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?
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pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀2.241k
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), 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, this will be my very first enhypen au / fanfic here in tumblr. i will be cutting this fanfic in multiple parts instead of posting it all at once because it already has a word count of 40k.
i am still new to this so i will surely make mistakes. please be patient with me and i hope you guys enjoy my work. this story will be added to my masterlist.
also, don't even try copy-pasting my work into an ai detection website, because i already tried it and it still said that parts of it was written by ai, even though i literally wrote it on my phone in front of my cousin.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
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library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part two.
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“are you completely certain you have everything, sweetheart?” your mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice tinged with both worry and affection. you can’t help but chuckle softly, rolling your eyes in fond exasperation as you roll two suitcases out through the front door.
behind you, she follows closely, reciting the list of college essentials she helped you pack, while your father lingers not far behind.
“mom, for the tenth time—literally—you packed with me. you know i’ve got everything,” you reply, turning to face her. she frowns slightly, reluctantly folding her list and slipping it into her pocket.
she reaches for your hands and clasps them tightly, as though letting go meant letting you go forever. “i’m sorry, sweetie. i just can’t help but worry. i’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.
you felt your heart ache as you pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her as tight as you can. “oh, mom...” you murmured, voice muffled in her hair, “i’m going to miss you, too. and dad. and everyone. but this isn’t goodbye forever, okay? it’s just college—four years, tops. i’ll be back before you even realize i’m gone.” you reassured her while smiling.
“is it my turn now?” came your dad’s voice from behind, cutting through the moment with the kind of comedic timing only he had. you turned to him, confused.
“yes, honey, go ahead,” your mother says with a small smile, eyes still misty.
he cleared his throat, stepped forward like he was preparing a speech, and asked, “are you absolutely certain the place you’re renting is fully furnished?”
you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the practicality of his concern, but nodded. “yeah, dad. it is. i saw the pictures online, and the landlord sent us updated ones too. you showed them to me, remember?”
“it’s got the basics: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, a little dining area, even a mini walk-in closet. and a balcony,” you added, lifting your eyebrows as if that would finally put his mind at ease. “some furniture’s getting delivered tomorrow, but other than that, i’m all set.”
still, you know deep down they won’t stop worrying—not really. it’s just what parents do.
so you took their hands, holding them like you were anchoring the three of you in that little moment.
“mom. dad. i know you're worried. i really do. and i get it. but i have to do this—for me. for my future. remember how we talked about this?” you said softly, giving their hands a small swing.
they sighed, looking down at the pavement as if it held some kind of comfort. your mom’s lips trembled as she said, “i just can’t believe my baby girl’s going to college. it feels like just yesterday you were painting rocks in daycare and telling us they were ‘magical artifacts.’”
you laughed as she started to cry again, and without missing a beat, your dad stepped forward, wrapping the both of you in a warm, protective hug. the three of you stood there for a few seconds in silence—breathing each other in like this was the last chance you’d get.
“i promise i’ll visit when i can,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “and if anything happens, i’ll come running back home. always.”
your mom sniffled loudly, then pulled away just enough to cup your cheek. “nothing will happen to you. you hear me? you’re going to be fine. just... don’t stress too much. and don’t let yunjin drag you into too many parties. you know how she is.”
your dad nodded in agreement. “yeah. remember—college is about studying, not setting new records for the number of red cups you can balance.”
you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “you guys are unbelievable. i’m your daughter, remember? i’ve got at least some common sense.”
“barely,” your dad muttered, and you playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
amidst the bittersweet laughter, the sound of a car pulling up interrupts the moment.
“oh! that’s my uber,” you say, adjusting your backpack. “dad, can you help with my suitcases?”
“on it, bud,” he said, already hoisting both bags with that exaggerated dad-strength that never failed to impress you.
he waved to the driver, who rolled up to the curb. the trunk popped open, and your dad loaded everything in then dusted off his hands and turned back. “is that everything?” he asked.
“yes, dad. i’m going to college, not new york fashion week,” you tease, earning amused chuckles from both of them.
they escort you to the car, your mom opening the door for you. but as you settled in, she suddenly tapped gently on your window. you roll it down.
“yes, mom?”
she leaned in. “sir,” she said, addressing the uber driver with a gravity that made you look at her in confusion, “if my daughter says she’s feeling dizzy or needs a break, please pull over.”
“also, you’re going to the right address, yes?” your dad added, stepping in like he was interrogating a suspect.
you let out a groan and sank into your seat, using your backpack as a shield to hide your face. “guys, seriously...”
“and don’t drive too fast or weave between cars,” your mom continued. “please drive safely. she’s very precious cargo.”
“okay mom! dad! i love you both! please let the poor man do his job,” you said quickly, waving goodbye before whispering to the driver, “you can go now. before they make me wear bubble wrap.”
the driver chuckles as the car pulls away. you lean out the window, waving until your parents become small figures in the distance.
“i’ll call when i get there!” you shout back before sinking into your seat, heart full and heavy all at once. you breathe in slowly, gaze drifting out the window.
you can do this. it’s not going to be that hard... right?
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after what felt like an eternity of winding roads, shifting scenery, and the soft hum of tires against asphalt, you finally arrived. the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the building that would now be your new home for the next four years of your life.
you turned your head toward the window, eyes tracing the unfamiliar landscape, taking it all in—wide sidewalks dappled in sunlight, joggers weaving between pedestrians, laughter spilling from a group of cyclists, someone playing fetch with a very enthusiastic golden retriever.
the air held a certain freedom you hadn't even realized you'd been craving until now. it smelled like possibility, like the beginning of something beautifully unknown.
“alright, ma’am. we’ve arrived. would you like help with your suitcases?” the driver’s voice interrupted gently, his tone patient, practiced.
you blinked yourself out of your daze, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror before answering, “yes, please. just to the entrance would be great. thank you.”
you stepped out of the car, greeted by the sight of the tall, clean-lined building. you took a breath—deep, grounding—then turned to help the driver with your bags. the two of you wheeled the suitcases together toward the entrance.
you then turned to him, pulling out a small amount of cash. “thank you so much. really. and here—this is a little extra for putting up with my parents earlier.”
he let out a warm laugh as he accepted the tip. “ah, it was nothing. i’ve got kids myself. i know how it feels to watch them grow up.”
you smiled, heart swelling. “well, if they’ve got a dad like you, i’m sure they’re growing up wonderfully.”
“that’s kind of you to say. stay safe, ma’am.”
“you too, please drive safely,” you said with a grateful nod, before turning your attention to the double glass doors ahead of you. “alright... let’s do this.”
you mumbled to yourself as you wrestled your bags inside. the first thing that greeted you was the hum of the lobby’s air conditioner and a wall of metallic lockers neatly lined up to your right.
“oh thank god, elevators,” you sighed, eyeing the silver doors to the side. but before you headed up, you pulled out your phone to reread your landlord’s message, squinting at the little instructions tucked inside a cheerful block of text.
⠀
landlord 🏘️:
good day, miss y/n. here are a few instructions before entering your apartment.
on the first floor, you’ll see multiple lockers designated for deliveries and mail.
please locate locker no.508. that will be your personal locker. inside, you’ll find the keys for all the doors inside your apartment and all necessary passcodes, especially the passcode of your apartment.
the passcode to unlock your locker is 0628.
thank you again for choosing us. we hope you enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.
⠀
with a determined nod, you pocketed your phone and made your way through the lobby towards the right where the lockers are. polished silver doors with numbers engraved in neat rows. you scanned quickly until your eyes landed on 508.
you keyed in the code with a quiet click, and the locker door swung open.
inside were all the essentials: a set of keys, neatly labeled passcodes on a printed sheet, a few manuals for the appliances, and a small envelope titled 'welcome to your new home'.
“keys, check. passcodes, check. instructions, check. emotionally prepared? debatable,” you muttered, collecting everything before shutting the locker.
you hauled your bags into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. the soft hum of the elevator was oddly comforting, a brief moment of stillness.
the doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing an empty, serene corridor lined with identical doors. you walked slowly, counting off the numbers until you reached 508 once again—this time, your door.
you typed in the passcode, heart thudding with an unfamiliar mix of nerves and excitement. a soft beep, a click, and the door opened.
your eyes widen.
“oh god. this is really happening,” you whispered, stepping inside.
the apartment was... perfect. minimal but welcoming, clean lines and cozy corners. the sunlight streamed in from the windows, dancing across the hardwood floors.
you grinned, walking deeper into your new space. “it’s even better in person! it really has everything i—wait... the balcony!” your voice shot up an octave, already halfway to the glass doors.
you threw your backpack aside and stepped out onto the balcony. the breeze kissed your skin as you exhaled slowly, taking in the view. you pulled out your phone and took a handful of photos—one of the scenery, one of the sky, two of your grinning face—ready to send them to your parents with a reassuring caption.
you were about to hit send when you heard a small sound, high and soft.
“meow.”
you froze.
you turn, the sight before you making you gasp. sitting on the next apartment's balcony is the fluffiest calico cat you’ve ever seen. “oh my gosh, hi sweet angel– no, wait! don’t jump–” but it’s too late. with the grace of a furry ninja, she leapt from one balcony to yours, landing with a perfect thud and zero regrets.
you blinked. “well. who am i to reject a royal visit?”
you kneel and gently stroke her fur before completely sitting down on the floor. “what’s your name?” you murmur. as if on cue, the cat shifts, revealing her collar. “yami? aww, what a lovely name.”
she nestled into your lap like you were long-lost friends. you let out a delighted gasp, “oh no. not the cuteness. you’re too powerful,” you whispered, gently running your fingers through her fur, trying not to explode from cuteness aggression. the last thing you wanted was to scare her away.
you had no idea how much time passed. minutes? hours? you didn’t care. it was just you and yami, and the world could wait.
until—
“yami?”
you flinched.
the voice was male. close. way too close. and getting closer.
you got startled, which in turn startled the cat—violating the sacred cat law: if a cat sits on your lap, you don’t move. ever. but you did. and now you felt like an unforgivable criminal.
“yami,” the voice called again, now just on the other side of the glass. “there you are. what are you doing? hanging out on our neighbor’s balcony again?”
you peeked ever so slightly through the curtain. the guy was in a hoodie, the hood over his head, and pajama pants, hair sticking out, probably tousled like he’d just woken up. he also sounded young so he's probably close to your age. he crouched down and scratched yami behind the ears, completely unaware of your presence.
“are you excited to meet our new neighbor?” he asked the cat, who meowed back in response, tail flicking happily.
he laughed to himself and disappeared back into his apartment.
you exhale, not realizing you’d held your breath. ‘why did i even hide?’ you scold yourself. ‘i didn’t do anything wrong.’
shaking the embarrassment away, you pull your suitcases into your bedroom. it’s bare, except for a mattress, blanket, and a few pillows. your furniture will arrive tomorrow.
you sigh and begin to unpack, preparing to shower and change into something more comfortable.
“this is going to be a long month,” you murmur to yourself, unaware that this—this quiet, chaotic beginning—was only the start.
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taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia (taglist is still open)
final note⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed, part two will be posted next saturday. thank you so much for reading.
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon.
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀11.445k
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⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀SUGGESTIVE, drinking alcohol, parties, mentions of bars, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), cowardice behavior (jungwon is still a bit of a coward), lots of flirting and tension, teasing, lots of planning and scheming, kissing, skinship, mentions of surgery, mentions of cat sickness/illness/disease, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking. lowercase letters intended. proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, part seven is finally up! i hope you guys enjoy it—we’re getting close to the end of tcds! we're finally at the suggetive parts of the fanfiction! thank you so much for your love and support!
i’m also gonna apologize. you guys obviously don't know why i’m apologizing, you'll find out soon.
also, this is jungwon's outfit inspiration.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four. part five. part six.
#⠀OO8⠀:⠀STAY HERE AFTER HOURS.
you were now nestled into your solo couch, your posture straight yet your mind anything but composed. internally, you were trying to find the perfect words to explain yourself. meanwhile, across from you, your three friends sat like a panel of judges, each one silently interrogating you with their eyes—sharp, knowing, unyielding.
you didn’t meet their gaze. not because you felt guilty. no, of course not. definitely not. you simply… couldn’t multitask. yes, that was it. (a lie, and a feeble one at that.)
you glanced up eventually, only to find them with arms folded tightly across their chests and legs crossed in synchronized judgment. it was the kind of stance that screamed: start talking.
you inhaled deeply, as if pulling courage straight from your lungs, and began.
“okay… so you guys already know that after that—uh—balcony incident with jungwon, we weren’t talking, right?” you paused for a beat. “but… yami still visited me.”
at the mention of the fluffy calico, their expressions softened by a degree. of course they remembered yami. she had become a sort of unofficial fifth member in your friend group. they nodded, prompting you to continue.
“so, one evening,” you said, fingers fidgeting against the edge of your seat, “yami came over like she usually does, but something felt… off. i called her, but she didn’t come to me like she usually would. no meows, no slow little strut. she just lay there.”
the room fell still.
“when i got closer to her,” you continued, voice quieting with the weight of memory, “i realized she wasn’t just resting. she was weak. really weak. and then… she vomited.”
the collective irritation that had once lingered on your friends’ faces immediately gave way to worry. their arms dropped, eyes wide now with concern.
you nodded gently, understanding their reaction.
“i didn’t know what else to do. i couldn’t just sit there. so… i ran to jungwon’s apartment and called him,” you said, looking down at your hands. “we brought her to the veterinary hospital together.”
you explained how the vet diagnosed yami with closed pyometra, and as you gave them a simplified explanation of the condition—how dangerous and life-threatening it could be if left untreated—they listened intently, brows furrowed with concern.
“she needed immediate surgery,” you said softly. “while we waited, jungwon noticed that i’d come barefoot… i didn’t even realize. i was too panicked. he then suddenly kneeled in front of me and wiped my feet clean with a tissue—so gently—and helped me put on these hospital slippers he got by asking the hospital receptionist.”
you paused for a second, the memory of that moment still vivid, still warm.
“and then i just… broke down,” you admitted. “right there in the waiting room. and he didn’t hesitate. he held me. comforted me. and i started to think maybe… maybe he’s not a jerk. maybe he did what he did back then because there’s something inside him he hasn’t figured out yet. or something he’s afraid to admit.”
you dared a glance at your friends and caught the slight curve at the corners of their lips. they were trying not to smile. trying very, very hard. but the pink rising on your cheeks was definitely not helping your case.
you cleared your throat and pressed on.
“after yami’s surgery,” you said, voice lowering, “he apologized. like… really apologized. he asked to be my friend again and said he missed me.”
you might as well have set off fireworks with that sentence. your friends didn't say a word, but the room was buzzing with unspoken squeals and suppressed teasing. the kind that only best friends could master.
you shook your head with a shy laugh, covering your face briefly.
“anyway,” you continued, bringing it to a close, “after she was discharged, i kept helping him. mostly because i still felt responsible—i mean, she collapsed in my apartment. so whenever he had classes and i didn’t, i’d go over and look after her.”
the room fell into a contemplative hush.
you had told them everything. no lies. no embellishments. just truth wrapped in awkward emotions and soft memories. you weren’t sure if they were going to jump to forgiveness just yet, but you had laid everything bare. and somehow, it felt… a little lighter.
now all you could do was wait—for their verdict, their sarcasm, or maybe their unexpected grace.
the silence that followed was heavy but not hostile—more like the calm after a storm, when the sky is still processing what just passed. your friends sat there, slowly nodding, their minds clearly working through every detail you’d just poured out to them.
then, almost in unison, all three of them exhaled a long, synchronized sigh and turned their gazes toward you.
“okay,” yunjin said, her brows raised, tone gentle but inquisitive. “we get it now… but why didn’t you just tell us?”
you glanced down at your hands, suddenly fascinated by the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. your lips pouted on instinct. “i didn’t know how you guys would react,” you murmured. “i was scared you guys would get mad at me.”
they looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, shaking their heads as if you were a toddler who’d just confessed to sneaking cookies before dinner.
“if you just explained it to us from the start,” chaewon said, her head tilting in that sweet, knowing way of hers, “we would’ve absolutely understood.”
“i know,” you sighed, your pout deepening, “i’m really sorry, guys.”
“well,” kazuha chimed in, arms crossed like a bodyguard taking notes, “you two can be friends, sure… but if he hurts you again, i’m not above pulling a full john wick on him.”
you nodded solemnly, trying not to laugh. “he promised he wouldn’t. and actually… i found something out.”
you didn’t mean to sound mysterious, but your voice dipped into a whisper by the end—and naturally, your friends pounced like cats catching the scent of drama.
“what did you find out?” chaewon leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as they all noticed the very obvious blush now blooming across your cheeks.
you hesitated, only for a second, before confessing.
“so earlier, when i stopped by his apartment again… i kind of… accidentally overheard him talking to yami.”
“wait—like a cat therapist session?” yunjin asked, eyes wide in amused disbelief.
“yes,” you nodded, biting back a smile. “he was talking to her like she was his emotional support animal. which, in fairness, she kind of is.”
they leaned in even more, sensing the good part was about to begin.
“he was telling her about his feelings for me,” you said softly. “how confused he was about when they started but that he knew they were serious. he said that being around me made him feel… like he wanted to protect me. like i belonged in his life.”
there was a beat of silence before your friends exploded into delighted squeals, all restraint now officially out the window. they were blushing and bouncing in their seats, hands gripping your shoulders as if you might float away from the weight of their giddy joy.
“he even said he loved all the little things,” you added, smiling bashfully. “the lunch boxes, the post-its and reminders about yami's medicine, the way i take care of yami…”
“stop it right now or i might cry,” chaewon groaned, fanning her face dramatically.
“this is better than any drama we’ve ever watched,” yunjin whispered, looking genuinely moved.
“he said he didn’t want to lose me anymore,” you went on, “and that he wants me to be a part of his life for a long time.”
“ugh, marry him already,” kazuha grinned, practically vibrating from secondhand butterflies.
but just as the atmosphere turned dreamy and rose-colored, you hit them with the twist.
“but…” you said, dragging the word out with a sigh, “he also said he’s scared to confess. that i might not feel the same… or that i still hate him after what happened between us.”
their dreamy smiles instantly dropped into disappointed groans.
“seriously?” kazuha huffed. “he had us in the first half, not gonna lie.”
“just when i thought he had finally unlocked his main character energy,” yunjin muttered, shaking her head like a disapproving mother.
“he really folded at the finish line,” chaewon clicked her tongue. “typical.”
the three of them sat back, arms crossed, lips pursed like a council of judges who were now reviewing jungwon’s romantic application with a more critical eye.
you could only smile, cheeks still flushed, heart still fluttering—and now with your friends on your side, fully and completely.
“but you did say he already knows what he’s feeling, right?” yunjin asked, arching a brow as her gaze landed squarely on you.
you nodded, a bit sheepishly. “yeah… he said it out loud to yami.”
“then he just needs a little push,” she replied, her lips curving into a sly smile that instantly put everyone on alert.
you and the others turned to her, your expressions equal parts intrigued and suspicious—because when yunjin smiled like that, it usually meant someone was about to be dramatically emotionally compromised.
“what kind of push?” chaewon asked cautiously, squinting as if trying to read the fine print of a very dangerous contract.
instead of answering, yunjin slowly shifted her gaze toward chaewon and kazuha, who both immediately groaned in unison like they already know what's going to happen. they covered their faces with their hands, already bracing themselves for whatever insanity yunjin was about to drag them into.
you blinked, watching the exchange with mild confusion… until you glanced at yunjin, and she gave you that same smile. the one that said, ‘you’re not getting out of this either, babe.’
and that’s when it clicked.
the first part of the plan was a job only chaewon and kazuha could handle.
you inhaled sharply through your nose, a laugh threatening to spill. oh, this was about to be ridiculous.
“do you still need to be there for yami?” yunjin asked then, her voice slipping back into casual concern. “or is she mostly healed now?”
“mostly healed,” you said with a small nod. “i’ve just been dropping by their place to check on her. we’re not letting her go out to the balcony yet, just in case… better safe than sorry.”
they all nodded, understanding the quiet worry in your voice. even if she was better, yami’s sudden collapse had left a mark—a reminder of how quickly things could shift.
“perfect,” yunjin declared, clapping her hands once in triumph. “operation push jungwon to his limits and make him confess begins tomorrow. tell jungwon you’re busy, and don’t even think about mentioning that we know anything. act normal—suspiciously normal.”
the grin that followed was pure mischief. she looked like a villain in a drama who just got handed the perfect backstory for redemption.
you sighed, already exhausted by the mere idea of what tomorrow would bring. it was going to be a long day. but, you thought, as your friends began discussing their “battle plan” like generals preparing for war—it was also going to be kind of fun.
the next day arrived much faster than you'd hoped, and with it came a heavy flutter of nerves in your chest. yunjin’s plan, which had sounded bold and mischievous under the forgiving light of last night’s excitement, now felt real—terrifyingly real—in the sharp glare of morning.
the plan was simple in words but heavy in implications: chaewon and kazuha would finally approach sunoo and riki after not talking to them for two months. not to reveal everything, of course—just enough. they’d ask them to gather their entire friend group after dismissal at the design & arts café. everyone would be there.
everyone except jungwon.
and that was the whole point.
you were finally going to meet jungwon’s full circle of friends face to face. you'd known who they were, seen them across the courtyard or in passing on campus, but outside of heeseung and jay—who shared the same club as you, albeit a little tensely since the incident—you hadn't really interacted with any of them that much besides that day at the library.
today would be your official introduction. not just as a name they’ve heard from a distance, or the girl jungwon talks about all the time and used to ignore—but as you. the very real and authentic version of yourself.
you kept glancing down at your watch between lectures, your pulse speeding up with every tick. anxiety danced with excitement in your chest, and your legs practically itched to sprint the moment the professor so much as hinted at class dismissal.
the second you were free, you swept your things into your bag without any regard for order and rushed out of the classroom, already pulling out your phone to text him.
you:
hey! i won’t be able to come by today. i’ve got something to take care of.
i’ll check in on you and yami tomorrow instead!
his reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting.
he even attached a gif of a very sad, very dramatic cat curling into a blanket. it made you snort softly in the hallway, drawing a few confused stares you were far too amused to care about.
you:
thank you! tell her i said i love her. 😽
you didn’t wait for another reply—you were already out the door.
by the time you reached the café, your heart was pounding for a whole new reason. through the glass windows, you spotted them immediately: the cluster of familiar faces, all gathered in one booth near the back. laughter floated into the street even through the glass. sunoo was clinging dramatically to chaewon’s arm, while she patted his head like an exhausted babysitter. kazuha was sipping something pink. riki, halfway through a laugh, was mid-spill with his drink. jay and heeseung were deep in conversation with jake, sunghoon, and yunjin.
you paused just outside the door to fix your appearance—fingers smoothing down your hair, adjusting the strap of your bag. you took one deep breath.
then, you pushed the door open.
the familiar chime of the café’s bell made heads turn, and yunjin’s face immediately lit up with something that could only be described as mischievous pride.
“our main character has arrived!” she announced with dramatic flair, throwing her arm out toward you as if she were introducing royalty.
instantly, every pair of eyes turned to you.
your breath caught for half a second as a blush spread across your cheeks. you walked quickly to the table and gave yunjin a gentle smack on the arm before slipping into the seat beside her. “stop it,” you whispered under your breath, cheeks still warm.
you then started to greet everyone and your greeting was met with easy smiles and cheerful hellos from the group. surprisingly warm ones, actually. sunoo even gave you a tiny wave with his fingers still looped around chaewon’s arm.
the first few minutes were light and easy. introductions flowed naturally—name, age, course, random facts—and the tension you’d been so worried about gradually melted into something almost comfortable. they were a lot less intimidating than you’d expected. chaotic, yes. loud, definitely. but kind.
after a while, yunjin clapped her hands once, her eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to drama.
“alright,” she said, her voice slicing through the chatter like a conductor calling for silence, “now that we’re all friends here… let’s get to the good part.”
“we just found out something rather interesting from our dear friend here,” yunjin said, her voice laced with playful mischief as she turned to face you with a knowing smirk. “care to share it with the class, y/n?”
all eyes shifted to you.
you could feel the weight of their attention settle across your shoulders like a velvet curtain being drawn back onstage. you sat up a little straighter, cleared your throat, and offered them a small, tentative smile.
“so…” you began, voice wavering slightly. “me and jungwon… we’re friends again.”
for a heartbeat, silence clung to the air like a held breath—then it shattered all at once.
“what?!” sunoo nearly shouted, releasing chaewon’s arm and leaning so far across the table you thought he might topple into your lap. his wide, incredulous eyes locked onto yours like you’d just told him the moon had fallen out of orbit.
you nodded, lips pressed into a sheepish line.
jungwon’s entire friend group reacted like a storm had passed through. some blinked in stunned disbelief. others exchanged glances, their expressions flickering between pleasantly surprised and thoroughly betrayed. apparently, none of them had been clued in—and judging by their reactions, they had not expected their famously emotionally constipated friend to suddenly mend the broken bridge between the two of you.
“don’t worry,” kazuha chimed in casually, sipping her drink like she was talking about the weather. “she didn’t tell us either. we literally caught her running out of jungwon’s apartment last night.”
chaos.
you might’ve laughed at the expressions around the table if you weren’t so mortified. jaws dropped. eyebrows flew up. and sunoo, especially, looked as if someone had just canceled his birthday.
they weren’t angry—not really. more like… betrayed, in a melodramatic, overly-invested-in-their-friend’s-love-life kind of way. the kind of betrayal that came from genuinely caring.
“he invited you to his apartment and didn’t even say a word?” sunoo whispered like it was a national scandal, clutching at his chest.
you almost wanted to apologize to him.
before anyone could spiral further, yunjin leaned forward again, her grin widening. “that’s not even the best part.”
you turned to her, already knowing what she meant. she didn’t have to say anything else. with a sigh of surrender, you nodded and addressed the table once more, this time with a touch more courage.
“so the reason i was running out of his apartment,” you began carefully, “was because i… kind of overheard something.”
you could feel the anticipation thickening around you, the way clouds gather before a storm.
“jungwon was in his room, talking to yami,” you explained, glancing briefly at sunoo, whose eyes widened even further. “and i didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. i’d come back after finally sending my friends away, thinking they’d go home but they obviously didn't..”
chaewon and kazuha both nodded solemnly, the image of your frantic escape from jungwon's apartment still clearly fresh in their minds.
“but i heard him. he was talking to her like she was his little therapist,” you said, a fond smile curling at your lips. “and he… he said some things.”
you hesitated, cheeks warming.
“he talked about me. about us. he told her he wasn’t sure when exactly his feelings started, but that they’re real. he said he treasured the time we spent together, and… that he doesn’t want to lose me again.”
a hush fell over the table.
sunoo looked seconds away from crying, or screaming—or both. riki was slack-jawed. jay and heeseung exchanged stunned, quietly amused glances. while jake and sunghoon just blinked as they process what you just revealed.
“he even said,” you added softly, “that he’s scared to tell me how he feels. because he thinks… maybe i don’t like him back. or maybe i still hate him.”
sunoo let out a groan that could probably be heard from space.
“this man,” kazuha muttered, shaking her head. “just when we thought he was growing a spine.”
yunjin, though, was already getting down to business.
“exactly why we called you all here,” she said, clapping her hands as if to rally a squad. “he clearly knows how he feels. he’s just afraid to pull the trigger.”
she looked around the table, the strategist in her emerging with gleaming eyes. “and that’s where you guys come in.”
“you guys know jungwon better than anyone,” chaewon added, resting her chin on her hand. “do you have any ideas on how to finally get him to confess?”
there was a pause—just long enough for everyone to exchange a glance.
and then the brainstorming began.
after that eventful day at the café, you hadn’t expected the plan to roll out quite so quickly—but apparently, the universe had other ideas. or, more accurately, yunjin and her covert operation had other ideas.
the plan was deceptively simple: do something—anything—to catch jungwon’s attention and make him think you guys have a lot in common. but if he remained tragically oblivious or did not make a first move, then it was back to the drawing board, where your self-appointed love strategists would cook up something even bolder.
the first mission? color theory.
according to sunoo, jungwon had an odd but adorable preference for certain colors—specifically, blue and orange. something about the contrast, he said once, made things feel “alive.”
and so, like a secret agent with a romantic agenda, you began to subtly incorporate those shades into your outfits whenever you stopped by his apartment. soft blues, dusky oranges, a careful balance between effort and nonchalance.
the first day you tried it, you wore a pale blue hoodie. comfortable, oversized, with sleeves that almost swallowed your hands. it wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it did the trick.
jungwon opened the door, expecting the usual casual drop-in, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he paused—his gaze lingering.
his expression flickered from confusion to curiosity to something fond and unspoken.
you pretended not to notice.
as if on cue, yami trotted into the living room with a delighted meow, her fluffy tail high as she greeted you like royalty. you moved to the couch and sat down, letting her claim your lap as her rightful throne. she curled up there contentedly, purring like a tiny motor.
jungwon, still oddly quiet, sat beside you—not too close, but closer than usual. his eyes kept darting to your hoodie. you could feel the stare, like a gentle poke to your side that begged to be acknowledged.
finally, you gave in. you turned to him, head tilted slightly, the universal expression for ‘what?’
he blinked, caught. his hand rose to scratch the back of his neck—his telltale nervous habit—before he spoke.
“that hoodie looks good on you. blue suits you,” he said, eyes dipping briefly to the fabric before glancing away again. “i think i have the exact same hoodie.”
his voice was casual, but you noticed the faint blush blooming across his cheeks. subtle. sweet.
“really?” you asked, eyes lighting up with faux surprise. “can i see it?”
he froze for half a second, as if you’d just asked to see his childhood diary. but then he nodded, disappearing into his room with a bit more urgency than expected.
you waited, smiling to yourself, still absentmindedly petting yami as she purred in your lap. a few minutes later, jungwon returned, holding a hoodie that looked completely identical to yours.
same shade of light blue. same brand. same design. even the same texture.
“twins,” you said with a grin, reaching out to brush your fingers along the fabric before handing it back to him. “why don’t you wear it, too? we can match.”
his eyes widened a fraction. “like… couple hoodies?”
you shrugged, playful. “if that’s what you want to call it.”
his blush deepened, but he didn’t argue. with a quick nod, he retreated back into his room—and emerged a moment later wearing the hoodie.
it fit him perfectly, the soft color making him look even softer somehow. he sat back down beside you, a little more relaxed now, like he’d slipped into something familiar and comforting. you looked at the two of you—side by side, almost completely identical besides the size—and you couldn’t help but smile.
you looked like a pair.
this plan has been going on for a week now. every day, without fail, you showed up at jungwon’s apartment clad in soft blues and burnt oranges—the very colors he subconsciously adored. and every day, like clockwork, he’d compliment your outfit with a shy smile and, more often than not, disappear into his room only to return wearing something that matched. a hoodie. a t-shirt. once, even socks.
you were like a walking color palette curated just for him.
it was sweet, yes. flattering, even. but also... painfully stagnant.
because that was it.
no sudden confessions. no heart-stopping declarations. just matching clothes and stolen glances.
so naturally, after another fruitless day of wearing his favorite shades, you texted the group chat—the now highly classified collaboration between your friend group and jungwon’s.
you:
operation: get this oblivious man to confess.
status: failed. again.
i repeat: we are not making progress. new plan. urgently needed.
and just like that, it was back to the drawing board.
over the course of the next few weeks, the plans escalated from mildly clever to questionably elaborate. it became a symphony of his favorite things: favorite colors, favorite foods, favorite bands, favorite music, favorite movie genres—even a casual detour to his favorite ramen place “by coincidence.”
jungwon, blissfully unaware of the scheming, simply marveled at how much the two of you seemed to have in common.
he thought it was fate. you knew it was group chat coordination and a spreadsheet titled “jungwon's weaknesses.”
but he was happy. so, in a way, you were too.he treasured every moment with you and yami, finding comfort in your growing presence in his life. for him, this was enough—for now.
but your friends? his friends?
absolutely not.
currently, you were all crammed into the modest but cozy dorm shared by yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon. it had officially become mission control—your war room, your crisis center, your love-struck headquarters.
the scene was... tragic.
a few of them were sprawled across the carpet like they’d lost the will to live, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the answer to all your problems might magically appear there. others were aimlessly scrolling through their phones, munching on chips with the empty gaze of strategists defeated by romance.
the silence dragged until sunoo suddenly shot upright, flailing his arms in sheer exasperation.
“why won’t he do anything?! it’s been a months!” he wailed, as if the heavens themselves had betrayed him.
he collapsed back dramatically, burying his face in a pillow, still muttering indignantly. “one. whole. month. and not even a hint of a love confession. he’s killing me. i am being emotionally murdered by my best friend.”
the rest of the room groaned in agreement.
chaewon looked like she was considering faking a faint just to escape the stress. jay was lying face-down on the floor like a corpse. riki was balancing a cookie on his nose. kazuha was aggressively munching on chips while nodding solemnly.
“it’s starting to feel like we’re trying to romance him,” jake muttered from the corner. “we’ve done everything but write him a love letter ourselves.”
“don’t tempt me,” yunjin said, half-joking, half-not. “i’ll forge y/n’s handwriting and do it.”
you sighed, flopping onto the nearest cushion. “he’s just… happy spending time with me. like that’s enough for him.”
sunghoon raised a brow. “and for you?”
you hesitated. “i also love hanging out with him but… it’s not enough for me.”
the silence that followed was understanding. not pitying. just quiet solidarity, like everyone collectively exhaled the weight of your mutual frustration.
because love, even the most obvious kind, still needed a push sometimes.
a collective sigh swept across the room. your friends looked utterly defeated, heads thrown back, lips pressed into thin lines, while jungwon’s friends resembled mourners at the funeral of common sense—grieving the tragic loss of their best friend’s ability to take a hint.
riki, who had been quietly munching on snacks moments earlier, now rested his head against kazuha’s shoulder with the solemn energy of a small, heartbroken puppy.
“i just wish he’d be honest with himself for once,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “like, just say whatever he’s thinking out loud. even if it’s dumb. especially if it’s dumb.”
sunoo, still pouting like a betrayed rom-com sidekick, nodded in agreement. “right? like that one time when—”
his words abruptly halted mid-sentence, as if someone had hit pause on his train of thought. his eyes slowly widened, shifting to riki—who, in perfect sync, blinked back at him.
click.
you could almost hear the spark of realization zip between them like a cartoon lightbulb flickering to life. something had clicked. hard.
and suddenly, without warning, the once hopeless energy in the room transformed. it was subtle at first—the way riki sat up straighter, the way sunoo’s pout curled into a knowing smirk—but it sent a ripple through everyone.
your group looked around in confusion, collectively sensing the shift but too lost to decode it.
“uh... what just happened?” you asked, brows furrowed.
jungwon’s friends, now spring-loaded with new energy, were already standing up and grabbing their bags like a SWAT team mobilizing.
“nothing, nothing. you don’t have to worry,” sunoo said with an excessively sweet smile that immediately made you more worried. “we’ll handle jungwon, okay?”
you, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon could only stare as the six boys—sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung—swiftly gathered their belongings with an almost eerie efficiency.
kazuha raised an eyebrow. “you guys have a new plan or something?”
riki turned as the group reached the door, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “yep. and don’t stress. just be ready, because he might start talking tomorrow.”
and with that cryptic farewell, he chuckled and gave a casual wave before they all slipped out into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor like they were on a secret mission.
you and the girls stood frozen at the door for a few lingering seconds before slowly closing it and returning to the couch.
“now i’m scared for jungwon,” kazuha said plainly as she collapsed onto the couch, arms flopping like a tired starfish.
you followed suit, dropping beside her. “same. what are they even planning?”
“who knows,” yunjin murmured.
chaewon leaned her head back, eyes closed. “nah, sunoo could never hurt a fly.”
kazuha looked up from where she had been checking her phone and said calmly, “yeah, but his friends aren’t flies. they’re very much human.”
chaewon blinked at her, processing that for a full second before sighing and muttering a quiet curse under her breath. “why is she right.”
you pulled a pillow into your lap, hugging it as you stared at the ceiling. something told you that tomorrow was going to be interesting—maybe even historic.
whatever jungwon’s friends had planned, it was likely to be dramatic, probably borderline absurd, and definitely chaotic.
but what if it finally made him speak up?
then you were ready.or… at least, you hoped you were.
tomorrow was coming. and with it, possibly, jungwon’s long-awaited confession.
finally?
the next day arrived like a reluctant sigh—slow, inevitable, and accompanied by the low thrum of resistance humming in jungwon’s chest.
he stood in his apartment, tugging down the hem of his cardigan with a subtle frown, not quite in the mood to go out. but after weeks of dodging his friends’ invitations with careful excuses and polite declines, he had finally run out of ways to say no.
they’d been patient. understanding, even—especially after everything that happened with yami. but now that she was nearly fully healed and walking around the apartment like the tiny empress she was, they were expecting jungwon to finally hang out with them.
sunoo, in particular, had taken it personally. he’d pouted dramatically over the phone, threatening their friendship in a tone that was half-joking, half-serious. “if you don’t come out tonight, i’m cutting you off. this is the final straw, jungwon. friendship—terminated.”
jungwon rolled his eyes at the memory, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. how could he explain that the reason he kept staying home wasn’t because he was still worrying about yami—but because he wanted to be with you?
of course, it wasn’t something he could admit. not to them, and definitely not to you. not yet.
he glanced at the mirror, smoothing down his light grey zip-up cardigan. the fabric was soft, the kind that almost whispered luxury without trying too hard. he left the zipper partially undone, revealing a bit of the neckline—just enough to look effortless. his sleeves were pushed up carelessly to his forearms, revealing the delicate structure of his wrists and a single, subtle bracelet that gleamed quietly under the light.
his trousers were dark and wide-legged, the tailored fabric falling in elegant folds to his shoes. the contrast of light and shadow in his outfit gave him a clean, poised silhouette that felt both casual and refined.
he looked… good.
not that it mattered. they were just going out for drinks—maybe some bar hopping. nothing serious. nothing that required him to look this put together. and yet, here he was.
he picked up his phone and quickly tapped out a message.
jungwon (yami's dad):
can you stay with yami tonight?
going out w the guys. don’t know how long i’ll be.
you replied almost instantly, enthusiastically even.
you:
ofc! 😺
moments later, you were at his door.
after knocking softly, you typed in the familiar passcode and stepped inside—only to pause mid-step when jungwon walked out of his room.
your breath caught in your throat.
he looked good, so good.
well, he looks good all the time but this was different.
it's the kind of good that made your brain momentarily glitch. the cardigan, the trousers, the sleeves, the slightly tousled hair that looked like it was styled without trying (but definitely was)... he looked like someone who should be stepping out of a commercial, not his apartment.
he noticed your staring.
with a teasing smile, he rolled up his sleeves again, this time slowly and deliberately, as if to say, ‘is this what got you flustered?’
you tried to recover quickly, straightening your posture and pretending not to be affected, even as your cheeks burned with the telltale warmth of a silent blush.
he stopped just in front of you and leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne brushing against your senses—clean, subtle, comforting.
“i’ll be heading out now,” he said, voice soft, eyes flicking toward your forehead as if contemplating something. for a split second, he looked like he might lean forward… like he might kiss your forehead.
but instead, his hand lifted, and he gently patted your head.
your heart dropped in confusion and rose again in flustered disbelief.
“i don’t know when i’ll be back, so don’t wait up,” he added with a little smile.
you blinked. still stunned. the only word that managed to escape your lips was a quiet, “okay.”
he laughed softly at your dazed state before turning toward the door.
you and yami followed him to the door, watching as he slipped into his shoes and cracked the door open.
and just as he was about to step out, he paused.
he turned his head and saw the two of you still standing there.
the scene was oddly domestic. cozy. familiar in a way he hadn’t expected. like you were walking him out the door… like the two of you had been married and living together for years. (delusional)
like this was normal.
the thought made his heart stutter.
he almost stepped back inside. almost said something.
but his phone rang, sharp and abrupt.
sunoo.
with a quiet sigh, jungwon gave one final wave, the blush now clearly blooming across his cheeks, and walked out the door, answering the call.
“yeah, yeah, i’m on my way—calm down,” he muttered, the door shutting softly behind him.
you stood there in the silence, yami weaving around your ankles as if she too sensed that something important had just almost happened.
and maybe it had.
maybe tonight… would finally be the beginning of everything you’d both been waiting for.
you knew something was up the moment jungwon asked you to stay with yami. not just because he rarely left her side, but because of last night’s secretive energy back at yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon’s dorm—your shared war room for scheming, planning, and borderline conspiracy.
riki had said it so confidently. “just be ready,” he’d told you with a sly smile, practically radiating mischief. “because he might start talking tomorrow.”
well, today was tomorrow. and while you knew the plan was already in motion, you were still utterly in the dark about what it actually was. they had refused to say a word more, acting like members of a high-level government operation sworn to secrecy.
meanwhile, outside the apartment building, jungwon had just stepped into the cool dusk air when a sleek dark gray SUV rolled up to the curb like a scene from a low-budget spy movie. the tinted windows hummed down slowly, revealing a familiar face in the front passenger seat—heeseung, grinning like he was up to something illegal along with jay behind the wheel.
jungwon blinked.
at the second row, sunoo and riki were already squished together, waving like kids on a roller coaster. in the very back, jake and sunghoon gave exaggerated thumbs-ups, clearly delighted with themselves.
“get in, loser. we’re rekindling our friendship,” sunoo announced gleefully, leaning out of the window just enough to sound threateningly persuasive.
jungwon laughed under his breath. ‘were they always this dramatic?’ he shook his head, climbed into the SUV, and settled beside sunoo—who immediately looped his arm through jungwon’s like they were about to skip through a field of daisies together.
“finally!” sunoo beamed. “you’re actually hanging out with us again. this is a monumental day. we’re gonna have the best night of our lives. you’re not allowed to escape.”
jungwon chuckled, amused but slightly wary. the energy in the car was way too high for a simple night out. it was… suspicious. very suspicious. but also, a little endearing.
“you guys missed me that much, huh?” he teased, and sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest from the back row.
“more than oxygen,” jake added solemnly.
the drive to the bar was filled with chaotic laughter, bad singing, and increasingly ridiculous stories that may or may not have been fabricated. jungwon smiled, enjoying the moment—genuinely glad to be with them again. maybe he had been too withdrawn lately.
once they reached their destination, jay parked the car and the group prepared to face the bouncer. they lined up, IDs in hand, expecting to be scrutinized for every facial hair and birth year.
but the bouncer? he barely glanced at them before stepping aside with an indifferent nod.
they hadn’t even spoken.
“did we… just pass the vibe check without trying?” riki whispered, impressed.
“we must've looked mature,” jay muttered proudly, fixing the collar of his shirt.
inside, the bar greeted them with pulsing lights, music so loud it practically rearranged their organs, and a potent mix of alcohol, cologne, and lingering vape clouds that clung to the air like fog in a neon forest.
sunoo, ever the planner, had already reserved a table—far enough from the speakers to allow conversation, but still close enough to soak in the lively atmosphere. the table was tucked neatly into a corner, giving them a small bubble of privacy amidst the chaos.
menus were passed around, drinks were ordered, and conversations blossomed with the kind of ease that only long-time friends could afford. the night was young, the energy was high, and jungwon, blissfully unaware, had no idea what storm his friends were brewing around him.
meanwhile, you sat on the other side of the city, curled up on his couch, still unaware of the details—but knowing full well that something was about to go down. and unlike jungwon, at least you had the comfort of knowing.
because while jungwon was sipping his drink in clueless contentment, you were bracing yourself.
for what exactly, you didn’t know.
but you had a feeling the night would end with something unforgettable—for both of you.
you had every intention of staying up for jungwon.
even though he had told you not to wait, had patted your head with that soft smile and said, “don’t wait up,” like it was a gentle command. but something about his absence made the apartment feel a little too quiet, too still. and you were curious—nervous, even. wondering what his friends had schemed, wondering how he was doing, wondering if he'd come back different.
but in the end, sleep had other plans. you had dozed off on the couch, curled beneath a light blanket, with yami snuggled against your hip like a tiny, living heater. the soft rhythm of her breathing, the faint hum of the apartment, and the warmth of the room all pulled you under before you could even fight it.
hours passed unnoticed.
until the doorbell rang.
you groaned softly, peeling your eyes open as if the weight of sleep clung to your lashes. your limbs felt sluggish, your mind still lost in that foggy space between dreams and reality.
the bell rang again.
you sat up in a daze, suddenly struck by the realization: this isn't your apartment.
your eyes widened as you looked around the familiar space. jungwon’s apartment. which meant—that might be him at the door.
but why wasn’t he using the password?
confused and still slightly disoriented, you stumbled toward the door, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and pulled it open.
and there he was.
jungwon.
he stood swaying gently, looking far too relaxed for someone upright. his cardigan was rumpled, and his smile—oh, his smile—was crooked, lazy, too wide for his own face. he looked like someone who had just made friends with the moon.
on either side of him, like glorified babysitters, stood sunoo and riki. each of them had one of jungwon’s arms slung over their shoulders, holding him up like he was made of spaghetti noodles and poor choices.
you blinked. slowly. “what... is this?”
sunoo’s expression was bright and unbothered, like this was all part of a perfectly ordinary evening. “he’s all yours now,” he chirped, not even attempting to hide the amusement dancing in his eyes.
riki gave you a grin, half mischief, half solidarity. “good luck. he gets clingy.”
before you could protest, they helped jungwon inside with theatrical care and let the door close softly behind them.
and just like that, you were alone.
alone with jungwon’s dazed laughter echoing through the room, and yami blinking at him like he had brought chaos home in a cardigan.
he flopped onto the couch with a dramatic exhale, arms spread like he was melting into it. his hair was tousled, the kind of perfect mess that looked like it belonged in a drama scene. a few strands had fallen over his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. or care.
you stood there for a moment, arms crossed, staring down at him like he was both the problem and the puzzle.
you weren’t sure whether to scold him for coming home like this or wrap him up in a blanket burrito and protect him from the world.
you chose the latter.
softening, you walked to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and crouched beside the couch. “here,” you said quietly, holding it out to him.
jungwon blinked at you like you were a dream he wasn’t quite sure he deserved. his fingers curled around the glass clumsily, and he took a few slow sips, lips brushing the rim with exaggerated focus.
then he handed it back with care and looked at you—really looked at you.
his gaze was heavy, unfiltered, drenched in quiet affection and a boldness that only came with just enough alcohol to silence overthinking. his eyes didn't move away like they usually did. no. they stayed. steady. sincere.
his gaze held yours with a kind of tender stubbornness, like even the soft haze of intoxication couldn’t dull the clarity of what he felt in this moment.
“you’re… so pretty,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out of his mouth without a filter, carried by something braver than sobriety.
you sighed, equal parts amused and exasperated. “you’re drunk,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached out to help him sit up. he was trying to rise on his own but looked like he was fighting gravity itself—and losing.
but he didn’t stop talking.
“do you know,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, slurred at the edges but still oddly steady, “why i started ignoring you?”
your hands froze mid-motion. your breath caught in your throat. something about his tone—raw, unguarded—felt like a door creaking open.
“why?” you asked quietly.
he smiled. not the kind you were used to—the charming, boyish kind. this one was tinged with something softer. something closer to regret.
“because… you kissed yami. like, a lot.” he said, and even through the thick fog of his drunkenness, he sounded sincerely wounded. “her face was all pink and smudgy. i don't know why but i said that she was so lucky and i think i was jealous?”
you blinked, stunned for a moment. “you were… jealous? of your cat?”
“she got your kisses,” he mumbled, brows furrowing in a pout that should not have looked this tragic. “i didn’t.”
your heart gave a wild, unexpected flutter.
he shifted upright with effort, his body swaying just slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “and then... that night. after the welcoming party. you kissed me too. do you remember?”
you stared at him, your mind flipping through every mental file, every hazy memory. you kissed him? no. surely not. you would’ve remembered something like that... wouldn’t you?
his fingers brushed your cheek then—tentative, reverent. his palm came to rest along the curve of your jaw, cradling your face like it was something delicate. precious.
“you kissed me here,” he whispered, and his lips pressed softly to the apple of your cheek.
your breath hitched.
“and here,” he added, his mouth brushing the tip of your nose like a feather.
“and here,” he breathed as he kissed your forehead before lowering his forehead until it touched yours, skin to skin, warm and close and impossibly intimate.
his lips hovered just above yours now. not quite a kiss, not yet. just a breath. a memory waiting to be rewritten. a question waiting to be answered.
“and then… here.”
you could feel the warmth of his lips ghost over yours—barely there, light as air. your fingers instinctively curled around his wrist.
“jungwon… you’re drunk,” you said gently, quietly. it was half a plea, half a warning, and yet your voice came out softer than you'd intended.
but he didn’t move away.
instead, he pulled you closer with a steadiness that defied the haze in his eyes. slow, unhurried, like this wasn’t just a whim, but something he’d thought about—wanted—for longer than you realized.
your knees ended up on either side of his thighs, settling on his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. your palms landed on his chest, feeling the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.
the space between your faces disappeared entirely now—just breath, and heat, and the tension of something unspoken finally reaching the edge of being said.
and still, he looked at you.
like he was waiting for permission.
“do you really want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur, almost afraid of the answer.
you didn’t say a word.
but silence, as it often is between two people standing on the edge of something fragile and real, was louder than any yes. louder than hesitation.
and that silence—your silence—was enough.
jungwon leaned in and kissed you. softly, at first. tentative, like testing the weight of a dream. his lips brushed against yours with such gentle care it made your chest ache. but then—slowly—need bled into the kiss, a hunger born not of impulse but of everything unsaid between you for far too long. he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his and letting it go just to taste it again.
his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips feathering over your spine like a whisper. your own hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, seeking something solid in a moment that felt like it might melt around you.
the kiss turned messier—open mouths, breathless sighs, hearts racing beneath skin that begged to be touched.
he tugged at the edge of your shirt, lifting it gently with a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to voice. you raised your arms, granting silent permission. he slid the fabric off of you in one slow motion, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet rustle. you mirrored the action, unzipping his cardigan before helping it off him completely until nothing separated the heat between your bodies.
bare skin met bare skin.
it was warmth and want and wonder. the soft curve of his back beneath your palms, the steady rise of his chest against yours, the low hum of his breath as he continues to kiss you.
jungwon’s lips trailed to your jaw, his breath trembling slightly as he kissed lower, slower, mapping a path along your neck like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. he left warm, fluttering marks with his mouth, his lips brushing against your collarbone. you gasped—a soft, surprised sound that made his fingers dig a little deeper into your waist.
he smiled against your skin.
but then, just as suddenly, he stopped moving.
you stilled. “jungwon?” you asked, breath catching in your throat.
no answer.
you pulled back slightly, eyes scanning his face.
his eyes were closed. his breathing… steady.
he was asleep.
just like that.
you stared at him for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or shake him awake just to scold him.
instead, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead with a kind of fondness you didn’t mean to show so obviously.
he mumbled something incoherent in reply, still lost in sleep.
you kissed him again—just a quick, affectionate peck on his lips, careful not to wake him. then, with a sigh and a small shake of your head, you eased off his lap and gently laid him down fully on the couch, his limbs heavy and completely relaxed.
you spotted his cardigan that you took off, draped over the armrest. slipping it on, you were immediately enveloped in his warmth and scent—his perfume, the smell of alcohol, and something unmistakably him.
after adjusting the blanket over his body and yours, you curled beside him, finding space between his arm and chest. your head rested against his heart, its rhythm calm and grounding. yami jumped up and found her usual place at your feet, her tiny purring adding a soft hum to the quiet.
and slowly—wrapped in warmth, tangled in limbs and cardigan threads, and bathed in the stillness of the moment—you fell asleep.
smiling.
morning came, light slipping through the curtains and onto jungwon’s face with no mercy. his head pulsed with a dull, insistent ache—the hangover had arrived, cruel and unapologetic.
he groaned, voice hoarse, and shifted slightly beneath the blanket, only to realize there was something—or someone—heavy on his chest. in his hazy mind, the answer was obvious.
“yami,” he croaked, eyes still closed. “get off my chest, please.”
nothing.
he furrowed his brows and tried again, his voice a little more desperate. “yami, come on. i’m dying.”
still, no response—until a soft meow broke the silence. but it came from a different direction. a few inches above his head, in fact.
he forced one eye open, squinting against the light.
there she was—yami. perched neatly atop the sofa’s backrest, blinking down at him with a judgmental gaze only a cat could manage. she let out another quiet meow, almost as if to say, ‘don’t drag me into your mess, human.’
jungwon blinked. once. twice.
“…if yami is there,” he muttered to himself, brain still wrapped in fog, “then what the hell is on my chest?”
slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head down.
and then he saw you.
his breath caught in his throat. time stopped.
you were curled up against him, your head resting peacefully on his bare chest, arm loosely draped around his waist. tangled in the same blanket, legs slightly entwined, breaths rising and falling in quiet sync. your face was relaxed, framed gently by your hair, and far too close to the danger zone that was his heart.
jungwon’s face flushed red instantly, color creeping up his neck to his ears like wildfire.
‘i’m shirtless,’ he realized with a jolt, instinctively pulling his hands away from where they’d unknowingly rested—close enough to feel your warmth.
his mind raced.
‘okay. think. what happened last night?’
he squinted at the ceiling, piecing together fragments of memory—his friends, the bar, music loud enough to shake his bones, too many drinks passed around, laughter, and bad dancing. and then… blank.
nothing about this.
and just as he started to panic further, you moved.
a soft hum escaped your lips as you nestled closer to him, face brushing against the crook of his neck like you belonged there. your hand slid slightly across his chest, warm palm resting right over his heartbeat.
he made a strangled noise—something between a gasp and a prayer.
his heart thudded loudly under your touch, so loud he was certain you’d wake up and hear it screaming. he bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
“she’s gonna be the death of me,” he thought, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers to the universe—or at least to why his chest was now a pillow.
after a few deep breaths, he mustered the courage to lift a shaky hand and gently tapped your shoulder.
“hey…” he whispered, as softly as his rattled nerves allowed. “wake up.”
you groaned in response, furrowing your brows. instead of pulling away, you buried your face deeper into his neck, your hand unconsciously splaying more firmly across his chest.
jungwon stopped breathing for a second.
he was certain this moment would either kill him or convert him into a monk.
he couldn’t help it anymore.
‘when will i ever get to hug her like this again?’ the thought whispered through jungwon’s mind like a confession. his restraint crumbled.
before reason could intervene, his arms moved on their own—wrapping tightly around you, drawing you even closer into his chest as though you were something precious he was afraid to lose. his face nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the quiet scent of you—soft, familiar, calming. then, as if overcome by a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection, he began to pepper gentle kisses across the top of your head. once. twice. again. and again.
it was, without a doubt, a case of cuteness aggression. your mere presence in his arms was too much for his heart to handle.
but even in the bliss of the moment, a sliver of panic returned.
‘she’s going to wake up and freak out,’ he thought, dread seeping in. ‘she’s going to scream or hit me or—’
he didn’t know that you already knew. and that you wouldn't be surprised. not even a little.
with a reluctant sigh, he slowly pulled back from the embrace, letting his arms fall away from your frame. he hesitated before gently shaking your shoulder, trying to rouse you from sleep—soft enough not to startle, but persistent enough to work.
and this time, it did.
you stirred with a groan, blinking up at him with a single eye, your features still heavy with sleep. and then, to his complete confusion, you smiled.
‘why is she smiling?’ his mind stumbled. ‘isn’t she supposed to—panic? shove me off?’
but instead, you just said, “good morning,” in that warm, slightly raspy morning voice of yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
and then you moved. shifted upward. now fully lying on top of him.
your chin came to rest gently on his chest, eyes gazing up into his, content and unbothered—as though this kind of closeness was your everyday routine. jungwon, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.
he stared down at you, blinking as though he’d forgotten how to speak. the soft morning light was pooling through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your face, illuminating your smile, making you look absolutely ethereal. breathtaking. like a dream.
he felt like his brain had unplugged itself.
you tilted your head slightly, curious at his speechlessness. amused, even.
a few long seconds passed before he finally remembered how to use words. “g-good morning,” he stammered, voice embarrassingly unsteady.
you chuckled, the sound bright and airy. you knew exactly what he was feeling—flustered, completely thrown off-guard by your lack of panic and your excessive proximity.
you stayed like that for a while, tangled in the stillness of morning, the silence between you stretching comfortably. but as you looked down at him, you noticed something odd—his arms were no longer wrapped around you. they were just… floating awkwardly near his head, like he didn’t know where to put them or if he was even allowed to touch you anymore.
you pouted slightly.
he cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain whatever was left of his composure.
you tilted your head again, brows raised in silent question—‘what’s wrong?’
he spoke at last, though his voice stumbled out in fragments.
“w-what... happened last night?”
you blinked at him, momentarily stunned. then, after a beat, a quiet, amused breath escaped you—something between a laugh and a sigh.
he doesn’t remember.
you thought he was just feeling flustered. you were't expecting him to not remember what happened last night.
you shook your head, lips quirking upward as you looked down at him, amused by how truly lost he looked. jungwon, still blinking rapidly, stared up at you like you’d just started speaking in riddles.
‘why is she laughing?’ his eyes seemed to plead for an explanation. ‘did i say something weird? embarrassing? did i do something—’
“i knew it,” you murmured under your breath, as if confirming something long suspected.
“knew what?” he asked instinctively, but you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned down and pinched his cheek gently, earning a startled blink from him.
“good thing you’re cute,” you said, voice laced with mock severity—then kissed his cheek once. twice. and then a third time for good measure.
he froze beneath your touch, brain flickering between mild panic and pure confusion. ‘what is happening?’ he thought, nearly out loud. ‘why is she kissing me like that?’
but before he could find a thread of logic to cling to, your voice returned—light, sweet, but with a sharpness that made him straighten slightly.
“but being cute won’t cut it,” you said casually, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “i’m mad at you for what you did last night.”
his eyes flew open, alarm setting in like a sudden gust of cold air.
‘what did i do? why is she mad? did i say something stupid? did i cross a line? did i—’
you could practically hear the flurry of panicked questions buzzing inside his head, written all over his expression.
you pushed yourself up, and in doing so, you revealed something that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
his breath caught audibly.
you were wearing nothing but your bra and—his cardigan. the same light grey one he’d worn out last night, now draped loosely over your shoulders, the sleeves falling past your fingertips, the fabric hanging open just enough to hint at what lay beneath.
jungwon’s brain, already short-circuiting, utterly failed him now. he averted his eyes like they burned, cheeks rapidly turning crimson.
‘why is she in my cardigan? why isn’t she wearing a shirt? are those—’ his eyes darted back to you for a second before retreating again— ‘are those... hickeys? on her neck? on her collarbone? did i... did i do that?’
he gulped audibly.
you let out another small laugh, not unkind—just endlessly amused by how adorably flustered he was. you reached out, cupping his cheek once more, and gently turned his face back toward yours.
“let’s get up,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his skin. “i know you're having the worst hangover right now.”
you sat up properly, tying your hair back with practiced ease. he barely processed it—still staring at you like you were both a miracle and a mystery.
then, without another word, you stood, stretched with a quiet hum, and padded off toward the kitchen, the oversized cardigan swaying around your frame.
jungwon watched you go in stunned silence, still flat on the couch like a man recovering from a fever dream.
he wasn’t sure if he needed water, a cold shower, or divine intervention.
but one thing was certain: he was absolutely, entirely, and hopelessly in trouble.
and he doesn't know why but he didn’t even mind.
a few minutes passed before jungwon finally pulled himself off the sofa. his legs felt heavier than usual, and his mind still lagged a step behind reality. he glanced down, finding himself obviously shirtless, his belt hanging loosely from the loops of his pants—undone, though mercifully still fastened enough to maintain his dignity. remembering the faint trace of hickeys left on your neck and collarbone wasn’t helping his spiraling thoughts.
his gaze fell to the shirt on the floor.
your shirt.
meanwhile, you were already in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared coffee for the both of you—moving with the kind of casual grace that comes from being completely comfortable in someone else’s space, wearing someone else’s cardigan, and looking entirely unbothered by last night’s events.
when you turned around with two mugs in hand, you were momentarily startled to see jungwon standing just across the island counter.
or rather—hiding.
he had draped the blanket from the couch over his head and shoulders like a makeshift cloak of shame, the edges nearly brushing the floor.
you blinked. and then you burst out laughing.
“seriously?” you giggled. “you look like a sad little ghost.”
“i feel like one,” he muttered from beneath the blanket.
still grinning, you set the mugs down and gently slid his toward him. “sit down, ghost boy. drink your coffee before you wither into the afterlife.”
he obeyed, sinking onto one of the stools without saying another word. he murmured a soft thank you, fingers curling around the warmth of the mug as though it could anchor him back to sanity. what it couldn’t help with, however, was the sight of you.
you were still wearing his cardigan—unzipped, loose—and underneath it, just your bra.
jungwon did his best to avert his gaze, sipping his coffee like it was holy water, but every time his eyes drifted, they betrayed him. the curve of your collarbone, the way the cardigan slipped off one shoulder, the slight sway of your hips when you turned...
he was convinced he was going to pass out before breakfast.
you didn’t make it any easier. in fact, you turned away again with a mischievous hum and started grabbing ingredients.
“i’m making toast with bacon and eggs. that cool?” you asked, already slipping slices of bread into the toaster, cracking eggs with practiced ease.
“y-yeah, that’s fine,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper.
you smiled softly to yourself and continued cooking.
once everything was done, you plated the food with care and brought the dishes over. jungwon cleared his throat awkwardly, the silence growing heavier between you as he dared to speak.
“i’m... shirtless,” he pointed out, as if it had just occurred to him.
you looked up from your plate, blinked once, then nodded. “mhm. noticed that earlier.”
he squinted at you. “and are you even planning on giving me back my cardigan?”
you looked down at the soft fabric wrapped around you, then back at him with a smirk playing at your lips. casually, you leaned forward across the island, resting your elbows on the counter and your chin on your hands.
“nah,” you said with a cheeky smile. “i kinda wanna keep it for myself.”
jungwon’s heart practically melted.
‘why is she doing this to me?’ he thought helplessly. ‘why is she so pretty? why is she so dangerous?’
he stared down into his coffee like it held the answers, cheeks still burning as he reached for a piece of toast. you started eating too, the silence now a comfortable one—soft, domestic, filled with the quiet sounds of clinking forks and shared glances.
but eventually, the weight of uncertainty became too much to bear.
he drew in a breath, summoned the last of his courage, and broke the silence again.
“i still... don’t know what happened last night.”
his voice was quiet, sincere. his eyes remained fixed on the rippling surface of his coffee.
the question lingered between you like steam rising from the mugs.
and now, it was your turn to decide what you wanted to give him—truth, reassurance, a tease, or maybe all three.
you were placing the dishes in the sink when he asked.
the plate in your hand hovered mid-air for a moment before you set it down in the sink. a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you turned toward him.
slowly, you walked over, the echo of your bare feet soft against the tiled floor. jungwon, still wrapped in the couch blanket like some confused ghost, did not lift his gaze. he was doing an impressively terrible job at pretending not to look at you—even though the pink blooming at the tips of his ears gave him away.
he didn’t see you smile.
you came to a stop right beside him. then, gently, you reached out and tilted his face toward yours by the chin.
his breath hitched.
you leaned in, just close enough for your lips to brush the corner of his mouth—a ghost of a kiss, barely there, but it was enough to short-circuit what little brain activity he had left.
his shoulders stiffened. his hands froze around his coffee mug. his pupils dilated like you had cast some sort of spell.
“that’s for you to find out,” you whispered, your voice dipped in honey and mischief.
then your fingers slid up to rest on his cheek, your thumb brushing delicately over his skin—slow, affectionate, and undeniably cruel in the best way. he leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes searching yours like he was desperately trying to decode whatever language your smile was written in.
“you can handle the cleanup, right?” you asked sweetly, as if you hadn’t just fried his nervous system in one go.
he blinked.
then, still dazed, nodded.
you chuckled—soft and victorious—and turned away. he couldn’t help but watch you as you walked, the hem of his cardigan swaying gently with each step. you pulled it around yourself, zipped it up halfway, and tossed a casual glance over your shoulder.
“i’m keeping your cardigan, by the way. i’ll give it back once you remember. thanks.”
he looked like he was about to combust.
you opened the door, your fingers curled loosely around the frame as you gave him one last wave.
then you were gone, just like that.
the apartment fell into silence again. jungwon remained on his stool, staring at the door like it might offer answers. it didn’t. the only thing that broke the quiet was a soft meow—yami had claimed a seat on the island table and was now staring at him like she wanted answers too.
he groaned, dragging his hands down his face.
“ugh,” he muttered. “she’s trying to kill me. she’s actually trying to kill me. what am i gonna do?!”
his heart was racing. his mind was spinning. and somewhere inside his chest, something unfamiliar and wild and hopeful had begun to bloom.
meanwhile, just next door, you were busy snapping mirror selfies—wearing his cardigan, still warm from him, and grinning like a teenager who just pulled off the perfect prank. the pictures went straight to your group chat with yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, accompanied by a string of excited emojis and one very smug caption.
you:
mission accomplished. 💅🏻
now all that was left… was to wait.
and see if jungwon would remember—and more importantly, if he’d do something about 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 @wonnieswife @joonsflwr @yunmislove @raavenarmy-blog @hhoneyhan (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part eight, the last update will be posted on wednesday. see you guys! and thank you so much for your love and support!
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 (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀6.294k
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.3 is finally out! please enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two.
#⠀OO3⠀:⠀DRINKS AND LIPSTICK STAINS.
you now find yourself seated inside a quaint little café nestled on the corner of a quiet street—its warm atmosphere a comforting contrast to the unfamiliar buzz of a town you’ve only just arrived in. the only person you truly know here, apart from jungwon—whom you met just yesterday morning—is the one you’re waiting for now.
you cradle your cup of coffee between your hands, the steam curling upwards, when the door opens with a soft chime. instinctively, you glance up. the familiar sound of her voice reaches you—but it’s not alone. two others are speaking with her, their words blending into a lively murmur as they enter the café.
curious, you straighten in your seat, eyes searching the small crowd that just stepped in. and then—you see her.
yunjin.
your best friend since high school. her laughter, just as vibrant as you remember, rings out in response to something the short-haired girl beside her said. she scans the café, eyes flitting from table to table, until they land on you. recognition lights up her face, and she waves with uncontainable joy, turning to her companions to announce she’s found you.
they walk over, and you rise to your feet, your chest already tightening with emotion. as soon as she’s in front of you, the world seems to blur into the background. you both scream—but like, internally. because you’re in public. but the hug? very real and borderline bone-crushing.
“girl! i missed you so much!” you say, pulling back just enough to see her face.
“ugh, me too! okay, okay—introductions. these are my dorm mates,” she spins around with a flourish, “this is chaewon,” she points to the short-haired one, who gives you a little wave and a smirk. “and that’s kazuha,” she adds, motioning to the serene one who greets you with a graceful nod.
“hi, i’m y/n,” you say, walking forward to shake their hands. “yunjin’s high school partner-in-crime. she probably left that part out.”
“she definitely didn’t,” chaewon says with a knowing smile.
“let’s all sit,” you say, motioning to the table.
the menus are still waiting there, and once everyone’s settled, chaewon pipes up, “should we order first?”
everyone agrees, so you hand out the menus that were left on the table and call for a waitress. as soon as the orders are in, conversations start flowing effortlessly. they feel warm. easy.
you learn that they all will be attending the same university. chaewon’s majoring in cinematic arts—film & tv production, which honestly makes a lot of sense with her energy. kazuha’s in dance performance, every bit as graceful as her aura implies. and yunjin—well, she’s studying architecture. same as jungwon.
and that’s when you remember. jungwon.
“oh, right! i asked to meet up because something kind of… weird happened yesterday.”
their eyes lock on you with synchronized curiosity. kazuha and chaewon lean in. yunjin straightens up, instantly in bestie mode.
“okay. storytime. full version. no skipping,” yunjin demands.
you grin. “so, turns out my new neighbor is... hot. like, unfairly hot. his name’s jungwon and apparently, his cat has been sneaking into my balcony even before i moved in.”
“classic. seduced by the pet first,” chaewon mumbles.
you continue, “so yesterday, i woke up, got myself some coffee, opened my balcony door in my pajamas, his cat was already on my balcony and then suddenly there he was—also just woken up. shirtless. in boxers.”
you didn’t even get to finish your sentence when, all at once, the air was sliced by high-pitched squeals of excitement. yunjin shrieked as if someone had proposed marriage right then and there, smacking your arm repeatedly while dramatically shielding her face like she couldn’t handle the scandal.
“you’re living in a k-drama,” kazuha declares.
“tell us more!” chaewon urges, elbows on the table, chin on hands.
you describe how after he got properly dressed and some awkward introductions, he offered to help you with your furniture delivery. what neither of you realized was that the delivery included your bed. and your couch.
“he still helped anyway,” you add with a shrug.
“okay, that’s such a green flag,” kazuha says, nodding like a proud mentor.
“and he stayed?” chaewon asks, borderline scandalized in the best way.
you nod. “he helped me build the bed, then hung around like he didn’t wanna leave. literally asked, ‘so... should i go now?’ like some puppy waiting for permission.”
the table erupts again.
“he likes you. it’s giving love at first sight,” yunjin declares, shaking your shoulders.
you laugh but internally, there’s a little flutter. maybe.
you go on to explain that he only left around 6pm. he said he got real life experience helping you since he’s studying to be an architect, too.
“architects are walking green flags. look at me. i practically photosynthesize,” yunjin jokes, flipping her hair as everyone laughs.
“and then—he said i owe him a meal.”
that was all it took to spark another round of delighted squeals and dramatic gasps that could’ve rivaled any daytime soap opera.
“girl. that man wants to see you again,” yunjin declared, nudging your arm with the enthusiasm, obviously overly invested. her eyes practically sparkled with glee.
“so,” kazuha chimed in, eyes narrowing mischievously, “what’s the plan?” she leaned forward across the table, wiggling her eyebrows like she was about to uncover a scandal.
you sighed, half amused and half helpless, leaning back in your chair as if the decision itself weighed more than it should. “that’s what i need help with. i can’t decide—do i cook for him or just ask him out?”
the table fell into a thoughtful silence, as if a panel of brunch philosophers had been summoned to debate matters of the heart.
chaewon was the first to pierce the silence, her fingers absentmindedly twirling the straw in her drink as if stirring the weight of her thoughts into the ice. her tone was smooth, almost philosophical.
“asking him out is efficient,” she said, gaze fixed on the glass as condensation slowly slid down its sides. “zero dishes. minimal emotional vulnerability. very practical.”
kazuha, ever the romantic of the group, spoke up, her eyes gleaming with soft defiance. “but cooking is more sincere,” she argued gently, a faint smile playing on her lips. “he’ll know you were thinking of him while making it. he’ll taste your effort—your heart, even. and that stays with someone.”
you looked between them, torn like a voter in the world’s smallest, weirdest debate.
before you could weigh in, yunjin, perched lazily with one leg crossed over the other, pointed a fry in your direction like it was a weapon of truth. her eyes were sharp, playful, and just the tiniest bit dangerous.
“asking him out is also direct,” she chimed in. “you don’t want to come off like you’ve already planned the honeymoon and chosen your matching tombstones.”
you choked on your sip of coffee, coughing out a laugh. “matching tombstones?”
“hey, love is eternal,” she shrugged, popping the fry into her mouth as if she hadn’t just said something entirely unhinged.
chaewon raised her brow in amused agreement, kazuha chuckled softly, while just you nodded before biting into your burger thoughtfully as the council continued debating your romantic destiny like it was a critical geopolitical decision. the buzz of the café faded into background noise beneath their animated voices.
then kazuha’s eyes lit up, a spark of brilliance in her expression that made everyone pause.
“wait,” she said slowly, dramatically, “bake something. or cook a simple dish. and then say you’re giving it to all your neighbors. like… hi-i’m-your-new-neighbor kind of thing.”
a beat of silence passed.
then yunjin exploded. “yes! plausible deniability!”
chaewon’s smirk followed a second later. “and plausible flirting,” she added, with the smugness of someone who had just solved a crossword puzzle no one else could finish.
you all burst into laughter, the kind that made your ribs ache and your eyes squint.
chaewon lifted her drink like she was toasting to fate itself. “so, there’s your answer. cook or bake, but share the love. with everyone.”
you couldn’t help it—you smiled, a little breathless from all the joy.
somewhere between the teasing and the wisdom, the decision didn’t seem so heavy anymore. maybe it didn’t matter how you did it. maybe it just mattered that you wanted to.
and now, you had a plan. or at least, a delicious excuse to make one.
as the conversation mellowed, yunjin suddenly perked up—eyes wide as though struck by a forgotten revelation.
“oh! i totally forgot to mention,” she blurted, sitting up straighter. “there’s a welcome party for the architecture department tomorrow night. you guys wanna come?”
you tilted your head, a brow slightly raised in question. “isn’t that supposed to be... exclusively for architecture students?”
yunjin waved a dismissive hand, her tone breezy. “please. it’s not like they’re checking IDs at the door and grilling people about load-bearing walls and blueprint layouts.”
her confidence was convincing—and honestly, the promise of free food, music, and mingling didn’t sound half bad. you exchanged glances with the others, and one by one, everyone gave a nod or a shrug that translated to a collective: ‘why not?’
“now,” yunjin continued, a devilish grin spreading across her face like mischief personified, “the real question is... pre-game drinking?”
you snorted. “already planning our downfall?”
“not at all,” she said, hands raised in faux innocence. “just a little warm-up. a test of our resilience. think of it as... research.”
her suggestion was met with a chorus of amused groans and delighted laughter. kazuha clapped her hands together once, dramatic as ever. “for science,” she declared solemnly.
“for survival,” chaewon added, already reaching for her drink like a toast was about to happen.
“for chaos,” you muttered under your breath, but you were smiling too.
you barely knew each other this morning, and now? it feels like you’ve been friends forever. they invite you over, and suddenly, you’re trading cappuccinos for soju and beer in their dorm room.
you laugh, you tease, you connect. social media accounts exchanged, numbers saved, secrets shared.
they beg for more jungwon stories, until yunjin remembers she’s in the architecture department’s group chat. she pulls it up and scrolls through until—there. jungwon. his profile is mostly cat photos—yami, of course—but a few rare selfies draw squeals and gasps.
“we get it now,” they say, nodding as if they’ve uncovered the final clue.
you roll your eyes, sipping your beer with a grin.
time slips away. drinks are downed, stories traded, hearts loosened. eventually, you’re tipsy—more than tipsy—but still determined to head home. something about your own bed pulls at you, familiar and grounding.
you announce your exit, telling them you're just gonna book an uber home. whether they heard you, you’ll never know.
you stumble to the elevator, barely managing to book an uber, and before long, you're in the backseat, head spinning. you try your best not to look drunk.
once home, you try to walk straight. you try. but as soon as you reach the lobby, you sit—head heavy, eyes closed.
then came the sound.
a soft, curious “meow?”
your eyes shot open.
blinking up through the fuzzy lens of intoxication, your vision slowly focused on a familiar feline—yami, your favorite fuzzy little furball. her big eyes stared down at you like she was judging your entire bloodline.
what you didn’t notice right away was the figure behind her, crouching to take a closer look at who or what caught their cat's attention. jungwon.
“y/n?” his voice held a blend of surprise and mild amusement. “what are you doing here? are you… sitting? on the lobby floor?”
but you’re laser-focused on yami as if she were the reincarnation of aristotle and you were seeking wisdom. you reached out dramatically to pick her up, arms shaky but determined. jungwon, without a word, unhooked the leash so you could cradle her against your chest.
he smiled—softly, knowingly—and gently helped you to your feet as you cooed nonsense at his cat.
“yami, you’re the softest little baby in the entire galaxy. you know that, right?” you said as you bumped your nose against hers.
jungwon watched this bizarre little interaction unfold, half entertained, half amazed by how yami actually seemed to respond to your gibberish. the cat gave small blinks, soft purrs, and the occasional tail flick that looked suspiciously like nods. you, naturally, took this as undeniable proof that she understood every word.
he supported you carefully as you made your way into the elevator, then up to the fifth floor—stumbling every few steps like you were trying to tango with gravity. he caught you each time without complaint, just laughing quietly to himself.
“you’re so wasted,” he murmured as you leaned against your apartment door, still clutching yami like a teddy bear.
you fumbled with the keypad, squinting hard at the numbers as if they were ancient runes. jungwon respectfully turned his gaze away as you typed, hands hovering just in case you tipped over like a domino.
you typed. wrong.
tried again. wrong.
“third time’s the charm,” he said, voice light.
wrong.
“...okay maybe fourth time’s the charm.”
miraculously, you nailed it on the fourth try. the door gave a gentle click, unlocking at last. had you failed one more time, the lock would’ve sealed shut until morning—an architectural betrayal that would've left you camping outside or possibly crashing at jungwon’s place. a thought that neither of you were currently prepared to explore.
you wobbled inside, headed straight for the couch, but jungwon redirected you gently, his hands warm on your shoulders.
“bed,” he said with mock sternness. “you’ll thank me tomorrow.”
you let him guide you to your bedroom like a sleep-deprived zombie carrying a cat. as soon as your body hit the mattress, you let out a happy sigh, pulling yami close. she barely protested.
jungwon noticed your shoes were still on. with quiet precision, he knelt down, unlaced them, and set them neatly beside your bed. you squirmed under the blankets, murmuring something sweet to yami, then proceeded to plant an entire flurry of kisses across her furry face until your eyelids grew too heavy and sleep won.
your grip on her relaxed, and she wriggled free, hopping towards the edge of the bed with regal grace. she padded over to jungwon, looking up at him with an expression that could only be translated as, i have fulfilled my duties. the human is asleep.
he chuckled, gave her a few gentle head pats, then bent slightly. “come on,” he whispered.
as if understanding the command, yami leapt onto his shoulder like a pirate’s parrot, curling into her favorite perch.
he glanced back at you once more. your face was peaceful, a slight smile resting on your lips as if you were dreaming something good.
he smiled, too.
then he quietly stepped out, returned to his own apartment, and let out a soft laugh the moment the door clicked shut behind him.
“what a night,” he muttered, shaking his head as he made his way to his room.
he flicked on the light and turned to yami, only to freeze. red pinkish smudges marked her face like she’d survived a lipstick explosion. upon closer inspection—no, not smudges. kiss prints. bold, unapologetic, affectionate chaos all over her fur.
“oh my god,” jungwon burst out laughing, grabbing his phone and snapping a few quick photos. the sight was too good not to capture.
jungwon:
sent a photo
you were completely wasted last night. yami’s now emotionally scarred 🤣
he stared at the screen for a beat longer than necessary, his smile lingering.
the memory played again in his mind—you, stumbling but happy, doting on yami like she was royalty. it was absurd. it was endearing. it was… weirdly adorable.
he flopped onto his bed, yami jumping down beside him. he reached over and gently stroked her fur, tracing the lipstick prints one by one, careful not to smudge them.
“we’ll wash those off tomorrow,” he murmurs. and then, quietly, almost without meaning to, “you’re so lucky.”
the words startled him. lucky?
his brows furrowed.
‘what do you mean she’s lucky?’
did he mean… he wanted kisses too?
his hand froze mid-stroke. the thought tumbled through his brain, refusing to settle. he shook his head quickly, as if to physically remove the idea, then got up and wandered to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
once changed into comfortable clothes, he returned to bed—but sleep wouldn’t come. not when he keeps thinking about you, and that ridiculous, lovely thought he had.
every time he closed his eyes, your face popped into his thoughts. your smile. your slurred voice. the way you clung to yami like she was your lifeline. and the whisper he’d accidentally let slip.
he turned over, groaning into his pillow.
what was wrong with him?
why did it bother him this much?
he was utterly, maddeningly confused.
meanwhile, just next door, you were curled up in your bed, dreaming peacefully about yami—possibly a dream where she wore a crown and spoke fluent english. your smile was soft, serene.
while jungwon wrestled with the battlefield of his thoughts, your mind floated somewhere in cotton candy skies, completely unaware of the storm you’d left behind.
#⠀OO4⠀:⠀VERY CONFUSED CAT.
you groaned, your limbs tangled in the sheets as you twisted on your bed. the early morning light pierced through the curtains, far too bold for your pounding head to handle. with a reluctant sigh, you forced yourself into a sitting position, only for your skull to retaliate—throbbing with the wrath of a hangover earned from last night's recklessness.
a small whimper escaped your lips as you surrendered to the mattress again, fingers reaching blindly for your phone. it was an innocent enough gesture, just to check the time—but the screen lit up with a message that made your stomach drop faster than gravity ever could.
a photo, courtesy of jungwon.
yami, his cat, stared into the camera with wide, soul-wounded eyes. her entire face—no, canvas—was decorated with chaotic splashes of your lipstick. underneath the photo, a message read: you were completely wasted last night. yami’s now emotionally scarred.
you gasped and sat bolt upright, momentarily forgetting the hangover as horror flushed through your veins. the headache may have lingered, but the drunken haze was instantly gone, replaced by a sharp and excruciating clarity: you did that.
you groaned into your hands, your feet kicking at the blanket and pillows in shame. you didn’t remember the full details, but one thing was certain—jungwon had witnessed the unfiltered, chaotic version of you last night. yami too, apparently.
riddled with embarrassment, you began furiously typing an apology to jungwon, fingers dancing across the screen in a desperate plea for forgiveness.
you:
if i offended you, annoyed you, scarred your soul, or traumatized your cat... i’m so sorry 😩
after hitting send, you tossed your phone onto the bed like it had personally betrayed you, dragging yourself out of bed. the mere thought of running into jungwon in the corridor or lobby made your soul physically try to flee your body.
as you stood, your eyes caught something on the floor—your shoes and socks, placed neatly by your bedside. a small smile tugged at your lips despite just feeling shocked a few seconds ago.
“he even took off my shoes and socks?” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. the thought made you chuckle, albeit with a hand covering your face in secondhand embarrassment.
is he an angel? or just terrifyingly responsible?
you padded back to your bed, picked up your phone again, and sent another message—this time more composed. “thank you for taking care of me last night. i really appreciate it.” then you placed the phone screen-down on your bedside table, exhaling slowly before heading into the bathroom to begin your morning routine.
meanwhile, in the apartment next door, jungwon hadn’t slept a wink.
he was sprawled across his bed, tossing and turning, only to jolt slightly when his alarm went off with a shrill beep. groaning, he reached for his phone—only to flinch when he saw your name lighting up his screen. a new message.
he stared at it for a moment… then immediately swiped it away.
“nope,” he muttered, tossing the phone aside and dragging himself to the bathroom. he didn’t read the message. he couldn’t. not yet.
you, on the other hand, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, were immersed in weekend chores. you were humming to yourself when your phone pinged—a text from yunjin reminding you of the party tonight, complete with time and location.
you replied with a thumbs up, which in modern language meant: fine, mother.
but your brain—traitorous as always—reminded you that jungwon might also be at that party too because it’s the architecture students welcoming party.
your fingers hesitated over the screen. you typed a message asking if he’d be going—maybe even suggesting you go together but the moment you saw he hadn’t even read your earlier messages, panic kicked in.
you deleted the text before it could exist longer than necessary. that was close. the last thing you wanted was to seem desperate. he’s probably busy. maybe he’s allergic to his phone. or women. or me.
you sighed and threw yourself back into chores—mopping, wiping, reorganizing, and trying not to spiral. when you glanced at the time, you realized you had less than three hours to get ready.
hours passed, and as the clock crept closer to party time, jungwon finally opened your messages. his eyes scanned the short thank you message, but he noticed something else—missing texts. messages you had typed and unsent. a pang of guilt settled in his chest, heavier than he expected.
he typed a simple you’re welcome in reply. it felt underwhelming, but it was all he could manage.
he then stood from his bed, lazily pulling together an outfit: an off-white loose-fit long-sleeves henley, dark charcoal cargo pants, and matching off-white sneakers. he topped it off with a black cap and mask. he didn’t feel like dressing up. it was just a party. just a gathering.
he left early, texting riki that he was on his way, even though he was an hour ahead of schedule. he needed the air. the distraction. the distance.
you, on the other hand, were busy slipping into your chosen outfit—black spaghetti strap crop top, layered with a cropped off-white crochet bolero, wide-leg cargo pants, and your trusty black high-top converse. you tied your hair in a messy bun and dabbed on just enough makeup to look effortlessly cool. your crossbody sling bag hung by your side as you texted yunjin: “on my way!”
stepping into the corridor, you couldn’t help but grin. this was your first college party. a milestone.
you shot a quick message to your parents: “going out w/ yunjin and her friends tonight. will be safe, don’t worry!” their reply came fast. “have fun and take care!” their warm reply made you smile as you stepped into the elevator and booked your uber.
thirty minutes later, you arrived.
the house was buzzing with energy—people flooding in, music vibrating through the walls, neon lights flashing behind open windows. your excitement doubled.
you:
already outside
yunjin:
we’re almost there. chaewon took 300 years to get ready!
you snorted.
a few minutes later, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon spilled out of their uber, greeting you with big smiles and even bigger hugs. compliments flew in all directions—you hyped each other up like you’d just stepped onto a runway.
together, the four of you entered the house and stepped into the whirlwind of college chaos: red cups everywhere, a dj hyping the crowd, and the scent of bad decisions in the air.
you grabbed a drink, sipped cautiously, and began swaying to the beat. the girls joined you, and soon you were in the middle of the dance floor, moving to the rhythm, lost in the lights and laughter.
on the other side of the party’s chaos, jungwon found himself tucked away in a quieter room, accompanied by his high school friends, sunoo and riki. the three of them sat in a comfortable silence, though it was clear—almost palpable—that something was weighing on jungwon’s mind. his friends, ever intuitive, gave him space, allowing him a moment to breathe before prying.
“so… what’s up, man? something’s clearly messing with your head,” riki began, eyeing jungwon with a raised brow.
jungwon looked at him, exhaled a deep sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “it’s nothing, it’s just this girl—”
“i knew it,” sunoo muttered, taking a sip from his cup.
but before he could continue, the door creaked open and in walked jake and sunghoon—jake being riki’s dorm mate, and sunghoon sunoo’s. they had been introduced to jungwon just last week, and despite the newness, jungwon found them easy to get along with, like puzzle pieces that happened to fit.
“yo, y’all need to crawl out of this cave and experience the actual party.” jake said, flopping down beside sunoo.
“can’t. jungwon’s got girl problems.” sunoo quipped, taking a casual sip from his drink like a gossiping aunt.
“already? we haven’t even suffered through syllabus week yet,” sunghoon laughed, raising his cup to take a sip.
jungwon rolled his eyes and sighed. “can i just finish the story?”
the room went quiet again. riki gave sunghoon a gentle nudge, and sunghoon shrugged, now giving jungwon his full attention.
and so, jungwon spoke. he began unraveling the string of thoughts knotted in his head. he talked about you—his new neighbor. the girl who had, without warning, managed to nest herself into his mind. his cat, yami, adored you, and much to his surprise, jungwon found himself trailing close behind in affection. he mentioned how he helped you move furniture, offered a hand with decorating—even though you’d only met that very morning. more baffling to him was the way he acted. playful. flirty. as if some unspoken magnetic force was pulling him out of his usual composed self.
“wait, pause. important question,” jake interjected, eyebrows wiggling. “is she cute?” he asked, completely unfiltered.
all heads turned to jungwon, who hesitated for a second… and then nodded.
“she’s… very pretty,” he mumbled, almost like it was a secret not meant for the air.
sunoo caught the softness in his tone and let out a chuckle, shaking his head.
jungwon frowned. “what?”
“dude, come on. maybe you’ve got a little crush?” sunoo said, tilting his head.
the others nodded in agreement, their faces a blend of amusement and intrigue.
but jungwon wasn’t sold. “sunoo, you know i don’t even know what a crush feels like. i thought i knew once—but it turns out, that feeling was built on lies. empty. fake.”
his voice dropped, thick with the weight of unresolved feelings, and the alcohol slowly seeping into his bloodstream didn’t help.
“we get it, man. we’re just looking out for you,” riki said, his tone softer now, a hand resting briefly on jungwon’s shoulder. he and sunoo both knew about jungwon’s past and how much it is still affecting him until now.
jungwon didn’t say anything. he just sighed, stood up, and walked out without another word, ignoring their calls.
his feet carried him down the stairs before his mind caught up. he was heading for the exit—but then his steps halted when he saw someone familiar.
there you were.
on the dance floor, laughing with three other girls, drink in hand and spinning beneath the dizzying kaleidoscope of lights. time, it seemed, had decided to slow just for you. the rest of the room blurred like an impressionist painting, and all jungwon could see was you—dancing, alive, radiant.
he snapped out of it and turned on his heel, bolting back to the room as if trying to outrun a feeling. when he burst through the door, everyone stared.
“won, you good?” sunoo asked, rising quickly.
jungwon just shook his head and made a beeline for the balcony, where the night air welcomed him with a cool embrace. but even the wind couldn’t push away thoughts of you.
not when you looked like a dream brought to life moments ago.
he didn't even realize how late it was, it was already 3am.
he sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair, gaze drifting downward—and that’s when he saw you again.
you were stumbling out of the party, clearly tipsy, and eventually plopped yourself down on the sidewalk. jungwon’s heart clenched at the sight. instinctively, he wanted to run the other way. to hide. because whatever this feeling was—it wasn’t light. it was heavy and loud and blooming inside his chest like a fire he couldn’t put out.
but he couldn’t look away.
then came another figure—a guy. approaching you with too much intention. jungwon narrowed his eyes. he saw how you subtly leaned away, how you stood and tried to walk off—but the guy kept following.
his body moved before his brain did.
he was out the door again.
his friends, now completely lost, rushed to the balcony in time to witness jungwon stepping between you and the guy like a scene from a movie. his back to you, his voice calm but firm. the guy raised his hands in defeat and disappeared into the night.
“who is she?” riki asked, glancing around.
“that’s her,” sunoo answered.
“wait, she was at this party the whole time?” jake blinked, shocked.
they watched from above as jungwon turned to you gently, hands on your shoulders, eyes searching your face. he said something, and to everyone’s surprise, you threw your arms around his neck in a sudden, fierce hug.
jungwon froze. his arms hung awkwardly midair as his face began to heat up, turning a lovely shade of crimson. slowly, almost shyly, one hand came up to rest on your head, patting your hair while you snuggled in.
he glanced up—and saw his friends staring. they ducked too late, especially jake. riki had to pull him down.
clearly embarrassed, he covered his face with one hand. when you finally pulled away, he held you at arm’s length, scanning your face.
“y/n, do you want to go home? i can take you.”
your eyes lit up like a kid offered dessert. “what? is baron humbert von gikkingen taking me home?” you asked while looking at his outfit, it was different than usual. “why aren't you wearing your white top hat? where's your blue bow tie and brown cane?” you asked again, in a whisper this time.
jungwon blinked before chuckling softly. “oh i wanted to be comfortable tonight and yes, the baron is escorting you home. it’s way past your bedtime.”
you nodded before gasping and crossing your arms at his last sentence. “excuse you. i am a fully independent woman who owns an apartment and lives in it alone.”
you spun around with a dramatic hmph. jungwon bit down on his lip to stop from laughing.
“you’re right, i’m sorry. you're a very mature young lady. very independent. but… aren’t you also a tiny bit sleepy and dizzy?”
you nodded solemnly. “but my friends… they’re still inside. how will they get home?”
jungwon looked around, then lit up. “my friends are inside too. i’ll ask them to take care of your girls. deal?”
you hesitated, then nodded. “okay, i shall trust you, baron.”
jungwon laughed quietly. “good. let’s go.”
he pulled out his phone, booked a ride, and texted his friends that he’d be leaving. he was just about to place his phone inside his pocket when he felt a sudden weight—your head, now resting on his chest.
he gulped. cheeks burning. he looked down, your eyes closed. he debated pushing you back but… didn’t.
the uber came. “y/n… our ride’s here,” he whispered, gently helping you up and into the car. you leaned against his shoulder. again, he let you.
the ride was quick, and soon he was guiding you up to your apartment—through the lobby, into the elevator, up to the fifth floor. you struggled with your passcode, finally unlocking the door on your fourth try (again).
he walked you in, aiming for your bedroom, but you stopped—right in the kitchen.
“what’s wrong?” he asked, moving in front of you.
you didn’t answer. instead, you cupped his face.
his entire body froze.
and then… you stepped forward, and he stepped back, until his back hit the island counter. one of your hands landed beside him, the other still cradling his cheek.
“y/n… you’re drunk. you don’t know what you’re doing—maybe we should get you to bed and—”
your other hand came up, now both holding his face.
jungwon’s face was a glowing shade of red. his grip on the counter tightened like it was the only thing keeping him from combusting.
“y/n… you really need to—oh god…”
a kiss. on his cheek. then another. and another.
like how you kissed yami.
jungwon’s hand twitched and then, helplessly, found its way to your waist, his legs weakening with every kiss you give him.
but then, morality and panic tag-teamed him, he was losing control. he knew it. and you were drunk—so he shouldn’t… he couldn’t—
he gently pushed you away, guiding you into your room and under the covers, hoping that you'd immediately fall asleep once he tucked you in.
but that wasn't the case, you called out to him but he was already outside your room, the door already closed as he leaned against it when he suddenly heard a thud from inside.
he stood there for a few minutes before finally checking up on you, opening the door only to find you asleep on the floor.
jungwon stepped into the room with quiet urgency, a soft exhale slipping past his lips as he approached you. without hesitation, he lifted you up and supported you gently, guiding you to the bed with the practiced care of someone who’d done this before.
it was a scene he knew too well. a memory repeating itself, only this time it came tinged with tension—heavy, electric—and the faint sensation of your kisses still lingering all over his face.
he slid off your cropped, off-white crochet bolero from your shoulders and set it aside before laying you down with a careful kind of tenderness, as if you might shatter under his hands. his fingers moved swiftly but delicately, he adjusted your pillow beneath your head, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be in your haze of sleep. only then did he crouch at the edge of the bed to remove your shoes and socks, one by one.
a sigh escaped him—long, weary, filled with something unspoken—as his gaze settled on your sleeping form. his eyes lingered for a moment, tracing the quiet rise and fall of your chest, the soft slack in your features, peaceful and unaware. and then, without a word, he turned and walked out of your bedroom... and out of your apartment.
he paused just outside the door, drawing in a steadying breath that did little to clear his head. with slow fingers, he tapped out a message to his friends.
jungwon:
made it home.
her friends are still there, can you guys keep an eye out for them?
he didn’t care if they actually found your friends. he didn’t care if they even tried. he’d done what he came to do. now all he wanted was the comfort of solitude, the dull quiet of his apartment, and a soft bed that didn’t remind him of you.
when he finally stepped through his own front door, he spotted yami curled up on the couch, her breathing deep and even. he didn’t bother greeting her. didn’t even spare her more than a glance. the day had wrung him dry.
his feet took him straight to the bathroom.
and there, under the unforgiving light, he finally looked at himself.
his reflection stared back, a canvas of redish pink smudges and chaos. lipstick marks bloomed across his skin like bruises made of drunken desire—your desire. they were scattered across his cheek, his nose, his forehead, and most notably, his jaw. that one mark stood alone. the last place your lips had landed before he stopped you.
he stared at it, at all of them, expression unreadable. then his head bowed, eyes falling to the sink.
“why didn’t you stop her earlier?” he whispered, voice barely audible beneath the rush of water as he turned the faucet on. “you should’ve stopped her…”
his fingers hovered over his face. he didn’t want to wash it off. he didn’t know why, but the idea of erasing those marks—of erasing you—felt like losing something he hadn’t even allowed himself to want.
still, he forced his hands under the stream. he let the water run warm, and then colder, as he scrubbed your lipstick from his skin. one by one, the stains disappeared.
the disappointment hit harder than he’d expected.
he didn’t let himself sit in it. he shoved the feeling aside with the rest of the things he didn’t want to deal with, turned off the faucet, and stepped into the shower.
warm water rained down, washing away the rest of the evening. but not the thoughts.
‘i need to get away from her,’ he told himself as the water drummed softly against his skin. ‘this... this is too much.’
he nodded once, as if finalizing a plan.
‘i’m gonna start ignoring her starting tomorrow.’
and while he stood there, convincing himself of a distance he wasn’t sure he could keep, you lay soundly asleep in your bed, utterly oblivious to the walls he was building between you.
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 (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part four will be posted on wednesday! see you guys then!
also, to those who don't know who baron humbert von gikkingen is, just go to pt.2 and you'll see a picture of him there.
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?”
“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.
“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!
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.
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀14.352k
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), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, cat gets really sick, mentions of cat sickness, mentions of surgery, mentions of depression, friends panicking and being dramatic, kissing and skinship (soon), reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, part six is finally up! i hope you enjoy it—we’re getting close to the end of tcds!
i also hope this fic is a little helpful for anyone planning to adopt a cat, especially a female one. i did my best to research this illness/disease, and i really hope it helps raise some awareness.
thank you so much!
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.
#⠀OO7⠀:⠀IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH.
after the confrontation on the balcony, as the glass door closed behind you, you stepped into the stillness of your room—quiet, dim, and far too heavy for comfort. you moved on autopilot, your feet taking you to the bed where you sat slowly, almost as if sinking into the weight of your own thoughts.
you reached for your phone, cradling it in your hands as you stared at the screen. your thumb hovered over your contacts. the idea flickered in your mind—maybe you could call your friends. maybe you could ask to crash at their place. not because you didn’t want to be alone, but because being alone tonight felt a little too much like punishment.
but then guilt tiptoed in, soft and unwelcome. you remembered every time they had helped you—helping you carry your own burdens like they were weightless, never once complaining. they had been nothing but kind, offering their comfort even when you hadn’t asked for it.
and suddenly, the thought of bothering them again felt… unfair.
“they have their own lives. their own worries. you can’t keep showing up and burdening them every time something goes wrong.”
so, with a sigh, you locked your screen and placed your phone on the bedside table. you told yourself you'd be strong. just for tonight. you could handle it. you didn’t need to offload every heartache the second it showed up at your door.
but then, as if the universe had been eavesdropping, your phone began to ring.
you jumped slightly, startled by the sudden noise in the silence. your heart skipped a beat—and you hated that the first name that came to mind was jungwon.
for a brief, reckless second, you hoped it was him. calling to apologize. calling to say he didn’t mean it.
and then, in the same breath, another part of you hoped it was him just so you could decline the call and let him sit in it.
but when you looked at the screen, it wasn’t him.
it was your friends.
you let out a soft breath—half disappointment, half relief—but mostly warmth. because as much as part of you wanted it to be jungwon, a bigger part of you was grateful it wasn’t. you weren’t sure how you’d even speak to him after what he said.
you answered the call, trying to sound normal.but before you could even greet them, yunjin’s voice rushed through the speaker, laced with concern, “are you okay?”
it wasn’t even a question, not really. more like an instinct. and it caught you off guard.
you smiled faintly, that fragile kind of smile people make when they’re holding back everything. “yeah, i’m fine,” you replied.
you weren’t. and they knew it for some reason. they can feel it.
there was a short pause. and then, as if she’d read your mind through the phone, yunjin asked, “do you wanna have a sleepover at our place tonight?”
you blinked. bestie telepathy. it had to be. that uncanny ability they had to know when something was wrong—even when you tried your best to pretend otherwise.
a laugh escaped you. soft and surprised.you nodded, even though they couldn’t see you. “yeah,” you said quietly, “i’ll pack my things and be there in a bit.”
you ended the call with a soft sigh, already feeling lighter knowing that someone—no, someones—were waiting for you with open arms. with the faintest hint of urgency, you stood and began to pack a small overnight bag, not really thinking too hard about what to bring. just the essentials. maybe a little comfort.
and for some reason, you threw on a cap and pulled a mask over your face. maybe it was to hide, maybe it was to feel invisible—or maybe it was just easier not to be seen. you slipped into an oversized shirt and a pair of loose, faded jorts, comfortable, and safely unremarkable.
you stepped out of your apartment and made your way to the elevator. your mind was a little numb as you rode the elevator down to the lobby, like it hadn’t caught up to your body yet. and then the elevator doors opened with a soft ding.
voices.
chatter and familiar tones—and then you looked up.
all six of jungwon’s friends were standing there, sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung, they were talking animatedly, unaware of your presence as you stepped out quietly, head bowed as to not be seen by them as they enter the elevator.
you kept your gaze low, focused on the lobby tiles, pretending to check something on your phone, hoping they wouldn’t notice you.but then—just before the elevator doors began to slide shut—you heard sunoo’s voice drift out.
“you know how jungwon can be… he takes everything too seriously. if something goes wrong, he’ll find a way to blame himself—even when it’s not his fault. he’s always been like that, ever since his parents—”
click.
the elevator swallowed the rest of the sentence, the soft whoosh of the doors cutting off the words like a curtain falling.
you stood frozen in place, staring at the closed doors as if they might reopen and finish the sentence for you. you weren’t trying to eavesdrop—well, maybe you were—but you hadn’t expected to catch something so personal.
a knot twisted in your chest. you didn’t know the full story, and now you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. not like this. not overheard in a lobby with your heart still tender from the weight of what happened earlier.
you shook your head slightly, as if to clear it, then pulled out your phone and called for an uber. no more lingering. you had somewhere warmer to be.
twenty minutes later, you stood in front of your friends’ dorm, and as soon as the door opened, a wave of warmth rushed over you—not just from the actual temperature, but from the way their faces lit up.
“you’re here!” yunjin beamed, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of vanilla lotion and shampoo.
“about time,” chaewon teased, nudging you playfully before tugging you further inside.
arms wrapped around you, voices overlapped in a chorus of “are you okay?” and “you hungry?” and “we saved the comfiest blanket for you,” and you couldn’t help but smile through the sudden tenderness building in your throat.
kazuha appeared from the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other. “go change into pajamas, we’ll set everything up.”
you nodded gratefully and slipped into yunjin’s room, trading your oversized shirt and jorts for soft cotton pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks that didn’t match—but felt like home anyway.
when you walked back out, the living room had transformed. the couch was already claimed by a pile of blankets and pillows, a nest of comfort. the television was on, netflix already open, and your friends were scrolling through a seemingly endless sea of thumbnails.
“we’re debating between trashy romance or murder documentary,” chaewon said, holding up the remote.you smiled—genuinely, this time—and settled in beside them, letting yourself exhale.
for the first time that day, you weren’t thinking about jungwon.
you were just here.
you were safe.
meanwhile, just a wall away from your apartment—jungwon lay stretched across his couch, motionless, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. his gaze was fixed on the ceiling above, as if it might hold the answers he didn’t have the strength to ask for. nestled on top of him, yami, purred softly, her tiny chest rising in tandem with his. she was the only thing grounding him at the moment.
his friends sat scattered around the living room, their usual energy dulled into quiet concern. it wasn’t often that jungwon looked this defeated. yes, jungwon has been feeling down lately but not like this and it made the air feel heavier than it should.
sunoo, who had been chewing on the inside of his cheek for the past five minutes, finally couldn’t take the silence anymore. he shifted in his seat, then threw a look toward jay and heeseung—an expression that practically screamed, ‘say something, you idiots. tell him he got it all wrong at the library.’
heeseung caught the glance and sighed, straightening up from his spot. he cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “uh, jungwon… about what happened earlier.” he began slowly, cautiously, like someone trying not to set off an emotional landmine. “i had no idea there was a plan, alright? because someone—” he paused, turning to shoot a pointed look at jay, who was already shrinking under the weight of his own guilt, “—forgot to tell me.”
jay gave a sheepish little wave, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like an apology.
heeseung went on, “i swear, i only see y/n as, like… a little sister. and maybe our club’s future secretary if she ever stops pretending she’s not qualified. that’s all. i promise.”
they all waited for jungwon’s response, half-expecting an explosion, or at least a grumble. instead, he just let out a breath and murmured, “it’s all good, man. that’s not even the problem anymore.”
the room paused—time itself almost felt like it held its breath. even yami blinked slowly.
jay leaned forward, his voice suddenly full of that naive, eager hope only jay could pull off. “wait, but we could totally fix this, right? like, plan something new again? dramatic surprise? maybe balloons? a flash mob?” he was clearly trying to lighten the mood, maybe even pull a smile from jungwon.
but jungwon just sat up, gently lifting yami off his chest and setting her down beside him. he looked around at all six of his friends, then shook his head.
“unless any of you know how to go back in time and tell past me to shut up, then no. there’s no fixing this.”
they all blinked.
“won,” riki finally spoke, voice soft but steady, “what… what do you mean?”
jungwon exhaled again—long, slow, and bone-deep. then he began to recount everything that happened on the balcony. every word, every silence, every painful truth that had slipped past his lips too quickly. how your eyes had dimmed, not with anger, but something worse—disappointment. and how the door had closed behind you like a final page turning.
by the time he finished, the room was completely still. and then, like a wave breaking, a collective groan escaped from the group.
sunghoon threw his head back on the couch dramatically. “dude, why did you say that?”
“it just came out,” jungwon muttered, his voice small, almost boyish. “i didn’t mean any of it. but she was being honest and i—i couldn’t. i didn’t know how.”
his friends didn’t say much. they didn’t need to. they were disappointed, yes—but not at him. not really. they knew this was coming.
jungwon had been bottling up everything for so long—feelings he didn’t understand, guilt he couldn’t name, a fear of being vulnerable that had grown roots in the quiet corners of his mind. they had all seen it brewing like a storm. they just hadn’t expected him to break right there, right in front of you.
and the worst part? he knew he had no one to blame but himself.
once both friend groups were updated on what had gone down between you and jungwon, an unspoken tension settled over campus like a thin layer of frost. no one addressed it directly, but it was there—lingering in the air, cold and undeniable.
even brief glimpses in the corridor turned into emotionally charged encounters. whenever you or your friends crossed paths with jungwon’s group, the mood would shift immediately. smiles disappeared, footsteps quickened, and side-eyes became the norm.
your friends were the type to protect their own with quiet loyalty and sharp glares. the mere sight of jungwon was enough to make yunjin’s jaw tighten, and kazuha’s eyebrows would pull together in silent disapproval. they didn’t need to speak for you to know—they were mad on your behalf.
but it wasn’t just awkward glances and distant stares.
sunoo and riki were struggling the most.
they had close ties with chaewon and kazuha through their shared courses—bonds that had once been easy, playful, and filled with casual banter. now? those friendships were strained at the seams, caught in the crossfire of someone else’s mistake.
sunoo, who once was part of the same friend group as chaewon in their course, now tiptoed around her presence. sometimes, he’d catch himself lingering a little too long near her desk, only to retreat the moment she turned her head—like a guilty puppy caught chewing on something he shouldn’t.
riki wasn’t much better. he used to be kazuha’s go-to dance partner, their synchronicity well-known among their classmates. but now, he’d sit two seats away during practice, pretending the distance didn’t feel strange. he missed the shared laughs, the impromptu freestyle battles—but pride and guilt tangled around his feet like invisible chains.
jungwon, on the other hand, had always maintained a polite distance from yunjin, even though they shared the same course. but lately, he could feel her eyes burning holes into the back of his head during lectures. her anger was subtle, controlled, but sharp enough to cut. and he didn’t resent her for it—not even a little. if anything, he agreed with her. he was the one who screwed up. he was the reason for all of this.
almost two months had passed since that night on the balcony. two months, and the wound was still raw.
then, one afternoon, the tension cracked—just a little.
sunoo had gathered enough courage to approach chaewon after class. he looked nervous, fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag as he trailed behind her down the hallway.
“hey, chaewon…” he called softly, tentative, like her name might shatter if he said it too loud.she didn’t slow down, didn’t look back.
“look, i—i just wanted to say sorry about jungwon, okay? not for him. i mean—i know i can’t speak for him but—i just feel bad about everything.”
chaewon finally stopped.
she didn’t turn around. didn’t soften. she simply adjusted the strap on her shoulder, her voice calm but firm.
“if you’re here just to apologize for your friend’s behavior,” she said, “then don’t bother.”
sunoo froze. he felt his chest tighten, like her words had hit him square in the sternum.
she glanced over her shoulder at last, her expression unreadable. “he should be the one apologizing to our friend. not you. and he can’t keep hiding forever.”
and with that, she walked off, her head held high. not a single backward glance.
sunoo stood there for a while, staring down at the floor, the weight of her words pressing into him like gravity.
because deep down… he knew she was absolutely right.
while your friends stayed busy holding grudges on your behalf—wearing their loyalty like armor—you simply kept living.
you called your parents often, keeping them updated on the ordinary parts of your life: school, projects, the occasional grocery mishap. but you never mentioned jungwon. you tucked that chapter of your heart away, sealed under the phrase: it’s not important anymore.
you went out more. dinners with friends, lazy movie nights in their dorm, laughter that bubbled louder when the drinks came out. life, though tender and bruised, went on.
still, not everything had changed.
yami, jungwon’s fluffball of a calico cat, never stopped visiting you. if anything, she seemed to come more often—as if she sensed something fractured and chose to continue visiting you anyway. and you welcomed her with open arms every time.
eventually, you even installed a little cat door beside your balcony slider, just for her. a tiny passage so she can go in and out anytime. you stocked up on food and water dispensers, bought her a cushy bed that looked way too expensive for a cat, and threw in a few plush toys shaped like fish for good measure.
she was family now.
her owner, however, remained firmly uninvited.
but then one day, the rhythm of your soft domestic peace broke.
yami padded in as usual, her tail flicking lazily behind her. she made herself at home in her bed by the window, curling into a delicate swirl of fur and quiet purrs. you were in the kitchen, humming to yourself, stirring something warm on the stove, before settling onto one of your kitchen stools.
you turned slightly, just to check on her—as you always did. and she was there, small and still, nestled in her bed you bought for her.
you smiled. she looked impossibly precious.
“yami,” you called softly, expecting her usual chirp in return.
but nothing.
your smile faltered. yami was normally reactive, especially to your voice—chatty and bright-eyed, with a meow for everything. but today… silence.
your chest tightened. you slid off the stool and walked over, kneeling beside her bed, gently brushing your fingers over her fur. “hey, baby… you okay?”
she blinked slowly. her meow came, but it was weak—thready and too soft. she pushed herself up to lick your hand, and then, without warning, she began to vomit.
your heart jumped straight into your throat.
“oh my god,” you whispered, panic clawing at the edges of your thoughts as you cradled her trembling frame. her body slumped almost immediately after, her breath shallow, her paws twitching faintly.
you didn’t think. you moved.
grabbing your small blanket from your couch, you carefully wrapped her fragile body in it, whispering reassurances you didn’t even register as you said them.
then you ran—barefoot and breathless—out of your apartment, down the familiar hallway, across the invisible line you’d drawn between yourself and the one person you swore you wouldn’t go back to.
your fist pounded against jungwon’s door, rapid and unrelenting.
it only took seconds before you heard movement behind it, hurried footsteps on tile. the door flung open, and there he was—hair tousled, eyes wide, utterly unprepared for the sight of you.
his name caught in your throat, tangled in panic and desperation.
his gaze dropped to the bundle in your arms, and his entire expression changed—fear replacing surprise.
“y/n?” he said, voice uneven, but you couldn’t speak yet. your arms shifted to reveal yami, nestled and trembling, her meows barely audible.
tears finally spilled, hot and uninvited, as you choked out the only words that mattered:
“please… she’s not okay.”
and just like that, the silence between you shattered. not with apologies. not with explanations.
but with the shared heartbeat of two people who loved the same little creature—enough to forget the walls they’d built around themselves.
jungwon didn’t hesitate.
the moment he saw you—your tear-filled eyes, your trembling hands clutching yami wrapped in that soft blanket—he turned on his heel and sprinted back inside his apartment. the door remained flung open behind him as he grabbed the first hoodie he could reach, tossing it over his shoulders with frantic hands before hurrying back out and pulling the door shut.
“let’s go to the vet,” he said, voice tense but calm, like he was clinging to control for your sake. his eyes were locked on yami, and though his chest rose and fell quickly, he was doing everything not to spiral.
you nodded mutely, your heart thundering so loudly it drowned out your own thoughts.
he reached for yami, and you let her go, your hands lingering for a second longer on the blanket. jungwon cradled her gently, then took off toward the elevator, glancing back only once to make sure you were right behind him.
your fingers were trembling as you pulled out your phone and booked an uber, breath shaky as you tried to think straight.
the ride to the veterinary hospital was a blur—city lights rushing past the windows, your reflection staring back at you, pale and worried. jungwon was silent beside you, holding yami as if she might shatter at the slightest movement.
once you arrived, the moment you stepped through the clinic doors, both of you spoke at once.
your voices overlapped in pure chaos—words rushing out, half sentences, pleads for help, concern thick in every syllable. the poor receptionist blinked at you like you were speaking in tongues, eyebrows raised in mild alarm. she held up her hand, the universal sign for calm down, and calmly said, “you need to slow down. i can’t understand either of you if you both panic.”
you both fell silent, gulping back anxiety as she picked up the phone to call a doctor. everything moved fast after that—hands reaching, nurses in scrubs, yami whisked away through a swinging door before you could even whisper a goodbye.
you and jungwon collapsed onto the stiff plastic chairs, side by side but not speaking. there was nothing left to say. your thoughts were consumed by one small, fragile thing—would she be okay?
minutes passed like hours.
then a nurse appeared, clipboard in hand, and called out jungwon’s name. he shot to his feet before his name fully left her lips, and you followed closely behind, unsure if your legs would carry you all the way.
he reached the door to the consultation room but paused—finally turning to you, eyes softer now.
“come with me,” he said, gently. “she’s basically your cat, too.”
you blinked, surprised by the way your chest tightened at that. but you followed, no hesitation.
inside, the room was stark white, the only warmth coming from the woman sitting across from you—mid-thirties, calm-eyed, with a soft but serious voice that felt like both a warning and a balm.she didn’t waste time.
“your cat is currently suffering from pyometra,” she said, looking between you and jungwon. her tone was matter-of-fact, but not unkind. “it’s a serious, life-threatening infection of the uterus. it happens in unspayed female cats, especially as they get older. if not treated quickly, it can become very dangerous.”
jungwon’s head dropped at her words, his guilt practically radiating from him. his grip tightened on the fabric of his hoodie as he stared at the floor.
you looked at him—his eyes glassy, hands slightly trembling—and reached out, gently slipping your fingers into his. your touch was soft, deliberate. this time, it was your turn to be the calm one.
the room was quiet except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. the doctor’s expression remained composed, but kind.
“what causes it to happen?” you asked, voice steady though your chest felt tight.
the veterinarian nodded, welcoming the question. “pyometra typically occurs when a female cat goes into heat repeatedly without mating or pregnancy,” she began. “each cycle increases the production of progesterone, which thickens the lining of the uterus. over time, that lining can form cysts. and once that happens, it becomes the perfect environment for bacterial growth.”
both you and jungwon listened intently, absorbing every word. he gripped your hand tighter with each sentence, as if your shared touch was the only thing anchoring him in the moment.
“there are two kinds of pyometra,” she continued. “the first is open pyometra, which presents with noticeable symptoms—pus or discharge leaking from the vulva. it’s alarming, but easier to catch. the second is closed pyometra—far more dangerous. there’s no visible discharge. all the infection is trapped inside the body, which can lead to sepsis or organ failure if untreated.”
she paused for a breath, her gaze turning somber.
“because of yami’s long fur, her symptoms were hidden. it’s a textbook case of closed pyometra.”
jungwon let out a low sigh, barely audible, but you felt it through the way his shoulders dropped and his fingers pressed harder into yours. you instinctively started stroking the back of his hand, slow and comforting, trying to ease the panic rising in him.
“the only way to save her life is immediate surgery,” the vet added, her voice gentle but unflinchingly honest. “we don’t have the luxury of time. i need your permission to proceed.”
she glanced between you both, empathy written across her features.
“i want to be transparent—there are risks,” she said. “especially considering she’s already weak. but doing nothing would be far more dangerous.”
for a moment, the silence was so thick it nearly suffocated you.
then the veterinarian posed her final question, calm but expectant. “do i have your permission to perform emergency surgery on yami?”
you turned your head toward jungwon. his eyes met yours—feeling guilty, desperate, and shimmering with hope. there was no hesitation between you. you both looked at the vet at the same time, hearts aligned.
“please save her,” you said in unison, voices soft but resolute.
the vet smiled gently, touched by your unity. “thank you for trusting us,” she said with a nod. “we’ll take good care of her. i’ll have you sign the consent form with my secretary. and we’ll update you throughout the surgery.”
she stood and extended her hand. you both rose and shook it, one after the other, feeling like you were handing over a piece of your hearts along with it.
then she exited the room, leaving you and jungwon standing side by side, hands still clasped—unspoken worry and fragile hope binding you together.
you both sat back down, the silence settling once more between you like a familiar fog. it wasn't until the soft creak of the office door opening that either of you realized—your hands were still intertwined.
the secretary stepped inside, making both of you release each other's hands, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor. she offered a warm smile, the kind that held a trace of amusement. she had clearly noticed the subtle way your fingers immediately slipped apart, almost guiltily, as if touch itself was forbidden.
“good evening,” she greeted, her tone professional yet light. “i’m doctor kim’s secretary. i have the consent form here—one of you will need to sign.”
she placed the paper gently on the table, her eyes flickering between the two of you. there was a slight quirk at the corner of her lips, almost playful.
“so,” she asked, “who’s signing? the boyfriend or the girlfriend?”
that one question seemed to short-circuit both of your systems.
your faces flushed almost simultaneously, heat blooming from your cheeks to your ears. you shook your head quickly and pointed toward jungwon, who at the exact same time shook his own head and pointed to himself.
“i’m the owner,” jungwon said quickly, trying to steady his voice, “but she helps a lot with taking care of my cat.”
you nodded, eyes lowering slightly.
“he’s not my boyfriend,” you added in a murmur, your tone a whisper of disappointment laced with something unspoken. regret, perhaps.
the secretary smiled knowingly but didn’t press further. she slid the form gently toward jungwon, who signed it without hesitation, murmuring a quiet “thank you” before she exited the room and left the two of you alone once again.
after a few more minutes of staying inside doctor kim's office, you and jungwon finally decided to step out of the office together. the air in the hallway felt colder now, like the gravity of the situation had truly settled into your bones.
without speaking, the two of you moved through the softly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing faintly against the linoleum floor. you walked side by side, close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed, but not quite.
you found a small row of chairs positioned just outside the emergency room—sterile, uncomfortable things that looked like they had weathered years of worried visitors. but you didn’t care.
you both sat but this time, you didn’t sit as closely. a single empty chair separated you—a quiet, awkward little space that neither of you had the courage to cross. you sat in silence, both of your minds full of worry for yami, who was now being prepped for emergency surgery. all you could do was wait, and hope.
jungwon’s eyes shifted subtly in your direction. he took in the curve of your shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of your breath… and then his eyes dropped to your bare feet.
he blinked, surprised.
without a word, he stood up and approached the receptionist’s desk with gentle urgency, asking quietly if they had spare slippers. she pointed him toward a cabinet near the hallway. he nodded, thanked her, and returned with a small pair in hand.
you looked up, confused. and then you stilled.
he was kneeling in front of you.
“jungwon—”
but he didn’t let you finish. he gently took your foot into his hand, his touch tender and reverent. he dabbed at your skin with a tissue, wiping away the dust and dirt that had clung on your feet, more worried about yami than your own feet. you watched him—watched the quiet concentration on his face, the soft furrow of his brow as though this small act held the weight of the world.
he slipped the slippers onto your feet carefully, like it was second nature.
you could’ve stopped him. you probably should’ve. but being this close to him again made your heart ache in ways you didn’t expect. it felt right—dangerously right.
like he was meant to be there. kneeling before you, caring for you. as if his hands were carved to fit yours, his presence molded to exist beside yours.even earlier, when you held hands in the doctor’s office—it had felt so effortless, so natural. like your fingers were never meant to let go.
and for a moment, in the middle of a cold veterinary hospital with antiseptic in the air and worry in your chest, you just wanted time to stop for the both of you.
“thank you,” you whispered, voice fragile as glass, barely making it past your lips.
jungwon looked up, startled, as if your words had pulled him from some invisible fog. for a second, he forgot how to breathe. you were so close—closer than you’d been in months—and in the gentle lighting of the waiting room, with the worry still clinging to your lashes and your voice soft from the weight of fear, you looked devastatingly beautiful. it hit him all at once, like a memory he hadn’t been ready to remember: how much he missed you.
“you’re welcome,” he murmured, voice low, almost careful. he pulled himself back, settling into his chair again, a single chair between the two of you—as if that distance might protect the both of you from the things you still hadn’t said.
but the silence didn’t last long.
you looked down at your hands and suddenly, without warning, the dam broke. tears welled up and spilled over, soft and trembling, like a storm finally surrendering to the sky. it caught you off guard—how your panic, fear, and helplessness all swelled at once and poured out like a flood.
jungwon froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide with concern. and then instinct took over.
he scooted closer, occupying the only space that was keeping both of you apart. there was hesitation in his fingertips as he tried to decide whether to reach for your hand, your back—anywhere that might tell you you weren’t alone. but in the end, he simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently into his chest.
“i was so scared,” you breathed against the fabric of his hoodie, your voice trembling with each word. “i thought… i thought she might actually die. i thought it was my fault…”
your fingers clenched the soft cotton of his hoodie, and his arms tightened around you in return. he rested his chin lightly against the top of your head, his other hand smoothing through your hair with soft, comforting strokes.
“no,” he said quietly, firmly. “it’s not your fault. you did everything right. you saved her. if anything, it's my fault for not noticing.”
you shook your head against him, tears still falling. “i didn’t mean to sound like i'm blaming you… i wasn’t trying to say it like that,” you whispered through shaky sobs.
that surprised him more than anything. he pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face, cupping your cheeks delicately with both hands. his thumbs gently wiped away the trails of your tears, and his brows furrowed with something achingly tender.
“hey, no, no. i know,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “i didn’t take it that way. i promise. i just… i feel responsible, too. since i'm her owner.”
he leaned forward and wrapped you in his arms again, holding you tighter this time. no hesitation. no distance. just two hearts, bruised but still beating, finally leaning on each other after carrying too much for too long.
for a while, neither of you spoke. there was only the sound of soft breathing, the occasional sniffle, and the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above you. outside the room, the world continued on—but in that moment, it felt like everything had paused to give you both space to feel, to heal, and to simply be.
as the storm of panic finally began to subside, the two of you remained entwined in silence, neither rushing to break the fragile calm that had settled between your bodies. jungwon still had one arm gently wrapped around your shoulder, his free hand absentmindedly playing with your fingers—tracing the lines on your palm like he was trying to memorize them. his cheek rested against the crown of your head, as if anchoring himself to you, steadying the both of you in this unfamiliar stillness.
you, in turn, had your head nestled into the curve of his shoulder, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his hoodie. the scent of him was oddly comforting. you toyed with his hand, letting your fingertips dance over his knuckles, occasionally brushing against his wrist.
neither of you spoke, content in the silence, until jungwon’s voice broke through—soft and careful, like he was afraid even his words might cause the moment to vanish.
“are you okay now?” he asked quietly.
you didn’t answer with words—just shook your head, slowly, before inching closer into his warmth. jungwon exhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes for a moment, biting down gently on his lower lip in an attempt to stop the smile that tugged at his mouth. he didn’t move. he just let you curl into him, closer than ever.
you tilted your head, voice muffled slightly by his shoulder. “how long do you think the surgery will last?”
he glanced at the sterile wall clock before replying. “maybe an hour? give or take?”
you fumbled for your phone and lit up the screen. “we’ve only been here for, like, forty… fifty minutes tops,” you murmured before locking the screen again and slipping it back into your pocket. “feels like forever.”
jungwon chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “hospital time doesn’t follow normal rules. every minute here is at least ten emotionally.”
he looked down at you then, his gaze soft, his voice laced with gentle concern. “are you hungry?”
you met his eyes, and suddenly the space between you two felt smaller than before. you both noticed, both blushed, but neither moved away.
“i’m okay. not really hungry,” you murmured. “let’s wait until we know yami’s surgery went well. i wouldn’t be able to eat anyway.”
you returned to your position against his shoulder, and he, without thinking, rested his cheek once again on top of your head, his fingers now absentmindedly drawing slow circles on your arm.
“y/n,” he began, a tentative breath in his voice, “i know this might be a really bad time but—”
“can we just… stay like this a little longer?” you interrupted, so softly it almost dissolved into the silence.
your voice trembled just slightly—not enough for him to call it out, but enough for him to notice. you weren’t ready. not yet. not for that conversation. not for the words you were scared he might say.
because part of you feared the apology that might come, feared the reopening of a wound just barely scabbing over. but another part of you—small and stubborn—still wanted to hear it, to believe him, to accept the possibility that maybe things could still mend.
so you stayed in his arms, pretending you were only waiting for news about a cat, when in truth, you were waiting for courage.
after several more minutes wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, the sterile, metallic sound of a door swinging open cut through the quiet. doctor kim emerged from the surgery room, peeling off her gloves and removing her mask, and the sound startled both of you back into reality.
instinctively, you pulled away from one another—hands slipping apart as you both stood up in unison. without needing to speak, you both hurried toward her.
“doctor kim?” jungwon’s voice came out softer than he probably intended, laced with a kind of quiet desperation.
she looked up, met both your eyes, and offered a reassuring smile—the kind that lifted the weight off your chest before she even said anything.
“the surgery went well,” she said gently, her voice calm and clear. “she’s stable, but we’ll need to keep her here for observation over the next few days. you’ll be able to see her shortly, just give us a few minutes to settle her in.”
a collective breath you didn’t realize you were holding left your lungs. jungwon, too, visibly relaxed, his shoulders finally lowering from where they’d been tensed up to his ears.
“thank you—really, thank you so much,” you both said, voices overlapping, gratitude spilling out from the both of you like it couldn’t be contained.
as doctor kim walked away, a grin bloomed across jungwon’s face, mirrored perfectly by your own. your hearts were light again, like someone had flipped the world right-side up.
without thinking, you raised both hands, fingers spread in celebration. “high five?” you grinned.
jungwon mirrored you, and the moment your palms met with a satisfying slap, he let out a breathless laugh—and then, very dramatically, slumped forward against you, nearly falling into your arms.
you let out a startled chuckle as you caught him. “whoa! hey—are you okay?”
he nodded, still laughing as he clung to you like he hadn’t realized just how much tension had been holding him up. “i’m fine. just… adrenaline crash, i think.”
he buried his face into your shoulder, still chuckling softly.
you tilted your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. “did you just get weak in the knees? seriously?”
his voice came muffled through your hoodie. “excuse me, but my daughter was just in surgery.”
you burst out laughing at that, the weight of the last hour finally melting into something warm and light and full of life. “your daughter?”
he lifted his head just enough to give you a mock-offended look. “yes. my fluffy, dramatic, calico daughter.” he said, which only made you laugh harder.
and there you stayed—arms wrapped around each other, hearts still racing, breaths still syncing. at some point, it stopped being about holding him up and became something else entirely. something unspoken, something neither of you wanted to end.
you weren’t just holding each other anymore. you were holding peace, holding relief, holding the quiet joy that came after surviving something scary—together.
the silence between you had settled into something almost comfortable—soft, fragile, like a delicate thread neither of you wanted to break. but then, jungwon’s voice came, barely more than a breath against the air between you.
“i want to be friends again,” he whispered.
your fingers, resting lightly on the fabric of his hoodie, instinctively gripped a little tighter. the words caught you off guard—not because they were unexpected, but because of how quietly and vulnerably he’d said them.
you stayed still, giving him space to speak, to unravel the rest of what was clearly weighing on him.
“i know i probably don’t deserve a place in your life anymore,” he continued, his voice tinged with guilt, “not after the things i said. but i…”
he paused, and you tilted your head, curiosity pulling at your thoughts.
“you what?” you asked, your voice soft, patient, but laced with something inquisitive—like you were leaning into the edge of a door that had been closed for too long.
“i missed you.”
three simple words. soft, sincere, and completely disarming. they slipped past his lips with a kind of quiet desperation, and the moment they reached you, you felt your cheeks burn in response, a warm blush rising like dawn beneath your skin.
he glanced at you, and his next words came almost as a plea. “i missed you… and i’m really sorry for what i did. i mean it. i won’t do it again. i promise. please forgive me y/n.”
you let out a small sigh—not one of frustration, but of release. your hand gently moved across his back in slow, soothing circles as you finally spoke.
“i missed you too,” you said softly, and this time, it was his turn to be surprised. you felt the tension in his shoulders shift as your words sunk in, followed almost immediately by the warmth of his arms tightening around you.
he clung to you a little closer, his heart probably pounding just like yours.
“you won’t avoid me again?” you asked, your tone gentle but teasing, eyes glancing at him, his chin resting against your shoulder.
he nodded instantly, eager. “never again.”
“and you won’t say any more mean things to me?”
another quick nod. “i won’t. promise.”
you let the silence stretch just a bit longer before smiling. “okay,” you whispered. “i forgive you. we can be friends again.”
you felt him melt against you, his voice muffled as he murmured a series of grateful little thank-you’s and i'm-sorry’s against your shoulder, like he was afraid you’d take it back if he let go.
a grin tugged at your lips. “so… are you buying me dinner later?”
he pulled back just enough to look at you, a chuckle escaping him—relieved, amused, and affectionate all at once. “of course. anything you want.”
you raised a brow. “anything?”
“well… maybe not anything today,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping onto his face. “i mean, i still have to survive paying for yami’s hospital bills. emotional damage and financial ruin—i’m really hitting the jackpot today.”
he let out a soft laugh, embarrassed but trying to play it cool, his eyes flickering toward yours with a quiet hope that you’d find it a little funny too.
you laughed, the sound light and real. and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like you were tiptoeing around what had been broken. instead, it felt like maybe, just maybe, something was starting to mend.
“okay, fine. we’ll save the luxurious cravings for another time,” you said, your voice soft with a playful hum. he smiled gently, still holding you in a loose embrace, tilting his head as if waiting patiently for you to announce your dinner wish like your lives depended on it.
“i’m kinda craving jjapaghetti and jjapaguri,” you admitted, eyes narrowing slightly as you imagined the taste. he nodded slowly, like a fellow soldier understanding your hunger on a spiritual level.
“now that you mention it… i kinda miss jjapaghetti and jjapaguri too,” he replied thoughtfully. “which one should i buy? or should i buy both?”
you blinked, suddenly shifting into serious mode, like you were about to defend your thesis on instant noodles. “okay, so—jjapaghetti is really good, but it does have this subtle bitterness at the end. jjapaguri, on the other hand, skips the bitterness altogether, but it’s a bit pricier.”
he listened as if the fate of his dinner truly depended on your wisdom.
“so should we just buy jjapaghetti instead?” he asked, genuinely weighing his options.
“yep. it’s less expensive,” you said with a cheeky grin, “and let’s be honest—you’re already broke.”
he pulled back from the hug slightly, eyebrows raised, placing a hand over his heart like you just wounded him. “hey, i’m not broke.”
“not yet,” you quipped, grinning wider.
he shook his head, laughing quietly, the kind of laughter that spills out when you’re genuinely happy and maybe a little smitten. the banter wrapped around the two of you like a bubble, light and warm, until a quiet voice gently popped it.
“um… i hope i’m not interrupting,” said a familiar tone. both of you turned just in time to see doctor kim’s secretary standing nearby, clearly trying her best not to look like she’d walked in on something intimate for the second time.
you both quickly pulled away from each other, faces heating up as she continued, “but you can now visit yami.”
“thank you,” you both blurted in unison, hurriedly bowing your heads in gratitude.and without another word, the two of you practically bolted—racing down the corridor, not just to see yami, but also to escape the undeniable embarrassment of being caught once again, now mid-hug… by the same person.
you both heard it—the soft, unmistakable giggle of the secretary trailing behind you like a teasing breeze. it was subtle, but enough to turn both your cheeks redder. your reactions had clearly entertained her, and the realization only made your embarrassment bloom deeper.
but there wasn’t time to dwell on that. the moment you reached the room where yami was being kept, your footsteps slowed and your voices hushed into reverence. you both instinctively moved to her side, your eyes falling on her small, unconscious figure lying peacefully on the hospital bed.
and just like that, the laughter from moments ago vanished.
neither of you dared to touch her. it wasn’t fear exactly—more a deep and aching respect. she had just survived surgery, her tiny body still recovering. one wrong move felt like it could shatter the fragile peace of her sleep. so instead, you both stood there in silence, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as if it were the most sacred thing in the world.
jungwon was the first to speak, his voice no louder than a whisper. he leaned in slightly and murmured soft, sweet words into the space between him and yami.
“you did so well, my brave little girl…” he said, eyes glistening with both pride and guilt. “i’m so sorry i didn’t realize something was wrong sooner.”
his words weren’t just for her—they were an apology etched with quiet regret, offered to a friend, a companion, a daughter in fur.
you watched him, heart aching and full, before sitting down beside him. the two of you began to softly talk, your voices wrapped in the stillness of the hospital room. you discussed logistics, trying to build a schedule around your mismatched university lives—two different majors, different class times, different days of availability. yet somehow, in this moment, it felt like you were a perfect team.
you negotiated who would visit in the mornings and who would cover the evenings. jungwon insisted on taking the weekends. you agreed on everything with surprising ease.
eventually, it was time to let yami rest in peace and healing. you whispered one last goodbye, gently promising to return soon, before slipping out of the hospital and into the comforting hum of the night.
a few blocks away, the soft yellow glow of a convenience store pulled you in like a familiar friend. the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you wandered through the aisles, finally remembering that jungwon had promised to buy you dinner. you were actually just joking about making him buy you dinner.
he noticed when you instinctively pulled out your phone to pay, and with a chuckle, reached over to stop you.
“ah-ah, no cheating. this one’s on me, remember?” he said, grinning as he took your items from your hands and placed them on the counter.
you pouted in protest but let him win this round.
the cashier looked at the two of you—your teasing, your easy laughter, the way you hovered near each other like planets in orbit—and let out a sigh so deep it might’ve reached the freezer section. clearly, he’d witnessed one too many lovebirds tonight.
jungwon thanked him anyway and led you to a small table just outside, where the evening air was cool but gentle. he took your jjapaghetti and his, insisting on cooking them himself at the store’s instant noodle station.
“sit. i’ll take care of it,” he said, rolling up his sleeves like a man on a mission.
you watched him from the table, arms resting on the surface, chin in your hand, amusement dancing in your eyes. the way he moved—slightly awkward but determined—made your chest feel oddly warm. it was like he was trying to patch up every crack between you two, one act of care at a time.
when he returned, he had two perfectly cooked bowls in his hands, the noodles expertly mixed and steaming. he even bought both of you boiled eggs.
you took yours with a small smile.
and just like that, the conversation began to flow—light, effortless, and full of the kind of laughter that only comes after tears.
you both talked for what felt like hours—conversation flowing as naturally as breath, like no time had passed at all since you last truly talked to each other.
you traded stories about university life, swapping updates on the chaos of lectures, grumbling about professors who seemed to enjoy assigning misery disguised as coursework, and laughing over just how many assignments you'd both had to juggle. midterms were creeping in like an unwelcome guest, and naturally, the mutual panic came with it.
“i swear my brain physically rejects information after 10 p.m.,” you sighed dramatically, and jungwon snorted in agreement, nodding as though you'd just spoken a universal truth.
after that night, things didn’t just go back to normal—they evolved. the late-night meetups continued, and the hospital visits turned into a shared routine. together, you took turns watching over yami, your fluffy little patient, as she slowly recovered under your care.
when she was finally discharged, you both made a quiet, unspoken agreement—this bond you had rekindled wasn’t going to fade again.
somewhere along the way, you found yourselves exchanging apartment passcodes. it started with practicality.
“since yami will be recovering in your place, it just makes sense if i can get in when you're not home,” you told him, casually typing his code into your notes app.
but for some reason, something tugged at you, something inexplicable. before you could second guess it, you found yourself grabbing jungwon's phone and typing in your own code for him.
“just in case of emergencies,” you mumbled with an awkward chuckle, barely meeting his eyes.
jungwon blinked at you, surprised. there was a beat of silence before he sighed—half amused, half endeared—and nodded.
“got it. emergencies,” he said with a knowing smirk, and just like that, you had each other’s doors.
of course, neither of you abused the privilege. jungwon would never just barge in unannounced, and neither would you. whenever you needed to come by, you made sure to check in first—typically over chat.
you:
hey, are you out already?
jungwon (yami's dad):
yep, left 20 mins ago.
yami’s being a diva, btw.
you:
as always.
omw.
you took turns tending to her. when jungwon had lectures and you didn’t, you'd head over to his place, and vice versa. it was a rhythm. comforting. like the soft ticking of a clock that no longer reminded you of time lost, but of time shared.
and, of course, with all the apartment visits came unexpected moments.
like that one day—early into the routine—when you slipped into jungwon’s apartment thinking he had already left for class.
you were halfway into the kitchen when you turned and froze. there he was. not fully dressed. not even halfway there. just a towel. wrapped low on his waist. beads of water still trailing down his chest like tiny betrayals of modesty.
you screamed.
a full, honest-to-goodness, high-pitched yelp as you covered your face with both hands like you’d seen the sun itself.
“i am so sorry!” you cried, spinning on your heel, eyes sealed shut like that would somehow erase what you had just witnessed.
jungwon, the absolute menace, just laughed.
like, really laughed.
“this reminds me of our first meeting,” he said between fits of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls. “back then, you screamed and used yami as your cover.”
“oh my god, don’t remind me,” you groaned behind your hands, your face burning hotter than a stove top.
“okay, okay—i’ll go change. just, please… sit down before you pass out,” he added, still chuckling as he disappeared into his room.
you slumped onto the couch, muttering to yourself about how life really had a sense of humor.
after that day, jungwon had handed you his class schedule—organized and color-coded, of course, like any responsible student who’s secretly on the edge. in return, you gave him yours, and he blinked in surprise.
“why... do i need yours?” he asked, brows raised in curiosity.
you shrugged nonchalantly, like the answer was obvious. “it’s only fair. i’m learning things about your schedule—you deserve to know mine too.”
he looked at you like you had just spoken in riddles, but accepted it anyway. after all, who was he to turn down something you were willing to offer?
and so began the strange little rhythm of your new-old friendship.
some days, jungwon would return home from a long day of classes and find you fast asleep in his apartment. sometimes curled up on the couch with yami tucked against your chest like a soft, living plush toy; other times, shockingly, on his bed as if it were your own.
the first time it happened, he stood frozen in the doorway of his bedroom for a moment, silently debating whether to wake you. eventually, he leaned down and gently nudged your shoulder.
you stirred. groaned. then furrowed your brows and muttered a very grumpy, “what?”
“uh… you’re in my apartment,” he reminded you softly, trying not to laugh.
and then it hit you.
your eyes flew open as realization smacked you across the face. you sat up abruptly, hair a wild mess, and gawked at him. “i—oh my god, i’m so sorry—i didn’t mean to fall asleep! i'm so sorry!”
before he could say anything else, you practically sprinted back to your own apartment, still mortified.
but the pattern continued. again and again, he'd come home to find you asleep—clearly drained from classes, yami-care, or both. so one day, he simply... stopped waking you.
instead, he slipped off his shoes quietly, crouched beside you, and carried you out of the apartment—arms tucked under your knees and back like some ridiculous scene from a romantic drama. you stirred once, but mumbled something incoherent and immediately dozed off again. jungwon had memorized your apartment passcode by then, and with careful, almost reverent movements, he’d unlock your door.
he tucked you in like it was second nature, smoothing the blanket over you, taking off your shoes and socks before slipping out quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.
soon, the changes in both your lives didn’t go unnoticed.
your friends, and jungwon’s too, began to raise eyebrows. yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, on your side, noticed you were constantly busy or vanishing early. meanwhile, jungwon’s group noticed how he always seemed to be in a rush after class, brushing off plans with a vague “i’ve got something to do.”
at first, no one minded much. people get busy. life happens. jungwon's friends also knew what happened to yami.but then came the smiling.
the random giggles during lunch. the way both of you would suddenly light up as if remembering an inside joke—or maybe, a memory only the two of you shared.
“what’s so funny?” yunjin would ask, brow arched.
“nothing,” you’d reply smoothly, lips twitching into a grin. “just remembered something stupid.”
jungwon gave similar answers to his friends. just a shrug. “something funny popped in my head.”
and yet, neither group knew what was really happening—that the two of you had found your way back to each other. that you had forgiven jungwon, and he had done everything short of building a bridge out of guilt to prove he deserved that forgiveness.
the truth was quiet. private. fragile like a secret flower just beginning to bloom again.
you both agreed—no grand announcements, not yet.
especially not to your girls—yunjin, kazuha, and charwon—who, to this day, still carried a heavy grudge on your behalf. they hadn’t forgotten what jungwon had said to you. and sure, he’d apologized, more than once, but as far as they were concerned, no apology could patch a wound they didn’t see heal.
“if they find out…” you had said one night, sprawled on the floor beside yami’s bed while jungwon fed her bits of tuna.
“they’d freak out,” he finished, sighing.
you nodded. “like, full-blown drama. group chat explosion. maybe even a powerpoint presentation on why you don’t deserve redemption.”
he winced. “honestly? wouldn’t put it past yunjin.”
and yet, beneath the secrecy, the late-night visits, and the quiet laughter, something warm was rebuilding. something delicate but real.
and neither of you wanted to rush it.
until the day your friends finally snapped, you had naively believed you were in the clear. but deep down, you always knew they were too attuned to you—like they shared some mystical thread of best-friend telepathy. they had a way of knowing when something shifted, when the air around you carried a different weight, or in this case, a different lightness.
you had tried—really, really tried—to hide the fact that you and jungwon were friends again. but apparently, happiness has a scent, and your friends could smell it from miles away. they didn’t know the cause, but they knew it was something. and for a while, they let it be. after all, you looked so radiant lately, so effortlessly content, and they didn’t want to be the ones to dim your smile with questions.
what they didn’t know was that the reason behind your glow, your random giggles, and your oddly planned schedule wasn’t some secret hobby or newfound passion—it was jungwon.
and then there was yunjin.
being in the same course as jungwon had its advantages—and disadvantages, especially if you were trying to keep secrets. she noticed the changes in him, too. the way he practically floated down the halls, always in a rush to head home. how he'd cancel plans with his friends without explanation. and worst of all, the sudden, dreamy smiles he’d give the floor mid-lecture, as if he were remembering some inside joke with a ghost.
it was suspicious. too suspicious.
so yunjin, being the sharp, unrelenting investigator she was, told kazuha and chaewon. and that was it—the final straw. the three of them decided that they’d had enough of guessing and speculating. it was time to confront the mystery head-on.
they staged an intervention. well, more like an ambush.
the plan was simple: show up unannounced at your apartment and demand answers. the execution, however, didn’t go as smoothly.
they rang your doorbell, fully expecting you to swing the door open with your usual cheer, maybe holding a snack, ready to welcome them in like always. they had even messaged you earlier, letting you know they were coming. typically, you’d have already unlocked the door before they even knocked.
but today... silence.
minutes passed.
long, unsettling minutes.
the hallway suddenly felt too quiet, the air too heavy. unease began to crawl up their spines, unwelcome and ice-cold.
“why isn’t she answering?” kazuha muttered, her voice a little shaky.
“maybe she fell asleep?” chaewon offered, but she didn’t sound convinced.
but then—like dominoes—they each started to spiral. what if something had happened? what if all the happiness you showed them was just a mask? what if, behind closed doors, you were suffering? what if—
“no,” yunjin muttered, eyes wide with dread. “we’re going in.”
and just like that, all rules of privacy went out the window.
they didn’t even hesitate. kazuha quickly typed in the passcode to your apartment—yes, the very one you’d given them for emergency purposes—and swung the door open, fully prepared for the worst.
“hello?!” yunjin called out, her voice trembling slightly as the three of them stormed inside.
panic gripped them as they split up like a search-and-rescue team on a mission. chaewon rushed into your room, kazuha flung open the bathroom door, and yunjin—god bless her—checked behind the shower curtain like she was in a horror movie. the kitchen cabinets were flung open, the walk-in closet ransacked, and at one point, kazuha even opened a cabinet barely big enough to store a rice cooker.
“she wouldn’t fit in there,” chaewon pointed out the very obvious.
“you never know!” kazuha snapped, clearly not thinking logically anymore.
if only you could’ve seen them—running around your apartment, shouting your name, opening drawers, yanking back curtains, checking behind doors as if you might have evaporated into your own walls. they were full-on spiraling, their fear turning dramatic in the most chaotic way possible.
in their eyes, this was a rescue mission not knowing you just weren't home.
you were, at that very moment, next door—in jungwon’s apartment—nestled into the familiar rhythm of helping him take care of yami. the three of you had just started debating what movie to watch, scrolling through options with so much seriousness.your phone, however, had other plans.
it rang—sharp and sudden—and when you glanced down at the screen, your breath caught in your throat.
the caller ID sent a wave of panic through you.
without hesitation, you pressed a finger to your lips and gave jungwon a wide-eyed look of warning. he immediately froze, catching on in record time. with a comically exaggerated movement, he nodded solemnly and even went as far as to gently cover yami’s tiny mouth, just in case she decided now was the perfect time to meow for attention. traitor tendencies and all.
you stood up, nerves tingling, and answered the call with a quiet, “hello?” already tiptoeing toward the balcony as if whispering might somehow protect you from what was coming.
on the other end of the line: chaos.
a barrage of voices erupted all at once—yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon—your personal trio of interrogation. they sounded like they'd just run a marathon and immediately signed up for a second one. you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“guys, calm down,” you said with a chuckle, trying to sound casual despite your heartbeat pounding like an alarm inside your chest.
you slipped out onto the balcony to hear them better, your phone pressed tightly against your ear. but just as you turned slightly—casually glancing toward your own apartment—your blood turned cold.
they were there.
your friends. inside your apartment.
you froze in place, eyes wide, barely managing to duck out of sight before they turned toward the window. with all the grace of a panicked raccoon, you dropped down and crawled back into jungwon’s living room, abandoning all dignity in the process.
jungwon blinked at you from the couch, startled. his mouth opened to ask what was happening, but you shot him another frantic look and pressed the phone tighter to your ear, whispering, “shh—they’re in my apartment like right now.”
his eyes widened as he nodded, then mouthed, ‘oh no’, dramatically clutching yami closer like they were watching a thriller unfold in real time.
on the phone, your friends had clearly heard your shocked reaction. “wait—what was that? where ‘are’ you?” yunjin asked, suspicion leaking into every syllable.
you scrambled for a lie. any lie.
“uh… i’m at the convenient store near my place,” you said, forcing a nonchalant tone that sounded just a little too bright. “i was craving snacks. y'know, those late-night snacks that i love so much.”
dead silence.
“but they don’t have the ones i want,” you added quickly, layering your story with unnecessary details the way all bad liars do.
“then what was that noise earlier?” yunjin pressed, clearly not buying it. “you sounded startled. did something happen?”
you closed your eyes briefly, praying for divine intervention.
“oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, nerves rattling in your chest like loose change. “i bumped into something. y'know, walking in public while using my phone—bad combination.”
jungwon, still watching you like you were the most entertaining show he’d ever seen, bit down on a smile and shook his head, mouthing, ‘you're so bad at this.’
and you were. spectacularly so.but for now, you had bought yourself a few more seconds—and in a war against the nosiest trio you knew, that was nothing short of a miracle.
fortunately, they bought it. or at least, they bought just enough of it.
they were still shaken, their thoughts clouded by the fog of panic they'd conjured only moments ago. nothing you said was fully registering, but the sound of your voice—alive, casual, unmistakably you—was enough to soothe their frayed nerves. for now, that was all they needed. you were safe. breathing. talking. and that was more than enough.
as they continued to chatter on, still slightly breathless from their overactive imagination, you looked over at jungwon and silently mouthed, ‘i need to go, now.’
he didn’t need any further explanation. he immediately and quietly placed yami down onto the couch, giving her a gentle pat, then grabbed your school bag and your hoodie in one swift motion, already moving to help you get out the door undetected.
he caught up to you by the door, carefully sliding your bag over your arms, adjusting the straps against your back with quiet focus. the gesture was gentle, familiar—like he'd done it a hundred times before. all the while, you nodded and hummed into the phone, pretending to listen as your friends continued to recount their horror scenario.
“we thought something happened to you! you weren’t answering our chats as well as your door and we panicked!” yunjin’s voice cracked through the speaker with frantic sincerity. “so we just—barged in. we’re sorry! but also not sorry!”
you gave a soft laugh, mostly to hide your guilt. “it’s okay, really. i appreciate you guys being worried. it’s... sweet,” you said, hoping your tone masked the full-blown adrenaline still coursing through your body.
as you slipped on your shoes in a quiet hurry, jungwon crouched beside you, holding the heel steady so you could slide your foot in faster. you looked up at him with a grateful smile, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’. he nodded, lips twitching upward in amusement, clearly entertained by your spy-level escape mission.
with everything in place, you waved at him quickly before darting out the door and sprinting—quietly but with urgency—toward the elevator.
you pressed the down button and glanced back once to make sure the coast was clear. the doors opened with a ding, and you stepped inside, straightening your hoodie, fixing your expression, and pressing the button to your floor once more to sell the illusion.
you were now playing the role of a perfectly unaware girl who just returned from a snack run.
“alright guys,” you said smoothly into the phone, as the elevator began to ascend, “let’s continue this at home. i’m already exiting the elevator.”
you ended the call just in time, your heart thudding with each step as you walked down the hallway toward your apartment.
and then—right on cue—the door flew open.
your friends stood there, their expressions a mixture of relief, guilt, and overwhelming love. they didn’t hesitate. the moment they saw you, they ran to you like you were a long-lost puppy finally coming home.
you barely had time to react before you were wrapped in their arms—tight and trembling, warm and chaotic. you could feel their relief in the way they held you, as if trying to squeeze the fear out of their systems.
you laughed, a bit breathless, and hugged them back.
deep down, you couldn’t help but silently thank your past self for the brilliant idea of pretending to come from the elevator.
because from the way they were reacting now—tears in their eyes, hearts on their sleeves—had they known the truth, you would’ve never heard the end of it.
it took nearly the entire afternoon—well into the dusky stretch of early evening—before your friends finally calmed down.
they had clung to you, refusing to let go, trailing behind you as though you might suddenly vanish if left unsupervised for even a second. their eyes watched your every move, their expressions a mix of relief, suspicion, and dramatic devastation. you'd never felt so… babysat.
and now here you were: slumped on your couch, rendered immobile by the weight of your very persistent, very affectionate friends.
kazuha had her head nestled against your shoulder, arms looped tightly around yours like a stubborn koala. chaewon mirrored her on the other side, equally glued to you in her own pouty embrace. and as if that weren’t enough, yunjin had claimed your lap entirely—head resting across your thighs, her legs curled comfortably and half draped over chaewon, as if your body had suddenly become their favorite therapy blanket.
they were venting in turns, occasionally overlapping in a trio of chaotic voices. they told you every absurd theory they’d imagined during those few minutes of silence. how they had watched one too many videos on tiktok and youtube shorts—those ominous signs to look out for clips—feeding their paranoia like gasoline to a bonfire.
“it’s the algorithm’s fault!” yunjin declared dramatically, waving her hand in the air like a defense lawyer. “i saw one video about hidden depression and then ten more just popped up! how was i not supposed to panic?!”
you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out despite yourself. they all pouted in response, clearly wounded by your amusement.
“we were worried,” chaewon added, her voice muffled against your hoodie. “like, seriously worried. and you didn’t respond to our messages.”
“you scared us,” kazuha whispered, her grip on your arm tightening.
the laughter faded gently from your lips. you softened. they weren’t being dramatic just for the sake of it. they were scared because they cared—so deeply and unconditionally that they were willing to break into your home just to be sure you were okay.
and it took everything in you not to crack right there. not to spill the truth about jungwon. because lying to them—especially them—felt like swallowing glass.
you’d never lied to them before. not once. and now here you were, sitting in a fortress of limbs and love, withholding something that would surely make them storm into jungwon’s apartment if they ever found out.
they had been nothing but good to you. unwavering. supportive. champions of your battles, even the silent ones. and yet, you were keeping this secret because you knew how they’d react—not out of hatred, but out of fierce loyalty to you. they still held onto that wound, the one jungwon had left behind, even though he’d already apologized. even though things had changed.
but still… somewhere inside you, buried beneath the guilt and caution, you believed—maybe hoped—they would eventually support you, whatever your heart chose. they always had.
the hours slipped by easily after that. laughter returned in waves, and conversation flowed effortlessly. snacks were passed around, silly stories were exchanged, and you just felt happy to spend this time with them.
eventually, the evening dimmed into night, and your friends finally decided it was time to leave—but not before fussing over you one last time. they hovered at your door, double-checking that you're truly fine. they repeated their reassurances, that you could always talk to them, anytime, no matter what.
you smiled at their concern, brushing off their worries with gentle humor.
“i’m really okay,” you promised for what felt like the fiftieth time. “i’m happy. like, genuinely happy. no thoughts of doom, no secret sadness. besides, you all know i’m not that kind of person.”
yunjin narrowed her eyes. “that’s what people say before—”
“—before they text cryptic messages and disappear? i get it.” you chuckled. “but trust me, if anything ever happens—if i get sad or something goes wrong—you’ll know immediately. because, duh. bestie telepathy.”
they hesitated… then smiled.
“fine. we’ll trust the telepathy,” kazuha muttered, nudging your shoulder.
“but if it fails even once,” chaewon added, raising a brow, “we’re installing surveillance cameras.”
you laughed, nodding solemnly. “deal.”
you walked them to the elevator, watching as they entered and gave you a series of suspicious parting glares and half-serious i'm watching you finger gestures. the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off their laughter—and just like that, the hall was quiet again.
but your heart wasn’t.
the moment the metal doors closed, you turned on your heel and sprinted down the corridor like your life depended on it.
straight to jungwon’s apartment.
you pulled out your phone and quickly tapped out a message to jungwon.
you:
they’ve left. i’m coming over again.
a soft chime confirmed it was sent. no reply came, but that wasn’t surprising—you knew he wasn’t the most phone-attached person, and besides, you figured he was probably cuddled up on the couch with yami by now, maybe already half-asleep with a cartoon humming softly in the background.
you stood in front of his door before opening the door gently, careful not to let the hinges creak too much. a little peek inside told you the living room was empty. the couch sat unbothered, the television off, the air still and warm.
your brows furrowed in mild confusion. where could they be?
your steps softened instinctively, light as a whisper, as you stepped farther inside. just as you were about to call out their names, you heard it—his voice. jungwon’s voice, low and unguarded, drifting faintly from his room.
you turned toward the hallway. the door to his bedroom stood slightly ajar, just enough for his voice to reach you, but not enough for him to see you standing there.
you paused, mid-step. you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop—honestly, you hadn’t—but something in his tone made you freeze. he wasn’t just chatting. he was... confessing. to someone.
no, not someone.
yami.
you inched a bit closer, your back pressed lightly to the wall beside the door, breath caught in your throat. every part of you screamed that this was private, that you were crossing into territory you weren’t meant to enter—but curiosity took over your whole being.
“yami,” jungwon said gently, “i don’t know when it started…”
his voice was soft—barely above a murmur—but every syllable reached you like a heartbeat.
“i don’t know when i started realizing that these feelings i’ve been having for y/n are… something more serious than i thought.”
your eyes widened slightly. your pulse skipped.
he paused, as if searching through memories in real time.
“maybe it was when she ran into our apartment with you in her arms,” he continued, his tone touched with awe, “looking all panicked and out of breath. i’ve never seen her like that. she looked so shaken, but so determined. she just wanted to make sure you were okay. that moment—i don’t know—it showed me how… pure she is.”
there was a little silence, like even yami was respectfully letting him speak.
“and i remember thinking,” he added, a quiet laugh escaping him, “i want to protect that. protect her. from anything and everything.”
you bit your lip. your hands were frozen at your sides, heart dancing wildly beneath your ribs.
“or maybe,” he continued, “maybe it was after the hospital. when we got home and she sat next to you, humming lullabies like she was made for that moment. or when she started bringing over those lunch boxes, like clockwork.”
you could picture every moment he was describing, the memories rushing back to you in vivid color.
“the post-its she leaves on the fridge,” he said, his voice growing fonder, “reminding me to give you your meds, reminding me i have a quiz and that i should try not to fail.”
he let out a breathy chuckle, the kind you only hear when someone’s smiling to themselves.
“maybe it’s the way she plays with you like you’re her own. maybe it’s the way she’s always here… like this tiny, chaotic force of care and sunshine. maybe it was when she called you our child! or maybe—”
he stopped. you imagined him inhaling deeply, as though he'd just realized he’d said all of that in one breath.
you stood there, still invisible, your cheeks warm, your heart heavier than you’d ever expected it to be in this hallway.and yet… it felt light, too.
like hearing something you didn’t know you needed.
“or maybe,” jungwon murmured, eyes still fixed on yami, “maybe it was during those months we weren’t speaking... when we were ignoring each other like strangers in the same orbit. maybe that’s when it hit me—too late, of course—that she isn’t just someone. she’s the one i can’t lose. she means more to me than i wanted to admit—not just as a friend.”
yami, ever the attentive feline therapist, offered a small, understanding meow as her tail flicked lazily over the bed.
he gave her a fond smile, almost as if she truly understood him.
“or maybe it all began the day i met her... on our balcony,” he continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “it felt like a scene out of some indie romance movie. time slowed, and there she was—standing in this accidental spotlight, like the universe had decided to highlight her existence just for me.”
he lifted his hands, gesturing as if trying to recreate the way your silhouette had looked that day—light tangled in your hair, expression unreadable, presence unforgettable.
“whenever i saw her after that—even if she was far away, just sitting quietly in a café or walking down the street—she shone. like, actually shone. it scared me. i’ve never been that aware of someone before.”
he paused, letting out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for a while.
“i’ve never felt this way,” he admitted quietly, “but i do know this: i really, really like y/n. i want her in my life. the first time she came into our apartment... it didn’t feel new or strange. it felt natural. like she was always supposed to be here—with us.”
his voice softened as he looked down at his hands.
“and the first time she fell asleep on my bed... i just stood there, staring. i didn’t want to move her. she looked so peaceful—so right—like she belonged there, like she belonged with me.”
a flush crept across his cheeks at the memory, and he reached up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.
“ugh,” he groaned suddenly, throwing himself back against his pillows. “i can’t take this anymore. i like her. no—scratch that. maybe i already love her? i want her. i need her. i think about her all the time. but what if... what if i’m too late?”
his eyes flicked toward yami, now stretching lazily beside him, as if wholly unbothered by the human-level emotional crisis unraveling in front of her.
“what we end up like my parents?” he whispered but you couldn't quite hear and only heard what he said next.
“what if she doesn’t like me back? what if she still hates me after everything i did? what if i tell her and she—yami? hey, where are you going?”
his voice stopped abruptly as yami leapt from the bed with purpose and began making her way toward the door, her little paws padding silently across the hardwood floor.
what jungwon didn’t know was that you were right outside that door—still frozen in place, still very much reeling from everything you'd just heard.
you peeked through the crack of his door and saw yami approaching, a jolt of panic seizing your chest.
oh no.
you scrambled into action.
just as yami neared the door, you turned on your heel and darted towards the door, your socked feet barely making a sound. you slipped out of the apartment with the stealth of someone escaping from a heist, closing the door behind you as gently and carefully as if it were made of glass.
once outside, you leaned back against it, chest heaving, heart positively thrashing against your ribs.
your hands flew up to your cheeks, which felt like they were on fire.
your entire face was burning with a heat that reached the tips of your ears. you didn’t even try to cool down—you just stood there, stunned and blushing, the echoes of his confession still tangled in your thoughts like music you didn’t want to stop playing.
you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to steady the wild rhythm of your heart. it felt like it was trying to escape—like it was knocking against your ribs, desperate to tell the world what you'd just heard. with your eyes shut tight, you took slow, deep breaths, trying to collect yourself, to gather the storm of butterflies flurrying in your stomach.
but in your desperate attempt to ground yourself, you failed to notice the very thing that would knock the wind out of you all over again.
“what… the actual hell?”
your eyes snapped open.
and there they were—three familiar faces frozen in the corridor like statues caught mid-gasp. wide eyes. parted lips. looks of sheer disbelief. yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon stared at you like they’d just witnessed a crime scene. or worse—a plot twist.
you followed their line of sight and realized, with dawning horror, that they’d just watched you bolt out of jungwon’s apartment like a sitcom character caught sneaking around.
“what were you doing… in his apartment?” yunjin asked, her tone somewhere between confused and full-on interrogator mode.
you shot up from your leaning position as if spring-loaded, your mind racing to form a coherent sentence. but before a single word could escape your lips, your phone buzzed in your hand.
you looked down. a message from jungwon.
jungwon (yami’s dad):
hey, are you still coming?
your breath caught.
your eyes darted toward his door just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of soft footsteps approaching—getting closer by the second.
oh no.
panic surged through you like a tidal wave.
without thinking, you grabbed all three of your stunned friends by their wrists and dragged them—utterly bewildered—into your apartment. the door clicked shut behind you just as jungwon’s doorknob gently rattled.
before any of them could so much as squeak out another question, you whipped out your phone like it was a grenade and your only chance at survival was disarming the situation.
you:
nvm. i think i’ll come by tomorrow instead.
kinda got tired chatting with my friends earlier.
see you tomorrow!
you pressed send with the swiftness of someone sending a last message before a spaceship launches, then stuffed your phone deep into your pocket like it had become radioactive.
you turned around slowly.
your friends were now standing in the middle of your apartment, each of them fully in character as annoyed best friends waiting for answers. kazuha had her arms crossed and one perfectly sculpted brow raised. chaewon had both hands on her hips, a deadly combination. and yunjin—yunjin was tapping her foot against the floor like a teacher whose patience had long expired.
none of them said anything. not yet.
they didn’t have to.
their expressions screamed ‘start talking’.
“i can explain!” you blurted out, your hands shooting up in front of you like a peace offering, or more accurately, like that iconic scene from jurassic world—you, the humble trainer, and your three friends, very much the emotional equivalent of untamed velociraptors, ready to pounce.
yunjin narrowed her eyes and took a single, menacing step forward. “can you?” she asked, her voice calm, which only made her more terrifying.
“yes! yes, i can! but only if everyone agrees to not breathe fire at me while i speak,” you said quickly, then pointed toward the couch like a flight attendant gesturing toward the nearest emergency exit. “please. let’s all sit down like civilized humans. no growling. no biting.”
the three of them exchanged glances, sighed in unison, and—thankfully—complied. there was some dramatic eye-rolling and aggressive seat-choosing involved, but you counted it as a small victory.
as they sank into the couch, arms crossed and expressions guarded, you followed with a hand still pressed to your chest, finally letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. your nerves were fraying at the edges. your heartbeat was doing the equivalent of parkour against your ribs.
this could go one of two ways.
option one: they hear you out. they understand. maybe they don’t love the choices you made, but they forgive you. maybe, just maybe, they’ll even offer their support—help you execute the chaotic plans already forming in your lovesick mind.
option two: they shut you down before the words can fully leave your lips. they get angry. they walk out. they tell you it’s unforgivable. and maybe… maybe you lose jungwon in the fallout too.
you sat down, trying to summon courage from whatever was left inside you. the truth weighed heavily on your chest—awkward, warm, and impossible to ignore now that jungwon’s feelings had been revealed like a secret written across the sky.
you didn’t just want your friends’ approval. you needed it. their love, their laughter, their irrational loyalty in the middle of your love-struck chaos. because this wasn’t just about a boy. this was about something more fragile and terrifying: hope.
and if you were going to navigate the emotional maze ahead, with jungwon’s confession echoing in your ears, you were going to need their help.
all 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 @wonnieswife @joonsflwr @yunmislove @raavenarmy-blog (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part seven will be posted on wednesday. see you guys then!
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 (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀13.562k
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.4 is finally out! please enjoy!
i kinda had a hard time writing pt.4 because i don’t really know what it’s like to study at a university abroad. i had to do some research on schools like harvard and ucla, and i found out they have over 100 buildings—like wtf? so i ended up creating my own university from scratch, added courses, building names, and all that. i just hope it’s somewhat close to how it is in real life.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three.
#⠀OO5⠀:⠀WRONG TURNS AND REGRETS.
it had been three weeks since the welcoming party for the architecture students—an event you had somehow, miraculously, survived despite being a business ad major who had absolutely no business being there in the first place. yet the mystery gnawed at you still: how, exactly, had you gotten home that night?
for days, you pestered your friends for answers, clinging onto the hope that someone, anyone, might remember. but their confusion only mirrored your own. none of them knew how they had returned either.
they had all woken up already sprawled in their own dormitory as if placed there by invisible hands.
yunjin and kazuha were tangled together in a half-conscious cuddle on the living room carpet, while chaewon had managed to claim the entirety of the sofa for herself, mouth slightly agape, a small snore escaping every few breaths.
their recollections aligned eerily with yours—except for the part where you woke up tucked neatly in your own room.
your cropped crochet open-knit bolero was gone from your shoulders, folded neatly atop your bedside table. left behind was just your black spaghetti strap crop top, the hem riding a little too high up your stomach because of how deep your sleep was, and your shoes and socks resting side by side on the floor.
the scene was unsettlingly familiar, like déjà vu reaching out and tapping you on the shoulder. it reminded you of that night, just two nights before, when jungwon had helped your drunken self wobble back home with both patience and grace.
perhaps, maybe, it was jungwon once again.
except—you hadn't properly spoken to him since that afternoon when he had helped you carry and move your furniture into your new apartment.
he hadn’t even messaged, save for that polite "you're welcome" he sent, replying to your thank you message the morning before the party, a message so brief yet so final it almost stung. you didn’t even know if he had attended the party.
you and your friends obsessed over the mystery for a few more days, exchanging theories that grew more ridiculous with each retelling, until eventually the puzzle pieces were abandoned, scattered into the corners of your minds. life simply moved on.
your days resumed their steady, predictable rhythm.
yami would occasionally grace your apartment with her presence, weaving between your legs and purring like she owned the place.
you also dedicated yourself to preparing for the impending start of classes, assembling supplies and adjusting to the small, adult routines of calling your parents, updating them on your well-being and pretending everything was under perfect control.
you often found yourself heading down to the lobby to collect yet another delivery or two—nothing screamed adulthood like ordering a random cat mug at 2am. you ran errands with your friends, laughing over the ridiculous list of essentials you somehow convinced yourselves were necessary for survival.
yet despite all the activity, one thing remained absent: jungwon.
not a glimpse. not even a fleeting shadow at the end of the corridor. despite living on the same floor, breathing the same recycled air of the building, he remained conspicuously missing.
you told yourself it was simply bad timing. maybe he was busy, after all, school was only a week away, and the looming pressure was starting to make even the calmest of students a little erratic.
yunjin, in particular, had turned into a delightful hurricane of stress, insisting she didn't have enough materials even as her arms overflowed with sketchbooks, pencils, and highlighters of every conceivable color.
you, chaewon, and kazuha simply watched her spin through the aisles of the school and art supplies store, your expressions a perfect blend of concern and secondhand embarrassment.
"she must be excited," the three of you thought in unison, exchanging knowing glances as yunjin bolted toward yet another aisle like a woman possessed, clutching a sixth sketchpad to her chest.
the last week of the month slipped through your fingers like water, and before you could truly brace yourself, it was already the morning of your first day, orientation and tour day.
now you stood frozen in front of your closet, eyes darting from hanger to hanger, as if the right outfit might magically materialize if you stared long enough.
nerves twisted in your stomach.
you were nervous—nervous that you might get lost on campus despite yunjin thoughtfully printing out campus maps for all of you, highlighting routes and buildings like a seasoned tour guide.
nervous that you might embarrass yourself, trip over nothing, mispronounce a professor’s name, or somehow make such a terrible first impression that your professors would loathe you on sight (spoiler: they wouldn’t).
but above all else, you were nervous because, even though your friends were attending the same university, they were scattered across different programs and faculties. for the first time in one month, you were truly on your own.
after what felt like an eternity of agonizing, you finally chose your outfit—something comfortable yet respectable—and swiftly packed your tote bag with every essential you could think of: a notebook, a pen, your wallet, a mini hand sanitizer, a spare charger, tissues, your mini make up bag, and a quiet hope that you wouldn’t cry in public.
you quickly ran a brush through your hair, trying to tame the chaos, then hurried out of your apartment, juggling the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you half-sprinted toward the elevators.
as you rounded the corner, a familiar figure came into view—jungwon.
your heart skipped a beat, a flash of relief blooming in your chest. instinctively, you called out to him, voice light with the kind of casual friendliness you reserved for someone you were hoping to bump into.
he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours—and for a split second, something unreadable flickered across his face.
but then, just as you reached out your hand as if to tell him to stop the elevator doors from closing. despite seeing you, jungwon did the unthinkable.
he let the elevator doors close.
right. in. front. of. you.
you stood there, blinking at the now shut metallic doors, your hand still slightly raised in midair, feeling like you had just been personally victimized by the universe.
“what the fuck was that about?” you muttered under your breath, pressing the elevator button with a bit more force than necessary, your mind racing through every possible explanation, none of which made any sense.
meanwhile, inside the descending elevator, jungwon was a whirlwind of self-inflicted misery.
he leaned his forehead against the cool metal wall, lightly banging it once, twice, before dragging his hand through his hair in pure frustration.
“fuck,” he hissed to no one in particular.
he could still see it—the exact expression you had given him through the narrowing gap of the doors. you had looked so... betrayed. and annoyed.
so wonderfully, vividly pretty despite the negative emotions plastered on your face.
this was the first time he had ever seen you wear that expression, and somehow, it managed to stab him right in the chest despite only knowing you for a month.
he wished he could rewind time, shove his foot between the doors and do anything but what he had just done. but deep down, he knew that even if he had stopped the doors, the air between you would have been thick with something worse than awkwardness.
because the truth was, jungwon had been avoiding you. deliberately.
and the worst part? you didn’t even know why.
technically, you had done something. but you were so devastatingly drunk that night, you couldn’t possibly remember it—and jungwon wasn’t planning on telling you, not now, not ever.
not if he could help it.
he let out a heavy sigh, a sound full of regret, and stepped out of the elevator, shoulders slightly hunched as if he could physically shrink away from the guilt clinging to him. he barely made it out of the apartment building when a voice cut sharply through the air, halting him in his tracks.
“jungwon!”
he gasped audibly, body stiffening like a startled cat. he knew that voice—knew it down to the very marrow of his bones.
he didn’t want to turn around. every instinct screamed at him to keep walking, to pretend he hadn’t heard. but guilt is a heavy thing, and it anchored his feet to the ground.
reluctantly, jungwon turned.
and instantly wished he hadn’t.
there you were, standing not far from him, brows knitted together in pure exasperation, confusion swirling in your eyes, and—worst of all—a tiny glint of hurt buried beneath it all.
he felt the ground tilt beneath him.
“h-hey, y/n…” he stammered, voice pitching higher than he intended, forcing an awkward chuckle out in a weak attempt to appear casual.
you raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow, the kind of expression that could slice a man’s ego clean in half. then, with deliberate steps, you closed the distance between you.
jungwon froze again, practically forgetting how to breathe as you stopped right in front of him, arms folding across your chest in a perfect display of judgment.
“earlier. at the elevator,” you said, your tone flat, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “what the hell was that about?”
your bluntness struck him like a slap, and he scrambled internally for an answer that would save him. his eyes darted everywhere—from the pavement to a passing bird to an invisible point in the sky—anywhere but your face.
for a brief moment, his brain offered him nothing but static. then, like a merciful flick of fate, an idea sparked.
“i—i misjudged!” he blurted out, straightening up a little, trying to sound convincing. “i thought you weren’t going to make it to the elevator in time!”
he mentally patted himself on the back for that one, almost proud of the quick recovery.
but you weren’t buying it.
you narrowed your eyes at him, your frown deepening. “i could’ve made it. easily. if you hadn’t just stood there like a damn npc and let the doors close.”
jungwon winced, the truth of your words hitting harder than he cared to admit.
“oh… right,” he muttered, suddenly finding the cracks on the sidewalk incredibly interesting. he shuffled his feet, searching desperately for an escape hatch, but it was obvious—he was trapped. there would be no running from this confrontation.
so, he went for the simplest, oldest trick in the book: sincerity (and his looks).
“i’m sorry, y/n,” he said, lifting his head to meet your gaze with the most devastatingly apologetic look he could summon. his big, round eyes practically screamed forgiveness, the corners of his lips tugging down in a perfect portrait of remorse.
and it worked. he saw it—the moment your defenses cracked, a twitch of a smile betraying you.
jungwon seized his opportunity like a man who had been offered a pardon.
“then—goodbye, y/n! see you around!” he chirped brightly, spinning on his heel and sprinting away like a guilty cartoon character.
you blinked, stunned into silence, watching his retreating figure with growing disbelief. it took your brain several long, painful seconds to reboot, short-circuiting somewhere between ‘he looks so cute!’ and ‘wait, did he just run away?’
“hey! wait, we’re going in the same direction!” you called out, but it was too late. jungwon was already halfway down the street, pretending not to hear you.
you stood there, blinking dumbly after him, utterly bewildered by what had just transpired.
you exhaled through your nose, trying to calm your nerves, and pulled out your phone with a resigned sigh. you booked yourself an uber—because clearly, walking in the same direction as jungwon was not on today's agenda.
as if sensing your gaze still somewhere near him, jungwon abruptly veered off to another street, almost comically dramatic with the way he ducked his head and hurried his steps, clearly trying to escape your line of sight.
meanwhile, in his small spiral of panic, jungwon fumbled with his phone, his thumbs moving in a frenzy as he typed out a message to riki.
jungwon:
where r u. pick me up. now.
but before he could even finish cursing under his breath, riki’s familiar car came to a stop right in front of him, its timing almost poetic.
the passenger-side window rolled down with a mechanical hum, revealing sunoo, who stared at him with an expression that perfectly blended confusion and secondhand embarrassment.
“yo, you look like you just got chased by a ghost,” sunoo said flatly, squinting at jungwon’s slightly sweaty forehead and thoroughly ruffled hair. “or, like, karma.”
jungwon rolled his eyes with a dramatic groan, not even trying to explain himself as he yanked open the back door.
“long story,” he muttered, flopping into the seat like a man who had just survived a war—an emotional war, perhaps, but a war nonetheless.
riki, in the driver's seat and already smirking, glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “good. we’ve got time,” he quipped, clearly eager for some tea.
jungwon waved a hand weakly in the air, “just drive,” he muttered. “we’ll be late.”
riki turned to sunoo with a knowing look. sunoo shrugged, as if to say ‘don’t look at me’, and riki shrugged right back. without further protest, he shifted gears and pulled out of the street, the car humming softly as they began the drive to campus.
jungwon leaned his head back against the seat, shutting his eyes. he could still see your face—your expression when you caught him ditching you at the elevator, the betrayal in your eyes, the sheer ‘what the hell’ radiating off you like heat.
and worse, he could still hear the echo of your voice: “we’re going in the same direction!”
tragically… you were right.
you, on the other hand, had already slipped into the back seat of your uber, the cool leather offering a small comfort as the city passed by in a blur. the ride was quiet—your driver occasionally humming along to the radio while you stared out the window, half-lost in your thoughts. within minutes, the car pulled up to your destination.
there it was. your university. grand horizon university. standing tall and proud, like an academic kingdom with gates flung wide open, welcoming—and slightly overwhelming—its new citizens.
students swarmed the entrance like ants on a sugar cube. some were poring over crumpled maps with puzzled brows, others paced in small circles while mumbling to themselves. a few brave souls had resorted to asking complete strangers where to go, and many had approached the campus security guards like weary travelers begging for directions to the nearest oasis.
you reached into your tote, pulled out your phone, and snapped a quick photo of the chaos—a little memento of your first day. the picture captured the mix of excitement and confusion around you, and you sent it to your group chat with a quick message:
you:
i’ve arrived. front gate. help before i disappear into the crowd.
you were just about to scroll idly when you felt a sudden presence behind you—followed by familiar squeals and arms flinging around your shoulders.
“boo!” yunjin’s voice rang in your ear, immediately followed by kazuha and chaewon joining in on the ambush, their smiles wide, their energy contagious.
you spun around, pretending to scowl but unable to stop the grin tugging at your lips. you hugged them all back, your nerves easing just a little with the comfort of familiar faces.
“you could’ve warned me,” you muttered with faux irritation, brushing your hair back.
“where’s the fun in that?” kazuha smirked.
together, the four of you started walking toward the main entrance towards the main building in the middle of the university, your chatter bouncing lightly between you, an easy mix of nervous laughter and unfiltered panic.
“okay but like... are we ready?” chaewon asked, adjusting her strap bag anxiously.
“mentally? no. emotionally? also no. physically? barely.” yunjin replied, flailing her arms dramatically. “but spiritually? absolutely not.”
you all laughed, and for a moment, the tension melted. but as soon as the university doors opened, the noise hit you like a wave.
inside was just as chaotic—if not worse—than outside. students were huddled around bulletin boards, craning their necks and squinting as they tried to decipher lists of names, classroom codes, building numbers and names, and professor names that sounded made-up.
you weaved through the crowd with your friends and finally found your schedules, each of you staring on your copies of the campus map.
and then came the collective groan.
“ugh! why does this university have to look like a whole freaking village?” yunjin cried, clutching her map like it had betrayed her.
“tell me about it,” kazuha added, staring at her map like it might rearrange the buildings if she blinked hard enough. “i swear, i’m about to rent an electric scooter. or a horse.”
“why,” you said slowly, squinting at the map, “does this university have two hundred and thirty buildings?”
they both turned to pat your shoulders in silent solidarity, as if sharing the same academic tragedy. you sighed dramatically, already feeling the weight of your future footsteps.
you all then looked at chaewon, silently praying she had it just as bad.
she glanced at her schedule and gave a sheepish shrug. “mine’s kinda near... but also not? like, it’s not far-far but it’s not close either.”
you, yunjin, and kazuha groaned in unison before rolling your eyes and playfully turning your backs on her, walking away as if she had betrayed the sisterhood.
“rude!” chaewon called after you three with a laugh, instantly chasing after you with quick steps, and soon enough, you were all walking again, side by side, navigating the labyrinth together.
“good thing we only have orientations and campus tours today. if we had actual classes right now, we’d probably be buried under a pile of wrong turns and regrets,” you said, half-laughing as you glanced down at your phone.
you tapped a quick message to your parents—‘i made it to school safely’—along with a photo of the university gate for good measure. your mom had already sent three heart emojis and a good luck gif. classic.
with that done, you turned your attention back to the ever-confusing campus map that you folded and tucked between your fingers, just behind your phone earlier.
“okay, so right now we’re at aurora hall,” you began, squinting at the tiny lines and icons. “and i need to get to the south part of campus.”
your words caught everyone’s attention. three heads immediately leaned over your shoulder, eyes narrowing like detectives over a case file.
“wait—you’re going to the south campus too?” yunjin asked, pointing at the lower quadrant of your map. “what building?”
you tilted your map toward her while pointing at the building. “the vanguard business hall. apparently that’s the main building for business admin majors.”
as soon as the words left your mouth, the excitement erupted.
“no way, i’m headed there too!” yunjin gasped, then quickly clarified. “well, not there—i’ve got architecture at arcadia studios, but it’s in the same area.”
“me too,” kazuha chimed in, flashing a grin. “grand horizon performing arts center. sounds dramatic. fitting, right?”
chaewon raised her hand like she was in class. “silver screen studios for film and tv. also south campus.”
and just like that, a burst of collective relief washed over the group. you all let out a synchronized squeal, followed by a group hug that was slightly chaotic and entirely uncoordinated. still, it felt good—like the universe had decided to bless you today.
at least for the trip to south campus, you wouldn't be alone.
“okay, transportation,” chaewon said, already back in planner mode. “should we rent e-bikes or ride the shuttle buses?”
you all looked down at the map again, tracing little lines between buildings, searching for the nearest shuttle stops and rental stations.
“e-bikes sound cute in theory,” yunjin mused, “but we’d probably end up somewhere in a forbidden faculty zone and get expelled before day two.”
“true,” you said, nodding. “let’s not risk accidental trespassing just yet.”
the group collectively agreed: shuttle bus it was.soon enough, you were all sprinting through the university corridors like you were in a slice-of-life anime opening sequence. wind in your hair, laughter echoing behind you, dodging slow walkers like pros, and somehow managing to arrive at the shuttle bus station just in time.
the vehicle hissed to a halt as students boarded one by one, and the four of you squeezed into the middle row, still catching your breath and trying to act like you weren’t about to melt from the sprint.
as the bus rolled forward, it passed through winding lanes, landscaped gardens, and sleek buildings that shimmered beneath the sun. the driver, with a calm voice and an obvious love for punctuality, announced each stop clearly through the overhead speaker:
“silver screen studios.”
“grand horizon performing arts center.”
“arcadia studios.”
one by one, your friends got off. chaewon first, waving enthusiastically. then kazuha, who gave a little spin before hopping off, dramatically clutching her schedule like a script. yunjin followed next, shooting you a thumbs up as if to say ‘you’ve got this’.
and finally, it was your turn.you stood, your tote slung over your shoulder, and stepped off with the others headed toward the vanguard business hall—a part of the sprawling college of business and management complex.
as your shoes hit the pavement, you took a deep breath. this was it. your first real step into university life.
then, you looked up at the towering structure before you, your breath hitching slightly in awe.
the vanguard business hall stood like a monument to ambition—ten stories high, cloaked in sleek panels of silver and glass that shimmered beneath the morning light. its clean lines and polished finish gave it the kind of sharp sophistication that whispered, ‘only the bold survive here’. it was the kind of building that didn’t just exist—it announced itself.
for a moment, you stood at the base of it, tilting your head all the way back just to take it in, as if you were trying to absorb some of its power through sheer admiration. you could almost hear it taunting you, daring you to prove you belonged here.
you exhaled softly and squared your shoulders, adjusting the strap of your bag as if it might suddenly make you feel more grown-up, more prepared.
then you quietly muttered under your breath, a little pep talk to yourself, “okay... good luck, me.”
and with that final whisper of hope and bravado, you stepped forward and pushed open the glass doors—walking into the future with all the courage, curiosity, and slightly faked confidence you could muster.
just a few minutes earlier, jungwon and his friends had found themselves in a strikingly similar situation as you and your group—equally disoriented, equally overwhelmed, and just as hilariously unprepared for the sheer sprawl of campus life.
the five of them had huddled around a map, each trying to decipher the labyrinth of buildings, shuttles, and cryptic acronyms like they were decoding ancient hieroglyphs. eventually, the group had to split, though not without groaning dramatically about the injustice of parting ways on their very first day.
jake and sunghoon, after much squinting and turning the map sideways for no apparent reason, had discovered they both needed to head north.
jake was assigned to the science complex—ominously named the helix research center—while sunghoon had to make his way to the monolithic fusion engineering complex, which honestly sounded more like a boss level in a video game than a school building.
meanwhile, jungwon, riki, and sunoo were bound for the south campus. jungwon had orientation at the arcadia studios—the heart of the architecture department. riki was heading to the grand horizon performing arts center, while sunoo was off to the silver screen studios, home to film and tv production students (and future dramatic monologues, no doubt).
the farewell was brief but not without flair. sunghoon and jake darted off to their own shuttle station with mock salutes and promises not to get lost or abducted by rogue professors. the remaining three made their way to the same shuttle bus station you and your friends had used earlier.
though fate had kept your paths from crossing that morning, something about the moment had tugged at jungwon—a peculiar sense of déjà vu, or maybe just the faintest echo of your voice from that first conversation you ever had. it hovered somewhere in the back of his mind, stubbornly refusing to take shape.
the shuttle ride was short, efficient, and surprisingly smooth and now, jungwon stood before the arcadia studios.
he didn’t enter right away.
instead, he lingered at the edge of the building’s shadow, tilting his head back to fully absorb the sight before him. the arcadia studios were a brutalist marvel—raw, unapologetic concrete rising like a fortress. but the roughness was softened by its tiers of lush greenery, terraces overflowing with vibrant plants that draped down the façade like ivy at an ancient castle. it was both cold and alive, severe yet poetic.
in his eyes, it wasn’t just a building.
it was a declaration. a promise that creativity didn’t have to be polished to be profound. and for jungwon, a budding architect with dreams too big for his own good, it was love at first sight.
he smiled softly to himself, the earlier tension melting away just a little. then, with one last breath of courage, he stepped through the wide doors and disappeared inside.
once everyone had disappeared into their respective buildings, the real whirlwind began.
orientations were in full swing. professors, sharp-dressed and bright-eyed (well, most of them), made their introductions—some warm and charismatic, others slightly robotic, as if they’d already rehearsed their welcome speeches one too many times over the years.
after a short talk, students were nudged into groups of ten for the ever-dreaded yet unavoidable “get-to-know-you” icebreakers.
each person took turns standing up, voice wavering or booming with overconfidence, depending on their personality. they shared their names, the courses they’d chosen, and why they had enrolled at grand horizon university.
the stories were a mix of heartfelt dreams, practical decisions, and the occasional joke that drew scattered chuckles. one guy said he only came here because the food in the cafeteria was ranked top ten in a blog he trusted religiously. no one knew if he was serious. he probably was.
some students spoke with ease, others visibly battled secondhand embarrassment for their peers, and a few simply tried to survive the social gauntlet without spontaneously combusting. it was a chaos of charm and awkwardness.
once the introductions settled down, the next phase began: the grand tour.
sleek shuttle buses lined up like in front of the buildings, waiting to tour the new students around the southern half of the campus. professors climbed aboard alongside their groups, and designated student guides took to the front, bright smiles plastered on as they reached for the intercoms.
the tour was fairly straightforward—an overview of each building as they passed, the guide pointing out massive lecture halls, pristine laboratories, sunlit studios, and confusingly named complexes.
each announcement was followed by students craning their necks to look out windows, snapping quick photos or scribbling down building names as if they'd remember which was which by tomorrow. they wouldn’t. no one ever does.
on your side of things, the tour had turned unexpectedly delightful. two students sitting near you had sparked up a conversation, and before you knew it, laughter flowed easily among you. you talked about your majors, your expectations, the panic of navigating an unfamiliar campus, and which professors looked like they've already prepared our downfall for fun.
your nerves slowly melted away into genuine enjoyment. there was something comforting about realizing everyone else was just as lost and excited as you were.
meanwhile, on another shuttle just a few buildings away, jungwon sat stiffly in his seat, listening to the tour guide’s voice drift through the bus. he nodded now and then, more out of politeness than curiosity, but his thoughts were elsewhere—spiraling.
something was gnawing at the edges of his mind. he couldn't shake that strange pull, the feeling that he'd forgotten something important. something—or someone.
then, as if fate had impeccable comedic timing, he turned his head toward the window.
and there you were.
riding a shuttle labeled ‘college of business and management complex’. chatting animatedly with the people beside you, smiling in that way that made things feel lighter.
his eyes widened as it hit him all at once.
bsba hrm. that’s what you said when you first met. that's your major. and now, here you were, in the south campus—his campus. so much for thinking he could spend the day dodging any accidental reunions. the universe had other plans.
“oh, i am so screwed,” he muttered under his breath, dragging out his map and promptly holding it up like a newspaper in a spy movie, trying to block his face from view even though you were clearly far too engrossed in your conversation to notice him. still, he wasn’t taking any chances.
he slumped deeper into his seat, sighing into his collar. maybe if he wished hard enough, he’d turn invisible. or teleport. either option sounded appealing.
once the orientation and tours wrapped up, you were quick to text your friends, fingers flying across the keyboard as you asked if they were finished and where they wanted to meet.
the replies came fast—chaewon, kazuha, and yunjin had wrapped up too, and without much debate, you all agreed on a place: the design & arts café tucked near the college of architecture, design, and planning.
it was quaint, cozy, and boasted drinks with pretentious names like “aesthetic matcha fog” and “monochrome americano.” you loved it.
coincidentally—though destiny might argue otherwise—jungwon, riki, and sunoo had just finished their own orientations and had exactly the same idea.
“design & arts café?” sunoo asked, scrolling through his phone.
“sounds good,” jungwon mumbled distractedly, still recovering from the earlier heart attack.
and so, completely unaware of each other’s plans, both groups set off toward the same charming café… one for coffee and comfort, and the other, unknowingly, toward a collision course with chaos—or maybe just an awkward reunion.
the four of you arrived at the café first, fortunate enough to beat the incoming tide of students that soon began trickling in, like drops before a storm. the design & arts café, with its warm amber lighting and soft hum of lo-fi music, was already halfway to overflowing.
its charm lay in the deliberate mess of creativity—sketches and prints hung on the walls, mismatched chairs that somehow worked together, and menus handwritten in chalk that made even the simplest drinks sound like a masterpiece.
yunjin and chaewon, ever the designated errand duo, volunteered to place everyone's orders, slipping away toward the counter with practiced ease. meanwhile, you and kazuha remained at the table, guarding everybody’s bags and phones, nestled in the quiet lull before the café reached peak chaos.
“good thing we got here earlier,” kazuha remarked, eyes drifting toward the growing line that now curved around the entrance.
you nodded, grateful for the lucky timing. while waiting, you and kazuha exchanged stories about your respective orientations and campus tours, comparing professors, the energy of your groupmates, and the many moments of near-miscommunication that left everyone either giggling or sweating.
just as you were imitating the overly dramatic voice of your tour guide, yunjin and chaewon returned, trays in hand and cheeks flushed from the heat and noise of the café.
“they said the food might take ten to fifteen minutes,” yunjin announced as she plopped down beside kazuha, setting the drinks on the table with theatrical flair.
chaewon took the spot next to you, carefully distributing napkins, straws, and drinks before handing the empty tray to a passing waiter. “thank you!” the four of you chimed in chorus.
“what were you guys chatting about?” chaewon asked, leaning slightly closer, curiosity evident in her eyes.
“just our orientations and the tour,” you replied, already sipping from your drink, the coldness cutting through the lingering warmth in the air.
“were they fun?” yunjin raised a brow, stirring her iced latte lazily.
you all nodded enthusiastically, breaking into a rapid-fire exchange of stories—mock reenactments, dramatic gasps, and exaggerated impressions of professors who clearly didn’t know how to use microphones.
laughter filled your little corner of the café, wrapping around you like a comforter. and then kazuha suddenly paused mid-laugh, eyes lighting up as if a forgotten memory had just barged its way back into her consciousness.
“oh right!” she said, waving her hand to corral everyone's attention. “something happened earlier.”
you looked up from your cheeseburger croissant, mid-bite. “what happened?”
kazuha leaned in a little, her tone dropping as if she were about to share a scandalous secret. “this guy came up to me and said he knew me—like, knew us. he asked what happened after the welcome party, when he helped us three back to our dorm.”
chaewon’s eyes widened in recognition. she gasped, slapped a hand over her mouth, then quickly chewed and swallowed whatever she'd been munching on before blurting out, “wait! the exact same thing happened to me!”
the table fell quiet in suspense as chaewon leaned in. “a cute guy—super polite—walked up and asked the same thing!”
“cute?” yunjin perked up, clearly invested now. “did they say their names?”
kazuha squinted in thought. “he said his name was… riki? or maybe kiki? something like that. honestly, i’m bad with names.”
chaewon giggled, nodding in solidarity. “mine said something like… sunoo? or soonoo? i think? he had great skin though.”
you blinked. “you guys are hopeless.”
kazuha, unfazed, twirled her fork through her carbonara. “i asked him how he even knew about us and he just smiled and said, ‘a friend of ours is a friend of yours.’ like—hello? what does that even mean?”
“that sounds like the start of a treasure hunt,” yunjin muttered, eyes narrowed. “or a mafia movie.”
you all laughed, tossing out theories as if you were detectives in a teen mystery drama. maybe they were undercover students. maybe it was a dare. maybe one of them was a secret admirer pulling the strings behind the scenes.
what none of you realized, however, was that not far from your table, just past the display case of pastries and behind a pair of oblivious art majors discussing something color related, stood jungwon, sunoo, and riki—utterly unaware of the conversation unfolding about them.
while riki and sunoo bickered over the menu—sunoo insisting on the blueberry muse tea, while riki claimed it sounded like a shampoo—jungwon stood a little apart, tuning out the noise of their playful quarrel.
the café was now a full-blown frenzy, packed with chattering students, baristas calling out names over the whirr of machines, and the occasional chair scrape that made everyone flinch for no reason at all.
jungwon sighed softly, the way someone does when they’ve just realized they're the only sane one in the group. he turned around, neck craning slightly as he scanned the room in search of an empty table. a small miracle: tucked near the corner, almost hidden, was a table clearly meant for four—but with one chair missing. three chairs. three of them. perfect.
just as he opened his mouth to share the discovery with the others, his words caught in his throat.
at the edge of his vision—soft, golden, unmistakably familiar—was you.
you were sitting with your friends, smile wide, laughter lighting up your features in a way that made the café’s dim lighting seem brighter for a second. jungwon froze. the kind of stillness that only happens when something—or someone—unexpected reappears.
he hadn’t even realized he'd stopped moving until a light tap on his shoulder brought him back to earth.
“jungwon, you okay?” sunoo asked, eyebrows raised in concern before following jungwon’s line of sight. and then, he smiled. “oh, is that chaewon? i think that’s chaewon.”
sunoo tried waving a little in her direction, although chaewon didn’t notice—too absorbed in peeling the lid off her drink. jungwon blinked rapidly and looked away, but not before sunoo had seen enough to realize this wasn’t about chaewon, it was about the girl sitting beside her.
“what are you two doing?” riki called out from the front, motioning to them to move up in the line. “we’re holding people up.”
“we saw someone we know,” sunoo explained as he fell in beside riki. “chaewon’s here, in the café. she’s in my major too.”
“oh yeah,” riki said, recognition dawning. “i think i met one of her friends too—kazuha, i think? she’s also in performing arts.”
they shuffled forward in line, but jungwon lingered behind, staring at the floor like it had just whispered his deepest secret aloud.
“guys,” jungwon said, voice low, “can we… maybe go to a different café?”
sunoo and riki turned to him, nearly in unison. “huh? why?”
“i mean,” he started, a little too quickly, “i just thought maybe we could eat near the north campus instead? maybe link up with sunghoon and jake? it might be less crowded too.”
riki and sunoo exchanged a look—half confusion, half telepathic best friend conversation. they could see it: the slight panic in jungwon’s eyes, the nervous clench of his jaw. something was up.
but they didn’t press.
“sure, man,” riki said with a shrug, stepping out of the line as if they hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes arguing over drinks.
sunoo smiled gently, falling in behind him. “that’s a great idea, actually. i’ll text sunghoon—see where they’re eating.”
jungwon exhaled, the relief immediate and visible in his shoulders. he trailed after them, grateful, fingers twitching with the anxious energy he hadn't managed to shake off since seeing you.
as they exited the café, the soft ding of the doorbell signaling their departure, jungwon allowed himself one last glance over his shoulder.
you were still there, surrounded by laughter, unaware of the ripple you’d sent through him.
he looked away and sighed, the sound quiet but heavy, and walked out into the sunlit afternoon, where his friends were already waiting.
as soon as they received the location from sunghoon and jake, the three made their way to the stem fuel stop, a modern, industrial-style café nestled just outside the college of science and mathematics complex.
the walls were covered in chalkboard doodles and formulas no one actually read, while the smell of roasted coffee beans and sizzling fries hung comfortably in the air.
they walked in, instantly greeted by jake’s enthusiastic wave from across the room. he was already seated at a corner table, mid-bite, with a tray of fries between him and sunghoon, who looked up from his phone looking like he just aged five academic years.
“there you guys are,” jake grinned, mouth half-full, before popping another fry into his mouth.
sunghoon gave them a small nod, setting his phone down slowly, eyes shifting to jungwon, who hadn’t said a word since entering.
they took their seats—sunoo on one end, riki beside him, and jungwon in the middle, visibly tense. sunoo and riki exchanged a glance before both quietly turned their attention to jungwon, brows slightly raised.
“so… what gives?” jake asked, licking salt off his fingers. “thought you were all eating at the design & arts café?”
“we were supposed to,” riki replied casually, reaching for a fry. “but it was already packed when we got there, and jungwon suggested we head here instead.”
his voice was nonchalant, but the way he tilted his head toward jungwon didn’t go unnoticed. jake and sunghoon caught it immediately, their gazes now fixed on the boy in question.
“okay,” sunoo began, arms crossed, leaning in a little. “jungwon. spill.”
jungwon let out a sigh so deep, it seemed to come from the soles of his feet. he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to meet four sets of expectant eyes. and so, with the weight of an overly dramatic confession pressing on his chest, he told them everything.
he began with that night—the aftermath of the architecture welcoming party. how he’d offered to take you back to your apartment, just trying to be polite and helpful. everything was fine... until it wasn’t.
“i swear, she just stopped in the kitchen,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “and then she cupped my cheeks. my actual face.”
riki choked on a sip of soda. “no way—”
“yes way,” jungwon groaned. “and before i could even process what was happening, she just—started kissing me. on the face. like how she kissed my cat. repeatedly. with affection. so much affection.”
sunghoon blinked. “you got yami’d.”
“i got ambushed,” jungwon clarified, looking pained. “i didn’t even have time to run.”
his friends looked equally horrified and amused, already piecing the chaos together.
he went on to explain that ever since that night, he'd tried to maintain distance—create space. but you always showed up. in places he least expected. like some kind of charming poltergeist with perfect comedic timing.
then came this morning’s catastrophe.
“remember earlier,” he added, shifting uncomfortably, “when you caught me hiding behind a wall just a street away from my apartment building looking like i saw a ghost?”
sunoo nodded slowly. “we thought you were being dramatic.”
“yeah, well, the ghost was her.”
the table burst into quiet laughter, and jungwon rolled his eyes before continuing.
“i just stepped into the elevator,” jungwon said, leaning forward with an exasperated whisper, “and then she just—turned the corner. like it was a horror movie. i panicked. froze. and let the elevator doors close right in front of her.”
the entire table groaned in unison, hands flying up as if trying to physically catch the level of secondhand embarrassment in the air.
“oh my god, you didn’t,” sunoo winced, clutching his chest.
“i did,” jungwon sighed, defeated. “and of course, she was already behind me before i could go outside the building. called my name. asked me what just happened. i panicked again and said—” he paused, covering his face. “the most ridiculous excuse ever.”
“what did you say?” jake asked, eyes wide.
“i said ‘i misjudged! i thought you weren’t going to make it to the elevator in time!’” he said and groaned.
they all stared at him before groaning, basically saying ‘what the hell man?’
“i know!” jungwon snapped. “and she called me out immediately. saying, ‘i could’ve made it. easily. if you hadn’t just stood there like a damn npc and let the doors close.’”
sunghoon shook his head, biting back a smile. “and then?”
“i did what any respectable man would do,” jungwon mumbled. “i gave her the puppy eyes. apologized. and then ran the second i saw her hesitate.”
a silence fell over the table.
then: laughter. loud, unforgiving laughter.
jake slapped the table. sunoo buried his face in his hands. riki leaned back like he was about to fall off his chair, while sunghoon just shook his head, muttering something about how this was better than any tv show.
“okay, but real talk,” sunoo said once the laughter settled. “don’t you think it’s a bit unfair? you’re avoiding her like she did something wrong, but she has no idea what that is.”
the others nodded slowly, their amusement now replaced with a kind of thoughtful concern.
jungwon let his head fall back against the chair, eyes staring up at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention.
“i don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “i thought... ignoring her would be easier than explaining everything. i just didn’t want to deal with it.”
“look,” riki said, tone more serious now, “we get it. but just tell us what you want to do. whatever it is, we’ve got your back.”
jungwon sat up, looking around at the four boys who had somehow become his emotional support team. he smiled faintly, the knot in his chest loosening a little.
“she’s a business ad major,” he said. “her classes are in the south campus. there’s a real chance i’ll run into her again, and... i’m not ready for that. not yet.”
“then that’s what we’ll do,” sunoo said simply, clapping his hands once. “operation: avoid the girl who kisses like she’s greeting a house pet is a go.”
they all agreed with a chorus of nods, their expressions varying from concerned to playfully dramatic.
jungwon smiled genuinely this time, the kind of small, grateful smile you give when you feel seen—even if you’ve made a mess of things.
“thanks, guys,” he muttered.
they all smiled in return, and just like that, the conversation shifted. no more drama, no more awkward elevator encounters—at least not for now. they moved on to safer territory: their orientations, campus tours, the professors they’d met, and the weirdly aggressive squirrel sunghoon swore chased him near the library.
for now, all was calm. or at least, calm enough.
once the last bites of lunch had been savored and the cafés began to quiet, the university crowd began to drift toward a new destination: horizon square.
nestled at the very heart of grand horizon university—between the bustling north campus and the vibrant south—it stood as a kind of living crossroads, a wide-open plaza pulsing with student life. its sprawling walkways were paved with stone in geometric patterns, bordered by stretches of manicured lawn and punctuated with fountains that danced softly under the afternoon sun.
shuttle buses lined the curb like a mechanical parade and near the square's edges, street food stalls sizzled and smoked, perfuming the air with the smell of grilled meat, buttery pastries, and something sweetly unidentifiable.
this was the university's beating heart, and today, it was dressed for an occasion.
dozens of vibrant club stalls had taken over the square—each one boasting colorful tarps, makeshift banners, and enthusiastic upperclassmen who were equal parts persuasive and unhinged. this was club day, and at grand horizon university, it wasn’t just tradition—it was a requirement. every student had to join at least one club, a law more binding than some course requirement.
you stood with your friends at the edge of the square, bright pamphlets in your hands. it had been handed to you by a particularly energetic senior who’d practically stuffed it into your chest mid-walk. the paper listed every club on campus—from the usuals like student government and photography to more obscure options like the “modern escapists book society” and the suspiciously vague “club club.”
yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon had already circled their picks with the decisiveness of people ordering dessert after a good meal. you, however, stared at the list like it was written in another language.
“you okay?” chaewon asked, peeking over your shoulder as you flipped the pamphlet upside down, hoping it would spark inspiration.
“honestly?” you sighed. “none of them are calling out to me. i don’t want to just pick one because it sounds cool and end up trapped in a weekly horror show of forced interactions.”
“too late,” yunjin quipped, nudging you playfully. “that’s called college.”
she had already chosen to join the design society, which made perfect sense—she had the aesthetic sense of a pinterest board and the confidence to back it up. kazuha, on the other hand, had naturally gravitated toward the grand horizon dance company, drawn in by the familiar rhythm and stage lights. and chaewon? she surprised no one by going for the film & tv production society—if anyone was made for dramatic camera pans and chaotic editing rooms, it was her.
you admired their certainty as much as you envied it.
“i think i’ll just walk around,” you finally said, eyes scanning the lively square. “i want to see if any of these clubs actually speak to me. like, soul-to-soul.”
“sure,” kazuha smiled. “we’ll just see you at aurora hall when we’re done?”
“deal,” you nodded.
with that, the four of you drifted apart, each pulled in a different direction by color, curiosity, or convenience. the square buzzed around you like a beehive—music blasting from bluetooth speakers, laughter echoing, students juggling flyers and iced coffees, shouting over one another in a chorus of invitations.
and somewhere among that cheerful chaos, you were hoping to find your place.
or at least a club booth that didn't have glitter in the air and desperate energy in the eyes.
somewhere near the heart of horizon square—surrounded by the hum of voices, the rustling of pamphlets, and the occasional clang of a tambourine from a wildly enthusiastic music club—stood jungwon and his group, each of them absorbed in their own glossy paper map of campus club life.
the pamphlets were colorful, almost aggressively so, each one a collage of ambition and chaos. every square inch was crammed with names, taglines, and wildly optimistic descriptions. jungwon’s friends were already forming their personal paths, choices made with the kind of ease that made jungwon’s indecision feel a little louder in his own chest.
“alright, let’s split up and sign up,” sunoo declared, already folding his pamphlet like a seasoned origami artist.
“creative writers’ forum, here i come,” he added with a proud twirl, like he’d just been cast in a play.
riki, unsurprisingly, had set his eyes—and rhythm—on the grand horizon dance company. he gave a little spin for dramatic flair, earning a thumbs-up from sunoo and a head shake from jungwon.
“we get it,” sunoo deadpanned. “you’ve got moves.”
“can’t waste this talent,” riki replied, flipping imaginary hair as he walked off.
jake, meanwhile, had found unexpected excitement in the biology enthusiasts club. something about their tagline—“where science meets obsession”—spoke to the budding lab rat in him.
sunghoon stood frozen, his pamphlet flapping lazily in the breeze. “i... don’t want anything that screams ‘engineering.’ i’m traumatized already and school hasn't officially started yet.”
“so just do something chill,” jake shrugged.
and with that, sunghoon chose the chill spot: a club that promised board games, snacks, naps, and zero productivity. the dream. the sanctuary. his people.
but jungwon remained where he stood, pamphlet still unfolded in his hands like a riddle waiting to be solved. while the others peeled off one by one, he found himself flipping pages and rereading club descriptions with growing restlessness as he walked aimlessly.
he wanted something... more. something honest. something that would let his creativity breathe.
and then he heard it—a very familiar voice. a voice he would never forget.
“would you like to join our club?”
the voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to cut through the noise. jungwon glanced up, heart skipping in recognition. there, behind one of the stalls, stood someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“jay?”
he didn’t even realize his feet had started moving until he was already crossing the short distance, smiling wide, pamphlet forgotten.
the man behind the stall blinked, scanning the crowd for the voice. then, spotting jungwon, his eyes lit up. a grin cracked across his face as he stepped out from behind the table.
“bro! what are you doing here?” jay exclaimed, clasping both hands on jungwon’s shoulders like he was trying to confirm he was real.
jungwon chuckled, brushing his hands away and dapping him up. “what do you think i’m doing here? obviously pursuing higher education because my parents say it's ‘necessary’.”
“classic,” jay laughed. “same old jungwon.”
he gestured toward the stall, ushering him over like he was welcoming a guest into his home. jungwon followed, sinking into the offered chair with a soft smile playing on his lips.
“how’ve you been?” jay asked, leaning against the table. “how are sunoo and riki?”
“i'm good and sunoo and riki are actually here too,” jungwon said, lighting up. “we all got in. they’re off somewhere now, signing up to the clubs they wanna join.”
“no way,” jay said with mock disbelief. “the gang’s all here? man, time really does fly. one second we’re cramming for high school finals, the next we’re at the gates of adulthood, pretending to have it all together.”
jungwon laughed quietly, nodding. “yeah. wild.”
jay had always been like an older brother to them—cool without trying, always knowing just what to say. back in high school, he was the one they ran to when things got too loud or too confusing. even now, just seeing him eased a weight jungwon hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
“so,” jay said, crossing his arms, “have you picked a club yet?”
jungwon hesitated. “not yet. i’ve been looking for something... art-related, maybe. i’m not really confident in my skills, but i know i have decent skills. i just don’t think it’s enough.”
jay hummed thoughtfully and, without missing a beat, took jungwon’s crumpled pamphlet right out of his hands.
“let’s find it, then,” he said, scanning the list like a detective about to crack a case. “you’ve got good instincts. we just need to find the right space to grow them.”
and in that moment, jungwon didn’t feel so lost anymore.
“how about the art & sketch society?” jay offered, handing the pamphlet back to jungwon with a confident flick of his fingers. “focuses on drawing, sketching, all that creative jazz. sounds like it’s right up your alley.”
jungwon blinked, unfolding the slightly crumpled pamphlet with renewed interest, eyes scanning the maze of club names and descriptions. “where did you even see that? how did i miss it?”
jay leaned over with the air of a man who’s done this far too many times, pointing to a modest little box near the bottom corner of the page. “right here. you need better eyesight, man.”
jungwon rolled his eyes but chuckled, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “what would i do without you?”
“probably join something tragic or something that requires anything physical like taekwondo,” jay said with mock solemnity.
jungwon snorted.
“actually,” jay added, a little more seriously, “i was gonna ask if you wanted to join our club. but, uh, figured it might not be your thing.”
he handed over a smaller, more personalized flyer—clearly homemade, slightly chaotic in design, and deeply proud of it.
jungwon read the name aloud, brow furrowed. “the... multi-maybe club?”
jay grinned. “we call ourselves the m-and-m’s. the m-m club, if you will.”
jungwon looked up, deeply confused and deeply amused. “what do you even do in a multi-maybe club?”
jay’s grin widened. “maybe everything. maybe nothing. maybe you paint a wall. maybe you'll nap under a tree. it’s a lawless land, my friend.”
jungwon burst into laughter, the kind that bent him slightly at the waist and made him cover his face for a second. jay stood back with a smile, watching fondly like an older brother watching his favorite sibling crack up at a dumb joke.
“dude,” jungwon said through the laughter, wiping at his eyes, “you just made my whole day.”
“glad to be of service,” jay replied, giving a mock bow.
as jungwon tried to catch his breath, he remembered something. “sunoo and riki need to know you’re here. they’d lose their minds. you free later?”
jay looked down at his wrist, as if checking a watch that didn’t exist. “hmm... maybe i have time.”
jungwon raised an eyebrow.
“okay, okay,” jay laughed. “i’m free. just gotta find one more person to sign up for our club, and then i can pack this whole thing up.”
he stood up straight, brushing invisible dust off his pants, and jungwon mirrored him.
“we’re all meeting at the stem fuel stop later, after everyone’s done signing up,” jungwon said, slowly backing away. “also, we met two new people—you’re gonna love them. they’re... something else.”
“perfect. i’m bringing someone too. you’ll love him,” jay replied, raising a hand in a casual wave as jungwon turned.
“see you later, m&m,” jungwon called over his shoulder with a smirk.
“go find your sketch society, art boy,” jay shot back, laughing.
with one last grin, jungwon disappeared into the crowd, pamphlet in hand, his steps a little lighter now as he searched for the art & sketch society’s stall.
you, on the other hand, were still wandering—admittedly a little lost and, at this point, thoroughly over the parade of pamphlets being thrust in your face.
upperclassmen lined the plaza like cheerful merchants at a bizarre bazaar, each one passionately marketing their clubs as if their lives depended on it. from anime appreciation societies to eco-sustainability coalitions, everyone seemed to have something to pitch. and yet, nothing called out to you.
you smiled politely, declining brochure after brochure with a soft “no, thank you,” until your feet—bored of your indecision—guided you toward a rather peculiar-looking stall.
its banner was simple yet striking: two large block letters—M M—hung above, bold and cryptic. beneath the sign, in slightly chaotic handwriting, read: the multi-maybe club.
you tilted your head. multi-maybe?
it sounded like the kind of club that didn't quite know what it wanted to be. a filler club, perhaps. the type students joined just to finish a university requirement. and yet... there was something oddly magnetic about it. as if those two bold letters were speaking directly to your soul in a silent language only lost, curious freshmen could understand.
drawn in by either fate or mild existential curiosity, you approached.
the guy behind the table was currently mid-conversation with another student, his animated gestures suggesting a practiced pitch. but then his gaze shifted and locked onto you.
“oh—hi there! are you interested in joining our club?” he greeted warmly, already reaching for a flyer. he handed it to you with both hands, like it was something sacred.
you glanced down at the handmade paper. bold scribbles, doodled stars, and a questionable amount of glitter glue outlined the text:
‘welcome to the multi-maybe club! where you can do everything... or nothing. your multiple maybes? might just happen here—or maybe not. it's your choice!’
he flashed a grin and pointed proudly at the sign above his head. “we're all about possibilities,” he said. “maximum freedom. minimal expectations.”
you looked at him, then at the sign, then back at the flyer.
“…where do i sign up?” you asked, surprising even yourself with how fast the words came out.
the guy's smile spread even wider, his eyes practically lighting up. “you just made the best maybe-decision of your life, miss..?” he declared, handing you a clipboard with a list of names. without hesitation, you wrote down your name, your major, and scribbled your signature at the bottom.
“y/n,” you said. “just call me y/n.”
“y/n,” he repeated with a nod, committing it to memory. “nice to meet you. i’m jay—vice president of the m-m club. our president’s off being a busy graduating senior, but she exists. i promise.”
you chuckled, handing back the clipboard.
jay reached under the table and pulled out a more official-looking pamphlet—actually printed, this time. “here’s our schedule, basic club info, building details. you’ll mostly find us in the lucent library next to aurora hall. the librarian kinda loves us. mostly because we either do absolutely nothing or occasionally help re-shelve books. it’s a vibe.”
you scanned the paper, trying not to laugh at how absurdly laid-back the club seemed. still, it felt oddly right.
“thanks, jay,” you said, tucking the brochure into your tote bag. “see you around.”
“yep, see you around,” he replied, giving you a small wave as you turned to leave.
as you walked away, your thoughts drifted. ‘did i really just join a filler club?’ you shook your head, a small laugh slipping from your lips as you slid the flyer into your bag, tucked just beside the brochure.
but strangely enough, you felt something warm bubble in your chest.
excitement.
not the wild, overwhelming kind—but a quiet, budding curiosity.
as soon as you managed to escape the buzz of horizon square—dodging the last wave of overly enthusiastic club recruiters—you finally spotted your friends. they were gathered on the broad stone steps leading to aurora hall, their silhouettes bathed in the golden hue of the afternoon light.
you waved both arms above your head as you jogged toward them, the crowd now thinning as students slowly trickled out of the plaza. some were heading home, others drifting into the campus cafés, tucked-away eateries, or lingering in the comfort of air-conditioned student lounges.
yunjin noticed you first. she raised a can of diet coke in the air like a sacred offering, her expression amused. you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle—she knew you too well.
you reached them with slightly breathless laughter and dropped yourself between chaewon and kazuha, letting your weight sink into the cool steps. yunjin was perched two steps above you, and with no hesitation, you leaned back so your head could rest comfortably on her thigh. she handed you the drink without a word.
“bless your soul,” you mumbled with a grateful smile as you cracked the can open and took a generous sip. the fizzy sweetness coated your tongue, and you exhaled with an exaggerated, refreshed sigh. without a second thought, you leaned back further, letting your body melt against yunjin’s warmth as she absentmindedly played with your hair.
“should we go home now?” she murmured lazily, fingers threading through your strands.
the word home struck like a silent spell.
no one answered immediately. instead, all four of you sank into an almost meditative silence. just the thought of soft pillows, cool sheets, and the sweet hum of an air conditioner was enough to temporarily sedate you all.
you each had things to prepare for tomorrow—yes, technically syllabus week, but the illusion of leisure was already wearing thin. there were class schedules to memorize, supplies to organize, nerves to settle.
after several long, deliciously quiet moments, as if perfectly choreographed, you all nodded slowly and muttered a collective, almost reverent: “yep.”
no further discussion was needed. you stood together, heavy-footed and slow-moving, like four survivors of a mild but exhausting war.
“we should head back and recharge,” you said, walking in step with them. “we’ve only got one week to mentally brace ourselves for whatever academic avalanche awaits.”
“and we find out our schedules tomorrow,” kazuha added with a groan, already opening her phone to book a ride. “can’t wait to see if fate puts me in an 7a.m. class in the first semester.”
“tell me about it.” yunjin grumbled.
chaewon simply sighed like she’d already accepted her impending doom.
you booked your own ride and the four of you migrated to the waiting shed just by the university’s gate. the air was beginning to cool as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows along the sidewalk.
your uber arrived first.
you gave each of your friends quick hugs and soft cheek kisses—half-hearted from tiredness but no less sincere.
“text us when you get home,” chaewon reminded you just as you slid one foot into the car.
you gave her a lazy thumbs-up before disappearing behind the door and letting it close with a soft thud.
the ride home was quiet. your head leaned against the window, and the city outside blurred into pastel streaks as exhaustion settled in your bones. by the time you arrived at your apartment, you barely had the energy to thank your driver.
the moment the door shut behind you, you kicked off your shoes and peeled away the layers of your day until you were down to nothing but your underwear and bra. with a long exhale, you padded barefoot across the floor and into your bedroom, phone in hand.
a few quick texts were sent—first to your group chat: ‘home safe’, then to your parents, followed by a small heart emoji. you dropped your phone onto the bed with a soft thump and made your way to your closet, grabbing a change of clothes.
the shower was bliss. warm water cascading down your skin like a gentle reset, washing away the sweat, the noise, and the weight of navigating new beginnings.
after drying your hair and pulling on fresh clothes, you collapsed onto your bed. the mattress embraced you like an old friend. the pillow welcomed your head like it had been waiting all day.
you meant to grab your phone again.
you meant to check messages, maybe scroll a little.
but your body had other plans.
within minutes, your breathing slowed, thoughts blurred, and sleep took you—soft and soundless.
meanwhile, tucked into a corner booth at the stem fuel stop, jungwon and his group were in a state of quiet suspense—well, most of them were. jake and sunghoon were entirely absorbed in their own little worlds, multitasking between snacking and scrolling through their phones, while sunoo and riki eyed jungwon like he’d grown a second head.
“won,” sunoo said, voice laced with suspicion and a bit of exasperation, “can you please tell us why we’re still here? i thought we were just gonna meet up, take a break, maybe grab some food. but you’re not even eating. you’re just… smiling at the window.”
sunoo gestured dramatically toward jungwon, who was indeed sitting there with the faintest, most serene smile on his face. every time the café door swung open, his head would subtly turn, eyes lighting up with anticipation. it was getting weird.
“just trust me,” jungwon said, practically glowing with mystery. “you’ll be surprised. and happy. very, very soon.”
sunoo narrowed his eyes but leaned back in his seat with a long sigh, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “i swear… him and his mood swings.”
riki raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward sunoo, silently mouthing, ‘what’s up with him now?’
sunoo just shrugged, the universal response for ‘no clue, don’t ask me.’
riki glanced at the clock. “he sure is taking his sweet time,” he muttered under his breath, peering down at his phone, clearly considering whether this whole setup was worth the wait.sunoo shot him a look that said ‘tell me about it’, when—
“i see you two are still as impatient as ever.”
a familiar voice, smooth and teasing, landed behind them, a head popping from behind them and a hand gently pressed down on both their shoulders, startling the two boys upright.
they twisted in their seats, eyes wide.
“jay?!” they both gasped in unison, voices laced with disbelief, joy, and the slightest touch of betrayal—how dare he sneak up on them like that?
sunoo shot up from his seat and threw his arms around jay’s neck like he was making up for lost time. riki was still half in shock, but his body moved on instinct, arms wrapping tightly around jay’s waist.
“woah—hey—okay, this is happening,” jay laughed, slightly thrown off balance by the ambush hug, his arms eventually resting around both their heads, gently ruffling their hair like he used to.
jungwon, still seated and watching the scene unfold, burst into a quiet laugh. there was something so warm, so stupidly precious, about seeing his friends melt like kids at a surprise reunion.
“did you guys miss me that much?” jay teased, smiling as he tried to wiggle free from their emotional death grip.
sunoo and riki both nodded emphatically, faces buried in opposite ends of jay’s shoulder and torso.
jay chuckled, “you do realize it’s only been two years, right? not a whole lifetime.”
sunoo and riki pulled back just far enough to glare up at him, eyes narrowed.
“that is a lifetime,” they chorused indignantly, as if he’d just said something blasphemous.
jay held up his hands in surrender, laughing again. “okay, okay. two years is forever. my bad.”
he patted their heads again, endearingly like an older brother humoring two very dramatic younger siblings. “now, can i sit? or do i need to earn that too?”
sunoo finally slid back into his seat with an exaggerated sigh, while riki made room on the other side. jay sat between them, comfortably wedged in the heart of the group once again—like he’d never left.
“umm, guys?” jake’s voice sliced gently through the warmth of the reunion. it was the kind of voice people used when they were trying not to intrude but also couldn’t ignore the rising curiosity bubbling inside them. his hand hovered mid-air like a student with a question—half-hopeful, half-hesitant.
he and sunghoon had been sitting quietly, mere spectators to the emotional reunion unfolding in front of them. they didn’t want to interrupt something that was clearly meaningful, but the urge to be part of it was beginning to hum louder deep inside them.
besides, judging by the way riki and sunoo lit up at the sight of jay, this wasn’t just a casual catch-up—this was the friend reunion. and they wanted in.
“are you gonna introduce us,” jake said, tilting his head, “or should we just keep watching from the audience section?”
jay chuckled, the sound low and familiar, like laughter shared in hallways and cafeterias. he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “sorry, sorry. name’s jay. i’ve been friends with these three since high school. i’m a third year here at grand horizon—marketing major, occasional chaos enabler.”
he reached out to shake their hands.
“jake,” the boy said with a bright smile, “biology major. aspiring mad scientist.”
“sunghoon,” the other said smoothly. “engineering. part-time realist, full-time eye-roller.”
jay grinned as he shook both their hands. “i like this group already.”
“how’d you all meet, anyway?” he asked, looking around as he settled into the seat like he belonged there.
sunoo, ever ready to explain, perked up. “sunghoon’s my dorm mate, jake’s with riki, and we kinda just... adopted jungwon last month. it was very wholesome.”
“like a stray cat,” jake added helpfully.
jungwon made a face. “i’m right here, you know.”
“we know,” riki said, patting his head.
jay laughed, then, without missing a beat, leaned over and stole a fry from jake’s plate with the grace of someone who had clearly done this before.
“did you just—?”
“i did,” jay confirmed mid-chew, grinning. “anyway, it’s great to meet you guys. you’re gonna love it here, i promise. oh—and i’ve got a friend coming. he should be here any minute.”
as if on cue, the bell above the café door gave a soft chime, announcing the arrival of someone new.
and then—he walked in.
a young man with striking red hair, not the playful kind, but the bold, unapologetic shade of red that demanded attention the moment he entered a room. his presence was immediate—subtle, but undeniable.
he wore a black tank top tucked effortlessly into dark gray, high-waisted trousers tailored to perfection. they cinched his waist and flowed down with structured elegance, every step a study in confidence. layered loosely over his frame was a glossy black leather button-up long sleeve shirt, worn open, the material catching the light with each movement like a ripple of shadow.
a thin, silver chain with a cross pendant rested against his collarbone, glinting faintly. tiny silver hoops adorned his ears, understated yet intentional. and slung diagonally across his torso was a sleek black crossbody bag, the strap sitting snug over his chest, completing the look with quiet precision.
he didn’t look around frantically. instead, his eyes swept the café with the calm disinterest of someone who had no need to search—only to be found.
he looked cool—effortlessly so. intimidating, even. the kind of person who didn’t need to try hard to stand out. he just did.
all five of them froze, except for jay. the kind of freeze that wasn’t fear, but awe. they weren’t sure whether to hope this was jay’s friend or pray it wasn’t—because if it was, they were suddenly not sure they were dressed well enough for this sudden meet up.
jay raised his arm and called out with a wide smile. “yo! heeseung, over here!”
the red-haired man—heeseung—glanced over. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, quiet but genuine. and then he moved, heading toward them with long, unhurried strides, each step measured and magnetic.
“wait... that’s his friend?” sunoo whispered, eyes wide.
riki nodded slowly, voice distant. “he looks like a runway model who just woke up and decided to casually destroy everyone’s self-esteem.”
“and somehow he looks even taller in person,” jungwon muttered, blinking.
“i'm probably taller,” riki tried saving his self-esteem even though he wasn't sure if it was actually working.
jay was already stylish—sharp jawline, good taste, an air of familiarity. but heeseung? he walked in like a scene from a movie. red hair, glowing skin, dressed like a secret. he didn’t blend in. he redefined the space around him.
even jungwon, who had his own soft kind of charm with tousled blonde hair and a boyish smile, felt like a background character.
heeseung approached the table with the quiet composure of someone used to eyes following him—unbothered, but never arrogant. like the world always adjusted itself slightly to make room for him.
he walked past everyone at the table, his pace unhurried, presence effortlessly commanding. but instead of acknowledging the wide-eyed stares or curious glances sent his way, he went straight to jay, greeting him with a casual dap that spoke of years of shared moments and easy trust.
after the brief gesture, heeseung’s gaze swept across the table, his lips tugging into a soft, almost bashful smile. it was surprising, really—how someone who looked like a living editorial spread from a fashion magazine could also look so... shy.
he leaned closer to jay, his voice low. “umm, do i have to introduce myself first?”
a second ago, he had seemed untouchable—cool, collected, almost intimidating. now, he resembled a new kid in class, unsure where to begin.
jay chuckled, amused by the contrast, and gave heeseung a light pat on the back. “just sit down and start talking,” he whispered, then gently nudged him toward the only empty chair—right beside jungwon. heeseung blinked, then allowed himself to be pushed down into the seat like a confused but obedient hamster.
“oh, okay,” he muttered under his breath, then cleared his throat and addressed the table. “hi, umm... i’m heeseung. a friend of jay’s. third year. music composition major. we’ve also been in the same club since first year.” he nodded once, firmly, as if that sealed the deal on his introduction.
there was a beat of silence before everyone else began introducing themselves, one after the other.
first came jungwon, polite and reserved. then sunoo, bright and curious. riki chimed in with a charming smile, followed by jake, who had the enthusiasm of a golden retriever discovering a new friend. sunghoon went last, cool and composed, giving a small nod as if he were in a press conference.
the energy was a little awkward, but thankfully, everyone seemed willing to push past that initial stiffness. questions began to float into the air, light and genuine.
riki leaned forward first, his tone friendly. “so, how’d you and jay meet?”
heeseung let out a short laugh, the memory lighting up his face. “we met on the first day of uni, actually. both of us were at horizon square, just wandering around trying to figure out what club to join. then we ended up standing in front of this one weird stall that had two massive m’s on the sign. the multi-maybe club. weird name, right?”
the group chuckled.
“anyway, jay started talking to me out of nowhere—just asking random things like what my major was, what music i liked, what my blood type was. totally normal stuff.” heeseung grinned. “we didn’t know anyone at the time, so it was honestly nice he didn’t just leave after signing up. after that, we kept in touch. we’d study in the library together, eat lunch during breaks... even though we’re in different majors, he kind of just stuck around. and yeah, he’s basically the only real friend i’ve had here.”
jay, listening with an increasingly dramatic expression, slowly placed both hands over his heart like a victorian lady hearing a love confession.
“awww,” jay gasped. “i’m your only real friend?”
he reached out theatrically for heeseung’s hand, his eyes brimming with fake tears.
without even blinking, heeseung rolled his eyes and yanked his hand away—then flipped jay off with a casual flick of his middle finger.
the entire table erupted into laughter.
“well,” heeseung added with a playful smirk, “i’m actually hoping to change that by meeting all of you.”
jay clutched his chest as if he'd been shot. “and just like that, replaced. i should’ve let you eat alone.”
more laughter followed, the kind that comes when tension melts away and something genuine settles in its place. the group was still new to each other, but it no longer felt like strangers trying too hard. it felt like the beginning of something that might just be real.
the conversation continued to flow—light, casual, but slowly unraveling layers. they asked about each other's lives, traded stories of high school mischief, swapped sports preferences, and shared scattered facts with the kind of curiosity only new friendships carry. it was a soft chaos of voices, laughter, and the occasional gasp at unexpected confessions.
then, as if sensing a lull in the momentum, jay leaned forward and tilted his head toward jungwon.
“so,” he said with a glint in his eye, “anything new with you, jungwon?”
jungwon blinked, caught off guard. his mouth opened slightly, ready to reply—but sunoo beat him to it with a mischievous grin.
“he has a girl problem right now,” sunoo said in a sing-song tone, and jay’s expression lit up like a proud older brother watching his kid finally enter the dating world.
“what? finally?” jay laughed, eyebrows raised in delight.
jungwon’s ears turned an unmistakable shade of pink, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he let out an awkward chuckle. “it’s not a problem, she’s not a problem,” he said, shaking his head, clearly hoping to steer the topic elsewhere—anywhere, really.
but riki leaned in dramatically, eyes wide with faux shock. “ohhh, he’s defending her now? this is new.”
sunoo, never one to let a moment slip, immediately mimicked jungwon’s earlier voice. “she’s not a problem,” he repeated with exaggerated sincerity, clasping his hands to his chest like he was quoting poetry.
jay looked amused, borderline delighted, as he leaned closer. “okay, now i have to know. what happened?”
heeseung, who had been quietly sipping his drink and observing, now perked up as well. his eyes, already large, seemed to double in size, gleaming with pure curiosity. “i’m curious too.”
jungwon groaned, realizing escape was futile. “nothing happened,” he muttered. “let’s just say... i’m trying to avoid her. that’s it. end of story.”
he looked around the table, firm and resolute, like a man putting up caution tape around his heart.
everyone exchanged glances but decided—for now—to let it go. jay, however, had other plans.
with the stealth of someone used to scheming, he leaned toward sunoo and gave the slightest nod. sunoo caught it instantly.
sunoo sighed, already resigning himself to being the group's designated informant. jay then flicked his gaze toward heeseung and gave a small head gesture toward sunoo. heeseung, catching on, turned to sunoo as well. sunoo nodded once, a solemn confirmation.
a pact had been made. they were going to sunoo and sunghoon’s dorm later. mission: dig up all the tea.
it might’ve been a spontaneous plan, but in their group, that was more than enough. jay and heeseung were already honorary members. the invitation was unspoken but entirely valid. all they had to do was wait for jungwon to finally go home.
as if on cue, the topic changed, drifting into safer territory—about the orientation and tour earlier and old campus drama when jay and heeseung were first and second year. the sky outside had deepened into shades of evening, and before long, it was time to go.
the group slowly rose from their seats, gathering their things, still chatting as they made their way out of the café. they lingered at the front gate of the university, waiting under a waiting shed for their ubers to arrive.
jungwon’s car was the first to pull up.
“i’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said casually, waving as he climbed into the vehicle.
“bye!” the group chorused.
“message us when you get home,” sunoo followed up as jungwon hops inside the car.
but the second the car door shut and his ride rolled away down the street, the rest of them turned toward each other with the same look.
it was time.
no one needed to say it. it was understood. they were going to sunoo and sunghoon’s dorm, and tonight, they would unearth the full story behind jungwon’s ‘she’s not a problem’ girl.
jake and riki, a bit late to realize what was happening, exchanged glances.
“wait—are we going too?” jake asked.
“you are now,” sunoo said, already walking ahead.
riki shrugged. “well, i do know the whole story…”
“perfect,” jay grinned. “you’re coming. we need to know every detail.”
and with that, the group disappeared into the night, drawn together not just by friendship, but by the irresistible pull of juicy gossip waiting to be spilled behind dorm room walls.
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 (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part five will probably be posted on saturday or sunday! see you guys then!
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 (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀4.813k
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, confusion, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), 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 wrote it so i think it's cringe), 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, i'm finally able to post pt2! i hope you guys enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one.
#⠀OO1⠀:⠀THE AWKWARD BALCONY MEETING.
you groaned softly as the alarm pierced the silence of your apartment. eyes still heavy with sleep, you reached out blindly to silence it, then sat up in bed, lingering in the quiet. for a brief moment, the temptation to fall back under the covers tugged at you—until the memory of your scheduled furniture delivery pushed through the haze. with a resigned sigh, you began your morning.
you moved through your routine with quiet precision: a splash of cold water to the face, a brush of teeth, a quick sweep of your hair. the routine was grounding, familiar. once done, you padded into the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee to chase the last remnants of sleep from your mind.
mug in hand, you stepped onto your balcony, the morning air still tinged with a gentle chill. you stretched lazily, shoulders rising and falling as a yawn escaped your lips. just as you were about to turn back inside, a sound stopped you in your tracks.
“meow.”
the drowsiness vanished in an instant, replaced by a smile that bloomed effortlessly. turning your head, you spotted her—yami—perched with the same regal poise she always carried, now on your balcony as if she belonged there.
“well, good morning to you too,” you murmured, voice soft with affection as your hand found her silky fur. she purred in response, pressing into your touch with a sense of trust that warmed your chest.
you took a sip of your coffee, the taste lingering on your tongue as you set the mug on the railing. with practiced gentleness, you scooped yami into your arms, cradling her carefully, fearful of startling her despite her calm demeanor.
wrapped in your arms, she seemed content. and for a moment, you forgot she wasn’t yours—that she belonged to someone else entirely.
lost in the simple joy of holding her, you barely noticed the voice that drifted over from the neighboring apartment.
“yami? where are you, girl?”
you froze, lifting your gaze only to be met with the most beautiful view you've seen this morning (aside from yami): a young man—tall, broad-shouldered, tiny waist, with blonde hair that caught the morning light like fire.
his eyes widened as they met yours, registering the sight of his cat in your arms. and just like that, the world paused.
you stared. he stared. and then—you screamed.
startled, he jolted, while you turned away, covering your face with yami in a poor attempt to shield yourself. “woah– what’s wrong? are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned. you peeked through strands of fur and caught sight of the problem—he was wearing nothing but boxers.
he followed your gaze and immediately covered himself with his hands.
“i-i’m so sorry! wait a minute! please don’t go anywhere!” he blurted out, vanishing inside in a blur of limbs and embarrassment. you remained where you stood, cheeks warm, yami still cradled in your arms.
what could you say? he told you to stay put. you were weak when it comes to pretty faces.
soon, you heard shuffling, then footsteps. the door slid open again, revealing him—shirt half on, hair tousled, but now fully clothed and smiling softly.
“hi. i'm sorry about earlier... you must be the new neighbor. my name's jungwon,” he said, voice laced with warmth as he smiled at you. you nearly melted on the spot. that smile was dangerous.
“yes, i moved in just yesterday,” you replied, stumbling over your words. “you must be mine—i mean, my neighbor. i'm y/n, how long have you been living here?”
he chuckled at your flustered tone, leaning against the balcony railing with casual charm. “only two weeks. my university’s nearby—classes start next month.”
“wait, university?” you asked, placing yami carefully on the railing. “are you going to grand horizon university?” his brows rose in pleasant surprise. “yeah. you too?” you nodded, and he laughed—an easy, melodic sound that made your heart flip a little.
“wow, so we’re neighbors and we’re going to the same university. what’s your course though? if we end up in the same one, i might have to believe in soulmates.”
“bsba hrm. business administration, human resource management. you?” as soon as he heard your response, he playfully feigned despair. “damn it. we almost had it. my course is bs arch, bachelor of science in architecture.”
“oh no! i could’ve been your soulmate!” you whined dramatically, jokingly feigning despair before burying your face into yami’s fur. “i mean, i could just steal you right now,” you whispered towards yami with a playful pout.
his laughter rang out again, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you. “i see yami’s chosen you,” he said, feigning betrayal. “she’s always sneaking over to your balcony—even before you moved in. what’s wrong with mine, huh yami?”
she meowed back as if answering him, prompting a theatrical gasp from him. “young lady, i did not raise you to be this way!”
you laughed, the ease of the moment wrapping around you like a warm breeze. “you really do give off cat dad energy.” he smiled, softer now. “i’ve always loved cats. ever since i was a kid.”
“i can tell,” you said, continuing to stroke yami gently. suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. you glanced down, eyes widening as you read the message.
“oh shit, i forgot,” you muttered, quickly typing out a reply. “what’s wrong?” he asked, concern returning to his features. “my furniture’s being delivered soon—they’re already on the way.”
“do you need help?”
you hesitated. “we just met…”
“i don’t actually mind helping you,” he said casually, the corners of his mouth curving into a smug little grin. “i’ve got nothing planned today anyway, so why not? besides, it’s good practice. i am going to be an architect one day, after all.”
he proudly jabbed a thumb toward himself, as if telling you to count on him.
you raised an eyebrow, arms loosely folded, amusement already dancing in your eyes. “so basically… you’re using me?”
his smirk faltered in real-time, his confidence visibly crumbling as his eyes widened. “w-what? no! that’s not what i meant.” his hand flew to his chest in mock (or maybe real) panic. “i swear, i wasn’t trying to exploit your interior design crisis for academic gain.”
a laugh burst out of you before you could stop it, light and full of mischief. “i’m just messing with you.”
he blinked, then exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. his arms folded tightly across his chest in mild protest, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “you shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, half-pouting. “i’m too young to have a heart attack.”
“okay, okay, my bad.” you said, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “so… later? should i just come out here and call you?”
he shook his head with an amused smile, then extended his hand toward you. “can i see your phone for a sec?”
without hesitation—without even questioning it—you handed it to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. there was something disarming about him, something that made you trust him almost too easily.
“i’ll give you my number,” he said, already typing away. “that way, you can call me whenever you need help—or if you just get bored and wanna bother someone.”
“oh right, why didn’t i think of that?” you mentally facepalmed yourself which made him grin. “maybe you just wanted an excuse to see my face.”
you chuckled, shaking your head. “see you later, jungwon.”
“yeah. see you,” he said, watching as you disappeared into your apartment.
he turned to yami and smiled, “time to go home, troublemaker.” and as if she understood, yami leapt down and trotted back inside without protest.
#⠀OO2⠀:⠀THE BARON PERSONIFIED.
you were halfway through organizing your closet, folding shirts into neat squares, and hanging jackets with a kind of casual precision when your phone buzzed softly on the nearby shelf. a message had come in from the delivery crew scheduled to bring your furniture.
you dropped the shirt that you were currently folding, grabbed your phone, and typed out a quick reply, telling them you'd meet them at the lobby of the building.
you lingered on your home screen for a moment. your thumb hovered above your contact list before scrolling deliberately. it stopped on a name that made your stomach twist in the gentlest way: jungwon (yami’s dad).
a quiet pause stretched in your apartment. were you really about to message him just because he said he would love to help you?
you barely knew him. you had only just met. and yet—there was something about him. something warm. maybe it was the way he smiled, or how his eyes held a softness behind the amusement. maybe you just wanted to see yami again. it didn’t matter.
all you knew was that something about him made you want to be closer. maybe as friends. maybe even... more.
you blinked at the screen, startled. he replied almost instantly.
so he really had nothing else going on today? or—was he just expecting a message from you? you shook your head quickly, trying to dispel the thought before it bloomed further.
but still, you could imagine it vividly—him smiling down at his phone, thumb tapping lightly as he responded to you.
no. stop.
you sat up straighter and forced your mind back to the task. you needed to be direct, nothing more.
you:
so, about your offer earlier…
are you still up for it? 😅
you groaned quietly and placed a palm over your face.
“why are you like this?” you muttered to yourself. “you said something straightforward! ‘my furniture is arriving.’ easy. simple. what is this awkward, drawn-out attempt at conversation?”
but there was no taking it back now. all you could do was wait.
jungwon (yami's dad):
yes, of course.
are they on their way?
wanna go to the lobby together?
your heart thudded—once, loud and embarrassingly dramatic, like a clumsy drummer missing his cue in an otherwise silent theater.
he was just being polite, you told yourself, mentally pinching your temples. don’t romanticize this. don’t blow it out of proportion. don’t be that person.you tried to tame the fluttering in your chest with logic.
it’s just to the lobby.
it’s not a date.
you:
sure, let's meet up in the corridor after 5 mins?
jungwon (yami's dad):
sure, see you y/n :))
you locked your phone and stood there for a moment. and then, for reasons you didn’t want to admit even to yourself, you headed for the bathroom.
just to check.
you fussed with your hair a little, fixed your clothes even if they were fine, and made sure you didn’t look like someone who had spent all morning battling a closet before heading to your door.
you inhaled deeply and opened the door.
and there he was—already in front of your apartment, hand raised mid-air, ready to knock.
both of you flinched ever so slightly in surprise, but he recovered quickly, offering a sheepish smile as he dropped his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.
“hey,” he said, soft and casual, “i was just about to knock.” you laughed quietly, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eye. “missed me already?”
he blinked, visibly caught off guard. the tips of his ears reddened slightly as he struggled to find a response. you patted his shoulder and let out a light laugh. “kidding. payback for earlier.”
you turned with a swish, closing the door behind you with a satisfying click before heading toward the elevator. you didn’t need to look back to know he was following—his quiet footsteps and faint muttering confirmed it. still trying to shake the leftover embarrassment off like dust on his hoodie.
as the elevator doors slid closed, trapping you both in a space much too small for subtle tension, he glanced over and quipped, “was that your attempt at flirting? i gotta admit—kind of impressive.”
you flipped your hair dramatically, chin lifted in mock arrogance. “there are layers to me, you haven't even scratched the surface yet.”
“hmm,” he mused, voice dropping just a bit, “maybe i should take this chance to... get to know some of those layers.”
you blinked, unsure if he was still playing along or testing the waters. then he moved—closer. casually, but with purpose. instinctively, you backed away, your spine soon pressed to the cool steel wall of the elevator. your gaze darted to the reflection, catching the smirk on his face as he slowly boxed you in.
your hand flew to his chest, trying to create some space between the two of you while laughing nervously. “hahaha… okay, message received. i surrender. no more teasing, scout’s honor.”
but he didn’t budge. instead, he leaned in further, one arm resting against the wall beside you in a textbook, dramatically cliché kabe-don. your laughter turned from amused to slightly panicked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“jungwon,” you warned, voice tight with laughter and disbelief.
he tried holding a serious expression, but your nervous giggle, the slight tremble in your voice—it cracked him. a tiny snort escaped before he lost it completely, his shoulders shaking as he leaned against the wall, laughter spilling out like he'd been holding it in all day.
his laugh was ridiculous—eyes squeezed shut, gums showing, hands on his knees—and somehow it made you laugh too, even as you smacked his arm in mock offense.
“you’re the worst!” you said and playfully smacked his arm again.
“i’m sorry!” he wheezed, half-laughing, half-apologizing. “your reactions are just so priceless!”
he stumbled out of the elevator still breathless from laughter, while you followed, glaring holes into the back of his head. you were so focused on sulking that you didn’t even notice you’d reached the lobby—until you stopped short, your eyes wide in disbelief.
“oh my god…” you murmured, halting in your steps.he paused too, following your gaze.
two delivery men were hauling in an enormous box, followed closely by another two carrying what appeared to be your couch. they lined everything up right in front of you, almost ceremoniously.
“are you miss y/n?” one of the delivery men asked, clipboard balanced in his hand, his voice loud enough to rise over the subtle grunts and shifting boxes. behind him, two others climbed back into the truck, retrieving the next round of cargo.
you blinked, caught off guard, then straightened your posture a little. “y-yes, that’s me.”
“great. we’ll just need to know which floor your apartment is on so we can start moving everything up.”
you exhaled, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in quiet relief. “thank goodness. it’s the fifth floor. we can help carry things too—if that’s alright?” your gaze slid over to jungwon, almost instinctively seeking his confirmation.
jungwon, who had been standing beside you with a relaxed stance and mild amusement tugging at his lips, nodded without hesitation. “yes, sir. we’ll help.”
as soon as the movers turned away, jungwon leaned closer, trying—and spectacularly failing—not to laugh under his breath. “looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“i’m so sorry,” you said with a wince, brows knitting together. “i really didn’t think they were delivering the heavy stuff today.”
he let out a soft laugh and reached over to ruffle your hair, the gesture both gentle and teasing. “don’t worry about it. i did sign up for this, remember?”
and he wasn’t lying. not once did he complain—not during the multiple elevator trips, not while hauling boxes that made your arms ache, not even when one of the furniture legs jabbed him squarely in the side.
the hours blurred together after that, marked by clunky footsteps, the hum of the elevator, the occasional hiss of packing tape, and intermittent bursts of shared laughter. jungwon, despite claiming in one of your conversations in the elevator that he wasn’t much of a gym guy, turned out to be surprisingly sturdy. you started suspecting he’d been modest on purpose.
by the time you picked up the final box—a small one, feather-light in comparison, probably filled with decor—aesthetic trinkets you ordered on impulse.
while convincing yourself they’d spark joy—your body felt like jelly, and your clothes were clinging to you in all the wrong places.
as the elevator doors opened once more to reveal the familiar hallway of your floor, you spotted jungwon already walking ahead. he glanced over his shoulder, noticed the box in your arms, and immediately turned around, meeting you halfway.
without a word, he took it from you like it weighed nothing. “is this the last one?” he asked, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, though his tone remained light.
“yep,” you sighed as you practically collapsed onto the couch—still in its protective plastic wrap. “i even tipped the movers. they were incredible.”
he set the box down carefully beside the others and turned to look at you, hands on his hips. “you, my neighbor, are officially moved in.”
you stretched your legs out, dramatically groaning. “and officially dead.”
jungwon laughed, stepping over a few rogue packing peanuts. “well at least you're lucky that i’m here. no one helped me when i got here two weeks ago.”
you chuckled softly at what he said before rising from the couch, arms stretching toward the ceiling in a lazy arc. your muscles protested after the day’s exertion, but there was a strange sort of satisfaction in the ache.
jungwon simply watched you with a small, amused smile, arms loosely crossed as if observing a particularly entertaining scene.
“now i just need to make my bed,” you declared, almost too cheerfully for someone who was just complaining earlier.
with that, you disappeared into your bedroom. you knelt beside a suspiciously large box, its contents rattling slightly when touched, and retrieved a booklet—the so-called instruction manual.
it was written in english, accompanied by a series of overly simplified diagrams. but as you flipped through the pages, trying to decipher the minimalistic illustrations and vague arrows, it may as well have been written in some ancient, long-forgotten dialect of confusion. your eyes scanned the page again. and again.
meanwhile, jungwon had casually leaned against the doorway, arms still folded, watching your face contort in quiet, increasingly dramatic dismay.
“need help?” he asked, voice laced with amusement and concern.
you got startled slightly, not having noticed him there. “uh, no—it’s fine. you’ve helped a lot already. i can probably do this on my own.” you added that last part as if trying to convince yourself more than him.
he tilted his head, unconvinced. “are you sure?”
you straightened your back and gave him the most dignified nod you could muster. “yes. i am a grown, independent woman. i’ve got this.”
you did not, in fact, got this.
jungwon chuckled and raised both hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright. i’ll be in the living room. just yell if you decide being independent is overrated.”
time passed. slowly. excruciatingly. nearly twenty minutes ticked by in silence—no clinking of metal, no triumphant exclamations, not even the soft thud of progress. it was suspiciously quiet.
jungwon frowned, pushing himself off the couch just in time to see you emerge from your room, manual clutched tightly in both hands, looking utterly defeated.
“how was the—”
“i need help,” you blurted out, cutting him off mid-sentence before he could even finish the question.
your voice came out quicker than expected, as if your pride had loosened its grip just long enough to let the words slip. it hung awkwardly in the air for a moment, raw and slightly sheepish.
you looked at him, eyes flicking away almost instantly, heat blooming at the tips of your ears. you couldn't even bring yourself to pretend confidence anymore—not after your earlier declaration, so full of misplaced bravado, insisting that you were perfectly capable of handling the bed assembly yourself.
it was a bold statement, one born of pride, your morning coffee just kicking in, and maybe a little bit of delusion.
but now? now you were standing in front of him with your metaphorical tail between your legs, internally mourning the fact that you were not, in fact, handy manny.
not even close.
you were more like... mildly useful martha. and even that was pushing it.
he tried not to smile, really, he did. “you could’ve just said that earlier,” he said, gently taking the manual from your hands.
“i really tried,” you muttered.he glanced at you over the top of the manual, a small grin playing at his lips. then, without another word, he turned and strode into your room.
you followed closely behind, watching as he crouched by the chaotic spread of parts and began sorting them with methodical precision, muttering to himself as he matched bolts and boards like a puzzle savant.
“i can help,” you said, straightening up quickly. “just tell me what to do.”
he paused, glanced back at you with a twinkle in his eye, and then nodded. “for now, i need water.”
“on it.”
you all but dashed into the kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle and returning before handing it with both hands. he accepted it with a soft “thanks,” cracking it open before taking a long drink.
“ready to work?”
you nodded with newfound determination.
“here,” he said, handing you a pair of worn gloves. “i borrowed these from the movers. forgot to return them. figured they’d come in handy.”
you chuckled as you slipped them on, flexing your fingers like those doctors in the er. side by side, the two of you worked—the architect and the apprentice. he guided, you assisted. you handed him screws, held up wooden planks, occasionally squinted at the manual just to feel involved.
and slowly, piece by piece, what once looked like chaos began to take form—a bed, real and sturdy, built with mismatched gloves, a little teamwork, and just the right amount of shared frustration.
when he tightened the last bolt with a satisfying click, he straightened, brushed imaginary dust from his hands, and gave you a triumphant grin.
“we’re done,” he declared, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
you let out a joyful laugh and raised your hand for a high-five, which he met with a satisfying smack.
“thank you! seriously, i was already considering crashing on the couch tonight,” you said, half-laughing as you shoved the mattress onto the freshly assembled frame.
he jumped in to help, shoulder bumping yours playfully. “glad i saved you from such a tragic end.”
and then, without warning, he flopped dramatically onto the mattress, limbs splayed like a starfish.
“just testing if it's sturdy enough,” he said, though the way he rolled over like a child suggested otherwise. after a few experimental bounces, he sat up with a lopsided grin. “yep. solid. i approve.”
you chuckled, shaking your head as you walked toward the kitchen to grab water. he trailed after you, before settling himself on one of the stools like he belonged there.
“do you need help with anything else?” he asked, chin resting on his hand, eyes quietly curious.
you shook your head, brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “just have to unpack the rest now.”
he hummed softly, tapping his fingers against the counter in thought. after a beat of silence, he asked—casually, but with something delicate beneath his tone—“so... should i go now?”
you blinked, caught off guard. his voice may have been light, but his eyes held something softer. something almost... hopeful.
your cheeks warmed. you tried to play it cool, aiming for casual even as your pulse betrayed you. “i mean, you can stay for a bit. if you want.”
his whole face lit up, like someone just told him he won a prize he didn't realize he’d been hoping for.
“really?” he said, clearly delighted. “i could help decorate! i have amazing taste.”
he leaned forward eagerly, and as he did, you studied his face a little closer. the curve of his cheekbones, the way his eyes narrowed when he smiled—it struck you suddenly.
“you look like yami,” you murmured before you could stop yourself. then, tilting your head, you added, “no... you look like a cat.”
he blinked, caught off guard.
“you look like her when she stares at me before leaping from your balcony to mine?” you said, overly amused with your discovery.
then, without thinking—driven by some strange mix of affection and amusement—you reached up and gently patted his head. his hair was soft, messier than usual from the day’s effort. his ears turned a very telling shade of red.
realizing what you were doing, you jerked your hand back like you’d touched fire, suddenly hyperfocused on your water bottle as if it held all the wisdom of the cosmos.
he looked at you, smiling—soft, teasing, a little smug. “i guess that means you think i’m cute.”
you inhaled, squinting at him. “you know what—”
“nope,” he cut in, grinning. “you can’t take it back. it’s already out there. said and sealed.”
you groaned into your hands while he laughed, clearly reveling in your reaction.
then—quietly, almost under his breath, like a secret slipping through the cracks—he added, “you’re cute too.”
you heard it. of course you did. but you pretended not to, eyes still on your bottle.
just then, a soft tap interrupted the moment.you both turned toward the balcony door.
there, standing as regally as ever, was yami—pawing at the glass with the self-assurance of someone who knew she was always welcome.
“this cat,” jungwon muttered under his breath as he pushed himself off the stool to go let her in.
you watched him, heart beating just a little too loud in your chest, wondering when exactly your day turned into something this warm.
the rest of the afternoon was a blur of laughter and shifting furniture. jungwon stayed the whole time, helping arrange the apartment into something that finally felt like home.
hours slipped by like water through fingers. the sun had begun its slow descent behind the city skyline, casting golden streaks of light across the walls, like the final brushstrokes on a canvas nearly complete.
“i kept you here all afternoon,” you murmured, voice laced with guilt as you watched him pick up yami and cradle her in his arms.
he glanced at you and smiled, as if you’d said something ridiculous. “i offered, remember? besides—now you owe me a meal.”
you hesitated, brushing your fingers along the back of the newly positioned couch. “still...”
“seriously, it’s fine.” he leaned slightly against the doorframe, one hand gently supporting yami as she blinked slowly in his arms. “i gained something too—real life experience, and memories. it was a good day.”
your lips curled into a quiet smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “thank you. if it weren’t for you, i’d probably still be halfway through building that bed… or curled up on the couch in defeat.”
he laughed—a soft, genuine sound that echoed lightly. “you're welcome. we should head out. it’s her dinner time.”
“right,” you said, nodding. “i’ll walk you out.”
you walked him and yami to the door, then stood there as they walked to their apartment. when they reached their door, he turned and gave you a small wave.
you waved back, watching as he disappeared into his apartment with yami nestled against his chest.
and just like that, the quiet returned—but it wasn’t empty anymore.
your apartment, once bare and impersonal, now pulsed with a quiet kind of life. furniture in all the right places, walls still glowing with the last remnants of sunset, and the faint trace of laughter still lingering in the air.
you smiled to yourself, chest humming with the flutter of something sweet and uncertain.
back in your room, you began preparing your bed, smoothing the sheets with more care than usual. but your mind wasn’t on the task. not really. his words from earlier kept floating back to you, uninvited but welcome nonetheless:
“now you owe me a meal.”
you bit your lip, fingers pausing on the edge of the blanket.should you cook something? would he expect that? or would taking him out be more... casual?
you glanced at your phone on the nightstand, heart tapping lightly against your ribs.when in doubt—ask the expert.
you grabbed the phone and typed quickly, thumbs flying as you sent the message to the one person who always seemed to know what to do.
you:
hey, can we meet up tomorrow?
you stared at the screen for a beat longer, then set the phone down with a small sigh.
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 (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part three will be posted on saturday! see you guys then!
also, to those who don't know who the baron is, i shall provide a picture.