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⌗⠀양정원⠀⠀CAT⠀DISTRIBUTION⠀SYSTEM⠀꒰⠀PT.5⠀꒱

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SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?

pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader. featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, aespa winter and karina. word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀16.O8Ok genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.) warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), cowardice behaviour (jungwon is also a coward), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything. mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys! pt.5 s finally out! please enjoy! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four.

#⠀OO6⠀:⠀CAT’S OUT OF THE BAG.

syllabus week had drawn to a close, and in its place emerged the delightful chaos that every university student knows too well. gone were the comforting routines of organized orientation and tours; in their wake came the erratic, almost cruel, schedules that demanded you wake at five or six a.m. on mondays, only to stroll in lazily at noon the next day. some days gifted you a single class and yet, you were still expected to drag yourself to campus because a professor had declared it “necessary.”

to make matters more bewildering, certain professors—perhaps out of boredom or a secret joy in confusion—decided to revise their schedules altogether, as if the already unstable structure of student life needed further shaking.

and the worst part? the scattered timetable meant you often couldn’t even see your friends. some days, only kazuha was free to hang out with you. other times, it was just yunjin. occasionally, you’d spot chaewon between breaks and then there were days when you were entirely alone, wandering the halls until dismissal like some tragic literary character in a baggy shirt and sweats.

there were afternoons when you had endless hours to yourself—too much time and no one to spend it with—while your friends were already buried under piles of coursework and group activities. the imbalance was disorienting.

the first week of classes always felt like an improvisational drama. no one really knew where to go, when to show up, or what room they were supposed to be in. schedules were printed, then ignored. maps were studied, then forgotten. it could take weeks to truly memorize one’s timetable, and you just hoped you wouldn’t be among the last to piece it all together.

yet, amidst the chaos, one small blessing stood out: your club schedule. it was reliable, comforting. meetings were every tuesday and thursday—steady, predictable, something to hold on to.

your very first meeting with the club was held in the hushed embrace of the university library, the lucent library.

the atmosphere was cautious, like everyone was waiting for someone else to speak first. awkward smiles were exchanged over silent shelves, hesitant greetings spoken just above a whisper. but then, the seniors arrived—and everything changed.

there were three of them.

the first was a poised young woman with brown, shoulder length hair and an air of quiet authority. the second was a tall boy with sharp eyes and hair dyed an unapologetic shade of crimson—he looked like someone who didn’t shy away from anything, or hair bleach. and the third was jay.

the trio entered with effortless presence, trailing behind the girl like her loyal entourage. they greeted the librarian with soft nods and practiced smiles, then turned to face the group assembled just beside the librarian's desk.

the girl stepped forward, her voice clear and warm.

“good day, everyone. welcome to the multi-maybe club—where you’re free to do everything… or absolutely nothing,” she said, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. “i’m sakura, your club president, and i’m in my final year here. these two behind me are your other seniors—jay, our vice president, and heeseung, our secretary.”

jay gave an exaggerated salute as if sakura had just drafted them into battle. “ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice low but teasing, earning a few amused snorts from the room.

heeseung, in contrast, merely gave a silent nod, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. jay immediately elbowed him in the ribs, whispering something that made heeseung shoot him a half-annoyed glare. sakura, without saying a word, simply tilted her head at him expectantly.

defeated, heeseung finally lifted his hand in a lazy salute.

the entire room chuckled softly—tension lifted, just like that.

the atmosphere had changed. the awkward quiet was now something lighter, easier. the multi-maybe club had just begun.

after a little more of sakura’s light but purposeful speech—detailing the strange yet endearing philosophy behind the multi-maybe club—it was finally time for the new members to introduce themselves.

one by one, each person stood up, shared their name, major, and a little something about themselves. it was the usual awkward mixture of nervous laughter, quiet voices, and subtle fidgeting. introductions never really got easier, even in college, but somehow it felt less painful here—like everyone was in on some inside joke that hadn't been told yet.

as the last person sat back down, sakura clapped her hands softly, as though summoning everyone's attention without disturbing the sanctuary of the library.

“now that we're done with introductions,” she began, a sly grin forming, “i have the most important question of the day.”

she paused for dramatic effect.

“what will you all be doing today—everything, or absolutely nothing?”

a few members looked around, unsure whether this was rhetorical. but sakura, ever composed, raised her hand high. “raise your hand if you're doing everything today.”

a modest handful of arms floated upward—hers included—joined by a couple of enthusiastic new members.

“ah,” she said, nodding with mock solemnity, “so few diligent souls among us today. i, myself, will be doing everything—my thesis waits for no one, even though the semester’s barely begun.”

then her gaze shifted with a mischievous glint.

“now, who's going to do nothing today?”

this time, almost everyone—including you—raised their hands without hesitation. jay and heeseung joined in as well, their hands shooting up in a way that almost seemed too proud.

sakura turned slowly toward the two boys, dramatically narrowing her eyes at them as the room burst into soft laughter.

“enjoy it while it lasts, my dear slackers. next year, you’ll be like me—eyes dead, heart caffeinated, clinging to deadlines like lifeboats.” she said it with such flourish that jay lowered his gaze, pretending to mourn his own future, while heeseung stifled a grin behind his hand.

with the energy lifted and everyone comfortably amused, sakura clapped once again, eyes bright.

“should we take a photo, my dear m-and-m’s?” she asked sweetly, referring to the affectionate nickname the club had adopted for its members.

there were murmurs of yes, smiles exchanged, and an overall sense of warmth settling among the group. for a first meeting, it felt oddly familiar.

“this photo will be framed and placed on our beloved librarian’s desk, right, mrs. nora?” sakura turned to the kindly librarian, who looked up from her desk and nodded approvingly before pointing toward a neat little shelf filled with framed photos—snapshots of years past, immortalizing members who’d once stood where you stood now.

“now let’s get into place. heeseung, jay, hold the capital m’s,” sakura instructed, already pulling out her phone.

the boys obediently took their posts on either side of her, holding two large cut-out cardboard m’s. the librarian stepped out from behind her desk and joined sakura in the center. the rest of you began shuffling into positions—some standing, others kneeling, trying not to block the front while still aiming for visibility.

a student seated nearby was recruited to be the photographer. he counted down—“one, two, three”—and snapped several shots in quick succession, catching moments between laughter and composure.

after handing the phone back to sakura, you all thanked him politely before returning to your seats, some fixing their hair, others wanted to ask sakura to send them a copy but were to scared to talk to her.

“okay, now that’s done,” sakura said, slipping her phone into her coat pocket. “i must now leave you in the capable, and slightly chaotic, hands of these two rascals. jay, don’t forget to add everyone to the group chat and mark their attendance. goodbye, everyone—see you around campus.”

and just like that, your enigmatic club president walked away—her shoulder-length brown hair swaying softly like a curtain closing after a brief but memorable scene.

jay immediately took charge, clipboard in one hand and his phone in the other. “alright, attendance time. heeseung, you're on group chat duty.”

“i feel deeply honored,” heeseung muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes but already reaching for jay's phone.

as jay called out names, heeseung helped cross-check and confirmed each new contact before adding everyone into the club's group chat in telegram. they made a surprisingly efficient team.

“do you guys want copies of the photo from earlier?” jay asked, eyes still glued to his clipboard.

everyone murmured agreement, and jay gave a satisfied thumbs up.

he then leaned toward heeseung, whispered something in his ear, and nudged him lightly with an elbow. heeseung, in response, raised a brow but said nothing—simply grabbed his phone, tapped for a few seconds, then turned to jay.

“done. sent her the message,” he muttered.

jay nodded in approval, gave him a matching thumbs up, and muttered, “teamwork makes the dream work.”

and just like that, day one of your club life had officially begun—with jokes, photos, quiet promises of chaos, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you'd found the right club for you.

as the days quietly unraveled, life began to settle into something resembling a rhythm. it wasn’t perfect—never was—but there was comfort in knowing what came next. your body, once stubborn and sleepy, had started aligning itself with your chaotic schedule, waking up with less resistance, moving with a bit more purpose.

you’d even begun forming small connections with your classmates and professors. when it came to professors, you noticed a strange duality—many of them carried an aura of solemn intensity, as though they held the world’s wisdom on their shoulders. they spoke with precision, eyes often unreadable, the kind that made students sit up straighter. but then, when you'd message them privately—maybe to ask for a deadline extension or clarification—they’d reply with surprising softness, almost like your well-being mattered more than the assignment. they looked strict, almost untouchable in class, yet behind the scenes, they were strangely warm, almost sweet.

others, however, were too chill for their own good. these were the ones who walked in and asked, “lesson today or self-study?” and you already knew what the answer would be. when they asked, “quiz or no quiz?” the class, in unison, begged the universe: ‘no quiz, please.’ and they’d nod with the wisdom of someone who, deep down, didn’t want a quiz either.

as for your classmates, your social position hovered somewhere in the pleasant middle. you weren’t the core of any group, but people knew you—smiled when they passed you, waved across hallways. the cool kids talked to you like an equal, while the quieter, book-smart ones seemed to enjoy your company too. it was a strange harmony, but one you liked. you belonged just enough to everyone without being bound to anyone.

time flew. the kind of fly that doesn’t feel like flying until you look back and realize a whole month had passed. and now here you were, wrapped in the soft hum of laziness, lounging in the dorm of yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon. it was the kind of day made for doing nothing and pretending that doing nothing was productive.

everyone was off doing their own thing—scattered between screens, snacks, and half-finished conversations—when kazuha suddenly snapped her laptop shut with an unexpected clack. the sound echoed just enough to make all of you jump slightly, eyes now fixed on her.

she took off her glasses like she was about to deliver a ted talk.

“now that we’re all here,” she said slowly, deliberately, eyes scanning the room like a detective mid-investigation, “i have something to share.”

no one took that lightly. the atmosphere shifted immediately—spines straightened, eyes sharpened, the room holding its collective breath.

“spill, kaz,” yunjin murmured, hugging a couch pillow like it could protect her from whatever was coming.

kazuha inhaled like she was preparing to recite a secret spell. “remember riki?”

of course you remembered riki. how could anyone forget that moment? the mysterious duo—riki and sunoo—bursting into your lives on the very first day of uni, casually dropping the bomb that they’d helped get your friends home after the architecture students’ welcome party. and when asked how they even knew who your friends were, they’d just shrugged and said, ‘a friend of ours is a friend of yours.’ cryptic. bold. strangely charming.

you all nodded, eyes glued to her.

“well,” kazuha continued, shifting slightly as if preparing for judgment, “no one asked me to do this… but i was curious about the welcome party incident. like, really curious. so i started chatting with him. just casual stuff at first, trying to get closer.”

you all stayed quiet, nodding along, waiting for her to peel back the curtain.

“we mostly got closer through dance,” she said, pushing her laptop further away as though it was distracting her. “he’d be practicing a tiktok trend and i’d pretend not to know it so he’d teach me.”

“uhuh,” the three of you echoed, perfectly in sync, your voices flat but intrigued.

“and then yesterday,” she continued, her voice rising just enough to signal a plot twist, “i finally asked him who ‘the friend of our friend’ was.”

immediate tension. the air became electric.

“he hesitated, obviously. like, really didn’t want to tell me at first. but…” she paused, dramatically. “i offered him takoyaki.”

a collective groan filled the room.

“kazuha, please,” chaewon groaned into her hands.

“just tell us already!” yunjin cried, tossing her pillow to the floor in protest.

kazuha simply chuckled, enjoying every second of her moment. then she gestured for all of you to lean in.

“closer,” she whispered, voice low and conspiratorial.

you leaned forward, the kind of lean that only happens when gossip turns sacred.

and then, with the perfect amount of suspense, she dropped it.

“the ‘friend of our friend’... was jungwon.”

chaewon gasped so hard she almost inhaled her own shock. yunjin slapped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. you? you just sat there—utterly frozen—brain stuttering as it tried to catch up with what you'd just heard.

but kazuha wasn’t done.

“and,” she added with flair, “he was the one who took you home. he helped you to your apartment. he took off your shoes. he tucked you in bed.”

you could practically hear the sound of your brain short-circuiting.

chaewon and yunjin screamed. not loudly—but that silent, high-pitched, open-mouthed scream that only best friends are capable of when the drama is that good. kazuha just sipped her water with the satisfaction of someone who had been sitting on a bombshell for days.

you, however, sat still. speechless. eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might suddenly offer you an explanation. jungwon? jungwon?

as the chaos erupted around you—pillows flying, yunjin yelling “he tucked you in like a fairytale princess!”—you remained in stunned silence, the weight of the revelation slowly sinking into your chest.

because now, the question wasn’t just why jungwon did all that.

the real question was—what were you going to do about it?

you’d had your doubts—plenty of them, in fact.

for weeks, you’d convinced yourself that jungwon had drifted away. it had been nearly two months since the two of you had held a proper conversation, and one whole month since the elevator incident that still clung to the edges of your memory like static.

in the time since, the only remnants of your connection were fleeting moments: bumping into each other in corridors, exchanging nods like polite strangers, trading awkward, fleeting smiles that never quite reached your eyes before parting ways.

you were convinced he’d been ignoring you. avoiding you. so you did the same—or tried to, at least.

but now… now you were hearing this.

he’d been there all along.

quietly, without a word, helping you. looking after you. tucking you in after what was clearly a night you didn’t remember but he didn’t forget. the weight of that realization settled heavily in your chest, tipping the scale of everything you thought you knew.

you glanced at your friends. they were still laughing—chaewon curled over from giggling, kazuha hiding her face behind a throw pillow, yunjin practically bouncing on the edge of the couch from how hard she was laughing.

and despite your spinning thoughts, a question broke through.

“guys,” you began slowly, voice hesitant, “remember when we first met at the café? and i asked if i should cook for jungwon or take him out?”

three heads turned toward you, nodding in perfect, amused sync.

“you all told me to cook, but also to cook for the whole apartment floor so it wouldn’t be obvious,” you added.

“yes, and?” yunjin raised a brow, already sensing something was off.

“well… i kinda forgot,” you admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “i haven’t done it yet.”

“huh?!” came the collective betrayal.

“i meant to!” you laughed, hands raised in defense. “it just… slipped my mind.”

“you know what, no,” chaewon said, sitting up straighter, “this is perfect. you can do it now. thank him properly—for the furniture, for taking care of you, for literally tucking you in like a k-drama lead.”

you snorted, feeling a bit of secondhand embarrassment.

“it’s genius,” yunjin cut in. “this is your moment! the delayed ‘thank you’ dinner with a side of romantic tension.”

“we’re still feeding the whole fifth floor?” kazuha asked, as if this detail mattered the most.

“not anymore,” chaewon shook her bead. “we should focus on jungwon because he's the one who helped y/n.”

“great,” yunjin grinned. her phone was already in hand. “operation: feed and flirt is a go. now, what do we cook? do we know what his favorite food is?”

“unfortunately… no,” chaewon sighed, leaning back.

“me neither,” you and kazuha chorused, your tone defeated as you pouted, shoulders slumping slightly.

“should we ask riki?” chaewon suggested, turning to kazuha.

but kazuha just shook her head, already anticipating the outcome. “i already used my curiosity token on him to find out about jungwon. if i push my luck, he might start charging me.”

“he really does seem super close with jungwon,” you added, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“should we ask sunoo next?” yunjin asked, hopeful, as she places her phone on the space beside her.

everyone turned to chaewon.

she blinked slowly. then shrugged.

“i don’t know. he might tell jungwon. sunoo knows everything. he’s like a walking group chat. and if we ask him, we’re basically handing him popcorn and a front row seat to our drama.”

you sighed, shoulders sagging as you leaned back into the couch.

the mission was growing trickier by the minute.

“should we stalk jungwon’s instagram?” kazuha asked, voice low but mischievous, like someone about to commit a noble crime.

you all froze for a moment before slowly turning to her like she’d just uncovered the secret to the universe.

“genius,” yunjin breathed, already reaching for her phone. “on it!”

in seconds, the four of you huddled together like detectives mid-investigation, your eyes glued to the screen of yunjin’s phone as she pulled up jungwon’s profile. his feed was as clean and carefully curated as you’d expect—mostly pictures of yami and a few pictures of himself, still with yami.

you started scrolling through his following, not quite sure what you were looking for—until a familiar face stopped you.

“wait, stop,” you said, your hand darting out to pause her scrolling. you leaned in and tapped on the small circular profile. your breath caught. “that’s… that’s jay!”

“jay?” yunjin echoed, confused but intrigued. you didn’t even bother asking—your fingers were already moving, taking her phone like it was yours. she didn’t even protest. instead, she leaned in closer, as curious as the rest of you.

you scrolled a little more and there he was.

“and heeseung!” you pointed at the second name, now genuinely startled. “jay and heeseung? why is he following them? is he friends with them?”

your three friends turned their gazes on you simultaneously, expressions expectant, as if you’d just become the key to this delightful little mystery.

“jay and heeseung are the vice president and secretary of my club,” you explained, the pieces starting to connect like dominoes you didn’t know had been set up.

“ohhh,” they all said in unison.

“maybe we can ask jay or heeseung for help?” kazuha suggested, now deep into planning mode.

“when’s your next club meeting?” chaewon asked, tapping her chin like a serious strategist.

“tuesday,” you replied.

they all shook their heads with dramatic disappointment.

“nope, too late,” yunjin declared. “we need to get this done tomorrow. or sunday at the latest. the drama’s still hot—we strike while the iron is sizzling hot.”

as if answers might descend from the ceiling, the four of you all looked up, leaning back against the couch and each other, collectively pondering your next move like there might be an actual lightbulb moment hanging above.

“are you close with jay or heeseung?” kazuha asked, glancing sideways at you.

you shrugged slightly. “i’m kinda close with jay. we chat a lot, actually. but heeseung’s quiet. super quiet. but we do greet each other.”

“then jay it is,” yunjin announced like a captain making a call. “text him. ask if he knows what jungwon’s favorite food is.”

“i can try,” you said, already pulling out your phone with a small surge of nerves. “i just don’t know if he’ll know.”

nonetheless, your thumbs started flying across the screen.

you: hey vprez! jay: oh hey our future secretary! what’s with the sudden chat?

as soon as the reply popped up, everyone’s heads turned sharply toward your phone, their expressions a mix of suspense and glee.

you inhaled deeply, fingers poised dramatically above the screen.

“okay,” you whispered, glancing at them like you were about to defuse a bomb, “here goes nothing.”

and with that, you began typing your reply—trying to sound casual, curious, and not at all like you were orchestrating a covert operation to flirt with jungwon using his favorite foods.

you: i noticed that you know an acquaintance of mine. jay: oh really? who? you: jungwon :)) jay: 😲 wait what?!

everyone in the room hovered around your phone like moths to a screen-lit flame, the air thick with anticipation. you could almost hear the collective hope whispering through the silence, praying that this little plan of yours didn’t spiral into chaos.

you took a deep breath and typed your reply with steady fingers, even though your heart felt anything but steady.

you: ikr! he's my neighbor 🙃 jay: gosh, what a small world! we used to go to the same high school.

“he must know so much about jungwon then!” yunjin exclaimed, her voice practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.

everyone nodded in agreement, eyes wide with newfound hope. suddenly, this didn’t feel impossible—it felt destined.

“tell him you're trying to thank jungwon for helping you move your furniture and that you want to cook something for him. ask if he knows what his favorite food is,” kazuha immediately added, her voice hushed but urgent.

you nodded, thumbs tapping out your next message with purpose.

you: i actually need your help, vprez! please 😭🙏🏻 jay: what is it? i’ll try my best to help!

a collective breath was released, four girls exhaling at once. you all exchanged knowing glances and subtle nods—this was the green light.

you didn’t hesitate.

you: i'm planning to thank jungwon bcs he helped me with my furniture when i first moved in. do you happen to know what his favorite food is?

your eyes stayed fixed on the screen, watching the three animated dots as they bobbed and waved. it was somehow more suspenseful than the plot twist in a thriller.

jay: food or snacks?

“we’re in,” kazuha whispered.

the room erupted with quiet cheers, restrained only by the intensity of your focus. even the silence felt like it was vibrating with excitement.

you: i would like to know both please 😄 jay: if it's food then it's curry. as for snacks or dessert, strawberry dipped in chocolate.

screams. actual screams.

not loud enough to disturb the neighbors, but definitely loud enough to shake the couch cushions. everyone broke into smiles and started throwing high fives like confetti. it felt like winning a mini-lottery—except instead of cash, the prize was culinary knowledge.

yunjin grabbed you in a hug, squeezing the life out of you in pure celebration. “you’re gonna cook for the boy who tucked you in bed. this is peak romance!”

you laughed, your cheeks warm. and yet, a small part of you was still quietly processing everything—how someone you thought was drifting away had always been near.

you typed one more message, curiosity nudging at your fingertips.

you: you guys must be so close for you to know this much 😅 jay: yeah, we all go way back, along with sunoo and riki. they're basically my little brothers from high school. while sunoo and riki have been jungwon’s best friends since they were toddlers 😁

his words warmed you, but they also brought with them a twinge of something else—something delicate. a yearning to know more. not just the facts, but the memories, the meanings behind those long-standing friendships. yet you also felt the invisible line of respect; these were stories that belonged to jungwon, and part of you wanted to hear them from him.

so instead, you offered your gratitude.

you: thank you so much vprez! just tell me if you need anything, i’ll try my best to pay you back! jay: i’m just glad i could help! good luck with your cooking!

and just like that, the chat came to an end. you turned off your phone, setting it gently on the table as though the information inside had weight.

you looked at your friends, and they looked right back at you—all of them grinning, already standing, stretching, mentally preparing for what was clearly the next step.

they didn’t even have to say it.

you all were heading to the market to buy ingredients and then to your apartment.

time to test everyone's rusty cooking skills.

across town, tucked into a quiet corner of the city, there was a small, cozy café that doubled as a pet-friendly library. low shelves held mismatched books and comics, warm lamplight pooled onto bean bags and sunken couches, and the air smelled faintly of coffee and soft fur. it was the perfect retreat—quiet, warm, and comfortably chaotic in the way only a room full of animals and friends could be.

there, in the coziest corner near the window, jungwon sat with his usual crew—sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, heeseung, and jay—lounging with their drinks, surrounded by pets and books, all in various degrees of relaxation.

jay is currently sitting beside jungwon, his phone tilted ever so slightly away as he typed out a reply to your messages. he stifled a laugh—though not very well—because on the other end of that conversation, you were asking about jungwon’s favorite food, completely unaware that the very subject of your messages was sitting mere inches from jay, immersed in a novel, absentmindedly scratching behind yami’s ear.

jay finally slipped his phone into his bag and leaned back with a little sigh of triumph. then, with the mischievous expression of someone who knows far too much, he stared at jungwon.

jungwon looked up, catching the way jay was staring at him with a smug expression that all but screamed, i know something you don’t.

he blinked at him. “what—”

but jay, already standing, cut him off with a bright, too-innocent, “nothing,” and strolled off to the bookshelves, pretending to browse titles like how to keep a secret or the art of not spilling tea.

jungwon squinted after him, unsure whether to press or let it go. he decided on the latter, though the unease still lingered.

jay, of course, had no intention of reading. he detoured immediately to sunoo, who was lounging on a bean bag, tea in one hand and a romance novel in the other. jay bent down and whispered what he just found out into his ear.

sunoo gasped—loudly, dramatically. heads turned. even jungwon glanced up.

sunoo froze, caught mid-gasp. he slowly brought his book up to his face, feigning interest. once jungwon’s gaze shifted away again, he leaned toward jay and whispered behind his book.

“wait—are you serious?”

jay nodded, absolutely delighted with himself. “she messaged me. it’s probably happening tomorrow.”

sunoo's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he glanced at jungwon, who was now flipping a page. “he’s going to be so confused,” sunoo murmured. “should we give him a hint? tell him to wear something nice or emotionally prepare?”

jay shook his head firmly. “nope. we need the raw, unfiltered chaos. full authenticity.”

sunoo let out a quiet snort, already imagining it. “you’re so evil.”

“thank you,” jay replied, bowing slightly as if accepting an award.

they both looked back at jungwon just in time to see him scratch his ear like he sensed someone was talking about him. somehow, this simple motion sent both jay and sunoo into another fit of stifled giggles.

now it was impossible to hide the secret. curiosity spread like wildfire.

riki was the first to notice and trotted over, dragging sunghoon behind him. jake wasn’t far behind, sensing the juicy gossip from across the room. heeseung, ever calm, merely raised a brow and followed with mild intrigue.

“what’s going on?” riki whispered.

jay and sunoo exchanged glances, then leaned in and filled them in—quietly, dramatically, and without sparing any juicy detail. the boys listened intently, wide-eyed, grinning, already invested.

every single one of them turned to look at jungwon at the same time.

and he, sensing the weight of their collective gaze, looked up slowly, clearly feeling the shift in atmosphere.

“…what?”

“nothing!” they all chimed, too cheerfully, too quickly.

jungwon blinked, his gaze lingering suspiciously on each of their faces. yami meowed softly in his lap, as if echoing his skepticism.

he returned to his book, though his focus now drifted in and out, ears still attuned to the barely concealed whispers and laughter from his not-so-subtle friends.

everyone was in on the secret.

everyone... except jungwon.

and that, of course, was the best part.

the day had finally arrived.

after a long but laughter-filled night with your closest friends—yunjin, chaewon, and kazuha—you found yourself waking up in a home that smelled faintly of groceries, excitement, and the remnants of your midnight snack raid.

last night had been a chaotic delight: the four of you storming through the night market, weaving between stalls like a mission-ready squad, hunting down the best ingredients your budget could stretch to. vegetables were picked, spices sniffed, and strawberries selected with the precision of surgeons.

rather than part ways afterward, they all crashed at your place, arms heavy with bags and hearts light with anticipation. no one dared suggest commuting back and forth. this was war—culinary war—and you would face it together.

morning came like a thunderclap.

yunjin’s alarm blared through your apartment like an emergency broadcast from the apocalypse. she had, for some unknown reason (that she claimed was "strategic motivation"), changed her alarm to a military siren. the kind that made your soul leap out of your body and check itself into a bunker. the moment it screamed to life, everyone jolted up like soldiers on high alert.

“what the hell, yunjin!” chaewon shrieked, clutching her pillow like a shield.

“rise and shine, it’s curry o’clock!” yunjin announced proudly, already halfway out of bed.

and just like that, the mission resumed.

groggy but determined, the four of you assembled in the kitchen. chopping boards were laid out like weapons on a battlefield. onions were peeled with solemn focus, garlic minced with swift expertise, and carrots sliced with the kind of intensity usually reserved for anime training montages.

laughter wove in and out of your conversation, but beneath it all was a current of nerves. everyone was secretly wondering if they had messed something up—forgotten a step, misjudged a measurement, or committed an unpardonable culinary sin.

but you... you were a different kind of nervous.

because unlike the others, you were the one who would be delivering the food. facing the boy. jungwon.

still, there was no time to spiral. you all worked like clockwork, stirring and seasoning until finally, all that remained was the wait.

hours ticked by slowly but eventually, the kitchen timer rang—a crisp, satisfying ding that felt like the gates of heaven opening.

you stepped forward, took a deep breath, and dipped a spoon into the curry. silence fell. behind you, the girls watched with bated breath.

you tasted.

paused.

and then—smiled.

you turned and gave a small but decisive nod. your silent approval sent them into a frenzy. cheers erupted like a team winning gold. yunjin whooped. chaewon high-fived kazuha. yunjin hugged you like you’d just saved the world.

“we’re actually geniuses,” yunjin declared, peering into the pot with pride.

“don’t jinx it,” chaewon muttered, already opening the fridge to check on the chocolate-dipped strawberries.

thankfully, those looked flawless. glossy, plump, and adorable.

soon, the food was carefully packed into neat containers, each sealed with both precision and anxiety. you were about to help with cleanup when all three girls suddenly blocked you like bouncers at a VIP entrance.

“nope,” kazuha said firmly. “you’re on beauty duty now.”

“go shower,” chaewon added. “we’ve got this.”

“and don’t even think about picking your own outfit,” yunjin chimed in with a wink.

you laughed, heart fluttering with nerves and affection, and padded to your room with a towel in hand. the hot water felt like a blessing. it calmed your nerves for a moment—but only a little bit.

when you finally emerged from the bathroom, steam still clinging to your skin, you were met with the sight of your friends already in your room, raiding your closet like a team of stylists on a makeover show.

chaewon had a blouse in one hand, kazuha was holding up a skirt to the light, and yunjin was examining your shoes with the intensity of someone reviewing a museum exhibit.

“you guys act like i’m going to meet royalty,” you said with a small laugh, sinking onto your bed in a plain shirt and shorts.

yunjin, still crouched by your closet, didn’t miss a beat. “well, you did say yami acts like royalty. and by cat law, that makes her human the royal butler—so technically, yes.”

the room erupted in light laughter. even you couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

soon enough, the transformation began—subtle, but thoughtful. they helped you pick an outfit that said, i totally didn’t plan this, i’m just naturally this charming. your hair was brushed out with care, and a hint of makeup was dabbed on here and there, enough to brighten your features without shouting effort.

“this is art,” chaewon whispered as she gently fixed a strand of your hair.

“you look like the girl-next-door in a romcom, but, like, the main character version,” kazuha declared, arms crossed proudly.

you stood before your door, hands clutching the carefully packed food containers, while your three friends crowded behind your door like nosy neighbors in a sitcom. they peeked through the crack, whispering like spies on a stakeout.

“you got this,” yunjin whispered dramatically.

“go, go, go,” chaewon whispered back, holding an invisible earpiece like a secret agent.

you took a deep breath and walked the short distance down the hall, each step making your heart thump louder in your ears. once in front of jungwon’s door, you glanced back. three thumbs-up shot up from your barely open door.

you nodded to yourself, exhaled slowly, and pressed the doorbell.

you had mentally prepared for jungwon’s familiar, boyish face to greet you—maybe with a lazy smile and a slightly confused “oh hey.”

but when the door opened, it wasn’t him.

instead, a girl stood before you.

her hair was blonde—just a shade lighter than jungwon’s, which only deepened your confusion. she had the effortless kind of beauty that could make people do a double-take.

her outfit was breezy and minimal: a cropped white t-shirt that skimmed her waist, paired with loose gray trousers that pooled slightly around her ankles in a way that screamed cool, casual, and expensive without trying. a black baseball cap was perched on her head, with a pop of red embroidery on the front, adding a sporty touch. and on her feet—fluffy bunny slippers. actual ones. pink ears and all.

“oh, hello!” she smiled, her voice as sweet and airy as a spring morning. “how may i help you?”

you blinked.

for a split second, your brain short-circuited. who was she? a cousin? a friend? a girlfriend?

you managed a polite smile, though internally, chaos was sounding the alarm.

she was stunning. she was sunshine and style and slippers. if you weren’t currently questioning your existence, you might have declared her your new girl crush on the spot.

but for now, you just stood there, still holding the curry and strawberries, your heart fumbling to catch up with your thoughts.

you opened your mouth, poised to speak, but before even a whisper could escape, a familiar voice called from inside the apartment.

“win, who’s at the door?”

your breath caught.

win turned her head slightly and replied over her shoulder, “a pretty girl!” then turned back to you with a mischievous smile, eyes briefly flicking to the containers in your hands.

“oh, are those for won?” she asked, her tone warm and knowing. her gaze lit up with curiosity, maybe even excitement.

you, however, were far too deep in existential panic.

‘they have nicknames? win? won? they have casual nicknames?!’ your thoughts spiraled as you watched her, every move of hers smooth and easy, as if she belonged right there beside him.

you felt like a misplaced extra in someone else’s scene.

before she could so much as turn her head to call for jungwon again, you quickly pushed the containers toward her with a forced smile. “please give these to him—thank you,” you said, words tumbling out too fast, like you were throwing them into the void.

and without waiting for a reply, you turned around and walked away.

well—speed walked.

no, sprinted in the most polite way possible.

your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you made the short yet excruciating journey back to your apartment. as you neared the door, you caught the wide-eyed stares of your friends, all of whom were still peeking out, expecting a soft rom-com moment—perhaps a sheepish smile exchange, or even a tiny wave.

but instead, they got... you, power-walking like you'd just seen a ghost.

you shut the door with a solid click behind you and leaned against it, exhaling dramatically. your friends stared at you in silent confusion.

“what happened?” kazuha asked first, cautiously, as if any wrong word might cause you to combust.you just smiled—tight-lipped, a little crooked—and shook your head.

“should we head out?” you said, voice a pitch higher than normal, trying desperately to reroute the emotional train wreck. “maybe eat out or something?”

they blinked, then looked over at the kitchen. the pot of curry—once a symbol of your collective effort and excitement—sat there on the stove, now untouched and strangely heavy with metaphor.

you expected someone to protest. after all, you’d all spent hours making that meal.

but to your surprise, one by one, they started pulling off their aprons.

“sure,” yunjin said, far too quickly, taking your hand with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “let’s get out of here. let’s have fun tonight.”

kazuha and chaewon nodded in quiet agreement, following behind as yunjin pulled you toward your room.

they didn’t push for answers. they didn’t ask again.

they knew something had gone wrong.

and in the way only real friends can, they decided you didn’t need to explain anything right now.

you just needed a distraction—and they were more than ready to be that for you.

as you slipped back into the safety of your apartment, the door clicking gently behind you, the girl—win—was still standing at jungwon’s door, containers in hand, brows slightly raised in confusion. she glanced down at them, then murmured a soft, “okay,” like she was answering your request earlier.

with a small shrug, she stepped backward and nudged the door shut, the sound quiet but final. her slippers padded softly against the floor as she made her way to the kitchen island, where she set the containers down carefully, then turned toward the living room.

jungwon was sprawled across the couch like a man waiting for divine intervention or at the very least, a good therapist. his expression was blank, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it might reveal life’s great mysteries—or just a way to unthink a thought.

win let out a sigh, already half-exasperated as she flopped into the armchair opposite him.

“just so you know,” she began, her voice laced with casual amusement, “a very pretty girl was just at your door.”

jungwon didn’t even flinch. he blinked once, slowly, then turned his head toward her with an expression that clearly read, okay... and?

“i don’t care about that right now, kim minjeong,” he said dryly. “i was in the middle of a breakdown, thanks. mid-rant. mid-spiral. and you just walked off to answer the door like we weren’t having a moment.”

“wow,” she muttered, placing a hand over her heart mockingly. “full government name? harsh. i guess i deserve that, mr. yang jungwon.”

he didn’t bother hiding his eye roll. “are you gonna listen or not?”

“i’m all ears, drama king,” winter said, settling into the chair and folding her arms with the grace of someone fully prepared to play amateur psychologist.

jungwon took a breath, gathered his thoughts, and dove into the mess of emotions he’d been carrying for weeks. he told her everything. how he met you two months ago, how the connection had been so unexpectedly sharp it almost felt staged. he recounted the chaotic incidents—some fueled by recklessness, others by too much alcohol. the conversations that ran too deep for two people who claimed to be not close. the shared silences that said too much.

he even told her about the way he'd been avoiding you lately—proudly, almost—like a man pretending he’d outsmarted his own feelings.

“it’s complicated,” he muttered at the end, rubbing a hand over his face.

winter didn’t say anything at first. she nodded thoughtfully, brows lifting slightly in that way she always did when she was already ten steps ahead of him.

then she said, “it sounds like you’re deep in denial.”

jungwon blinked. “what?”

“you heard me,” she said, shifting to look at him head-on.

he sat up slowly, blinking like he hadn’t quite processed the betrayal.

“did you even listen to anything i just said?”

“i listened,” she replied smoothly. “didn’t judge. even read between the lines. and let me tell you—those lines were bolded and highlighted.”

jungwon narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious.

winter sat up straighter, her tone leveling into something firmer. “jungwon, i know you. we’ve known each other since diapers. our parents still call each other every weekend. i was your first ever friend.”

jungwon raised an eyebrow. “also my first ever bully,” he muttered under his breath.

“excuse me?” winter shot him a glare, one brow arching like a weapon. “i was preparing you for the real world. tough love builds character.”

jungwon just sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

winter, catching that, smirked. “you’re hopeless.”

“and you’re nosy,” he shot back.

“yeah, but at least i’m not scared of my feelings.”

jungwon groaned, letting his head fall back against the cushion.

“as i was saying,” winter began, arms folded with the quiet authority of someone who was rarely wrong, “it sounds a lot like you have feelings for her.”

jungwon let out a dry chuckle, the kind that carried more weariness than amusement. his hand swept through his hair in one frustrated motion, fingers tangling briefly before dropping back into his lap. “feelings?” he repeated with a scoff. “what does that even mean—like? love? please. you know i don’t understand those.”

he glanced at winter, who remained still, her expression patient and unyielding.

“when i was younger, i thought i understood,” he said, his voice softening as the memories crept in. “i thought the affection i was shown meant something. i believed it. every word, every gesture.” he paused, jaw tightening. “but it was all a lie. an act. a performance.”

winter didn’t interrupt. she waited, letting him speak at his own pace.

“they made me think love was real but i was a idiot.” his voice grew quieter, the edge fading into something fragile.

winter leaned forward slightly. “won, i know,” she said gently. “what your parents did... it was cruel. but you were a child, jungwon. you didn’t know any better. and now that you do, you have the power to choose differently.”

he looked down, elbows resting on his knees, shoulders heavy with the weight of the past.

“i don’t know what i’m feeling,” he murmured, barely audible—like he was admitting something to the floor rather than her. “i don’t know what this is.”

winter smiled softly. “well, i do,” she said, the smugness seeping back into her tone. “i have a girlfriend, remember?” her smirk widened as she leaned back in her chair, pride practically glowing from her. “you might have heard of her—amazing, stunning, way out of my league?”

jungwon rolled his eyes. “okay, lover girl. educate me, then. enlighten me with your knowledge.”

winter didn’t hesitate. she launched into her story—how it felt when she first met her girlfriend, the flutter of uncertainty, the irrational pull toward someone who made her feel seen. she talked about the way her thoughts started lingering too long, how comfort turned into longing without her even noticing.

as she spoke, jungwon couldn’t help but listen closely. her words, though wrapped in humor, hit strangely close. the moments she described—he’d felt them too. the nervous anticipation, the confusing warmth, the lingering thoughts about you that refused to leave even when he tried to shove them away.

still, he clung to denial like a life vest. “yeah, but you know your girlfriend,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “you’ve spent years together. i barely know her. we’ve known each other for two months, tops.”

winter gave him a look. “jungwon. it’s not about time. it’s about how you feel when you’re with them. and you? you’ve got it bad, whether you want to admit it or not.”

he leaned back on the sofa again, groaning. “i hate that you’re making sense.”

“i usually do,” winter replied smugly, stretching her legs out with theatrical ease. “face it, you’re a rookie at this. a baby deer just learning to walk the path of emotional vulnerability. but lucky for you, you’ve got me—your personal love guru.”

“ugh,” jungwon groaned. “do not call yourself that.”

“love. guru.” winter repeated, pointing at herself with both thumbs.

he rolled his eyes again, but this time, it didn’t feel as heavy.

as much as he didn’t want to admit it, talking to winter helped. her words cracked through something he'd sealed shut for a long time. maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to keep running from this. maybe it was okay to feel confused, to not have all the answers yet.

and maybe, instead of avoiding you like a coward hiding from his own shadow, he could try something different.

maybe he could just... face you.

and see what comes of it.

jungwon let out a quiet sigh as he pushed himself off the couch, wandering into the kitchen with the sole intention of getting some water. but just as he reached for a glass, something on the counter caught his attention—two neat containers, still closed, almost as if they were waiting for him.

his brows furrowed in mild curiosity. he walked over and carefully lifted the lid of the first one.

a rich, savory aroma spilled into the air.curry. warm, fragrant, and clearly homemade. the scent alone tugged at his appetite, making his stomach twist with anticipation.

“okay, wow,” he muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming like he’d just found treasure.

he opened the second container and nearly beamed. perfectly dipped strawberries—some in dark chocolate, others in white, each one glistening like they’d been painted with sweet intentions.

his lips curled into a smile he couldn’t suppress. “now this is suspiciously thoughtful,” he said to no one in particular.

he popped his head out of the kitchen. “win! who brought these?”

winter, who was lounging on one of the chairs flipping through a magazine like it owed her money, called back, “i told you already—it was a pretty girl. and then when—”

before she could finish, jungwon’s phone started ringing from the living room table.

winter glanced over, checked the screen, and casually picked it up. “sunoo,” she said, recognizing the name. she answered with a sing-song voice, “yo sunoo! wassup?”

silence.

“hello?” she asked again, this time with a confused frown.

jungwon returned, now with a strawberry in hand, already halfway to his mouth. “who is it?” he asked, settling back on the couch.

“sunoo, but he’s just... breathing dramatically or something.” she gave the phone a skeptical look, then put it on speaker and slid it across the table toward him.

jungwon raised a brow. “hello? sunoo?”

and finally—sunoo’s voice erupted from the speaker, rapid-fire and full of alarm.

“what’s happening?! what are you doing?! why is winter there?!”

both jungwon and winter blinked in surprise.

“what—wait, one at a time.” jungwon said, half-laughing, completely caught off guard.

winter leaned closer to the phone and added dryly, “hi, nice to hear your voice too, sunoo. missed you.”

sunoo ignored her. “did she answer the door earlier? did she see her? was she the one who received the food?”

jungwon glanced at winter. “what is he even talking about?”

winter shrugged, eyes twinkling. “beats me. but now i’m invested.”

“what are you even talking about?” jungwon asked, brows pinched together as he looked down at the phone, then at winter, who simply shrugged back at him like this was just another saturday. “yes, she answered the door and received the food. what about it?”

a groan came from the other end of the line—long, dramatic, and utterly exasperated.

“ugh, jungwon! you messed up!” sunoo cried, as if jungwon had just committed a federal crime instead of... whatever this was.

jungwon paused, blinking. and then he heard it—multiple voices groaning in unison in the background. he even heard someone say ‘what about our bet?’.

he squinted at the speaker. “wait. who else is there?”

“everyone’s here,” came jake’s voice, clearly jumping in to add fuel to the fire, “and we’re all very disappointed in you, man.”

jungwon’s expression twisted into one of sheer confusion. “what—why?! what did i even do?!”

“someone gave you food, right?” sunoo asked slowly, like he was trying to speak to a particularly dense goldfish.

“yes,” jungwon replied, and winter chimed in with a casual, “yep.”

“do you even know who gave it to you?” sunoo pressed. jungwon paused, eyes darting toward winter.

“no?” he answered, tone hesitant, now sensing this might be more serious than he initially thought.

winter, who had been watching whatever's happening in front of her, then spoke. “i was trying to tell him who it was,” she said pointedly, “but then somebody had to call mid-sentence.”

there was another round of audible sighs on speaker, as if the group on the other side had just lost all collective hope.

“win, finish your sentence. now,” sunoo ordered like a general dispatching a mission.

“sir, yes sir,” winter replied dryly, tossing a mock salute toward the phone. she leaned back and continued, as if narrating the final scene in a mystery drama. “so. as i was saying. she was a very pretty girl—like, if i weren’t already taken, i would’ve made a move—anyway, she handed me the containers, super polite, then walked away. i watched her go into the apartment right next door.”

jungwon froze, halfway through eating a strawberry. the chocolate-dipped tip was still in his mouth when the realization hit him like a splash of cold water.

the leafy stem dropped from his fingers and hit the table with a soft thud.

“what?” he asked, staring wide-eyed at winter like she’d just confessed to being a time traveler.

“she said y/n was the one who cooked and dropped off the food,” sunoo said, dropping the final piece of the puzzle in a tone that was both smug and painfully disappointed—like he was handing jungwon a mirror and asking him to look at the consequences of his obliviousness.

“i— i didn’t know…” jungwon muttered, his voice small and dazed, as though reality had just slapped him across the face with a chocolate-covered strawberry.

from the other end of the line, a chorus of dramatic groans erupted.

“obviously!” his friends shouted in perfect, frustrated harmony.

“the bet is put on hold,” someone said in the background of the call, but he immediately recognized the voice—it was riki.

meanwhile, winter simply sat back, legs crossed and arms folded, watching the unfolding chaos like she had front-row seats to her favorite drama.

“this is so fun,” she whispered under her breath, lips curling into an amused grin as jungwon’s mental spiral continued at full speed.

“we’re coming over. i swear to god!” sunoo snapped, and then—click. the call ended.

jungwon groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face like he could wipe the embarrassment off with enough pressure. he threw himself backward onto the couch, limbs flailing like a distressed cartoon character, and started kicking the air in pure emotional agony.

“hey, relax,” winter said, not even trying to hide her laughter now. “we’ll help you, okay? consider this a group project. we’re going to brainstorm a comeback story for you.”

she casually pulled out her phone, angled it perfectly, and snapped a photo of jungwon mid-crisis—face half-buried in a pillow, feet kicking like a toddler denied candy. she sent it to her girlfriend with a caption that read, “look at this loser. want to come over and watch the show in person?”

a reply came almost instantly: “say less. i’m on my way.”

winter smiled, already imagining the chaos that was about to double in size. her eyes returned to jungwon, who was still dramatically kicking his heels against the couch like the world had ended.

‘this is going to be so much fun,’ she thought, resting her chin on her hand as the real entertainment began.

monday had arrived rather quickly than expected. jungwon and his circle of loyal, if somewhat chaotic, friends—sunoo, riki, jake, and sunghoon, along with winter and her girlfriend karina—had spent every minute from saturday to sunday trying to devise the perfect plan to thank you for the food you'd dropped off so quietly, so unexpectedly.

jay and heeseung, tied up with their own obligations, had sent over some cash before replying with a simple message in the group chat saying, “bribe her with sweets. love is war.” not exactly heartfelt, but appreciated nonetheless.

their first plan? a simple, genuine gesture. show up at your door, boba teas in hand, offer a thank you and maybe even a charming smile or two from jungwon himself. but reality, as always, had other ideas.

jungwon had rung your doorbell that saturday with a hopeful heart and slightly clammy hands. minutes passed. the silence on the other side was deafening.

no answer.

he turned, disheartened, glancing at the cracked door of his own apartment where four heads peeked out like nosy neighbors in a sitcom. they all shrugged in unison, then waved him back inside like failed stagehands after a botched scene.

he trudged back in, and the entire crew collapsed into the cushions with a collective groan while winter and karina continued to stay calm and relax side by side on the couch.

“what are we even gonna do now?” riki asked dramatically, his eyes fixed on the ceiling like divine inspiration might be hiding up there.

“i don’t know… maybe cry?” sunoo offered, sounding ready to do exactly that.

another round of sighs echoed through the room like a sad little choir.winter and karina chuckled, sipping on their own boba with the smug serenity of women who had seen this kind of male panic far too many times.

“you guys seriously know nothing about women,” winter said, shaking her head as if she were watching toddlers try to build a rocket ship out of cardboard and hope.

the boys turned to her as one, eyes wide with desperate curiosity.

“then teach us! please. jungwon needs all the help he can get,” sunoo said, throwing himself into a dramatic pose, arms outstretched like he was pleading with a goddess.

winter simply raised a brow. “have you forgotten? she saw me. me, in jungwon’s apartment. what do you think she thought when she saw that?”

the room went quiet. winter looked around at the dumbfounded expressions now facing her, her tone turning almost instructional—like a preschool teacher trying to explain slowly for her students to understand.

jake was the first to raise his hand, wearing the face of someone who thought he had just solved the puzzle of the century.

“you’re stopping by?” he offered.

winter and karina turned to him slowly and, in perfect unison, shook their heads. the kind of synchronized disappointment usually reserved for exasperated older sisters.

sunoo, sitting beside jake, furrowed his brows at him—silently asking, ‘are you serious right now?’ jake only responded with a helpless shrug, as if to say, ‘worth a shot.’

“her first thought,” sunoo began, casting a look around as though he were revealing the answer to a riddle no one else could solve, “would be wondering whether win is jungwon’s friend… or his girlfriend.”

he leaned back, arms crossed smugly, satisfied with his deduction.

riki, ever the curious one, raised his hand as though they were in a classroom instead of the middle of jungwon’s living room crisis center.

“but… why would she assume that? can’t boys and girls just be friends?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

winter and karina exchanged a knowing look, the kind only seasoned women shared when watching men fumble their way through emotional nuance.

karina took the floor like a lecturer stepping up to the podium. her voice was calm, yet laced with a certain weight that drew all eyes toward her.

“she saw a beautiful girl, aka my girlfriend, inside a guy’s apartment,” she said pointedly, pausing long enough for the boys to catch on.

then she turned toward jungwon, eyes narrowing just slightly. “jungwon, what would you think if a man, a good looking man, answered the door when you knock on her apartment?”

jungwon blinked, caught off guard. he opened his mouth, closed it, then finally admitted, “i’d probably think he’s her… boyfriend?”

“bingo,” karina replied, nodding once. “exactly.”

she let that settle in before continuing, pacing the floor with gentle authority. “so our first move—before we even think of thank-yous or apologies—is to clear up the misunderstanding. she needs to know winter, my girlfriend, is not your girlfriend.”

she paused to look around the room, reading their expressions like a teacher checking for comprehension. thankfully, this time, the boys were all nodding. even jake.

it was a rare moment of clarity in the usually chaotic brainstorm sessions. and as everyone sat there, absorbing karina’s words, the atmosphere shifted from frantic confusion to something a little more hopeful.

they had a plan now—or at least, a starting point. and in the tangled mess that was jungwon’s feelings and misunderstandings, that was already a small miracle.

karina, having delivered her impromptu masterclass on emotional clarity, gracefully sat back down beside winter. without a word, winter threw her arms around her, squeezing her in a half-hug that felt equal parts thank-you and applause. it was the kind of affectionate gesture that said, ‘well done, my brilliant girlfriend,’ without needing actual words.

and now, miles away from the comfort of his chaotic living room full of friends and unsolicited advice, jungwon stood alone in front of vanguard business hall. it was his break, and in his hand swung a modest plastic bag holding two cookies n cream boba milk teas—one slightly less cold than it should be, the other already starting to sweat through the plastic.

he wasn’t even sure if you’d be there. maybe you’d already left. maybe you were somewhere inside, far from the entrance and even further from him. but still, he stood there, clinging to a flicker of hope that fate might let him run into you—just for a moment.

he needed that moment. just long enough to explain and clear up the misunderstanding. to apologize. to somehow make up for lost time after he spent nearly two months pulling away from you for reasons you still didn’t know or noticed, hopefully. reasons he wasn’t even sure he could explain properly.

he thought that slipping away quietly would be easier than confronting the confusion in his own heart. but now, standing there with melting boba and nerves eating away at his composure, he knew that choice had been cowardly. and maybe a little stupid.

then, just as a group of students began trickling out of the building, jungwon straightened up, scanning each face with cautious hope. and there you were—just a blur at first, until that unmistakable silhouette came into focus. the second you spotted his blonde hair in the crowd, your instincts kicked in before your brain could stop you.

you turned right.

you walked.

you bolted.

and jungwon, unfortunately for your escape plan, caught sight of your retreat. he blinked, then broke into a light jog, calling your name with a tone far too hopeful for someone who knew he'd messed things up.

you ignored him. or at least you tried to. but it was difficult to pretend you didn’t hear someone very audibly calling your name in public—especially when everyone else around you clearly did.

so you stopped. turned. and watched as jungwon jogged the last few steps toward you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he tried to catch his breath.

“umm… hi,” he said, voice soft, slightly breathless.you returned his smile, trying your best to seem composed—even though your heart was tap dancing in your chest.

“hi, jungwon.”

and just like that, the two of you stood there, steeped in a silence so awkward even strangers passing by could sense it—the way your shoulders both slightly tensed, the subtle shift in your gazes as you avoided locking eyes too long.

you glanced down and noticed the plastic bag. two bobas inside. his eyes followed yours and landed on the drinks.

“i, uh… i wanted to thank you for the food last saturday,” he began, holding up the bag like a peace offering. “i didn’t really know what to get you, so… i got boba?”

you tilted your head slightly, smiled politely, and delivered your blow with the gentleness of a paper cut.

“i actually don’t like boba that much.”

technically, it wasn’t a lie. you preferred mango shakes. but your taste for boba hadn’t disappeared—it was just temporarily sacrificed for the sake of pride. and maybe a little mischief.

jungwon blinked, stunned. “oh,” he said, glancing down at the drinks. “i didn’t know. sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you replied quickly. “oh, look at the time! i have to go now. bye, jungwon!”

you turned before he could say anything else, walking briskly toward the café where your friends were waiting. your steps were steady, deliberate. not too fast, not too slow.

and behind you, jungwon stood in the same spot, déjà vu wrapping around his chest like a weighted blanket. the irony wasn’t lost on him—how this mirrored the first day of uni, except this time, you were the one walking away.

“see you around, y/n!” he called out after you.

but you didn’t look back.

not this time.

as both of you walked away from that awkward encounter, walking back to your respective groups, it was almost comedic—two entire support teams unknowingly entering a silent war, armed with opposing strategies.

your team—composed of you, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon—sat on dorm floors and café corners, whispering as if plotting a secret mission. the goal was simple: avoid jungwon at all costs. no eye contact, no conversations, and absolutely no accidental run-ins that could lead to a moment of weakness. you were in full avoidance mode.

jungwon's group, however, was another story entirely. his crew—sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung, occasionally joined by winter and karina via dramatic late-night calls—was tirelessly scheming with a singular purpose: get you and jungwon to meet, breath the same air, hopefully talk like normal human beings again.

thus, the chase began.

it was a quiet and chaotic. you'd linger in the classroom until it emptied, pretending to organize your notes just to avoid walking out of the building only to see jungwon at the entrance. sometimes, you'd even sneak out a back exit, ducking behind vending machines or walking long routes just to keep your distance.

jungwon, on the other hand, became something of a phantom—hovering near exits, loitering outside buildings he knew you had classes in, frequenting cafés you used to visit, pretending to browse books he didn’t even like at the campus library. all he wanted was a chance meeting—a bump on the sidewalk, a hello, anything.

but for two whole weeks, the universe (with your considerable effort) refused to cooperate.

sunoo and riki, growing impatient with jungwon’s tragic advances, decided it was time to play dirty. or at least strategic. they leaned on their “connections”—aka their friendship with chaewon and kazuha.

sunoo started chatting with chaewon during class breaks, sliding into conversation with all the charm and cheer of someone who’d known her for years. “you and i, we just click, don’t we?” he said, nudging her playfully. chaewon gave him a tight smile and didn’t budge an inch.

meanwhile, riki cornered kazuha with his own version of subtlety. “remember when you asked about jungwon and what happened at the welcome party?” he said, all casual as if he hadn’t rehearsed the line in the mirror three times. “i told you the truth. so technically, you owe me.”

kazuha blinked at him, unfazed. “technically, i said i was curious. you answered voluntarily. that’s on you.”

“well, you bribed me.” he replied but kazuha stayed quiet.

needless to say, both girls were loyal—impenetrably so. not a single word slipped, not a stray hint or eyebrow raise. and for that, you were deeply grateful. friends who hold the line in the face of chaos? priceless.

jungwon, however, was not about to give up. he began sending you texts—small ones at first. a simple ‘hi’, a gentle ‘how are you?’ followed by blurry pictures of his calico cat, yami, snuggled up on a sun-drenched windowsill or stretching dramatically across his desk.

you ignored most of them.

well, except the ones with yami. you had a soft spot for that fluffball. your replies were short—just the occasional heart emoji—but even that made jungwon hopeful.

and now, as the cat-and-mouse game dragged on, you found yourself sprawled across the familiar couch in your second home: the dorm shared by yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon. honestly, you might as well start paying rent. you'd been spending so much time there, partly for comfort, mostly for refuge.

“i swear, if jungwon shows up at our building again, i’m switching majors,” you muttered into a cushion, your voice muffled but full of exasperation.

“do it,” yunjin said from the kitchenette, “go full drama. law school who?”

you groaned and rolled over, staring at the ceiling, your mind tangled in a mess of what-ifs and overanalyzed glances. lately, it felt like jungwon was everywhere. in the hallways. near the elevators. appearing in your peripheral vision.

but maybe you were just being paranoid. maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you, heightening your awareness because of that one moment two weeks ago—the one that still gnawed at the edge of your pride.

you had walked to his apartment that day, hoping to give jungwon his favorite home cooked meal and snacks, only to see a pretty girl inside. her voice soft, her presence too comfortable. she called him won. they had nicknames. and you, foolishly, had felt your stomach twist.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. you told yourself it wasn’t your business.

but it did matter. which is stupid because you don't have the right.

and now, here you were—on a couch that wasn’t yours, heart in a mood it refused to explain, while jungwon chased shadows and yami photobombed text messages.

meanwhile, across the city and several degrees of frustration later, jungwon sat slouched on his couch, surrounded by five of his closest friends, heeseung couldn't come because he's currently busy. the apartment, normally a sanctuary of quiet comfort, now felt like mission control for the most delicate and chaotic operation of his life: winning you back. (he knows it's all his fault.)

two more familiar faces flickered on the screen of sunoo’s phone—winter and karina, joining the gathering via video call. their pixelated faces lit up the dim room, casting a glow that did little to lift the somber atmosphere.

“so, how’s the operation going?” karina asked from the screen, her tone chipper but her brow slightly furrowed.

sunoo, holding the phone like it weighed a thousand tons, simply sighed and shook his head in defeat.

the mood in the room sank further.

“what’s with the long faces?” jay suddenly asked, raising a brow as he glanced around at the collective gloom. “you all look like someone just stepped on your dreams. come on—we’re not giving up yet.”

everyone turned toward him slowly, each face practically screaming the same thing: ‘unless you’ve got a miracle in your pocket, don’t talk to us about hope.’

jay merely smirked, arms crossing with theatrical flair. “you didn’t know this because none of you ever asked, but she’s in my club. we meet every tuesday and thursday.”

the room blinked in unison.

jungwon squinted. “wait, i thought you just saw her in the library sometimes? you always said that’s where you bumped into.”

jay rolled his eyes and leaned back like he’d just been waiting for this moment. “please. she goes to the library because that’s where we hold meetings. after the current club president graduates, i will become the president, heeseung will take over as vice president. and she’s our future secretary.”

he said it so matter-of-factly, as if he'd just informed them that the sky was blue and water was wet.

sunoo, visibly twitching, looked like he was about to launch himself at jay. “you’ve been holding this in? this whole time?! we all thought you guys got close because you just suddenly started talking to her in the library but what? you're in the same club?!”

he took a step forward, but riki reacted fast—looping his arms around sunoo’s waist from behind and restraining him like an overworked zookeeper holding back an angry flamingo.

jay, sensing imminent doom, ducked behind jungwon’s shoulder. “hey! i didn’t say anything because no one asked! plus, i didn’t want to overshare. i respect her privacy.”

sunoo narrowed his eyes into thin slits, lips pressed into a line. riki patted his head in an attempt to soothe him like a calming mother duck. it barely worked.

jungwon, now used to the emotional ping-pong that surrounded any discussion of you, exhaled a long, world-weary sigh.

“this is actually useful,” winter chimed in from the call, always the voice of reason dressed in a fashionable hoodie. “we have to use this. what if we surprise her on tuesday?”

karina nodded beside her. “yes! that’s the perfect chance. and don’t just show up empty-handed. bring something she loves.”

“like from that new mango shake place,” jay added, finally stepping out from behind jungwon like a child who knew the coast was clear. “you know, the one with crushed oreos and graham crackers on top? it’s ridiculously good.”

he placed both hands on jungwon’s shoulders with the same gravity as a knight offering a sword.

jungwon didn’t move. his head fell back against the couch as he stared blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts spiraling like the fan above.

“what if she just… pushes me away again?” he asked quietly, and the whole room stilled.

that one sentence carried more weight than anything he’d said in the past two weeks. even sunoo, still mid-glare at jay, softened. it was the kind of voice that sounded more like surrender than frustration.

the kind that comes when hope starts to feel heavy.

and for a brief moment, everyone in the room could feel it—the quiet ache behind jungwon’s usually careful expression. the boy who usually had all the right words was now barely hanging on, wondering if this effort was even worth it.

no one spoke right away.

because sometimes, silence is the only way to say ‘we get it. and we’re still here.’

jay gave jungwon’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his usual smirk replaced by something softer—something that resembled quiet loyalty and brotherly. the room, once buzzing with overlapping voices and chaotic energy, now fell into a thoughtful silence.

on the screen, winter’s expression softened. “i know it’s hard, jungwon,” she said gently, her voice threading through the hush like silk. “if this plan doesn’t work, we’ll call it quits. no more planning. we’ll let it go. how’s that sound?”

jungwon lifted his gaze slowly, taking in the faces around him—his friends, his chaotic co-conspirators, his pillars. they had all been there for him without hesitation, riding the highs of hope and the lows of rejection with him. his eyes lingered on each of them before he finally gave a small nod.

“this will be the last time,” he murmured, voice steady but laced with resignation. “if it still doesn’t work... i’ll stop bothering her.”

the words hung heavy in the air, like the final line in a letter he never wanted to write.

jay, ever the steady presence, threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a firm pat. “we’ll be here. always.”

jungwon offered him a small, grateful smile. one that reached his eyes this time. he turned to the others too, giving them that same look of quiet gratitude—grateful that they stayed, even when the odds didn’t.

“okay then,” winter announced, her voice trying its best to sound upbeat despite the undertone of melancholy. “final operation. it’s been a ride, fellas.”

her words drew a few tired chuckles from the group, bittersweet and warm, like the final laugh shared at the end of a long day.

around the room, there was a shared feeling no one dared to voice aloud—‘i hope this isn’t the last time.’

because deep down, none of them wanted the fun and chaotic mission to help jungwon win you back to end here. not like this.

and so, with an unspoken pact and hearts quietly tethered to one final hope, they began to prepare.

just one last try.

tuesday had finally arrived. it was the kind of day you always secretly looked forward to—an oasis in the middle of your week. tuesdays and thursdays meant freedom, in a way. only two classes stood between you and your sanctuary: the library, where the multi-maybe club met and reality quietly faded into pages and possibilities.

you were curled up in your favorite corner of the library, flipping through a manga, the world around you growing soft and slow. the silence was comforting, like a well-worn sweater. then, without warning, you felt it—that strange shift in the air that only comes when someone enters your orbit. instinctively, you looked up.

there was heeseung.

he strode over casually, with his bright red hair, guitar in hand, like some boy-next-door character who just stepped out of a coming-of-age film. he slid into the seat near you, placing his guitar down with care, as if it were an old friend rather than an object.

your eyes immediately locked onto the instrument, your curiosity flickering to life like a lit match. heeseung caught the look and chuckled, already reaching for the guitar.

“wanna have a go?” he asked, strumming once, the note echoing softly between the shelves.

you sat up straighter, shaking your head, lips pursed in a little frown. “i don’t know how to play,” you confessed, eyes never leaving the guitar. “but i’ve always wanted to learn.”

heeseung gave a small, knowing nod—the kind older brothers give right before they do something effortlessly cool. “i mean, if you don’t mind,” he said, voice easy, eyes kind, “i could teach you.”

you blinked, surprised, as if someone had just offered you a ticket to another world. “you’d do that for me?” you asked, your tone laced with both disbelief and a touch of awe.

he laughed and gestured for you to scoot over so he could join you on the couch. you moved instinctively, making room, still watching him like he might disappear if you blinked too fast.

he settled in beside you, propped the guitar on his thigh, and began strumming again—light, fluid, the notes barely there but still enough to melt into the silence. “i don’t mind teaching you,” he said, eyes still on the strings. “it’s easy.”

“easy for you, you’ve got those piano player fingers,” you quipped, holding your hand up next to his in a sudden burst of boldness. your fingers looked comically small next to his, and he laughed as he mirrored your gesture.

“tiny hands aren’t a problem,” he said, smiling down at the difference. “do you really wanna learn?”

you nodded enthusiastically, eyes gleaming with so much sincerity. “then that’s enough,” he replied simply, and began walking you through a few basic chords, patient and clear.

you tried your best to focus. really, you did. but something was tugging at your attention—a whisper at the edge of your awareness, telling you to look up. and when you finally did, your breath caught in your throat.

jungwon.

he stood just beyond the library entrance, watching you and heeseung with an unreadable expression. and as soon as your eyes met, he turned. just like that. no wave, no smile—just the sharp turn of someone who didn’t want to be seen.

you blinked, unsure why your chest suddenly felt heavier than before. guilt—unexpected, unwelcome—gnawed at your ribs like a small, quiet thing.

you handed the guitar back to heeseung, your smile fading. he didn’t ask why. he just nodded, already turning his attention back to the strings as if sensing that some moments don’t require explanation.

and you stood, your steps soft but quick as you headed toward the door, toward the exit jungwon had just disappeared through.

toward whatever it was that had just shifted in the air between you.

meanwhile—just minutes earlier—jungwon stood on the stone steps outside the library, a slight breeze tugging at his sleeves. his friends were with him like an unofficial support squad, each of them clearly more tense than he was. in his hands, he held a plastic bag with two mango shakes inside—cold, creamy, topped with crushed oreos and graham crackers. the kind of sweet peace offering that, in theory, could melt even the iciest wall of awkward silence.

he glanced at the group and let out a quiet chuckle. “you guys look more nervous than me,” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

“are we?” jake muttered, clutching his own drink like it was a stress ball.

jay stepped forward dramatically, placing both hands on jungwon’s shoulders and locking eyes with him like he was about to send him into battle. “this is your last shot, won. your final boss. the season finale. go in there and finally make her talk to you again.”

jungwon raised a brow, lips twitching into a crooked smile. “no pressure, huh?”

jay grinned and patted his shoulder twice, stepping back. “none at all.”

jungwon took a breath, nodded, and with the silent encouragement of his makeshift entourage behind him, he finally stepped through the library’s glass doors.

the atmosphere inside was hushed and cool, scented faintly of paper and coffee. jungwon’s eyes scanned the room like a radar, searching for that one familiar silhouette. and then—there you were. nestled in your usual spot, completely immersed in something that made your eyes sparkle.

his smile began to form naturally, unconsciously, as his hand tightened slightly around the plastic bag. but then—he saw him.

heeseung, who he considered a friend.

sitting beside you, leaning in comfortably, guitar in hand, strumming softly while you looked on with curious delight. the sight stopped jungwon mid-step. his eyes narrowed just a bit as he watched you laugh at something heeseung said. and then—god, then—he saw the two of you holding your hands up together, comparing sizes, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

a strange pang hit his chest—an unfamiliar blend of irritation, surprise, and... jealousy?

he stood there, frozen for a second, debating what to do. approach anyway? interrupt and risk looking desperate? or worse, pathetic?

and then you looked up—eyes meeting his.

jungwon panicked.

his heart skipped a beat as he immediately turned on his heel and exited the library as fast as he could without breaking into an all-out sprint. the moment he stepped back outside, his friends looked up from where they waited, eyes widening in surprise at his abrupt return.

“uh... that was quick,” jake murmured, brows lifting.

jungwon handed the plastic bag silently to riki, who took it with a frown. he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, and sunoo stepped closer with concern knitted into his expression.

“what happened, won? why’d you come back?” he asked, voice gentle.

jungwon let out a breath, short and clipped. “she’s busy,” he said, already stepping away from the group when riki stopped him, grabbing him by the arm.

sunoo blinked. “busy with... what?”

jungwon pulled his arm free from riki’s grasp and turned to face them, his jaw slightly clenched. “she’s busy—with heeseung,” he said, trying to stay calm, feeling a bit pathetic. before any of them could respond, he walked off.

there was a long beat of stunned silence.

“wait. heeseung?” sunoo asked, his voice cracking slightly in disbelief. his gaze bounced from face to face.

jay’s eyes widened and then his whole body deflated. he groaned loudly, slapping his own forehead. “oh my god. i forgot to tell heeseung about the plan today.”

the realization hit all of them at once like a collective brain freeze.

“he doesn’t know anything?” jake asked in a whisper.

“not a damn thing,” jay muttered miserably.

as they all turned to watch jungwon’s retreating figure grow smaller in the distance, riki let out a dramatic sigh.

“great,” he mumbled. “jungwon is obviously misunderstanding everything right now.”

“what do we do now?” jake asked, breaking the silence with a helpless shrug as his eyes scanned the group.

jay let out a long sigh and placed his hands on his hips, staring down at the ground as though it might offer some divine answer. “this is bad,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“real bad,” sunoo echoed in a whisper, his voice tight with worry.

but before anyone could spiral further into panic—

“what’s bad?” came a voice behind them, calm yet curious—your voice.

the boys nearly jumped, spinning around to see you standing there, arms crossed lightly, brows raised, clearly sensing something was off.

you scanned their faces, then your eyes darted around the courtyard. there was someone missing. someone you had expected to see. “what are you guys doing here?” you asked again, your gaze flicking behind them, still searching.

none of them spoke at first. the air turned awkward, thick with guilt and tension. it didn’t take a genius to know who you were looking for, and the way you were craning your neck to glance past them only made that more obvious.

“uh—obviously, i’m here because of our club meeting,” jay finally said, throwing on a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “and, uh… these guys? they’re just curious. wanted to see what the multi-maybe club was all about.” he gestured vaguely to the others, eyes wide as if silently begging them to roll with it.

riki nodded a little too enthusiastically. “yeah! we’re thinking of starting a club called... uh... the maybe-multi club,” he said, clearly winging it.

sunghoon gave him a look but said nothing. one by one, the rest of them nodded as well, some more convincing than others.

you tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with a knowing look. it was obvious they were lying but for some reason, you didn’t push further. you simply crossed your arms tighter over your chest and asked the question that had been gnawing at you since you left the library.

“where’s jungwon?” you asked quietly. “i just saw him inside a few minutes ago.”

at your words, the group visibly stiffened. eyes darted. lips pressed tight. even jay lost his usual cool for a moment.

then, sunghoon—who had been uncharacteristically quiet—spoke up. “he already went home,” he said flatly.

the words came out sharper than he intended, laced with something unspoken. it wasn’t anger—no, not really. it was frustration. not with you, but with the situation. with how he had to watch jungwon get crushed over and over, even when everyone could see how hard he was trying.

sunghoon exhaled through his nose and looked away. he knew you weren’t the villain here—you had every right to be confused, to protect your heart. still, it didn’t make it easier to watch his friend walk away every time with disappointment written across his face.

you looked at sunghoon, noting the edge in his tone. your lips parted slightly, as if to ask something else—but then closed again. the silence hung awkwardly between all of you, heavy with misunderstandings and missed timing.

after that slightly awkward—perhaps even anticlimactic but still nerve-wracking—encounter with jungwon’s friends, you found yourself walking home with a sense of restless urgency coiling inside your chest. sunghoon had said he went home, and you clung to that sliver of hope.

the moment you stepped inside your apartment, you bypassed everything—your bag, your shoes, even the idea of changing clothes—and headed straight to the balcony. it had become something of a silent bridge between you and him. from yours, you could sometimes catch glimpses of him through the sliding glass doors of his own balcony. sometimes he would be there watering his plants, lost in thought, or just playing or chatting with yami.

but tonight, there was no jungwon.

you leaned forward over the railing, your eyes scanning the glass door of his apartment like you were waiting for a sign—any movement, any flicker of light or shadow that might mean he was near. nothing. the door was drawn shut. the balcony empty.

‘maybe he's in his room,’ you told yourself. ‘maybe in the shower.’ so you waited.

and waited.

you ended up lowering yourself into a small corner of your balcony, next to your little garden of potted plants that had seen better days. you hugged your knees to your chest, curling inward against the growing weight in your heart. the evening air settled gently around you, heavy with the promise of rain and things left unsaid.

minutes passed like clouds, slow and shapeless. nearly an hour slipped by—or maybe more. you weren’t sure anymore. your eyes were fixed downward now, watching your own bare feet tapping softly against the cool tiles.

then, a sound.

a quiet shift in the silence: the soft, unmistakable shhhhkt of a sliding glass door opening.

your breath hitched.

footsteps followed—slow, deliberate, almost guilty. you didn’t lift your head right away, letting the moment hang suspended in the stillness. then, the footsteps paused. something about their hesitation pulled at you, and you finally looked up.

there he was.

jungwon stood at the edge of his balcony, caught mid-step like a child trying to sneak past bedtime. he was tiptoeing—tiptoeing, of all things—as if hoping he could vanish before you noticed.

“stay,” you said softly, but your voice carried. not loud, not desperate—just steady. enough to make him freeze.

he stopped in his tracks, body tensing. then, wordlessly, he turned and leaned against the railing, facing away from you. a sigh slipped past his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangled in frustration. he still wouldn’t look at you.

you slowly stood and took a few careful steps toward the edge of your balcony, closing the quiet space between you.

“can we just talk?” you asked gently, eyes searching his figure for something—anything—that might tell you he was still willing to listen.he said nothing.

so you filled the silence.

“you think i haven’t noticed?” your voice trembled slightly, but you kept going. “you’ve been avoiding me. i don’t know why. i don’t know what changed. but i know what i’ve seen.”

still, nothing. only the slight movement of his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

“i waited,” you said, your voice softening now. “i kept telling myself that maybe you were just busy. maybe school, or your club, or life just got overwhelming. so i waited, hoping you’d talk to me again, even just for a minute—”

“and who told you to do that?”

his words came like a sudden gust of wind, cutting through the air and slicing straight into your chest.

you blinked.

“who told you to wait for me?” he asked again, louder now, turning to face you. the storm that had been brewing quietly behind his eyes had finally broken loose. and in it, you saw everything—frustration, confusion, a thread of anger, and just beneath it, unmistakable sadness.

the words hit harder than you expected. not because they were cruel, but because they were raw.

your expression mirrored his—eyebrows drawn in hurt, lips parted in shock. and for a second, both of you stood there, wounded reflections of each other on two separate balconies, too close and yet too far.

jungwon’s gaze faltered the moment he saw your face. he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. not in that tone. he could see the weight of his words settling into your chest and he hated that he put it there.

so instead of speaking again, he fell into silence. afraid that whatever else he might say would only widen the space between you. afraid that if he let the words spill again, he wouldn’t be able to take them back.

“i waited because i thought we were friends.”

your voice didn’t tremble. it didn’t crack. it rang clear across the night air—steady, certain, as if you were reciting a truth he had somehow forgotten. a truth you could no longer carry in silence.

jungwon scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. he turned his face away, jaw tightening as if trying to keep all the thoughts crashing in his mind from spilling out. he was holding back—desperately so. not out of pride, but out of fear. because if he said everything he was thinking, it wouldn’t just hurt you. it would destroy what little remained.

“you were the first one who welcomed me here,” you continued, the words tumbling from your mouth like memories you’d clung to too long. “you helped me with my furniture. twice when i was drunk. you stayed with me. you were—so nice to me. why?”

“i don’t owe you anything, y/n,” he cut in sharply, not even turning to look at you. “we barely know each other.”

that stung.

your breath caught in your throat, not because you believed it, but because he had the nerve to say it out loud. “really?” you said, incredulous. “that’s what you think? after everything?”

you took a step closer, your voice gaining strength. “you helped me get home. you stayed when you didn’t have to—”

“maybe i shouldn’t have,” he muttered.

it was quiet. so quiet you weren’t sure you heard him right. your heart paused, just briefly. “what?”

he finally looked at you. and in that gaze, you saw it. the weariness, the chaos, the wall he had built between himself and the world. he wasn’t angry at you—he was angry at himself.

“maybe i shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he repeated, louder this time. “me helping you with your furniture, those nights when you were drunk—it didn’t mean anything.”

there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. regret, maybe. or fear of being vulnerable. but the words were already out, hanging heavy between you.

you scoffed, letting out a humorless breath as you ran your hands through your hair, trying to steady the rush of emotion building in your chest. “then at least tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

your voice cracked just a little—not with weakness, but with all the weight you’d been carrying.

jungwon leaned back against the railing, the cool metal biting into his palms. “i wasn’t avoiding you.”

a blatant lie. he knew it. you knew it. it hung in the air like smoke.

your lips parted in disbelief, your brows raising in quiet fury. ‘unbelievable.’ you thought.

“really?” you said. “then what do you call letting the elevator doors close right in front of my face? what do you call running away when i tried to talk to you? two whole months of silence, jungwon. what is that, if not avoiding?”

he groaned, dragging a hand across his face as frustration mounted in him like a wave too tall to ride. and this time, when he opened his mouth, he didn’t hold back.

“maybe i just didn’t want to deal with… this!” he shouted, voice rough around the edges. “maybe i didn’t want to deal with you! you’re the one reading between the lines when you shouldn’t be!”

the moment the words left his mouth, he could already feel them slicing through the air like a knife.

you froze, the breath knocked out of you—not by the volume, but by the weight.

but he wasn’t done.

“and me avoiding you?” he scoffed, the bitterness returning with full force. “don’t flatter yourself. you’re not that special.”

there it was.

the moment everything changed.

the insult wasn’t loud, but it echoed like thunder between the two balconies. it was a low blow, uncalled for, soaked in something even he didn’t fully understand—hurt, anger, defensiveness… cowardice.

you didn’t yell back. you didn’t storm off or cry or scream.

you just stared.

not with rage. not even with sadness.

disappointment.

and that made it worse.

you slowly shook your head, once, like you were finally accepting something you’d tried so hard not to believe. your voice, when it came, was quiet. but it cut just the same.

“you didn’t have to say that,” you said. “but i get it now.”

you stepped back. not in retreat, but in resignation. the kind that comes when you finally let go of something that was never really yours to begin with.

your hand reached for the glass door behind you, fingers curling around the frame. you slid it open, but paused—just for a moment.

“thanks,” you said, voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “for taking care of me. for tucking me in. for… everything, i guess.”

and then, you disappeared behind the glass. the door closed with a soft thud. the curtains followed.

jungwon stood there, alone. the silence that followed was louder than anything either of you had said. it rang in his ears, echoing off the walls of his chest.

a breeze passed through, lifting the ends of his shirt. the night felt colder now, biting even.

yami hopped silently onto the balcony railing beside him. she blinked slowly at him as if to ask, ‘what have you done?’

jungwon didn’t notice.

his head dropped forward, both palms gripping the railing so tight his knuckles turned white. eyes closed.

“...i didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

his voice barely carried.

“any of it.”

taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia @nijisanjigenshin @kkamismom12 @kinamurariki @soobundle1009 @supershy3 @nodoubtily @vrikisn @jayjw16enxp @skzfangirl143 @0leelina0 @noriiluv @o2whre @nocturnebite @userprdx @fangirl125reader @slvrnm @jungwons-wife @joonsflwr @yunmislove (taglist is still open, comment to be added.) final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part six will probably be posted on saturday or wednesday. see you guys then!

©⠀mæwphoria⠀|⠀all works belong to me. strictly do not plagiarize, copy, translate, paraphrase, rewrite or repost my works on any other platforms. if it's inspiration gained from my work then it's appreciated and i wish you good luck with your own stories. thank you.

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