going feral

on hiatus until the brainworms start squirming again || 20

[spoonosu]

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

i'm making this because i realized that this sideblog is becoming filled with too many different types of posts and might get a bit too annoying to navigate after a while. therefore, to bypass all that jazz, i've decided to just separate them into different tags for easier access.

i might make a masterlist once i have enough fics to show off (lol), but for now, you guys will just have to deal with this shitty filing system.

anyways, if you haven't guessed from my horrible posting schedule, i'm real bad with finishing my works, which also means that i can't do asks/fic requests. im very sorry lol. brain chemicals (bad time management) go brr ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ▽இﾟ)ﾟ｡

BUT that also doesn't mean that i don't love receiving asks. fire away all the asks/horny thoughts/threatening comments/brainrot that you want to me. i absolutely love reading through all of them :)

check out my ao3 here

[spoonosu]

I'm not sure if you still use Tumblr, but I'm sending a message anyway hoping you see this. I've read all your work on AO3 and omg... Your characterisation of Seongje is one of my favourites (there's not a lot of them, despite reading a lot of Seongje fics). The last story I read was that of Seongje and Gotak. Girlllllllll... T.T I can't wait to read more!!

Thank you so, so much for sharing your stories. I hope you're well!!

woah hello hi i was not expecting this after all these months of staying mia. i still occasionally lurk on this app but have not been checking the inbox regularly unfortunately (sorry!)

i’m pretty sure i sorta promised an ending to that gotak x seongje story but the brainworms hasn’t been hitting me with the ability to tough through all the ancient texts. aaaaa. at a certain point i really wanted to delete it because it was a constant reminder of something i didn’t plan out well. though, i decided to keep it on the page just in case it does make its final return ╮(╯∀╰)╭ who knows

i’ve kinda stopped checking my notifications just to see the numbers go up as a reminder to get back to this writing stuff eventually. but as much as i hate to say this, if i were to post more after this, it’d probably not be in the realm of weak hero anymore. but hey, you never know. most of my writing were done back when i was helllla stressed in university, and since im going back this year… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

regardless, it honestly boggles my mind knowing there are people out there who still think about my past works sometimes. i never expected this account to get more than a few comments or likes, let alone actual followers. i’m glad the downbad-ism virus for this freak didn't just infect me haha. i'm not sure if my characterization for geum seongje is lore accurate, given how utterly disrespectful he is on the show (lol), but i'd like to think he'd have a semblance of a heart for a love interest if he ever had one. the guy's not entirely a gentleman, but his lung cancer-riddled ass should at least go out of his way to i don't know, turn the other way when he's smoking. y'know, bare minimum stuff...

if you happen to come back to this account, i want to thank you again for your comment. as much as i find the stuff i write pretty cringy and delete button worthy, i'm glad at least someone seemed to like all this.

this reply kinda sounds like i was hit by the ao3 author curse but i swear i just lost motivation. i’m not dying yet, i swear!

[spoonosu]

OH MY GOSH YOU'RE ALIVE HIIII

But I can't believe you responded and I'm so glad you're doing well!! I should probably also start reading more books instead of fanfics..

Anyway ofc you made an impression on me like bro your writing is so peak I genuinely almost cried when I found ur account but dw I understand not being able to write anything, I also cringe so hard whenever I re-read ANYTHING I've ever writen. And besides, I never get bored of your fics on here 🥹🥹

I'd love for you to recommend me some Seong Je fics!! That would like actually heal me and my unhealthy obsession with him

Also I'm really sorry if I sound parasocial 😭 I'm just a tiny bit obsessive and yeahh

Hope you keep enjoying your break from school and wish you the best!

hahah i read everyyy comment i receive (unless one trickled through the cracks occasionally). but yes! my heart's still pumpin'.

i can be a lil parasocial too dwdw (╥﹏╥)

anyways, i apologize for the late reply (looong week) but here's some of the fics i've bookmarked and recommend from ao3 (i would go through tumblr but it has a horrible filing system). there's like..a whole lot more but i figure i can just throw a few out here for now. you'd probably wanna be logged in for some of them though.

x readers:

But I Know You'll Take Me With You by Nocturne Kalopsia (108k)

the most recent one i read involving our favourite damaged furry. i don't really fw shapeshifters but this fic changed my mind (and rocked my world in an insurmountable amount i didn't even know was physically possible).

Cigarette Daydreams by Nocturne Kalopsia (87k + ONGOING!)

i think this is, if not one of my first geum seongje fanfics i read and boy, is it the mount everest of writing. truly one of the best reads of all time. i love you aged-up geum seongje. all day, all night, from the bathroom to the bed that he inevitably breaks because bedframes are apparently very easy to break in fanfic world. am i ovulating rn? possibly. but my point still stands. but yeah, nocturne kalopsia. my goat. one of the founding fathers of the geum seongje x reader religion. their entire work list is addictive and i'd probably recommend all of it here, but then this post would probably just be me ranting about how much i love this author and how i wish their writing could become actual screenplays. seriously, they're that good.

Black Tea by jeqjeq (25k)

forced proximity? sign me tf up. a hot new neighbour moving in the apartment right in front of yours? put my name down twice baby. it's fuckin' wolf keum, the world renowned certified asshole??? foaming at the mouth. i need to be sedated.

Fifty-Seven Seconds [Endlessly] by OneandNone (26k)

i read this one on a plane and have to say, it kept me glued to my screen long enough that i lowkey felt bad for the lady who sat next to me. that being said, i turned my brightness down to the lowest setting so it shouldn't have been that bad. anyways. for the more feral wolf keum lovers out there. the warning for his entire existence throughout this one cannot be stated enough.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER] by AceNo_1fan (8k)

i laugh, i snort, and i have a great time. but the reader clearly doesn't. and wolf? who knows what's going through his thick skull.

geum seong je x his various boytoys:

tell me we both matter (don't we?) by zee (anazeepu) (29k)

the synopsis alone had me intrigued. what do you mean seo juntae is penpals with none other than our big bad wolf?! if you crave character introspection within moderate angst and the feels, this one is for you.

proof. by kaleidojune (jajudeeds) (24k)

whew. fluff fluff flufffff alll around. though, would definitely not wanna be in juntae's situation. thank goodness i can live vicariously though a fictional character's POV.

For a coffee lover by j (lcuiel) (5k)

wow. geum seongje working a minimum paid job legally??? that's a first. shoutout to yeon sieun for making his shift that much more bearable.

go hyuntak and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad situationship by lightningmcqveer (22k)

chef's kiss. i think go hyuntak speaks for the people when we say that geum seongje is truly and seriously a suffocating pain in the ass. minor spoiler alert, there may or may not be a scene where they sleep in the same bed (all above base, of course). at least hyuntak's mom likes the boy, unlike everyone else in his life.

right handed (right eared) by Anonymous (45k)

oh my god. i waited for their updates like a fuckin' trained dog every time a notification popped up in my gmail. i don't fw heavy angst at all (i'm just trying to be a happy, jolly fellow) but man, did they write this so well. the characters are both so aware that they're horrible for each other, but none of them can break the cycle (one clearly unwilling and the other just delusional in his own right). it simultaneously makes you want to smack some sense into hyuntak and throttle seongje with your bare hands but also makes you fall and sort of root into their toxic dynamic in a sense? i don't know. all i know is that i am and will be forever obsessed.

[spoonosu]

Its been a year spoonsu, I really really miss you. (Hope you get the reference) Anyway this isn't a request but I just wanted to tell you I'm obsessed with the way you write and especially with the way you write Seong Je. No shade but so many people in the weak hero class fandom on tumbr misrepresent him in their writing like son he is NOT doing allat in front of Baek-Jin?? But I literally love the way you write for Seong -Je I really do feel like you capture his personality perfectly like yes this is canon now guys. Anyway I hope you're doing well and resting. Also I'd love to see another one of your fics someday (obv only if you have time and want to write again)

Have a good day/evening and byeee!!

i miss u too random anonymous stranger :')

i don't expect a lot when i log onto tumblr nowadays (shoutout to the few likes and reblogs here and there..really does wonders to my little ego). but this??! wow, thank you. seriously. i didn't expect anything i wrote to leave a lasting impression on anyone, but clearly you've proven me wrong. wow.

^ thats me seeing this notification pop up in my inbox btw ^

i can definitely list sooooo many talented writers that grasp geum seongje's character like they're in his head so i can barely "canon"-ize my version of his person in my head anymore. i don't think i'm doing him much justice when im rereading my stuff back months after posting. that being said, the dude is an enigma, so maybe i am. who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ psst, i can def recommend some fics to check out if you're in geum seongje withdrawal (๏ᆺ๏υ)

on another note, ty for checking in! i'm currently taking a break from school (long story), but yeah, i'm doing quite well. i've begun trying to read more physical books lately because i got sick of brainrotting in my bed. hoping that something finally clicks in my head so i can write anything remotely coherent and worthwhile for your time :]

i do feel a little guilty about not posting anything on here for so long, but i genuinely still cringe at that google doc screen and only manage to type in a few words before closing it altogether. i don't know when i'll ever finish a fic and find the courage to hit that little post button again, but knowing that there are people who appreciate it motivates me more than you can ever imagine.

thank you again :)

[spoonosu]

just realized i've reached 101 followers even though i haven't posted anything since like...eons ago (late september). i promise i'm still alive! i just can't read anything i've written without physically wincing at every line i type onto that godforsaken google doc screen.

bear with me y'all

i'm unfortunately not following as much shse content as i used to (we WILL finish that seongtak fic eventually if it's the last thing i do!) and i do think that might be one of the last shse-related stories i'll post on here unless some inspiration finally decides to strike my hollow ass brain. but hey, if wh3 does happen, and mr geum seongje does make an entrance, i'm more than ecstatic to hop onto that bandwagon and ride off into the sunset again.

[spoonosu]

watching peacemaker s1 rn and WHY DOES ADRIAN CHASE CANONICALLY WANT TO EXPERIENCE MOTHERHOOD fmLLL

adrian chase might singlehandedly be the only guy i know who’s a proud supporter and willing participant to the mpreg community and idk where else i can rant about this but here.

[spoonosu]

will you go away if i indulge you just this one time?

Synopsis: You just wanted to provide another outlet for the resident chain smoker at your school. Now if only the guy would stop coming into your workplace and interrupting your game time…

Or, five times Geum Seongje show up to your workplace unannounced, and the one time you realize why.

(Loosely based on that one scene from Day6’s “When You Love Someone” MV)

Warnings: canon semi-divergence??, underage smoking, fireable offences, a boop (punch) to the nose, convenience store shenanigans (life is boring, live a little!), 5 + 1 things

Pairing(s): Geum Seongje x Convenience Store Worker! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

ao3

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a/n: alas, we are finally back to x reader fics. this has certainly been a real doozy to write. as always, if you see any mistakes in here, no you don't.

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1.

After school on weekdays, you work the night shift at a convenience store between six in the evening and twelve in the morning. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it was the only place close to your house that was willing to take in a high schooler, even allowing you to do your schoolwork at the front counter when the store became less busy. The foot traffic peaks at the start of your shift for dinner rushes, slowly decreasing to practically none once you clock out. Over the few months that you’ve been employed, you’ve realized that only people coming in are either weirdos or other evening shift workers, so you’ve grown pretty accustomed to handling all types of folks at the dead of night. 

Technically, there was supposed to be at least two people manning the store at all times, but your older coworker Cassidy was always late, sputtering out empty promises that they’d cover more shifts afterwards. Other than the fact that he was the boss’s brother’s son, you’d think that he’d be fired if he worked anywhere else. 

True to his character, it was almost eleven when Cassidy strolled in today, with another slew of excuses about how busy traffic had gotten. You waved him off to the backroom, too engrossed in your mobile game to care. There were no customers, leaving only the bleeps and buzzing emanating from your phone to fill the space. 

Then comes a guy crashing into the store with a few too many bandages and blood stains to be considered normal against his Ganghak High School uniform. You pay him no mind as he tilts his glasses up against the ridge of his nose, scanning the store. The guy obviously had a couple of screws loose in his brain, sure, but you’ve seen enough of his kind to know to stick to the normal routine—give them what they want, then let them fuck right off.

He strolls towards your counter, yawning, stretching out the Band-Aids on his face. Upon further inspection, you recognize him as the guy who always sat in the back of your classes (when he even chose to attend), acting as if he owned the place. You weren’t bothered enough to learn his name, opting instead to steer clear of whatever was going on. To be fair, you were also too tired to care on account of your late hours at the store. 

You pause the game on your phone, expecting at least a usual bag of chips or a pack of candy to be shoved before you. You pause your movements, cocking your head in question, seeing that there was a lack of anything in his hands. 

“Give me that one,” Band-Aid guy bluntly spits out, nudging his head to the items stored behind you. You follow his eyes toward the sealed glass case he directed your attention to. 

Who does this guy think he is?

You turn back to stare at him with a look of disbelief, similar to how you looked at your friend Abby when she told you that she got back with her ex. He mirrors your sentiment, frowning back, seemingly looking more ticked off by the second by your inaction. 

“Seriously, dude? Cigarettes?” you deadpan. “Man, we’re literally in the same class at school.”

His frown deepens.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are.” 

“We’re the same age.”

“No, we’re not.”

You sigh, too unbothered to continue with the ultimately futile back-and-forth. If this guy wants to burn his lungs out, he can smoke a million packs for all you care. You’re only being paid minimum wage, not for you to express concern for your customers. But regardless, you still have to follow store policy. 

“ID?”

He pulls out the fakest piece of ID you’ve ever seen in your life. You have to stifle a laugh as you snatch it from his fingers, examining the information poorly printed on the piece of plastic. 

“Okay, dude, first of all, you’re not 46 and, unless you’re wearing a wig right now, you’re not fucking bald. Second of all, what kind of fuck ass clown name is McLovin?”

He mutters out a curse under his breath with a name that you catch as Hwangmo that fuckin’ idiot. 

“I can’t open the case for you.”

You hear a sharp inhale. 

“Fuckin’ hand it over,” the Band-Aid guy demands, fingers curling up into a fist at his side. “I’m not gonna ask twice.”

Clearly, the guy struggles with rejection. You’ve seen enough people with anger issues and a short fuse to know that you were either going to be cussed out or about to be beaten up under the span of a second if you didn’t cheery-pick your next words correctly. Knowing his archetype, you’re willing to bet the latter. 

“Hey, dude? There’s a camera up there.” You point to the corner of the store, where a beat-up surveillance camera that you think hasn’t been changed since the 1980s stays fixed to the ceiling. Band-Aid guy’s eyes flicker to the corner before flicking back to you, unimpressed, shoulders tense. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to get the police involved.”

Your threat of calling the police proved ineffective as he continues to stare you down, eyes carrying a frightening, deep hollowness, which clearly didn’t match the crooked grin that was beginning to curl at the corner of his lips. This, you feel, was like the calm before the storm. An overwhelming tense moment settles over you both before you sigh, hop off your chair, and shove your phone back into your pockets. Guess you’re not finishing your game today. 

“Go outside.”

“The fuck?” 

“Do you want your fucking cancer sticks or not?” You roll your eyes. “Wait outside.”

His jaws click in agitation, as if he were figuring out whether or not he should listen to you. You assume the promise of new cigarettes outweighed his overwhelming ego, because he turned on his heels with a sharp tsk, leaving with the ring of the doorbell behind him.

It takes you about five minutes to clock out, convince Cassidy to hand you a box of cigarettes, and to close the store by himself. You argued that if you had to stew alone today for almost five hours straight, you’re sure he can for the last hour. Cassidy didn’t even question it, slapping you on the shoulder, which you interpret as his way of telling you that it was fine.  

You’re immediately surrounded by the Band-Aid guy as soon as you walk out the store, towering over you like a dementor about to suck your soul out. 

“You made me wait,” he hisses out, eyebrows drawn down with a small pout to his lips. It strangely reminds you of a domesticated dog who hadn’t been fed their kibble for the day. 

“Chill.” You throw the pack in his direction, which he catches with one hand and examines under the dim overhead streetlamps beside your store. “I got you what you wanted, didn’t I?”

He turns the packaging around, seeing if you have tampered with it in any way. You scoff. As if you have the capabilities to do that. You fold your arms when he shrugs, probably deeming it acceptable. He rips out the plastic packaging to retrieve a cigarette, and swiftly lights one up with a lighter conveniently stowed away in his pants pockets. You wince at the strong tinge of cigarette smoke that begins to dawdle through the air. Your disgust must have shown because he turns to the side to blow out the smoke, relief coursing its way through his system just a bit by the way his whole body seemingly droops just a sliver of an inch. 

Addict. 

You are about to turn to walk away before he stops you.

“Wait. Here.”

He reaches into his other pants pockets, cigarette loose between his lips, and pulls out a wad of loose cash. 

“I don’t like having to owe people shit,” he casually murmurs, slapping the wad into your hands. You peer down, and your eyes widen at how many extra bills were in your hands than you were prepared for. The kid must be absolutely hopeless in math. 

“This is way too much,” you kindly inform him, beginning to count out the excess to give back to him. 

In the middle of counting, you’re starting to wonder if the kid is just disproportionately rich, and if you should just pocket it instead the next time he comes over. The thought quickly dissipates after you take a slight glance up. No rich kid’s parents would allow their child to go out of the house looking like they live and breathe a copious amount of adrenaline, much less littered with scratches and scrapes galore. 

You’re about to hand over the extra tip before he blocks you yet again.

“It’s a tip,” he tells you, pulling out the cigarette from his mouth to exhale. Your lips purse together as your fingers slowly inching back. Now you’re a little stumped, feeling a bit guilty just taking it even if he did just insist otherwise. He cocks an eyebrow at you when you continue to just stand there.

An idea occurs to you seeing his red uniform catch your eyes under the glow of the streetlamp. He watches you in interest when you reach into your own pockets, and pull out an equally red lollipop. You grab his unoccupied hand and place it delicately into his palms. 

“I was planning to eat this on the way home, but I figured it’s the most I can do for you right now. It’s a little melted, but I’m sure this has to taste better than whatever that is.” You gesture to his cigarette, then add quickly, “It’s cherry, by the way.”

He snorts, examining the lollipop between his fingers. It’s a funny sight, you think, seeing the normally tough, scary guy holding such an inconspicuous, innocent object in his hand. 

“Well, I’m going home. Bye.”

You turn and leave the guy to his smoking session. 

Geum Seongje watches you leave with a tilt of his head, amused. He lingers for a while before flicking the cigarette onto the pavement. He strolls out of the illumination of the dim streetlamp, unrolling the lollipop packaging. He pops the stick into his mouth.

He could get used to this. 

2.

The second time you saw the Band-Aid guy was a week later, now wearing a neon orange windbreaker. You let out a short heh when, instead of asking for a box of cigarettes, he strolls to the back of the store, where all the junk food is displayed on the shelves. See, he can learn to act his age. 

You’re just a little dumbfounded that he shoves a bag of lollipops onto your counter after a couple of minutes. You recognize them to be of the same brand as the one you handed him the last time you met. 

“No demand for cigarettes today?”

“Still going through the last pack,” he replies nonchalantly.

You don’t believe him. Nobody with that amount of cigarette smoke smell on their person is rationing a small pack for a week before longing to buy another. And certainly not from someone with so little impulse control.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter what he’s buying; you still have a job to do. You ring him up and announce the total. He hands you an amount that has you questioning the education system before shoving the bag into his pocket. 

“Keep the change.”

You watch his orange windbreaker disappear as the doors close behind him, money still loosely held in your hands. 

3.

Cassidy was late. 

Again. 

It’s now nine in the evening, and you’re wondering if you should just leave the last hour to him to close the store and raise the warning of taking half of his tips. Just an hour ago, you had to clean up an orange soda spill by yourself, almost slipping in the midst of wiping it up with your store’s shitty cleaning supplies. You mutter out a quiet profanity as you lean back into your chair, back undoubtedly sore from the repetitive motions, and your thoughts fill with nothing except of different ways of murdering your coworker without leaving a physical mark for the police to trace.

In your daydreams of pummelling Cassidy to the ground for making you have to work alone, the boy with the resting bitch face comes storming back into the store, stomping (hobbling?) in your direction. He looks more peeved off than usual today, squinting as he studies your face, his own covered with more bruises and cuts than you remember from his previous visits. You begin to feel a little tense because he’s never been so close in your face before. You sniff a whiff of metallic blood and antiseptic on him rather than the usual sting of smoke. A flicker of recognition flashes across his face once he realizes it’s you, pacifying him a little. He opens his mouth and bluntly growls out a demand for cigarettes. 

Figures. 

“Store policy dictates I can’t open the case without Cassidy,” you answer with a sigh. 

His lips suddenly twist into a cruel sneer.   

“Is that your boyfriend or somethin’?” he grits out, a crease forming between his eyebrows. You can only stare back, mortified. 

“Cassidy? He’s way too old for me.” You shudder, gagging at the thought of even dating your flake of a coworker. “And definitely not my type.”

The guy seems to ease up to your words.

You figure he’s going to leave after you’ve just told him that you weren’t able to give him his beloved vice, but he just stands there, staring at you expressionlessly. It’s honestly getting a bit awkward. You figure you shouldn’t ask what happened to him just to cut the silence, but you’re starting to feel a little antsy.

You clear your throat.

“Well, if you’re just going to stand here until Cassidy comes in…do you wanna join my game?”

It’s probably not recommended to give out your personal information to someone who looks as dangerous as this guy, but based on the only two interactions you’ve had with him, you don’t think he’s that bad of a guy.

He seems to perk up at your suggestion. 

“Game?”

“Yeah, I mean, you might as well help me level up,” you respond, pulling out your phone. He gets to take the hint, pulling out his own phone, and for the next few minutes, you help him set up an account. You raise your eyebrows, peering over to his screen after he finishes typing in a username. You read it aloud to ensure you’re not misreading it. 

“Wolf Keum?” 

He met your eyes with an annoyed glare. 

“You got a problem with that?” 

It would be more intimidating if the guy hadn’t come in with a foot brace and wasn’t squinting the whole interaction. You decide that you have a better chance of running away today if he ever decides to swing, letting out a soft heh escape your lips. 

“What are you, an apex predator? Is that your actual name?”

He pauses.

“You don’t know my name?”

“I never bothered to learn.”

“Are you living under a fucking rock?”

Needless to say, you’re a little offended. Not only did this Wolf guy come barreling into your store demanding something that was way too illegal for his age, but he’s also expecting you to know his name as if he were some king of the school. What a narcissist. The scowl on your face must have shown even to his blinded state because he begrudgingly concedes, muttering out a low and short, “Geum Seongje.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Geum Seongje.”

Nice to match the name to a face. You figure you weren’t getting any more pleasantries from him after this, so you nod and tell him your name before taking back your phone. 

“Okay, Geum Seongje, help me kill some losers.”

Crazily enough, you both win the first round. And the second. And the third. By the end of the fourth round, you’re starting to think you might’ve clicked on easy mode by accident. Your suspicions are debunked when you pull up the player statistics, realizing that most of the kills haven’t actually been taken by you, but by the player with the newcomer badge. You shoot up from your phone. 

“You’ve totally played this game before,” you accuse, indignation seeping into your words. You only added him because you felt bad, but now he’s taking all the EXP for himself. How dare he pretend that he hasn’t played just so that he can take your kills?

Your accusation only seems to delight him as a shit-eating smirk curls up his face, his eyes still glued to his screen. A splat resonates from his phone, indicating that he has taken another kill for himself. 

The guy—Geum Seongje, as you’ve now learned—doesn’t sugarcoat it for you.

“You’re just shit.”

Okay.

If it weren’t for the giant tip he always seems to leave you, you’re about to jump over the counter just to strangle him by the throat, just to knock that stupid Cheshire smile off his face. Luckily for him, the bell by the entrance finally chimes, and in comes Cassidy, gearing up to start another one of his apology monologues. You put up a hand, signalling him to quit while he’s ahead, and click your phone shut. Seongje glances up from his own device, more peeved off that he wasn’t able to finish another round, before he sends a glare akin to that of an agitated guard dog up at your coworker. 

“Close the store for me, and you can be acquitted of your sins, Cassidy,” you say, shutting him off his oncoming spiel. You gesture towards the glass case. “And pass me another box of cigarettes.”

Your coworker throws an ok sign in your direction.

“Sure thing, boss.” 

His attention is then directed to the new face that hasn’t moved an inch from your counter since his arrival. He wiggles his eyebrows, face cracking into a smug smile.

“Ooh, is this your boyfriend?”

“Him?” You blink, eyes wandering to an irritated Seongje. “He’s just my classmate.”

Cassidy snorts, walking around the counter to reach for the keys that are kept under a box to open the glass case. 

“Some classmate he is to show up at ten at night just to play video games with you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Wasn’t it just nine a minute ago? You check your phone, realizing that it indeed was ten.

“Are we fuckin’ done here?” Seongje finally speaks up. A chilly tension seems to envelop the atmosphere, and you suddenly want nothing to do but get out of here. 

You glance briefly between the two of them and hop out of your seat, but not before pointing to them both.  

“Behave.”

Seongje flips a middle finger in your direction. Cassidy chuckles with a shake of his head. 

The box of cigarettes is flung into your hands when you come back out from the backroom, Seongje nowhere to be found. You cock an eyebrow. 

“Where’d he go?” 

“Left when you did,” Cassidy replies, shrugging. “Didn’t even want the pack.”

Weird. 

“You guys have fun,” he teases with a wave of his hands. “He seems like a real sweet puddin’.”

“Bitter pudding, more like,” you mumble under your breath, trudging out the doors. You glance around to see Seongje sitting down on a nearby bench, injured leg stretched out, back to scrolling on his phone. He casually tosses it to his side once he notices you walking up through his peripheral, jutting up one finger as he fishes for another wad of cash. You plop down beside his uninjured side, sliding the cigarette pack toward him. It was practically routine by this point—how he drops the cash into your hands, not even counting how much he’s given you, while you wordlessly pocket the change.

“I’m starting to feel like I should really stop enabling your vices.” You hum, leaning back on the backrest. You don’t know if he wanted you to stay or leave after this exchange, but he doesn’t look like he minded either way. “You’re gonna start a forest fire one of these days, and I don’t want it to be because I keep handing you this shit.” 

A pause. 

“Fine.”

You look over to see him brandish two lollipops—one red and another orange. He thrusts them in your direction like he has never learned how to act gently in his life.  

You figure he’s waiting for you to take one. Since he seemed to like the red cherry flavour you gave him last time, you decide he may as well have it again. Grabbing the orange lollipop from his hands, you unwrap the packaging and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness overtake your tongue. It’s mango this time. 

You take it out with an audible pop. 

“This shit’s growing on you, huh?” 

He smirks, unwrapping his own. 

“Yeah.”

For some reason, you don’t feel like going home right now. And by the looks of it, he didn’t either, by the way he’s looking expectantly at you over his glasses. You take out your phone. 

“You down for another round?”

He flashes a crooked grin.

“If you’re ready for me to kick your ass again, sure.”

You play for another five rounds before praying for a lice outbreak to rain down upon Geum Seongje. 

4.

You’ve never liked flu season. The weather begins to feel chillier, the winds blow harder, and the sounds of hacking coughs and wheezes become too much of a normal occurrence for those coming into the store. But most importantly, you always seemed to eventually become infected, one way or another. Last year, you caught it from Abby in your class, right after she broke up with her shitty ex again. The previous year? From a baby who just so happened to sneeze in your direction. 

This year was no different. 

Unfortunately for you, your manager still booked you for a shift, citing that there would be no one to manage the store if you decided to opt out of your shift. Turns out, he did know about Cassidy’s missing hours and had just decided to turn a blind eye to it. You argued that that shouldn’t be your problem to handle, but after a few back-and-forths, your manager convinced you to come in with a promise of doubling your wage for the day. 

When you clocked in for your shift, you were halfway contemplating passing out right then and there on the counter. An hour in, your cold has gotten so bad that even some concerned mom had tried to ask your manager to let you take the day off. You waved her off, telling her that you brought this onto yourself as you coughed what seemed like your entire lung capacity into your arm. 

All in all, it wasn’t a very good day. 

By the time your regular bounded into the store, you’ve already gone through a box of tissues, and halfway through another. He stops short of the counter, seeing you in all of your sick glory.

“Whoa, you look like absolute shit.”

You flip him off while grabbing another tissue to blow your nose into. 

“Yeah? I’m finally down to your level,” you retort, voice a little hoarse around the edges, irritated from the constant coughing. “Better leave early today before I infect you, too.”

He gives you a look that can only be described as something between a mixture of annoyance and of a weird concern. 

“Why didn’t you take a day off?”

“Boss promised to double my wage.”

“Why couldn’t that old motherfucker work instead?”

You snort, which sounds a little more phlegmy than usual. 

“That ‘old motherfucker’s’ name is Cassidy. And hey, that’s your drug dealer, give him a little more respect,” you inform him, being met with a roll of the eye. “And he’s in the back right now. Didn’t wanna get infected himself.”

“So he’s here?”

“Yeah?” 

“And you’re still here.”

You can only dumbly respond with a slow nod. You don’t know what he’s trying to get at, but the sinister look behind his glasses sure isn’t settling your already wary conscience. He steps back from your counter, rolling his shoulders back with a crack of his neck. 

“Wait here.” 

You huff. As if you had the mental capacity to be doing anything else right now. 

Seongje leaves without another word, and after some brief shuffling noises coming from the back, a text comes in under five minutes from Cassidy. Or, in the very least, from his number.

CASSIDY: leave.

You cock an eyebrow. Cassidy doesn’t send texts as cryptic as this. Nor does he use punctuation.

YOU: ? CASSIDY: leave.

Well, that’s ominous as hell. 

YOU: our boss promised me double wage 

You wait patiently as text bubbles flicker up your screen. A low groan emits from the backroom.  

CASSIDY: take my cut for today.

You pause. Cassidy was never this nice. He actually still owes you money for all the previous shifts you covered by yourself. 

YOU: you sure?

Another shuffle of sounds, followed by a low sound that sounds awfully like a moan. You choose to ignore it for your own sake. 

CASSIDY: yes.

You shrug. Maybe he finally felt guilty enough. 

YOU: well YOU: if you insist 

You turn off your phone with a click. At the same time, a smug-looking Seongje walks back to your counter, clutching everything you had left in the backroom before your shift. He seems to be in a better mood than when he arrived today, eyes sparkling like he’s just been shot with a vial of adrenaline. 

You shoot him a look of confusion.

“How did you get th—”

“Senior citizen told me to hand it to you,” he cuts you off blankly, dropping your items onto your counter. “Said you can just go home now.”

You sniff. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You blink slowly up towards him, face a little flushed from what you guess will worsen into a nasty fever the next day, and give him a weak smile that you hope expresses enough gratitude for bringing your stuff. His ears begin to tinge pink, and he quickly drops eye contact, turning around quickly.

“Bye.”

He leaves the store without another word. 

You look down and begin to collect your belongings. You pause when, among your regular personal items, there sat a container that you have no recollection of bringing to the store. You take a closer peek to inspect the object, reading the label aloud to yourself. 

 “Uncle Bert’s Remedy for the Cold.”

How odd.

5.

You’re bored out of your wits. 

Today, the store was quieter than usual. You had stupidly forgotten your phone at home as you were rushing to school, only realizing when you dropped down to your desk, with a minute to spare before the bell rang. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough time to rush back home before your shift, so now that you’ve lost your only source of entertainment for your shift, the world seemed to slow into an incredibly slow snail-pace, with each passing second sending you deeper and deeper into the pits of boredom. 

Everything in the store had already been restocked the previous day, and you hated cleaning, so you figured you could allow the piece of mould at the corner of the snacks aisle to live to see another day. You lean back in your chair, so bored out of your mind that you start counting the number of tile dots on the ceiling.  

When Geum Seongje finally struts into the store, you have already counted up to three hundred and forty-eight dots. 

You hear a short huff, which makes you lose track of which dots you’ve previously counted. 

“Eventful day, huh?”

You groan, pushing yourself back forward, and drop your head into your hands. 

“I forgot my phone at home and now I don’t have anything to do,” you complain, saying anything to fill up the space. “I don’t know what I did, but I swear Cassidy’s also ignoring me. I don’t have any evidence, but I swear he’s been switched by a dupe who’s actually trying to work. Isn’t that absolutely insane?”

You pause, waiting for him to agree with you.

“Sure, it is,” he eventually answers, egging you on into your rant.

“Maybe the older generations were onto something when they said that we were too addicted to our smartphones, but hey, we’re living in the present. Smartphones are in style.” Your eyes raise. “But now that I don’t have it, I’m noticing a lot more things that I missed before.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you don’t know the existence of conditioner.”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. The look that he gives is as if you had just insulted his entire family bloodline. You begin to feel a little bad.

“Stop looking at me like that! Jeez, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that. I respect the concept of friendly fire. Your hair is passable. Solid C plus at its best.” 

His lips twist into a cruel snarl, evidently still pissed. 

“B minus!” You raise both hands, trying to calm him down. “You can’t be mad at a B minus, right?”

His snarl drops into a frown, which you take that you live to see another day. Dropping back down into your seat, you study the guy in front of you, who scrutinizes you back with an arch of a brow. It sparks an idea in you. 

Whether it is a good one is debatable. 

“Pass me a cigarette?”

Seongje’s head whips up faster than you thought was humanly possible. 

“You serious?”

“Yeah.”

It takes him no time before he gives you a resounding and definite, “No.”

You deflate a little, blowing a raspberry to his face, crossing your arms over your chest. “Boo, you do it all the time, why can’t I get a share?”

“I don’t share.”

“No,” you correct. “You do share. Lollipops, tip money, and cigarettes?”

You pump your eyebrows up and down, fluttering your eyelashes as a way to butter him up. You even go as far as to flash your world-famous beam of a smile, which always seems to convince your mom to pass you an extra serving of dessert after dinner. It doesn’t seem to work very efficiently on Seongje, though. 

“You won’t like it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should go back to counting tiles and keep your pretty little head from losing any more brain cells.”

You don’t even process what he calls you before he drops two green lollipops in front of you.

“Just stick to these.”

You scoff.

“Just let me try it, I can handle it.”

You’re met with a sharp tsk and another roll of an eye. 

Spoiler alert: you couldn’t handle it. You went back to sucking on lollipops soon after the initial puff, ego bruised, and with a very much entertained Geum Seongje chuckling by your side.

If you had to be honest, you wouldn’t be opposed to hearing that sound come out of him a little more.  

+1: 

Ronny always seemed to have a stick up his ass. You imagine it may have originated from when he was a kid and was playing with sticks one day, and one just accidentally got too close to his back door. Wasn’t that their only source of entertainment those days? Anyways, you think that the stick somehow fused with Ronny’s rectum, and so the doctors never bothered to take it out of the ass. That, you think, has to be the reason why he was such a stickler to the rules.

As a night shift employee, you don’t see him often, but on the occasional days of the year that you do, you’re always on tiptoes to not accidentally set him off on another one of his charades.

This time, you’re standing sheepishly off to the counter as he’s counting the cashier balance from the day. You don’t know what to do other than to just look every which way in hopes of something to cut the awkward tension. It was then when his voice sharply cut through the air. 

“Did you take some money off the top?”

“No?”

“We’re a hundred short,” Ronny turns to you, a crease in his brow beginning to form. 

“Uhh, I don’t know what I can tell you, other than the fact that I didn’t take it.”

“So what? It just vanished into thin air?”

“No? But I can help you recount it to double check?” you offer weakly.

“Do you think I can’t count myself?”

“I never said tha—”

The bell chimes above the entrance, and your eyes briefly lock with Seongjes, giving him the best look that simultaneously says I’m dying and I’ll get back to you in a second before it’s snapped back to Ronny, who’s just waved his hands in your face. Rather rudely, you might add.

“I’m docking this from your pay this week.”

You blink.

“What? You can’t just do that. Can’t you, like, check the security cameras or something?”

“Those security cameras haven’t worked since before you were hired.”

“Okay, sure, but you can’t just be pointing fingers without evidence,” you sputter out, bewildered.

“You’re the only one here working the counter,” he retorts.

“I’ve barely worked the till today! If anything, Cassidy had been—”

A flash of black suddenly looms behind you, freezing you dead on the spot. 

“Is there a problem here?” 

This isn’t good. Ronny shoots the newcomer with a look of disdain. Then:

“This is none of your business.” 

This is less than good. Abysmal, actually. Just before you think Ronny couldn’t dig himself a bigger hole, he follows himself up with another bad decision of wording. 

“Scram, punk.”

Your blood runs cold. 

Ronny’s just dug himself a grave. You don’t just tell someone as prone to violence as Geum Seongje to scram. No, you don’t demand Geum Seongje to do anything. 

A quick spurt of air whooshes beside your ear. 

You don’t register the punch until Ronny has fallen on the ground, cradling his face. Blood spilled out of his nose like a faucet, staining the dirty marble tiles around his vicinity—the same ones that you swore you were cleaning the next day. As you watch your boss groaning and twisting in front of you on the ground, you’re dragged out of the store by your wrist by Seongje. His grip was unrelenting, leaving no room to argue, but not enough to bruise. 

“Wait, I’m still scheduled to work today,” you try, feebly trying to stop him by planting your feet to the ground. It doesn’t really do anything other than rub off the soles of your shoes. You let him lead you, shutting up after you physically feel the heat of the rubber burn starting to get awfully close to your actual soles.

He lets go once you reach a playground, pushing you to sit on the swings. You oblige out of fear, and he sits on the swing beside you, face contorted into silent rage. You figure you shouldn’t start the conversation and start swinging a bit before he bluntly asks, “Why are you still working there?”

“Because I need the money for school,” you answer blankly. You stop yourself from adding an audible duh in the end.

“No, why are you still working in that shitty store?”

“Because that’s the only place that hired me.” 

“Well, quit.”

A pause. Then, you burst into laughter at the mere notion, wiping tears away with your fingers. What is he, nuts? Your college fund is practically only a quarter way reached. Besides, where can you even find another job? 

When your eyes peer back open, you realize that he hasn’t laughed with you; his face cemented in that intense expression he gets when he’s finally being earnest. Your laughter diminishes into a small chuckle, then slowly turns into a silent frown. Your eyes widen once you realize he’s not joking. 

“You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dude, who’s going to hire a high schooler?”

“Me.”

“Like, as an assistant?”

He looks at you as if you’re the densest person he’s ever met. You stare back, perplexed.

Then it clicks. 

“Are you running a secret business? Like—”

Your voice lowers to a conspiratorial tone. 

“Are you a gang leader? Is that why you have so much cash money? They always said that paper trails were the hardest to trace, right?”

Seongje looks as if he wants to stitch your mouth shut, wondering if he should even be saying the next few words that leave his mouth. Eventually, he does.

“No, I meant that I’ll pay for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He inhales sharply, muttering out a pretty rude profanity under his breath. You’d be a lot more repulsed by the usage of the word if you weren’t a little flustered by the way he’s slightly pouting, tongue pressing down a bit on the insides of his cheeks. His ears are dusted a bit red, contrasting his normally pale skin, and it was right then that you decided that Geum Seongje would be an awfully adorable man if it weren’t for the way he’s always so temperamental and prone to anger.

“I’m telling you to quit your job and date me instead, dumbass.” 

Oh.

You take it back, he’s awfully adorable even when he’s being foul as hell. 

In the end, you manage to convince Seongje to continue working at the convenience store. Even if he might be in a gang (you’re still a little unclear about the logistics behind it), you still want to earn your money by yourself. Something about independence, and all that jazz about making an earnest living managed to convince him of letting you go. Just for a little while, at least. 

By some divine intervention, Ronny decided to give you a pay raise out of nowhere a few days after the whole nose-punching incident. You were certain that you were about to be fired, but hey, you weren’t going to question it. Extra money is extra money. 

Cassidy still avoids you like the plague, which you’re a little bummed about. He may have had his flaws, but he was a chill guy to talk to—on the days that he came in, that is. Regardless, you’re just glad that he barely runs late anymore. 

But all that doesn’t matter when you now have a boyfriend who shows up to keep you company. 

Occasionally still unannounced. 

Frequently sending your blood sugar levels skyrocketing to the heavens.

And always with an extra lollipop in his pocket.

[spoonosu]

wifi kept cutting out so i was reduced to drawing my idiot men.

[spoonosu]

don't come towards me (i don't wanna fall for you) // pt.2

Synopsis: It's time for Go Hyuntak to take the initiative…but not without a bit of liquid courage.

Warnings: MDNI! (Mentions of sex...briefly), Aged-up characters, Go Hyuntak is still traumatized by Geum Seongje (but he's lowkey turned on by him?!?!), Baku fumbles a girl (obviously), the rest of the cast finally makes an entrance...at least for a little while

Pairing(s): Computer Science Student! Geum Seongje x Nutritionist Student! Go Hyuntak

Genre: Slight angst, some comfort (idk, let's just have a good time)

Word Count: 5.6k

part 1 [part 2] part 3

ao3

---------

a/n: this update was long overdue (sorry!!). i didn't want to let this sit in the depths of my drafts for much longer. as always, there's probably some writing mistakes in there but hey, just glaze over it, alright?

---------

The first time Go Hyuntak learned of the concept of irreparable change was in the first grade, back when his parents were still together and long before he met Baku. Life was easier then. He never had to worry about who he was potentially pissing off or of any stupid social hierarchy to follow. The only thing he had to worry about was whether or not his Tomodachi survived the night.

Gotak never wanted to grow up. 

Unfortunately, the world had other plans. 

It was a barely memorable day. Go Hyuntak was assigned to clean the class turtle’s cage. His memory before the incident is fuzzy; all he knows is that one second Petey was in his cage, and the next, lying upside-down on the carpet in front of him, shell splintered through the middle. 

He still remembers his little hands, trembling in midair as he stood frozen, eyes widening at the scene before him. The world collapsed, tilted on its axis. The air instantly thinned, as if someone had clenched his lungs between their hands, gripping forcibly and not letting go. 

He just wanted to admire the shell. 

Truly. 

It wasn’t like he woke up that morning wanting to see how blood stained a classroom carpet—a carpet that ironically displayed a cartoon dog with a speech bubble reading ‘Today is another happy day!’. 

He quickly stepped back.

Through gasps and welling tears, Gotak tried to conceal himself in the corner of the classroom, away from the hushed conversations of the kids around him. Plugging his ears with his fingers, he squeezed his eyes shut, completely cutting off the rest of the world. He knew he had made a mistake; there was no need for anyone to tell him otherwise. 

Upon seeing his condition, his teacher had tried to console him. She tried telling him that she called a nearby veterinarian clinic to fix the crack, working in ‘everyone made mistakes!’ and ‘Petey’s going to be fine!’ every few seconds, patting him on the back. Her words fell upon deaf ears. 

The ride home that day was quiet. His parents exchanged looks when Gotak bolted into his room, quietly locking the door and diving under his blanket. Under normal conditions, his mother would have asked him how his day was. 

He self-grounded himself for two weeks, isolating himself in the bathroom when it came playground time. Not even his usual favourite snacks brought him any joy. His beloved Tomodachi pet eventually died from starvation. 

But he didn’t care. 

All he could see was Petey's glossy eyes staring up at him from the carpet. 

Helpless and in agony.

When Petey came back, his shell was a little more lopsided than before. Gotak never went near the cage again, scared that even his general presence brought a bad omen to the class pet. Those two weeks were the worst he’d ever had, and he swore that he’d never make such a dumb mistake ever again. 

If only life continued in that black-and-white fashion. 

Enter Na Baekjin.

Na Baekjin was the kid every parent wished their child to be. Incredibly intelligent, diligent in his studies, physically strong, and most importantly, self-disciplined. In those days, that was hard to come by. In a sea of kids, Na Baekjin was the golden child. A parent’s wet dream. After he joined the Union, he became synonymous with the added title of untouchable. 

And then there was Go Hyuntak. 

You had to be a special kind of person to keep Gotak in control. He was easy to piss off, immediately puffing his chest and jutting his chin out at any semblance of a threat. Other than Baku, there was almost no one who could calm him down from his angry spats. 

So maybe that’s why Baekjin decided he had to be subdued. 

In hindsight, Go Hyuntak really shouldn’t have smart-mouthed the literal leader of a criminal ring. Nor should he have continued when he was dealt two black eyes and was practically swinging randomly in the air. 

And especially not again when he was thrown against the metal fence, backed into a corner with nowhere to run. 

It was ridiculous knowing how easily Baekjin shattered his kneecap. The initial bone crunch was abysmal. But the intense throbbing jolts of pain afterwards? Hurt like nothing he has ever felt in his life. He screamed out until his throat felt hoarse. 

Gotak could only watch through blurred vision as Baekjin retreated into the shadows. 

Nothing like the fucker that had stood beside him. 

Geum Seongje looked like he had the time of his life. 

At the time, Go Hyuntak barely had any interactions with Geum Seongje. He’d only heard of the guy’s existence through hushed rumours from his Eunjang classmates sporting particularly bad bruises and Band-Aids. Admittedly, he initially scoffed when he first heard them. Three-second rules be damned, he’ll look at whatever he wants to look at. It’s a free country, after all. No one was above the law. 

…

Bleeding out against that fence put things into perspective. 

There, Geum Seongje stood, the whites of his teeth bared out like an unleashed mutt. Staring down over the edge of his glasses with Gotak’s blood drying up along cracked-open knuckles. Gotak’s vision was too blurred to make out any specifics, but he heard it—a low, momentary sound that sounded a lot like a click of a light. 

A huff. 

Then, the smell of smoke twisted its way into his lungs. 

Before losing consciousness, Go Hyuntak solidified one realization: the rumours didn’t encapsulate the true nature of Geum Seongje’s brutality enough. 

The man was an absolute, deranged lunatic.

And he was absolutely terrifying.

<><><><><><><>

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

The rush of blood into Gotak’s face was instant, heartbeat speeding up inside his chest. His hands feel clammy, slightly trembling as he tries to shove his laptop back into his bag. He wants to slap himself in the face. 

How did he even get himself into this situation? What kind of guy proposes a kiss to someone who clearly hates their guts?

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Gotak reiterates, eyebrows furrowing, getting a little bit pissed off that his backpack isn’t cooperating with his obvious attempts to zip it close.

“Hm?” Seongje prods, leaning in closer, closing in, eyes never wandering far off. 

Encroaching.

Gotak bites his tongue, twisting away. Heat rises into his cheeks. A sense of fear floods his system when his eyes stupidly flicker up, meeting Seongje’s eyeline. 

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to get close to me.”

“Why?” 

Seongje doesn’t even refute it. Can’t. But he does momentarily stop moving in. 

Gotak gives up on closing his backpack. His knees feel weak. Seongje follows him up when he stands, gaze chipping away at Gotak’s hardening resolve. Gotak fights back the urge to just grab and crush Seongje’s glasses between his hands. He now knew how Sieun felt back on the rooftop. 

“You know exactly why,” Gotak grits out through clenched jaws. 

Seongje’s eyes dart down. 

A beat. 

Gotak sucks in a breath. He raises his hands and pushes Seongje out of the way, unzipped backpack in one hand. He ignores the pointed looks from concerned spectators as he walks away, picking up speed by the second. Down the flights of stairs. Past the front desks. 

A lump had formed in his throat when he pushed past the entrance. Gotak balled his fists, hitting them repeatedly against his chest, hoping that it would somehow dislodge the obstruction. He freezes when he hears a deep exhale of breath behind him.

Gotak doesn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Seongje can move quite silently. 

It doesn’t click to him that he had begun to run again until a familiar shot of pain flashes up his knee. 

When Gotak reaches home, he immediately locks the door behind him. 

It was probably unlikely that Seongje would have followed him all the way home, but his mind is racing too frantically to make a coherent thought. He chucks his backpack away to his side, collapsing onto the door once he hears the familiar click of the lock. His back feels hot against the cool surface. He slides down, knees tucked into his body, dry heaving. 

Go Hyuntak was an idiot. 

Because just for a singular moment, Go Hyuntak had forgotten who he was talking to. That was an idiotic move on his part. Pathetic, really. Gotak had actually treated him like a regular human being. A friend. Perhaps even an option, going as far as to allow himself to believe it too. 

As in, he stared at Seongje’s stupid punchable face longer than he had to. As in, the thought of reaching over his shoulder had crossed his mind. As in, he thought of pulling him in. As in, he might have even accepted the thought of kissing the asshole on his dangerously annoying lips. As in—

As if he believed that Geum Seongje wasn’t who he really was: a cold, deranged lunatic hellbent on crushing everything in his path. If he dared to join the Union as Na Baekjin’s lapdog, everything else was completely on the table.

It doesn’t matter what happens. Whatever this relationship is between him and Seongje has to be some kind of sick manipulation. 

It has to be. 

Because if it isn’t, this is going to open a Pandora’s box of possibilities that he would rather keep shut. 

And Go Hyuntak doesn’t know what is scarier. 

<><><><><><><>

The next few weeks at school felt quiet. Seongje hadn’t come to school. Or, if he did, he always left at least a few minutes before Gotak came in. The table he frequented was empty, which Gotak still took full advantage of. He wasn’t going to pass up the best seats in the hall, even if it did leave a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Occasionally, Gotak would catch a slight passing of a certain orange windbreaker. His heart would flutter a little when his legs carried him forward. 

He’d always manage to lose it through the crowd. But no, it wasn’t like he was chasing after it. 

Not really.

Just the other day, he smelled the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke coming from the vending machine by the Nutritional building. Gotak instinctively ran towards the source, about to voice out a speech of disdain. The sound had died in his throat when all he found was the butt of the leftover cigarette instead, simmering against the tiled ground. 

Crushed. 

His banana milk tasted less sweet that day.

<><><><><><><>

“Aren’t you glad he’s avoiding you?” Juntae asks, blowing on his chicken wing. At his side, Baku takes a bite of his own freshly-fried wing, immediately fanning his mouth to cool the meat instead of waiting like a normal person. 

The kid was always so impatient. 

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” Baku gets out between huffs. “You’re acting like this isn’t something to celebrate.”

Beside Baku, Sieun silently observes Gotak before dipping his chicken into ketchup. He’d usually be more talkative with Suho around, but his boyfriend was supposedly too busy “earning back his hours” at his part-time job—as if he had to after experiencing a freaking coma. 

Usually, they’d be complaining about whatever schoolwork had just been handed out. But this time, Go Hyuntak had stupidly opened up the conversation by mentioning the human train wreck that is Geum Seongje.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Gotak emptily responds, fidgeting with the chicken wing in his hand. Baku was right for once—Gotak had wanted this to happen. As an outsider would put it, he was suffering from success.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like success. It feels more like a hollow victory.

Baku pauses, a look of heavy concern pulling down his usual happy-go-lucky face. Gotak perks up and nudges his shoulder. 

“What?”

“Go Hyuntak, you may be able to casually hide all those porn magazines under your bed from your mother, but you cannot lie to me.”

Gotak chokes on his own saliva. He knows that things are about to get serious when Baku starts using his full legal government name. He’s also starting to regret telling Baku nearly every embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. 

Juntae stifles a laugh, choosing to instead peer rather intently at the wing in his hands. Always considerate, that one. A faint smirk slides up Sieun’s face. 

Baku reaches a rather greasy hand out, patting Gotak on the shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, I know what will fix you.”

Gotak blinks. Once. And then twice. Before—

“What?!” 

Baku sighs as if it hurts him to say what he was just about to say.

“I know you’ve been feeling lonely without me,” he starts, shaking his head. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me.”

“Get your dirty ass hands off of me, you dumba—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been there,” Baku cuts him off. “Suddenly transitioning from seeing my gorgeous face almost every day of the week to only a few days has got to hurt.”

He clutches his chest, as if even imagining it brought him an indescribable sense of heartbreak. Gotak rolls his eyes before reaching for a tissue to dab the grease from his hoodie. He sighs. It’s not coming off.

“And that’s why you’re so hellbent on finding him,” Baku incorrectly diagnoses. “Because you’re just craving any sense of a connection, even to that murderous psychopath.”

Baku pulls Gotak into his arms, ruffling his hair, much to his absolute dismay. Juntae, being the absolute angel he is, quickly wipes his fingers against his napkin and combs the strands back. Gotak sends him a look of gratitude before sending a glare at Baku. 

“My poor, poor Gogo, doomed to navigate the world without his best wingman.”

Gotak hears a sniffle. 

“Let it out, Gotak. Real men can cry. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. ”

Gotak rolls his eyes. Baku should consider a minor in Theatre. He shuffles awkwardly out of Baku’s grasp with an exasperated sigh. 

“I have other friends.”

Baku coos, lightly tapping Gotak’s cheeks with his fingertips before taking another bite of his chicken wing. Gotak feels a spare breadcrumb drop down from his cheeks onto the ground. He’s definitely taking a deep scrub shower after this. 

“You’re so cute, Gogo.”

Gotak wants to bonk his friend on the head. Park Humin is just so lucky that he cares about preserving his 99 IQ.

“I’ve made friends here,” he grumbles incredulously, wiping at his face. 

His words fall upon deaf ears. The table then grows silent. He looks up to see his friend looking at him with a look of silent contemplation. It’s actually starting to scare Gotak that something was going on in Baku’s brain. Clearly, it’s also starting to scare Juntae and Sieun too as they both stop chewing, cautiously observing. 

Suddenly, Baku lights up, as if a thought had pierced through his thick skull. 

“I heard from my basketball team that there’s a party this Saturday,” he declares excitedly. “Open invite. You guys have to come.”

A beat.

Then, a whole table of sighs. 

“Pass,” Sieun refuses. “I promised Suho I’d help him study for his upcoming exams.”

Baku nods solemnly. “Guess that can’t be helped. How ‘bout you, Juntae?”

Juntae deflates, pouting.

“I would, but I have to help plan an event for the Anime club. I'm scared they’ll kick me out if I skip another meeting.”

Baku huffs.

“Guess it would just be me and Gotak, then.”

Gotak punches his shoulder, scowling. 

“Hey! Who said that I’d come?”

“I know you don’t have anything planned.”

That admittedly hurt Gotak’s ego a little bit. He was planning to just scroll on his phone the whole weekend. But hey, brainrotting at home is a natural form of entertainment now.

…

Not that he’ll acknowledge that out loud. 

“I have…” Gotak racks his brain for a valid excuse. “Homework!”

“Pah!” Baku waves a half-eaten drumstick in front of his face. “It’s just one day, how bad can it be? Think about all the baddies you can have the honour of meeting.”

Gotak makes a face of disdain.

“Absolutely not.”

“Nah, you’re comin’,” Baku decides resolutely. “And I’ll drag you out of your place if I have to.”

There is no question in Gotak’s mind that Baku would actually go through with that plan. The sky’s the limit with the amount of shit Baku could endure to get what he wants. It’s honestly endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he’s actively tanking both of their grades into the ground. 

“You come over and I’ll break your fucking phone.”

Baku’s chair screeches against the wooden tiles as he recoils away from Gotak, guarding his precious phone against his chest.

“You stay away from my baby!” He points an accusatory finger. “She and I have been through more than you can ever imagine!”

Sieun raises an eyebrow.

“She?”

“She’s more capable than a man will ever be.”

Ever the feminist. 

Gotak shakes his head. 

“Whatever, I’m still not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No—“

<><><><><><><>

Go Hyuntak needs to work on his persistence. 

They’re now both at the front gates to the house party, Baku’s phone having been securely pocketed in his pants. 

Gotak cringes as muffled hoots and hollers emanate from inside, as awful strobe lights flash across the windows. He’s surprised that the neighbours haven’t made a noise complaint by now. Across from them, a dirtied Converse shoe lay sideways, existence forgotten. There might be something leaking out through the top, but Gotak wasn’t planning to play detective today.

“I’m not going in.”

Baku dismisses Gotak’s words with a wave of his hands. 

“You’re already here.”

Gotak groans, already feeling tension starting to grow at the base of his neck. 

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because face cards stick together, Gogo,” Baku pushes him in by the shoulders. “Now come on, I wanna see some baddies.”

The inside of the house party was somehow worse than what he had envisioned. From random streamers hanging from the ceiling lights to disco lights beaming into his eyes every five seconds, Gotak was sure this place was hell on earth. He hears a splash of water in the back followed by a group cheer. He shifts a bit to see through the window that most of the party was in the backyard, choking down Jell-O shots and performing keg stands beside the pool outside, loud music playing in the background. 

Just then, a cup was shoved into his hands. Baku grins.

“This shit will rock your world.”

Gotak looks down, cringing at an orangey-red semi-translucent liquid in his hands. He smells the strong tinge of vodka and whatever other weird chemical warfare was mixed into the solution. He doesn’t think he should be physically feeling his nose hairs burning from one whiff.

Just as he was about to hand it back, Baku’s attention had seemingly already fixed on his next target. That was some random girl at the corner of the room, seemingly equally as disgusted with the ruckus around her. She looked two seconds away from throttling someone’s head off. 

Just Baku’s type.  

Gotak sees his friend swoop into her peripheral vision. 

“Hey girl, do you have a map?” Baku shoots his usual wide-mouthed grin. “Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.”

…

Nope. 

Absolutely not. 

Gotak was leaving. He’s seen enough of Baku’s failed attempts at flirting to need to sit through another. The guy can find some other punk’s shoulder to cry his eyes out on once she undeniably rejects him.

His eyes flit towards the entrance. He’s just going to leave. Baku said that he should come to the party, not that he had to stay. If he waits just a few more seconds, he’s sure that his friend won’t even notice him sneaking out. Besides, if Gotak were to leave right now, he'd still have some time to finish his work before bedtime. 

He inches himself closer to the entrance but is stopped when a drunken man mistakes the welcome mat for an optimal place to empty their entire stomach content. He doesn’t know who’s hosting this party, but he sends his condolences to whoever will have to clean it up. 

Gotak recoils. 

He didn’t sign up to play janitor today.

His eyes trail around the surrounding area. A forgotten beer pong table left deserted, cups precariously close to the edge. Ahead, he spots a TV displaying some random reality show that he has no interest in binging. Nor does he want to sit near a pair of guys currently making out on the couch. Beside him, a couple runs down a nearby flight of stairs that he hadn’t even noticed, hands holding the other, lipstick stains and hickeys trailing down to both their collarbones. 

He sighs. 

The rooms upstairs were probably his best bet for staying sane. Gotak just hopes he has enough data on his phone to last however long most people are deciding to stay at this party.

When he reaches the second floor, he is met with a hallway of closed doors.

What is this? Open Sesame?

Without thinking, he opens the door closest to him.

Gotak’s mouth gapes. Two guys are unquestionably going to town on each other in front of him, totally unfazed by the sound of the door opening. If anything, it sounded like it probably turned them on even more, judging by a heavy, erotic whine from the guy on the bottom. 

He quickly shuts the door, never wanting to squeeze lemons into his eyes as much as this moment. Gotak swore he made eye contact with at least one of them. 

He speedwalks to another door, this time making sure to listen in to whatever was inside before walking in. He doesn’t find much luck with door number two, being met with even more erogenous noises. 

Gotak feels like he needs to take a shower. 

He feels a sense of relief when he doesn’t hear anything behind door number three. 

His breath hitches in his throat once he opens the door. 

Not because he saw another scene that came straight out of some porno.

No, it was way worse.

Standing over the railing was the man who’s been haunting his daydreams nightmares for the past few weeks. 

It truly wasn’t fair. 

Whatever deity was out there clearly had its favourites—very clearly going by the name of Geum fucking Seongje. Even the moonlight illuminated his figure in a way that made Gotak jealous, glowing behind him like an angel of death against his black and red hooded jacket. His hair had grown out, bangs slightly covering his glasses. He held a bottle of beer in one hand, evidently having been drinking, judging by the blush that tinged his normally pale skin. 

It’s weird. 

Seeing Seongje so quiet, that is. 

Gotak doesn’t know if he likes that.  

The angel turns, freezing as recognition floods in at the sight of Go Hyuntak. His lips part, about to say something, but he quickly turns back around, thinking otherwise. 

Gotak decides that was good enough of a signal to proceed. 

He walks up beside Seongje, throwing his arms over the railing, still clutching Baku’s concoction in his hand. The scene ahead was nothing like the party downstairs. It was more of a forested area in the back than Gotak envisioned, the party downstairs and moonlight above being the only sources of light illuminating the nearby trees, casting dark shadows onto small crevices and distant figures. A pulsing bass reverberated below, occasionally followed by splashes of water and the sound of drunken laughter. 

No one speaks for a while. Gotak never did well when things got quiet. So he cuts the silence first.

“So this is where you’re hiding? On the balcony of some shitty house party? I thought you’d be beating up some thugs in some alleyway.”

Seongje cracks a smirk.

“At least I’m not stuck at home,” he casually responds. “Let me guess, Baku dragged you here?”

Gotak scoffs, frowning as he rolls his eyes, shooting a glare. 

“I’m not that predictable.”

Seongje takes a swig of his beer, eyes glinting behind his glasses. 

“You are.”

A night breeze passes through, slightly tussling Seongje’s bangs across his face. It makes him look more boyish than usual. Gotak feels his neck heat up. 

“It’s like you’re a whole new person,” he comments. 

Seongje shifts, rolling his bottle of beer between his fingers. His eyes quickly flit to Gotak before going back to observe the moonlit scenery outside, silently ruminating. 

Then, he quietly admits, “Changing is not as entertaining as I like it to be.”

Gotak quirks an eyebrow up. 

“Changing?” 

Seongje sighs.

“Beating up thugs in some dark ass alleyway has lost its fun.”

Gotak snorts in disbelief. 

“You’re unbelievable.”

Seongje shoots him a wink, grin stretching wide enough to display his canines. 

“Only for you, princess.”

The heat rises to Gotak’s face. That last word rolled off Seongje’s tongue a bit too naturally. He looks down, briefly sloshing the drink around in his cup, the reddish-orange liquid glinting under the moonlight. 

Rocks your world, huh?

Gotak takes a solid gulp. 

He immediately chokes as the liquid works down his throat. The burn was instant, seemingly burning a hole through his esophagus, stinging his eyes. Gotak can’t help but let out a symphony of expletives. Seongje barks out a short laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“Takes one to know one,” Gotak hisses out between coughing hacks. After what seems like an eternity of trying to suck in enough air to wash away the taste of the gross alcohol, a warm fuzziness begins to muddle his thoughts. Gotak has always been a lightweight. 

He inhales sharply. For future reference, he entirely blames the alcohol for what he says next. 

“Are you avoiding me?” 

Seongje’s grin falters. The air becomes heavy with tension. Then—

“You told me to.” 

Gotak huffs. 

“That’s never stopped you before,” he retorts. The Seongje he knew from before barely comprehended the meaning of personal boundaries. 

Which is why his next statement catches Gotak off guard. 

“You ran out on me.”

Just like that. Spoken in a tone as if Gotak had left him to fend for himself. Like that was the biggest crime he could’ve committed against someone like Geum Seongje. 

Gotak gnaws on his lower lip. They both don’t say anything for a while. He brings the cup to his lips again, this time taking a sip. The second time is better than the first, probably because he portion-controlled, but it still brings tears to his eyes. Gotak carelessly wipes up a couple of drops that had dropped down the side of his lips with the back of his hand. 

“I’m sorry.”

Seongje takes a glance at Gotak before raising his bottle to his lips. Gotak had never realized how hot it was to see someone’s Adam's apple rise and fall with each gulp. He unexpectedly has an urge to bury his face in Seongje’s neck. He stares, transfixed, even after Seongje stops drinking. The man cocks an eyebrow. 

“Why are you even apologizing to me?” Seongje suddenly inquires, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

At this point, a normal person would have kept their thoughts hidden. But this isn’t a normal situation. And Gotak isn’t normal, even less with liquid courage coursing through his veins. 

His mouth moves faster than he can stop himself.  

“I think I’ve started to miss you.” 

He doesn’t notice how a slight tint of red runs along the shells of Seongje’s ears. Gotak leans harder against the railing as a dizzying wave hits him. 

“I think I’ve missed you,” Gotak says again, words slurring around the edges, tongue heavier than he remembers. 

He’s met with silence. 

“I’ve missed you, but I hate that I’ve missed you, and it’s like…” Gotak crinkles his nose. He doesn’t wait a second before blurting out—

“It’s like I want to keep you in my life.”

He barks out a short, awkward laugh. His hands move quickly across his face when he feels something flit down his cheeks. 

“Isn’t that so fucking hilarious?”

Seongje can only continue to stare at him. Has it always been so hot here? Gotak fans himself, ruffling up his hair a little in the process. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Seongje says with an unreasonable amount of seriousness in his voice. It’s kinda unfair how tolerant he was of alcohol. Gotak’s lips feel a little drier than usual. 

“Yeah, I do,” Gotak insists through half-lidded eyes. “You’re the dumbass here.”

He blinks harder when Seongje seems to appear a little blurrier along the edges. Seongje’s chest rises, intaking a sharp breath. 

“You’re drunk.”

No shit. 

Geum Seongje is lucky that he’s so frustratingly pretty because Gotak doubts he has enough conversational skills to last a lifetime. He’s also lucky that Gotak is good at running his mouth enough for the both of them. 

“It’s funny because you were there when my knee got absolutely obliterated. Remember? By Na Baekjin?”

From the second the last word was uttered, Go Hyuntak already knew that he fucked up. It was a question that didn’t need answering, one that he doesn’t even know he wanted the answer to. The sentiment is clearly shared when he notices Seongje’s gaze darkening, tonguing the inside of his cheeks, debating whether to answer or not. Gotak waits. 

“I didn’t know that he was going to take it that far,” Seongje finally replies.

“You didn’t stop him.”

“No,” Seongje agrees. 

The slight crack of the plastic penetrates the air.

“Do you know who was the first person I saw after I woke up?” His voice cracks a little. Seongje can only stay quiet, eyes turning to fixate on some faraway trees over the railing. 

“Baku, that stupid, dumb idiot.” Gotak blinks hard, resting his head against the cool railing. “All snotty and teary because he didn’t get to me on time, and promising that he’d buy me banana milk when we got back home. He even offered to take a few days off from school to take care of me.”

Gotak snorts.

“Idiot probably just wanted to skip classes to play video games at my place.”

He straightens back up.

“My mom was even worse. She thought I had been mugged.”

A weird mixture of a cry-laugh came out of Gotak. 

“I don’t even know how I managed to hold myself back from telling her it was nothing like that—that it was because star student Na Baekjin believed I was a threat to some batshit insane organization I had no interest in joining.”

He sniffs. 

“But I still cried at his funeral. Not as much as Baku, but I did anyway. Because he was just a fucking kid. Granted, with issues that even a bucketload of therapy can barely fix because let’s be real, that kid was an absolute mess of a human being bu—”

Gotak cuts himself off, looking towards the horizon. Overhead, the moon shone brightly, casting shadows on his face. 

“But he was just a kid. A kid who was being completely fucked over by all the adults in his life and surrounded by absolute shitheads whose only concern was how many zeros trailed under their bank accounts.”

Seongje doesn’t dare breathe, beer left dangling between his fingers, condensation dripping onto the wooden tiles. Gotak turns, wet eyes clear under the moonlight. He opens his mouth, landing one last blow. 

“And I don’t think you did either.”

Another breeze flows in. 

“You don’t fucking know me,” Seongje spits out, snarling. 

Defensive. 

“Maybe I don’t,” Gotak nods. “But I’d like to think that I’m starting to get your tells.”

The conversation ends with that. 

Because there was nothing else left to say. 

They stay there, staring out over the leaning. There was no more alcohol left.

A ring cuts through the silence. They both turn to the source, apparently coming from the pockets of Gotak’s pocket. Reaching in, his phone displays Baku's face. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He accepts the call. 

“Yeah?”

“SHE REJECTED ME!” Baku’s voice rang through the other end, hiccupping, clearly choking down a sob, quieting down. “Then told me I reminded her of her younger brother, Gotak. YOUNGER BROTHER! What does that even mean?”

Gotak exhales, rubbing his temples.

“It means you never stood a chance, you big oaf.”

Another hiccup.

”I wanna go home. Let’s Uber together.”

Gotak takes a glance beside him. Seongje stares back, expression unreadable. 

“Do you wanna join?”

Seongje exhales. 

“You're a real romantic, Gotak.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Take your idiot friend home.”

“Are you stupid? It’s almost one in the morning.”

Seongje pushes himself off the railing, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“I’ll see you around.”

Gotak scoffs seeing Seongje retreating around the corner. 

He left his beer bottle on the railing. 

<><><><><><><>

When Gotak comes back into his introductory nutritional class the next day with a painfully throbbing hangover, his seat is empty. That was normal. 

What wasn’t normal was the giant cooler bag sitting in the middle of the table, with a note with his name taped on the top. He glances around, looking for anyone who may have placed it. All he got instead was a ton of awkward eye contact and a few pointed looks shot his way.

He decides to open the bag.

Peering in, his eyes widen at the sight. 

Inside was what he thinks is a vending machine's full stock of banana milk.

There was another note attached above it. He reaches in. There was a rushed number jotted down on the top, along with some writing below. Gotak squints, trying to make out the absolutely horrendous handwriting.

Ball’s in your court, sweetheart. – S.

His face flushes.

Damn you, Geum Seongje.

[spoonosu]

head hurty, pill-popped, migraine eminent and yet i'm still reeling over s1 of weak hero (may have just watched the show). beomseok is such a byproduct of his toxic environment and it just makes me sad. suho is a motor-mouthed bumbling idiot who needs to think before he talks because why is he just keep agitating everyone LMAOO just go back to sleep, i beg of you (╯˘ -˘ )╯ sieun...is just my bbg and he can do nothing wrong.

i'm having such a hard time typing anything coherent down so i'm sorry if this all just seems like babbling. i just have many thoughts. can't even tell you when the next fic update will be :/

[spoonosu]

got bored at 3am.

[spoonosu]

Hi! I just wanted to ask a question! Are your fanfics based on the webtoon or the drama? I’m just wondering! I love them and will read them either way! ❤️

hellooo yes, thank you for this question. my fics are mainly based on the drama. funnily enough, i started getting into this fandom because i saw a seongje edit that someone made from the show and went awOOOga heart eyes (truly, i'm no better than a man (｡・//ε//・｡)).

i would read the webtoon but i don't think i have enough of an attention span to get through 200+ chapters. some of the fics i consume are based off of the webtoon so maybe that does impact some of the scenes i write ┐(´～｀)┌

[spoonosu]

don't come towards me (i don't wanna fall for you)

Synopsis: In which a certain smug asshole keeps worming his way into Go Hyuntak’s life. Or alternatively, Geum Seongje was only trying to make amends in his own weird, stupid, idiotic way. How is it his fault that it snowballed into something much bigger than they both could’ve imagined?

Warnings: Aged-up characters, Go Hyuntak is still traumatized by Geum Seongje (the guy helped break his knees for god's sake), weaponized cigarette smoke, mentions of actual school assignments (ew!), Baku's a doofus (and we all love him for it), Seongje beats up a guy (whether or not they deserved it is still debatable)

Pairing(s): Computer Science Student! Geum Seongje x Nutritionist Student! Go Hyuntak

Genre: Slight angst, little hurt (but maybe more comfort??)

Word Count: 4.8k

[part 1] part 2 part 3

ao3

---------

a/n: i didn't wanna keep proofreading this anymore ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ this was only supposed to be a one-shot but, as always, i have no self-control.

---------

It doesn’t take someone with a rocket science degree to figure out that Go Hyuntak doesn’t like Geum Seongje. Why would he? There’s absolutely nothing that Seongje has ever done that has made Gotak want any resemblance of a relationship with him. After he practically beat Gotak into unconsciousness before Baekjin delivered the final blow to his knee and nearly derailed Eunjang’s plans to take down the Union, Gotak doesn’t exactly have any intentions to interact much less see Seongje again. 

That period of his life was over. 

Gotak doesn’t fight anymore. 

At least, that’s what he hoped. But the world is cruel to Go Hyuntak. So cruel, in fact, that when he stepped into his first Nutritional Sciences class of the semester, there he was—Geum Seongje, smack dab in the middle of the lecture hall. 

Alive. 

Breathing.

Standing out like there was a designated spotlight shining directly on the asshole’s head. 

And busy unplugging his computer charger from the desk socket.

There was no doubt about it, Gotak‘s mortal enemy #1 was not only in his university, but in the exact same room as Gotak. But unlike his high school counterpart, he crazily enough wasn’t covered in bloodied bandages or bruises that littered his body like paint splotches. 

It was by now that Gotak realized that this lecture hall didn’t only hold courses in the Nutritional Sciences realm. Sure, Seongje could also be in Nutrition but Gotak highly doubts that he would even be remotely interested in learning about it. The guy’s palate mostly consists of cigarette ashes and the tears of all the guys he beats up anyways. Why would he have any use for nutrition in his diet? 

Now, Gotak isn’t stupid—though he does think that hanging around Baku automatically puts a buffer onto his brain cell capacity. He knows he has to play this cool. There are like a hundred other students who were supposed to attend his mandatory introductory class. And fortunately for him, since this is the first class and he knows absolutely no one, there isn’t even an unspoken designated spot for him to sit at yet. 

Besides, what are the chances that Seongje would even see him from this far away? The man wears glasses for a reason. He doubts Seongje would even remember what he looked like. Gotak likes to think he’s grown a lot more mature and handsome—sharper features, a taller build, muscled stature. Nothing that made him appear so easy to bully in front of assholes like Seongje. 

Still, he exhales a long breath before walking through the lecture hall doors, trying to avoid any and all forms of accidental eye contact with everyone around him. Gotak’s trying to keep a low profile, after all. Even if Seongje was at least half a lecture hall’s distance away from him, he still doesn’t want to risk the chance of getting noticed. 

Unfortunately, he’s a little too good at dodging all forms of contact because he somehow also forgets to dodge the presence of physical bodies. 

“Ow! Son of a bitch, watch where you’re going!” 

Ever since high school, Go Hyuntak prides himself as someone who’s fit. Well-built, as his mother puts it to the neighbourhood aunties. Even with his bad knee, he can still probably find a way to knock someone out of commission for a while. But when he sees the behemoth of a man that he accidentally stepped on, he thinks that everything he’d been training for has been for nothing. Because this? This was the real deal. 

He jumps back, quickly bowing down as he profusely apologizes to the wall of muscle, catching the brief glances of some nearby students. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you in the way!” his mouth fires off quickly, still trying to act as inconspicuous as he can. “I really didn’t mean it!”

The guy dramatically rolls his eyes and pulls his unproportionately small backpack straps over his shoulders. As he leaves, he intentionally knocks himself into Gotak, sending him hurdling into the nearest table. Gotak just barely hears the remnants of a mumbled idiot before picking himself up, assessing his injuries. There weren’t any big ones, but he’s wincing as he touches a growing spot of pain on his right hip. Guess he clipped the edge of the table pretty good. 

“God, this is embarrassing,” he murmurs under his breath to himself, already feeling his face begin to flush, averting the gazes of whoever heard the sudden commotion. 

First day of classes and he’s already pissed off a student. Brilliant work, Go Hyuntak. 

“Well, I’ll say,” a familiar voice breaks the silence.

Gotak freezes, body suddenly enveloped in a cold sweat. This voice is one that he knows all too well. The same one that laughed manically when they realized that Gotak was totally unable to get up (on the day his dreams were completely shattered). The one that filmed him and Juntae on the roof just to bait Sieun into fighting. 

The voice that can only belong to one singular evil monster: Geum Seongje. 

“You should’ve kicked him back,” Seongje whistles, stepping down the stairs to Gotak’s level. “Where did the tough guy back in high school go?”

Gotak gulps. Shit, guess he hasn’t changed enough. This is quite literally the one thing that he didn’t want to happen. 

“Fuck off, Seongje,” Gotak manages to spit out after a beat, voice slightly wavering with a little less conviction than he wanted.

In his typical fashion, Seongje doesn’t let go. 

“Is that really how you’re going to treat such a long-lost friend?” he mocks, bottom lip sticking out with a pout. “I thought we were so much closer than that.”

Gotak scoffs, patting away some excess dust that had gotten on his sleeves when he fell. 

“In your fucking dreams, Seongje. You gotta shoot me in the head before I would even remotely want to be within a fifty meter vicinity with you.”

Seongje smirks, his canines briefly flashing under the harsh ceiling lights. 

“So there is a possibility?”

“God, you’re fucking impossible,” Gotak grits out between his teeth. “Why are you even here anyways? Who even let you into campus with your criminal record?”

“Well, aren’t you curious for someone who supposedly hates the bane of my existence,” Seongje totally ignores the question. “Tell me, do you have a dartboard with my face plastered in the middle like in the movies, or is it more lowkey, like a voodoo doll with a million pins sticking out? Either way, I’ll be flattered.”

“What are you talking about?!” Gotak sputters. “I barely think of you at all.”

“Barely?”

Fuck Gotak and fuck his choice of words. 

Around him, more students were beginning to trickle into the lecture hall, taking whatever seats that were free. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“Whatever, go away Seongje. Unlike a certain someone here, I have classes to actually pay attention—”

“What makes you think about me, Gotak?” Seongje cuts in, his smirk growing wider by the second. “You’re making me so curious.”

Gotak swallows. 

His mouth feels so dry. 

Because if he had to be totally and brutally honest? He does think about Geum Seongje from time to time. Not because he even remotely wanted to. 

But because his body reminds him of it. 

Especially when it’s pushed to its limits. 

A flash of pain that suddenly zipped up his legs. A hard bump to his ligament. Sometimes even from a small bend to his knees. 

It was worse when he was alone.

So Gotak bites his lips, deciding he isn't going to supply Seongje’s twisted version of fun anymore. Seongje had already extracted enough entertainment from him to last him a lifetime. Laughed at it too. No, this time, Gotak is maintaining his pride and staying quiet. 

…

If only he didn’t just glance down at his injured knee. 

Seongje followed Gotak’s gaze down, smirk fading as realization hit him like a speeding truck. That was all the answer the other man needed. And suddenly, the once smug asshole is looking a little less smug now. 

“You know what? I don’t care,” Seongje mutters, not meeting Gotak’s eyes for the first time this whole interaction. “Have fun learning your nerd shit. I’ll see you around.”

He quietly slips around Gotak and walks down the stairs. His demeanor turns cold as he walks past the next wave of incoming students, pushing himself out the doors marked with the EXIT sign.

Gotak exhales a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He takes a brief glance back.

Seongje doesn’t come back. 

Something curls in his stomach. His legs feel unstable, like all the adrenaline from the interaction just came crashing down. He sharply inhales, trying to collect all his thoughts. 

He had just met Geum Seongje. And all his limbs are intact. Everything is okay. 

When Gotak finally throws his bag down in an empty chair at the back of the lecture hall, there is only one thought in his mind. 

Baku’s in for a treat tonight. 

<><><><><><><>

“YOU SAW WHO AT SCHOOL TODAY?!?”

Gotak pulls back from his phone as much as he possibly can—all in a vain attempt to preserve what was left of his hearing. He winces as his best friend continues to crash out. His knees are already fucked enough, let’s not add another body part to the list, thank you. 

“God, Baku, either learn to volume control or fucking mute yourself.”

“SEONGJE!?” Baku screams again, completely ignoring Gotak. “THE GEUM SEONGJE?! LIKE THE ONE BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL!?! THE MASOCHIST WHO HAD TO GET A TETANUS SHOT ‘CUZ SIEUN STABBED A PEN INTO HIS FOOT?!?”

Gotak rubs his eyes, already feeling the tension beginning to settle into his shoulders. Talking to Baku feels like he’s shaving years off of his already shitty lifespan. He bellyflops down onto his bed, grabbing the nearest pillow to prop himself up. 

“Yes Baku, the Geum Seongje. God, I think I need to put this phone in another room.”

“WHAT IS HE EVEN DOING THERE? IF ANYTHING HE—” Baku pauses, forcing Gotak to check his phone if his friend was even still on the phone. Unfortunately, the call was still in session. Baku’s stupid face that he set as his profile picture was still on the screen. 

“Do you think he was tracking someone in there?” Baku’s voice suddenly lowers conspiratorily. “Like, do you think he’s still involved in some shady shit?”

Gotak pauses to think. He wouldn’t exactly put it past Geum Seongje to still have some connections to the guys that dragged Baekjin into the Union. After that whole group collapsed, it sort of felt like Seongje’s existence also faded along with them. Sure, he did overhear from some Ganghak guys that the asshole was still there terrorizing the student body but it was never as brutal as before. Maybe just a few punches and kicks exchanged to guys that asked for a fight. Nothing too overboard. 

“Probably not,” Gotak finally replies. “He didn’t look like he came out of some war scene like he did back in high school.”

Gotak can hear a long exhale from the other side of the call. 

“Okay,” Baku breathes out. “Well, can you drop the class?”

Gotak squeezes the pillow closer to his chest.

“Well, not really. The introductory class is mandatory and all the other slots don’t really fit in with my schedule. I’m kinda stuck here.”

“Man, if only we were in the same classes,” Baku imitates some punching blows, mouth making whooshing sound effects as his fists connect with empty air. “I totally could’ve whooped his ass in two seconds. No doubt.”

Gotak snorted softly at that. 

“You sure? Weren’t you just complaining that your coach ransacked the mountain of junk food that you hid in your locker? That doesn’t sound like someone who can exactly ‘whoop his ass’.”

“You try eating straight up white chicken breast for a week and tell me that you won’t be drooling over the smell of tteokbokki,” Baku rants. “That’s right, you can’t, you coddled, privileged piece of trash. Show a little sympathy for your friend.” 

Gotak rolls his eyes. How is it his fault that Baku decided to abandon him to pursue Kinesiology after he received the best athlete scholarship in high school? And besides, it’s not like he’s the one who told Baku to join the Basketball team right away.

“Don’t blame me for your bad decisions, idiot. Stop making impulsive decisions.”

“Well, whatever, I’m never gonna do that again; Coach forced me to eat more chicken breasts this week just because of that junk food stunt,” Gotak hears Baku fake-gagging through the phone. “And now I’m suffering even more.”

Gotak huffs out a laugh.

“Should’ve listened when I told you not to do it, idiot.” 

Gotak hears the sound of a fridge door being opened while Baku mutters something inaudible from under his breath. 

“Well, you have fun doing that.”

“Call me again if Seongje tries anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Bye moron.”

“Back at you.”

Gotak hangs up the phone with a sigh. His fingers pick at a thread that hung out of the pillowcase. Geum Seongje was one of the last people he wanted to see, and now Gotak feels like he’s being strung along by said man, helpless as he waits for his next move. He curls into himself, muffling a frustrated groan into his pillow. 

His knee slightly clicks when he stands up to turn off the lights.

<><><><><><><>

Right after he finished the last class of the day, Go Hyuntak immediately bolted to the vending machine located at the corner of the Nutritional building. That machine was like his lifeline—it was the only one that sold his favourite brand of banana milk. 

But the one thing that Gotak expected to encounter when he turned the corner was to be ambushed face-to-face with a wall of smoke. 

A very targeted wall of smoke. 

Gotak sputters, hitting his chest and stepping back to whatever misfortune decided to descend upon him today. He quickly whirls his head up through squinted watering eyes, gritting his teeth as he sees a familiar figure through the fading wisps.

“Oops,” Seongje apologizes, not looking the least bit sorry at all. “Didn’t see you there.” 

Gotak finds that really hard to believe. He is wearing very vibrant colours today. But he isn’t going to waste his breath arguing knowing that it’ll probably get nowhere. No, he has so much more class than that. 

Go Hyuntak’s a (self-proclaimed) pacifist. 

A pacifist that, five seconds after he’d gotten over the initial shock, had decided to flip Geum Seongje off with the dirtiest look he could muster on his face.

Ignoring the asshole (who’s definitely quite amused by this situation right now), Gotak takes another step toward the vending machines. This action only earns himself another hit of smoke in his face, this time infinitely more potent and definitely on purpose. 

“Didn’t mean to do that again,” Seongje lifts the cigarette from his lips, eyes lazily combing over Gotak. “Clumsy me. Ever the ditz.”

If it was possible, steam would be coming out of Gotak’s ears by this point. No one should get between him and his banana milk, especially not Geum Seongje. Gotak’s fists clench tighter by his side as he tries to restrain himself from strangling the man—this, unfortunately, like many of Gotak’s actions, does not go unnoticed by Seongje. The fucker even shoots a smile back at him for it. 

“So, tell me Gotak, why are you here?” Seongje questions innocently, cigarette still burning between his fingers. 

“Move out the way before I crack your head open.”

Okay, maybe Gotak wasn’t quite the pacifist he originally stated he was.

Seongje tsks. 

“Now, now, let’s not aggravate that knee of yours.”

Gotak’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Why would you even care?”

“Because—”

Seongje’s words die just as he opens his mouth to respond, eyes flitting as he catches something over Gotak’s shoulders. He drops his cigarette to the ground, smushing it underneath his sneakers. 

“I need to go take care of…something,” Seongje mutters over his shoulder, side stepping around Gotak. He then pauses, a sly smirk curling around the edges of his lips, eyes trailing down to Gotak’s still clenched fists. 

“Be sure to check your phone today.”

Gotak stands there, confusion etched into every crevice of his face as he watches Seongje stroll away, like a predator hunting down its prey. His eyes held the same maniacal look behind those glasses as the day he texted Yeon Sieun onto the balcony—it’s quite a whiplash seeing it again, to be honest. 

Gotak turns around and continues his walk towards the vending machine. 

Guess Geum Seongje hasn’t changed at all.

<><><><><><><>

Go Hyuntak wanted to strangle him. 

As soon as Seongje’s class ended for the day with the professor bidding their dismissals, Gotak immediately came barreling in, scouring the tables. Spotting the familiar Kenzo shirt that was still horribly in Seongje’s closet rotation, he rushed up the stairs, pushing past a pair of students that blocked his way. Nearing his table, Gotak quickly fumbles out his phone, unlocking it before slamming his dominant hand on the wooden surface. 

Seongje slowly raises his head up from his computer as Gotak thrusts his phone directly into his face, weirdly not looking the tiniest bit fazed at the sudden intrusion.

“What the fuck did you do!?!” Gotak snaps sharply, eyes throwing daggers at Seongje who looks a little bit too calm for his taste.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the asshole replies instead, closing his computer slowly, eyes half-lidded as if he was already bored with the conversation.

“Look at what I saw sent to my phone after I went home yesterday!” Gotak taps at his screen, zooming in furiously. “I’m extremely sorry for bumping into you? I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings? I’ll never do it again? I’ll even drop out of the class?”

Seongje whistles. 

“Wow, I wonder who that is. You must have scared them pretty bad, Gotak.”

“Cut the bullshit, Geum Seongje,” Gotak closes his phone with a click, shoving it back into his pockets. “I know it was you.”

Seongje sighs loudly. 

“Still trying to keep tabs on me, Takkie? You’re becoming quite a stalker, you know?”

“Don’t deflect the conversation,” Gotak hisses out. “I didn’t even give him my name. How did he even find me?”

“Lucky guess?” Seongje slowly blinks with a noticeable glint in his eyes. “I always thought you were someone who liked a slower form of foreplay.” 

“What?!” Gotak feels a burn rising up in his chest. “Tell me what you did.”

“Okay, fine, whatever you want, princess,” Seongje throws his hands up in the air like he’s just been caught. “I just played around with the guy a little. Nothin’ else to it.”

Gotak squints his eyes.

“Then why are your fingers so roughed up?”

“I punched a wall,” Seongje shrugs. Like that was anything close to resembling something normal. 

Gotak scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“You’re impossible, you know that? I can’t trust a single word you say.” 

“Mmm sure. I’m programmed to confuse everyone around me every five seconds or else I’ll explode. It’s built to count down too. Goes somethin’ like beep beep beeeeeep KaBLOOsh!” Seongje imitates his brain exploding, falling back a little for dramatic effect. Gotak would be lying if he didn’t find that at least a little bit entertaining. But this was Geum Seongje, so nothing was funny about it. 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” 

“Only for you, baby,” Seongje winks in his direction.

Gotak blinks fast, heat rising up his neck. What kind of guy would call another baby at a time like this? This is a confrontation, for god’s sake. 

“What are you trying to do here?” Gotak asks, exasperated. “Do you want a thank you? Are you somehow threatening me? What do you want from me, Seongje?”

The man pushes his glasses up, eyes glinting as he looks up at Gotak. 

“I want you,” he starts, voice quieter than it was this whole conversation. 

Gotak holds his breath, ears fully alert as he anticipates the next oncoming words. Seongje leans in closer.

“To trust me.”

A beat.

“What?” Gotak softly breathes out.

“That’s it,” Seongje casually says, pulling back into his seat. He then stuffs his laptop back into his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Gotak.”

Seriously, this would be a funny little story to hear from someone else. Hell, it would even earn them a sympathetic pat on the back from Gotak himself if he wasn’t the one put in the same predicament. 

“Also,” Gotak whips his head around, slightly more bewildered when he realizes that Seongje was pointing at him. 

“You should take my seat.”

“And why should I?” 

“Doesn’t look like anyone else wants to,” Seongje shrugs. Before he leaves, he shoots Gotak another wink.

Gotak huffs.

It’s not that he wanted to follow Geum Seongje’s orders. But there were really no other suitable seats that were so close to an outlet to sit in. 

At least, that’s what Go Hyuntak likes to tell himself when he shoves his backpack onto the ground as he sits down in Geum Seongje’s seat. 

<><><><><><><>

Go Hyuntak is one week into university and he already feels the doors to heaven are opening right in front of his eyes. 

His cause of death? A (very valid) crashout session over an assignment. 

“Why couldn’t I have picked an easier class?!” Gotak groans as his screen displays another ERROR message in what seemed like the millionth time in the span of an hour. 

Currently sitting by his desk at home, Gotak’s laptop whirs as he types out any piece of code he could think of. His eyes droop heavier with every passing minute he stares at the loading cursor bar.

“God, are you out there?” he wails, knocking his head against the table. “Please let me go. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m sorry, okay?”

Go Hyuntak wouldn’t be caught dead in this situation if his school hadn’t mandated him to register in at least one Science class in the first semester of his first year. And being a dumb first year, he stupidly registered in some introductory Computer Science class, thinking that it would be a breeze with his three other Nutritional classes. 

It wasn’t. 

It took him an admittedly embarrassing amount of time to even find the course webpage.

And now he’s in hour four with a program that doesn’t even work. 

“‘This should take about one hour a week to do’ my fucking ASS,” Gotak mimics his professor. “Where are we? In a fuckin’ time machine?”

He inhales deeply before he tries running the program again. The familiar error message pops up again, bringing down the rest of Gotak’s remaining sanity. 

He inhales deeply. 

This was due tonight. And he still had work from his three other classes to do.

Gotak closes his laptop with a muffled scream. 

He needs to go out. 

“Life is more than grades, Go Hyuntak,” he chants to himself, closing his eyes. “Life is beautiful. You are beautiful. You can overcome this adversity, you stupidly handsome bastard.”

If only he can believe that right now. 

Pushing himself out of his chair, he grabs his phone, wallet, and keys. Just as he clicks open the door, Gotak sighs before also grabbing his bag, shoving his laptop in. 

“Maybe I just need a new studying space.”

And that’s how he lands himself at the entrance to the public library. He checks his watch.

6:38PM

Okay, the library closes at 9, he still has plenty of time. He’s been here so many times that he doesn’t even need to check the signs anymore, feet already taking him towards the third floor’s designated studying area. Gotak’s about to take a seat in the corner of the room before he notices a familiar orange jumpsuit in the corner of his eyes, stopping him in his tracks. 

It’s Geum Seongje. 

Who has very clearly also noticed Go Hyuntak. 

And is now walking towards him. 

Gotak’s blood runs cold. His eyes darts towards the exit sign. A hand lands on his shoulder. 

“What a coincidence seeing you here, Takkie,” Seongje cocks his head, taking him in from head to toe. “You look like shit.”

Gotak scoffs, brushing off Seongje’s hand.

“I could say the same to you.” 

That was a lie. Seongje actually looked better than how he normally did, but Gotak wasn’t going to tell him that.

“What are you even doing here?” Gotak cuts in sharply. “This isn’t a prison cell.”

“What? Trying to keep tabs on me again?” Seongje retorts. “Seriously Gotak, let’s establish some boundaries.”

Fuck this guy.

Gotak rolls his eyes before sitting down in the corner chair, dropping his bag by his feet and takes out his laptop. Beside him, Seongje also plops himself down in the chair next to Gotak, yawning as he tries to sneak a peek at what Gotak’s doing. 

Unfortunately, as soon as Gotak flips up his laptop case, the very familiar (and extremely unwelcomed) error message pops up again. Heat rises up into Gotak’s face as embarrassment floods his system.

Seongje shuffles closer to Gotak and rests his hand on his chair as he leans in, suddenly very intrigued by what's on the screen.

Gotak wants to cry. He thinks he’s going to actually break down if Seongje starts ridiculing him right now. But instead—

“You forgot to store a value in that variable,” Seongje states in a blank voice, pointing into Gotak’s screen. “See here? The computer doesn’t know what the ‘HP’ of your character is because you didn’t actually specify a value to it.”

Gotak blinks.

“Also, you have to make your own functions for movement abilities,” Seongje continues. “You can’t just tell the computer to make the character ‘move right’. It doesn’t know what that means.”

He turns to Gotak. “Treat the entire map as graph coordinates.”

Gotak is stunned. Under no circumstances did he think that Geum fucking Seongje would be teaching him introductory computer science mechanics in a public library today. Or ever, actually.

Gotak clears his throat.

“Th-Thanks,” he stutters out. Seongje nods briefly before pulling out his phone. 

“Call me if you’re still getting errors,” he lazily drawls out before clicking open a game.

Gotak turns back to his laptop as the muted sounds of gunfire play out in the background. Much to his chagrin, Seongje’s changes actually do make sense. It takes him a bit to implement the suggestions, but once he does, he thinks that the program might actually work for once.

His hands are trembling as his mouse hovers over the RUN button in the corner of the screen. He inhales sharply before clicking the button. Seongje had also put his phone down, peering over as the computer loads. 

SUCCESS!

“S-Success?” Gotak stammers out, blinking furiously. “I’m not hallucinating this, right?”

“Nah, you did it right.”

Gotak turns to Seongje. Seongje stares back with an undecipherable expression before nodding once to confirm. Then, Gotak explodes in pure unadulterated joy. Gotak hollers before Seongje can even shut him up (not that he has any intention of doing that), ignoring the very pointed looks of the people nearby. He quickly saves the program before slamming his laptop shut, shoulders feeling lighter now that his biggest source of stress is now gone. 

“God, do you know how fucking long this took? Way too much, I’ll tell ya,” he rambles as he shoves his laptop back into his backpack, not wanting to touch it any more seconds than he needed to. “I was losing so many hair follicles I could make my own hairball.”

Gotak chuckles. 

“I swear, I could feel my life force being sucked out of me.”

Seongje can only stare at Gotak in amusement. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was holed up in my room for so long I could feel a beard coming in. Oh man, I was willing to do anything to finish this shit.” 

“Anything?” Seongje probes, eyebrow raising in question. 

Gotak nods.

“I would even fucking kiss you on the mouth if it meant that I didn’t have to see a single line of code agai—”

Gotak cuts himself off. His face drops, eyes widening in the size of dinner plates as he quickly whips his head up, meeting Seongje’s (equally as wide) eyes. 

Wait. 

WAIT. 

WAIT. 

Gotak wasn’t supposed to say that. 

After a moment’s silence, Seongje blinks first. He huffs, emitting a quiet heh that breaks the silence between the two. His lips slowly curl up into a smirk as he cocks his head.

“Well, why don’t you?” 

[spoonosu]

sorry this is not a story update (i wish it was too). and it's going to make me sound really horny and/or psychotic but i just stumbled onto this video of lee junyoung from brave citizen again and i just felt compelled to share it. bro's got me in a deadlock choke hold and i'm just barely able to breathe ༼ ༎ຶ ᆺ ༎ຶ༽ likEEE IT'S SO INSANE?!!?

like yes, your character was a rotten FILTHY piece of shit who deserves to rot in hell for everything he did but mAN WHEN I FUCKIN' GET YOU LEE JUNYOUNG WHEN I FUCKKKING GET YOU

anyways, yeah. i'm ashamed of myself. i'm deeply sorry to my...28 (WHAT THE FUCK LMAO HOW) followers. i'm sure this wasn't the type of content you followed for.

[spoonosu]

I read part 1, 2, 3 in the span of 2 hours, I WANT MORE HEHEHEHE

oH man i appreciate you for even sticking around for that long. lets hope i can scrounge up something coherent by the end of the month (you're more than welcome to come shoot me between the eyes if i don't deliver). that being said, it probably won't be a continuation of the accomplice series just so i can branch out from the "x Reader" format┌(;･_･)┘(for a little while, at least.)

[spoonosu]

PLEASE DO A PART 3, I BEG YOUUU

HELLEPEAR WAS 11K WORDS OF SEONGJE ACTING LIKE A PIECE OF (VERY DOWN BAD) SHIT NOT ENOUGH TO SATISFY YOU FOR A WHILE (●⌇ຶ ཅ⌇ຶ●)

ALAS, I AM JUST ONE IDIOT WITH A BRAIN FULL OF (incredibly embarrassing) THOUGHTS™

(i'm kidding y'all should send me more messages...i'm highly unmotivated + get distracted by the smallest shit)

[spoonosu]

THE ENDINGGGG !(&:£( HONECAKES????&:&8(84

i squealed omg hoping this continues !! 🤍

oH MAN I LOWKEY FORGOT I EVEN PUT THAT IN THERE. I GUESS U CAN SAY THAT SEONGJE CHANNELED HIS INNER CRINGE FOR THAT ONE LMAOO (;￣ー￣)