★ summary: All your life you'd been told you were too exhausting, too much. All his life, he'd been told he was too underwhelming, too little. Perhaps there was a balance that had been lost somewhere along the way. Perhaps it would take you a long time to realize it.
★ wc: around 9k words and 800 divider lines im sorry.
All your life you had been told that you were complicated. Overwhelming, loud, stubborn, tough. You liked things too much, enjoyed them too loudly, and hated them too clearly; you prided yourself on standing up for your beliefs, despite the distance some people kept from you. There wasn't a family gathering where they didn't remind you why you were single, how difficult it must be to find a guy who could handle you.
You acted as if you didn't care, as if it didn't affect you, but cracks began to appear every time a boy smirked at the way you spoke, every time you felt tired stares and annoyed looks when you raised your hand in class, even if your male classmate received praise for his commitment to the class. You had nothing against them, you even considered some of them your friends, but you always felt that something was wrong with you, with the way you presented yourself, the way you behaved. It seemed like a war that couldn't be won, damned if you did, damned if you didn't.
You never cared about guys, or rather, boyfriends. They just didn't appeal to you. None of your friends who had them were as happy as they pretended to be on their Instagram profiles, and honestly, you couldn't find one worth your time. Yet, it seemed like no one understood the concept, trying to set you up with almost every guy on campus they deemed tough enough to tolerate you. You tried to cooperate—they had your best interests at heart—but after the seventh disastrous blind date, you became more reluctant to agree, even daring to say no. So they took a different approach. Now it was more of an ambush, asking you to run errands with them, and suddenly, Sion from political science is here. And you like Sion, enough to consider him a friend, but you wouldn't date him, and judging by his face, he agreed.
And those were the pleasant ones, but among the three that you more or less enjoyed, there were many that were downright humiliating. So, when their utterly futile attempts have failed and the male population on campus isn't growing, they offer (no, threaten) to create a dating profile for you. And that was the moment you realized you had to put an end to this crap or you'd be stuck with it for the rest of your life. Maybe the solution was to get a boyfriend. Even if it was a fake one.
All his life, Yushi had been told he was underwhelming, that he didn't talk enough, that he didn't attract attention (even though it was crazy thing to say that to a kid), which he'd learned to justify by saying he didn't speak unless he had something worthwhile to say or company to be with, that he didn't get involved in things he considered none of his business, and that he tried to keep his participation in classes practically nonexistent, enjoying the anonymity that came with it. He liked not having to get involved in the various events, he liked being able to go unnoticed by most; he had his people, and that was all he needed. That didn't mean he felt lonely, per se. He considered himself lucky in that respect, able to find his place among his classmates and even become friends with some seniors who helped along the way... he had a good friend group. He didn't need much more.
So you can understand why he was so surprised when you suddenly approached him one day. He really shouldn't have been so surprised. You'd shared some classes, been group partners on a few projects over the past few years, and he was sure Sion considered you a friend. You probably had a good reason for interrupting his study time so abruptly, too.
“So what brings you here?” he asks, getting straight to the point. He didn’t get the appeal of small talk, especially not with someone he only shared classes with. Even if that person was you.
“I have to ask you a favor, a big one,” you say, sitting down in front of him, and he can feel the nervousness emanating from you.
"Well, not to be mean, but I don't think you're in the right place for that," he says with complete seriousness. He couldn’t even begin to wonder why you could possibly need him, of all people. “We haven’t spoken in like a year.”
You shudder at his honesty; to tell the truth, he was right. You had always been respectful and greeted him when you saw him, but since you had your A+ logged to the class grades, you hadn't bothered to keep in touch, not like he did either. Your life is outside that small socioeconomic bubble where things are too different for you to interact outside of it.
"I know, and I'm sorry, but I really don't know who to ask," you mumble, sitting across from him. And deep down he feels bad for your nervous state; clearly whatever brought you here was bothering you a lot.
"What exactly do you want?" he asks once again, not understanding why you would need him, specifically, out of all the people on campus to help you with such an important matter.
"I need you to pretend to go out with me." There it was, you ripped off the Band-Aid, and you didn't feel good, not when the Japanese boy was looking at you like you'd grown a third head.
“Why would you need me to date you?” he says, not really getting why you, one of the most influential people on campus, needed him, someone who barely existed in the social hierarchy.
So you start from the beginning, from being a lot. You explain from the way everyone perceived you to how your friends set you up with almost every straight male on campus (him excluded, to his interest), to your ‘date’ with Sion, if you could call it that (which he didn't know, to your surprise and his distaste), to the impending doom of the dating profile, and how you needed them to stop.
“I don't get why you chose me for the job. Why not Sion?" he asks, honestly, if you wanted to put some kind of stop to the situation he would choose a man who imposed some kind of respect, or fear, not him. Who, even if he would like to, wasn't the most respect inducing male on campus, nor was he close to the top 50.
"Well, for starters, we haven't had a failed date," you say, and Yushi, for once, feels grateful at the prospect. "And besides, you're very reserved, so we won't even need to do much to make it seem like we're a couple. Third, I trust you," you whisper the last part, as if you were almost embarrassed to have such a good memory of a guy you barely interacted with. That confession earned her a reaction from the boy, who quickly turned his head to hide the blush rising to his cheeks.
"What do I gain from this?" he says, hoping that the nervousness in his voice isn't noticeable.
"I can't offer you cash right now, but I can sponsor a ticket for Kai's concert when he comes," you say, and Yushi can almost feel his ear perk up at the offer. He can't believe you remember that fleeting comment when you first worked together, the only time he recalls expressing interest in the group. "If you still like EXO, great. If not, I don't know, maybe a football ticket? Think about it," you say, leaving as quickly as you arrived, almost as if you hadn't been there. And Yushi can't help but think that maybe he just dreamed it all.
Later that night, Yushi was thinking about it. He thought about you. You, who had always been kind to him, even though he'd had his doubts about you when he was assigned the project. Having had a few classes with you by the time the project came up, he knew your reputation. Still, he seriously doubted you were like the rumors described. You always acted very respectfully, and while it was true you were stubborn, you were always very mindful of what you said in class. He was pleasantly surprised that once you started working on the project, you didn't mind his silence or complain about his lack of words when he was spoken to. There was a mutual understanding, a tacit agreement of some kind.
And he would be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive; anyone with functioning eyes would agree. Besides the obvious, he'd overheard conversations more than once between people who didn't even notice him, talking about how hot you were. If only you were more submissive, everyone would see how pretty you were. But he also liked the one who took the most criticism, the one with strong opinions, the one who wasn't afraid to disagree and say what she really thought.
He remembers the first time he noticed. You were arguing with Sion, of all people, about a book he personally couldn't care less about. But he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way you spoke to the boy surprised him; everyone always talked about you being a lowkey a bitch, but he just couldn't see it, not when you were so eloquent with your words. Maybe it was rose-tinted glasses, but he doubted it. Most likely, people just didn't know you and were more annoyed by your attitude than by the fact that you were allegedly a bitch.
He realized it embarrassingly late, not even on his own. There was no way he'd dare even consider it. He realized it when he made eye contact with Riku, who was sitting right in front of him.
He had a stupid grin on his face, wiggling his eyebrows at the younger boy. He'd always believed Riku had an uncanny talent for reading people, and that belief was only reinforced once you and Sion headed off to your next class, leaving the library.
"You like her," the older boy wasted no time in prodding. God, how he hated her sometimes.
“What? No,” that answer will surely convince him, Yushi thought, annoyed by his trembling voice.
“Yes, you do,” he reiterates. "You were looking at her with heart eyes. Drooling and all," he jokes.
“I really don’t like her. She’s not my type.” Denying it will make it true, he thinks, conviction by repetition, or something like that. He believes he had studied it in psychology at some point.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that," he says, getting up to leave. "Just make sure you don't regret it in the long run."
"Even if I like her. Which I don't," he begins, receiving a knowing look from the older boy. "I'm pretty sure she'd never like a guy like me."
"Who knows, opposites attract," Riku says, winking at him before saying goodbye, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
That conversation comes back to Yushi's mind. Now he definitely knew you didn't like him. Why did you approach him, out of all the people you knew? It was a mystery to him. But that ruled out the possibility that you liked him; no one in their right mind would try to pretend to be dating the person they like unless you were unhinged, which he liked to think you weren't, even if he doubted it now.
Would it be selfish to accept it? To agree to fake a date with you, not for the money, but for the chance to spend time with you, the chance to experience you in a way he might never be able to? He decides this is a problem for tomorrow; his mind is already too full of course content to think about it seriously, and he might consider asking the boys about it.
Once the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. He had taken advantage of lunchtime, the only time of day when all his friends were gathered, to drop the bombshell. Riku was explaining a volleyball concept to Jaehee, which was hovering over the younger boy's head, who didn't seem to care in the slightest. Sion was studying hard for an exam, trying to ignore the younger ones, who were having a heated debate about the best starter Pokémon. Everything stops once he confesses to the interaction he had with you. It seemed as if time had stopped, and he couldn't help but think it was like a Renaissance painting, because of how the whole table turned to look at him.
"What did you say?" Jaehee asks cautiously, while the older boy beside him just gives him a mocking smile.
"That I'd think about it," he says, shifting the food on his plate. "You didn't tell me you went on a date with her," he accuses, pointing at Sion with his chopsticks.
"It was barely a date," he complains, embarrassed by being the center of attention. "It was more like an ambush with a third wheel."
"Why would that matter?" Riku says, a mocking tone in his voice, and Yushi would have preferred he wasn't there. "It's not like you like her or anything."
There it was. The cat's out of the bag, and all he can do is bang his head against the table, out of annoyance but mostly to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Ushi hyung is in love,” he hears Sakuya sing, and he never wanted the earth to swallow him up so badly.
"It's not that I'm in love... I just think she's nice," he says. “Besides, that doesn’t change anything. It’s not like she confessed her feelings, she just asked me to pretend to date her, among other things.” He rambles.
“That probably means she doesn’t like you, hyung,” Ryo explains with a pitying smile. Yushi could only squint at the younger boy, who hadn't done anything wrong other than state the obvious.
“All is not lost, my student,” Riku says, with a dramatic flair that makes the rest of the table roll their eyes. "She may not like you, but she sees you as a potential boyfriend, or at least trusts you enough to take on the role."
“He’s right, hyung.” Jaehee nods, and he can only stifle a groan, unwilling to accept that the older man’s words hold any truth.
“You should use it to your advantage.” Sakuya says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Show her you can rizz her.”
That comment alone earned the boys a mixture of complaints and laughter, dismissing some of the nervousness that Yushi had begun to feel.
"Take it as a trial period," Sion says, finally looking up from his questionnaire. “Play your cards right and the role will be yours.”
You don't know why you asked Yushi.
Well, you do know why you asked, but why he was the first person who came to mind was a mystery to you. Maybe it was because you got along so well. Sure, you weren't the closest people, but you could have been friends in a different universe. In this one, you were acquaintances, barely classmates. You were much closer to some of his other friends, the more extroverted ones, like Sion and Riku, and you'd even tutored Ryo at some point last year.
You always had fond memories of the few times you interacted, struck by his gentle manner and his distinctive voice. You assumed he would find you annoying, a stark contrast to his serenity. However, he didn't seem bothered by it and treated you with far more respect than most of your colleagues.
You were surprised to see him waiting outside your class; you were certain he wasn't taking it and seriously doubted he had any reason to be in that building. This belief was reinforced when he approached you, silently greeting you as he followed you down the hallway.
“I’ve thought about it,” he murmurs, not daring to look at you.
“So?” You can’t help but notice the hint of interest in your voice. Your friends had started pressuring you, once again, to download Bumble, Tinder, or whatever app with the stupidest name was the most popular thing on the market at the time.
“I agree,” he says. "I'll pretend to be your boyfriend. We can talk about the deal later," he adds, trying to sound as normal as possible, even though he felt like he was trembling like a leaf.
“Thank you so much,” you say, barely containing your emotion. In your excitement, you hug him; it was probably the first time he had been so close to you. “I owe you one.”
He wraps his arms around you, in the least awkward way possible. He knows that he only accepted out of selfishness, perhaps even more than for yours. But he couldn't care less once he feels your warmth against his body.
"I'm sorry," you say shyly as you pull away, much to his displeasure. "I shouldn't have hugged you like that."
"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, and you can't help but notice the blush creeping into his ears. “We’re dating after all.” God, indifference had never been his strong suit.
“We really should talk about this,” you say, once you arrive at your dorm building. “Like the rules and all that.”
And that's how he finds himself sitting on your bed, while you're looking for a notebook. Honestly, he feels like he’s going to implode, looking around the room and seeing it as so… you. From the books on the shelves to the posters on the walls, he can't believe he's sitting there, staring at you while they talk about something he should probably be paying attention to.
“Okay, let’s think from the beginning,” you say, fiddling with a pen.
"How did we meet?" he begins, asking the question he thinks everyone will be thinking once they find out about your new relationship status. How did you end up dating?
“From the project,” you offer, trying to remember when you and he would have started dating—heck, you barely crossed paths after the project ended.
“Yes, but we didn’t interact for about a year after that…”, he says.
“So you asked me out,” you offer, earning an annoyed look from the guy.
“You should try to make it sound believable,” he replies deadpans.
“Okay, so I asked you out,” you sigh, “I think it’s just as unbelievable, but alas.”
"There's no way people will believe I asked you out," he says, "at least not your friends."
You give him a puzzled look, but in the end, you find yourself agreeing with him. Your friends probably wouldn’t even believe you’re dating anyone, even someone like Yushi. Thinking he’d make the first move would be as easy as making them believe pigs can fly.
“So I asked you out…”, you sigh, “How long have we been dating?”
“A few months?” he asks, oblivious to how much you were trying to sell the illusion.
“I’ve been on dates these past few months. It wouldn’t be believable.”
“You failed them because you were dating me. Did you just not want to make it public yet?” he lies without moving, with a naturalness in her words that, discreetly, frightens you.
"Great. You're good at this," you say, unsure if it's a compliment. "And what about public displays of affection?"
"When necessary," he replies, though he's unsure how good an idea it is to commit to acting like your boyfriend with his newfound understanding of his own feelings.
"You're more reserved, so I suppose it won't be strange if we're not as effusive."
"Great," he remarks, already regretting this.
He regrets it even more when he has to interact with your friends. After a few days of picking you up from your classes, it was time for him to actually meet them—you know, sell you the fantasy.
It wasn't that your friends were bad people, though he'd heard some less-than-nice things about them, but he could say the same about you, so rumors weren't going to be something he based his opinion on. People often gossiped confidently about seemingly invisible individuals, a group Yushi was proud to be a part of. But if those rumors were true, he didn't understand why you kept hanging out with them.
Even the motivational speech the night before wasn't enough to convince him to have lunch with them. As he sat uncomfortably next to you, he could hear them discussing the hottest story on campus, promptly ignoring the new presence at the table.
As you clear your throat, drawing attention to your presence, and more importantly, to the boy next to you, they act as if you haven't been sitting there for ten minutes straight. They greet him in a way that reminds him of how someone treats their annoying little cousin, not a peer, or in some cases, an elder.
"It's good to see you," Yechan says, and Yushi knows from a mile away that he doesn't mean it.
Before he can reply, meekly as ever, he's interrupted by a girl, whom he thinks is named Moka, but he wouldn't bet on it.
"Why are you here?" And he can't tell if she was crueler than she intended or if she simply meant to be cruel. What is clear is that you're embarrassed by her behavior, by the fiddling with your hands and the way your gaze drops.
"That's what I wanted to tell you," you say, taking his hand and placing it on the table, your intertwined fingers on display for all your friends to see. "We're dating."
A silence falls over the table, making this moment one of the ten most awkward moments in Yushi's life, or even one of the top five.
Some of them can only manage to let out a few awkward laughs, exchanging knowing glances with each other. Once again, he can only wonder why you interact with them.
"You're joking, right?" Yunah asks with a mocking smile, as if the idea of you liking him is completely inconceivable.
"Why would I do that?" you say, drawing circles with your fingers on his trembling hands, giving her the most loving look possible.
He was screwed.
The walk to your dorm was interesting, to say the least. After whatever that lunch was, he walked you to your afternoon classes, only to wait in the library until it was time to pick you up and walk you home like the dutiful fake boyfriend he was, without having time to report on the shitty spectacle that had been the first formal introduction.
“I feel so sorry about them,” you murmur wearily as he carries your suitcase to your side. He had insisted on it, even when you complained that the practice was outdated and somewhat misogynistic, but he had ignored you. "I don't know why I thought they would take it better."
“It wasn’t that bad,” he tries to reassure you, lying blatantly, and he knows you can see right through it. No one in their right mind would classify that interaction as acceptable, much less as good.
"Are you trying to make me feel better?"
“Maybe?” he says, earning a little giggle from you, a more than worthy reward. "But it could have been worse, so it's not a big deal."
"The only way it could be worse is if Yechan punched you in the nose," you joke, and he smiles at the prospect that you might not be as upset as it might have seemed. “We will have to put a lot of effort into this.”
"It seems so," he says as they both arrive at his bedroom, where they wave goodbye as they enter his room, leaving him behind.
During the following days, he realized that perhaps he had bitten off more than he could bear. In theory, spending more time with you seemed like a good idea, but reality was driving him crazy.
Sure, he'd grown closer to you; you two were practically two peas in a pod, hanging out on and off campus. Heck, even his showing up at your dorm had become a regular occurrence. But something—or rather, some people—didn't seem to be reacting to your relationship the way you'd hoped.
After your failed first appearance as a couple, you decided to alternate between groups of friends at lunchtime when your schedules coincided, since it wouldn't make sense to spend time with only one, and, to be honest, he much preferred the days when you went out with his friends. The atmosphere was far more relaxed than when you went out with yours, who still seemed to think it was impossible for you to date the guy who was glued to you all day, treating him almost like an ornament, as if he weren't even there. To your annoyance, he didn't seem to mind, as he was used to it.
You'd be lying if you said they didn't bother you. After months of nagging you to get a boyfriend, you find one who seems madly in love with you, who follows you everywhere and is at your beck and call, even if it's pretended, and they still dare to complain.
“Don’t you get tired?” You asked once, when he accompanied you to your class after having lunch with Riku and the youngsters, who were probably (excluding Yushi) the most hyperactive combination you could get out of the six.
“Of what?” he asked, not quite understanding what you were talking about.
“Of… them?” you asked. Maybe it was insensitive of you, but you figured that if he’d expressed concerns about your group of friends, you could ask him something awkward once, as a reward. "They seem so... noisy sometimes"
“I don't know, I've never thought about it” he confesses, the truth is, he found some comfort in the noise which in some way, included him. Sometimes he didn't participate in these conversations, but he was taken into account in them, even if his biggest collaboration was quiet hum in agreement. Something he found refreshing after his daily dose of being a wallflower. “Its not like I'm excluded of them.”
“Yes, but you seem so… quiet when you’re with them.”
“I seem so quiet when I’m with everyone,” he says, squinting.
“Okay, fair enough,” you say, laughing at his expression. Oh, how I longed to hear that sound every day.
“Does it bother you?”
“What?” Now it was your turn to not understand what you were supposed to be worried about.
“That I'm like this” he says, as if you automatically understand why it should bother you. It didn’t even cross your mind why it should bother you; after all, shouldn’t he be the one who’s upset with you? Entering his life, asking him to pretend to date you—he should be the one upset with you.
"Should I?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood. "If anything, I should bother you."
“You never could,” he replies, and perhaps it’s the speed with which he responds, or the affection in his gaze, but for once, you allow yourself to believe him.
“Then I could never be bothered by you either,” you say, ending the conversation as you take his hand and walk beside him, a comfortable silence settling between you.
“I don’t understand how you do it,” Yunah says, sitting down next to you.
“Seriously, your stomach is truly amazing,” Yeju adds, sitting down on the opposite side of the table.
“What are you talking about?” you ask, looking up from the book you were reading.
“They’re talking about your little boyfriend,” Seongmo explains, and for once, his sing-song tone isn’t endearing, to say the least.
"And what about him?" you ask, perhaps a little too defensively about someone you supposedly don't like, but oh well, they didn't need to know.
"We just don't think he's right for you, that's all," Yechan says, as he starts wolfing down his food.
"Since when are you the couple's police?" you ask, annoyed.
"Common, we're just worried about you. The guy's about as stiff as a cactus, barely speaks, barely interacts, just stares around," Yeju explains.
“Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth all the trouble,” you reply irritably, annoyed with them, once again, meddling in their relationships.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yunah says, "Do you think that just because you're the future top student, captain of the debate team, Miss Perfect, you can look down on us? Well, breaking news: nobody can stand you, and the only one who seems to, is your boyfriend, who dissociates every time he's with you because, after all, you're unbearable."
A silence falls over the table, everyone too surprised by the usually cheerful girl’s sudden outburst to say anything, and you waste no time before getting up, slamming your tray on the table.
“I’m glad to hear it from you, then.”
Hanging out in your dorm room wasn't something Yushi ever thought he'd get used to. You had a two-room dormitory, which you shared with Yunah. He'd never been there before your little arrangement, but ever since, his presence in the dorm had been a repeated ordeal. Hanging out in your room had been the norm—from watching movies to just chatting—you spent most of your free afternoons and evenings there, even if you had "outdoor dates," as you called them, once a week.But when he arrives at your door this afternoon, you push him into your room without even letting him greet your roommate, who seems even more annoyed by his presence than usual.You drag him to your room, away from your roommate's smoldering gaze. It's only a matter of time before he's lying on your bed next to you, something far more common than he ever imagined. What was perhaps not so common was having you on his chest—not that he complained, but he took the opportunity to gently stroke your hair. After what could have been five minutes or hours, you start talking. You tell him everything, everything under the comfort of the dim lights and his hands caressing your back.You tell him about your friends, how strangely they acted, how they attacked you and his personality, how they called him "cactus," whatever that meant. You tell them about not wanting to fight with them, since you had once considered them as close as family. You tell him about Yunah, how close you were like sisters growing up, only for that relationship to fall apart around high school, as passive-aggression seemed to have become the new norm for her."Does that mean we're going to break up?" he asks. The idea was to get your friends off your back, not out of your life. It never would have crossed your mind that they’d be so angry that you went out with him.“What? No!” you say, finally stopping hiding your face in his neck and looking at him in astonishment. “I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of being able to choose who I date.”“I don’t want you to lose them,” he says, as his hand lightly caresses the skin of your arm.“They are not worth keeping them if they can’t see how great you are,” you say, and maybe it feels far more intimate than it’s supposed to. After all, this was all meant to be a charade, a setup to get rid of them, but when his eyes lock onto your face, you can’t help but be glad it seems like it’s more than that.Yushi must have been dreaming. That’s the only conclusion he reaches once your hand travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. That’s the only conclusion he reaches once our lips press against his, making him release a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding back. And I hope you mean it, that you mean what you say and that you mean what you do, because after tasting your lips on hers, there's no way she's going to let you go.
You couldn't understand why it affected you so much. You'd had quite a few kisses, and this wasn't even close to the first, but they all paled in comparison. Kissing had never felt as good as in bed, with your fake boyfriend, of all people. Humiliating as it was.
You didn't know exactly what your stance was regarding your relationship, but it seemed that he wasn't complaining either, choosing to ignore the kiss shaped elephant in the room. But the rational part of you knows you should talk about it, before it becomes something bigger and worse. Not that you found yourself doing so, choosing to ignore the issue for the sake of your sanity.
That's the thought process at lunchtime, when you're sitting outside. Since the whole fiasco with the group of friends the week before, you had been having lunch with Yushi's group of friends or alone, still too angry with your friends to bother reading their messages.
All your inner monologue is interrupted once some familiar silhouettes occupy the other side of the table, and after recognizing them as the cause of your anger, you can't help but feel a slight déjà vu about the situation.
You look at them expectantly. They sit, exchanging awkward glances at your silence, before anyone dares to break it.
"How have you been?" Seongil asks.
"Great," you reply, with no interest in spending even a second on them, much less having a real conversation. Lunch continues like this, with you responding with a single word if you even answered their questions.
"You can't ignore us forever," Yunah says, after the third question she asked you, which you promptly ignored.
“Is that a challenge?” you say while packing your things and threatening to leave.
"Okay! Okay, we're sorry," she says, exasperated.
"So?"
“And we’re all sorry. She didn’t mean what she said, and we don’t agree with her,” Yeju says, trying to smooth things over.
“She can speak for herself,” you say, tired of their high school ways. Although you once held them close to your heart, you now felt you had outgrown them; you were too old for their immaturity. Sure, you'd miss them, and it would be awkward having to explain to your father why you weren't going to the village with their families this year, but hey, this was the hill where you planned to die.
“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, not daring to look up from her food. "I shouldn't have spoken about you or Yushi like that. It was cruel and unnecessary," she adds in a way that seems rehearsed. She could have started speaking in Latin, and maybe you would have believed her more.
You have to avoid rolling your eyes, and yet, for reasons you can't even understand yourself, you forgive them.
Perhaps it was nostalgia talking, or perhaps you genuinely believe they might have regretted their actions, especially since they invited you and your boyfriend to a hangout—after all, they should try to make an effort to get to know him.
Things had taken a strange turn for Yushi. He didn't understand your position in the relationship. Was it official yet? Was it still just a ploy to get rid of your friends? What was the proper protocol for kissing your fake girlfriend that you actually liked? That was something he still didn't know. And now, as you stroll peacefully through the park, holding the boy's hand, he is afraid. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to fake a date with you, maybe he should have told you he liked you when he had the chance, now that the prospect of losing you looms over his confession.
"I spoke with them," you say, breaking the silence.
He hums, inviting you to continue. You had grown accustomed to the boy's quiet nature; though at first you'd stared at him, questioning his lack of verbal response, now you could read his body language like the back of your hand.
"They said they wanted to meet you. Properly," you say, and feel him squeeze your hand barely, almost imperceptibly. "Do you want to? I'll understand if you don't."
"Whatever. I don't think they'd like me either way," he says, trying not to sound self-critical, but failing miserably. To be honest, he couldn't find the courage to worry about them, not after how they treated you and how they talked about him.
You stop suddenly, pulling him back to force him to make eye contact with you, and he can't help but see the resemblance to a kicked puppy in your sad expression.
"I want to know what you want to do," you say, playfully intertwining your hands. "We can do something else if you don't want to go."
There it is, he thinks, his heart skipping a beat at your confession. The fine line you're both using as a jump rope. What was "fake boyfriend" supposed to mean anyway?
"We can go. Only if you want to," he murmurs, looking away to contain the rising heat in his face.
"You're the best," you say, giving him a kiss on the corner of his lips.
Since you started dating Yushi, you had become closer to his friends, enjoying getting to know them better, amazed by the family dynamic they had among themselves. Even though you got along with everyone, it was obvious that you and Riku had connected best, even when you were just hanging out (despite Sion's teasing and Yushi's menacing glare, which earned him a quick kiss on the nose before you left).
"I'm so glad he asked you out," he says casually as she sits down across from you and places the drinks on the table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I asked him out,” you reply, clueless about where this is coming from. You had asked Yushi to refrain from telling his friends about the nature of your relationship, since the fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to keep it a secret. Supposedly, he had followed their request, so it made sense to them to think that the relationship was, well, real, and that belief usually seeped into comments like this one, where they put the veracity of their bond front and center.
“I should have expected it,” he jokes, “there was no way he was going to make the first move. It took him months to admit he liked you,” he adds casually, taking a sip of his drink.
For you, time stood still. You couldn't believe what the boy in front of you was saying. You assumed that, at some point, the line between real and fake had blurred, even before that kiss you shared in your room. That had been the breaking point, built on persistent touching, strange comments about the impending breakup, and much more public affection than initially agreed upon.
Riku must have noticed your deer-in-the-headlights look, laughing to himself, "What? Didn't you know? He liked you before that project."
"No, he never told me," you murmur, barely registering his words, still absorbed in his confession.
"He'll kill me," he jokes, "but the truth is, he's been in love with you for a while," he adds casually, taking a huge bite of his cupcake and chewing it while you sit there, thinking about all the revelations.
Yushi was never much of a party person. Sure, he went sometimes, but more out of social obligation than enjoyment. He never understood the appeal of getting drunk at some random house, but unfortunately, if you were going, he had to go too. And honestly, he wasn't going to complain about strutting around as your boyfriend and seeing you all dressed up and looking so pretty—after all, he was just a man.He picked you up, after you had agreed to walk to your friend's house, which allowed you both to drink, since, in your own words, you wouldn't survive sober.The walk there was peaceful, chatting quietly and letting him hold your hand calmed your fears about what might happen tonight.When you arrived, things at your friends' house seemed to have picked up; people were dancing and filling every available space. It was a private gathering.You don't waste time finding your friends, now your night begins, and his torture, although at least I would never speak ill of them in front of you. You don't waste any time offering him a beer, a stark contrast to your own vodka mix.Everything seems to be going wonderfully. Sure, it's as awkward as can be; Everyone present in the kitchen probably knew about their fight, but no one dared to bring it up, and that was for the best, since it was the first time they had a conversation in which they at least tried to include Yushi.At some point, you disappear from Yushi's side, claiming you're going with the girls to get a drink refill. But twenty minutes pass and you haven't returned, so even though the conversation he's having with the guys is somewhat interesting, he'd much rather have you by his side.He thinks that the advantages of being an outcast have brought mostly good things to his life; he never considered it as something particularly bad, just as one of his characteristics. But now, listening to the conversation your friends are forcing on you, he wishes he had a bit more presence to make himself known.
You should have known better, after all, you knew them since you were in diapers, literally.
You should have known that they didn't actually think he deserved a chance, this was just another ploy to get you to see how you two weren't the right person for each other. You knew just how stubborn they could get, having watched their temper tantrums over designer bags and sports cars. You don't know why you were shocked they acted like this.
"He barely spoke all night," Yunah complains, earning a withering glare from Yeju. "He just... stares around."
"Well, you didn't make the best impression on him," you explain.
"You told him?" she asks, annoyed, acting as if you had betrayed them, as if you had no right to tell your own boyfriend what they said about him and you.
"He's my boyfriend, Yunah," you mutter, now getting angry with her. You don't understand where all this apprehension comes from. Wasn't this what they wanted? For you to get a man?
“We never saw you with someone like him,” Yeju remarks, trying to defuse the situation. “We just thought you needed someone more… suitable for you.”
“He’s very sweet and treats me well. Why isn’t he the one for me?” you ask, looking at the girls, whom you barely recognize. You couldn't believe that these were the same girls you had shared your childhood with, growing up alongside them and even considering being part of your family at some point.
“Common, you need someone who can handle it,” Moka says, after having been busy drinking the contents of the bottles in front of her, which seemed to be changing her behavior. “Hell, someone who can tame you,” she adds as if it were the greatest joke of all time, earning a laugh from an equally drunk Yunah.
“Also, if my friends told me to break up with my boyfriend, I would reconsider some things,” Yeju says, as if she had suddenly become the voice of reason.
“Like you did with your ex?” you reply in a sarcastic tone, annoyed by his double standards.
“That was different,” she excuses herself.
“How so?”
“I’m me, and you’re… you,” she says, as if it were the most logical answer. “We don’t want you to end up dating him just because you think it’s the only option.”
“Do you think so little of me?” you ask.
“Tell him not to get used to it, you’re going to get bored of him anyway,” Yunah says, nodding behind her where Yushi is, having overheard everything.
He would classify that moment as a déjà vu. In any case, it was the culmination of what had made him feel self-conscious all his life. And he couldn’t even be angry about it, because they were right. Why else would you have chosen him? Wasn't he simply a safe option, one you wouldn't fall for? But when you turn to look at him, his heart breaks. Because of the pain in your eyes, the tears on your cheeks, and the way you hug him. Because he hoped it was real, that it meant something. And as you lead him out of the house, he thinks it’s the end, especially when you sit down on the sidewalk and force him to stay by your side.
“I’m sorry,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.
“It’s not your fault,” he says, trying to reassure you.
"I shouldn't have put you through this."
“We can agree on that. But it’s not your fault they’re jerks,” he says. "Besides, they're not wrong. We're an incompatible couple."
“Why?” you ask, turning to look at him.
“In no universe would you date a guy like me. They’re right. You deserve someone who’s a good match for you,” he says, not daring to look at you. “But not tame you, that was really weird.”
“I like you, ushi,” you whisper, leaning back on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you feel this way”
And his heart breaks, even more so when he feels your hands turn him to face you, pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss, one of those that takes your breath away, one of those that you think about late at night, going over every little detail, every sigh. The kind that drives you crazy.
You pull away and try not to let the way his lips chase you get into your head. If you've learned anything tonight, besides that your friends are idiots, it's that Yushi doesn't like you. And it breaks your heart.
"Take me home," you plead, "please."
Things got weird after that. You didn't directly say that you had ended your fake relationship, but to everyone around you it was almost a given that you had broken up, the reason attributed to your friends, with whom you barely interacted at that time, even if they had tried to apologize several times. You were hardly interacting anymore and had resorted to simply ignoring Yushi, much to his despair. So now, he finds himself back where he started, at lunch, confessing his problems once again.
"You told her what?" Sakuya nearly screamed when he heard how his Friday night had gone, and found himself having to repeat the words that had been haunting him all weekend.
"Are you stupid?" Riku asked from across the table, earning a withering glare from the listener.
"What? I didn't say anything that wasn't true," he defended himself, though deep down he knew he was wrong.
"Basically, you told her that you don't see yourself dating her, the girl you supposedly like," Sion says with a serious face.
“No. I told her we’re an incompatible couple. And it’s true! You even agreed.” He complains. He doesn’t understand why he’s repeating what everyone else has been saying about them. If everyone thought it was true, wouldn’t that mean there must be some truth to it?
“You told her, after all her friends told her to break up with you, that they were right,” Riku explains, pausing after each word as if to make sure he understood. “And now you don’t understand why she won’t talk to you.”
“I never told her I didn’t like her.”
“But you never told her you did it, she can’t read minds, you know?” Jaehee remarks.
“So what now?”
“Perish,” Sakuya says, earning a smack on the back of the head from Ryo.
“Talk to her?” the aggressor says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How you’ve gotten this far in life is, honestly, a social miracle.”
“Show some respect, I’m still older than you.”
"Then act like it." The younger one remains expressionless, avoiding the slap that Sakuya tries to give him.
And with that, Yushi ends the conversation. Sadly, he knows they’re right, and that for once in his life, he knows he has to step out of his comfort zone. He can’t just sit back and wait for you to come back.
You should have known there was no way Yushi could actually like you. Everyone could see it except you, constantly deceiving yourself into thinking that those fleeting moments, the touches, the kisses meant something. That someone like him, with all the patience and tranquility in the world, would want to be with someone like you, quite the opposite.
After the disaster that the party had been, you finally decided to cut ties with your group of friends, and it was difficult. Having known them almost your whole life, it hurt a lot to have to let them go through something as stupid as your love life, but if that was the hill they wanted to die on, so be it. You weren't going to stick around to keep playing their toxic game.
The hard part came when you realized how much you'd trusted Yushi during the fight with your friends, and now that they were gone for good and you weren't dating Yushi anymore, the loneliness was palpable. But you weren't going to let the haters win, so signing up for different campus activities had become the new norm. There you met new faces or simply reconnected with acquaintances, chatting about classes and various other topics. You hadn't realized how fun conversation can be when it's not about criticizing people all the time. Now you have returned to the debate club, joined a reading group, and even attended the pilates classes they held on Saturdays. Sure, living with the enemy was sometimes hard, but you were always cordial.
The hard part was missing someone you never had. You had heard people say that they barely noticed him when he was in their space, something that you, unfortunately, could not relate to. You had always been aware of him, of his handsome face or his calm nature, so once you actually had to interact with him it was no surprise. Sure, you were a chatterbox by definition, but it didn't seem to bother him. So now, the tranquility feels a little emptier when you don't have the boy sitting next to you. And how do you deal with a breakup when there was nothing to break in the first place?
The answer was to ignore it. If there was one thing you were, it was a gold medalist for drowning yourself in silly side quests if it meant avoiding acknowledging something truly important. And although you still feel guilty for having thought about it, you appreciated his passive nature, as it made running away from him exponentially easier. It's not like you'd actually be sharing classes, so you could still chat with Sion in your shared modules and slip away at the end of the day. Something you planned to do until the end of the day, it seemed. Because ignoring the problem is easier than being told again that you're too much.
He hated this, the distance you'd put between you, your friends who still gave him strange looks whenever they crossed paths, and, most importantly, he hated himself. He could have avoided this, he could have been brave enough, for once, to confess the truth of his feelings, that they were never just part of a deal. He would have saved himself, and more importantly, you, the pain.
So after a sleepless night, unread messages, and some scolding from the boys, she finally decided to face it, and that meant having to come face to face with her roommate, whom he still didn't like, only this time he was more than right in that opinion.
"She's not here," Yunah informed him, his resting bitch face as charming as ever.
"Do you know where she is?" he asked, wishing for once he had a slightly more intimidating voice, instead of the meek one he possessed.
"I think she's in the library, with a boy," she informs him, before quickly closing the door, only to open it a few seconds later. "And I'm sorry. For everything." And with that, she left, slamming the door in his face.
Well, he knows where to go. A path familiar to him from all the times he accompanied you there, whether to drop you off or to study with you, even though he spent most of the time admiring you while you wrote, a confession he will never make, even less so when he remembers all the times you caught his gaze over the laptop, raising an eyebrow when you looked him in the eyes.
Upon entering the library, he heads straight to the one table he knows you usually study at, the one over which he once went off on a strange tangent about how good the location was for five minutes, an endearing thought that once again proved useful to him. And like clockwork, you're there. Chatting with a guy he couldn't care less about, even if there was a lingering sense of jealousy as he approached.
"Can we talk?" he interrupts, mentally apologizing to the poor guy he just interrupted, but he needed to take advantage of this sudden surge of courage before it disappeared.
“About what?” you say, turning to look at him.
"It's private," he says, glancing at the boy and mentally apologizing once again for kicking him off the table.
"What do you need? If it's for the deal, I can send you the money," you say, barely looking at him before returning to your work.
"It's not about the deal," he says. "Well, yes, but not like that."
You give him a confused look.
"I like you," he says, closing his eyes as if bracing himself for the impact. "I didn't mean to say we weren't compatible, or that you agreed with your friends. I don't think you're unworthy of love or untamable. I like you a lot, and I think we make a great couple, you know? Opposites attract and all that."
You're speechless. That was the most words you had ever heard him say in all the time you had known him, and you could barely process the impact of the first few before the torrent of words hit you.
"It's okay if you don't like me anymore. Or if you just don't want to go out with me, I thought it was something you should know. Goodbye," he adds before running out of the library, disappearing as quickly as he'd arrived. You barely have time to process it before he vanishes.
Once again, you were never one to give up, and even less one to let others win, so there was no way you were going to let him have the last word, continuing on the way he had disappeared.
You caught up with him right outside the library and wasted no time turning around and wrapping your arms around him, this time leaving him stunned.
"I'd love to be your girlfriend, ushi," you say as you walk away.
And with that, for the first time in their relationship, both fake and real, Yushi presses his lips against yours, making the first move, and for once, it's not so scary to take the initiative.
bonus:
Hanging out with Yushi's group of friends had become, once again, the new normal. It was common during the week to see you and your friends frolicking in the green spaces of the campus. It was even less unusual to see them all out and about when the sun came out, like today. You were finishing a book you'd borrowed from the library while Yushi rested his head on your lap, alternating between listening to Sion and Jaehees's conversation and dozing off, all while Riku and the others played volleyball a few feet away.
You hear the boy leaning against you call your name, which makes you stop the hand that's been stroking his head, and you decide to turn the page you're reading (surprise!) to turn around and look at him.
"Do you need anything?" you tease, gently moving the loose strands of hair that fall across his forehead.
"Not in particular," he hums, enjoying the gentle strokes. "I'm glad you're here."
“I’m glad to be here too,” you say sincerely. And for once, you meant it. You truly believed that for once you had found your people, and even better, your man. You weren’t the one waiting for your Prince Charming to come and save you. And you didn’t want him to, either, but you had found someone you truly wanted to spend the rest of your life with, not because he would save you from loneliness, but because he desired you as much as you desired him, or even more.
Not because you were a damsel in distress or because he needed fixing, just because, somewhere in the universe, the stars aligned, and you finally had found the balance.
He hands you a book, and you take it carefully, your fingers brushing against his for just a moment longer than necessary. The world seems to pause—only the two of you exist, caught in that brief silence, gazing into each other’s eyes. There’s something unspoken there, something that neither of you dares to name.
Then, the sharp voice of the driver cuts through the stillness, announcing the final call. The bus doors begin to close. You hesitate, wanting to say something, anything—but the moment slips away.
You hurry toward the back of the bus, pressing your palm against the cool glass of the window. Outside, Yushi stands on the sidewalk, his figure small against and blurry.
That was the last time you ever saw Yushi.
✭・.・✫
It’s been one year and 247 days since the last time you saw Yushi. You’ve searched for him endlessly—scrolling through social media, typing his name into every platform you can think of—but he’s nowhere to be found.
Every letter you send comes back unopened, the envelope stamped with that same message: Return to sender. Each one chips away at you a little more.
Your life has grown quiet. Too quiet. There’s nothing exciting about your days anymore; they pass by like scenes from a sad, slow-moving film. Even when the sun shines, the world still feels gray. The beaches are dull and empty, their waves heavy and colorless.
You’ve tried to make new friends since you moved, but no one seems to understand you the way Yushi did. No one makes you laugh the same way, or look at the world with wonder like he used to.
You miss your old life. The comfort of your old house, the streets you knew by heart, and most of all, your old friend... your old crush. Sometimes, late at night, you pull out the book he gave you. The cover is worn now, the edges frayed from how many times you’ve held it. You turn through the pages slowly, tracing the pictures, rereading the words you’ve nearly memorized. And tucked between them, that letter—the one he slipped in without you knowing. His handwriting still feels like a whisper meant only for you.
Realizing he had felt the same way all along. Only discovering it after you left, it hurt more than the move itself.
You wish you could go back. You wish you could hold his hand for a little longer, tell him everything would be okay, maybe even gather the courage to kiss his cheek before stepping onto that bus.
More than anything, you wish you could get on a bus right now and find your way back to him.
✭・.・✫
Class dragged on at the same slow pace it always did. You sat there, your head resting in your palm, absently tracing the corner of your worn-out notebook — the one Yushi had given you for your birthday years ago. The edges were frayed now, the cover faded from constant use, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. God, you really can’t let him go.
The walk home was slow and gray, the kind of afternoon where even the sky seemed tired. Your headphones sat loosely in your ears, playing soft, melancholic music that seemed to understand you better than most people did. The world around you moved, but you stayed in place, trapped.
Dinner was lively — at least for everyone else. Their laughter filled the room, but it never quite reached you. You smiled when you had to, nodded when expected, but your mind was elsewhere, drifting back to memories that refused to fade even after so long.
Homework came next, your pages filled with eraser marks and half-finished thoughts. Every mistake felt heavier than it should have.
Sleep arrived both quickly and painfully slow. Your body was exhausted, but your mind refused to quiet down. Thoughts of Yushi — of what was, and what would never be — filled the silence until you finally drifted off.
And then, the day began again.
Over.
And over.
For one year and two hundred forty-seven days.
✭・.・✫
Yushi felt as if a hole had opened up beneath him, pulling everything he loved into its endless dark.
You had left him—his best friend, his first love.
After you were gone, everything else seemed to follow. His cat ran away. His grades began to slip. He lost his favorite keychain, the one you’d given him. Piece by piece, his life was unraveling, and he could do nothing but watch.
His world had become just as gloomy as yours was—maybe even worse, if that was possible. He found himself saying “no” to every invitation from friends, unable to bear the thought of having fun without you. Every laugh or smile reminded him of what he’d lost. It was as if he’d forgotten how to live without you.
The uncertainty was the worst part. He didn’t know whether you’d ever read the note he’d hidden in that book—the one where he finally told you everything he was too afraid to say aloud. Did you find it? Did you throw it away? Did it mean anything at all? The questions haunted him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. There was no way to reach you, and he still didn’t understand why you’d disappeared so suddenly.
He missed you so much it made him feel like he was losing his mind.
When it was was really bad, he would wake up crying, his chest aching with that familiar heaviness, and stay in bed far too long before dragging himself to the bathroom—just to cry some more. At lunch, he sat alone in an empty classroom, pretending you were sitting beside him, listening to him ramble like you used to. When evening came, he cried again in the shower, the sound of the water hiding his sobs.
Now, lying in bed, his eyes half-lidded and red, he stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Come back…” he whispered, barely audible. It was the first word he’d spoken all day.
✭・.・✫
It was the weekend. He sat in the middle of his room, surrounded by everything that reminded him of you—pictures, letters, gifts, notes—all of it spread out across the cold hardwood floor. The air felt heavy, as if even the room itself was feeling his emotions.
After a long moment, he stood, stepping carefully over the memories. He left the room and returned with a small woven basket. Slowly, he began placing the items inside: an empty film camera, folded letters, scattered photographs, every little thing you had ever given him… and the ring he never got the chance to give you—the one he had bought before he could properly confess.
When everything was packed, he grabbed his bike and pedaled away. The wind stung his face, but he didn’t care. He rode aimlessly, until he reached the old bridge—the one where he had given you your first flowers. He stopped, staring at the water below. He never imagined that would be the last.
He kept riding. Past the tall building you used to sneak into, pretending to be the owner’s kids so you could climb to the roof, where white sheets fluttered in the wind and the city looked small beneath you. He passed the beach where you’d lit a bonfire on New Year’s Eve and camped out. Finally, he stopped at the open field where you’d shared countless picnics. The grass was taller now, wild and untamed. Had it always been this long?
That’s when he saw someone standing in the middle of the field. A girl. Long hair and skirt flowing gently in the wind. His heart dropped, then raced. He blinked hard. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, hadn’t gotten enough sleep, hadn’t drunk enough water—he must be hallucinating. It had to be another cruel trick of his tired mind.
Still, he stepped forward, clutching the basket tighter, eyes fixed on her. Each step felt heavy and fragile, as if one wrong move would make her vanish. The closer he got, the more he realized—she looked just like you. When he was only a few steps away, the girl turned around.
It was you.
His heart both sank and soared at once. He blinked, terrified that if he looked away, you’d disappear again. Your hair danced in the wind; your face looked softer, older—yet exactly as he remembered.
“Yushi?” your voice was quiet, uncertain, but achingly familiar.
He couldn’t speak. His throat tightened. Words would only break the spell and send you fading back into the past. The basket slipped from his hand, forgotten.
He reached out slowly, trembling, expecting his hand to pass through empty air—but instead, it met something solid, warm, real. His breath hitched. He looked up into your star-filled eyes, and the world came back to life.
“Yushi…” Your voice cracked, and your eyes brimmed with tears. His face blurred through them, but you could still see a tear rolling down his cheek. That was all it took for you to break. You stepped forward and threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.
He held you tight, hands trembling as they wrapped around your back, one resting gently against your head. The moment felt distant, grainy—like an old film on a vhs tape.
Finally, his soft voice broke the silence. “How… why are you here?”
You pulled back slightly, eyes still glistening. “I came to see you. But when I went to your house, they said you’d moved. I didn’t know where else to go.”
He smiled faintly and whispered, “I’m always here.” Then he pulled you close again, his face pressed against your hair, breathing in that familiar floral scent that never left his memory.
After a quiet moment, you stepped back and smiled gently. “I’m so sorry. Anyway… what are you doing here?”
He froze. How could he tell you that he came here to leave everything behind—to bury the memories, the pain, and maybe even the love? But your gaze shifted to the basket at his feet.
“Um…” He swallowed hard.
You crouched down, sifting through the items. You recognized every single one—except for a small ring lying at the bottom. “What’s this?”
He quickly snatched it up. “Nothing.”
You hid your smile. “Is it for me?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Yushi,” you said softly, still crouched near the basket. “I read your letter, you know.”
He stiffened, gripping the ring tighter.
“I’ve been trying to find your socials, or anything… my mom doesn’t even know I’m here.” You looked up at him, heart pounding. “I wanted to tell you that I like you. In person.”
The gaping hole that had been tearing through his chest began to close. Seeing you again had mended parts of him he thought were gone forever.
“If you don’t like me anymore, then—”
“I like you,” he interrupted quietly. “I’ll never stop liking you.”
You smiled, cheeks warm. The way he said it—earnest, steady, a little broken—made your heart ache in the best way. He opened his hand and offered you the ring. Your fingers brushed his palm as you took it, the contact sending shivers up both your arms. You slid it onto your finger and looked back up at him, eyes glowing.
“It’s beautiful,” you said softly. “Thank you.”
He looked at you, smile trembling. “You’re beautiful.”
You leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Flirt.”
He laughed—a sound you hadn’t heard in years—and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close until your foreheads touched.
“How else am I supposed to make you fall for me again?” he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You gasped softly, eyes wide as he pulled back, a small smile playing on his face.
He rested his head on your shoulder and whispered, “Stay with me. Please.”
And for the first time in a long time, the world felt right again.
✭・.・✫
You didn’t go home until the very last bus that night. The streets were quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the streetlights as you made your way to the bus stop with Yushi's hand in yours—his jacket hugging you tightly. When you finally walked through the doors of your house, your mother was waiting for you. You sat down together, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you told her everything — all that you had been through during that long year and those 249 difficult days.
She listened without interrupting, her eyes full of understanding. When you finished, she simply reached out and held your hand. She understood. From that moment on, it was decided — every other weekend, you would go visit Yushi and stay with him for a while. It wasn’t just a promise; it was a new beginning for both of you.
That same night, Yushi broke down again — but this time, the tears were different. They weren’t from pain or regret, but from relief. For the first time in a long time, he felt free. He went to his parents and told them everything that had happened that day — the talk, the tears, the reconciliation, the hope that maybe things could get better from here.
When he finished speaking, he let out a long, shaky breath. It felt incredible to finally get it all off his chest. His parents listened quietly, and for once, the house didn’t feel so heavy. That night, as he lay in bed, Yushi smiled through his tears. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he wasn’t afraid of tomorrow.
synopsis :: you had just moved into your new apartment, and you heard… scratching(?) on your front door, you open it to see a grey-ish persian cat by your doorstep. is this a housewarming gift? your neighbour must be so kind.
pairing :: neighbour!yushi x reader
wc :: 8.9k
content :: shy yushi, profanities, a bit rushed (sry.), coco is the cupid, jaehee&sion appearance, lmk if i missed any!
now playing ᝰ.ᐟ — kiss a kitty by chuu , 고양이 릴스 reel-ationship by nct wish
click here for the m.list
andbie time !! :: this is hella overdue IM SORRY!! but here it is, the last for kiss a kitty series!! i was supposed to do flufftober for wish this month but since i delayed this fic so much i just cancelled that thought :///
you sit in the middle of your living room, on top of your coffee table, eating jjajangmyeon—a common tradition for people who is just moving in a new place in korea.
you are half done with setting up your new place, all you need to do now is unwrap the furnitures and add the cute decorations around your new apartment.
suddenly you hear a knock, disrupting your break time, a very much needed break time after carrying such heavy things. you walk towards your door, swallowing the jjajangmyeon you had in your mouth, before opening the door.
you’re greeted with a man—broad shoulders, a noticeable scar on his left cheek, everything about him screams masculine—but his stance? very timid. his hands clasped together, lips pouting lightly, probably a sign of nervousness? he looks like a cute 5 year old who is buying his own candy for the first time.
“hi, are you new here?” he asks, his voice quickly pulling you into a trance—it’s like you’re being serenaded by his voice.
“oh—yeah! i just moved here,” you reply, an octave higher. now what if you’re weirding your neighbour out?
he nods quietly, taking a few seconds before he says something again. “welcome to the building… i’m, uh… your neighbour… yushi.” he finishes his sentence, you could clearly see he was constructing his sentence as he was talking.
cute.
you laugh softly, not at him, but because of him. “hi yushi, i’m y/n, your new neighbour.” you greeted back.
he nods, furrowing his brows slightly, like he’s telling himself to remember your name—it makes you think that he looks like a cat, an orange, domesticated cat.
silence fills the air between the two of you for a minute, you were expecting him to prolong the conversation as to well—he is the one welcoming you. but maybe he just isn’t the talking type.
he scratches the back of his neck, bowing slightly. “welcome to the building again, you can—can knock on my door if you need help… it’s just the door on your right.” he mutters in a quicker manner, already walking back to his door before you can say something back to him.
“odd man…” you mutter under your breath, but you aren’t weirded out, you just haven’t met a guy who is as shy as him, yushi.
at least you have a neighbour you can count on now.
the next day, you continue on fixing your furnitures and adding decorations, watching as your apartment turns into somewhat both minimalistic and maximized with the amount of stuff toys, keychains, childhood toys everywhere you go, even on the kitchen counter.
you hear your doorbell ringing across the apartment, and you groan. “i was about to put this stuff toy up on the shelf.” you mutter to yourself, placing down the stuff toy on the floor. its not like you could have reached the shelf anyways.
you didn’t even bother to check the monitor you have that connects to the tiny camera on your door, so you didn’t realise it was the cute neighbour outside your door when you opened it.
“yushi…?” you say, surprised to see him the second time in a row.
he waves in a timid manner, doing his little pout again. “hi… i couldn’t help but hear shuffling in your apartment—“
you cut him off, embarrassed. “wait you can hear me move things around?”
he nods slowly, tapping his index finger together. you sigh, even more embarrassed now. if he could hear it, then that would mean your other neighbours could as well. such a bad impression for a new tenant.
“i am so sorry, i’ll try to be more quiet this time, i hope i wasn’t disturbing you much!”
yushi waves his hands, silently telling you that what you’re saying is not the reason he’s in your doorstep. “actually… i was checking if you needed any help..?” he asks, his ears turning red from another wave of embarrassment.
you blink once, then twice, then thrice, then four times, fast. he just offered help, why is it to incomprehensible for you? you were about to kindly decline, not wanting yushi to waste time on you, then you remembered that one stuff toy you’re trying to put up on that high shelf.
“actually yeah… that would be nice.” you accepted his offer, opening your door completely for him.
yushi does not believe that him out of all people just successfully offered help, i mean—he’s quiet, shy, minds his own business, really doesn’t care about everyone else’s business, but he’s walking inside your apartment, the new tenant of the building, with shoes off, purposefully scanning every inch of your apartment with his own eyes.
“it’s still a mess—well understandably so…” you walk behind him, and for some reason, you genuinely wish he doesn’t see you as a snobby, dirty, messy woman with everything just scattered around the floor, the counters, even on the couch.
“well you’re just moving in so… i can see why.” he has a point. “so where do you need help?” he asks, turning around to look at you, head slightly tilted, his eyes showing nothing but attentiveness in them, like a cat.
you point at the stuff toy you placed on the floor right next to a standing stool, “i need that to be on that top shelf, but i can’t reach it.” you point at the shelf, you can feel your cheeks getting flushed from embarrassment. “uhm—please?” you added.
he chuckles and just nods, before proceeding to do what you had instructed him to do. thankfully he’s tall enough to be able to reach the top shelf with ease, the stuff toy (that happens to be a miffy) now displayed perfectly just right above the collection of jane austen books you have.
“oh thank you for that,” you say, acting like you held your breath for a minute and then finally breathed out. “i was struggling with that earlier.”
“too short?” he asked, the tone sarcastic. he had a smile on his face as he turns to you whilst asking that question, he genuinely thinks it’s funny.
you purse your lips and cross your arms, like you’re deadpanning him, but in the same level of energy as him. “maybe.”
he breaks into a small, quiet fit of laughter, you wonder if his laughs are always this quiet every time. you followed suit, letting out a chuckle, he’s very quick to be amused.
“is that all you need help with so far?” he asks, looking around the living room, everything seems to be placed already.
“so far yeah,” you reply, shrugging your shoulder. “so how long have you been in the building?” you strike up a conversation, silently motioning him to sit on your couch.
it was all so sudden for him but he obliges, it is proper etiquette. “a year and a half already? yeah it’s been that long.” he answers your question, watching as you sit next to him, with a respectable amount of distance.
“really? how has it been so far? any bad experiences?” you ask further more, like a detective professionally slithering her way inside of a person’s life.
“eh…i don’t really tend to join others businesses so personally haven’t experienced anything bad, but i heard one of the neighbours is a… weirdo? i don’t know from which apartment though.” he answers again, in deep thought, you almost feel bad for asking him that question with how much he’s pondering.
you hum in response, you’re sure that if you keep asking him questions he might combust and maybe take eons to reply, so you stop questioning him.
“i can make us snacks if you’d like,” you offer, standing up to head down to the kitchen.
“oh no it’s okay—“ he stops himself from talking, the sound of grumbling coming from his stomach echoing in the living room, debunking his lie.
he looks at the opposite way, his cheeks warming up, his own stomach betrayed him, his dignity. you laugh quietly, you really didn’t mind, you thought it was cute.
“i’ll be back with snacks.”
STEP II — scratch scratch.
you wake up to the sound of your obnoxious iphone alarm, stretching your arms and legs out, coming in with a massive yawn. you slowly took your time to sit up, your eyes half-lidded, your face feel bloated, well maybe because you ate instant ramen last night.
you get up from your bed, immediately cleaning it up, patting it down, tidying it like you didn’t just roll around your bed the entire night while you were sleeping. you walk to your bathroom, washing your face with ten percent energy in you, feeling cold water splash onto your face, energizing you by at least another five percent.
you then walk into the kitchen, grabbing your overnight oats from the fridge, immediately munching on it while you turn on your tv, watching the latest k-drama you’re following. you didn’t have anything planned for the day, you’ve completely moved in, you’re on leave from your job for this week, and it’s not like you have anything planned with your friends, unless it’s spontaneous. you’re most likely just going to laze around till you have to go back to work next week.
hours have passed by, you’re still lounging on your couch, watching a new k-drama, but instead of eating your oats, you’re eating your lunch, which consists of seaweed soup, and unagi rice meal. you’re the type to do commentary while watching something you’re hooked on, even when your mouth is full of food.
well of course you don’t talk when your mouth is full when you’re with other people—you still have basic table manners.
“what the fuck is he doing? he’s losing her!” you say with such exclaim, holding your chopsticks so tight as you point to your tv, rice grains falling out of your mouth bit by bit, falling back onto the bowl.
scratch, scratch.
you heard scratching, but you guess it’s from the tv, so you didn’t mind. scratch, scratch, scratch. again with the scratching—there’s no cats in the current scene, and it’s not like the director of the k-drama will allow something scratching whilst two characters are arguing under the rain.
so that means…
“must be from outside,” you mutter to yourself, placing down your bowl, swallowing the food in your mouth first before walking down to your door.
the scratching gets louder with each step you take closer to your door, till you can finally hear it clearly. you open the door, well, you didn’t meet anyone within eye-level, but then you heard a meow. you looked down to see a cat.
a grey-ish persian cat.
it meows again, its pupils as round as saucers, it wags its tail against the white, newly mopped floor, it looks up at you like you are its owner—new owner, maybe.
you noticed the collar around its neck, a baby blue cork collar, with a bell right on the centre of it, a name engraved on the side.
“coco…” you named out, is this cat lost? it doesn’t seem to be in distress, in fact—its all over you. you presume it’s a boy, with the collar and with the name, you haven’t checked properly to know it’s gender.
you picked it up, hands holding coco underneath its front legs gently, “yup it’s a boy.” you mutter to yourself, placing coco down gently, who just happens to wak into your apartment like it’s been there more than a thousand times.
maybe coco is a gift from your neighbour? but from who? and why? maybe from yushi, he seems the type to be sentimental, maybe it’s a housewarming gift. how nice of him.
yushi is not the type to panic over anything, besides food, obviously—but that’s besides the point. the point is, he’s a calm and collected person, life rarely gives him any reason to panic and manic.
he forgot he left his front door ajar, from lazing all around that his mind doesn’t pick up on a lot of things, so he didn’t see his cat leave the apartment, by his own accords. we all make that mistake at some point.
he doesn't notice it at first, how the usual purring from coco suddenly just stopped, to be fair, it is usually muffled by the tv playing movies, but the background noise is dead quiet. then he notices how coco isn't scratching on his scratch tower, how he isn't on his usual spot.
"coco?" he called out, looking around his entire apartment, even in warm corners, and even underneath his appliances and furnitures. but nothing. now he has a reason to panic, and he begins to.
he huffs heavily each second, his hands slowly starting to sweat, he looked everywhere, he has no idea where coco could be. then his phone rings, three messages from you.
he grabs his phone, seeing your name pop on his lock screen eased him a little bit, which he didn't realise.
y/n girl next door: yushi look!
y/n girl next door: *two images attached*
y/n girl next door: i have a cat! he was just scratching my from door! is coco from you? a housewarming gift? or is he yours?
oh no.
he looks at his door, he forgot he left it ajar, just enough for a little animal to walk through. his fingers ghost over his keyboard, not knowing what to say. well of course saying yes, coco is in fact his cat and that he is not a housewarming gift is the right move. what's so hard about that?
yuushi kitty neighbour: ah yes! coco is my housewarming gift ^^ plis take care of him!
another oh no.
he doesn't have the guts to say yes, coco is his cat, why is it so hard for him? being unable to tell you the truth cost him his cat of three years, which he particularly began to sulk over. he convinces himself that everything will be okay, he'll have his cat of three years come back soon, the moment he gets the courage to actually tell you the truth.
he sits back down on the couch, bouncing one leg, then he receives another message from you.
y/n girl next door: omg you didn't have to 😭! thank you 🫶ill give you a present in return soon! thaaankyouuuusooooomuuuuch yuu 🫶
yuu. heart hands emoji. what the hell. how long have you known each other? four days? five? yeah, five. it's been five days and you already have a nickname for him, and why is his heart beating faster over something so simple? maybe he isn't so anxious about coco that much anymore.
coco lays on your couch, specifically on your light green star shaped pillow, you have never seen a cat this comfortable ever, not even the cats in your feed. you plan on leaving in a bit, hoping to buy everything for your new cat today, food, treats, bowls, cat litter, even a scratch tower, you’re going all out for coco.
you’re really touched with yushi’s gift, a real, moving cat, and it even looks like it chose you, if he looks that comfortable already. you kiss the top of coco’s head, patting him.
“i’ll be back, coco, i’ll just buy you your stuff.”
STEP III — a box of egg tarts.
before, you used to wake up from your awful iphone alarm that sounds like a nuclear threat alarm. now, you wake up to coco’s paws, doing biscuits on you. a much better alarm.
yushi used to wake up with coco’s constant meowing, waiting by the doorway of his bedroom, ready to be fed the first thing in yushi’s morning. now, he wakes up a bit late, expecting to see a cat half a second before he realised—
“i forgot y/n has coco…” he tells himself, groaning as he stretches under the blanket. he gets up, groggily walking to his kitchen, making instant ramen, wondering if coco is behaving well in your apartment.
coco meows as he watches you eat, like he’s watching a reality show, but you don’t mind an audience. coco rubs his body against the leg of your chair, showing you affection, to which you chuckled.
“you’re the best gift ever, coco.” you coo coco, glancing shortly to the grey-ish persian cat, you still don’t know how to thank yushi, besides giving him updates then and there about coco, but you know that’s not enough. he gave you a living animal as a welcome gift, there must be something equivalent to that for you to give him.
food.
food is the next best thing to give someone, that isn’t a pet. but what food could you give him? maybe a stew—but he might not be able to finish it, how about cheese balls? no, that’s too generic. ramen? everybody has ramen.
egg tarts.
a dozen egg tarts from your desired bakery, perfect. you could never go wrong with egg tarts, and you’re pretty sure he loves sweets, with how he finished all your cookies the day he helped you out with moving in.
“should i give yushi a box of egg tarts, coco?” you ask your cat, who surprisingly meows in reply, giving you slight shivers, maybe cats do understand the human language.
taking coco’s meow as a yes, you begin to prepare for your little errand, excited to give your kind neighbour a thank you gift. you soon found your way out of the apartment, realising you’re not all so familiar with the streets and the path for places.
you open your phone, pressing on your handy dandy map app, typing down the name of the bakery and following the long blue line’s path, hoping that you won’t bump into someone while obsessively looking at your phone while walking, which you have successfully accomplished.
you enter the bakery, the smell of fresh bread and pastries hitting your nose, which oddly gives you that nostalgic feeling, buying from the bakery was always your stress reliever when you were in high school. you scan around the bakery, perhaps you might add onto your egg tart shopping with other types of pastries, and you did.
you filled your tray with delicates, and another tray of a dozen egg tarts. you wait patiently in line for your turn to pay, your mind wandering elsewhere.
‘does yushi like egg tarts? i should have asked! what if he hates it? oh no.’
you began to panic (internally) over your thoughts, the habit of tapping your foot against the floor very obvious for everyone around you, especially with how quick you’re tapping it, though quickly cut short, since now the person in front of you is now—not in front of you.
you pay for everything you have bought (which could feed 6 people) and quickly leave the bakery, oh and did i forget to mention that you bought a 4x4 inch strawberry chiffon cake too? definitely not for you, you won’t finish it within the day because you would most definitely forget it. it’s for yushi.
your thoughts completely infiltrated you, buying that cake last minute, so now you’re giving him both the egg tarts and cake, which you now realise is a lot of sugar. you’re wishfully hoping he’s a sweet tooth.
you finally arrived back at your building, realising how quicker it is to go back than to arrive at a destination, you hit the elevator and arrived at your floor, quietly walking down the hallway, in case he might hear you.
you stop at his door, hesitating whether to knock and personally give him your present or be totally introverted and place the cake and box of egg tarts by his doorstep, but someone might grab it if you just leave it there. so you knock.
couple seconds later his door opens, you can see that the back of his hair looks flattened, like he didn’t move an inch while laying down. you notice how it somehow looks longer than the last time you saw him (which was literally a couple of days ago), his white shirt a bit crinkled, so are his black shorts.
“y/n? do you need anything?” he asks, he looks genuinely surprised that you’re standing in front of his doorstep.
you shake your head as a no, giving him the small smile you would always give him. “no no no no, i’m here to actually drop something off for you,”
yushi’s eyes glimmered with curiosity, what if it’s coco? maybe you have had enough of taking care of a pet and that’s why you’re returning coco to yushi. but obviously he’s wrong.
you hand out the box of egg tarts, and the box of cake. his eyes glimmered even more.
he could feel his mouth start to salivating, but he swallowed it in, looking up at you with those cute eyes again.
“what’s this for?” he asks, holding the thin part of his door, as if he’s trying to stop himself from just snatching the desserts away from you.
“well, it’s basically my thank you gift for your housewarming gift, coco.”
ah right, coco.
even at the reminder of coco, he blushes, his cheeks turning light pink over at the mere thought that you got him a gift, but he’s wondering why he feels like this. you’re a friend, and it’s not uncommon for friends to give food to their friends. how come when it’s with you, he cherishes that thought?
he grabs the two boxes from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours so gently, you would think a ghost did it, but that soft physical interaction was enough to create a small spark, from within. his fingers lingered a bit longer than he would like, and your hands stayed in place, maybe silently liking the feeling too.
he snaps back to reality, finally taking both boxes completely from you. both of you look away, an unfamiliar feeling in your hearts beats, before he spikes up another conversation.
“how is he by the way?” yushi asks, his index fingers fidgeting with the handle of the boxes.
“oh! he’s behaving really well, surprisingly a very domesticated cat,” you explain, tucking your hair behind your ear, and he notices. “he loves attention though, that’s for sure.”
he smiles at your last sentence, he remembers the times coco would actually pat his foot and meow till yushi gives him the attention, and coco would walk away with such satisfaction. he was about to reply with a memory of coco, but then he remembers: you don’t know coco is actually his cat.
“thats good to know, i’m happy i picked the right cat for you.” he smiles, and you smile back. at this point the conversation has died down, yushi doesn’t really have to say anything, and your mind just overheated from overthinking about… desserts.
“well—thank you very much for the cake and egg tarts y/n, they’re both my favourite,” yushi thanks you, holding both boxes with one hand around the handles, and the other hand at the bottom of the boxes. “i’ll make sure i will eat these well.”
you let out a phew, at least now you know he’s a sweet tooth. “of course yu! enjoy!” you wave your hand, walking a couple more steps till you reached your door, finally a home sweet home.
again with the nickname.
he watches you as you enter your apartment, noticing a small smile on your face, almost like you’re relieved about something. he looks down at the boxes, his stomach grumbling just in time. he opens the cake box and egg tarts, the scent of a bakery filling his apartment. he sighs in excitement, grabbing a fork before digging in. the lightness of the cake and the cream fills up his mouth, and he savours it. closing his eyes, making a mmmm hum, the cake exceeding his standards.
“coco? i’m home!”
coco pops out from your bedroom, meowing as a greeting. you chuckle while you drop your bag onto the couch, letting it thud and bounce slightly from the impact. you sit right next to your bag, and coco immediately finds his spot on your lap, making himself comfortable.
“i guess i won’t be moving anytime soon.” you tell yourself, watching the peaceful cat on your lap, then you began to daze.
the small scar on yushi’s cheek is so prominent yet aligns with his features, he looks good with it. the way his cheeks blush when he becomes shy, the smile he displays when he’s shy, the way his ears—
“what the hell is going on with me?”
you cut your thoughts off with your own mouth, ever since yushi introduced himself to you the day you moved in, at least sixty percent of your thoughts have been nothing but him. maybe he has been so nice to you that you just think about him, maybe you feel indebted to him because he helped you out with your stuff, and even gave you a cat.
it can’t be anything else.
STEP IV — bonds.
you can’t help it. you genuinely can’t help it.
after a 9-5 work, you always need to pass by yushi’s door first before reaching yours, and you would find yourself hesitating to knock on his door. of course you won’t do it, so when you’re finally in your apartment, you rant to coco.
“i don’t know why i always do that coco, i bet i look like a freaking psycho just standing there with my hand up high for like— four minutes.” today is another day, and another embarrassing standoff with yushi’s door.
it’s not like you guys don’t talk anymore since the day you gave him those desserts (which he finished in one night), he sends you cat reels quite frequently, and you send him cat reels back. you guys just haven’t seen each other in like—two weeks, even if you live right next to each other.
even on weekends you don’t hang out, you’re either doing a movie marathon or out by yourself at a park, and yushi usually hangs out with his friends. or maybe not one of you has ever had the balls to ask each other to hang out. maybe that.
you feel your stomach grumbling, and you quickly check the fridge, practically empty. the pantry, also practically empty. you need to do grocery shopping. you switch to your small purse, instead of your big shoulder bag, filling your purse with just cash, card, and your phone. you tie your hair into a messy bun, your empty stomach making you do things at twice times speed.
you decided to bring coco with you, grabbing a cat bag, putting coco in it, who calmly cooperated with you. you then grab your purse, bringing just your wallet and your phone, shutting the door behind you. but why is the click sound doubled? like two doors had just shut in sync?
“y/n?” you hear a voice call out for you, you look towards that direction, and it’s yushi.
he’s wearing a simple white tee and light blue denim baggy jeans, too casual for the season right now. he looks surprised to see you, and it’s quite visible, you can see how raised his eyebrows are.
so that’s why you heard two synced clicks.
“hey yuu!” you exclaim, “where you headed?” you ask, your heart thumping harder than usual, why if he’s going to the grocery store as well?
“to the grocery,” he replies, “you?”
“to the grocery as well—oh look who i brought!” you say as you show him the small cat bag, revealing coco. he meows as he sees yushi, whose eyes are wide.
“coco?” he calls out, almost like he’s telling coco to come back home, but you don’t catch that tone.
“yup! he’s coming with me while i buy groceries, wanna come with us?” you ask, almost too casually. you didn’t even know what just spewed out of your mouth.
you had just asked the person that you’re oh-so-not-admiring-from-afar-but-you-technically-are-admiring-him-from-afar to go grocery shopping with you, it sounds a bit creepy to you. just to you at least.
yushi’s ears turned red, like visible red that you can see it as well, his lips pursed into a line like how he usually does when he ponders. he nods as an agreement, fidgeting his fingers from the sudden burst of nervousness.
you smile softly, almost in a reassuring way, and he relaxes. “let’s go?” you ask, walking right next to him.
you stand right in front of him, and you notice the height difference, it doesn’t have any significance of some sort—just a quiet observation. you notice how he actually has to look down a bit just to look at you, which gives you those little butterflies in your stomach.
“yeah, let’s go.” he says, and you both begin to walk, leaving the building. the grocery store is not that far actually, it’s a good distance to have an excuse to finish 10k steps a day of yours. but you both will definitely take a cab after the grocery shopping.
“how was work?” he asks, spiking up a conversation, his tone a bit rushed, like he was brainstorming ideas on how to make a conversation with you before voicing it out.
you walk alongside him, one hand petting coco, whilst you’re thinking. “wouldn’t say it was peaceful today, wasn’t that hectic either.” you reply, a corporate job can always be high or low or both, just like those stats you see in every (boring)meeting.
“so… so-so?” he smiles, at himself though, he thinks that pun/joke is quite funny.
you laugh at what he said, genuinely finding it funny. “i see what you did there, but yeah, it was so-so.”
he watches you as you laugh, cute. you finally reached the grocery store, and you both grabbed your own carts, and you placed coco down on the baby compartment of the cart, his fur just seeping out from the metal bars of the cart, which you find adorable.
“oh my gosh yushi look at coco!” you excitedly point out, tugging yushi’s sleeve, since he was about to start walking around the store.
he looks at coco, and he looks so comfortable in the cart, and his body is just taking up all the space of that baby seat, his chubby body needing more space, but you guess he likes the cool effect of the metal bars.
“coco looks cute.” he compliments, striding his cart next to yours, like he just perfectly parked a car.
“he is cute,” you corrected, in a snarky tone. “now let’s go shopping.” you drag your cart inside of the grocery store, the sound of mothers an elderly getting the specific kind of meat and pounds can be heard visibly, the wheels of the carts screeching time to time.
you move your cart in a slow pace, casually strolling around the store, with yushi following you around like a lost puppy.
he never ever buys groceries, not in the way you should at least. whenever he comes into this store, he buys two different instant ramen packs, spam, instant rice, and the majority of his meals are just delivered via a food delivery app. but for some reason, seeing you grab one of those big carts made him grab one as well, now he doesn’t know how to fill the cart without emptying an entire aisle of instant ramen.
“so yushi,” you say, looking on your side, “whatchu buying?” you ask, grabbing a two kilogram rice and putting it in your cart.
“eh…” he begins thinking, should he tell the truth? or should he lie so he would look good in front of you? “ramen, i usually just buy that.” he tells you the truth.
you hum in reply, “you can live with just instant ramen?”
“no, i just don’t… cook.” he admits, looking so bashful. you chuckle when you get a good look at his face, shaking your head. you drag your cart to his holy grail aisle—the instant ramen aisle, which is aisle 23.
“guess this is your area huh?” you say like you’re touring kids in an amusement park, which made him even more bashful.
he watches you as you try to choose which ramen pack to pick, and you’re doing that with coco being the judge. “this or this coco?” you hold out two different brands of instant ramen, coco’s eyes not even looking at either of them, but at yushi.
you sigh, your shoulders dropping from almost sulking over a cat, “yushi can you do it?” you ask, turning around, since he’s literally just following you from behind.
he perks up, standing more straight now, “do what?” he asks, then he sees that small pout of yours, and those almost-sulking eyes, then he gets the message.
he smiles and does his signature small laugh, abandoning his (empty)cart, he stands next to you and grabs the two packs from you, holding them out in front of coco.
“pick one coco,” he says, jingling the packs like they’re keys, but coco still doesn’t choose. coco’s head is tilted, his pupils dilated, staring at yushi. “coco, you gotta choose, y/n is sulking behind me.” he whispers to the cat, but loud enough for you to hear.
“hey i heard that!” you glare at him, who looks back at you and laughs, so you just smack him.
coco finally cooperated, sniffing the pink ramen pack. “oh finally coco, took you so long to think,” you say, grabbing the pink ramen pack from yushi. “you ponder as long as yushi does.” you add, and yushi almost chokes from thin air.
well, coco was yushi’s first anyways, so coco acts like yushi. but—you don’t know that.
“okay, have you picked out your ramen, yushi?” you ask him, who is standing so ridiculously close to you, and you notice. you get a whiff of his perfume, floral yet musky, which is oddly a nice scent to smell.
“oh yeah i will—“ he turns around to see his cart is not on its spot anymore. “eh?”
you turn around as well, seeing zero carts behind you. “maybe a worker took it back, it was empty.” you explain, which is what happened. “it’s okay, just dump them into my cart.” you offer, a huge smile on your face.
he nods in agreement without arguing any further, grabbing his top three favourite ramen brands, dropping them into your cart. you whistle from the amount of ramen he just bought, he eats this much of ramen yet he looks so…. fit? must be a gym god.
“that’s it? seriously just ramen?” you ask him, almost came out rudely, but it’s from pure curiosity.
“well i just order online most of the time.” he explains, bashful once again.
you laugh softly, patting his shoulder, “i’m not judging you yushi, don't worry.” you reassure him, dragging your cart to the meat section, “i just want to get to know you better.”
his heart thumps harder, his hands feeling all clampy from the sweat, did you mean that romantically or platonically? why is yushi thinking about it romantically anyways? either way you guys are just neighbours.
he catches up to you, seeing you right in front of the meat displays, tapping your foot lightly while cooing coco, who just enjoys every bit of attention you give him.
“attention seeker,” yushi mutters, seeing how coco is purring from you rubbing the back of his ear. “sorry i kind of spaced out there.” yushi says as he walks up to you, making a half-truth half-lie excuse.
“no worries! nothing to apologise about,” you say, your eyes darting at his. you rest your forearms on the handle of your cart, leaning against it a bit. “i was actually thinking,” you pause for a moment, hesitating, because you really don’t want him to decline this.
his ears perk up, looking down at your figure with raised brows, “hm?”
“you wanna eat at my place? i’d feel bad if you eat just ramen or delivered food tonight…” you finally blurted out, which almost came out like a rap, you met his wide eyes, like you can clearly see him malfunctioning.
the butcher hands out the meat you had requested, “you don’t have to say yes really, i’m just offering.” you say as you grab the meat, thanking the butcher. “so? what do you think?”
“eh…” he continues to malfunction, well it’s not like it’s going to be his first time entering your apartment, but the circumstances are different. last time it was to help you, this time it’s for dinner, it just sounds so… domesticated.
he walks beside you as you continue to do your grocery, and he still hasn’t replied to your offer, so you stay silent. you can see from your peripheral vision that he is deeply thinking about it, you almost feel bad for offering such a thing.
you get the last of what you need, and he still hasn’t answered. “yushi? so do you want to?” you ask him one last time, already dragging the cart to one of the cashiers, even coco is looking at yushi, probably waiting for his answer as well. who knows.
“eh… yeah, sure.” he finally comes to a conclusion, and you sighed in victory, no rejection and you get to hang out with him, it’s a win-win.
“okay phew, i thought you were gonna need three business days to reply.” you joke, and he laughs. you begin placing down the products on the short conveyor belt, placing them down by the colds, snacks, hygiene, and extras.
yushi notices the order of the groceries, you must be that experienced with groceries, which he finds interesting. he realises he’s not doing anything, so he walks to the other end, grabbing empty boxes and putting the products in, by the order you did to them just seconds ago.
you haven’t noticed it though, since you’re busy paying, but after you paid? you finally did. you see four boxes lined up, in the same order you placed them earlier. your heart melts at the tiny detail, it could have gone unnoticed if you didn’t care, but for some reason you had hoped that he would do it, and he did.
“we should grab a cab since it will be hard to carry all these if we just walk back.” he suggests, placing down the boxes gently on the cart, coco meows at him, like saying ‘good job!’.
you didn’t think a trip to the grocery store would give you a chance to get closer with yushi.
and you didn’t think you would yearn for more.
STEP V — dinner…date(?)
you put your groceries into their spots, rummaging through the boxes with almost everything in the kitchen open, while yushi plays with coco, since you asked him to.
yushi actually wanted to help you out, unintentionally thinking of making a move on you (by taking initiative), but he could never say no to any of your requests or favours. plus, it’s been awhile since he last saw coco, and played with him.
from a third person perspective, you look like a domesticated couple, first time renting an apartment together, first grocery shopping together in your new apartment, it is that un-platonic to look at you guys.
you sort of knew that, judging by how strangers were looking at you guys earlier, even the butcher guy, he had that weird happy smile while he was eyeing the both of you. weird.
you check up on coco and yushi, and coco is laying on the floor, stomach just open for rubs, and yushi is sitting like a five year old kid playing with his legos. you chuckle at your sight, “seems like coco likes you a lot.”
“i would hope so,” he says, “i got him for you.” he adds, he finally got the hang of lying.
you laugh, already in the midst of cooking. “that is true, i’m glad coco likes you.” you say, turning your back on them, since you’re about to use the stove.
yushi ponders for a bit, before standing up, he walks up to you, standing right next to you. “you need help?”
you look up at him, about to decline, but you see his eyes. his pleading eyes, practically pleading you to just make him do something.
“can you wash the cabbage and cut it thin?” you instructed, and he immediately takes action, quickly grabbing the cabbage from the counter, washing it by the sink that’s right next to you.
“where’s the cutting board?” he asks, his eyes wandering around, as if he has x-ray vision to see what’s inside of the cupboards.
“in there,” you point to the cupboard to his left, he opens it, grabbing the said cutting board, he grabs the knife that’s already on the counter, about to cut the cabbage, but stops midway.
“uhm y/n,” he calls out for you, you hum in reply, looking at him. “how do you cut a cabbage?” he asks, very innocently.
“you don’t know?” you ask, he shakes his head, showing his teethy awkward smile. you chuckle, patting your hands on your apron before approaching him. “i’ll teach you.”
you gently grab the knife from him, demonstrating how to cut the cabbage. you cut it in half, only using one of the half. “just cut it thin like this, make sure to be careful with it though, so just take your time with cutting it, okay?” you instructed, cutting it in the size you want it.
he watches in awe, he didn’t know cutting cabbages could look attractive. he nods as a sign of him understanding all of it, all he needs to do is cut the cabbage, and not get hurt.
soon, you both finished cooking, and you both placed the food down on the dining table. you both took your seat, which is the opposite of each other, grabbing your servings.
“thank you for the food y/n.” yushi says, smiling at you, genuinely thankful.
“thank you for helping yushi.” you thank back, which made the both of you laugh. you take a bite of the food, and you just began to savour it.
“wow y/n, this is really good.” yushi compliments, who is overly enjoying the food you had made, you guess it’s that good.
your heart starts beating faster again, faster than yusain bolt, over a compliment you have heard a thousand times from different people. you nod as an acknowledgement to his compliment, since you have a mouth full of food.
coco meows, catching both of your attention. coco walks up to you, rubbing his body against your leg, then to yushi’s. you roll your eyes playfully, seeing how coco is trying to get both of your attentions, and he did succeed.
“such an attention seeker coco,” you say, watching as coco meows so loud, every second. yushi giggles at coco, even with you he’s still such an attention seeker.
“maybe you should eat with us, right coco?” you stand up from your chair, walking to where coco’s food and water corner is, filling up his bowl. coco follows behind, his purring getting louder, “master is satisfied.” you mutter, watching coco eat his food.
yushi watches you from the table, seeing how well you’re taking care of coco—aka his cat, makes him feel relieved. well he knew already you would take care of coco pretty well, he wonders how it would be to co-parent coco with you.
his own thoughts made him choke on his food, which alerted you quickly. you run back to the table, reaching for the water so he could drink it.
“jesus yushi, are you okay?” you ask, instinctively rubbing his back as he drinks, and he jolts a bit from the sudden contact.
his cheeks burn from your motherly act, so he continues to jug the water, till the glass is empty. “i’m fine, just a tiny accident…” he mutters, but you caught on.
“yeah well don’t eat too fast, yu.” you chuckle softly, brightening up the mood, and he just smiles back.
the sudden loss of contact from you removing your hand off of his back made him slightly shiver, like a part of his warmth isn’t there anymore.
motherly instincts, plus food, attentiveness, ways to a man’s heart.
you may have just found your way into his heart.
STEP VI — coco is whose?
oh man, lying is eating yushi every day.
for someone so honest all the time, lying is his top one weakness. he may have improved over the almost two months of knowing you, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy now.
not to be the man that exaggerates things but—he really gets nightmares of how you will react when he tells you the truth. so he asked for help,
from his two not so reliable friends.
“well do you like your neighbour?” sion asks, tossing a popcorn to jaehee’s mouth, but misses.
“eh… yeah i do like her…” yushi replies, watching his friends sit in the middle of his living room, the kitchen lights and the big tv screen being their only light source at this time of the night.
“no yushi,” sion looks at him, “do you like your neighbour?” he asks again, this time emphasizing the word that could be contradicting.
he stays silent, fidgeting with his fingers, he knows the answer to that question already, it’s just—embarrassing to admit to his friends; his closest friends at that.
jaehee and sion stops fooling around, just waiting for yushi’s answer, who is looking anywhere but them.
“so you like her, got that.” jaehee says, shrugging. either way, answering and not answering just says the answer.
“yeah yeah…” yushi huffs, watching jaehee tossing popcorns to sion this time, “but i don’t know how to tell her that coco is actually my cat…”
“i can’t believe you haven’t told her the truth,” sion says, loudly munching, mostly to annoy yushi. “hasn’t it been almost two months?”
yushi nods, and both his friends laugh. “it’s not funny! i’m asking for help here…” he whines, covering his face with a pillow.
“yushi all you gotta do is tell the truth and confess, that’s it.” sion says simply, like it’s the easiest thing to do.
“okay but how exactly do i do that?” yushi asks, and his friends just shrug.
“we really can’t help you with that,” jaehee says, and sion agrees with him.
“if we do, it wouldn’t be as sincere as it should be.” sion adds, and yushi just plops down to his couch, looking really defeated.
“i don’t know how…” he drawls out.
“wanna practice on us?” sion suggests, and jaehee just combusts into fits of laughter, pounding the floor from how funny he found sion’s suggestion is.
“you’re sick man,” yushi looks at sion with disgust, his face forming an expression he hasn’t made in such a long time.
“what—oh you guys are stupid! bunch of weirdos.” sion says out of feeling he’s been wronged.
yushi knew his friends wouldn’t be of help that much, since they love being that ominous, for some reason. but he took what they said to heart; tell you the truth and confess.
he just doesn’t really know how.
you lounge on your couch with coco on your lap, mindlessly giving him pats, his purr as loud as the tv volume. then your phone dings.
yuushi kitty neighbour : hey y/n, are you free right now?
your heart begins to race, your mind filled with thoughts, a thousand reasons as to why yushi would message you and ask that question.
y/n girl next door : i am! why?
yuushi kitty neighbour : you wanna go take a walk at the park?
being the woman you are, you squeal over his chat, accidentally dropping coco to the couch when you stood up, jumping up and down.
y/n girl next door : yeah sure!!
yuushi kitty neighbour : alright, bring coco too :)
“coco, you’re coming with,” you say, grabbing the cat leash then putting it on coco. “oh don’t you look adorable,” you coo your cat, who is now walking next to you.
you leave your apartment, surprised to see yushi already waiting by his door, this time wearing jacket that fits the cold weather, a white shirt that has cite scribbles on it, pairing it with sweatpants.
“hey yuu,” you call out, and he whips his head up. he puts his phone in his pocket, walking up to you with a smile.
“hey y/n,” he says with a smile, as if his hands aren’t sweating like a sweat machine right now. “let’s go?”
you nod, and you both walk side by side, with coco walking between you. you both leave the building, walking to the park that’s right next to your apartment, which is really convenient.
the leaves fall as the wind blows in your direction, and you may have forgotten how cold it was going to be today, but yushi noticed.
without saying a word, he slowly holds your hand, his thumb rubbing against your palm while he puts your hand inside of the pocket of his jacket. you look up at him, blinking so fast. it is you who is malfunctioning this time.
“i noticed you’re cold,” he simply says, a small smile on his face while he looks down at you, your eyes glimmering, like you hold all stars in your eyes. “you should really check the weather app sometimes.” he adds, ending with a joke.
you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you’re right, i really should.”
after the laughter died down, you both stay silent, walking on the park’s path, letting coco lead the way, your hands still clasped together in his pocket.
strangers look at your direction, the elderly looking in awe, thinking you both are a couple, the others look at you with jealousy—wishing there’s someone beside them right now. you both noticed the stares, but decided to ignore it.
“so… why’d you want to go out with a walk with me?” you finally ask, your curiosity at its peak.
“uh…” yushi’s mind went blank, which is not what he practised days ago in his apartment. “uh… i have something to tell you.”
“hm? what is it?”
yushi stops walking, and so did you. you look back at yushi, head tilted. you both stopped at an area where there’s no people around, just the trees and the bushes that rustle on each other.
“it’s about coco…” he says, his awkward teethy smile visible.
“coco? what about him?” you ask, walking up to him, carrying coco like a baby.
“okay so… coco is actually my pet and when you sent me a pic of him the day he was at your doorstep i couldn’t tell you the truth for some reason because i was too shy and embarrassed so i just said he’s my housewarming gift for you.”
he finally blurts out, sighing after he tells the truth, like the biggest weight has been lifted up off his shoulders.
you stand there, quiet, processing what he had just said. “so… i’ve been taking care of your cat this entire time?”
he nods, his lips turning into a flat line. “eh… i just never knew how to say the truth…” he admits again, scratching his nape.
“oh my god…” you say, “oh my gosh it makes sense! he already had a nametag, a collar—oh my gosh im such an idiot.” you finally come to a realisation, now you know why this cat already had a designated name, and why he’s so domesticated and well-trained.
you gently hand out coco, forcing yushi to grab the cat. “i should have realised that sooner, though you should have told me sooner, yushi!” you exclaim, smacking the side of his arm, and he yelps from the pain.
“i’m sorry…?” he apologises, not knowing what to say. now all he has to do is to confess.
“we’re both at fault, technically,” you sigh, scratching the back of your head from the overloaded information. “i can’t believe you waited this long to tell me the truth—also i can’t believe you just let me have your cat.”
yushi smiles and giggles, patting coco. “if you want, we could co-parent coco,”
“what are you saying?” you ask, not getting his point.
he forms his lips into a thin line again, taking a step closer to you. “well i’m saying that we should go out on a date, y/n.”
“oh—wait what?” you thought you got it for a second, but then his words processed in your mind. did yushi just ask you on a date or maybe you’re just delusional?
“how else could we properly co-parent coco?” he has a point.
“i—“ you begin to stutter, the same guy who is always shy, is asking you out, no stuttering. “okay i wanna know where you got the sudden confidence, yu.”
yushi rolls his eyes playfully, chuckling. “from liking you a lot, y/n.” he confesses, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, just for a second. “so what do you think?”
you don’t reply, you just stand there, a big smile on your face, it’s so cute that yushi starts getting anxious. before he could even say anything, you kiss his cheek.
“i think it will be nice.”
coco meows, looking at the both of you. who knew a slight mishap can bring two neighbours together?
hi! you can delete this if it bothers you <3
i’m admin yu and i just started a kpop confessions blog where people can send in their thoughts/opinions (and even polls to see if others agree). it’s super new so i’d be really grateful if you could help spread the word! looking forward to building a fun little community here. thank you!!
ps : I LOVEEE UR WISHIE THEME !! we're matching heheheh
hiii !! omg i saw this, and THAT'S SO CUTE ??? whoever sees this, go check it out 😚🫶 love love LOVEEE the wishie theme too twinnnn 🤩😋
tag : love blooms between you and the new mysterious boy from your school. you wrote a song, knowing it may never be heard. in the face of endings, some things stay forever.
playlist : even if you leave / hanroro , musubizama / indigo la end , hananiblue / indigo la end , furarete mitandayo / indigo la end , let me love my youth / hanroro , panic / beomgyu , the poetry of august / lamp , a hill of the moon / ichiko aoba
( edit : i might not have proofread this thoroughly, as i noticed some errors—like riku’s name being mentioned unexpectedly. i’ve made a few edits and really hope there aren’t any more rikus lurking below! 😭 )
you snatched your coat off the rack and slammed the door shut behind you. the early spring morning air bit at your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms as you hastily swung the coat over your shoulders. you didn't know where you were going—just that you had to move. to be anywhere but home.
eventually, you found yourself walking towards your school, just minutes away from your house. the gates stood tall and quiet, only a few stragglers entering through the side. you had no intentions of attending classes today, but here you are.
you headed to the vending machine tucked beside the main hallway. you slipped in a few coins with a cold, metallic clink and grabbed a soda from the bottom slot, the can cool against your fingertips. then you made your way up the rooftop.
the rooftop was nearly deserted. a breeze tugged at your skirt and swayed loose strands of your hair. you sat onto one of the benches, tossing your school and guitar bag on the wall, then pulling out a small, worn pocket notebook from your skirt pocket and placing it beside you. for a moment, you just stared at it. then, slowly, you opened it and flipped through the pages.
every stanza of the song you wrote whispered back at you with a haunting question: was it all still worth it? all those years of ditching responsibilities, skipping lessons, and trading grades for guitar strings—was your dream of music still worth chasing?
your father didn't think so. to him, music was nothing more than an "ill's career," a fool's errand. a futureless fantasy.
you never hated studying. you weren't a genius, but you managed. enough to hope. enough to dream about getting into that music college. but when your parents, especially your father, dropped the bomb: medical school, not music, your reason to try burned down to ashes.
junior high to second year senior: failing to low-passing grades. now in your final year, it feels like every ounce of hope, every expectation your parents once had in you, had burned alongside your dreams. still, they never stopped reminding you of what you were supposed to become.
"if i can't have my dreams, they shouldn't get theirs either."
the thought echoed in your mind as you clenched the notebook tightly in your fist. the tendons in your hand strained, as you stepped toward the edge of the rooftop, raising your arm to toss it away.
"don't."
you froze at the sound of a voice behind you.
you turned your head and saw a boy approaching from the rooftop door, his footsteps casual, a hopeful smile on his lips—one that irritated you for reasons you couldn't explain. his fair skin glowed under the soft morning sunlight.
"you're wasting paper," he said with a smile. "and someone's gonna have to clean your mess. probably the school janitor. doesn't seem fair, right?"
he came to stand beside you. you blinked at him, unimpressed, then turned your gaze to the school field below. after a moment, you lowered your arm and shoved the crumpled notebook back into your pocket with a scoff.
"how is that your business?"
the boy only shrugged. "this is my school too. and i care about the environment."
his answer made the corner of your mouth twitch. you fought it but a smirk formed before you could stop it.
"you must be one of those teacher's pets," you muttered.
he then smiled again, and something about the easy way his lips curved gave you the urge to ask what's so whimsical about everything? but of course, not everyone was as aloof as you.
"no," he spoke after a moment. "no one knows me here yet. i'm new here."
you studied his face more closely this time. his eyes had a kind of calm brightness to them, something warm yet indescribable. after a brief silence, you gave a small nod.
"you don't seem familiar. makes sense."
"i'm tokuno yushi," he said, turning fully toward you now.
you smirked, suppressing a smile that wanted to show. "why do i have to know that?"
yushi sighed playfully, his shoulders relaxing as he looked away. a soft giggle escaped him, light and effortless, and for some reason, it made you smile in return.
"shimizu taeko."
"huh?" yushi turned back to you with a blink.
"i'm taeko," you repeated, a bit slower this time.
"now that i do have to know," he said, grinning before straightening his posture, smoothing out the wrinkles on his blazer with a few quick pats. "okay, taeko. i'll get going now. i've got classes to catch up on. you?"
you mimicked his posture, lifting yourself from your lean off the edge of the rooftop. "no. i'll be around later."
"okay then. see you around." yushi gave a small nod, bowing lightly before walking off. the door clicked behind him with a soft creak.
your eyes followed yushi's retreating back until it disappeared from view. then, quietly, you leaned back against the edge of the rooftop, your gaze drifting out across the wide expanse of the school field and the sky above. for a while, the world felt muted. but then your thoughts snapped back.
you remembered your notebook—the one you were supposed to throw off. you took it out from your pocket, the crumpled paper still slightly warm from your hand. you stared at it again, fingers swiping along the bent cover. you glanced at the edge again, contemplating. now that the annoying boy was gone, you could do it.
but instead, you sighed. you turned and walked toward the rooftop door, the sun casting long shadows across the concrete. unceremoniously, you tossed the notebook into the bin beside the door.
────────────♪
you eventually entered your classroom during break time. the halls were loud and busy, but everything felt distant, like a scene playing behind glass. you had already skipped three classes, but you couldn't care less. neither did your classmates, who were more than used to your absence.
you slid into your seat—the one in the farthest back, right beside the window. the sunlight streamed lazily in, highlighting the dust motes floating in the air. you leaned your head against the cool surface of the sliding window, letting the outside world blur behind the glass. the, the voices and footsteps around the room silenced into mumbles.
"shimizu-san."
a deep voice cut through the room. you didn't turn around. you knew exactly what it was. you shut your eyes and let out a breath through your nose, tired already of what was to come.
now you're standing in the middle of the faculty office, fluorescent lights buzzing above, surrounded by cubicles and shelves stacked with folders and dusty trophies. in front of you sat your advisory teacher, his desk cluttered with papers, half-drunk coffee, and a nameplate slightly askew. you kept your head low as he spoke, tone firm but worn.
"shimizu taeko," he said, voice low as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. he glanced down at your report card and attendance sheet, reading silently for a moment before folding them closed. he then removed his glasses and clasped his hands in front of him.
"attendance: barely two days in a week. projects submitted: three out of ten, estimated." he tilted his head slightly, his tone less stern now. "do you still want to continue?"
"please just tell me whether i need to bring my parents here or not," you replied, your voice respectful despite the weariness behind it.
he frowned. his expression not angry, but tired. pity softened his features. "shimizu-san, we can't even count how many times we've already had your parents here. we see them more often than we see you here." he sighed, a long, exasperated breath. "that's why i'm asking you. not your parents. you. do you still want to continue?"
you stared at a chipped corner of his desk. "is there anything i can do if i say no?"
"we can draft your dropout letter sooner—"
"with my parents' consent," you cut in.
he paused. the look of surrender crept into his expression. "yes," he replied. "with your parents' consent."
your discussion ended with you agreeing to ask your parents and update him later. though deep down, you knew you wouldn't.
you went straight to the music room, your steps heavy, echoing faintly down the quiet hallway. the school had begun to hush. that strange in-between hour where students milled around lazily, tired from class, waiting for the final bell. but you weren’t waiting for anything.
your hand reached behind to unhook the gig bag strapped to your back. you gripped it tightly by the neck and swung it off with a little too much force. the weight of your frustration almost made you slam it down. but instead, you caught yourself. with a sigh, you lowered it gently beside the backmost chair in the room, the one you always claimed as yours.
you sank into the seat with a slump, the old metal chair creaking beneath you. for a moment, you just stared ahead. the pale sunlight streaming in through the windowpanes painted gold streaks across the wooden floor, catching on the instruments propped in corners and mounted on walls. a drum kit, untouched. a keyboard, slightly out of tune.
unzipping the white gig bag, you slowly pulled out your guitar by the neck. the body of it was smooth, except for a hairline crack near the edge. you ran your thumb gently over it, almost apologetically. then you brought your hand down to strum the strings once, softly. the sound floated through the empty room.
you adjusted your posture, rolled your shoulders back, then brought your fingers to the fretboard. you took a breath, then strummed again. this time playing a melody you knew by heart.
your eyes fluttered closed. your head moved subtly with the rhythm, chin lifting with the rise and fall of the chords. you began to hum, then sing. not loudly, not with performance in mind, but with honesty. one of your own songs that's never been heard by anyone else.
when the last chord faded, you opened your eyes slowly, grounding yourself again. but your attention was caught when you saw yushi standing by the doorway. his figure was outlined by the light from the hallway, and he looked like he had been there for a while.
"didn’t know you were a great singer," he said, smiling as he stepped inside, weaving past stands and instruments. his voice was light, like he didn’t want to ruin the peace. "are you in the music club?"
you let out a slow exhale through your nose, placing your guitar carefully beside your seat. "no. but this room’s kind of a free zone, as long as you own an instrument, you’re welcome here."
he looked around as he walked closer, nodding in quiet admiration. "you should join. seriously. you’re really good."
you gave him a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "too many sweats," you replied dully.
his suggestion dug up a bitter memory. your father barging into the clubroom without warning, scolding you in front of the whole class for "wasting time" and humiliating not just you but the other members too. you remembered the way he pointed, the way he talked over your teacher, the heat in your ears as everyone watched. after that day, you never showed up to practice again. but the room still remained open to you.
yushi didn’t push. he just nodded, as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you let on.
"why are you here?" you asked, shifting in your seat.
he reached into his backpack and pulled out something you didn’t expect—a black notebook, slightly bent at the corners.
"i believe this is yours," he said, holding it out.
you stared at it, brows furrowing. "yeah, that’s… how did you—"
"i saw it in the bin earlier, near the rooftop door," he said, half-chuckling. "you’re lucky no one dumped a mountain of trash on it. i figured someone like you wouldn’t throw away something like this unless… well, unless they needed to."
you crossed your arms and tilted your head, still not taking the notebook from his outstretched hand. "i threw that away for a reason."
yushi looked at you for a second, then let out a soft ironic sigh. he pulled out the chair across from you and spun it around to sit facing you, resting his arms on the backrest.
"whatever the reason is," he said, voice gentler now, "don’t let it stop you from doing this. you seem like someone who really loves music. i mean, i saw it on your face when you were playing just now. you weren’t just strumming chords… you were somewhere else."
he paused, then glanced down at the notebook, tapping the edge of it with his fingers.
"and… i’m sorry. i kind of peeked at what’s inside," he admitted, eyes flicking up to yours. "you make good songs. really good."
his words weren’t just flattery, there was something earnest in them. you didn’t feel judged or exposed. just seen.
for some reason, it made you feel lighter. like the tight knot in your chest had loosened. yushi’s smile wasn’t loud or flashy. it was peaceful, filled with something like hope, or maybe belief. and right now, that felt enough to quiet the storm inside you.
you finally brought yourself to lift your hand, taking the notebook gently from his outstretched fingers. "thank you," you murmured, your voice soft as your eyes fell on the cover. it was still dented at the edges, but no longer crumpled. yushi's effort to smooth it out was clear in the way the pages sat flatter than before. you brushed your thumb across it, almost like an absentminded gesture of gratitude.
"don't mention it," he sighed, standing from his seat with a casual stretch. he pushed the chair back into its place with a quiet scrape, then stood in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets as his eyes wandered across the music room. "so," he started. "you're skipping school, aren't you?"
you gave a sneer, rising from your seat and crouching down to pack your guitar back into its gig bag. the zipper rasped as you closed it carefully. "looks like i'm not alone," you said, glancing up at him just as he turned to meet your eyes.
"well, yeah." yushi nodded with a grin. "you're in luck. i skip classes too."
"you're so weird," you laughed, swinging the gig bag over your shoulder before grabbing your school bag and slinging it across the other.
yushi chuckled and walked over to his own bag resting on the table, slinging it on with a shrug. "leaving already?"
you pursed your lips in thought, glancing toward the window where the sun was beginning to lean westward. "i'll just… loiter around the garden until dismissal. i've got enough skips tallied in the guardhouse record already."
yushi let out a light laugh, his smile tilting. "tag me along then," he said, stepping eagerly to your side without waiting for permission.
you rolled your eyes in mock annoyance, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you. "fine."
the two of you strolled through the school garden, the grassy path crunching softly beneath your feet. the air was filled with a gentle rustle of leaves. petals drifted down lazily from the trees above, catching the light like tiny stars in freefall. the neatly trimmed grass shimmered under the sun, and the benches, weathered but clean, lined the pavement beside rows of mini meadows brimming with life—marigolds, baby's breath, sunflowers turning slightly toward the afternoon light.
"the gardening club members are amazing for keeping this place this pretty," you sighed, brushing fallen petals off a bench before sitting down.
yushi paused, hands still in his pockets, and turned slowly in place to take in the scene. "this school's really well kept," he admitted, eyes scanning the trimmed hedges and careful landscaping. "and yet you were planning to litter a notebook around." he laughed, shaking his head as he walked toward the bench.
"at least i threw it properly the second time, you see?" you snorted, scooting over slightly as yushi sat beside you, brushing a few leaves away first.
"throwing something that valuable is still wasting," he said, his gaze resting now on the open space in front of you. the golden field bathed in light, the breeze dancing through the flowers. "why did you throw it?"
you hesitated, looking down at your lap, then at the notebook again. the wind caught the edges of the pages, flipping one open briefly before settling. "it's a secret," you said at last, tilting your head toward him with a faint smile. you wanted to tell him—something about his presence made you feel safe, like a warm pocket of sunlight in a cold place. but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn't that easy. "and i don't wanna talk about it," you added quietly.
yushi didn't press. he just nodded, understanding in the quiet between you. "i see, then…" he shifted in his seat and turned toward you slightly, his eyes glinting with something playful. "sing a song for me."
your brows shot up. you stared at him with an exaggerated look of disbelief. "what?" you snorted. "i don't want to."
"come on!" he leaned in a little, voice light and teasing. "i'll be your first fan when you become a famous musician."
you rolled your eyes with a groan, turning your head away. "i. don't. want."
"damn, fine." he leaned back in mock defeat, hands raised. "for now, i'll just be your pre-debut fan. the first one to convince you to keep writing and singing again."
you smiled faintly, though you tried to hide it. "i never sang to begin with."
"but you wrote," he replied, his tone soft but assured. "and they're all top-notch too."
he stood then, walking a few steps ahead toward the open view. his figure was outlined against the glow of the late sun, casting long shadows across the grass. then he turned back to face you, grinning. "write a song for me. and sing it."
you snorted, shaking your head. "why would i want to do that? what am i supposed to write about—an annoying whimsical transferee?"
he burst into laughter, slightly slipping in a few coughs before covering his mouth with his fist. he paused for a secomnd before speaking. "anything you want," he cleared his throat, arms crossing playfully.
you stared at him for a moment, then looked away again, lost in a thought you didn't voice. the idea of writing something real—about someone real, lingered at the edge of your mind. but then you shrugged it off with a sigh, standing up and swinging both bags back onto your shoulders.
"you're too demanding."
yushi only smiled, trailing behind you as you began walking. "come on," you said over your shoulder. "dismissal's in three minutes. might as well start the walk toward the gate."
yushi's pace slowed as he let you lead the way, watching your back as the light hit your figure, turning your hair into threads of gold dancing in the breeze.
"leaving your friend behind? that's not nice!" he called out, breaking into a jog to catch up with you.
you didn't look back, but your small smile said enough.
you and yushi parted ways at the main road. he waited at the bus stop while you walked your way home alone. if you were being honest, and you hated to admit it, it was only because of yushi that you even bothered heading back today. without him lifting your mood earlier, you probably would've disappeared for days. you already knew what was waiting for you at home: a chorus of sermons from your father and your mother in the background, not caring less even if you and your father were one breath away from killing each other.
and as expected, that's exactly what happened.
the first thing that greeted you when you stepped inside was your father's voice—loud and bassy, echoing from the living room.
"shimizu taeko!"
you rolled your eyes, tugging your shoe off by the doorway, not even glancing in his direction.
"i got a call from your teacher again," he barked, slamming a hand against the wall. he leaned on it, cornering you by the door. "didn't show up to a single class, but you were seen wandering around school?!"
you said nothing. just stood there, unamused.
"do you plan on being a failure forever?! you're humiliating me and your mother!"
you shot him a glare. the first time you did that, you got slapped. but you've been through this too many times now. he only clenched his jaw this time, hands twitching like they wanted to hit something.
you let out a sharp breath, stomping your socked foot against the wooden floor as you brushed past him. your door slammed behind you and you locked it without a second thought.
your father lingered outside for a moment before pounding his fist against your door. the wood shook, but you didn't flinch. you hung your coat, sat down at your desk, and turned on your computer like it was just another night.
"if i get one more call saying you've been seen in that goddamn music room," he shouted through the door, "expect to come home with every one of your useless instruments burned!"
your eyes narrowed. that one ticked off a nerve. the idea of your instruments, the things you poured your soul and own money into being taken from you like that, it made something inside you clench. something ugly and furious.
"so many eyes... might as well install a camera around the school," you muttered under your breath.
seventeen. still under your parents' roof. still helpless. you couldn't wait to turn legal and leave. you didn't care how. you just needed out.
but somewhere along the path of relentless disappointment and pain, there was yushi. a strange little light in the dark. you didn’t ask for him to appear in your life, and yet he did. uninvited, persistent, annoyingly warm. a presence that neither demanded nor offered much, but somehow stayed.
day by day, he somehow made you want to step into school again—even if just for a moment.
he had no friends before you. you rolled your eyes whenever he brought that up, as if saying it out loud made him sound more pitiful than he really was. "thank god you were the one up on the roof that day," he’d say with a lazy smile. "and not someone else. i probably would've just left if it wasn’t you."
you always scoffed at that, brushing it off. "tch. don’t say weird stuff."
"why? it's true," he’d shrug. "you looked like someone who'd get it."
he didn’t know you had stopped writing music. that your notebooks had been collecting dust. that your hands hadn’t strummed a single chord in weeks. but somehow, he nudged the gears back into motion without even trying.
he’d hum random melodies under his breath. off-key, sometimes, but always catchy. you pretended not to hear them at first, but they stuck with you. one day, you found yourself writing a harmony to something he’d hummed. just a fragment. but it was something.
he started bringing you lyrics, scribbled messily on scratch paper. "these are terrible," you said once, laughing.
"i know," he smirked. "but you’d make them sound less terrible."
you never said thank you, but you kept the papers anyway.
he didn’t push you to play. he never even asked about the club. but on some days, he’d casually bring up old artists you mentioned once, or leave a wrapped throat candy on your desk.
"just in case you sing again."
somehow, he made you smile in a way you thought you’d forgotten how. not the forced grin for your classmates or the grimace at your dad’s outbursts, but a real one. there were no grand gestures. just constant reminders that you were still someone who created. that your voice still mattered.
you’d roll your eyes and say he was annoying. you’d scoff when he waited for you outside the clubroom. but when he said, "you’ll write something again soon," you believed him. because a part of you wanted to.
and somewhere along the line, you stopped correcting him when he called you his friend.
────────────♪
it was the weekend. school only opened for students with club activities. you snuck out through your window, then reached back in to grab your gig bag, slinging it over your shoulder.
the old music room wasn't locked. a few of your former clubmates still hosted sessions there. despite being scolded by your father back then just for hanging out with them, they never turned their backs on you. they welcomed you without question.
only one student is in the room when you arrived. the rest were probably grabbing snacks before practice. you bowed politely. she then smiled and bowed back.
"it's been three weekends without you," the girl teased as you made your way to the rear corner of the room, where it was quiet and wide. "we missed you."
"it was getting boring," you said with a smirk, setting your gig bag down.
"we all know you haven't been motivated lately, so don't feed us that," she rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat to face you. "we actually thought you were done. what brought you back? i could use a little motivation myself."
you scoffed softly, shaking your head as you bent to unzip your bag and pull out your chord book. but her question lingered.
what did bring you back?
you tried to find the answer. some solid, conscious reason. you felt like you knew, but it wouldn't come out in words.
and then, like a sunbeam slipping through blinds, riku stepped into the room. dressed in a uniform, only his blazer swapped for a black cotton cardigan. he spotted you and waved.
you blinked up at him. your clubmate perked up. "oh, hey! you're back again," she said, then turned to you. "taeko, this is—"
"yushi," you said, the corner of your lips tugging into a smirk as you stood. "why are you here?"
your clubmate looked mildly surprised. "you know each other? he's always dropping by."
"really?" you frowned slightly, turning back to yushi. "why?"
he shrugged, one hand buried in his pocket. "come on," he said, tilting his head toward the hallway. "they restocked the vendo."
the corridor was quiet. dust motes in the light, devoid of students. you walked beside him in silence for a few seconds before asking, "do you play too?"
"no," he replied simply, glancing at you. "i was just kinda hoping you'd show up on weekends."
you let out a small, awkward laugh. "that's a waste of time. you're really that persistent in trying to get me to play again?"
"i guess so." he nodded.
"i bet you leave immediately every time you see i'm not in the room."
"mhm," yushi nodded again without hesitation. "i do. but hey, at least you came now."
you narrowed your eyes, then shifted your gaze toward the floor as you walked, silent in thought. "do you really have nothing to do on weekends?" you asked, not looking at him. "you just hang around here even though you’re not in any club?"
yushi chuckled. "of course not." he paused, then admitted, "well… yeah, i don’t really do anything on weekends. but i don’t just loiter here all day. i just check if you’re around. since i don’t know where you live."
you smirked a little and gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder. "am i really your only friend?"
he stumbled slightly from the nudge and smiled. "i mean, why?" you continued. "you could, i don’t know, join clubs or make more friends or something."
that’s when you noticed yushi stop smiling. his face changed. not completely blank, but quiet. like he was thinking about something, and didn’t know how to say it.
"...what?" your smirk faded.
he shook his head a little and pointed ahead. "vending machine. what do you want?"
you followed his finger and saw the big red machine by the stairs. "just a cream soda," you said, giving a quick smile. you decided not to push him for an answer again, and he didn’t say anything else either.
he bought two cans and handed one to you. the soda was cold in your hand.
back in the clubroom, other members were back. chatting, fixing their instruments, and getting ready. but when you and yushi walked in, it felt like the rest of the room faded. the noise became background. like the two of you had your own space, just the two of you.
you went to your usual spot and took out your guitar. yushi sat down next to you, cross-legged on the floor. "remember that song i showed you?" you asked while tuning. "the one i wrote a long time ago but never finished?"
he nodded. "the one about being invisible?"
you gave a small nod. "i think i want to try working on it again."
his eyes lit up. "for real?"
"yeah. don’t make a big deal about it."
he didn’t say anything, but the way yushi’s face lit up when you said you were finally repracticing again, when you showed up to the club for the first time in weeks, it made something stir inside you. that brightness in his eyes was real. and strangely enough, you felt fulfilled too.
you had found a friend. a companion who somehow pulled you out from the world your parents, and even you had locked yourself in.
you showed him how to play some basic chords. he messed up a lot, but you helped guide his fingers. your hand brushed against his, and for a second, you froze, but kept going.
"like this," you said quietly.
"here?" he asked, trying again.
you nodded. "not bad. still sounds like a dying duck, but better."
he laughed. "wow. thanks, teacher."
you rolled your eyes. "you get what you pay for."
time passed quickly. you practiced, talked, and laughed. your voice came out a little stronger each time you sang. for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were where you were meant to be. and yushi just being there made it even better.
you looked at him again. the sunlight through the window hit his face in a soft way. his eyes were focused on your guitar, his lips moving a little as he counted the strings under his breath. he looked calm, and peaceful. and just for a moment, you forgot everything else.
"...what?" yushi turned to you, blinking.
you quickly looked away and sat up straighter. "you look kinda ugly," you muttered, fiddling with your guitar’s tuning pegs.
yushi laughed. "was that supposed to be a fun fact?" he nodded toward your hand. "and your guitar’s gonna go out of tune if you keep messing with it like that."
you looked down, realizing you’d been turning the peg without thinking. quickly, you tuned it back to its place.
"i was just… fixing it," you said defensively. "what do you know about guitar anyway?"
yushi smirked. "you literally just taught me how to tune it earlier."
you grinned along with him, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you walked into the rest of the morning. the sun was warm, and the breeze felt soft on your skin. for once, the weekend didn’t feel heavy.
when the club gathering ended, you glanced at your phone. 1:03 p.m. it was still early.
"hey," you said, slipping your phone into your pocket. "wanna grab lunch somewhere?"
yushi blinked, then glanced away. his expression shifted slightly, like something just tugged at him from inside. his smile faded into something uncertain.
"i... i don’t think i can," he said, not looking at you.
you noticed how his shoulders tensed. he didn’t say it in a rude way, but something about his tone made you curious. still, you didn’t push. "alright," you said with a small nod.
like always, you went your separate ways once you reached the corner of the road. you watched his figure disappear into the bus stop shed, wondering for the first time where he really goes when he’s not around. home? somewhere?
later that afternoon, you climbed back through your window, careful not to bang your guitar on the frame. you stepped lightly across your room, then dropped down on your bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling.
you couldn’t stop thinking about him. about how he smiled when you sang. about how he sat beside you in the music room like it was the only place he ever wanted to be. you didn’t know much about his life outside school—what he did, where he went, or even who he lived with. but you wanted to.
a small smile crept onto your lips as you sat up. you walked over to your desk, pulled open the drawer, and grabbed a fresh, small notebook. you flipped it open, clicked your pen, and started jotting down a few lines.
you never thought you’d actually write the song about yushi. but writing about someone who helped you feel like you mattered, someone who clapped for your dreams when you were ready to throw them away didn’t feel like a bad idea at all.
────────────♪
monday.
you came to school early. a few teachers double-taked when they saw you in your seat before the bell rang. one of them even paused at the door, as if they thought you were a ghost.
you slipped out of your classroom before homeroom started, walking past yushi’s class. as you neared the door, you slowed down and tilted your head like a curious meerkat, peeking inside.
just as you were stretching your neck to check if he was there—
thump.
you bumped straight into a wall—or, rather, someone who felt like a wall. a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders, steadying you before you could fall.
"whoa, whoa. watch where you’re going, tardy warrior," came the sarcastic voice.
you looked up and instantly sighed. "shut up, sion."
your old classmate grinned, hands still resting on your shoulders before he let go. "fancy seeing you this early. what happened? guilt finally caught up?"
"god forbid a student be redemptive," you muttered with a smirk, brushing him off. "where’s—"
"yushi?" he cut in knowingly. "not here yet. might be late. you’re, like, thirty minutes early anyway."
you tapped his shoulder and walked off without replying. the early morning air was still crisp as you made your way toward the school gates. you figured you’d wait there, maybe catch him coming in.
but 30 minutes passed. then 40.
still no sign of yushi.
eventually, you gave up and returned to your classroom. you pulled out your phone and opened your messages. saturday’s text, the one you sent when you got home from club classes still hadn’t been read. a small knot of worry formed in your stomach.
still, you typed:
where are you?
you didn’t expect an instant reply, but the silence made the day feel heavier. you leaned your head against the cool glass of the window and stared out at the courtyard three floors down. students crossed from hallway to hallway. birds landed near the trees and flew off again.
everything felt still. the first three subjects dragged. you barely paid attention, just doodled in your notebook or stared into space.
when break time finally came, you didn’t wait. you stood up before the bell finished ringing and made a beeline for the music room, holding your notebook close.
you settled your things on the desk. a notebook, a pen, your green capo, and your guitar. the music room was quiet except for the faint sound of your chair scraping the floor and the breeze coming in from the open window. you picked up your pen and flipped to the page where your unfinished lyrics were waiting.
you started scribbling again. a few lines, crossed out one, hummed a melody softly to yourself.
just then, a small knock echoed from the door. you looked up immediately, heart skipping. and there he was. yushi stood in the doorway, hair slightly messy, school bag slung over one shoulder. he looked tired and pale, like he had been running or maybe just got off a long class. his eyes searched the room before landing on you.
if someone had taken a photo of your face right then, they would've seen a glow. "thought you weren't coming today," you said, trying not to sound too happy as you sat up straighter.
yushi stepped in, dragging a chair in front of you and sitting with the backrest facing you, arms folded on top. "just late," he replied, then raised a brow at you. "and you're early? that's weird. sion told me."
you let out a small laugh. "yeah, well... i wanted to show you something."
he leaned in a little, his expression lifting. curious and expecting something important. you paused. your eyes flicked to your notebook. you were about to tell him about the song.
but instead, you reached for your guitar and lifted it slightly. "it's my new capo," you said quickly, placing it on the fretboard. "got a green one."
yushi chuckled. "that's what you were excited about?"
you shrugged, pretending it wasn't a cover-up. "it's a cool green."
he nodded, still smiling. but you noticed the tiredness in his eyes didn't go away.
────────────♪
after classes ended, you caught up with him again just outside the school gates.
"hey," you said, matching his pace. "want to go to the park?"
he blinked, surprised. "the one near the station?"
you nodded. "just for a bit."
he hesitated, but then agreed. "alright."
the sun was beginning to set as you both walked down the curved pavement of the park. the sky was orange fading into purple, and warm lights from the lampposts blinked on. the air was cooler now, with a soft breeze brushing your face. a few joggers passed by. a kid ran after a soccer ball. the scent of grilled snacks floated from the nearby food stalls.
neither of you said much at first. just walking, side by side, the sound of your footsteps tapping lightly against the path.
eventually, yushi stopped and sat down on a wooden bench under one of the lamps. you followed and sat beside him, placing your bag between your feet.
he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a quiet cough into his fist.
"you okay?" you asked, turning your head to him.
"yeah," he said after a second, forcing a smile. "just tired."
you reached into your bag without waiting. "want some water?" you pulled out your tumbler and handed it over.
yushi looked at it, then at you, and gave a small smirk. "you always got everything in that bag?"
"maybe."
he took it and drank, not rushing. then he handed it back to you. "thanks."
"you okay now?" you asked again, eyes narrowing just a little as you studied his face.
"better," he nodded.
you leaned back on the bench, staring ahead. the park looked peaceful. there was something warm about it. maybe the streetlights, or yushi's company.
"yushi?" you said, not looking at him.
he let out a hum as a response. you smiled, just a bit. "thank you."
he then glanced at you sideways. "for what?"
"i’ve never been this inspired and motivated to make music," you finally said, voice quiet as you stared at the lit path ahead of you. yushi shifted on the bench, adjusting his posture to face you better. he didn’t say anything yet, just waited patiently, like he knew there was more you were holding in.
you took a deep breath, eyes falling to your hands as you clasped them tightly together. they were damp with sweat. you rubbed your palms slowly against your skirt.
"my parents… they weren’t exactly happy when i told them i wanted to do music," you muttered. "back in first year, when i just got into high school."
you paused. the words were heavy in your chest, but they were finally coming out. "they were angry. i mean really angry. they did everything they could to stop me. i actually joined the music club back then. but…"
you swallowed hard. the memory felt fresh even now. "my dad found out. and he stormed in one day. yelled at me in front of everyone. humiliated me. not just me, everyone else in the club too. i never went back after that."
yushi stayed quiet. but he wasn’t just hearing you, he was listening completely. his gaze didn’t drift. his body was still and focused. there was no judgment in his expression. only understanding in the way he watched you speak.
you slowly turned your head to meet his eyes, and for a second, you were stunned. his eyes were like stars reflecting in dark water. like he saw through you, but didn’t look away.
"i understand," he finally said, giving a small nod as he looked away, resting his back against the bench. "i’m happy you went back to loving music again. even if it’s just because i helped a little."
you shook your head, slowly sitting up straighter, planting your palms on either side of you against the bench for support. the wooden seat creaked slightly. the breeze rustled through your blouse.
"not just because of your help," you spoke. "it’s because of y—"
"thank you."
he cut you off gently, almost like he didn’t want to hear it. like hearing it might make him fall apart.
"thank you… for making me feel like i’m worth something."
you blinked. then turned to face him completely. your heart ached a little at the way he said it. like someone who hadn’t been told that in a long time.
"of course you are," you said, voice trembling just slightly.
he didn’t look at you right away. just kept his eyes ahead. but you saw the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.
you didn’t say anything else. instead, the two of you sat there under the golden streetlight. the night breeze had grown cooler. leaves rustled gently above as the warm park lights cast soft shadows across the pavement. you and yushi sat side by side on the bench, silence lingering between you, but not unkindly.
"i hope things go well for you," yushi broke through the silence, eyes fixed on the path ahead. "with the music, i mean."
you glanced at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "that’s... out of nowhere."
he gave a small shrug, like it didn’t mean much. "i just think you’ve got something special. it’d be a waste if you didn’t go after it."
"thanks," you replied, but your fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the bench. his words were kind, but felt distant, like he was waving from behind a glass wall.
"you’ve become really important to me, you know," he said after a moment. "more than i expected."
you smiled, but it was hesitant. "you’re making it sound like we’re not going to see each other soon."
he let out a breath of a laugh. "that’s not what i meant."
"then what did you mean?" you asked softly.
yushi tilted his head back, looking up at the leaves shifting gently overhead. "just, sometimes you meet people who make things feel less heavy. you did that for me. you made me feel like i was more than just… here."
your chest tightened at that, and you tried to keep your voice light. "you better not disappear or move houses or school somewhere."
he turned to you, puzzled by your sudden shift in tone.
"i mean it," you added, flashing a faint smile. "you wanted me to make you a song, right? if you move, i’m not making it anymore."
that made yushi actually smile, and for a second the heaviness around him seemed to lift. "that’s your way of threatening me now?"
you shrugged. "i’m serious."
"i’m not going anywhere," he said quietly. but he didn’t meet your eyes when he said it. you caught the subtle crack in his voice, the way his fingers twitched like he was holding back something bigger than both of you.
────────────♪
after that evening, you couldn't shake the weird feeling in your stomach. you sat in your room, strumming mindlessly on your guitar, thinking of everything. you worked on the song you were writing, trying to drown out the silence until your head eventually slumped over your desk and you drifted off.
when you woke up, sunlight was already pouring through your window. you wiped your cheek and rushed to get ready, barely brushing your hair as you slung your bag over your shoulder and whipped your way to school.
but when you walked past yushi's classroom again, he wasn’t there. you paused. you thought maybe it was just like yesterday. maybe he was just running late again.
but the hour turned into a day. a day turned into days. days turned into a week. and a week turned into three.
you messaged him, called him, still nothing. you didn’t know where he lived, didn’t know any way to reach him except hoping that he’d just show up again like he always did.
"yushi... you idiot. show up like you always do."
but he never did.
it was during class when your phone buzzed. you glanced down beneath your desk and read the caller id.
father.
you rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue, already disappointed.
you had hoped, just for a second, that maybe it was him. still, you answered, lazily pressing the phone to your ear. "what?"
but your expression dropped the moment you heard the flat and tense tone of his voice.
you stood up, letting out a long sigh as you slung your bag over your shoulder. you walked to the front and mumbled to the teacher, "i need to go. my mom’s in the hospital."
────────────♪
the sterile halls felt colder than usual as you walked through them, nurses gliding in and out of rooms. you kept your head down until you found the number. your mom’s room.
you reached the door and slowly pushed it open.
she lay there, unconscious, pale, and still. a tube fed into her mouth, a breathing mask over her face. machines beeped by her side, blinking with green lights.
your dad sat next to her, hunched over, his hands wrapped tightly around hers. "taeko…" he whispered, his voice cracking as he sniffled.
you froze by the door, staring. this was the first time you'd seen him cry. the first time he looked human.
you quietly leaned against a nearby table, then made your way to the chair across from him. the chair creaked faintly as you sat. neither of you said anything for a moment.
"your mother might get surgery," he finally spoke. "and it can be fatal."
you listened. he didn’t look at you, his eyes were fixed on her. then he added, "do something for her. just once. make her proud. become a good doctor, like she always wanted. like i wanted."
there it was. even now, he couldn’t help himself. you stared down at your hands, your throat getting tight as a laugh threatened to break out—not from humor, but from disbelief.
he kept going, oblivious.
"just imagine how many people like your mom you could save. isn’t that what you want—"
"it’s what you want!"
you cut him off, standing up so fast your chair screeched back across the floor. your voice cracked with emotion.
"look where we are! mom’s fighting for her life and you’re still talking about that stupid dream of yours! why am i the one who has to carry the burden of your regrets?!"
your lips trembled, your shoulders rising and falling. tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably.
"you never ask what i want! you don’t even see me as your daughter, just some extension of yourself. just a vessel to finish what you couldn’t!"
your voice cracked again, louder and sharper. "it's—" your throat hitched as you sniffled. "it's not my fault that you had me early, that you never got to finish your damn degree!" you wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve, your nose turning red from crying.
your father stayed silent. his grip on your mother’s hand tightened, his eyes still not meeting yours. for once, he didn’t yell back. he didn’t lecture. he just listened.
the silence made it feel heavier. like you were finally being heard, but it was too late. you reached for your bag, slinging it over your shoulder in a rush. your back turned to him as you walked toward the door.
just before stepping out, you paused.
"you doomed this family," you muttered, barely loud enough, but loud enough for him to hear as you shut the door close.
your footsteps echoed as you jogged through the hall, past nurses and orderlies, ignoring the stares. you rushed up the stairs until you reached the rooftop, pushing the door open and stepping into the open air, instantly blowing off your loose hair.
you ran toward the edge, your shoes skidding slightly against the ground. you gripped the cold metal railing with both hands, leaning forward, your breath shallow and fast.
then—you broke. you sobbed hard, the kind that came from deep in your gut. tears streamed down as your body shook. you clutched the railing tighter, as if it was the only thing keeping you standing. everything came pouring out. the anger, the fear, the guilt, the pain. all of it.
then you felt a hand on your back. warm, steady, and comforting. you froze. the touch was familiar. so familiar it made your heart stop.
you slowly lifted your head, wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve as you turned around. and there he was,
yushi, like an angel standing in front of you. his face lit up by the soft morning sun. the sky behind him was a pale, gentle blue. the breeze ruffled his hair slightly, and his eyes sparkled like stars even under the cloudy morning light.
he looked at you the same way he always did. like everything would be okay.
"yushi?" you sniffled, blinking through the blur of tears as they spilled down your cheeks.
"taeko..." he murmured, his voice trembling with concern and something unspoken. grief, maybe, or guilt. his eyes were filled with worry as he stepped forward, holding your shoulders gently before pulling you into his arms.
you didn’t ask questions. you didn’t scream at him, or demand an explanation yet. your body moved on instinct, collapsing into his chest, eyes shut tight as your sobs grew louder. for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.
his hand ran softly through your hair, his chin resting lightly against your head. he said nothing for a moment, just held you, letting the wind fill the spaces between heartbeats. and his heartbeat—you could feel it through his shirt.
"i’m sorry." he whispered at last, voice cracking as the first tear slid down his cheek.
you heard him. but you didn’t respond. you just cried harder, clutching the fabric of his clothes, clinging to him like a lifeline in the middle of the storm.
time felt irrelevant. maybe minutes passed. maybe longer. but eventually, your crying softened into quiet sniffles, and yushi gently took your hand in his.
"come," he said softly, guiding you to the small bench under the rooftop shed.
it was only then that you really saw him. your eyes widened, panic blooming in your chest. you reached for his arm, your fingers wrapping around it tightly. there was a tube. a medical line trailing from underneath his jacket.
"yushi... why are—"
"why are you crying?" he interrupted, voice low. "why are you here?"
but you ignored his question, your worry overpowering everything else. "you’re hospitalized? and you didn’t tell me? are you okay? are you hurt? sick?"
yushi let out a long, tired sigh. his expression resigned and defeated. "i’m not just sick." he said quietly, looking down at the floor between you.
"what are you-" your voice broke. you couldn't finish the question. you're afraid of any answer that might come. you tried to meet his eyes, but he stepped back, avoiding your gaze.
"i’ll be alright," he said.
"don’t lie to me."
"no more questions," he added, almost pleading.
you stared at him, your chest tightening again. "my mom’s in the hospital too. and now you’re... hiding this from me? what’s going on?" your lips shook. "why didn’t you tell me?"
"i didn’t tell you..." he said, voice barely above a whisper, "because there’s nothing i can do."
he paused.
"i’m dying."
your world stopped.
you wished—hoped—this was just a nightmare. that you'd wake up tomorrow to the sound of your alarm, the morning sun pouring into your room, and yushi waiting at school. healthy. energetic. smiling that ridiculous smile and cheering you on like always.
not this. not the yushi in front of you, pale, weak, and fading.
everything you felt earlier came crashing back down, but now with the weight of knowing he's dying. it was too much, too heavy. your instincts screamed at you to run somewhere, anywhere. maybe back to your room. maybe back to a version of life that made sense.
────────────♪
three weeks passed. spring faded. summer break arrived.
you refused to see him. you couldn't.
it felt like the world had turned its back on you, and you didn't have the strength to face it head-on. your guitar collected dust in the corner. your notebooks lay untouched. you floated through school like a ghost, sitting through hours that dragged with unbearable silence, only to return home and fall into bed like nothing mattered.
but no matter how much you tried to numb yourself, one thing that refused to be buried is that you miss yushi.
one evening, while rummaging through your bag for a paper your teacher had asked for, a small, black forgotten notebook tumbled out. it landed on your bed, its pages fluttering open.
and there, on the half-creased page, was the song you started for yushi. still unfinished, still untitled.
you stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. then, you smiled.
the memory hit like sunlight through a cracked window. clear, warm, and a little bittersweet. that spring afternoon. the petals falling like snow. yushi standing in front of you, hands in his pocket, grinning like a fool.
"write me a song," he said. "and sing it."
that was the day you began to love music again. because of him. because he believed in you when you didn't. because he saw something in you that you couldn't.
you sat down at your desk with the notebook in hand, the mess of your bag forgotten. and then, you began to write the final stanzas.
────────────♪
it was already 11 pm when you left the house, wearing only your hoodie and pajamas. but you didn't care. the last bus was almost leaving. you caught it with a breathless heart and notebook clutched in your hands.
you rehearsed what you wanted to say over and over as the elevator climbed. your steps were quiet down the hallway, eyes scanning every door.
1st door—not him. 3rd—not him. 10th—tokuno yushi. you took a deep breath as you halted.
just as your hand was about to knock, the door creaked open. a maintenance nurse stepped out, holding a handy bin of trash full of paper. she bowed politely and you bowed back. she said nothing. just moved on.
you opened the door and stepped inside. the room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a lamp and the blue haze of the city lights streaming through the window.
you looked toward the bed, and there he was, sleeping. tubes ran from his nose and chest, blinking monitors beside him. his skin looked thinner, his hair messier. and yet... he was still yushi.
you covered your mouth, choking on a sob. then quietly moved to the chair beside him, sitting down. you placed your hand gently on the bed. "yushi…" you whispered. "i miss you."
silence.
you waited for his eyes to flutter open. for him to greet you like always. but nothing.
"remember during the first weeks of spring?" you continued, voice trembling with warmth and memory. "you were the late transferee. when i first met you, it was on the rooftop… i was about to throw my notebook over the edge."
a faint smile tugged at your lips, as if speaking to someone who could still hear everything.
"you told me not to," you went on, chuckling gently under your breath. "you didn’t even know what i was writing, but you told me it mattered. you told me to keep going even if the world was against me."
you glanced down, brushing your fingertips against his hand.
"it was like you swept all the mess away just to make space for someone like me."
your hand finally reached for his, gently wrapping your fingers around his. his were cold, but you held them anyway, like you were trying to give his warmth back that he gave you.
"at first i thought you were stupid," you whispered, "asking me to write a song for you. but now… you’re worth more than every song i’ll ever write."
you blinked as your chest ached, the lump in your throat pressing harder. smiling faintly, you reached for the notebook on your lap. you stared at it for a second, thumb brushing the worn spine, then carefully placed it on the clean bedside table. no trace of mess around.
"here it is," you said. "read it when you wake up."
your smile trembled. "i won’t sing it yet. you need to get better. when you do, i’ll come back. i’ll bring my guitar and play it just for you."
your voice cracked as your eyes shimmered, glassy from tears you refused to let fall.
"let’s graduate together," you whispered. "okay?"
you gave his hand one last squeeze, then gently let go.
you stood, bowing your head low toward him in a quiet show of love and hope. then you turned, footsteps soft, leaving behind the song, the promise, and a part of your heart in that room.
────────────♪
you walked yourself home that night. the streets were quiet, the wind brushing against your skin. when you got home, you finally let yourself cry. you didn’t hold it in anymore.
the next morning, you put on your uniform like always. you slung your guitar over your back, but this time, you didn’t go straight to school. instead, you headed to the bus stop. there was only one place you wanted to be that day—back at the hospital, hoping yushi would be awake.
as you got off the bus, you passed a flower shop just beside the hospital gate. you picked up a single white lily and held it carefully, your steps a little lighter, a nervous smile twitching at the corner of your lips. hope buzzed in your chest as you made your way down the hallway.
but when you reached the room you swore you entered last night, the nameplate was gone.
you hesitated, then slowly twisted the knob, heart pacing. the room was empty—stripped clean. no signs of anyone ever being there. fresh sheets were folded neatly on the bed. the air was too still.
maybe he just got discharged, you thought. maybe he’s finally home and resting. so you turned around, walked back out of the hospital, the lily still clutched in your hand, and made your way to school instead—though you were already minutes late.
and again, you waited.
you told yourself he was still recovering, that he needed more time. a week passed. then another. the days blurred into months. summer came and went. the first fall of snow melted before your eyes. new year’s lights lit up the streets—and still, no sign of yushi.
during the new year’s party, you decided to visit sion, hoping for something. anything.
"i wish i could help you," he said with a faint shake of his head. "but yushi’s… closed off. we’re not that close either."
that was all he could give you.
time kept moving, even if a part of you stayed behind.
your loneliness didn’t disappear—but it softened, buried somewhere beneath the routine of each passing day. you carried yushi’s warmth in your heart, and it became your light.
you kept writing music, singing at school events, getting back into the club. you met new people, made more friends. and somewhere along the way, your dad started listening. he stopped pushing, stopped forcing. after months of silence, he began to see you for who you were. your mom had her surgery, and she recovered too.
little by little, your life began to find its rhythm.
but you still wished, every single day, that yushi was there to see it. that he was still beside you, laughing, listening, asking for more songs. you held onto that hope.
and so, you waited.
until graduation came.
the hallway echoed with the shuffle of students in their uniforms and gowns. bright smiles, tears, the flash of cameras. you stood among the last years on the first row, the ribbon of your award catching the light. one by one, each of you took the stage, giving your speeches.
the whole ceremony, you hoped you'd see any signs of yushi—but again, you never did.
the ceremony ended, and all students gathered and scattered around the school grounds. many girls had already started asking their crushes for their second buttons—some getting politely rejected, others handed buttons with shy smiles, earning cheers from nearby friends. the air was light, full of confessions, gifts, and snapshots of memories being made. and you stood with your clubmates, smiling for pictures, sharing lighthearted goodbyes and promises to meet again before everyone parts ways for college.
as the goodbyes faded into the distance, and students started to walk off in groups or pairs, you still stood there. still waiting. still hoping yushi would show up.
eventually, you made your way to the school garden.
you found yourself standing before the same bench you and riku sat on last year. same month. same season. same cherry blossoms dancing gently in the wind, falling like snow.
you sat down and stared at the field of blossoming flowers, letting your tears fall as the memories swept in. the ache in your chest returned, deep and wordless. you placed the flowers and gifts you received beside you, then slowly unzipped your gig bag. taking your guitar out, you rested it on your lap.
you gently tapped the wood of the guitar, like a habit formed in his presence, then began strumming the first few chords of the song you wrote—for yushi.
your voice broke the peaceful silence of the garden. soft, heartfelt. the melody of your guitar and your voice blended with the rustling leaves and petals. your eyes closed as you pictured yushi's bright smile beside you, listening quietly, just like he always did. just like he asked you to.
but when you finally finished your song and opened your eyes, there was no smile beside you. no sign of the boy you grew to love.
you sighed quietly, looking down, then set your guitar beside the bench. that's when you heard it—the rustling of grass behind you. someone was there.
eyes bright with sudden hope, you stood up immediately, turning around with your hair flying from the motion. but standing there was a girl, wearing a pink scarf and a soft dress.
she smiled, then glanced at your nameplate stitched on your uniform. "shimizu taeko?" she asked.
the light in your face dimmed as you nodded. "yes?"
"i heard you sing. yushi was absolutely right about you," she said, smiling as she walked closer. she stood right in front of you.
"yushi?" your eyebrows lifted. a spark of hope flickered again. "you know him?"
she nodded. "i'm tokuno hana."
by her name, you immediately assumed that she's his sister. you swallowed, before asking hesitantly. "where's... yushi?"
hana looked down. her silence answered for her. she reached into her bag, pulling out something you instantly recognized—your notebook. the one you left for him that night in the hospital.
"here." she held it out gently. "this might belong to you."
you didn't say anything. you just took it from her hand, staring at the cover. your lips started to tremble in realization that made you dizzy.
your knees gave out as you collapsed to the ground, curling your arms around your legs, face hidden between your sleeves as tears spilled freely.
hana knelt beside you, her hand gently patting your arm. "thank you for... making my brother happy," she said softly. "and, for being there for him when we couldn't. i'm sorry."
then, slowly, she stood and walked away, leaving you there—alone with your grief.
you sat in silence for minutes, holding the notebook tightly to your chest, until finally, you stood. the garden still whispered in the wind, blossoms still falling.
you turned to face the field, letting the breeze brush your face.
"thank you, yushi," you mumbled to the wind, eyes shutting gently. and in that darkness behind your eyelids—you saw his smile.
you smiled back, despite the tears. the world didn't end.
"i love you."
you whispered one last time before turning back. you swung your guitar over your shoulder, picked up your things, and gently placed the notebook down flat on the bench.
then, you began walking home.
all that was left in this school were your memories of yushi—memories you'll never return to, but ones that will never leave you.
the bench sat quietly beneath the cherry blossoms, petals gently raining down over it. a breeze rolled by, flipping open the notebook's cover, its pages fluttering until it stopped right on the one that held the song you wrote for him.
there, tucked between the pages—is yushi's second button. you never saw it.
YUSHI
"give this to her, please," i muttered, eyes downcast as i fidgeted with the button of my uniform i cut. "it was never my intention to lie to her, hana. i failed her." my voice cracked as tears fell freely, my hands trembling as i sat by my hospital bed. my sister sat beside me, holding back her own tears.
"it's not your fault," she said softly. "get some rest. i'm sure she'll pay you a visit soon."
"it's better this way," i whispered. "i can't let her remember me, only to be burdened forever by my death."
the remaining weeks of my life, i spent them grieving—grieving what could’ve been, and hating how everything turned out.
but eventually, i found peace in the little things. i began to spend those fleeting days remembering the light she gave me—the comfort, the hope. she made it all bearable as i grew weaker each day.
now, all i can do is stare out the large window by my hospital room as the sun sinks below the horizon. my breathing has grown shallow; i can feel the machine breathing for me, my lungs slowly giving out.
i reached for the pen on my bedside table, surrounded by scattered, messy papers. i picked up a clean sheet and placed it gently on my lap.
then, with all the strength i had left, i began to write.
when i finished, i folded the letter carefully and placed it atop the stack of papers beside my bed.
────────────♪
taeko,
i'm sorry i lied to you.
from the very beginning, i never intended to become close to you. i didn't want to drag anyone into my life knowing that my time's limited, especially not someone like you. but each day i spent with you, it was like you were giving my life a purpose, just as i was trying to give yours a little hope.
and that's what led me to lie.
i didn't want you to know i was dying. i didn't want our time to be filled with pity or fear. but now, i regret it. i should've told you. i should've lived every moment with you honestly, without hiding.
have you written the song for me? will you sing it someday? i may never know. but either way—thank you. thank you for being in my life. thank you for letting me be a part of yours, even if just as a friend even for a few months.
when i thought my world was ending, i met you on that rooftop. i thought i was the one giving you hope, but it turns out, you were the one who saved me. you made me feel like my world didn't have to end just yet, and until now, it still hasn't ended. it will never.
i won't be able to say this with my voice anymore, but i hope this letter reaches you.
i love you, taeko. so much.
────────────♪
after that, i closed my eyes. and within the next few hours, i could no longer wake up. the last thing i felt in my sleep was my heart, and her warm hand gently letting go of mine.
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