Fluff, lots and lots of makeouts, shameless groping, smut(eventually), eating out, fingering, protected sex...
NOTE.
Nothing I write here is a true description of the real world or a definitive description of the personalities, identities and sexuality of the idol face claims I have used in the fruition of th story. Stay safe, MNDI.
Happy reading, kisses.
The minisode chapters are simply Jisung's POV on events that have already happened in the episodes prior or a present event in his world.
series masterlist, main masterlist.
The frat house was alive the way only a frat house could be—too many lights on at once, a half-broken speaker in the kitchen blasting three seconds of a song before skipping, and a chorus of voices layered on top of one another like badly stacked furniture. It smelled faintly of popcorn, sweat, and floor cleaner, with laughter so loud it could have powered the lights itself.
Chenle was standing on the couch like a general addressing his troops. Both arms in the air, he shouted, "Alright, alright. Daeyoung, my man, come collect your winnings! Because apparently love makes miracles happen and I've never been so wrong in my life."
Daeyoung, king of beanbags, lifted his soda can in lazy triumph. "That's right. Twenty bucks, Lee Chenle. Hand it over—with interest."
"This is highway robbery," Chenle groaned, clutching his chest. "I bet against the possibility of Park Jisung being domesticated, okay? The kid's married to hockey and existential crises!"
"Should've known," YangYang said with his head resting on Lena's lap on the long couch in the middle of the living room, half-asleep and still somehow smirking. "Hockey players always get the girls."
Johnny appeared from the kitchen, chip bag in hand, like he'd been summoned. "It's not just hockey. Swimmers too."
"Yeah, but you're tall," Hendery called out. "That's cheating."
The laughter rippled through the room, loud and bright. It was the kind of noise that could make the walls vibrate.
So when the front door clicked open, no one noticed at first. Not until Kun's calm voice cut through from his spot by the counter—"Shoes off at the door, please"—and I stepped in.
Crossbody bag slung across my chest, head slightly bowed—I must've looked quiet. Too quiet.
The noise stumbled. Chenle blinked, spotted me, and immediately perked up. "There he is! The man of the hour!" he shouted, leaping off the couch. "Our little prodigy who apparently has a girlfriend."
Daeyoung groaned from his beanbag, holding out his hand. "Pay up, Chenle."
"Absolutely not!" Chenle shrieked, digging for excuses. "We said alleged girlfriend—there were no confirmed sightings!"
"Bro," Johnny interrupted with his mouth full of chips. "We saw her at orientation. You literally screamed, 'She's real!'"
"I was in shock!" Chenle cried.
"Pay up," Daeyoung said again, smug as sin.
Chenle collapsed dramatically onto the couch. "This is betrayal. Betrayal by my best friend, love and capitalism!"
The laughter swelled, and even I felt my lips twitch—barely. Normally, I'd throw a pillow at Chenle's head or drag Renjun into a side bet just for the chaos. But tonight, my hands stayed buried in my pockets, and my eyes didn't quite shine the same way.
I crossed the room quietly, dropping my bag by the couch and sitting down in the corner, shoulders curving inward. The noise went on for a beat too long before it started to thin, the air shifting as everyone noticed at once.
Lena tilted her head first, concern flickering. "Hey, you okay?"
I looked quietly ahead, elbows on my knees. "I met her ex tonight," I said finally. My voice barely rose above the hum of the fridge.
That did it. The room froze—mid-sip, mid-joke, mid-argument.
Renjun blinked from where he was upside-down on the sofa. "...Her ex?"
"Already?" Riku wondered, he looked equally as shocked, as if said the words out loud without meaning to.
"Yeah." My hands clasped together, the tendons on my knuckles pale. "I don't even think I've seen the dude before on campus. He looked at me like... like he wasn't going anywhere. Like he's still part of her life, whether I like it or not."
The words left a bitter taste in my mouth the moment I said them. Maybe I shouldn't have—maybe saying it out loud made it too real. The way he'd looked at you—at us—it crawled under my skin. Not threatening, not openly hostile, but that quiet kind of familiarity that makes you feel like you're standing outside of something you thought you belonged in.
And I hated that it got to me. Because you'd looked at me that same night, eyes wide and soft, and told me you were mine. You told me not to worry. You told me it was over, that he was over.
And I believed you. God, I wanted to believe you.
But it was one of those moments where trust isn't a switch—it's a decision you keep making, over and over, even when your stomach knots itself.
For a moment, no one knew what to do with that. The frat was used to noise, to sarcasm, to beer-soaked pep talks—not to this kind of heaviness hanging between us.
"Damn," Xiaojun, who had been quiet all this time, muttered from the floor, breaking the silence. "That's rough."
"Yeah," Johnny agreed, softer now, chips forgotten. "That's not easy, kid."
Chenle, uncharacteristically subdued, crouched down beside the couch. "What did she say?"
I exhaled, pressing a hand to the back of my neck. "She told me not to worry. That she's with me. But...what if that's not enough? What if I'm not enough?"
The silence that followed cracked something open in the room. Even Renjun's phone slid from his hand onto the rug, forgotten.
I rubbed at my chest, as if I could ease the weight there. Because underneath the fear, beneath the jealousy, there was this raw, unbearable ache—the kind that comes from wanting someone so much it scared you.
I wanted to hold onto you. To keep that soft, sleepy look you gave me when we woke up tangled in each other that morning. To memorize the way you said my name like it meant something.
But the thought of losing it—losing you—even before I'd had the chance to figure out how to deserve it... it hollowed me out.
You had this way of making me feel like I wasn't just some guy who played hockey and hid behind sarcasm when life got too real. You looked at me like I was worth choosing. And tonight, standing in front of him—your past—it had rattled me because I saw what you used to love. And for a second, I wondered if I could ever measure up to what you'd already given your heart to once before.
Kun shifted against the counter, watching me quietly. "You're spiraling, Jisung," he said gently.
"I know." My laugh came out small, frayed at the edges. "I just... I can't stop thinking about it. She's perfect. She's—" My throat tightened. "She's everything. And me? I'm just—me. A guy who spends half his time on the ice and the other half pretending he's not terrified of screwing this up."
Because the truth was, you didn't scare me because of your past—you scared me because you made me care. You made me imagine after. You made me want things I hadn't dared to before.
YangYang, ever the one to stab through tension with blunt humor, leaned back and said, "If you're not enough, then the rest of us should just give up. Like, pack it up, game over. We'll all go live in the woods."
Lena swatted his shoulder, but her expression was soft as she reached over to squeeze my hand. "She chose you," she said, firm but kind. "Not her past, not her ex, you. That's what matters."
My fingers twitched beneath hers. The noise in my chest eased—barely, but enough.
And she was right. You had chosen me. You looked at me the way people don't look at someone they plan to leave. I could still feel it—the warmth of your hand on my mine earlier in the night, your assuring words, "I promise you, it doesn't" the small tremor in your voice that made me believe it wasn't just comfort, but truth.
Hendery leaned dramatically over the coffee table, smirking. "And if the ex tries to walk back in, we'll fight him. Frat versus ex-boyfriend. I call first swing."
"Sit down before you break another lamp," Kun warned.
That, mercifully, broke the tension. Laughter crashed back into the room, rough and too loud.
Mark groaned into a pillow. "I can't believe I haven't even met her yet. All this drama, and I'm missing the main character!"
"Because you're never around," Renjun shot back without missing a beat.
"Because some of us actually study," Mark retorted.
"Lies," Johnny said, still wielding his chip bag like a gavel. "Court is in session. All testimony goes through me."
"You're not the judge!" Chenle pointed dramatically. "You're the problem!"
"The system is corrupt!" Daeyoung cried, waving his twenty-dollar bill.
"You won the bet!" Chenle howled. "How are you oppressed right now?"
"Emotionally," Daeyoung replied with a grin.
The room erupted again—laughs overlapping, Hendery's ridiculous sound effects echoing under it all. Even Riku was doubled over, clutching his stomach.
And through it, I sat back, letting the noise roll over me. My smile came slow this time, small and real. The fear hadn't vanished completely—Jungwoo's face still hovered at the edges of my mind, smug and certain—but it didn't feel as heavy anymore. Not with Chenle whining about interest rates, not with Lena's hand still brushing my sleeve, not with my brothers filling the room with ridiculous life.
I looked quietly ahead, gaze tracing the warm clutter of the house—the flicker of the cheap lamp, the scuff marks on the wall, the half-eaten chips on the counter—and something in me loosened.
The doubts were still there, but softer now. Bearable. Because even when love got messy and uncertain, even when fear whispered too loud, I wasn't alone in it.
And for tonight, that was enough.
Enough to breathe, to laugh, to trust. Enough to remind myself that sometimes, holding on meant choosing not to run.
And I was choosing you. Even through the fear, I was choosing you.
hey!! can you do something about haechan finding the reader crying for the first time?
Taking a time for yourself has it's pros and cons; you're not in the right mind to name them, but there are many, you realize after going on a break after finding yourself feeling a tad bit too empty. You cut all social media interactions, going as far as being M.I.A even with your friend circle.
None of it goes along with your plan; it only feels emptier, lonelier, highlighting the fact that you're alone. No phones, no work, no nothing to do meant no distraction and no distractions meant dealing with the problems you've been procrastinating and bad thoughts — bad thoughts you keep blocking out with Donghyuck's silly jokes, your playful banters, and how he pulls you inside his room whenever it gets too noisy, too energetic for your liking, locking the door and playing his slow songs. Sometimes he plays the piano, sometimes he dances and sways with you until you're laughing crazy and he's smiling; without all of this, everything is just dull. Too quiet, too peaceful, reminding you too much of things you don't even want to remember.
After thirty days of silence, your phone rings. Of course, it has to be Mark, the oldest of the bunch always so excited to meet the younger ones. You don't stop what you're doing, sweeping the floor clean even if it wasn't dirty in the first place. The calls don't stop coming until late night.
The second day, it's Hyuck who's calling every single thing that he can ring. It goes on for a week, and another, then some.
Somehow you forgot about time, about dates, something that isn't good overcoming your whole being. It's too quiet. It's him who gets worried and comes knocking at your door. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, no one. He is polite, at least sometimes, and has great manners, is a gentle man, but you've cut off everyone and everything under the cover of 'Just chillin' by myself' and now you won't open the door for him — spare keys aren't really his thing, but he reaches for the one you gave him and barges in anyway.
He finds you like this, a little lot too drained with tears finally bursting out of your swollen eyes.
Still, you manage to fake a smile, knowing it won't convince him, "Hey, I'm kind of… feeling a little sad today. Could you please come by another day?"
His face falls crestfallen, "Why haven't you called?" he whispers in the air.
He walks carefully, placing down two paper bags from your favourite restaurant, three boxes of sweet pastries from the Café you love so much.
You melt at his thoughtfulness, cursing yourself for greeting the boy like this, but the tell-tale signs of you falling into that scary state of mind again is overwhelming, "I thought I was getting better when I chose to be alone," you whisper, "but I couldn't sleep."
There's tears in your eyes again, the first time you shed them in front of somebody. It breaks his heart so much more. How long have you been suffering like this? A tear streams down his cheeks. He quickly wipes it away.
He nods, walking even more slower and hugging you tight when he finally comes near. A tear falls from your eyes again, one, and then another, more. Hyuck craddles you tight through it all, and after what seemed to be endless torment of silence, you hear your heart beating again.
Yes, that's nice. That feels much more like home… like peace. You feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, but before closing them, you move your face closer just so your lips are right above his ear, "Thank you, Hyuck."
