(고르티스).ᐟ E.SH x fem!reader
Ft. Hwang Minhyun
IN WHICH —What happens to Seonghyeon when his crush kissed another man in front of him and thousands of other people?
⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ C/W. reader kissing another man, actress 6th member!reader, reader is older than Seonghyeon, jealous!Seonghyeon.
masterlist
2,1k —fluff.
ᢉ𐭩 "You're just going to leave? Again?!"
You glared at the man in front of you, standing with his back facing you on the wet pavement, as the rain hammered on the roof, soaking both of you. Your eyes were glistening with tears, both hands were clutched on your sides as an act to suppress your anger.
"Stop running for once and face me!"
You took a step closer to him, then another step, until you were right behind him. You lifted your hand to pull him in, to make him face you and say something, but your hand hovered on his damp shirt, too afraid to even make contact.
You retracted your hand, once again clutching it as you sobbed behind him, hiding your face in your clutched hands.
"I couldn't... there's no way I could face you after all those things I did..."
He turned to face you anyway, eyes red, filled with tears, staring down at his feet.
You looked up at him, your body shivering from the cold rain and from the anger inside of you after those words he said.
"You're a coward... You're such a fucking coward!" You snapped.
You ran your fingers across your hair as you tried to control your sobs. You looked everywhere around you, laughing bitterly in between sobs as the rain continued to pour down on you.
He finally looked at you, eyes filled with sorrow, filled with guilt. He was silent, just looking at you as if it were the last time he would be seeing you. Then his hands caught your shivering shoulder, making you focus on him, just him.
You wanted to say something, but your mouth was just opening and closing, unable to let out a single sound. Your eyes met with his, looking at each other deeply as his hold on your shoulder tightened.
Then his cold lips meet yours, soft and delicate under the moonlight. You were shocked, eyes wide as your lips stayed still.
"I'm sorry..."
He whispered, his breath fanned your lips when he pulled away just a little. You could only look at him —your mind couldn't comprehend what just happened.
Then he let go of your shoulder, taking a step back without breaking eye contact as a single tear rolled down his cheek. A single step turned into two, then three, then he turned around and walked away, leaving you there, frozen still under the fluorescent light of the moon, as the heavy rain clouded your vision.
Then he was gone before you knew it.
• • •
"And... Cut! Good job, Y/n and Minhyun!"
The rain stopped, the tears stopped, and everyone was cheering behind the cameras. The shoot has officially ended.
Minhyuk walked back to you, giving you a towel with a bright smile.
"Great job, Y/n." He smiled
"You too, Minhyun-ssi!" You replied, taking the towel and wrapping it around your shivering wet body.
────── ✧˚ ༘⋆｡Arc𓂃˖₊⊹ ──────
You've changed into a new set of dry clothes and went straight to your members who were chilling on a bench near the set. They have been coming to the filming set to see and cheer on you —it was your first drama ever after all.
But you were nervous, because it was kinda awkward to act in front of them, especially that last scene where you were kissed by your partner, you knew they would make fun of you and would always bring it up on every occasion.
Just like now.
"Ooh, our star is here!" James was the first one to spot you.
You give him a look before sitting down next to Seonghyeon on the bench.
"Y/n, I can bravely face you too, so can I kiss you now?"
Martin made a kissy face, holding your shoulder, pulling you in. But you shoved his face away from yours, laughing at his ridiculous face.
"Ew, that's disgusting," Seonghyeon said beside you, making a stank face as he looked at Martin disgustingly.
"Someone's jealous." Martin shrugged.
It was true, though, Seonghyeon was indeed very jealous. Not jealous of Martin, but jealous because you, his ultimate crush, got kissed by another man, and the fact that you will probably get kissed by different guys in the future, too.
You've been his crush since trainee days. You were so pretty, too pretty, that it was shocking news for you to debut with them. Your looks were what you'd see in K-Dramas —Soft, delicate, and romantic.
So Seonghyeon was not so surprised when you got offered to be in a romance drama six months after your debut —you were really fitting for the role.
He was so happy for you, but the dread was killing him slowly, especially after seeing you being kissed by someone who was not him.
────── ✧˚ ༘⋆｡Arc𓂃˖₊⊹ ──────
The dorm was dark, the only source of light and sounds was from the TV, as everyone was huddled together on the couch in the living room, watching your debut in the K-Drama industry.
You all had agreed to spend a whole day only to watch it, and today was the day.
"Whoa, your acting is so good, Y/n." Keonho said.
He wouldn't stop yapping and praising you every time you came up on the scene, which was most of it. You found it really cute that everyone was very dedicated to watching it, not even a single phone in sight the whole time.
"For real, especially that last scene where you cried so hard under the rain? I was so impressed." James praised, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.
"That scene is right after this scene." You spoiled.
They cheered after you said that, waiting for the most insane scene in history for them —even the fans went crazy over that scene. But you were so not ready for that scene, you felt flustered already by just remembering it.
Then, finally it came, the scene everyone was excited for.
You saw yourself crying and yelling in the rain, and you were kinda impressed by your own acting, to be honest.
Martin was biting his fingers, too focused on watching. Juhoon's mouth was agape because of that scene, James grinning like a maniac, but he was actually super proud and excited. Keonho was already tearing up from your acting.
And Seonghyeon... well, he looked pissed for some reason.
You've noticed how silent he has been the whole time, but you didn't think much of it, because sometimes he just couldn't control his face, so you shrugged it off.
While in reality, he was holding back jealousy. Seeing you in a romantic relationship with another person, even though it's fictional, still made him jealous.
The kiss happened before all of you could process, everyone was cheering like they were watching a baseball competition or something, and you were hiding under the blanket, too embarrassed to look at all of them.
Seonghyeon giggled at your flustered state. He always thought you being shy was the cutest thing ever, and for a second, he forgot you were flustered because you kissed another man.
"AAAH THEY'RE KISSING!" James yelled, pointing at the screen, which was paused.
The room immediately became chaotic, just from that one simple scene. Everyone was yelling while running around the room as if celebrating. You could only hide yourself further inside the blanket, your cheeks hot as blood rushed into it.
────── ✧˚ ༘⋆｡Arc𓂃˖₊⊹ ──────
Later that night, they all went straight to bed since it was already midnight when you all finished all of the episodes.
You couldn't sleep, you were still flustered and everything. But most importantly, your mind kept drifting to Seonghyeon.
He was your closest friend among all the members, and just like everyone said, a boy and a girl couldn't be just friends forever. It was true, you've realized a long time ago that you have a growing feeling toward Eom Seonghyeon himself.
Unbeknownst to you, Seonghyeon does too. So both of you were just stuck in this cycle
You sighed, throwing the blanket off of you, and went to the kitchen to grab some water.
Seonghyeon was already there, holding a glass of water himself as his other hand scrolled through his phone. When he looked up, he spotted you walking towards him.
Your eyes met each others.
"Water?" He said, lifting up his glass to offer you some.
You smiled, making your way next to him and grabbing the glass from his hand — it had become a normal thing for you and the other members to share food and drinks from the same plates and glasses.
"Why are you still awake, Hyeonnie?" You asked, sipping the water before putting it on the counter behind you.
He looked at you —the dark was visible beneath his eyes, showing clearly that he was tired and sleepy. He is, in fact, tired and sleepy, very. But the thing is, he was restless, his mind kept replaying the scene over and over again, and he was pissed.
So that's why he was hanging out in the kitchen with his own thoughts, trying to erase the image of you and Minhyun from his brain, but no matter what he does, it's still there, refusing to fade away. And it only got worse when he saw you coming out of your room and making your way to the kitchen.
"I couldn't sleep." He stated simply, as if it were the most normal thing ever, when in fact, it was a rare occasion.
You looked at him questioningly. He could fall asleep easily, especially due to how hectic Cortis's schedule was —you knew something was on his mind.
"Something's on your mind?" You directly asked, earning a gulp from him beside you.
Seonghyeon sighs. This was the one thing he's bad at —masking his emotions. It was clearly written on his face that he was frustrated.
And before he could even think of an answer to your question, you were already ahead of him.
"Is it because of that scene?" You turned your body to face him fully.
He looked at you, the tips of his ears felt hot, and his throat felt dry. His mouth kept opening to say something, but he couldn't muster up a single word.
In front of him, you chuckled at his state. Even with the dim light of the kitchen, the red on his cheeks was very visible in your eyes.
You took a single step forward, earning a small gasp from him as you looked up at him. He could only blink, his lips parting from the gasp. He didn't know what to do —his mind instantly went blank and fuzzy after you got too close.
You smiled, then looked at your feet, biting your lips as you rethought your decision. Then you looked back at him, standing on your toes as you pecked his lips softly.
...
"What... was that for?" He quietly said, his eyes half lidded as his heart beat kept increasing.
You retrieved the water from the counter, sipping some water before answering him.
"So you could get some sleep." You said, as if it was the most normal thing ever, before continuing. "So you wouldn't think of the scene."
He blinked, once, twice. Then his hand found your shoulder, turning you to once again face him.
You looked at him, almost scared. You thought he was mad that you kissed him —your mind was everywhere on the negative side as your grip on the glass tightened.
"I almost died..." He trailed. "Now I wouldn't be able to sleep because you kissed me..." His face was beyond flushed now, his eyes teary from the fluttering feeling in his heart.
You stared at him with your mouth agape. The reality just hit you, your own face is as flushed as his now. You didn't know what had gotten into you. Where did the confidence come from?
"Seonghyeon—"
You were about to explain yourself before getting abruptly interrupted.
In the blink of an eye, his lips were already crushing into yours. It caught you off guard —you were frozen still, unable to move any single one of your limbs, as your eyes were widely open.
His lips stayed longer than he intended —he just couldn't help it, especially after he felt your soft lips for the first time. He tought,
So this is what it felt like.
You finally melt into the kiss, closing your eyes as your hands cup his jaw. His hands were still on your shoulder, unmoving, as the kiss lasted a little bit longer.
When both of you finally pulled apart, the tension was thick, as if you could cut it with a scissor or something. Both of your faces were red under the fluorescent lighting.
"Now I can sleep peacefully." He said, caressing your flushed cheek before giggling at your embarrassed face.
Let's just say, ever since that night, each time you were called to play in a drama where you had to kiss another man, later after that exact night, Seonghyeon would wipe away the kiss and plant a new one onto your lips.
SUM. in which your shy and awkward boyfriend decides to suddenly turn into the clingiest man on earth
(STUDY GROUP MLST) . yoon gamin x fem!reader · fluff, est. relationship, kisses, petnames, skinship, bf!gamin
gamin wasn’t the type to be clingy.
of course, your boyfriend wasn’t cold or distant either. he had his moments—small, discreet gestures that left your heart fluttering for hours after.
a firm hand on your back when you walked through a crowded street, his fingers playing with yours when you watched movies together, a rare but sickeningly sweet forehead kiss when he was feeling particularly bold in the moment.
but today? today was different.
the first incident was when you woke up to find his body pressed against yours, his arms draped around your waist and his face buried in your neck.
normally, gamin was the type of person to unconsciously roll away in his sleep, liking his personal sleeping space and leaving you to tug him back with a whine.
not this morning though. this morning, he was holding you as if you were his lifeline, his breath warm and ticklish against your skin.
“morning,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. you tried to sit up, but his grip tightened, pulling you closer.
“good morning,” he mumbled, his voice deeper than usual.
“gam..you’re holding me pretty tight.”
he hummed in acknowledgment, his lips brushing against your neck. “don’t want to let go yet.”
that was odd. really sweet, but odd. gamin wasn’t usually this affectionate first thing in the morning.
you didn’t question it too much, instead deciding to live in the moment, you let yourself sink back into his warmth.
the second incident came during breakfast.
you were sat on a stool in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the toast to pop up out the toaster, when you felt him approach.
his hands slid around your waist from behind, and he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“gamin?” you asked, surprised at the sudden touch. “what’s up?”
“nothing, just wanna see what you’re doing..” he said, nuzzling against your cheek.
you raised an eyebrow. “are you good?”
“why wouldn’t i be?” he didn’t let go, and you had to awkwardly angle yourself to butter the toast.
he even leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, and then one more to the corner of your lips.
you couldn’t help but giggle at the affection. “someone’s in a real good mood today.”
“maybe,” he said absent mindedly, his voice warm and teasing. but there was something in his tone, that made your chest flutter.
by the time the afternoon had rolled around, his clinginess had reached to a peak.
you were sitting on the couch, trying to read your book, but gamin had other plans—he was sprawled out next to you, his head heavy on your lap as he toyed with the hem of your sweater.
every few moments, he’d reach up to poke at your cheek or tug at your sleeve, stealing your attention away from the pages.
“gamin,” you said with a laugh, finally closing the book and placing it down. “what’s gotten into you today, hm?”
he pouted up at you. “what do you mean?”
“i mean…” you gestured at him practically laying on top of you. “this! you’re like..never this clingy.”
he sat up abruptly, turning to face you—his expression was soft, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. “do you.. do you not like it?”
you blinked. “no! of course i do, gam.. it’s just… unexpected and out of character from you. that’s all.”
for a moment, he didn’t say anything. his gaze flickered down to his hands, which were fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie.
then finally, in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear, he whispered, “i don’t think i show you enough love.”
your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. you reached out to cup his face, tilting it up so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.
“gamin, that’s not true. you show me love in so many ways. you don’t have to force yourself to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“i’m not forcing myself,” he said quickly, his voice confident now. he leaned into your touch, his hands coming up to rest over yours. “i’m not. i just… don’t know. i woke up today and realized i don’t tell you or show you enough how much i love you. and i do. i love you so much.”
your breath hitched at his sudden confession. he was gazing at you with such raw sincerity and love that it left you quite literally speechless.
“gamin…” you started, but he cut you off by jumping forward to press his lips against yours.
his kiss was soft and sweet, but there was an urgency to it, like he was trying to pour every word he’s been struggling into the action.
when he pulled away, he didn’t stop there, peppering kisses along your jaw, your cheeks, your nose, until you were giggling uncontrollably.
“oh my god—gamin, stop!” you screeched, though there was no real force behind your words.
“i can’t,” he said, his voice breathless and full of laughter. “i’m just… so full of love and affection today, and i need to get it all out.”
you couldn’t help but break into laughter at his words, your heart swelling with affection.
“you’re so cute, gam.. and ridiculous,” you said, but you pulled him closer anyway, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“ridiculously in love with you,” he said with a cheeky grin, before tackling you back onto the couch.
the rest of the day passed in a blur of kisses, laughter, and random moments of affection from gamin.
by the time night finally came, you were curled up together under a blanket, your head resting against his chest as he absentmindedly played with your hair.
“feeling better now?” you teased.
“mmh,” he hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “so much better.”
you smiled, your heart feeling the fullest it’s been in your life. moments like this were rare, but they were a reminder of just how much he loved you, in his own quiet, adorable way. and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
✸synopsis: in a school where fists matter more than grades, ga-min keeps gently, stubbornly asking you to study with him until you finally give in. what starts as annoyance slowly turns into a strange, warm pull neither of you can ignore.
✸content warnings: mentions of fighting, fluff and gen z language lmfao
✸wc: 5.7k
✸an: lower case intended, no use of y/n, fem!reader / so happy my man is back from war (the military) lol
[now playing: love hangover — jennie ft. dominic fike]
m.list
next
─────
at your school, books are contraband. well — not officially. but everyone knows the fight network students rule the halls, test scores don’t matter, and anyone caught actually studying becomes target practice for the delinquents who treat every staircase like an arena.
which is why you, the only student who never studies a day in your life, but still aces everything, walk the halls like you own them. you don’t even like textbooks. you think they’re boring. annoying. too wordy. half the time you use them as doorstops or as weapons to smack idiots who annoy you. teachers beg you to put in an outside effort, and you tell them to stuff their effort up a place the sun never shines.
you aren’t strong — not even close. but you’re loud, brazen, mouthy, impossible to intimidate. you kick open classroom doors when you forget your lunch. you throw chalk at people who insult your sneakers. you once corrected a chemistry teacher mid-lecture because she said something stupid, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.
then there’s yoon ga-min.
quiet. ridiculously strong. secretly hates fighting. wears those dumb glasses “for the aesthetic,” because he thinks they make him look studious — even though he’s terrible at it. the kind of terrible where he sweats just looking at a worksheet.
in a school where fighting equals status, ga-min is an oddity. he has the talent, the presence, the strength — but none of the desire. he blocks punches like it’s nothing, but refuses to throw any back. and that makes people itch to provoke him.
you meet him properly one afternoon when two knuckle-dragging third-years corner you near the lockers, furious that you got the highest score on the math mock exam… again.
“she thinks she’s better than us,” one snarls.
you blow a bubble with your gum. “academically? absolutely yes. physically? i would lose in under four seconds. but I’m incredibly fast, so—”
before you can escape, a shadow steps between you and your problems. yoon ga-min.
he doesn’t fight. not unless he has no choice. but he stands like he could take them both down blindfolded. his hands shake — not with fear, but with the tension of holding himself back. the third-years pause. no one wants to be the idiot who accidentally unlocks the quiet kid’s monster mode.
ga-min looks over his shoulder at you and murmurs, soft but firm, “leave.”
you blink. “but they’re literally the ones—”
“you too,” he whispers. “please.”
you shrug. “fair enough.”
you slip past him, toss a cheerful “good luck with all your unresolved anger issues!” over your shoulder, and flee.
─────
later, in the courtyard, he approaches — slow, hesitant steps, like each one is an apology. he adjusts those fake glasses. “sorry about earlier.”
“for saving me?” you ask. “thanks.” you grin. “or is this about watching me almost get pancaked?”
his ears go red. “you’re… loud.”
“i was born this way,” you say proudly.
he inhales like he’s preparing to bench-press something emotional. “there’s something i wanted to ask.”
you smirk immediately. “if this is a confession—”
“it’s not,” he blurts.
you burst out laughing. he flinches like your laughter is physically impactful. then he steels himself, jaw tightening. “i’m starting a study group.”
you stare at him like he just claimed the sky was neon green. “at this school?”
he nods.
“you’re aware that’s social suicide?”
he nods again, slower.
“i… want to learn,” he says quietly. “even if i’m bad at it.” his eyes flicker to you. “and i thought maybe… if you joined… people might not bother it.”
a long, painful silence stretches between you. he waits. you squint at him like he’s grown a second head. then —
“…no,” you say flatly.
ga-min blinks. “no?”
“no,” you repeat, louder, because volume is your default. “absolutely not. zero percent chance. negative probability. if probabilities could owe money, this one would.”
his brows knit together behind those dumb fake glasses. “but… why?”
you throw your hands up. “because i hate studying, ga-min! i don’t do it. i don’t want to do it. i don’t want to pretend to do it. the idea of voluntarily sitting in a room with worksheets sounds like hell. actual hell.”
he stares at you, stunned, like he genuinely thought your natural genius would translate into enthusiasm. it doesn’t.
“look,” you sigh, “you’re sweet. you’re strong. you’re weirdly polite. but a study group? with me? i would die. i would combust. the universe would punish me for stepping so far outside my character.”
ga-min processes this with the seriousness of someone analyzing a battle plan. “but… you’re good at it,” he says quietly.
“that’s the worst part,” you groan. “you want me to help you because i’m smart, but i’m only smart by accident, okay? i don’t do anything to deserve it.”
he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “you really won’t join?”
“nope.”
“not even once?”
“nope.”
“not even just to sit there?”
“i would fall asleep.”
“you could explain something quickly?”
“i would get bored halfway and start drawing on the desks.”
“you don’t have to do homework—”
“homework is a war crime.”
ga-min looks genuinely devastated. not dramatically — quietly. like someone just told him that the library caught fire. he adjusts his glasses again, even though they haven’t moved.
“i thought…” his voice lowers, almost shy. “i thought maybe you’d help.”
ugh. you feel it. that awful tug in your chest.
“ga-min,” you say, softer but still loud because you’re incapable of whispering, “i’m not study group material. i don’t even study for myself.”
he nods slowly. then nods again, like he’s accepting his own defeat. “…okay,” he murmurs.
you shrug. “hey, it’s not personal. but if you ever start a ‘go eat snacks and talk trash about everyone at school’ group, i’m in.”
his mouth twitches. not a smile exactly — but close. he turns to leave. and despite rejecting him… despite saying no… despite everything — you watch him walk away and feel something unpleasantly warm in your throat. because no one at this school wants to study. no one cares about learning.
except him.
and for some reason — some stupid, annoying reason — he wanted you beside him.
whether you join or not… this is definitely not the end of it.
─────
the next day, the halls of your academy are chaos as usual — lockers slamming, delinquents sparring by the stairwell, someone screaming because they lost a bet and have to run laps in the courtyard wearing a cardboard box.
you’re halfway through yelling at a vending machine (“spit out my grape soda, you coward!”) when a shadow falls over you.
you turn. it’s him. yoon ga-min.
glasses slightly crooked from who-knows-what, hair neat in that “i combed it carefully but walked through a tornado” way, shoulders tense with purpose.
you groan. “don’t tell me you’re here to ask again.”
he quietly puts something in your hand. you look down. …it’s a study-group application form.
a form. with your name already filled in.
“i thought maybe… paperwork would help,” he says, earnest as a monk.
“ga-min.” you stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “am i being peer-pressured through administrative documentation?”
he nods very seriously. “yes.”
you shove the paper back at him. “i’m not joining.”
he takes the paper. calmly smooths out the crease. looks up.
“that’s okay,” he says softly.
you blink. “…it is?”
“yes.” a beat. “because i made three more copies.”
he pulls them out like a magician doing a deeply annoying trick.
you slap your forehead. “you’re unbelievable.”
“i know,” he says politely.
you whirl around. “goodbye, ga-min.”
you take three dramatic steps before he quietly hurries after you — not desperate, not pushy, just persistent in that gentle, immovable way.
“you said you’d fall asleep,” he says, keeping pace with your stormy stride. “so the first meeting could be short. ten minutes.”
“no.”
“five minutes.”
“no.”
“three minutes?”
“ga-min—”
“you could just watch.” his voice softens. “you don’t have to study.”
you nearly trip. “what kind of study group is that?!”
“i just… want you there.”
you freeze. he almost walks into you, then stops. the hallway noise fades into a dull roar — fights, shouts, footsteps — but around you two, it feels strangely still.
“why?” you demand. “why me?”
he shifts his weight, eyes dropping to the floor. “because when i’m alone with books, i can’t do it. i get frustrated. angry. i start thinking i’ll never understand anything.” his voice turns fragile. “but when you talk… even if it’s loud, or sarcastic, or you’re insulting me a little…”
“a little?” you mutter.
“…i don’t feel stupid,” he finishes quietly.
your chest goes tight. ugh. you hate feelings.
“ga-min,” you start, softer now, “i don’t belong in a study group. look at me. i belong in detention, or an argument, or possibly a courtroom.”
he finally meets your eyes. and there — behind the big glasses, behind the soft voice and the terrifying strength — is a determination that could split mountains.
“i’m not giving up,” he says. simple. steady. unshakeable.
you scowl to cover the way your heart trips. “i said no.”
“i heard you.”
“and?”
he steps closer. not intimidating — intentional. “i’ll ask again tomorrow.”
you choke. “ga-min—”
“and the next day.”
“no—”
“and the next day.”
“stop—”
“until you say yes.”
you gape at him, speechless for the first time in your loud, brazen, academically brilliant life. ga-min gives a tiny bow, adjusts his fake glasses, and walks away. leaving you in the hallway clutching four study-group applications… and the sinking realization that you are absolutely, utterly doomed.
because he isn’t giving up. and worse? you’re not sure whether you want him to.
─────
the next morning, the sky is bruised-purple — that early hour when the sun hasn’t committed to rising yet. yusung technical high school looms like a half-feral beast, windows glowing faintly from the training rooms where overachievers are already sparring. the air smells like sweat, chalk dust, and the faint metallic tang of someone bleeding from a nose they definitely deserved.
you kick open the gate with unnecessary force because it sticks and because it’s fun, stomping into the courtyard like a one-person parade. and there he is. yoon ga-min. waiting.
leaning against the wall under a flickering security light, bags under his eyes evidence that he arrived stupidly early — maybe even earlier than the delinquents who practice drop-kicks at dawn. he straightens when he sees you.
you stop dead.
“no,” you say. you haven't even taken two steps past the entrance.
“i haven’t said anything yet,” he murmurs.
“i can feel the question radiating off you.”
he swallows, steels himself, and — there it is. “will you join—”
“no!”
you march away with the speed of a person denying both destiny and mild affection.
─────
but ga-min is… persistent. and big. and quiet. and, apparently, has the stamina of a long-distance runner fueled entirely by the power of academic yearning. you’re halfway up the stairs when he reappears at your side, matching your furious pace with calm, steady footsteps.
you glare. “why are you everywhere?”
he adjusts his glasses — a tiny motion, but the light catches the scratched plastic lenses, making them flash like some nerd-coded signal flare.
“i made a schedule,” he says.
“a what?”
“a schedule of places you usually yell in.”
you blink. “…like a patrol route?”
he nods.
you pinch the bridge of your nose so hard you see stars. “ga-min, that is the creepiest and most pathetic thing anyone has ever done for education.”
he colors faintly. “i’m not trying to force you. i just want… to keep trying.”
and somehow that’s worse.
─────
later that day, the gym echoes like a war zone. pads slam. fists crack against wood. students yell over each other about footwork and honor and who gets to fight on the rooftop after class. fluorescent lights buzz overhead like angry hornets. you’re sitting on the bleachers, swinging your legs, happily munching on stolen cafeteria fries.
and because fate dearly hates you —
ga-min appears at the bottom step. slightly out of breath. slightly sweaty. uniform collar rumpled from dodging stray punches. he climbs up to you with the slow determination of a man scaling a mountain.
you throw a fry at him. he catches it. with two fingers. effortlessly.
“stop trying to impress me,” you snap.
he sits beside you — not close, not touching, but near enough you feel the heat radiating off him, warm and steady. comforting in a way you wish it wasn’t.
he clears his throat. “i was wondering if—”
you shove the fry box over his face. “no!”
the box falls into his lap. he looks at it like you handed him treasure.
“these are cold,” he murmurs.
“so is my heart.”
he nods, thoughtful. “i’ll ask again later.”
you nearly choke. “ga-min—”
─────
by the third day, rumors spread — the quiet beast is courting the loud menace. no one knows why. people are taking bets. teachers whisper. delinquents snicker. even upperclassmen watch with that “this is better than tv” expression.
and ga-min? he just keeps showing up. in the hallway. in the cafeteria. outside the building where you nap on the stairs. even once in the detention office — which you weren’t even in, you were just passing by to yell at someone.
each time — “will you join my study group?”
each time — “no!”
but something is shifting. you can feel it.
─────
day six. late afternoon. golden light bleeds through cracked warehouse windows, turning dust into glitter. the school is quieter now — the final bell rang, and most students are out fighting, yelling, or bragging.
you’re alone, sitting on a desk, balancing a chair on one foot while humming aggressively off-key. the door slides open. ga-min steps in. your eyes meet. the chair falls, your foot slips. you nearly eat the floor.
he darts forward — faster than anyone his size should move — and catches you by the elbow before you can collapse. his grip is warm. gentle. firm enough to steady you. soft enough not to startle you.
you swallow. he swallows. silence hums between you, the golden glow catching in his glasses.
“please,” he says quietly. “just once.”
it’s not desperate. not expectant. just… honest.
you hate it. because it hits something deep, inconvenient, and hard to ignore. you pull your arm back, but slower this time.
“ga-min,” you mutter, “i don’t do studying.”
“you don’t have to.” his voice is barely above a breath. “just… sit near me. that’s enough.”
you stare at him. really stare. at the boy who refuses to fight. who wants to learn in a school that punishes it. who keeps showing up for you, again and again, with quiet resolve and slightly crooked glasses.
you feel your heartbeat kick. annoying. terrible. dangerous.
“…i’ll think about it,” you say.
ga-min’s eyes widen — just a fraction. but for him, it’s the equivalent of a full-body gasp.
“i’ll ask again tomorrow,” he murmurs.
you roll your eyes. but you don’t walk away. and he doesn’t either. the dust drifts around you like slow-falling stars. the sun paints his silhouette in gold. for the first time… you didn’t say no.
─────
the next morning, the entire campus feels wrong. too quiet. too expectant. too aware of you.
the yusung technical high courtyard buzzes with whispers as soon as you step through the gate. usually people ignore you unless you’re yelling, fighting with a vending machine, or arguing with a teacher about why gravity is rude.
but today? every head turns. because everyone expects something.
there’s a kid on the roof holding binoculars. someone by the stairwell is holding a whiteboard with “yes or no? place your bets.” written in permanent marker. two delinquents pretend to spar, but keep glancing at you like they’re watching for a sign.
you groan. loudly. dramatically. the sky echoes in sympathy. and then you see him. ga-min. standing under the big jacaranda tree where the early sunlight filters down in pale lavender dapples. the petals collect on his shoulders, in his hair, on the ridiculous glasses perched on his nose. he brushes them off awkwardly, as if embarrassed the world dared to land on him.
he looks like a walking soft-focus shot. you hate it. you stomp toward him. “you started a school-wide betting ring.”
his ear tips turn pink. “i didn’t do anything.”
“your existence did something!”
“oh,” he murmurs, genuinely apologetic.
you want to stay mad. you really do. but then he lifts his gaze — slow, careful, hopeful in that quiet way that shouldn’t work on anyone, certainly not on you, except it does, and you’re furious about it.
“i came early,” he says. “in case you wanted to decide today.”
somewhere behind you, a crowd gasps. someone drops their breakfast bread. you pinch your nose. “ga-min.”
he straightens, bracing like you’re about to punch him — which is insulting because you’re about as threatening as a wet noodle in hand-to-hand combat.
“i haven’t asked yet,” he says, dutiful as a monk.
you exhale sharply. “you’re gonna. i know you’re gonna.”
he nods. slow. steady. unshakable. “will you—”
“ga-min—”
“—join my study group?”
a dead hush falls. even the birds stop chirping, like they’re holding their tiny bird breaths. you glare at him.
he waits.
you glare harder.
he waits harder.
the entire courtyard feels like it’s leaning in, hanging on your answer. your heart thumps annoyingly loud, like it’s participating in the drama. you cross your arms. “i said i’d think about it.”
he nods. “you did.”
“and i did.”
another nod. “okay.”
“…and i’m still thinking.”
a third nod. very calm. very gentle. very, “i know exactly what i’m doing and i’ll keep waiting until the sun collapses.”
you hate him. you adore him. you stomp your foot. “stop looking at me like a kicked puppy!”
he blinks. “i’m not.”
“you are!”
“i’m just waiting.”
you shove a finger toward his chest. “you’re gonna wait forever at this rate.”
his voice drops, quiet as the space between heartbeats. “then i will.”
there’s a small, collective squeal from somewhere behind a bush. you freeze. the breath leaves your lungs like someone sucker-punched you, which is stupid because no one touched you except ga-min… gently… yesterday… when he caught you…
ugh.
ugh.
“fine,” you snap. “fine! you know what? i’ll go.”
the courtyard erupts.
cheering. screaming. someone detonates a confetti cannon they absolutely weren’t supposed to have. a guy starts playing victory music from a speaker. delinquents drop their sparring matches. someone faints on purpose.
and ga-min? ga-min just blinks. slowly. like his brain is buffering.
“go… where?” he asks.
you throw your hands in the air. “to your stupid study group, you menace!”
his face doesn’t change much — no big grin, no dramatic reaction — but something shifts. something warm. something bright. something soft that hits you like a freight train.
“…okay,” he murmurs. “thank you.”
the words hit harder than any punch in this school. you look away before you do something embarrassing like blush, combust, or accidentally smile.
“just this once,” you warn. loud. defiant. lying to yourself.
ga-min nods. but the way he looks at you — quiet, steady, full of something dangerously close to hope — you know it won’t be just once. and the terrifying part? you know you’re going to let him ask again.
─────
you walk into the warehouse classroom expecting ga-min alone — glasses, notebooks, soft stare, the usual. instead, you stop dead. because there they are. three students you never talk to, sitting politely like they’re posing for a brochure.
ji-woo — short, sharp, expression like a judgmental cat. se-hyeon — tall, anxious, holding three sharpened pencils like weapons. hui-won — smiling too wide, like she thinks this is a fun social outing and not a potential homicide. they all look up at once. like they rehearsed it.
you glare. “what the hell is this?”
ga-min looks up from his notebook, calm as a monk in a burning temple. “my study group.”
“…your what?”
“the one i’ve been asking you to join,” he says gently. “i told them you might come.”
hui-won waves. “hi, loud menace!”
ji-woo elbows her. “don’t call her that if you want to keep your teeth.”
se-hyeon immediately panics and drops all his pencils. you blink slowly, like your brain is buffering against its will. “ga-min. why are there three extra people?”
he tilts his head, earnest. “we thought…” a beat. “…you might feel less awkward if it wasn’t just you and me.”
oh no. oh no! your heart does a weird fluttery thing you immediately want to punch. you cross your arms. “i said i’d think about joining, not commit!”
ji-woo adjusts in her seat. “he said you didn’t say no.”
hui-won nods enthusiastically. “that’s basically a yes.”
se-hyeon whispers, “we made snacks…”
you look — and sure enough, there’s a tray of neatly cut fruit and bottled tea arranged on a crate like they’re hosting the world’s nerdiest underground tea party.
the golden late-afternoon sunlight stretches through the broken windows, spilling across the dusty floor, washing everything in warm amber. ga-min stands there, backlit, soft edges glowing like he’s carved out of sunlight and sincerity. and his friends… they’re trying. painfully. awkwardly.
ga-min steps closer — not too close, just enough for his voice to reach only you.
“you said you’d think about it,” he reminds you softly. “so… think here.”
annoying. infuriating. impossible to refuse. you sigh dramatically, so loud that se-hyeon almost drops his pencils again. “…fine. i’ll sit for five minutes.”
the group reacts like someone just announced world peace. hui-won pumps a fist. ji-woo smirks. se-hyeon wheezes in relief. ga-min… his eyes soften, the faintest smile tugging at his lips — barely there, but real. you drop into a chair like you’re being punished.
hui-won immediately offers you tea. se-hyeon scoots two seats over to give you “safe space.” ji-woo is already pulling out a notebook titled plan for loud menace (tentative).
you gape. “you guys are insane.”
“we know,” ga-min murmurs quietly, settling beside you. “but you still came.”
your heart kicks again — traitor. dust floats around you, catching the light like tiny drifting embers. the old warehouse hums with late-day quiet. the study group gathers their notes. and for the first time…
you don’t feel out of place. you just feel… here. and that’s somehow more dangerous than any fight you’ve ever been in.
the first five minutes were supposed to be torture. but somehow it’s… not.
the warehouse classroom hums with a low, warm quiet. stray beams of orange light slice through the broken windows, drifting over stacks of crates and graffiti-covered desks. dust floats in the air like lazy fireflies. someone far outside is yelling about a fight, and two floors below, something metal crashes — typical.
but up here? ga-min’s study group is doing the impossible — not annoying you. sort of.
ji-woo is explaining equations like she’s narrating a crime documentary, se-hyeon is sweating bullets but earnestly highlighting your textbook, and hui-won occasionally slips you snacks like you’re a feral animal she’s trying to befriend.
you sit sprawled backward in a chair, arms crossed. pretending not to listen. but you are listening. unfortunately.
ga-min is beside you — close, but not crowding — quietly flipping to the next page in his notebook, handwriting ridiculously neat. he glances over at you every few minutes, checking if you’re overwhelmed… or bored… or plotting escape. you hate how warm that feels.
“explain this again,” ji-woo says suddenly, tapping a question in your direction.
you snort. “why do you think i can explain anything?”
she blinks at you, unimpressed. “you’ve been following the whole time.”
your spine stiffens. caught. hui-won beams like a proud parent. “you’re basically studying already!”
“shut up,” you snap.
se-hyeon, flustered, flips frantically through a packet. “i—i can find an easier problem—!”
ga-min reaches out, placing a calming hand on the top of the page. “se-hyeon. it’s fine.”
his voice is soft, steady. it diffuses the panic like magic. then he turns to you. your breath catches — just a little — because he’s looking at you like you’re not a menace or a project, but a whole person. like your presence alone changes the entire gravity of the room.
“can i show you something?” he asks.
you should say no. you always say no. but something in his voice — quiet, warm, proud of you without you doing a damn thing — makes you nod before you think.
he flips his notebook toward you. the margin is filled with neat, small handwriting labeled, “ways she learns best (observations)”
your jaw drops. the list says things like: hates silence → background noise helps, visual processing strong, responds to challenge, learns by movement → explain while she walks around, does well when she’s annoyed (????)
you stare at him. “you… studied me?”
he doesn’t even flinch. no embarrassment, no apology. “yes.”
“why?”
he meets your eyes, steady. earnest. impossibly sincere. “because i wanted to understand you.”
time stops. the distant yelling fades. the golden light warms your cheek. the dust motes drift slower, like they’re listening. your heartbeat goes embarrassingly, traitorously loud. you look away first.
“you’re insane,” you mutter again.
but you lean a little closer. imperceptibly. subconsciously. ga-min notices — of course he does — but says nothing.
ji-woo claps her hands abruptly, breaking the moment. “good, she’s trapped emotionally. now let’s go over chapter three.”
“ji-woo—!”
hui-won snorts. se-hyeon almost knocks over his chair. ga-min… he hides a tiny smile behind his hand. and then, somehow, someway, unbelievably… you pick up a pencil.
no one comments. no one breathes too loud. but the entire group subtly vibrates with excitement, like four nerds watching a rare, exotic creature approach a watering hole.
you glare at all of them. “if any of you say a word, i’m leaving.”
silence drops like a holy decree. and quietly, under the warm dying light of the day, in a warehouse full of dust and graffiti and half-broken furniture… you study. with them. with him. for the first time.
the classroom quiets as the sun finishes dying behind the skyline. the others pack up — ji-woo grumbling about her notes, se-hyeon nervously triple-checking his bag, hui-won offering everyone snacks like she’s the group mom. but ga-min? he doesn’t move.
he stands by the window, half-lit, glasses catching the last streak of gold. you linger by the doorway, pretending you’re leaving. pretending you don’t care. but the air feels thick tonight — heavier, warmer. like something is about to happen.
you turn. he’s staring at you. not confused. not shy. not hopeful. something else. something deeper. something that settles low in your stomach and sparks up your spine.
you clear your throat. “what? do i have, like, dust on my face or something?”
he shakes his head, slow. “no.”
“…then why are you looking at me like that?”
he hesitates. just for a second. then— “i didn’t think you’d come today.”
your chest tightens. “i said i’d think about it.”
“people say a lot of things,” he murmurs. he takes one step toward you. and you feel it — that quiet, overwhelming gravity he carries. not aggressive. not demanding.
─────
the school gates groan when you push them open — loud, dramatic, fitting.
it’s early evening, the sky streaked in bruised purple and melting gold. the streetlamps flicker awake, buzzing like they’re gossiping. the air smells like rain that changed its mind halfway down.
you don’t mean to walk close to him. you just… do. your shoulder brushes his once. then again. then a third time, and at that point it’s basically an arranged marriage.
ga-min’s hands are in his pockets. you don’t know whether he’s hiding them because they’re cold, or because if he doesn’t, he’ll do something reckless like hold yours. you’d mock him for it if your heart weren’t misbehaving in your chest.
he keeps glancing sideways at you — quiet, careful, checking.
not because he’s unsure of himself. because he’s sure of you, and that’s somehow worse.
after a block of silence, he clears his throat softly.
“you didn’t have to say yes,” he says.
“i didn’t,” you agree.
another brush of shoulders — you swear it’s accidental, but at this point you’re lying to yourself.
“but you did,” he says quietly.
you kick a pebble. “don’t let it go to your head.”
“i won’t,” he murmurs.
you think that’s the end of it — until he stops walking. you take two more steps before realizing he’s not beside you anymore. you turn, annoyed, ready to give him a dramatic earful— and then you see it.
the way the streetlight hits him — soft, golden, haloed. the way the dusk settles behind him like a backdrop. the way he’s looking at you. not like you’re loud. not like you’re trouble. not like you’re the school’s chaos gremlin with a death wish.
he’s looking at you like you’re something he’s afraid to touch and desperate to keep. your breath snags.
“you okay?” you ask, trying for flippant and landing somewhere near breathless.
he hesitates. then he admits, “i like walking with you.”
you blink. “bro. that’s it? you stopped like someone shot you for that?”
he looks down. rubs the back of his neck. the ears — red. so red. “it felt… important.”
you freeze. he shifts his weight, takes one hand out of his pocket — fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself or fate or both.
“can i—” he stops. tries again. “is it okay if—”
just then, a car drives past too fast, splashing through a shallow puddle. the burst of wind and noise interrupts him. he flinches — not at the sound, but at the moment slipping away. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. resolve hardens in your chest — unexpected, unwelcome, unstoppable.
you step closer. a deliberate step. his eyes widen just slightly — hopeful, startled, young.
“finish your sentence,” you say. softer than you’ve spoken all day.
“i…” he starts, voice barely a breath, “i wanted to hold your hand.”
the honesty of it nearly knocks your soul out of alignment. you look down at his hand — the one still half-raised, trembling with the courage he almost had and the courage he’s still gathering. then you do the unthinkable.
you extend your hand. not all the way. just close enough that if the wind shifted, your fingers would brush. ga-min stares — actually stares — like you’ve just handed him the moon. careful. gentle. reverent.
he hooks his pinky with yours. your heart somersaults. flips. catches fire. betrays you entirely. you swallow. “that’s… cheating.”
“i know,” he whispers. “i’m scared to do more.”
“me too,” you admit before you can stop yourself.
the air between you thickens — warm, glowing, something. and then — pinky still linked — he asks, in a voice that barely holds together, “will you walk with me again tomorrow?”
you don’t look away this time.
“yeah,” you murmur. “tomorrow.”
and this time, he’s the one who stops breathing.
─────
ga-min’s already inside when you arrive — sitting cross-legged on the floor, a single desk lamp plugged into a very illegal extension cord, warm light pooling over scattered notebooks. he looks up the moment the door creaks.
he doesn’t smile. ga-min doesn’t really smile often. but something happens — something softening around the eyes, something warm in the stillness of his shoulders.
“you came,” he breathes.
you toss your backpack dramatically onto a chair. “don’t act surprised. you wore me down with persistence. like a termite.”
his ears turn red.
“i’m… glad,” he says simply.
before you can reply, the door slams open. ji-woo barges in like she’s kicking down the gates of hell. “alright, nerds! let’s—” she sees you. then she sees ga-min. then she sees how close you’re standing.
her jaw drops. her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. she points dramatically between you and ga-min, then screams, “are you two dating?”
you and ga-min speak at the same time.
“no!” you bark.
“not yet,” ga-min murmurs.
you whip toward him. “what?”
ji-woo explodes into fireworks. “oh my god—”
ga-min goes pale, horrified, realizing what he said. “i— i didn’t mean— i meant— not currently— i—”
“dig yourself deeper, romeo,” you hiss.
se-hyeon slips in behind ji-woo, calm as a monk in a hurricane.
“please ignore, ji-woo,” he says with a sigh. “she was dropped as a child. repeatedly.”
ji-woo protests violently. se-hyeon ignores her and surveys the scene. his eyes land on you — then on ga-min, who is staring at you like someone just turned gravity off. he hums. knowingly. “interesting.”
you glare. “what’s interesting?”
“nothing,” he lies smoothly. “your aura is very… loud today.”
“my aura is always loud.”
“yes,” he says. “but today it’s loud in his direction.”
ga-min turns so red you worry he might spontaneously combust.
hui-won joins last, holding snacks like offerings to gods who’ve wronged her. the moment she sees the group formation, she sighs with all the weight of an overworked parent.
“please,” she begs, “please don’t flirt in front of me again. i’m too young for this.”
you choke. “we’re not fliriting.”
“you were holding pinkies yesterday,” hui-won deadpans. “that’s basically marriage.”
ga-min chokes on air. ji-woo shrieks. “i knew it!”
se-hyeon smirks. “ah. so that’s why your aura is glowing.”
you fling an eraser at him. everyone settles — sort of. ji-woo sprawls on the floor like a dead fish. se-hyeon sits with perfect posture. hui-won opens snacks like she’s preparing for a war documentary.
ga-min sits next to you. not across. not beside someone else. next to you. close enough that his knee brushes yours. close enough that your pulse becomes a percussion instrument. he opens a notebook. you open nothing, because you didn’t bring anything useful.
ji-woo leans over to whisper — loudly — “bro. dude. king. you’re so in lo—”
ga-min slams a hand over ji-woo’s mouth so fast it creates wind.
“study,” he says firmly, face burning.
but it’s too late. everyone saw it. everyone knows. everyone understands exactly what you’ve been pretending not to see. and as the lamp glow flickers, dust drifting through the warm air, the smell of snacks filling the room — ga-min looks at you. not for help with homework. not because he’s unsure. because you’re here. and for him, that’s enough.
genre hurt/comfort , yoon gamin x fem!reader cw spoilers for study group up to episode 8 , the fic takes place during the events of/references events of ep 8 , not proofread wc 1475 request for @lexeees and @candewlsy note slytherinshua kdrama fic era is back too 😼😼😼 i always pull through for my man minhyun and i love study group hehe (i rly need to watch the last few eps lmao) net @kstrucknet
“Shit. We’d be having endless meat at a buffet if we went with the plan.”
You could recognize Jiwu’s annoyed tone from halfway across the Earth.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s fine— the owner said he planned to get a new machine.”
Jun, who somehow took the role of the mediator in more situations than you originally thought possible for the red-haired boy.
“Gochujang, you’re actually the one to blame!” Your eyes drifted to the window of the convenience store, watching Jiwu’s arm fly out to point an accusatory finger at Jun. “Why did you have to be so stubborn?”
Their voices muffled from your ears as your gaze shifted to the left, seeing the figure of your boyfriend slumped over the table. You predicted he might be feeling down today. Last year after exams, he spent the day in his room, not answering your calls. If you were lucky, you’d get a reply to a text, but the occurrences were about as rare as the correct answers on his test. You often schemed with his mother on how to cheer him up, as you both hated to see him in that state. Often the only solution was waiting it out, especially when he refused to open his bedroom door.
This year, however, was different than previous ones. Not only did Gamin have even higher expectations for himself coming into the exam, but he was also surrounded by friends who didn’t quite understand the pressures Gamin put on himself yet. As his expectations climbed higher, he also had a steeper way down to fall when they were crushed yet again. He needed something to ground him— and that wasn’t going to happen surrounded by the loud voices of Jun and Jiwu bickering.
The chime of the convenience store bell caught the attention of Sehyeon and Heewon, but the noise wasn’t loud enough to break the dark fog that was clouding Gamin’s head. Your touch usually did the trick, though.
“Hey. Was wondering where you guys might be after exams ended,” you said with a smile, addressing the rest of the group as your hand moved to your boyfriend’s shoulder. He looked up at you, a million thoughts swirling behind those glasses.
“You should’ve come with us, Y/n! We went to the arcade and—”
Heewon’s cheery voice was cut by Jun’s interruption.
“—Gamin absolutely plundered the strength machine, but it was my fault—”
“That all sounds fun, but there was no getting around my part time job today.” Your explanation earned a chorus of hums and nods. Apart from studying with the group, you also worked part time at an animal shelter, caring for stray kittens. Heewon had begged for you to take her to see them sometime soon, and you were fairly sure Sehyeon would want to tag along as well. Everything had just been so hectic leading up to exams that you could barely find time in your schedule.
However, when it came to your boyfriend, you could always find time. And it was clear that Gamin needed some of it today.
“Gamin, let’s go back to my house. You can sleep over tonight. I already told your mom,” you whispered into his ear, hand soothingly rubbing circles on his back. He gave you a curt nod, the saddened expression on his face still not wavering.
“We’ll catch you guys tomorrow, okay?” You helped your boyfriend up and led him out of the store, waving a quick goodbye to your friends.
The walk back to your apartment was silent. You held onto Gamin’s hand tightly as you thought of ways to make him feel better. You’d given him the same talk time and time again. He knew how important he was to you, that he had value in your eyes no matter what he did. But, to him, having his hard work give him the same underwhelming results year after year ate away at his motivation. It would be tiring for anyone. Sometimes you weren’t even sure how he still bounced back days later.
Your apartment always smelled comforting to Gamin. Hours had been spent here together— studying, talking, laughing, kissing. There was something freeing about hanging out at your house, like it was hidden away from the rest of the world. You lived alone, and it was nice to get out of the way of the adults sometimes.
The same routine fell into place the moment Gamin stepped inside the door. He didn’t have to think hard for his legs to lead him to your bedroom, or for his body to fall onto your bed. Your familiar ceiling allowed some of the most comforting memories to flood back to his brain. The first time he saw you, or your first kiss. Every time he had been there to comfort you, and every time you had helped him study.
You soon joined him, laying down right next to him, your head resting on your outstretched arm and your eyes gazing at him with concern. You wondered what was going through his mind at the moment as his body lay completely still and soft even breaths escaped his slightly parted lips. The silence was gentle but delicate. At any moment it would crack and things would break. You could sense it. But you waited until it was time, hoping that now the little action of seeing your face and feeling the comfort of your soft mattress would be enough to start working away at the storm the day had rained down on him.
“Gamin,” your utterance was barely above a whisper. His eyes glanced at you and then settled back up at the ceiling. If he looked at you for too long, he was sure his resolve would break. “I love you. Remember what I said? A big change will happen eventually. Just be steady.”
Sometimes you felt like you were repeating the same words over and over again, unsure if they would really help him. But you would never give up on him. You’d always be right by his side, being his comfort, being his strength when he gave out.
“I know you. You’re so patient, Gamin.” At the call of his name for the second time your fingers brushed his wrist. Hands finding each other once again and all at once his persistence fell.
Gamin never cried. It was almost unnatural to him. Every hardship had to be faced with a smile and unbreaking tenacity. He couldn’t pinpoint the last time he had truly cried. Not that he hadn’t struggled or felt pain or felt like giving up. But rarely were the circumstances so that he felt comfortable enough to do it. Only with you. Only when you were the sole person there to see him.
His tears rolled down the side of his cheek slowly. He was still quiet through it all. The only sign being his grip on your hand tightening, almost desperately wanting to hold you closer.
You often watched your boyfriend, observing his eyes or his lips or his hands as he focused on something. His quirks and motions kept pulling you in. You didn’t know it was possible to be so mesmerized by a single person before you met Gamin. His determination, his drive, his resilience— there was so much about him that was admirable if you looked beneath the surface. Yet he had always been ignored and pushed aside for his grades and intelligence in school. He was dropped into a box that didn’t fit him, confined to a space that only restricted him further. But Gamin loved studying; he loved learning. It was something no one could take away from him, even as the world beat down on his back, testing to see when he would give up and finally stop trying.
But he wouldn’t. Gamin’s stubbornness was both his strength and weakness. It hurt, but it made him who he was.
As he wept silently in your arms, melting ever closer to your embrace, you could only feel pride simmering in you at his hard work. His effort would pay off in due time. You knew it would. For now, he would have to continue being patient, lingering at the feeling of the sweet kisses you gave him as comfort until a day when he felt a bit stronger to stand on his own.
As his tears dried and quick soft kisses were pressed to his warm skin and lips that he could barely muster the energy to reciprocate, he tried to smile. Tried. Moments like these were usually something he enjoyed. Quiet comfort with you holding him so close. But it was still hard to ignore the sickening lurch in his stomach from anxiety at the thought of exam results. It seemed like this time of the year would never get easier for him.
k-drama taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @cosmicwintr,, @blossominghunnie,, @parkjennykim,, @seunghancore,, @emmylksblog,, @bananabubble,, @hrtsvivis,, @hursheys,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows
Warnings: fluff, messy writing??(not exaggerating) not really structured
A/n: word vomit basically. i had LOT of thoughts so yeah it's messy (i wanted to write a lot more but i stopped myself) 🫥 I hope it's readable atleast but anyways I love ga min he's so adorable. also tagging my pookie @slytherinshua
Words: 755
han ul, hyeon woo ver., geon yeop ver.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ Before dating.
• you two started off as just classmates (one that he admired)
• you were pretty, kind AND smart!!!
• how could anyone not like you??
• though that admiration soon grew into something more
• the way his heart tightens a little whenever you meet his eyes
• or the way he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you even during lessons
• he couldn't figure out why (might even conclude that he's sick)
• i feel like he wouldn't even realise that he has a crush until Se hyeon points it out (bless his soul)
• *short circuits*
• at first, he wouldn't know what to do (he's only been interest in studies his whole life, don't blame him-)
• but i can see him be more shy around you after that
• he tries to be discreet but fails
• exposes himself without even realising it 😭 (are we surprised)
• he's just a cutie, okay?
• also wouldn't think of the possibility that you might actually like him back???
• you most definitely confessed first (after all the hints you've dropped, you got impatient)
• surprised that you actually like him back (but is also very happy)
• he'd want to be the absolute best boyfriend to you 🥹🥹
⊹ ࣪ ˖ In a relationship.
• after getting together with you, he'd want to be romantic
• the kind that makes you swoon at every step
• takes inspiration from mangas (we're talking about GRAND gestures, it's just so amazing to him)
• but eventually gives up after a disapproving talk with Se hyeon (and an even more disapproving glance from Ji woo)
• he's trying his best okay :((
• but he's actually more charismatic than what he gives himself credit for
• the type to make you shy with his actions which he doesn't even consider as romantic
• unintentional rizz??
• notices every little thing about you
• you got a haircut? he notices and compliments you
• you got a new hair clip? he buys you several cute ones saying it would fit you
• this also applies to his memory btw
• he'd remember the little things you'd say (even if it's not that important to you)
• because it's important to him
• also crazy eye contact
• yes he'd be shy but nothing beats his eye contact, it's just so important to him
• doesn't realise how much it flusters you 🫠
• loves affection
• hugs, kisses, headpats whatever it is he LOVES it
• but he does have a soft spot for headpats or just you simply running your hand through his hair
• he has insanely soft hair so it kind of became your habit to touch his hair whenever
• the first time you did it, he was kind of baffled
• but after that he began to love it and even crave it (your hands were just so comforting)
• so please give him headpats!! (or else he'll stare at you with his boba eyes until you do, yes this is a threat)
• though he, himself is somewhat on the shy side with affection, he loves to hold your hand
• like i said earlier, he finds your hands warm and comforting so he feels at ease whenever he holds your hand
• he also likes it when you compliment him
• definitely the type to think back on it before giggling to himself (he's so cute help)
• study dates are an absolute must!!
• loves it when you help him with his doubts (definitely stares at you with his shiny eyes when you explain something)
• he gets to spend time with you and study at the same time, it's perfect to him.
• he's not really the type to get jealous
• though he does have his moments, he trusts you so that's what matters
• but he won't hesitate to step in if he sees that you're uncomfortable in any way
• tries not to get into a fight but absolutely will if it's necessary
• will introduce you to his mom pretty early on in your relationship
• he'd be a bit worried about it, thinking she's gonna disapprove
• though she wasn't exactly ecstatic when she found out, she wouldn't express it
• but she'd end up liking you after seeing that you were a positive influence (and you made him genuinely happy, so that's all that matters to her)
