The Mess I Kept
BLACKHOLE: Path of Chaos
Male Reader x IVE's Leeseo / Lee Hyunseo
Loneliness / Silence / Control / Chaos / Doubt / Youth
~7k words
A/N: Big thanks to fluff lords @ducktoo and @dotoliwrites for the impeccable advice.
“I’m 20! Let me wear whatever I want!”
“No.”
Leeseo twirls around in her photoshoot outfit that basically covers 90% of her skin, not showing anything other than her hands, neck and face.
“But this is so boring…” she says, stopping mid spin. Her fingers pinch and pull onto the fabric around her chest, making the well-ironed top distort with two sharp peaks. “It's giving so much baby idol vibes. I want something… hotter~”
You lean against the clothing rack, arms crossed, looking at her with uninterested and cold iron eyes.
“It's age-appropriate. Cute. Safe. Fans like cute.”
She stomps her foot, flats squeaking on the polished floor as she turns to face you.
“Safe? Cute? I'm not cute anymore!” Leeseo whines, pitching up into that familiar babyish tone she uses when she wants attention. She tugs her skirt hem higher, exposing an inch of thigh above her jet black stockings.
Yujin’s sprawled across the black leather couch in the corner with her long legs stretched out, phone in hand. She laughs without looking up, “She's right, oppa. Let the maknae show some skin. She's all grown up now.”
Wonyoung, who's sitting beside Yujin with her legs elegantly crossed, smiles softly as she scrolls through photos of Dubai chocolate on her phone. She flicks her eyes between you and Leeseo.
“She’s been 20 for months. Let her try.”
Leeseo beams at her two favorite unnies, then turns back to you with triumphant, sparkling eyes.
“See? Even they agree!”
You transform into a wall. “The concept is youthful. Not sexy. You want to risk Dispatch headlines on your first solo teaser?”
Her smile falters for a second, then she sticks her tongue out at you childishly.
“You’re no fun.”
“Fun? We're not here for ‘Fun’,” you raise your voice. “Having ‘Leeseo from IVE Transforms Into A Vixen’ plastered all over every media outlet and forum is not ‘Fun’.”
She ignores you and flounces over to the rack, fingers dancing across hangers until she yanks out a sheer black mesh top. It's practically see-through with delicate straps, designed to be layered under something else.
She holds it against her chest, turning to the mirror again. “What about this? With the skirt? Super chic.”
You step forward and reach past her shoulder, taking the hanger from her hand.
“No.” You hang it back on the rack with a cutting force. “You stick to the concept.”
She gasps dramatically and shoves your chest lightly with both palms.
“You’re so mean! I’m literally an adult!”
Yujin snorts from the couch. “Adult tantrum in 3… 2…”
Leeseo spins on her heel, pigtails whipping across the air and points at you accusingly.
“Fine. Tomorrow’s my solo photoshoot. If you won’t pick something hotter, I’ll just do it myself.”
She snatches her bag — leopard-print, of course (she switched out her pink cutesy purse the day she turned twenty) — from the chair and storms toward the elevator.
Halfway there she “accidentally” knocks over a clothing rack. The metal clatters and garments of “cute clothes” that she rejected avalanches onto the floor in a colorful heap.
She freezes and squeaks with a purposeful (?) “Oops!”. She bolts off even faster with flaming cheeks, nearly tripping over the mess she made.
She pauses right at the elevator doors and glances back at you. She looks just the way she used to when she was twelve, waiting for you to tell her it’s okay to cry.
You don’t call her name.
You haven’t in three years.
Not since the first time Dispatch posted blurry photos of you two leaving a convenience store at 2 a.m. and the comments called her “the trainee with the staff boyfriend”.
It was just to buy some late night snack, but that snack was the appetiser to learning how fast a rumor can spread, and how fast it can burn everything down.
She snaps her head back and leaves.
The makeup artist in the corner stifles a laugh.
Her manager that's leaning against the doorframe shakes his head fondly. “Same old Leeseo,” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear.
You walk towards the mess and bend to pick up the fallen clothes, folding them methodically, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out habitually.
<Tiger Cub, 18:29> This was taken in the changing room earlier. Look at this outfit! Too baby right? 😣
[photo attached: mirror selfie, skirt tugged high, pouty lips, peace sign]
You stare at the photo but your three fingers move automatically, swiping them down — screenshot taken. The instant the screen capture happens, everything disappears.
She unsent it.
You open the folder labeled “L” and move it into the sub-folder “Pouts”.
The counter ticks up: 248 items.
A small, subtle smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and it's gone before anyone sees.
Well, someone saw it.
“You just smiled at your phone. That was her, wasn’t it?” Yujin raises an eyebrow.
You school your face back to Unbreakable Wall Mode and pocket the phone.
“Work.”
Wonyoung laughs softly. “She’s going to keep pushing until you crack, you know.”
The makeup artist glances over with a grin as she touches up Wonyoung’s highlighter.
“We’re all rooting for you two, oppa. Just say the word and we’ll help.”
The manager chuckles from the doorway. “Been saying that for years. Kid’s too stubborn to listen.”
You finish folding the last top and set it back on the rack.
Your phone buzzes again.
<Tiger Cub, 18:32> I’m sorry for being dramatic… Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 18:33> …You still there?
You swipe your fingers again, and with a few taps, you archive it into “Cries”.
Then type back a curt reply.
<You, 18:33> I’m here. Go home. Rest for tomorrow.
She replies instantly.
<Tiger Cub, 18:33> Promise you’ll be at my shoot?
You stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the send button after typing out the message in a flash. But you decide to delete every letter and wait for five minutes.
<Tiger Cub, 18:35> Hello? Are you mad? I'm sorry for messing up the clothes.
<Tiger Cub, 18:36> Those cute dresses probably deserved to be on the floor anyway~
<Tiger Cub, 18:37> I saw you typing earlier. Why aren't you replying!
<Tiger Cub, 18:38> Fine! I’ll just wear whatever I want tomorrow if you don’t reply!
<Tiger Cub, 18:39> Alright alright I'm sorry!
You save another screenshot again, tucking it into the “Tantrum” folder.
Then your fingers move again, tapping a short and curt reply.
<You, 18:39> I’ll be there.
She sends a single heart emoji, then nothing.
You open the “L” folder again, yes again, and drag the heart emoji screenshot into “Soft”.
Silence settles over the studio again.
“She likes you, you know,” Wonyoung looks up from her phone, a gentle smile curving her lips.
You exhale through your nose.
“I know.”
Yujin grins, finally looking up from her screen. “And you like her back. So why do you keep freezing her out?”
Wonyoung quips in, “Don’t keep her waiting too long. She’s been waiting for years already.”
You don’t answer.
But deep down, you already know she’s right.
Leeseo never stops pushing.
And part of you — the part you keep locked away — hopes she never does.
***
“JANG WONYOUNG!”
“WONYOUNGAHHHHHH”
“LUCKY VICKYYY!”
The fashion event is a glittering cage: crystal chandeliers overhead, velvet ropes corralling the savage crowd, photographers shouting names like battle cries, champagne flutes clinking like tiny warnings.
Wonyoung moves through it like she was born under spotlights. A black strapless velvet mini-dress hugs her slender frame with massive silk roses blooming at her hip like a dark flower. The dress is short and daring, the hem barely skimming mid-thigh, and the way the velvet clings to her skin makes every step a quiet statement. Nothing like how you would dress Leeseo.
Her hair is swept into a loose, glossy wave, and priceless diamonds glint at her ears and throat.
But the real diamond of the event is the lady who’s parting crowds with every step.
You’re here as her stylist — officially.
Unofficially, you’re here because she asked, and because saying no to Wonyoung has never been easy.
She links her arm through yours as you step onto the red carpet. It's natural, practiced, and it's Jang Wonyoung. She doesn't say, but she always does this with people she trusts.
Cameras explode with blinding lights.
She laughs at something you murmur about the rose detail → leans in close → whispers in your ear, hand resting lightly on your chest for the photographers.
Your other hand settles instinctively at her lower back, just above the swell of her ass, steadying her as she turns for a profile shot.
The placement is professional.
Necessary for balance on the uneven carpet.
But from the angle of the cameras — and from the phone screens Leeseo is probably staring at right now — it looks intimate.
Possessive.
Your fingers rest there with no intention while Wonyoung poses with her hip cocked, rose blooming dramatically against the black velvet. She winks and blows a kiss at the camera.
Perfect shot for the cameras.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Not a perfect shot for her.
You glance down at your phone.
<Tiger Cub, 19:35> Have fun with Wonyoung-unnie~ 😒
[photo attached: a forehead shot with a frown so pronounced she aged her cute youthful self by fifty years.]
You chuckle and swipe the three fingers down again. She looks beautiful, beautifully chaotic and impossible to ignore. But before you can reply, she unsent the photo.
Too bad you’re the God of Speed (only for screenshots). You open the folder labeled “L”, adding the new collection to "Dissatisfaction".
You wipe the grin off your face once the archiving is complete, but Wonyoung sees it anyway.
“She’s texting you again?”
You pocket the phone and give the same answer you always give.
“Work.”
“Work's really tough to handle huh?” Wonyoung laughs softly. “She’s jealous again.”
“She thinks there’s something between us,” you mumble.
Wonyoung tilts her head, hair catching the light as she poses for another camera — this time with a heart pose on her two rosy cheeks.
“She’s not wrong that we’re close. Just… not in the way she thinks.”
She squeezes your arm gently.
“Tell her the truth when you’re ready. She deserves to know you only have eyes for her.”
Your phone buzzes again, but this time it’s Yujin.
<AHN Yujin, 19:37> Yah oppa, Leeseo’s been staring at her phone like it owes her money 😂
She keeps refreshing her Instagram. Tell her to chill before she breaks the app
<AHN Yujin, 19:38> Or better yet, stop being so cold to her, she’s gonna combust!
You read the texts and screenshot it, sending it to the “Tantrum” folder before typing back:
<You, 19:38> She’s fine. Just tell her to behave.
<AHN Yujin, 19:39> She’s NOT fine. She just asked me if you and Wonyoung look good together in photos 🤦♀️
<AHN Yujin, 19:39> I told her “they look like siblings who fight over the last fry”, but she didn’t laugh.
<You, 19:40> I'm not laughing either. That wasn't even funny…
<AHN Yujin, 19:40> Seriously? I'm tryna help you here. Fix your maknae before she cries into her pillow tonight. She looks like she's gonna cry any moment.
You exhale and pocket the phone again.
“Yujin texting you too?” Wonyoung asks.
You nod.
“She says Leeseo’s spiraling.”
Wonyoung’s smile softens with a hint of sadness. “She’s scared you’ll pick someone else. She thinks she’s not enough.”
“I know. But I can't pick her now,” you say. “Not when she's peaking with her career.”
Wonyoung opens to reply, but your phone buzzes again. It's a voice note from Leeseo.
You save it before you tap play, placing your ear close to the speaker. Her voice comes through, and it's rushed, shaky and higher-pitched than usual:
“Oppa I didn’t mean to be weird I just saw the photos and you two looked so close and I—wait no I’m being stupid, forget it, sorry sorry—”
She stops mid-sentence.
You tap the transcripting function and screenshot her message before she deletes it, archiving it into “Cries” with satisfaction.
Another buzz.
<AHN Yujin, 19:43> She just unsent her voice note to you. I saw her face when she did it — pure panic.
<AHN Yujin, 19:43> Oppa… she thinks you hate her now.
<AHN Yujin, 19:44> Fix it before tomorrow’s shoot or she’s gonna be a mess.
<You, 10:44> I don’t hate her.
<AHN Yujin, 19:45> Then TELL HER THAT. Or better yet, show her. We both know you’ve been screenshotting her chaos for years.
<AHN Yujin, 19:46> Maybe let her see the folder someday. She’d melt. Please don't make me clean your mess…
<AHN Yujin, 19:46> …
<AHN Yujin, 19:47> Forget I suggested that. But seriously. She’s our baby tiger. Don’t let her think she’s not wanted.
You pocket the phone again, heart pounding a little harder than it should.
Wonyoung finishes another interview and walks back, noticing your expression.
“She sent a voice note?”
You nod, showing her the screenshots and your texts with Yujin.
Wonyoung squeezes your arm gently. “She’s scared. She thinks she has to compete with us. She doesn’t know me and Yujin are… together.”
“Then why don't you both tell her?” you ask Wonyoung.
“We will. When she’s ready to hear it,” Wonyoung giggles. “Right now she's still… acting like a child. Too dense. We shouldn't spoonfeed her. She needs to look at the bigger picture rather than just at you. Me and Yujin are always flirting with each other right in front of her, but she only has her eyes on you.”
“And also,” Wonyoung says, tapping on your chest with her pointy fingernail. “That's your tigress to tame. So maybe give her some hope to hold onto.”
You look at Wonyoung with a frown.
“Also, Oppa,” Wonyoung asks, turning back to look at you before walking off to meet another interviewer. “Are you still not going to change how you saved Yujin’s name? I'm gonna tell her you know~”
“...” You look at her dumbfounded. “Everyone calls her by her full name…”
She chuckles and struts away.
The event drags on endlessly: interviews, photo ops, small talk with designers. Wonyoung is flawlessly charming, touching your arm whenever she wants to emphasize a point. And every time she does, your phone buzzes again and again.
Leeseo’s texts come in waves:
<Tiger Cub, 20:06> You’re taking so many photos with her…
She unsends it.
<Tiger Cub, 20:09> Sorry I’m being clingy
Unsends.
<Tiger Cub, 20:11> Do you like her more because she’s prettier?
Unsends.
<Tiger Cub, 20:15> I hate myself rn
Unsends.
You screenshot every single one, every deleted message, every panicked retraction, adding all of them to the growing folders. You sigh and pocket your phone, focusing back on the event.
After a long arduous hour of man-made sun-tanning, the event finally winds down. Wonyoung slips her arm through yours again, this time for real comfort as you both leave for the limousine.
“She’s going to push harder tomorrow at her shoot,” she murmurs. “Be careful. She’s scared, not angry.”
“I know.”
“You should just tell her already. I know that incident has scarred you badly, but have you ever thought about facing it head on rather than pulling the plug right off the bat?” Wonyoung asks. “Sometimes being ready isn't a matter of when. You can't be ready for everything.”
You don’t answer.
But as you leave the venue, your phone lights up one last time.
<Tiger Cub, 21:58> I’m sorry for being weird tonight. Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 21:59> …You still there?
You screenshot it and type back.
<You, 22:00> Yes. Go to sleep. Photoshoot tomorrow. Your curfew’s up.
<Tiger Cub, 22:00> Promise you’ll be there?
<You, 22:01> I’m always there.
<Tiger Cub, 22:01> I’m 20 btw, don't forget. No more curfews.
<Tiger Cub, 22:01> Seeya tmr ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
You screenshot everything.
And when the car finally stops outside the dorm building, you allow yourself one small, private moment, opening the folder labeled “L” to scroll through years of her deleted messages, letting the smallest, softest smile cross your face.
You never delete anything she sends.
Because even when she tries to erase herself, you keep every piece.
“I’ll head in first, Oppa~” Wonyoung says, pecking you on the cheek before leaving.
The rain starts to speckle the windshield like sprinkles of reminiscence.
You lean back in the seat with your phone in hand, thumb swiping open the folder labeled “L.”
Thousands of files.
Years of her chaotic selfies, pouty voice notes, flirty texts, angry rants, deleted confessions.
Everything she regretted the second she hit send.
You scroll absently with your unwavering eyes, zooming past the streaking gallery until you stop on an old photo buried near the bottom.
Your eyes quiver as you tap on the picture. It's a blurry middle-school snapshot of Leeseo, soaked to the bone, grinning like she just won a war, holding your broken umbrella like a trophy.
***
“Sheesh, it's pouring…” you mumble, packing your bag. “I should have left an hour ago.” You zip everything up, grab your umbrella and prepare to leave the library.
“Oppa! My hero!”
Leeseo is standing under the school awning (again) with her arms crossed, scowling at the downpour. She’s already wet, probably trying to brave the light drizzle until it got unnecessarily heavy.
“Where's your umbrella?” You say, walking up holding your cheap plastic umbrella, tilting it over her head without any instruction.
She blinks up at you, then grins so wide her cheeks dimpled, eyes sparkling with mischief.
There it is… that damn grin again.
Before you can even blink, she grabs your hand and yanks you into the storm.
“Come on! Let’s splash!”
“We’ll get soaked!” you protest, but she was already running, laughing wildly, dragging you through puddles, jumping in every one she saw like the rain is her personal playground.
She slips on a slick patch, arms windmilling in exaggeration — okay well maybe not an exaggeration — and almost face-plants into concrete. But you lunge forward and catch her around the waist.
She lands against your chest, rain streaming down her face, soaking your well, already soaked uniform, plastering her hair to her cheeks. For a heartbeat she just stares up at you, eyes wide, cheeks pink from cold and adrenaline. Then she burst out laughing again, throwing her arms around your neck, hugging so tight it hurt.
“You always catch me, oppa.”
You stand there, heart slamming against your ribs, arms locked around her, umbrella forgotten on the ground as the rain pours over both of you.
She pulls back — still grinning mischievously — then looks at the umbrella. Her smile sinks.
“Oops… sorry. It's… broken.”
You shrug and pick it up, handing it to her anyway.
“Keep it. It’s yours now. It will still cover you until you get home.”
She takes the umbrella and twirls it like a professional gunspinner, before swishing it around like she's practicing the Heavenly Demonic Sword Art, Form Eleven, only for the handle to break.
You walk forward and take a picture of her, before picking up the fallen umbrella again and flick her forehead. “Go home you cheeky girl. Before you get a cold.”
Leeseo sticks her tongue out and bleps at you before leaning in to hug you again, face burying in your shoulder.
“Promise you won’t ever leave me alone in the rain?”
You swallow with your throat tight, feeling the warmth of her against you despite the cold. Her heartbeat thumps against yours.
“I promise.”
***
You tap the back button and the picture minimises.
She never noticed how long you hold on.
Never noticed the way your hands shake slightly when you finally let go.
Never noticed that you walk home drenched, smiling the whole way because she’d been safe, because she’d laughed, and because she’d trusted you enough to fall into your arms.
She just skipped ahead, still laughing, still chaotic, still completely unaware that you’d already fallen for her so hard it hurts to breathe.
You scroll again, landing on another old photo that was taken in elementary school. This time it's a crumpled lunchbox with spilled rice and side dishes splayed on the schoolyard grass. Leeseo is crouched beside it, teary-eyed as she looks up into the camera.
***
“Hyunseo-ah, that's mine!”
Leeseo giggles as she runs away with your lunchbox — again, it's now her favourite game — daring you to chase her.
You chase, of course you do, because that's your lunch. You run around the playground, past the swings, through the flower beds.
She swerves left and right, darting up and down like a tiger in the wild — maybe a tiger cub for now — avoiding and juking your every attempt to catch her.
Then it finally happens.
Leeseo trips over her own feet, and your lunchbox is sent flying, rice and kimchi scattering everywhere.
She lands hard with a small shriek, scraping her knee. But she doesn't cry, not until she stares and looks at the mess, finally bursting into tears.
“I ruined your lunch… I’m sorry… I’m so stupid…”
Her voice cracks and something inside you cracks too. But you don't forget — you take out your phone and snap a picture.
“Why did you take a picture of me crying…” she wails even louder.
“I need to show your Mom how you hurt yourself,” you lie, pocketing your phone before kneeling beside her. You brush the dirt off her knee. “No bleeding. Anywhere else hurt?”
She shakes her head. “But the food…”
“It’s just food,” you say, picking up the spilled food with your hands.
“But it was your favorite…” She sniffles, looking up at you with big, wet eyes.
You shrug and pull out the extra rice ball you always packed (because you knew she’d steal half of yours anyway).
“Here. Eat this.”
She stares at you and lunges forward, hugging you so tight that you almost fall over. “You’re the best oppa ever.”
You let her cling, hand patting her back awkwardly. Your heart pounds so hard that you’re sure she can feel it.
She never knew you packed the extra rice ball every single day.
Just in case.
***
Back then, she cried into your shoulder and you held her until she stopped shaking. But now she cries alone in her dorm after unsending messages — Gaeul and Rei, her roommates told you — hoping you still yearn for her.
She never knew you kept the empty lunchbox in your drawer for months and years. You can't tell her. It's a stupid, sentimental thing that's still there, displayed on your collection shelf.
But every day you look at it, hoping that she’ll just see you as the reliable friend who never gets mad. Nothing good will probably come out if your relationship with her goes public.
You sigh and close the folder, thumb brushing the faded cat keychain on your wrist (her thank-you gift from the lunchbox day).
You kept every promise.
Every mess.
Every tear.
Every laugh.
Even when it means staying quiet.
Even when it means watching her grow up without ever telling her how much you love the girl who makes your world louder, brighter, messier.
***
Leeseo is at the center, wearing the approved concept outfit you pulled together. It's a pink-and-white baseball jersey with bold playful words lettering across the chest, loose enough to look effortlessly sporty but fitted at the waist. The hem hits mid-thigh over black bike shorts, paired with a white cap (pink bow on the back), pink baseball glove dangling from her hand, and white sneakers with pink accents. It’s youthful, energetic, and marketable. Cute with a tomboy edge.
But she hates it.
“Leeseo, hands on your hips with your glove raised,” the photographer calls for a pose. “Give me a playful V-sign with a wink!”
Leeseo does it, but her eyes keep flicking to you.
You’re standing off to the side with your arms crossed and phone in hand, reviewing the shot list with the creative director.
Every time her gaze lands on you, she adjusts, tugging the jersey higher to expose a sliver of midriff, shifting her weight to push her hip out further. You pretend not to see, but she tilts her cap back a little more, bites her lip harder, and lets her lashes drop slower.
Anything to grab your attention.
But she got the wrong target.
The photographer notices and chuckles.
“Leeseo, you’re giving extra spice today. New energy?”
She giggles and glances at you again, purposefully raising her voice to say: “Just trying to look like an adult for once.”
You keep your signature poker face on and keep scrolling on the phone, but your thumb pauses on a screenshot in your gallery.
It's her text from this morning (sent during hair & makeup).
<Tiger Cub, 07:32> Oppa the makeup is too soft… I look like a doll again 😣
[photo attached: close-up selfie of her bare face with barely any make-up, accentuating her youthful vibe.]
And to no surprise, she unsent it 20 seconds later, which you managed to screenshot before it's gone.
The photographer calls for a wardrobe adjustment, and Leeseo disappears behind the partition.
You hear rustling, then her sharp voice pierces through the air: “Oppa! Come here a second!”
You ignore her cries, admiring the screenshot for a moment more before sighing and closing the gallery app.
You walk over and she pokes her head out. Her hair is slightly mussed, cheeks flushed. “I changed my mind. I’m wearing the mesh top. I need to feel like me today.”
She holds up the sheer black mesh top from the day earlier, the one you rejected.
You stare at it, and then back at her.
“No.”
She bleps at you again and hides back into the changing room. The next thing you know, she steps out fully, already wearing it over her jersey. The mesh clings, sheer enough to show the pink-and-white baseball print underneath.
She spins around defiantly.
“See? Super chic. Fans will love it.”
You step inside and growl at her low so the crew doesn't hear.
“Take it off. Now.”
Her eyes flash with hurt from your words, then instantly switch to anger.
“Why? Because it’s too sexy? Because I’m not allowed to be hot? Because you think I’m still just a baby?”
Her voice cracks on the last word.
Your blood boils. You whip out your phone and take a picture of her. You tap on your phone and send it to her.
<You, 14:38> Lee Hyunseo. Image first. You know why. You look atrocious.
You attach the photo you took along with the message.
“Why are you texting me when you're right here!” she growls at you. “ And no. I don’t know why. You always say that. ‘Image first.’ ‘Safe first.’ ‘Fans first.’ What about me first? What about what I want?”
You raise your phone to type another message again, but she pushes you back against the partition wall, body flush with yours.
“You're always on that god damn phone, smiling at it. You think I didn't notice? Am I that unattractive that you're ignoring me?”
Her breath is warm on your neck as her hands fist your shirt. “Give it to me. Let me see what you're always looking at.”
She yanks it from you with an unfounded monstrous strength, trying to open your past launched apps. In a panic, you scuffle with her, trying to stop her, both your fingers clambering over the screen. You manage to snatch it back for a moment, but the gallery app has already been launched. You try to bolt out of the changing room, but she yanks the phone back, hiding in the corner, blocking your advances with her back to you as she crouches.
You can't even attempt to snatch it back now without using force. But you couldn't even think about laying a finger on her — let alone hurting her— just to get it back.
“Hyunseo… give it back.”
Your voice is low, almost pleading, but she doesn't care.
“If you won’t treat me like an adult, I’ll find someone who will,” she growls with her teeth grinding against each other, swiping through your gallery. “What's this? Wonyoung, Yujin, Wonyoung, Liz, Liz, Rei, Gaeul, Wonyoung, Gaeul, Yujin? No pictures of me?”
“No Hyunseo—that’s not what it looks—”
“You really hate me huh?” Her voice trembles with hurt and anger, cracking into something raw as she stands up and shoves you to the wall.
“Not here. Not like this,” you murmur urgently. “I’ll explain it to you later. Not now.”
She searches your face with her eyes wet and pupils blown.
“If not now then when? When I’m not cute anymore? When I’m not your baby maknae? Will you finally look at me then? Am I not even worthy of your gallery?”
Her lower lip quivers.
You feel the crack in your restraint.
You want to tell her.
Your jaw clenches so hard it aches.
Your breathing hitches.
You grab her hands, fingers tightening around her wrists. It's not bruising, but enough that she feels the tension in every tendon.
She notices and leans in closer, lips inches from yours. “See? You do want me. You just won’t admit it.”
You hold her gaze, looking into her deep, wanting eyes. Your head dips, mouth hovering over hers. It's close enough that you can taste the cherry gloss on her breath, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
She closes her eyes, waiting for you to move, lashes trembling as her eyelids shiver. The air between you crackles with anticipation, thick with years of unspoken want.
Every molecule is cheering you on.
Your grip on her wrists tightens, thumbs brushing the inside of her pulse points, feeling her heart race.
She shivers, thighs pressing together instinctively.
You lean just a little more, nose brushing against hers..
Her lips part as she exhales softly against your mouth, blowing the cheering air particles away.
And then you stop.
You freeze and pull back abruptly, releasing her wrists as if burned.
“Go finish the shoot. In the approved outfit.”
She stares at you with tears brimming in her eyes.
“You always do this… get close then leave. Am I that hard to want?”
Her voice cracks on the last word. “You used to stay. You used to hold on longer. When did you start letting go?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She already knows you won’t give one anyway. She turns away with her shoulders shaking. The same way they shook as the day you first pulled back three years ago. The very same day where the articles of her rumored boyfriend came out and the manager quietly told you “no more late-night convenience runs together".
The rest of the shoot goes smoothly on the surface.
She smiles for the camera as if nothing had happened, but every time the photographer calls “break,” she glances at you to check if you’re still watching.
You are.
Always.
Every break between takes she sneaks behind the partition again and you feel your phone buzz every single time.
<Tiger Cub, 15:20> I’m sorry for pushing you earlier
<Tiger Cub, 15:20> I just get so scared you don’t want me
She doesn’t send anything else.
You screenshot it and drag it into “Cries.”
But during the next break, your phone buzzes again.
<Tiger Cub, 15:40> You really mean it? You’ll talk later?
<You, 15:40> Yes.
<Tiger Cub, 15:40> Because I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. It hurts too much.
<You, 15:40> I know.
<Tiger Cub, 15:41> Then why do you keep acting like I’m nothing?
You don't reply.
The photographer calls her back.
The shoot continues.
Later, during a lighting adjustment, Leeseo’s posing on a raised platform. She steps back too quickly and her foot catches a cable. She stumbles backward.
You move before you think, lunging forward from the sides to catch her elbow, steadying her against your chest.
She gasps with the same sharp inhale as all the falls she had in the past.
And her body freezes in your grip the exact same way it did back then.
Her hand instinctively curls around your forearm — muscle memory.
And your sleeve rides up, showing the faded cat keychain on your wrist that glints under the lights.
She sees it and freezes again. Yes, you already know by now: Lee Hyunseo is synonymous with freezing.
Her fingers brush it unconsciously and she whispers, “You still… have this…?”
You don’t answer, thumb brushing her elbow the same way you used to steady her scraped knee. You release her slowly. She steps back with her cheeks burning, but the look in her eyes has changed.
The photographer yells at the crew to tidy up the place, to make sure that hazards are minimised. Then he calls her name.
The shoot wraps at 5 p.m.
She disappears into the changing room without a word. You wait outside, leaning against the wall, phone in hand, waiting until it buzzes.
<Tiger Cub, 17:10> I’m sorry for being weird today. Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 17:10> …You still there?
You type back.
<You, 17:11> I’m always here. Good job today.
<Tiger Cub, 17:12> Promise you’ll come to the group dinner tomorrow? I need to talk. For real.
You stare at the screen.
<You, 17:12> I’ll be there.
<Tiger Cub, 15:13> ❤️
You screenshot it and save it, before finally leaving the studio.
You open the folder labelled “L” as you take the cab back, scrolling through years of her deleted messages again.
You let the smallest, softest smile cross your face.
***
The long table is crowded with the team: IVE members laughing too loud, makeup artists stealing bites of dessert, the manager pouring soju with practiced ease, the CEO at the head raising his glass every few minutes to toast “our rising stars.”
Leeseo sits across from you, pink-cheeked from two shots too many, pigtails slightly loose, eyes bright but restless.
She’s been watching you all night.
Yujin is on your left — arm slung casually over your shoulders, laughing at the manager’s bad joke, fingers occasionally tapping your collarbone when she talks.
Wonyoung is on your right — leaning into your side when she’s tired, head resting briefly on your shoulder, hand brushing your sleeve as she reaches for a drink.
It’s normal.
It’s always been normal.
But tonight it isn’t.
Every time when Yujin ruffles your hair or when Wonyoung leans close to whisper something, Leeseo’s smile tightens.
Her chopsticks stab at her food a little harder.
Her foot bounces under the table.
Her eyes flick between you and her two favourite unnies over and over, like she’s trying to solve a puzzle that keeps changing shape.
The makeup artist next to her notices — nudges her gently.
“You okay, Leeseo-ya?”
Leeseo forces a laugh.
“Totally fine! Just… happy!”
She downs another shot and grimaces at the bitterness — she clearly doesn't like the taste — then reaches across the table, snatching a piece of fried chicken from your plate.
“Mine now,” she declares playfully, but her eyes stay locked on Yujin’s arm around your shoulders.
You don’t react. You just push the plate closer so she can take more.
The manager chuckles at her. “Still stealing his food, huh? Some things never change.”
The CEO smiles knowingly.
“We’ve all watched you two grow up together. It’s nice to see.”
Leeseo freezes mid-bite, cheeks flushing.
The table goes quiet for a beat with everyone smiling, exchanging glances.
Yujin ruffles your hair casually again, mumbling tipsily, “Our oppa’s too stubborn to admit anything, though.”
Wonyoung giggles, clearly lighthead from the beer, head still on your shoulder. “He’s always been like that. Protecting her from everything, even herself.”
Leeseo’s chopsticks clatter against her plate.
She stares at everyone.
“You all know… don’t you?”
The makeup artist nods softly. “Everyone knows you two like each other. We’ve known for years.”
The manager adds gently, “He’s just scared of what will happen if the world finds out. That’s all.”
Leeseo looks at Yujin — then Wonyoung — then back at you.
“Then why won’t you ever just… say it?”
You meet her trembling eyes, and as usual, you don’t speak.
Her face crumples.
She stands up in a fit, chair scraping loudly. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of watching you let them touch you like that. I’m tired of being the baby everyone protects. I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way every single day!”
Tears spill from her eyes.
“You used to catch me every time I fell. You used to stay even when I was a mess. When did I become the mess you’re afraid to touch?”
She bites her lower lips and grabs her bag, bolting out of the restaurant.
The table falls silent.
“Alright, I think we went too far with the teasing,” the CEO sighs fondly. “Go after her, kid. It's raining heavily. Before she catches a cold.”
You stand immediately, tipping the chair over as you run out into the rain.
Yujin and Wonyoung follow close behind.
Right outside, the rain is pouring in sheets.
Leeseo is crouched under an awning again, entirely soaked, arms wrapped around her knees, face buried as her shoulders shake. You run up, take your jacket off and drape it over her back, lifting the hood up to shield her face.
She flinches and looks up at you.
Rain streams down her cheeks, mixing with tears. Her eyes are red, mascara smudged in dark streaks as her lips tremble. “Why did you follow?” she chokes out. “Just leave me alone!”
You kneel, onto the ground as the rain soaks you both. You cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing the rain and her tears away under your hood.
“I can’t,” you say. “I never could.”
Yujin and Wonyoung appear at the doorway with umbrellas open, but they stop there, watching silently, giving you space.
Leeseo cries even louder.
“I’m tired… I’m so tired of watching you with them. Of feeling like I’m not enough. Of pretending I don’t feel this way every single day.”
She tries to pull away, but your hold steadies her.
“Did I ever say you’re not? You’re enough,” you say. “You’ve always been enough.”
She shakes her head, tears falling faster. “Then why won’t you ever just… say it? Why do you keep acting like I’m invisible?”
She looks down at her hands.
“I used to think… if I was good enough, you’d never leave. Now I’m scared that even if I’m perfect, you’ll still leave.”
You inch closer, rain dripping from your hair onto her face.
“Because I’m terrified. One photo. One rumor. One wrong look from the wrong person and your career could end. I can’t risk that.”
Her eyes widen.
“But I’m done hiding it,” you say.
She stares at you.
You cup her face again, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Did you think I didn’t want you? I’ve wanted you since we were kids. The girl who dragged me into every puddle, who laughed too loud when she was scared, who cried when she thought no one was looking. I don’t care about perfect. I care about you. Every chaotic, beautiful, messy part.”
“Just show her your damn phone already, you idiot,” Wonyoung shouts at you from the door.
You nod and pull out your phone with one hand, shielding it from the rain with your body. You launch the gallery app and open the “L” folder. “What you saw that day wasn't because I didn't keep any photo of you,” you explain. You tap into the sub-folders: “Pouts,” “Cries,” “Sparks,” “Laughs,” “Old.”
You tilt it toward her, showing her everything that you kept as the rain blurring the edges.
“I kept every piece. Because I love every piece.”
A sob breaks from her throat.
Leeseo throws herself into your arms, face buried in your neck, fingers clutching your shirt.
“You… kept all my stupid messages. All my chaos…”
You wrap around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other on her waist.
“I'm sorry if I made you feel unwanted…”
She pulls back from you, eyes searching yours as the rain streams down both your faces.
Then she surges up.
She kisses you.
Heavily.
Passionately.
Years of tension crashing together in the downpour.
Her lips are cold from the rain but warm underneath, tasting like salt and soju and everything you’ve wanted since you were old enough to understand what wanting felt like.
You kiss back hard, one hand sliding into her wet hair, the other pulling her closer by the waist. She makes a small, broken sound against your mouth, fingers digging into your shoulders. You tilt her head and deepen the kiss as the rain drips from your lashes onto her cheeks. She melts entirely in the cold shower, body molding to yours.
When you finally pull back, you're both gasping, foreheads pressed together.
“I love you too… I’ve loved you forever,” she whispers.
Yujin and Wonyoung watch from the doorway, smiling softly. “Just so you know, everyone inside is looking at you two,” Yujin teases, before quietly stepping back inside.
You pull back and brush wet hair from her face.
“We’ll figure it out. Slowly. Safely.”
She nods, smiling through tears.
“Together?”
“Together.”
“Guess I’m still a mess,” she grins at you.
“My favorite mess.”
***
A/N #2: I wrote fluff. I really can't bring myself to write smut for Leeseo yet. I hope you won't be disappointed that I didn't write smut. I will try to improve on my lacklustre fluff skills~ ❤️ This is dedicated to my princess.
