synopsis: you, wi ha-joon's shy wife, reveal your pregnancy privately, then announce it together on live. beforehand, your authentic charm captivated fans, marking the start of your shared journey into parenthood.
warnings: pregnancy, introverted reader
request
you’ve always been the quieter half of your relationship with ha-joon.
It comes with the territory. he is the actor, the well-known one. you, on the other hand, do live streams for your small fanbase. a niche underground fanbase you would call it while ha-joon thrives in the spotlight, effortlessly charming fans all around the world.
you’ve preferred to stay in the background, even though people have suspected you and hajoon for a while since you were a supportive presence cheering him on from the sidelines.
your shyness isn’t a secret.... ha-joon often teases you about it during his here-and-there instagram live sessions, coaxing you to join him on camera with a playful grin and a gentle nudge.
“come on, jagi, they want to see you!”
he’d say, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
most times, you’d blush, wave awkwardly at the camera, and duck out of frame, leaving him to carry the show to his millions of fans.
however, everything changed the day you let your guard down.
it was a lazy sunday afternoon, the kind where sunlight filters through the curtains and the air feels soft. ha-joon was sprawled on the couch in your cozy seoul apartment, scrolling through his phone, when he announced he was going live.
“just a quick one to promote season three,” he said, flashing you that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip. by season three, he means of squid game.
you were curled up in an armchair across the room, a book in your lap, content to let him do his thing.
the live started as usual with ha-joon greeting his fans, answering questions without spoiling too much content, and sharing behind-the-scenes stories.
then, a fan comment caught his eye.
where’s y/n? we miss her!
he chuckled, glancing at you.
“y/n? she’s right there, hiding as usual. should we get her to say hi?”
you rolled your eyes, but something about his teasing tone sparked a playful streak in you. maybe it was the cozy vibe of the day or the way ha-joon’s laughter filled the room, but you decided to surprise him.
luckily, all of hajoon's fans are tame. none of crazy, and some hate comments were always blocked before you ever had the chance to see them.
setting your book down, you slid onto the couch beside him, leaning into the frame.
“fine, i’m here,” you said, feigning exasperation. the chat exploded with heart emojis and excited comments.
what started as a brief cameo turned into something else entirely.
ha-joon, delighted by your presence, started asking you silly questions that he already know, but wanted fans to know about you.
he asked your favorite food, your go-to karaoke song, even your thoughts on his latest drama role.
for once, you didn’t hold back.
you matched his energy, tossing back witty responses and even roasting him lightly about his obsession with spicy tteokbokki which earned a mock gasp from ha-joon and a flood of laughing emojis from the viewers.
the internet went wild.
clips of the live circulated on x, with fans gushing over your chemistry and your unexpected humor.
overnight, your shy persona transformed into something else with a relatable, charming presence that fans couldn’t get enough of. you started joining ha-joon’s lives more often. soon, you were experimenting with your own instagram account more by sharing snippets of your life with cozy coffee dates, polaroids of you and ha-joon, and your attempts at baking (which often ended in flour-dusted chaos).
your followers grew steadily, drawn to your authenticity and the glimpse into your life with ha-joon.
you weren’t a celebrity, but you became semi-successful in your own right... a quiet influencer with a loyal, supportive fanbase who adored your down-to-earth charm.
a few months later, everything changed again.
you’d been feeling off for weeks.
tired, a little queasy, and unusually emotional. when you took the pregnancy test on a whim, your hands trembled as two pink lines appeared. you sat on the bathroom floor, heart pounding, a mix of joy and nerves swirling in your chest.
you were pregnant... you and ha-joon were going to be parents. you wanted to tell him immediately, but the timing wasn’t right.
he was in the middle of filming a new drama, juggling long hours and promotional events. you decided to wait, savoring the secret like a precious gift. you dropped subtle hints... buying a tiny pair of baby socks and tucking them into your drawer, or casually mentioning how cute a baby onesie was at the store.
however ha-joon, bless his heart, was oblivious.
instead, you confided in your close friends instagram story, a space reserved for your closest friends and a small group of trusted followers.
late one night, unable to contain your excitement, you knew you couldn’t keep it from ha-joon much longer. the thought of him finding out through someone else... or worse... made your stomach twist.
so, you planned a special moment.
one evening, after he returned from a long day of shooting, you suggested a quiet night in. you cooked his favorite meal, kimchi jjigae and bulgogi, and set the table with candles, making it feel like a mini celebration.
as you sat across from him, watching him dig into the food with his usual enthusiasm, you felt a flutter of nerves.
“ha-joon,” you started, your voice softer than usual. he looked up, chopsticks paused mid-air, sensing the shift in your tone.
“everything okay, jagi?” you took a deep breath, reaching for the tiny box you’d hidden under a napkin.
inside was the pair of baby socks you’d bought, white and impossibly small.
you slid the box across the table, your heart racing.
“open it.” he gave you a confused look but opened the box, pulling out the socks. for a moment, he just stared at them, his expression blank. then, realization dawned, and his eyes widened.
“wait… are you…?” his voice trailed off, trembling with hope.
you nodded, tears prickling your eyes.
“i’m pregnant.” ha-joon dropped the socks, his chair scraping as he stood and rounded the table to pull you into his arms.
“oh my god, y/n,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall.
“we’re having a baby?”
“yeah,” you said, laughing through your tears.
“we’re having a baby!”
he kissed you, soft and full of love, then pulled back to rest his forehead against yours.
the next day, you and ha-joon discussed how to share the news with the world. his agency, aware of your growing online presence, was supportive but cautious.
they advised a joint announcement to control the narrative and avoid rumors.
after a few meetings, they gave their blessing for you to announce it on your instagram live, a platform where you felt most comfortable connecting with your followers.
you spent days planning the live, wanting it to feel authentic but special. ha-joon suggested incorporating something personal, like the baby socks, to tie it back to the moment you told him.
you decided to keep it simple with just the two of you, in your living room, sharing the joy of your growing family.
the day of the live, you were a bundle of nerves.
ha-joon, ever the calming presence, held your hand as you set up your phone on a tripod. the living room was softly lit, with fairy lights strung across the bookshelf and a cozy blanket draped over the couch.
you wore a loose sweater that hid your still-flat stomach, and ha-joon was in his favorite hoodie, looking effortlessly handsome.
you hit the “go live” button, and the screen lit up with viewers joining. the chat filled with greetings and heart emojis, fans thrilled to see you both.
ha-joon waved, his usual charm on full display.
“hey, everyone! it’s been a while since we did this together, huh?” you smiled, feeling a little more at ease with him by your side.
“yeah, i’ve been slacking,” you joked, earning a playful nudge from ha-joon. the live started casually, with you answering questions about your day and ha-joon sharing a funny story about a mishap on set.
then, he gave you a look... the signal you’d agreed on. your heart raced as you reached for the small box on the coffee table, the same one with the baby socks.
“so,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies, “we have some news to share.” you glanced at ha-joon, who nodded encouragingly.
“we’ve been keeping a little secret, and we’re so excited to finally tell you all.” ha-joon took over, his voice warm and proud.
“y/n and i… we’re going to be parents. we’re having a baby!” you opened the box, holding up the tiny socks for the camera.
the chat erupted, a flood of congratulations, crying emojis, and excited exclamations.
“we wanted to share this with you because you’ve been so supportive of us,” you said, your shyness melting away as you spoke from the heart, “this is a new adventure for us, and we’re so grateful to have you along for the ride.”
ha-joon wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.
“i’m already practicing my dad skills,” he added, making you laugh, “any tips for dealing with diaper changes?” the live continued for another half hour, with you and ha-joon answering questions about your plans, your excitement, and even a few silly ones about whether the baby would inherit ha-joon’s dimples.
fans on x went wild.
#wihajoonbaby and #ynandhajoon, with clips of the announcement racking up millions of views.
in the weeks that followed, your life felt fuller than ever.
as you looked at ha-joon before the live ended, laughing as he practiced singing lullabies, you knew this was the start to a new love you were welcoming into your family.
masterlist
authors notes: I do not write for actors, since I like sticking with characters only. however, I couldn't refuse to write this fic since the requester asked so kindly <3
The Rose Reaction | FLUFF/CRACK | When They Have Too Much To Drink
On the fourth day of Christmas, I bring this gift to you. Four tipsy rose boys
In which your boyfriend has too much too drink during the Christmas season
Warnings: None
A/N: Day 4 of mini-Ficmas. Today I bring you my first reaction for the rose because I love them and have always wanted to write something for them🌹Enjoy my lovelies, and thank you so much for all the love on the days so far. And I will see you tomorrow with day 5 😘
FICMAS
MASTERLIST
WOOSUNG
It’s quiet in the taxi late at night. The windows rolled down a third of the way to let in the cold night air. You’re so busy watching the view that passes by that you don’t notice what’s going on next to you. You turn your head as you feel a warm body press against your side. Your boyfriend, Woosung, leans his head against your shoulder, clearly feeling the effects of the Christmas party you’ve both just left.
“You okay there Woo?” you ask, noticing the way he slumps further against you. You don’t think he even notices just what he’s doing as he begins to cuddle you.
“Mhm,” he hums, giving you a small nod. A smile twitches at your lips at his response.
“You sure you’re not gonna fall asleep on me?” you joke, reaching up to run your hands through his curls. He leans into the touch with ease, turning to look up at you. You can’t suppress your giggles as he blinks up at you, eyelids clearly drooping.
“I would never-” he’s interrupted by a yawn, only causing you to laugh more.
He’s right, normally he would never be one to fall asleep in a taxi ride home. Woosung is by no means a light drinker. He can easily handle his liquor on any normal night out. But with the amount of tequila you watched Jaehyeong pour into each Christmas themed beverage, you’re not surprised that your boyfriend is practically asleep. You’d practically had to carry him just to get into the damn taxi fifteen minutes ago. He’d still been his drunk and giggly self earlier. He’d been stumbly as you wrapped your arm around his side, guiding him to the car. He’d giggled the entire way, finding every step amusing as he’d leaned on you for support. Now he was clearly in his sleepy phase of being drunk, if his massive yawn wasn’t a sign enough.
“Okay, maybe I’m a bit sleepy,” he mutters, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You can’t help but smile, pressing a soft kiss against his hair.
“It’s okay, I’ll wake you up when we get there,” you say softly.
“Thank you, love you,” he mutters sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck.
“Love you too,” you say, though Woosung is already snoring lightly against your shoulder. You only shake your head, continuing to run your hands through his hair.
DOJOON
Your boyfriend, Dojoon, is normally a free-spirited person. Never being one to shy away from being himself. It’s actually one of your favorite parts of his personality. But every once in a while when he’s had just a little too much to drink, the extrovert in him seems to multiply by a thousand. Like right now for instance, as you are coming home from his company Christmas party. Most people would be ready to sleep, or at the very least just get home. However you’re lovely, and incredibly drunk boyfriend, has decided now would be the perfect time to belt out Christmas songs as you attempt to walk back.
“Joonie, You’re going to wake the whole street up,” you say, shushing him with a tug to his hand.
He gasps dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at you.
“You don’t like to hear my singing? I’m offended,” he huffs, turning his head away with a pout.
You roll your eyes for what feels like the thousandth time, both endeared and over his antics. Honestly, the amount of times you’ve rolled your eyes tonight should genuinely be studied.
“I didn’t say that, I just don’t think these people would enjoy being woken up at 2 am,” you say, continuing to drag him along.
“They’re just jealous of my singing!” he says, giggling next to you. You snort at his response, amused by the logic of his inebriated mind.
“Right, I'm sure that’s the reason. Not because some drunk man who’s had way too much alcohol is singing at the top of his lungs down the street,” you say.
“For your information, It wasn’t alcohol, it was eggnog,” he argues,
“Eggnog that Woosung spoke with god knows how much tequila,” you huff, recalling catching the other man mid act.
“Oh come on, we have to have a little fun,” he whines, throwing an arm around your shoulder. He tugs you into him, nearly throwing you off balance. He laughs as you pout up at him, the force jolting you against his chest.
“You’re insufferable,” you whine, swatting at him softly.
He catches your hand, bringing it up to his face. You rub your thumb against the side of his cheek. He leans into you easily, stroking the back of your hand where he holds it. Damn him for being so obnoxiously cute.
“You love me though, yeah?” he teases, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Well obviously,” you say, feigning annoyance. He only grins, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm.
“Good, because you’re stuck with me,” he says, eyes full of love.
HAJOON
“You know I love you, right?” Hajoon asks, suddenly.
“Yes, I know,” you say, chuckling slightly.
“Okay, good,” he says.
He’s quiet again as the two of you continue to walk down the street. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance at you repeatedly. He clearly has something else to say, but hesitates. You don’t try and press him on it, figuring he’s just thinking of what to say.
“And you love me too, right?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Of course I do,” you laugh, squeezing his hand in yours.
“Okay,” he says, nodding to himself. Another silence falls over you,
“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly.
You finally pause, turning to look at your boyfriend. He doesn’t meet your eyes, choosing to turn his head the other way.
“Hajoon, where is this coming from?” you prod, gently. You and Hajoon have been happily dating for years. You’d never once had a doubt in his relationship. You had always assumed Hajoon felt the same. Atleast, he’d never once showed a sign of anything different. He takes a second to collect his thoughts, still not meeting your gaze. With a sigh he finally turns to you. You’re about to ask him again, when he cups your face in both of his hands. He brings your face up to his, staring directly into your eyes.
“I just really need you to know how precious you are to me, and that I really, really, love you. Like beyond words love you, like can’t imagine a life without you, like I’m gonna marry you one day, love you,” he says, squishing your face between his hands.
You stare at him for a moment, so caught off guard by this out of character behavior. You’re still reeling from how serious he sounds that it takes you a moment to process his words. Once you do you're unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face.
“You’re absolutely adorable. And incredibly drunk right now,” you say, fondness seeping into every word. Dojoon had warned you earlier about the drinks being a little too strong. Hajoon had brushed him off, easily downing four Christmas flavored drinks without a second thought. But even hours later, he’s clearly still feeling the alcohol in his system. Which apparently makes him profess the most heartfelt things he’s ever said to you in the middle of an empty street.
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I love you any less,” he grumbles. His intense stare stays on you, brow furrowed in concentration.
“I know, it just makes you extra cute today,” you say, reaching up to cup his hands in yours. He still frowns slightly, eyes never leaving your face.
“You didn’t say it back,”
“Say what, back?” you tilt your head, pretending to think about it.
“Y/n….” he whines, pressing his forehead against yours.
You laugh, giving his hand a kiss
“I love you, Hajoon. Like I’m gonna marry you one day too,” you say softly. He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips,
“Happy now?”
“Very.
“Good, let's go home. Oh! and remind me to thank Dojoon tomorrow,” you giggle, already planning to hang this moment over your boyfriend’s head every chance you get.
JAEHYEONG
“What do you mean we can’t get daechang?” Jaehyeong whines, stopping in his tracks.
You turn to see him standing in place, with the world’s biggest pout on his face. He’d been begging for food for the last thirty minutes. It’s a normal occurrence for your Jaehyeong to whine about his food, he is the biggest foodie you know afterall. But now is definitely not a time where you can let him drag you off to one of his usual spots.
“Jae, it's the middle of the night, everything is closed,” you explain, watching his face fall.
“But, my daechang,” he sniffles, his eyes beginning to water slightly.
In any other circumstance, you’d be concerned about the sight of tears on your boyfriend’s face. But given the drunken state your boyfriend is in, you can only smile. He continues to stare at you like you’ve just crushed his dreams.
“I know. But it’s late, baby,” you say gently. Jaehyeong only looks more distraught, looking like he’ll burst into tears at any second. As funny as the situation is, you don’t think it’s a good idea to have your boyfriend have a breakdown here on the sidewalk. You remain patient, trying to be gentle as you soother him. Your main concern is to get him home as easily as possible. You and sober Jae can worry about his daechang tomorrow.
“Tell you what, once it’s normal people hours and your hangover is gone I’ll take you for all the daechang you can eat, okay?” you offer, smoothly.
He seems to think for a moment, going quiet in front of you. You turn to watch him, barely able to suppress your giggles at how much thought he’s putting into it.
“Promise?” he asks, giving you a hopeful look.
“I promise,” you say. You make a show of drawing an ‘x’ over your heart for him. This seems to appease him as he begins to nod.
“Okay,” he says, giving you the brightest smile.
It nearly gives you whiplash, with how fast his mood brightens. Like he wasn’t just about to cry from not being able to eat. You smile at him, still finding his drunken behaviors kinda cute.
“Come on silly,” you say, extending your hand out to him.
His grin widens, rushing towards you to wrap his hand in yours.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I definitely didn't expect for this to turn out as lengthy as it did (seriously, this thing is like 11K+ words O.O), but I'm not mad about it at all. Hopefully this long chapter will tide the story over until the next update! ♡
You failed to recall as to when it stopped being a learned habit and instead became a given, but Hajoon would always walk you to and from school despite living barely a few blocks away.
Ever since he decided to dwell solitarily away from his family home and your grandma learned of it, you both had readily offered for him to cohabit at your residence in the now empty room following your grandfather’s passing the year prior.
Be that as it may, not being one who liked to intrude, Hajoon had settled for renting an inexpensive space in the apartment complex nearby. Though lower on the economic range, it remained within reasonable means of which he prided himself on for managing without assistance, making ends meet by repairing devices and rectifying technological issues for various patrons.
On countless occasions, you’ve told him time and time again that much like him, you could handle being by yourself just fine. Over the passing years, you had grown used to your grandmother’s early mornings and late nights at her folk medicine clinic and didn’t need to be seen to safety at the day’s beginning and the night’s end when he was practically next door, but Hajoon was adamant; and when Hajoon was adamant, the only answer was acquiescing.
Not that you minded. Really, you didn’t mind at all.
It was comforting in a way of unspoken affirmation that although he would never speak on it, he genuinely cared. To whatever extent that word encompassed, you neither sat too long with your thoughts on it nor lay too deeply engrossed in indulgent what if’s.
Perhaps it was this year, the past year, or perhaps it was all of the years leading up to now, but you didn’t quite know when you started to see Hajoon differently.
Not in a bad way, of course.
It was in a way that you’d never thought about before; in a way that was like gently drifting off to sleep on a hot midsummer’s night.
It was gradual, placid, and encroached on you in the manner of a slight, evening twilight breeze coming in through the window, yet which still warmed you.
You weren’t aware when the change happened, really. For as long as you have known, Hajoon was your best friend, the one person who was always there by your side.
Though, maybe that was precisely how it came to be.
Hajoon was always there: by you, with you, for you.
You hoped that down the line, even in the far future, his constant presence would remain unaltered, but every now and then it scared you to think about the day where he wouldn’t be, and you don’t dare to hope for anything else other than friendship.
Friendship was neutral.
Friendship was safe.
Friendship was…possibly the only thing that could be between you and him.
You kept your mystic abilities hidden this entire time, so what is one more thing to withhold to yourself? If you can barely bear the thought of revealing your innate gift, how could you tell him about your innermost feelings?
There was too much ambivalence regarding both, so you’d rather tiptoe around the certainty of camaraderie than the uncertainty of the unrequited.
Nescience was far better than nothingness.
You didn’t want him to equate you as the personification of the one thing he detested.
You’d rather him be indifferent than invidious.
You could live with Hajoon seeing you as only a friend, never returning your feelings even within an inch of your own.
But, you wouldn’t be able live with Hajoon hating you.
“You’ve been incredibly untalkative this morning.”
Lost in thought, you don’t even notice your steps have slowed, fingers slackened around your backpack straps you tended to clutch close to your shoulders. But, Hajoon had noticed.
Of course he did. He always did.
He slows down his steps so that they match your own without needing to look back.
Right foot…
Left foot…
Right foot…
Left foot…
Where you were walking side by side earlier, you had since fallen behind, a few paces rearward of him.
“I’m tired is all,” you say almost too easily, your default response as of late when you couldn’t come up with any better excuse.
There’s a beat of silence where even without looking up, you could tell Hajoon wanted to pry but ultimately thought better of it in the end.
It was a bright, sunny day that casted shadows on the pavement of his footprints.
You step onto each reflection as he walks forward, trying to match yours inside his on the ground.
Left foot…
Right foot…
Left foot…
Right—
Right into someone.
“Oof,” an embarrassing sound of startlement escapes you as you bump headfirst into Hajoon’s chest, the force of it sending you backward a few inches. Your hand reflexively flies to press against your forehead. “Don’t you think you should watch where you’re going?”
“You were the one who bumped into me,” Hajoon counters teasingly.
Regardless of being toe to toe, you still land a punch to his shoulder. “Why did you even walk hindwards? And how come I wasn’t paying attention?” You were so engrossed in the imprints you didn’t even realize he had turned around after not seeing you in stride with him.
“You were busy chasing shadows.”
He didn’t know how close to the truth that was and you avert your eyes briefly before scoffing to hide your pause.
“And what were you doing, then?” You gesture walking in reverse with your fingers, even miming the bump as if to say it was his fault.
“I was busy chasing you.”
You inhale on a soundless stuttered breath, your heart lurching momentarily. The statement comes out too direct, too honest, and too open, for it to be anything but the truth. Yet somehow, the fear of wishful thinking makes you dismiss his earnest declaration.
“Don’t say that.”
Like you mean it.
“How come?”
When you don’t.
He stares at you, no change in his expression as he holds the eye contact like he could draw out the answer from within your mind by his one look alone.
You lower your head, knowing that the longer you were held captive within the intensity of his gaze, his searching eyes would unravel everything you’ve managed to wrap and conceal for years.
So, you settle for a coverup that was half-lie and half-truth. “You’re just messing with me.” With that, you speed walk past him, the school entrance already appearing in a hazed view a little ways away.
You hear his footsteps against the gravel as he catches up once again, trying to match your exact momentum and the order of your gait as you had done to him a few paces ago.
“Who said I was making fun of you?” you hear from your right. “When have I ever lied to you?”
He was right, but in admitting that, you’d have to come to terms with what else the weight of his words could mean and you neither had the mind nor the heart to.
“You haven’t,” you concede. “But what if you decided to start?”
Hajoon lets out a noncommittal sound, marginally aggrieved. “If I ever tell you a lie, I’ll let you fool me for the rest of my life.” He raises his hand up, as if to swear on it.
You kick at a pebble in your way and it bounces a few meters off the sidewalk, rolling and clacking against the metal sewer drain, the rhythmic clanging mimicking your steps against the ground.
“Are you sure?”
“I only dare to say so because I know you’d never lie to me.”
I haven’t lied to you, Hajoon…I just haven’t told you the full truth.
“You sure like to live life on the edge, don’t you?” you joke, but on the contrary, Hajoon downright favored routine, preferring to never stray from the standard of familiarity if he could help it.
You skipped over a crack in the sidewalk, the ends of your hair fluttering behind you as you tried to avoid the split that would cause you to overstep into the superstitious realm of bad luck.
In front of you, the sloped brick wall that bordered the pathway to the school’s entrance stretched far and wide, wide enough to balance on.
Naturally, you climbed onto it, scaling the lowermost point where the curve connected to the ground.
“Says the one on the actual edge.” Hajoon moves closer the moment you jumped up, having to glance up at you now from your vantage point. “Yeonha.”
“What is it?” you chirp, arms spread slightly for balance.
“Please, get down. You’ll fall.”
“Who do you take me for? I won’t fall.”
There were signs of Hajoon losing his mind already, if the furrows on his forehead were any indication, but still, he slowed his pace to stay beside you as you ambled over the bricks.
That was the thing about Hajoon. Everyone at school thought he was cold because he looked permanently put off at the concept of human interaction but even now in his acting like keeping up with you was his life’s biggest burden, he clearly worried.
He wasn’t cold. He just kept his warmth hidden, and hidden very well.
The wall wasn’t very high, at least to you who wasn’t plagued with acrophobia, but Hajoon kept glancing up every few seconds anyway, like he expected gravity to specifically target you out of spite. It was sweet—not that you’d ever tell him that even if your life depended on it. He’d probably short-circuit and walk into oncoming traffic.
You bit back a smile before tilting slightly, mock swaying as you lean off to one side on purpose, pretending to lose your balance.
“Woah—!”
Hajoon’s head snapped up instantly. Before you could even finish the fake stumble, his hand darts out to encircle around your wrist, fingers holding on firmly as he steadied you from below. His brows were scrunched in concern, hard, dark eyes fixed on you with unmistakable alarm, only thereafter morphing to raised in annoyance as the laugh you were trying to hold in bursts out through your sealed lips in a puff of suppressed giggles.
“Are you insane?”
You blinked at the low tenor of his voice, solemn. That expression and tone was unfair, for you had only meant to tease him a little. Instead, now your heart was trying to claw its way out of your chest.
“I was kidding…” you mumble out meekly, suddenly quieter.
“Are you trying to test my reflexes or give me a heart attack?” he scolds like usual, but his voice lacked any real bite.
“I’m trying to test your heart attack reflex,” you wittily reply. You laughed, and despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched.
It was tiny—barely there—but you saw it anyway. Hajoon masked it by narrowing his eyes at you pointedly yet doesn’t let go of your wrist as you continue walking onward, him shuffling his feet to follow along, now ambulating even closer to the wall.
You raise your forearm above you as you place one foot in front of the other, trying to connect your steps heel to toe. Shaking your forearm emits the soft tinkling sounds of the bell and your bracelet sparkles in the morning sun.
You can’t help but smile at it.
“Do you like it that much?” Hajoon’s voice travels up given the current height difference between the two of you, sounding every bit amused in his question.
“Of course I do. More than you know.” you say without looking at him, still staring at the piece of jewelry adorning your wrist. “It’s a reminder for me of how many people I have in my circle who sincerely care.”
The next second sees the sun glinting off its surface and the brightness blinds you, the onslaught of light causing you to close your eyes involuntarily, momentarily, but it is in this instant of you unable to see where your steps land that you trip over your own feet. Despite your best efforts in flailing your arm to try and regain your bearings, it’s no use.
The world tilted sharply beneath you, your stomach dropping as your balance disappeared completely, without pretense this time.
“Yeonha!” Even the panic in Hajoon’s voice was real, and you brace for the impact of your fall sideways onto the hard pavement, but it never comes. Instead of scraping yourself against asphalt, his warm hand yanks you downward to safety. You stumble off the ledge with a startled yelp and come to an abrupt stop.
You had careened straight into him, shoulders colliding from the abrupt descent where his body took most of the impact as he steadied you both. Your hands instinctively clutched at the front pocket of his uniform shirt, leaning inward from the motion of the sudden height drop.
For one dizzying second, you both were far too close. Your face was inches from his chest. His hand was still locked around your arm, and when you looked up, Hajoon was already staring at you—really staring. His breathing sounded uneven.
“Are you hurt?” The sharpness in his voice caught you off guard. He wasn’t angry no, but worried, yes; actually worried.
Your chest tightened. “I’m okay,” you assured softly, righting yourself again so you weren’t transferring your body weight.
“I’m going to die young one day because of you,” Hajoon mutters in disbelief, shock still evident on his face. “Wanting to keep you safe is more difficult than anything.”
“You’re doing a fine job, though.”
Hajoon didn’t answer immediately. Without a word, he slides his hand from your wrist down to your own, holding it tightly in his and interlacing your fingers. “Now you have the entirety of the Kang family looking after and protecting you,” he surmises as he glimpses down at your bracelet. “If you manage to cause another mishap, I don’t know how I’ll answer to everyone.”
“They didn’t make it your responsibility to look after me, you know.” You swing your clasped hands but Hajoon doesn’t pull away in the slightest or let go even as you two advance closer toward school.
“It’s more of an unspoken rule, wouldn’t you say so?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then just think of it as a responsibility I chose to take on my own.”
You whip your head toward him, not quite believing your own hearing even as the words register in your mind.
The tips of his ears are faintly red, the hue there to stay.
You open your mouth to reply, but before you can say anything more, there’s an interjection a few feet away.
“Hey, Kang Hajoon!”
Both of you turn toward the sound, seeing a group of boys, most of whom were wearing glasses, waving in unison. Some were trying to glance around Hajoon to see you, curious about who he was talking to.
“My coding club buddies,” Hajoon supplies as he turns back to you, giving a long stare downward before releasing your wrist lightly, reluctantly.
“Go,” you tell him. “I’ll see you in class later.”
He nods and pivots to walk toward his friends, but you see him clench and unclench his left hand—the one that was just wrapped around yours—the short distance away from you, the last repetition being him curling his fingers inward toward his palm, this time not uncurling them again even as he reaches his clubmates.
You take your own wrist in your other hand, rubbing at the spot where he’d touched you, pretending not to notice how warm your skin still felt.
In parallel, you turn in the opposite direction to head toward school, spotting the rest of your friends in the far distance wherein Geonwoo and Seah were walking together side by side, suspiciously closer than usual.
Smiling to yourself, you sneak up behind the latter without a sound before patting both of her upper arms, making her jolt, instinctively laying a hand to her chest. Geonwoo also flinches from the aftereffect of her reaction before he laughs at the expression on her face and proceeds to wave you good morning and giving a birthday greeting in the form of a very off-key rendition of the celebratory song.
“You scared me!”
“Not enough if Miss Track Star hasn’t bolted away yet.”
“If I bolt, who’s going to sing Happy Birthday for you today—properly?” Seah just shakes her head good-naturedly and links her arm through yours. Despite the scare, she still has a bright smile stretched across her face.
You elbow her in the side and she turns to you. “So…?” you hint, tilting your head in the direction of Geonwoo who is hardly that far in front, but the distance is enough to where you wouldn’t be heard.
Seah's cheeks bunch up, cheekbones dusted faintly pink, and as Geonwoo spins around to take a glance at her while beaming himself, you already had your answer.
“Me and—”
“Geonwoo-ah!” Nari, without thought or consideration, suddenly comes out of nowhere to interject, speedily sidling up to hang onto his forearm. “What are you doing after school today?”
You glance at Seah with eyebrows raised as if to inquire inaudibly if she was seeing what you were seeing, as Geonwoo puts distance between them in the foreground, mumbling something near incoherent.
It was a longtime coming, the relationship between Geonwoo and Seah something you saw develop over the years. Both were your close friends and it was simultaneously comedic and entertaining when either would come to you to ask after the other.
Given the familiar routine of you being in the middle as the eternal third wheel, it didn’t take much for you to figure out the hints of budding affection. Truth be told, they were a perfect match and you couldn’t be happier for them.
“Seah-ah,” you begin, wiggling your arm where it was still locked with hers. “What are you doing after school today?” Batting your eyelashes, you lean closer and tried your best to copy Nari’s actions, widening your eyes to an outrageous degree for maximum effect.
Seah barks out a laugh at the sight of you, basically a parody of the show in front of you both. “You’re incorrigible!”
“Jokes aside,” you continue. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd on Nari’s part? I haven’t seen her this clingy with anyone. At best, she tolerates us.”
“Hmm…” Seah considers it for a moment before flicking you on the forehead with her thumb and pointer finger.
“Um…ouch?!” you reprimand, hand coming up to your forehead to rub at the spot you were sure would soon turn red.
“You’re just overthinking it,” she concludes.
“And you’re under-thinking,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at her childishly.
A sudden rush of wind strikes past you from behind and you hear Hyungwook before you see him as he slams into Geonwoo’s back, shouting his friend’s name. It nearly topples the former before he rights himself again.
Nari is jostled aside, much to her displeasure, as she flicks her hair back into position, whirling to scowl at the intruder who had split them apart. “Aish! What the hell!”
“Gomen!” Hyungwook raises a hand to admit fault, apologizing first in Japanese, but the look Nari shoots him has him reverting back to Korean. “Mian.”
“Psh.” A disgruntled curse slips past Nari’s lips as she neither acknowledges nor accepts his apology, instead deeming her appearance much more important and studies her phone’s reflective screen to fix her bangs, still disheveled from the accidental shove earlier. Even from the side, you can see her face set in a permanent glower.
It’s so different from the expression she wore mere moments ago that it throws you for a loop. Possibly, that smile was only reserved for Geonwoo.
Over the years, you found Nari to be the hardest one to get close to, not for lack of trying, but it was simply the nuance given off after every conversation or encounter.
You had only transferred from your grandmother’s hometown to the city during middle school and so you weren’t all friends from the very beginning, but by proxy of knowing Hajoon, his friend group accepted you easily.
In retrospect, Nari was blunt from the very beginning, even when you were kids, never one who preferred flowery words or softening the blow from her harsh doses of verbal jabs she called honesty. However, in more recent years, it seemed to you as though something shifted drastically. She skipped school more often, cursed more often, and was more prone to anger. More often than not, it was all at the expense of poor Hyungwook who couldn’t seem to read the room and became the scapegoat for her rage even though he wasn’t to blame in any case.
If anything, Nari liked you and Seah the most, having once even stated that the two of you made use of your brains and set her off her the least. She would stand up for the both of you on more occasions than one, though her tough love remained as more tough than love.
You didn’t know if you could call that affection, but it was a part of how she expressed herself and so that was how the friendship dynamic stayed.
You’re pulled out of your reverie when you hear Geonwoo’s voice. “What is it?” he asks Hyungwook. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You see Hyungwook glance from Geonwoo to Seah beside you, wavering. “I’m saying this because I’ve known you two since middle school, but why are you together so much lately?” Seah stiffens beside you as she exchanges furtive peeks with Geonwoo, Nari pausing midway through her touch-ups. “You guys dating or what?”
“Eyy,” Seah exclaims after a drawn out pause, trying to laugh through it even though you can hear how it falters, her voice quivering. “What are you saying all of a sudden?”
Nari’s eyes shift between everyone, assessing what Hyungwook’s observant nature had already caught onto.
Geonwoo interposes nippily, clearing the misconception despite it being true. “She and I live in the same building in the same apartment complex. It’s inconvenient to go separately, idiot.”
If neither were going to say anything about it, then you knew to also keep your mouth shut. It wasn’t your secret to tell even if the two in question had confided in you about it during the will-they won’t-they stage.
“No…no, it’s not for that reason,” Hyungwook insists. “Seah had the habit of being in the classroom first while you always ran in a minute before the bell, forever the last one in. Recently, one of you can always be found where the other is. Something’s up.” Another hushed beat passes. “You guys are starting to become like Hajoon and Yeonha.” He points in your direction.
“Yah! What’s that supposed to mean?” You shake a finger at him. “Don’t drag me into this!”
“My bad,” Hyungwook fixes at breakneck speed. “I needed an example and that seemed like the best one.” You halt in shock, slack-jawed and unable to form a coherent sentence at the accusations spouted so matter-of-factly, you had half a mind to speculate whether he was clairvoyant. He turns to Nari when more silence ensues. “Don’t you think so?”
Nari plainly takes a long stare at him before clicking her tongue. “I’m saying this because I’ve known you since elementary school,” she repeats his words back to him. “What’s wrong with you today, you fucking loser?”
Hyungwook purses his lips, brows climbing up on his forehead. “Mwoya? Such an extreme reaction! Im Nari-yang, do you have a crush on Geonwoo-kun?”
Seah snickers, incredulous, as she looks from you to Hyungwook, the two of you having brought up the same possibility within the span of less than five minutes. “Thats ridiculous—”
“Yes.”
Everyone whips their head toward Nari’s voice at the confirmation.
“Yes?!” Hyungwook parrots, eyes bugging out, not having expected that response from her.
“Yeah, I do have a crush on Geonwoo, so will you stop talking nonsense this early in the morning?”
“Oh?” Hyungwook blurts. “What an unexpected comeback! If that’s how you want to play it,” he takes a few steps toward her, lowering his voice. “Then, I have a crush on you, Nari-chan.”
You didn’t know what the rest made of this conversation, but amidst the banter, you could tell only one was lying and it certainly wasn’t Nari.
“Do you want to fucking die? Must you start my day off so shitty like this?” A slew of expletives tumble out as Nari runs a frustrated hand through her hair.
“Is that so?” Hyungwook drawls, and you wonder if he could sense the mounting hostility or if he merely took it as nothing more than friendly banter on her part.
Seah has completely frozen beside you, smile long since dropped from when you first showed up.
To salvage the situation, Geonwoo throws an arm over his friend’s neck and squeezes just enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise. “Stop making things awkward around here, you otaku. You offended everyone with one sentence. No one’s dating anyone in our circle, alright?”
“Fine, fine! Hyungwook flails in the tight hold, slapping at Geonwoo’s relentless grip. “My neck!” The two wrangle back and forth. “Seriously, it hurts!”
“This will teach you a lesson for next time when you give delusional takes.”
Nari cusses beside you and stomps away first, peeved, not looking back at anyone. Behind her, Geonwoo and Hyungwook are still play fighting, dragging one another the remaining path toward the gates.
When all had gone, Seah intones to you, a bit dejected, eyes still looking off in the distance at everyone’s retreating backs, “Maybe you didn’t overthink after all.”
You plop down into your seat glumly, elbows propped on the table high enough to where your face could rest comfortably in between your palms, fingers plastered against your cheeks.
Hajoon paused in his typing at the change in mood, atypical for you, but decided it’d be better not to ask, trusting you’d tell him if it a serious matter and resumed what he was initially doing.
Eyeing your friends around the room, it was evident that no one was particularly ecstatic. Even the rest of Class 2-4 had noticed the weird tension, further proven by Nari’s plodding into the classroom earlier on and having chucked her bag down onto the ground with an expression that exuded she didn’t want to be pestered. When you set foot into class, her position remained unchanged: staying with her face toward the room’s side window without a care as to who entered or exited.
You turn to look over your shoulder, seeing Seah frown in your direction from her seat diagonally behind you. Both of you shrugged at one another, a shared understanding of not understanding what was going on.
Pivoting your body back to your own table, you stretch an arm out across the width of it, collapsing forward to heavily drape your upper body over the edge, cheek pressed against the cool wood. Exhaling out a long, tired breath, you watched as the dust motes danced in the sunlight before closing your eyes resignedly
It wasn’t uncommon for your friend group to have squabbles here and there, as all friend groups do, but it wasn’t common for the main reason to be on a matter of feelings. You didn’t even have a part in this and you knew you’d still have to help resolve it anyway, priding yourself on your emotional intelligence and record of being the peacemaker. Even if that wasn’t the case as proclaimed mediator, you’d still prefer your friends to get along more than they fought. Something seen as trivial now could very well grow into something significant in the future, and if it had the potential to cause permanent strain, then it needed to be addressed sooner rather than later before things turned irreversible, and the friendship, broken beyond repair.
You hear three little taps on your table’s surface and open one eye, the other still closed.
In your line of sight, Hajoon placed a carton of strawberry milk, your favorite drink, in front of you casually. He removes his hand from around the item once he had gained your attention.
You reach up to take one of his in-ear devices out, but just as your hand approaches the side of his face, he beats you to it. “Drink it. Maybe you’ll feel better after.”
He’s glancing down at you still lying with your head against the table, evidently tired. “Did you get it for me?”
“I picked it off the side of the street on my way here,” he replies nonchalantly.
You scrunch your nose in distaste and elbow his forearm further away from where it was resting in the crevice between your two desks before sitting back up properly. “Gee, what a gentleman you are,” you intone sarcastically, but as you go to open the milk carton and take a sip, you see the slight uplift of Hajoon’s lips as he tries not to smile, putting his earbud back in.
Before you can drink more than two gulps, Hyungwook barrels in like an overexcited hound, slamming himself down into his seat in front of you with such fervor that it rattles the back of his chair against the edge of your desk as he sits facing backwards.
He starts conversing at rapid speed and seeing as he could neither hear a thing or rely on lip reading, Hajoon heaves a sigh beside you and pulls out both earbuds this time, completely having lost focus on his coding lectures.
“What are you even saying, Hyungwook?”
“I said!” Hyungwook raises his voice slightly and when clusters of classmates turn around to look at him oddly, he lowers his volume instantly after. “I said that Geonwoo almost killed me today. Yeonha can vouch for me.”
“Alright, you’re exaggerating a little there, buddy.” You cross your arms and lean your back against your chair as Hyungwook pouts at you for having taken out the flair from his dramatic retelling.
Hajoon studies him for a moment. “With a headlock, I’m guessing?”
Hyungwook claps his hands together, mouth forming a circle in surprise. “Oh?!” As expected of a brainiac.”
Hajoon merely shakes his head, all of you tiring him out on the daily with your antics, as you repeatedly point to Hyungwook’s slightly pink neck, a pressure line still imprinted in the middle of his throat column. The latter looks down, only then realizing the dead giveaway.
“Anyway, thats not the important thing,” he begins, rifling through his messy backpack before pulling out his laptop. “This thing won’t turn on again.” He places it on top of Hajoon’s stack of textbooks. “Can you please help?”
“I’m busy these days.”
It was funny to see the dynamic between the two: one tiredly resistant and the other tirelessly persistent.
“Then, how about fixing this as my birthday present?” Hyungwook nudges.
“No.”
Hyungwook tilts his head toward you comically without uttering a word, fearing he had reached a dead end. He discreetly points to you, then to him, then back to you, and lastly in Hajoon’s direction. You’re confused out of your mind before he repeats the motions once more and it finally clicks to you.
“Uh…” you start, Hajoon turning to you with an already exasperated expression as Hyungwook nods encouragingly. “Can you fix it for—” you stammer, and Hyungwook’s eyes go wide, bobbing his head vigorously, “—him?” In your peripheral vision, he switches to shaking his head, that clearly having been the wrong sentence. “I mean—” you go to change your words, “—for me?” it comes out choppy and unsure as you side-eye Hyungwook for approval.
“Seriously?” Hajoon replies, the boy in question looking on with what can only be described as genuine concern for both of your mental states.
“Seriously.” You throw in a smile for good measure. “As a birthday present.”
“The cake wasn’t enough?”
“What?!” Hyungwook chimes in, offended. “You gave her cake but not me?!” He lowers his head slightly, disappointed.
Hajoon pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I—”
“It’s okay,” you reassure. “I’ll stay up all night to learn basic coding if I have to and try to fix it by myself since he’s not willing.”
You reach over to grab Hyungwook’s laptop but Hajoon intercepts the device, arms sliding in beneath your own and slipping it off the table straight into his backpack. “You know what, I’ll figure out how to fit it into my schedule. If he continues to complain, I’ll lose my patience, and if you continue to lose sleep, I’ll lose my sanity.”
Hyungwook immediately brightens again much to Hajoon’s incredulity. “The pin is the same,” he offers shamelessly, throwing a thumbs up in your direction.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hajoon mumbles, beaten.
“For you, Yeonha-chan.” Hyungwook unhooks the ghost figurine on his backpack that he got in Japan from a souvenir shop and hands it to you. “A small birthday present but a big thank you for helping me out today and many other times over the years.”
You knew how precious the item was to him since he had carried it all the way from elementary days until now. “This is your sentimental treasure. I can’t accept it.” You try to push it back toward him, but he adamantly refuses, placing it back into your hand.
“You carried big time today for me so I hope this charm will bring you even more luck in the future.” Hyungwook replies, jutting his chin toward Hajoon. “It’s always so difficult to get this guy to agree to anything I ask but he never says no to you. What a softie.”
“Call me that again and I’ll change my mind right now,” Hajoon threatens.
“Oo,” Hyungwook teases. “Softie has not so soft edges.”
You nearly choke on your drink as your laughter bubbles up, wanting to escape. TO keep from spitting everywhere accidentally, you clamp your free hand over your mouth to suppress the fit. Hyungwook slaps your back to help and you hurriedly put your pointer finger to your lips, indicating for him to shush before your hard work went down the drain.
“You both give me migraines,” Hajoon declares, rubbing at his temples.
“You’re welcome, but let’s talk about something more serious,” Hyungwook dismisses naturally. “Yeonha already heard this from me earlier, but—”
“Heard what?” Hajoon leans in.
“Good morning, class!”
The teacher appearing sends the class to organize themselves swiftly at the authoritative tone and Hyungwook waves a hand in cessation, turning to the front as he whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”
Your homeroom instructor was well-loved by all of you since for his laidback attitude and understanding nature, but one thing he would never tolerate is disrespect.
“My dear students!” We placed first in the math section in Seorin City on the latest mock exam. The whole town had only four perfect scores and three of those were from us,” your homerun teacher joyously announces. Murmurs circled like the summer heat that sweltered in the room, the only source of open air being from the curtainless glass windows that provided no shade.
You fan yourself and gather your hair in one hand before looking down at your right wrist and realizing that you had, once again, misplaced your hair tie. Switching your locks to to your other hand, you struggle to search with your free one through your pencil pouch for something that could be used as a makeshift hairpin.
As you’re rummaging, Hajoon nudges you and you turn to look at him, seeing his gaze flit down. You follow his line of sight, seeing a hair tie held out toward you between his pointer finger and thumb.
“I knew you would forget again.” You pause, the earlier milk carton and now this—the little things—that Hajoon had remembered about you, always looking out for you and knowing exactly what you needed wordlessly. You wondered if it was some kind of superpower of his or if it became a skill he had honed over the years of being friends with someone as forgetful as you.
“Did you pick this up off the side of the street too?” you opt to tease, willing your heart to slow from the crippling palpitations it seemed to do more often recently in his presence than it ever did before.
Hajoon, sheepish, averted his eyes before elbowing you, clearly embarrassed. You gently laugh to yourself and let it slide, not before noticing the dent left from the elastic around his wrist. The very idea of him having carried it around long enough for it to leave a mark gets to you and when your fingertips brush as you take the hair tie from his outstretched digits, you both pull back as if burned, the fire now making its way to your faces.
Before you can say anything more, Mr. Kim proceeds with his morning message. “I’m sure you all know who two of those scores belong to,” he pauses for intended suspense before divulging, “Our star students Kang Hajoon and Baek Yeonha.” You both stand up, the acclaim not something neither of you could get used to for all the high marks you both often received and late nights studying together. “Give them a hand!” The class claps in unison, congratulations thrown around loudly and proudly, Seah and Geonwoo’s specific joint hooting and hollering making you giggle. Even Nari applauds despite her less than stellar morning, throwing you a subtle nod. As Hajoon comes across more bashful than you at the crowd’s regard, you turn and clap for him too before raising your hand for a high five, hoping it would help deflect the attention this time. He returns the gesture, interlocking your fingers together and shaking it back and forth, a habit you two always had from childhood. Seeing as you were grinning ear to ear, he automatically smiled too. “Hold your horses and your cheers because we can’t forget about the last perfect scorer…” he carries on as you two settle back into your seats. “Choi. Hyung. Wook.” The teacher pronounces his name slow and with emphasis, almost as if to let your peers process it.
Whereas ovation had erupted before, this time, the space is so muted, one could probably hear the leaves rustling outside if they tuned in. Even you and Hajoon are dumbstruck at the illogicality of it.
“What the f—” a fellow classmate blurts before one sharp look from your instructor has them cutting their own sentence short.
Collective interjections of questionable doubt rings out in the classroom, Hyungwook’s infamous bottom of the barrel grades having earned him the moniker, Choi Yeongjeom, a play on words of his name with the (dis)honor of being “Zero Points Choi.”
Hyungwook himself displayed his lack of conviction at the results, twisting around to look at you and Hajoon in case he misheard. You snap out of your confoundment and gestured with your hands in a motion that signaled him to get up and rise for the honor.
“Baksoo!” Mr. Kim teacher directs and the class follows suit in clapping, gaping at one another in absolute confusion, the sound of palm against palm scattering rather than in sync from belatedly coming to terms with it. Gazing out into the sea of still wandering eyes, the teacher reveals, “Much like you kids, I found it a bit—how do I put this—extraordinary…to accept, but it is indeed true. Well, the masses do say success always comes after setbacks, so remember to never underestimate someone’s ability to change.” Given that Hyungwook can’t help surveying the entirety of everyone’s reactions, legs shaking imperceptibly as he stands still yet to sit, the teacher playfully adds as an afterthought, “Should this be investigated?”
A chorus of, “Yes it does, Ssaem!” circles back to him in an endless loop of affirmatives.
“Well, we’ll get to it when it comes to it. Play as law enforcements in your heads and act as students in reality. Leave some room for curiosity because today’s lecture begins now.”
After a lesson that dragged on, seemingly even more so from the humidity like air you could wear, and heat that felt as though the Devil was breathing down your neck, you and your friends squeeze your way out the door. As you file out, navigating through the throng of other restless students, you press Hyungwook for answers.
You wind up at the school ground’s vacant west wing where students usually hung out during lunch to avoid the crowded cafeteria, or on the flip side, to partake in impromptu friendly sports matches that had the pitches packed with participants and spectators alike.
In true Nari fashion, she opted for the furthest seat she could, inclined toward personal space, folding arms and crossing legs in meditative preparation for the nonsense she always expected to hear from him at default.
The rest of you spread out on a a chair each, forming a semi circle in front of Hyungwook who had chosen to rest atop a tabletop that forced everyone to have to gaze up, almost as if it were a dais.
Unlike the usual imagery tied to the raised platform meant for reverence, it was anything but.
There was no honor, no awe, and no fear; it instilled nothing but mere common curiosity rather than unparalleled veneration.
To you, it much more resembled a clock, each of your respective positions, in order going clockwise from Nari, to Geonwoo, to Seah, to you, and finally to Hajoon, it all lined up with a successive number, the center represented by Hyungwook.
He was the central post, though the collet seemed unsecured to you, just as no one had any idea how he had managed to affix success, usually an otherwise arduous endeavor for him.
As Hyungwook raises both arms to slowly point at you all in succession, you imagined it as a chronoscope’s hour and minute hands, briefly wondering where the hidden second hand was and what—or who—it could belong to that had equal control without equal appearance.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Seconds, turned into minutes, passed by as your group settled into comfortable positions, confused yet curious, compelled and captivated.
The still unfinished milk carton brought from class you balanced on your knee, a hand around its circumference to steady it in place. Thrumming your fingers against the papered edged, it makes a dull thudding sound as you speak up.
“Hyungwook, as much as I’m surprised at how the process came to be and even more surprised at the outcome, you still did a good job. Sugoi desu ne!” It didn’t hurt to praise him for the achievement despite the odd circumstance and seeing Hyungwook’s wide smile made it easy to share in the excitement, knowing how inflexible his family was about academic accolades.
“Oh, come on, Yeonha,” Nari pleads, stamping her foot. “Don’t go entertaining him now with that stupid lingo. I always idolized you for being the most sensible of the group. Please don’t ruin that.”
“I agree with Yeonha that this is peculiar,” Seah inserts. “If you have something to tell us, just come clean right here and we can sort through it together, okay?”
Whereas Seah is nothing but nice about it, Nari is all accusatory, turning her attention in your direction. “Yah, smarty pants duo, you both fed him answers in turn, right?”
You hear Hajoon exhale loudly through his nose. “What are you talking about?”
“How do you even come to that conclusion?” you add. “We all swapped seats for the exam, remember? None of us were even within reach of one another.”
“That aside,” Geonwoo presses, looking at Hyungwook. “What will you do if the cops decide to pursue this matter further?”
The one in question rolls his ankles and leans back on his arms, titling his head from side to side contentedly. “They’ve got zilch to pin on me.”
“Is that supposed to imply you actually did illegal shit?!” Nari yells, a mixture of bafflement and exasperation that seeps through in her tone. “What the hell is this fucking loser saying now?” she mumbles to herself though it’s meant for everyone to hear before pinning Hyungwook with a menacing glare. “Spit it out already, you bastard.”
“Nari,” you intone lowly, her barrage of insults and condescending attitude toward him having amplified as of late riling you for some reason. “I don’t think this is something so serious for you to be this worked up over. He promised to tell us, and he will if you just wait.”
Nari huffs out a sigh and rolls her eyes at you but otherwise says nothing in retaliation, simply shifting so her back leaned against the metal table behind her.
Over the long years standing between the two of you, you had learned how to talk to her—to correct her—without stepping on her easy-to-fray nerves or flaring her short temper, which you partly chalked up to the calm but resolute manner in your way of speech, but also the greater part of which being she respected you in some capacity, an amount that outweighed her limited esteem for the rest.
“Anyways,” Hyungwook drags the word out, “If my tomodachis are very, truly, and utterly invested in my secret—” he looks around once before lowering his voice like he was telling inside information no one else should know about. “—I only have one word for you all: Girigo.”
“Mwo?” Seah sputters in stupefaction. “Gi. Ri. Go?” she asks in a chain, sounding out the three syllables tentatively, almost as if testing out the strange words on her tongue for the first time.
“Yup!” Hyungwook nods, exhilarated at the mention of it alone. “It’s an app that grants wishes.”
“You know what, maybe it’s not you that’s the dumbass, but it’s me for listening to this bullshit,” Nari spits out, lips pressed together into a thin line.
Seah jumps in to fan the growing flames. “Look, perhaps Nari could’ve phrased that better, but Hyungwook-ah, let’s please live in reality a little, yeah?” she reminds softly, like a mother teaching a life lesson to her son. “No matter what you’ve told me, I never failed to try and understand you like we’re family, but this…this is too much.” The expression on her face is one of disappointment. “Don’t you think you’re taking this act too far now?”
Hyungwook shakes his head so hard in response that his hair flops back and forth, the waved strands bouncing up and down. “This isn’t an act!” He doubles down when the rest stare back in dubiety, you included. “Really, it isn’t! There exists something of that kind.”
“No such thing, buddy,” Geonwoo inputs instantaneously, face tilted down toward his screen as he scrolls swiftly.
“Why would you even bother to look that up?” Nari’s mouth hangs half-open, astounded at Geonwoo’s idiocy before flipping it back onto the former, chock-full of disdain. “How amazing, Choi Hyungwook. You’ve managed to create another fool in your exact image.”
“There’s no fool here,” he retorts. “None of you will find it simply by searching.” He pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Hold on. I’ll send it. This is just for your guys’ eyes, you understand? A perk of sorts as my friends.”
Ding!
You follow suit as everyone goes to open the group chat where the link pops up, appearing in stark contrast to the familiar bubbles typically reserved for the day-to-day short messages interchanged.
“I clicked on it.”
“Geonwoo, I’m telling you, you’re going to get hacked.”
“Nothing to hack here,” he replies to Seah with a broad, mindless grin. She only clucks her tongue at him as she looked him up and down, criticizing the careless choice. “I think this is worth testing—I really do. Isn’t it crazy how he got a perfect score?”
“What’s truly crazy is how gullible you are.”
“This doesn’t look right…” you mutter under your breath as the letters begin to scramble in your vision, the black bleeding into the whites of your sclera, like spilled ink on pristine paper the longer you gawk at it without blinking.
“What do you mean?” Hajoon leans in closer to look at your screen, attempting to see what you were seeing.
“It feels…off.” You can’t quite put your inkling of doubt into words, resorting to simply staring transfixed at it.
“Off how?”
“I just don’t get a good sense from it,” you settle, peering at Hajoon on your left.
He raps a light knuckle against your temple. “One thing you’ve learned most from my sister is her old wives’ tale tendencies it seems.”
“No…it’s not that,” you refute. “There’s too much mystery around it for it to be anything good.”
“All mysteries need solving, no?”
You don’t get a chance to answer as Geonwoo rises suddenly, flipping his phone screen around.
It reflects Hyungwook’s image and his alone.
“Dude, the selfie camera just turned on. Is this normal?”
“Of course it is,” Hyungwook reassures, propping his own phone up and configuring it so that the buttons he pressed would take him to the exact same screen Geonwoo’s was on. “This is the record button.”
Geonwoo steps forward and as he blocks the screen, Seah has to lean her body to the side to catch a glimpse. Hyungwook angles it in every direction for a better view all around and even Nari is uncharacteristically engrossed this time. “What is it taping though?”
“Well, your wish of course!” Hyungwook remarks matter-of-factly. “Oh wait.” He points a finger up in the air as if having a lightbulb moment of remembrance. “You have to write your name and your saju on paper first.”
“Saju?” Geonwoo repeats. “Like the stuff they use in divination?”
Saju.
Saju.
Saju.
Hajoon taps your forearm. “Earth to Yeonha.”
“Huh?” you get out absentmindedly before shaking your head to clear it and turning to him.
“You’re still suspicious of it, aren’t you?”
“How can I not be?” You gaze at him in seriousness. “Even if it’s not a joke, it’s a scam, and if it’s not a scam, then it’s real—and that’s even worse,” you reason. “Saju deals with destiny and fate: the year, month, day, and hour. The time blocks are all tied to your life.”
Hajoon, ever the rationalist, doesn’t buy into it, but entertains your worries nonetheless. “Isn’t it just fortune-telling?”
“It’s not just fortune-telling,” you emphasize. “It’s our entire existence.” You stare at him, hoping the gravity of it gets across to him, your fingers tightening around the cold metal of your phone. “When we’re born, other than the associated numbers, the first thing we receive is our name. It is something that belongs to us and is what makes us, us.”
“Now you’re making it sound unnerving,” Hajoon undertones, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
“I’m not trying to…” you trail off. “Whether you believe it or not, a name has always defined someone; it is a branding, an image, and a state of being all in one. If you know not a person’s name, you know not their identity—” you pause. “—But to know every facet of someone’s existence will give you dominion over them.”
Hajoon contemplates your words, at a loss as to what else to say, the weight and possibility of something he hadn’t considered before such as surrendering all control to another being quieting him.
In the background, Hyungwook continues on teaching Geonwoo, the only one actively listening. “You just give up everything.”
“Everything of yourself?”
“Yes, and after you do, hold the piece of paper you wrote on up to the screen and document it while you outline your wish.”He demonstrates, even closing his eyes for maximum reenactment. Not a second later, he opens it, adding, “You have to really mean it, though. Be sincere and act like you want it…desperately.”
“I think you’re desperate enough without asking,” Nari gets out in between laughs as she slaps the table behind her, genuinely finding the situation hilarious as tears come to her eyes from the hilarity of it all.
Hyungwook chooses to ignore her and gives following directions. “Once you finish recording your wish, be sure to hit send. That’s it.”
“Why are you guiding us so in-depth as if we’ll actually make wishes?” you ask as Hajoon peers at Hyungwook askance, the presentation having done nothing to tide him over to the side of belief.
“Aren’t you all?”
“No,” Nari deadpans.
“Where do you even find stuff like this?” Seah queries.
“I have my ways…”
Geonwoo scratches his head. “This made your wish come true?”
Hyungwook chuckles. “Oh ye of little faith. You want proof?”
“Of course I do. Otherwise this will turn out to be a prank for the books you pulled over on us.”
There’s a beat of silence as Hyungwook browses his camera roll. “Exhibit A: My wish video.”
When he flips his phone sideways and angles it toward the group, perhaps the grandest prank was that you self-imposed apprehension for no reason.
Nari’s boisterous chuckle rings out in the background and she nearly slips from her seat at the senseless nature of it.
“What are you doing?” Geonwoo places a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his own humor at bay given what he was watching play out in front of him: Hyungwook with printer paper taped to his forehead, hands clasped together, and eyes closed, chanting a passionate prayer.
My wish is to get a perfect score in math. A perfect score in math, please! A perfect score! Perfect score! Score! Score! Score!
The video resounds blaringly in the vicinity, though everyone is wonderstruck, left to wonder who exactly to blame for getting duped.
“It suddenly hits me how deep our friendship runs…and how fucking high our IQ’s much reach,” Nari wisecracks snarkily, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and sauntering away, disappearing around the corner.
Geonwoo throws an arm over Seah’s shoulder as she grimaces, the two lowering their heads in second-hand embarrassment as they walk to the other end of the courtyard.
You on the other hand, stayed back to approach Hyungwook. Hajoon, wanting to wait for you, leaned against an awning pillar with his arms folded, shaking his head.
“Where are you guys going? I have more proof…”
“Hyungwook, I get that you’re constantly stressed about your grades and that your family hasn’t been the most supportive given what you’ve told me about them and how they pressure you over the littlest failures…but this isn’t the solution.”
“It made me proud of myself, though,” Hyungwook mumbles with his head down. “Don’t you think my family will finally be proud of me for once too?”
You soften, bending at the waist to place a hand on his shoulder, patting upliftingly. “Those who really care about you will be proud of you regardless. You shouldn’t push yourself to meet the demands of others. It won’t help to drain yourself completely in order to fill someone’s expectations wholly.”
“I know you’ve always treated me nicely, Yeonha, but you guys only believe in me and never believe me—there’s a difference.” You right yourself, hand coming off his shoulder as he goes to show you the Girigo software once more, but before he can reload it, you give him a pat on the head and go to where Hajoon was.
“Does it still unsettle you?” Hajoon questions, walking close enough that your arms overlap as you take steps forward.
“Look at Exhibit B, the notification I got when my wish was granted….” Hyungwook calls out behind you and you turn back around, seeing his phone screen flicker on of its own accord, showcasing a large red circle, front and center.
In that final glimpse, your vision fully clouds over almost as though your eyes were doused in the light of roaring fires, reflecting the colors of flared flames. It floods your perception so suddenly and so vividly, you stumble haphazardly, the milk carton in your hand topples to the ground and spilling its contents onto the pavement.
With your sight still saturated in a sea of scarlet, the puddle had become liquid turned into blood.
“Yeonha!” Hajoon reaches out to hold onto your elbow as you try to regain your balance, one foot tripping over the other still. He uses his other arm to right you before he takes a look at your face, eyes widening in shock. “You’re bleeding…”
Only then does it register to you the trails running down from your nostrils, headed for a straight decent to the ground.
Drop.
Tick.
Drop.
Tock.
Drop.
Tick…
Whether you chose to call it superstition, or intuition, or even premonition, in the end, that nameless sense of foreboding was there to stay.
It cuts like a knife.
And stains like blood.
𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 @cycynsstuff @kookoorokoo
🕯️ 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮.
Watching this series for the second time to write made me notice so many details I missed in the first run-through! It's actually crazy how much I analyzed everything for this that it felt like I was back in AP literature class haha. Hopefully that teacher is proud (in spirit) of what I took away all those years ago. Kudos to those who can catch all the symbolism and foreshadowing I stuffed into this update alone! Also, if anyone would like to be notified for future chapters, leave me a comment and I'll add you to the existing taglist!
