[ undercover ] taesan x f!reader | 3.7k words strangers to lovers, idol x idol, reader is in new jeans!
note. i promise after the next two chapters yall will love me again hopefully and the plot will be sooooo much better after i get out this slump omg. not proofread!
copyright of taetaewonwon © All Rights Reserved
You’re definitely in trouble with your team right now, and there’s no way to sugarcoat it otherwise. At first, it felt like something you could manage, like you could stretch the truth just enough to buy yourself time, but now it’s becoming something bigger than that.
You feel it in the way your manager texts you, in the way the tone has shifted from concern to quiet frustration, and in the way your members look at you when you do happen to interact with them.
You feel guilty for putting them in this position.
Well… like putting everyone through this.
But at the same time, you can’t bring yourself to fix it.
They haven’t said it directly to you yet, but it’s obvious where this is heading. You’re being pushed closer and closer to a hiatus. It’s not official, yet, but the signs are there. The warnings are subtle, wrapped in careful wording, you’re not stupid.
You know what they mean when they tell you to “take care of yourself” and “come back soon.” You know what it means when they start adjusting schedules without you in mind.
You’re trying to avoid that outcome.
But trying and actually doing something about it feel like two completely different things right now.
They’ve given you a small window, whether everyone realizes it or not. You can feel it in the way they keep telling you to come back, in the way they haven’t made anything official yet. You know you probably have about a week left to get your shit together before they stop waiting for you.
Before they start treating you like you’re weren’t even part of the group.
That thought alone should be enough to scare you into getting up and going to practice with the girls.
It should be enough to snap you out of whatever this is.
After the conversation with Minji and Hanni, you didn’t go back to normal. You didn’t suddenly gain clarity or motivation. If anything, it made everything feel worse. Instead of sitting in the dorm with them, surrounded by people who could see right through you, you made the decision to leave.
You went back to your parents’ house.
You didn’t explain anything when you got there. You didn’t sit them down and talk about what’s been happening or why you suddenly showed up randomly when you should be working. You just walked in, greeted them like it was a normal visit, and went straight to your old room.
But now you’ve been staying there for a couple days.
Being there lets you exist without having to explain yourself. Your parents notice things, that should be expected, but they don’t push in the same way your members or your company would. There’s a different kind of space here, one that lets you sit in your emotions without constantly being questioned about them.
You don’t want to admit it, but you’ve kind of allowed yourself to sink into it.
There’s something almost comforting about staying in that low, quiet state where nothing is expected from you. You don’t have to perform, you don’t have to do certain things, and you don’t have to pretend everything is okay when it clearly isn’t.
Taesan on the other hand…
Hey!.. Hope you didn't forget about him.
He hasn’t stopped trying with you.
He’s still texting you, still checking in, still trying to clear the air between the two of you. His texts aren’t overwhelming or aggressive, but they’re consistent enough that you can’t ignore what he’s trying to do.
And somehow, that makes everything worse.
Because you don’t even bother to reply to him. You can’t push yourself to.
Every notification with his name on it makes your chest tighten just a little more. It reminds you of the conversation you’ve been trying to forget, how the random confession changed the whole vibe, and the way things shifted between you in seconds.
You tell yourself it’s better to not respond.
Because if you respond, you’ll have to face him. You’ll have to either comfort him, reject him again, or try to pretend nothing happened. None of those options feel right, so you choose the only one that lets you avoid all of them.
Before coming here, you had already spent a week in the dorm doing the same thing in a different setting. You stayed in your room almost 24/7, only leaving when you absolutely had to.
You avoided most areas, timed your movements so you wouldn’t run into the other girls, and kept your door locked more often than you thought.
You didn’t want to bring any of your negative energy towards the girls. That’s why you told the company you weren’t feeling well, and technically that wasn’t a complete lie.
You just didn’t explain that it wasn’t physical.
You hated the idea of dragging your mood down around the others. They have their own schedules, their own stress, their own things to deal with. The last thing you wanted was to become another weight they had to carry.
So you removed yourself instead.
Now you’re here, doing the same thing in a different place. Dragging the aroma out at home.
Your old room feels smaller than you remember, but it’s also more familiar. It’s filled with pieces of your past that haven’t changed, little reminders of you that you used to hate as a kid but now is all you could’ve wished for.
You’re lying on your bed, staring at the wall full od posters, your thoughts running in circles with no clear direction.
Right next to your room, you can hear your brother getting ready for school. The sound of drawers opening and closing, footsteps moving back and forth, the occasional muffled voice—it all blends into a kind of background noise that makes the house feel alive.
You’re completely separate from it.
While he’s getting ready to go out and start his day, you’re stuck here, unable to even figure out how to deal with yours.
Maybe its bad karma or something..?
Your mind drifts again, circling back to everything that’s been happening with you.
Everything feels tangled together in a way you can’t figure out.
You let out a quiet breath, bringing a hand up to rest over your eyes.
Why is everything happening at once?
It’s like the moment you start dealing with one thing, something else piles on top of it. There’s no space for you to breathe, no moment where things feel stable enough for you to catch up.
Maybe it’s just bad timing.
A small, bitter thought crosses your mind about it.
You don’t even know what you would have possibly done to deserve this, but the idea still lingers. Like somehow all the things you’ve been avoiding dealing with are catching up to you at the same time, forcing you to face them whether you want to or not.
You don’t have the energy to unpack that thought any further.
Your parents haven't left you completely alone either. They don’t know what happened since the last time they saw you, but they always know when something is off.
Over the past few days, they’ve been gently pushing you to do things, suggesting you go out, spend time with them, or at least get out of your room for a while.
You know they mean well, they’re just trying to help.
But right now, it just irritates you.
You don’t feel like doing anything.
You don’t feel like pretending to be okay just to make them feel less worried about you. You don’t even feel like forcing yourself into conversations or activities when your mind is somewhere else entirely.
You just want to be left alone.
At the same time, there’s a small part of you that watches them move around the house, going about their normal routines.
You watch them live their lives while you stay stuck in this loop, replaying your mistakes and overthinking every decision you’ve made recently. You think about what you could have done differently, what you should have said, what you should have handled better.
It doesn’t lead anywhere.
It just keeps you in the same place.
Eventually, you’ll have to go back.
You’ll have to face everyone, your company, and things you’ve been avoiding.
You’ll have to decide what to do about Taesan soon.
You’ll have to figure out how to move forward without letting all of this hold you back.
But right now, you’re not there yet.
Right now, you’re just lying in your old bed, letting the weight of everything settle over you, trying to make sense of emotions that don’t feel clear or simple.
You just want to watch them live their lives while you think about your horrible actions and then finally be able to go back to being an idol.
Even if your room is pitch quiet right now, you can hear your parents' voices outside the door, and the sound alone is enough to make your body tense slightly under the blankets.
Your mom isn’t trying to be loud, but she doesn’t have to be. You recognize the rhythm of her voice, how she talks when she’s thinking about something, and right now they’re both clearly thinking about you.
Out of instinct, you shut your eyes and shift slightly, trying to make it look like you’re asleep.
You don’t really feel like being bothered right now.
You hear the door creak open gently, followed by her footsteps as she walks inside your room. The air in the room shifts, the quiet is no longer yours alone, and you try your best to stop yourself from sighing.
“Keiko?” she calls softly, stepping closer. “Wake up, please...”
You don’t respond right away, thinking on rather responding or stay put.
Finally, you let out a small, incoherent mumble, something that doesn’t form actual words, hoping it’ll be enough to convince her you’re still half asleep.
“What?” she asks, clearly not buying it.
You shift again, pulling the blanket up slightly as you force your voice to sound heavier, slower.
“I’m not ready to get up,” you repeat, this time just clear and slow enough for her to understand.
She sits down on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight, and you feel her presence more than anything else.
“You have to do something today other than shower, sleep, and eat,” she says, her tone gentle but firm as her hand comes up to rub your back. “You left your phone in the kitchen two days ago and haven’t even gone to get it.”
At that, your eyes almost open on instinct, but you keep them shut, focusing on staying still.
“I don’t need it,” you respond quickly, your voice muffled slightly by the pillow.
“You do,” she replies without hesitation.
You shake your head, turning your body slightly away from her as if that alone could end the conversation.
“I’m still tired, momma,” you groan, dragging out the words in an attempt to sound more convincing.
There’s a small pause, and you can practically feel her watching you, trying to decide how much she wants to push.
“Well,” she starts after a moment, her hand still moving gently through your hair, “I want you to do some errands today.”
That makes you open your eyes slightly, though you don’t fully turn to face her yet.
“Errands?” you repeat, your voice still thick with reluctance.
“Yes,” she says simply. “You’ve been in this room for a few days. I’m not asking for anything crazy, but you need to get up and do something.”
You let out a quiet breath, staring at the wall for a second as you think.
The idea of leaving the house, even for something small, slight chance of being notice, it all feels exhausting. It’s not even about the effort itself; it’s the thought of interacting with the outside world, of having to exist in a space that isn’t your room.
Your brain immediately starts searching for the easiest way out.
Something you can convince yourself to do, without your mom trying to do to much.
“The only thing I’m possibly able to do is everyone’s laundry,” you say, your tone flat but honest.
You expect her to tell you that doesn’t count, that it’s not enough, that she wants you to actually leave the house and do something productive.
You finally turn your head slightly, peeking at her.
You can see it in the way her brows pull together just a little, in the way her hand pauses in your hair as she considers your offer.
“Okay,” she says after a moment. “Fine.”
Your eyes open fully at that.
You push yourself up suddenly, the blanket falling around your waist as you stare at her in surprise.
“Wait,” you say, your voice sharper now. “I didn’t think you’d agree to that.”
She gives you a small look, one that’s not quite amused but not entirely serious either.
“You said it,” she replies. “I expect everything done by five p.m.”
You blink, processing that.
Especially for three people and a couple of your clothes. Alongside forcing yourself to get out of bed.
“Seven p.m.?” you try, your voice shifting slightly as you attempt to negotiate.
She doesn’t even think to hesitate.
“Six-thirty,” she counters.
You narrow your eyes slightly, pretending to think it over even though you already know you’re going to agree. It’s not like you have much leverage here, and honestly, this is probably the easiest task she could have let slide.
“Fine,” you say after a second. “Six-thirty.”
She nods, satisfied, and pats your shoulder lightly before standing up.
“Good,” she says. “I’ll expect it done by the time dinner is.”
You watch as she walks toward the door, the quiet of the room slowly returning as she leaves. The door clicks shut behind her, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring ahead.
You didn’t expect that to work.
Out of everything she could have asked you to do, laundry feels almost too manageable. It doesn’t require you to leave the house, doesn’t force you to interact with anyone, and doesn’t demand anything from you other than basic effort.
You let out a small breath, running a hand through your hair as you shift your legs over the side of the bed.
It’s not like it fixes anything, but at least it’s something.
Something small enough that it doesn’t feel overwhelming, but still enough to make it seem like you’re doing something with your day.
For the first time in a while, you don’t immediately lie back down.
Instead, you sit there for a moment longer, letting the quiet settle around you again, before finally pushing yourself up to your feet.
You finally finished washing and drying everyone’s laundry, and the entire process took longer than you expected. It wasn’t even that there was an overwhelming amount to do, but you dragged it out without realizing, moving slower than usual and letting your thoughts wander in between each step. Sorting, loading, switching, drying—it all blended together into something mindless, something you could focus on without actually thinking too deeply about anything else.
Now everything is clean, piled neatly in baskets around you, waiting to be folded.
You sit on the floor of your old room with one of the baskets pulled close, a random shirt already in your hands, but instead of starting, you pause.
It’s been sitting untouched for days.
The fact that you left it in the kitchen for that long says more about your state of mind than anything else. You didn’t even feel the need to check it, didn’t feel curious about notifications or messages or anything happening outside of your immediate space.
And somehow your phone isn’t dead.
But it doesn’t matter, now that the laundry is almost done and you’ve fulfilled at least one responsibility for the day, you reach over and grab it.
The screen lights up instantly, and the flood of notifications is exactly what you expected.
Messages from your manager, your members.
A couple from apps you haven’t opened in days.
And then one name that makes your stomach tighten just a little.
You don’t open his messages.
Instead, your eyes shift to something else.
You blink, surprised you didn’t notice them earlier, but then again, you haven’t been paying attention to anything. There are a few missed calls stacked together, all from her, all from earlier.
For a moment, you just stare at the screen.
Then you sigh quietly and tap her contact, bringing the phone up to your ear.
She answers on the first ring.
“Hi…” you say, your voice softer than usual. “Sorry I missed your call.”
“It’s fine,” she replies easily. “I was just checking up on you.”
You frown slightly, shifting your attention back to the laundry as you pick up a shirt and start folding it absentmindedly.
“How come?” you ask, genuinely confused.
There’s a small pause on the other end.
“Minji told me some things…” she says, her tone careful. “And I felt like you needed my warmth.”
“…What… the… fuck?” you say slowly, pulling the phone away from your ear as if that somehow helps you process what she just said.
You place it on speaker and set it down next to you, staring at it like it personally offended you.
“Sorry,” she adds quickly, though she doesn’t sound that apologetic.
You run a hand over your face, letting out a tired breath.
“I just have so much going on right now, Ning,” you say, your voice strained. “I just can’t be okay with your ‘warmth’ right now.”
“I get that,” she replies, her tone softening slightly. “But do you want to, like… explain?”
Your hands hover over the pile of clothes in front of you, and for a second, you consider brushing it off the same way you’ve brushed everything else off lately.
But something about her voice makes it harder to shut it down completely.
You pick up the shirt again, folding it more slowly this time.
“It’s just… everything,” you start, not sounding very convincing.
She hums quietly, waiting.
“I’m just being pushed iver the edge a bit.”
You let out a small, humorless laugh.
“Okay, ouch,” you say, leaning back slightly against the side of your bed. “Taesan confessed to me that he likes me.”
“Wait,” she says. “Taesan as in Boynextdoor? The boy you were help training?”
“Yes, Ning, I don’t know any other Taesan,” you reply flatly.
“And you sound like that about it?” she questions.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you don’t sound happy. Or flustered. Or anything remotely close to someone who just got confessed to,” she explains.
“Because I’m not…” you say.
“Damn,” she mutters under her breath. “Okay… continue.”
You pick at a loose thread on the shirt before setting it aside and grabbing another piece of clothing.
“It was bad timing,” you explain. “Like really bad timing. I was already crying to him about Jungwon, and then he just… said it.”
“Hold on,” she cuts in. “You were crying about Jungwon? Recently?”
“And then Taesan confessed right after that?”
There’s a longer pause this time.
“Okay… yeah, that’s kind of intense,” she admits.
“Right?” you say, your voice lifting slightly in validation. “I didn’t even know how to react. Everything just felt wrong in that moment.”
“But do you like him?” she asks.
You hesitate again, your hands slowing.
“I don’t think so,” you say carefully.
“It’s either you do or you don’t?” she presses.
“I don’t,” you answer, more firmly this time. “I told him I didn’t feel the same.”
“And now you’re avoiding him,” she guesses.
“Have you talked to him since?”
“Has he tried to talk to you?”
“And you’re ignoring him.”
You wince slightly at how blunt that sounds when she says it out loud.
“When you put it like that, it sounds worse then what I though,” you mutter.
“It is worse,” she replies. “You’re kind of ghosting him after rejecting him.”
“I’m not ghosting him,” you argue weakly. “I just… don’t know what to say.”
“Then say that,” she suggests.
“It’s not that easy for me,” you sigh. “Everything is already awkward. I don’t even know if we can go back to how things were before.”
There’s a small pause before she speaks again, her tone softer now.
“Do you want to go back to how things were before?”
You don’t answer immediately.
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly.
“Then that’s your real problem,” she says. “You don’t know anything.”
You frown slightly, looking down at the pile of laundry that still needs to be folded.
“You’re not just avoiding him because he confessed,” she explains. “You’re avoiding him because you don’t know what you want anymore.”
Her words settle heavily in your chest.
You don’t respond right away.
Instead, you pick up another shirt, folding it more carefully this time, like focusing on the movement will somehow help you process what she just said.
“I hate that you’re making sense right now,” you mumble.
You shake your head slightly, even though she can’t see it.
“Everything just feels messed up,” you admit. “My schedule, my members, him… even Jungwon somehow still being relevant. It’s like nothing is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Shit happens,” she says simply.
“Yeah, but it’s happening all at once,” you reply.
There’s a brief silence, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.
“You don’t have to figure everything out today,” she says. “But you can’t keep avoiding everything either.”
You sigh, leaning your head back slightly.
You glance at your phone for a second, then back at the laundry.
There’s still a lot left to fold.
“I’ll think about it,” you add quietly.
“Good,” she says. “That’s all I’m asking.”
You nod to yourself, even though she can’t see it, and reach for another piece of clothing.
You don’t have answers yet, but at least you’re starting to face the questions instead of running from them.
ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ - ɴᴇxᴛ
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