⌁ groups + people i stan: skz, bts (taekook biased), harry styles.
⌁ my writings are mainly hyunjin-centered because i am a simp. however, i am open to writing about anyone & anything when i have the inspiration! requests are currently closed, but feel free to send me an ask with anything you may want to see in the future 🪩 (skz, bts, h.s).
⌁ most (if not all) of my works are not suitable for minors, so please do not interact (MDNI).
Me patiently waiting for u to drop the next chapter…(literally read the whole thing when u drop, then I have nothing to read again…) IM ADDICTED TO UR WRITING PLS
Just saw a post saying you're moving into your new house so I'm assuming the house is yours.
HERE I THOUGHT YOU ARE COLLEGE STUDENT OR SMTH AHSHGSHAJ. I thought you were one of us 😔🥀
Hope you're comfortable in your new house 🫶🫶
haha, yes, the house is mine! my boyfriend and i started building one late last year and we’ve just been moving in! i’m 26, so my college days are over until i start grad school for my NP degree next year (so sorry to disappoint).
we’re still moving in, but everything’s going great! 🤍
you explained perfectly!! thank you so much!! I forgot to tell you in that ask that I adooore you in me. take ur time with the chapters, don't worry. good things take time.
i know it’s been a hot minute, but i’m going to try my best to get the next chapter up by this weekend, but if not, next week at the latest, i PROMISE.
Hi hiiii I've this veryyyy weird request (look embarrassed for this)
I'm actually a very frequent commenter on your posts and I'm not sure if I asked this before so I had to ask for this anonymously lol
Will you ever write other characters first in future?? More specifically felix maybe hehe. THIS IS JUST A SUGGESTION LOL I LOVE YOUR HYUNNIE FICS TOO. He's my 2nd bias lol.
But yeah I loveeeeeee all of your fics <333
hi! yes, i would definitely be down to write about anyone besides hyunjin. i’ve been thinking about doing a jungkook oneshot (don’t know if any of my followers stan bts or not, but he has been coming for me lately), but i have many ideas! hyunjin is just easier to write for, so that’s why it’s mainly him (and i am very down bad for that man).
i would definitely be down to write for felix, too. maybe one day soon i can put up a poll and see what y’all would wanna see!
as someone who is new to writing and also loves how you write... what is your creative process like? and how do you describe the details without it feeling artificial?
i literally had to sit here and process this question for like 10 minutes before i replied, and even now, i still can’t find a perfect response, but here it is, anyway.
i’ve been writing since i was in middle school. i had a wattpad account where i wrote & read harry styles fanfiction religiously. my writing style back then was a lot different to how it is now, for obvious reasons. 1) my sentence structure was super choppy, 2) i was writing based on experiences i have only read about, and 3) i matured intellectually.
i’m not a professional writer by any means, but this is how i go about writing:
1) don’t force it. it can be difficult to form an entire story in your head, and even more difficult to convey that story in words. if you have ideas, write them down. think about them, reflect on them, and run it through your head before just writing it out.
2) ask for opinions when you get writers block. if you have a close friend, ask them what they’re into and what they like to read about. i have a friend who’s also into k-pop and i lay out my ideas for the plot of my stories when i feel stuck and need another opinion. it can help give you an idea, and maybe even tailor to a difference audience (kind of like, if this person suggests this/wants to see this, then other people might, too).
3) have a support system. when people interact with my works, it gives me a huge boost of energy and confidence. i always look forward to hearing what people think about a specific chapter or what they think might happen in the next one, etc. i truly believe having people verbally support you makes a huge difference in writing.
4) find inspiration. sometimes i find myself zoning out or doing something and then think “hm… this would be a good plot for a fanfic,” or “i could totally see hyunjin in a dark academia fic” (literally have this in my drafts rn as we speak for a oneshot… grumpy, older, hyunjin who is a chemistry prof at a prestigious university would not leave my head… but this is what i MEAN).
as for your second question, i focus more on emotion than anything else. when i’m writing a scene, i try to place myself in the reader’s shoes, try to feel what they would feel, and then convey that into words. i’m not sure if it sounds good to others, but it’s what helps me finish chapters, nonetheless.
i feel like my entire answer was trash, but i hope it can help you in some way! thanks so much for this ask, and for loving my works! 🤍
hi!! i am doing great, thank you for asking 🩷 just been super busy this past week moving into my new house (nobody warned me how brutal it is moving ugh). i hope you’re doing well ☺️
— SUMMARY. In which Y/N didn’t expect to hook-up with her bias, and Hyunjin didn’t expect to fall in love with her.
— PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
— GENRE. idol!hyunjin x fem!reader
— WC. 6.7k+
— WARNINGS/OTHER. cursing ; angst ; hyunjin’s lowkey an idiot (& also a stalker) ; lots of mutual pinning ; mentions of sex
NOTE. y’all are either going to hate me or love me for this one. either way, looking forward to hearing your thoughts <33
ᝰ SIX | SERIES M.LIST
Kyōka suigetsu (Japanese) — an idiom with the literal translation of “flower in the mirror and a moon in the water.” It references something which is visible and cannot be touched as well as the profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words
Florence feels much softer in the rain. Hyunjin notices that almost immediately during his first day in the city.
The crowd outside had diminished significantly once the first downpour hit, right as Hyunjin stepped foot into the third art museum of the day. He’d like to say that the rain is the reason he’d been pushed into yet another gallery tucked along a narrow side street near the river, but that’s far from the truth. Especially when he finds himself in a particular exhibit that centers around emotional realism and reinterpretations of Renaissance intimacy. Very pretentious, very dramatic—exactly the kind of thing Hyunjin likes.
Art just feels easier right now—safer. And the weather outside further proves that point.
He moves slowly through the rooms, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants while soft instrumental music plays overhead. There aren’t many people here, surprisingly, despite a few tourists and a few groups of what appears to be university students sketching sculptures in their notebooks. Hyunjin figured that once the rain hit people would be pouring in here to escape it, but he was thankfully proven wrong. He prefers it this way.
He walks further down, his shoes lightly tapping against the floor, pausing at a massive oil painting. It’s depicting a man kneeling waist-deep in dark water beneath a giant golden sky. His eyes study it for a moment before drifting down to read the plaque, mouthing out the words salvation through suffering to himself. His eyes flicker back up to the painting, head tilting slightly as he traces every single detail before deciding that it seems just a tad bit dramatic. In his professional opinion, (which should be taken with a grain of salt), people tend to romanticize suffering too much. If someone is drowning, maybe they should be helped instead of allowing it to happen and calling it beautiful.
But that’s just his opinion.
He snaps a quick picture of it, sending it to the group chat before slowly walking into another room. More oil paintings line the walls in massive frames, all revolving around grief, isolation, longing—human suffering presented beautifully enough that has something pulling deep in his chest. He stays where he is for a second longer, studying each piece thoughtfully until his eyes drift down to focus on the reflection staring back at him through the glass protecting the painting. And although the reflection staring back at him appears familiar, there’s something distant there.
Hyunjin barely recognizes himself at times. He’s not the same guy he once was when they first debuted, full of passion and determination and life. As the years went on, the weight of everything got heavier on his shoulders, and he was stuck in a constant loop of exhaustion. It’s not that he hates his job—he loves his fans, the members, and performing more than anything. But he just hates that he has to feel so miserable sometimes when he’s supposed to be doing something he loves.
Even now, there’s some moments where he catches himself feeling strangely disconnected from the version of him everyone knows. He’s heard it all—the idol, the visual, the beautiful dramatic one. People think they know him because they constantly consume bits and pieces of him on a screen, but that’s exactly that—they think.
He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s went live. He used to be more active, going on random Instagram lives and sending numerous texts and pictures off Bubble. But lately, he hasn’t had the energy too. It feels performative, in a way, but everything is performative in his world.
He just wishes he could stop being what people want him to be and not care what people say about it.
Most days, he feels like a collection of carefully selected fragments pretending to be an actual person. Therapy helps. Medicine helps. Having a good support system helps. But sometimes, it’s not enough, and he needs to do things for himself to help clear his head, like take a however month long hiatus and do a solo trip to Italy.
Maybe that’s why he likes Italy so much. Maybe that’s why he likes art galleries so much. Nobody here expects anything from him.
Hyunjin tears his gaze away from his reflection, stuffing his hands back into his pants pocket before heading towards the next room. This one focuses on fractured intimacy. There’s paintings of lovers facing opposite directions, hands nearly touching but never quite reaching, bodies close physically but emotionally miles apart. He feels it instantly because, unfortunately, he understood this kind of distance too well.
He moves on before the feeling settles too deeply.
Hyunjin drifts through the next room half-focused, his thoughts scattered all over the place. One second he’s thinking about sketching, another second he’s thinking about finding another small restaurant near the river tonight. He’s thinking about anything, desperately trying to distract himself from the heavy feeling in his chest. He’s thinking about anything, until he can no longer think at all.
His entire body comes to an abrupt stop, like something inside him physically locks. The room suddenly feels colder, the weight on his shoulders grows heavier, and he feels like he might pass out on this sleek marble flooring.
At the far end of the gallery stands a woman beneath soft overhead lighting. She’s wearing a yellow dress with a cream-colored raincoat, dark curls falling over one shoulder, hands gripping onto the strap of her purse as she studies a painting in front of her.
For one second, Hyunjin’s brain refuses to process what he’s seeing, not because he doesn’t recognize her, but because he does instantly. In fact, every nerve ending in his entire body recognizes her before logic can even catch up with him.
No. There’s absolutely no way that she is standing a few steps away from him right now, at an art gallery in Italy. There is absolutely no way.
His brain scrambles for even more explanations, as he mentally talks himself out of a panic attack that may or may not be brewing. Lots of people have curly hair and a round face. Lots of people give off the exact same aura. He just drank too much wine at lunch, and that’s why he’s currently hallucinating her standing in front of him. Yeah, that must be it.
Only it isn’t. Because before he could even blink, she had shifted just slightly, now giving him a perfect view of her face, confirming what he already knew was true.
Y/N.
Somehow, she looks exactly the same, yet completely different all at the same time. Her hair is shorter than he remembers, darker than he remembers, falling down to her shoulders. She’s wearing minimal makeup, yet she’s still naturally so pretty, staring at the painting in awe. Gold rings line her fingers, catching the light in the room. She looks more mature, more settled into herself, and Hyunjin is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he’s currently ogling at a very much real Y/N in the middle of a very much real art gallery full of very much real people.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
His heartbeat slams violently against his ribcage, and he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesn’t actually pass out. He closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head back and forth before opening them again, his eyes widening once he realizes that he’s not hallucinating and she’s still painfully real, standing in front of him again after four fucking years.
And god, she’s still beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on him before he can even emotionally defend himself.
He feels rooted to his spot, gawking, staring, still trying not to pass out. She doesn’t move for a second, and Hyunjin thinks he has to be hallucinating her, only for her to shift a little closer towards where he’s standing, and then reality comes back.
A quiet shriek escapes his mouth as he instantly steps behind one of the marble columns near him, shielding his view from her. He stands there for a second, breathing heavy, his stomach flipping so hard that it actually makes him dizzy.
This is insane. Actually insane. It’s been four years—four years of zero contact, of living lives in two completely different worlds, and somehow, seeing her for less than twenty seconds already feels catastrophic to his nervous system.
He pushes his back against the column, shifting himself so he’s more hidden. He feels calmer now that he can’t see her anymore, but that only lasts for five seconds before he’s peaking around the column again just to see that she’s still there. She’s still there, still looking at paintings, still completely unaware she’s currently ruining his emotional stability from thirty feet away.
Hyunjin knows he should leave. He should just turn around, pretend he didn’t even see her, and leave. That would be the normal thing to do, the healthy thing to do. But instead, he stays frozen exactly where he is, watching her, noticing every single movement and detail about her, just like he did when he saw her for the first time four years ago.
He notices the way she shifts her weight while she’s thinking. He notices the tiny line appearing between her brows while reading the plaque beside the painting. He notices the absentminded way she tucks her curls behind her ear. He notices everything—and it feels so unfair.
How can four years disappear instantly like that? How can his body remember someone this much after so much time apart?
He remembers her so vividly that it’s actually insane. He remembers her voice, her scent, her smile. He remembers how calm he felt around her, how right it felt being near her. He remembers how she sounded calling out his name as he made her cum on his cock.
His chest aches suddenly. He’s torn between a constant battle of leaving or following her until he may or may not develop the confidence to actually approach her. His mind screams at him to leave, the red flags going off in his head. But Hyunjin had never listened to himself in the first place, so why would he do that now?
He leans his head over to catch another glimpse of her, his eyes widening as he sees her walking into the next room. Panic shoots through him instantly, and before he could even blink, he’s already following her, hiding behind another large column.
He peaks over, noticing that she stops before another enormous painting. He doesn’t even bother to look at which one, his interest in all the art surrounding him diminishing instantly. He’s way too distracted by the fact that Y/N is real, standing ten feet away, breathing the same air as him for the first time in years.
His heart pounds harder the longer he keeps watching her. He should walk up to her and say something, and not keep hiding behind European architecture like a fucking stalker. He should, but he can’t.
What if she feels nothing for him now? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with him? What if she rejects him?
He can’t do it. He just can’t.
A large group of tourists suddenly moves in front of him, blocking his view from her completely. Hyunjin shifts immediately, trying to keep her in sight, feeling a surge of panic flow through his body as he searches the room. It feels like forever when everything finally clears, his shoulders relaxing instantly. Yet that didn’t last long, as he desperately tried to find her, only to realize that she’s gone.
“No, no, no,” He mumbles to himself like an insane person, moving quickly into the adjoining room, his eyes scanning faces in panicked desperation, hoping one of them was hers.
He moves into another hallway. Nothing. He begins circling rooms twice. Nothing.
He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling his stomach drop. Somehow, losing sight of her after finding her again feels devastating already, and it makes him feel insane. Maybe if he would stop being a fucking coward all the time and actually went up to talk to her whenever he first saw her, he wouldn’t be here searching the gallery pretending he isn’t searching the gallery.
He had to have hallucinated her. There was no way that she disappeared that quickly, like she just disappeared into the walls like a fucking ghost. He definitely would have seen her from how quick he rushed into the nearby rooms looking like a mad-man. He’s surprised they didn’t kick him out.
Hyunjin’s face suddenly heats up in embarrassment. Why did he allow himself to act like that in public? At an art museum, of all places? Over a girl he fucked four years ago?
Except she wasn’t just an insufficient fuck, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Sure, the sex was amazing, but that was also part of the problem. It was so amazing that it’s quite literally ruined everyone else for him, and part of him is bitter for that. There’s no denying how compatible they were sexually, but it was also emotionally. And that’s what’s been fucking with him the most.
Hyunjin runs his fingers through his hair again, taking a deep breath before pulling his phone out to text his driver he’s ready to leave. Normally, he would spend all day at an art museum, but right now he thinks he just needs to go back to his hotel and contemplate his entire life.
The rain falls steadily outside by the time he steps out of the museum. He didn’t bring a coat today, didn’t really think he would need one. But just like his emotions are all over the place, so is the weather here, apparently.
He spots his driver waiting for him, leaning against the car with an umbrella over his head. Hyunjin hurries over towards him, jogging through the rain, not even phased at how wet he seems to be getting. Honestly, it’s kind of nice, somewhat cooling his skin and helping his body calm down.
He gets into the back seat quietly. His clothes are sticking to his skin now, his hair falling in front of his forehead in damp waves. He combs it back once before slouching back in the seat, turning his head to watch the rain drops slowly falling down the window.
He tries not to think about her, he really tries. But his mind ends up going there anyway, replaying the scene over and over in his head like a broken record that just won’t stop playing.
She looked so beautiful. Her skin looked perfectly sun-kissed, eyes still so blue and hypnotizing, hair so pretty and soft. He couldn’t see her body well from the raincoat she had on, but he just knew the pale yellow dress would be hugging her so perfectly and have him falling to his knees immediately.
It’s wild how deeply she still affects him even after all this time apart. They spent one night together, yet it felt like he had known her his entire life. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he had to let her go.
Hyunjin was always a private person, introverted at best. He always kept to himself, never opening up to anyone first unless he trusted them, which was why when he found himself opening up to Y/N, it terrified him.
It still terrifies him, because he knows if he could see her again, he’d fall in even deeper.
He tries to focus on the rain again. He distracts his mind by counting the raindrops on the window, making mental bets on which raindrop would fall first—anything to prevent his mind from spiraling.
That doesn’t last long, though. Because as soon as he steps into his hotel room and strips off his wet clothes, he’s already plopping down onto his bed with a dramatic groan before grabbing his phone.
Chan answers the call after two rings.
“Well, well. Florence finally bored you?”
“I think I hallucinated Y/N in an art gallery.”
The words came out so fast and so frantic that Hyunjin wonders for a second if Chan actually understood what he said in the first place. He bites his bottom lip softly, nervously tapping his fingers against his chest. The silence is so loud he pulls his phone away just to make sure he didn’t accidentally hang up.
“Well, good evening to you, too.”
Hyunjin rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling, “I’m serious. I’m starting to go insane because I keep thinking about it.”
“Like, you actually saw her?”
“I mean, I think so,” Hyunjin replies quickly, another groan falling from his lips as he pinches his temple with his fingers, “I don’t know if I actually did or not. That’s what’s frustrating me.”
Chan immediately starts laughing, and Hyunjin narrows his eyes even though he can’t see him, “Stop laughing at me! I’m literally spiraling right now and you’re making fun of me!”
“I’m not making fun of you, Hyun,” Chan replies through another fit of laughter, much quieter this time, “It just sounds a little crazy, is all. Like what do you mean you think you saw her? Walk me through it.”
Hyunjin drags a hand down his face. This is giving him a headache already. “I was looking at paintings.”
“Mhm.”
“And then I saw this girl.”
“Incredible start.”
“She turned around, and I swear to fuck it was her,” He breathes out, feeling his heart race a little just thinking about it again, “Now that I think about it more, I’m certain it was her. And holy fuck, she was beautiful. I feel like I’m losing my mind right now.”
Chan exhales slowly through the phone, and Hyunjin feels a little embarrassed at what he just said, but whatever. He can’t take it back now. “That’s… strange.” He replies after a few more seconds of Hyunjin mentally freaking out, only adding on to that feeling.
“Strange?” He laughs incredulously, “Chan, I literally forgot how to breathe for a second. I’m still trying to catch my breath.”
“Okay, so you saw Y/N,” Chan spoke, voice softer, “Then what? You went and talked to her?”
“Well… not exactly,” He replies, already dreading this conversation because he knows Chan won’t be able to live this part down, “I kind of hid behind the giant columns and watched her from afar. And then I kind of followed her around the gallery. Kind of.”
Chan bursts out into laughter again, the sound so loud that it had him wincing as he pulled the phone away from his ear. “Hyunjin… you fucking idiot! Please tell me you did not just stalk this poor girl in a contemporary art gallery.”
“I panicked!” He defends himself, poorly, might he add, as the laughter on the other end only seems to be getting much worse, “I’m not good at this shit, okay?! She was looking at art so prettily! That’s intimidating!”
“That’s the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said.”
Hyunjin falls back onto the pillows behind his head with a loud groan, “I think something is deeply wrong with me.”
“Yeah,” Chan agrees quickly through another chuckle, causing him to glare at the screen, because why is he agreeing with him? “We established that years ago, unfortunately.”
Despite himself, Hyunjin laughs weakly, his eyes trailing over towards the rain-streaked windows. Part of him had always secretly wondered whether she carried their ending around the same way he did. Maybe she didn’t—maybe she healed properly while he kept romanizing unfinished things.
I guess he’d never know that because he couldn’t bring himself to go talk to her.
“She looked really good,” He admits quietly, watching the rain patter softly against the window, “She looked… so pretty. Just like I always remembered.”
Chan hums knowingly, “You’re an idiot. And you’re screwed.”
“I know.”
He listens to the rain for another second before a thought suddenly comes to mind. He sits up immediately, “Wait.”
Chan sounds suspicious already, “What?”
“You still talk to Kat.”
He’s quiet on the line, and Hyunjin hates how he can feel his heart beating even louder against his chest. “I do,” He drawls the word out, already seeming to know where this is going.
“Ask her if Y/N’s in Italy.”
More silence. And then—
“Oh my god.”
He’s laughing again, and Hyunjin grunts into the phone in annoyance, running another hand through his hair, “Chan, I’m serious! Text her right now and ask her if she’s in Italy.”
“Hyun, you do realize how insane you’re acting right now, right?” Chan chuckles in disbelief, “You haven’t seen this girl in four years and now you’re spiraling in an Italian luxury hotel because you think you saw her admiring paintings. You sound lovesick.”
Hyunjin presses both hands over his eyes, “Hyung, please. When do I ever ask you for favors?”
“All the fucking time, actually.”
“Please!”
Chan sighs dramatically over the line, “Fine. This is humiliating for you, you know that?”
“I know.”
“You could’ve just spoken to her and not stalked her like a fucking creep.”
“I know,” He swallows thickly, “You don’t understand.”
“No, I understand perfectly, actually. You’re terrified.”
That shuts Hyunjin up instantly. Because unfortunately, it’s true.
He’s terrified of rejection. He’s terrified of indifference. He’s terrified of discovering he’s carried this thing around for years only to realize she let it go completely.
And where would that lead him?
Chan sighs again after a few moments, “I’m texting her right now, okay?”
Relief floods through him embarrassingly fast, “You’re the best, Channie baby.”
“Ew, don’t call me that.”
Hyunjin laughs quietly, a giddy feeling rising in his body once he hears Chan typing on his phone over the line. He’s 99.9% sure she was Y/N, but having a verbal confirmation from her best friend would just be the icing on top of the fucking cake. If he gets confirmation that she’s actually in Italy, maybe he won’t feel so insane about it.
Another idea hits him all of a sudden, and he’s putting Chan on speaker before swiping out of the call, his fingers working fast to click on the Instagram app. He’s clicking on the search bar before he can think any better of it, typing in a username that he remembers from years ago when he first found her account, only hoping she didn’t change it.
His eyes light up instantly once he realizes she didn’t. And then he’s clicking on her profile.
“What are you doing?” Chan’s voice startles him for a second.
“Nothing.” He replies quickly, guiltily. His eyes widen once he sees her first post, and he wastes no time in clicking on the picture so he can see it better.
He heart falls into his ass once he sees it.
“Oh shit,” He breaths out, gawking at her most recent photo from a day ago. It’s a thread, a collection of ten pictures, the first picture being of her smiling in front of Brunelleschi’s Duomo.
“Oh, shit,” He says again, because what else can he say?
“Oh my god,” Chan says knowingly, “Are you stalking her right now? Seriously?”
“It’s public information,” He defends himself weakly, swiping through the rest of the post. Pasta, wine, a picture of a stray cat resting on a bench, another selfie. He stares at that one a little longer, unable to stop himself.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful. His heart hurts.
“That’s exactly what stalkers say.” Chan’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and he ignores him, quickly exiting out of that post to glance at the rest of her profile.
Coffee shops, books, Kat, (lots of Kat), the gym, weddings, yet there’s no engagement posts or anything that hints that she has a significant other. He hates how relieved he is from that.
Something about seeing pieces of her life condensed quietly into photographs makes his chest ache. She kept existing this entire time, but somehow, he never let himself imagine it clearly.
He’s clicking on one of her highlight reels she posted titled “Italy 🇮🇹” before he can stop himself. And his heart is falling into his ass once again.
The first one is of a window from a coffee shop while the rain pours outside. The second is of a piece of artwork from a different gallery he didn’t recognize. And the third… the third is a mirror picture she took of herself, wearing the exact same outfit he just saw her in. Her coat wasn’t on, showing off her curves so perfectly, the dress hugging her just right. It looked so pretty against her skin, her smile sending shivers down his entire body.
Holy fuck.
“Holy shit,” He covers his mouth with his hand, the raining pouring down harder now.
“What now?”
“She’s here,” He strains out, his heartbeat climbing, “She is literally here. In Florence.”
“Yep, she is.” He replies, but before Hyunjin can ask what he means by that tone, his phone is binging with a text from Chan. It’s a screenshot of a string of texts. He opens it quickly.
Chan: Random question
Chan: Is Y/N in Italy rn?
Kat: why
Chan: Hyunjin thinks he saw her and now he’s acting mentally unstable
Kat: OH MY GOD
Kat: WAIT, ACTUALLY????
Chan: Yep. He hid behind a column, apparently. Embarrassing 😳
Hyunjin groans immediately, “Seriously?! Why would you tell her that?!”
“Because it was funny.”
“It was not! You’re evil!”
“I’m correct.”
Another screenshot comes through, and Hyunjin mentally prepares himself before he opens it.
Kat: she’s in florence, rn
Kat: she’s been going to art galleries all week too, lol
Chan: That is horrifyingly romantic
Kat: don’t encourage him
Hyunjin’s stomach flips again. He really could run into her again. The possibility alone sends nervous energy rushing through him immediately, but things are different now. Now, he’s older, more established, with more freedom to do what he pleases. For the first time in his career, choosing someone wouldn’t automatically be impossible. And somehow, the universe drops Y/N directly into Florence while he’s finally at a point in his life where he maybe can choose her properly.
The timing feels cruel. Or maybe hopeful. He genuinely can’t tell.
“You’re being quiet.”
Hyunjin stares at her profile again, “I’m just… processing. I can’t believe she’s actually here.”
“Yeah,” Chan hums in response, “Kat said she’s there for another week.”
Hyunjin blinks, “Another week?”
He hears Chan curse silently over the line, and his eyes narrow, “It seems you know entirely too much information.”
“I do not.” His response is quick.
“You literally know her travel itinerary.”
“Okay, now that’s a little dramatic. Let’s simmer down.”
Hyunjin lets out a quiet scoff, pointing at the phone accusingly, “You and Kat are scheming, aren’t you?”
“We are absolutely not.” Again, another quick reply.
“I think you’re full of shit. Shitty shit shit.”
Chan sighs dramatically, and Hyunjin can just see his eyes rolling, “Ooookay. Maybe Kat mentioned she was doing a solo trip to Italy months ago.”
“Months ago,” He repeats the words, nodding his head slowly, “And then, somehow, I end up in Italy at the same exact time?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Hyunjin flops backward onto the bed, groaning dramatically, “I hate all of you. Especially you.”
“No you don’t.”
Unfortunately, that’s true.
His phone pings again with yet another screenshot. He sighs, knowing he’s about to be embarrassed again, but opening it anyway.
Kat: wait, does he like her???
Chan: Catastrophically so
Kat: omg I KNEW IT
Chan: He’s currently staring at her Instagram profile in silence like a widow in a period drama
Kat: don’t let him scare her, omg
Chan: Too late, he already hid behind a column
“You are unbelievable!” Hyunjin chokes out, completely mortified.
This is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet, underneath all the teasing and embarrassment and panic, hope starts blooming somewhere dangerous inside him. For the first time in years, Y/N doesn’t feel unreachable anymore, and he wants nothing more than to finally grab ahold of her.
His thumb hovers over the message button on her profile. He hesitates for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. The rain falls even harder outside, and he’s distracted by the sound for a split second before his thumb inches closer.
“Chan?”
“Yeah?” His reply is instant. He hesitates again, but only for a second.
“If I message her right now… is that insane?”
“Maybe,” He replies after a few seconds, and Hyunjin swallows thickly, “Do you want my actual opinion?”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer. The silence is answer enough.
“You’re in Italy to take a break from everything. You’re there to do things you enjoy, escape reality for a bit, clear your head, rest. You’re there to take care of yourself,” He speaks slowly, softly. The room grows very still around him, save for the relaxing sound of the rain that’s doing very little in quieting down his head right now.
Hyunjin swallows thickly, his eyes focused on Y/N’s smiling face illuminating quietly on his phone screen, his thumb still hovering.
“But, I think if you leave Italy without trying to talk to her, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You wanted to choose her years ago,” Chan exhales softly through the speaker, his fingers twitching in front of him, “And now, nobody’s stopping you except for yourself.”
The bathwater has gone lukewarm, but Y/N still doesn’t move.
Florence at night still feels like it’s holding its breath outside her hotel window. The rain is still tapping lightly against the glass, pulling her more into a euphoric calm that she’s been longing to experience for a while now. It’s quieter than New York in a way that almost feels wrong, like the world forgot to keep moving.
Three days ago, she arrived in Italy alone. Normally traveling alone in a foreign country would terrify her, but Italy has always been on her bucket list and she was in desperate need of a long break. And by long break, she means an entire summer off she barely knew how to use in the first place—an entire summer off from fluorescent ceilings, trauma alerts, and the constant low hum of the ER.
She had told herself this trip was about rest, but rest is a loose concept when your entire nervous system has been wired to anticipate chaos. Even now, immersed in bath water with a shit ton of lavender scented bubbles, her body still feels half-alert, like she’s just waiting on someone to call another code. Yet, instead, the only thing calling her right now is her memory.
And Hyunjin. Of course.
Y/N lets out a sigh, leaning her head back against the porcelain behind her. She hadn’t meant to think about him this much in Florence, but museums do that to her. There’s just too much beauty in one place, and it all leads back to him.
Earlier today, she stood in front of a Renaissance painting for an uncomfortably long time. Not because she was trying to understand the meaning behind the painting, but because it made her think of him. She could picture him standing there, his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, his head tilted to the side as he studied every single detail. She knew he loved art, and he loved to create his own. And every time he would post one of his works on social media, it had her heart warming instantly.
He was so talented, in every way, shape, and form.
At first, she used to look forward to his posts, even having her notifications on so it would alert her whenever he posted. Seems excessive and a little stalker ish, she knows, but she was holding on to every little thing about him, desperate to connect with him, in some way. Even if that was through his artwork he posted on social media for millions of people to see.
She admits she did that for a few months before convincing herself that it was unhealthy behavior. Constantly pinning after an idol who was completely unattainable was unhealthy behavior. And she had to stop it before she buried herself deep into a flunk she’d never get out of.
She stopped listening to Stray Kids. She stopped outwardly supporting them. She stopped following them on all social media, and even canceled her Bubble subscription. It was all just a constant reminder of what she had with him, which was one, insignificant night where she came around his cock twice and then laid in bed with him afterwards like it meant everything.
And it did mean everything. It still means everything, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself otherwise. That was the problem with Hyunjin. He made everything feel like it mattered more than it should—even silence, even absence.
Y/N shifts slightly in the bath, staring at the condensation slowly sliding down the glass. It’s been four years since that night she spent with him, four years since Hyunjin became real and not a fantasy version of a man she projected meaning onto—just him.
She still remembers thinking this can’t actually be happening. Even now, she can’t believe it had actually happened. Because even then, she had been a fan, a Stay—the kind that knew too many music video details and had once argued online about dance formations like it mattered personally.
Hyunjin had been her ult bias. The word feels childish now, but it was true then. She had known his face before she knew his voice, known his stage presence before she knew how softly he spoke when he wasn’t performing. And then somehow, he had ended up in her world, in her bed, fucking her like he owned her just to tell her he couldn’t choose her.
She didn’t expect him to. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t want him to.
Y/N closes her eyes in the bath, sighing softly. It had messed with her for a while, but she eventually moved on, where she learned to separate emotion from action so effectively that sometimes she worries she might never fully turn it off.
It worked, mostly, but the human brain is not a system that respects change. Hyunjin didn’t stay in the past like she expected him to. He stayed in the quiet moments between shifts, on nights when she got home too late and the apartment felt too big, on subway rides when she had nothing else to think about, and stupidly enough, when someone in passing mentioned k-pop.
That’s when it came back. And even now, lying in a bubble bath in Italy, she finds herself thinking about him again.
Her phone buzzing on the toilet seat beside her makes her jump, knocking her out of her thoughts. She wipes her hands off with the towel hanging up beside her before leaning over, seeing that Kat was currently calling her. She smiles, answering the call and putting it on speakerphone before slouching back into the bathtub.
“Hey.”
“There she is!” Kat’s voice booms through the phone, always so bright and cheery, “My Italian girl. Professional eater of pastries.”
“I had one pastry today,” She rolls her eyes, shifting a little in the bath, the water sloshing around her lightly.
“Yeah, key word, today. Tomorrow you’ll probably have about five more.”
“I think you’re just jealous that you’re not getting any.”
“Very true,” She sighs. Y/N laughs softly, sinking deeper into the bath, the back of her head getting wet. “How are you doing, my girl?”
“Hm, kind of tired right now,” She admits softly, running her hands against her thighs, moving the bubbles around, “I walked like 20k steps today. My feet hurt so fucking bad.”
“I’m so glad I’m not there to massage them for you. Can’t bribe me with Taco Bell tonight.”
“I could fuck up ten cheesy roll-ups right now.”
Kat laughs, and Y/N lets herself relax into the sound, twirling the bubbles around with her fingers. It’s quiet for a second after that, but the silence is comfortable. It’s always comfortable with her. Kat is one of the few people who still makes her feel like her life isn’t split into before and after versions—even if she’s always known too much, even if she’s always been suspiciously good at reading between lines Y/N never explicitly drew.
“Sooo,” She drawls out suddenly, her tone shifting just slightly. Y/N’s body reacts before her brain does, and she narrows her eyes at the phone still sitting on the toilet seat. That tone is never good.
“No.” Y/N says immediately.
“I didn’t even say anything yet!” She quickly defends herself.
“You didn’t have to.”
Kat laughs in disbelief, “You always do that thing where you act like you can predict my thoughts.”
“Because I can.”
Kat sighs on the phone, and Y/N knows that’s whatever is about to come out of her mouth isn’t going to be good. “I’ve been texting Chan today,” She finally admits, and Y/N stills slightly.
“Ooookay,” She replies, a little confused as to why she’s telling her that, “You talk to him most days. Why are you telling me that?”
It’s quiet again, uncomfortable, this time. Too uncomfortable. She’s about to ask the same question again when Kat’s voice stops her.
“He mentioned something interesting.”
She tenses up even more, goosebumps forming on the back of her neck despite the warm water surrounding her, “Okay. That’s super vague and I don’t like it.” She hates it, actually.
“He’s in Europe.” She blurts out suddenly.
“Who?” Y/N asks, still confused and slightly on edge, because why is she making this so dramatic? “Chan? Why are you telling me this, Kat?”
“No, not Chan. Hyunjin.”
She blinks, wondering where this conversation is headed, “Okay. That’s nice for him. Europe’s big, you know?”
“I know geography, thank you very much,” Kat scoffs in fake annoyance, “He’s in Italy. Hyunjin is in Italy.”
Y/N sits up completely in the bath now, the bubbles falling down her chest. Her heart felt like it was about shoot right out of her chest. Hyunjin is in Italy? At the same time that she is?
Kat has known everything without technically knowing anything for four straight years, which is honestly terrifying. Y/N had never explicitly said that her and Hyunjin had hooked up, partly because of the NDA, but mostly because whatever existed between them had always felt strangely sacred, like exposing too much would ruin it completely. But Kat had figured it out anyway, probably because Y/N had cried over one man exactly once in her entire life.
And unfortunately, it was very obvious which man that was.
“And?” She squeaks out, trying to appear unaffected when she’s anything but.
“And nothing,” Kat replies lightly, but there’s something underneath it now, “It’s just… very interesting timing, is all.”
“This is ridiculous,” Y/N laughs out lightly, shaking her head as she forced herself to relax back into the bath.
“Sure.”
“I’m not going to run into him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Sure.”
“Kat.” She calls her name, an edge to her voice. Her phone suddenly goes off again, and she sighs, leaning over to glance at the screen, fully expecting Kat to be screenshotting her a thread of texts or an article about it or something.
Her entire body goes rigid once her eyes land on the notification displayed across her lock screen.
Instagram. DM request. From hynjinnnn.
For a second, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s imagining it. That exhaustion just finally caught up to her in Italy and her brain decided to hallucinate the one person capable of psychologically ruining her from a whole other continent.
Kat’s still talking through the speaker on her phone, but Y/N isn’t comprehending anything she’s saying, hurriedly clicking on the notification and going straight to his profile, just to confirm it’s actually him.
It is. Of course it is. And somehow, it makes this ten times worse.
Her thumb hovers over the request, then she presses accept before she can overthink it too much. The first message loads instantly.
hyunjin: Hi.
It was simple, too simple. Y/N blinks at the message, once, twice, and then there’s more popping up almost immediately.
hyunjin: This is either a terrible idea or fate, and I genuinely can’t tell
hyunjin: I think I saw you at the Uffizi earlier today. And if it was really you… I don’t think I can pretend this never happened anymore
— SUMMARY. In which Y/N didn’t expect to hook-up with her bias, and Hyunjin didn’t expect to fall in love with her.
— PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
— GENRE. idol!hyunjin x fem!reader
— WC. 6.7k+
— WARNINGS/OTHER. cursing ; angst ; hyunjin’s lowkey an idiot (& also a stalker) ; lots of mutual pinning ; mentions of sex
NOTE. y’all are either going to hate me or love me for this one. either way, looking forward to hearing your thoughts <33
ᝰ SIX | SERIES M.LIST
Kyōka suigetsu (Japanese) — an idiom with the literal translation of “flower in the mirror and a moon in the water.” It references something which is visible and cannot be touched as well as the profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words
Florence feels much softer in the rain. Hyunjin notices that almost immediately during his first day in the city.
The crowd outside had diminished significantly once the first downpour hit, right as Hyunjin stepped foot into the third art museum of the day. He’d like to say that the rain is the reason he’d been pushed into yet another gallery tucked along a narrow side street near the river, but that’s far from the truth. Especially when he finds himself in a particular exhibit that centers around emotional realism and reinterpretations of Renaissance intimacy. Very pretentious, very dramatic—exactly the kind of thing Hyunjin likes.
Art just feels easier right now—safer. And the weather outside further proves that point.
He moves slowly through the rooms, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants while soft instrumental music plays overhead. There aren’t many people here, surprisingly, despite a few tourists and a few groups of what appears to be university students sketching sculptures in their notebooks. Hyunjin figured that once the rain hit people would be pouring in here to escape it, but he was thankfully proven wrong. He prefers it this way.
He walks further down, his shoes lightly tapping against the floor, pausing at a massive oil painting. It’s depicting a man kneeling waist-deep in dark water beneath a giant golden sky. His eyes study it for a moment before drifting down to read the plaque, mouthing out the words salvation through suffering to himself. His eyes flicker back up to the painting, head tilting slightly as he traces every single detail before deciding that it seems just a tad bit dramatic. In his professional opinion, (which should be taken with a grain of salt), people tend to romanticize suffering too much. If someone is drowning, maybe they should be helped instead of allowing it to happen and calling it beautiful.
But that’s just his opinion.
He snaps a quick picture of it, sending it to the group chat before slowly walking into another room. More oil paintings line the walls in massive frames, all revolving around grief, isolation, longing—human suffering presented beautifully enough that has something pulling deep in his chest. He stays where he is for a second longer, studying each piece thoughtfully until his eyes drift down to focus on the reflection staring back at him through the glass protecting the painting. And although the reflection staring back at him appears familiar, there’s something distant there.
Hyunjin barely recognizes himself at times. He’s not the same guy he once was when they first debuted, full of passion and determination and life. As the years went on, the weight of everything got heavier on his shoulders, and he was stuck in a constant loop of exhaustion. It’s not that he hates his job—he loves his fans, the members, and performing more than anything. But he just hates that he has to feel so miserable sometimes when he’s supposed to be doing something he loves.
Even now, there’s some moments where he catches himself feeling strangely disconnected from the version of him everyone knows. He’s heard it all—the idol, the visual, the beautiful dramatic one. People think they know him because they constantly consume bits and pieces of him on a screen, but that’s exactly that—they think.
He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s went live. He used to be more active, going on random Instagram lives and sending numerous texts and pictures off Bubble. But lately, he hasn’t had the energy too. It feels performative, in a way, but everything is performative in his world.
He just wishes he could stop being what people want him to be and not care what people say about it.
Most days, he feels like a collection of carefully selected fragments pretending to be an actual person. Therapy helps. Medicine helps. Having a good support system helps. But sometimes, it’s not enough, and he needs to do things for himself to help clear his head, like take a however month long hiatus and do a solo trip to Italy.
Maybe that’s why he likes Italy so much. Maybe that’s why he likes art galleries so much. Nobody here expects anything from him.
Hyunjin tears his gaze away from his reflection, stuffing his hands back into his pants pocket before heading towards the next room. This one focuses on fractured intimacy. There’s paintings of lovers facing opposite directions, hands nearly touching but never quite reaching, bodies close physically but emotionally miles apart. He feels it instantly because, unfortunately, he understood this kind of distance too well.
He moves on before the feeling settles too deeply.
Hyunjin drifts through the next room half-focused, his thoughts scattered all over the place. One second he’s thinking about sketching, another second he’s thinking about finding another small restaurant near the river tonight. He’s thinking about anything, desperately trying to distract himself from the heavy feeling in his chest. He’s thinking about anything, until he can no longer think at all.
His entire body comes to an abrupt stop, like something inside him physically locks. The room suddenly feels colder, the weight on his shoulders grows heavier, and he feels like he might pass out on this sleek marble flooring.
At the far end of the gallery stands a woman beneath soft overhead lighting. She’s wearing a yellow dress with a cream-colored raincoat, dark curls falling over one shoulder, hands gripping onto the strap of her purse as she studies a painting in front of her.
For one second, Hyunjin’s brain refuses to process what he’s seeing, not because he doesn’t recognize her, but because he does instantly. In fact, every nerve ending in his entire body recognizes her before logic can even catch up with him.
No. There’s absolutely no way that she is standing a few steps away from him right now, at an art gallery in Italy. There is absolutely no way.
His brain scrambles for even more explanations, as he mentally talks himself out of a panic attack that may or may not be brewing. Lots of people have curly hair and a round face. Lots of people give off the exact same aura. He just drank too much wine at lunch, and that’s why he’s currently hallucinating her standing in front of him. Yeah, that must be it.
Only it isn’t. Because before he could even blink, she had shifted just slightly, now giving him a perfect view of her face, confirming what he already knew was true.
Y/N.
Somehow, she looks exactly the same, yet completely different all at the same time. Her hair is shorter than he remembers, darker than he remembers, falling down to her shoulders. She’s wearing minimal makeup, yet she’s still naturally so pretty, staring at the painting in awe. Gold rings line her fingers, catching the light in the room. She looks more mature, more settled into herself, and Hyunjin is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he’s currently ogling at a very much real Y/N in the middle of a very much real art gallery full of very much real people.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
His heartbeat slams violently against his ribcage, and he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesn’t actually pass out. He closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head back and forth before opening them again, his eyes widening once he realizes that he’s not hallucinating and she’s still painfully real, standing in front of him again after four fucking years.
And god, she’s still beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on him before he can even emotionally defend himself.
He feels rooted to his spot, gawking, staring, still trying not to pass out. She doesn’t move for a second, and Hyunjin thinks he has to be hallucinating her, only for her to shift a little closer towards where he’s standing, and then reality comes back.
A quiet shriek escapes his mouth as he instantly steps behind one of the marble columns near him, shielding his view from her. He stands there for a second, breathing heavy, his stomach flipping so hard that it actually makes him dizzy.
This is insane. Actually insane. It’s been four years—four years of zero contact, of living lives in two completely different worlds, and somehow, seeing her for less than twenty seconds already feels catastrophic to his nervous system.
He pushes his back against the column, shifting himself so he’s more hidden. He feels calmer now that he can’t see her anymore, but that only lasts for five seconds before he’s peaking around the column again just to see that she’s still there. She’s still there, still looking at paintings, still completely unaware she’s currently ruining his emotional stability from thirty feet away.
Hyunjin knows he should leave. He should just turn around, pretend he didn’t even see her, and leave. That would be the normal thing to do, the healthy thing to do. But instead, he stays frozen exactly where he is, watching her, noticing every single movement and detail about her, just like he did when he saw her for the first time four years ago.
He notices the way she shifts her weight while she’s thinking. He notices the tiny line appearing between her brows while reading the plaque beside the painting. He notices the absentminded way she tucks her curls behind her ear. He notices everything—and it feels so unfair.
How can four years disappear instantly like that? How can his body remember someone this much after so much time apart?
He remembers her so vividly that it’s actually insane. He remembers her voice, her scent, her smile. He remembers how calm he felt around her, how right it felt being near her. He remembers how she sounded calling out his name as he made her cum on his cock.
His chest aches suddenly. He’s torn between a constant battle of leaving or following her until he may or may not develop the confidence to actually approach her. His mind screams at him to leave, the red flags going off in his head. But Hyunjin had never listened to himself in the first place, so why would he do that now?
He leans his head over to catch another glimpse of her, his eyes widening as he sees her walking into the next room. Panic shoots through him instantly, and before he could even blink, he’s already following her, hiding behind another large column.
He peaks over, noticing that she stops before another enormous painting. He doesn’t even bother to look at which one, his interest in all the art surrounding him diminishing instantly. He’s way too distracted by the fact that Y/N is real, standing ten feet away, breathing the same air as him for the first time in years.
His heart pounds harder the longer he keeps watching her. He should walk up to her and say something, and not keep hiding behind European architecture like a fucking stalker. He should, but he can’t.
What if she feels nothing for him now? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with him? What if she rejects him?
He can’t do it. He just can’t.
A large group of tourists suddenly moves in front of him, blocking his view from her completely. Hyunjin shifts immediately, trying to keep her in sight, feeling a surge of panic flow through his body as he searches the room. It feels like forever when everything finally clears, his shoulders relaxing instantly. Yet that didn’t last long, as he desperately tried to find her, only to realize that she’s gone.
“No, no, no,” He mumbles to himself like an insane person, moving quickly into the adjoining room, his eyes scanning faces in panicked desperation, hoping one of them was hers.
He moves into another hallway. Nothing. He begins circling rooms twice. Nothing.
He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling his stomach drop. Somehow, losing sight of her after finding her again feels devastating already, and it makes him feel insane. Maybe if he would stop being a fucking coward all the time and actually went up to talk to her whenever he first saw her, he wouldn’t be here searching the gallery pretending he isn’t searching the gallery.
He had to have hallucinated her. There was no way that she disappeared that quickly, like she just disappeared into the walls like a fucking ghost. He definitely would have seen her from how quick he rushed into the nearby rooms looking like a mad-man. He’s surprised they didn’t kick him out.
Hyunjin’s face suddenly heats up in embarrassment. Why did he allow himself to act like that in public? At an art museum, of all places? Over a girl he fucked four years ago?
Except she wasn’t just an insufficient fuck, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Sure, the sex was amazing, but that was also part of the problem. It was so amazing that it’s quite literally ruined everyone else for him, and part of him is bitter for that. There’s no denying how compatible they were sexually, but it was also emotionally. And that’s what’s been fucking with him the most.
Hyunjin runs his fingers through his hair again, taking a deep breath before pulling his phone out to text his driver he’s ready to leave. Normally, he would spend all day at an art museum, but right now he thinks he just needs to go back to his hotel and contemplate his entire life.
The rain falls steadily outside by the time he steps out of the museum. He didn’t bring a coat today, didn’t really think he would need one. But just like his emotions are all over the place, so is the weather here, apparently.
He spots his driver waiting for him, leaning against the car with an umbrella over his head. Hyunjin hurries over towards him, jogging through the rain, not even phased at how wet he seems to be getting. Honestly, it’s kind of nice, somewhat cooling his skin and helping his body calm down.
He gets into the back seat quietly. His clothes are sticking to his skin now, his hair falling in front of his forehead in damp waves. He combs it back once before slouching back in the seat, turning his head to watch the rain drops slowly falling down the window.
He tries not to think about her, he really tries. But his mind ends up going there anyway, replaying the scene over and over in his head like a broken record that just won’t stop playing.
She looked so beautiful. Her skin looked perfectly sun-kissed, eyes still so blue and hypnotizing, hair so pretty and soft. He couldn’t see her body well from the raincoat she had on, but he just knew the pale yellow dress would be hugging her so perfectly and have him falling to his knees immediately.
It’s wild how deeply she still affects him even after all this time apart. They spent one night together, yet it felt like he had known her his entire life. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he had to let her go.
Hyunjin was always a private person, introverted at best. He always kept to himself, never opening up to anyone first unless he trusted them, which was why when he found himself opening up to Y/N, it terrified him.
It still terrifies him, because he knows if he could see her again, he’d fall in even deeper.
He tries to focus on the rain again. He distracts his mind by counting the raindrops on the window, making mental bets on which raindrop would fall first—anything to prevent his mind from spiraling.
That doesn’t last long, though. Because as soon as he steps into his hotel room and strips off his wet clothes, he’s already plopping down onto his bed with a dramatic groan before grabbing his phone.
Chan answers the call after two rings.
“Well, well. Florence finally bored you?”
“I think I hallucinated Y/N in an art gallery.”
The words came out so fast and so frantic that Hyunjin wonders for a second if Chan actually understood what he said in the first place. He bites his bottom lip softly, nervously tapping his fingers against his chest. The silence is so loud he pulls his phone away just to make sure he didn’t accidentally hang up.
“Well, good evening to you, too.”
Hyunjin rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling, “I’m serious. I’m starting to go insane because I keep thinking about it.”
“Like, you actually saw her?”
“I mean, I think so,” Hyunjin replies quickly, another groan falling from his lips as he pinches his temple with his fingers, “I don’t know if I actually did or not. That’s what’s frustrating me.”
Chan immediately starts laughing, and Hyunjin narrows his eyes even though he can’t see him, “Stop laughing at me! I’m literally spiraling right now and you’re making fun of me!”
“I’m not making fun of you, Hyun,” Chan replies through another fit of laughter, much quieter this time, “It just sounds a little crazy, is all. Like what do you mean you think you saw her? Walk me through it.”
Hyunjin drags a hand down his face. This is giving him a headache already. “I was looking at paintings.”
“Mhm.”
“And then I saw this girl.”
“Incredible start.”
“She turned around, and I swear to fuck it was her,” He breathes out, feeling his heart race a little just thinking about it again, “Now that I think about it more, I’m certain it was her. And holy fuck, she was beautiful. I feel like I’m losing my mind right now.”
Chan exhales slowly through the phone, and Hyunjin feels a little embarrassed at what he just said, but whatever. He can’t take it back now. “That’s… strange.” He replies after a few more seconds of Hyunjin mentally freaking out, only adding on to that feeling.
“Strange?” He laughs incredulously, “Chan, I literally forgot how to breathe for a second. I’m still trying to catch my breath.”
“Okay, so you saw Y/N,” Chan spoke, voice softer, “Then what? You went and talked to her?”
“Well… not exactly,” He replies, already dreading this conversation because he knows Chan won’t be able to live this part down, “I kind of hid behind the giant columns and watched her from afar. And then I kind of followed her around the gallery. Kind of.”
Chan bursts out into laughter again, the sound so loud that it had him wincing as he pulled the phone away from his ear. “Hyunjin… you fucking idiot! Please tell me you did not just stalk this poor girl in a contemporary art gallery.”
“I panicked!” He defends himself, poorly, might he add, as the laughter on the other end only seems to be getting much worse, “I’m not good at this shit, okay?! She was looking at art so prettily! That’s intimidating!”
“That’s the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said.”
Hyunjin falls back onto the pillows behind his head with a loud groan, “I think something is deeply wrong with me.”
“Yeah,” Chan agrees quickly through another chuckle, causing him to glare at the screen, because why is he agreeing with him? “We established that years ago, unfortunately.”
Despite himself, Hyunjin laughs weakly, his eyes trailing over towards the rain-streaked windows. Part of him had always secretly wondered whether she carried their ending around the same way he did. Maybe she didn’t—maybe she healed properly while he kept romanizing unfinished things.
I guess he’d never know that because he couldn’t bring himself to go talk to her.
“She looked really good,” He admits quietly, watching the rain patter softly against the window, “She looked… so pretty. Just like I always remembered.”
Chan hums knowingly, “You’re an idiot. And you’re screwed.”
“I know.”
He listens to the rain for another second before a thought suddenly comes to mind. He sits up immediately, “Wait.”
Chan sounds suspicious already, “What?”
“You still talk to Kat.”
He’s quiet on the line, and Hyunjin hates how he can feel his heart beating even louder against his chest. “I do,” He drawls the word out, already seeming to know where this is going.
“Ask her if Y/N’s in Italy.”
More silence. And then—
“Oh my god.”
He’s laughing again, and Hyunjin grunts into the phone in annoyance, running another hand through his hair, “Chan, I’m serious! Text her right now and ask her if she’s in Italy.”
“Hyun, you do realize how insane you’re acting right now, right?” Chan chuckles in disbelief, “You haven’t seen this girl in four years and now you’re spiraling in an Italian luxury hotel because you think you saw her admiring paintings. You sound lovesick.”
Hyunjin presses both hands over his eyes, “Hyung, please. When do I ever ask you for favors?”
“All the fucking time, actually.”
“Please!”
Chan sighs dramatically over the line, “Fine. This is humiliating for you, you know that?”
“I know.”
“You could’ve just spoken to her and not stalked her like a fucking creep.”
“I know,” He swallows thickly, “You don’t understand.”
“No, I understand perfectly, actually. You’re terrified.”
That shuts Hyunjin up instantly. Because unfortunately, it’s true.
He’s terrified of rejection. He’s terrified of indifference. He’s terrified of discovering he’s carried this thing around for years only to realize she let it go completely.
And where would that lead him?
Chan sighs again after a few moments, “I’m texting her right now, okay?”
Relief floods through him embarrassingly fast, “You’re the best, Channie baby.”
“Ew, don’t call me that.”
Hyunjin laughs quietly, a giddy feeling rising in his body once he hears Chan typing on his phone over the line. He’s 99.9% sure she was Y/N, but having a verbal confirmation from her best friend would just be the icing on top of the fucking cake. If he gets confirmation that she’s actually in Italy, maybe he won’t feel so insane about it.
Another idea hits him all of a sudden, and he’s putting Chan on speaker before swiping out of the call, his fingers working fast to click on the Instagram app. He’s clicking on the search bar before he can think any better of it, typing in a username that he remembers from years ago when he first found her account, only hoping she didn’t change it.
His eyes light up instantly once he realizes she didn’t. And then he’s clicking on her profile.
“What are you doing?” Chan’s voice startles him for a second.
“Nothing.” He replies quickly, guiltily. His eyes widen once he sees her first post, and he wastes no time in clicking on the picture so he can see it better.
He heart falls into his ass once he sees it.
“Oh shit,” He breaths out, gawking at her most recent photo from a day ago. It’s a thread, a collection of ten pictures, the first picture being of her smiling in front of Brunelleschi’s Duomo.
“Oh, shit,” He says again, because what else can he say?
“Oh my god,” Chan says knowingly, “Are you stalking her right now? Seriously?”
“It’s public information,” He defends himself weakly, swiping through the rest of the post. Pasta, wine, a picture of a stray cat resting on a bench, another selfie. He stares at that one a little longer, unable to stop himself.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful. His heart hurts.
“That’s exactly what stalkers say.” Chan’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and he ignores him, quickly exiting out of that post to glance at the rest of her profile.
Coffee shops, books, Kat, (lots of Kat), the gym, weddings, yet there’s no engagement posts or anything that hints that she has a significant other. He hates how relieved he is from that.
Something about seeing pieces of her life condensed quietly into photographs makes his chest ache. She kept existing this entire time, but somehow, he never let himself imagine it clearly.
He’s clicking on one of her highlight reels she posted titled “Italy 🇮🇹” before he can stop himself. And his heart is falling into his ass once again.
The first one is of a window from a coffee shop while the rain pours outside. The second is of a piece of artwork from a different gallery he didn’t recognize. And the third… the third is a mirror picture she took of herself, wearing the exact same outfit he just saw her in. Her coat wasn’t on, showing off her curves so perfectly, the dress hugging her just right. It looked so pretty against her skin, her smile sending shivers down his entire body.
Holy fuck.
“Holy shit,” He covers his mouth with his hand, the raining pouring down harder now.
“What now?”
“She’s here,” He strains out, his heartbeat climbing, “She is literally here. In Florence.”
“Yep, she is.” He replies, but before Hyunjin can ask what he means by that tone, his phone is binging with a text from Chan. It’s a screenshot of a string of texts. He opens it quickly.
Chan: Random question
Chan: Is Y/N in Italy rn?
Kat: why
Chan: Hyunjin thinks he saw her and now he’s acting mentally unstable
Kat: OH MY GOD
Kat: WAIT, ACTUALLY????
Chan: Yep. He hid behind a column, apparently. Embarrassing 😳
Hyunjin groans immediately, “Seriously?! Why would you tell her that?!”
“Because it was funny.”
“It was not! You’re evil!”
“I’m correct.”
Another screenshot comes through, and Hyunjin mentally prepares himself before he opens it.
Kat: she’s in florence, rn
Kat: she’s been going to art galleries all week too, lol
Chan: That is horrifyingly romantic
Kat: don’t encourage him
Hyunjin’s stomach flips again. He really could run into her again. The possibility alone sends nervous energy rushing through him immediately, but things are different now. Now, he’s older, more established, with more freedom to do what he pleases. For the first time in his career, choosing someone wouldn’t automatically be impossible. And somehow, the universe drops Y/N directly into Florence while he’s finally at a point in his life where he maybe can choose her properly.
The timing feels cruel. Or maybe hopeful. He genuinely can’t tell.
“You’re being quiet.”
Hyunjin stares at her profile again, “I’m just… processing. I can’t believe she’s actually here.”
“Yeah,” Chan hums in response, “Kat said she’s there for another week.”
Hyunjin blinks, “Another week?”
He hears Chan curse silently over the line, and his eyes narrow, “It seems you know entirely too much information.”
“I do not.” His response is quick.
“You literally know her travel itinerary.”
“Okay, now that’s a little dramatic. Let’s simmer down.”
Hyunjin lets out a quiet scoff, pointing at the phone accusingly, “You and Kat are scheming, aren’t you?”
“We are absolutely not.” Again, another quick reply.
“I think you’re full of shit. Shitty shit shit.”
Chan sighs dramatically, and Hyunjin can just see his eyes rolling, “Ooookay. Maybe Kat mentioned she was doing a solo trip to Italy months ago.”
“Months ago,” He repeats the words, nodding his head slowly, “And then, somehow, I end up in Italy at the same exact time?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Hyunjin flops backward onto the bed, groaning dramatically, “I hate all of you. Especially you.”
“No you don’t.”
Unfortunately, that’s true.
His phone pings again with yet another screenshot. He sighs, knowing he’s about to be embarrassed again, but opening it anyway.
Kat: wait, does he like her???
Chan: Catastrophically so
Kat: omg I KNEW IT
Chan: He’s currently staring at her Instagram profile in silence like a widow in a period drama
Kat: don’t let him scare her, omg
Chan: Too late, he already hid behind a column
“You are unbelievable!” Hyunjin chokes out, completely mortified.
This is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet, underneath all the teasing and embarrassment and panic, hope starts blooming somewhere dangerous inside him. For the first time in years, Y/N doesn’t feel unreachable anymore, and he wants nothing more than to finally grab ahold of her.
His thumb hovers over the message button on her profile. He hesitates for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. The rain falls even harder outside, and he’s distracted by the sound for a split second before his thumb inches closer.
“Chan?”
“Yeah?” His reply is instant. He hesitates again, but only for a second.
“If I message her right now… is that insane?”
“Maybe,” He replies after a few seconds, and Hyunjin swallows thickly, “Do you want my actual opinion?”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer. The silence is answer enough.
“You’re in Italy to take a break from everything. You’re there to do things you enjoy, escape reality for a bit, clear your head, rest. You’re there to take care of yourself,” He speaks slowly, softly. The room grows very still around him, save for the relaxing sound of the rain that’s doing very little in quieting down his head right now.
Hyunjin swallows thickly, his eyes focused on Y/N’s smiling face illuminating quietly on his phone screen, his thumb still hovering.
“But, I think if you leave Italy without trying to talk to her, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You wanted to choose her years ago,” Chan exhales softly through the speaker, his fingers twitching in front of him, “And now, nobody’s stopping you except for yourself.”
The bathwater has gone lukewarm, but Y/N still doesn’t move.
Florence at night still feels like it’s holding its breath outside her hotel window. The rain is still tapping lightly against the glass, pulling her more into a euphoric calm that she’s been longing to experience for a while now. It’s quieter than New York in a way that almost feels wrong, like the world forgot to keep moving.
Three days ago, she arrived in Italy alone. Normally traveling alone in a foreign country would terrify her, but Italy has always been on her bucket list and she was in desperate need of a long break. And by long break, she means an entire summer off she barely knew how to use in the first place—an entire summer off from fluorescent ceilings, trauma alerts, and the constant low hum of the ER.
She had told herself this trip was about rest, but rest is a loose concept when your entire nervous system has been wired to anticipate chaos. Even now, immersed in bath water with a shit ton of lavender scented bubbles, her body still feels half-alert, like she’s just waiting on someone to call another code. Yet, instead, the only thing calling her right now is her memory.
And Hyunjin. Of course.
Y/N lets out a sigh, leaning her head back against the porcelain behind her. She hadn’t meant to think about him this much in Florence, but museums do that to her. There’s just too much beauty in one place, and it all leads back to him.
Earlier today, she stood in front of a Renaissance painting for an uncomfortably long time. Not because she was trying to understand the meaning behind the painting, but because it made her think of him. She could picture him standing there, his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, his head tilted to the side as he studied every single detail. She knew he loved art, and he loved to create his own. And every time he would post one of his works on social media, it had her heart warming instantly.
He was so talented, in every way, shape, and form.
At first, she used to look forward to his posts, even having her notifications on so it would alert her whenever he posted. Seems excessive and a little stalker ish, she knows, but she was holding on to every little thing about him, desperate to connect with him, in some way. Even if that was through his artwork he posted on social media for millions of people to see.
She admits she did that for a few months before convincing herself that it was unhealthy behavior. Constantly pinning after an idol who was completely unattainable was unhealthy behavior. And she had to stop it before she buried herself deep into a flunk she’d never get out of.
She stopped listening to Stray Kids. She stopped outwardly supporting them. She stopped following them on all social media, and even canceled her Bubble subscription. It was all just a constant reminder of what she had with him, which was one, insignificant night where she came around his cock twice and then laid in bed with him afterwards like it meant everything.
And it did mean everything. It still means everything, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself otherwise. That was the problem with Hyunjin. He made everything feel like it mattered more than it should—even silence, even absence.
Y/N shifts slightly in the bath, staring at the condensation slowly sliding down the glass. It’s been four years since that night she spent with him, four years since Hyunjin became real and not a fantasy version of a man she projected meaning onto—just him.
She still remembers thinking this can’t actually be happening. Even now, she can’t believe it had actually happened. Because even then, she had been a fan, a Stay—the kind that knew too many music video details and had once argued online about dance formations like it mattered personally.
Hyunjin had been her ult bias. The word feels childish now, but it was true then. She had known his face before she knew his voice, known his stage presence before she knew how softly he spoke when he wasn’t performing. And then somehow, he had ended up in her world, in her bed, fucking her like he owned her just to tell her he couldn’t choose her.
She didn’t expect him to. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t want him to.
Y/N closes her eyes in the bath, sighing softly. It had messed with her for a while, but she eventually moved on, where she learned to separate emotion from action so effectively that sometimes she worries she might never fully turn it off.
It worked, mostly, but the human brain is not a system that respects change. Hyunjin didn’t stay in the past like she expected him to. He stayed in the quiet moments between shifts, on nights when she got home too late and the apartment felt too big, on subway rides when she had nothing else to think about, and stupidly enough, when someone in passing mentioned k-pop.
That’s when it came back. And even now, lying in a bubble bath in Italy, she finds herself thinking about him again.
Her phone buzzing on the toilet seat beside her makes her jump, knocking her out of her thoughts. She wipes her hands off with the towel hanging up beside her before leaning over, seeing that Kat was currently calling her. She smiles, answering the call and putting it on speakerphone before slouching back into the bathtub.
“Hey.”
“There she is!” Kat’s voice booms through the phone, always so bright and cheery, “My Italian girl. Professional eater of pastries.”
“I had one pastry today,” She rolls her eyes, shifting a little in the bath, the water sloshing around her lightly.
“Yeah, key word, today. Tomorrow you’ll probably have about five more.”
“I think you’re just jealous that you’re not getting any.”
“Very true,” She sighs. Y/N laughs softly, sinking deeper into the bath, the back of her head getting wet. “How are you doing, my girl?”
“Hm, kind of tired right now,” She admits softly, running her hands against her thighs, moving the bubbles around, “I walked like 20k steps today. My feet hurt so fucking bad.”
“I’m so glad I’m not there to massage them for you. Can’t bribe me with Taco Bell tonight.”
“I could fuck up ten cheesy roll-ups right now.”
Kat laughs, and Y/N lets herself relax into the sound, twirling the bubbles around with her fingers. It’s quiet for a second after that, but the silence is comfortable. It’s always comfortable with her. Kat is one of the few people who still makes her feel like her life isn’t split into before and after versions—even if she’s always known too much, even if she’s always been suspiciously good at reading between lines Y/N never explicitly drew.
“Sooo,” She drawls out suddenly, her tone shifting just slightly. Y/N’s body reacts before her brain does, and she narrows her eyes at the phone still sitting on the toilet seat. That tone is never good.
“No.” Y/N says immediately.
“I didn’t even say anything yet!” She quickly defends herself.
“You didn’t have to.”
Kat laughs in disbelief, “You always do that thing where you act like you can predict my thoughts.”
“Because I can.”
Kat sighs on the phone, and Y/N knows that’s whatever is about to come out of her mouth isn’t going to be good. “I’ve been texting Chan today,” She finally admits, and Y/N stills slightly.
“Ooookay,” She replies, a little confused as to why she’s telling her that, “You talk to him most days. Why are you telling me that?”
It’s quiet again, uncomfortable, this time. Too uncomfortable. She’s about to ask the same question again when Kat’s voice stops her.
“He mentioned something interesting.”
She tenses up even more, goosebumps forming on the back of her neck despite the warm water surrounding her, “Okay. That’s super vague and I don’t like it.” She hates it, actually.
“He’s in Europe.” She blurts out suddenly.
“Who?” Y/N asks, still confused and slightly on edge, because why is she making this so dramatic? “Chan? Why are you telling me this, Kat?”
“No, not Chan. Hyunjin.”
She blinks, wondering where this conversation is headed, “Okay. That’s nice for him. Europe’s big, you know?”
“I know geography, thank you very much,” Kat scoffs in fake annoyance, “He’s in Italy. Hyunjin is in Italy.”
Y/N sits up completely in the bath now, the bubbles falling down her chest. Her heart felt like it was about shoot right out of her chest. Hyunjin is in Italy? At the same time that she is?
Kat has known everything without technically knowing anything for four straight years, which is honestly terrifying. Y/N had never explicitly said that her and Hyunjin had hooked up, partly because of the NDA, but mostly because whatever existed between them had always felt strangely sacred, like exposing too much would ruin it completely. But Kat had figured it out anyway, probably because Y/N had cried over one man exactly once in her entire life.
And unfortunately, it was very obvious which man that was.
“And?” She squeaks out, trying to appear unaffected when she’s anything but.
“And nothing,” Kat replies lightly, but there’s something underneath it now, “It’s just… very interesting timing, is all.”
“This is ridiculous,” Y/N laughs out lightly, shaking her head as she forced herself to relax back into the bath.
“Sure.”
“I’m not going to run into him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Sure.”
“Kat.” She calls her name, an edge to her voice. Her phone suddenly goes off again, and she sighs, leaning over to glance at the screen, fully expecting Kat to be screenshotting her a thread of texts or an article about it or something.
Her entire body goes rigid once her eyes land on the notification displayed across her lock screen.
Instagram. DM request. From hynjinnnn.
For a second, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s imagining it. That exhaustion just finally caught up to her in Italy and her brain decided to hallucinate the one person capable of psychologically ruining her from a whole other continent.
Kat’s still talking through the speaker on her phone, but Y/N isn’t comprehending anything she’s saying, hurriedly clicking on the notification and going straight to his profile, just to confirm it’s actually him.
It is. Of course it is. And somehow, it makes this ten times worse.
Her thumb hovers over the request, then she presses accept before she can overthink it too much. The first message loads instantly.
hyunjin: Hi.
It was simple, too simple. Y/N blinks at the message, once, twice, and then there’s more popping up almost immediately.
hyunjin: This is either a terrible idea or fate, and I genuinely can’t tell
hyunjin: I think I saw you at the Uffizi earlier today. And if it was really you… I don’t think I can pretend this never happened anymore
Omg just had a thought, what if you did a Drabble where y/n is the famous one and Hyunjin is the fanboy? Either for How he sees me or You in Me, or even just a stand alone! I thought that would be a pretty cool concept
oh, i love that! i don’t think it would fit in the storyline in either of those, (unless howheseesme!hyun & y/n do some role playing, which is something they’d do lol), but i’d be down to write a oneshot like that! i’ll keep it in mind for you!!
