✩ˎˊ˗ under the same stars ( sjy ! ) — part 1
✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist
⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader
⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 22.6k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !
⤷ a/n — hi my loves ! i’m so sorry this one took a little longer than expected—university has been keeping me on my toes. but here it is at last !! safe to say i carefully planned out how this was going to unfold, and i’m so excited to finally share it with you. sit back, enjoy, and let me know your thoughts after 🫶
⤷ warnings — college au, college!enhypen, physics major!jake, literature major!reader, rich!jake, rich!reader, neighbors au, strangers to reluctant friends to lovers, slow burn, lots of tension, golden boy!jake, smart!jake, kinda guarded!reader, smart!reader, forced interactions, emotional walls, soft gestures, reader pretending not to care (but does), jake’s quiet persistence, sunoo is the best wingman, slow-blooming trust, reader is stubborn but secretly vulnerable, casual intimacy, hard-earned love, fluff, long narrations, mentions of other parts from this series
✩ˎˊ˗ summary — you’ve never been the type to chase the noise. deciding early on that parties, people, and popularity were things better left outside your apartment door, you built a quiet life in the middle of the chaos that was decelis university. but across thin walls and late nights, you start to notice the boy whose music seeps through your walls, whose laughter echoes from the next balcony over, whose shadow you’ve memorized under moonlight—sim jaeyun, the university’s golden physics major with a reputation that stretches far beyond the quiet hallway you share. you never wanted to be involved. but he smiles at you like you placed the stars he’s been trying to understand his whole life. or, where a shared silence between two strangers becomes something that feels a lot like home.
The bass thumped again—low, insistent, and absolutely not part of the playlist you had playing on your laptop.
A groan slipped out before you could stop it, your fingers pausing mid-sentence on the keyboard.
You leaned back into the velvet cushions of your couch, glaring at the wall behind your mounted TV like it personally offended you.
It wasn’t just the music anymore. Laughter, muffled voices, and the occasional cheer came through the thin plaster like some cruel soundtrack to your solitude.
Your eyes flicked toward the digital clock on the console, its red numbers glowing mockingly: 1:07 a.m.
“Perfect,” you muttered, dragging your hand over your face.
The night breeze slipped in from the balcony, tugging at the sheer curtains that framed the wide glass doors. You let your gaze drift out to the city—the glittering skyline, cars weaving like veins of light far below. From up here, the chaos almost looked beautiful. Almost. If only you didn’t have to deal with the chaos bleeding through your walls.
You dropped your eyes back to your screen. The pristine, blank document stared back. No words. No progress. Just the soft hum of your frustration.
“Big apartment,” you mumbled bitterly, tapping your pen against the glass coffee table. “But thin-ass walls. Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Another wave of cheers rolled through the wall. You froze, then hissed under your breath. “Do they think they’re hosting Coachella in there?”
You sighed, leaning back into the plush couch cushions, your eyes rolling toward the ceiling. The blank document on your laptop glared at you accusingly, cursor blinking like it was mocking your every attempt at productivity.
Another round of noise broke through the wall—this time, a chorus of “Chug, chug, chug!”
You groaned and muttered, “I swear to God…” before putting your laptop down with a little too much force.
Grabbing your empty mug off the coffee table, you pushed yourself to your feet and padded toward the kitchen. The marble floors were cool under your slippers, each soft step echoing in the pristine stillness of your apartment.
From the kitchen island, you caught the view of your living room—velvet couches, stacked books, muted lamps, the balcony curtains flowing with the night breeze. Quiet. Tasteful. Controlled.
A sharp laugh tore through the walls again, and you couldn’t help the sarcastic chuckle that slipped from your lips. The difference between your place and the chaos bleeding through the plaster couldn’t have been clearer. Your sanctuary versus their circus.
You placed the mug beneath your espresso machine, pressing the button with more irritation than necessary.
“This is gonna be a long night,” you muttered under your breath.
Your gaze flicked back to the kitchen counter, where your laptop sat open, the screen still glowing faintly.
Across the top of the blank page, bold letters stared back at you: ‘Poetry – Midterm Submission.’
You exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. “Of course. The one night I decide to actually finish this, somebody next door decides they’re the main event.”
The espresso poured slowly, filling the silence of your own apartment with soft hisses and drips.
You knew your neighbors were students too—Decelis University practically owned half the apartment complex—but you never bothered putting names to faces.
Whoever lived on the other side of that wall might’ve been popular, or just another person who thrived off noise. It didn’t matter. You’d built your life specifically to keep people like that at arm’s length.
The steady thrum of bass morphed into something louder, heavier. This time you couldn’t stop the frown that etched itself onto your face.
Your gaze darted back to the digital clock on the console table. Seven minutes. Seven whole minutes had passed.
You groaned, pressing the heel of your palm to your temple as if it would block out the sound, then trudged back toward the couch.
“I’m gonna fucking kill my neighbor,” you muttered, dropping back into the cushions with a dramatic huff.
The laptop sat where you’d left it, dark screen reflecting the faint glimmer of city lights that leaked through the curtains. You forced yourself to flip it open, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
Out of the corner of your eye, the balcony beckoned—the open glass doors framing the night sky, where the stars blinked like they were either mocking you or pitying you.
You couldn’t decide which.
“Great,” you mumbled under your breath, narrowing your eyes at the glittering expanse above. “Even the universe is in on it.”
With a begrudging sigh, you pulled your laptop onto your lap, its cool weight pressing against your thighs.
Your fingers began to move, the soft click of keys clashing against the pounding rhythm bleeding through the wall. You typed the first word. Then another. And another.
It wasn’t good—nothing felt good tonight—but you figured maybe, just maybe, drowning yourself in your own words could muffle out the ones bleeding from next door.
Still, under your breath, you couldn’t help but mutter, “If this ends up being a tragic poem about noise complaints and homicide, that’s on you, mystery neighbor.”
Before you knew it, the pounding bass had faded into nothing more than background noise.
Your fingers had slipped into rhythm, words spilling quicker than you realized, and by the time you blinked the sleepiness from your eyes, your surroundings had come back into focus.
You stared at the screen, heart skipping when you realized the once-blank page was now full. Every line, every stanza—done. A small laugh escaped your lips, relief dripping from your voice as you muttered, “Fucking finally.”
Sliding your laptop off your lap, you stood slowly, stretching your arms above your head until your spine gave a satisfying crack.
The night breeze from the open balcony called to you, and you wandered toward it, padding barefoot across the cool marble floors.
Out on the balcony, your gaze landed on the row of plants hanging limply by the railing—once vibrant, now clearly neglected.
Clicking your tongue, you leaned down, brushing a brittle leaf between your fingers.
“I really need to start visiting that flower shop near here,” you murmured to yourself, lips curving into the faintest smile at the thought.
Straightening, you leaned against the railing, humming softly as the cold wind brushed your skin.
Your eyes drifted right, almost lazily, and the first thing you noticed was the silence—the kind of silence you’d been craving all night—from the unit next door.
The second thing: a stack of red plastic cups piled neatly on a small table set against your neighbor’s balcony wall. Evidence of the chaos that had been bleeding into your apartment just an hour ago.
And the third was him.
A tall silhouette, broad shoulders bent slightly forward as he tried to balance a black trash bag in one hand. His hair swayed in the wind, catching the dim glow from the interior lights spilling out of his open balcony door.
“I really hate the cleaning part,” he muttered, voice faint but clear enough to reach you.
You scoffed before you could stop yourself.
Honestly, he had a lot of nerve—throwing a party loud enough to shake the walls and then complaining about the mess. But somehow, your small reaction, meant only for yourself, must’ve carried in the stillness.
Because suddenly, he looked up.
You froze, hand tightening slightly on the railing. You couldn’t make out his features, not fully—the light from his unit barely stretched past the doorway—but you felt the weight of his gaze lock onto you.
“Oh,” he said softly, almost startled.
You raised a brow, silent.
He winced, shoulders hitching in a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.”
You tilted your head, studying him for a beat before pushing yourself away from the railing. “Next time,” you said evenly, your tone calm but cutting, “consider the other people living near you.”
“I thought everyone from my floor was there,” he answered quickly, voice carrying that effortless charm of someone used to being forgiven.
You rolled your eyes, already turning away.
Without another word, you slipped back inside, hair swaying behind you as the night wind carried on, leaving him on the balcony alone.
He lowered the trash bag slowly, eyes still fixed on the spot where you’d just stood. A low hum rumbled in his chest, amusement tugging at his lips.
“Well… that’s new.”
For a moment, he simply leaned against the railing, gaze lingering on the glass doors that hid you from view.
“Nice to know my neighbor’s alive,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, softer, as though the wind might carry it to ears not meant to hear—
“And very pretty.”
Jake shook his head at himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips as if he couldn’t believe what had just slipped out.
He pushed off the railing, dragging his eyes away from your balcony before they could linger too long.
“Not the time for distractions, Jaeyun,” he muttered under his breath, fingers tightening around the black trash bag. “You need to clean up.”
The weight of it was heavy—half-empty beer cans clinking against each other, greasy takeout boxes stacked carelessly, the faint smell of pizza hanging in the air.
He grimaced, swinging it over his shoulder as he bent to grab another one from the floor.
“Physics problem sets, lab reports, cleaning up after twenty people,” he muttered as he tied the bag tightly, the knot sharp and precise. “Same difference.”
It was already late afternoon when your steps echoed down the vast hallways of the apartment complex.
The place always smelled faintly of lemon and whatever brand of disinfectant the staff doused the carpets with every hour. The scent was sharp, clinical, and suffocating, and it never failed to crease your nose in irritation.
Your eyes dropped to the familiar gray carpeting—flat, bland, unchanging.
After a year of living here, you’d memorized every pattern in the fibers, every tiny snag that hadn’t been replaced despite the building’s reputation for luxury maintenance.
A sigh slipped past your lips. For someone who wanted a break from the lavish lifestyle you grew up with, your first mistake had been choosing this building.
“Of course,” you mumbled bitterly.
Because who else would pick this place except for the other sons and daughters of conglomerates, names you recognized all too well from stiff business dinners and charity galas you had been dragged to since childhood.
Fishing your keycard from your bag, you swiped it against the digitized lock, muttering under your breath, “…And people wonder why I prefer the quiet lifestyle.”
The door beeped, sliding open with a mechanical click. The moment you stepped inside, your shoulders dropped, tension bleeding out of you.
The air smelled faintly of vanilla from the reed diffuser on your console table—a scent you’d chosen to smother the lemon tang that followed you from the hallway.
“Finally,” you exhaled, toeing off your shoes by the door.
You tossed your keys into the small ceramic dish on the entryway table, reaching for the slim remote for the air conditioner that rested beside it.
Dragging your tired feet across the floor, you collapsed onto the couch, letting the soft cushions cradle your aching muscles.
The weight of your tote bag slid off your shoulder and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
You exhaled, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before muttering, “I need a break.”
Of course, the universe had other plans.
The sudden buzz in your pocket snapped your eyes open, the vibration rattling against your leg. Groaning, you pulled your phone out and grimaced at the glowing notification on the screen.
“Creative paper due later at eleven p.m.,” you read aloud, voice dripping with disbelief.
You fought the sudden urge to pull your hair out, opting instead to toss your phone onto the couch beside you. It bounced against the cushion, the screen lighting up again with a string of unread emails you deliberately ignored.
With a reluctant sigh, you leaned down, grabbing your laptop from where it was stuffed carelessly into your discarded tote bag.
Flipping it open, you were immediately greeted by chaos—tabs upon tabs of online books, files, and reference materials staring back at you like ghosts of your own procrastination.
“Perfect,” you muttered under your breath, the word bitter.
You clicked open a new document, the bright white screen glaring back at you, blank and merciless. Fingers hovering over the keys, you hesitated, frown tugging at your mouth.
Something was missing. Some spark, some thread of inspiration. The cursor blinked, taunting you, and you leaned back into the couch with a frustrated sigh.
And then it came.
The sudden thrum of bass rattled through the walls, slipping into your living room like an unwelcome guest. A chorus of electronic beats bled into your space, coming from the exact direction of your mounted TV.
You stared at the wall, jaw tightening, before running a hand through your hair and letting out a humorless laugh.
“And there it is,” you muttered, lips curling into a thin, annoyed grin.
The music only grew louder, pulsing through the plaster as though your neighbor had been waiting for the exact moment you sat down to start working.
You sank deeper into the couch, one hand shielding your eyes like that could block out the sound. “Seriously?” you groaned to no one in particular.
“Does he have a sixth sense for ruining my life, or is this just a personal vendetta at this point?”
You stared harder at the wall, as if sheer force of will might penetrate the plaster and strike your neighbor with guilt. Unsurprisingly, the wall remained unmoved.
With a sharp sigh, you stood, laptop balanced in one hand while your other grabbed at the bean bag beside your couch. You hauled it toward the empty space near your television, propping it up against the wall before sinking into it.
Your knuckles rapped sharply against the plaster. “Lower it down!”
A pause—then a voice, low and warm, floated back at you. “Oh. My music?”
You blinked, baffled. The walls were really that thin?
“Yes,” you answered curtly.
Another beat of silence, then his voice came again, almost sheepish. “Was I being too loud again?”
You snapped, irritation bubbling over. “Yes, you were! Didn’t I tell you to be considerate of the people living here?”
For a moment, nothing. And then—a laugh. Soft, almost disarming. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that part.”
You clenched your jaw, choosing not to dignify that with a reply.
Instead, you started typing away, fingers hitting the keys a little louder than usual, the hum you let out almost exaggerated—loud enough to bleed through the walls, to make sure he heard your annoyance.
On the other side, Jake leaned against his kitchen counter, mug in hand. The espresso machine hissed one last time before dripping its final dregs of coffee.
He pulled the mug out, watching the dark liquid ripple before shaking his head faintly, as if amused by your loud hum. Carrying the mug with him, he dragged one of the chairs closer to the wall, positioning himself right where he’d been standing earlier.
“You still there?” His voice came through, closer this time.
You had half a mind to ignore him. Fingers hovered above your keyboard before you sighed, leaning your head against the cool wall for a moment. “…Unfortunately.”
A chuckle slipped past his lips. “Why?”
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You kept typing instead, scanning the screen for errors, refusing to break your flow.
On his end, Jake took a slow sip of his coffee, gaze flicking down to the mess spread across his dining table—lab reports stacked in messy piles, council documents Jungwon had guilt-tripped him into handling, forms that needed signatures.
He grimaced at the sheer mountain of work waiting for him, but somehow, he found himself more interested in this impromptu wall-to-wall conversation.
“So… why?” he asked again, softer this time, like he wasn’t just asking about your lingering presence through a wall, but something else entirely.
You froze mid-sentence, blinking at your laptop screen. “…What do you mean, ‘why’?”
From the other side, you heard a low hum, his tone almost playful. “Why are you still talking to me?”
Your fingers stilled over the keyboard. For a split second, you had no idea how to respond, your mind racing faster than you cared to admit. But you quickly shoved the thought down, biting back the warmth creeping into your cheeks.
“Because,” you retorted, voice flat, “I need to be able to knock on the wall again if you forget that you have neighbors.”
There was a pause—then, the faint scrape of his chair moving. Jake leaned back, grin tugging at his lips as his eyes dropped to his phone lying face-up on the table.
He flicked open the control center, staring at the glowing volume slider as if testing you.
“No need to worry about that, neighbor,” he said lightly.
You huffed, loud enough for him to hear. “I doubt that.”
He chuckled, that rich, warm sound carrying through the wall and settling into your living room, “Why?” he teased.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Did you ever lower your music before I banged on your wall? No. Didn’t think so.”
On the other side, Jake laughed again, sheepishly this time. “No need to get angry.”
All you offered in return was another huff, fingers tapping a little harder against your keys, as though the sound could drown him out.
Jake, meanwhile, leaned forward, pushing the stack of papers closer to him. He exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face, before stacking them into neater piles just to feel productive.
When he glanced at the wall again, the smile was still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Silence fell between you, save for the muffled thrum of his music bleeding through faintly—not nearly as loud as before.
You found yourself staring at your screen, words blurring together, while Jake sat with his coffee cooling by his elbow, shaking his head with a grin he couldn’t quite get rid of.
A beat of silence. Then his voice came again, a little clearer this time, like he’d shifted closer to the wall.
“So… are you busy?”
Your head snapped up from the document, disbelief painting your features. “Oh my god, shut up.”
He laughed—loudly, unabashedly this time—the sound ringing warm and unrestrained through the thin plaster that separated the two of you.
“Okay, okay. I will,” Jake replied, though his voice carried that teasing lilt that told you he didn’t mean it.
On his end, he reached for a pen sitting near the edge of his dining table, uncapping it with his teeth as he shuffled through the pile of council paperwork Jungwon had conveniently ‘delegated’ to him.
He scrawled his signature at the bottom of a form, glancing sideways at the wall as though he could see through it.
His grin tugged stubbornly at the corner of his mouth, refusing to fade, even as he muttered under his breath, “Focus, Jake.”
He gave his head a small shake, shoulders dropping as he forced himself to skim through the next document. But every so often, his pen would stall, his ears half-tuned for any little sound from your side.
On your end, you typed with extra force, like each keystroke was a weapon to drive him back into silence. Still, your eyes flicked once—twice—toward the wall, as if daring him to say something else.
You huffed as you set your bag down by the door, not even bothering to place it by your couch this time. Your patience was already fraying, and you didn’t have the energy to keep up the routine.
Fishing your laptop out, you stomped toward the living room, making a beeline for the bean bag you’d lazily left next to your television. The moment you sank into it, leaning your back against the wall, the bass from next door rattled against your spine.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, grimacing as the sound seeped into your bones.
With a sigh, you raised your hand and knocked against the wall, knuckles tapping harder than usual. “For the hundredth time—pipe it down.”
Your voice wasn’t sharp, not tonight. It was just tired, laced with the kind of frustration that came from the week grinding you down.
And then—miracle of miracles—the music actually lowered. Not off, but down, the way a parent might scold a kid into using indoor voices.
Still loud enough to be heard, but no longer threatening to give you a migraine. You let out a slow breath, running your hand through your hair.
“…Thanks,” you mumbled.
From the other side of the wall, a hum answered. Then, a voice: “Sorry.”
Jake paused on from the other side of the wall, one hand hovering above the lab samples his friends had sent him to review.
His chair squeaked softly as he dragged it closer to the wall, eyes flicking between his laptop screen and the plaster, as if waiting for you to continue.
You exhaled, fingers hesitating above your keyboard, before leaning back against the wall. “Tone it down tonight, please. I’m serious.”
Jake blinked once, then twice, his hands falling away from his laptop.
For a moment, he debated with himself, chewing the inside of his cheek, before asking, “Are you okay?”
You raised a brow, pulling open a blank document. “…Why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice was flat, distracted.
Jake crossed his arms, as if you could actually see the posture. “Well, you sound like death.”
A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself. You huffed, trying to cover it. “Thank you for summing that up.”
Jake laughed, the sound warm even through the barrier of the wall. “I’m being serious. All you’ve done is fight me about my music for the past two days, and hearing you not be snarky? It’s weird.”
Your back straightened at that, shoulders pressing into the bean bag. You narrowed your eyes at your screen. “…Are you stalking me?”
“What? No!” Jake sat forward immediately, voice firm but tinged with amusement. “Can’t a person just be observant?”
You hummed, typing another line into your document. “Some people, yes. But you? No.”
Jake tilted his head at the wall, a smile twitching at his lips as his eyes drifted past his laptop screen, suddenly finding his door more interesting than his work. “And why’s that?”
“Because you’re inconsiderate about your neighbors,” you shot back without missing a beat.
Jake chuckled lowly. “How many times do I need to apologize for that?”
Your fingers stilled on the keyboard. “When you stop blasting your horrible music taste.”
There was a sharp inhale through the wall, loud enough that you actually pictured him clutching pearls.
Jake let out an audible gasp. “Excuse me? My music taste is the best, for your information, neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes, returning your focus to the glow of your laptop screen. Your fingers danced across the keys, words spilling onto the document as you muttered, “If you mean the best at being trash, then sure. Be my guest.”
On the other side, Jake slapped a hand dramatically against his chest, as if you could see him through the thin wall.
“Unbelievable. This is what I get for blasting my music—for the world to appreciate. I share my gift and get nothing but slander.”
You shook your head, the corners of your mouth twitching into the smallest smile. “Whatever, stranger.”
The single word made him freeze, eyebrows shooting up. Stranger. He didn’t know if he should laugh or question the sudden nickname, but either way, he couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.
“You really are a weird one,” Jake finally said, voice carrying a little softer this time, almost like he wanted to test how you’d react.
All he got in response was the soft click of your keyboard keys, steady and determined, each sound threading through the wall between you.
And yet, he found himself smiling anyway. Jake leaned back in his chair, letting out a low chuckle as his eyes drifted from the blank wall to the half-finished laboratory reports scattered across his desk.
He tapped his pen idly against the paper, pretending to work, though his ears were half-tuned to the faint rhythm of your typing. It wasn’t much—just a silly exchange, a sharp word, a nickname—but it was something. A start.
For the first time in months, the silence that followed didn’t feel heavy.
It was strange, almost unsettling in its own way. For the longest time, Jake had assumed his neighbor was a ghost—or maybe someone who’d just signed the lease and never moved in. That’s how quiet it always was.
No footsteps echoing in the hallway at odd hours. No muffled voices from phone calls or laughter with friends. Just stillness.
So, when your voice slipped through the wall—sharp, annoyed, alive—he couldn’t quite piece it together with the picture he’d drawn in his head.
A quiet ghost replaced by a girl. A girl with quick comebacks, a cutting wit, and apparently a strong aversion to his playlists.
The morning had started suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.
No espresso machine sputtering to life from the other side of your wall, no muffled humming, no clinking mugs. The absence of sound from your annoying neighbor was unsettling, though you refused to dwell on it.
Instead, you padded out of your room, scooped your things from the couch, and left your apartment with a tug of your cardigan closer around your shoulders.
Locking the door behind you, the chill of the morning pressed into your skin, calming you as you made your way through the vast hallways and down into the busy street below.
By lunchtime, the odd feeling only grew. The usual buzz of campus felt muted, or maybe it was just you. The bleachers by the field—your safe little haven from the cafeteria noise—were too quiet.
Sunoo, your one constant streak of sunshine, wasn’t there. A frown creased your brows, but you forced your attention back to your laptop.
Half-drunk strawberry milk sweated beside you, unopened chips forgotten, while your screen’s glow pulled you in. Fingers tapped steadily until the final line appeared.
You tilted your head, mumbling, “I think this is good to go.”
The thought of finally saving the file had just crossed your mind when a voice you could recognize anywhere cut through your concentration. “You know, I’m only a few minutes late, and you’re already drowning yourself in papers.”
Your head snapped up, eyes dropping past your laptop. There he was—Sunoo, arms crossed, pout tugging on his lips as he strolled up the bleacher steps toward you.
“Hi, Sunoo,” you said sheepishly, closing your screen just a little.
He shook his head dramatically before plopping down beside you. “So, what are you up to this time?”
Wordlessly, you tilted your laptop toward him, clicking submit with an exaggerated flourish. “Writing,” you said simply, unable to hide the little smile curling at your lips.
Sunoo hummed knowingly, leaning in closer. “You know you overwork yourself way too much, (Y/N).”
Heat crept to your ears as you closed the laptop fully, slipping it back into your tote bag on the step below. “We both know that’s not true, Sunoo.”
He shook his head, blond hair catching the sunlight as he did. “Nope, not listening to you. You’re a hell of a writer, and that’s final.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the soft smile that followed. “So, what’s up?”
That was all the opening he needed. A grin spread across his face instantly, sharp and fox-like, the kind that spelled trouble. “Well, I was thinking—”
“—that’s never good,” you interrupted without missing a beat.
He clutched his chest, gasping as though you’d mortally wounded him. “Excuse me? Do you not trust my genius ideas?”
You gave him a flat look, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Not one bit.”
“Rude,” Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms dramatically.
You only shrugged, turning your body toward him with a teasing arch of your brow. “Okay then, what’s your genius plan, Kim Sunoo?”
The pout melted off his lips, replaced by that mischievous smile you were starting to recognize all too well. He leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret, before glancing back at the field.
Then his eyes darted back to you. “Well… there’s this party next month—”
“No.” The word left your mouth before he could even finish.
Sunoo’s head snapped back to you, his smile falling into an immediate pout. “You didn’t even let me finish!”
You grimaced, fiddling with the bracelets dangling loosely from your wrist. “Sunoo, you know I hate parties. And social events. And literally everything that involves being surrounded by sweaty people who think blasting music makes them fun.”
He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “But you’ve never been to one of my parties before, right?”
You stilled, tongue poking the inside of your cheek nervously. “Well… no, but—”
His grin spread wide again, so bright it almost made you regret answering honestly. “So come to one of mine! Okay, technically not just mine, I co-planned it, but still. It’ll be fun. Promise.”
Your eyes dropped to your wrist, your fingers fiddling with the charms there. “I don’t know, Sunoo…”
Something softened in his expression. He didn’t push, not like most people would. Instead, he gave you that rare, understanding look that made it hard to keep refusing.
His voice dropped low, sincere. “Okay, look. I won’t force you to come. But at least think about it, please?”
You lifted your eyes to his, meeting his wide, pleading gaze. His lower lip jutted out in a pout, and you hated how much power he had over your resolve.
Was it finally time for you to try socializing again? Or would you keep choosing the solitude of your apartment instead—well, solitude minus the nightly music blasting through the walls courtesy of your mystery neighbor. At least he hadn’t thrown a full-blown party these past few days.
With a sigh, you muttered, “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Sunoo’s face immediately lit up, his smile blooming like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Thank you, (Y/N)!” he chirped, clapping his hands together once in pure delight.
You groaned softly, dragging a hand down your face. “I didn’t say yes yet.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said cheerfully, swinging his legs as he leaned back on his hands. “That’s still progress.”
You sighed, doing the opposite of relaxing—crossing your legs in front of you and propping your elbow on top of one knee, your palm pressing against your cheek. You stared at him from the corner of your eye, unimpressed, while he looked far too pleased with himself.
“So,” he said casually, turning his head toward you, “what’s up?”
You tilted your gaze upward, toward the cloudy gray sky. “Well… I got a ninety on my recent paper.”
“That’s good,” Sunoo said brightly, without missing a beat.
You huffed, brushing your bangs out of your face in frustration. “Could’ve been a hundred though.”
That earned you a laugh, soft but warm. “You’re just like my friend.”
You side-eyed him. “Which one? Sunoo, you have thousands.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You know I’m only close with a few.”
You scrunched your nose at him. “Sunoo, your ‘few’ is in the hundreds, and mine is in the tens. So who exactly are we talking about?”
He waved a dismissive hand, lips twitching. “Forget I said anything.”
But your curiosity lingered, picking at the edges of your thoughts. “So why are you inviting me again? You already have tons of friends.”
Sunoo turned back to you with a grin that was all teeth. “Because all of them are coming to the party except you.”
You let out an exaggerated huff, turning your nose up dramatically. That only made him laugh louder.
“Don’t get all pouty now,” he teased.
“I’m not,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully before tilting your head at him. “Everyone’s going? Like, everyone?”
He nodded.
“Even that basketball athlete you’re always raving about? The one who’s together with one of your friends now?”
“Yeah,” Sunoo said enthusiastically, eyes sparkling. “Heeseung and his girlfriend are definitely coming.”
You tried to remember the rest of the endless list of names he’d thrown at you before. “What about the plant kid?”
Sunoo blinked, then burst into laughter. “Jay?”
You waved your hand carelessly. “Yeah, yeah, him.”
“Of course,” Sunoo said, still laughing. “Especially him. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t even his idea—his girlfriend thought of it, so he kinda just got roped in.”
You narrowed your eyes, pressing your chin into your palm. “You know… I’m starting to doubt I’m like any of these mentioned friends of yours.”
Sunoo grinned again, leaning forward. “I mentioned a physics major before, didn’t I? Yeah. You’re just like him.”
You raised a brow. “Sunoo, there’s tons of physics majors.”
He shrugged, smug. “Well, you don’t need to worry about it. Plus, I doubt you two would get along.”
You hummed, unconvinced. “Mhmm. I kind of already knew that.”
“Why?” he asked, tilting his head.
You shifted your weight, gaze dropping to your laptop peeking out from your tote bag. “Because physics majors usually have something against writing students like me.”
His lips curled into a knowing smile. “What, like calling your creative pieces a joke because they believe in sciences and shit?”
You winced, the memory of those exact words surfacing. “Yeah. That.”
Sunoo let out another laugh, softer this time, shaking his head. “Trust me. My friend’s not like that.”
He paused, his gaze flicking to you for a moment before drifting back to the field below.
The usual stage where the monthly open mic nights were held had been taken down, leaving the expanse strangely empty. Students passed by in little clusters, laughter spilling into the crisp afternoon air, but up here with Sunoo, it felt quieter—almost like the world slowed down.
“Plus,” he added casually, eyes following a group of students cutting across the grass, “I think you two would get along.”
You exhaled sharply, leaning back on your palms. “In what? Insulting each other with our opposing views? That’s not exactly enjoyable, Sunoo.”
The blond laughed again, light and melodic, shaking his head like you’d just said the funniest thing in the world. “You’re being awfully talkative today.”
You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I mean… who wouldn’t, if someone was with you? You’re like the sun.”
His head tilted, curious, his grin softening. “Is that a good thing?”
You nodded, brushing your bangs away from your face as your words came out quieter, more thoughtful. “Yeah. A really good thing. You make everybody happy without even realizing it. Like—there wouldn’t be gloomy rain looming overhead if you were around. You’re always smiling, even when people don’t deserve it. It’s like you make the air feel lighter, you know?”
For once, Sunoo didn’t laugh right away. He stilled, shoulders relaxing as his eyes returned to you. His usual slyness faded, replaced with something gentler, genuine.
A smile curved his lips, not forced, not playful—just warm. “Thank you, (Y/N).”
You shook your head with a small laugh, embarrassed by your own honesty. “I’m simply stating the truth.” After a pause, you added, softer, “You’re a really good friend, Sunoo. So I wouldn’t go around saying stuff I don’t mean.”
That seemed to flip a switch, because almost instantly, his sly smile was back, foxlike and teasing. “Enough for you to go to that party with me?”
You groaned, leaning forward to hide your face in your hands. “Oh my god, you’re impossible.”
Sunoo’s laughter rang out again, bright and victorious, echoing across the bleachers as if he’d just scored the biggest win of the day.
Before you knew it, time slipped away like sand through your fingers. The warmth of the afternoon bled into the steady hum of campus life, and suddenly you were back in the crowded hallways of the English Department’s building—a place you both loved and dreaded.
The air was thick with the smell of coffee and ink, a blend that clung to the sleeves of students bustling past you. Some had paper-stacked arms, others clutched their overfull mugs like lifelines. Their chatter swirled into one steady, grating buzz that only added to your dislike of crowded places.
You kept your head down, staring at your own small pile of papers you’d fished out from your locker a few minutes ago, careful not to drop them.
Sunoo had bailed the second he realized he was late for practice by the gym, his voice carrying as he sprinted across the field, yelling, “Move!” while dodging students.
You could only shake your head, a small amused smile curling at your lips at the memory.
Time passed even quicker after that, blurred by essays, half-read notes, and lectures that felt longer than they were. By the time you reached your apartment’s reception area, exhaustion clung to your bones.
The familiar sight of clear glass walls and the bright chandelier overhead made you squint and blink, your eyes struggling against the harsh glare. But something was off.
The lobby, usually lively with Decelis students waiting for friends or loitering around the reception couches, was empty. The noise, the laughter, the shuffling of shoes—all gone. It was eerily quiet.
The receptionist greeted you warmly as always. “Good evening, Ms. (Y/N).”
You gave a polite nod in return. “Evening.”
Pressing the elevator button, you barely had to wait before the doors slid open with a soft ding. Relief washed over you at the sight of an empty cabin. No hushed conversations, no strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder. Just silence.
Leaning back against the mirrored wall, you caught your own reflection staring back at you.
A tired laugh escaped your lips as you muttered under your breath, “I look like shit,” running a hand through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix it.
The elevator hummed as it climbed, numbers flickering up until it reached the fifth floor. With another ding, the doors slid open. Stepping out, your brows furrowed slightly.
Silence again.
The fifth floor was rarely this quiet. Usually, you could hear muffled music, doors closing, the occasional footsteps echoing down the hall. Now? Nothing. The quiet stretched unnervingly, as if the whole floor had been abandoned.
You walked slowly, your tote bag brushing against your hip as you dug around for your keycard. The sound of your own steps seemed too loud against the carpeted floor. When you stopped at your door, card finally in hand, you swiped it against the digital lock.
The click of the mechanism opening echoed sharper than usual in the silence. Frowning, you glanced at the door opposite yours. His door.
Your usually obnoxiously loud neighbor’s unit.
“Is he… not home?” you murmured to yourself, suspicion threading into your tone.
Because for the first time in months, there wasn’t a single note of bass bleeding through the walls. Not even the faintest hum of sound. Just quiet.
Your brows furrowed even further at the blatant lack of footsteps, no muffled laughter, no thump of shoes being kicked off carelessly in the unit next door.
You carefully set your bag down by the couch, fingers unclenching from the straps like you were trying not to disturb the silence itself. With a soft exhale, you made your way into your open kitchen, hands automatically moving toward your espresso machine.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you muttered under your breath, reaching for the beans with a practiced hand. The machine hissed to life, loud in the stillness of your apartment.
You pressed the buttons almost absently, the familiar routine grounding you, though your mind kept drifting back to that strange silence on the other side of the wall.
The smell of coffee filled the air as you rubbed at your temple. “Where the hell are my mugs…” you grumbled, shuffling through the overhead cabinets.
After a bit of clattering, you pulled out your big pristine white one—the emergency mug, the one only ever used for nights you knew were going to test your patience.
Pulling the fridge door open, you grabbed the milk and a tray of ice, plopping the cubes into the mug before pouring the cold liquid over them. A tired smile tugged at your lips as you caught the espresso just in time, the dark shots dripping into the small container.
You poured them over the milk, the drink swirling into a perfect, comforting brown.
“God, if you’re real and you hear me,” you muttered half-heartedly, stirring the drink with a spoon, “please let me wake up tomorrow morning.” A little laugh left you, more exhausted than amused, as you grabbed the mug and padded back to your couch.
You were just about to sink into the cushions when your gaze slid to the balcony.
The starlit night loomed just beyond the glass, the sky dipped in shades of deep navy as the city lights glimmered below. The chairs and table out there looked far too inviting to ignore, especially with the faint breeze pressing against the glass.
With a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder again, muttering, “When was the last time I watered my roses?”
Stepping onto the balcony, you frowned at the sight that greeted you. The roses hanging by the railings were sagging, petals already beginning to crumple in on themselves. A few still clung stubbornly to their color, a stark red against the green, but the rest were clearly begging for attention.
“Yikes,” you winced, crouching down to brush your fingers over a wilted bloom. The touch left your skin damp with dew, but the flower itself drooped against your hand.
You straightened slowly, sipping your coffee with a quiet hum. “Sorry, babies. I’ll get to you tomorrow,” you promised under your breath, leaning against the railing.
With a little shake of your head and an amused smile tugging at your lips, you turned back toward the small balcony set-up. You plopped down onto one of the wooden seats lined with cushions for comfort, your body sinking gratefully into it.
The second chair remained empty, and without thinking, you dropped your bag there, the weight making the cushion dip.
You pulled out your laptop and the heavy stack of folders stuffed to the brim with papers—all begging for revisions. Just the sight made your shoulders sag, your professors’ voices already ringing in your head.
“Excellent analysis but you can dig deeper here.”
“This is lazy, you’re better than this.”
“Brilliant phrasing—don’t lose this.”
Praise and torment, woven together until it made you want to throw the whole stack into the nearest fire.
A groan slipped past your lips as you set everything on the table. “Oh, for the love of fuck,” you muttered, flipping open your laptop. The screen blinked to life with a soft hum, its glow pooling over your papers in the dim light of the balcony.
You dragged one of the folders closer, pried it open, and immediately grabbed your red pen like it was a weapon.
The first page you landed on was a mess of circled paragraphs and scribbled notes from last week.
You let out another groan, circling the header before flipping a page and typing rapidly into your laptop, fingers flying across the keys. A typo glared back at you like it was mocking you, and you scowled at the screen.
“What is wrong with me today?” you mumbled to no one in particular, jabbing the delete key and retyping the sentence.
You set your pen down for a second, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your palm. The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, and your head was already starting to throb.
“Well, you aren’t that grumpy compared to last week.”
Your head snapped up, the pen nearly slipping from your hand. The voice wasn’t your own. It wasn’t in your head either. It was real—low, rich, carrying just enough humor to make your skin prickle.
“I must be going insane,” you whispered, almost too quietly to hear.
The voice chuckled, soft but deep, the kind of laugh that curled in your stomach and made your breath hitch. Familiar. Too familiar. A sound you could pin down anywhere. Except it couldn’t be. No way. Your neighbor wasn’t home. He couldn’t be.
Heart hammering, you turned your gaze to the balcony beside yours.
It was almost identical to yours in layout, but the details couldn’t be more different. Where your space held minimalist chairs and a simple table, his was darker—an almost black wooden table and matching chairs, sharp against the pale glow of moonlight.
The string of fairy lights you once saw hanging across the railing was gone, replaced with a dim lantern light that gave off a warm, amber hue.
The small collection of plants you had on your side—roses, some herbs—were mirrored by his, though fake, the plastic leaves an unnatural shade of brown-green that never wilted.
And leaning casually against the railing, turned toward your direction, was the voice. The most beautiful boy you had ever seen.
His soft brown hair shifted with the breeze, messy but, as if the wind itself was styling it for him. His eyes—bright, striking even in the dark—caught yours like a magnet, and your throat tightened.
High cheekbones framed his face, his jaw sharp, lips pink enough that they almost glowed in contrast to the silver wash of the moonlight. His white shirt clung to broad shoulders, the fabric pulling just enough to hint at definition beneath. The hem rested perfectly above the waistband of his gray sweatpants, casual yet devastating.
Your brows furrowed, disbelief warring with something warmer as you muttered, “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Kidding you? Not quite. Surprised?”
You blinked rapidly, scrambling for words. “Surprised? More like—how the hell are you even here? I thought you were—”
“Out?” His smile curved, sly but not unkind. “I was. Not anymore.”
You opened your mouth, shut it, then shook your head, muttering under your breath, “I knew the quiet was too good to be true.”
That earned you another laugh—low, rich, and this time more direct.
His voice seemed to seep into the quiet air between the two balconies, closing the distance. “You say that like I’m some kind of nuisance.”
Your lips parted, caught between retort and honesty. “Aren’t you?”
He chuckled at that, shaking his head with the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “You wound me, neighbor.”
You only raised a brow at his answer, unimpressed. But before you could form a comeback, his gaze flicked briefly away from you, toward the mess spread across his own balcony table.
Even from where you sat, you could make out the mess—stacks of loose papers, a sleek laptop, and a tablet with way too many tabs open, screen glowing faintly in the dark.
Perched right on top of the disarray was a takeout bag you recognized immediately, the logo of the café just a few blocks from the apartment complex stamped in bright ink.
“I was out,” he said casually, gesturing vaguely toward the takeout bag on his table with his free hand. “So… I hoped you enjoyed the few minutes of silence.”
You sighed, arms crossing firmly over your chest. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
He hummed, nonchalant, shrugging one shoulder as he pulled his chair closer to the railing. The legs scraped against the floor with a low sound, grounding the otherwise delicate moment. “I don’t know. Felt like you deserved to know.”
You stared at him, disbelieving. He stared right back, bright smile carved into his features like it belonged there permanently.
When he tilted his head, the expression only deepened, almost as if he were daring you—urging you—to push further. To ask him something.
You cursed at yourself silently, fingers twitching before retreating back to your laptop. The screen’s glow reflected against your glasses as you forced your focus on the blinking cursor, typing away with forced determination.
“Are you always this persistent?” you muttered, not quite able to hide the way your eyes flickered back to him.
He didn’t hesitate, answering smoothly, “Only when I finally get to meet my mystery neighbor.”
Your throat tightened, and you quickly ducked your head, pretending to fix a typo that didn’t exist. “Mystery neighbor?” you echoed, feigning disinterest though your heart thudded uncomfortably loud in your chest.
He nodded once, lips twitching into a grin as he leaned his chin into his palm, elbow braced against the dark wood table. “That’s what you’ve been all this time, haven’t you? A mystery.”
You couldn’t help but raise a brow, eyes flicking away from your laptop as you gave him a look. “How am I a mystery, neighbor, if I yell at you through the walls?”
That earned you another laugh, warm but laced with embarrassment. “Well, in my defense,” he said, shoulders rising slightly as though bracing himself, “I only knew you existed because you finally made a sound.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at that, the corner of your mouth twitching downward.
He gave a nervous laugh, muttering, “Sorry.” Then, softer, with a tilt of his head, “And I only knew you were a girl. So yeah—a mystery neighbor.”
You exhaled slowly, returning your attention to the cursor blinking on your screen. “I didn’t see the need for pleasantries if all you’ve been doing is throwing parties left and right and assuming nobody actually lives next door.”
That made him wince, the tips of his ears turning slightly red as his hand drifted up to scratch the back of his neck. “Again,” he murmured, sheepish, “I’m… sorry about that.”
You shrugged, nonchalant, though the faint edge in your tone didn’t go unnoticed. “No harm done. Besides to my study time, anyway.”
He flinched just a little at that, guilt flashing across his features before he let out a sigh, sinking back into his chair—but his eyes never left you.
Jake wasn’t one to gawk at people. He was used to being the one stared at, after all—attention had always followed him without effort.
But you? You were something else entirely.
You didn’t engage in small talk; your clipped answers weren’t dismissive, but short, like a closed book with just enough of a torn page sticking out to make someone want to keep reading. And against his better judgment, Jake found himself wanting more.
The first time he saw you—was almost two weeks ago, when you reprimanded him for his party through the wall. He’d been too stunned to even get annoyed, because the voice he’d only ever half-registered suddenly had weight, sharpness, and heat.
But now, getting to actually talk to you face-to-face, it was different. It made something in him stir, his heartbeat drumming harder in his chest as if trying to catch up with what his mind had already realized: you weren’t just some mystery. You were captivating.
And Jake, against all logic, wanted to unravel you.
He ran a hand through his hair, groaning softly when the wind immediately tossed it out of place again. Rolling his eyes, he turned his body in your direction, momentarily forgetting about the paper he had promised Jungwon he’d help with tonight.
Clearing his throat just loud enough to catch your attention, he offered a sheepish smile when you finally glanced up.
“So, I was thinking—” he began.
“That’s never a good thing,” you cut in, voice dry, and his mouth immediately dropped open in mock offense.
“Hey, that’s mean,” he whined, lips jutting into a pout.
The corner of your lips twitched, a smile threatening to break through before you quickly smoothed it back down. “Continue.”
Jake brightened, leaning forward in his chair a little. “I wanted to make it up to you, for, you know…” His words trailed off as he searched for the right one, his hand waving vaguely in the air. “…being a nuisance.”
You didn’t even hesitate. “No need.”
But Jake shook his head stubbornly, leaning his elbows on the table as he tried again. “No, really. I insist. I can’t help it—I hate being on someone’s annoying people list. Makes me feel uneasy.”
This time, your eyes flicked up from your laptop again, and you let out a small, amused laugh before shaking your head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “but I don’t know you.”
Jake’s lips pulled into a grin so sudden and bright it nearly startled you. “Then let’s fix that. I’m Jake,” he said, tapping his chest lightly before tilting his head toward you.
“From Decelis too. And if my assumptions are right…” His gaze flicked to the neat stack of papers and folders lined across your table—organized and tidy, unlike his mess of notes beside him. The identical academy crest at the corner of your pages sealed his suspicion. “…you’re from Decelis too.”
You hummed, nodding in acknowledgment. “Well, Jake,” you said, rolling his name on your tongue like you were testing it out.
The sound made something tighten in his chest, sending a strange, fuzzy shiver down his spine. He swallowed, trying to mask it with another grin.
“I’m your neighbor,” you finished simply.
Jake let out an exaggerated huff, slumping back in his chair. “Not fair.”
Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. “What isn’t?”
“That’s all I get?” He gestured dramatically with both hands, as if offended by your lack of effort. “I give you my full name, academy, and tragic confession about being a nuisance, and you just hit me with ‘I’m your neighbor’? Harsh.”
You stared at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before smirking just enough to make his heart stutter. “Well, neighbor,” you said, drawing the word out deliberately, “if you want more, you’re gonna have to earn it.”
Jake’s grin stretched wider, boyish and charming in a way that was almost unfair. “You know,” he said, shaking his head with a small laugh, “you sound just like my friend.”
Your brow quirked as you reached over, plucking a page from your stack of papers. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said matter-of-factly, eyes scanning the red pen marks across the margin.
“It is,” Jake replied quickly, nodding with emphasis. “He was kind of like you too at first—sharp, snarky, not easily impressed. But once I got to properly know him, he turned out to be the brightest, bubbliest guy you could meet.”
That earned him a laugh out of you, a soft, surprised sound that slipped past before you could bite it back. The corners of your mouth tugged upward as you shook your head.
“So what you’re saying is you think I’m snarky and mean,” you teased, eyes flicking back to your laptop as you began typing again.
Jake held up both hands defensively, though the grin on his face betrayed him. “Indirectly,” he admitted, chuckling under his breath.
“Still a compliment,” you countered smoothly, your focus locked on the screen.
“Yep,” Jake agreed with zero hesitation, settling back into his chair. His phone buzzed across the table—Jungwon’s name flashing with another flood of messages—but Jake barely spared it a glance.
Instead, his gaze drifted back to you, watching the way your fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, the glow of your laptop highlighting the curve of your cheekbones.
He cleared his throat softly, leaning an elbow on the armrest as his voice broke the silence. “Do you mind if I play music?”
Your fingers paused mid-keystroke, brows furrowing as you looked up at him suspiciously. “Please avoid playing party music,” you warned, your tone flat but your eyes glinting with amusement.
Jake’s lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, almost too innocent. “No promises,” he murmured, already reaching for his phone.
The soft strum of music soon drifted from his speaker, not the pounding bass you dreaded but something calmer—chill, melodic, and strangely fitting for the evening.
And that’s how the rest of the night went on: the city below your balconies slowly blinking to life as the hum of Decelis University students echoed through the streets. Some hurried past with backpacks slung over their shoulders, others laughing in small clusters as they entered the building.
In the distance, the glow of office towers pulsed as late-night workers began their shifts, while above, the stars only seemed to shine brighter with the moon casting its silver light over everything.
You typed away at your laptop, occasionally mumbling a frustrated note under your breath. Every time, Jake would snicker from his side, trying—and failing—to hide it behind his hand.
His phone buzzed relentlessly against the dark wood table, Jungwon’s name lighting up the screen in rapid succession. No doubt the poor boy was already plotting Jake’s murder for ditching their work session, but Jake didn’t even flinch. He looked far too content leaning on his chair, letting the music hum softly between you both.
Every hour or so, he’d break the silence with another question. “So… any chance you’ll ever come to one of my parties?” His tone was playful, almost hopeful.
“Not a chance,” you deadpanned, not even glancing up from your screen.
He laughed, like he’d expected that answer, undeterred. “Okay, okay, noted. But I’ll ask again later.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest twitch.
Minutes later, he piped up again, leaning forward slightly. “What about food? Rice or pasta?”
You finally looked up at him, tilting your head. “Both are fine. Depends on the mood.”
Jake’s entire face lit up as if you’d just shared the secret to life itself. “Exactly! That’s what I always say. But hear me out, pasta has this—this comfort vibe, you know? Especially with a good cream sauce. Oh man.” He leaned back, eyes glazing like he was imagining it right there. “But rice? Rice goes with everything. Never lets you down.”
You snorted, shaking your head as your fingers returned to the keyboard. “You sound ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously right,” he countered instantly, his grin so wide it almost reached his ears.
And strangely enough, you didn’t mind. He was like a golden retriever—bright-eyed, eager, and seemingly wagging an imaginary tail behind him with every word. Animated, boyish, and endlessly curious, he filled the silence in a way that wasn’t suffocating.
A few more hours passed, the city slowly settling into its midnight rhythm. The only thing keeping you awake was the watered-down cup of coffee on your table, begging to be spared.
With a final click, the last page of your paper uploaded and submitted. The confirmation message blinked across your screen, and you let out a long, tired sigh, arms stretching behind your head until your shoulders cracked.
“Not bad,” you muttered under your breath, eyeing the neat pile of papers you had finally conquered. Gathering them together, you began tucking the folders back into your bag. But inevitably, your gaze flicked toward the balcony across from yours.
Jake was still there, hunched over his laptop, the faint glow of the screen outlining his sharp features. His dark bangs had fallen into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, completely absorbed in his work. The empty takeout container from earlier was shoved off to the side, replaced by a growing, chaotic stack of ignored papers.
The scrape of your chair made him glance up, and for a second, your eyes caught. Jake leaned against the arm of his chair, his head tilting just slightly as his lips pulled into a lazy smile. “Done for the night?”
You adjusted the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, lifting your mug with your free hand. “Mhmm. You can say that.”
He hummed, watching you with quiet curiosity. “Do you have classes tomorrow morning?”
“Morning lectures,” you admitted, the word dragging out in a faint grimace.
“Yikes,” he winced dramatically, shoulders hunching. “Couldn’t be me.”
That earned him a raised brow from you.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, his grin widening despite the apology. “But yeah… you should get some rest. It’s—” He tapped the screen of his phone, brows shooting up. “It’s already three in the morning?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” You sighed, heading toward the sliding glass doors of your balcony.
Jake’s eyes followed you, not even pretending otherwise. When you paused by the threshold, you gave him a small nod, just enough to acknowledge the strange new connection hanging between you. Then you slipped inside, shutting the glass door behind you.
On his balcony, Jake stayed still for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d stood.
Slowly, a smile crept across his lips, softer than the ones he flashed at parties or in lecture halls. He shook his head with a small chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.
The city still pulsed below, lights buzzing faintly against the quiet hum of the night, but his voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“If the gods are real and you guys are listening right now…” He exhaled, tilting his head toward the night sky, eyes crinkling at the corners. “…just know I’m thanking you so much right now.”
He pulled his laptop back toward him, the half-finished document glowing on the screen. But for once, the weight of deadlines and expectations didn’t feel so suffocating.
Not when he could still see the faint reflection of you closing your curtains from the corner of his eye.
It was six in the morning, and you found yourself sitting by the door, tying your shoelaces with the kind of sluggish determination only early classes could bring. You pushed yourself up from the floor, grabbing your bag from its usual spot on the stand. Something was odd.
The usual hum and hiss of Jake’s espresso machine—the one you’d grown used to hearing every single morning—was missing. No smell of coffee drifting through the vents, no quiet clatter of mugs. You frowned, glancing down at your watch.
“Must be tired,” you muttered under your breath. Then, quick to correct yourself, you scoffed, “Why do I care?”
With a huff, you reached for your keycard, swiping it against the door. A short beep echoed before the lock clicked open. Stepping into the hallway, you were met with silence.
The kind of silence only found at dawn—thick, undisturbed, almost sacred. Even in the confines of the apartment building, the morning cold seeped in, brushing against your skin.
Your footsteps carried you toward the elevator at the end of the hall. You relished the quiet until it was broken.
The sound of another door shutting, followed by the faint crinkle of plastic bags.
You sighed. Of course. So much for peace. You didn’t even bother to turn around, slipping your phone out of your pocket to check if Sunoo had messaged this early.
“Going to Decelis?” The voice made you freeze mid-step, you turned only to see Jake.
Gone was the easy confidence from last night. Instead, he stood there with a sleepy gaze and clothes that looked like he’d just thrown them on in the dark.
His white shirt was slipping down one shoulder, exposing the clean lines of his collarbone. His gray sweatpants sat low on his hips, riding down just enough to reveal the waistband of branded boxers you recognized instantly—thanks to your mom’s brand deals.
Heat crept up your neck before you could stop it. You blinked hard, ripping your eyes away.
“Uh—yeah,” you managed quickly, your voice tighter than you wanted.
Jake rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, stifling a yawn. The plastic bag in his grip rustled. “Good. You can keep me awake on the way then.”
You gave him a flat look, already walking toward the elevator. “Not my problem.”
Jake only dismissed your snide remark with a soft chuckle, the sound low and rough from sleep. His longer strides caught up to yours easily, the faint crinkle of the plastic bag swinging at his side. He moved it away from you without a word, keeping it angled toward the wall as though making sure you wouldn’t catch so much as a whiff of it.
When you reached the elevator, his hand shot out before yours, pressing the button to the ground floor. Then, leaning against the wall with an ease only Jake seemed to carry even at six in the morning, he glanced at you with that lopsided grin.
“How do you look so put together in the morning?” he asked, voice still raspy with sleep.
You tilted your head, squinting at him. “Is that you being sarcastic?”
His smile softened as he shook his head. “No. I just call out the first thing I see. And you… look alive. Which is impressive, considering the ungodly hour.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity. A small appreciative nod slipped out before you muttered, “Thanks.”
Jake’s grin widened slightly. “No problem. I mean it.”
The metal doors slid open with a sharp ding, breaking the moment. Jake stepped back, gesturing for you to go in first. You caught the motion and, wordlessly, walked inside. He trailed after you, once again keeping the plastic bag angled away from your space.
Inside, the elevator walls gleamed with mirrored glass, reflecting both of you back in the dim light. Jake leaned against the wall, but a sudden shiver ran through him.
“Cold,” he muttered, rubbing his free arm with his palm.
You hummed, arms crossing loosely over your chest. Through the reflection, your gaze wandered—catching Jake tugging at his slipping shirt, the fabric sliding just enough to show more of his collarbone.
He caught your stare and raised a brow, his voice slow, still half-lost to sleep, “Is there something on my face?”
“Drool,” you said flatly, suppressing a smirk.
Jake immediately squinted at his reflection, patting at his cheeks like he’d actually find some. The sight tugged a small, almost unnoticeable smile from you.
When he realized you were teasing, he groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Teasing me this early is not very ideal, you know.”
You shrugged, lips twitching. “Sounds like a you problem.”
Before he could shoot back, the elevator chimed again, doors sliding open to the lobby. You stepped out smoothly, giving him a small nod in parting.
Jake followed just a few steps behind, yawning into his sleeve before calling out softly, “Hey, neighbor.”
You glanced back, one brow raised in question.
He gave you a sleepy smile, lifting a hand in a casual wave. “Good luck today.”
You blinked once, then twice, searching his face for any trace of the teasing you were used to. But there was none—just genuine warmth. Slowly, you nodded back, before the automatic glass doors slid open and you disappeared into the street, swallowed by the morning rush.
Jake stood there a moment longer, his hand dropping to his side, the faint smile never leaving his lips.
“Well, that’s a start,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. He turned, making his way around the back of the building toward the dumpsters, the plastic bag swinging lazily at his side.
“Never knew throwing trash could be this fun,” he admitted under his breath, still grinning like a fool.
The smile lingered on his face as he made his way through the quiet hallways of the apartment complex. The ground floor was hushed, the little stores tucked in the corners still shuttered with metal gates pulled down.
The only sound was his own footsteps and the faint swish of the plastic bag at his side—until his phone started buzzing loudly in his sweatpants pocket, breaking his little bubble of silence.
Jake groaned, fishing it out with one hand, not even bothering to look at the caller ID. He pressed it to his ear, voice laced with annoyance.
“What? It’s six in the morning. This better be important.”
A familiar scoff crackled through the line, sharp and irritated. Jake didn’t even need to see his face to know who it was.
“This is important, you idiot,” came Sunoo’s voice, equal parts snappy and exhausted.
Jake sighed so loudly it was practically exaggerated, just to make sure Sunoo heard it. “Yes, Sunoo. What is it?”
A groan followed on the other end, and Jake could already imagine him slumped dramatically over the council table, cheek pressed to the wood.
“Do you have classes today?” Sunoo asked.
Jake pushed through the glass doors that led to the back of the building. “No,” he answered flatly, moving his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could free his hands. “I don’t have any lectures that require my oh-so-great presence on campus.”
Sunoo clicked his tongue. “Yeah, keep feeding your ego. Your oh-so-great presence is needed by Friday. Volunteer meeting for the Sportsfest event.”
Jake’s brows furrowed as he lifted the heavy lid of a trash bin with one hand, hoisting the garbage bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing before tossing it inside. The lid clanged shut, echoing in the empty lot.
“Isn’t that, like… three months away? What’s with the rush?”
“You know Jungwon,” Sunoo sighed. The faint sound of bells in the background hinted he was near the university already. “He has this habit of doing everything in advance. And now that his organization is handling the whole thing? He’s acting even crazier about it.”
Jake groaned, dragging his palm down his face. “Are you serious?”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?” Sunoo shot back flatly. “Would I call you this early if it wasn’t urgent?”
Jake pushed back through the automatic doors, heading toward the elevators. “So you really needed to tell me this at six in the morning?”
“Yes,” Sunoo answered smugly. “You’re the only one I hadn’t notified yet.”
Jake snorted, pressing the elevator button with his knuckle. “What did Ni-ki say when you called him?”
Sunoo actually laughed at that, the sound sharp through the speaker. “He called me a fucking piece of blond french fry shit. Said—and I quote—‘It’s six in the morning, fuck off’—and then hung up.”
Jake couldn’t help but laugh, stepping into the elevator when the doors slid open. “He’ll apologize later. Don’t worry too much about the kid.”
Sunoo groaned again. “Yeah, a kid that’s six foot three and only a year younger than me.”
Jake shook his head, still chuckling as he pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator hummed softly as it began its climb.
“What are you even doing up this early, anyway?” Jake asked, leaning against the mirrored wall.
“Well,” Sunoo started, his voice dripping with fake importance, “you know—the urgent information. And I need to meet a friend to help her out with a paper.”
Jake raised a brow at his reflection, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Which friend? You’ve got thousands.”
A groan came through the line, followed by the rustle of papers. “That’s exactly what she said to me yesterday.”
Jake laughed under his breath as the elevator dinged open. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Sunoo drawled on the other end, “too bad her ego isn’t as high as yours. She’s actually really nice—unlike you.”
Jake barked out a laugh, his voice bouncing a little too loudly off the narrow hallway walls.
He instinctively glanced at the passing doors, half-expecting his neighbors to barge out in their morning grumpiness and complain about the noise. “Is this what you usually do this early? Call people and argue?”
“No,” Sunoo replied dryly. “Just you.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny, Sunoo.” Jake’s lips quirked despite his groan, shaking his head as he padded down the hall.
The faint sound of bells jingled through Sunoo’s line, clearer now, like he was already at the café near Decelis. “Oh, my friend’s already here. Hey, (Y/N)! Over here!”
Jake hummed at the sudden name Sunoo dropped, the sound low and dismissive like he didn’t think much of it. He didn’t know who this ‘(Y/N)’ was anyway—not that it mattered.
“Bye,” he muttered casually, thumb brushing over the end call button.
“Bye,” Sunoo replied quickly before hanging up.
The line went dead, and Jake sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket as he fished out his keycard. The mechanical beep echoed in the quiet hallway, signaling the door unlocking.
He stepped inside, kicking off his slippers in a hurry, and moved through the living room, not bothering to flick on the lights. The hallway was dim, the hum of his air conditioner growing louder as he approached his open bedroom door. Cold air blasted against his skin the moment he stepped inside.
Jake grabbed the small spray bottle of alcohol off his bedside table, spritzing his hands absently out of habit before tossing it back. His eyes landed on the neat but imposing stack of papers perched on his desk. He grimaced.
“So many lab reports,” he muttered under his breath. His gaze drifted to the other stack beside it, thicker and far more official-looking. “And student council papers. Great.”
Rolling his eyes, he flopped onto his bed, tugging the blanket lazily across his chest. “Oh, fuck it. It’s my free day. I’m sleeping in.”
He closed his eyes, trying to will himself into rest—but the image of Jungwon’s stern glare flickered in his mind, followed by Heeseung’s disappointed frown.
Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“Stupid Sportsfest,” he muttered, the words muffled against his blanket.
When he finally managed to push past the nagging reminders of council responsibilities, another image surfaced—unbidden.
You. From last night. Hair falling into your face as you typed away furiously on your laptop, the faint wind tugging strands free.
The glow of your screen had cast your features in soft light, and for a fleeting moment, you’d looked untouchable. Unbothered. Untouchably pretty.
Jake’s eyes flew open again, a flush creeping across his cheeks. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake it off.
“Get it together, Jake,” he mumbled to himself, voice low and firm, as if saying it out loud would snap him out of it.
But the image lingered stubbornly, refusing to leave, until he groaned and dragged the blanket over his face in defeat.
You groaned into your hands as you trudged down the dimly lit street toward your apartment building, the weight of the day pressing heavier than your bag ever could.
“I swear Professor Nam hates me,” you muttered, voice muffled against your palms.
Beside you, Sunoo glanced over, his sneakers scuffing against the pavement, lips tugging into an apologetic smile like he was the one responsible for your misery.
“Sorry…” he offered softly.
You lifted your head, catching the guilt on his face, and gave him the best tired smile you could manage. “No, please don’t say sorry. I already feel bad for dragging you here with me just to rant.”
“Oh, please,” Sunoo laughed, waving off your guilt with a flick of his wrist. “As if I didn’t also want to come. I needed to check a few things at the flower shop anyway.”
You raised a brow, your lips twitching. “The flower shop that your friend owns, right?”
“Close,” he hummed, eyes glinting. “It’s a family business. Like yours.”
You rolled your eyes at the implication, shaking your head. “My parents’, not mine, Sunoo.”
He only shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin. “Well, you’re the only heir, so…”
That earned him a light shove from you, though you couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped out. “Yeah, as if you don’t have one,” you shot back.
Sunoo scrunched his nose, kicking at a stray pebble. “A line of cafés is nothing compared to your company.”
You made a face. “Can we please not talk about family businesses right now?”
“Sure,” he replied smoothly, then smirked. “But if you need any advice, feel free to approach me. Or any of my friends.”
At that, your whole body tensed, and you grimaced at the thought of meeting new people. “Yeah, no thanks.”
Sunoo laughed at your expression, the sound light and teasing. “Oh, come on. I already told you a thousand times that we aren’t that bad.”
“Yeah,” you deadpanned, “still no.”
He only grinned wider, eyes crinkling as he turned to face you more fully. “We’ll see.”
You narrowed your eyes, but before you could retort, he tilted his head curiously. “So, Professor Nam…”
That was all it took for another groan to escape your throat, loud enough that a couple walking past gave you a strange look. You didn’t care. “I hate him. He hates me. The feeling is mutual.”
“(Y/N),” Sunoo said gently, his apologetic expression returning as if he could soothe away your frustrations, “he doesn’t hate you. Didn’t he pick you to participate in the writing division for the sportsfest?”
You shot him a look, jabbing a finger into the air. “The writing competition that’s going to be held before the sportsfest,” you corrected.
Sunoo blinked, then nodded, finally remembering. “Oh, right. The awarding—that’s the one happening during the sportsfest.”
You groaned louder this time, throwing your head back dramatically. “Sunoo, I’m going to be an embarrassment if I don’t win.”
He bit back a smile, hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you unravel. “You won’t. You’re too good for that.”
You exhaled sharply through your nose, fighting a smile at his confidence in you. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe,” he said easily, bumping his shoulder against yours. “But I’m also right.”
You couldn’t help the small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. Sunoo caught it and pressed on, his tone soft but sure. “Plus, I know how good you are. Hell, even you know how good you are. Don’t let those snide remarks get to you. You know they’re just jealous.”
You tilted your head, deadpan. “Jealous of what? My eyebags?”
Sunoo sighed dramatically, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “You’re hopeless.”
“Well,” you shrugged, lips curving into a teasing grin, “I aim to please.”
He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched as you asked, “What’d you need at the flower shop anyway?”
“Oh, Jay asked me to grab a few things for him,” Sunoo explained, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as the night breeze ruffled them.
“He said he’d help me with some council work if I did. Plus—” his expression brightened, “I’m getting free flowers. Been a while since I treated myself.”
You hummed, nodding. “Jay’s the business major, right?”
Sunoo clicked his tongue, shooting you a mock glare. His blond hair swayed dramatically in the wind as he corrected, “He’s the psychology one. Ni-ki’s the one in business.”
“Right, right,” you said carefully, sheepish. “Don’t know their faces, but… noted. Thank you.”
Sunoo only gave you a patient smile, letting you off the hook.
“I should start checking the shop out too,” you admitted after a beat, rubbing your arm. “My roses are dying.”
“Well,” Sunoo said lightly, “I can always let you talk to Jay’s girlfriend. She’s good with plants.”
You raised a brow, curious.
“She’s a biology major,” he added, like that explained everything.
“Ah.” You nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”
By then, the familiar outline of your apartment building came into view, its lights glowing faintly against the dark sky. You sighed, half relieved, half reluctant to end the walk. “Well, this is my stop.”
Sunoo pointed toward a turn just past your building. “Yeah, me too. I need to head over there.”
You gave him a small but appreciative smile. He paused, looking back at your building with mild curiosity. “Have I mentioned I’ve got a friend who lives in the same building as you?”
You followed his gaze, squinting at the rows of lit windows. “Which one of the twenty are we talking about?”
He raised a brow at you, but you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “Yes, Sunoo. Like once or twice.”
He tilted his head, teasing. “Well, have you met him?”
You gave him a sheepish smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You know I don’t usually go out.”
He gave you a knowing smile in return, like he’d expected that answer. “Worth a shot asking, I guess.”
You nodded, and he smiled back, lifting a hand in the air as he started toward his turn. “Have a nice night, (Y/N). Don’t stay up too late,” he said, voice slipping into the scolding tone of an older brother.
You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “No promises.”
The night air clung to your skin as you made your way toward the bustling apartment building. You didn’t acknowledge the people you passed—students laughing too loudly in pairs, strangers weaving past with tired expressions, even the boisterous group of friends crowding near the lobby couches.
You slipped by them without so much as a glance, your only focus on the glowing elevator button ahead.
The moment you pressed it, the doors slid open like a small mercy, and you hurried inside, jabbing the close button before anyone else could follow. As the doors shut, you exhaled a long sigh, leaning against the mirrored wall.
Your reflection stared back at you, tired eyes and all. You muttered, “This cycle is killing me,” fingers pushing through your hair in a halfhearted attempt to smooth it down.
A pout tugged at your lips as you added, “Sunoo has the same amount of stress on his plate as me, but he still looks so put together.”
The pout deepened as you tilted your head at yourself. “Is this what friendship and parties do for them?”
The thought made you shake your head quickly, a shiver crawling up your spine at the mental image. Being squished against sweaty bodies, your senses overwhelmed by too many colognes and overly sweet floral perfumes—it was enough to make you wrinkle your nose.
“Yeah, no thanks,” you mumbled to yourself.
The elevator dinged, rescuing you from the thought, and the doors parted to reveal the familiar hallway. Faint chatter spilled from doors cracked open, students already gearing up for their nocturnal routines.
You passed them wordlessly, adjusting the lanyard hanging from your neck. Your student ID card swayed against your chest as you tugged the keycard free, fingers fumbling for only a second before pressing it to the sensor. A soft mechanical beep sounded, the lock disengaging.
Relief loosened your shoulders as you quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind you with more force than you intended. “Finally,” you breathed, the word half a groan, half a prayer of thanks.
The cool air wrapped around you instantly, brushing away the heaviness of the city. “Thank God I didn’t turn off the air conditioning…”
A small laugh escaped you as you bent down to untie your shoes. “I’ll deal with the bill next time,” you muttered, slipping them off and padding further inside.
You wasted no time heading to the fridge, your bag still hanging lazily off your shoulder. The cool light spilled out when you yanked the door open, and without even thinking, you grabbed two bottles of instant coffee.
With a groan, you trudged toward your balcony, nudging the glass door open with your hip.
The faint sound of music floated through the night air, stopping you mid-step. Your brows furrowed. It wasn’t the kind of music that usually annoyed you—no thudding bass, no overly-loud pop chorus someone left on repeat.
Instead, soft classical notes carried through the quiet, gentle and steady, like they had always belonged there.
Curious, you turned your head.
Only to see Jake, slumped in his chair, laptop glowing against his tired face. His glasses sat crookedly on his nose, and his damp hair—curling slightly at the ends—still clung to traces of water.
His phone, wedged between his shoulder and ear, picked up muffled voices. He typed rapidly, each keystroke sharp and precise, his focus entirely locked in.
You froze, careful not to disturb him as you set your stuff on the table.
There was something oddly fascinating about him like this. Jake, the same Jake who laughed too loud and strutted with confidence, now serious, hunched slightly forward, a crease forming between his brows as he listened. It was like he’d closed himself off from everything else—the music, the night, even you.
Then, suddenly, his voice cut through, low and sharp: “Fuck off, I’ll fix this later. Stop acting like you’re the one doing the minutes.”
You blinked in surprise, coffee bottle halfway to your lips.
A ripple of laughter erupted from his phone, followed by a voice you almost recognized but couldn’t place. “Language. We have other people here, you know.”
Jake’s lips quirked, sheepish but still amused. “Sorry, juniors. Seniors too.” He adjusted his phone, finally propping it against his laptop so he was visible on screen.
Your eyes caught the faintest glimpse of his smile in the glow of the screen, lazy but still charismatic.
“According to the summary,” Jake continued, leaning forward slightly, “we should be able to begin this by Friday. Thank you to our very amazing french fry friend—who’s running late, as always.”
He glanced at the time in the corner of his laptop, sighing softly through his nose. “Okay, ten-minute break. I can see most of you are starting to doze off.”
A chorus of chuckles and tired groans echoed faintly through the speaker.
As if the gods were playing with you, Jake turned his head to the side, catching your gaze mid-sip. You nearly choked on your coffee, quickly averting your eyes, heat rushing to your ears. Your hands fumbled as you placed the bottle back on the table beside your bag, trying to pretend nothing happened.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jake visibly brighten, his grin stretching wide until his eyes crinkled into crescents. Without a second thought, he moved his chair closer to the railing, leaning lazily against the armrest as if the meeting wasn’t even happening.
“Hey, neighbor,” he called, voice teasingly soft like he’d been waiting for the chance to catch you.
You gave him a stiff nod in response, doing everything you could to calm the hammering in your chest.
“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you step out,” Jake asked, head tilting with curiosity as he rested his chin in his palm.
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look at him properly, praying you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Like… a minute ago,” you admitted, sliding into your chair a little more rigidly than necessary.
Jake nodded slowly, lips curling as he said, almost too casually, “Sorry.”
You raised a brow at that, confusion written across your features. “Sorry? What for?”
By then, you had already started unpacking out of sheer habit, opening your laptop with a click, pulling out a few pens and scattered papers like you always did the second you sat down.
Jake’s grin turned playful, his voice dropping just slightly as he leaned forward over the railing. “For not noticing you sooner.”
Your eyebrows shot up at his bluntness, lips parting just a fraction, but Jake didn’t falter—he stayed smiling, one arm dangling lazily over the railing, his posture otherwise relaxed and steady in his chair. You waved a dismissive hand, trying to brush off the sudden heat crawling up your neck.
“It’s nothing. It’s not like it’s your obligation,” you muttered, your voice steadier than you felt.
Jake tilted his head, the corners of his mouth quirking as he gave a small shrug, both hands retreating to rest comfortably at his sides again.
“Well… I wanted to,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Your fingers froze momentarily over your laptop keys, the screen still loading, while Jake’s eyes flicked over your table.
He noticed the difference almost immediately—last night you’d been buried under piles of papers, thick reference books he recognized in passing, too many notebooks to count, and an army of pens scattered like fallen soldiers. Tonight, though? The stacks were thinner, almost nonexistent compared to before.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice carrying just enough curiosity to make you look up. “Hey, neighbor?”
Your laptop gave a soft sound as the home screen appeared. You didn’t look away from him, though, arching a brow. “Yes?”
Jake propped his chin on his palm, elbow balanced against the armrest, studying you in a way that made you acutely aware of every movement. “Are you an English major?”
If not for the composure you’d trained yourself to keep, you might’ve choked right then. His question caught you off guard, but you managed to mask it well—only a faint blink gave you away.
“Is that a guess or an answer?” you asked, tone sharp but not unkind.
His smile widened just a little, eyes gleaming. “An educated guess,” he replied smoothly.
You tilted your head, silently urging him to continue.
“Well,” Jake began, gesturing lightly toward your desk, “you always have giant stacks of papers with you. Well, not always—I’ve only noticed from last night. But tonight? There’s almost nothing.”
He paused, his finger flicking toward the side. “And those.”
You followed his gesture. Three books sat untouched, exactly where you’d left them the night before.
“What about them?” you asked, more curious than defensive.
“I’ve seen two of those three before,” Jake said, confident in his observation. “From my English major friend.”
You blinked, impressed despite yourself. Slowly, a smile tugged at your lips, small but genuine this time. “Close. I’m a literature major. But good job, Sherlock.”
Jake’s beam could’ve lit the whole block. “Thank you,” he said with a little dramatic flourish, leaning back with such satisfaction that you could practically see an imaginary golden tail whipping behind him like a victorious flag.
You couldn’t stop the amused huff that slipped from you as you crossed your arms. “You’re way too proud of yourself.”
Jake tilted his head again, cheek propped against his hand, his grin impossibly smug. “Wouldn’t you be if you got it right?”
You shook your head, fighting the smile tugging at your lips, but it still slipped through the cracks. “I mean… it depends.”
Jake leaned forward just a little, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief. “It doesn’t depend on anything. I’m just actually glad I guessed it right.”
“Near,” you corrected softly, lifting a brow at him.
He nodded eagerly, grinning wider. “Yeah, near.” Then his eyes lit with mischief. “Why don’t you try guessing my major?”
You leaned back in your chair, studying him openly. His glasses clung perfectly to his nose, catching the faint glow of his laptop screen. The way his eyes gleamed beneath the night sky almost distracted you—almost.
But your gaze inevitably drifted to the once-chaotic stack of papers now neatly organized in folders, and the small circular diagrams scattered on top.
You hummed, decisive. “Biology.”
Jake shook his head, grin widening. “Nope. Guess again.”
“Physics,” you said without missing a beat.
Jake’s face broke into a boyish, bright smile, his teeth flashing as he nodded. “Yeah! How’d you know?”
You simply gestured toward his laptop, where the screen was split in two—one half displaying what was unmistakably a digital lab report, the other filled with meeting minutes.
His smile faltered into a sheepish grin as his hand shot up to scratch the back of his nape. “Oops.”
A small laugh escaped you, and before you could stop yourself, words slipped out. “Next time, if you want me to guess something, make sure your laptop isn’t flashing lab reports right in front of me.”
Jake chuckled softly, ducking his head as though embarrassed. “You’re really observant, huh?”
This time, your smile was softer, without bite or sarcasm. You shrugged, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “Well, I’m supposed to be, aren’t I?”
Jake nodded, his voice lower, more thoughtful. “Yeah, I know. And I’m supposed to be good at physics.”
Your laptop dinged again as you opened a fresh document, your eyes fixed on the screen. “Aren’t you?”
He sighed, lips curving into a wry smile as his gaze fell back to the stack of work in front of him. “With the amount of stuff piling up on my plate? Not really sure right now.” He let out a small snicker, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You hummed, typing in the file name slowly. “Our majors aren’t supposed to define us.”
Jake tilted his head, watching you curiously, but you continued as if you could feel his attention on you.
“Just because you’re a physics major doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be good at everything related to physics,” you said calmly, voice even but laced with a softness that sank into him.
“You’re not supposed to solve how the stars manage to shine so brightly. Astrophysics isn’t just your focus.”
You paused, your fingers stilling briefly before you pressed enter, finally glancing up at him. The night seemed to still for a moment as your eyes met his across the small distance between your balconies. “You don’t have to do everything people expect of you.”
Jake’s breath hitched, though he tried to mask it by leaning back in his chair. But inside, your words had knocked the air from his lungs.
How could you say something so beautiful, so tragic, so casually, like it wasn’t the kind of thought that would bury itself deep inside him for weeks?
His chest felt too tight, his throat dry, but he still managed to speak, his voice barely above the hum of the night. “You make it sound so simple.”
You turned back to your laptop, fingers resuming their rhythmic tapping as though you hadn’t just unraveled him. “Sometimes it is,” you murmured, and the glow from your screen lit your face like a halo.
Jake studied you, unable to stop himself. The way you leaned over your keyboard, the faint crease between your brows, the stubborn tilt of your chin—it made him wonder. Almost before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
“Have you ever written something about the stars?”
Your typing froze for half a second before resuming, faster this time. You didn’t look at him when you answered. “What makes you think I’d waste time on that?”
Jake’s lips curved, amused by your sharp dodge. “Because you talk about them like you already have.”
You finally flicked your gaze up at him, feigning flatness. “I talk about a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I’m keeping a secret poetry stash.”
“Mhmm.” He hummed lowly, leaning back with a teasing glint in his eye. “So that’s a yes.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck. Your fingers clacked louder against the keys, sharper—as if the rhythm itself could drown him out.
“I’m not answering that, Jake,” you shot back flatly.
He chuckled, shoulders shaking as he adjusted against the balcony chair. “Worth a shot,” he said, grinning.
Before you could retort, another voice broke through the speaker of his laptop, loud enough to carry across the quiet night.
“Jake, wrap it up already. I want to sleep.”
You froze mid-type, brows knitting in concentration. The voice… why did it sound so familiar? Your pulse jumped uncomfortably, and despite your best effort to keep your eyes on the glowing screen in front of you, your ears strained toward his balcony.
That voice—it couldn’t be, could it? No. There was no way your world and his could overlap. You were too far apart. Too different.
Jake sighed, dragging a hand down his face before unmuting himself. “Okay, everybody, let’s go back to the meeting,” he said with the resignation of someone used to herding dogs.
“Wrap it up,” the same voice insisted again, clearer this time, and your chest tightened. No. You had to be imagining it.
You leaned back against your chair, chewing the inside of your cheek as Jake rubbed the back of his neck, groaning. His screen illuminated his sharp jawline as he scanned over something, then spoke with practiced ease.
“The budget allocation looks bigger compared to last year,” he explained, flipping through a spreadsheet with swift fingers, “but that’s because we’ve got more booths and events planned. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just write up a check or whatever.”
You blinked, eyebrows shooting up.
A check? Who the hell casually said things like that? You stole a quick glance his way—he looked completely unfazed, like discussing large sums of money was just another Tuesday night.
Then again, you reminded yourself, this building wasn’t exactly cheap. Most of its residents were heirs and heiresses, the type of people who could casually throw around phrases like just write up a check.
Still, it nagged at you. Just who was your neighbor, anyway?
Sighing, you turned back to your laptop, highlighting a paragraph for editing later, but his voice cut back in, firm and low.
“Also—we need to fix up the sports lineup by Friday. And yes, that’s tomorrow.”
A chorus of groans filtered through his speaker. Jake shoved a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“What time’s everybody free tomorrow?” one voice asked.
Jake tilted his head, finger gliding over the touchpad until he clicked open what looked like a shared calendar. “Around five or six works for me,” he said casually.
“So we’re all agreeing to just meet before dismissal, right?” another voice chimed in.
“Pretty much,” Jake answered with a short nod, leaning back in his chair again. The faint light from his screen glowed against his skin, his features softening into that familiar half-smile he always seemed to have when he was doing something that mattered.
Another voice piped up through the speaker, half-mocking, half-curious. “That blonde french fry isn’t coming, is he?”
Before Jake could respond, a second voice—one that tugged sharply at your memory—echoed back, “Oh, come on, I already apologized for that earlier!”
Jake couldn’t help it—he laughed, shoulders shaking as he ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I told him.”
You blinked, fingers slowing on your keys as your chest tightened. That voice again. Familiar in a way you didn’t want to admit, as if some invisible thread was slowly weaving Jake’s world closer to yours.
“Jake,” another voice cut in, sharper this time, “are you seriously not going to sign up for Central Council? These minutes are hall-worthy.”
Jake just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Nope. I’m just glad to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” the same voice scoffed. “Or do half of the secretary team’s work?”
He only smiled again, leaning forward slightly before sighing. “Okay, let’s wrap this up. Remember to open the document I sent in the group chat. Have a good night, everyone.”
With a click, the meeting tab disappeared, leaving the glow of his screen replaced by the dim golden wash of the balcony lights. Jake leaned back, stretching, before tilting his head toward you with an apologetic grin.
“Sorry you had to see that.”
You shook your head slowly, lips tugging into the ghost of a smile. “No, it’s fine.”
For a moment, you hesitated—your fingers brushed the scattered papers next to your laptop as you debated whether or not to ask. Curiosity won. You picked them up absently, glancing back up to meet his gaze.
“So… you’re volunteering for the council?”
Jake nodded, a small, almost boyish smile pulling at his lips. “Just volunteering.”
“Well, that’s unexpected,” you said, raising a brow.
He tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You pursed your lips, giving him a sidelong glance. “You just seem like the type of rich kid who focuses on labs and parties, not… council work.”
Jake placed a hand dramatically over his chest, feigning a look of mock injury. “You wound me, neighbor.”
You shrugged, fingers tapping away on your laptop again. “I simply point out what I observe, Jake.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before shifting in his chair, turning his body just a bit more toward you. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes carried that glint again—the one that always seemed to catch you off guard.
“You know,” he murmured, his voice dipping softer, “you’re really starting to figure out more and more about my life.”
You sighed, raising your gaze despite yourself. You had lost count of how many times tonight you’d had to drag your focus back from him to your work. It was exhausting.
And yet, it felt impossible not to—like being a moth circling too close to a flame, dangerously aware you’d get burned but unable to resist.
“And you’re implying…?” you asked, tilting your head.
Jake shrugged again, casual as ever, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper than teasing this time. “When will you ever give me something as simple as your name?”
Your fingers stilled over the keyboard. The cursor blinked on your screen, but all you could feel was the weight of his gaze, steady and expectant, the night humming around you like it was holding its breath.
You blinked once, twice, before slowly meeting his eyes. The corner of your mouth tugged upward as you said, steady but playful, “I told you. When you’ve earned it.”
Jake’s pout was immediate, his bottom lip jutting out so dramatically it almost made you laugh. With his head tilted and his soft brown hair still damp at the tips, he looked less like the smug boy next door and more like a kicked puppy.
“I don’t get it yet?” he asked, voice light but hopeful, like maybe—just maybe—you’d change your mind.
You shook your head, fighting to keep the smile off your lips. “No.” Your tone carried a teasing lilt you couldn’t hide, no matter how much you tried.
Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face before raking it through his nearly dry hair. “Are you always this—I don’t know—teasing?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against your chair with mock seriousness. “Just to you.”
That earned another groan from him, louder this time, as he slumped in his seat like he’d been defeated. The pout on his lips only deepened.
“Do peace offerings work?” he asked suddenly, brightening a little as his eyes flicked toward you. “Like… pasta? I could cook for you. Maybe then I’d finally earn it.”
You raised a brow, lips twitching. “Pasta?”
He nodded eagerly, almost bouncing in his seat. “Yeah. I make a mean carbonara. Ask anyone.”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it before shrugging. “Not really.”
Jake let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back against the chair. “As I said, worth a shot.” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, before leaning forward again to reach for his laptop. His fingers tapped across the touchpad, screen light painting sharp angles into his features.
But just before his focus fully shifted, he glanced at you one last time, eyes crinkling faintly with a softer smile. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try again.”
You raised a brow at that, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as he turned back to his devices, the click of keys filling the silence between you.
Quietly, almost to yourself, you muttered, “You’re one very weird person, Jake.” The words carried judgment, but your tone—gentle, warm, unwillingly fond—told another story entirely.
And if the stars above had ears, they would’ve sworn they heard the truth in your voice before either of you admitted it out loud.
The next morning came in a blink of an eye.
You stuffed the last sheet of your output into your bag, carefully sliding it against your laptop and folder to avoid any creases. Rising from your dining table, you slung the strap over your shoulder and crossed the living room, crouching by the door to slip on your shoes.
“Another meaningless day,” you muttered under your breath as you straightened up, grabbing your keycard from where it dangled with your student ID on a lanyard. A short beep signaled your unit locking behind you as you stepped into the hall.
You barely made it a few paces before the door next to yours swung open.
Jake stepped out, tugging his keycard from the lock before shoving it into his pocket. He glanced down, noticing his untied laces, and muttered, “Damn it.”
You tried not to watch—but it was impossible not to. The oversized black bomber jacket, the crisp white undershirt with a Prada pin glinting on it, the silver chain catching the light, the faded jeans hugging his frame just enough. Even his black Converse seemed intentional, though at the moment he was hunched over, fiddling with the laces like a boy late for school.
When he straightened, his gaze snapped right to you. For the second time, he caught you staring. You looked away so fast it almost hurt, cursing the way your heart stuttered in your chest.
“Good morning, neighbor,” Jake greeted, voice warm despite the early hour. Slinging a black leather bag across his shoulder, he jogged a few steps to fall into place beside you.
You gave a short nod, inhaling slowly, then exhaling through your nose to steady yourself before meeting his eyes.
You had to tilt your head up a little—he was annoyingly tall. His hand ran through his soft hair, bangs falling perfectly against his forehead, and he asked, “Early morning lectures?”
“Yeah,” you admitted with a sigh. “Unfortunately so.”
Jake’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one too soft for how awake he was. “Yeah, me too.”
He walked in sync with you toward the elevator, his shoulder brushing just slightly closer than necessary. “Are you always this much of an early riser?”
You shook your head. “Not really. It’s… pretty much just a force of habit now.”
He grimaced dramatically. “Yikes.”
You let out a quiet hum, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Yikes.”
Jake chuckled. “No wonder my English major friends are always so grumpy in the mornings during meetings.”
“Same friend from the meeting last night?” you asked, raising a brow.
He nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah. You could say that.”
The elevator doors slid open. Jake stepped aside with a slight bow and an exaggerated flourish of his arm. “Please, ladies first.”
Rolling your eyes, you stepped inside, hearing his shoes thud softly against the metal floor as he joined you. He pressed the ground button, then leaned back casually, eyes drifting back to you.
“So,” he asked, tilting his head, “what’s your lecture today?”
You caught his reflection in the elevator mirror—how he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the cramped space worth noticing. Your brow arched, both curious and cautious, before you finally turned your head to face him.
“Literary theory.”
Jake’s nose scrunched adorably, like he’d just tasted something sour. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” you sighed.
He laughed softly. “Good thing I’m good at math, huh? I don’t think I’d last an hour of that.”
You shook your head, lips twitching despite yourself. “Are you really good at math?”
His laughter rang against the metal walls, light and genuine. “You said last night that our majors don’t define us. But math? Math is the only reason I even got into physics in the first place.”
You scrunched your nose at the mention of the subject, lips twisting like you’d bitten into something sour. Jake caught the expression instantly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a small smile, like he found the reaction ridiculously endearing.
“I hate math,” you muttered flatly, tugging the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder.
Jake tilted his head just as the elevator doors opened. He stepped forward, one hand sliding out to block the metal from closing, and with a little tilt of his chin he gestured for you to go ahead.
“Thanks,” you murmured, brushing past him. He fell into step beside you without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Why?” he asked as the two of you crossed the apartment lobby.
You shrugged, pushing open the doors to the early morning rush. The cool air hit your face, mixing with the warmth of his voice as he followed you onto the sidewalk.
“I just don’t see the point in mixing numbers with the alphabet,” you said, hands gesturing vaguely. “And I’m saying that as someone who actually loves the alphabet.”
Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Literature major.”
You gave him a sharp nod, like he’d solved some grand puzzle. But then he glanced at you sideways, a bit more curious, a bit more earnest.
“So why literature?”
The question caught you just slightly off guard. You blinked, mouth parting before your brain caught up. “I love writing.”
“That’s it?”
“Isn’t that enough?” you shot back, but your lips twitched, betraying how flustered you felt.
Jake didn’t answer right away. He only hummed as he gestured for you to switch sides, subtly moving himself to the outer edge of the sidewalk where the cars rushed past. It was protective, instinctive—something you might’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention.
You cleared your throat and continued, words tumbling out now that you’d committed to them. “Well… to put it simply, I love the idea of bringing whatever’s in my head to life. I hate how people feel forced into sciences because society says it’s more practical. I like having my own freedom. My own thoughts.”
Jake nodded eagerly, his usual teasing softened into something else entirely. His face was serious, his eyes sharp and focused like he was absorbing every syllable you spoke.
“That’s refreshing to hear,” he said quietly.
The weight of his sincerity tugged something in your chest. You gave him a barely-there smile, so small it almost wasn’t a smile at all—but the way his expression lit up, you knew he’d caught it.
The two of you walked a few more blocks like that, your steps syncing unconsciously.
Then Jake broke the silence, his voice laced with a playful lilt again. “So… when are you going to show me your poetry collection about stars?”
You scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated grin. “I already told you, Jake—I have nothing related to astrophysics.”
“Then write one for me.”
You looked at him, eyebrows lifting at the way his eyes glimmered with boyish expectation, like he actually believed you might say yes. “And what’s in it for me?” you asked.
Jake grinned. “You’ll finally get to taste my cooking.”
Your brow furrowed, suspicion dripping from your voice. “Are you sure you’re not planning to poison me just because I said I hated math?”
Jake threw his head back and laughed, loud and boisterous, the sound bouncing off the morning air. He shook his head, brushing his hair back with one hand.
“I’m not that daft, you know,” he said between chuckles.
“Just making sure,” you hummed, hiding the way your chest fluttered at how carefree he sounded.
For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke. The city was alive around you—honking cars, chatter from street vendors, the smell of roasted chestnuts mixing with fresh bread from the bakery on the corner.
But the silence wasn’t heavy. No, it was comfortable. Warm.
Your brows furrowed the second the looming gates of the university came into view, their familiar stone pillars casting long shadows across the pavement. They felt all too familiar. All too imposing. You let out a small sigh without realizing it.
Jake caught the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he tilted his head, gaze flicking toward you. When you looked up, you caught him mid-stare, his head still tipped in that curious way—like he was silently asking ‘what’s wrong?’
“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, forcing your lips into a thin smile.
He didn’t push. Just hummed softly, “Okay,” letting the subject drift away as easily as it had come.
Together, you passed through the gates. Despite the early hour, the main campus was already buzzing with life. A few students hurried with coffees clutched in their hands, others gathered in groups, talking animatedly.
Jake’s voice cut through the bustle, soft and almost hesitant. “Not to impose, but… let me guess. More papers?”
You gave him a look, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “Three due today.”
His eyes widened just slightly. “Three? In one day?”
You nodded, adjusting the strap of your bag like it was no big deal. “Welcome to literature.”
“I still can’t believe how you manage that,” Jake said, shaking his head in disbelief.
You raised a brow, already preparing a sharp retort, but before you could get it out, a group of passing students called out.
“Hi, Jake!”
He turned his head instantly, offering them a quick wave and an easy smile. “Hey, morning!”
Another group walked past, and again—“Good morning, Jake!”
“Morning,” he echoed smoothly, grin widening just enough to be polite before his attention flicked back to you. “I’m sure you don’t need it, but… good luck today.”
You opened your mouth, only to be cut off by yet another cheerful greeting.
“Jake!” someone waved from across the walkway.
Jake waved back with practiced ease, smile softening into something that felt natural, unforced. For a second, you caught yourself staring.
You couldn’t help but think how different your worlds were—how his presence seemed to light up the paths you both walked, how he was like the epitome of stars scattered across a clear night sky. The way he smiled at everyone made it feel like they belonged in his orbit.
The crowd thinned a little as you approached the English building, its stone façade painted to look like some odd mix of Renaissance revival and modern design. You couldn’t stop the small huff of a laugh as you gestured toward it.
“Well. This is my stop.”
You climbed the small stairs leading to the entrance, silently cursing the narrow construction that had always made them feel like they were built to trip people on purpose. Jake lingered at the bottom, his head tilting just slightly as he glanced up at the building behind you, his gaze thoughtful for a beat before he straightened back to his full height.
“Okay,” he said, voice warm. “Take care. And… good luck.”
You gave him a small nod, already turning toward the door when his voice called out again.
“I mean it, neighbor—good luck.”
You looked back just long enough to see him waving, his smile so bright it could’ve outshone the morning sun. Something in your chest tightened before you forced yourself to walk inside, disappearing into the vast, echoing hallways of your department building.
Jake stood there for a moment longer, gaze fixed on where you’d vanished, before the sound of a familiar voice snapped him out of it.
“Well, well,” a teasing tone drawled from behind him.
Jake turned just in time to see Heeseung strolling over, bumping his shoulder into Jake’s in greeting. His lips curved into that usual sly grin.
“What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you borrowed something from me again.”
Jake blinked, startled for only a second before he quickly shook his head. “No. Not really.”
Heeseung arched a brow, suspicion laced with amusement. “You sure, man?”
Jake didn’t answer, just kept his gaze steady.
“Because,” Heeseung continued, dragging out the word, “you barely show up in my department unless it’s council duty, org duty, or you want to bother the fuck out of me.” He tilted his head, eyes glinting as if he were piecing something together.
Jake raised a brow at him, his expression unreadable. “Can’t I just be passing by?”
That made Heeseung laugh—loud, boisterous, the kind of laugh that turned heads. A couple of students walking past slowed their pace, glancing curiously toward the sound. Heeseung, noticing, gave them a dismissive little wave and mouthed an exaggerated ‘sorry’ before turning back to Jake with a grin.
“The sciences building,” he said pointedly, “is all the way on the other side of campus. Next to the main library, Jake.”
Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders lifting in the faintest shrug. “Whatever.”
Heeseung smirked, victory practically dripping off his tone. “Relax, I’m not prying.” He leaned back a little, rocking on his heels. “Anyway, do you mind waiting for me? I just need to grab a few papers, then I’m heading to your building.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “What for?”
“Somebody left their lab reports in my classroom.” Heeseung held up a finger as if ticking off a list. “And apparently, the head of the biology organization needs to talk to me. They couldn’t make the meeting last night, remember?”
Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Hurry up, man.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Heeseung said with a mock salute, his grin widening. Without another word, he jogged up the steps and disappeared into the building, leaving Jake standing there, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flicking once more—almost unconsciously—toward the doors you had vanished through minutes ago.
You pushed open the door of the ladies’ comfort room, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped into the hallway. The cool air greeted you, brushing against your legs as you absentmindedly tugged at the hem of your skirt, making sure it wasn’t caught in your shirt.
The faint echo of voices bounced off the tiled walls, and your brows furrowed when one of them rang far too familiar.
A few steps away, leaning casually against the wall, Sunoo had his phone pressed to his ear. His expression, however, was anything but casual—his brows knitted, lips tugging down into a frown as he spoke.
“Why do I have to walk? Our buildings are way too far from each other,” he complained, his voice rising in irritation. A pause, then a dramatic groan.
“You make me sound like a prick, man.” Another beat of silence. His frown deepened before he sighed. “Fine. You owe me pasta after this.”
The call ended with a sharp tap on his screen. As if on cue, Sunoo’s gaze flicked up and landed directly on you.
You blinked, caught mid-step. “Do you have a radar on me or something?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. “Nope. But—” he slipped his phone into his pocket, straightening up with too much intent—“you’re coming with me.”
You raised a brow, crossing your arms loosely. “All of a sudden?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, already moving to your side like you didn’t have a say. “I need help. I came here because I have to take some papers all the way to the sciences building. Your organization president texted me.”
That made you tilt your head slightly. “You talked to Sungchan?”
“Yeah. Tall guy, right?”
You nodded, lips curving just a little. “Yeah. Sungchan’s pretty tall.”
Sunoo snickered, swinging his bag to adjust it over his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s like the same height as Ni-ki.”
You gave him a side-eye, your steps falling into rhythm with his as the two of you started walking toward the elevators. “Ni-ki? Who is he—the English major or the sports sciences one?”
“Neither,” Sunoo replied easily. “He’s the business one.”
Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ in acknowledgment. “Ah.”
The quiet between you wasn’t awkward; it was filled with the sounds of your shoes against polished floors and the low chatter of students passing by. Still, curiosity pushed words past your lips. “I didn’t even know our organization was involved in this.”
“The sportsfest,” Sunoo clarified.
You nodded slowly. “Right.”
“Well, not entirely,” he added, sliding his hands into his pockets as the two of you neared the elevators. “But you guys are one of the sponsors. And, as far as I’m concerned, the handlers of the opening and closing speeches.”
You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head back just slightly. “Of course we are.”
Sunoo shot you a playful grin, pressing the button for the elevator. “Don’t sound too excited.”
You gave him a flat look, arms crossing over your chest. “I’m not, thank you very much.”
He only shrugged, lips twitching in amusement. “Sucks to be part of Team Vice President, huh?”
You let out a dramatic huff, shifting your weight onto one leg. “Yes, stop reminding me that I put this upon myself, Sunoo.”
The elevator hummed quietly as it started to rise, and Sunoo leaned against the wall with that ever-present, boyish smile. “Stop acting like you don’t like the work.”
“I do like the work,” you shot back, hugging your bag closer to your side. “Coordinating with other colleges? Not so much.” Your gaze flicked toward him, sharp and accusing. “Especially when I get hit in the face with a basketball because you dragged me along as the volunteer for my organization.”
Sunoo bit back a laugh, shoulders shaking as the memory played in his head. You, however, scrunched your nose at the thought.
The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped out into the hallway. Sunoo lifted a finger, already on defense. “First of all, I already apologized for that. Second, so did the entire basketball team. And third—Heeseung even said sorry to you personally because his girlfriend wouldn’t stop berating him for accidentally hitting a girl.”
“Heeseung’s the basketball one?” you asked, tilting your head.
Sunoo rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “Yes. English major. That’s Heeseung.”
You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in as the two of you walked side by side down the corridor. Students passed by in small groups, some nodding or greeting Sunoo with bright smiles. He returned each one like a pro, his own grin unwavering.
By the time you reached the middle of the hall, Sunoo let out a soft groan. “My cheeks are starting to hurt.”
You elbowed him lightly, lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Who told you to befriend half of the student population?”
He shrugged, hands tucked into his pockets. “It’s fine.”
You rolled your eyes but bit back a grin as he pushed the door open to the organization room. The familiar scent of paper and ink greeted you, along with the low murmur of voices and the shuffle of feet. Stacks of boxes were pushed against the walls, tables cluttered with documents and neatly arranged folders waiting to be signed or sorted.
Almost immediately, a tall figure approached, his expression friendly but rushed.
“Hey, Sunoo. Hey, (Y/N),” Sungchan greeted, offering you both an easy smile as he slid a file into the crook of his arm.
“Hey,” Sunoo replied casually, already leaning an elbow on the nearest desk like he owned the place. “We got the message. Papers for the Science building, right?”
“Yeah.” Sungchan handed over the folder, his brow furrowing just slightly. “Sorry to trouble you two, but they need this ASAP for the Sportsfest coordination. You’re the only ones I could get in touch with on short notice.”
Before you could even respond, Sungchan bent down and grabbed another thick, heavy-looking folder from the desk, gesturing toward you.
You let out a long, dramatic sigh, taking the second from his hold. “I was dragged in here by force,” you muttered, shooting a glare at Sunoo from the corner of your eye.
Sunoo only gave you a sheepish grin, “What? You’re one of the few people I’m close with in this department.”
That earned a laugh out of Sungchan, who shook his head at the two of you. “Still—thank you. The both of you. Especially you, (Y/N). This is unusual for you.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line as you adjusted the folder against your chest. “As I said,” you repeated, tone dry, “I was dragged.”
Sunoo’s only response was a chirpy, “Bye, Sungchan! Thank you!” as he spun on his heel, already heading toward the door.
Sungchan chuckled at the blond’s antics before glancing back at you with a smile. “Yes, thank you again.” He fell into step just behind you, pushing the glass doors open and holding them there. “It’s the least I could do.”
You gave him a polite nod in return before stepping out, Sunoo trailing right after with a little two-finger salute in Sungchan’s direction.
“Come on,” Sunoo said as soon as you both cleared the hallway, tone suddenly brisk. “We better be quick. I have practice in ten minutes.”
You groaned, tilting your head back in exasperation as you walked ahead of him, the sharp clack of your short high heels echoing against the polished tiles. “And you’re telling me this now?”
Sunoo only grinned, falling into step behind you, his sneakers squeaking faintly compared to your precise rhythm. “What? You walk fast anyway. We’ll make it.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder, balancing the folders against your hip. “Don’t use me as your excuse when you’re late.”
“Relax,” Sunoo said easily, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Worst case, I’ll say you dragged me down.”
“Excuse me?” you deadpanned, stopping just enough to glare at him.
Sunoo’s grin only widened, shameless as ever.
The two of you crossed the wide stretch of campus, weaving through the steady trickle of students heading in every direction.
Normally, you’d have berated him for dragging you outside at this hour—complaining about the sun burning your skin, forcing you to hide behind your umbrella—but today, the sky was overcast, clouds softening the light, and the wind was just right. It ruffled Sunoo’s blond hair until it stuck out in every direction, strands brushing across his forehead.
You passed the Arts Department, its wide glass windows reflecting movement from students inside. Sunoo was quick to point, his voice bubbling with excitement. “We’re planning a performance for the opening program—nothing too big, just something to set the tone. The younger ones are really eager about it.”
You hummed in acknowledgment, shifting the folders in your arms. “Are you sure you’re not overexerting yourself with these practices?”
Sunoo blinked at you, wide-eyed, his hair a tousled halo thanks to the breeze. “No, I promise I’m fine.”
You raised a skeptical brow, not buying it for a second. Still, you nodded, giving him a look. “Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, Sunoo.”
He laughed, light and airy, shaking his head. “I know. And I’m listening, okay? I promise I’m fine. I can handle myself.”
You gave a final nod, adjusting your pace to match his. Then, out of nowhere, he dropped, “So… are you seeing someone?”
You choked on your breath mid-step, nearly stumbling, whipping your head toward him with a look of pure disbelief. “Now where the hell did you get that information, Kim Sunoo?”
His lips curved into a teasing smile. “Well, you’ve been smiling more lately.”
You tilted your head at him, brows furrowed. “Huh?”
He sighed dramatically, clutching the folders under his arm like he was the one suffering. “You’re usually so grumpy. Scary, even.”
You jabbed your elbow into his side, making him stumble a step.
“Hey! That’s assault!” he yelped, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
You rolled your eyes.
“See, that’s what I mean!” he continued, lips twitching. “You’re always so serious and grumpy it’s terrifying. But in the elevator? You smiled at me like… twice. That’s unusual. Just like Sungchan said.”
Your lips pressed together as you searched for an excuse. “Professor Han approved my paper, okay? That’s it.”
Sunoo’s grin spread even wider. “Really? That’s good! What else?”
“There’s nothing else, Sunoo,” you deadpanned.
He laughed again, loud and carefree, his voice carrying over the quiet buzz of campus chatter. “You know you can’t hide this forever from me, (Y/N).”
You scoffed, looking away—but in the space between one step and the next, an image of your neighbor flashed in your mind. Jake, smiling that annoyingly bright smile, his voice in your ear: ‘I mean it, neighbor. Good luck.’
Heat crept up your neck before you quickly shoved the thought away, muttering under your breath, “Stupid Jake.”
“Hm?” Sunoo tilted his head at you, curiosity plain on his face.
“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. You raised the folders in your arms as a convenient distraction. “Look—we’re nearly there.”
Ahead loomed the massive structures of the Science Department and the Main Library, side by side like silent guardians. Their tall glass windows and sprawling stone steps were intimidating in their sheer scale, a reminder of just how small you were in the endless sprawl of campus.
Sunoo whistled low. “Still scary, no matter how many times I come here.”
You shot him a flat look. “Sunoo, you go here every day.”
He shrugged, unbothered, shifting the folders under his arm. “Doesn’t mean I don’t find it intimidating. It’s so scary being surrounded by smart people.”
You hummed in mock agreement, lips twitching as he continued, more dramatic by the second.
“Plus, Decelis lives off the science students,” he added, gesturing loosely at the massive glass building looming over the square. “We literally win every competition against other schools because of them.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “That much is true.”
Sunoo’s grin widened. “Plus we have you too.”
You rolled your eyes, adjusting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder.
“What?” he pressed, feigning innocence. “Haven’t you won Best Feature like three years in a row?”
“That’s just formalities, Sunoo.”
The blond laughed, a little too loudly, drawing curious glances from passing students. “Look at you being so humble—but you’re wearing Chanel.”
You glanced down at your heels, the glossy leather catching the last of the daylight. “My mom got it for me.”
“Tell her I miss her,” Sunoo sang, grinning like a child asking for candy.
You huffed, though the corner of your lips curved despite yourself. “Yeah, she has some new stuff for you back at my apartment. Come over whenever you’re free.”
“Really? Score.” He pumped his fist in mock triumph, making you chuckle at his enthusiasm.
But the lightness in the air vanished almost instantly when a wave of science students poured into the Decelis square.
Some carried iced coffees that sloshed dangerously as they weaved through the crowd, others clutched stacks of papers and lab reports, and a good number were sprinting toward their next class in the evening schedule. The sheer flood of white coats, backpacks, and loud chatter made your shoulders tense.
The sky above darkened into deep gray, the first hints of night brushing the edges of the campus. You and Sunoo tucked yourselves by one of the tall stone pillars flanking the main entryway, the cold surface at your back a small comfort as you waited.
You glanced at him, brows furrowed. “Who are you even handing these off to, anyway?”
“Oh,” Sunoo perked up, his grin softening into something more genuine. “My physics friend. The one I’ve been telling you about.”
You nodded slowly, recalling every time his stories came up—how Sunoo always spoke about this mystery person with a mix of fondness and awe, especially when it came to their ridiculous academic excellence.
A quiet sigh escaped you as your gaze flicked over the restless sea of students. “Are you sure this person didn’t just… run off?” you muttered, shifting the weight of the folders in your arms.
Sunoo shook his head firmly, confidence etched into every line of his face. “No. He’s usually very punctual.”
You arched a brow at his certainty, tapping your foot against the stone tiles. “He better be. I’m not standing here forever while you wait for your physics prodigy.”
“Relax,” Sunoo said with a wink, scanning the crowd. “Trust me, he’ll be here any second.”
And as if the gods were playing their cruelest little game with you, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Sunoo! Over here!” Your head snapped toward the main entryway, heart instantly sinking as you caught sight of someone you were starting to recognize far too well—more than your own papers, more than the ink stains on your notes.
There he was, standing tall against the dimming light of the square, one hand raised casually in greeting, as though the world hadn’t just tilted beneath your feet.
You sucked in a sharp breath. No. This isn’t real. This has to be some twisted dream.
But no matter how many times you blinked, the sight didn’t disappear. If anything, he seemed to grow clearer, sharper, more real with every second you prayed for him to vanish. And the moment Sunoo’s voice chirped out that dreaded name, your chest tightened painfully.
“Hey, Jake!”
You winced. Of course it’s him.
Choosing survival, you gravitated closer to Sunoo, trying to tuck yourself into the safety of his taller frame, hiding like a lost puppy behind his shoulder.
“Here, I got you the documents,” Sunoo said enthusiastically, shoving the folder forward.
The tall boy—Jake—accepted it with an easy grin, his voice warm as he said, “Thanks, man. I really owe you one.”
Sunoo only shrugged, then glanced over Jake’s shoulder before raising a curious brow at you. Your lips pressed into a thin line, but he noticed anyway.
“You okay?” Sunoo asked softly.
You nodded stiffly. “More than enough.”
That tiny exchange was all it took for Jake’s eyes to finally flick toward you. His brows furrowed instantly, like the very sight of you sparked a question he hadn’t prepared to ask. His mouth opened—no doubt to demand what you were doing here—but Sunoo beat him to it.
“Oh! Jake, this is (Y/N). And (Y/N), this is Jake.” Sunoo’s grin widened like he was the proudest matchmaker alive. “I had her help me sort out the documents since there were a lot, but I knew you could carry the rest alone.”
Caught, you forced the smallest, most brittle smile you could manage. “Nice to meet you.”
Before Jake could reply, Sunoo cursed under his breath. “Oh fuck, I only have two minutes—I have practice!” He shoved the stack of remaining papers into your arms before giving Jake a pleading look. “Please, please, please take care of these, yeah?”
You swallowed hard but nodded. “Of course.”
Jake’s wide smile returned, his gratitude almost disarming. “Thanks, you two. Really.”
And then—just like that—Sunoo was gone. Off into the crowd, leaving you stranded. Leaving you with him.
The boy in front of you took a step closer, the air tightening immediately as his smile softened into something you couldn’t quite read.
“Hey, neighbor,” Jake said casually, voice low but laced with something that made your pulse trip over itself. He tilted his head to the side, studying you in a way that made you want to shrink back and stand taller all at once.
“Or…” His smirk deepened, the syllables of your name rolling off his tongue deliberately slow. “Should I say… (Y/N)?”
⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3
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