When The Quiet Things Bloom
• a lee sangwon fanfic, boys ii planet, trainee A
• genre: 📚high school romance, 🌨️ fluff, 😂 INFP sangwon
• Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Chapter 4: When the Quiet Things Bloom
He picked you up at four sharp.
No flowers. No dramatic music. Just him in that black beanie and leather jacket, standing under the yellow streetlight glow like he wasn’t even trying to look that good. Shoulders relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets—until one slipped out, holding your favorite drink, still warm. And that smile—soft and effortless, the kind that starts in his eyes and pulls at your chest before it ever reaches his lips.
He didn’t say much. Just handed you the drink, then walked ahead and opened the passenger door of his dad’s car, like he’d been doing it his whole life.
No big gestures. Just him. Just that smile. Just enough.
He didn’t speak much during the drive. Just tapped his fingers against the wheel to some old RnB playlist, the tension in the car soft but alive, like a secret that had yet to be told.
You recognized the road even before he turned the wheel left. It was the quiet route—winding, slow, all uphill. Trees lined both sides, branches heavy with snow, and not another soul in sight.
He parked near the edge of the hillside observatory café—the kind that didn’t get many visitors in winter. Just a wide deck, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a sweeping view of the frozen city below. The sun was low, casting a gold blush over everything it touched.
Sangwon gestured toward the bench outside the café, under the slight overhang where snow couldn’t quite reach. No one else was there. Just you two, your drinks, and the sky burning soft orange.
You sat beside him, leaving a space between you, even though you both knew it was temporary.
For a while, neither of you spoke. Just sipped. Watched the sky change. Let silence stretch like an old sweater—comforting, lived in.
Then, finally:
“I was scared,” he said, not looking at you.
You turned slightly.
“I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt,” he continued. “And I thought… if I waited long enough, it’d go away.”
You laughed softly. “Did it?”
He looked at you then. Really looked. Eyes dark, clear, honest.
“No. It just got worse.”
You glanced down at your drink. “Then why didn’t you call earlier?”
He ran a hand through his hair, snowflakes melting into his skin. “Because I was trying to be someone who wouldn’t mess this up.”
Your heart pulled. Stupid boy. Soft boy.
“You never had to try,” you said gently. “You just had to show up.”
He smiled at that, small and lopsided. “I’m here now.”
“Too late?”
You shook your head. “Almost. But no.”
He turned toward you more fully then, resting an elbow on the back of the bench, voice quieter than before.
“I like you,” he said. No hesitation this time. “I really, really like you.”
You let the words sit for a moment. Let them breathe.
Then you tilted your head, eyes teasing. “Took you long enough.”
He laughed under his breath. “I deserved that.”
You looked out over the city. The wind had stilled, and for a second, it felt like time had too.
“You know,” you said slowly, “I spent the last two weeks trying not to think about you. And failed spectacularly.”
“That makes two of us,” he murmured.
You finally turned back to him, your voice softening. “I like you, too.”
He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath since the first day of break.
“But,” you added with a smirk, “you do overthink everything.”
“Not everything,” he said, shifting a little closer. “Just the things that matter.”
You let him. Let your shoulder brush his. Let his fingers find yours on the cold bench.
And when he took your hand—quietly, confidently—you didn’t pull away.
It wasn’t a cinematic confession.
But it was honest.
It was quiet, like him.
And it bloomed.
Just like the soft things do—slowly, bravely, when no one’s watching.
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐ ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐
to be continued….. or not (let me know).