genre : fluff, song ins. // addison rae - 'diet pepsi'
summary : spending time w/ louis
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
friday, 10:48p.m.—
louis's ears were covered with the headphones, shooting sound effects blasting in his ears along with his friends's yells. louis's eyes were sharp and focused on his monitor screen, leaving his friends' voices thumping in his ears with zero effect on him.
his cross gold chains hit the table every time he leans forward with deep frowns every intensity added on the monitor screen. there is an untouched diet pepsi bottle that is already in un-cold stays on his desk, beside the monitor set up. his groans filled the quiet bedroom every time his character got shot.
and there you are, relaxing since it is friday night.
you were lying on his bed as usual, scrolling through your phone though nothing was interesting enough in every app that you kept opening for the past fifteen minutes.
it was such a usual sight to listen to every one of his groans and complaints, followed by sounds of his fingers typing on the keyboard and clicking the mouse. back to back, his screech of yelp would be heard from him, filling the quiet bedroom other than the ac sounds in the background.
louis's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes never leaving the monitor screen. his fingers are rapidly pressing between the keys 'W' (move forward) and 'R' (reload) on his keyboard. he was getting frustrated when his character died again with no revive chance left, letting out a deep groan this time.
"damn it!" louis yelled into his mic, while his friends teased him with their laughter that blasted his ears. "shut up!" he groaned back in response.
louis sat back on his chair with it making slight creaking sounds. he sighs, annoyed, with arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the monitor screen. he looked at the time, it was minutes after 11pm.
he paused the game, removing the headphones from his head, ruffling his messy jet-black hair. he glanced at the girl lying on his bed, on her phone, which made him smile.
"baby..." louis's voice was soft, getting her attention immediately (ever since she heard he placed his headphones down on the desk).
he watched as she put down her phone to look at him, her big eyes staring at him from the bed. "yes, love? what's wrong?" her voice asked softly in response as her gaze met his.
louis pouted dramatically, pointing at the untouched diet pepsi bottle on his desk with a whine. "the drink... diet pepsi..." he dragged out the drink's name like a kid (he is a kid) who is sulking from lollipop fell on the sand.
he then continued, "i actually didn't mean to say diet pepsi earlier. yhe guys were talking about it and it just slipped out—" "and I bought it...?" you cut his words off, question mark raised at the back from guessing his sentence. you raised one eyebrow at his once again messing up his 'snack picking' after he got easily distracted.
he held out the bottle towards you, gesturing as hints of 'you should drink it since i won't', making a small sigh out of you. "babe, i can't drink it now. i'm mid of cutting sugar. here, i'll keep it back in the fridge. i still bought you cherry coke anyways." you said as you got up from the bed and approached him.
louis's pout persisted as he held his smile, appreciating his girlfriend's instinct. he reached out with one hand and tugged at her arm, pulling her closer to him. "you're so thoughtful...", the compliments make you smile immediately, giving back his hand a caress. "i'm going to the kitchen. do you want to wait here or follow me, hm?"
he pretends to consider her words for a moment before speaking. "follow, obviously." he said bluntly, as if the question had the answer already. he pushed himself up from the chair, stretching out his limbs under the oversized t-shirt he was wearing.
he stood up, his gaze still fixed on her as he waited expectantly for her to lead the way. "let's go, baby." you fixed his cross gold chain, his eyes trailing on her hands, a small smile tugged on his lips. you lead the way, walking to the kitchen and switching the lights on the way, a soft glow illuminates the area.
louis followed closely behind you, the sound of their footsteps echoed quietly in the otherwise quiet place. as he reached the kitchen, he leaned his hip against the kitchen island, watching her every move with a mix of amusement and adoration.
"hurry upppp." he whined impatiently as if he could not take the drink with his own hands, his fingers drumming against the surface of the island. you placed the diet pepsi back into the fridge and took out his favorite cherry coke and handed it to him.
his face lit up the second he saw the cherry coke being handed to him, his impatience quickly replaced with excitement. he eagerly took the can, a wide grin spreading on his face. "thank yoooouuuuu!"
louis popped open the can, taking a big sip. he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief after taking a few sips of the drink, as if he had just received the greatest gift in the world. "finally," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. and the sight, making you smile.
he noticed your smile almost immediately, and his expression softened. his usual playful demeanor melted into something more tender. he took another sip of the coke before setting it down on the counter with a soft clink.
without warning, he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in against him. his free hand came up to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "you're too cute when you're happy for me," he murmured, appreciating you as his loving gaze shifted to every of your facial features. "what do i have to do for that again?"
his words made you smile almost immediately. "just be happy and be yourself, love." you said, his heart melted slightly at your words, a mixture of warmth and affection flooding through him. he pulled you even closer, his grip on yor waist tightening ever so slightly.
he leaned in, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent. he mumbled into your skin, his voice soft and slightly muffled. "you make me so damn soft—" you placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
louis froze for a second, the unexpected kiss making his breath hitch. his cheeks burned—he was never this flustered, but you had a way of turning him into an embarrassed mess.
he pulled back just enough to stare at you with wide eyes before suddenly ducking his head down to hide against your shoulder again. "...cheater," he grumbled into your shirt, holding a shy smile. "using kisses as a weapon to my heart."
tonight was such a quiet night in your neighborhood. and as usual, ohyul came by your place to stay the night with you. he came hours ago, sweaty after just hitting the gym. he showered first then joined your family for dinner.
ohyul was only wearing his athletic shorts (?) and was topless, with the excuse that tonight is hot, well it is partly true since your bedroom's ac broke a few days ago. now, you two were cuddling on your bed, with your back against his chest, and his head resting on top of yours. time and time again, he would snuggle his face against your hair.
your fingers were fiddling between his as a podcast about 'red flag relationship' was playing in the background, it was such a regular night for you two to listen to the podcast every week, just to hear gossip and life of people experiencing a red flag partner. synchronizing gaps from both of you would fill the room with every shocking story from the podcast that was shared.
the podcast host's dramatic gasp followed by their guest's voice echoed through the room. "then i found out he had four secret instagram accounts—"
you gasped softly, twisting your head just enough to look up at ohyul. "see? that's what i mean. red flag."
ohyul hummed lazily behind you, his chest vibrating against your back. his arms tightened slightly around your waist, not possessive, just instinctive. "i don't even use my main account properly," he muttered. "four sounds exhausting."
you snorted. "well, that's exactly what someone with four accounts would say."
he shifted, nudging his nose against your temple before pressing a slow kiss there, warm and unhurried. "if i had secrets," he murmured, voice lower now, softer, "you'd know. i can't hide anything from you."
you tried to keep your composure. failed miserably.
the room felt warmer than it should have been, not just because the ac was broken. his skin against yours was distracting in the worst, best way. your fingers laced more tightly with his, thumb brushing absent patterns over his knuckles.
the podcast continued with another horror story about emotional manipulation, but neither of you were really listening anymore.
"ohyul," you said quietly. "hm?"
"if i ever become a red flag… you'll tell me, right?"
he went still for a second. then he lifted his head slightly so he could see your face. his expression was not teasing now. It was thoughtful. soft.
"you?" he let out a small breath, almost a laugh. "you overthink for three days before deciding what cereal to buy. the only dangerous thing about you is how much you care."
that did something to your chest. it tightened but in the nicest way as possible.
you rolled onto your side to face him, which forced him to adjust, one arm sliding under your pillow so he could prop himself up slightly. in the dim light, his hair was still slightly damp at the ends. he looked unfairly comfortable here. like he is where he belonged.
"hey, ohyul... i'm being serious," you insisted, poking his chest lightly. "promise?"
he caught your hand before you could pull it away. not dramatic. not intense. just gentle.
"i promise." he said simply.
there was no dramatic music cue. no cinematic wind. just the quiet hum of the podcast and the distant sound of a car passing outside.
he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. "and if I ever become one," he added, quieter now, "don't wait for a podcast episode to tell me."
you smiled, eyes softening. "deal." You said, even though you know he would never becoming a red flag. easy to say, you could not even imagine it.
ohyul watched your expression shift, like he could read the thought you did not say out loud. his fingers moved from your wrist to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "hm? what?" he asked quietly.
"nothing." "no. that face isn't nothing."
you rolled your eyes. "gosh, you're so dramatic."
he gasped softly, mock offended. "me? dramatic? you made me watch a two-hour breakdown about emotional unavailability last week."
"it was educational." "it was a powerpoint, y/n."
you tried to hold back your smile. you failed again. he leaned closer, narrowing his eyes playfully.
"i see that... you're smiling."
you shook your head. "no, i'm not." "yes, you are."
before you could deny it again, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. not even centered. just enough to make you freeze.
"that was unfair." you muttered.
ohyul shrugged, clearly proud and pleased with himself. "well, baby, you were being cute. i reacted."
"you reacted like that on purpose." "and?"
you stared at him for a second, then reached up and squished his cheeks together with both hands. "oh~? gym boy thinks he's smooth."
he tried to speak but his words came out muffled. "ma'am, for fact, i am smooth."
"you're literally sweaty and sticky three hours ago."
"eh? i showered!" "meh. but still."
he grabbed your wrists gently and pulled your hands away, but instead of letting go, he laced your fingers with his and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a slower kiss there this time. not teasing. not quick.
your heartbeat did that annoying skip thing again.
"you roast me," hr said softly, brushing his thumb over your hand, "but you were the one clinging to me five minutes ago because the podcast host raised his voice."
you gasped at his accusation. "that was unexpected! and you'd react like that too!"
"nope, darling. i saw you jumped." "no, i did not." "you did."
you tried to kick him lightly under the blanket, but he caught your leg with his and pulled you closer instead. now you were basically tangled, your knee hooked over his hip, his arm resting around your waist.
the room had gone quieter. the podcast had long since moved to background noise, forgotten mid-story. he looked at you differently now. less playful. more… steady.
"can I stay over tomorrow too?" he asked casually but came out as not a question at the first place.
you rolled your eyes from his words. "excuse me mr. gym, you're already staying as if you lived here."
"i know, i know, baby. i mean… after tomorrow too..?"
you softened immediately with a small smile. "love, you're asking like i'm about to disappear."
he shrugged one shoulder, looking almost shy. "i just like waking up next to you."
well that did it. your chest felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the broken ac. "mr. gym, you're such a loser." you whispered gently.
"mhm, i'm your loser." he said immediately.
You leaned forward and kissed him properly this time. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just slow and warm and lingering enough that he sighed softly against your lips.
when you pulled away, he did not let you go far. ohyul's hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. "you taste like the strawberry candy— wait, did you stole it?" he murmured with 'judging' eyes.
"hmm... it wasn't stealing. it was sharing without consent."
"oh? that's not how sharing works, babe."
"you didn't complain when i gave you one."
he grinned faintly. "because you fed it to me, girlfie."
your face heated up instantly. "tsk, shut up."
he laughed quietly, the sound low and warm in the small room, and leaned forward to press his forehead against yours again.
outside, the neighborhood was still. but inside, it felt like your own little world.
────────────────────────────
the podcast eventually ended on its own. neither of you bothered to tap 'continue' for the next episode. the room stayed warm, the sheets tangled, your legs intertwined.
somewhere between soft teasing and half-whispered jokes about who would survive a toxic relationship story, your words grew slower. your movements lazier.
right before you drifted off, you felt him press one last sleepy kiss to the top of your head. "goodnight, my love." ohyul murmured.
and even though it was just a regular thursday, it felt like something you would remember for a long time.
you met him on the second day of sophomore year when you walked into homeroom late, hair still damp from rushing, tie crooked, heart already exhausted. the only empty seat was beside the boy asleep with his face half-buried in his arm.
the teacher cleared her throat.
he did not move so you lightly poked him.
he look up and opened one eye. "what..."
"is this seat taken?" you whispered.
he blinked at you like you were the one interrupting his tragic backstory. "yeah." he said.
you froze. he shifted his bag off the chair. "by you."
that was it. that was the beginning. no k-drama. no slowmo. no destiny soundtrack. just a boy with messy black hair and a mouth that tilted slightly when he tried not to smile.
those little things that built you and him together.
────────────────────────────
he started walking you to the bus stop. why? because he said, "we live in the same direction."
which, three weeks later he had been taking a longer route home without saying anything.
you shared earphones during lunch. one bud in his ear, one in yours. your shoulders touching. you pretended not to notice how he adjusted the volume lower when your favorite songs played so you could talk over them.
he hated mornings. you would bring him strawberry milk from the vending machine. he would complain every time.
"you're going to make me dependent." he would say.
"you already are." he would roll his eyes, but drink it anyway.
────────────────────────────
there was that rainy afternoon when practice got cancelled and you both ran to the convenience store across the street. you split a cup of instant ramen and argued about which idol group had the better choreography.
"you have no taste." he said with full mouth, pointing his chopsticks at you.
"tsk, dude. you literally stan visuals." you shot back, pushing his hand away from your sight.
he gasped like you had committed a crime, frowning towards you. "ya! you wound me there!"
you laughed so hard you almost choked (you did). he patted your back too gently for someone who claimed he was annoyed with you.
────────────────────────────
for you and ohyul, everyone else can see it.
everyone can tell how close you two are.
your classmates would tease you too. "ohyul, your girlfriend is calling for you."
you would both yell, "she's not—" "i'm not—" at the same time.
then stare at each other. then look away.
it became a thing now. the synchronized denial. the pink ears. the way his hand would hover near your elbow in crowded hallways like he was ready to pull you back if you tripped.
he remembered things. things about you.
your math test anxiety.
your habit of biting your pen cap when stressed.
the exact way you liked your hair tucked behind your ear before presentations.
────────────────────────────
even one time, before your midterms, you had a breakdown in the empty music room. you told him you felt stupid. that everyone else was moving forward while you were stuck.
he did not laugh. he did not tease. he just sat beside you on the dusty floor, knees touching. "you're not allowed to talk about my best friend like that." he said quietly, trying to make you laugh.
you sniffed. "your best friend sounds dramatic."
"she is. but she's also terrifyingly smart."
you looked at him. he looked at the window.
you never forgot that.
────────────────────────────
there is one memory that hurt later.
sports festival day.
you hated running vs he hated losing. so, how it happened;
he dragged you into the three-legged race anyway.
"you're going to ruin my athletic reputation." he muttered while tying your ankles together.
"tsk. wake up, mr. kwon. you don't even have one."
he chuckles before standing properly, brushing dust off his pants. "stay close beside me."
when the whistle blew, you both stumbled. you grabbed his blazer. he grabbed your waist to steady you. you ran like that. laughing. almost falling. winning second place.
he did not let go immediately. there are moments that do not feel important for some point in your life.
────────────────────────────
the shift between you two.
it did no happen overnight. but slowly. that is the cruel part.
it started when he made new friends on the basketball team.
when he started staying later.
when you stopped sharing earphones because his same excuse, "i forgot mine."
when he laughed at jokes you were not part of.
when he did not wait by your classroom anymore.
────────────────────────────
one afternoon;
you saw him at the lockers. a girl from the dance club leaning close beside him, laughing at something he said.
you told yourself it did not matter.
he was your friend. and you are his friend.
just your friend.
so why did it feel like something was being replaced?
────────────────────────────
you naturally distanced yourself from him.
and from that, crazy rumors were spread.
and those rumors, they travel fast in high school.
someone said you liked him.
someone else said he rejected you.
────────────────────────────
you had to confront him.
so you did, behind the gym, because apparently that is where all teenage emotional disasters occur.
"ohyul. did you tell them?" you asked.
he frowned. "tell them what?"
"that i like you."
he stared at you like the idea was ridiculous. then, softer, "do you?" and then a long silence.
you hated how your heart reacted.
"that's not the point." you said.
he ran a hand through his hair. "hey, i didn't say anything. why would i?"
"because you've been acting like i'm embarrassing." you said, unconsciously hand pointed towards where his friends are.
his expression changed. defensive.
"i have other friends, y/n."
you huffed, more sharp that what you intended to. "well, i know that."
"then why are you acting like i owe you something?"
that sentence. it hit harder than anything else.
"i never said you owed me." you whispered.
he exhaled sharply. "y/n. you're making this weird."
'weird'?
you wanted to scream. to remind him of strawberry milk mornings. of rainy night with ramen. of the music room.
instead, you nodded. "right. sorry. i guess i imagined it." you said, to sound more sarcastic.
he did not stop you when you walked away.
that is when friendship starts to rot. not with shouting. not with betrayal. with silence.
────────────────────────────
and now.
you pass each other in hallways.
no synchronized denials anymore.
no shared earphones.
just the memory of a boy who used to call you his best friend like it meant something permanent.
and the quiet realization that sometimes the person who knows you best becomes the one who can hurt you the easiest.
high school is funny like that.
you do not lose strangers.
you lose the person who once tied your ankle to theirs and said, "stay close beside me." with that attractive smile.
summary : "if i'm not the problem? then why do i feel like one?"
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
you think you are doing a good job pretending. you thought.
you laugh at lunch. you answer questions in class.
you even start staying late in the library so you do not have to pass by the basketball court after school.
you tell yourself this is mature.
that you are not avoiding him, but "moving on".
except your grades start slipping.
except you forget your homework twice in one week.
except you zone out during presentations and your teacher has to call your name twice before you blink back to life.
sure it sounds embarrassing but hell and pathetic.
you stop bringing strawberry milk in the mornings.
you stop carrying two earphones.
you keep tell yourself, "It's fine. It's just high school..."
and "... people drift."
────────────────────────────
once, during math when it finally hits him.
you are usually the one who nudges him awake when he dozes off. but now, you did not which equals to, no one. he glances sideways towards your direction who sit across the classroom, all alone (rather than beside him).
your pen is not moving. your eyes are open, but you are not looking at the board. you are staring at nothing, your jaw slightly clenched, as if you are trying not to feel something.
he frowns from that sight.
────────────────────────────
and at lunch, you do not sit at your usual table. you are outside, under the stairs near the gym, knees pulled to your chest, headphones on, head leaned back against the wall.
he once saw you while passing by the stairs. He stands there for a second. you did not see him. and you are not even playing music.
well, he can tell because the screen of your phone is dark. and he clearly can tell something is wrong.
something tightens in his chest at the thoughts.
────────────────────────────
after school, he catches up to you near the gates.
"y/n!" you hear that voice from behind you with hurry steps approaching, but you keep walking.
he speeds up, steps even louder now. "y/n."
you stopped walking and turned around to face him. "what." the way you say it is not sharp. it is tired.
and that... scares him? hurts him? or both?
"i didn't see you earlier. you skipped dance practice today...?" he says.
you shrug. "didn't feel like it."
"but... why? you love practice."
"not everything stays the same, ohyul."
that hits harder than you intended.
you sigh, turning around and was about to leave.
he steps in front of you, forcing you to stop, "y/n, look at me."
you did not. you did not want to. you hate to.
"i am now. what do you want?" you said, even clearly your gaze is everywhere but on him.
"y/n... look at me." he said, his voice soften, pleading in it.
silence. the wind is cold. your hair keeps falling into your face and you did not bother fixing it.
"you think i don't notice?" he asks quietly. you did not say anything. you just let him continue.
"you didn't talk in class anymore. you didn't even sit next to me. you stopped arguing with me about stupid things. you stopped texting me. you look like... you haven't slept."
you snickered weakly, sounding more like an amused huff. "you're overanalyzing again."
"y/n. i am being serious." "so am i."
there is a pause, few seconds. then he says your name softer this time. "y/n... are you not okay?"
and that is the problem.
because if he had asked that two weeks ago, you might have broken down, so pathetic in need of him who seems to be living his best life now.
but now? now you are exhausted. you did not feel like it worth to plead him to stay just because he used to be your friend.
you ran your fingers through your hair and let out a deep exhausted sigh. "ohyul. why do you care?" you ask.
his expression falters, like the question sounding so ridiculous to him. "why wouldn't i?"
"you have other things that is more important than me. you have your friends." you said, repeating his own words back to him.
you see it land, the way he is silenced. you hate that you are doing this. you hate that you can not stop.
"that's not what i meant back then." "it doesn't matter."
"it does to me." he said sharply.
you shake your head. "ohyul. you don't get to check in on me like this."
his brows pull together. "like what?"
the audacity? you let a huff out of amusement. "like you didn't push me away first."
he exhales sharply. "i did not push you away."
"you did. you made me feel like i was a problem."
his voice lowers. "no, y/n. you weren't."
"then why do i feel like one?"
that silences him. and the worst part? you did not want to win this argument. but you just want him to understand.
────────────────────────────
The next week is worse.
You bomb a quiz.
You leave school early one day because your head won't stop pounding. It hurts so bad.
Ohyul hears about it from someone else.
"Y/N went home. She looked pale."
He doesn't even grab his bag properly. Just shoves things inside and leaves practice early.
He texts you:
"Y/N?" –Ohyul, sent at 1:28p.m.
"Are you sick?" –Ohyul, sent at 1:28p.m.
"What happened?" –Ohyul, sent at 1:29p.m.
"Hey, I'm here." –Ohyul, sent at 1:32p.m.
"I'm calling you." –Ohyul, sent at 1:32p.m.
No reply.
And he tried to calls. Nothing.
He stands outside your apartment building longer than he should. Staring up at your window like it'll give him answers.
He doesn't go up. He tells himself that would be crossing a line.
But he doesn't leave for a long time either.
────────────────────────────
Two days later, you're back at school.
You look smaller somehow.
He waits until the hallway empties after class.
This time he doesn't block you. Instead, he just stands there. Next to you.
"Y/N... You didn't answer me."
You keep your eyes on your locker. "About what."
"About whether you're okay." "I'm fine."
"You're not." He said. Your hands freeze.
He steps closer, but careful. Not confrontational. Not angry. Worried. "Hey... You look like you're carrying something heavy." He says quietly. "And you won't let anyone help."
You swallow. "It's not your responsibility."
"I know." "Then stop acting like it is."
"I can't." He said immediately. That makes you finally look at him. His eyes aren't defensive this time.
Those eyes. They're scared. But you looked away.
"You think I don't see it?" He says. "You used to talk to me about everything. Even dumb things. Especially dumb things."
A small, painful smile touches his mouth. "You would text me at 2 a.m. about existential crises over math homework."
You looked up from the ground. He continued, eyes still on you. "You would steal my hoodie when you were cold and pretend it was accidental."
Your throat tightens.
"You would tell me when something was wrong."
His voice lowers. "Now you won't even look at me."
The hallway feels too quiet.
You want to say you were protecting yourself.
You want to say you didn't know how to stand next to him without wanting more.
But instead, you say the worst possible thing.
"Maybe I realized I depended on you too much."
His face falls. "That's not a bad thing."
"It is if it's one-sided." "It wasn't."
You huffed. "You can easily say that now."
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Then why? Why won't you let me in?"
"Because you don't stay."
The words slip out before you can stop them. And he freezes as soon as he heard it.
You don't explain.
You don't clarify.
You don't have to.
You just close your locker and walk past him.
And once more, he doesn't stop you.
Not because he doesn't want to.
But because he finally understands something is breaking inside you.
And he doesn't know how to fix it yet.
────────────────────────────
The day it finally happens isn't dramatic.
There's no rain, no crowd, no cinematic lighting.
It's just a regular Tuesday that feels heavier than usual, the kind of day where the air presses down on your shoulders and everything irritates you for no clear reason.
You're in the library after school, surrounded by open textbooks you haven't actually read. Your eyes are skimming the same paragraph for the fifth time, but nothing is sticking. The words blur together until they look like a foreign language you never signed up to learn— Your phone buzzes.
You ignore it. It buzzes again.
You flip it over, annoyed, only to see his name lighting up your screen.
Ohyul.
You stare at it longer than you should. The vibration stops. A second later, another message comes through.
"I'm outside." –Ohyul, sent at 5:41p.m.
Your stomach drops. 'Outside' what?
Before you can spiral, another text arrives.
"Don't overthink." –Ohyul, sent at 5:41p.m.
"Only for five minutes." –Ohyul, sent at 5:42p.m.
You almost don't go. You tell yourself you won't. You tell yourself you're done letting him rearrange your emotions like furniture.
But your feet move anyway.
────────────────────────────
He's sitting on the low stone wall near the front gate, elbows on his knees, staring down at something in his hands. He looks… tired. The tired that is quietly worn out.
When he sees you, he stands up too quickly, like he was scared you would disappear if he didn't react fast enough. "You look pale." He says immediately.
You cross your arms. "That's not a greeting."
"Hi," He corrects, softer now. "You look pale."
You roll your eyes, but there's no energy behind it. "Why are you here?"
He hesitates for a second, then holds up what he's been gripping. It's a small carton of strawberry milk.
Your chest tightens at the sight.
"You stopped bringing it," He says, almost awkwardly. "So I thought… maybe you just forgot."
"I didn't forget." "Yeah... I know."
There iss a pause between you, thick but not sharp. The kind of silence that feels careful instead of hostile.
He walks closer, but slowly, like he's approaching something fragile. He doesn't shove the drink into your hands. He just holds it out and waits.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine with me," He says quietly. "You can be mad. You can be confused. You can ignore me. But... don't disappear like that."
You didn't say anything for a second. You looked up at him, properly meeting his gaze. "I didn't disappear."
"You did," He insists, voice gentler now. "You stopped letting me see you."
The words hit differently this time.
Not defensive. Not accusing. Just honest.
────────────────────────────
You take the strawberry milk from his hand, your fingers brushing his for half a second. It’s barely contact, but it feels like someone turned the volume up on your heartbeat.
"You're acting like I'm fragile." You mutter as you try to look away, pretending like it's nothing.
"You are." He replies instantly.
Your head snaps up with a frown. "Excuse me?"
"I don't mean weak," He says quickly, flustered. "I-I mean… you feel everything too much. And when you shut down, you shut down hard. You shut everyone away from you too..."
You stare at him, stunned by how accurately he just described you.
"You've been trying to carry everything by yourself," He continues, voice steadier now. "And I don't like watching you struggle from a distance."
You swallow. "You think I like it?"
"No," He says. "That's the problem."
There's something about the way he says it that makes your defenses wobble.
He shifts his weight, suddenly looking nervous in a way you haven't seen before. His fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve like he's trying to work up courage for something.
"I kept replaying that day," He admits. "When you said I made you feel like a problem."
You look away. Eye contact gonna be a big burden.
"I didn't sleep much that night," He continues. "I kept thinking about the music room. About sports day. About all the times you trusted me."
Your throat tightens.
"I was scared," He says. "Of ruining what we had because I didn't know how to handle wanting more."
The world goes quiet again.
You stare at him, trying to process the way his voice softened on those last two words.
"You... wanted more?" You ask, barely audible.
He lets out a breath that sounds like he has been holding it for weeks. "Yeah... I still do."
It's not dramatic.
It's not loud.
It's just there. Simple and terrifying and real.
────────────────────────────
you did not realize you have stepped closer until there is barely any space left between you and him. your hands are still clutching the strawberry milk like it is an anchor.
"you're really bad at timing..." you whisper.
"i know."
"you hurt me."
"i know, and i'm sorry."
"you made me feel stupid."
"i'm sorry." he said. there is no defensiveness nor excuses. just sincerity sitting in his eyes.
"and you," he says gently, "don't get to decide alone that i won't stay."
that lands somewhere deep.
because that is what this was, right? and indeed, you left first before he could.
you let out a shaky breath. "i thought if i stopped depending on you, it would hurt less."
"hey..." he said softly. He tries to look into your eyes. he brings your chin up. "did it?"
you shake your head slowly, your gaze meeting his. there is scared hidden behind your eyes. "no."
something in his expression softens so much it almost hurts to look at. and then it happens.
not planned. not calculated.
he reaches out and tugs you forward by the sleeve of your clothing, not forceful, just enough to close the last inch of space between you. you stumble slightly, your forehead bumping lightly against his chest.
he freezes for half a second, as if giving you a chance to pull away. but you did not.
his arms come around you carefully, slowly, like he was asking permission with every movement. when you do not protest, he pulls you in fully, chin resting lightly on the top of your head.
you did not realize how much you missed this.
how much you missed him.
the warmth. the familiarity. the way his hand fits perfectly between your shoulder blades.
"y/n... i was so worried," he murmurs into your hair. "when you left early that day, i stood outside your building like an idiot."
you pull back slightly to look at him, "you what?"
"i didn't go up," he admits. "i didn't know if you would slam the door in my face."
you stare at him, stunned, then something fragile and fond blooms in your chest. you let out a soft huff. "you're so dramatic."
he grinned. a subtle one. "and you love that about me, right?"
you almost deny it. instead, your hand grips the front of his hoodie softly. "tsk... maybe."
his laugh is sincere, quiet, relieved, like someone who just survived something.
────────────────────────────
ohyul leans back slightly, just enough to look at you properly. his fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, a small gesture that feels bigger than it should.
"next time, when you're not okay," he says, voice warm now, "don't shut me out."
"but... you said you had your other friends."
"mhm. i do," nods. "but to me, you're not just a friend."
your heartbeat spikes again. "then what am i?"
he smiles, softer than you have ever seen. "you're my person."
the words hit harder this time.
not like a memory, but a promise.
────────────────────────────
and suddenly, after weeks of tension, miscommunication, and quiet suffering, the air no longer feels heavy.
it feels light. unfairly light.
high school is still messy. people will still talk. you will probably argue again about something stupid.
but right now, ohyul will be standing outside the school gates with a half-crushed strawberry milk carton in hand and his arms still loosely around you, it feels simple.
Louis has this annoying habit of standing too close to you. Like... close.
Not in a weird way. Just… close enough that your shoulders brush when you're walking, close enough that when you turn your head, you almost bump noses. Like he doesn't understand the concept of personal space. Or maybe he does and just doesn't care. Just maybe.
────────────────────────
"Where you at?" –Louis, sent at 3:17p.m.
You stare at the message even though you saw him twenty minutes ago.
"At home" –You, sent at 3:17p.m.
"Why?" –You, sent at 3:18p.m.
Three dots appear immediately.
"I've been waiting all day" –Louis, sent at 3:18p.m.
"Unlock the front door. Help" –Louis, sent at 3:18p.m.
You roll your eyes at his reply, tch, drama king. You slide your phone in your pocket and walk down the stairs.
────────────────────────
Outside, Louis can hear the footsteps approaching. He purposely doesn’t knock properly. He always does that half-knock, half-door push thing like he’s lived here his whole life. Well, your mom likes him. That is suspicious enough.
You unlocked the door for him (tbh, that's the only way to keep him from getting inside). He takes his steps to the kitchen, with a smile (a cute one). He's expecting you to follow him, but when he looked over his shoulder, you weren't behind him.
You're in the living room. You plopped yourself on the couch. You take out your phone and scroll through TikTok, ignoring his gaze that was on you from the kitchen, you can faintly see from your peripheral vision.
Well, Louis' eyes never left you from the second you took out your phone. He was expecting at least a greeting (which usually are 'i bought you these snacks and soda, you can have it from the fridge') or even appreciating his presence with 'I missed you' would be nice. Well, he needs to think of something to say without messing with your mood, "You looked bored." He said, from the kitchen, loud enough for you to hear.
"I'm not." You said, almost immediately as if you're waiting or even expecting him to speak.
"You are. I can tell." He drops down next to you.
Not 'next to you-next to you'. But 'right' next to you.
His thigh presses against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Silence stretches between you two, but it's not awkward. It never is with him.
"You practiced saying it again?" He suddenly asks.
"Hm? Saying what?"
He grins, waiting for that response. "That. Je t'aime. Te amo. I love you."
Your face burns, covering it up with a scoff. "Tsk. That was one time."
"You said it three different languages."
"Yeah. Because it's funny. It's trend from TikTok."
"It wasn't funny," He says, softer now, his eyes try to meet with yours but you haven't looked up from your phone, as if the videos on your fyp can distract you (it cannot). "Well... It wasn't enough." He blurted out.
Your heart trips. Suddenly, confusion floods your head as if his words make you forget English.
────────────────────────
Louis leans back, staring at the ceiling like he's calculating something complicated. "You ever feel like words don't do it? Like… even if you say everything, it still doesn't explain how much you—" He stops himself, pressing his two lips tightly.
You look at him. "How much you what?"
He turns his head slowly, to meet your gaze that's finally on him. His expression shifts from playful to careful. "How much do you notice when someone's always right next to you?" He finishes.
Your breathing gets weird. You hate that it gets weird.
"Louis…" You said. He sits up, shifts his body to face you, and suddenly his serious face somehow makes your stomach flip.
"Y/N... Do you still look at me as a friend?"
There it is. The question he's been dancing around for weeks.
You try to laugh it off with a chuckle that everyone can tell that it's a forced one. "Why are you asking like that?" You asked as if the question wasn't direct enough.
"Because if you think I'm just a friend," He says, voice quieter now, "then I'm in trouble."
You blink. "Trouble?"
"Y/N... I can't focus when you're not around. It's like something's off. Something's missing. And when you are around..." He gestures vaguely between you. "It's worse— Or better. Damn it... I don't know."
You looked down at your hands, unable to meet his eyes for now. He exhales sharply. "I'm right here... You just have to see me."
There's a smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes are honest. Almost nervous. You nudge his shoulder with yours, let out a soft playful scoff. "You're so dramatic."
He chuckled before it faded away in seconds. His gaze fell to your hands as well. "So... Do you want to answer the question...?"
You don't. Instead, you shift closer. Deliberately this time. Your arm presses against his, your head tilts slightly toward his shoulder. Louis? He goes still.
"Louis..." You call him out softly, "if I didn't want you here… would I let you sit this close?"
He looks down at the tiny space between you two. Anyone can misunderstand the 'siting gap' we always have (blame it on him though).
A slow grin spreads across his face. "So I have a chance? Right? Right?" There is it. His excitement.
You pretend to think about it. "Hmm... Maybe...?"
He leans in just enough that his forehead almost touches yours. "I'm not good at subtle."
"Well, I noticed." "Good," Hs whispers. "Because I'm not planning to move anyways."
triggered warnings : s3x related mentioned, smoking
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
you and ohyul have quite a 'bond' together. it started as a random make-out from a party and ended with a routine, which was that he would come to your place weekly and fuck with you.
even months after, he keeps coming back to you to taste you in bed, making love together.
despite that, in public, you both still treat each other as if nothing happened between you two behind closed doors—a total stranger. and neither of you complained either; it's become a rule that all the 'love' made only stays on the bed.
the rules are: no feelings attached & strangers in public. surely, it sounds easy, right? but does it?
────────────────────────────
one night—
both of you just finished the usual 'weekly' make-out. you noticed how he slipped over his boxer, then reached his hand over the cigarette box by the nightstand at his side. he took one cigarette stick from the box along with a lighter, lighting it up.
he leaned his back against the headboard of the bed, and his back and shoulders rested on the headboard. he was still shirtless, the cigarette between his fingers as he took a long drag. he slowly exhaled the smoke, his eyes fixated on you for a few seconds.
there was a moment of silence, as usual. it was always quiet in the room after the make-out tension. ohyul is not one for small talk, and neither were you. the smoke from the cigarette slowly filled the room, creating a hazy atmosphere.
you sit properly and also lean your back against the headboard before your head turns to look at his side profile. "you... busy, right? rugby and stuff."
he did not respond immediately. he took another drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke away from you before he finally spoke, his voice nonchalant as usual. "yeah, got a game coming up next week. training's been intense." he said, looking straight ahead (blankly at your study table) instead of meeting your gaze.
his voice was calm and nonchalant, as if he were talking about the weather instead of a match. he took the cigarette from his lips and flicked away the ash on it before speaking again. "why? need something?"
you shook your head. "nothing. just asking."
he gave a slight nod, taking another hit from the cigarette before he exhaled the smoke. he was still looking ahead, not really facing you. your question seemed to be out of pure curiosity rather than having a purpose.
there was a short moment of silence. then, ohyul glanced over at you from the corner of his eye. "you? anything going on with you?" he asked. he took another drag from the cigarette before breathing the smoke out.
you took a few seconds to process his question as your gaze traveled to the blank wall before it shifted back to his side profile. "not really. only studying and curriculum activities."
he nodded again, understanding your response. it is true. you had a straight academic background, after all. "mhm, that's typical. of course, the perfect student is studying all the time." he said. he knew that you were the type who never missed a class and always topped in everything you do.
he brought the cigarette to his lips, taking another drag before exhaling the smoke slowly.
the quietness was eating the air again, the only sound coming from the occasional puff of smoke leaving his lips. he seemed to be deep in thought, his gaze on the wall in front of him.
there was an air of nonchalance about him as usual. his expression was as stoic and unreadable as ever. be took another long drag from the cigarette, then spoke again, his voice steady and even.
"your parents don't know about us, right?" he asked, his eyes flicked over to you for a moment.
you simply shrugged. "i've never brought people over. they never seem to care about it."
ohyul nodded again, understanding that your parents were probably too fixated on their own things to pay attention to your relationships.
he took another puff from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a slow, steady stream. "lucky you," he commented. "they really don't care who you hang out with or who you date?"
"mhm, they don't care."
he nodded at your answer, taking it as a confirmation. "must be nice to have parents who don't give a damn." his tone was clear. he was not judging you in any way, it was more of a statement.
you did not say anything for a while before you tugged the duvet over your body. "when you leave, make sure the front door is lock."
he flicked the ash into the empty glass on the nightstand, eyes lowering briefly in acknowledgment. "always do."
one last drag. the ember glowed faintly in the dim room before he crushed it against the rim of the glass. without another word, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for his jeans.
his movements as he gets dress is casual and unhurried. the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional clink of a metal belt buckle filled the room.
after a few moments, he zipped up his pants and pulled on his shirt—a black shirt that hugged his well-built frame nicely.
ohyul glanced over at you, still facing your back, before he spoke. "y/n, i'm leaving, then." "mhm, night."
he nodded, even if you could not see it. he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly before he grabbed his jacket off the chair.
ohyul was walking towards the bedroom door when he spoke again, stopping just before he opened it. "text me if you need anything, yeah?" he said, and there was just a hint of softness in his usual stoic tone.
you hummed at his words. then, he opened the door slowly, not bothering to turn on the light, the hallway was still dark.
"night, then." he said, before he quietly left and closed the door behind him. which a minute later, you can hear the motorbike's engine sound fading away, which a clear sign that he has left.
seconds later, you lift your head slightly and glance at the nightstand where his side is by at an earlier time, and as usual, he always left his perfume.
────────────────────────────
skip to a week later,
you just showered. you glanced at the wall clock, the time was just past eight and a half. You have got nothing better to do so you study.
you were over your study table, two textbooks and one notebook wide open on the table as you were locked in studying-focus-mode.
suddenly, your phone buzzed on the table, the sound breaking the silence and pulling you away from your intense study session. you glanced at the notification, seeing a text from a saved contact name as, 'ohyul' appeared on the screen.
you turned your phone screen facing down, filtering out any sort of distraction. you ignored the second 'ping!' sound that came from your phone. since if there is the third notification, you knew it meant that he probably informing he is arriving...?
the odds that he is coming in the middle of the weekday instead of friday night as usual just do not sit right with you but you easily ignore the unnecessary detail.
after a few more minutes later, you heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching. the roar of the engine getting louder as it got closer and closer.
the motorbike's engine cut off downstairs. a few moments later, the soft knock on your bedroom door came—two quiet raps, a silent signal only he ever used.
you did not look up from your notes. you already knew who it was, followed by the sudden familiar cologne scent. the door open by itself, it was left unlocked, as always.
"you usually came after ten." you said without looking up. he did not respond to your comment at first, just observing you from behind silently for a moment.
then he spoke, his voice still indifferent. "got bored."
after receiving zero response from you, he walked further into the room, eyes taking in the surroundings with a casual, almost bored expression.
he walked over to the desk, his gaze flicking over the open textbooks and the notebooks strewn across the table, the signs of hours of diligent studying. but he did not comment on it, just watching you in silence.
"you know that today is wednesday, not friday?"
he remained silent for a beat, unfazed by the observation. His gaze stayed level, unreadable as ever. "rules don't say i can only come fridays."
he took a slow step closer, pulling off his jacket and draping it over backrest of the chair you are sitting on. the scent of night air and leather clung to him.
"anything is wrong with it?" he said.
"no. but you usually came right after a week. and after ten. now it's only nine."
he leaned a hip against the edge of the desk, arms folded casually over his chest. he looked down at you, his expression still nonchalant. there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "you keeping a tally?" he asked, tone almost amused.
you looked up to him, meeting his gaze. "ohyul... has something happened?"
he did not answer right away, just held your gaze with his usual calm, unreadable stare. the quiet between them stretched, thick with something unspoken.
after a beat, he pushed off the desk and closed the distance in one slow step. his hand reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face—gentle, for him. "nothing happened," he said lowly. "just wanted to see you."
you weirdly glanced at his hand since he was never being this 'touchy' and talking this much. and that is when you just noticed a smell. "are you drunk? you said you don't drink."
he paused after your words lingered in the air for a while. his is slowly hand dropped back to his side.
for a moment, his expression remained neutral, then the tiniest shrug of his shoulders. "had a few with the guys after practice." he admitted simply. there was no point denying it, you already knew.
"not drunk." he added. it was true, he was not drunk. his tolerance was too high for that.
"go shower. you know that i hate the smell."
he did not argue. he never did when you gave an order like that. with a quiet nod, he turned toward your bathroom, with light steps.
the water started up moments later, warm steam curling under the door after it closed. he did not take long. around five minutes, maybe six—before the sound cut off and he stepped out in just his black boxers, towel slung over one shoulder.
he hung the damp towel on one of the hangers. then he moved to sit on the edge of your bed, waiting with that same calm stillness in his eyes.
you stand up, closing the books before turning your body around. your eyes caught him immediately. "ohyul. why did you drink?"
ohyul's gaze remained on you, dark eyes unreadable in the dim lighting. he leaned back against the headboard. "no special reason." he said, tone matter-of-fact. he had a few drinks after practice, that was all. nothing much to say about it.
there was another moment of silence before he spoke again, his tone still nonchalant yet there was a thread of curiosity there. "you're questioning a lot tonight." "cause you acted odd."
"i'm always odd." he said. his tone is still unreadable but his eyes held something quieter now, almost guarded.
he turned slightly toward you on the bed, one arm resting behind him for support. the damp strands of hair clung to his forehead gave him a softer look than usual. "well, you never minded before."
he is right. and you knew it. which may be what has got you speechless for a few seconds.
"dry your hair properly before lay on my bed." you said.
a silent beat, then ohyul huffed a laugh. A rarity, coming from him. he rolled off the bed and grabbed the towel from the hanger, running it briskly through his still-damp hair. it didn't take long for all the dampness to soak up, though not fully.
he tossed the slightly damp towel into the laundry hamper and then flopped back down on the bed, the mattress softly creaking under his weight. his gaze never left you when you were taking steps, approaching him.
he looked at you, eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. "done." "no, it still hasn't dried properly." you said.
you said as you held out your hand and felt a few strands of his hair between your fingers. he watched as you ran your fingers through his hair, the damp strands slightly cool under your touch. the gesture was unexpected. he was used to your touch, but usually it was more... heated, more rushed.
ohyul remained quiet, his gaze on you, a mixture of intrigue and, strangely enough, curiosity.
"it'll dry soon." he suddenly said, voice low and measured.
he let out a soft sigh, "i can't hold it anymore..." he mumbled before he suddenly stands and leaned tall over you as his lips pressed against yours.
thank you for reading it :3
(lngshot's masterlist) // there is part 2 if this is loved !!
mid-post high school. that strange in between stage where everyone pretends they know what they are doing. while actually they do not know. they just buy iced americano and talk about 'future plans'.
ohyul was the only son in his family.
the dependable one. the strong one. the one who drove his parents to appointments and fixed broken shelves and swallowed his own exhaustion because someone else always needed him more.
he carried expectations like a second spine.
his friends joked that he never said no. he did not know how to. responsibility clung to him so tightly that he forgot what it felt like to put it down.
love? well, that was a luxury. and he had no space for luxuries. or so he thought.
meanwhile y/n was the third child. the youngest. the one who learned early that if you did not speak up, the world would simply… move on without you.
you packed your own lunch when your parents were busy with your older siblings's competitions. you figured out bus routes alone. you celebrated your own small wins quietly. being independent was not empowering at first. it was survival.
sometimes, late at night, scrolling through everyone else's loud, glittering lives, you would think, "oh. i'm easy to forget." you hated that thought. but it lingered.
────────────────────────────
simply say, you and ohyul met on an ordinary tuesday.
the kind of tuesday that does not promise anything special. really...
it is at a small bookstore café in your neighborhood. you were crouched down, trying to gather the books you had accidentally knocked over, whispering apologies to no one in particular (cliché? yes).
as you were mumbling some curse to yourself, a hand appeared in your peripheral vision. long fingers. careful movements. a crouched figure.
"i think this one is yours." the voice said softly.
and when you looked up. (even he forgot how to breathe).
it was not dramatic. no background music swelling out of nowhere. no slow motion wind machine flipping your hair like you were auditioning for a main role.
but it is not and yet. it felt suspiciously cinematic.
you were still sitting on the floor, legs folded awkwardly to the side, one hand still hovering over a fallen stack of books. your hair had slipped out of whatever effort you had made to tie it back. a few strands brushed your cheeks. your lips were slightly parted in embarrassment.
"uh—" you blinked at him, clearly not expecting a (good looking) stranger to be crouched in front of you. "that one— yeah. that is mine."
your voice was soft but not weak. careful. like you were used to keeping it at a certain volume so you did not interrupt anyone else's noise.
he handed you the book. his fingers brushed yours for half a second. and that half second did something irreversible to him.
"sorry," you said quickly, tucking the book to your chest. "i didn't mean to make a mess. i thought the stack was stable."
"it's fine, really." he did not stand up right away.
he should have. a normal person would have handed you the book and walked away. instead, he stayed crouched there like he had all the time in the world.
"you come here often?" he asked, then internally winced. that sounded criminally basic.
you tilted your head slightly, studying him. not suspicious. just… observant. "uh... sometimes. cuz it is quiet."
he hummed followed by a nod. "so, you like quiet?"
you shrugged, brushing imaginary dust off the book's cover. "hmm... depends. quiet is nice. people are loud."
"that's… deeply relatable," he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "i think i've lost hearing in one ear from group projects alone."
a soft huff escaped you. not quite a laugh. and he noticed it.
"you don't seem loud," you said, glancing at him again. "for someone who just used the most overused line in existence."
he blinked. "i knew it. the second it left my mouth, i regretted my life choices."
"'you come here often?'" you repeated lightly with a light chuckle. "very vintage."
both of you let out a light chuckle before the silence filled the air. he clears his throat and attempts to change the topic.
"so, what do you usually read?" he asked, a little more careful this time.
you glanced down at the book in your hand. "hmm... just self-confidence stuff."
"self-confidence." he repeated, like he was testing the weight of it. his gaze fell on the cover of the book that you are holding.
you nodded once, casual. "it's cheaper than therapy."
a corner of his mouth lifted. "yeah, debatable. some of those books cost a fortune."
"true," you admitted. "but at least they don't look at you like you're the problem."
he tilted his head slightly. "hm?", his gaze fell on your face. "uh... do you think you're the problem?"
you immediately shrugged it off. "i would say, everyone assumes they are. it's efficient."
that was not heavy. you did not say it like a confession. more like an observation about the weather.
he nod, glanced at the title. "so this one is about…?"
"not shrinking yourself," you said. "which is ironic because now i literally am crouching on the floor." He chuckled from that.
"you don't seem like someone who needs a book to be confident." he said, tone light with honesty.
you raised a brow. "you've known me for approximately four minutes." his gaze shifted back to you. he did not push further. did not ask why you needed those books.
as soon as he saw you are standing, he immediately held out his hand for help. you paused for a few seconds at first before accepting his help.
he just met your eyes. and you held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than a stranger normally would.
then you looked away first. "uh... see you around, stranger." you said with a smile, like it was nothing.
he nods. and he knew he would be back here tomorrow.
────────────────────────────
ever since then, both of them were at the bookstore café every tuesday afternoon. he sat at the table across from yours. not intrusive. just… there.
every now and then, you would glance up and catch him already looking. just observing. like you were something worth paying attention to.
you were not used to that.
there are certain time when he feels a bit brave, he will buy some sweet drinks from the menu for you and delivered it to your table just to talk to you. like today;
"so," he said eventually, leaning slightly forward, "how are you feeling today?"
you blinked at him, caught off guard. not because the question was unusual, but because it felt… deliberate. thoughtful.
"uh… i'm okay," you said cautiously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "why?"
he shrugged lightly, pretending it was casual. "Just curious. you are frowning while reading the books."
you blinked again, a little flustered. "i… wasn't frowning. just… uh, concentrating."
he raised an eyebrow, grin threatening the edges of his lips. "concentrating or brooding dramatically?"
you snorted, hiding a small smile behind your hand. "maybe both. but it's none of your business."
"hmm," he hummed, leaning closer just a fraction, enough that you could feel a warm brush of air. "i'm making it my business now." his hand reached over the cover of the book you're holding. tip of his finger playing with the edged of the hard cover.
your heart skipped by the sudden closeness of his skin with yours, which was ridiculous because he was basically a stranger. you tried to hide it by taking a sip of the strawberry matcha. sweet. too sweet. your fingers brushed his as you lifted the cup.
he caught the gesture, did not pull away. Instead, he let his hand linger. "not that i mind." he murmured.
you looked up, and for a moment, the words you had been rehearsing all week, words about being strong, about standing alone—felt useless. he was smiling, soft, easy, and for some reason, completely unignorable.
"are you always this… distracting?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"i could ask you the same thing." he replied, leaning just a little closer. his hand finally brushed yours fully this time.
and suddenly, the quiet café, the books, the strawberry matcha—they all faded, leaving only this sudden, awkward, electric closeness.
you blinked. he blinked. and then, without thinking, your fingers twined with his. "i'm y/n." you said softly with subtle shyness.
he smiled, like he had been waiting to hear it. "ohyul. it feels nice to finally know your name."
and just like that, a quiet little beginning of something unshakable had started.
the sky dipped into that lazy shade between gold and blue, where the sun had not fully given up but the streetlights were starting to think about it. the air smelled like grass and something sweet from the nearby convenience store.
ohyul liked that time. cause it meant fewer people. fewer chances to be perceived.
he sat on the far end of a wooden bench, earbuds in, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands even though it was not cold. he was not really listening to music. just pretending to. well, it helped keep conversations away.
he told himself he came here to run. but he ended up sitting more than running. the hot weather does not hell with his
footsteps approached fast. light. rhythmic. confident. he did not look up at first.
then someone dropped onto the bench beside him with a dramatic exhale. "okay," the person beside him huffed, wiping sweat off. "hell, i swear i was athletic in middle school."
he blinked and looked up naturally from the sound. and there you are, smiling. already looking. at him.
he slowly pulled one earbud out. "…what?"
you laughed, bright and completely unbothered. "nah. i said i used to be athletic. i think my stamina filed a complaint."
oh. you were not embarrassed nor shy.
he nodded once, awkward. "running is… hard."
you turned toward him fully, like he had just said something groundbreaking. "right? finally, someone understands me."
his fingers tightened around the edge of the bench.
you stuck out your hand. "i'm y/n. you?"
he stared at your hand for a second too long before shaking it, gentle, like you might break. "ohyul. kim ohyul."
your eyes widened slightly. "ohyul? wow, that is such a cool name." you said with a genuine smile.
his brain short-circuited. no one had ever called his name cool before, nor even bother to.
"so, ohyul. do you come here often?" you asked, swinging your legs slightly like the world belonged to you.
he nodded. "after school."
"oh same!" you said instantly. "i just transferred schools recently, so i don't really know the good spots around yet."
'transferred.' he tried to imagine what school you might go to. probably somewhere loud. somewhere bright. somewhere full of people who laughed like you did.
"uh... that school with the green uniforms?" you continued, gesturing vaguely down the road. "what is it called again…?"
his stomach dropped, "…haneul high?" he answered hesitantly.
you snapped your fingers. "yes! haneul high. i just transferred there few days ago." you said.
he blinked slowly. "i-i go there."
then your face lit up like you had just won something. "no. way!" you smiled.
he nodded, trying not to look as startled as he felt.
you leaned closer, way too close for his comfort. "wait, wait. what grade?" "second year."
your mouth fell open, gasped loudly. "oh my god! me too!"
ohyul stared at you like the park had just shifted dimensions. same grade. same school. different planets, apparently.
"wait," you leaned closer, squinting at him like you were solving a puzzle. "then, what class?"
"…2-3." ohyul said. you gasped. "I'm 2-7!"
he exhaled quietly. not the same classroom. is it relief? disappointment? he was not sure which one was heavier.
"well," you grinned, bumping his shoulder again like you had known him for years, "that just means we have to survive school separately and meet here after."
he nodded, pretending that idea did not make his chest feel strangely light. and his day going on quietly as usual after you left to continue your walk.
────────────────────────────
the next morning, haneul high was its usual chaos of footsteps and locker doors. ohyul kept his head down like always.
until he heard— "ohyul!"
he physically flinched. no one ever called his name that loudly. as he turned around, you were jogging toward him in the hallway, waving like you were flagging down a taxi.
half the corridor turned to look.
you skidded to a stop in front of him, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. "hey! didn't expect to see you here." you said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
he blinked, fumbling with his backpack strap. "uh... i-i… didn't expect—"
"you're always so serious, huh?" you teased, straightening up and brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves. "relax a little. it's just school."
he wanted to tell you he was not good at 'relaxing', but the words got stuck somewhere between his brain and his throat.
"so," you continued, hopping from one foot to the other like it was completely normal to be this hyper in the middle of the hallway, "we don't share homeroom, but guess what? p.e. today. together."
he froze again. "together?"
"yes!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands, excited. "i checked the schedule. destiny brought us here. or at least the p.e. teacher did."
he let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh, realizing the park encounter had followed him straight into the chaos of high school.
"guess i'll see you in the gym then," you said, giving him a quick wink before bounding off toward your classroom, leaving him staring after you, caught somewhere between dread and anticipation.
────────────────────────────
wednesday arrived too fast.
the gym buzzed with noise, sneakers squeaking against polished floors. ohyul stood near the back, hands in his pockets, already regretting existing.
then you spotted him. your face lit up like you had found your favorite person in a crowd. and you walked straight toward him.
you bounced on your toes, energy practically radiating off of you. "there you are! i was starting to think you'd ghost me!"
he barely lifted his head, cheeks heating. "I… didn't."
"of course you didn't," You said, grinning. "I just like dramatic entrances, okay?" You nudged him lightly with your elbow, and he almost stumbled back. Almost.
The teacher blew the whistle. "Pair up, everyone!"
You looked at him with wide, sparkling eyes. "Guess what? We're partners."
He blinked, confused at your words. "We… are?"
"Yes!" You said, grabbing his wrist before he could step back. "No excuses. You're stuck with me."
His heart started hammering. "Stuck?"
"Yep. Stuck. Forever. Or at least until P.E. ends." You added with a dramatic sigh, clearly enjoying the fact that he was flustered.
────────────────────────
Well, it shifts pretty quickly.
A few days—maybe even a week—slipped by. You got busy with your new friends, laughing in the hallways, sharing snacks, gossiping about teachers, and navigating the chaos of high school life. The glow of the gym and your P.E. antics had faded into the background of your routine.
Ohyul just went with his usual life. Walking to the cafeteria alone. Walking back to his home alone. Playing P.E. alone. He can only watch you with your new friends from afar. He didn't think he deserved to even stand beside you.
────────────────────────
Then one afternoon, you just finished helping with a school event with others school involved. You were honestly so exhausted and even your extroversion battery has lowered.
So now, you were walking through the quieter side of the schoolyard, trying to avoid the after-school crowd. That's when you saw him.
Ohyul. Alone.
Sitting on the edge of the bleachers, hoodie pulled low over his eyes, fingers moving almost magically over a Rubik's Cube. He twisted and turned it with precision smooth, practiced motions and within seconds, it clicked into place. Then another scramble. Another solve.
You stopped, hidden behind a tree, watching him silently. The world seemed to shrink around him: no laughing friends, no yelling classmates, no P.E. chaos. Just Ohyul and his cube. Focused. Calm. Untouched by the noise of high school.
You couldn't help the small smile that spread across your face. You remembered the awkward, quiet boy at the park, the stiff kid in the hallways, and now… this. He had layers you hadn't seen before, hidden like a secret puzzle only the observant could notice.
"Wow…" You whispered under your breath, tilting your head. "He's… really good at that."
Something about seeing him here, so absorbed in something that wasn’t you, made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if it was admiration… or the fact that you missed seeing him like before.
And then he looked up. Not at you specifically, just over the edge of the cube, but somehow, you knew he sensed someone's watching.
You didn't duck. Didn't even think about it. For some reason, you let yourself stay, letting him see you leaning against the tree, watching.
Ohyul's fingers paused mid-twist. His turned his head, eyes meeting yours through the shadow of his hoodie. For a long second, neither of you moved. The cube sat still in his hands, forgotten.
"You're… watching me." said finally, voice quiet but not unkind.
You blinked, a little caught off guard, but shrugged casually. "Yeah. You're… really good at that."
A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "It's just a cube."
"Just a cube?" You repeated, tilting your head. "You make it look… magic."
He looked down at the cube, fidgeting with it in his hands, before glancing back at you. "Want me to... show you?"
You grinned excitedly. "Yeah. Definitely."
He shifted to make room beside him on the bleachers, and you sat down carefully, eyes wide as he explained his method. His fingers moved smoothly, almost hypnotically, and you leaned closer than necessary, fascinated.
"You are really good." You observed softly as the sounds of the cube twisted and turned.
"I… used to do this a lot. It's helps to increased my focus level." admitted, cheeks tinged pink.
"You make it look simple," You teased gently. "I would never be able to do this."
"Maybe I could teach you." He offered, voice low. Not quite shy, but hesitant. And you smiled, elbow brushing his as you reached for the cube. "I would like that."
He shifted slightly, angling the cube toward you, and you noticed how careful he was—like even a small movement might break some fragile rhythm.
"Here… start with this side." He said, guiding your fingers over the pieces. His hand barely touched yours, but enough to send a small spark through your arm. You felt yourself lean closer without realizing it.
"You make it look… easy." You murmured, watching him concentrate. His brow furrowed slightly, lips pressed in that way that made you want to laugh softly and kiss him on impulse—but you didn't. Obviously. You just watched.
"you just… focus, pay attention." he said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before returning to the cube. "and… practice."
You mimicked his movements, fumbling a little. "Ugh... I'm hopeless." You admitted, laughing nervously as the cube twisted the wrong way.
"no." he corrected softly, lifting your hand and guiding it again. "You're… careful. That's different."
your elbow bumped his again, this time on purpose, and he glanced at you, eyebrows slightly raised. "careful… you're going to mess it up." he murmured, voice calm, measured.
you grinned, but it faded slightly as you leaned closer, whispering, "i can't help it… you're… kind of distracting." the words felt heavier coming out than you expected, and for a moment your usual energy dimmed, replaced by that quiet softness only he seemed to draw out.
he blinked, pause stretching longer than usual, before letting out a low, amused laugh. "not many people would admit that." he said softly, watching you with those careful, curious eyes, try to look at you without blushing.
you shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. "guess i'm not included in 'many people'." you said carefully as your gaze looked at him. your voice almost drowned out by the faint echoes of the empty bleachers around you.
he shook his head slightly, a rare, small smile playing on his lips, and returned his focus to the cube but you could feel the warmth of his presence, steady and grounding, wrapping around the space between your hands.
then he guided your hands once more, showing you a new trick, and you leaned a little closer again, laughing together when it did not go right.
for a while, you just sat there, him showing you moves, you watching and trying, laughing when you messed up, and the rest of the school faded away.
