Synopsis: Your husband shows you just how beautiful your scars are.
Pairing: husband!euijoo x fem!reader
Warnings: TW CHILD ABUSE, mention of blood, reader is heavily traumatised, hurt/comfort, reader and euijoo remove their clothes but nothing nsfw happens
A/N: hi yes this is extremely self indulgent and extremely personal practically an autobiography
Word Count: 4.3k
When God made this world, They separated it into two whorls.
The people who are loved and the miserable ones.
The people who are loved walk through the world on a path of sunflowers. They are loved by all, regardless of whether they give that love back or not. They are allowed to shed their tears and they are allowed to not feel bad about it. They are allowed comfort. They are allowed sunlight. They are allowed love.
The miserable ones lie on a bed on chrysanthemums. They must ask for their love, beg for it on their knees like animals on death row. They may not let their eyes gather moisture and they may not feel anything other than a faux happiness. They are allowed anger. They are allowed darkness. They are allowed grief.
Such as you.
You are allowed grief.
You are allowed to grieve the person in an empty room you are trapped in with. You will always grieve this person because you can never save them no matter what ends you go to.
The room only contains you and a mirror within its four walls.
Your reflection stared back at you as you ran your eyes across your body, dressed in your undergarments.
They say that rain can wash away everything if you let it, but on days like this, rain only brought with it a melancholic rage as your mind kept feeding you memories of a life once lived. A life you once died in.
(You are mourning that version of you. There is no possibility of saving that version.)
Your gaze stopped at your shoulder, lingering at the healed gash that rested on the skin there.
Your fingers drifted, not quite touching the glass as your gaze fell to the soft skin of your inner arm. A thin, silvery line ran from your wrist to the crook of your elbow, a river of a moment you had drowned in.
You remembered the cold tile floor, the way the world had gone quiet. The person in the room with you—that version of you—had been so certain that silence was the only answer.
Perhaps you were mourning her certainty. Perhaps you were mourning her desperation.
Your knees—scarred and rough, the skin there thick as leather. You had spent so much time on them. Begging, praying, cleaning up shards of glass, pressed into the cold earth of a garden.
You were allowed to grieve the dirt under your fingernails, the splinters in your palms and the way you had learned to make yourself small.
Your feet. The soles were calloused and cracked from walking through so much—glass and gravel and the sharp edges of humanity’s cruelty. You had walked away from a house that was not a home. You had walked toward train stations, bus stops and the open mouths of strangers. You were allowed to grieve every mile that left you more lost.
And then your eyes met someone else’s in the mirror. The person in the empty room with you, with cold, dead eyes.
The person you could never save.
Your reflection did not blink. You were allowed to grieve her.
So you did.
You grieved the child who had been through horrors no child should ever go through.
Sometimes, late at night, when the moon comes up and shines her false light onto the world and the cicadas chirp their song for the souls of the dead, you let your mind wander to the question of why.
Why would they ever do that to a child?
The question had no answer. It never would. It was a door that opened into another door, and another, and another—a labyrinth of corridors that all led back to the same empty room.
You remembered the first time you had understood that the hands that were supposed to hold you could also hurt you. You had been so small.
So terribly small.
The memory would never be a story that began with a beginning and an end with an ending. It was a wound that had never learned to close. It was a bruise that had seeped into the very marrow of your bones, coloring everything that came after in red.
There was the time your father had backhanded you across the kitchen table because you had knocked over a glass of milk. You had been six. The milk had pooled on the linoleum like a small white lake and you had watched it spread, mesmerized, before the pain arrived like a guest who had already let themselves in. Your cheek had burned. Your ear had rung for hours afterward, a tiny bell tolling inside your skull.
You had learned, that day, that accidents were not allowed. That you were not allowed.
There was the time your mother had grabbed you by the wrist and twisted until you heard a sound like a twig snapping. You had been eight. You had been crying because someone at school had pulled your hair and she had told you to stop being so weak, to stop being such a burden, to stop making everything about yourself. The pain had been bright and sharp, a star going supernova in your joint. You had not cried after that.
You had learned to swallow your tears like bitter medicine. You had learned that your grief was an inconvenience to others.
There was the time they had locked you in the closet for three hours because you had forgotten to do the dishes. You had been ten. The closet had been dark and small and smelled of mothballs and old shoes. You had pressed your palms against the door and listened to the sound of the television in the other room, the muffled laughter of a sitcom, the clink of glasses. They were living their lives. You were disappearing into the dark.
You had learned that you were forgettable: a thing to be put away.
There was the time your father had held a lit cigarette to the back of your hand to teach you not to touch the stove. You had been eleven. You had learned not to scream. You had stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks in the plaster until it was over.
You had learned to leave your body when it became unbearable. You had learned to float above yourself, a pale and distant moon.
There was the time your mother had told you, with perfect calm, that you were the reason her life was so hard. That you had ruined her body, ruined her marriage, ruined her dreams. You had been twelve. You had believed her. You had carried that belief like a stone in your chest for years, decades, until it had become a part of your anatomy, a second heart that beat only guilt and shame.
You had carried it in that deep scar that ran across your back, your mother had always been amazing with a kitchen knife and a bit of scarless skin—a carver of muscle when she wanted to be.
There was the time they had both stood over you, a united front of fury and told you that you were worthless. That you would never amount to anything. That no one would ever love you because you were fundamentally unlovable. You had been thirteen. You had looked up at them from the floor where you had fallen and you had seen monsters and a hunger that could never be satisfied.
You had learned that love was a transaction. That love was a leash. That love was a weapon.
All these years later, you did not talk to them anymore.
You had severed the cord, cut the thread and burned the bridge. You had moved to a city where no one knew your name or your history. You had built a life from the rubble of that childhood, brick by brick, with hands that still trembled. You had told yourself you were over it. You had told yourself that the past was the past, that water was under the bridge, that time heals all wounds.
Time is a liar.
Because every scar on your body that they had made still lingered—portals, thin places where the past could leak through. And when you spiraled, as you were doing now, the scars began to bleed.
Rotten honey—golden, viscous ooze that smelled of decay and nostalgia and all the love you had never received.
You could feel it now from the map of bruises that had long since faded but never truly disappeared. It dripped down your arms, your legs, your torso, pooling at your feet. It was warm and sticky and it clung to you like a second skin, like the embrace you had always wanted and never gotten.
The rotten honey filled the room. It was the sweetness of the lies they had told you. It was the amber of your own preserved trauma. It was the slow, suffocating truth that you would never be free of them. That they lived inside you now, in the architecture of your bones, in the wiring of your nervous system, in the way you flinched at sudden movements and apologized for existing.
You looked at your reflection through the haze of golden rot.
The child you had been was still in there somewhere, pressed against the glass of the mirror, her small hands flat against the surface.
She was waiting for you to save her.
Your reflection stared back at you, patient and understanding.
The fetus shaped adult—ripped from the womb still covered in candy and the innocence of a childhood never lived—within you knew already.
You were not capable of anything but grief.
As all the miserable ones are.
_____________________
For someone who didn't quite understand what love meant yet fully (for he was still young), Byun Euijoo knew that his definition of love would certainly have your name.
He loved you.
God, he loved you so much that sometimes it frightened him, the sheer size of it, the way it pressed against his ribs like an additional set of lungs.
Euijoo had known, from the beginning, that you came with shadows.
He had known about the childhood that had left you scarred in ways both visible and invisible. He had known about your parents who had taught you that you were meant to be broken. And he had known, too, that you had expected him to leave.
In the early days, you had waited for it.
He had seen it in the way you held yourself at a distance, the way you apologized for taking up space, the way your eyes would flick to the door whenever the conversation grew too soft. You had been braced for the moment he would realize his mistake, the moment he would see the rot beneath the skin and walk away. You had been so certain that he would.
Euijoo had stayed.
He had stayed through the nights you woke up screaming. He had stayed through the days you could not get out of bed. He had stayed through the silences that stretched like winter fields, the tears that came without warning, the times you pushed him away because it was easier than waiting for him to go.
He had stayed and he had learned the geography of your pain the way a cartographer learns a new land—with reverence for every contour and crevice.
Euijoo loved you.
He loved your scars. He loved the way you laughed when you forgot to be sad. He loved the way you held his hand in crowded places, as if tethering yourself to him.
He loved the way you looked at him sometimes, like you were still surprised he was there. He loved you in the morning when your hair was a mess and your breath was stale and you were slightly grumpy (though he could erase that with a silly joke and a smile that made his cheeks seem inflated).
He loved you in the evening, when the light made you golden and you seemed like a divine dream he would never have again. He loved you in the dark when the world fell away and it was just the two of you breathing together.
Tonight, he came home later than usual.
The city had kept him, as cities do, with their traffic and errands and the slow crawl of evening. He had texted you to say he was on his way but you had not replied. He had not thought much of it at first—you were sometimes bad at answering, lost in your own head.
But as he turned the key in the lock and stepped into the apartment, he felt something wrong in the air—a kind of stillness he was not used to. Sure you were silent most of the time but even on your worst days you'd say a little “Hi love” before going back to whatever you were doing.
He set down his bag, calling your name softly, once, then twice. He furrowed his brows when he heard no answer..
He heard it then—a small sniffle from the bedroom, a breath caught and released.
Euijoo’s heart clenched.
The bedroom door was ajar and through the gap he could see you. You were standing in front of the mirror, dressed only in your undergarments. Your shoulders were shaking. Your hands were pressed against your thighs, fingers curled into your palms. You were staring at yourself with an expression he knew too well—the look of someone drowning in the past.
Euijoo knew what you were doing. He knew of the ghosts that came calling in the moonlight, the past that always reminded you that time once flowed and it did not stay stagnant. He had held you through it before, and he would hold you through it again.and again and again, for as long as you would let him.
Euijoo stepped into the room. He did not speak at first. He simply walked up behind you, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chest pressed against your back. His chin came to rest on your shoulder. His arms crossed over your stomach, holding you gently.
In the mirror, your reflection was now framed by his. Two bodies, one embrace. Euijoo met your eyes in the glass.
"My love.” He said, his voice a balm for wounds that would never heal. “I'm home.”
The sound of his voice, the warmth of his arms, the safety of his presence—it was too much. It was the thing that finally cracked the dam you had been desperately trying to hold together.
A sob tore from your throat, so animal-like that it reminded you humans are animals—stupid stupid emotions. It was unfortunately not the kind of crying you did in polite company, the kind where tears slid silently down your cheeks and you apologized for the inconvenience.
No, this was the kind of crying that came from somewhere ancient, somewhere that had been holding its breath for years and could no longer pretend.
You turned in his arms, your body folding into his as your legs gave out beneath you. You sank to the floor together, a tangle of limbs and grief. You buried your face in his chest as the sobs wracked through you like earthquakes.
Your fingers clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had turned to water.
"I'm sorry.” You gasped between sobs, the words tumbling out of you like broken glass. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
You could not stop saying it, the apologies spilling from your lips like the only language you had ever known.
You apologized for crying. You apologized for being weak. You apologized for needing him. You apologized for existing, for taking up space, for being a burden, for all the ways you had failed to be the person you thought you should be.
Emotions had always been useless.
That was what you had been taught. They were like fragile flowers, delicate and perishable, things that wilted under the slightest pressure. They were weaknesses to be eradicated, luxuries you could not afford. You had learned to bury them so deep that sometimes you forgot they existed at all.
They always found their way back to the surface though, pushing through the soil of your carefully constructed composure and when they did, they came with the force of a flood.
And every time, you apologized for it.
Euijoo did not let go.
He neither pulled away nor told you to stop crying nor that everything was fine, that everything could be fixed with words.
He simply sank down with you and held you. One hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that made you cry harder. The other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you as close as physics would allow. Euijoo would absorb the pain through the sheer proximity of everything if he could.
Your lover held you the way one would hold a crying child with the certainty that this was where he was supposed to be. That your tears were not an inconvenience, that your grief was not a burden, that you were allowed to fall apart in his arms, because he would be there to catch the pieces.
His own heart was breaking.
He could feel it, a splintering in his chest, a crack running through the center of him. Your pain had been so heavy and you had been carrying it alone for so long. He felt the injustice of it all—the cruelty of a world that had hurt you, the cruelty of people who should have protected you, the cruelty of a child who had learned to apologize for her own suffering.
Euijoo pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there, warm and soft.
"I’ve got you." He murmured against your hair. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You don't have to apologize to me."
His voice was steady, even as his heart ached. He held you tighter, rocking you gently, a rhythm as old as humanity itself.
"Let it out, my love. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The storm passed as storms always do. The sobs quieted into hiccups, then into shaky breaths, then into a trembling silence.
Your body was heavy against his, drained of all the tension that had held you upright and you felt like a shipwreck washing ashore, grateful for the sand beneath you.
Euijoo's hand never stopped moving. It traced soothing circles on your back, reminding you that you were here, in this room in his arms and not back in that closet or that kitchen floor or in any of the places that still haunted you.
"Are you okay?" Euijoo asked softly, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Well, no. That's a stupid question. Let me rephrase." He pulled back to look at your face, his eyes scanning you with gentle concern. "Would you like to lay down for a while?"
You nodded, too exhausted for words. Your throat was raw, your eyes swollen. Your entire body ached with the effort of having felt so much.
Euijoo helped you up, guiding you to the bed. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. His skin was warm and bare and when he climbed onto the bed and held out his arms to you, you went to him without hesitation.
You buried your face in his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close and he pressed another kiss to the top of your head. His skin smelled like something that had come to mean safety in your mind.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of breathing. Yours, still ragged. His, deep and even, a metronome for your recovery.
His hand began to move.
Slowly, Euijoo traced the line of your spine, following the curve of your back until his fingers found the first scar. His thumb brushed over it, featherlight and he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the raised tissue.
"I love your hands.” Euiioo said, his voice soft and sincere. "I love the way they hold mine. I love the way they gesture when you're excited about something. I love the way they cup my face when you kiss me."
Your breath hitched but you did not pull away.
He moved to the next scar. The silvery line on your arm, the one you had gotten from a piece of broken glass when you were fourteen. He kissed it, his lips lingering.
"I love your arms.” He murmured. "I love the way they wrap around me when we sleep. I love that they are strong enough to hold me, even when you feel like you are falling apart."
Tears pricked at your eyes again. These were different—they did not burn.
He found the scar on your ribs, the one that had come from the days when you had learned to take up less space, to need less than you deserved. He kissed it and his hand splayed across your stomach, warm and protective.
"I love your body.” He said, his voice cracking just slightly. “I love that it carried you through everything you survived. I love that it lets me hold you. I love that it is here, with me.”
He shifted, finding a bruise on your thigh. He kissed it too.
"I love your legs.” He said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "I love the way they carry you through the world. I love the way they tangle with mine under the covers."
He kissed your scarred knees, one after the other.
"I love your knees.” He said, and you let out a broken laugh at the absurdity of it. "I love that they let you kneel in the garden when you're planting things. I love that they let you curl up on the couch when you're reading. I love that they have never given up on you, even when you wanted to give up on yourself."
Euijoo paused, his lips hovering over the scar on your chest, the one that was not visible to the eye but was there all the same. The one that had been carved by the absence of love where love should have been.
Euijoo kissed the place directly over your heart.
"I love your heart.” He whispered, his voice breaking at last. "It is the bravest, most beautiful heart I have ever known."
He pulled back to look at you, his eyes glistening, his cheeks wet with tears he had not let himself shed until now.
"And I love you.” Euijoo said. "All of you.” You knew he meant every scar and every broken piece you deemed unlovable. “I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes."
He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"You are not too much, my love. You are just enough. You have always been just enough."
You let him wrap you in his arms, pull you against the warm expanse of his chest and tuck your head beneath his chin. You let him hold you as the night pressed against the windows and the city hummed its distant lullaby.
You did not apologize for taking up space.
His hand found yours in the dark, fingers lacing together like they had been made to fit. His breathing slowed, becoming the rhythm that your own breath began to follow. The tension bled out of your body like water through open hands.
Outside, the moon traced silver lines across the floor. Inside, there was only the sound of two hearts beating in tandem, a duet that needed no words.
When god made this world, they sculpted it into two whorls.
The Loved and The Miserable.
Here is what they do not tell you, lest you get intoxicated on the poetry of life.
The two whorls are conjoined twins from the same heavenly womb, that cannot be separated without high risk. If one went, so did the other.
The Loved cannot exist without The Miserable and The Miserable cannot withstand the weight of the world without The Loved.
And yes the transitions do occur, winter into spring, spring into happiness, happiness into an acceptance of love. What good is love anyways if it doesn't make your heart swell like a yellow balloon?
You had spent so long lying on chrysanthemums, begging for love that felt like alms, believing that you were made for grief and not for grace.
To be loved is not to walk on sunflowers, untouched and untouchable.
To be loved is to be seen in the dark and still be chosen. To be loved is to fall apart and be caught. To be loved is to have someone trace the map of your pain and call it home.
To be loved is neither a destination nor a reward for being whole.
To be loved is to be held, broken and bleeding, and told that you are enough.
To be loved is this.
Your breathing evened out. Your hand went slack in his.
Byun Euijoo, who still had so much to learn about love, pressed one last kiss to your hair and held you a little tighter, as if to say: I will keep learning. I will keep loving.
I will keep staying.
Outside, the moon kept watch. Inside, you dreamed of chrysanthemums blooming into sunflowers. A world where the two whorls danced around each other in the wind.
Love is simple, really. God would not have fashioned something so complex for the noble mind.
Love is to look up at the heavens, to behold the silent majesty of the stars scattered across the night and to choose them even over divinity.
For what is heaven if not the promise of perfect communion?
And what is love if not that promise made tangible in this life?
fin.
A/N: Honestly, i debated for a long time whether or not to post this fic because it's just such a big part of my soul and im not one to really talk about my past (yes im a coward) but i think if there's even a 1% chance that somebody out there will read this and think 'yeah this provided me comfort' then im glad to have posted this.
I'd like to give a shoutout for all my people who have been through any similar experience, not just from your family members but from a partner, a friend or literally anybody. I need you to know that whatever you went through was absolutely not your fault and never will be your fault. You deserve to live your life full of stars and colours and happiness and nobody can take that away from you. I love you all so much and when you think your scars are starting to look a little ugly, I want you to remember that they represent your strength, which I am so so proud of :))
genre : exes (only by a week but still lol) to lovers, angst with happy ending
warnings : whole lot of crying, reader is very self-deprecating and has low self-esteem
word count : 3.7k
a/n : well well well look who has just crawled back from her grave. i've had this in my drafts for MONTHS (you might remember a little preview i posted a while back) and i kept writing and editing and writing and editing for so LONG i'm so done with it atp, i wanted to do more for the ending but i do not have the patience i fear
Euijoo shows up at your doorstep one week after you end things with him. It's early for a Saturday morning, even for him – it's barely 7. You wonder if he got any sleep and how long he forced himself to stay in bed before deciding he couldn't wait any longer. You wonder if he knows you've been up for hours too.
If anything, you're only surprised he didn't come sooner – days sooner – because anyone would have, given the vagueness and abruptness surrounding the breakup. There was no big fight that was the last straw, no palpable tension leading up to it – at least not from his perspective. You had not even given him a proper reason other than that it ‘did not feel like love’, and you selfishly, opportunistically, counted on his kindness and good nature to not probe you too much. But you suppose even someone as patient as Euijoo has his limits.
“Hi,” he says with a tight smile when you open the door, because if he doesn't smile he might– he doesn't know what.
It feels weird being at the receiving end of one of the forced smiles he usually reserves for when he's out in public and tired/stressed but doesn't want to be rude to people. He had never felt the need to put up a mask with you – until now.
“Hi,” you say, looking down. He's wearing the sneakers you bought him two months ago. You look away.
“I, uh. Can I come in? I won't be long,”
You would not have blamed him if he had barged in here using the extra key he still has and demanded a clear answer as to why on earth you had so suddenly put an end to 14 months and 2 weeks of what anyone who knew the two of you would have said was a happy relationship – something you yourself could not fully deny. Instead he's here asking for a few minutes of your time as though you would be doing him a favour and not giving him the least of what he deserved. He has always been too nice for his own good.
“Sure, yeah,”
He makes his way to his usual spot on the couch, and you think you see him hesitate for a second before he sits. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you follow, sitting a careful distance away from him.
You are not supposed to feel anything akin to relief or hope at his presence when you're the one who broke things off. You are not supposed to wish that he's somehow here to fight to keep alive something that you had declared dead. And yet.
He clears his throat, fidgeting with his fingers. “I just had– have a few things to say. I've been racking my brain all week and well, it was all just this one big confused incoherent mess at first – and kind of still is – but I've just um . . .” he reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a folded piece of paper, “. . . I've um put together some things that– I don't know, thought you should– That I needed to tell you. Or remind you, I guess, because it's not anything you don't already know.”
“Oh.” Your heart races with anticipation.
“But it's not– I'm not here to– I mean I'm still confused but I respect your decision and I'm not trying to–” he forces a dry laugh, “I mean, you've made it pretty clear that you don't want this to continue so I'm not going to try and talk you out of it again, in case you're worried about that . . .”
You're more worried you'll have trouble sticking to your word and keeping up the facade, acting like you really want this to end. It had been hard enough to hold your ground the last time. But you can't tell him that so you just nod in response, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat.
He unfolds the letter and stares at it for a few seconds. His face does something complicated, but it's gone long before you can parse it.
He clears his throat and reads,
“I'm by no means an expert on love. But I know your heart skips a beat when I say your name a certain way, even though you try not to let it show. I know the only reason you watch anime is because I love talking to you about my favourite ones. I know the only time I enjoy getting drunk is at the karaoke bar with you because that's the only time I can hear you sing without any inhibition. I know everything in me melts into mush whenever you catch my gaze from across a crowded room and your eyes soften like I'm the only–” he chokes up. His grip on the letter tightens, crinkling the paper where he's holding it.
You look up at the ceiling, blinking hard. You should not care. At the very least, you should not show that you care, that seeing him like this feels like being flayed alive, that every word he reads pierces something deep.
But it's torture to sit and do nothing while he's trying not to fall apart. You close the distance between you on the couch, taking his trembling hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. You expect him to pull away, appalled at your audacity to try to comfort him like you're not the reason for this. After all, he had refused a week ago when you had asked him if you could hug him one last time before he left (understandably so, given it was after hours of him pleading with you to rethink your decision and asking you to at least tell him what went so wrong because he genuinely believed you were happy together).
But Euijoo doesn't pull away. Instead, he doesn't so much as squeeze back as he clutches tight, like his life depends on it. You want to cry. But at least your gesture seems to have helped; he takes a deep breath and resumes.
“–like I'm the only thing that matters. I know the way your eyes light up and crinkle every time you see me, and I know the golden warmth that giddy smile of yours fills me with even on the coldest days. I know the tickle of your butterfly kisses brushing my eyelids on the nights you come to bed later than me and think I'm asleep. I know the sharp emptiness of not seeing you for a few days when life gets in the way. I know the perfect bliss of waking up with your body curved into mine, the scent of your hair in my nose, and your groggy refusal to let me get out of bed every single time. I know you wait to send me all the funniest clips for when I'm in the room with you so you can see me laugh. I know I like to laugh even at the ones that aren't all that funny, simply because it's you who sent them. I know you cry when I cry, and that takes real skill because I cry a lot,” he says with a sheepish chuckle, pointing at his tear-stained face, then yours.
Something that's halfway between a laugh and a sob escapes you.
“I could keep going, but you say you're not sure if what we had was love. Not sure if all that . . . was love. Y/n, if what we had wasn't love–” his breath stutters, “–then I'm not sure I know what love is, either. If what we had wasn't love, I'm not sure I want to know what it is at all,” his voice breaks twice on the last sentence, yet somehow there is also something akin to anger in it.
You find it difficult to breathe, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You want to say something. You should say something, especially when he has just laid himself bare like this. But words don't come. You keep your eyes down on your lap, staring at your hand that is still intertwined with his. You give it another small squeeze, as if to say– you don't know what.
You don't know what he takes the squeeze to mean either because he withdraws his hand from yours and gets up, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“I should go,” he says, folding up the letter. He needs to get out of here before he breaks. “That's pretty much all I had to say, so yeah.”
You stare at your empty hand, panic slowly rising in your chest. No, you think. Don't leave. Not now, not like this. But you say nothing.
He's halfway to the door when you finally manage to move, almost tripping over the carpet as you rush forward with your vision blurry from the tears. You still don't know what you want to say, just that you can't let him leave like this. He deserves better.
“Ju– Euijoo, wait,” you try grabbing his arm but he pulls it free.
“You don't have to worry about me, please, I'll be–” He freezes when he feels your arms closing around his waist from behind, your face pressing against his back.
“Please just . . . stay,”
Silent tears stream down his face, the grief rupturing through his restraint. He knows he's supposed to leave. You told him you wanted to end it, that you couldn't see a future with him. He had done everything short of getting down on his knees, begging you to tell him what he could do to fix it and all you had said was that you didn't want to see him anymore. But then why are your arms locked around him now like you're just as terrified of letting go? Is it just pity? Force of habit? Or something else? He wants to believe it's something else. He wants to believe there's more to this – something that makes sense, something that can be mended. He wants to believe you wouldn't do this to him. But what if what he wants to believe is merely wishful thinking?
He extricates your arms from around him, and at first you worry that he's still going to leave, but he turns to face you. You don't know what he sees in your eyes then, but his face contorts and he draws you close, curling into you. Whatever relief you feel at his not leaving is drowned out by aching guilt at the sound of his sobs. You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, helpless, as your own tears flow unbridled.
The fact that he still trusts you enough to let himself fall to pieces in your arms after everything shifts something in you. Maybe a part of you had already intended to do it when you asked him to stay, but you decide right then that you'll tell him the complete truth even if it kills you to. If you were going to break his heart, he at least deserved to know why.
When you both regain your bearings enough to be able to speak, you tell him you haven't been completely honest with him and there's something you'd like to tell him.
⋆˚⋅
Now he sits watching you from the couch, silent, as you pace back and forth, wondering how best to put something you've never tried to articulate into words to anyone before.
“Right. Okay, so. Alright, I'm doing this,” Your heart is in your throat, and you force yourself to look at him once to remind yourself why you need to do this. He deserves to know. “Um, where do I start. Okay, so when I said that it didn't feel like love, there were two layers to it. One is that it's not exactly that it didn't feel like love, but that it didn't feel like mine. Like, it didn't feel meant for me. Because it just didn't make sense for you to love me. Look, I've never been in love before, I've never even been in a relationship before, you know this. And maybe it shouldn't be a big deal, but it always has been to me because it's not like it didn't happen because I didn't want it – quite the opposite, actually – but it just never worked out for me. And I'm aware of how frivolous this sounds, trust me, but it wasn't that I just wanted some fairy tale romance for the sake of it, no I just– I really wanted, for once, to be loved by someone who had no obligation to, to know what that felt like, to have someone consciously, deliberately choose me over others,” it terrifies you to be saying all of this out loud, and you dare not look at him as you continue.
“Because I've never been that to people. To anyone. And I get it, I'm nothing special, pretty average really, I'm not the kind of person people would turn to look at twice and it's not like I have the personality to make up for it either like they say, pretty bland in that area too, I'm well aware,”
“Y/n–”
“No it's fine, you don't have to say anything, I know you may not agree. It sounds harsh but it's just the truth and I know it. But this constant longing was just such an inextricable part of who I was, and the thing with wanting– needing something for so long and not getting it is that the more you see it happen to everyone else but you, the more you convince yourself that you don't deserve it, or simply that you aren't meant for it. Some people aren't meant to get what they want and it's unfair but it's life. And I'd accepted that, or maybe I hadn't, but either way, I was living with it. I went around like none of it mattered – I had to pretend it didn't matter because admitting it mattered would mean giving in to the humiliation of wanting what you can't have. And so I pretended there was nothing to want but I felt its absence constantly, like an albatross around my neck. But then. Then you happened and it was just, it was ridiculous in a way, you know? Because you were everything I wanted and more. I mean, when you first told me you liked me I was half-convinced it was a prank,” you joke, mostly to keep yourself from crying again.
“But it somehow wasn't a prank and then you said you were in love with me, which was even more crazy because it didn't make sense for anyone to love me, much less someone as sweet and kind and smart and just so beautiful inside and out as you who I was head over heels for. But the thing is, at first I did not care that it didn't even make sense because I was so selfishly caught up in how wonderful it felt and how you softened the sting of everything bad. But as time went on, I couldn't ignore how foreign such unreserved love felt and it terrifies me because I keep thinking, oh no I've fooled him somehow. That has to be the only logical explanation because you're obviously too nice for this just to be some big mean joke. I genuinely don't see what is there to– what you could possibly see in me so I must've inadvertently created a perfect image that you're in love with – some sort of mirage – and you're going to see the truth eventually, and then what?” The inside of your throat seems to be lined with barbed wire but you force yourself to keep going, still walking, still not risking a glance in his direction.
“And the other layer is that as much as I feel so much for you that it quite literally feels like my heart might explode at times, I can't seem to separate my love for you from my gratitude to you for loving me and I keep thinking, what if I don't really love him either? What if I'm just grateful he loves me when I thought myself incapable of it? Because I don't know what love is supposed to feel like and again it none of it makes any fucking sense, it makes no sense for me to get to have this or for you to be stuck with someone like me, and earlier now when you were crying, I just couldn't– and still cannot, for the life of me, fathom how or why you're hurting so bad over me because just the idea of it is insane. And I know it's unfair, I should've talked to you about all this before you got into this mess and I'm sorry I really am but I didn't want you to pity me or something because God that would've killed me– and it is killing me now to tell you all this because I know how absolutely pathetic it all sounds but I'm telling you anyway because I can't have you beating yourself up wondering if you did something wrong and because you deserve better than whatever the hell this is so please, just leave me,” you hitch, breathless, from all the pacing around or from the tears that started somewhere along the way, you don't know. You grab a bunch of tissues from the table nearby and bury your face in them, afraid of even accidentally catching a glimpse of Euijoo's expression after you've just completely turned yourself inside out, spilling out all of the ugliness.
You're prepared for him to make up some excuse and leave because you can't imagine anyone staying after that.
Euijoo stays.
He walks over and envelopes you in his arms, which you're not prepared for. He ignores your weak attempts to push him away and holds you so tight against him that you feel a different kind of breathless, the kind you can breathe through. He cups your face and wipes your tears even as more continue to cascade down, and cries with you. He kisses your forehead and your eyes and your cheeks and all the while you don't know if you want to sob in relief or scream in frustration because didn't he listen to anything you just said? What is he doing??
“I'm sorry,” he says softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “For being so blind,”
The utter absurdity of him apologizing jolts you. You pull away. “What?”
“Y/n. I love you,” he reaches for your hand but you step back. The words seem almost taunting given the context, though you know he doesn't mean it to be.
“No.” The you that he loves does not exist. Could you have been any more clear? He doesn't know what he's saying.
“Y/n.” His voice is tight.
“Don't be ridiculous. Were you not listening to what I said?” you scoff in exasperation. “Euijoo, this is a mess. I'm a mess and I don't know what I want and this has already gone on for longer than–”
“You know what you want. You're just scared to admit it. You said it yourself.”
“I– That's–”
“I remember you saying you had a crush on me even before we became friends. Which means you liked me before it got complicated. It can't have been gratitude then because there was nothing to be grateful for, I didn't know you when you first liked me. So just, for one second, don't think about who deserves what or why, okay? Don't think about anything and just please answer this: do you want to be with me or not? As simple as that, yes or no. Forget ifs and buts and shoulds and should nots. Do you like being with me?”
Does the earth revolve around the sun? “More than anything,” you whisper.
“That's all I need to know,” he breathes, taking your hands in his. “And if you later realise that you don't love me after all, then I'll accept that and let you go. But I'm not letting you go now just because you're afraid to want me,” he sniffs, his eyes studying yours.
“That's not how it's supposed to–”
He cups your face. “Y/n, it's okay if you don't understand why I love you just yet. I'll spend the rest of our days trying to make you see why; we have time for that. But for now, can you please just trust that I sincerely do, for whatever reason? Can you trust that I'm capable enough of discerning lies from the truth and that I won't let myself be so easily deceived as you fear?”
He's so close it's hard to think beyond him. You don't even want to think beyond him, you want to lose yourself in the warmth of his hands against your cheeks, his breath mingling with yours, his eyes gazing into yours.
“And you have to stop thinking of yourself as some evil mastermind plotting my downfall,” A hint of a smile tugs at your lips despite yourself at his words. “And if that's difficult, then just think of it as me being smarter than you give me credit for, hmm? It's not that easy to fool me. Although I wouldn't mind being a fool for you . . .”
“Euijoo.”
“Right, sorry. Strike that. Also, none of that makes you a ‘mess’. It makes you human, and it makes you braver than most for admitting it. Not everyone can. And I'm not saying your feelings aren't valid or trying to trivialize it. I'm just saying you don't have to wait to be perfect to love and be loved,”
You're silent for a long time. He's not wrong, but you also know your issues are not just something that can be fixed with logic and compliments, convincing as he has been. But then he didn't say he'd fix it, and nor is it his responsibility. He's simply asking that you let him stay with you through it all. That he wants you despite it all.
“Say something?” he pleads. His eyes are still puffy, and the sight of them is adorably heart-wrenching. You trace the half-dry tear streaks down his cheeks.
“I'm sorry,” you say, and his face falls. “For making you cry, I mean,” you clarify quickly, realising how it must have come off as.
“Oh . . . That's okay,”
You sigh. “It would really do you some good to get mad at people other than Nicholas, you know,”
“Hey, that guy lives to ragebait me. Can you blame me? Besides, I was furious when you said the love of my life is mid-looking and has no personality and other bullshit. But I didn't want to interrupt you,”
“Well you did interrupt. Anyway, not the point.”
“What's the point then?”
“The point is . . . Yes, I'll try to do all those things. I'll trust you,”
He blinks a few times as though he's not sure he heard you right. Then he hugs you. “Thank you,” his voice is thick and your chest aches at how earnest he sounds.
When he pulls back, his gaze lingers on your lips before flitting back to your eyes. “Can I–” he starts hesitantly, as though he's afraid he's pushing his luck, but you're already pulling him into a kiss. You've needed this for too long. He lifts you off the floor as he kisses you back feverishly, and the world fades for a few minutes.
When you open your eyes after, out of breath and trying to remember how to speak, his smile is like the sun breaking through the clouds.
a/n #2 : also i suck at coming up with titles and i only decided on this clicheass one bc some of the lyrics of midnight rain seem to kind of fit the story kinda – 'i broke his heart 'cause he was nice // he was sunshine, i was midnight rain'
ꨄ︎ warnings : very awkward, skinship?, reader is kinda mean, euijoo is just desperate, fuma cameo
ꨄ︎ word count : 1.8k
ꨄ︎ author’s note : this was actually a maki req that i received a while ago but it got lost somewhere 😓 i hope you don’t mind that i switched it to euijoo anon!! there is a juju drought on my blog… anyway yearning euijoo 🤤 all support is appreciated. hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
since the first day he had met you, euijoo had been certain he would be able to make you his. you were just so perfect, he had to. not to be dramatic, but his life depended on it.
despite being a rather timid guy a lot of the time, when you were in the vicinity his demeanor shifted until something completely different. more shameless. more desperate.
he’d text you the same thing every morning:
- good morning!
- have a good day :)
and the same thing every evening:
- goodnight!
- sweet dreams, pretty
it was rare that euijoo would get a response, and even then they were brief:
- you 2
it frustrated him, but euijoo wasn’t one to give up that easily.
---
he would try during group hangouts after uni, moving across the couch until he was sat right next to you, thigh pressed against yours, and he would give you his signature smile.
“uh, hi, y/n. good day?” he would curse himself when you shift away, not interested in conversing with him.
“you’ll get ‘em next time,” his friend yuma would tease from his other side, nudging euijoo with an elbow.
---
euijoo constantly tried to make moves on you, and you somehow always managed to avoid him before he could realise his advances weren’t working. he was so confused.
it wasn’t that he thought you hated him, because you still willingly hung out with him (in a group setting obviously), but more so that he couldn’t figure you out. couldn’t figure out how you felt.
so he would test it, test your feelings for him. he just wanted an answer. and boy did he get one.
“y/n,” he whispered into your ear on movie night, careful as to not let the others hear. “this is fun. um… would you ever have a movie night w-with me? just me?”
you glanced at him, unimpressed. he was really asking you this now? in the middle of the movie?
“euijoo, come on. not now.” you brushed him off, turning back to the screen. euijoo turned too, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
fail number one.
---
another time, you and your friend group were on your way to the beach, walking down the sidewalk, soaking in the sun. each of your friends were split off into smaller groups, all busy and absorbed in their own conversations. you lingered at the back on your own, simply enjoying the view.
“hey,” euijoo said, slowing to match your pace. you greeted him briefly in return. “it’s such a nice day, don’t you think?”
“yeah, it’s pretty good.” you replied, giving him a small smile.
your expression quickly faltered when you felt euijoo’s hand slip into yours. his touch was delicate, careful, but that only made it all the worse for you.
“euijoo what are you doing? not now.” you whispered, pulling away from the contact. away from euijoo.
fail number 2.
not now. not now not now not now not now.
not ever, it felt more like.
euijoo was utterly hopeless.
---
every rejection left euijoo buried in questions he didn’t know the answer to.
did you hate him?
was he being too overbearing?
was he not trying hard enough?
why were you so distant?
questions, questions, questions. so many questions. no answers.
---
“hyung, i’m useless,” he whined, his long body splayed across his bed. fuma sat in the desk chair on the opposite side of the room. if anyone was to walk in, they’d think it was a makeshift therapy session.
“she never responds to my texts, like, ever. she hates me.”
fuma sighed, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
“no, she doesn’t.” he replied, folding his arms. euijoo groaned. “i’d know better than anyone.”
“but… but she’s constantly rejecting me!” he let out a helpless huff. “do we mismatch? i think we do. every little thing i do somehow pushes me further from her-”
“-because you’re doing too much, euijoo.” fuma cut him off, causing him to sit up.
“huh?”
fuma cleared his throat.
“she doesn’t like all the grand, upfront gestures. that’s not y/n.”
euijoo listened quietly, fascinated at this new information. he’d been approaching you the wrong way the whole time.
fuma continued.
“she likes simple. she prefers the types of things that say more internally than externally. sudden confessions and bold touches aren’t what will work for her.”
all of the questions floating in euijoo’s head had finally snapped into place at fuma’s words, pairing with the answers he had been desperate for. everything made sense now.
“earth to euijoo~”
“oh! right, um… i’m listening.” euijoo shook out of his daze. “so, hyung, what should i do? to… to make her like me.”
he watched as fuma leant forward in the desk chair, elbows resting on his thighs.
“let me enlighten you.”
---
that day with fuma had changed euijoo for the better, and he was sure that he could make you his now.
even you had noticed the difference in how he acted. euijoo was no longer pushy, didn’t invade your personal space, and refrained from asking you out on a date a minimal ten times a day.
euijoo was more subtle now, his actions simple but still there.
he’d show up at your friend’s apartment with your favourite drinks and snacks in his backpack. you couldn’t recall telling him that these were your favourites, but he knew.
“i remembered.” he’d say, a timid smile on his lips. “you told me when we first met at freshers week.”
when your voice was lost in the sea that was your friends’ chaotic conversations, loud and energetic, euijoo would cut through, giving you a chance to speak. a subtle way of saying ‘i hear you’.
when you and your friends would be heading home from the library, late in the january evenings, euijoo would offer you his jacket, silently draping it over your shoulders. you had only shivered once.
everything euijoo did was subtle, and it seemed to be working. you were more comfortable around him, more willing to talk to him - he’d even managed to convince you to facetime him when the two of you couldn’t sleep.
it was going steady. it was going great.
---
friday’s movie night with the group had ended roughly 30 minutes ago, everyone dispersing from the apartment gradually. you and euijoo were some of the last people to leave; he was walking you to the train station.
euijoo had been fidgety all night, and you weren’t oblivious to this. a few blocks from the station, he had quietly asked you to stop, standing face to face with you.
“can we talk?” he asked, expression doing nothing to hide his nervousness. you nodded, urging him to continue.
“well, um…” a moment of awkward silence filled the space between you before he found his words. “i actually wanted to apologise for something.”
“go on.”
“listen, um… i’m really sorry for how i acted before. i was… weird. i was so pushy and annoying and it was all because i wanted you to like me. and i learnt that what i was doing was, in fact, what you hated.”
he could barely keep eye contact with you, eyes glancing around the street.
“so i went to fuma. he told me what you liked, what you didn’t like. and i changed. for you, i mean.” his voice cracked slightly, his emotions bubbling right below the surface. “i put so much effort into doing what would win you over. you should see how many texts i sent fuma. it’s embarrassing.”
he chuckled self-deprecatingly. you noticed how his bottom lip trembled.
“i just… i really want you to like me. because-” euijoo stuttered again, his hand covering his face for a moment. he was crying. “b-because i love you.”
you were shocked, to say the least. you knew that euijoo liked you, but to hear him actually admit his feelings to you was a whole different story. he was more genuine this time. he was laying his feelings out in front of you, raw and defenceless, hoping you’ll accept them.
“my feelings all depend on you. n-no… i depend on you.”
tears ran down euijoo’s cheeks, and his hands trembled at his sides. he didn’t want to wait anymore. all he wanted was you.
“i’m trying so hard, y/n.” he whispered, finally making eye contact with you. “i just… i just want to know if my efforts are paying off.”
you looked up at him, his tear-stained, pink cheeks, his big brown eyes, his hair that fell over them.
“please, y/n.” he begged, voice broken from crying.
you were quiet for a moment, letting the moment process in your mind before you said anything. here euijoo was - the shy try-hard that would rush to sit next to you in the car, the guy who’d be caught staring at you during movie nights, the guy who would constantly try to be the center of your attention - baring his heart out to you on a friday night. crying and begging. about a month ago, you would’ve told him to stop, probably even walked away. but now, you found him sweet, endearing.
“i like you too, euijoo.” your words cut through the silence.
“wait, w-what?”
“i said i like you too.”
euijoo wrapped his arms around you almost instantly, his wet cheek pressed against your shoulder. his arms were squeezing you so hard you could barely breath.
“thank you so much,” euijoo said, and by the sound of his voice you could tell he was crying again. “thank you for giving me a chance.”
“…you’re welcome.”
your hands rested firmly on his lower back, grounding him. letting him know that you were here now, and you weren’t going anywhere.
“i’m sorry i was so closed off before. i just didn’t know how to react to everything.”
“don’t apologise, pretty.” euijoo shook his head instantly. he didn’t like the idea of you apologising for how you were as a person. because in his eyes, you were perfect. “but… this means you’ll go on a date with me, r-right?”
he lifted his head, looking at you with such a desperate look in his eyes you couldn’t deny him any longer.
“of course.”
success number one.
---
euijoo had just got into bed when his phone buzzed. his face lit up when he read your messages.
warnings :: not proofread, they have a child, military au, fluff, angst, comfort, nothing else (lmk if I missed any!)
tagging @minhosimthings for obvious reasons I lov u mama
you scrubbed hard as you tried to clean off the excess cake that had dried off on your 6 year old son's plate, which he left on the dining table after gobbling it up like he had somewhere to be within a few minutes.
it was partially true. his busy busy dad had finally come home before his bedtime, which rarely happens and had also promised to play board games with him, which was again an utterly rare occurrence.
and so, sejun had the snack so quick that it made you concerned, but you let him be.
you could see the excitement in every inch of his body and actions. the giggles, the tiny hops as he skipped to his room, knowing his dad was waiting for him.
everything was running through your head as you scrubbed the last few dishes that were left. smiling to yourself, almost a chuckle of adoration leaving your lips, you pat your hands dry using the hand towel which was placed right above the sink.
a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist, hot breath fanning your neck for a few seconds before his nose smeared against your shoulder. euijoo takes in a long breath and sighs contently, his entire body pressing against yours in the softest way possible.
your hands move to lay on his like habit, your head leaning against his, all while your heart behaves as if this small act of physical contact has happened for the first time ever.
you turn around, palms immediately cupping his face and you tip toe to kiss his nose. euijoo chuckles.
his hands grab yours gentle, bringing your right hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, eyes still staring into yours in the most loving way.
as much as his gaze was dripping with honey, you could also see something off. concern bubbled up inside you and you knew your gut was right.
you knew him extremely well to let such stuff get past your attention. there was a reason you were married to this man in the first place.
"what's wrong, ju?" you asked, gently caressing his cheeks. his round, soft eyes raked over all your features like he's doing his best to take in all of you, to know, to remember when he's gone again.
you do the same. it was a rare moment when he's not adorned with his uniform, a symbol of the country's pride. a moment where he felt like he was completely yours and not someone to be shared with the nation. a moment that reminded you of the day you fell in love with him, the breeze that allowed you to feel the courage to ask him out, heart so loud and soul so young.
you could see the swirl of emotions building up right behind his eyes. you always saw through him. you knew him like no one else did.
he sighs gently, one hand allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours, as the other cups your cheek, making you nuzzle into his warm warm touch.
"I'm going to be gone for a year, my love. I'm just... I'm not sure how i could go on for so long without seeing you, seeing our son." that's right. he was called upon to an outskirt city along the borders of your country, as a trainer for the special militant force that was being arranged for purposes unknown to you. he might be in training, or battles, or even something worse and you'd never know.
"i don't know how I'll fall asleep without holding you and breathing you in. your scent is my favourite, you know?" his fingers intertwine with yours, his lips finding his way to your knuckles once again.
"and sejun? I rarely ever spend time with him even when I'm here. now I'll be gone for a year. My heart hurts, angel." his soft voice, the little ounce of fear that laced his tone, and his words made tears swirl in your eyes.
oh you were going to miss him so dearly. infact, how would you fall asleep when he's not next to you? how could you? how could you fall asleep when his tired body doesn't settle next to you every midnight, when his soft breaths don't lull you into sleep every single time, and when you don't stare at his salient features that light up under the moonlight that seems in through your windows.
But you had to stay strong. for the sake of your loving husband and your son who's the sunshine of both your worlds. and so you swallow the lump in your throat, wrapping your arms around his tall frame, drinking in every curve of your bodies that bind around eachother so well like absolute puzzle pieces, wishing the best and just hoping he'd come back to you, all well and healthy just the way he left.
Synopsis: Rumors weave through the university like wildfire, and Y/N’s photography assignment about "The Beauty of Movement" suddenly feels more complicated than it should—especially with that guy from the basketball club always in the frame. Even though Euijoo is the best on the team, Y/N can’t quite capture any passion in every single photo he appears in. And that is annoying. Euijoo is annoying. Byun Euijoo is pretty annoying.
Pairing: PhotographyStudent!Reader x BasketballGuy!Euijoo. {Female!Reader}
Genre: UniversityAU, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff.
Warnings/Disclaimers: There will be mentions of blood 'cause there's gonna be a fight. Betrayal is served on breakfast. Euijoo is a damn switch here, plus power bottom vibes as well. The smut part has oral fixation [Euijoo], edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, choking, raw sex (don't be a silly wrap your willy), etc. Aftercare is important too. Mentions of other artists (Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Harvey, &TEAM members).
Word count: 7.6k
The truth is that we chase after time, while it slips away with each minute. And as a result of it, the world is in constant motion.
With my dorm door locked behind me, I stepped out into the warm embrace of a summer day, feeling the gentle breeze swirling around me. It was a sign of the wind's dance, a reminder that leaves would rustle, clothes would flutter from nearby balconies outside the university, and students would stride past, all in perfect synchrony. All moving at the same time. Yet, instead of finding this bustling scene overwhelming, it fills me with a sense of calm.
Even as human beings, even in the stillness of sleep or when we find ourselves paused in the middle of this campus, we are perpetually in motion. Our hearts continue to beat and our blood circulates rhythmically through our veins.
This undeniable dance of life is the essence of movement, a testament to our very existence. It’s a beautiful expression of love, a silent reminder that vitality flows within us.
This captivating theme is precisely what professor Seong has chosen for the photography club’s latest assignment, encouraging us to capture the essence of movement in all its forms.
It only took me around 15 minutes to hop on class. But... the seat behind me is empty. Where’s my bestfriend? Yuma is usually the first one to arrive. Not to mention that sometimes he's here even earlier than professor Seong.
"He's sick." Suddenly, a voice rang out along with a hand placed on top of my head. "But don't worry, I already went to see him at the dorm and apparently it's just a cold. Also Harua is with him since he only has one class today."
"A cold? In the middle of the summer? Yuma can sure still suprise me sometimes." I shift my books from the table beside me to clear a spot for the person to sit and set down their belongings. "Anyways, thanks for telling me about it, Fuma."
"No worries, Y/N!" Fuma’s radiant smile is always a breath of fresh air, spreading joy to everyone around him. Our friendship blossomed the day I joined the photography club. It was pouring outside, and he kindly invited me to share his umbrella after class. As fate would have it, I later discovered that he shared a dorm with Yuma, and before long, the three of us became inseparable, enjoying countless adventures together in the campus.
Not long after our conversation, professor Seong arrived, and the class soon started. Our club is currently made up of 13 students, and professor Seong decided to pair us up for the assignment. Since I've typically teamed up with Yuma or Fuma, this time I found myself tackling the project solo. Honestly, I kind of welcomed this decision; it's been a while since I had the chance to deliver an individual presentation in the club, and I was looking forward to the experience.
"Woop, time for the secondary themes." Fuma shared my enthusiasm for the project. Our focus centers for the project were capturing the essence of movement, that was the main theme. Yet the professor mentioned he would assign us a specific subject, situation or object to photograph, adding an intriguing layer to our exploration. He was now following the list of the students names.
"Beomgyu and Yeonjun, your second theme is the nature. Be sure to bring us a nice set of photos this time, we don't need to see your faces in the corner of each one of them." The professor pushed up his glasses thoughtfully as he spoke. Everyone laughed.
"What?! But that's the cool part! If the main theme is the beauty of movement plus nature I can just picture myself running naked with a leaf covering my ginormous—"
"Enough, Beomgyu. Daeun and Jinae, for the secondary theme you'll need to include a stranger. Both of you. The unknown is a complementary element of the art of photography."
Daeun sighed. "Of course you would give that task to an introvert duo, professor Seong..."
"You can just pretend that you don't know me, easy peasy." Beomgyu was still wearing his sunglasses, and he looked even more hilarious now that I noticed it.
"You can sure bet I'll pretend not to know you if you show up in the photos of the university's blog running around naked!" Me and Fuma started laughing again, Yeonjun did the same. Daeun and Beomgyu were undoubtedly siblings in a past life.
"Y/N, your secondary theme will be sports. The university's basketball club, to be more precise."
The basketball club? I've heard of them before, and honestly, it seems like everyone on campus is familiar with their name as well. They've built quite a reputation here, mainly because of their impressive record of victories. It's not just their wins that have made them stand out—it's the way they carry themselves and inspire others. Their presence really adds to the campus spirit and pride.
My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle nudge from an elbow; it was Fuma. "Y/N? Are you listening to me?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry! Go on. I was distracted. Can you repeat what you just said?"
"I said that I got the feeling of sadness as the secondary theme for my project. What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? Should I take some pictures of someone crying their eyes out?"
"Don't forget about the main theme, silly. Just think about it, I already have some ideas in mind about what you could capture with your camera." A solitary figure moving quietly in the fading light of the sunset, casting a long shadow. A hourglass being shattered against the pavement, echoing through the stillness of time. Although that assignment isn't mine, my mind is already buzzing with a wealth of ideas. "But I won't tell you any of them!"
"Well, seems like i'll be having lunch by myself today."
"Wait! Fuma! I was just messing with you. Oh lord, please wait for me!" The moment I shared my request, professor Seong granted us permission to head out for lunch, and Fuma was already making his way to the door. In my haste, I fumbled with my belongings and hurried after him.
(…)
After finishing lunch together, Fuma and I decided to stop by the university's cafeteria for some iced coffee before heading to the library to take a deep dive into our studies. We also wanted to conduct a brief analysis of our cameras to kick off our photography assignment. On our way there, we ran into Harua, who had just left Yuma's dorm. He informed us that Yuma was sleeping and starting to recover pretty well, and he joined us.
We settled at a table on the library's first floor, nestled between towering shelves. The warm yellow light glowed a bit brighter as the sun bid its farewell, casting a gentle ambiance around us.
"You still have your Fujifilm, Y/N?"
"If you're talking about the X100VI, yes, I do have it. And that's the one i'll be using for this project. I'm also thinking about creating an extra file for polaroid pics." My eyes were practically glued to the laptop screen, but I was able to respond and pay attention to what Harua was asking.
"That's a good idea. Maybe you can keep some of the pictures after your presentation for the assignment. And if you don't, please give them to me. I don't have a lot of photos of Maki."
"Maki?" I think I've heard that name before.
"Oh, right! I forgot Maki's in the basketball team. Man, it's been a while since the last time we got to hang out together. I hate my current schedule." As Fuma voiced his frustrations, he reclined in his chair, letting the weight of the day press down on him. With a deep sigh, he rested his head on his arms, which were folded comfortably behind him, seeking a moment of solace amid the studies.
"If you miss me that much you should watch me play more often." Honestly it felt as if Fuma had conjured a spell. Maki's voice made the three of us turn our gaze towards the staircase, and there he was; accompanied by two unfamiliar faces, all dressed in matching uniforms—clearly fellow members of the basketball team.
"Dude, what the hell?" Fuma exclaimed, his excitement evident at the unexpected arrival. They exchanged a quirky handshake, their laughter punctuated by playful ruffling of each other's hair. Following closely was Harua, who wasted no time in greeting the two towering figures beside Maki too. One of them carried a gentle expression and appeared somewhat shy, while the other had his hands tucked into his pockets, exuding a more serious demeanor. They both bore a hint of fatigue, as if they had just emerged from an intense training session.
It's clear they're truly committed to their practices.
"Just got out of a game, we were practicing but Euijoo wanted to close the gym again for some reason—something about needing to focus, you know, the usual complaints," Maki said, his tone suggesting this wasn't the first time. He wore a slight look of annoyance, but there was a hint of acceptance there too.
"I bet it's because of how we performed in the last competition," the tall, quiet guy chimed in. His voice had a pleasant quality to it.
"But didn't you all win?" I couldn't help but interject. Just last month, the entire university had celebrated the basketball team's victory.
"What Jo wanted to say is basically that..." The other guy started to speak, looking at Maki as if seeking his approval to continue. He settled into the last empty seat directly in front of me. Maki nodded affirmatively to him in silence. "Euijoo was benched in the last game. He got blamed for something he didn't do."
"Yeah, sadly Yudai is right. One of the players from the other university's team shoved Euijoo but lost his balance and fell right away. In a twist, he blamed Euijoo, insisting that he was the one who pushed him to the ground." Maki confirmed what the Yudai guy said, prompting Jo to sigh and gaze out the nearest window. From the library, the gym building was clearly visible.
"Have you guys spoken to the team leader or a professor about this? That was really unfair..." I was troubled by the situation. Yet, it seemed that this kind of conflict was a frequent occurrence in basketball competitions.
"Things is... Euijoo's the team leader."
"Oh."
“He can be quite the perfectionist at times, and honestly, that situation has really gotten under his skin for a bit now. I totally get why, though—no one likes feeling that pressure. And that’s not all. There are rumors circulating in the hallways that Euijoo somehow managed to break the guy's leg after the match, ensuring he won’t be available for the next few games. Honestly, that’s just absurd and clearly a fabrication of a bunch of lies.” Maki said, lowering his voice to a whisper as he tried to shield our conversation from prying ears in the crowded library.
I was completely unaware that such incidents could occur within our establishment. To be honest, I don’t typically follow the university’s blog or pay much attention to the gossip among students. Perhaps that's why my perception of the campus has been a little bit more different.
"Y'know what?" Harua checked the time on his phone before getting up. "Maybe we should go see him."
"Are you crazy? That guy looks scary when he's in a 'not today' mood." Fuma's hands were in Harua's shoulders almost instantly, forcing him to sit back down. But he still insisted and got up again.
"Seriously, you’ve got to believe me! Y/N has a photography club assignment that involves all of you—and yes, with that I mean the entire basketball team. This is a fantastic chance for Euijoo to demonstrate his leadership abilities and prove he’s not the person he's been portrayed as."
A hush fell over the chat as we exchanged glances, silently agreeing that Harua should continue sharing his idea. “Y/N is exceptional with the camera. Everyone around here knows she only captures the truth in her photographs. She could never bring herself to portray a lie—it’s just not her style.”
“Well, she would have needed to consult the leader before moving forward anyways, so it doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.” Yudai offered a warm smile in my direction.
“Exactly! See? I think we should really put my idea into action.”
“Alright, since we’re all on board about this, let’s head back to the gym.” As Fuma, Harua, and I began gathering our things from the study session, Maki gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re happy to be part of your project, Y/N.”
Maki pushed open the heavy doors of the internal basketball court, nestled within the massive gym building that housed various sports clubs. As the metal clanged against its frame, the sound echoed across the spacious arena, mingling with the rhythmic thud of our footsteps on the polished floor as we stepped inside.
And there he was: Euijoo, the leader of the team.
His figure was illuminated beneath the solitary glow of a single overhead light. The basketball was being dribbled with precision at his fingertips, each bounce resonating in the field. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening in the soft light, while strands of hair fell across his forehead as he leaped high in the air, attempting to make another impressive shot. The natural light from the late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm, inviting glow that highlighted the intensity of the moment.
“Come on, man! At least switch on a few more lights,” Maki called out in a mock exasperation, shaking his head with a grin. He hurried to flick on the rest of the lights, bathing the entire court in brightness. With a satisfying thump, he dropped his bag onto the floor, ready to join the game and make his own mark on the court.
Euijoo ignored his words. Another shot.
A three-pointer.
"Dude." Maki swiftly seized the basketball, bringing it under control and catching Euijoo off guard, effectively halting him in his tracks. "Take a moment to chill, yeah?" He said in a laid-back tone.
We could hear the heavy rhythm of Euijoo's breathing, each exhale a testament to his exertion. He was obviously pushing himself, yet there was a fire in his eyes that suggested he felt far from finished with the practice. As the two of them made their way over toward our group, Euijoo hunched slightly, trying to catch his breath.
“Sorry about that.” He managed to say, his voice a little raspy, but it wasn’t hard to tell that this was just another sign of how dedicated he had been during practice on the court. The determination in his expression spoke volumes about his commitment to improving his skills, and it was clear that he was ready to keep going, despite the fatigue that hung around him like a shadow.
"That's alright." Said Fuma, patting one of his shoulders.
"Euijoo. We would like to introduce Y/N to you." As Harua began to speak, I leaned forward slightly, bowing my head in a gesture of respect towards him. "She’s a member of the photography club, and she has a really important assignment about... Uhm... Well, about the—”
“About the beauty of movement.” I interjected with enthusiasm. “We’re looking to capture anything that’s in motion to evoke the essence of what keeps life thriving. I’ve been instructed to incorporate the basketball team as a secondary theme to complement my project, and I’ve heard so much about the incredible passion you all bring to the game. If you would allow me, I would be absolutely thrilled to take some pictures of you guys during your practice sessions.”
I rushed through my words, almost spilling them all out in one breath. Though a slight embarrassment tinged my cheeks, I maintained a steady gaze, looking Euijoo directly in the eyes, determined to convey my sincerity and enthusiasm for the opportunity.
He remained completely still, a wave of uncertainty washing over me. Did I act too quickly? I could’ve kept my cool. What if he—
"She can stay." Euijoo stated with conviction, a subtle smile dancing at the edge of his lips. "Would you like me to give you a tour?"
"But Euijoo, the university's schedule is about to wrap up." Jo mentioned, his brow furrowed with concern. Outside, the tennis club members made their way back to the dorms, the sun setting behind them.
"I’ve got the keys. It won’t take long. You all should use these last few minutes to practice some shots, right?"
"Tag, you're it!" Harua suddenly declared, playfully punching Yudai's back, and just like that, chaos erupted. They quickly forgot about the looming schedule, eagerly falling in line behind Harua as his lively game took over the whole group. And when I noticed, Euijoo was already walking over to some other direction. I had to rush my steps a bit to catch up with him.
I can't forget to message my roommate. I should tell her that i'll be there later than usual today.
Euijoo actually followed through on his promise to give me a tour of the gym building. At first, I doubted he would take it seriously, but he detailed every room, every sports field, and even shared a bit of the history behind the basketball club.
"Thank you so much, Euijoo." I said, bowing my head respectfully while adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "The information you provided is really valuable for my project, but I should probably get going."
It was already past 8 PM, and the others had headed back to their dorms, while Harua went off to check on Yuma again.
"Where’s your dorm? I can walk you there." He offered as he locked the metal doors of the basketball court.
"It’s fine, really. You don’t have to. Plus, I enjoy the summer breeze as my companion sometimes." I replied.
"Photography club, huh? That means your dorm must be in building P90. Let’s go." He insisted, completely brushing off my protest as he walked past me, giving my hair a playful ruffle.
Despite the earlier incident and the rumors I heard, Euijoo struck me as a genuinely good person. While he may not have shown a lot of excitement throughout our time together, he remained kind and gentle towards me, which I really appreciated.
The silence as we walked together felt comfortable rather than awkward. It was nice to take in the natural sounds of the university and the last birds chirping before dusk. We’re enjoying a lovely summer this year.
"Do you have any pictures of yourself?" Euijoo suddenly inquired.
Pictures... of myself?
"I don’t think so, no. I honestly find more joy in capturing what my eyes behold in the moment. As human beings, our time here is finite, and honestly, I have no desire to live forever. Yet, the beauty of being alive fills me with a longing to hold onto memories as if they were treasures meant to last. But me? I'm merely a traveler on this winding journey of life." A hint of nostalgia curled my lips into a small smile as I spoke.
Euijoo halted in his tracks behind me, but I didn’t turn to face him. Instead, I remained five steps ahead, pausing to absorb the moment. For a few seconds, silence enveloped us, but then I heard his voice break through.
"You possess a passion that not many people have, y'know."
"If not for passion, what else can truly energize our hearts?" I mused, lifting my gaze towards the sky. The stars were looking back at me.
My contemplation was soon interrupted by Euijoo’s face drifting into my view, mere centimeters away. In that fleeting moment, we exchanged smiles, a silent understanding passing between us.
Shortly afterward, as I stood at the entrance of my dorm, the time had come to part ways. I waved goodbye, feeling a warm glow from our conversation linger as I stepped inside.
I took my shoes off carefully so I wouldn't make any sound. I knew Harvey, my roommate, would probably be taking a quick nap at this hour. Since she's studying in the fashion area and the summer festival is coming, she's been busy with a lot recently. And as soon as I take a look at the sofa, there she is: sleeping sound and safe with her unicorn plushie between her arms.
After slipping into something more comfortable, I turned my attention to dinner prep. Oddly enough, Euijoo's questions keep swirling in my mind. I can't quite decipher his thoughts, but that's alright. Tomorrow offers a whole new chapter to explore anyways.
(...)
"MAKI! OVER HERE! HURRY!"
We were on the outside basketball court this time. I've never heard Jo raise his voice like that before. He's usually so reserved and keeps a calm demeanor in every situation, but when he's on the field, it’s clear why he was recruted for the team.
With one knee on the ground and my Fujifilm in hand, I’m trying to capture some dynamic moments from this practice game. They’re up against a squad from the boxing club, which is a bit surprising since those guys can actually play well. The atmosphere is tense, yet something feels amiss.
As I focus my camera lens on Euijoo, that feeling intensifies. He’s for sure dedicated on what he's doing right now, but there’s a noticeable shift in his playing style since the first day we met three weeks ago when he was out there alone. He seems... Distracted? No, that’s not the word, it doesn't sound quite right. It’s more like he’s not fully present in the game. This doesn’t feel like him at all.
As the time flew, I got to know a little bit more about everyone on the team. Euijoo is the leader and the point guard, as we all know. He’s the one who brings structure to the team, the strategist whose ideas are perfectly tailored for each unique opponent. Maki is the strongest one, he's also really good at dribbling the basketball, so his main position in the game is the center. Yudai, also known as 'Kei' on the field, is the talest and the best at making more direct approaches. He's the shooting guard. Nicholas is the power forward, working a lot with Maki near the center, and Jo is the small forward. He does a bit of everything and is essencial for the game.
"THAT'S RIGHT, WHO'S THE BOSS NOW?" Nicholas and Maki celebrated their victory with an exuberant chest bump after the leader flawlessly sank a three-pointer. In a burst of excitement, Yudai whipped off his shirt, sprinting around the court with arms outstretched before colliding with Jo for a hug.
The air was filled with a melody of euphoria intertwined with pure joy, and I couldn’t resist capturing this unforgettable moment with my camera. A few clicks here, a few clicks there. This was just perferct for the assignment.
"Come on, champs, it's time for your trophy!" I briefly set my camera aside and grabbed water bottles for them as they meandered over to the benches, ready to catch their breath.
When Euijoo approached me, I handed him a water bottle and smiled. "You went well, Euijoo!"
But I had no answer to my statement. Euijoo just walked past me without saying a word, and he didn't even accept the bottle. What in the world...?
"Just let him be, Y/N. He's probably just tired." As always, Maki told me not to worry too much about this. And to be honest, the weather was too hot at the moment for me to keep my mind busy with it, so I just followed Maki's advice. Maybe I should go to the bathroom just to wash the sweat out of my face.
"Can you keep an eye on my stuff, Kei? I need to use the bathroom real quick. It's really hot here at the outside court."
"Sure, thing. Go before the sun eats your brain." Letting a small laugh escape thanks to the horrible joke he made on the spot, I give him a nod in agreement.
"Now where is the female changing room in this building?" No matter how many times I've walked through the corridors of this place, my sense of direction has never been the best, and it's common for me to get a little lost. I could not dare to say that things can not get worse, because today i'm not even supposed to be here in the first place. If professor Jung happens to be here, he would absolutely complain about my presence inside the sport's building.
"Oh, the red door. It's definitly here! Jeez, I can finally-"
"You can finally what?"
As soon as I stepped into what I thought was the female changing room, I was met with an unexpected sight—there stood Euijoo, shirtless, with his arms crossed and his hair still dripping with water. His eyebrow was raised in a perfectly confused yet annoyed expression. My hand instinctively flew to cover my mouth as I let out a soft, startled scream, pressing my back against the door as if trying to make myself blend into it.
"What the hell are you doing in the female's changing room?!" I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"Y/N, are you blind? This is not the female's changing room." He replied, visibly irritated. The clarity in his tone struck me like a bolt, and as I began to look around more carefully, the realization dawned on me. I was standing in the men's locker room.
My face flushed with embarrassment as I processed the situation, wishing I could disappear at that very moment. In less than five seconds I already planned my escape from there, but it was all ruined when I opened the door. Someone was coming.
In a blink I was pulled back to the men's locker room, the lights were suddenly off and I had one of Euijoo's hands keeping my mouth shut. The other one was responsible to hold me closer by the waist after he locked the door, so I could not move.
"Euijoo! Are you insane?! Let me out!" My whispers were harsh.
"Stop acting dumb. If I let you out right now, whoever it is outside will immediatly call professor Jung." He was looking at the door over the top of my head. "And besides that, we would both be caught in a huge problem."
"Both? Seriously?! I'm not the one who's locking you up!" I made a determined effort to put some distance between us. I wasn't comfortable with the warmth of his bare torso against mine or the way his breath brushed against my skin. My cheeks felt too warm, and my heart was racing for reasons I couldn't quite understand.
"But you'll definitely be the one everyone at the university's gonna buzz about for years if anyone catches you leaving the men's locker room. With me inside of it." The pause between his phrases carried a weight that sharpened his tone. He leaned in close, whispering, and as he spoke, his hand shifted from covering my mouth to cradling my face, his fingertips pressing into my cheeks.
"I have enough rumors floating around. Don’t screw things up."
Don’t screw things up? It felt as if he believed I was doing this intentionally. I'm still getting my bearings in this place; it was only natural to feel a bit lost. All I wanted was to splash some cold water on my face and shake off the heat from the sun shining outside. But now, all I sense is the intensity of the tension hanging between us.
He was starting to get on my nerves.
"You're adding to the rumors yourself! Your team just won a game, they were all so happy and excited about it, and what did you do? You left them behind celebrating without you, without their leader. You didn't even say a word before leaving! And it's not the first time something like this happens."
"They're not mad about it for sure, right? So why the hell are you? We can still work perfectly as a team. This has nothing to do with you, Y/N, so just stay out of it." He finally let go of my face, but the hold of his hand on my waist was getting tighter and tighter.
Euijoo is annoying.
"How could a team achieve perfection if the leader is not even passionate about what they're doing on the field? I couldn't get a single shot of you on my camera that reflected passion or enthusiasm!"
Euijoo’s face lingered just inches from mine, and I refused to step back. In that moment, time stood still as we locked eyes, the air thick with tension, until we heard the footsteps fade away outside the door. We were safe.
He leaned in and my heart skipped a beat, but instead of closing the gap, he rested his head on my shoulder, releasing his grip on my waist. We remained in that stillness for what felt like an eternity. Just as I was about to call his name...
"Euij-..."
He straightened abruptly and, without a word, unlocked the door behind me. Before I could protest, he ushered me out of the men's locker room and locked it again.
Byun Euijoo is pretty annoying.
After that day, I put my camera away when it came to Euijoo. My focus shifted entirely to the other members of the basketball team. I couldn’t bring myself to capture anything that felt disingenuous or out of place. And every time I looked at Euijoo through the camera lens, the same odd feeling continued to appear.
"Y/N, you're not even touching your food. I'm starting to get worried."
This time I was in the university's cafetaria with Yuma.
We had made plans to grab lunch once he recovered from his cold and our schedules aligned. It felt great to be hanging out together again—after all, he was my best friend, and that’s why he was curious about how I was feeling.
"Don’t worry about me. I’m just feeling a bit worn out from studying and the photography assignment." I said, stirring my coffee latte with a small spoon. "It ended up being a lot more challenging than I had anticipated."
"Why not take a short break then?" He suggested, savoring the last bite of his blueberry cake. "It's friday, our schedule's over for today, and the weather's perfect for a beach day. We could invite Taki as well!"
Taki is Yuma's half-brother. He's in the dance department of our university and he usually doesn’t have classes in the end of the week. Yuma was looking at me with an electrifying excitement in his eyes, a gaze that always made it impossible for me to say no when he wielded that charm.
"Alright, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Let’s get ready, then! I’ll meet you at the main entrance around 2 PM." The moment I agreed, Yuma devoured his cake in record time and sprang up from his seat.
In the end, we also invited Yuma, Harua, Beomgyu, Yeonjun, and Harvey. Before we knew it, we were stepping off the bus, our feet sinking into the warm, inviting sand. This beach is a favorite among the students at our university, which meant it was pretty much buzzing with the familiar hustle and bustle of people today.
"Waah, it's been a while since the last time I visited the sea!" Harvey took of the cute hat she was wearing and opened both her arms wide enough to hug around 100 people at the same time. As we walked to a nice spot, she was telling us about how much she missed going for a beach day like this.
"I have my camera, couldn't dare to forget. Look at me, Harv!" I asked as I captured her face, pretty happy with the results afterwards.
"Y/N, give me the camera. You can go swim, okay? We came here in the first place for you to take a break. I'll join you in to time!" Yuma's voice was gentle, a soothing melody in the vibrant chaos around us. As he unfurled his bright yellow towel on the warm sand, I willingly handed over the fujifilm.
The rest of our group had already settled into the rhythm of the day, basking in the sun, their laughter mingling with the notes of some random music and the shuffling of Uno cards, all while savoring juicy slices of watermelon that Yeonjun had brought along with him.
With a grateful glance toward Yuma, I stepped away from our gathering, drawn toward the inviting sea. The moment my toes dipped into the cool water, a refreshing wave enveloped my senses.
But that wave was nothing compared to what hit me next. Literally... A person.
"Fuck, sorry."
The mysterious stranger caught me just in time, grabbing my arm to keep me from tumbling into the water. Beside us lay a volleyball, likely left behind from his game with friends, and it clearly distracted him. "Are you alright?" He said with a touch of concern.
"I’m fine, no worries! It happens." I returned his apology with a soft smile, adjusting my orange bikini after the near mishap.
"We’re kind of matching, though..." He noted, raising an eyebrow. I was caught off guard. What did he—... Oh, his open beach shirt was a vibrant orange too. "I'm Brandon." He introduced himself, extending a hand toward me, his playful demeanor evident.
"Y/N." While taking his hand for a brief handshake, I look around.
"Wanna join us for a game or two? Or maybe we could grab some ice cream instead? Let's pick out something sweet to match your vibe." He winked as he retrieved the volleyball, leaning a bit too close for my comfort during the process. This was becoming less amusing now.
"Well, I'm with my friends over there, so I'll have to pass." I said, taking a step back.
"What? Come on, it'll be fun, Y/N! It's my treat." Reaching out, he brushed my wrist gently. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. And it was not a good one. So, I instinctively backed away further. Just then, the upper part of my back bumped into something solid.
"Having fun, huh?" It was Euijoo, followed by Nicholas and Maki, both wearing concerned expressions as they took in the situation. Something was bothering them. Euijoo's hand was quick to grab me by the waist.
"Oh? What do we have here... Captain red flag is still in town?" Brandon shot a cocky smirk at Euijoo and hurled the volleyball at him in a rude way, not even caring that I was right in the line of fire. But Euijoo had mad reflexes—he snatched it out of the air just in time, only to shove me aside like an afterthought before catching it. Classic move, right?
Yeah, that’s Byun Euijoo. Kind of a jerk when he wants to be. What the fuck was I hoping so much for?
"Y/N," Maki called, his big hand landing on my shoulder. "Let’s bounce out for a bit. We don't wanna get in the middle of this."
Taking one last annoyed look at Euijoo, I nodded my head in agreement and we decided to leave the scene behind us.
The ride back to the university was... Weird. Everyone was gossiping about what had just happened. It felt like the whole group was charged up, dissecting every moment about the short clash between Brandon and Euijoo. Meanwhile, I forced myself to zone out and push the sound of their chatter away, cranking up the volume on my headphones. Honestly, why should I care about what was happening with Euijoo? He had treated me like I was invisible, so it felt entirely pointless to get wrapped up in his drama.
Once I finally got back to my dorm, I was caught off guard when Harvey pulled me into a tight hug. "Are you really okay, Y/N?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. I could tell she wasn’t buying my attempt to brush things off. Harvey isn’t one to miss the little signs, and it was clear she sensed that something was off with me.
"I just need a long shower and a good night of sleep. I'll be fine, Harv. Thanks." As usual, Harvey and I exchanged our pinky promise sign. Just as our pinkies linked up, her phone pinged with a notification. "Whoopsies, looks like I’ve got a fan asking for an autograph!"
"Honestly, I’m not even surprised." Harvey's work in the fashion course is pretty much famous around campus, and she totally deserves all the attention. Her adorable personality usually makes everything better, and she's a very talented student, but this time her smile faded as she read her messages. "Harv? What’s going on?"
"There’s a video going viral." She swallowed, looking a bit nervous.
"A video? Wait, I don't get it." I was genuinely confused. I leaned in to sneak a peek at the phone, but she pulled it away, staring at the screen like she was trying to decide if she should say anything at all.
"Brandon and Euijoo, uhm..."
"Nope, nevermind, I don't really wanna know."
"Euijoo is dealing with a serious nosebleed in the video, yet they're putting up a good fight. They're saying Brandon went to the hospital after that."
Even as she spoke, her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications.
"What the hell?" I snatched the device from Harvey's hands, she could now see the screen reflected in my eyes.
It was true. The video was anything but good, and Euijoo looked furious. His rage was unsettling. It felt… wrong. It felt wrong that I could see a deliberate intention and will in the way he attacked Brandon, something my camera had never captured during their games on the court. Byun Euijoo, what is happening to you?
"Y/N..." My head throbbed, and I couldn't let Harvey finish her words. I hurried into my room, locking the door behind me, and stood before the mirror in the bathroom.
"So the rumors are true?" I whispered to my reflection. They had said those whispers were lies, and deep down, a part of me still clung to the belief that Euijoo wasn’t that kind of person. I still had hope that, as the time goes by, I would be able to capture the passion dancing in his eyes.
Flashbacks of the day I met him started filling up my thoughts. He was so kind to me... He made me feel comfortable. Was it a joke for him? Was it that easy to pretend?
(...)
The following day found me back at work, focusing on my photography assignment. Once again, I was on the sidelines of the basketball outside court, camera in hand, ready to capture the beauty of the movement against the backdrop of a stunning summer sunset. I was still struggling to get even a single frame of Byun Euijoo.
What really gnaws at me more than Euijoo right now is watching all of the guys on the team behave as if everything was always perfectly normal. They’re pouring their hearts and souls into the game, passionately sweating it out on the field, and cheerfully approaching me to inquire about the photos or to suggest redoing a particular move. It’s all so friendly, but it only makes me feel more unsettled and sick.
Euijoo is nowhere to be found for now. Not on the field, not on the bench... And frankly, I’m not inclined to find out where he’s disappeared to. If completing my project means going without photos of the team leader, then so be it.
"Y/N, can you grab another basketball for us? We're splitting into two teams now!" Yudai called out from the far side of the court, his voice cutting through the air.
"Do ya want me to help out?" Yuma chimed in beside me, he's been keeping me company throughout the day.
"I'll go in a minute. Hand me the keys."
Yuma passed me the keys and made sure to keep an eye on my camera while I was absent. I walked steadily toward the sports building and headed straight for the equipment storage room. Just needed almost one month and now I know this place like the back of my hand. After unlocking the door, I began my search for the basketball.
Suddenly, the door behind me swung shut.
"Damn it, I should have left it more—..." My thought was abruptly interrupted as I caught sight of something in my peripheral vision.
It was Euijoo. And he looked just as taken aback as I was.
I swallowed my own saliva, trying to shake off the awkwardness that hung between us. I turned my back to him, determined to continue the hunt for the elusive ball, but it felt like everything was conspiring to frustrate me. I couldn't find it at all. Great.
"It's on the other side."
I paused for a second, ignoring him again as I scanned in the exact opposite direction.
"Other side, Y/N."
"I know!" I shot back, quickly pivoting to face him, trying to steady my racing heart.
He stood there with his usual unamused look, hands tucked into his pockets, just like he did when he walked me to the dorm on the first day of my photography project. But this time? It's not the same. No way. It’s just not.
"Smile." I said.
Despite the dim light surrounding us, the warm glow of the sunset streaming through the small rectangular window by the ceiling illuminated our figures, allowing us to see each other clearly.
Euijoo stood there in silence.
An immovable soul against the backdrop of uncertainty. His expression was a fortress, guarding secrets I longed to uncover. With hands buried deep in the pockets of his sleek black uniform, he exuded a quiet power, even as the absence of a smile cast a shadow over his otherwise polished demeanor. It was as if the world around him faded, leaving just him—stoic and inscrutable, a puzzle wrapped in mystery.
The position of a captain, naturally.
"Byun Euijoo, I’m talking to you directly." My hands tighten into fists, and I could feel my heart beginning to falter. It was betraying my own rhythm. "Just smile. Show me something."
I couldn't hear even the slightest breath, yet I could see his chest rise subtly as oxygen nourished his body. Two more minutes slipped away in silence, our eyes locked, the world outside fading as time stood still. Just like him once again.
"Byun Euijoo!"
I called out, raising my voice in frustration. "You've got to do something! Smile!" As my patience began to fray, I stepped closer and gave his arm a shove. "Come on, Euijoo! Smile, smile, smile!" Every word carries with it a subtle yet impactful force. I deliver a small punch with each one of the angry pleads. "Please! I can’t take this anymore! You’re so annoying, everything you do is annoying. How could you even go through with that after everything we've heard buzzing around the campus?!"
I fought back my tears, resolved not to surrender. Byun Euijoo is annoying. After all these years of capturing what gives meaning to this Earth, years of showing to people's eyes that everything around us has a name and holds significance... Yet, through my camera's lens, I still struggle to unravel what the world signifies to Euijoo—and more importantly, what Euijoo signifies to me now.
Suddenly, I felt his slender hand wrap around my wrist, drawing me closer. I wasn't finished talking. In an instant, his lips brushed against my neck—his teeth grazing my skin.
And I sensed it.
A smile, lingering where my eyes could not see.
I was frozen in place. His lips wove a tapestry of tender kisses, tracing a slow path up to my earlobe. My body was trembling against my will.
"Brandon was the star of the last championship—the one who made everyone believe that I made a mistake that I never once commited."
He murmured, his breath brushing against my skin as he leaned closer, our faces mere inches apart. "There was a time when basketball consumed my soul, a fire that made me feel truly alive... Even if eternity doesn't appeal to me, I wouldn't mind a few million more years of that passion."
Euijoo's words echoed the very sentiments I had shared on that night, sending a chill through my spine. Even so, amidst the swirl of emotions, I found myself powerless to pull away, silently urging him to continue.
"From that day on, I started questioning my abilities as the leader of the team. Then, in a winter afternoon, he tossed me into the university's swimpool, and with that, I lost something very important to me: a polaroid photo from the first time I played basketball with my dad." I felt his hand move from my waist to my face, giving it a soft caress.
"To top it all off, I not only lost my motivation to keep playing basketball, but then you showed up with that damn photography assignment, and your damn talk about passion. It drove me crazy that I could see a little of my past self in you, and even crazier that I kind of liked it. And honestly, I didn't have tactics to evade or escape the sensation. It was clearly a mismatch for me. Between fighting my fears and hating you, I picked up with the second option."
My eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but I was determined not to let them fall in front of Euijoo. With my head tucked against his chest, I allowed his warm embrace to envelop me completely. We lingered in that moment for a while, silence wrapping around us as we forgot about the basketball I was supposed to be searching for. At that instant, I had no desire to return to the court.
"Can you take me back to my dorm?" I asked, and as the words left my lips, I noticed the sun dipping below the horizon through the small window of the storage room. A smile broke across Euijoo's face, and warmth spread across my cheeks immediatly.
He took my hand, intertwining our fingers with a gentle ease, and silently guided me outside the building.
The journey back to the dorm felt distinctly different that evening. Perhaps it was because, as Euijoo swung the door open with a kiss that caught me off guard, I realized it was not my dorm we were walking into; it was his. The moment hung in the air, rich with the thrill of unfamiliarity and intimacy.
It was that magical hour of the day when the campus was busy with excitement. Students, finally free from the schedule of classes and club activities filled the pathways, animatedly discussing their plans for dinner and the freedom beyond the night. Laughter and chatter surrounded us as background noises, but it felt like we were in our own world, oblivious to the multitude of voices echoing around us.
As he closed the door behind us, he took extra care to lock it, a quiet assurance that we were alone, wrapped in our bubble of privacy. Without a word, he scooped me up in his arms, the suddenness of it sending a thrill through me as he pressed my back against the wall right next to the door.
We both understood that there was an unspoken craving between us, something so big that it defied explanation, yet the pace of our kiss was... Surprisingly gentle. There was no urgency in our movements. Instead, he seemed intent on exploring every moment. His fingertips traced soft, lingering paths on the back of my head, mapping out all the details that ran far deeper than mere attraction.
Just as I thought I couldn’t take more, he playfully bit my lower lip, a teasing gesture before he released it slowly, drawing me back into another kiss that felt like a secret we were sharing. It was in that moment of bliss that a soft noise escaped from my throat, a sound filled with delight, a testament to the feelings he stirred within me.
"Euijoo... Wait." My hesitation was palpable. My palms were pressed against his chest as I paused the kiss, narrowing the distance between our lips to a mere breath.
"Eternity." He murmured, putting me down on the ground. While unbuckling his belt, his gaze was fixed on mine with an intensity that felt predatory. "It would be cool to keep you locked up with me for all that time."
"Euijoo." I called for him once again, trying to catch my breath.
"Please." He sank to his knees with a look I've never encountered before—a blend of seriousness and an intense flame of longing that flickered in his gaze as it met mine, even as the ground embraced him. When his knees touched down, he reached for me, his hands firm yet tender as they slid behind my thighs. His chin anchored against my lower abdomen, a silent plea written on his face. "Let me create a moment so passionate that your eyes won't want to look away this time."
In that instant, I became acutely aware that I might not be the strongest combatant in this battle. I inhaled deeply, summoning the courage to reveal myself. One by one, I began unfastening my clothing, the fabric slipping from my skin until I stood before him, adorned only in my white panties, while he remained fully clothed, an enticing contrast with my garments scattered like fallen petals all around him.
After that, I gently caressed the top of his head.
"My eyes won't leave you for a single second, Byun Euijoo."
Euijoo began by softly nuzzling his lips against the delicate skin on the inner part of my thighs, gently coaxing them apart to fit his head snugly between them. His kisses traveled tantalizingly close to the edge of my panties, playfully ascending until they reached the curve of my belly button. All the while, his gaze remained locked with mine, a silent connection that deepened the actions. It didn't take long before he deftly slipped the fabric away, casting it aside as if it were nothing more than a forgotten accessory.
Without any kind of shame, he smirked before diggin' in. The tip of his tongue traced a wet path right between my folds, making me hold onto his locks with more precision.
The act was repeated on and on a few times, until he made sure I was dripping in his own saliva. He then started slowly toying with my clit while his hands grabbed my ass, bringing me impossibly closer to him. This way, he could finally close his warm mouth around it and start gently sucking. My legs felt like jelly in that moment, and my eyes were tearing up slightly.
He liked the sight of it. He took his sweet time, weaving together a rhythm of tender licks, soft kisses, and gentle sucks that sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body. Each movement prompted me to throw my head back involuntarily, escaping a soft moan that seemed to rise from deep within me. My abdomen tightened with a strong anticipation, and I found myself taking deep breaths, desperately trying to maintain some control over my voice. But despite my efforts, the sweet sensations rendered me utterly unable to contain the sounds that spilled forth, a symphony of pleasure that echoed my desire.
When I looked down again, he was similar to a puppy devouring its treat. Shit.
"Euijoo, let me, nghh... Let me make you feel good too."
My words seemed to have the opposite effect, as he quickly picked up the pace with his tongue. Before long, I felt the unmistakable sensation of one of his fingers exploring deep inside me. When I asked him to pause, he took it a step further, adding another one of his long fingers. I found myself totally lost in a swirl of sensations, feeling as if I were seeing stars reflected on the ceiling of his dorm room.
Just as I was about to reach my limit, Euijoo pulled his fingers out, edging me and denying my orgasm right away. I was taken aback, left with an absurd desire for relief.
"We should take this to the bedroom." The lower part of his face glistened with my essence, making him look unexpectedly charming. His cheeks were beautifully flushed, a striking contrast that made him seem even cuter than I could have ever imagined Euijoo could be.
As he rose to his feet, the excitement was palpable. However, I paused midway through our movement and gently guided him to sit on the sofa. With a playful glint in my eyes, I slipped his basketball uniform shirt off, and once he was bare above the waist, I positioned myself on his lap, our lips meeting in a heated kiss. My hips instinctively began to move against him, feeling the intensity of his desire, and the passion between us ignited like a flame. His hands grabbed my waist, making me press myself more against his hard on.
"Let me get on top of you." This wasn’t some desperate plea, it was more of a confident statement. We took our time shifting around, and before I knew it, I was layed out on the sofa while he was right there, between my legs, busy discarding the rest of his clothes.
"Fuck, I forgot the cond—..." He began, but I didn’t let him finish. I leaned in, brushing my lips against his lower lip in a playful, teasing manner.
"Come on now, captain, hurry it up. You don’t need that." I urged with a mischievous grin. That seemed to kick his motivation into high gear. I felt his hands gripping the back of my thighs, pushing them up and folding me just the way he wanted, adjusting to get closer.
He started to stroke his shaft slowly, doing it as he practically devoured me with his eyes only. And there it was again, the smirk that I once prayed to see. The damn smile. Determined to help him out, I spat in my hand and started to masturbate his cock, replacing his own hand.
And when he could no longer hold back his overwhelming emotions, he locked both of my arms above my head. It wasn’t long before I felt an intoxicating rush, as he filled me with his cock, a powerful wave of pleasure that engulfed me completely. There was a delightful tension, a sweet, small pain, creating an exquisite dance between desire and surrender. I found myself lost in the experience, yearning for it to continue, not wanting this electrifying moment to ever end.
"So fucking tight, jeez..." His words were doing wonders to my ears. But it wouldn't be like me to shut up and listen.
"Then shape me to fit you, and you only, Euijoo. Make me wish to live forever."
My previous words barely escaped my lips, barely a whisper slipping into the air. But he did as I said so, picking up the pace with an eagerness that was palpable. As he spoke sweet, harsh compliments to me, his voice filled with conviction, he shared about how good was being truly passionate about something. It was evident that he relished every second of this newfound fervor.
For the rest of the night, I finally began to realize what Euijoo meant to me. He symbolized transformation, embodied love, and stirred feelings of anger and pride. He represented a memory of hope to hold onto.
Someone who makes me wanna chase them forever, just like the way we chase after time, even knowing it runs out quickly.
NOTES. merry xmas to everybody who celebrates! for @restlessmaknae with love ♡ just to be on brand, it’s once again angst with happy end
“We need to talk.”
Nothing good ever starts with that exact set of words but you refuse to flinch when Nicholas dumps his bag onto the desk beside you.
Trust Wang Yixiang to start your Friday dramatically at 9 freaking AM even before the class attendance call. Though, truth be told, he wouldn’t even be at such an early hour if it wasn’t for something. He usually needs a dozen alarms and two Americanos to function but now he seems almost vibrating. You wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even go to bed.
“Whatever it is, I’m not sure I’m awake enough for it,” you try to suppress a yawn when your Global Marketing Strategies professor walks into the lecture room in all her gloomy glory.
“Euijoo wants to opt out of the trip,” Nicholas hisses behind his laptop screen and now that’s sure enough to wake you up too.
“What?” You blink, expression morphing into a frown, pretending you didn’t hear him clearly.
“He says he will still pay for his part because he knows the guesthouse cannot be refunded but he won’t come with us. He even made a shitty excuse about doing summer readings for his thesis but we both know he’s never behind on anything,” the guy keeps muttering under his breath, clearly annoyed. You don’t blame him, it’s about his best friend after all. All eight of you were supposed to go on this holiday you have been planning since spring break and now, Euijoo wants to go against the plans.
You can barely focus for the rest of the class even though it’s the last revision before final exams. You fidget, fingers itching for your phone, re-writing multiple texts in your head. You haven’t talked with Euijoo in a month but you know exactly why Nico thinks that you are the only person who can convince him to change his mind: even if the Korean boy denies it or makes up stupid excuses, you are the reason why he made this call.
When it comes to Euijoo and you, everything started with Nicholas.
Studying abroad has always been a dream of yours, but it still felt unreal when you actually packed your bags and moved to Seoul for your International Marketing masters. The two-year program had quite a few foreigners like yourself and that’s how you met Nicholas and Lily. You bonded over shared struggles like how impossible it is to make a Korean bank account or the nuances of the language that still make you stumble upon your words during coffee shop orders. The Taiwanese guy completed his undergraduate studies at YX University too, so he had all these insider tips when you were just a newbie. He also had an established friend group already but it didn’t stop him from practically adopting the then-freshman Maki as a little brother at one of the international student events or dragging you along for proper Korean barbeque experience – his words, not yours. He seemed to know everyone on campus, so you didn’t expect to become actually close friends with such a social butterfly. Then he added you into a chaotic KakaoTalk group chat and it was a spontaneously planned bowling hangout that solidified your new diverse friend group.
And that’s also how you met Byun Euijoo.
At first he was just one of Nico’s many friends. A tall, broad shouldered, quiet presence. Kind in the way he bought drinks for everyone and remembered your preference the next time you met. Then, over shared looks, midnight phone calls, coffee dates and kisses under lamp posts, he became so much more. Until he became a stranger again. A stranger whose taste you could never forget.
You wait until you get back to the apartment you share with Lily and close yourself into your room. When you open your chat with Euijoo, the ominous text we need to talk is glaring at you like a warning sign, a sick sort of deja vu. Everything after that, deciding on a time and place, is clinical, like making an appointment to the dentist to get rid of a hurting tooth. Too bad the hurting hasn't stopped ever since.
You type and delete your message countless times. It’s always too polite or too blunt. Nothing is proper enough. How should somebody address the person they once thought was the one for them?
In the end, you settle on something short and straightforward, no bullshit, no sugarcoating.
you: nico told me
Euijoo’s reply is almost immediate, not even pretending to be confused about what you mean by that. As if he has been waiting.
juju: it’s better this way
At least he doesn’t lie. Not to you. He knows you wouldn’t buy the thesis excuse. You know better than anybody that he already had his topic approved and started working on his survey questions months ago.
you: for who?
juju: everyone
You let out a scoff at his answer because after all this time, you know him well enough to expect this much. So predictable.
The problem with Euijoo is that he’s selfless to the core. He doesn’t know how to be selfish and it’s one of the things you fell in love with at first. But then it became one of the things that ruined you both.
you: if you don’t go, i won’t either, it’s only fair
Your phone, as expected, buzzes with an incoming call almost right away.
You let out a shaky breath as you let it ring just long enough to make sure your voice doesn’t break over hearing Euijoo after so long.
“You should go,” he says, sounding tired.
It’s the first time you have talked since the break up. Hearing his voice feels like listening to a song you used to love but now it breaks your heart.
“So should you,” you put your foot down and suddenly you’re back to square one, to the arguments that don’t have proper conclusions. Neither of you are confrontational people but stubborn enough and it’s probably the worst combination because you never had problems finding compromises, unless it was about something that actually mattered.
The silent stretches between one breath and another. You can almost imagine Euijoo in his room, head thrown back against the wall, a quiet sigh escaping his lips because he hates arguing with you as much as you.
“Look, there’s a reason why nobody invited us to the same events lately. Everybody has been so excited about this trip and I don’t want to make things awkward,” he says, tentatively, like he’s trying to uphold the peace that's already falling apart, but what he doesn’t realize is that your friends didn’t make those kinds of plans in consideration for themselves. They tried to give space to the two of you.
“You do realise that we will make it awkward for the others even if we aren’t there? The eight of us were supposed to go together. Will it be a bit weird to spend time together now? Sure, but it will be weird even if we aren’t there. They are our friends and they care about us, they want us to go,” you emphasize even if you can’t believe you have to spell this out for him. “Hell, if one of us has to bail, it should be me. You are Nico’s best friend.”
There’s only the static hum of electricity for a while. Euijoo doesn’t say anything, probably because he knows it would be in vain to convince you.
“Look, if you don’t want to come, that’s okay, everybody would understand but don’t make that decision because you think it would be better for others,” you tell him after a pause, quietly. Nibbling on your lower lip beneath your teeth then you add, softer: “We were friends before everything and I miss… hanging out with all of you.”
For a moment too long there’s silence and you think you said too much but then Euijoo hums.
“Me too,” he whispers and you let out a shaky breath you’ve been holding.
No one tells you what happens when you date a friend and then it doesn’t work out. It’s not a clean cut. It’s a tsunami.
It’s the once pinned chat sinking lower in your texting app getting buried under other one-on-ones. It’s biting your tongue when others still assume that you come as a package deal. It’s the dead silence after a joke Sungho makes not knowing any better and you can’t take it any longer.
“Actually… we broke up a few days ago.”
It’s Maki laughing, thinking it’s the joke of the century because he started dubbing Euijoo and you as his campus parents because of all the nagging he has to apparently endure just because the two of you tell him to eat properly and pay attention in classes.
It’s Sungho swiftly apologizing and Chaehyun immediately understanding why Euijoo didn’t join you for lunch.
It’s questions like: “But why? You guys were perfect together.”
“Not so perfect,” you mutter with bitterness on your tongue, appetite lost.
It’s your friends trying to give you space, cutting off themselves when they mention Euijoo, turning tentative when planning outings. They stop asking what exactly happened after a while, nobody takes a side and it’s good like this. It’s your business only, at least it should be, but it’s somehow almost like the entire friend group is a child of divorce.
You’re trying to navigate through the hectic Seoul station with one hand on your suitcase and your phone in the other, checking the group chat. You can’t seem to locate the Dunkin Donuts store Shinyu mentioned as a meeting point but before you could worry about being late because of getting lost in the middle of the train station, Lily grabs you by the elbow and steers you towards the platforms 4 to 7. Soon you spot Maki enthusiastically waving in your direction but it only takes a few more steps for your stomach to flip because you don’t see Euijoo anywhere near him. Chaehyun and Sungho are munching on bakery goods which Lily steals from while Shinyu is on his phone, probably trying to reach the others now that there’s less than 15 minutes until departure.
“We’re betting on whose bag will be the biggest. Do you think Nicholas will beat Sungho?” Maki leans closer to you, voice low and teasing, and you automatically turn to assess the bag situation. Maki with his duffel bag, Lily and Shinyu with backpacks, the rest of you with suitcases.
“Come on, somebody had to pack a medical kit!” Sungho points out defensively with a pout when he notices you watching and despite the lump in your throat you can’t help but laugh.
Nico shares a place with Euijoo, so if neither of them is here yet, maybe that means…
“Sorry, guys, Nico had a last minute packing emergency and couldn’t decide which sunglasses to bring.”
“Excuse me, I refuse to go to the beach with outdated fashion,” the guy in question clicks his tongue at the callout but as Sungho urges everybody to go to the platform, you catch the relief in his eyes when your gazes meet.
Euijoo is here. He really came.
In the rush to get to your assigned coach on the KTX, you can’t get a good look at him but when you’re about to haul your suitcase onto the overhead compartment, a hand brushes against yours and when you look up, it’s Euijoo’s soft brown eyes that look back at you.
“Let me,” he whispers and you let go, watching him lift your bag easily. You murmur a thanks and if your gaze lingers longer on the shadows under his eyes and at how long his fringe had gotten in front of his eyes since the last time you saw him, nobody mentions it. Euijoo sits on the cushioned seat next to his best friend and you get seated beside Lily too two rows behind them, trying to act like your heart didn’t just do a somersault in your chest.
In the seven months you were together, you were the happiest you have ever been.
Looking back it’s almost ironic that you were very against dating when you moved to Korea because staying isn’t guaranteed and you didn’t want to risk a long distance relationship playing out in the future, but then in the end your break up had nothing to do with the fact that your student visa expires at the end of your masters.
Euijoo never seemed to care about that either. He didn’t treat your relationship like it had a countdown just because of your uncertain future in his home country.
When he invited you over for Seollal to meet his family, you were hesitant at first. Not because you didn’t want to or because it was a too serious step. Sure, you were worried that your inadequacy in Korean culture would shine bad light on you and in consequence on him as well, but rather, more than anything, you were worried that you would get even more attached. Euijoo always talked about his family fondly, so you had no doubt that they were lovely people and you were right. They all welcomed you with open arms, kind words and just enough teasing that you knew they were happy for you. His parents seemed genuinely interested in your culture and his older sister felt like a sibling you never had. Even his grandma was patient when you were struggling with using the correct level of honorifics. You felt right at home and the feeling of belonging after such a short time was a bit scary.
“Hey, are you okay?” Euijoo touched your arm gingerly when you zoned out while rolling little balls of dough for dasik, traditional Korean tea cookies you admittedly hadn’t tried before.
“Yeah, I’m just… happy,” you admitted in a quiet sigh as you turned towards him, the corner of your mouth pulling up at the smudge of sesame seed powder on his cheek. You reached out to wipe it off with the back of your hand, feeling the heat of his skin against yours. Your boyfriend let out a small laugh, looking down, shy, but with the way his hand sneaked closer to hold yours under the table once you were dismissed from kitchen duties told you everything.
The first thing you notice when you step off the KTX train is the sharpness in the air. It’s still humid and the sunshine is a bit too warm on your shoulders but here the air has more room to breathe between buildings, so it’s less stuffy than the capital. It’s literally a breath of fresh air. Exactly what you needed after such a grueling exam week.
It’s still a 40 minutes bus ride until you reach the beach house you booked but with Chaehyun chatting your ears off about this new book series she’s reading, it goes by relatively fast. The streets get narrower from the bus stop to the house and halfway there you regret that you brought a suitcase because its wheels keep catching on something on the uneven ground. Still, you make sure not to show it because you wouldn’t want Euijoo to offer his help again. Not because it made you uncomfortable, rather because him doing such things made it hard to pretend that you moved on. You aren’t delusional to think you’re special though. You have always known that he’s a gentleman and that he would help any friend but still, it leaves a certain ache in your chest.
Despite the confusing little streets, Sungho manages to navigate straight to the house and then comes the complimentary impromptu escape room experience trying to get the keys from the postbox with numeric lock. Safe to say, all of you are relieved when you’re finally inside the air-conditioned house.
“Rock, paper, scissors. The losers go and get groceries for dinner,” Nicholas, the menace he is, announces the moment everybody is settled. Groans and half-hearted protests follow but eventually everybody stands in a circle to play the game that seems to be Koreans’ go-to method of making choices.
Luck today is apparently not on your side. Or Maki’s. But admittedly it’s not the worst combo. You will stop him from making impulse purchases and putting too many boxes of chips into the cart while he can help you decide when you’re stuck choosing between two almost identical brands. Maki is sighing as if it’s the worst thing that happened to him lately but he doesn’t complain as you pull him towards the door.
“You know, I’m glad both of you came,” he says after a few steps and it’s the first time anybody other than Nicholas addressed the delicate situation with you and Euijoo both on the trip.
“Yeah, me too,” you let a smile show, small but sincere even if you feel like you have to re-learn how to exist beside your ex-boyfriend as just friends.
You barely round the corner when the sound of approaching footsteps makes you look back only to find Euijoo catching up with you, his hair windswept and eyes narrowed in the harsh sunlight. You’re too surprised by his sudden appearance, so it’s Maki who voices out his surprise:
“What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you in case you need an extra hand,” Euijoo explains as if it wasn’t weird but that’s probably just another of his endless kindness traits or his way of trying to pretend you aren’t tiptoeing around each other, so you don’t argue.
“The more people, the less we have to carry,” you hum agreeable when you catch his hesitant eyes on you.
Shopping together is awfully domestic. It’s not that much of a surprise that the last six weeks of radio silence didn’t manage to outrule the habits you have grown over the time you were together but it’s still something you’re very much aware of. Even though you have never lived together, the two of you are very practiced in shopping together, so Maki has nothing to do except for pushing and guarding the cart while the two of you distribute what to get and discuss options. You don’t say anything when you see Euijoo bring some of your favourite snacks too with the protein bars Sungho asked for and the potato chips Nico likes. He’s an attentive person, whenever he brought you food, he always remembered and considered your low spice tolerance, so it doesn’t come as a surprise, but still it feels different now. As if it’s something you’re not deserving of anymore after breaking his heart.
Dinner is a loud affair.
Sungho and Euijoo are grilling the meat in the garden, Shinyu’s in charge of the ramen, you and Chaehyun take care of the side dishes while the others set up the pull out table, or at least they are supposed to but it sounds more like they are playing games. Or doing impromptu karaoke. You can never be sure with them.
Once you’re all seated and eating, talking about summer plans, exam nightmares and everything that comes to mind, you let yourself enjoy the moment. Up until that point you didn’t even realize how much you have been worried and waiting for the other shoe to drop, for somebody to say something, for silence to settle uncomfortably, but it doesn’t happen. Even if you can see the question in Lily’s eyes when Euijoo puts extra meat on your plate without asking, nobody says anything. They don’t push, they don’t ask about it and that probably helps Euijoo relax as well. It’s almost like it was before except for the careful looks and the way you never touch.
Contrary to popular opinion shared by Nicholas, you and Euijoo had been subtle. When you told your friends about your relationship status after a month of getting together, everybody was shocked. Not because you were such an unlikely pair but because you weren’t obvious about something shifting between you. It helped that both of you are more private people. You have never been big on PDA but it was clear that you gravitated towards each other. Maki joked that he was blind for not noticing it earlier. The way Euijoo helped with your hair stuck in your scarf, or how you often sat beside him, shoulders brushing when you whispered among yourselves.
But it was only when it was just the two of you together when you nuzzled close to his chest and his fingers played with your hair, when you tiptoed to peck him on his lips before leaving or squished his cheeks in cuteness aggression, and when he enveloped you in those big warm hugs that made the world instantly feel like a better place.
The rooming arrangement was an easy feat when you booked the four double rooms. Nico and Maki, Sungho and Shinyu, Lily and Chaehyun, Euijoo and you. Well, now that doesn’t sound too convenient for obvious reasons and everybody seems to know, so when it comes to the bedroom draw, you can feel the hesitation lingering in the air, everybody waiting for somebody to point at the elephant in the room.
“Y/N can sleep with us,” Lily offers at the same time Euijoo goes:
“I will sleep on the couch in the living room.”
His offer doesn’t sit well with you but you don’t want to argue. You know it wouldn’t make any difference because he’s the type of person who only feels right if he can give up on something.
Such a Byun Euijoo thing: taking on more, enduring more, not saying anything, not even when it breaks him. He has always been good at sacrificing himself, keeping silent when it hurt. Loving him taught you that being selfless can be a virtue but a curse too. It was sweet in the beginning, him always going along with your decisions, saying that it didn’t matter to him, just so you would choose. It was harmless at first, deciding on what to eat or which movie to watch. But then he rejected an amazing summer internship offer without asking you first, without telling you about it, just because it was far and he didn’t want to spend the summer away from you. You had to get to know about it from Nicholas and immediately felt guilty because you didn’t want him to pass on opportunities like this because of you. You didn’t want to become the reason why he had regrets later. Then it happened again and again, with things like missing his favourite band’s concert because you got sick or insisting on date night when he was already exhausted from academics and his TA responsibilities.
The thing is you didn't break up because you stopped loving him. You did it hoping then he would start choosing himself because you couldn’t watch him wear himself out. But apparently you didn’t have to be together for him to choose your comfort over his.
“Okay,” you nod, not wanting to make a scene. You owe him at least this. “Are we doing the ladder game or what?”
It helps break the tension because the game gets intense quickly. There are literally no stakes because all the rooms are basically the same just with different designs, but Maki and Nico make it seem way too serious. Later when you’re all alone in your flower-patterned room, staring up at the ceiling, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were still together with Euijoo, if he was there with you, his arms around you and his heartbeat an echo in your ears. You drift to sleep wondering whether he’s also lying wide awake a floor down, thinking about the same.
You have always been a naturally early riser. You’re the type of person whose biological clock doesn’t care about weekends or long travel days, you’re up early anyways. You don’t usually mind because it gives you a chance for a productive morning but on a vacation with friends where most of them are night owls, it’s a bit inconvenient. You try not to make too much noise as you tiptoe down the stairs but the creaky wood doesn’t really help your case. The house is quiet and a bit cold, so you shiver in your sleep shorts as you slip into the kitchen barefeet. After putting water in the kettle, you slip onto the counter, dangling your legs while waiting for it to boil. You don’t expect anybody to join you anytime soon, so you look up surprised when the sound of shuffling feet comes from outside. Soon enough a sleepy looking Euijoo walks into the kitchen and freezes in his step when he spots you.
“Oh,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his bedhair that only makes it messier.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” You bite into your lower lip, uncertain what to do with the situation.
“No, I–” Euijoo breaks off, still stiff near the doorframe, maintaining a decent distance between the two of you. Yet, you can’t help but notice how soft he looks like this: half awake, cheeks puffy and sunlit brown stands in his eyes. His arm is covered with imprints from the couch and the amount of bare skin uncovered by his tank top is enough to make you avert your eyes. “I just needed a drink.”
You hum quietly in acknowledgement but when he steps closer to the counter where you sit you feel your breathing becoming more shallow from his closeness. He’s not even touching you but after a month of not even seeing him, even this much feels too much suddenly. The day before was different. You were surrounded by your friends and even if your clothes brushed when you passed by each other, their presence was enough of a buffer to play it off but now that it’s just the two of you, so you can’t ignore it. The way the sleep-warmth radiating off his body almost burns you from a step away.
“Uhm, sorry?” Euijoo mutters and you blink at him, confused, only to realize that you’re literally sitting in front of the cabinet.
“Oh, my bad,” you force a chuckle as you hop off the counter but as clumsy as you are, you severely miscalculate the landing. The moment your feet touch the smooth linoleum, you almost knock into your ex-boyfriend’s chest and it’s his gentle hand on the small of your back that helps you regain your balance.
“You good?” He asks, fingers twitching against your body like he doesn’t want to touch you but can’t quite let go either.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you splutter out the reassurement and hastily turn around to keep your hands busy. You take two mugs from the cabinet before Euijoo could and open the instant coffee powder you bought yesterday. It’s auto-pilot, the way you put the exact spoonful into each mug just like you used to when you were together and stayed over at his. You didn’t even like the taste of caffeine until you met him, then he kept buying you banana milk to pour over coffee and now you’re addicted. Or maybe it’s just because of him and the way you used to taste americano on his lips in the mornings.
“Was the couch comfortable?” You blurt out in a weak attempt for small talk when you realize what you’re doing but it would be too awkward to stop in the middle, so you keep pushing on as you slide one of the mugs closer to him and open the fridge for your flavored milk.
“What? Oh yeah, it was okay,” Euijoo mumbles, clearly startled. You sneak a glance at him as he’s mindlessly reaching up and pressing into the muscle behind his shoulder, so you know he’s lying but don’t point it out.
The awkward silence lingers like smoke and it’s broken only when Chaehyun cheerfully sways into the kitchen and starts making herself green tea with the remaining hot water.
It seems fitting to spend the first full day in the beach town down by the sea.
It’s midday by the time everybody wakes up and gets ready to leave, so the beach is already busy when you arrive. Children running around or playing with the sand, youngsters in the water splashing it everywhere, fussy parents passing around sunscreen and covering up bare skin. There’s fresh wind in your face and the taste of tangerine juice on your tongue from a stand nearby that you enjoy in the shadow provided by the parasol.
You have never gone swimming with Euijoo. The closest thing to it was visiting a jjimilbang, a traditional bathhouse, because the Korean part of the friend group insisted it’s a must authentic experience. But back then everybody wore those unflattering brown colored oversized shirts, funny towels on head and sweat a lot in the sauna. It was just fun and nothing serious. The beach is fun too but it’s definitely different.
You might not care about Nico throwing his tee off carelessly before diving into the cold water or how Sungho’s crop top shows off his midriff as he assorts the picnic snacks you prepared beforehand, but it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you how Euijoo’s skin-tight swim shirt sticks to his broad shoulders as he emerges from the sea after an attack from Maki.
“Don’t make it so obvious.”
You startle when Lily mutters under her breath beside you. She’s lying on her stomach, reading an English book that’s definitely not categorized as an easy beach read, and apparently in the middle of it she keeps an eye on you.
“I’m not,” you mumble, sulking for getting caught red-handed. You hide your pout behind your drink and fix your sunglasses.
“I’m just saying. It can come off confusing if he catches you staring,” your best friend hums and you know that she’s right, that you shouldn’t make such amateur mistakes with your ex in sight.
Especially because you promised yourself you wouldn’t make it weird. Euijoo agreed to come to this trip eventually and you don’t want him or any of you to regret it. You wanted to prove that you could still be good friends. But you didn’t expect it to be so hard for your body to unlearn its instinct when it came to him. Maybe you leaving his place silently crying wasn’t the closure you needed to move on.
You force yourself not to dwell over things that won’t change as you help Chaehyun put on sunscreen and then join the guys playing beach volleyball. It’s nice, just hanging out and laughing over trivial matters without a care in the world. It’s been a while since you felt as carefree as you are while you’re arguing about the best ice cream flavors with Maki or teasing Shinyu about that cute girl in his art class who asked for his number. It’s in the middle of dinner at one of the tucked away local bistros when your gaze meets Euijoo’s over the table and your smile falters for a moment, the ache in your chest hurting like phantom pain, but then he smiles, small but genuine, and for once, you believe that maybe, it will be alright.
Sunlit beach visits, dripping ice cream, karaoke nights and barbeque. Days blur together until only a handful is left of your vacation. You’re already missing these days because the friend group will scatter around the world for the rest of the summer.
The bar visit is Nico’s idea. Of course it is. The rustic establishment he found during one of the grocery runs down the shore is having live music on Friday nights, so you all agree to go. He also insists on doing fit checks to make sure nobody embarrasses him – he’s joking, of course, but still, you let him shuffle through your outfits and put on the white dress he chooses. It’s a simple, loose one, the sea breeze makes the long skirt part dance as you leave the house. You have put a thin knit cardigan over your shoulders to cover up a bit against the night chills but you still feel somewhat bare when Euijoo’s gaze settles on you.
He’s listening to Shinyu’s story as they walk out of the gate, then his movements slow and his eyes rake over your figure. There’s nothing heavy about it, it’s not the kind of stare that makes a girl uncomfortable. It’s quiet appreciation in soft brown eyes, the type you recognize from date nights when he complimented you on being pretty. He averts his eyes when he notices you looking but you can see the way his ears redden and you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile. He looks good too, of course, you would admit it to anybody who asked. The way his white shirt is tucked into his light blue jeans highlight the gorgeous ratio of his slim waist and wide shoulders. You have always thought that he has the build of a model but your favorite features of his are his cheeks and gentle eyes.
You’re the first to look away when you realize you have been staring for too long. Hooking arms with Chaehyun, the group starts walking down the beach towards the illuminated bar.
The distinct sound of bass resonates through the walls by the time you arrive and order the first round of drinks. You’re not much of a drinker, so you’re mostly just sipping on your sweet cocktail while talking over the music in one corner. You really get into a heated discussion with Sungho about cult classic movies, then when he gets up to get more snacks for the table, Nicholas slips next to you. But it would have been too easy if he just took the now empty space that once was Sungho’s, no he has to squeeze himself between you and the edge of the couch giving you no choice to slide further right until your shoulder brushes somebody else’s. It’s the hint of pine trees and citrus that first registers into your brain, then big brown eyes when you turn that way.
The moment stills and stretches, the music in the background slows and fades. It’s so cliché, so ridiculous, to feel this affected by something like this when you’re pressed up against Nicholas the same way on your other side and it does nothing to your heart. The heart that’s busy stumbling over itself in your chest just from the way Euijoo is looking at you. Hesitance laced with warmth and something deeper, something that hurts.
There are impatient fingers drumming on your knees and suddenly the music is rushing back loud. Nico is saying something about the new band on the stage but you can barely pay attention. Next to you Euijoo is talking with Shinyu in a quiet and calm voice, his arm is still brushing against yours and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“I need another drink,” you stand up abruptly, cutting off Nicholas effectively. He doesn’t seem to mind, eagerly taking the opportunity to ask for a new drink too.
You don’t dare to look back as you elbow your way through the crowd to the counter and ask for a virgin mojito for yourself and something with strawberry syrup for Nico. You’re actively trying not to overthink your way too obvious behaviour while waiting at the counter when somebody slides into the barstool next to you. You expect it to be one of your friends, maybe Maki, to tease you about your unsubtleness but it’s an unfamiliar face that greets you when you look up. The boy seems to be your age if not a bit younger and he has dimples when he smiles. You avert your eyes, fidgeting with the plastic menu on the counter.
“Are you here alone?” The stranger asks, curious, not pushy, but there’s something forced in the smile you answer.
“I’m actually with my friends,” you vaguely wave in the direction of your table while looking apologetically at the guy. The others probably wouldn’t mind if you got held back but you didn’t come here to hookup or anything like that, so it’s only fair. Luckily, the stranger doesn’t take it badly.
“Well, have fun then and if you get bored, maybe come find me.”
“Noted,” you nod, appreciating the interest and politeness even though you know you won’t look for him. “Thanks.”
You’re balancing the two glasses in your hands as you’re walking back to the corner table, plopping down beside your roommate after handing Nico his pink drink.
“Why didn’t you go for it?” Maki nudges your shoulder and before you could react outright in shock, Lily does much more nonchalantly instead of you.
“I mean… yeah, he was cute,” she shrugs, which Maki takes as all the approval he needs to play matchmaker, so you push salted peanuts into his mouth before he could say anything else. You should have known they would watch over you from a distance and analyze your 10 seconds interaction with a random stranger.
“Well, you can have him. He’s not my type,” you mutter, hoping to get the two of them off your back.
Sure, the stranger was handsome and seemed nice but admittedly, he wasn’t Euijoo.
It’s an unfair criteria but you start to accept the fact that you’ve never really moved on. You know your best friend also has a feeling, that’s why she asked before the trip whether you were sure you were ready to see your ex again with such a concerned look in her eyes. You told her you were a hundred percent sure because you thought you were and while spending time together with Euijoo is less and less awkward as long as you are surrounded by your friends, his presence also stirs buried feelings in you. They were easy to ignore while you avoided each other like plague but now they are back full force.
Luckily for you, Maki just laughs off your defensiveness and the topic shifts to his busy summer travelling back and forth between Asia and Europe. You stick close to them because it’s easy and familiar and the English words on your tongue don’t remind you of a certain Korean boy.
The night continues in a good mood, the tension slowly easing up in your stomach. At one point Nicholas with his infamously low alcohol tolerance gets colorful shots and half of the group gets tipsy fast after. Not drunk enough to cause trouble but speech slurred and touches clingy. Usually it would be enough for Euijoo to keep watch and stay alert. Him and Sungho are the type to make sure everybody gets home safe after a drinking night. But apparently not tonight. Tonight, Euijoo is slumped against Shinyu with rosy cheeks, a dopey half-smile on his face, and he hines when Sungho calls it for a night.
“I never thought I would live to see the day when Euijoo is drunk,” Chaehyun murmurs and even though you don’t voice it out, you agree. It’s out of character for him. Always collected, always responsible Euijoo now has a hard time walking straight when you’re going back to the beach house.
You try not to care too much while trying to make sure Lily doesn’t fall and twist her ankle but it’s hard not to. You know you have no right anymore but you still care, still worry. So when you’re back at the guest house and Euijoo slumps down on the couch, closing his eyes like he’s about to slip into a dream just like that, your heart aches. It’s just another proof of how out of it he is, otherwise he would never go to bed in his jeans.
You look around and see nobody on the ground floor. You can hear Maki and Nico bicker in English and the water running on the upper floor. You take a tentative step towards Euijoo and quietly call his name. He hums, enough to know that he’s still somewhat awake.
“Hey, you should take a shower. You will feel more comfortable,” you tell him, gently, coaxing, and when Euijoo doesn’t answer, you reach out to brush his fringe away from his face.
Slowly he opens his eyes, glazed pupils focusing on you in the dark. He looks at you like he isn’t sure you’re real.
It reminds you of the time he got sick during winter and he pretended to be fine because when it’s him who suffers he wants to bear its weight alone. Even when he was bedridden with fever, he told you it was nothing to worry about and that you shouldn’t visit him to avoid catching it too. You had no idea how bad it was until you arrived with hot soup and found him in bed, sweaty and in pain.
The memory has another knife lodged into your chest and you let out a shaky breath as you pull back your hand. Or well, you try to, but Euijoo’s fingers gently wrap around your wrist keeping it in place. The warmth sweeping through the skin-to-skin contact has you burning. You can’t help the hitch in your breathing when he lifts his other hand and tucks a messy lock behind your ear.
He calls your name like it's sacred and you hold your breath like anything more could break the moment. You aren’t sure how much of this is from the alcohol. Whether he could still look at you like this sober despite having his heart broken by you. Whether he knew you broke both of yours that day.
You flinch away when you hear the wooden staircase creak behind you and once you’re straightened up, you see Sungho peeking in.
“Everything good?” He asks, concern lacing his words as his gaze drifts from his friend to you.
“Yeah, I’m just trying to get him to shower before sleeping.”
“I will take it over. You should get some rest too,” Sungho says and you don’t argue. You just wish him a good night before disappearing upstairs, not looking back to see if Euijoo’s eyes followed you or not.
Admittedly, you can’t really sleep well. You’re up early and restless. You didn’t drink enough to feel its effects but you’re still groggy. You’re in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone when Shinyu writes in the group chat asking if anybody is up to go to the market with him for hungover soup ingredients. You grab onto the chance to do something and be out of the house. Hangover soup (or at least this kind) is not a thing in your home country but the ingredients Shinyu lists off are familiar. The market is lively and while you cannot haggle for your life, the ahjummas find it cute that you’re trying to communicate in their language despite their thicker dialects.
The whole experience reminds you of Seollal and the market you visited with Euijoo’s grandmother when you were over for the holidays. Back then the old ladies at the stalls praised halmeoni for having a pretty granddaughter-in-law, now they tease you for having ‘such a handsome boyfriend’ while pointing at Shinyu a few stalls away. It’s harmless, you know, so you force a smile yet you can’t help but wonder how it would be if things were alright between you and Euijoo. He would flush pretty pink at compliments like this, head bowed, smile hidden. You would coax him to look at you and steal a kiss.
The house is still quiet when you get back and start working on the soup. Sungho and Chaehyun join soon enough but what surprises you is that Euijoo barely stirs in the meantime on the couch. You put a glass of water and painkiller on the coffee table within reach for him but you pretend you’re not lingering around for too long. Just how you pretend so many things these days.
“Hey,” Nicholas pokes his head into the room you occupy alone later in the afternoon, during chill time.
“Hey,” you echo, looking up from your book.
He looks much better than when you last saw him at lunch nursing some ginger tea and a look of regret. But now it looks like he mostly got over his hangover.
“Can we talk?” Nico breaches the topic tentatively and you already have a feeling what he wants to talk about before he says it. “About Euijoo.”
“Sure,” you nod and put the book down, fixing your posture as you sit up against the headboard.
Nicholas closes the door behind him before he approaches you, settling down on the edge of the bed. He is not the type of person who hesitates, who rehearses what they should say or how, so his hesitance makes you admittedly nervous.
“I’m really glad both of you came to this trip, I really am, but yesterday… I have never seen Juju like that,” he says with a tinge of concern in his voice.
You get where his worries come from, you also get why he’s so conflicted. He was the one who introduced you two back then, he was the number one hypeman when he learned that you have feelings for his ‘emotionally repressed’ best friend. In a way he probably feels just as guilty about the fallout as you are.
“Yeah, me neither,” you agree because it was very unlike Euijoo to get so out of it. “Maybe it was too soon, this trip with all of us.”
“Maybe or… I can’t tell you what he told me but–” Nico cuts himself off and your pulse jumps nevertheless at the implication that they talked about you, that there was something to say. “I just don't think he moved on.”
“And you think I did?” You let out a humorless laugh at the carefully worded comment.
Does it look easy to you? Are you that good of an actress? Euijoo is still there in the back of your mind whatever you do. His presence haunts you whenever you open your phone gallery and see the folder you can’t make yourself to delete. Or the way your heart jumps whenever you see him.
“Then why did you break up with him?” Nicholas wonders aloud, frowning, for the first time since it all went downhill. He never really asked, probably out of consideration, and based on his reaction Euijoo didn’t tell him the exact reason either. It was an amicable break up, that’s what you told everybody as if it was supposed to make it easier. But you learned that cutting something off when the feelings are still there hurts more.
“Because it was starting to become something that wasn’t good for either of us,” Then much quieter, like a confession, you add: “Not because I stopped loving him.”
Saying it out loud is another kind of sad. It turns even Nico’s confused expression into something emphatic. His usually sharp eyes soften as breathes out a little oh sound.
You hang your head down, drawing mindless figures into the sheets beneath you as if it had all the answers you need.
“It would be so much easier if he gave me a reason to hate him. Or if he hated me for breaking up with him,” you mutter, a wishful thinking.
“That’s not how it works,” Nicholas pats you on the knee, a little act of sympathy. You both know that Euijoo is too tender-hearted to hate anybody over something like that. He probably blames himself, instead of you even if you preferred if he didn’t. “Maybe the two of you should talk. You know, for closure.”
You hum non-commitally because you don’t really think you have the right to do that, not after one-sidedly calling the end.
You have always been way too independent for your own good. You like to plan out everything yourself and when new variables get into the mix, it throws you off. Maybe the problem is exactly that Euijoo is the same. He’s the kindest person you have ever met and his care extends towards all his surroundings. He’s kind to strangers on the streets, ajhussis with cardboard collector carts, ahjummas at the convenience stores and confused tourists using the T-money top up machines for the first time. At the same time he’s very disciplined, a loyal friend and somebody who can always be relied on. It might be Nicholas whose extroverted self brought you all together but you firmly believe that it’s partially thanks to Euijoo that the friend group is as close as it is. He’s always ready to compromise, to solve problems, to mediate arguments. He has always been the grounding point but lately he has been slipping.
He forgot things, only scrambled to act on promises when his reminder alarm went off, sacrificed more sleep to get things done and still he didn’t say no, still didn’t ask. for help. You started cancelling on date nights to give him more time to rest or claimed that you were tired and just wanted to hang out at his place even if Nico was there. You texted him reminders to not forget to eat or sleep. You really tried to be understanding but when you hear that he took on more shifts at the university library where he volunteered just because one of the other students wanted to focus more on their assignments, you got angry and that’s how the arguments started. Not with yelling or bitterness. But with your worry growing into frustration and Euijoo’s inability to admit that he was overworking himself.
It started with you showing up unannounced at his door, him only a shell of himself, weighted down by responsibility and diligence, before forcing a smile onto his lips. “Oh, hey.”
You could see the exhaustion etched into his features but he didn’t send you away. He never did. Instead he was already crouching down to get the slippers bought only for you. Just another reminder of the things he did for you without being asked.
“Maki told me about the library shifts. Are you sure it’s a good idea? You already have a lot on your plate,” you skipped the greetings since you were already running high on adrenalin, which in retrospect wasn’t your best decision. But there you were, straight to the point, not beating around the bush as you slipped inside, toeing off your shoes.
Euijoo didn’t seem surprised that you got to know the news through a friend or that you showed up at his place over something like this, not based on that tired shrug of his shoulders.
“They can’t find a new person this late in the semester,” he explained and probably to avoid your eyes and seem more put together, he hastily started collecting the piling up coffee cups from his desk.
“I get that but why does it have to be you?” You stared, unflinching, at his back, the words you have been holding back for weeks in hopes of it all just being temporary now surfacing. “You’re always exhausted lately. You barely sleep. You don’t eat properly. I don’t even know when was the last time we went out on a date.”
The moment the last bit of it slipped out, you winced. You sounded like a whiny girlfriend who needed constant attention despite knowing how busy her boyfriend was. But honestly, your dates were the least of your problems. You were more worried about his well-being than anything.
“It’s just a few more weeks,” Euijoo sighed, resigned, like it was already decided, like it was as easy as disposing of those plastic cups in the recycling bin in the corner of his kitchen.
“Or less if you burn yourself out,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for him to hear. Still, the answer was only defeating silence and you felt helpless, a good-for-nothing girlfriend. You struggled to find words at this point, your Korean vocabulary not quite adequate enough for this topic.
You could see the tension in your boyfriend’s shoulder even from behind but he didn’t answer. You had no idea what was going on in his head.
Tentatively, you took a step towards him and then another. Then when he didn’t move from his place in front of the kitchen counter, you circled your arms around his waist, molding yourself against his back.
“I just want you to be okay,” you whispered, softer, hoping you would get across the sentiment as you closed your eyes, feeling his heartbeat against your palm. “It’s okay to ask for help if it’s too much.”
Euijoo let out a long breath and slid his hand over yours.
But the problem was that Euijoo never knew how to ask for help. He always jumped to help out anybody but it was almost like he didn’t think he was deserving of any even though nobody expected him to be always so put together. It was only his own expectations that told him that.
After that time you could tell that he was trying. He put time aside for friend get-togethers and took you out for dessert but you couldn’t stop worrying over his crazy sleep schedule and endless responsibilities he took up on. Both of you were stressed that one time when you went over with a surprise dinner for a much needed hug and he took it in a bad way, thinking you were fussing over him as if he couldn’t take care of himself.
“I’m just worried about you,” you spelled out the obvious and it was enough to make him snap.
“I never asked you to do that!”
It was the first time Euijoo ever raised his voice at you and you couldn’t help the way you flinched. Not because you feared he would get physical, you would never be afraid of that, but because it took you back so much. You have never heard him like that.
“You didn't have to,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, and grabbed your bag to leave.
I love you, you wanted to shout. I love you and it’s killing me to see you like this.
You didn’t even reach the door before Euijoo caught up with you, whispering apologies into your shoulders as he enveloped you into his arms like you were something fragile.
You had numerous sleepless nights before you sent him that text to talk. By then you thought both of you knew it was coming. Both of you were tired and hurt, and you didn’t want things to escalate to the point where you start hating each other.
“So… this is it?” Euijoo asked, his voice strained and eyes heavy with something you couldn’t name. He kept his distance like he was afraid of touching you and you were glad he did because you weren’t sure you wouldn’t have broken down if he came any closer.
“I’m sorry,” your own voice pitched higher than usual as you tried desperately to keep back your sobs and maybe the worst was that Euijoo looked at you like he understood. Like he knew exactly what you felt.
“Me too.”
There was no yelling even then, no hatred, no desperation. Just two people letting go.
Despite Nico’s suggestion, you haven’t talked with Euijoo since that bar night. The two of you didn’t have the privacy to do so to begin with and it was an easy excuse to use, too. It’s not like you are hostile towards each other or more awkward than before, but there’s clearly something lingering there, you can feel it in the air every time you lock eyes with him across the table.
Nevertheless, Euijoo seems to have a great time on the trip. It’s nice to see him play him carefreely with the others, be it Fifa with Sungho or beach volleyball, or just talk animatedly about something. It’s times like that when you miss spending time with him, not even romantically, just with him as a friend, but you don’t want to mess up this fragile peace you have by pushing for more.
It’s ironic, really, the way jealousy and regret creeps up on you. Almost laughable how these ugly feelings seem to choke you and it only takes a pretty girl talking to your ex-boyfriend down at the beach. He’s not even alone, Nicholas is with him, and yet, you can’t help but notice the girl batting her eyelashes at Euijoo before shyly looking away. The worst thing is that you can’t even blame her. Euijoo is handsome and effortlessly charming, it’s easy to fall for him.
“He was jealous, too. Back at the bar,” Maki says nonchalantly between two sips of his fruity drink and Lily slaps him on his shoulder as she looks up from her new beach read.
“What?” You stare at them as you force your gaze away from the sore sight, totally forgetting to deny your jealousy.
“When that guy walked up to you. Euijoo downed his entire drink right after,” your best friend explains with the kind of look in her eyes that makes you feel a bit pitiful. So you are really that obvious, huh?
“Be honest, do you guys think it was stupid to break up with how we act?” You look from one of your friends to the other because you’re sure they have more thoughts than what they let on. The only reason they are not sharing them is because they want to be respectful of your decision. But it doesn’t mean they agree with it.
“Only you two know if it was the right decision or not, but… if you ask me, I think you were happier when you were together,” Lily says kindly, carefully, and it’s an overwhelming feeling to know that no matter how hard you have tried to act fine ever since the break up, your friends could see right through you.
“I think I need some time alone,” you mutter before pushing yourself up to stand. Despite the clear concern in their eyes nobody tries to stop you, so you walk down the long span of sandy beach until your thoughts are less of a ragged glass maze that’s too dangerous to approach.
By the time you get back to the parasol, your friend group has non-ceremonically occupied, everybody is fussing over Shinyu who managed to step into broken glass on the beach.
“See? I told you, guys, that we would need the emergency kit,” Sungho preaches as everybody migrates back to the guesthouse, the two tallest guys supporting Shinyu, so he wouldn’t need to put pressure on his injured leg. Luckily, it’s just a surface injury, so the boy doesn’t need to miss out on the evening plans.
It’s the last full day of your trip, so Nico and Maki buy sparklers and Chaehyun whips out her polaroid camera when you head down to a more secluded part of the shore around sunset. Beer and carbonated drinks are passed around as you share blankets and pose for pictures.
It’s probably because of how attuned you are when it comes to anything Euijoo-related but you notice his absence before anybody could point it out. The last bit of Sun is still visible on the horizon in its bleeding glory but the beach is lit golden by the fairy lights and sparkles. You spot him a bit farther from the group, sitting close to where the sea was washing up the beach, his burning sparkler stuck into the sand an arm-length from him.
Despite how much he thrives when he’s helping people, Euijoo is an introvert to the core. He gets overwhelmed and tired in crowds, so he probably just wanted a breather away from the loud chaos of your friends. Watching him stare at the ocean, the realization that it’s the last night registers in you once again. After this, who knows when you will be able to spend time like this together. It might be months, especially since Sungho just told you about his internship.
It’s not even a conscious decision, not really, to walk up to him but by the time you realize what you’re doing, you’re only a few steps away. When you get close enough, he glances at you and his eyes soften, you can tell that much even in the dim light.
“Hi,” you greet him quietly, sort of awkwardly lingering around him, holding out a bottle of tangerine juice as a peace offering for disturbing his peace.
“Hi,” he echoes with the same sort of hesitance but he doesn’t seem to mind when you sit down onto the sand next to him. He takes the juice bottle and clinks it with yours before unscrewing the lid.
You sit close enough to feel his body heat and the faint smell of his aftershave, but there is no point of your bodies that touch. The evening breeze dresses your skin with goosebumps but you refuse to shiver as you’re looking out on the waves.
So close yet so far away.
Euijoo has always been untouchable in a way, even when you were together. At first you thought it must have been the cultural differences or simply a communication issue because your Korean wasn’t good enough to get the nuances (who would have thought that learning textbook Korean five days a week doesn’t exactly teach you navigating a relationship) but with time you realized that it was rather an Euijoo thing. Vulnerability is something that doesn’t come naturally to him.
“I heard you will be starting your internship next week,” you break the silence slowly, fingers dancing on the rim of the can in your hand.
You keep your tone careful because it was one of the things that made your relationship fall apart with your differing opinions. You aren't sure what kind of reaction to expect but Euijoo doesn’t seem to mind the topic.
“Yeah. I found one in Goyang,” he hums. He sounds content, which is a relief.
“That’s great, I’m glad,” you smile genuinely. His family lives there, after all. You’re sure it will be good for him.
Euijoo hesitates. You can tell by the way his movements still and he stares at one point ahead.
“I still don’t regret rejecting the Busan one though,” he says in a low voice, like it’s a secret or a thinly veiled confession. Something fragile and dangerous.
There’s a lot left unsaid there. You can tell it's not just about the job offer anymore. For the first time since that day you walked out of his place, he brings up something that made you feel undeserving of his selfless love, the way he would have given up on an opportunity like that just to be by your side.
“Euijoo…”
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, playing it down, cutting off whatever protest was on the tip of your tongue, but he’s no less genuine when he continues: “For me, choosing you has never been something I would ever regret.”
You feel your breath hitching, and you have to press a hand down on your chest as if that could help your ribs contain your heart’s irregular beats. It almost hurts to be loved like this, so devotedly, so unconditionally.
Somewhere in the exes’ handbook you never got there must be a clause saying that he’s not anymore allowed to say things like it. Suddenly you don’t care though. Apparently, you aren’t really good at this civil, moved on exes thing anyways.
“I would have gone with you if you asked. To Busan, to wherever. As long as it’s with you,” you whisper, honest. If you’re about to bare your hearts you might as well tell him. He might give up on a job to stay but you would give up on staying to follow him. He only would have had to ask, really.
You fidget with the strap of your dress and watch the last of the sparklers in the sand burn out. Darkness envelops you all at once and it brings a sudden cold that makes you shiver. Euijoo moves without any hesitation to shrug off his second layer and cover your shoulders with the sweater. Immediately you’re surrounded by the scent of pine trees and something sweet, so characteristically him that it chokes you up. It’s so achingly familiar that it brings tears to your eyes.
You try to be subtle about it (you have no right to cry over something like this after all) but as attentive as he is, of course Euijoo notices your sniffles.
“Hey,” he coos gently, half-surprised, half-alerted and turns to you with his body. His leg presses against your thigh as he shifts closer to take your cheeks in his hands. As stupidly caring as he is, he even remembers to brush the sand off his palms before wiping your tears off with his fingers. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, not even sure what you apologize for at first: for crying or something bigger than that. But once it’s out, it’s like a dam broke and the words following come fast and heavy, like an avalanche. “I’m so sorry. I miss you so much.”
Euijoo’s pupils shine like gemstones in the dark and you want to get lost in them. He slowly pulls you closer and lets you bury your head in the crook of his neck, muffling your sobs against his sun-warm skin. He smells like sand and ocean, his hold on you the anchor you need in any storm. He caresses your back with steady hands until your tears stop flowing but holds you long after until you feel like your bodies are molded together like wet clay and you’re ready to let go.
His hands tremble a bit as he reaches for your hand but you hold onto him like a lifeline. The walk back to the guesthouse is blurry. You don’t talk much but you remember him telling you to wash up while he tells the others not to worry about your disappearance. The shower is cold now that he let go and you can’t help wondering whether you will go back to pretending to be strangers after this.
When you see him waiting for you in the corridor after you finish, it puts your heart at ease. He probably used the shower downstairs in the meantime because he also changed his clothes and he smells like soft cotton. For a moment you two just stare at each other, unsure what it all means and how to proceed, but you have had enough of pretending, enough of trying to move on, enough of wishing things were different.
You reach out for Euijoo and he meets you halfway. You pull him into the bedroom you used to occupy alone and settle under the covers while the AC hums in the corner and the bedside lamp glows warm orange. You keep your voices down as you talk about fears and pressure and vulnerability. You talk about the future, uncertainties and hopes.
Euijoo’s fingers are warm as he brushes your hair out of your forehead to press a fleeting kiss there before you drift to sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Your first date was on a particularly cold October day.
Neither of you called it a date yet, per se, but when Euijoo asked if you wanted to visit an exhibition he thought you might like, you had your hopes. Any other time he would have dropped that question in the group chat and not wait until you two were alone after a hangout to ask just you. He also waited in front of your place before heading towards the metro station.
He seemed shyer than usual and a bit nervous. You found it cute. He asked you to teach him a few words in your language and he repeated it all diligently. The back of his hand brushed against yours on your way to the Instagram-famous bakery in the area and you took that leap of faith to slide your hand into his. Euijoo stumbled in the middle of a sentence when he felt it but his smile told you everything you needed to know. You felt giddy like a teenage girl with a crush and neither of you could maintain eye contact for long while you were waiting for your pastries and drinks.
“It’s silly. We’re still the same people,” you chuckled at your reactions and Euijoo hummed, considering.
“I guess. But it feels different,” he said and he was right, it did feel different. More special. But slowly you came over that initial flustered state of yours and eased into a conversation.
Time passed by faster than you could have imagined and it was already dark and cold outside by the time you left. When you had chosen your outfit you certainly didn’t account for the temperature drop but at the first sign of shiver, Euijoo gave you his jacket and walked you back home. You spent a ridiculously long time finding excuses to stay a bit more by the door because inviting him up would have meant explaining everything to Lily and you weren’t quite ready for that interrogation yet.
“Thank you for today. I had fun,” you said finally after the third person had to bypass you just to get into the apartment.
“Me too,” The boy smiled back, his eyes glinting in the street lights.
You stalled, just a bit more, putting your weight from one leg to another.
“Euijoo…”
“Hm?” He looked at you with mirth and anticipation in his soft brown eyes.
In lieu of answering, you handed him back his jacket but you didn’t just simply let go when he grabbed it. Instead you pushed yourself onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his cheek briefly.
“I like you a lot,” you admitted in a whisper, the familiar Korean words tasting sweeter in your mouth than ever before. Cavity-inducing when Euijoo echoed them.
“I like you, too,” he said and looked away with burning cheeks, shy.
You wished you would never forget the feeling of warmth settling in you then.
On the train ride back home, you sit next to Euijoo, his fingers intertwining with yours on the armrest between you. When Nicholas notices that his seat is already taken, he frowns and puts a hand over his chest more dramatically than needed.
“I see how it is,” he teases with wiggling eyebrows and all.
“Sorry but I’m stealing him,” you try to placate him with your best pleading puppy eyes just to match his energy.
“Oh, please do. He’s all yours. I have had enough of his moping ass,” Nico grins as he passes by, yelping when Euijoo playfully smacks him. You giggle to yourself before turning back to your phone in your hand, scrolling through the carefully curated roadtrip playlist.
It’s not long before somebody else addresses the turn of events though. Soon enough Maki turns around in his seat, staring down at you from above his headrest.
“So are you guys okay now?”
Euijoo turns towards you with a small hidden smile in the corner of his mouth, his eyes fond.
“We will be,” he says like a promise and you squeeze his hand in agreement.
You lean your head against Euijoo’s shoulder and close your eyes.
You still have a lot to talk about but this time around you will do better. You will work on communication, asking instead of assuming and saying things out loud instead of letting wounds fester even if it’s out of care and worry. It will all be alright as long as you both are trying. You have all the time in the world to figure things out.
Love is, after all, choosing each other every day and you would never regret choosing him either.
END NOTES. me writing a summer fic in december? more likely than you think.
if anybody is interested, the timeline goes like this: 2025 february: mc moves to korea. 2025 april: meeting ej. 2025 october: start dating ej. 2026 may: the break up. 2026 end of june: the trip
the mc is a foreigner, neither english nor korean is her native language. she speaks english with the foreigner gang (nico, maki, lily) and korean with the others (euijoo, sungho, shinyu, chaehyun)
warnings: major character death!! angst with no happy ending
a/n: what’s a better way to start writing for &team than with euijoo angst…. special thanks to izzy bcs she knew about it before it got published <3
‘to my dearest euijoo,
the house has been quiet. eerily quiet - the type of silence that indicates there’s something missing, that something’s not quite whole. and, in a way, that’s exactly the truth. because that is precisely how it feels to live here now.
to live here without the laughter filling the room every day. without the light kisses in the morning, small encouragement before facing the day. without everything coming in sets of two - two breakfasts on those forest green ceramic plates from the attic, two coffees tailor made to each of our preferences in matching mugs bought in an antique store, two pairs of slippers in the bathroom ready for use after a particularly long shower or when the floor was too cold to walk on.
the rooms don’t echo your laugh anymore. the bed is empty when i wake up - accompanied only by the sound of my alarm ringing five, ten times if needed. the forest green ceramic plates broke last week: might’ve been my carelessness. might’ve been the fact that even they, inanimate objects, felt the undeniable shift.
nicholas still comes over every once in a while - much less than he used to, but still quite frequently. every time he comes, he looks more tired than before. i think it’s eating away at him as much as it is affecting me. maybe even more, who knows: but we don’t discuss these things. no one does, really.
no one wants to dig deeper into a wound that hasn’t yet healed.
i’ve left your things untouched. they’re still all in their respective places - each and every single one of them still placed the way you arranged them, down to the exact order you put your vinyls in on the shelf. i don’t know why. maybe it’s because sometimes i still think you’d come back. how stupid of me, right? to have hope when there is none that should be had, to live in a state so far away from reality that it only spirals me more into despair. and yet somehow, i still cannot help it. i cannot help reaching for you whenever i wake up, making portions far too big for one person to eat on their own, leaving the light on in the living room so you don’t walk into a dark living room late at night. i see you everywhere - in the kitchen at midnight, in a crowd at the metro station. i have to keep reminding myself that it’s not you. it can’t be.
and yet despite all this, i still believe it’s just temporary. i still latch onto a false sense of hope telling me you’d come back in a little while.
i miss everything about you, euijoo. but what i miss the most - undoubtedly and wholeheartedly - is your smile. the smile that lit up my day no matter how twisted it would get. the smile i loved, adored, and cherished more than anything in this world.
the smile that i could’ve- no, would’ve seen at the altar today.
i’d come in wearing the most beautiful dress i’ve ever owned: white as snow, elegant as a swan, and you’d cry. happy tears, of course. tears of a man who knew he made the right choice, a man who just saw his whole world before his eyes. you’d smile, too. you’d shine your beautiful, sweet smile at me and i’d know immediately that choosing you was the best decision i had ever got to make. we’d be pronounced husband and wife, sealed with a kiss overflowing with love - just like us. our friends would cheer and weep, touched by the beautiful love story unwinding before their eyes, and we would finally get our happily ever after. the happily ever after we dreamed of since we were kids. the happily ever after we should’ve had.
the dress still hangs in our shared closet and it’ll remain there. i have no reason to wear it yet.
i’ll wear it when we meet again, my love. after all, you deserve to see me in it more than anyone.
i know this letter won’t reach you, and yet i cannot help but write it - the urge to put my feelings into words far exceeds any logical thoughts that i have, any realistic explanations.
remember when we were both kids? our moms would always tell us that our loved ones are watching over us at all times, in spirit if not in body. i always believed it to be true, and you’d laugh at me, saying it has no logical explanation. after all, spirits don’t exist, right? well, with all due respect, i sincerely hope you were wrong. the faith in their words might be the only thing keeping me together at this point. the only thing between me and complete and utter anguish.
my love for you hasn’t wilted, and i’m afraid it never will. you’re the greatest loss of my life, my stolen future, the one who got away before we were able to truly experience a life together.
i mourn you everyday and i love you just the same.
tags: dead dove!!!, domestic violence (victim ej), gaslighting, victim blaming, mentions of blood & bruising, fearplay, noncon s/m dynamics, petplay undertones, unreliable narrator | mature content (no smut) | not proofread | don't like? don't read. | mind the content warnings! protect your peace <3
A lump forms in Euijoo's throat as he washes the dishes as quietly as he can manage. It was the one rule you gave him: Don't make noise. His hands tremble as he scrubs residue off a spoon before loading it into the dishwasher with an abundance of care. Behind him, you're still sitting at the dinner table sipping on a glass of wine that he had poured for you before dinner, then once more after dinner. Having you behind him and being unable to see you while he cleans sends his anxiety through the roof. If you could hear how loud his heart was pounding inside of his chest, you'd be furious. Euijoo swallows around the lump in his throat and carefully scrubs residue off the last plate. As cautiously as possible, he lowers it into the dishwasher. This should be all. After this, he's all done. He'll have the rest of the night to himself—
Clang!
It slipped.
Euijoo's heart drops to his stomach. The plate slipped from his fingers. It slipped and fell onto the rack with a loud noise.
It slipped, it slipped, it slipped—
The muffled drag of your chair scraping the floor has him freezing in place. His lip quivers. He knows what comes next.
"Euijoo," You call, and he faces you on instinct. His big eyes are blown even wider with fear as he tries to keep his breathing under control. You make eye contact with him and Euijoo's legs give out. He falls to his knees without having to be told. You've trained him well, it appears. You pat your thigh, having repositioned your chair at an angle, creating ample room for him to sit at your feet, "come here." You command. Euijoo follows through despite his fear. By the way he's shaking, it's clear he knows he'll face worse if he disobeys.
Euijoo crawls towards you on all fours. His hand hangs low—you know he's doing this to avoid your eyes. You click your tongue in disappointment, then hold back a smile when his pace falters. In a few short moments, Euijoo is sat on his knees right next to your chair. The poor thing is shaking like a leaf, but he should have been more careful. It's a good thing he has you to correct his behavior. Without warning, you grab him by the chin and force him to look you in the eye. "Euijoo," He flinches in your hold at the sound of your voice, "what rule did I give you beforehand?"
A sense of satisfaction rolls in your gut as he tears up, "Y–You said to be q–quiet..."
"That's right." Your voice stays neutral, uninterested. The unpredictability of it all is truly one of the best ways to keep Euijoo in line. You hum, "It was so simple, yet you broke it. Doesn't that mean you need correction?"
A tear rolls down his cheek, the warmth of it makes contact with your palm, "...Please, no..." Euijoo's breath quickens.
You tsk, "Wrong answer." Your sentence doesn't have time to hang in the air; Your palm has already made contact with Euijoo's cheek. The force of the hit sends him to the ground. He's clutching his reddened cheek and scooting away from you as you down the rest of your wine. The glass makes contact with the wood of the dining table unhurried, and you're already grabbing Euijoo by his ankle and dragging him back to you. Euijoo cries out as you kick him in the stomach, then again in the chest. You grab him by his collar, grumbling to yourself, "First you break a rule and now you try to run from me..." You only look mildly inconvenienced as you pick him up by the collar and slam him onto the ground repeatedly.
He's in hysterics now, wailing and clawing at your wrists, "No, please. I'm s–sorry, Y/N! Stop!" Euijoo's desperate pleas don't reach your ears. A pet doesn't reserve the right to give their owner orders.
You punch him, then throw him onto the ground again. Euijoo's nose is leaking now, and he keeps trying to crawl away from you. He just never seems to learn his lesson. Harshly, you grab him by his hair and tug him backwards—back into the lion's den.
It's all a blur from there. Somehow, you've ended up sitting down again. You look down at your lap where your hands are resting. Your knuckles are bruised and there's blood spatters all over your clothes. You scan the kitchen. There's speckles of blood all over it too. Euijoo made such a mess. You shake your head. It's hard having such a difficult pet.
Speaking of whom, Euijoo's curled up in the middle of the kitchen floor. He's trembling hard enough that you can see it, silently crying with a hand pressed over his mouth and the other cupping his stomach. The sight has you feeling guilty. You always hate having to discipline him. A sigh leaves your lips, "Baby," your voice is entirely gentle unlike before, "come to me." It takes him a moment, but Euijoo eventually sits up on wobbly legs and crawls towards you just as he did before. You raise your hand and he flinches, but all you do is gently place a finger under his chin to slowly lift his head up.
You examine his face. Euijoo's left eye is bruised and you can barely see it under the swelling. There are plenty of other purple-red bruises framing his face. You look down, his lip is busted. What a shame. But at least his nose has stopped bleeding. "My poor baby..." You're genuinely concerned when you ask him, "Does it hurt?" Your sweet thing is too out of it to respond verbally, however you let him get away with nodding just this once. A frown dampens his expression, "Oh, my dear..." You suck in a breath, "This is what happens when you don't listen. I wouldn't have to do this if you were a good boy, Juju."
You lean in to press a loving kiss to his forehead. Silent tears run down his cheeks in endless streams, "It's a good thing I'm here to correct you, hm? Seriously, what would you do without me?" You chuckle fondly and pull Euijoo in closer until his head is resting on your lap. As light as a cloud, you run your fingers through his hair, "I love you, Euijoo."
The warmth of his tears soak into your sweatpants. Euijoo stares at nothing with a blank look on his battered face.
