cw: kissing, reader is like?? more experienced than him. idk
summary: ur best friend still doesn’t know how to kiss… at the big 23… it’s immoral not to help him out
masterlist | next part ->
you and jisung had known each other for entirely too long. you had met each other in middle school and became best friends by the mystical power of forced proximity; having been seated next to each other in homeroom from the start of the year, and this friendship had stuck it out ever since.
really you had been through thick and thin. he was with you through your parents divorce, you were with him through his pokémon phase that lasted way too long (bless his heart). it was practically an unspoken rule that there was nothing you wouldn’t do for each other. and that is how you found yourself trying to overcome, maybe your most interesting friendship obstacle yet.
“okay, are you lying, or you’re serious.“
jisung dropped his head into his hands and sighed. as close as the two of you were— this is so humiliating.
“why would i even want to lie about something like this. seriously.”
you brought two fingers to your lips to halt your laughter. it wasn’t even that you were laughing at him because you thought this was embarrassing for him. it was more disbelief than anything.
how can someone this handsome and this funny, never have kissed anyone, in his life.
“this is just a crazy thought for me, that’s all. i’m not laughing at you.”
“right. ‘cause i can see you laughing, but maybe i’m just crazy.” jisung squinted and tilted his head at you, accusingly.
“no, jisungie, stop,” you reached across from you to push his arm. “i’m just shocked. for starters, i swear you’ve had a girlfriend before…”
“yeah, that might be true.”
“in like, the last year of high school?”
“yeah, maybe.”
“ok, cut that out. what did you guys even do if you’ve never kissed anyone before?”
“uhh, yknow, like,” he scratched the back of his neck, “hold hands and cuddle. like the stuff you do in a relationship.”
“oh, ji, you angel.”
“don’t do that.”
“did she never even try to kiss you?”
jisung attempted to ruffle the stress out through his hair. this isn’t an interview, why was he nervous?
“yeah, i mean. she did. but i think i missed my cue..”
“jesus, ji.”
“i wouldn’t have known what i was doing! i didn’t wanna embarrass myself.”
“park jisung, how would you know what you’re doing if you’ve never done it before? riddle me that one.”
jisung stared at you blankly. then he started to laugh.
“oh, i never even thought of it like that. oh, jeez…” he ran a hand over his goofy face.
“now you’ll never know.” you shrugged at him, getting off the couch and walking into your dorm’s kitchen. “juice?”
jisung didn’t respond. the cogs turning in his brain were working overtime— you could practically see the steam rising off his head.
“guess not! look, ji, all you need to do is get invited to a party, find someone cute and kind and just, hope your first kiss isn’t completely—
“we should kiss.”
in the time it had taken you to pour a glass of apple juice, jisung had made it from the living room couch, to directly next to you, in complete silence. and now your apple juice was on the counter.
“shit, jisung, make a little noise when you approach someone!” you pushed at his chest and started to wipe up the juice. until it registered in your brain what he had just said. “wait what.”
“what?”
“you said we should kiss??”
“we should? i mean if you think it would help..” jisung laughed nervously.
“dude. is that not what you said..?”
jisung dropped his head down. “no, yeah, i mean. i just think like, you should teach me. like we should practice— i should practice.”
you looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of every sitcom you’ve ever watched. has this ever worked for anyone? has the outcome ever been good? you couldn’t remember.
“yeah, ok. let me put away this juice, that you ruined.” you teased.
jisung’s eyes widened. though he was the one to suggest something so crazy, the thought of you going along with it had never crossed his mind. for some reason.
“if you wanted to kiss me, what would you do?”
pfft. if he wanted to kiss you.
jisung’s face flushed. “what do you mean?”
“like, how would you initiate it? what would you do?”
“can i kiss you, please?”
your brows furrowed as you smiled at him.
“yknow what, that would most definitely work on me, but you have to be a little inconspicuous sometimes. ask me that again, without saying anything.“
“well, that’s just impossible.”
“ji… use body language.”
jisung pointed a confused expression at you.
“okay, how about this? i’ll pretend i’m you. take mental notes. ‘kay?”
jisung swallowed and nodded his head as you wordlessly walked towards him. you batted long lashes up at him before looking down at his lips momentarily, only to flick your eyes back up to his.
“i just asked you to kiss me. did you feel it?”
his face was hot. “i felt it.”
“now, the key thing there was eye contact. i held eye contact with you like, ‘i gotta tell you something,’ and i looked at your lips to say ‘it’s about kissing.’ you get?”
“mhm”
“now!” you patted both your hands onto his shoulders, “jisungie’s first kiss. it’s an honour, really.”
jisung sighed out a breathy laugh. he was nervous as fuck and if it wasn’t obvious by how stiff his shoulders were under your hands, it was definitely obvious now.
“you’re pretty tall so you’ll have to bend a little bit just,” you held his right hand, bringing it up to your neck and the other, placing it on the small of your back, “this is like standard hand placement, kinda. just dip your head and kiss me, ji.”
what a sentence, honestly.
you moved your hand to the back of his head to gently coax him a little closer to you until he finally found the confidence to catch your lips in a kiss. short but sweet. and to say it was his first kiss, he was a natural. uh oh!
“ji, that was really, very nice…” you blinked at him and he covered his face in embarrassment. “did you lie about that being your first?”
he scrambled to defend himself, “i swear, i swear it was! you— i just copied you.”
you hummed skeptically. “mm, okay, fast learner. this won’t take long.”
as ridiculous as it sounded in his head, why was he unhappy to hear that from you?
“i guess we can already move on to a real kiss. since that was like, the tip of the kissing iceberg.”
jisung raised a hand to his forehead, “kissing iceberg… yeah, ok.”
“so… lesson two. this time you gotta open your mouth juuust a little. are you scared?”
the peaks of jisung’s cheeks grew pink, “of course not.”
“good, confidence is key.” you moved your hand in a beckoning motion, “kiss me again like i taught you, ji.”
jisung leant down to kiss you again, now moving both hands to either side of your waist. you assumed that his feigned confidence was manifesting its way into his actions but in reality, he held you for his own stability.
you moved your lips against his in a soft and slow rhythm for a few seconds until you pulled away slightly to whisper,
“i’m gonna use my tongue now, don’t freak out.”
you could feel his hands shake against your body, “o-okay, sure.”
you tilted your head as you kissed him again, and as soon your tongue pushed past his lips, a soft moan rose from the back of his throat.
the sensation of your tongue against his made his cheeks turn a deep pink. you knew, and he knew that this was just a ‘lesson’ on how to kiss. yknow, to aide him in.. future endeavours. but with each soft sigh of yours into his mouth, he started to worry less about any of what’s to come and focus on you. your lips on his, your body— and so he pulled away.
“we should probably stop.” jisung put his hand on the back of his neck in efforts to cool it down somewhat. to no avail.
not that he’s a gentleman but he’s fighting for his life to stop the blood flow to his dick..
“you feel that you’ve learnt enough?” you smiled at him and he groaned internally.
he nodded and you patted his chest. “cool. you did good, ji.”
“t-thank you.”
a/n; part 2 coming when school stops trying to kill me 🤫
warnings: fingering, slight restraint, praise, m x f, condom use (stay safe people), ji is a soft dom, (im super new to writing smut so if I missed any I AM SO SORRY)
summary: There’s something about the universe that makes everything feel bigger—and smaller—all at once. This fic is about a night that feels infinite, and the silence that follows when it ends too soon. it’s about almost-love, fear, and the kind of connection that doesn’t really leave, no matter how far you run from it. Set between soft starlight and quiet mornings, it follows two people who meet at the right time… but not in the right way—and what happens when they’re given a second chance to do it differently. it’s messy. it’s honest. it lingers.
a/n: hiii! I’ve been waiting to post this since I saw the vlog of ji at the planetarium </3. I had eye surgery so the writing and post got delayed…but after some time IT’S READY!! Also this is my first time writing smut friends so I’m sorry if it’s bad 😔 let me know what you guys think :)
The evening air in Seoul carried a crisp edge, the kind that hinted at autumn's arrival without fully committing to the chill. You adjusted the scarf around your neck as you waited outside the planetarium, the grand dome looming like a silent guardian against the city lights. Jisung had texted you twenty minutes ago, apologizing for being late—practice had run over, as it often did with NCT schedules. But you didn't mind. Moments like this, stolen from his whirlwind life, felt precious.
Your phone buzzed.
Tosung Park 🪐
here, look up!
You glanced skyward, and there he was, jogging across the plaza with that familiar lopsided grin. Park Jisung, all six feet of him wrapped in a black hoodie and jeans, hair tousled from the wind. His eyes lit up when he spotted you, and he quickened his pace, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of vanilla and exertion.
"Sorry," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your ear. "Wouldn't blame you if you ditched me for the stars already."
You laughed softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. Those dark eyes, always so earnest, held yours for a beat longer than necessary. He looks down at your phone to see his contact on your screen. “Tosung Park?” he said through a stifled chuckle “you remembered the korean word for saturn I taught you and made it my nickname?” he smiles.
“Yeah..I thought it was fitting.. especially with all the rings you wear.” A faint smile and blush crept onto your face.
He blushed, a faint pink creeping up his neck, as he took your hand smiling. His fingers intertwined with yours seamlessly, calluses from guitar strings brushing your skin. "Come on. Show's starting soon."
Inside, the planetarium hummed with quiet anticipation. Jisung had booked a private dome viewing—just the two of you under the massive projector. He led you to the reclining seats, his excitement bubbling over as he settled beside you, arm draping casually over your shoulders. The lights dimmed, and the ceiling bloomed into an infinite canvas of stars.
Jisung's voice was a low whisper in the dark. "This is my favorite part of escaping. Space doesn't care about schedules or comebacks. It's just... endless." His thumb traced lazy circles on your arm. As constellations wheeled overhead, he pointed out Orion's Belt, then Cassiopeia, his words weaving facts with wonder. "Did you know neutron stars spin a thousand times a second? They're tiny but so dense, holding more mass than our sun."
You turned to watch him, the starlight casting soft glows across his face. His profile was sharp yet boyish, lips parted in quiet awe. "You're glowing," you said, half-teasing.
He glanced down, catching your eye. "Nah. That's you." The projector shifted to a nebula, swirling pinks and blues filling the dome. Jisung leaned closer, his free hand finding yours again. "This one's the Orion Nebula. Stars being born right there. Makes you feel small, right? But in a good way."
The show progressed, galaxies spiraling into view, black holes devouring light. Jisung's arm tightened around you during the cosmic collisions, his body a steady anchor. When the Milky Way unfurled in high definition, he sighed contentedly. "I could do this every night."
After the presentation, neither of you moved. The dome stayed dark, stars lingering like an afterimage. Jisung shifted, turning fully toward you. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Thanks for coming here with me. It's better with you."
You leaned into his touch. "Always."
His kiss started slow, lips pressing softly against yours in the starlit hush. It deepened naturally, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you parted for him. He tasted like the mint gum he'd chewed earlier, mixed with something uniquely Jisung—warm, inviting. When you broke apart, foreheads touching, he whispered, "Your eyes... they look like the universe right now. All those stars reflecting back at me."
Heat bloomed in your chest. You kissed him again, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The dome felt like your own private cosmos.
Hand in hand, you left the planetarium into the night. Jisung suggested a walk along the Han River, the city lights mirroring the stars you'd just seen. Street vendors hawked hotteok and fish cakes, but he waved them off, more interested in stealing glances at you. "Hungry?" he asked, stopping at a bench overlooking the water.
"Starved," you admitted.
He pulled a thermos from his bag—homemade ramyeon, still steaming. "Figured we'd need fuel after all that cosmic energy." You ate side by side, knees touching, his shoulder against yours. Conversation flowed easy: his latest track ideas inspired by space sounds, your work stories, dreams of traveling beyond Seoul someday. Jisung listened intently, nodding, his eyes never straying far.
As the night deepened, he stood, offering his hand. "My place? It's closer, and I don't want this to end yet."
You nodded, heart racing.
His apartment was a cozy haven in the chaos of idol life—posters of space missions on the walls, a telescope by the window, vinyl records stacked neatly. Soft lighting from a galaxy projector painted the living room in purples and silvers. Jisung kicked off his shoes, pulling you into the kitchen for tea. "Chamomile? It’s my favorite."
You watched him move with quiet grace, sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms honed from dance practice. When he handed you the mug, his fingers lingered on yours. "You know," he said, voice dropping, "I've been thinking about you all week. That date at the planetarium? I’ve been planning it forever."
"Romantic," you teased, sipping the tea. “What’s this?” You ask, gesturing to the massive telescope.
He follows your gaze to the telescope, and for a moment he looks almost shy—like you’ve caught him in a private corner of himself he doesn’t usually share. “That?” he repeats, setting his mug down carefully on the counter as if the answer deserves full attention. “That’s my escape hatch.”
You tilt your head. “Escape hatch?”
A soft laugh slips out of him, warm and unguarded. “From everything. From schedules, noise, people talking at me all day.” He walks over to it, fingers brushing along the metal frame with something close to affection. “Up there, it’s just… quiet. Even if it’s not actually quiet, you know? It feels like it is.”
You step closer, drawn in by the way the galaxy projector light spills over his face, turning his features softer, almost unreal—like he belongs more to starlight than to this room.
He glances back at you. “Come here.” You do. Jisung gently adjusts the telescope’s angle, motioning for you to stand beside him. His shoulder brushes yours, intentional or not—you can’t tell, but he doesn’t move away.
“Okay,” he says, voice quieter now, slipping into something patient and focused. “So this is a refractor telescope. It basically gathers light through lenses here—” he taps the front carefully, “—and focuses it so you can see things our eyes can’t really catch on their own.”
You lean in slightly, trying to follow, but your attention keeps drifting between the telescope and him. He notices. Of course he notices.
He smiles faintly. “You’re not listening.”
“I am,” you insist, though it comes out weaker than you intended.
He hums, unconvinced, but not teasing you for it. Instead, he steps closer behind you, guiding your hands gently onto the adjustment knobs. “Try it,” he says. “Slowly turn this one.” His fingers cover yours—warm, steady, patient. You feel the faint pressure of his guidance more than his touch, like he’s making sure you’re the one in control even while he’s right there with you. As you turn the knob, the telescope shifts with a quiet mechanical sigh.
“There,” he murmurs. “Now it’s aligned with the window.”
You hesitate. “With the window?”
He nods. “For now. The city lights are a little too bright to see deep space properly from here. But you can still see something.” He steps aside slightly, gesturing for you to look. You hesitate again, then lean forward.
At first it’s just darkness. Then slowly, your eyes adjust—and there, scattered through the haze of light pollution, a handful of stars begin to appear. Faint. Fragile. Still real. A quiet breath leaves you. Jisung watches your reaction more than the sky.
“They look closer than they are,” he says softly. “But they’re not. Some of them might not even exist anymore by the time their light reaches us.”
“That’s… kind of sad,” you whisper.
“Or kind of beautiful,” he counters gently. “We’re always seeing the past. Even when we think we’re looking at now.” You stay like that for a moment, hands still on the telescope, his presence just behind you like a steady gravity.
Then he adds, almost casually, “You know what I like about it most?”
“What?”
He pauses, and when he answers, his voice is quieter than before. “It makes me feel small in a good way. Like my problems don’t get to be the center of everything.” A beat passes. Then you glance back at him slightly. “That’s very philosophical for someone with a galaxy projector and vinyl collection.” He laughs, real and bright this time. “I contain multitudes.” The telescope clicks softly as he adjusts it again.
“Here,” he says. “Try this.”
He guides your hand upward just a fraction, and suddenly the view shifts. A brighter point of light settles into focus—steady, glowing more than the others. “That’s Jupiter,” he says. Your breath catches. “That’s… Jupiter?” “Mhm, you can’t see the stripes clearly from here, but sometimes—if the air is steady—you can catch a hint of them.”
You don’t look away. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“It is,” he replies. A pause. Then, softer he adds: “And you’re seeing it the way I see it when I miss you on tour.” You turn slightly at that, startled by the honesty tucked into something so simple. He doesn’t look embarrassed. Just calm, like he’s decided not to hide it. “I always come back to this,” he continues, nodding toward the telescope. “Because no matter how far I go, the sky is the same. It’s like… a reminder that distance isn’t the same as absence.” The room feels quieter than before. Even the galaxy lights seem to dim into something more intimate. You finally step back from the telescope, turning to face him fully now.
His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I mean it." His lips found your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your pulse. You tilted your head, a soft gasp escaping as his teeth grazed lightly. "I want to make you feel like you're floating among the stars." He whispered gently.
The tea was forgotten. Jisung guided you to his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you. Moonlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, mingling with the projector's glow. He kissed you deeply, hands roaming your sides, slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your spine. Clothes shed slowly—his hoodie first, revealing a plain white tee clinging to his lean frame. Yours followed, his fingers deft but unhurried, reverent.
Naked now, skin to skin, he laid you back on the bed, his body hovering over yours. Jisung's eyes roamed, dark with desire but softened by affection. "You're beautiful," he breathed, voice roughened. His mouth trailed down your collarbone, kisses feather-light, then firmer, sucking gently at the swell of your breast. You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He paused, looking up. "Tell me what you want." Always checking, always caring.
"You," you whispered. "All of you."
A low hum of approval. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting you with care, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. He watched your face, adjusting pressure based on your breaths, your soft moans. "Like that?" he murmured, slipping one finger inside, then two, curling them just right. Your hips bucked, pleasure building steady.
Jisung kissed you through it, swallowing your gasps. When you clenched around his fingers, trembling on the edge, he didn't rush. "I've got you," he promised, free hand stroking your hair. Orgasm washed over you gently, waves rather than a crash, his name on your lips.
He shed the last of his clothes, hard length pressing against your thigh. Condom from the nightstand—always prepared, always safe. He rolled it on, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready?"
You nodded, pulling him down. He entered you inch by inch, stretching you perfectly, pausing to let you adjust. Fully seated, he stilled, forehead against yours. "Feels like home." Then he moved—slow thrusts, deep and measured, hips rolling in a rhythm that built heat without frenzy.
His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Look at me." You did, and in the dim light, his eyes held galaxies—yours reflected back, endless and deep. "The universe is in your eyes," he whispered, voice breaking with emotion. He kissed you softly, pace quickening just enough, every slide hitting that spot inside you.
Sweat beaded on his skin, muscles flexing under your palms. Jisung's dominance was quiet, in the way he controlled the tempo, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand when you tried to touch, releasing them to let you claw at his back. "Good girl," he murmured, lips at your ear, breath hot. But it was laced with tenderness—kisses peppered across your jaw, your throat, praises whispered like secrets. "So perfect for me. Feel so good."
You wrapped your legs around him, urging deeper. He obliged, grinding against your clit with each thrust, chasing your second release. It hit harder, pulling him over the edge with you—his groan muffled against your shoulder, body shuddering as he spilled inside the barrier.
He didn't pull away immediately. Stayed buried deep, kissing your temple, your eyelids, murmuring, "You okay? Need anything?"
"Just you," you sighed, arms around his neck.
Jisung eased out carefully, disposing of the condom before gathering you close. The sheets tangled around you, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. He traced patterns on your back—constellations, you realized, from the planetarium. "That nebula we saw? This one's yours." His voice was sleepy, content.
You smiled into his skin. "Promise more dates like this?"
"Every chance I get." His fingers combed through your hair. "Space is infinite. So's this."
Morning didn’t arrive gently.
It slipped in like something unwelcome—thin light stretching across the room, touching everything you didn’t want it to. The galaxy projector had shut off at some point in the night, leaving behind no trace of the universe Jisung had built for you—no constellations, no soft glow, no illusion of infinity. Just morning. Just reality.
You stirred slowly, still caught in the warmth of sleep, instinctively curling closer to the heat beside you.
Except—there wasn’t any.
Your hand drifted across the sheets, half-asleep, searching for something familiar—his arm, his chest, the steady rise and fall you’d fallen asleep against. There was nothing. Cold.
Your eyes opened, lashes fluttering against the unfamiliar quiet. For a moment, your mind refused to catch up, refused to accept what your body already knew. You turned your head.
The space beside you was empty.
Not just empty—undisturbed. The pillow was barely creased, the sheets smooth in a way that didn’t make sense. It was like he hadn’t just gotten up. It was like he’d been gone for a while.
Your heart stuttered.
“Jisung?” Your voice came out soft, sleep-worn, fragile.
No answer.
You pushed yourself up slowly, the sheets falling to your waist, the cool air brushing against your skin where warmth had been hours ago. The room felt different. Too still. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn’t belong in a place where someone should be.
“Jisung?” you tried again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
A faint unease curled in your chest, tightening as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You reached for the first thing you could find—his shirt from the night before—and pulled it over yourself, the fabric slipping down your thighs, swallowing you whole. It still smelled like him. That made it worse.
You stepped out into the hallway, each step too loud, like you were disturbing something that had already settled.
The living room came into view.
Empty.
The telescope stood by the window, unmoved. The vinyl records were stacked neatly. The faint imprint of last night lingered in objects—but not in presence.
Your stomach dropped.
“No… you’re here somewhere,” you murmured under your breath, as if saying it could make it true.
You checked the kitchen. Nothing. The bathroom. Nothing.
Your eyes flicked to the front door. Closed. But something about it felt final—like it had already been opened and shut again long before you woke up.
That’s when your chest tightened for real.
You turned back toward the bedroom, something pulling you there—instinct, maybe, or something quieter. Something that already knew.
And then you saw it.
A small piece of paper, folded neatly on the nightstand. Waiting.
Your breath caught.
For a second, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it. Because somehow, deep down, you already understood—whatever was written there wouldn’t make this feel better.
But your hand moved anyway. Slow. Careful. Like you were afraid it might disappear if you touched it too quickly.
His handwriting. Messy. Rushed. Familiar.
You unfolded it.
I’m sorry.
The words hit you instantly, sharp and quiet all at once.
Your grip tightened.
Something came up. I had to leave early. I didn’t want to wake you. Last night meant a lot to me. I’ll explain soon.
-J
You stared at the note for a long time. Too long. Waiting. For more words to appear. For meaning to shift. For something to click. But it didn’t.
“Soon?” you whispered, your voice barely there.
The word echoed in your chest.
It felt empty.
At first, you tried to understand.
You told yourself this was normal. That his life wasn’t predictable. That things did come up. That maybe he really didn’t want to wake you, not after everything you’d shared. That maybe this was his version of being considerate. So you texted him.
Hey… I woke up and you were gone. Is everything okay?
You stared at the screen after sending it, your thumb hovering like you could pull the message back if you tried hard enough. It delivered.
You waited.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. You told yourself not to overthink it. He’s busy. He’ll reply. He always replies. Eventually, your phone buzzed. Your breath caught as you opened it.
Sorry. Practice ran over. I’ll explain soon.
Soon.
That word again.
You read it over and over, looking for something between the lines—something that sounded like him. But it felt distant. Flat. Like he’d typed it quickly without sitting in it, without feeling it. Your fingers moved before your thoughts could catch up.
Okay.
That was all you sent. Anything more felt like asking for something he clearly wasn’t giving.
The days that followed didn’t break you all at once. They wore you down slowly, like water against stone. At first, he still replied. Still answered. But something had shifted, and you could feel it. In the way his messages got shorter. In the way he avoided specifics. In the way every time you tried to bring up that morning, he redirected gently.
He’d tell you he’d explain properly. Not over text. That he just needed a little time.
Time for what?
You wanted to ask.
Time to find the right words? Or time to figure out how to say something he didn’t want to say? You started to notice the imbalance. You were the one reaching. He was the one responding. And even then—not fully. Never fully.
Two weeks in, something in you shifted.
You didn’t decide to stop texting first. You just didn’t. You waited. One day. Two. Three. Your phone stayed silent…that silence said more than anything he’d ever sent.
He knew exactly when you stopped trying. There was no final message. No confrontation. Just silence. And somehow, that felt worse…because it meant you were tired.
He sat in the back of the van, phone in his hand, your chat open. Your last message—Okay.
He hated that message. Because it didn’t ask anything. Didn’t push. Didn’t hold him accountable. It just… accepted. He didn’t deserve that.
He thought about texting you every day. He really did. He’d type something, stare at it, then delete it. Over and over again. Nothing felt like enough. Nothing justified the way he’d left. The truth sat heavy in his chest—he hadn’t trusted himself with something that real, with someone who made him feel like that.
So instead, he said nothing.
And watched the distance grow.
Spring came quietly. The city softened. The air lost its bite. Light lingered longer in the evenings, stretching across the river in gold instead of gray. Life moved forward, like it always does. You moved with it.
Not completely. Not easily.
But enough.
You still thought about him sometimes. In passing moments. In things that didn’t ask permission to remind you. A song. A night sky. The word soon. Jupiter, especially. Jupiter stayed. You didn’t mean to go back to the river.
It just… happened.
The weather was nice. The air felt light. Like something might change, even if you didn’t expect it to. You sat on a bench, watching the water move slowly under the fading light. You didn’t realize it was the same spot at first.
But your body did.
Your chest tightened before your mind caught up. You almost left.
But you didn’t.
The people of Seoul gathered at the river for spring, friendly neighbors catching up, children running happily, couples picnicking- everything went quiet. Behind you, footsteps. You didn’t turn.
“...You still come here.”
The world didn’t stop. But something inside you did. Your breath caught so sharply it almost hurt. That voice. You knew it instantly. Even after months. Even after silence. Slowly—You turned and there he was.
Park Jisung.
Standing a few steps behind you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be closer.
His hair was longer now, brushing his forehead softly. His frame looked the same—but there was something different in the way he held himself. Less careless.
More… aware.
And his eyes—God. His eyes looked like he’d been carrying something for a long time. Neither of you spoke, how do you start again with someone who never really ended?
“You’re back,” you said finally.
Your voice came out steadier than you felt. He nodded.
“Yesterday.”
A pause. “I—” He stopped himself. Like the words were stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. You stood. Slowly. Not moving closer. Not yet.
“You said you’d explain,” you said.
No accusation. Just truth. His jaw tightened slightly.
“I know.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know.”
The air between you felt fragile.
Like one wrong word could shatter it completely.
“I waited,” you admitted.
The words slipped out before you could stop them. His expression changed instantly. Sharp. Pained. “I waited longer than I should have.” Your voice wavered now. Not from weakness. From honesty.
“I know,” he said again—but this time it broke. Not loudly. But enough.
“Then why didn’t you come back sooner?” you asked.
And there it was.
The question that had lived quietly inside you for months.
He inhaled slowly. Like he needed the air just to say it.
“Because I didn’t think I deserved to.” That wasn’t what you expected. It hit harder than anything else he could’ve said.
“What?” you whispered.
“I hurt you,” he said.
His voice was steady—but his hands weren’t. You noticed the way they curled slightly at his sides, like he was holding himself together. “I left without explaining. I made a decision for both of us and called it protection.” A small, bitter exhale.
“It wasn’t.” Your chest tightened.
“I thought giving you space would make it easier for you to move on,” he continued. “I thought if I stayed away long enough, you’d stop waiting.” Your throat burned.
“And did you?” you asked quietly.
He shook his head.
“No.”
A beat.
“I didn’t stop waiting either.”
Silence. Heavy. Full.
“I tried,” he added. “I told myself I did the right thing. That it was better for you not to be tied to something unstable.” His eyes finally met yours fully. “But every city I went to… every stage… every night I looked up—” His voice faltered.
“You were there.”
Your breath caught.
“In everything,” he said softly. “The sky. The music. Silence.” A faint, broken laugh. “Jupiter, especially.”
That did it.
Your eyes stung.
“I kept thinking about that night,” he continued. “How you looked at it like it was something unreal… and how I told you it was real.” He swallowed.
“And then I went and made us the unreal part.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them. Quiet. Uncontrolled.
“You don’t get to say things like that now,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not after disappearing.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to come back and act like you didn’t break something.”
“I know.”
His voice didn’t rise. Didn’t defend. It just… accepted.
“That morning—” you started, then stopped, your chest tightening painfully.
“You left a note, Jisung.”
He flinched.
“A note,” you repeated, your voice cracking now. “Do you know what that felt like? Waking up thinking something changed overnight? Wondering what I did wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quickly.
“Then why did you leave like that?” you demanded.
“Because I was scared of how much you meant to me.”
The words came out fast. Unfiltered. Raw.
Silence hit again. Harder this time.
“I knew I was leaving,” he continued, stepping closer now without realizing it. “Longer tour than I expected. No control over my time. No way to show up for you the way you deserved.” His voice dropped. “And I didn’t want to watch something real slowly fall apart because of distance.”
Your chest rose and fell unevenly.
“So you ended it before it could even try?” you whispered.
“I thought I was protecting it,” he said. Then quieter—
“I was protecting myself.”
That honesty hurt more than anything else. Because it was real.
“I would’ve tried,” you said. Your voice was softer now. Not weaker. Just… tired.
“I know,” he said. “And that’s what scared me the most.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away.
“You would’ve stayed,” he said. “And I didn’t trust myself not to ruin that.”
You stared at him. Really stared. And for the first time— You saw it. Not just regret. Not just guilt. But fear. The kind that lingers long after the moment has passed.
“I hated myself for leaving,” he admitted. “Every single day.”
Your heart ached.
“Then why didn’t you come back?” you asked again, softer this time.
“Because the longer I stayed away, the harder it felt to face you.” A shaky breath. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I hurt you because I didn’t know how to love you properly?’”
“Yes,” you said.
Immediately. Firmly. He froze.
“Yes,” you repeated, stepping closer now. “That’s exactly what you should’ve said.” Another tear slipped down his face.“I needed the truth,” you said. “Not silence.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to decide how much I can handle.”
“I know.”
A long pause. The kind that doesn’t feel empty. Just… heavy with everything that came before it. “I don’t trust you the same way,” you admitted quietly. His expression softened. “I don’t expect you to.”
“But I still—” you stopped yourself.
Your chest tightened. He waited. Didn’t push. Didn’t interrupt.
“I still think about you,” you finished.
Something in him broke. You saw it happen. “Every day,” he said. Barely above a whisper. The space between you shrank. Not completely. But enough.
“I don’t want easy,” he continued. “I don’t want perfect.” His voice steadied. “I just want real. With you. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s hard.”
Your heart pounded.
“And if you get scared again?” you asked.
“I tell you,” he said immediately. “No running. No disappearing. No ‘soon’ without meaning it.”
A small, fragile silence. “Come with me,” he said softly. You hesitated.
“Where?” He glanced up. The sky stretched above the city—faint stars fighting against the glow of Seoul.
“Somewhere we can actually see them,” he said.
The drive was quiet. Not awkward. Not forced. Just… careful. Like both of you were relearning something that used to come naturally. He took you outside the city. Far enough that the lights faded. Far enough that the sky opened up again. When you stepped out of the car—Your breath caught. The sky wasn’t just visible.
It was alive.
Stars scattered across it in a way you hadn’t seen in months. Clear. Endless. Real.
Jisung moved to the back of the car, pulling out a blanket. Of course he brought one. Of course he thought of that. You sat side by side. Close—but not touching yet. The space between you felt intentional. Respectful.
“There,” he said softly after a moment, pointing upward. You followed his gaze. A bright, steady point of light.
“Jupiter,” you whispered. He nodded.
You stared at it longer this time. Not because it felt unreal. But because it didn’t.
“I used to look for it,” you admitted. “I know,” he said. You glanced at him. “How?” He gave a small, sad smile. “Because I did too.”
Your chest tightened.
“I’d find it and think… ‘you’re probably looking at this too.’” A pause. “Even if you weren’t.” You swallowed hard. “I was,” you said. That was it. That was all it took..
The space between you closed.
Not all at once. But slowly. Naturally. His lips found yours. Carefully. Like before. But different this time.
More certain.
You didn’t pull away.
The kiss sealed unspoken words. I’m sorries, what ifs, should haves, could haves, would haves, all fading into black. He pulls away, searching, longing, lost in the reflection of your eyes.
“I’m still scared,” he admitted quietly.
“Me too.”
A small exhale. Then— “That’s okay,” he said. You leaned into him. Resting your head against his shoulder. The sky stretched endlessly above you. Stars burning quietly across something infinite.
“This time,” he murmured, pressing his cheek lightly against your hair, “I’m staying.” Your fingers tightened around his.
Pairing: Jisung x reader
Description: Being best friends with you since childhood, Jisung’s main goal in these last two years of college was to finally make you see him in the same romantic light that he saw you in. Disheartened by the fact that he knew his soft shyness wasn’t what you were looking for, his friends reassure that they can help turn things around for him. A “bad boy” was the last descriptor to ever fit Jisung, but how far is he willing to go to be just your type?
Genre: smau (some written parts), college au, crack, some angst, some fluff, best friends to lovers with a twist, down-bad Jisung, a range of soft-boy to bad-boy Jisung, general idiocy when it comes to feelings
Content warnings: swearing, death jokes, suggestive content/jokes, probable inaccuracies in depiction of injury/recovery, use of the word “soccer” instead of “football”
A/n: If you thought I got too emotionally attached to my smau characters before…these are absolutely my favorite characters I’ve ever created as a whole so now it’s even worse hahaha. Hoping I pulled off the idea I had for Jisung well enough in this smau because the character arc fits him so well, it’s just a matter of writing it with good enough flow so…PRAYING that’s what I was able to achieve here. Any feedback is always appreciated, I hope you’re able to enjoy this as much as I enjoyed creating it!
Status: completed
Started: January 30, 2026
Ended: February 28, 2026
Taglist closed
[Intro: The Musketeers]
[Intro: The Housewives]
[Chapter One: a perfect replacement]
[Chapter Two: a bucket list]
[Chapter Three: fight back!]
[Chapter Four: fight back! pt ii]
[Chapter Five: a soft spot]
[Chapter Six: a doctor]
[Chapter Seven: a date]
[Chapter Eight: a caveat]
[Chapter Nine: a hypothetical example]
[Chapter Ten: a ginger ale] (partly written)
[Chapter Eleven: fight back! pt iii]
[Chapter Twelve: a Jaemin thing]
[Chapter Thirteen: a mastermind]
[Chapter Fourteen: a good boy]
[Chapter Fifteen: a heartbreaker]
[Chapter Sixteen: a coffee]
[Chapter Seventeen: a bad mood]
[Chapter Eighteen: a juice box]
[Chapter Nineteen: a starving man]
[Chapter Twenty: a bad boy]
[Chapter Twenty-One: a lot has changed]
[Chapter Twenty-Two: a concert]
[Chapter Twenty-Three: a dreamer]
[Chapter Twenty-Four: a mutual friend]
[Chapter Twenty-Five: a horrible friend] (partly written)
[Chapter Twenty-Six: a heart of gold]
[Chapter Twenty-Seven: a former athlete with a sob story] (partly written)
after sex with jisung is pure perfection. almost as good as the sex itself.
you two had been going for hours, his stamina is so fucking high and he just can't get enough of you.
your legs are completely wobbly, every part of your body is sore. your eyes are closed and the only thing you're able to feel right now is: tiredness and the cozy and restful sensation running through your body from your boyfriend's loving words.
"i got you.. i got you, baby." he mumbles right on the spot where your shoulder and neck meet; his heavy breathing making his lips press onto your skin every time he speaks.
jisung kisses your neck ever so gently, runs his big hands all over your body, caressing every perfect inch of you, in attempt to show you that he loves, he cares.
"it hurts, ji." your voice is almost a whisper, fingers tangling in his dark sweaty hair.
his left hand made its way between your legs under the sheets, just resting his palm on your crotch; afraid any kind of touch might hurt, “shh.. i know, princess. you’ll be alright.. i’m sorry m’.. so sorry…”
jisung sounds drunk, mind messy and full of you. almost as if he’s still in that haze you put him in. how can he not when his girlfriend’s velvety walls hug him so perfectly, making him fight the urge to stay buried deep inside you forever.
"you did wonderful, my love. so good." he kisses your neck again, nuzzling his nose on the skin, "'m sorry if it was too much.. got caught up in the moment."
you chuckle at his words and hug his hot bare torso, silently writing down your names on his back with your nails. “it'll be okay, yeah baby? let's get you cleaned up. i promise you'll feel much better." he assures you that the soreness will soon go away.
"mhm... please, ji." his eyes search for yours, leaning to give a chaste peck to your wet lips, "let me take care of you, baby.” he grins.
jisung's sweaty body soon lose its contact with yours, he gets off the bed and make his way to the bathroom, preparing the water and letting you rest for some more while before calling you.
aftercare with your lover means that he'll be the most attentive ever. jisung ties your hair up in a ponytail, helping you join the tub before gently running the water down your face to your body.
he rubs the soap on your arms, stomach; gently pushes your knees up to your chest, making sure to take care of the still sensitive spot between your legs.
"i love you so much.” jisung whispers once again, wanting this to be the three words that you'll hear the most this night.
you can only hum and smile weakly as a reaction. he helps you get off the tub, wrapping the towel around your body, as well as his arms that hug you to his chest.
after being all clean and dressed in one of jisung's huge oversized shirts, you finally lay down on the bed again.
"feeling alright, princess?" your boyfriend hugs you tightly, smiling when he sees you nodding.
he kisses your forehead, "i love to hear that.” and his smile grows even wider when you lean closer to his face to whisper,
“and i love you. i don’t think i said that today.”
PAIRING ↬ physics student!park jisung x fem!reader
TAGS ↬ FLUFF!!! the cheese is so cheesing here, way too many physics puns, you might cringe but here it is, i love park jisung, love love love him
SUMMARY ↬ sometimes, love isn’t theoretical—it’s proven, one note at a time.
WORD COUNT ↬ 2.6k words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ wow i’m a nerd. MEERRY CHRISTMAS @polarisjisung THIS ONE IS FOR YOU MY LOVE <33
PLAYLIST ↬ rhinestone eyes - gorillaz; swan - miyeon; song 2 - blur; missing you - ftisland;
JISUNG TAPPED HIS PEN AGAINST HIS NOTEBOOK RHYTHMICALLY,
pretending to take notes as the professor droned on about Schrödinger's Equation. It wasn’t that he disliked quantum mechanics—he loved it—but today, the equations felt heavier than usual. His eyes wandered to the person sitting next to him—you.
You were furiously scribbling in your notebook, not writing notes but...drawing? Jisung squinted. Was that a...cat? No, two cats. One inside a box labeled "alive" and the other "dead." He felt a grin tugging at his lips before he could stop himself.
A faint chuckle escaped, and he ducked his head, mortified, as you glanced his way. He was sure he’d blown his cover—who laughs during a physics lecture? But instead of being annoyed, your lips began to form a small smirk.
“Like what you see?” you whispered, sliding your notebook slightly closer to him.
Jisung blinked. Was this a test? A joke? Chenle said he always had trouble talking to women. Something about playing too much League and not touching grass. But it wasn’t his fault! And Chenle was wrong. He did touch grass. He hesitated but gave you an awkward nod, his brain scrambling for something to say. “It’s, uh... creative. Schrödinger would be impressed.”
You snorted softly, flipping the notebook his way completely. Beneath the doodle, you wrote:
"Your turn."
Jisung froze. Your turn? What was he supposed to draw? He glanced back at you, but you were already watching the professor again, feigning disinterest, though the corner of your mouth continued to twitch with amusement.
Heart pounding, Jisung picked up his pen. Drawing wasn’t exactly his forte, but he couldn’t just pass up the challenge. He quickly sketched a stick figure version of himself, complete with messy hair and oversized glasses, holding a comically oversized Geiger counter pointed at the box.
Next to the drawing, he added:
“Should I open it or...?”
He slid the notebook back your way, staring straight ahead, willing himself not to blush. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you lean over to inspect his work. There was a brief pause, and then—you laughed. Not just a quiet chuckle but an actual laugh, soft and melodic.
“That’s not bad,” you whispered, your tone teasing. “Stick figures are an underrated art form.”
Jisung risked a glance your way, only to find you grinning at him, eyes bright with amusement. For the first time, he smiled back without overthinking it.
As the lecture continued, neither of you paid much attention to the professor. Instead, your notebook became the canvas for the beginning of a tradition—tiny doodles, puns, and inside jokes that somehow made quantum mechanics infinitely more interesting.
Jisung couldn’t explain it, but as he scribbled out a little equation to accompany his next doodle, he felt a strange, unfamiliar excitement bubbling in his chest. For the first time, class didn’t feel so dull anymore.
It started with Schrödinger’s cat, but it didn’t stop there. For the next lecture, Jisung was prepared. He had a small stack of sticky notes tucked into his notebook, ready for whatever you might throw at him.
You were already scribbling something when he slid into his seat. The professor began discussing wave-particle duality, but Jisung’s focus was on the tiny folded note you flicked onto his desk.
He cautiously unfolded it. Written in neat handwriting was:
“Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.”
Jisung nearly choked on air, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. He could feel the tips of his ears heating up as he turned to look at you. You were staring straight ahead, pen twirling between your fingers, but your smirk gave you away.
He scribbled back quickly:
“Are you a black hole? Because you’ve got some serious pull.”
You took the note, bit your lip to keep from laughing, and scribbled something before passing it back.
“Careful, Park. You might reach escape velocity at this rate.”
For the rest of the lecture, neither of you could keep straight faces. Jisung felt lighter than he had in weeks.
Two lectures later, during a painfully long discussion on thermodynamic entropy, Jisung felt like his brain was melting. Next to him, you seemed to be having the same struggle.
He noticed you sketching again, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. A few minutes later, you nudged his elbow and slid a folded scrap paper toward him.
He opened it to find an absolutely ridiculous cartoon: a dramatic black hole with wild hair and glasses that looked suspiciously like the professor’s. Around it, little stick figures were being sucked into the gravitational pull, textbooks flying everywhere.
At the bottom, you’d scrawled:
“Entropy? More like ENTRAP-Y.”
Jisung clamped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he tried (and failed) to contain his laughter. The professor paused, eyes squinting at the two of you, and Jisung froze in shock.
When the professor turned back to the whiteboard, Jisung quickly scribbled a response:
“I think I just lost three brain cells to this singularity.”
You snorted quietly, and for the rest of the class, both of you avoided eye contact to prevent another laughing fit.
It wasn’t always jokes. At some point, the notes started to change.
One afternoon, after a particularly rough group presentation where Jisung stumbled over his words more than once, he slumped into his usual seat next to you, clutching his notebook like a shield.
You didn’t say anything at first, just slid a folded piece of paper onto his desk.
“You did great today. Public speaking is the worst, but you made your point, and honestly, half the class was lost after the second slide anyway.”
Jisung stared at the note for a long moment before writing back.
“Thanks. I always feel like I’m messing up. Group projects make it ten times worse because I’m scared I’ll let everyone down.”
You read it, your expression softening before you wrote back:
“I get that. But hey, if we ever have to do a project together, I’ll handle the talking, and you can handle the math. Deal?”
Jisung’s chest felt warm in a way he couldn’t quite describe.
“Deal.”
It was late in the semester, the kind of day where the sunlight streamed through the classroom windows just right, making everything feel a little softer. The professor was lecturing about particle accelerators, and Jisung was genuinely trying to focus—until he noticed you scribbling on a slip of paper.
You passed it to him without looking up.
“If you could work anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
Jisung hesitated. No one had ever asked him that before—not seriously, anyway.
“NASA, probably. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this strange obsession with space. It feels like there’s so much to discover, you know?”
You grinned when you read his response.
“That’s so cool. I’d want to be there too. Maybe one day we’ll run into each other in the cafeteria, arguing about quarks over sandwiches.”
Jisung smiled, his heart doing this weird fluttery thing that he couldn’t quite explain.
“I’d argue that up quarks are superior, but I’d let you win. Probably.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, scribbled something back, and slid the note over.
“You’d let me win? Park Jisung, are you challenging me to a quark debate?”
For the rest of class, Jisung couldn’t stop smiling.
Each note became a little window into your world and a bridge into his. It wasn’t just the jokes or the sketches—it was the little truths tucked between the lines. And every time he unfolded a piece of paper from you, Jisung felt a little less like an awkward physics student and a little more like…someone special.
Jisung’s head was spinning as he shoved his notebook into his backpack. The lecture had just ended, and while most of the class was still debating the finer points of entropy, his focus was on the small scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his notes.
It wasn’t supposed to leave his bag. It was just…a silly thought he’d scribbled down late at night when he couldn’t stop thinking about you.
But as he hurried to pack up, the folded note slipped loose and landed on your desk.
He didn’t notice until he was halfway out the door.
You were still sitting, absently flipping through your notes, when your gaze fell on the scrap of paper. You picked it up and unfolded it, eyebrows raising at the messy handwriting:
“I think the Doppler effect explains why my heart races whenever you’re near.”
You froze. The edges of the paper trembled in your fingers as the words sank in, and your cheeks warmed instantly.
“Jisung?” you called out instinctively, but he was already gone, lost in the crowd of students exiting the lecture hall.
Heart pounding, you hesitated for a moment before grabbing your pen. On the back of the note, you wrote carefully:
“Newton’s Third Law says every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I feel the same way.”
The next lecture couldn’t come fast enough.
Jisung didn’t sleep much the night before class. The realization that he’d left that note behind had haunted him. Maybe you’d thrown it away. Maybe you’d laughed at it.
But when he walked into the lecture hall the next day, you were already there. Sitting in your usual seat, you looked up as he approached, and your smile was soft—almost shy.
“Hey,” you said, sliding a small folded note across the desk.
Jisung swallowed nervously, hands trembling slightly as he opened it.
Newton’s Third Law. Equal and opposite reaction.
His eyes scanned the words once, twice, before he finally dared to meet your gaze. You were biting your lip, your eyes bright with anticipation.
Jisung’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “You—You feel the same?”
You nodded. “It’s simple physics, Park. Cause and effect.”
He let out a breathless laugh, hand coming up to cover his face as his shoulders shook slightly. “I can’t believe you’re using physics laws to confess to me right now.”
“Technically, you started it,” you said with a grin.
It was the end of a particularly brutal thermodynamics lecture. Jisung’s brain was fried, and judging by your furrowed brow, you weren’t faring much better.
The professor dismissed the class, and everyone packed up sluggishly. Jisung hesitated as he glanced at you, still scribbling something in your notes.
“See you later?” you said casually, but Jisung didn’t respond.
Instead, he slid a small, carefully folded piece of paper onto your desk before rushing out the door.
You blinked after him, confused, before carefully unfolding the note.
It was a Feynman diagram.
But instead of particle interactions, Jisung had mapped out…you and him.
At one vertex was a little stick figure of him, labeled “Jisung”, and at another, a tiny doodle of you labeled “(Y/N)”. Between the two were arrows labeled “Shared Jokes”, “Physics Puns”, and “Mutual Nerdiness”, and tiny hearts scattered along the connections.
At the bottom, in small, slightly wobbly handwriting, he’d written:
“I like you.”
Your face felt like it was on fire, but you couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across your lips.
When you walked out of the lecture hall, Jisung was leaning against the wall, clutching the strap of his backpack like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
“Jisung,” you said softly, holding up the note.
He shifted nervously, avoiding your gaze. “I, um…I thought it might be easier to…you know…diagram it out.”
You laughed—a soft, delighted sound—and pulled out your pen.
Carefully, right at the bottom of his diagram, you added a new arrow connecting your doodle to his.
“Mutual Affection.”
You held it up so he could see, and Jisung’s eyes widened. His lips parted slightly in surprise before breaking into the brightest smile you’d ever seen.
“So…you like me too?” he asked quietly, voice trembling just a little.
“I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached a stable equilibrium,” you said with a grin.
He laughed—a sound full of relief and joy—and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, smiling at each other in the middle of the crowded hallway.
Physics could explain a lot of things, but this? The way Jisung’s heart felt like it was about to escape his chest, the way your eyes would crinkle when you smiled at him—this felt like a force of nature all its own.
By the time midterms had passed and the days grew shorter, the notes between you and Jisung had shifted. There were still plenty of physics jokes and ridiculous doodles—like the time he drew you both as photons bouncing off a reflective surface—but now there were softer words, too.
Between derivatives and integrals, you’d find little sentences scribbled in his neat handwriting:
“I hope you’re eating enough today.”
“You looked really pretty in the lab yesterday.”
“The universe is expanding, but I think my feelings for you are growing faster.”
In return, you wrote him notes on sticky tabs and slipped them into his textbook:
“Don’t stay up too late studying tonight. Even electrons need rest.”
One afternoon, after a particularly chaotic study session in the library, Jisung passed you a folded note with a tiny sketch of two orbiting electrons, labeled “You” and “Me”, with a little heart in the nucleus.
Underneath, he’d written:
“Stable bond achieved.”
You laughed softly, clutching the note like it was precious cargo.
“Park Jisung, you’re ridiculous,” you whispered.
He grinned, cheeks turning pink. “But you like it, right?”
You leaned over, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I like you.”
Jisung turned bright red and nearly dropped his pen.
The lecture hall was unnervingly silent during your final exam. The only sounds were the scratch of pencils on paper and the faint ticking of the clock.
You were halfway through a particularly frustrating question on thermodynamic efficiency when your calculator, which you’d been using furiously, clicked slightly as you pressed down on the buttons.
You frowned, turning it over—and noticed a tiny piece of folded paper tucked neatly into the battery compartment.
Your eyes darted up to scan the room. Jisung was a few rows ahead, hunched over his paper, completely engrossed in his work.
Heart racing, you carefully unfolded the note beneath the desk.
It was a small sketch, drawn with the same endearing messiness Jisung always brought to his doodles.
At the top, a hand-drawn banner read:
“You’re the best experiment I’ve ever run.”
Below it, a sketch of the two of you: you with your hair tied back, him with his glasses askew and a shy smile. Little stars and hearts floated around the cartoon versions of yourselves, and at the bottom, he’d written:
“Hypothesis: Spending time with you improves my mood exponentially. Conclusion: Hypothesis confirmed.”
You pressed your hand over your mouth to hide your smile, your face heating up as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
Carefully, you scribbled on the back with your pencil:
“Conclusion peer-reviewed and verified. Park Jisung, you’re my favorite discovery.”
When the exam ended, and everyone started filing out, you caught up to him in the hallway.
“Hey, Newton,” you said softly.
Jisung turned, his nervous smile flickering into something brighter when he saw you holding up the note.
“Did you…did you find it?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I did.” You stepped closer, holding the paper gently between your fingers. “You know, I think you might be my best result yet.”
Jisung let out a soft laugh, cheeks flushed pink. “Does that mean we’ve achieved optimal conditions?”
You grinned, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. “Definitely. Stable equilibrium achieved.”
