i don't know what i want to become anymore, and it's weird, because i've always known what i wanted to become. i always knew what i could do. i always knew about my capability, but now they all are crumbled into untraceable pieces. i can't see where i'm going, neither understand. it feels quite hard. do i need to empty myself? do i need to grow more? or am i just behind everyone else? all these uncertainties are consuming my head, and inside all these uncertainties, i miss you a little more. which i shouldn't, because i don't really exist around you. and even when reality hits to hurt, i should keep going to have a life, to have a life worth living.
summary: you and him are enemies to lovers (??) definitely a complicated relationship but i digress. wonwoo and y/n have been at each other’s throat since middle school but maybe everything he thought about you was wrong, even his own feelings for you.
pair: fem!reader x enemy!wonwoo
genre: fluff, au (? im new to writing LOL)
warnings: mentions of fighting, bruises, cuts, etc.
word count: 3.4k
it was a friday afternoon after school. you push out of your desk and sling your backpack over your shoulder. yuqi walks with you towards the back of the campus where the baseball fields are, its shorter to get to the bus that way. once you walk past the bleachers, you hear commotion and students gathering around them. you and yuqi look at each other confused before you run towards the crowd. you push through to see wonwoo laying on the floor, bloodied. your body tenses at the sight, the other students spread out and leave once they realize wonwoo is half passed out.
you tell yuqi to go to the bus without her. she doesn’t say much as she walks away, not without glancing back at you first. you take a soft breath as you walk closer to wonwoo who is sitting down on the dirt leaning against the bleachers. he’s holding his bruised ribs, his glasses half broken on his face. the broken glass caused a cut around his eye and his knuckles are black and blue.
“what do you want?” he says half annoyed, half cold. you wouldn’t expect any less from the boy that’s hated you since the seventh grade. what you did, you have no idea. you sigh frustratedly, staring down at him.
“you look like hell.” you state bluntly.
“right back at you darling.” he scoffs.
you roll your eyes at his reply. everything he does just makes you want to punch him in the face, too bad someone else got to him first. it’s quiet for a few moments. you continue to glance at him every few seconds before you speak.
“can you walk?”
he takes a deep breath. “i don’t want your pity.” he retorts back.
you roll your eyes before you take a few steps forward until you’re kneeling down to him. you gently grab his arm to wrap it around your shoulder. you take your time as you pick him up. he doesn’t understand why you’re being so gentle with him, the person that hates him the most but you don’t understand either. he groans in pain as you help him up. he’s badly bruised but he manages to stand up. you lead him to a nearby bench as he limps, making sure not to apply too much pressure but you notice.
“thanks” he mumbles under his breath.
“don’t mention it.” you sit a few inches away from him on the bench. another agonizing few seconds go by before you speak again.
“where does it hurt?” he snaps his head towards you surprised by your sudden genuine care.
“where doesn’t it hurt?” he replies.
you don’t say anything as you reach inside your backpack for your emergency kit that you keep on you at all times. you grab a bandaid, a q-tip, alcohol wipes, and some ointment for the cuts on his face and knuckles. you get up from the bench and bend down to him examining his cuts. your faces are only a few inches away. his breath hitches but he doesn’t push you away, not when he’s in this much pain.
your eyes zero in on the cut on his cheek. gently removing his glasses, you set them down before moving his bangs out of his eyes that are drenched in sweat. wonwoo hates this. hates that someone pities him, especially the annoying girl that sat next to him in seventh grade history class. but why do your eyes look so pretty right now? he’s never noticed how long your lashes were before. or how pretty you look when the wind blows your hair-
“this is gonna sting.” your voice cuts through his inner monologue. he blinks at you before he winces from the alcohol wipe cleaning his half dried cut on his cheek.
“agh- you couldn’t have warned me before?” he clenches his fists from the sting but he lets you finish cleaning. you apply some ointment and gently place the bandaid over it. this is the closest you’ve ever been to wonwoo’s face. even bruised and beat up, he looks so beautiful. has he always had a scar near his eyebrow? were his lips ever this pretty?
you quickly shake yourself out of your thoughts. why the hell are you thinking about his damn lips right now y/n? you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles as you try to think of anything else. your hands are so soft against his rough and calloused palms. once you remove your hands from his, he feels almost empty.
you shuffle through your bag again until you found the ice pack that your mom packed in your lunch box. its half melted by now but this will have to do. you hand it to him. he looks at the ice pack and back up at you. he scoffs and takes it from your hands. he applies it to the side of his ribs. he winces again and shivers from the cold liquid hitting his side but it is helping relieve some of the pain. maybe you’re not as useless as you look.
“why the hell are you helping me anyway?” he asks indifferently.
you don’t say anything because honestly, you’re not too sure either. you grab your backpack from the bench and sling it over your shoulder. wonwoo clenches his jaw just slightly from the mere thought of you leaving and for what reason, he doesn’t know. you look down at him as he sits silently.
“how are you getting home?” you’re avoiding the question and you both it but wonwoo is too tired to even argue with you right now.
“i can walk.” he says firmly, almost distant.
“like hell you are. how far do you live?” you reply back.
he mumbles under his breath. probably something about how annoying you are but he knows damn well you aren’t gonna let this go and he is definitely not gonna make it home in his condition.
“not far.”
you nod and you go to reach for his arm to wrap it on your shoulder again but he moves away.
“i can do it myself.”
“asshole.” you mumble under your breath as you begin to walk ahead. with the pace that you’re walking, he could easily catch up to you even while he limps but watching you walk away makes his chest hurt. he groans dramatically.
“wait.” he calls out.
you stop mid step and smirk to yourself, knowing that he couldn’t make it home by himself. you end up walking home after you go back and forth a little while longer. even with a limp and broken glasses that you know he needs because about as blind as a bat, he still doesn’t apply all of his weight onto you.
“stop doing that.”
“stop doing what?”
“just rest your weight on me. i’m not made out of glass, you know.”
he would normally pinch his nose bridge at how annoyingly stubborn you are but he can barely lift his arm right now.
“i never said you were, dumbass.”
and against everything in wonwoo telling him he shouldn’t, that you’re just doing this because you feel bad for him, he rests his weight onto you. your hand rests on his wrist as his arm is draped on your shoulders. even under these circumstances this feels weirdly romantic. neither of you says much as you walk to his house, besides the normal banter of calling each other an asshole or a dumbass. he can’t help but feel as though you have an ulterior motive to helping him. there’s no way you’re this nice or gentle naturally without wanting anything else in return.
“this is it.” he says as you stop in front of his house. you help him up the steps to his front door.
“is anyone home?”
“just my mom.”
“hm. what about your dad?”
the conversation is quickly cut off as his mom opens the door, which wonwoo is secretly thankful for. his mom’s eyes widen as she sees her son bruised.
“wonwoo-ah, what happened to you?” she asks worriedly.
you and wonwoo both glance at each other. his eyes secretly asking you not to say anything. his hand subconsciously squeezes your shoulder. is he actually asking for your help? it might not be directly but you definitely have to rub it in his face later.
“oh, he, uh, fell down the stairs at school, they’re slippery.” you try to make light of the situation. wait, why the hell are you covering for your enemy right now?
“oh my goodness.” his mom gasps and helps grab his other arm. “would you be a dear and help me take him inside?”
“mom, its fine-“
wonwoo is quickly cut off by his mom shushing him. you can feel yourself tense but you smile at her and nod anyway. wonwoo is about to explode. you weren’t supposed to help him. you were supposed to stay far far away from him at all costs. he hates that you even saw him vulnerable and now he has to endure you interact with his mom. this day could not get worse.
you and his mom make it to his room and set him down on the edge of his bed. he groans in pain from the new position but he clenches his jaw to try and hide the pain.
“let me get you some medicine. would you be okay with staying with him? i’ll be right back.” she leaves in a hurry before either of you can protest. its just you and wonwoo, in his room, alone. neither of you say a word as you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room and he stares down at the floor. after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks up at you.
“why?” he asks genuinely. why did you help? why are you still here? why did this happen? just, why?
you open your mouth to reply but his mother returns before you can say anything. she hands him some pain killers and water.
“drink up and get lots of rest.” she says as he gulps the medicine, she plays with his hair. your eyes soften at the sight. you never would’ve thought you’d end up in this position but you’re not apposed to it. not when he looks like a child that just got hurt as he looks up at his mom. you realize you’ve probably overstepped enough today and clear your throat.
“i should probably get going.” you know you should leave, but your feet your dragging as you start walking. “make sure to ice his ribs and give him medication every 5 hours. no more than a few days.” you smile at his mom before you bow at her. “it was nice to meet you mrs. jeon.”
his mom thanks you as you walk out. before wonwoo can even process what just happened, you’re gone. his mom follows your advice, she doesn’t know why but she feels like she can trust you. thankfully he has the weekend to rest. the next day, wonwoo lays on his bed staring at the ceiling as he rethinks everything he’s ever thought about you. his thoughts are interrupted as his mom knocks on the door to give him more medicine. she sits on the edge of the bed as he sits up to take a sip of water. she admires him for a few moments.
“you’re thinking of her.” she says more as a statement than a question.
wonwoo nearly chokes on his water. “no, i’m not.” he says it way too quickly, way too defensively, almost like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. his mom laughs to herself.
“she’s a sweet girl.” she says.
“her? she’s the opposite of sweet. she’s as bitter as coffee.” he scoffs to himself.
“oh really? bitter people don’t help others the way she helped you. you came home with a bandaid on your cheek, bruised knuckles, and bruised ribs. i know it wasn’t you falling down the stairs.”
wonwoo’s eyes widen at his mom’s observation.
“how did you-“
“a mother knows more than you think and the way she looked at you, covered for you, she cares about you. i think you can trust her.”
he almost laughed at that. almost. trust you? he’d rather get beat up again if it meant that he had to trust you with anything. but then his mother’s words really started to settle in his mind. ‘she cares about you.’ is ringing in his head that he doesn’t even his realize his mom left his room.
over the weekend, you decide to go back to the same bench you took care of wonwoo at. the back of campus, the baseball fields, behind section three of the bleachers. you don’t know why you came back but it’s weirdly comforting. his hand in yours, the way you touched his face. you shake your thoughts and sit down at the bench soaking in the weather as the birds fly. you stay there for awhile thinking about anything and everything. you place your hands on the bench as you’re about to get up until you feel something. you look down at what you’re touching. wonwoo’s glasses.
how you managed to remember the way to his house, you’ll never know. you clutch his broken glasses in your hands like it’s something precious. why the hell are you bringing them to him? they’re already broken. or maybe this is just a valid excuse to see him again. you take a deep breath as you stand at the front door before you knock. his mom answers the door and she lets you inside. before you walk down the hallway, she speaks.
“you’re y/n, right?” your breath hitches but you nod.
“yes ma’am.”
to your surprise, she smiles as she shakes her head fondly. “wonwoo put gum in your hair in the ninth grade because he thought you were so annoying. i’m sure he’ll be more than happy to see you.”
your eyes widen slightly at the reminder of the memory. he was such an asshole, he still is. you don’t say anything as you make your way down the hallway. you knock on his door. wait, did she say he’d be happy to see me?
“what?” he calls out through the door.
“it’s me.” you reply.
its quiet, weirdly quiet until he calls out again.
“come in.”
you enter his room and see him laying down. his hairs messy, he’s wearing a black shirt that you always thought he looked good in. maybe coming here was a mistake.
“what do you want?” he says coldly.
“i came here to return your glasses you asshole.” you smack the glasses down on his desk before you turn to leave, until he stops you. you don’t know how he managed to get up so fast from his bed but his hand is holding your wrist, firm not hurtful.
“thank you.” he says barely above a whisper. you could feel a shiver run down your spine as you turn to look at him. his hand still around your wrist. he’s so tall, his shoulders are so broad, you can’t stop yourself from swallowing as you admire him.
“wonwoo, you need to eat!” you hear his mom calling from the kitchen. his grip loosens just slightly as he sighs. he’s about to walk past you before you stop him this time.
“i got it, go lay down.” he hesitates but reluctantly lets go of your wrist as he goes back to sit down on the edge of the bed. you grab the food from his mother in the kitchen and bring back a tray of food for him. it’s the same smell of ramen that he brings to school for lunch every day. when the hell did you even notice what he brought for lunch?
“here.” you set the tray down in front of him taking a seat at his desk. he used all of his strength to get out of bed and stop you from leaving that he can barely lift his chopsticks to his mouth. you watch as he struggles and giggle to yourself. little does he know that hearing your laugh is music to his ears, its the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.
“what are you laughing at dumbass?” he retorts back. he hates that you’re watching him struggle but he’d do anything to hear that pretty noise come from you again.
“oh me? nothing.” you smile innocently and cover your smile with your hand. he rolls his eyes, feigning offense as he tries again. you laugh once more before you get up from the chair and take the chopsticks from his hand.
“open up.”
there it is again. you bending down to him, your face inches apart as you wait for him to open his mouth. he looks at your eyes almost intimidated by how intimate this feels. you think he’s actually about to give in, but wonwoo wouldn’t be wonwoo if he didn’t make things hard for you.
“i’m not a damn baby.”
“you can’t even feed yourself right now. god, you’re so stubborn.”
“i’m not even hungry.”
and right on cue, his stomach growls. you laugh again. god, every time you laugh he swears time stops.
“if you say so, i’ll just eat it all myself then.”
you lift the noodles to your mouth, about to take a bite before wonwoo’s stomach growls again. his mouth watering at his favorite ramen. he groans.
“fine. just hurry up.” he finally gives in.
you smirk to yourself and begin to feed him. he examines your every move. how you hold your chopsticks, how you’re so attentive to him, how patient you actually are. the air is charged but neither of you move. your small giggles filling the air every so often. you decide to tease him and take a bite of his ramen. your cheeks bubble full of ramen. did you just use the same chopsticks he ate from?
“oh wow, this is really good.” you say, your mouth half full. you’re about to take another bite before wonwoo grabs your wrist. your eyes widen slightly as you look down at him. he looks back at you. you swallow but you just so happen to swallow all of the food in your mouth without chewing, how you didn’t choke is a mystery. you glance down at his lips and take note of the spicy ramen sauce on the sides of his mouth.
“you have a little…” you trail off as your body moves before you can register what you’re doing. your thumb wipes away the leftovers of the sauce. wonwoo swears his brain short circuits right then and there. your soft hands touching his face again, your lashes, how close you are. he doesn’t push you away, couldn’t even if he tried.
“… y/n.”
“y-yea?”
“why are you being so damn nice to me?” he asks as if he’s asking for you to have mercy on him. that you being nice to him stung worse than you hating him. he moves closer, ever so slightly.
“because i- i just”
“just tell me you hate me. please.” he says it quieter than you’ve ever heard him. his hand subconsciously tightens around your wrist. saying you hated him, even if mutual was easy, but the way he’s looking at you, his eyes are pleading. you can’t bring yourself to say it because every time you’ve talked was never real. this right now, is the realest interaction you’ve ever had.
“i can’t.” you whisper back.
he grabs the ramen out of your hand and sets it down before he cups your face so gently. you never thought a guy like him could ever be as gentle as he is right now. your lips part slightly, you glance down at his before they look back at his eyes. you both lean in, your lips less than a breath away from each other.
“wonwoo, what if i hurt you?” you think back to his bruises that are still apparent. he shakes his head slightly.
“i’m not made of glass, you know.” damn asshole using your own words against you but it doesn’t stop you. if anything, you lean in closer. he was so distracted by you that he forgot to kiss you back until you cupped his face in your hands. you taste so sweet. how the hell does one taste sweet after eating ramen? ‘she’s a sweet girl’ his mom’s words ring in his head again and damn was his mom right.
he releases from the kiss just enough to speak.
“stay.”
a/n: wonwoooo. this was not heavily pre read beforehand so i apologize if there were any mistakes. there could be a possible part 2 since the ending is open ended. any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!
i lied. i lied about feeling hopeful and tender; i lied about the joys and brightness; i lied about trying to become whole. i am still in that very loophole i’ve been stuck in for years now. i still feel the same, and taste like nothingness. my emotions still get beaten up in the search for purity. they still sit there like a mountain made of a single rock, haunting me down in this coherence of loneliness. but does it really block abundance from reaching me? or is it keeping me safe in disguise? why the only way out is through? if i tore everything apart, would it finally be okay then? or is there a monster living inside, waiting to eat me whole? if this lack of harmony keeps pushing me to find tenderness, it must have a name. and it does have a name. my tenderness has a name, and that's you.
