Art Of Love! (Chaewon)
Kim Chaewon (LSF) X Male Reader
MothaFluffa, with a sprinkle of Angst!
Long story ahead!!!
Apartment 54. Third floor. Chaewon stood at the door, smiling. It was affordable, convenient — the perfect place for a new start. Too bad she hadn’t read the full description before buying it.
She drew in a deep breath before turning the doorknob. As the door opened, a warm, inviting scent and the sight of the apartment’s beautiful décor washed over her.
“Wow! This is better than I expected!” She spoke to herself.
She dropped her bag on the couch and looked around. The artwork on the walls stopped her in her tracks—it was incredible. She quickly snapped a photo and sent it to her friends.
“Oh right! Let’s check out the rooms.” As she approaches the corner, she bumps into someone and falls backward, landing on the ground as a couple of paintbrushes belonging to the other person clatter loudly beside her.
She rubs her forehead, dazed from the collision. “W-What the—?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at a tall boy towering above her. “W-Who are you?! And why are you in my apartment?!”
He let out a scoff. “Your apartment? Really? And maybe watch where you’re going next time.” He straightened up after dusting himself off, then crouched to collect his scattered paintbrushes.
He’s really handsome—unfortunately, Chaewon thought. And a total dick on top of that! She got back on her feet, glaring. “I live here! Why the hell are you in my apartment?!”
“Are you stupid?” he said, and Chaewon froze. “You’re the roommate, right? Please tell me you at least read the listing.” He crossed his arms. “It said shared apartment, genius.”
“Shared?!” Chaewon echoed, eyes wide. “Since when?!”
“Since always,” he said flatly, barely looking at her.
She threw her hands up. “Great. Just perfect. A random guy who doesn’t know how to apologize and thinks he owns the place. Fantastic start.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the only haunting thing here is your lack of reading comprehension.”
“Excuse me?!” she snapped.
“Shared apartment,” he repeated, pointing towards the lease pinned to the fridge. “Welcome home, roommate.”
She rolled her eyes. “How can I be so stupid?!” She whispered under her breath. “I can’t go back now.”
~~~~
Chaewon let out a satisfied sigh. “Finally, all done,” she said, finishing the last of her unpacking. She glanced around the room, taking in her new space before deciding to explore a bit.
There were two extra rooms—one of which, she thought, could be perfect for a small music studio. But before she could take a closer look, the sharp sound of water splashing against the floor made her pause.
“Are you serious? Great—now I need to get more water,” the boy grumbled. Chaewon watched as he stepped out of the room, clearly frustrated.
As soon as he was gone, curiosity tugged at her. Moving quietly, she tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside, gasping softly as her eyes swept across the room.
Art covered every inch of the room, from the walls to the easel in the corner. It’s beautiful, she thought, eyes wide in awe. “This guy’s actually talented,” she whispered. But before she could take another step…
“Boo!”
He caught her just in time, their faces inches apart. “You really have a thing for falling, don’t you?” he teased.
“S-shut up! You scared me!” she snapped, cheeks red as she stepped back.
After a brief pause, he tilted his head. “So… care to explain why you were snooping around my art room?”
“I—I wasn’t snooping!” she stammered. “I just… heard something and got curious.”
He leaned against the doorway, grinning. “Curious about my art or about me?”
“Neither!” she snapped, her face turning red. “Don’t flatter yourself! I-I was… inspecting.”
“Inspecting now, huh?” he said, laughing softly. “Didn’t realize I was living with a detective.”
“Maybe you are,” she replied, lifting her chin. “And detectives don’t like suspicious behavior.”
“Suspicious? I was painting.”
“Exactly. Suspicious,” she said, refusing to smile even as he laughed.
The tension in the air slowly faded into something lighter. He went back to his easel, brushing a few strokes of blue across the canvas.
Chaewon stood by the doorway, arms still crossed—but her tone softened. “You’re really serious about your art, huh?”
He glanced over his shoulder, surprised by her shift in tone. “Yeah. It’s kind of… my thing,” he said quietly. “Been painting since I was a kid.”
“That’s… actually pretty cool,” she admitted, her earlier defensiveness melting away.
He smiled faintly, the first genuine one she’d seen from him. “Thanks. Didn’t think you’d say that after calling me a jerk.”
She smirked, trying to play it off. “Hey, I can appreciate talent and still think you’re a jerk.”
“Fair enough,” he said, chuckling softly.
For the first time since she moved in, the silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was almost comfortable.
“You can come closer, you know,” he said without looking back. “You’re hovering like I’m gonna bite.”
“I’m not hovering,” she said quickly, taking one cautious step inside.
He glanced at her with a teasing smile. “Sure you’re not.”
She ignored him, pretending to study the paintings instead. “You’re… actually really good,” she admitted, her voice softer this time.
“Thanks,” he said, setting his brush down. “Didn’t expect you to say that. Thought you’d just insult me again.”
“I can multitask,” she replied with a grin.
He laughed—a real laugh this time—and she couldn’t help but smile too. The sound filled the room, easy and warm.
Then, without warning, she stepped back and bumped into a paint can.
They both froze as blue paint started pooling on the floor.
“Oh no…” she whispered.
He looked at the mess, then at her, and sighed. She winced. “I’ll… clean it up?”
He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Yeah. Together.”
For some reason, that one word—together—made her chest flutter just a little. Chaewon grabbed some tissues from the counter and crouched down, trying to soak up the blue puddle.
“Ugh… this is so bad,” she groaned.
“Relax,” he said, kneeling beside her with a small smile. “It’s just paint. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, well, not usually because I knock it over,” she muttered, cheeks puffing slightly.
He laughed softly. “You really do have a talent for chaos.”
She shot him a look. “Says the guy who leaves open paint cans lying around.”
“Touché,” he said, smirking.
They cleaned in silence for a moment—until she realized how close they were sitting. She glanced up, and he was already looking at her. For a second, neither of them moved.
“Uh…” she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “I don’t think we’ve… properly introduced ourselves.”
He blinked, then smiled faintly. “Right. I’m Lee Y/n.”
“Kim Chaewon,” she said, returning the smile despite herself.
“Well, Chaewon,” Y/n said, standing up and offering her a hand, “welcome to Apartment 54. Try not to flood the place again, yeah?”
She took his hand, rolling her eyes but smiling. “No promises.”
Their fingers brushed just a little longer than either of them expected.
And as they both looked away, pretending not to notice, that strange flutter in her chest returned—stronger this time.
~~~~
Morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, brushing across Chaewon’s face. She groaned softly, burying herself deeper under the blanket before realizing—
Wait… this isn’t my old apartment.
She blinked awake, glancing around the unfamiliar room, boxes still half-open, a faint smell of paint lingering in the air. Right. New place. New start. And… new roommate. Her stomach grumbled. “Ugh, breakfast,” she muttered, dragging herself out of bed.
As soon as she opened the door, the scent of coffee hit her. She peeked into the kitchen—and froze.
Y/n was already there, hair messy, sleeves rolled up, calmly sipping coffee while flipping pancakes like he owned the place. “Morning, roommate,” he said without looking up.
“You cook?” she asked, surprised.
“And you wake up before noon? Miracles do happen,” he replied with a grin.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully confident for someone who spilled water everywhere yesterday.”
“Correction,” he said, turning to hand her a plate. “You knocked over the paint. I just cleaned it up better.”
She crossed her arms but took the plate anyway. “You’re still a jerk.”
“And you’re still clumsy.”
They stared at each other for a moment—then both cracked up laughing.
For the first time since she’d moved in, it felt… nice. Warm. Like maybe this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.
“So,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “Think you can survive living with me?”
She smiled over her pancake. “Depends. Can you survive living with me?”
He chuckled. “Guess we’ll find out.”
(Later that day)
By afternoon, the apartment had settled into an almost comfortable rhythm—almost.
Chaewon was sitting on the couch with her laptop open, headphones on, quietly humming as she worked on a new melody. For once, everything felt calm. Until the sound of drilling shattered the peace.
“WHAT is that?!” she yelled, pulling off her headphones.
Y/n’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Just hanging up a shelf!”
“A shelf? It sounds like you’re demolishing the wall!” she shouted back.
He appeared a moment later, holding a power drill and covered in dust. “You’re welcome in advance. I’m making space for our stuff.”
“Our stuff?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You get the left side for your music junk. I’ll take the right.”
“It’s not junk,” she muttered. “It’s equipment.”
“Right,” he said with a grin. “Equipment that takes up half the living room.”
“You’re one to talk—your art supplies are everywhere!”
“Hey, creativity needs space.”
“So does sanity,” she fired back.
They glared at each other for a beat—then burst into laughter at how ridiculous they sounded.
“Okay,” Y/n said between laughs. “Maybe we’re both disasters.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, still smiling. “But at least it’s not boring.”
He looked at her for a second longer than necessary, that playful glint in his eyes softening just a little.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Definitely not boring.”
And just like that, the tension between them shifted—still sharp around the edges, but warmer now. The kind that hinted that maybe, just maybe, something more was beginning to spark.
(Time Skip)
A few days passed, and life in Apartment 54 began to settle into a strange but comfortable routine. Mornings were filled with the smell of coffee and the sound of Lee Y/n’s brushstrokes, while Chaewon’s music drifted softly from her room. They still bickered—constantly—but the edge had faded. Now, their arguments sounded more like inside jokes.
One evening, thunder rolled outside, rattling the windows. The rain poured hard against the glass as Chaewon peeked into the kitchen.
Y/n stood there, hair a little damp, sleeves rolled up, stirring something on the stove.
“You’re cooking again?” she asked, surprised.
“Someone’s gotta keep us alive,” he replied with a smirk. “Unless you plan on living off instant noodles forever.”
“Hey, don’t insult my noodles. They’ve gotten me through hard times,” she said, grinning.
“Then consider this an upgrade,” he said, handing her a spoon. “Taste.”
She hesitated, then took a bite. “Okay… wow. That’s actually really good.”
“You sound shocked,” he said, pretending to be offended.
“Because I am shocked,” she teased. “You look like the type who burns water.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re smug,” she said, grabbing a second spoonful anyway.
For a moment, the storm outside faded into background noise. The kitchen felt warm—too warm.
“You know,” he said after a pause, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”
“Wow,” she said, placing a hand over her chest. “The great Y/n just complimented me. Should I write this down?”
He chuckled. “Don’t push it.”
They shared a look—short, quiet, and strangely tender—before Chaewon turned away, pretending to focus on the rain tapping against the window.
What is this feeling? she thought, heart fluttering. He’s still a jerk… but why does he suddenly feel so—
“You’re staring again,” he said without turning around.
“I—What?! No, I wasn’t!” she stammered.
“Sure,” he said, smiling as he plated the food.
“Ugh,” she muttered, but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto her lips.
(Later That Night!)
Later that night, the dishes were done, and the rain had quieted to a gentle patter. The two of them sat on the couch, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, a half-finished movie playing quietly in the background.
Chaewon glanced at Y/n from the corner of her eye. He wasn’t teasing her for once—just sitting there, focused on his drink, a small frown tugging at his lips.
“You look serious,” she said softly.
He chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated before answering. “About how weird life can be. One moment, you’re sure of what you want… and then everything changes.”
She tilted her head. “That sounds deep. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said with a faint smile. “Just… my last art exhibition didn’t go well. I thought it was going to be my big break, but it tanked. Felt like everything I’d worked for just… slipped away.”
Chaewon looked down at her mug. “I get that,” she said quietly. “I used to perform music before moving here. Small gigs, open mics… but after a while, it stopped being fun. I guess I needed to start over, too.”
He glanced at her, eyes softening. “So that’s why you moved here.”
“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “New place, new start. Though I didn’t plan on having a roommate who drives me crazy.”
He smiled. “You love it.”
“I tolerate it,” she corrected, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.
The movie flickered, light dancing across their faces. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Y/n leaned back, his voice quieter. “You know, for what it’s worth… I’m glad you moved in.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said simply, eyes meeting hers. “It’s been… less quiet.”
She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “Guess that makes two of us.” Outside, the rain slowed to a soft drizzle—but inside, it felt like something had just begun.
(The Next Day!)
The next morning, the apartment felt different—warmer somehow.
Chaewon sat at the kitchen counter with her laptop, hair tied in a messy bun, a mug of coffee beside her. She was humming softly, lost in a melody.
Y/n walked in, half-awake, paint smudges still on his arm. “You’re singing again,” he said, voice low and groggy.
“You’re painting before breakfast again,” she replied without looking up.
He smirked. “Touché.”
There was a quiet ease between them now. She handed him his mug—his favorite, the one with a chipped handle—and he accepted it without a word, like it was already routine.
“So,” he said after a sip, “I was thinking about what you said last night. About music.”
“What about it?”
“You should get back into it. Perform again.”
She looked up, surprised. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “You light up when you talk about it.”
Her chest tightened a little. “That’s… actually really sweet, Y/n.”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he teased. “I can be nice.”
“Occasionally,” she said with a grin.
He was about to reply when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—and froze.
“Who’s Minho?” he asked casually, sipping his coffee.
“No one,” she said a little too fast.
“Ohhh,” he drawled, a teasing glint in his eye. “No one, huh?”
“Mind your own business,” she said, cheeks pink.
“I’m just saying,” he continued with a grin, “if your ‘no one’ keeps texting, I might have to start charging him rent.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, throwing a napkin at him.
He caught it easily, laughing. “But you like living with me.”
“Debatable,” she said—but she couldn’t stop smiling.
And as Y/n turned back to his art, Chaewon tried to focus on her music again… though it was a lot harder when her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
~~~~
A week passed, and the chaos of moving in had finally settled. The apartment felt lived-in now — her music sheets scattered on the table, his paint stains on the floor, the faint scent of coffee and acrylics lingering in the air.
That evening, Chaewon sat by the window, strumming her guitar. The melody she’d been working on floated softly through the room — warm, gentle, unfinished.
Y/n looked up from his easel. “That’s new.”
“Yeah,” she said, not turning around. “Still figuring it out.”
“It’s good,” he said. “Different. Feels… honest.”
She smiled faintly. “Thanks. It’s kind of about… starting over, I guess.”
He nodded, dipping his brush into blue. “I get that.”
A few quiet minutes passed — just the hum of music and the brush gliding across canvas. Then, curiosity got the better of her.
“What are you painting?” she asked.
He hesitated. “You’ll laugh.”
“Try me.”
He sighed, gesturing for her to come closer. “Alright, but no teasing.”
She stood, walking over to his easel — and froze.
On the canvas was her. Sitting by the window, guitar in hand, light pouring over her hair like a soft halo. The strokes were delicate, full of color and warmth.
“That’s… me?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You looked… peaceful. I just wanted to capture that.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Y/n, it’s beautiful.”
He looked at her then — really looked — and for the first time, she didn’t see the teasing grin or smug smirk. Just sincerity.
“You’re kind of my muse,” he admitted softly.
Chaewon’s heart skipped. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” she muttered, trying to hide her smile.
“Why not? It’s true,” he said simply, still painting.
She looked at the portrait again, her chest warm and full. For the first time since moving in, she realized she didn’t just feel comfortable here. She felt at home.
- The Following Night
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of rain tapping against the windows again.
Chaewon couldn’t sleep. She tossed, turned, and finally gave up, slipping out of bed to grab some water.
The living room lights were dim, and to her surprise, Lee Y/n was still awake — sitting on the couch, sketchbook in hand, a blanket draped lazily over his shoulders.
“You’re up late,” she said softly.
He glanced up and smiled faintly. “Could say the same to you.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You?”
“Same. Too many thoughts.”
She nodded, staring at the rain-streaked window. “About your art?”
“About… everything,” he said quietly. “Life, mistakes, people who somehow make your days less dull.”
She looked at him, catching the tiny smirk he tried to hide. “Was that your way of calling me interesting?”
“Don’t push it,” he teased, but his tone was gentle.
For a moment, silence settled again — but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that felt safe.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice softer now. “Thanks… for sticking around.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Most people would’ve run off after how we started,” he said with a small laugh. “Guess I’m lucky you didn’t.”
Her heart thudded. “Maybe I just didn’t want to leave you with a mess.”
“Or maybe,” he said, meeting her eyes, “you actually like having me around.”
She scoffed, but her voice wavered. “Keep dreaming.”
He smiled — not the cocky one she was used to, but something softer. “Yeah… maybe I am.”
Their eyes lingered for a second too long, the air between them charged with something unspoken — until a thunderclap broke the spell.
Chaewon quickly stood, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I, uh… should probably go back to bed.”
“Right,” he said, his voice low. “Goodnight, Chaewon.”
“Goodnight, Y/n.”
As she closed her door, her hand lingered on the knob, heart racing. She could still feel his gaze — warm, quiet, and heavy with something she didn’t quite have the courage to name.
- The Following Morning
The next morning came with sunlight spilling through the blinds — too bright, too normal for how fast Chaewon’s heart was still beating.
She took her time getting ready, hoping Y/n would still be asleep. No such luck.
He was already in the kitchen, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, humming quietly as he poured coffee.
“Morning,” he said without looking up.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. She grabbed a mug, careful not to meet his eyes.
The silence stretched, heavier than usual — not awkward, exactly, but full of everything left unsaid from last night.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Yeah,” she lied quickly. “You?”
“Eventually,” he said with a faint smile. “Kept thinking about—” He stopped himself mid-sentence.
“About?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Uh… the painting,” he said, taking a quick sip of coffee.
“Right,” she said, pretending to believe him. “The painting.”
They both looked away at the same time, cheeks tinged with color.
A beat passed, then Y/n broke the silence. “Hey… about last night—”
“Nothing happened!” she blurted out, way too fast.
He blinked. “Didn’t say it did.”
“Right. I just—uh—making sure you didn’t, you know, think anything happened.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, fighting a grin. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, turning away — but he caught the tiny smile on her face.
As she walked toward her room, he called out, “Hey, Chaewon?”
She paused, looking over her shoulder.
“That song you were humming last night,” he said. “You should finish it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small, genuine smile. “It suits you.”
Her chest tightened again — that same flutter from before. “Thanks,” she said quietly, disappearing into her room.
Y/n watched the door close, exhaling a soft laugh to himself.
“Yeah,” he murmured under his breath, “definitely not just roommates anymore.”
~~~
The days slipped by quietly after that morning, each one blurring into the next. They had fallen into a rhythm—morning coffee, separate work, shared dinners, and those long, quiet nights where neither wanted to admit how much they looked forward to them.
That Friday evening, the apartment was calm. A gentle tune hummed from Chaewon’s speaker as she tuned her guitar. Y/n sat across from her on the floor, sketching something in his notebook.
“You’ve been working on that for hours,” she said, strumming a chord. “What is it this time?”
“Just sketching ideas,” he replied. “You’ll make fun of me if I show you.”
“No, I won’t,” she promised, smiling. “Probably.”
He shot her a look, but handed her the sketchbook anyway.
Her breath caught. It wasn’t just a drawing—it was her again. But this time, she wasn’t sitting by the window. She was on the couch, guitar in her lap, head turned slightly toward the light. It looked… alive.
“Y/n…” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
He shrugged, trying to play it off. “You make it easy to draw.”
Her heart skipped. “You really need to stop saying things like that,” she muttered.
“Why?” he asked, meeting her gaze. “Because they sound like I mean them?”
The room fell quiet. The song playing in the background faded into the hum of the city outside.
She looked away first, cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he said softly, setting his pencil down. “But you don’t look away when I draw you anymore.”
Chaewon swallowed, unsure what to say. Her fingers trembled slightly on the guitar strings. “Maybe I’m getting used to it,” she murmured.
He leaned back, studying her face, his tone lower now. “Or maybe you’re not scared to let someone see you anymore.”
She froze, her chest tightening. He wasn’t smiling this time. He wasn’t teasing. He was just… honest.
“Y/n…”
“Yeah?”
“If you keep saying stuff like that…” she said quietly, “I won’t know how to stop thinking about you.”
His eyes widened just slightly—but before he could reply, her phone buzzed again on the table. The moment shattered.
She stood quickly, flustered. “I—I should get that.”
He nodded, eyes following her as she walked away.
The unfinished song still lingered between them—soft, delicate, and full of everything they didn’t quite have the courage to say.
~~~
The night air was thick with quiet.
Chaewon stood in her room, phone in hand, staring blankly at the message from Minho: “Still thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay.”
She sighed and locked the screen, tossing the phone onto her bed. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was just that things felt… different now. Especially after what Y/n had said.
She left her room to clear her head—and found him standing by the balcony, sketchbook in hand, looking out at the city lights.
“You’re still up?” she asked quietly.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said without turning. “You?”
“Same.”
She walked closer, the cool night breeze brushing past them. For a moment, neither spoke.
“That guy who texted,” he said suddenly. “Is he… someone important?”
Chaewon blinked, caught off guard. “Minho? No. Not anymore.”
He nodded slowly. “Good.”
She frowned. “Good?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning to meet her eyes. “Because it’d really suck if I was starting to fall for someone who wasn’t available.”
Her breath caught. “Y/n…”
He took a hesitant step closer. “I know it’s sudden. And maybe it’s stupid. But every time you walk into a room, I can’t focus on anything else. You’re loud, stubborn, messy as hell—”
“Wow, way to make a girl feel special,” she interrupted, heart racing.
He laughed softly, eyes warm. “—but you make this place feel like home. And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”
She froze, words caught in her throat. All the teasing, the late nights, the quiet smiles—it all clicked.
“You really mean that?” she asked.
“Every word.”
The city lights flickered between them, reflections dancing in their eyes. Slowly, almost without realizing it, she stepped closer.
“Then you should probably kiss me before I overthink this,” she whispered.
He smiled, soft and certain. “Wasn’t planning on waiting.”
And just like that, the distance vanished.
The noise of the city melted away, replaced by the quiet rhythm of two hearts finally beating in sync.
When they pulled apart, Chaewon’s cheeks were flushed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re still kind of a jerk, you know.”
“Yeah,” Y/n said, grinning. “But now I’m your jerk.”
She laughed softly, leaning her forehead against his. “Guess I can live with that.”
~~~
Morning light streamed through the curtains, brushing across the living room. The air felt different — softer, quieter, charged with the memory of last night.
Chaewon stirred awake on the couch, realizing she’d fallen asleep there after… that. Her heart skipped at the thought. Did that really happen?
“Morning,” came a voice from the kitchen.
She sat up quickly, nearly knocking over a cushion. “Oh—uh, morning.”
Y/n stood there, hair a mess, wearing the same hoodie from last night. He held two mugs of coffee — and a look that was somewhere between shy and amused.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, setting one mug down in front of her.
“Yeah. I think,” she said, still flustered. “You?”
“Barely,” he admitted with a small smile. “Kept replaying… uh—never mind.”
She blushed immediately. “You mean the—”
“Yep,” he interrupted quickly, taking a long sip of his coffee.
They sat in silence for a moment, both pretending to be way too focused on their mugs.
“So,” she started, trying to sound casual. “That kiss…”
“Yeah?”
“It wasn’t—uh—a roommate thing, right?” she asked carefully.
He chuckled softly, leaning against the counter. “Pretty sure roommates don’t usually kiss like that.”
“Good,” she said before she could stop herself.
He grinned. “Good?”
“I mean—not good good, just… you know what I mean!” she stammered, hiding her face in her hands.
Y/n laughed quietly, setting his coffee down and moving closer. “You’re cute when you’re flustered
“And you’re impossible,” she muttered, but didn’t move away when he sat beside her.
“Maybe,” he said with a small smile. “But now I’m your impossible.”
She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “If you keep saying things like that, I might actually start liking you.”
“Might?” he teased.
“Don’t push it,” she said — but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.
And as they sat there, laughing softly over coffee, the air between them finally felt easy — like love had quietly found its place in the middle of their chaos.
~~~
Three weeks later, Apartment 54 looked… lived in. Half-finished canvases leaned against the wall, a pile of guitar picks sat on the coffee table, and there was always music playing — either Chaewon’s humming or Y/n’s soft tapping of a brush against glass.
They’d fallen into a rhythm that felt easy and right.
“You’re using my mug again,” Chaewon said one morning, hands on her hips.
Y/n looked up from the stove, feigning confusion. “Your mug?”
“Yes, the blue one with the tiny crack. You said it was cursed!”
“Well,” he said, handing her a plate of pancakes, “guess I wanted to test my luck.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered — but she smiled as she took the plate.
Later that afternoon, Y/n painted while Chaewon recorded vocals in her small setup. Through the wall, he could hear her laughing at her own mistakes, starting over again and again. It made him smile — the sound of her voice had become the heartbeat of the apartment.
Around sunset, she wandered into his art room, curious as always. “Working on another masterpiece?”
“Maybe,” he said, brushing a line of gold across the canvas. “Want to see?”
She leaned over — and froze. It was a painting of two mugs sitting side by side on the kitchen counter. Her cursed blue one… and his chipped gray one.
“You painted our mugs?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “They looked right together.”
Her heart swelled, caught somewhere between laughter and tears. “You’re such a sap.”
“You love it,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I really do.”
He reached out, brushing a bit of paint off her cheek. “You’ve got color on you.”
“You did that on purpose,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Maybe,” he teased.
“Oh, you’re so—” she lunged for him, smearing a streak of blue across his jaw.
“Hey!” he laughed, dodging but failing miserably. In seconds, it turned into a full-blown paint war — laughter echoing through the apartment.
When they finally stopped, breathless and messy, Chaewon looked at him, her voice softer.
“You know,” she said, “I think this apartment really is perfect now.”
“Yeah?” he said, smiling. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re in it.”
He smiled back, eyes warm. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Outside, the evening light bathed the room in gold. Inside, the chaos of paint and laughter felt like home.
~~~~
A few months later, Apartment 54 had changed again.
Not physically — the same canvases lined the walls, the same guitar rested by the couch — but it felt different. There was something unspoken in the air lately, a quiet tension beneath the laughter.
Chaewon sat at the table, scrolling through her emails. Her eyes landed on one from a small music studio — the kind of opportunity she’d dreamed about. They wanted her to record a demo. In Busan.
“Hey,” Y/n said from the other room, breaking her train of thought. “You’ve been quiet all morning.”
“Just… reading something,” she replied quickly, closing her laptop.
He walked in, paint still on his hands, curiosity written all over his face. “Something good?”
“Yeah. Maybe. A studio wants me to record a song. But it’s in Busan.”
He smiled, proud. “That’s amazing, Chaewon!”
“It’s only for a few weeks,” she said carefully. “But they want me to move there if it goes well.”
His smile faltered, just a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled — heavy and uncertain.
“You should do it,” Y/n said finally, forcing a smile. “This is your dream.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I just… didn’t think it would come this soon.”
“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Long distance isn’t impossible.”
She looked at him, eyes soft. “You say that now, but what if it changes everything?”
“Then we’ll change together,” he said simply.
Chaewon smiled, but something inside her still twisted.
Later that night, she found Y/n on the balcony, staring out at the city. The sketchbook lay open beside him — but instead of drawing, he’d written something.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He closed it quickly, smiling. “Nothing. Just… thinking again.”
“About me leaving?”
“About us,” he admitted. “I want you to chase your dream. I just wish it didn’t mean chasing you from far away.”
She reached out, taking his paint-stained hand in hers. “You won’t lose me, Y/n.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
The night stretched quiet and still — full of love, fear, and everything in between.
Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew:
Sometimes the hardest part of loving someone is learning when to let them fly.
~~~~
The day Chaewon left, the apartment felt empty.
Her laughter no longer echoed through the hall, and Y/n found himself pausing mid-brushstroke, expecting to hear her humming from the other room. But there was only silence.
She texted him when she arrived in Busan:
Chaewon: Landed safe. The studio’s smaller than I thought, but it feels right.
Y/n: Good. Don’t forget to eat, okay? And send me your new song when you finish it.
Chaewon: Bossy as ever. Miss you already.
He smiled at the screen for longer than he’d admit.
Days passed, and their messages turned into nightly video calls. She’d tell him about long recording hours and ramen dinners, and he’d show her the new paintings he’d started—one of which, she eventually noticed, had her reflection hidden in the background.
“You painted me again,” she said one night, laughing.
“I keep trying not to,” he said, “but you sneak in anyway.”
Her smile softened. “You’re such a sap.”
“You love it,” he teased, but his voice was quiet, careful.
Weeks turned into a month. Her song began to gain traction online, small but steady, and she started spending more time at the studio. Calls became shorter. Texts took longer to arrive.
One evening, Y/n sat on the balcony with his phone, typing and deleting the same message over and over.
I miss you.
He finally hit send.
It took an hour before her reply came.
Chaewon: I miss you too. I’m sorry I’ve been busy. Things are getting crazy here.
Y/n: Don’t apologize. You’re doing amazing.
He meant it — but when he looked at the empty couch where she used to sit, the words hurt a little.
A few days later, she sent a voice message instead of a text. Her tone was soft, tired, but warm.
“Hey… I listened to one of your old recordings today — the one with the guitar near the window. I miss that sound. I miss home. I miss you.”
Y/n closed his eyes, the ache in his chest melting into a quiet smile.
“Then come back soon,” he whispered to himself.
Outside, the night was still — but for the first time in weeks, he picked up his brush again. This time, he painted not just her image… but the space between them.
~~~~
The train from Busan to Seoul rattled softly, the hum of the tracks matching the rhythm in Chaewon’s chest. Months had passed since she left — months of new faces, music sessions, and long nights staring at her phone, missing the sound of his voice.
Her song had taken off more than she expected. The studio wanted her full-time now, but the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about wasn’t her music.
It was Y/n.
When the train finally stopped, she exhaled a shaky breath and whispered to herself, “Home.”
⸻
The key still fit perfectly in the lock.
Apartment 54 smelled exactly the same — faint coffee, paint, and something that was just him.
“Hello?” she called softly.
From the art room, a familiar voice answered. “Chaewon?”
He appeared in the doorway, paint still on his hands, looking both stunned and relieved all at once.
“You’re… back,” he said, almost afraid to believe it.
She nodded, smiling nervously. “Surprise.”
For a moment, neither moved. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance. She barely had time to breathe before his arms were around her.
“You have no idea how much I missed you,” Y/n murmured against her hair.
She laughed softly, clutching him back. “I think I do.”
When they finally pulled apart, his eyes lingered on her face — the tiredness from travel, the sparkle of happiness she tried to hide.
“You look different,” he said. “Happier.”
“Busan will do that to you,” she teased. “But… I missed this.”
“The paint smell or me?”
“Both,” she said, smiling.
⸻
That night, they sat on the balcony again — the same spot where he’d once told her he was falling for her.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Amazing,” she said honestly. “Terrifying too. But I learned a lot. About music… and about what I really want.”
“And what’s that?” he asked softly.
She looked at him, eyes glinting in the city light. “To keep making music. But not alone.”
He smiled — the kind that reached his eyes this time. “You mean…?”
“I mean you,” she said simply. “Home didn’t feel like home without you in it.”
Y/n took her hand gently, thumb brushing her skin. “Then don’t leave again.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not unless you come with me.”
The city below seemed to fade away — just two people, one promise, and the warmth of a love that had quietly waited to be rediscovered.
And for the first time in months, both of them knew:
They were exactly where they were meant to be.
~~~~
A year had passed since the day Chaewon came back to Apartment 54.
The place had changed again — not from new furniture or paint, but from life. From laughter that filled the rooms, from music that blended with the soft scent of acrylics, from the quiet warmth of two hearts that had finally found their rhythm.
Chaewon’s song — the one she wrote during her nights in Busan — had gone viral. She still couldn’t quite believe it. Fans sent her messages about how it “felt like home,” and every time she read one, she’d glance at Y/n, who always smiled knowingly.
He’d opened a small art studio downtown. Sometimes, people would stop to ask about the portraits displayed in the window — the girl with the gentle smile, the paint-stained hands, the spark in her eyes.
“That’s my muse,” he’d say simply.
They still argued — about laundry, about who finished the coffee, about whose turn it was to take out the trash — but those tiny moments had become part of their rhythm. Their chaos. Their love.
One evening, as the golden hour painted the room in soft orange light, Chaewon sat by the window, strumming her guitar.
“What are you working on?” Y/n asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“A new song,” she said, smiling. “About us.”
“Yeah?” he asked, grinning. “Should I be nervous?”
“A little,” she teased. “It’s about a girl who moved into an apartment with a total jerk.”
“Ah. Sounds familiar.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, eyes twinkling. “He turns out to be the love of her life.”
He laughed, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. “I like how it ends.”
“Me too.”
She started playing again — soft, steady chords that filled the apartment with warmth.
Y/n picked up his sketchbook, sitting beside her on the floor, drawing while she sang.
Two creators, two dreamers, two hearts that had collided by accident and stayed by choice.
Outside, the city moved on — busy, loud, endless.
But inside Apartment 54, time slowed.
Home wasn’t just walls or windows anymore.
It was them.
~~~~
The End!🥲
My first Ever Fic!!!! A fluff to start the launch of new writer! Smuts will be written too so don’t worry!😉
(Sorry if there’s any mistakes!!)
