glad to see a new writer for wb manhwa and i already love ur oliver fic 🫶🏻 since ur req open can i request for hyuk with his highschool crush (&& preferably fem!reader) thankyeww!!
Between The Lines
Highschool!hyuk x highschool!fem!reader
Genre ; sfw , fluff
Author note ; Thanks for the compliment :)) I think i will probably do a part 2 fort this fic , since the end is kinda an open one. English is not my first language so im sorry if there are any mistakes, my request are still open !!
Hyuk wasn't exactly what you'd call a model student. He spent most of his time in the back of the classroom, head down, doodling in the margins of his notebook or staring out the window. School was just a thing to endure until the day was over.
But lately, his gaze had been lingering on someone else : Y/n
She sat a few seats ahead of him, always focused, her pencil moving gracefully across her notebook. She wasn't the type to cause a scene or demand attention, but Hyuk noticed her in everything she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way she always make a little smile when she answers a question correctly, little things that most people probably don’t notice.
Hyuk though? He noticed everything.
One day after school, Hyuk stayed behind, pretending to look for something in his desk, but in reality, he was waiting for Y/n. She was always one of the last to leave, making sure her notes were perfect before packing up.Sure enough, she was still there, flipping through her textbook, her brow slightly furrowed.
"Hey, Y/n," Hyuk said casually, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.
She looked up, quit surprised. "Oh, Hyuk. What's up?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "You're pretty good at math, right? I'm kinda stuck on this problem." It wasn't a total lie-math wasn't exactly his strong suit. But more than anything, he just wanted an excuse to talk to her.
Y/n tilted her head, a small smile forming. "Math? Didn't think you'd ask for help with that."Hyuk shrugged, leaning against her desk. "Figured you'd be the best person to ask."
She laughed softly and moved her chair over to make room. "Alright, show me what you ve got."
They spent the next half hour going over equations and formulas. Y/n was patient with him, explaining things in a way that actually made sense to Hyuk. Everytime he got something right, she'd give him an encouraging nod or a quick "See? You're getting it."
Hyuk found himself more focused than he'd ever been in class. Not because of the math, but because of her. As they worked, he couldn't help but notice little things: the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her lips pursed slightly when she was thinking.
At one point, their hands accidentally brushed as she reached for his notebook. Y/n didn't seem to notice, but Hyuk's heart skipped a beat.
"See? It's not so hard once you break it down," Y/n said, tapping the page with her pencil.
Hyuk nodded, trying to act like he wasn't completely distracted. "Yeah, thanks. I guess I just needed a good teacher." Y/n smiled, a little embarrassed, "Happy to help you out."
As they packed up to leave, Y/n glanced at him. "You know, you're not as bad at this as you think. You just need to put in the effort."
Hyuk smirked. "Guess I'll have to ask for your help more often, then."
She laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Well, if you're serious, I'll be at the library after school tomorrow. Feel free to stop by."
Hyuk felt a surge of excitement. "Yeah? Alright, maybe I will."
They walked out of the classroom together, the hallway quiet and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. For once, Hyuk didn't mind the idea of spending more time in school. If it meant getting to know Y/n a little better, he was all in.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd learn more than just math along the way.
I really think im gonna do a second part , let me know what you guys think !
Here’s the thing: no one wants to hire a teenager with no experience.
No experience, no high school degree, no house, no money, no parents– the list of things Hyeok-U is lacking could fill all the empty space in the room. It could land there, between the wall and the bed, on the corner sometimes he ends up sitting, sprawled, undignified, pathetic, just staring at the spot where the paint is peeling on the door.
Fuck all of this.
“We’re all out of kimchi,” he says, and his fingers are tight on the pen, stained blue with the cheap ink, plastic digging on his skin, “can I get you anything else?”
The man frowns, looking down at his noodle then back at Hyeok-U. His shirt has a loose thread by the collar and Hyeok-U wants to sneer at the coarse material. “No, I want the kimchi.”
He takes a deep breath, exhales. “It’s all out, I’m afraid.”
“Listen, I know how this works,” the man continues, huffing and puffing his chest like any amount of posturing will make kimchi magically appear in the kitchens, “just because you’re too lazy to go looking–”
“Excuse me,” a new voice pipes from the table nearby– a middle-aged woman that had come in half an hour ago and only ordered a glass of water. Now, she waves the menu in his face, cutting off both him and the Kimchi Idiot. “I’m ready to order now. I want the–”
“Hey, are you listening, boy?” the man snaps, “I don’t have all the time in the world, I’m on my lunch break here!”
A headache is building behind his eyes, a piercing pressure like needles sticking to his brain, and Hyeok-U wants to take the lady’s water and dump it over the idiot’s head. He wants to tell them to go fuck themselves and upturn the table while he’s at it.
He wants to go back to his room at his house and curl up on his bed until his life is no longer a trainwreck.
The pressure builds, his lungs ache. He needs this job, humiliating as it is, he needs the money and he needs the bedroom in the back.
“I told you,” he grits his teeth, bites back all he wants to say, “we’re all out of kimchi.”
The man rears back, gearing up for a tirade, and the menu is being waved again, shrill voice hammering at his skull, and Hyeok-U needs this job to survive, just for a little longer, just until he finds something better, just until he saves up enough–”
“Ya, he already told you there’s no kimchi, what are you nagging for? And can’t you read? There’s a sign right there saying it’s self-serving,” Ha Na shoulders past him to glare down at the man, her own stupid apron gone, and it makes the guy cower back into his noodle and the lady settle down as if knowing she could throw them out with her bare hands.
Hyeok-U burns with shame.
Is it not enough that he’s living off their pity? Does he need to be saved from stupid customers now too?
It’d be easier if they had just shut the door on his face the night he came knocking. Anyone else would’ve. Hyeok-U would’ve, had the roles been reversed. Fuck, if shit hadn’t hit the fan, he probably still would’ve.
“Come on, we need to talk,” she nods towards the kitchen, turning sharply without a word about the incident, without checking to see if he’s following. Of course he’s following.
Eyes fixed on the floor, he hears the door close behind him, lets the warm smells of the room envelop him. It’s completely unfamiliar but comforting. Mrs.Chu is bustling around and finishing orders while Ha Na has already taken over the sink to wash noodles. “There,” she says, “the brat’s here.”
He swallows down whatever bristling comment he wants to make, hating the warmth he feels rushing up to his cheeks, knows his face is probably growing blotchy in angry embarrassment. “Did you need me to do something?”
Mrs.Chu smiles– always kind, always gentle, absolutely bewildering. “No, no, just letting you know they’re leaving for a bit, so we’re closing the shop for a while. Actually, would you put up the sign at the door? Don’t let anyone else come in, alright?”
The clock reads a little after one in the afternoon, ticking away innocently on the wall above the oven. They want to close the shop now? “Sure,” he tries not to frown, after all, what does he know about running a business? Wasn’t he the one being a bitch to the servers barely a week ago?
“Ha Na, I think I know where they are, we need– oh, hey, you’re here, right!” It’s Mun, barging in from downstairs, from the weird gym they have probably, and Hyeok-U has been there before, knows this on his bones, but can’t remember when. It’s like trying to catch a handful of water. Now, though, he worries only about not twitching like a scared fucking rabbit because Mun greets him just like that. Hey, you’re here. Like he forgot, like he doesn’t mind, like he doesn’t remember all the times Hyeok-U fucked up his life. You’re here. Yes, yes, he is, and how come Hyeok-U is the only one who seems to realize how fucked up that is?
Sometimes, he wants to shake Mun by the shoulders, ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing.
“Uh, Ha Na? We should go do… that thing?” Mun blinks, stumbling a little, and Ha Na is dumping the noodles in a bowl too small for them, uncaring how it spills on the counter, “like, right now? Right? Right now would be great.”
“Let’s go,” she shoves past him again, rolling her eyes all the while, zips up her tracksuit, and takes a minute to give him a look, “don’t do anything stupid. And don’t let assholes off the hook, it’s bad for business.”
Well, it’s a bit too late for that last one, isn’t it?
Mun clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. “Right. Bye?”
“Be careful,” Mrs.Chu says, wiping her hands on her apron and fluttering about, fretting and fussing, “and call me if anything happens, do you hear me? No unnecessary risks!”
Mun beams, nodding and bowing, and Hyeok-U looks away, goes to mop up the water Ha Na spilled. He doesn’t understand what the hell is going on with these people, what they are to each other, and they’re all so fucking weird, but it’s–
Whatever. He needs to flip the sign at the door.
Making a beeline out of the kitchen and to the entrance, he watches through the glass door as Mun tries to shove Ha Na out of the way and take the passenger seat but gets pushed instead. Mo Tak is shaking his head behind the wheel, saying something that makes Ha Na smirk smugly at Mun.
Mun takes the backseat, laughing.
The van takes off, tires screeching. Hyeok-U flips the sign.
His chest is aching as he turns away, back to the shop, back to his job, back to his shitty room and shitty life, and knows he should be grateful, after everything.
Instead, there’s just something that hurts oddly like longing.
I’m sorry but when Eun-Hyeok promises Eun-Yu that’ll he’ll came back safe. And then Eun-Yu realised that it’s been too long and Eun-Hyeok isn’t coming back so it cuts back to the scene where he says “When someone makes a promise that is almost impossible to keep. It’s a lie” and then she starts sobbing and screaming “you promised! You promised to come back!” And has to be pulled away. Then it cuts to Eun-Hyeok putting on Eun-Yu’s earphones that she’s always seen with and listening to her music. While looking at a little photo of them she stored in her Walkman. And then on a close up of his face, smiling and crying, he’s slowly crushed under the building.
Quand les vieux démons réapparaissent et que Melimelo nous vend du rêve avec un nouveau battle de rap
“T'es rempli de merde, c'est peut être pour ça que t'es plus large que moi.
T'as pas le même âge que moi, le même flow que moi, c'est pourquoi, personne parle de toi.
Tes phases périmées, à ta place même éméché, la peau ébréché, j'oserais pas les rapper.
Rappelle toi que t'es qu'un rat, je t'autorise à rapper parce que tes couinements me font rigoler.
Tu finiras immolé, ma musique frôlera l'immortalité,
Il n'a pas idée, de la force de son adverse et, il mourra hébêté.
Ta carrière entière est en mensonge, ce diss est un détecteur.
Améliore-toi un peu, je t'autoriserais à te faire appeler rapper.
Je suis un faiseur de miracle, une seule punch et tu vois trouble.
Met plus mon nom dans tes diss histoire que ta popularité double.
Ce battle est chiant, j'envoie des missiles, toi des coups de coudes.
Allez on s'dit que tout couplet était mauvais parce que c'était pas ton jour.“ Hyeok
