters do before something happens.”
You don’t look up. “Nothing is happening.”
Wooyoung gasps like you’ve insulted his entire bloodline.
And that should’ve been the end of it.
It isn’t.
At first, it’s small things.
He pokes your arm randomly during meals just to see if you’ll react.
He tries to make you laugh during serious conversations with increasingly stupid faces.
He starts narrating your actions like you’re in a documentary.
“And here we observe the rare creature in its natural habitat… refusing to entertain me.”
You sigh. “I’m eating rice.”
“Fascinating behavior.”
You throw a piece of kimchi at him. He catches it with a grin like he’s won something.
The others don’t help. If anything, they enable him.
“Just humor him,” someone says once, as if that’s a normal request.
“He’s bored,” another adds.
“I’m always bored,” Wooyoung announces proudly. “She’s my solution.”
You look around the room.
No one is saving you.
You are, apparently, on your own.
By the second week, it escalates.
You’re brushing your teeth when he bursts into the bathroom.
“Nope,” you say immediately, toothpaste foam in your mouth. “Absolutely not.”
“I have a question,” he says.
“Leave.”
“If you were a potato—”
“Leave.”
“—what kind of potato would you be?”
You stare at him in the mirror.
He stares back, completely serious.
You rinse your mouth slowly, deliberately, then turn.
“I would be a potato that lives far away from you.”
He clutches his chest. “That’s so rude.”
“You entered my bathroom.”
He pauses. “Fair.”
Then he leaves like nothing happened.
You lock the door anyway.
It becomes a pattern.
Everywhere you go, he appears like a persistent pop-up ad.
Kitchen? He’s there, asking you to rate his “vibe.”
Practice room? He interrupts stretching to ask if you think he could survive a zombie apocalypse based purely on “aura.”
Hallway? He blocks your path just to see how long you’ll stand there before speaking.
“You’re testing my patience,” you tell him once.
He looks thrilled. “And?”
“And I’m losing.”
“That’s character development.”
You stop walking. “For who?”
“For you.”
You stare at him.
He smiles like he’s done something meaningful.
You walk around him.
The exhaustion creeps in quietly.
Not dramatic. Not explosive.
Just… constant.
Like background noise you can’t turn off.
You start avoiding certain routes in the dorm.
You take longer in the bathroom.
You wear headphones even when nothing is playing.
But Wooyoung adapts.
Of course he does.
He starts tapping your shoulder instead of calling your name.
He leaves sticky notes on your door.
“Entertain me :)”
“Urgent entertainment required”
“Emergency: boredom levels critical”
You crumple the last one and shove it in his hand the moment you see him.
He looks proud of it.
That’s the worst part.
One evening, you finally snap.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just tired.
You’re sitting on the floor of the practice room, watching someone rehearse, when Wooyoung flops down next to you and immediately leans into your space.
“Okay,” he says. “I need—”
“No,” you interrupt.
He blinks. “You don’t even know what I need.”
“Yes I do.”
“What?”
You turn your head slowly.
“Entertainment.”
He grins. “Exactly.”
“I’m not doing it.”
Silence.
It’s the first time he doesn’t immediately respond.
He tilts his head. “Why?”
That single word lands heavier than it should.
You hesitate.
Because how do you explain that you’re tired of being a role?
Not a person.
Not a friend.
Just a source of stimulation.
You exhale. “Because I don’t want to be responsible for your boredom.”
He frowns slightly. “It’s not responsibility. It’s just fun.”
“It’s not fun for me.”
That stops him.
Properly.
For once, there’s no joke waiting behind his eyes.
Just confusion.
“…Oh.”
You look away.
The rehearsal continues in the background like nothing changed.
But something has.
The next few days are quieter.
Too quiet, almost.
Wooyoung still talks to you, still sits near you, still exists in your orbit—but the constant demands stop.
No “entertain me.”
No sudden interruptions.
No dramatic invasions of personal space.
At first, you think it’s peace.
Then it starts to feel like absence.
Weirdly sharp absence.
You catch yourself glancing toward him out of habit.
He doesn’t lean in.
He doesn’t poke you.
He just… exists beside you like a normal person.
And somehow, that feels more unsettling than the chaos.
On the fourth day, you find him alone in the kitchen.
He’s staring into a mug like it personally offended him.
You hesitate in the doorway.
He notices you immediately.
“Hey,” he says.
Not playful.
Not loud.
Just… normal.
You step in. “Hey.”
A pause.
Then he asks, “Am I annoying?”
You blink. “What?”
He shrugs once, too casual. “You said you don’t want to be responsible for my boredom. I was thinking… maybe I’ve been annoying you.”
You don’t answer immediately.
Because the honest answer isn’t simple.
So you go with truth instead of softness.
“Yes.”
He nods like he expected it.
That should make you feel better.
It doesn’t.
He leans back against the counter. “I didn’t mean to treat you like… a job.”
You cross your arms. “It started to feel like one.”
He winces slightly at that, but doesn’t argue.
“I just…” he starts, then stops.
Looks at his mug again.
Then back at you.
“You react,” he says finally. “To everything. Even when you try not to. It’s fun. Easy. I don’t have to think too hard.”
You understand that.
And that’s exactly the problem.
“You like the reactions,” you say.
He nods.
“But not me,” you add quietly.
That hits differently.
He shakes his head immediately. “No. That’s not it.”
You raise an eyebrow.
He rushes to fix it. “I mean— I do like you. As you. I just… got used to you being the person who always responds. It wasn’t supposed to feel like—” he gestures vaguely, searching for words “—like you’re performing for me.”
You let that sit.
Because intent doesn’t erase impact.
He studies your face carefully.
Then, softer, “Were you actually exhausted? Or just annoyed?”
You hesitate again.
“Both,” you admit.
He exhales like that answers something important.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Simple.
No theatrics.
No grin.
Just that.
And somehow, it lands harder than all his jokes combined.
Things don’t go back to how they were.
Not immediately.
He doesn’t revert to constant chaos mode.
Instead, he starts… asking.
Not demanding.
Not inserting himself.
Asking.
“Can I sit here?”
“Do you want company?”
“Is this okay?”
At first, it feels strange.
Like he’s learning a new language.
You don’t always know how to respond.
Sometimes you say yes.
Sometimes no.
And for the first time, both answers are respected.
Still, he slips up.
Of course he does.
One night, you’re in the dorm living room again, half-dozing on the couch, when he drops onto the floor beside you dramatically.
“I am bored,” he announces.
You open one eye. “No.”
He pauses.
Then laughs once. “Old habits.”
You sit up slightly. “Wooyoung.”
He looks up.
You point at him lazily. “Ask properly.”
He stares.
Then, slowly, “Can you… hang out with me?”
You consider it.
Then shrug. “Depends. Are you going to treat me like a circus again?”
He looks offended. “No.”
A pause.
Then, quieter, “I miss talking to you normally.”
That surprises you more than it should.
You sit up fully now.
“Then talk normally,” you say.
He smiles a little. Smaller this time.
“Okay.”
And he does.
For once, no games.
No performances.
Just conversation.
Messy, slightly chaotic, but not directed at you like a spotlight.
Just shared.
It takes time, but something shifts.
Not the friendship.
That was always there.
But the way it exists.
He still jokes.
Still teases.
Still occasionally forgets himself and tries to turn you into entertainment.
But now, when you say “no,” he hears it.
And more importantly, he doesn’t take it as a challenge.
One afternoon, weeks later, you’re both sitting on the floor of the practice room after everyone else has left.
You’re leaning against the mirror.
He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Quiet.
Comfortable.
He turns his head slightly. “Hey.”
You hum.
He hesitates.
Then says, “You’re still entertaining.”
You snort. “I thought we agreed to retire that concept.”
“We did,” he says quickly. “Not like that. I mean… just. You’re funny without trying. But not like… performative funny. Just… you.”
You glance at him.
He shrugs, suddenly awkward. “That sounded better in my head.”
“It didn’t,” you say.
He laughs. “Yeah, I know.”
A pause.
Then you add, “You’re less exhausting now.”
He groans. “That’s the nicest insult I’ve ever received.”
“It’s not an insult.”
“It feels like one.”
You tilt your head back against the mirror. “It’s not my job to keep you entertained.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
Then: “Yeah. I get that now.”
Silence settles again.
Not uncomfortable this time.
Just real.
He stretches an arm out toward you, not touching, just there.
“If I get bored again,” he says lightly, “I’ll just suffer like a normal person.”
The first sign that something was going wrong should’ve been the way Mingi was smiling.
Not his usual soft, slightly chaotic grin that made fans laugh along even when he wasn’t trying. No—this one had edges. Sharp, excited, a little too aware of the chat scrolling by on the livestream screen.
You noticed it immediately from the couch behind him, curled up with your knees tucked under a blanket you had no business needing in the middle of his dorm living room.
“You’re doing great,” you mouthed at him quietly, holding up a thumbs-up.
Mingi nodded enthusiastically… then leaned a little too far toward the mic.
That should’ve been your second warning.
“Okay, okay,” he said into the camera, voice bright. “Before we continue, I have something important to tell everyone.”
You frowned.
He wasn’t supposed to have anything important. This was just a casual livestream—him talking nonsense, reading comments, occasionally getting roasted by fans. You were just there because he’d begged you to keep him company.
The chat exploded immediately.
WHAT?? IMPORTANT??
MINGI DID YOU BREAK SOMETHING
IS THIS A COMEBACK SPOILER???
You slowly sat up.
“Mingi,” you whispered. “What are you doing?”
He ignored you completely.
“So,” he continued, clasping his hands dramatically, “you all think I’m the embarrassing one in my friend group, right?”
A pause.
A grin.
“That’s not true. Because I have a friend who—”
Your stomach dropped.
“No,” you said immediately, sharper this time.
He looked over his shoulder at you.
And smiled like a traitor.
“—once tried to microwave metal because she thought it would ‘warm up faster if it was shiny.’”
Silence.
Then chaos.
The chat detonated.
NO WAY
MINGI EXPOSED HER 😭
MICROWAVE METAL??
I NEED CONTEXT
IS THIS REAL
You had already launched yourself off the couch.
“Mingi!” you hissed. “Shut up!”
He was laughing now, full-on wheezing, completely unbothered.
“It gets worse!” he said, pointing at you like he was narrating a documentary. “She also—”
You tackled him.
Well. You tried to.
He caught you mid-fall with one arm, still laughing, microphone squealing as it picked up both your voices.
“Stop!” you groaned, half mortified, half furious. “Turn it off!”
“I can’t!” he said through laughter. “It’s live!”
That was the moment you realized your life was over.
The clip went viral within an hour.
Of course it did.
By the time you got home that night, your phone had already become unusable. Messages, screenshots, edits of the clip, fans joking about “microwave girl” like it was your official identity now.
You lay face-first on your bed.
“This is how I die,” you muttered into your pillow. “Socially.”
Your phone buzzed again.
Mingi.
You ignored it.
It buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, you picked up.
“What,” you said flatly.
There was a pause on the other end.
“…I’m sorry.”
You sat up slightly.
Mingi’s voice was softer than usual. No teasing. No laughter.
“I didn’t think it would blow up like that,” he admitted. “I thought it was just funny. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You literally broadcast my worst moment to millions of people.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. I messed up.”
Silence stretched between you.
Then, quieter:
“I feel really bad.”
You exhaled slowly, rubbing your face.
“I hate you a little right now,” you admitted.
“I deserve that.”
Another pause.
“…Can I fix it?”
You hesitated.
“That depends,” you said. “Can you erase the internet?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
He groaned.
The next day, he showed up at your door.
You opened it in pajamas, hair a mess, still emotionally recovering.
Mingi stood there holding a paper bag and looking unusually serious.
Inside the bag: snacks. Too many snacks.
“I brought offerings,” he said.
You stared at him.
“I’m not bribing you,” he added quickly. “It’s… apology fuel.”
You sighed and stepped aside.
“Come in before someone recognizes you.”
He entered quietly, unusually subdued.
For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. He sat on the floor beside your coffee table, carefully placing snacks in a neat row like that would somehow fix what he did.
Finally, you broke the silence.
“You know I’m never living that down, right?”
He winced.
“I know.”
“My cousin texted me.”
He froze. “Oh no.”
“She asked if I’m really ‘microwave girl.’”
He buried his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned again. “I didn’t think before I spoke. I was trying to be funny and it just—” He gestured vaguely. “Exploded.”
You watched him for a moment.
He looked genuinely miserable. Not performative, not exaggerated. Just… guilty.
That softened something in your chest despite yourself.
“You’re kind of an idiot,” you said.
“I know.”
A beat.
“…A loud idiot,” you added.
He peeked at you through his fingers. “Still mad?”
You considered it.
“Yes,” you said. “But less murderous now.”
He sighed in relief. “Progress.”
The apology tour began after that.
Not in a dramatic way—just Mingi, trying.
Day two: he brought you coffee exactly the way you liked it without asking.
Day three: he tried to “counter-embarrass himself” by telling his fans a story about him falling off a stage prop during rehearsal. It worked… slightly.
Day four: he showed up with a list.
You squinted at it. “What is that?”
“My redemption plan,” he said proudly.
“Why is it color-coded?”
“Because I’m serious about this.”
You read the first line.
Step 1: Public apology stream
“No.”
He crossed it out immediately.
“Okay.”
Step 2: Make up a new embarrassing story about myself
You looked at him.
He looked back, hopeful.
“That doesn’t help me,” you said.
“…It helps me.”
You sighed.
“Keep going.”
By the fifth day, something had shifted.
The incident was still everywhere—clips, jokes, edits—but the sting of it had dulled. Partly because the internet moved fast. Mostly because Mingi refused to let it sit without balance.
He talked about you constantly, but never in a way that gave away too much. Always redirecting attention onto himself, always making himself the punchline instead.
He even went on another livestream and, unprompted, said:
“By the way, I once tried to cook pasta without water.”
The chat had never recovered.
And yet, he still showed up at your place afterward, tired but hopeful.
“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you told him one evening, as you both sat on the floor eating takeout.
He shrugged.
“I want to.”
“Why?”
He paused, then leaned his head back against the couch.
“Because I hate the idea that I made you feel small,” he said simply.
That made you quiet.
Mingi glanced at you sideways.
“You’re not small,” he added quickly. “You’re just… unfortunately now associated with microwaves.”
Despite yourself, you snorted.
“Thanks.”
He smiled a little.
A softer one this time.
A week later, you were back on his couch again, scrolling through your phone while he practiced something on his laptop.
“Hey,” he said suddenly.
You hummed.
“I have a question.”
“Dangerous.”
He ignored that.
“Are we okay?”
You looked at him.
He looked… nervous. In a way you didn’t often see.
Like he was afraid the answer might actually matter more than he wanted it to.
You thought about it.
About the embarrassment. The internet. The messages.
About the fact that he had spent an entire week trying—clumsily, persistently—to make it right.
Then you sighed.
“We’re okay,” you said. “But if you ever expose me like that again, I’m leaking your childhood photos.”
His eyes widened.
“Fair.”
A pause.
Then he grinned.
“…Do you actually have them?”
You smiled slowly.
“Oh, Mingi.”
That was enough answer.
He groaned.
And for the first time since the livestream, the laugh that followed didn’t feel like damage control.
Honestly, it had started as a throwaway comment—something casual, something light, something meant to exist and die within the same five seconds.
“You know,” you’d said, leaning back on the studio couch while ATEEZ waited for their next schedule segment to be set up, “I could probably beat San in, like, anything if I actually tried.”
It wasn’t even aimed at him directly. It was more general, conversational, a joke tossed into the air like confetti.
Unfortunately, San heard it.
And worse—he processed it.
There was a pause. A shift in energy so subtle you almost missed it. Then San slowly turned his head toward you, eyes narrowing like he was recalculating every life decision that led to this moment.
“…What did you say?”
You blinked. “It was a joke.”
San straightened immediately. “No, repeat it. Exactly.”
You hesitated. “I said I could probably beat you in anything if I tried?”
The room went quiet in that very specific way it only does when someone in the group senses entertainment is about to be replaced by chaos.
Hongjoong looked up from his phone. Seonghwa sighed like he already knew where this was going. Wooyoung visibly lit up like someone had just pressed a “start drama” button.
San, meanwhile, pointed at you.
“You’re on.”
“…I’m sorry?”
“You challenged me,” he said seriously. “I accept.”
“That wasn’t a challenge, that was—”
“A declaration of war,” Wooyoung supplied immediately.
“It absolutely was not,” you said.
San stood up.
That was your first mistake—assuming this would stay contained.
Because the moment he stood up, he transformed. Not physically. Not dramatically. But in intent. Like something in him had locked onto a mission objective labeled prove superiority immediately.
“I choose the competition format,” San said.
“I didn’t agree to—”
“Too late.”
Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. “San, we have schedules.”
“This is schedule,” San said firmly.
Seonghwa muttered, “We’re doomed.”
The first “competition” was announced that evening.
You were sitting in the dorm kitchen, eating cereal, when San walked in holding a whiteboard.
A whiteboard.
He placed it on the table with the seriousness of someone entering a courtroom.
“I have prepared categories,” he said.
You stared at him. “You… made a spreadsheet?”
“It’s not a spreadsheet, it’s a fairness system.”
“It’s laminated.”
“Yes.”
You looked around slowly, hoping someone would intervene.
No one did.
Wooyoung was already sitting on the counter like a gremlin watching television. Mingi had popcorn. Yeosang looked mildly concerned but also curious. Jongho looked like he was deciding whether to stop this or let it become educational.
San tapped the board.
“Category one: reaction time.”
You blinked. “Reaction time to what?”
He smiled. “That’s the test.”
You were not prepared for the “test” to involve Wooyoung throwing a slipper across the room without warning.
You also were not prepared for San to immediately shout “NOW!” like this was the Olympics.
You yelped, flinched dramatically, and ducked.
San caught it mid-air.
Silence.
He slowly turned toward you, expression unreadable.
“…One point,” he said.
“That’s not how reaction time works,” you protested.
“It is now.”
Wooyoung applauded like a sports commentator. “San leads 1–0!”
“I didn’t agree to scoring!”
“You agreed when you made the challenge,” San said.
“I DIDN’T MAKE A CHALLENGE!”
He ignored you.
That was the second mistake.
The next morning, you woke up to a knock on your door.
It was San.
He was holding flashcards.
You stared at him from the doorway. “It’s 7 AM.”
“Perfect cognitive peak,” he said.
“I’m not doing math at 7 AM.”
“This is part of the competition.”
“There is no competition.”
San held up a card.
“What is 37 times 14?”
You squinted. “Why would I—”
“GO.”
You sighed and did it in your head. “518.”
San paused.
Checked his card.
Looked back at you.
“…Correct.”
He wrote something down.
“You’re keeping score in your head,” you realized.
“Yes.”
“That’s unhealthy.”
“It’s strategic.”
It escalated quickly after that.
Too quickly.
By day three, the dorm had been rearranged into what San called “neutral testing grounds,” which mostly meant he had cleared space in the living room and dragged in random objects like a man preparing for gladiatorial combat.
“This is ridiculous,” you said, standing barefoot on the carpet.
San was stretching.
“Flexibility matters.”
“For what?”
“Victory.”
Wooyoung was officiating again. “First to touch the ceiling wins!”
“There is no ceiling challenge,” you said.
“There is now,” San said calmly.
You looked up at the ceiling.
Then at him.
“…You’re insane.”
“Focused,” he corrected.
The challenge: jump and touch the ceiling.
San went first.
Of course he did.
He jumped effortlessly, fingertips grazing the surface.
He landed cleanly like it was nothing.
You stared.
“That’s illegal,” you said.
“It’s physical conditioning,” Jongho said from the side, sipping water like a disappointed coach.
“Why are you supporting this?”
“I’m not. I’m observing failure trajectories.”
You ignored him.
Your turn.
You jumped.
You did not touch the ceiling.
You did, however, land awkwardly and nearly fall into the couch.
San nodded once.
“One point.”
“I hate you.”
“You’re competitive,” he said.
“I am not—”
“You started it.”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
Because technically, in the most annoying possible way, he wasn’t wrong.
You started noticing it wasn’t just competitions anymore.
It was everything.
San would time how fast you answered questions.
He’d challenge you to drink water faster.
He’d race you to the elevator.
He once tried to “evaluate your spatial awareness” by tossing random objects and watching your reflexes.
Hongjoong eventually stepped in.
“This has gone too far,” he said.
San nodded seriously. “Agreed. We need standardized rules.”
“That is not what I meant.”
But by then it was too late.
Because San had committed.
Fully.
Deeply.
Obnoxiously.
The cooking competition was where things truly broke.
You had insisted on making dinner to prove a point.
San immediately countered with, “I will also cook.”
You should’ve known.
You should’ve stopped there.
Instead, you said, “Fine. Let’s see who’s better.”
Wooyoung screamed in excitement like a man witnessing history.
Mingi started recording.
Seonghwa quietly left the kitchen.
Jongho brought a chair.
San tied on an apron.
You regretted everything.
The challenge: fried rice.
Simple. Easy. Safe.
Until San started measuring rice grains like he was conducting a science experiment.
“You’re insane,” you said again.
“You’re distracted,” he replied.
“I am not distracted.”
“You just burned your onions.”
You looked down.
The onions were, in fact, burning.
“That’s— that’s intentional flavor,” you lied.
San didn’t respond.
He just… looked at his pan.
Then at yours.
Then quietly said, “I’ve already finished plating.”
You froze.
“What?”
He turned his plate around.
It was… annoyingly perfect.
Garnished.
Balanced.
Beautiful.
Wooyoung gasped. “He’s winning.”
“I hate this,” you said.
San smiled slightly.
It was not a kind smile.
It was a competitive smile.
You tasted your food.
It was fine.
San’s was better.
You refused to admit it.
Jongho, however, did not hesitate.
“San wins,” he said immediately.
“Traitor,” you muttered.
You thought it would stop at physical challenges.
You were wrong.
San had escalated.
Now it was memory games.
Reaction storytelling.
Emotional recall tests.
At one point, he asked, “What did you eat for breakfast three days ago?”
You stared at him.
“Why would I remember that?”
He wrote something down.
“You forgot.”
“That’s normal!”
“Not for a competitor.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Wooyoung whispered loudly, “He’s breaking her psychologically.”
“I’m not breaking anything,” San said. “I’m optimizing performance.”
“You sound like a villain,” you told him.
“I sound like a winner.”
That was when you realized something unsettling.
He wasn’t joking anymore.
He genuinely believed this was a competition that mattered.
You attempted to avoid him.
You really did.
You hid in your room.
He knocked.
You didn’t answer.
He left.
Victory.
Five minutes later, he slid a note under your door.
New challenge: endurance. How long can you avoid me before you lose focus?
You stared at it.
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
You ignored it.
For three hours.
Then another note arrived.
Current time: 3 hours 14 minutes. You are improving.
You threw the note across the room.
It happened in the practice room.
You were exhausted.
Truly exhausted.
Not physically from competitions anymore, but mentally from San existing as a relentless scoreboard.
He was stretching again.
Of course he was stretching.
You dropped onto the floor.
“I’m done,” you said.
San looked over. “Done what?”
“This. Whatever this is.”
He tilted his head. “The competition?”
“There is no competition.”
He paused.
For the first time, actually paused.
Then said, “You’re forfeiting?”
You sat up. “Yes. I forfeit. You win. Congratulations. Please stop.”
Silence.
The kind that felt heavier than usual.
San didn’t move immediately.
Then he slowly sat down across from you.
“…Why?” he asked.
You blinked. “Because it’s exhausting.”
A longer pause.
“…Was I too intense?”
“Yes.”
“…Too competitive?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at his hands.
That was new.
“I thought you were enjoying it,” he said.
“I was joking,” you replied.
San was quiet for a long moment.
Then, very softly: “I don’t always know when you’re joking.”
That stopped you.
Because underneath all the chaos, all the scoring, all the ridiculous competitions…
That part was real.
You exhaled slowly.
“San.”
He looked up.
“I like you. I like everyone. But I am not competing with you. I’m not trying to beat you at life.”
He blinked.
“…Then why did you challenge me?”
“I didn’t.”
Another pause.
Then, very slowly, he leaned back like the weight of the realization had physically hit him.
“Oh.”
From the side, Wooyoung whispered, “He built a whole system for nothing.”
San groaned.
Not loudly.
But deeply.
“I made spreadsheets,” he said.
You laughed despite yourself.
“That’s your takeaway?”
“I laminated them.”
The next day, the whiteboard was gone.
So were the flashcards.
San did not propose any new competitions.
Instead, he appeared in the kitchen while you were making tea.
“…Can I help?” he asked cautiously.
You raised a brow. “With what? There’s no competition.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “Just… help.”
You slid him a mug.
He took it like it was fragile peace.
A moment passed.
Then he added, quietly, “You still would’ve won reaction time.”
You sighed.
“San.”
He nodded. “I’m working on it.”
You bumped his shoulder lightly.
“Good.”
From the doorway, Wooyoung whispered, “He’s malfunctioning.”
Genre: Angst/Ex-Lovers/Idol Life
Warnings: Heartache, Themes of Depression, Crying
Words/Pictures: 2k+
Member of @eighteez-net
You leave everything and everyone you love to hide away for three years.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ...
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Authors's Note: Y'all are gonna read some poor lyrics and fanchants and pretend they're the most sensational combination of letters ever put together lol
Thank you! And thank you for reading!
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The Comeback
First it was her Instagram. She opened up her own and posted an image that shocked a lot of fans. With LYRA, she had normally been styled to carry the image of a youthful innocence. Nobody had seen this side of her before. A side that was more mature, adult, some would even consider provocative, but to those who knew her it was still y/n. She had always been more than just one version of herself. A caption that simply read “I’m home” was written underneath. Her comments were flooded with support. She was back online. He had wanted to leave something too. Something to tell her that he was happy to see her again.
Then it was the interview. She said she was doing better these days. She was still speaking to her former members. He was glad to know that. He had worried if she had left everyone, or if it had just been him. He never felt close enough to the girls to ask. She still spoke to them. It made sense. She had known them longer. She had known them differently. He knew that. He told himself to be happy about that. At least she wasn’t alone. She had pushed him away, but at least… she wasn’t alone. She spoke about her upcoming solo debut, about her process, about the tracks. He was proud of her. He wanted to tell her that. He wished he could tell her that. All the undelivered texts in his phone told him it wasn’t a good idea.
She spoke about one track, an exclusive track. Mountain Rain. Mountain…
I had someone in my life that I hurt pretty badly… …if this song somehow finds its way to him…
He bought the album in secret but his team knew he’d do this. The others knew what this meant to him. Hongjoong didn’t push him that day. Wooyoung offered to accompany him, but he wanted to be alone with this. He wanted to hear it alone. He stood in an empty practice room and slipped the CD into a stereo.
Track 1. Introduction.
He heard the ocean, the sound of feet walking on sand, a slow cello and then the soft humming of her voice before she began to speak. A voice he hadn’t heard in years. She talked about the waves, how they looked so calm that night and how the sand below her feet felt so comforting that she wanted to sink into it. She didn’t sound happy but she didn’t sound sad either. He knew from her tone that she was smiling. She had to be smiling. There was a soft laugh. She spoke of regret, the orchestra picked up, of sadness, of a pain so unbearable at times that she wished the ocean in front of her would wash her away. Then she said she was lucky, grateful, the music softened, blessed that she wasn’t given up on. She spoke of the moon and saw herself as someone without a light of her own, until the warmth of her ‘sun’, of her ‘stars’, made her radiate an incredible glow. Slow keys of the piano jumped with the quiet waves. She felt lighter. She felt more at ease. For that, she wanted to say ‘thank you’.
Then he heard her sing.
He felt his knees getting weak. He stood against the wall and let himself slip away until he sat crouched with his head between his legs.
“Heavy silence was all I knew.
The days around me began to feel blue.
Until I had found my way back to
the home that has always been you.”
He felt an ache in his chest.
“The home that has always been you.”
His throat began to feel tight.
“San, you know… you have a way of… I don’t know… I just feel at home when I’m with you. You have that way… of making me feel safe.”
Safe. She had told him before that he made her feel safe. Yet…
‘Mountain Rain’, a song she said she wrote specifically for him. He skipped to that track and listened to it with his eyes closed. He heard every word she sang, every reach in her voice, every breath she took.
It was unfair, he thought.
It was unfair the pain she had carried all these years.
The tears just poured down. He buried his face into his hands.
He didn’t hear the door open. He didn’t care whose hands were on him, whose voice was trying to speak to him over her song.
“San…”
“It’s okay. We’re here for you, San.”
“Let yourself feel everything.”
There was an embrace and a silent understanding. They had all trickled in one by one and sat with him as he listened to her voice. He cried at the memories. The one thing he understood the most was how fortunate she must have felt for the bond she had with her members. Because he felt the same with his boys.
Her music video for ‘You’ was everywhere. Her fans weren’t the only ones going crazy over her debut. Multiple songs were hitting number one on the charts, and none more so than ‘Mountain Rain’. Every radio station featured her music, always requested by a listener. Celebrities kept mentioning y/n when asked about their latest playlists. She was on nearly every pop culture headline.
“The quiet idol who made her extraordinary return.”
Y/N was the hot topic for weeks, despite no proper promotion or appearances after her debut. It was at her request, as her company stated, that she only planned to release her music and nothing else. No matter how much he had hoped to run into her at music shows or promotional activities, it just wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t seen her in nearly three years. Why would he run into her now, especially when she made it clear she would never allow that to happen?
“To protect his peace, I would avoid him at all costs.”
Then came the awards.
Ateez walked the red carpet just before them.
LYRA.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
That was it. Only four members showed up and took photos together. Of course. She had left. They had been continuing on as four for so long now. She was solo now. He shouldn’t have felt as disappointed as he did, but he did. He still hoped there was a chance to run into her on the carpet. Afterall, she had been nominated for a few categories. That hope followed him when he went to head into the building. He sat down with his group and scanned all the other idol groups and solo acts present.
He never saw her. His hope had started to diminish. He sat through each performance and speech with performed enthusiasm. Every time his face would slip back into disappointment, he was nudged out of concern. Every time he would shake his head to say he was okay and go back to waving at the fans who called his name. The awards continued. Her categories hadn’t been announced yet.
“Congratulations to the rookie artist of the year!”
There was applause. The hosts waited to continue.
“Ten years ago, our next performers had also made their debut! Tonight, they celebrate their tenth anniversary here on stage by giving you an incredible performance of their biggest hits! Give it up for your former rookie artists of the year, LYRA!”
He watched the girls women appear on the stage. They started with their more recent songs that only featured the four of them. Other groups were genuinely enjoying the show. Fans of various fandoms were screaming out their names. His members were cheering and nodding their heads along to the music, so he tried to do the same. The fanchant grew loud.
“Lune! Halo! Vega! And Astra! These are the stars that make up LYRA!”
Two songs had finished and Sooyoung, Lune, spoke to the audience as they calmed down.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Say that again?!”
The audience grew louder.
“Lune! Halo! Vega! And Astra! These are the stars that make up LYRA!”
Sooyoung’s face on the screen didn’t look too impressed. She asked the audience to try again and they screamed the chant one more time.
“Hmm… I think the audience needs some help. Wouldn’t you agree, girls?” Sooyoung asked the other members and they agreed in unison.
“Maybe we need to remind them how the chant is supposed to go,” Kai spoke into her mic.
“Yeah. We have Lune!” Sooyoung posed for the audience and they cheered for her.
“We have Halo!” The audience cheered for Eunji.
“We have Vega!” Kai bellowed and laughed.
“We have Astra!” Yubin smiled and waved.
The audience cheered for the girls and then Sooyoung said something that made the crowd tense up with anticipation.
“And?!”
The lights turned off, setting the whole building into a frenzy.
“We have Nova!”
His heart nearly dropped when he heard her voice shouting into a mic. The audience screamed as the middle of the stage was lit and y/n appeared from beneath the stage. She stood tall and greeted everybody with a huge smile. He tried to hide the shock on his face.
“These are the stars that make up LYRA!” Sooyoung screamed and their debut song began to play.
Everyone stood up. Wooyoung pulled him up with him. He watched them dance, sing and laugh on stage with y/n. She looked happy. She genuinely looked so happy to be up there. The girls were happy. The fans were happy.
He was so happy to finally see her again. He danced with Wooyoung and laughed when he heard Seonghwa shouting the lyrics.
They performed three songs together before ending their stage and bowing to a standing ovation. His heart was pounding as he watched her walk off with her former group. They made their line back to their seats with y/n right behind them. His heartbeat grew louder as everything else went quiet. He couldn’t feel his hands clapping. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus on anyone else but her. Everything started to slow down. She bowed to everyone who greeted them before they sat down. She smiled at everyone.
She got closer to him.
He felt his breath catch in his throat.
Her eyes found him.
He stared at her as if it was the first time he’d ever seen her.
As if he had never seen someone so beautiful before.
Her smile fell.
Her eyes looked away.
He felt his heart ache, screaming at her to look at him again.
“...I would avoid him at all costs…”
She greeted the eight of them and sat with her girls, at the furthest spot away from him.
“San?”
“I’m good, Wooyoung.”
He wasn’t and Wooyoung knew that. His heart was sinking. He tried his best to not look her way for the rest of the show. She did her best to only look ahead. She did her best to only look at her girls when she went up to accept her awards.
She thanked everyone who stayed with her.
What about me?
She thanked everyone who gave her a second chance.
What about me?
She thanked everyone who showed her love.
What about me?
“And… to the one who inspired the biggest song on my album. I want to thank you the most.”
The crowd went crazy. They wanted to know who this man was.
“Without you, I wouldn’t be here today accepting this award.”
He watched her intently but her eyes looked anywhere else.
“If you’re watching…”
I am.
“I truly hope you’re doing well.”
She did her best to keep her head down when she came back to sit down. He did his best to smile and clap for her. She wanted him to be well. She wanted him to be happy.
She wanted him to be happy, without her.
But he…
“I’m not well, Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung looked at him and seemed to contemplate something.
“I could go for some drinks after this,” he said, “I’ll stay up with you for as long as you need.”
“Thanks.”
He still loved her.
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Tag List: @candied-czennie
If anyone else wishes to be added, I don't mind :)
You don’t notice it at first—because it’s never loud.
It’s never dramatic, never pointed out, never something that demands attention. It’s just… Yeosang.
And Yeosang is quiet in a way that makes people forget he’s even there until he chooses not to be.
Which is exactly why you never realize he’s been noticing everything about you.
It starts on an ordinary day.
Or at least, it looks ordinary on the surface.
You show up at the studio a little earlier than usual, hair slightly more put together than yesterday, smile a little too practiced. You greet everyone the same way you always do—light, easy, nothing off.
“Hey, I brought snacks,” you say, lifting the bag like proof.
Wooyoung cheers loudly. San is already reaching for something. Someone jokes about you feeding them again.
And you laugh.
It’s a normal laugh. It sounds normal. You’ve had enough practice to make it sound normal.
But Yeosang notices the delay.
The half-second pause before your smile fully lands.
The way your fingers tighten just a little too long around the bag straps before you let go.
He doesn’t say anything.
He never does at first.
Instead, he just watches.
Yeosang has always been observant in a way people underestimate.
Yeosang doesn’t talk much compared to the others, but his silence isn’t empty. It’s full. Full of details most people miss because they’re too busy filling space with noise.
He notices how Hongjoong taps his pen twice before making a decision. How San hums when he’s nervous. How Seonghwa always checks the time even when he says he’s relaxed.
And you?
You are no exception.
Maybe that’s the problem.
By midday, you’ve already slipped into the background of your own day.
You help set things up. You pass things over. You joke when someone looks at you directly. You do everything correctly.
Almost too correctly.
Yeosang sees it when you think no one is looking.
The way you press your tongue against your cheek when your phone lights up.
The way your shoulders drop when you think someone else is focused elsewhere.
The way you blink a little slower when the room gets too loud.
He doesn’t interrupt.
He just adjusts.
Quietly.
Subtly.
He moves a water bottle closer to where you’re sitting. He shifts a chair slightly so it’s easier for you to lean back. He swaps the playlist without announcing it when he notices you flinch at a certain song.
You don’t notice any of it.
But your breathing steadies anyway.
It’s not until later that he hears it.
Not directly from you.
You’re laughing with the others again, leaning into a conversation like you belong exactly where you are—which you do. You’re telling a story about something ridiculous that happened earlier in the week.
Everyone is laughing.
Even you.
But then—
Someone says your name in passing.
“Yeah, but you’ve been kind of out of it lately, haven’t you?”
It’s not cruel. It’s not even intentional. Just casual observation.
You laugh immediately.
Too fast.
“No, I’m fine. Just tired.”
There it is again.
Fine.
The word that never means fine.
Yeosang watches your hands.
They’re still. Too still.
Your smile doesn’t move past your mouth.
The conversation continues like nothing happened.
And you survive it like you always do.
Later, when the room is emptier, Yeosang stays behind.
Not dramatically. Not obviously.
He just doesn’t leave.
You’re packing up cables and bottles and random things people forgot about. The kind of quiet clean-up that happens after a long day when everyone is too drained to think.
You don’t notice him at first.
Until he speaks.
“You didn’t eat much today.”
It’s not a question.
You pause mid-motion, then continue wrapping a cable like you didn’t hear him.
“I did,” you say lightly. “Just not hungry.”
Yeosang leans against the table.
He doesn’t push.
That’s the thing about him—he never pushes.
But he doesn’t move away either.
A silence stretches.
You try to fill it.
“You’re weirdly observant today.”
A small smile. A deflection.
It almost works.
Almost.
He tilts his head slightly. “Today?”
You blink.
Then laugh again, softer this time. “Okay, fair.”
Still not a confession.
Still not the truth.
But something in your posture shifts. A fraction of tension loosens in your shoulders without you realizing it.
Yeosang notices that too.
Of course he does.
The next few days are the same pattern.
You show up.
You perform okay.
You laugh at the right times.
You say “I’m fine” like it’s punctuation.
And Yeosang… watches.
But not in a way that makes you feel trapped.
In a way that makes it harder to keep pretending.
Because he never calls you out in front of others.
He never exposes you.
He just starts appearing where you need him.
A bottle of water placed next to your bag before you ask.
A quieter seat saved without explanation.
A hoodie offered when the studio gets too cold and your arms start wrapping around yourself unconsciously.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you say once.
He shrugs. “I know.”
That’s it.
No pressure. No expectation.
Just presence.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
Because you can’t ignore it anymore.
It cracks on a rainy evening.
You’re outside the building, waiting for your ride. Everyone else has already left.
Except Yeosang.
He stands a few steps away under the awning, hands in his pockets, watching the rain like it’s doing something interesting.
You try to act normal.
“You waiting too?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
Silence again.
Comfortable, at first.
Then heavier.
You shift your weight. “You don’t have to stay because I’m here, you know.”
“I’m not staying because of that.”
You glance at him.
He doesn’t look at you right away. Just watches the rain fall instead.
Then, quietly—
“You’ve been saying you’re fine a lot.”
Your stomach tightens immediately.
You laugh once, sharp. “That’s because I am.”
He finally looks at you then.
Not accusing.
Not emotional.
Just steady.
“You don’t blink the same way when you’re fine.”
That makes you stop.
Because it’s such a small thing.
So specific.
So unfair.
You swallow. “That’s not a real thing.”
“It is to me.”
Another silence.
The rain fills it.
You look away first.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything.”
That confuses you more than anything else.
You turn slightly toward him. “Then why are you saying this?”
A pause.
Then, softer:
“Because you’re not as invisible as you think you are.”
That’s the moment it shifts.
Not everything.
Just enough.
The ride comes.
You almost leave it there.
Almost go back to normal.
Almost put the mask back on properly.
But Yeosang steps closer before you can.
Not invading.
Just near enough that the rain doesn’t reach either of you.
“You don’t have to explain it,” he says. “But you also don’t have to carry it alone just because you’re used to it.”
Your throat tightens.
You hate that your first instinct is to joke.
To deflect.
To escape.
But nothing comes out.
So instead, you ask something stupidly honest.
“…How do you always notice?”
He thinks about it for a second.
Then shrugs slightly.
“I pay attention.”
Like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Like it isn’t changing yours.
After that night, nothing becomes dramatic.
That’s not how Yeosang works.
That’s not how you work either.
But something shifts in the way you exist around each other.
He doesn’t ask you to talk.
He doesn’t force anything out of you.
He just… makes space.
And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re trying to fill every silence.
One afternoon, you fall asleep in the studio.
It’s accidental. You didn’t plan it. You just sat down for “a minute” and your body gave up on you.
When you wake up, your jacket is over you.
You blink slowly, disoriented.
The room is quieter than before.
Yeosang is still there.
Sitting nearby.
Reading something on his phone.
He doesn’t look up immediately.
“You should’ve woken me up,” you mumble.
“You needed sleep more than you needed to leave.”
You sit up slowly. “You’re starting to sound like a therapist.”
That earns the smallest hint of a smile from him.
“Bad one, I hope.”
You huff a laugh.
Then, quieter:
“…Thanks.”
He nods once.
No big reaction.
No emphasis.
Just acceptance.
Like it’s normal.
Like you don’t have to earn it.
Later that week, you try to pretend again.
You really do.
You show up brighter. You laugh louder. You act like things are fine.
But Yeosang still notices when your hands shake slightly while holding a pen.
Still notices when your eyes linger too long on nothing.
Still notices when your smile hits a wall before it reaches your eyes.
And this time—
He doesn’t just observe.
He slides a note across the table when no one is looking.
It’s small.
Folded.
No explanation.
You open it when you’re alone.
Two words.
Not “are you okay?”
Not “talk to me.”
Just:
I see you.
You stare at it longer than you expect to.
Because it’s not demanding anything from you.
It’s not asking you to perform your feelings correctly.
It’s just… acknowledging that you exist beneath the pretending.
And somehow, that feels heavier than anything else.
You don’t talk about it right away.
But the next time you sit next to him, you don’t move away.
And he doesn’t comment on it.
Weeks pass like that.
Small moments.
Quiet adjustments.
No grand emotional declarations.
Just consistency.
Just noticing.
Just staying.
And slowly, the version of you that was always “fine” starts to feel a little less necessary around him.
Not because he fixed anything.
But because he stopped letting you disappear while pretending you weren’t.
One night, long after everyone else leaves again, you finally say it.
Not everything.
Just enough.
“I didn’t realize how much I was… pretending until you started noticing.”
Yeosang doesn’t look surprised.
He just listens.
Then he says, simply:
“You don’t have to stop all at once.”
That’s it.
No pressure.
No timeline.
No demand for transformation.
Just permission.
To exist messily.
To not be okay.
To still be seen anyway.
And for the first time in a long time, you believe that maybe being “fine” was never the requirement to be kept around.
Ateez Reaction to Realizing You’re Actually Weirder Than Them
This was a request by planateez🪐 Anon.
Hope you.like it ❤️
Hongjoong
At first, Hongjoong thought you were just shy.
Quiet. Reserved. Careful with your words.
Then one day he walks into the studio at 2 a.m. and hears you making microwave noises while waiting for ramen water to boil.
Not even subtly.
Full “mmmmMMMMM BEEP BEEP BEEP” sound effects.
He just stands there staring.
You stare back.
“…The microwave wasn’t doing it fast enough,” you explain.
And somehow that becomes the beginning of the end.
After that, he starts discovering layers to your personality like hidden levels in a game. Random cursed memes at ungodly hours. You suddenly explaining Victorian coffin alarms for twenty minutes. Sitting upside down on the couch while humming one singular line of a song repeatedly.
Hongjoong doesn’t even react with concern.
He reacts with fascination.
“You were hiding all this?” he asks one day, genuinely offended.
You shrug. “People get scared too early.”
Meanwhile he’s internally delighted because finally—someone matches his creative insanity.
Seonghwa
Seonghwa realizes it gradually.
Mostly because your “comfortable” behavior is deeply bizarre but delivered with a completely straight face.
You’ll wander into the kitchen at midnight, stare directly into space for thirty seconds, grab cheese from the fridge with your bare hands, whisper “excellent,” then leave.
No explanation.
Or he’ll find you pacing in circles while thinking, muttering arguments to yourself like you’re debating invisible people.
The real breaking point is when he catches you sitting in the weirdest position humanly possible on the sofa.
“How are you comfortable like that?”
“I’m not,” you answer immediately.
“…Then why are you sitting like that?”
You blink. “I committed.”
Seonghwa laughs so hard he nearly drops his phone.
But honestly? He loves it.
Because once you stop trying to seem “normal,” you become ridiculously expressive around him. Dramatic whining. Fake betrayal over stolen fries. Randomly laying across the couch next to him like a sleepy cat.
And every single strange little habit feels like proof you trust him enough not to judge you.
Yunho
Yunho thought he was the chaotic one.
Then you got comfortable.
Now he’s watching you make dolphin noises because you forgot what you wanted to say halfway through a sentence.
“You know,” he says carefully, “most people just pause and think.”
You point at him accusingly. “Coward behavior.”
From then on, he actively encourages your nonsense.
You start creating absurd hypothetical arguments together:
“Would you still love me if I became a haunted traffic cone?”
“What KIND of haunting?”
“Emotionally manipulative.”
“Then no.”
You gasp in fake outrage for ten full minutes.
Honestly, Yunho adores it because you laugh louder now. You shove him dramatically during jokes. You stop hiding when you’re excited.
And he notices something important underneath all the weirdness:
You’re finally relaxed enough to be spontaneous.
Yeosang
Yeosang adapts to your strange behavior concerningly fast.
Probably because his humor already operates on an incomprehensible frequency.
So when you suddenly start saying things like:
“The energy in this room feels tax evasion shaped.”
He just nods thoughtfully.
“True.”
Everyone else looks horrified.
The two of you develop conversations that genuinely sound AI-generated to outsiders. Half-finished references. Niche jokes. Silent eye contact that somehow communicates entire paragraphs.
Then there’s your random oversharing.
Yeosang casually mentions sharks once and suddenly you’re explaining deep-sea gigantism with the intensity of a conspiracy theorist.
He listens to all of it.
Every single word.
Because he finds your brain incredibly entertaining.
Also, he secretly likes that you stop filtering yourself around him. No polished version. No careful editing.
Just you in all your odd little glory.
San
San is thrilled.
Absolutely thrilled.
Because the second you stop pretending to be composed, you become a menace.
You poke him constantly. Steal his food while maintaining eye contact. Send him blurry photos with captions like “this looks exactly like your aura.”
And the noises.
God, the noises.
One day you accidentally walk into a table corner and make the saddest squeaking sound imaginable before dramatically collapsing onto the couch.
San laughs so hard he can’t breathe.
“You sounded like a stressed chew toy!”
“Don’t speak to me during my final moments.”
But underneath the teasing, San notices the softer changes too.
You sulk openly now. Cling to his arm when tired. Admit when something hurt your feelings instead of pretending you’re fine.
And weirdly enough, those moments affect him the most.
Because it means you trust him with the ugly emotions too.
Mingi
Mingi discovers that your brain is somehow even more chaotic than his.
Which feels statistically impossible.
You both end up trapped in hours-long conversations about absolutely nothing. One weird topic spirals into another until suddenly it’s 4 a.m. and you’re debating whether ghosts could get jobs.
But his favorite thing is how physically comfortable you become.
You just exist near him now.
Leaning against him while scrolling your phone. Randomly putting your cold hands on him for warmth. Quietly sitting beside him for hours without needing conversation.
Then occasionally you’ll break the silence with:
“Did you know medieval people used to think beavers exploded when hunted?”
And Mingi just loses it laughing.
He honestly finds your weirdness comforting.
Because it means you’re not watching yourself constantly anymore.
Wooyoung
Wooyoung thinks this is the greatest development of his life.
Because suddenly you start bullying him back.
You steal his hoodie. Take fries off his plate. Send him the most cursed images known to humanity at 3 a.m. with zero context.
One night he receives: A blurry raccoon standing in a sink.
Caption: “you during emotional conflict”
He wakes up crying laughing.
And then there’s your dramatic side.
You pout openly now. Complain when you miss him. Throw yourself onto furniture dramatically when inconvenienced.
Wooyoung LOVES it.
Mostly because you stopped trying to look cool around him.
Now when you laugh, you fully laugh. Loud, ugly, wheezing laughter without immediately apologizing for it.
And every time it happens, Wooyoung feels weirdly proud.
Like he helped build a space where you could finally unclench.
Jongho
Jongho notices before anyone else that your weirdness comes out strongest when you feel safest.
You start talking to yourself under your breath. Making random sound effects while doing tasks. Rambling passionately about topics nobody asked about.
One day he casually mentions trains.
Big mistake.
Suddenly you’re explaining rail systems with terrifying intensity while he sits there holding a drink, blinking slowly.
“…You know a lot about this.”
“I blacked out for six months once.”
“What does that mean?”
“I got interested.”
He stares at you for a second before laughing quietly.
But the thing that affects him most isn’t even the strange behavior.
It’s when you stop hiding your emotions.
The dramatic sighing. Sulking beside him when upset. Quietly asking for reassurance instead of pretending everything’s fine.
Jongho always thought your silence meant distance.
Now he realizes it was caution.
And seeing the real, messy, chaotic version of you feels less like “dealing” with your weirdness—
Genre: Angst/Ex-Lovers/Idol Life
Warnings: Indirect mentions of mental health and heartbreak
Words/Pictures: 2.3k+
Member of @eighteez-net
You leave everything and everyone you love to hide away for three years.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ...
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The following is a fictitious interview. To give the vibe of an idol romance, I thought it would be fun to have a chapter like this. Thank you for reading.
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The Interview
Having debuted at the age of sixteen as ‘Nova’, former LYRA member—y/n—has decided to redebut as a solo artist after a near three year hiatus. Her debut solo album, L/N Y/N, is set to release this week. Here at AFTERLIGHT, I was lucky to get an early listen to the full album and an interview with y/n on her creative process. We shared some laughs and positive thoughts, a few tears as some moments got heavier. Y/N got candid about her time away from the spotlight, discussing the difficulties of youth, health struggles, support from her loved ones and her hopes for the future.
Thank you for joining us today, y/n. I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with us here at AFTERLIGHT.
Thank you for having me.
How are you feeling? I take it must be hard to adjust back into your routine after being away for so long.
Hmm… I think I’m doing okay, all things considered.
Take your time settling in. I think many fans, myself included, didn’t expect your hiatus to extend for as long as it did. It’s been three years since you last made an appearance, right?
Yes, it’s been about three years. I went on a hiatus in July of 2023. I had no intention of being gone for that long. I didn’t think it would lead to a departure from my team—my sisters—either. It was just something that needed to happen for me. I needed a longer break and we all decided, LYRA and our company, that it was best for me to depart so I could solely focus on my health without holding back the other girls.
I remember the articles at the time when the statement was released. Fans had many theories online since there had been no sightings of you with the girls after that for three years. I guess that leads me to ask how was your relationship with LYRA during that time?
It’s very easy to make assumptions about people we don’t know, isn’t it? I’m guilty of it myself. You know, I debuted with LYRA when I was sixteen years old. I was the second youngest, next to Yubin. You all know her as Astra. She was the closest member to me in the group mostly because of our age. We shared a bedroom in our dorm for the first three years. I still speak with her regularly even if we don’t meet up often. Sooyoung was our eldest sister, sometimes our mother with how much care she had for us. She would take the couch when we didn’t have enough room in our early years, just so the rest of us could sleep better. She was only eighteen when we debuted. Kai and Eunji were both seventeen. We were all young and around the same age. The five of us had the same experiences of idol life. I think those two factors made it really easy for us to bond as much as we did. That’s not something that can be broken in my opinion. I never left the group because of differences or any bullying. I want to clear that part up. We may have fought like sisters do, but I never experienced any negative intentions from them. I’ve never been jealous of them and I’ve never felt any jealousy from them either. There just wasn’t any room for it. It matters a lot to me that the public knows this. We all still support each other behind the scenes. They really tried to get me to stay. It was hard on all of us, but it was just the best decision for me to depart. So now, without Sooyoung, Yubin, Eunji and Kai, I don’t think I would’ve had the confidence to return to music.
You speak so highly of the girls, it’s incredible to hear how much love there is between you all. As a fan from day one, I’m glad to hear the rumours of ‘bad blood’ were baseless. It’s refreshing when members genuinely care for one another.
I understand not everyone will feel the same about their teams. This is a job after all. I don’t want to discredit those who want to behave in a more professional manner, but I truly have such a tremendous amount of love for my girls.
I can assume you wrote a song to express that love for them? You’re smiling a lot as I ask.
We’ll just have to get to that part.
Of course. So, let’s speak about your upcoming solo debut. How were you feeling about making your return to music?
In all honesty, I was quite scared to come back for many reasons. I’m no longer ‘Nova of LYRA’. I’m debuting as ‘Y/N’ this time. Just myself. I wasn’t sure if anyone would care for my solo activity. I’m with a new label. I have a concept that’s so far from what I was known for. But when I posted the first few pictures on my social media and saw the response, it did help ease some anxiety. To see that people were excited to have me back… I’m still not confident about the results but I know I have a strong team behind me. Especially Sooyoung, who pushed me to do this album. She’s a leader for a reason. If not for my LYRA sisters, my family, I’m not sure this project would’ve been possible.
I, for one, am very curious for the public to hear your new sound and see how they react. You mentioned it yourself about having a very different concept. Your solo debut might not be what fans of LYRA are used to, even having the title as just your full name. What do you hope for when your album is released?
Well, for one, my debut album is titled “L/N Y/N” because I wanted to reintroduce myself. Fans were only introduced to Nova, a younger version of me that fit our debut concept. I’ve been away for so long and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up a lot. Even when I was in LYRA, I wasn’t the same person at twenty three as I was when I was sixteen. I never really got the opportunity to share any side of me that wasn’t always so bright, positive or mischievous. It’s not to say I wasn’t those things, just… not everything was going great all the time. I had a lot of moments of self doubt, moments of anger or frustration, moments of severe anxiety to the point where I ended up leaving the group. I wanted to be able to share the part of me that struggled, and still struggles, but felt that I couldn’t speak up until now. So, I hope those who listen to my first album will leave those images of my ‘Nova’ self aside and just come in with an open mind. I want those listening to know that pain is a part of life and it’s okay. We don’t have to bury it away and push through life as though it doesn't exist. I’m still doing my best to break that habit. I just want my fans and anyone else who may be struggling to know that they’re not alone and it’s okay to ask for help. That being said, I also made sure to include a song similar to what ‘Nova’ would love called “Galaxy”. As well as a couple songs that I hope are more fun to play. I don’t want to forget ‘Nova’. I just want ‘Y/N’ to have her chance now.
Let’s go through each track on your album then. You have ten tracks listed, plus a bonus song that’s only available to those who purchase your physical album. How would you describe each one to those waiting for the release?
Yes, so, track one is just an introduction–a monologue actually. I wanted to take the time to speak to those who waited for me. My family, my friends, the fans. I wanted to start off with gratitude to those who were willing to give me a second chance. Hwang Hyun, the main composer for this album, blended the outro of my monologue into the intro of the second track titled “You”, which is actually the title track for my solo debut. I wrote “You” as an open ended ballad because the message in it felt like it was for every person who stood by me. “The Woods” is a song I wrote about my state of mind during the three years away. “A.W.W.” which is abbreviated for “Am”, “Was” and “Will Be”. I was lucky to work with a pop legend on the track “Back To You”, a more lighthearted track that focuses more on performance. “Our Youth”—I see you smiling now—is a song I wrote for my debut sisters. “Galaxy” and “Dust” are more fun and what fans of LYRA may enjoy most. “Clockwork” shifts the listener back into the mood set for my album before the final track “Lost in Space” which is an instrumental. A lot of people worked really hard to make this album happen, which is also why I’m very nervous about the reception. But I’m also glad I did this, regardless of the outcome.
I may be biased but, after listening to the album myself, I’m sure many listeners and fans will truly love the work you put into each song. The album felt very raw, not just with your slower more poetic tracks but with your more upbeat songs as well. I really felt as though I got to meet Y/N for the first time, not the carefully crafted Nova that we’ve known for so long.
Thank you for your kind words.
I had a question regarding your bonus track, which I’ll mention again is only available with the physical copies. The track is called “Mountain Rain”. Maybe it’s because it’s an exclusive track, but I found it to be the most beautiful song on your album. The depth of the lyrics and the way the music pulled at my heartstrings—I’ll admit I cried while listening to your voice. I felt the ache. Are you willing to share the inspiration for this masterpiece? I see that you're hesitant. We don’t have to discuss it.
No it’s okay. This song was the most difficult for me to write, yet it was the fastest song recorded in the studio. I think it’s because it felt like the most important song for me to get out there, but… the reason I kept it exclusive is because—truthfully—I’m a coward. I had someone in my life that I hurt pretty badly and… it wasn’t just a one time thing. I was struggling a lot with my health and he was very patient with me but I couldn’t stop hurting him. I was cruel. I knew he wouldn’t leave me, it wasn’t in him to leave when I was already so weak, so I pushed him away instead. It was hard. Extremely hard. But it was best for him to be free… away from someone causing him so much pain.
Sounds like a first love.
Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.
Do you still think of him, or rather do you hope he will hear this song?
Who doesn’t think of the person they shared their first experience of love with? In all honesty, I do think of him because there’s a lot that I was very grateful for but a lot that I still feel so sorry about. I was really lacking a lot in that relationship. I will always feel guilty for pulling him down. I want to hope that he is doing better these days. If this song somehow finds its way to him… I hope he will hear how sorry I still am. I hope… he knows that I wish for nothing but his happiness. He was nothing but the best… to the worst version of myself.
Well, I hope he does get the opportunity to hear your song. There may be a chance to reconnect, maybe even rekindle the love you both had–assuming you're both single.
I had a feeling this interview would head in that direction.
Sorry, but you’ve peaked that interest.
Yeah, well love is a beautiful human connection. It can both create and destroy. I don’t have anyone in my life if that’s what you were hoping to hear. But… I have no interest in reconnecting with him. I’m in a better place than I was before, but I don’t want to make the same mistakes again. I don’t want to hurt him again. It’s best for us to leave us where we left off. I want him, if he hasn’t already, to find someone better–far better than I ever was to him. Because, to me, he deserves only the best.
So if you ever ran into him, would you speak to him?
No. To protect his peace, I would avoid him at all costs.
Wow. What a level of consideration for someone you once shared a special connection with. I’m sure many will be very curious to know who this exceptional man is. The man who inspired, in my opinion, one of the greatest songs of love to come out this year. I really thank you for coming here to speak to us about your upcoming solo debut. If you have any final words, you may share them.
Thank you again for having me. I have always enjoyed speaking with the staff of AFTERLIGHT. My debut album comes out this week. Please look out for it and I hope you all enjoy it.
Author's Note: I want to preface that I'm not sure how the education system works in Korea. I tried to research it but every page gave me different information. Then I remembered, this is all fiction. So I went more by my school experience instead. In case anyone goes "this makes no sense". Just enjoy the lame writing lol
Jung Wooyoung was making his way towards me. I hadn’t seen him in days and the last I did, he had been quite certain of us not being friends. I instinctively grabbed onto Yunho’s sleeve.
“Hey, Wooyoung. Feeling ready for the midterms?” Yunho asked him. Wooyoung seemed to stop in place, as if caught off guard. He didn’t answer Yunho though. Instead, he brought his attention back to me.
“My beanie.”
“O-oh, yeah, sorry,” I had forgotten all about that, “I-I meant to give it back the next day but you weren’t here.”
I reached into my bag to pull it out for him. He took it from me but avoided all eye contact when he said ‘thank you’. He didn’t put it on. I watched his hands grip his beanie hard and twist it as though he was trying to wring it dry. I wasn’t sure if he was hoping for anything else.
“We are not friends.”
That’s right. I watched as he turned to leave us. I had to keep reminding myself of his words. But, I couldn’t help wondering…
“Hey, Wooyoung,” I looked at Yunho when he called him out, “a couple of us joined your study sessions with y/n. Hope you don’t mind.”
Wooyoung looked between Yunho and I, his hands continuing to squeeze his beanie.
“They… just want to study. I promise.”
He seemed to think about it for a moment.
“Fine… then I get to bring someone too.”
Yunho and I looked at each other after Wooyoung walked away. Yunho just shrugged and told me not to worry too much about it. He didn’t refute the study session, despite our last encounter. I couldn’t understand him.
Jung Wooyoung was too confusing.
We got to class where I found Mirae already sitting at her desk looking through her camera. She greeted us as we sat down and told us she had arrived early to get some club business sorted. Mirae’s eyes kept wandering when she spoke to me, not once gazing in my direction.
“Is everything okay?” I asked her.
“Yeah, why?”
“Just, you seem…” avoidant, I wanted to say, “if anything is on your mind, I’m here for you. Okay?”
The smile on her face looked rigid. Her eyes finally locked with mine but I suddenly felt uneasy.
“I’m good. Nothing to worry about,” she said before going back to her camera.
The four of us had gathered in the library. Mingi sat to my right. Mirae sat to Yunho’s left, across from us. We waited for Wooyoung to show before starting on anything and were met with shock when he brought his plus one.
Sihyun.
“What’s she doing here?” asked Mirae.
“I was invited by Wooyoung,” said Sihyun.
“Y/N said I could bring a friend,” Wooyoung looked at me and I felt myself shrinking in my seat. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mirae but I could only picture her disappointed face.
“I have no problem with this!” said Mingi, “the more the merrier, in my opinion. Isn’t that right, Yunho?”
Yunho’s eyes met mine. I knew what he was asking. He knew what I was saying in response.
“It’s fine. We piled up on Wooyoung first,” said Yunho, “it’s only fair he brings a friend of his.”
“Exactly.”
I watched as Sihyun took the empty seat next to Yunho. She stuck her tongue out at Wooyoung, who looked a bit uncomfortable. He slowly took his seat next to me before pulling out his books. I suddenly felt this warmth radiating in my direction causing my stomach to flip.
It was hard for me to focus. Mingi kept asking me questions, then giving me praise as he normally did, but I felt myself getting more self conscious all of a sudden. I wanted Mingi to stop with the compliments. I was nervous Wooyoung or Sihyun would disagree with the comments, but they both seemed busy with their work.
Sihyun was actually paying attention to Yunho as he tutored her. She muttered something only he seemed to hear and I was surprised to hear him laugh. Yunho waved his hand and shook his head when I gave him a questioning look. Mirae didn’t look too impressed by the interaction.
“Why was she here, y/n? How could you let that happen?” Mirae asked when we gathered our belongings at the end of lunch.
Wooyoung and Sihyun had already walked ahead of us.
“What’s the big deal?” asked Mingi.
“The ‘big deal’ is that Sihyun is a major bi—bully. I can’t believe she had the audacity to sit with us! Acting like she’s part of our group and everything.”
“She seemed fine to me,” Mingi shrugged, looking towards Yunho.
“Then she’s already fooled you too. First the new kid and now Mingi. Y/N, you believe me though, right? And Yunho?”
“Of course I do,” I told her, but Yunho kept silent.
“Then don’t let her study with us again.”
“I can’t do that, Mirae.”
“Why not? Am I not your best friend?”
“Actually, that would be me—”
“I’m serious, Yunho!” she nearly glared at him.
I was surprised. Mirae has never been this bothered by anything before. From the start of my first year, Mirae has only ever been smiles and laughs. I knew she didn’t like Sihyun, but I had never seen her this upset before. I felt guilty for causing this.
“Y/N,” she took my hands in hers and smiled gently, “I don’t think I can study with you if she’s around again.”
“I understand, but I told Wooyoung—”
“You’re not getting it, y/n,” her face became rigid again, “either you ask her to leave, or I won’t be spending lunch with you guys.”
“That sounds harsh,” said Mingi.
I heard Yunho warn Mingi to stay quiet. I felt my heart hammering against my chest. She was asking me to pick between her and Sihyun. The answer was easy. Of course Mirae mattered more. Sure I had an agreement with Wooyoung and he said it himself.
“We are not friends.”
But then, why was it so hard to choose?
“You can’t seriously be thinking about this?”
“Mirae, you’re not being fair. Y/N made a promise to Wooyoung,” said Yunho, “it’s our fault for crashing their sessions in the first place.”
“You just always have to take her side,” she said it quietly, but it was heard clearly in the silence of the library.
“Mirae—“
“It’s fine. I get it. Just don’t come crying back to me.”
She gathered her belongings and left in a rush. I felt my eyes sting.
“Y/N?”
I felt Yunho’s hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mirae as she pushed through Wooyoung and Sihyun. I had never seen her like this before. She had never spoken to me like this. Had I truly hurt her that deeply?
“What’s her deal?” I heard Mingi sigh.
“Y/N?” Yunho’s voice was getting smaller.
“You take care of your friend. I’ll head off with those two weirdo’s.”
“Thanks, Mingi.”
My vision blurred. Yunho stepped in front of me to hide me from everyone else.
“I made a bad choice.”
“No.”
“I hurt her feelings.”
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not.”
“Y/N, look at me,” he grabbed my arms and brought his face to my eye level, “do you think Wooyoung is a bad person? Tell me honestly, do you truly believe he’s a bad guy?”
I shook my head.
“You want to know him, right? I know… you care about Mirae, but… maybe it’s okay to give her some space. You’re… allowed to have other friends, y/n,” he slowly removed his hands from my arms, “you’re allowed to want to know people outside of Mirae… and myself.”
When I couldn’t answer him, he began to wipe my tears with his hands.
“You were never this big of a baby when we were younger,” he chuckled.
“Because I always had to take care of you,” I said, letting out a small laugh.
“Ah, so it’s been my job now?”
I pulled away to wipe my face dry.
“Look, Mirae can be upset about Sihyun. But I don’t think she can be upset about Wooyoung. If it helps, I could try to talk her down?”
“I don’t know if that will help.”
“You just always have to take her side.”
“Okay, then we let her come to us when she’s ready. Until then, you still have me… maybe the other loser too.”
I knew he was referring to Mingi. He smiled wider when I laughed again.
Maybe it’s the mind of an older sibling that makes you want to take care of someone so much, because Yunho looked much older at this moment. He didn’t feel like the friend who would share his gummies and gleefully celebrate his childish victories against me.
I felt like I was starting to see my friend growing into a man.
“Okay. I’ll do as you say.”
“That’s right!”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and began to walk me out.
“Hongjoong wants to go out for karaoke,” said Jihyo, “want to join us?”
We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating microwaved ramen. Our mom was out on a walk with the neighbourhood aunties. Jihyo filled me in on our mom’s search for new hobbies while our dad was busy with his ‘business trips’. It was all still a shock to me. The house would always get eerily quiet whenever he came home and whenever he left. But Jihyo decided, if our mother wanted to try so hard and pretend all was fine, we had every right to ignore it too. It was better than moping around.
For our own sanity.
Ever since sharing the weight of this family secret, Jihyo started to get back to her usual self. Although, I’m sure it also had to do with not hiding her relationship anymore either.
“Really? Hongjoong wants to go out for karaoke?”
“Okay, fine. I want to. I’m so done with studying for midterms and uni entrance exams. I’m ready to do something fun to celebrate after we finish them.”
“I thought you had no plans for university?”
“‘Joong said it’s good to keep my options open. I questioned if he doubted my skills to get into an entertainment company. He said ‘of course not’, but I did side eye him for that comment.”
“The nerve.”
“Nah, he has a point. Agencies are tough to get into.”
“Are you doubting yourself?” I asked her, lowering my cup from my face.
“Now, why would I doubt myself?” she flipped her hair behind her shoulder, “am I not the most beautiful Unnie to ever exist?”
“Of course you are.”
“Then of course I’ll get in! I’m doing this to soothe his anxiety.”
“Wow, Unnie is such a great girlfriend to Hongjoong.”
We both giggled and resumed eating again. I liked that we were back to normal again. It did sting at times when I saw the two together or when she spoke of him, but each day seemed to get lighter. I would even catch myself smiling when they would hold hands during our walk to school. I remember the uproar his basketball friends caused when they saw their star player linked with the prettiest senior at our school.
It still hurt, but I was genuinely happy for them.
“So karaoke? You can invite Yunho too!”
“I’m sure he would love to join.”
I thought about Mirae. She was upset but I couldn’t exclude her from this.
“Mirae would too.”
“Oh yeah, ask her too.”
“Maybe Mingi.”
“Oh? Mingi? Who is this new person I’m hearing of for the first time?”
“Nobody special.”
“Nobody special, really?”
“He’s a friend of Yunho’s. They’re on the same soccer team. He started studying with us during lunch recently. He’s pretty nice, despite what Yunho thinks.”
“Ah, I don’t know, y/n. You’re pretty good at seeing the good in others. Not skeptical enough like me. It’s not a bad thing,” she said when my brows creased, “I just worry about new people taking advantage of your kindness. That’s all.”
“I know… but if it helps. He pushed me to speak to you… about everything.”
“Did he?” she smiled when I nodded, “well, then he’s invited too.”
I thought about Wooyoung. Would he want to come?
“We are not friends.”
I slurped my noodles as I thought about it. Yunho told me to try.
Mirae didn’t show up to school with Yunho. He walked over to me alone. I saw her chatting with a boy from her photography club. She looked over her shoulder to see us but just walked away. Yunho reassured me she probably just needed space. He told me not to feel guilty about any of this, but it was hard.
She wouldn’t look at me during classes and she left quickly during lunch.
I couldn’t focus well in the library. I sat between Wooyoung and Mingi again. One kept chatting away while the other stayed quiet. Yunho was busy helping Sihyun but I would catch him peeking at me from time to time.
“Well, shit, seems I forgot my earbuds in my backpack,” said Sihyun, “I can’t study without some music in my ears.”
“I could sing for you,” said Mingi.
“Shut up.”
Sihyun looked at me and gave a nod of her head.
“Hey, y/n, go get them for me, will ya?”
“E-excuse me?”
“Why–”
“Why should she have to do that?”
Mingi and Wooyoung spoke at the same time, cutting off Yunho. Both boys eyed the other. Wooyoung was the first to lower his gaze.
“Y/N doesn’t mind, does she?” Sihyun looked at me, “not like this short trip will affect her studying. I need all the time I can get. Unless, she thinks her time is more important.”
“Sihyun…”
“It’s okay. I can grab them for you,” I said, standing up from my seat.
“Thank you,” she waved and gave me a smile that did not feel genuine.
I looked back to see Yunho trying to come after me, but Sihyun grabbed his arm to sit him back down.
The hallways were pretty dead for lunch hour, save for a few kids standing around in quiet pairs. I made my way down to the home room, wondering if Mirae would be there as well. I knew she was upset about our study group but I had hoped she would’ve come around to it now or at least speak with me. I hesitated on opening the door when I got there.
“Y/N!”
I heard my name being called and looked to the side to see Wooyoung standing there. I was surprised. I hadn’t realized… had he been following behind me?
“Wooyoung?”
He lowered his gaze but I could tell his eyes were wandering.
“I… um…”
“Are you okay, Wooyoung?”
I noticed his fingers fidgeting, his hands trembling.
“I came to tell you… if you don’t want to tutor me anymore, I’m okay with ending our arrangement."
What?
Is that what he wanted? Did I offend him that much, that he wanted to stop seeing me at lunch now?
“You must really not like me,” I told him, trying to laugh it off.
“What? No–”
“I see.”
“No, I meant–that’s not… I wasn’t supposed to… shit.”
“It’s okay, Wooyoung. I understand–”
“No you don’!”
His voice sent me backwards. I took a step to steady myself. I looked around to see the few people in the hallway starting to look our way.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry!”
He had bowed ninety degrees as he apologized, catching me completely off guard.
“About what I said to you, on the rooftop, I’m… so sorry.”
“I-it’s okay! Don’t worry about it!”
“No, it was wrong of me.”
“Wooyoung, it’s okay!”
I quickly moved to help him stand upright again.
“Please.”
I froze when I heard his quiet voice.
“Please, let me.”
I stepped away and watched him slowly lift up. He wouldn’t look at me but I listened anyway.
“I… was angry,” he told me, “about something else… And I took it out on you. It… wasn’t fair.”
He looked at me then, with frightened eyes.
“I’m… really sorry for yelling at you. And… you have every reason to be angry at me… to hate me.”
“Wooyoung…”
“I’m… I don’t know how…”
That’s when I noticed his breaths were coming out short. The eyes of others didn’t bother me anymore at that moment. I was more worried about the boy in front of me who looked desperate for my forgiveness.
“I don’t hate you,” I told him, “I’m not angry either.”
“Why not? You have every right to be.”
“I guess, but… to be honest, you had a point. We… aren’t friends. So… you did nothing wrong by not telling me everything back then. If I was in your position, I probably would’ve done the same and kept quiet. So…”
I wasn’t sure if he would be okay with this, but I reached out to take his hand and smiled.
“It’s okay. Thank you for finding me and apologizing. But I promise you, Wooyoung, I don’t hate you.”
He looked down at our hands. I let him go when I heard the quiet whispers around us.
“Sorry. I tend to hold Yunho’s hand sometimes,” when he’s upset, “but he’s my friend and I keep forgetting we’re not…”
“It’s okay.”
I let out an awkward laugh and walked back towards the door.
“Actually, um… about that…” Wooyoung was fidgeting again, “If it’s okay… I wanted to… I wouldn’t mind…”
I felt my heart fluttering. Was he trying to ask what I thought he was?
“Um… just forget it…”
No. I heard Yunho’s voice in my head.
“You’re allowed to have other friends.”
“Wooyoung, actually,” I felt my heart pounding, “I was wondering, if it’s alright with you, would you… could we be friends?”
He didn’t answer. He just stood there all stiff and quiet.
“W-Wooyoung—?”
“Yes! Ah, I mean… yes. Yes. Okay.”
I felt a warmth creeping onto my cheeks.
“O-okay.”
“Okay.”
Okay.
I felt strange. My brain began to blur everything else around him. Everyone else disappeared. There was only Wooyoung and I for that brief moment. Nothing else was said as we stood there, just taking this in.
Friends.
Wooyoung wanted to be friends. I couldn’t help the way my stomach kept flipping.
“Right… I’ll get Sihyun’s earbuds now, then.”
“Oh, I forgot. I actually came to tell you that she found her earbuds,” he told me, looking away, “said they happened to be with her the whole time, so…”
“Oh, okay. Guess we could just head back then.”
“Yeah.”
We walked back to the library together in silence. It still felt awkward but not in the way it always did before. There was a sense of certainty here.
We got to the library and sat back in our seats. Yunho nodded his head at me, asking me why I was smiling so much. I only shook my head and tried to get myself to calm down. I heard giggling coming from Sihyun, but her attention was on Wooyoung. She looked down at her notes when he scowled at her. I wondered just what their relationship was.
Maybe it was the same as Yunho and I. At the end of lunch, after the other three started to walk off, I grabbed Yunho for a hug. I couldn’t stop giggling.
“What happened?” he asked.
“He wants to be friends, Yunho.”
“Wooyoung?”
I pulled away and nodded my head.
“Ah, I guess that’s what that whole thing was about,” he said.
“What whole thing?”
“Sihyun found her earbuds after you left, but she wouldn’t let me tell you. I thought it was weird, and I worried when she made Wooyoung go after you but I guess this all makes sense now.”
“She made him?”
“Yeah, but I guess he wanted some kind of push, right? I mean, if he’s been wanting to be your friend too.”
I felt my cheeks getting hot again and the giggling resumed.
“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while,” he chuckled, “don’t go forgetting about me now.”
“Of course not. I’m sure Wooyoung would love you as a friend too.”
“Will he now?”
“Absolutely! You’re the best friend any person could have. He’ll love you!”
Yunho’s blush spread over his nose.
“I guess you’re right about that,” he cleared his throat, “come on. Let’s get back to class before the bell rings.”
Sihyun never joined us again for our lunch sessions after that day, but Mirae still didn’t come back.
Yunho didn’t run into Mirae on the bus for the last couple days leading up to the midterms. She continued to avoid us at school too, always hanging around older kids or her photography club members. I wanted to tell her about karaoke. Yunho had been invited and even though I had planned to invite Mingi as well, he invited himself after hearing our conversation. I felt anxious about inviting Wooyoung but after establishing a friendship, it shouldn’t have felt unreasonable to ask him. So, I did. He looked around the table, thinking about it, which made me start to feel let down. That was, until the boys encouraged him to tag along. Wooyoung agreed and covered his mouth after Mingi cheered.
The only person left was Mirae. I figured I could ask her once our exams were over. I kept peeking over to her during the tests. She stayed focused on her papers so I told myself to stay focused on mine. Mr. Kim was walking around, making sure we weren’t cheating. At the end of each exam day, Mingi would suggest an after school hangout. I’d try to run over to Mirae to have her come with us, but she’d already be gone.
I wanted to believe she was stressed with the remaining midterms. Afterall, we would only grab some street food or pastries before calling it a night and returning home to study. Jihyo kept saying I was crazy for all the intense work I was putting in. I called her crazy for not putting in enough.
Just before I went to sleep, I pulled out my phone and looked at Mirae’s number. My thumb hovered over her name. I typed out a message, erased it, tried again, hesitated and then sent it.
Hey Mirae, a few of us are going out for karaoke after midterms are done.
I’d really love it if you came too.
It would be fun. — Y/N
I couldn’t sleep. Normally, she texted fast but I didn’t get any answer right away. I decided to leave it for the morning.
“Everything will be okay.”
Right. Everything would be okay.
But when I woke up, I checked my phone to see that I had been left on read.
The exams eventually finished and I was exhausted.
“How do you think you did?” asked Yunho, “stupid of me to ask, since you’re always acing everything.”
“And like you don’t? I think I did okay.”
“Bull.”
I looked to Mirae, who was packing up her bag. I stood up and tried to walk towards her before she could leave again.
“Jung Wooyoung.”
Mr. Kim’s voice caught my attention. I looked at Wooyoung as he nervously walked over to our teacher. Mr. Kim was speaking very quietly. I became worried for my new friend. I hoped all was well. But then the smile on Mr. Kim’s face and his hand patting Wooyoung’s shoulder made me sigh with relief. I wondered what they spoke about.
“What was that about?” Yunho asked him.
“Nothing.”
Yunho wasn’t Mingi. He knew when not to push. No matter how much we wanted to know what happened. We had learned that Wooyoung was a tightly locked chest as well. I would wait for him to trust me in his own time.
I looked back to Mirae’s empty desk.
Some things were going to stay secret no matter how desperately I wished to know.
“Um, about karaoke,” said Wooyoung, catching my attention, “I was wondering, is it okay to let Sihyun tag along as well?”
“Sihyun?”
I wasn’t too sure about that. I was already getting the silent treatment from Mirae because of her. I looked at Yunho who just shrugged, feeling just as unsure as me. Wooyoung, seeming to sense our discomfort, spoke again.
“She’s not a bad person. I don’t know what you’ve heard… or what she may have done but… I promise Sihyun’s not a bad person.”
Yunho and I looked at each other again.
“I mean, maybe she’s nice when you get to know her?” Yunho suggested.
I pulled out my phone to check my texts. Still no response.
“Okay,” I slipped my phone away, “we’ll ask her to join too. I mean, it’s like Mingi said, right? The more the merrier?”
“You’re seriously quoting him now?”
I giggled at Yunho. Wooyoung looked like he was about to smile too but he hid it behind his hand.
The three of us walked out together. Wooyoung was still quiet with us, so much that I worried the chatter between Yunho and I might be bothersome to him. But he didn’t complain. He always left us at the gate to walk home with Sihyun. She had already been waiting when we showed up.
Yunho was hit with a soccer ball to the head. We all turned to see Mingi laughing from a distance. Yunho chased after him before the two returned back to the group with Mingi held in a headlock. We all chatted for a bit. Yunho let Sihyun know about karaoke, though she didn’t look too interested. She said she’d try to make it since we were begging for her to join us.
“Guess it would be fun to see the class rep getting loose though,” she teased me, “I always wondered if you knew how to have fun.”
“Y/N’s plenty fun,” said Yunho.
“Yeah! She plans to sing a love song with me,” claimed Mingi, before he yelped in pain from Yunho’s tightened grip, “I was kidding!”
“Y/N and ‘fun’? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She walked off. Wooyoung apologized to me before running off after her. I watched the two leave together. It made my chest feel heavy for some odd reason. Mingi finally got out of Yunho’s grasp and stood in front of me.
“Who says we have to wait for karaoke to have fun again?” he pulled out his phone to show an ad, “there’s a new boba place. Let’s go!”
Yunho and I looked at each other and smiled in agreement.
The day for karaoke seemed like any other. Hongjoong, Jihyo and I walked to school together. Yunho hopped off the bus on his own. Still no sight of Mirae. Wooyoung left Sihyun at the gate and walked over to us to say hi. Mingi showed up to tell Yunho that his dad, Coach Song, wanted the boys soccer team to meet up for news about their new season.
Classes went.
I sat with Jihyo to watch Hongjoong play during lunch.
All was as usual.
I was walking out of the building with Jihyo and Hongjoong when I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out to see a text from Yunho.
Hey, Coach Song wants us to meet up for a quick practice but I left my cleats in the storage room. Sorry to ask, but could you grab them for me? – Yunho
No problem! I’ll be quick! – Y/N
“Hey, Unnie, I’ll see you guys at the karaoke room later. I just have to do something quickly,” I told her.
“Okay, but we’re starting without you,” she stuck her tongue out.
I waved at the two of them before running to the gym.
I opened the door to see our large court completely empty. It looked so much bigger when there were no sports clubs playing here. I quickly jogged over to the storage room, seeing it open. I looked for a light but the switch wouldn’t work. Just as I pulled my phone out to turn on the flashlight, I felt a push from behind. I dropped my phone, fell forward and winced as my knees hit the floor. I heard a loud slam before everything went dark. I tried to stand up and feel around me for the door.
“Hello?” I called out.
I carefully moved to find a wall.
“Hello?!” I shouted.
I found the wall. I felt along it until I found the door. I tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. Panic set in.
“Hello?! Is anyone out there?!”
Phone, where was my phone? I tried to look around for it but I couldn’t see in the dark. I felt my knees giving in, my breath quickening.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long chapter. Hopefully it was enjoyable at least. Heads up, another hiatus on it's way as chapters are about to get longer (roughly the same length as this one). Thank you for reading!
