lots of fics have lsz as he grows up notice how sad lwj is and want to comfort him/understand why and I can understand where it’s coming from but I don’t think lsz even realizes that lwj is in perpetual mourning or is grieving anyone, or would really act on it if he did, because
1. except when he was very young, he’s never known an lwj who wasn’t in mourning so he doesn’t have anything to compare it to
2. lwj is a very reserved and private individual and anyone he looks after would know that and respect it since he’s an esteemed teacher; he’s also extremely noncommunicative verbally about himself and his personal life. even in canon postres when we see lsz ask him something, lwj just tells him to go rest
3. lsz may be a perceptive and emotionally sensitive kid who does try to comfort and reassure people older than him, but he’s still a child and I feel like he’s just naturally going to be more focused on himself and how he and his peers are because...he’s a child
4. lsz is clearly is very attached to lwj as an older brother/mentor figure who he loves and trusts, but lwj isn’t the kind of person to make a child responsible for his feelings and in their interactions they seem to have a more formal relationship than a lot of fics portray them
cw : pure smut, toji n shiu being total pervs, recording, slapping, extremely gross
you couldn’t understand what they had in common. they got along so well but you still find it hard to believe that shiu kong and toji fushiguro would hang out with each other on purpose. let alone work together as managers. shiu being so work focused and smooth. toji being aggressive and competitive, but they were both cocky. constantly cackling at their inside jokes and whistling at the women passing by on their matching breaks, it’s surprising they actually got work done.
absolutely no shame behind their sly eyes when they flirt with you, the woman they hired. after befriending you, the small line they, unusually, didn’t cross was practically nonexistent. toji would twirl your hair mid conversation at the front, empty counter at work. shiu casually sliiiiding behind you at the tight space in the staff-only back, hands on hips.
treating you so so nice by driving you around, giving you the extra bonus just ‘cause, taking you out for drinks. they like that especially, seeing you get super bubbly. soo dizzy, you most definitely won’t notice the bulge in shiu’s pants, or how toji has to readjust himself through his sweats.
so when you find yourself in bed, massaging your dull cunt with your vibe, unable to get anywhere near close, you scroll through your phone, getting bored of whichever social you were on but jumping slightly when your phone vibrates.
the screen delays by a few before you read ‘mr. manager #2.’
mmm, toji.
you sit up and answer the call, “hi, what’s up?”
“hey, sweets. me and kong thought we should stop by.”
huh? stop by? “why? did i leave something in his car again?”
it sounds like he laughs away from his phone, “no, no. not again. was wonderin’ if you wanted to do the thing you always wanted.”
the hell is he talking about? “what thing?”
“about making a movie.”
right, okay. “...when did i say that?” you held your phone with both hands.
“aw, she doesn’t remember. at the bar. told me and kong you’ve always wanted to.”
there’s no way, you think to yourself. no way you could’ve gotten so drunk that you can’t remember what you said to your managers. what else could you have told them?
“you there, honey?”
“yeah, yeah.” you get up, pushing your things in the bedside drawer and hastily pulling your shorts up.
“mhm, right then. we’re pulling up. don’t fall asleep on us now.” he says bye, followed by the sound of a car drifting. you stare at the screen for a while, walking to the front near the door. it hit you, toji and shiu are coming over to your place to make a movie. straight up admitting to wanting to record fucking their employee.
the doorknob rattles before being properly knocked on, how long had you been standing and day-dreaming for? you walk to the door and open it.
greeted with dressed down, casual men. toji slightly taller, more buff considering he was wearing a very nice tank and his beefy arms were out. shiu dressed a little more appropriately, but still incredibly good looking. a big black camera in his right hand. you’re too distracted to notice it first until it snaps a picture right at your face,
“pretty, pretty. we’ll see how ya look after we’re done with you, huh, doll?”
“you know i don’t even remember saying anything.”
“lemme remind you then,” toji says, walking past you inside to the living room, shiu following. you sigh at their intrusion before closing and locking the door behind you.
“hmmm, ya mentioned it a few times. ‘i’ve fantasized about being recorded with two guys on me.’ ain’t that oddly specific?” he chuckles at his own mockery of a drunken-you.
“people say a lot of crap while they’re drunk.”
“yeah, but you still let us in.”
“yeah, what’s it gonna be, doll?” shiu squints as he adjusts the camera’s focus and zoom before cleaning the lens with his shirt, lifting it and revealing his toned body. pudge to his stomach, a trail of black hair down his middle. you gulp as you shift in your now seat on the couch, toji towering over you. his big hands resting on his slim waist. god, this really does feel like a porno. the desperate high you’ve been trying to reach finally throbs behind your panties. “make you feel real good. satisfy all those needs you told us about.” he steps closer, twirling the hair out of your face, gently stroking his big fingertips on your jaw. he notices the slightly confused look through your dazed expression.
“like havin’ two cocks in your mouth,” he squeezes your cheeks with three fingers, making you pout, “getting pushed around. hold you down. a little spanking.” a smile tugs at your lip.
“yeah? ya like that sound of that?” he teasingly slaps your face gently.
“mm, mhm.” so pathetic, you think to yourself. you are most definitely not watching this back. that is if they even give you the tape, sickos might just keep it for themselves.
“yeah, toj’, slap her ‘round some more.” a black lens focuses on you as toji holds your face in his hands, giving you a few practice taps before slapping you with a hefty hand. you whine at the impact and squeeze your eyes shut as he lands another.
“open y’er eyes, pretty thing. keep ‘em on me.” his strong fingers going down to grip your throat. your hesitant eyes open to find a sly, sly grin on his scarred lip. his dazed eyes holding malicious intent. “you like the contact, i know you do.” petting the hair out of your face, dragging his palms down to your shoulders, then torso. he lifts you up just to push you down to your knees, still petting you as you’re met with his bulge in your face.
“go ahead, girl. take toji’s cock out.”
a/n...HIIIII PART TWO COMING SOON I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!! read my other stuff while i pull pt 2 out of my ass xoxo!
a/n: I just want to sit in his lap and yap to him T.T
Take A Seat
You had just gotten back from a long assignment gathering information for Zodyl. However, somewhere along the line trash beasts and traffickers got involved. You handled it but you were exhausted, your whole body hurt, especially your feet.
The only thing you wanted to do was go collapse onto your bed and sleep for the next two days, but you had to go report back to Zodyl with your findings.
You found him sitting in the dimly lit room of the warehouse where he often resided. Cages floating from the ceiling above and only a television screen lighting the room.
At first he didn’t look at you but when you came to stand directly in front of him his eyes shifted from the television screen to you.
“I have some information you’re going to want to hear.”
Zodyl said nothing, he simply remained silent, waiting for you to continue.
“But I’m going to need to sit down before I collapse.”
Zodyl’s eyes left you to look around the room for a reasonable place for you to sit but you already had in mind where you were going to take a seat.
Without ceremony you stepped in the space between his legs and slipped your arm around his shoulders as you lowered yourself down onto his thigh.
Zodyl froze. Sitting in his lap was like sitting on a wooden bench. You assessed his expression. The poor man was short circuiting with one too many emotions trying to surface at once.
“Why do you think this is appropriate?”
Genuine curiosity was laced in the question but amethyst eyes were piercing into yours trying to find out where your boldness was coming from.
Your tired eyes matched his, unfazed by his look. For a moment you considered his question, letting your eyes wander to the cages above you.
“I don’t but I’m not sitting on the floor or on some uncomfortable piece of trash.”
Silence filled the space between the two of you as if he was considering your answer… or considering throwing you off of him.
You knew he conceded when you felt the rigidity of his shoulders dissipate. Your eyes shifted back to him but his had shifted away back to the screen in front of him.
He was choosing to ignore your choice of seating. Your other arm came up to complete the encirclement around his shoulders as you made your self comfortable against him.
Your voice was soft and droning as you relayed the information you’d gathered. To keep yourself occupied awake, you’d mindlessly let one hand come up to brush back silver strands that were threatening to fall out of place behind Zodyl’s ear.
The action had earned you an uneasy look, like a feral animal unsure if it liked the affection or if it should strike out of fear.
You ignored his stare but cut the action short, letting your fingers fall away and settle back around his shoulders.
While you continued to speak, you couldn't help but notice how warm Zodyl was and how he relaxed against you after you had rested your head against his own.
Your eyes began to droop and your speech slowed in cadence. A soft yawn threatened to leave your lips but you stifled it.
At some point Zodyl’s arm had come up to wrap around your waist. You could’ve swore you felt him pull you closer into him.
“And I’m pretty sure fighting that last trash beast blew my shoulder out.” You grumbled after you concluded the information you’d gathered.
“And my feet hurt so bad.” A yawn did escape you this time. “I probably have blisters.”
The television was softly buzzing with static now that the weather forecast had ended. Outside of that silence had settled between the two of you once again.
Your eyes were closing and you had unconsciously nuzzled into Zodyl’s hair. The action causing him to tense but you were too tired to take note of the reaction.
He smelt like the earth and musk, it was oddly comforting.
Zodyl remained quiet. You’d expected him to dismiss you. If he had you would’ve grumbled about having to leave the warmth of his embrace to walk back to your room on sore feet. Instead he held you firmly against himself, slipped his free hand under your knees, and lifted you as he stood.
A soft sound of surprise left you, not expecting to be carried but you happily nestled yourself into the crook of his neck.
Zodyl carried you back to your room without a word. If you hadn't been so tired you were sure you would've been flustered by the generous act but instead you were able to simply savor the moment. You highly doubted there would be another like it.
You couldn't help the frown you felt tugging at your lips when Zodyl sat you down on your mattress, his comforting warmth leaving you. Amethyst eyes captured yours as he pulled away and you felt the word 'stay' forming at your lips, but you refrained from doing so.
It was already a miracle in and of itself he had let you so close.
"Thank you." You said instead, giving him a tired smile.
Zodyl's eyes fell to your lips where your smile sat, before moving back to your eyes. He was analyzing your features, obviously deliberating something.
Then cautiously, his hand rose to meet your face. Rough finger tips ghosted down the curve of your cheek and brushed back a few stray strands of hair behind your ear as you had his earlier, as if testing the affectionate gesture out for himself.
It felt foreign to him.
The emotions you had stirred within him felt foreign too as he thought himself incapable of feeling such things as affection.
You didn't move as he completed the motion, afraid you'd disrupt what ever experiment he was conducting if you reacted. When his hand fell back to his side and his stoic expression settled back onto his face, you let out the breath you were holding.
"Goodnight." Zodyl murmured as he turned away from you, leaving you alone to process this new side of him you had just witnessed.
۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : Woonhak's Crash Course on Loving You !!
۶ৎ PAIRING : class clown!woonhak x academic burnout!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : fluff, comfort ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : academic stress, mentions of low self esteem ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 4.9k words
۶ৎ A/N : wrote this in class bcs why can't the men in my class be like the ones I write in my fics? 😒
Finished reading? Read the spin-off, 'Vive la Crush' here! : 🌹
Step 1 :
The fluorescent lights in Chemistry class are doing that annoying flicker thing again, and you're pretty sure the migraine building behind your eyes is less about the lights and more about the fact that you've been running on three hours of sleep and spite for the past week.
Your notebook is open to a page that's supposed to contain notes about molecular bonds, but instead it's just a series of increasingly illegible scribbles that look like your sanity slowly deteriorating in real time. You're staring at the equations with the same energy as someone watching paint dry, except paint drying would probably be more engaging at this point.
"You look like you need a personality reboot."
The voice comes from your right, and you don't even have to look to know it's Woonhak. Kim Woonhak, who somehow ended up as your seatmate in Chemistry, Biology, and Math this semester, a cruel joke from the universe, considering he's basically the human embodiment of a golden retriever while you're currently channelling the energy of a dying houseplant.
You turn to look at him, and he's got that concerned-but-trying-to-be-casual expression that people get when they're not sure if you're going to laugh or cry.
"Excuse me?" you deadpan.
"I'm just saying," he continues, completely unfazed by your tone, "you've been looking like you're planning the demise of that textbook for the past twenty minutes. It's giving very 'final boss' energy."
"Maybe I am."
"See, this is what I'm talking about." He leans back in his chair, studying you with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. "When's the last time you smiled? And I don't mean that polite customer service smile you do when teachers ask if you understand the material by the way."
You open your mouth to answer, then close it. Because honestly? You can't remember.
"That's what I thought," Woonhak says gently. "Don't worry, though. I'm gonna fix this."
"Fix what?"
"Your whole..." he waves his hand vaguely in your direction, "...situation."
"I don't have a situation."
"Everyone has a situation. Yours is just particularly tragic."
Before you can respond with something appropriately sarcastic, your teacher clears her throat at the front of the class, and Woonhak turns his attention back to the lesson with a satisfied little smile that makes you want to throw your eraser at his head.
You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into.
Step 2 :
The first sticky note appears on your desk the next morning, stuck to your water bottle in handwriting that's somehow both messy and oddly neat.
"Don't die today 💗"
You stare at it for a full thirty seconds, then look around the classroom. Woonhak is already at his desk, chin propped on his hand, watching you with barely contained glee.
"Seriously?" you mouth at him.
He just grins and gives you a thumbs up.
The second note shows up during lunch, somehow tucked into your locker despite the fact that you're pretty sure you didn't give him your combination.
"You're hotter than midterms"
This one makes you snort despite yourself, which is apparently exactly the reaction Woonhak was hoping for, because when you turn around, he's standing three lockers down with the most smug expression you've ever seen.
"How did you even—"
"I have my ways," he says mysteriously, then pulls a bag of your favourite chips from his backpack. "Want some?"
You freeze. You've never told anyone what your favourite chips are. Hell, you're not even sure you've eaten them at school before.
"How do you know these are my favourite?"
"Lucky guess?" he offers, but he's doing that thing where he's trying not to smile, which means he's absolutely lying.
"Woonhak."
"Fine, fine. I asked Sungho what you usually buy from the vending machine. He said you always get the same thing."
"You asked Sungho about my snacking habits?"
"I asked Sungho about your preferences. There's a difference."
You want to be annoyed, but the chips are already open and they smell heavenly, and you haven't eaten anything since your sad breakfast of coffee and a toast with jam.
"This is weird," you tell him, but you take the bag anyway.
"Weird how?"
"Weird like... why do you care?"
Woonhak is quiet for a moment, and you notice a slight shift in his expression. "Because you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and I don't think anyone's bothered enough to ask if you need help."
The chips suddenly taste like cardboard.
"I'm fine," you say automatically.
"Yeah," Woonhak says softly, "that's what I figured you'd say."
Step 3 :
"For When You Wanna Punch a Textbook" shows up in your Spotify notifications at 11:29pm on a Tuesday, right when you're in the middle of having a breakdown over calculus homework.
You almost don't click on it, the last thing you need is Woonhak's chaotic energy in musical form when you're already barely holding it together. However, your curiosity wins, and you tap the notification.
The first song is something you've never heard before, but it's got this driving beat that somehow perfectly matches the frustration you're feeling. The second is a song you forgot you loved. The third makes you stop writing entirely and just listen.
By the time you reach the end of the playlist, it's past midnight and your calculus homework is still unfinished, but something in your chest feels a little lighter.
You screenshot the playlist and send it to Woonhak with a simple "Thanks."
His response comes back immediately, despite the late hour : "Told you it was good 😌"
"How did you know?" you type back.
"Know what?”
"What music I'd like, we've never talked about music."
The typing indicator appears and disappears several times before his response finally comes through : "You hum sometimes when you're concentrating, figured out your vibe from there."
You stare at your phone screen, a warm and uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach. You hum when you concentrate? You didn't even know you did that. But somehow Woonhak noticed, and not only noticed but cared enough to remember.
"That's creepy" you send back, because you don't know how else to respond.
"That's friendship, omg just like My Little Pony! 🦄🤩 " he replies, and then immediately after : "Anyways, get some sleep. you have bags under your eyes the size of my future."
"Your future is probably pretty small then"
"Ouch, and here I am trying to save your academic career."
Despite all the weight you’ve been carrying, you smile, for the first time in weeks.
"Goodnight woonhak"
"Goodnight!! Sweet dreams of not punching textbooks 💗"
Step 4 :
"What's the square root of you plus me?" Woonhak asks on a Thursday morning, sliding into his seat next to you just as the bell rings.
"Shut up," you reply automatically, not looking up from your notes.
"Incorrect. The answer is destiny."
This time you do look up, fixing him with your most deadpan stare. "That doesn't even make mathematical sense."
"Love rarely does."
"Who said anything about love?"
"I did. Just now. Keep up."
You want to be annoyed, but with the way he’s looking at you, like he can see through all the walls you’ve built, every crack you've plastered over, makes it impossible to stay irritated.
"You're ridiculous," you tell him.
"Ridiculously charming?"
"Ridiculously loud."
"I'll take it." He pulls out his notebook, then glances at you sideways. "You know, for someone who claims to hate my company, you sure do smile a lot when I'm around."
"I do not—"
"You're smiling right now."
You immediately try to school your expression into something more neutral, but it's too late. Woonhak's grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face in half.
"I knew it," he says triumphantly. "You like me."
"I tolerate you."
"Same thing."
"It's really not."
"Agree to disagree." He leans back in his chair, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "So, what's the plan for lunch today? More sad vending machine food, or are you finally going to let me introduce you to the cafeteria's surprisingly decent pizza?"
"I don't eat cafeteria food."
"Why not?"
"Because it's..." you pause, trying to find the right words. "It's loud and crowded in there. Plus, everyone's always staring."
"Staring at what?"
"At... I don't know. Everything… everyone."
Woonhak's expression softens slightly. "What if I told you that most people are too busy worrying about their own stuff to pay attention to anyone else?"
"I'd say you're being optimistic."
"What if I told you that even if they were staring, they'd probably just be thinking about how cool your hair looks today?"
"I'd say you're being ridiculous."
"What if I told you that I'd sit with you and make stupid jokes until you forgot to be nervous?"
Your pen paused and hovered over the pages at his words, and there's a softness in his eyes that makes your chest feel tight. "I'd say... maybe that would be okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, but if you make any more math puns, I'm leaving."
"Deal, but I'm not promising anything about chemistry puns."
"Woonhak."
"Fine, fine. No science puns. You're really limiting my material here."
"Good."
Step 5 :
The midterm grade stares back at you from your phone screen like a personal attack :
67%.
In Biology, which is supposed to be your good subject.
You've been staring at the email for ten minutes now, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, and you still can't quite process it. You studied for this test. You studied for weeks. You gave up sleep, meals, social interaction, what little you had to begin with, and somehow it still wasn't enough.
Your phone buzzes with a text from your mom: "How did your test go? Dad's making your favourite dinner tonight!"
The favourite dinner you won't be able to enjoy because you'll have to tell them about this grade. The disappointment in their voices when they realize their kid isn't as smart as they thought. The way they'll try to hide their concern while asking if you need a tutor, if you're struggling, if there's something wrong.
Your phone buzzes again. This time it's Woonhak: "Hey!! Saw you in the parking lot, you okay?”
You don't respond. You can't respond. You're too busy trying to figure out where you went wrong, or how everything went wrong so fast.
Another text: "Heading over"
You want to tell him not to, want to drive away before he reaches your car, but you can't seem to make your body move. You just sit there, staring at that stupid number on your screen, until there's a gentle tap on your passenger window.
Woonhak's face appears, upside down, as he bends to peer through the glass. His expression immediately shifts when he sees you.
You hesitantly unlock the door for him.
"Hey," he says softly, sliding into the passenger seat. "What's wrong?"
You hold up your phone without a word.
Woonhak looks at the screen, then back at you. "Okay. That sucks. But it's not the end of the world."
"It feels like it."
"I know." He's quiet for a moment. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Okay. You want to sit here and be miserable for a while?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. I'm good at that too."
And he… surprisingly is. He sits there, not trying to fix anything or make you feel better, just being present while you fall apart. It's more comforting than it should be.
"I studied so hard," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I know you did."
"I gave up everything. Sleep, food, time with my friends, not that I have many to begin with."
"I know."
"And it still wasn't enough." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how pathetic you sound.
"Hey." Woonhak's voice is gentle. "Look at me."
You don't want to, but you force yourself to look into his eyes.
"One grade doesn't define you," he says. "I know it feels like it does right now, but it doesn't. You're smart, and you're dedicated, and you work harder than anyone I know. This is just one test."
"It's not just one test, though. It's everything. I'm tired all the time, I can't focus, I feel like I'm drowning and everyone else is just... swimming."
"Then maybe it's time to learn how to float."
"What?"
"You don't have to be swimming all the time. Sometimes you can just float. Let the current carry you for a while."
You stare at him. "That's surprisingly deep for someone who makes puns about molecular bonds."
"I contain multitudes."
Despite everything, you laugh. It's a small, broken sound, but it's enough to make Woonhak fondly smile back at the sound.
"There she is," Woonhak says softly, and the way he's looking at you makes your chest ache in a completely different way in ways you can't explain.
"I should go home," you say eventually. "Face the music."
"Want me to come with you?"
"What?"
"Not inside," he clarifies quickly. "Just... moral support. I can wait in the car, make sure you don't drive into a tree on the way home."
"I'm not going to drive into a tree."
"Humour me."
You consider it. The idea of going home alone, of sitting through dinner with your parents while trying to pretend everything's fine, feels overwhelming. But the idea of Woonhak being there, even just in the driveway, feels like something you could handle.
"Okay," you say finally. "But you're not allowed to make any jokes about my house."
"Deal. But if your parents invite me in for dinner, I'm not saying no."
"They won't."
"We'll see."
Step 6 :
You don't show up to school the next day, or the day after that.
By the third day, Woonhak is starting to worry. Your desk sits empty in all three classes you share, and none of your friends, the few you have, seem to know where you are. He asks Sungho, who just shrugs and says you're probably sick. He asks Jaehyun, who says he thinks he saw your car in your driveway yesterday but isn't sure.
On the fourth day, Woonhak decides he's had enough.
He's never been to your house before, but he's got your address from when you exchanged contact info for a group project last month. It's a fifteen minute walk from school, through a neighbourhood that's nicer than his but not fancy.
Your house is blue with white trim, and there's a car in the driveway that he assumes is yours. The curtains are drawn, but he can see light coming from what he thinks might be your bedroom window.
He stands on your front porch for a full minute, trying to figure out what to say.
Hey, I know we're not that close but I was worried about you? I brought snacks and emotional support? I miss making fun of your math skills?
In the end, he just knocks.
The door opens after a long moment, and you're standing there in pajamas that look like you've been wearing them for days, hair messy, eyes red-rimmed.
"Woonhak?" Your voice is hoarse, like you haven't used it in a while.
"Hey," he says softly. "Can I come in?"
You stare at him for a moment, then step aside.
Your house is quiet, so quiet that he could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of a clock somewhere, but no voices, no TV, no signs of life.
"Where are your parents?" he asks.
"Work. They think I have the flu."
"Do you?"
"No."
You lead him to your room, which is somehow exactly what he expected and nothing like he imagined at the same time. It's neat but lived-in, with fairy lights strung around the ceiling and books stacked everywhere. Your desk is covered in papers and highlighters, evidence of study sessions that went nowhere.
"I brought supplies," Woonhak says, holding up a bag he's been carrying. "Snacks, tissues, that face mask thing you mentioned liking once, and—" He pulls out a small stuffed animal, a ridiculous-looking cat with a grumpy expression. "Emotional support."
You stare at the cat, then at him, then back at the cat.
"You brought me a stuffed animal?"
"His name is Professor Dubu. He's here to judge your life choices in a supportive way."
"That's..." You take the cat, holding it against your chest. "That's really weird."
"Good weird or bad weird?"
"I don't know yet."
Woonhak sits on the edge of your bed, careful to maintain some distance. "You want to talk about what's going on?"
"Not really."
"Okay. You want me to talk about random stuff until you get annoyed and tell me to leave?"
"Maybe."
"Cool. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? And that they're technically aliens because their DNA is so different from everything else on Earth? Also, I'm pretty sure Jaehyun has been trying to ask out the girl from our History class for three weeks now, but every time he sees her, he just starts talking about the French Revolution instead."
Despite yourself, you smile a little. "That sounds like Jaehyun."
"Right? It's painful to watch. Anyways, Taesan thinks we should just lock them in a closet together until one of them breaks, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal."
"Probably."
"Definitely." He pauses. "You know, everyone's been asking about you. Teachers, classmates, even some people I didn't know you knew."
"Really?"
"Really. Turns out you're more popular than you think."
You're quiet for a moment, holding Professor Dubu and staring at your hands. "I don't feel popular. I feel... invisible."
"You're not invisible to me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning you're not sure either of you is ready to examine.
"I know," you say finally. "And I don't understand why."
"Why what?"
"Why you..." You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "Why you care. Why you notice me. Why you're here."
Woonhak is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than you've ever heard it.
"You know how some people are like... background music? Like, they're nice, and they're fine, but they don't really stick with you?"
You nod.
"You're not background music. You're like... the song that gets stuck in your head. The one you find yourself humming without realizing it. The one that you play on repeat and never get bored or tired of."
Your chest feels tight again, but in a different way than before.
"I don't know what to do with that," you admit.
"You don't have to do anything with it. Just... don't disappear, okay? Don't make yourself invisible just because things get hard."
"What if I can't help it?"
"Then I'll keep showing up until you remember how to be seen."
You stopped cold at his confession and stare directly at him. For once, you see past the carefully maintained cheerfulness you've known him for. Behind the exterior, you see someone who's genuinely worried about you, someone who cares enough to skip school and show up at your door with snacks and… emotional support cat plushies.
"Woonhak?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For... caring. For seeing me when I can't see myself."
"You don't have to thank me for that."
"I know, but I want to."
He smiles, different from his usual grins. This time, it’s smaller, softer, sincere.
"Come back tomorrow?" he asks.
"I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking for."
Step 7 :
You do come back the next day, although you're not sure why. Maybe it's because of what Woonhak said, or maybe it's because Professor Dubu spent the night judging you from your nightstand, or maybe it's just because staying home feels more exhausting than facing the world.
Woonhak lights up when he sees you walk into Chemistry, and the genuine relief on his face makes your heart flutter.
"You came back," he says as you slide into your seat.
"I said I'd try."
"Yeah, but you actually did it."
"Don't make a big deal out of it."
"Too late. I'm already planning the celebration."
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling a little. "Please don't."
"Fine, fine. But I'm at least buying you lunch."
"You don't need to—"
"I want to."
You catch the tone in his voice that makes you look at him more carefully. He's doing that thing again where he's trying not to smile, but this time, his composure seems… nervous?
"Okay," you say, because you don't know what else to say.
"Okay?"
"Okay, you can buy me lunch."
"Cool. Great. Perfect." He's definitely nervous now, fidgeting with his pen and avoiding eye contact.
"Are you okay?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"Because you're acting weird."
"I'm not acting weird. This is how I always act."
"No, this is how you act when you're planning something."
"I'm not planning anything."
"Woonhak."
"Okay, fine. Maybe I'm planning something. But it's not a big something. It's like... a medium something."
"What kind of medium something?"
"The kind you'll find out about at lunch."
You spend the rest of Chemistry trying to figure out what he's up to, but he's remarkably good at deflecting your questions. By the time lunch rolls around, you're more curious than worried.
He leads you to a spot you've never been before, a small courtyard behind the library that's somehow managed to stay hidden from most of the student body. There's a picnic table under a tree, and he's already spread out what looks like an entire convenience store's worth of snacks.
"This is your medium something?" you ask.
"Part of it." He's definitely nervous now, running his hands through his hair and avoiding eye contact. "The other part is... um..."
"Woonhak, you're scaring me."
"I don't want to scare you. That's literally the opposite of what I want."
"Then just tell me what's going on."
He takes a deep breath, then looks at you directly for the first time all day. "I like you."
"I know. We're friends."
"No, I mean... I like you like you."
The words hang in the air between you, and you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Not in a bad way, exactly, but in a way that makes everything suddenly make sense and no sense at all.
"Oh," you say.
"Oh?"
"I... oh."
"That's not exactly the response I was hoping for."
You stare at him, trying to process what he just said. "You like me?"
"Yeah."
"Like... romantically?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"Since..." He thinks for a moment. "Since you fell asleep in Biology and started drooling on your notes. You looked so peaceful, and I realized I wanted to be the person who made sure you got enough sleep so you wouldn't have to sleep in class."
"That's... specific."
"I'm a specific person."
"You are." You're quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how you feel about this revelation. "Why are you telling me now?"
"Because you disappeared for four days and I realized that the thought of you not being in my life anymore was actually terrifying."
"I wasn't going to disappear forever."
"But you could have. And I didn't want you to disappear without knowing that someone thinks you're amazing."
You feel heat rise in your cheeks. "I'm not amazing."
"You are, though. You're smart, funny and you care about things more deeply than anyone I know. You hum when you concentrate and you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you're thinking hard about something. You remember people's birthdays and you always have extra pens and you make these little jokes that are so dry I'm never sure if you're being serious or not."
"Those aren't amazing things. Those are just... things."
"They're amazing to me."
He's looking at you in the way that makes your chest feel tight again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. It's like something warm and bright is expanding inside you, filling spaces you didn't know were empty.
"I don't know what to say," you admit.
"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."
"But what if I want to say something?"
"I'm all ears."
You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "I think... I think I like you too. I'm just scared…"
"Scared of what?"
"Scared that I'm not good at this, that I'll mess it up, that you'll figure out I'm not as amazing as you think I am."
"What if I told you I'm scared too?"
"You? Scared of what?"
"Scared that you'll realize you can do better than the class clown who makes too many puns and cares too much about whether you're eating enough."
"You don't make too many puns."
"I absolutely make too many puns."
"Okay, yeah, you do. But I kind of like them."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. They're... endearing."
"Endearing enough to maybe give this a shot?"
You look at him, sitting there surrounded by an absurd amount of snacks, looking nervous, hopeful and completely sincere, and you realize that maybe you've been approaching this whole thing wrong. Perhaps instead of trying to figure out if you're good enough or ready enough or brave enough, you should just... try.
"Yeah," you say. "I think I'd like that."
The smile that spreads across Woonhak's face is brighter than the sun.
Step 8 :
Few weeks later, you're standing in the hallway after school, shoving books into your locker, when Woonhak appears beside you like he always does.
"How was your day?" he asks, leaning against the lockers.
"Better," you say. "I got my Biology test back."
"And?"
"B+."
"That's amazing!" He looks genuinely proud, and a familiar warmth settles in your chest.
"It's not amazing, but it's better."
"It's progress. Progress is amazing."
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously proud of you."
"You can't just add 'ridiculously' to everything I say."
"Ridiculously yes I can."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Ridiculously doesn't have to."
You slam your locker shut and turn to face him fully. "You're the worst."
"Ridiculously the worst."
"I'm going to hit you."
"Ridiculously hit me."
"Woonhak."
"Ridiculously Woonhak."
Instead of hitting him, you do something that surprises both of you, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder.
He freezes for a moment, then his arms come up around you, holding you close.
"What's this for?" he asks softly.
"For being ridiculous," you say into his shoulder. "For being annoying. For not giving up on me when I gave up on myself."
"You don't have to thank me for that."
"I know, but I want to."
You pull back slightly to look at him. He's got that soft expression again, the same one that makes your chest feel tight in the best way.
"I'm really glad you decided to fix my personality," you tell him.
"I didn't fix anything. I just helped you remember who you already were."
"Same thing."
"Ridiculously not the same thing."
You laugh, and Woonhak's expression shifts.
"There she is," he says quietly.
"There who is?"
"The girl I fell for. The one who was always hidden underneath all that nonchalant exterior, just buried under all the stress and exhaustion."
Before you can respond, someone shouts from down the hallway.
"FINALLY!"
You both turn to see Jaehyun and Taesan standing by the water fountain, grinning like idiots.
"Seriously?" Jaehyun calls out. "We've been waiting for this for months."
"Pay up," Taesan says, holding out his hand.
Jaehyun grumbles but pulls out his wallet. "I thought it would take at least another week."
"You bet on us?" you ask, incredulous.
"Of course we bet on you," Taesan says. "It was painful watching you two dance around each other."
"We weren't dancing around each other," Woonhak protests.
"You made her a playlist," Jaehyun points out.
"So?"
"You learned her favourite snacks."
"That's just being observant."
"You skipped school to check on her."
"That's just being a good friend."
"You bought her a stuffed animal."
Woonhak opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. "Okay, that one might have been a little obvious."
"A little?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Fine. Very obvious. Ridiculously obvious."
"There you go again with the ridiculously."
"It's my thing now."
"It's ridiculous."
"Ridiculously ridiculous."
Jaehyun and Taesan are still standing there, watching this exchange with matching grins.
"You two are disgusting," Taesan says, but he sounds fond.
You look around at your friends, somehow, somewhere along the way, that's what they became.
You lay your eyes on Woonhak, who's still got his arms around you and is looking at you like he couldn't believe someone like you could ever exist in his life.
"You know what?" you say.
"What?"
"I think I'm okay with ridiculous."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. As long as it's your ridiculous."
The smile that spreads across Woonhak's face is ridiculously bright, and before you could even process it, he kisses you right there in the hallway, and your chest feels like it would explode with happiness that you forgot you were capable of feeling.
From somewhere behind you, you hear Jaehyun mutter, "I should have bet on the kiss too."
You ignore it, who cares?
You're too busy being ridiculously, impossibly, completely happy in love.
I booked my AirBnB for the writers conference I’m going to in March and it is literally a mud hut! It’s going to be lovely and it’s by a bridge and it has an outdoor hot tub! It is literally. a. mud. hut. (!!!)
