☘︎ synopsis: After accidentally kicking a football straight into your face, Seonghyeon is prepared to spend the rest of the week apologizing. You meanwhile, discovered that being mildly injured comes with some surprisingly enjoyable perks.
☘︎ genre: classmate!seonghyeon x classmate!reader, highschool!au, SLOWBURN.., fluff, teasing, kissing, mutual pining, footballplayer!seonghyeon, shy!reader, jealousy, lots of yearning, a lil angst in there, protective!seonghyeon, shy girl & popular guy or wtv, some cringeworthy scenes, introverted reader x extroverted? seonghyeon
☘︎ wc: 17,6k MASTERLIST
If anyone asked later, you would insist you saw the football coming.
You didn’t.
Not until it was already flying toward you at an alarming speed.
Then- well. Getting hit in the face tends to interrupt a person’s train of thought.
The impact came fast and hard, sending a sharp sting across your cheek. Your eyes watered instantly as the ball bounced away somewhere across the field, but you barely noticed. All you could do was stand there, blinking in disbelief.
Seriously? Out of everyone on the field, it had to hit you?
A mixture of gasps and laughter erupted around you. Heat rushed to your face immediately, not from the pain, but from the sudden realization that half the football field was staring at you. Great.
Nothing was more humiliating than becoming the center of attention because a football had smacked you directly in the face. You pressed a hand against your cheek, hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
A pair of hurried footsteps pounded across the grass, growing louder by the second. Before you could even recover, someone came to a stop right in front of you. “Oh my god.”
You looked up, it was Seonghyeon. His eyes were wide, his face pale. Judging by his expression, you’d think he just witnessed a murder.
“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. You opened your mouth to answer.
“I am so sorry.” Then closed it again.
“I wasn’t aiming anywhere near you, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. Are you hurt? Does your head hurt? Can you see properly?”
The questions came so quickly that you barely had time to process them. You just stared at him. It wasn’t really because your head hurt, more so because Eom Seonghyeon, the same Seonghyeon who usually looked far too cool and confident for his own good, looked like he was seconds away from having a complete breakdown. Finally, you sighed.
“I got hit by a football, not hit by a truck’’
‘’Some would argue that that’s worse.’’
Despite yourself, a faint laugh escaped you. The tension in Seonghyeon’s shoulders eased immediately at the sound of your laugh. For some reason, that made your stomach do something strange.
“You laughed,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
‘’Hm?’’
“It means you’re okay.”
You blinked at him. Then, before you could stop yourself you let out a quiet groan and pressed a hand to your forehead. Immediately, panic returned to his face. “Wait. What happened? Are you dizzy?”
“…Very.”
The reaction was instant.
“Oh god.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “Very” was apparently the wrong thing to say. Seonghyeon looked seconds away from calling an ambulance.
“I might die, it could be because of you.” you said dramatically.
“It’s that bad?!”
Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Come on.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to the nurse.”
You opened your mouth to protest, then closed it again. Actually…that didn’t sound so bad.
A few minutes later, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the nurse’s office while Seonghyeon hovered nearby like an anxious parent. The nurse had spent less than thirty seconds checking you over before declaring you completely fine. Unfortunately for Seonghyeon, he didn’t seem convinced.
“Are you sure?” he asked. The nurse looked mildly offended.
“Yes.”
“But the ball hit her pretty hard.”
“She’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
You looked away before either of them could see your smile. This was getting ridiculous. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about you this much. When the nurse finally sent you back out, Seonghyeon stayed beside you the entire walk down the hallway.
“You sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you something? You’re not bruised, are you? Wait, let me check-” Before you could respond, Seonghyeon was already leaning closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined your cheek. You froze for a second, suddenly very aware of how close he was. After a moment, he leaned back with a small frown.
“I think it’s going to bruise.”
A few days have gone by, and Seonghyeon had somehow managed to become your personal caretaker. At first, it had been small things.
A bottle of water placed on your desk every morning with a bright smile that had you not doubt why everyone was charmed by him. When you carried many books, he’d take them out of your hands without hesitation. Everytime he would walk past you, he’d ask you this question:
‘’How’s your head today?’’ as if you were recovering from a life threatening injury. You have never met someone so commited. At some point you stopped correcting him because everytime he checked on you, his face softened in a way you have never seen before.
Before what happened in the football field, Seonghyeon had been one of those people you only knew from a distance. The kind of person everyone seemed to recognize. He wasn’t loud or constantly trying to be noticed, he never really had to. People gravitated towards him naturally.
Teachers liked him. Students liked him. Heck, even the security guard near the front entrance seemed happy to see him every morning. You had always thought Seonghyeon was cold and intimidating, which is why you have never spoken to him before. You weren’t exactly the type to walk up to people.
While Seonghyeon seemed to move through school as if he belonged everywhere, you preferred blending into the background. You kept your circle small, avoided unecessary attention and spent most of your time in your own world. The idea of starting a conversation with someone like Seonghyeon had never even crossed your mind. You were pretty sure he didn’t know who you were, or at the very least never bothered to pay any attention to you. Then he kicked a football directly into your face, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.
You really should’ve kept your mouth shut. It had been a completely harmless comment, a passing observation. Something you’d mutter to your friend while packing up your things after class.
‘’I’m hungry’’
You hadn’t asked anyone to get you anything, and you certainly hadn’t been talking to Seonghyeon. Yet somehow a few minutes later, he came back with a recognizable sandwich from the school cafeteria. You looked up in confusion.
“So..”
Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghyeon handed you the sandwich.
“You said you were hungry”
You stared at him, then the sandwich, then back at him.
“..oh.”
Very articulate. His expression didn’t change.
“Eat.”
“I was going to buy one after class.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because the problem wasn’t the sandwich. The problem was that half the classroom had suddenly become very interested in what was happening. You could practically feel the stares.
The girls sitting by the window had stopped talking. Someone behind you let out a suspiciously amused laugh. Your friend looked seconds away from exploding. She had many questions, the look upon her face says it all. Heat immediately rushed to your face.
‘’Tha..nks.’’ You mumbled, taking the sandwich quickly in your hand while lowering your head. Seonghyeon was completely unaware of the crisis unfolding internally.
‘’Your head okay?’’
‘’Yeah..’
‘’You sure?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’Good.’’
The conversation really should’ve ended there. Instead, Seonghyeon remained standing next to your desk. Your face grew warmer. Why is he still here? Finally, after a few seconds he spoke again.
‘’Let me know if it starts hurting.’’
Then, as casually as he’d arrived, turned and walked away. You turned to your friend, you already knew where this was going.
‘’Y/n-‘’
‘’No.’’
‘’There’s like-clearly something going on that you’re refusing to inform me about.’’
‘’Like what?’’
Her expression changed, as if it was obvious and self explanatory.
Choi Haejin was the complete opposite of you. You were reserved, she was sociable and open. You were in your own world and Haejin was in everybody else’s, gathering information to gossip about later. Somehow this dynamic worked extremely well. You needed a friend to do all the talking, and you really do enjoy it.
‘’Hello? Why is he practically working for you?’’
‘’There’s obviously something going on!’’
‘’WHAT IF HE POISONED THE SANDWICH?!’’
‘’It’s not reasonable for him to have any hatred towards you though..”
‘’How are you so calm?!’’
Yes, one of Choi Haejin’s many loveable qualities. Her overwhelmingly stacked questions.
Seonghyeon’s concern didn’t seem to fade with time. If anything, it had simply evolved. A week after the football incident, you found yourself stuck in a conversation you had absolutely no interest in being part of. You’d only been trying to get to class. That was it.
Somehow, somewhere between leaving the cafeteria and reaching the stairs, a girl from your year had stopped you. You knew who she was, but not well enough to have a ten minute conversation in the middle of the hallway. Yet here you were, smiling politely, nodding occasionally and secretly praying for an escape.
“-and then she literally posted about it!” the girl continued. “Really?” you replied.
You didn’t even know what you were saying “really” to anymore. The conversation had dragged on for so long that you’d completely lost the plot. You shifted your weight awkwardly, glancing toward the staircase. Your next class started in a few minutes, but cutting her off felt rude. Standing here forever also felt rude to yourself.
“So then I told her-‘’
“There you are.”
The familiar voice made you look up immediately. Seonghyeon. For a second, you just stared. He stopped beside you, one hand shoved casually into his pocket.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Class starts in like two minutes.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
It did?
Before you could check your phone, Seonghyeon looked over at the girl.
“Sorry,” he said easily. “I need her for something.”
Need you?
The girl glanced between the two of you.
“Oh.”
You felt your face heat up instantly.
“Oh.”
Seonghyeon, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. The girl quickly stepped aside.
“Yeah, of course.”
And just like that, you were free. You followed Seonghyeon down the hallway, still trying to process what had happened. Neither of you spoke.
“You didn’t need me for anything.” You began.
“Nope.” You stared at him. He glanced over.
“You looked like you wanted to escape.” Your steps faltered slightly.
“Was it that obvious?”
“To me?” he shrugged. “A little.”
You looked away before he could see the smile threatening to appear. The strange thing was that you hadn’t even told him you were uncomfortable. You hadn’t said anything at all. And somehow, he’d noticed anyway.
The next day, by the time you reached your classroom, you were expecting everyone to already be inside. Instead, a small crowd had gathered outside the locked door.
A few students sat on the floor scrolling through their phones while others stood around complaining about the teacher being late. Relieved that you hadn’t actually missed anything, you slipped into an empty spot against the wall and pulled out your phone, hoping to blend into the background until the classroom opened. It was working for about thirty seconds, then a familiar voice spoke beside you.
“You’re late, It’s not because of your head is it?’’
You looked up to find Seonghyeon standing there. Before you could answer, someone walking down the hallway lifted a hand.
“Hey, Seonghyeon.”
“Hey.”
Another student nodded at him as they passed. A group farther down the hall called his name and he acknowledged them with a small wave. It was such a normal thing that he barely seemed to notice it. You did.
Before he acknowledged you, this was exactly how you’d always seen him, from a distance. Someone who seemed to know everyone and be known by everyone. Teachers greeted him. Students greeted him. Even people who weren’t in his friend group seemed comfortable walking up to him. Meanwhile, you were usually trying to avoid being perceived altogether.
“Well?” he asked.
You blinked.
“What?”
“Why are you late?” You immediately looked away because the answer was embarrassing.
“I couldn’t find a pen.” Seonghyeon stared at you.
“A pen.”
“Yes.”
“You were late because of a pen.”
“It was an important pen.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, you felt strangely defensive.
“It was.”
A laugh escaped him.
Not loud enough to draw attention, but enough that you looked up in surprise. You weren’t sure why the sound caught you off guard. Maybe because Seonghyeon always seemed so composed around everyone else. Maybe because you’d spent months assuming he was intimidating. Now he was laughing because you apparently make hilarious jokes.
The interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, somehow you caught two girls nearby glancing over before quickly looking away. One of them whispered something to the other. Heat immediately crept up your neck.
For some reason, whenever Seonghyeon talked to you, it felt like everyone else suddenly became interested too. Seonghyeon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A few minutes later, one of his friends appeared and nudged his shoulder.
“Come here for a sec.” You expected him to leave but instead he glanced over briefly. “I’ll be there in a minute, Keonho.’’ His friend looked between the two of you before smirking slightly. “Right.”
The second he walked away, you wanted to disappear. Seonghyeon meanwhile, looked completely oblivious. The conversation continued in small pieces after that. Nothing important. Complaints about homework. A teacher neither of you liked. The upcoming test everyone was stressing about. You still weren’t saying much but for the first time, the silences didn’t feel awkward.
That was what surprised you the most because before all of this, talking to Seonghyeon had never even seemed like a possibility. Now you found yourself hoping the teacher would stay late for a few more minutes.
If there was one thing you’d learned from being friends with Haejin, it was that she was incapable of making a quick decision. She was supposed to buy a game for her younger brother’s birthday.
You were only there because she’d insisted she needed a “second opinion”. According to Haejin, this was a very important responsibility. According to you, she just didn’t want to go alone. Twenty minutes later, your theory was proven to be correct.
“You’ve been staring at these three games for like ten minutes”
Haejin gasped dramatically. “This is a life changing decision.”
“…It’s a birthday gift?’’
‘’Exactly.’’
You sighed and glanced around the store.
The place was busier than you’d expected for a saturday afternoon. The game store was warm and slightly crowded, lined with shelves stacked with colorful game cases and collectibles. Bright lights reflected off display screens scattered throughout the store, while the faint sounds of racing games, button mashing, and excited conversations filled the air.
Groups of friends wandered between aisles, kids begged their parents to buy things and somewhere in the back of the store, a racing game played loudly through a set of speakers.
‘’Oh, what do i do? Haemin likes all of these.’’ At this point, you were mostly waiting for Haejin to decide which game she’d buy for her brother so you could both leave. Then a familiar voice drifted across the store.
‘’You can’t blame me for that.’’
For a second, you thought you’d imagined it but then another voice answered.
‘’Oh yes i can.’’
You turned your head slightly. Near the racing simulator setup stood two boys. One was sitting in the simulator, controller still in hand. The other stood beside him with his arms crossed. You recognized them immediately.
Seonghyeon and Keonho.
You simply stared. Not because seeing them was surprising, you’re sure many highschoolers come here.
Because seeing them like this was.
‘’You literally drove into me!’’ Keonho blamed.
‘’I didn’t-‘’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I barely touched you.’’
Keonho looked genuienly offended.
‘’You sent my car into a wall.’’
‘’Well you suck at this game anyway.’’
A laugh escaped Seonghyeon.
Even after becoming friends with him, most of your conversations had happened between classes, in hallways, or during lunch breaks.
School Seonghyeon was confident, calm, and seemingly unbothered by everything. This version felt more relaxed, warm. More real. Like the moment he stepped outside school, some invisible pressure disappeared.
Beside you, Haejin finally noticed where your attention had gone. She looked at the two boys.
“No way.”
You already knew that tone.
“Haejin.”
“No way.”
“Haejin.”
“That’s Seonghyeon- and Keonho.’’
“I can see that.”
She looked far too excited about this discovery. Fate apparently hated you because at that exact moment, Keonho looked up and spotted the two of you. His grin appeared instantly.
“Oh, this is interesting.”
Seonghyeon frowned.
“What?”
Keonho tilted his head toward the entrance. Slowly, Seonghyeon turned around. For a brief moment, surprise flashed across his face. His eyes met yours. The first thing he did was smile, a genuine smile. Suddenly, becoming very interested in the floor seemed like a fantastic idea. Haejin had other plans. Before you could stop her, she grabbed your wrist and started walking.
“Haejin.”
“Nope.”
“Haejin, come on-”
“We’re already committed.”
“We absolutely are not.”
Across the store, you could hear Keonho laughing which somehow made everything worse. By the time the two of you have reached them, your dignity had already left the building.
‘’Y/n,’’ Seonghyeon said.
The fact that he greeted you first did absolutely nothing to help.
‘’Hi.’’
Haejin meanwhile, had abandoned all subtlety.
‘’What happened to fourth place?’’
Keonho immediately pointed at her.
‘’THANK YOU.’’
Seonghyeon closed his eyes briefly. ‘’You are not helping.’’
‘’You came fourth?’’
You really couldn’t help asking. The look Seonghyeon gave you was almost enough to make you laugh, almost. Keonho looked delighted. Finally, someone was on his side. “You see?” he said, pointing at you. “Even y/n agrees.”
“I didn’t agree with anything,” you replied immediately.
“You asked the question.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It basically is.”
“It absolutely is not.”
Seonghyeon looked exhausted.
“You two are impossible.”
The comment earned matching offended expressions from both you and Keonho which, unfortunately, only made Haejin laugh.
“Wow,” she said. “I’ve never seen him lose an argument before.”
“I’m not losing.”
“You came fourth.”
“I came fourth because somebody doesn’t know how to drive.”
Keonho gasped.
The betrayal.
The audacity.
The complete disrespect.
For a second, the two of them resumed arguing while you stood there trying- and failing not to smile. It was strange. Before today, you’d never really seen Seonghyeon with his friends. Not properly.
At school, people always seemed drawn to him. There was always someone talking to him, waving at him, asking him something. But this felt different, like it was more real, less intimidating.
You followed his gaze. Haejin was holding up two game cases while Keonho looked like he was defending his thesis.
“Yeah.”
“They’ve been arguing about the same thing for like ten minutes.”
“You say that like you weren’t arguing over a racing game when I walked in.”
Seonghyeon looked over.
“That was different.”
“Was it?’’
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. You found yourself looking around the store instead, eyes moving over shelves packed with games you knew nothing about. Then Seonghyeon pointed toward one.
“Have you played that before?”
You glanced at the cover.
“No.”
“What about that one?”
“No.”
He pointed at another.
“No.”
Another.
“No.”
Seonghyeon stared at you.
“Have you ever had fun before?”
You were slightly taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to figure out why Haejin brought you to a game store.’’
“I’m here to supervise.”
To your surprise, he laughed.
Slowly, Your conversations started to flow naturally. It felt easier to talk to him. Maybe because it didn’t feel like talking to the cool guy everyone knew. Or the football player.
Just Seonghyeon.
Talking to him was becoming easier than talking to most people.
“You owe me.”
You looked up from your phone.
Across the lunch table, Haejin was staring at you expectantly.
“What?”
“You owe me.”
“..I don’t think I do.”
“You do.”
You narrowed your eyes, then Haejin leaned forward.
“Aren’t friends supposed to support each other’s interests?” She gave you a cheeky smile.
‘’Mm..that depends.’’
‘’On what?’’
“Whether those interests involve dragging me somewhere against my will.”
A look of betrayal crossed her face.
“Wow.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“Haejin.”
She grinned. “What?”
You gave her a knowing look before she finally decided to answer.
“There’s a football match after school.”
You stared at her.
“Seriously? No.”
The answer came so quickly that she looked offended.
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did.”
“You really didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
Haejin pointed at you.
“See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Unfortunately, that was how you found yourself sitting on the school bleachers three hours later, questioning every life decision that had led you to this moment. It seemed fun though.
The field was already crowded by the time you arrived.
Students filled up most of the seats, scattered in groups with friends, snacks and far more enthusiasm than you could ever relate to. The noise was conversations overlapping, people calling out to eachother, the occasional burst of laughter carrying across the field.
You adjusted your position on the bleachers and glanced around.
“This is way more people than I expected.”
“Obviously,” Haejin replied.
“Why obviously?”
She looked at you as if you’d asked something ridiculous.
“It’s the biggest match of the season.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t know that either?”
“No.”
Haejin sighed. Sometimes you genuinely worried about her blood pressure whenever she talked to you. The teams began gathering on the field below. A few students immediately started cheering. Others waved at friends playing.
You found yourself mostly observing, until a familiar figure stepped onto the field. The annoying thing was that you recognized him immediately. Not because of the jersey, not because he was standing the closest, your eyes had simply found him automatically.
You hated that, a lot.
Before he hit you with the football, Seonghyeon would’ve blended into the crowd of players. Now he stood out immediately. The realization was embarrassing enough that you quickly had to look elsewhere.
When you looked back a few moments later, your eyes found him again. And again. And again. It was becoming a problem.
The whistle blew.
The game began.
At first, you paid attention out of politeness. Haejin had dragged you here, after all. The least you could do was pretend to care. A few minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Somewhere along the way, you realized you were actually watching.
Not football.
Seonghyeon.
The thing was, you’d never seen him like this before. At school, Seonghyeon always seemed relaxed and comfortable. The type of person who could walk into any room and immediately belong there. On the field, however, there was something different about him. He moved with an ease that made everything look effortless. Even from a distance, you could tell people listened when he spoke.
Teammates glanced toward him constantly. A few times, he called something out and everyone immediately adjusted. It was strange. Not because you hadn’t known he played football. Because you’d never really thought about what that meant.
For the first time, you understood why so many people admired him. And for some reason, that realization made your stomach feel weird. Beside you, Haejin followed your gaze. Then smirked. You knew that smirk. It was never a good sign.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Haejin.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You groaned.
“Please don’t.”
The smirk only grew.
Thankfully, before she could speak, the crowd suddenly erupted around you. Cheers echoed across the bleachers. Students jumped to their feet. You blinked.
Apparently something had happened. Unfortunately, you’d been too busy arguing with Haejin to notice.
“What happened?”
Haejin stared at you, then at the field, then back at you.
“You weren’t watching.”
“I was.”
“You literally weren’t.”
“What happened?”
She pointed toward the field and you followed her gaze. Seonghyeon was jogging back toward the center, teammates crowding around him.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Haejin repeated.
“He scored.”
“He scored.”
You nodded.
For some reason, a smile pulled at your lips. A small one. One you didn’t even notice until Haejin did. Her eyes widened immediately.
“Wow.’’
Your smile disappeared.
“What?”
“You smiled.”
“So?”
“You smiled because he scored.”
Heat immediately rose to your face. You felt your ears swell.
“No i didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
You looked away before she could continue. You weren’t entirely sure she was wrong. That realization lingered for the rest of the match. Long after the cheering died down. Long after the game resumed. Long after you’d convinced yourself you were imagining things.
Because every time something happened on the field, your attention drifted toward the same person. Everytime he did something impressive, you felt strangely proud. As if you’d somehow earned the right.
Which was absurd.
You were still trying to convince yourself of that when the final whistle blew. The crowd immediately came alive. Students began standing, gathering their things, and making their way toward the exits. Some headed toward the field. Others were already talking excitedly about the game.
You stayed seated. Mostly because moving required effort. Partly because Haejin had disappeared five minutes ago after spotting someone she knew. You’d just pulled out your phone when a shadow fell across you. You assumed it was Haejin. Then a familiar voice spoke.
“I need an unbiased opinion.”
You looked up.
And immediately wished you hadn’t. Seonghyeon was standing there. Still wearing his uniform. Still slightly out of breath. His hair was damp from the game, falling messily across his forehead. For some reason, that bothered you.
Not because it looked bad, quite the opposite actually. Judging by the expression on his face, something had clearly bothered him.
“Hello to you too.”
“That can wait-‘’
You blinked.
“That’s sort of concerning.”
“I was robbed.”
A pause.
‘’Didn’t you guys win?’’
‘’That’s not the point.’’
‘’Feels like a pretty important point.’’
Seonghyeon looked genuinely frustrated, his breathing was heavier since the game had ended.
‘’The referee was seriously against me.’’
You stared at him for several seconds before you shifted in your seat.
‘’You’re one of those people?’’
‘’What?’’
‘’The people who blame the referee everytime something doesn’t go their way.’’
‘’It didn’t go my way.’’
‘’Well, you won.’’
‘’Of course i did.’’
You laughed, the reaction was immediate.
‘’You didn’t even pay attention.’’
‘’I was.’’
‘’No you weren’t’’
‘’How would you know?’’
‘’Because if you did, you’d be angry too.’’
‘’I’m not emotionally invested enough to be angry.’’
The look he gave you suggested this was the wrong answer.
“Okay, imagine this’’
‘’Oh-‘’
‘’I score.’’
‘’You score.’’
‘’A beautiful score.’’
‘’According to whom exactly?’’
‘’Everybody.’’
‘’Mm.’’
‘’Then the referee- who’s job is to observe accurately, calls it offside.’’
You considered this, then shrugged.
‘’Well- maybe it was offside.’’
The betrayal on his face creeped up fast.
‘’I swear it wasn’t.’’
‘’Were you the referee?’’
‘’No.’’
‘’Then how do you know?’’
For a moment, Seonghyeon simply stared at you, then he pointed accusingly.
‘’You’re terrible at this.’’
‘’At what?’’
‘’At being supportive.’’
‘’You wanted an unbiased opinion.’’
‘’I wanted you to agree with me.’’
‘’That’s not quite what unbiased means.’’
The corner of his mouth twitched. You knew he was competitive, he shot a football straight at you a few weeks ago.
‘’You know what? Nevermind.’’
You laughed again.
This time, Seonghyeon shook his head dramatically and dropped down to the bleacher seat in front of you. The field behind him remained crowded with players and students slowly making their way home. Voices carried across the evening air while coaches gathered equipment near the sidelines.
“You stayed for the whole match.”
The comment caught you off guard.
“What?”
“The whole thing.”
He leaned back slightly.
“I thought you’d get bored and leave.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You have a very low opinion of me.”
“I watched you spend twenty minutes in a game store staring at absolutely nothing.”
“I was being supportive.”
“You were wandering.”
“I was observing.”
“You were probably lost.”
“I knew exactly where I was.”
“Sure.”
You hated how satisfied he looked, with a smile to follow up on. His smile was genuine, like you could argue about anything- and it would still feel like you won, simply because he gave you that smile.
Then again, you hated how often he made you laugh. Before either of you could continue, a voice called from somewhere behind him.
“Seonghyeon!”
You looked up automatically.
A girl was jogging across the field toward the two of you, a bottle of water in one hand. She couldn’t have been much older than you. She looked pretty, and confident. The type of person who seemed completely comfortable talking to anyone. The type of person you immediately disliked for absolutely no reason.
She stopped beside him and held out the bottle. “You left this.”
“Oh.” Seonghyeon took it.
“Thanks.”
The interaction was completely normal.
The girl smiled. “No problem.”
Then she started talking, and Seonghyeon talked back. Which again, was normal. Because why wouldn’t he? But as you stood there listening to their conversation, a strange feeling settled in your chest. One you didn’t particularly like. The girl seemed familiar with him, she was comfortable like this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken. Obviously it wasn’t, Seonghyeon knew everyone. You already knew that.
Still, you found yourself looking away. Suddenly very interested in fixing the strap of your bag.
“You coming to practice on monday?” the girl asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She grinned.
“Coach would’ve killed you if you missed it.”
Seonghyeon laughed. The same laugh you’d spent the last few weeks becoming far too fond of. Hearing it now felt different, a little less special.
You’d never thought it was special. Not really. Right? The realization hit, maybe that was the problem. You had.
At some point, without noticing, you’d started treating every conversation with Seonghyeon like it meant something. When in reality this was just who he was. He was friendly, easy to talk to. He was comfortable around everyone.
The girl finally glanced toward you.
“Oh.”
For a second, she looked between the two of you then smiled politely.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The conversation lasted another minute or two.
You weren’t really paying attention anymore because the stupid feeling in your chest had only gotten worse. Thankfully, someone else called Seonghyeon’s name from across the field. A teammate this time.
“Seonghyeon!”
He looked over, then back at you.
“I should probably go.”
The words were simple and harmless, but for some reason they felt disappointing.
“Yeah,” you said.
“See you monday?”
You smiled, disingeniously.
“See you.”
The second he stood up and walked away, you knew something was wrong. Not with him, but with you. You spent the entire walk home thinking about a conversation that hadn’t even involved you. You replayed everything, the exchanged conversation, his gaze, his laughter. You replayed him.
The realization irritated you more than anything else. It wasn’t as if Seonghyeon had done something particularly memorable. He’d talked to a teammate, that’s all. The interaction had been completely normal, yet somehow your brain insisted on revisiting it every few hours like there was some hidden meaning you’d failed to uncover the first time around.
By monday morning, you’d become so annoyed with yourself that you’d practically banned yourself from thinking about him altogether. Unfortunately, that lasted less than a day.
School carried on as usual. Teachers assigned work, students complained about it, and Haejin continued collecting gossip the way other people collected hobbies, which was admirable really. Everything felt normal. At least until the end of third period.
Your teacher had been gathering her things when she suddenly bent down and picked something up from beside one of the desks near the front of the classroom. It was a dark grey hoodie, slightly oversized and folded in on itself as if somebody had shoved it underneath a chair and forgotten about it.
“Did someone leave this behind?” she asked, holding it up.
A few students glanced over before immediately losing interest, you looked up too and knew exactly who it belonged to.
The answer came so quickly that you didn’t even question it at first. Seonghyeon. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, you simply looked at the hoodie and knew.
Maybe it was because you’d seen him wearing it countless times over the past few weeks. Maybe it was because it had become one of those things your brain automatically associated with him. Whatever the reason, the certainty came naturally enough that you barely thought twice about it.
Then somebody behind you spoke.
“Oh, that’s Seonghyeon’s.”
Somehow, it felt odd. It wasn’t because they’d confirmed it, it was more so because they hadn’t told you anything you didn’t already know.
The rest of the class moved on immediately. The teacher placed the hoodie on her desk, someone made a joke and within seconds everyone was talking about something else. Everyone except you.
For some reason, that insignificant moment refused to leave your head. You spent the next hour trying to convince yourself it meant nothing. It was just a hoodie. People recognized each other’s belongings all the time. There was really nothing strange about it.
The argument would’ve been much more convincing if you hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t wearing it during lunch. The realization hit you before you even saw his face.
Your eyes found him automatically across the cafeteria surrounded by Keonho, Martin, James and Juhoon, the same group of friends he was always with. The first thing your brain registered wasn’t the conversation he was having or the fact that Keonho was laughing at something.
It was the absence of the hoodie. That’s why he looks different. You seriously didn’t like this, you in fact hated it. Seonghyeon, whom you hadn’t bat an eye on two months ago had occupied your mind the past four days. It was torture, simply because you refused to accept the thoughts. You denied everything, you brushed everything off and went about your day.
The following morning started with a problem. Not a particularly serious one, nor one that should have occupied more than a few seconds of your time, yet somehow you found yourself standing in front of your bedroom mirror far longer than necessary. You’d already finished getting ready.
Your makeup was done, your uniform was on, your bag was packed and waiting by the door. By all accounts, you should’ve been downstairs eating breakfast. Instead, you were still there staring at your reflection as if it had personally offended you. Something felt wrong.
The frustrating part was that you couldn’t figure out what. Your hair looked fine, more than fine actually. You had spent enough time on it to ensure that. Yet your hand still reached up to smooth down a strand near your cheek before stepping back again.
A few seconds later you found yourself leaning toward the mirror adjusting something else, then immediately questioning whether it had looked better before. The cycle repeated itself often enough that by the time you finally checked the clock, nearly fifteen minutes had disappeared. You frowned. That couldn’t be right.
Normally, getting ready in the morning wasn’t something you thought much about. You liked looking presentable and usually put effort into your appearance, but there was a difference between effort and whatever this was. This felt suspiciously close to perfectionism, except there was nothing to perfect.
Every time you fixed one thing, your eyes immediately found something else to focus on. A different hairstyle. A little more lip tint. Maybe a different pair of earrings. None of the changes were dramatic enough for anyone else to notice, but you noticed them, and apparently that was enough to keep you rooted in front of the mirror like an idiot.
Moments later, your phone buzzed. Haejin was texting you.
HAEJIN
Overslept.
Can’t make it to first period.
Meet you second period😴
Haejin was a bit careless when it came to school. You don’t think it’s on purpose, she just doesn’t see the need to wake up at 7:30 AM for merely first period. She makes it so justifiable, so you guess you could see it from her perspective, however not today. Today, was an important day.
By the time first period began, you were already feeling self aware. Now, instead of sitting beside your best friend, you found yourself alone at your desk while the teacher droned on at the front of the classroom. The seat beside you remained empty, which felt strangely noticeable. Haejin had a way of filling every space she occupied, and without her there the morning seemed significantly quieter.
When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things and stepped into the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Your next class was on the opposite side of the building, leaving you with more than enough time to get there. Normally, you would have spent the break with Haejin. Today however, you found yourself wandering alone through the crowded hallways.
“Y/n, hey.’’
The familiar voice made you turn immediately.
Seonghyeon stood a few feet away, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. For a moment, your brain supplied an extremely unhelpful thought.
Did he notice?
You hated yourself instantly.
Notice what?
Your hair?
Your makeup?
The fact that you’d spent half your morning acting like a love island contestant? Thankfully, Seonghyeon seemed completely unaware of the spiraling thoughts currently unfolding.
“Haejin’s late,” you explained before he could ask. Before you could think of a more logical answer, like a simple hey.
Seriously?
What does Haejin have to do with this?
Why would he care?
Seonghyeon almost surpressed his reaction.
‘’Oh- right.’’
He was confused. Did you think he approached you to talk to Haejin? He didn’t read much into it though.
However, he did notice something was different about you today.
At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was.
Maybe your hair looked different. Maybe your makeup. Whatever it was, it gave you a slightly softer appearance than usual. Not dramatically different, just enough to make him pause for a second longer than normal.
“You look tired” he said instead.
You stared at him. Of all the things he could’ve said.
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t sleep?”
The betrayal you felt was immediate. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready this morning. An embarrassing amount. And somehow the only conclusion he’d reached was that you looked tired. For a brief moment, you considered pushing him down the nearest staircase.
“That’s offensive.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“I’m choosing peace.”
Seonghyeon laughed.
Unfortunately, the sound did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. If anything, it made it worse. Because now all you could think about was the twenty minutes you’d wasted staring at yourself in the mirror. The universe clearly had a sense of humor.
“You look fine, by the way.”
The comment was casual. So casual that he probably didn’t think twice about saying it. You however, nearly forgot how to function. Before you could respond, Martin called Seonghyeon’s name from farther down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder, then back at you.
“I’ll see you later.” And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway wondering why two completely harmless words had managed to ruin the rest of your morning. The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly after that.
Haejin eventually arrived halfway through second period carrying the same energy she always did, immediately filling the empty space beside you with stories, complaints and dramatic retellings of how she had supposedly fallen victim to circumstances completely beyond her control.
According to her, the blame rested entirely on a combination of faulty alarms, unfair school schedules and a universe that seemed personally determined to make her suffer.
“I woke up and it was 9:12.”
“You start at 8:30.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s doesn’t quite help.” Haejin pouted.
The rest of the day continued pretty much the same way. Haejin spent most of her time insisting she was being unfairly persecuted by the education system. By the final bell, you had almost forgotten about the awkward interaction from that morning. Almost. Unfortunately, while you were fully prepared to go home, Haejin apparently had other plans.
“I’ll be two minutes.”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
“This time I mean it.”
“You also meant it last time.”
Ignoring you entirely, she disappeared back into the building after being stopped by a teacher regarding an assignment she had forgotten to submit. So you waited.
The afternoon air was cool, carrying the familiar sounds of students lingering around school grounds before heading home.
Groups gathered near the entrance, conversations overlapping as people delayed going home for as long as possible. You had been scrolling through your phone for several minutes when a football rolled across the pavement a few meters away. Your eyes followed it automatically.
Several members of the football team had gathered near the edge of the courtyard, passing time before practice. Some were kicking a ball around while others leaned against a nearby fence talking amongst themselves. The sight would’ve gone largely unnoticed if Haejin hadn’t finally emerged from the building at that exact moment.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Her eyes lit up. “Keonho’s here.”
Before you could stop her, she’d already started walking.
“Haejin.”
No response.
“Haejin.”
Still nothing.
Sometimes you genuinely believed she could hear only the things she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, Keonho seemed equally enthusiastic. A few minutes later, the two of them had somehow dragged everyone into the same conversation.
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment you were waiting for Haejin, the next you were standing in a loose circle listening to Keonho passionately argue that football players deserved special treatment during exam season.
“You kick a ball around.”
“That’s not all we do.”
“That’s literally what football is.” Seonghyeon let out a faint laugh. Keonho pointed at him immediately.
“See? He understands.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your silence supports me.”
The conversation drifted from one topic to another after that. Homework became complaints about teachers, which somehow turned into stories from middle school and then an argument over who had the worst attendance record. At some point, Keonho glanced toward Seonghyeon.
“Actually, speaking of people abandoning their friends.” Seonghyeon already looked tired.
“You spend more time talking to y/n than you do with me nowadays.”
The comment earned a laugh from Haejin. You wished it hadn’t, because now everyone was looking at the two of you. Seonghyeon meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
For a second, Keonho gestured vaguely between the two of you as though presenting evidence to a jury. The response came easily. Without hesitation. Without even a second of thought.
“She’s just a friend.”
The following morning began with rain.
Not the kind that belonged in movies, where people stared moodily out of windows while life changing realizations unfolded in the background. This was ordinary rain. Annoying rain. The sort that turned sidewalks slippery and made umbrellas feel completely useless because somehow you still ended up getting wet anyway.
By the time you arrived at school, your shoes were damp, your patience was gone and Haejin was already waiting by the entrance looking personally offended by the weather. She immediately launched into a five minute rant about how rain should be illegal before eight in the morning, only pausing long enough to complain about an upcoming assignment and the fact that she had forgotten to study for a quiz she apparently hadn’t known existed until fifteen minutes ago.
The conversation continued all the way to class. Then through first period. Then through half of second period. That was one of the things you liked most about Haejin. Being around her left very little room for overthinking. Unfortunately not no room, just very little.
The thought arrived sometime during lunch. You were sitting across from Haejin while she attempted to convince three people that she deserved compensation for having to wake up before sunrise every day. Around you, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of conversations, laughter and the occasional argument over stolen food. It was normal. Completely normal.
Yet for some reason, you found yourself looking up whenever the doors opened. The first time, you didn’t think much of it. The second time, you barely noticed. The third time however, you caught yourself doing it and immediately looked back down at your food. That was strange. You frowned slightly.
Because you knew exactly what you had been looking for. Or rather, who. The thought irritated you far more than it should have. The problem was that it happened automatically. You had not consciously wondered where Seonghyeon was. You hadn’t been sitting there waiting for him to appear. Your eyes had simply searched the room on their own before your brain had the chance to stop them. Annoying. Deeply annoying. Across from you, Haejin paused mid-sentence.
“…Why do you look angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
“You look like it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That explains nothing.”
You stabbed a french fry with considerably more force than necessary. Haejin narrowed her eyes immediately. Never a good sign.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“It literally is.”
You sighed. The problem with having a best friend for years was that they became impossible to fool.
“You know,” Haejin continued, leaning back in her chair “most people don’t glare at potatoes unless something is bothering them.”
For a brief moment, you considered telling her. Not everything. Then immediately decided against it. Mostly because hearing your thoughts out loud would somehow make the situation significantly worse, and because deep down there was a part of you that already knew exactly what Haejin would say. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to hear it.
If someone had asked Seonghyeon whether anything had changed over the past couple of weeks, he probably would’ve said no.
Life looked exactly the same as it always had. Football practice continued to consume most of his afternoons and Keonho remained committed to making every situation at least twice as loud as necessary. The days blended together in the way school days often did. One class became another. One week became the next. Nothing particularly significant seemed to happen. At least, that was what he thought.
The realization didn’t arrive all at once. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t even particularly noticeable at first. Instead, it appeared in small moments and then disappeared again before he could properly think about it. A hallway conversation that felt strangely short. An empty seat during lunch that shouldn’t have mattered. The first few times, he ignored it. By the tenth, it was becoming difficult to.
Thursday afternoon found him sitting through one of the most painfully boring lessons of the semester. Even the teacher seemed tired of listening to himself speak. Around the classroom, students had long since given up pretending to pay attention. Some were doodling in notebooks, others were staring blankly out windows, and James had somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting upright. Honestly, it was impressive.
Seonghyeon’s attention had drifted somewhere around twenty minutes earlier. His notebook remained open in front of him, untouched except for a few half finished notes written without much thought behind them. He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular when the teacher suddenly stopped speaking and sighed.
Immediately, several students sat up. The word easier had that effect.
The teacher began asking questions instead, pointing at different students around the room whenever he needed an answer. Most people responded with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some answered correctly. Others guessed. One student somehow managed to produce an answer so incorrect that the entire class burst out laughing. Including Seonghyeon. For some reason, the moment reminded him of y/n. The thought appeared so unexpectedly that he almost frowned.
It wasn’t even a specific memory. Just a vague association. Something about the expression she would’ve made if she’d heard the answer. The way she tried not to laugh when she found something funny. The way she usually looked away immediately afterward as if being caught smiling was somehow embarrassing. For a second, he found himself glancing toward the row she usually sat in. Then paused, because that was strange. He hadn’t spoken to y/n properly in what felt like ages. It didn’t make sense.
A few weeks ago, running into her had somehow become normal. Conversations before class. Conversations after class. Random interactions in hallways that stretched far longer than either of them intended. Nothing major. Just enough that he’d stopped noticing when they happened.
Now he was noticing when they didn’t. The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. Then followed him into the hallway. Then all the way to lunch. By the time football practice started, he still hadn’t managed to shake it. People got busy, that was all. School happened, life happened. There was no reason to think about it this much.
Unfortunately, that explanation became slightly harder to believe when he realized he couldn’t remember the last actual conversation they’ve had.
Instead, he found himself standing on the edge of the football field staring at absolutely nothing while the rest of the team warmed up around him.
“Earth to Seonghyeon.”
Martin’s voice snapped him out of it.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at the same patch of grass for thirty seconds.”
Seonghyeon blinked.
Had he? Apparently. Keonho narrowed his eyes immediately.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Seonghyeon didn’t understand why he had thought about it this much. He wasn’t the type to. He’d logically examine situations, come up with a logical answer and move on with his day. Somehow this was different, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Keonho had never been the type of person to let things go. In fact, if Seonghyeon had to describe him using a single phrase, it would probably be incapable of minding his own business. The moment practice ended, Keonho’s attention returned to the subject with the determination of somebody investigating a crime.
At first, Seonghyeon didn’t even realize it was happening. The team had just finished collecting equipment, everyone moving around the field in various states of exhaustion while the sun slowly disappeared behind the school buildings. Conversations overlapped from every direction.
Somebody was complaining about the coach, somebody else was arguing about where to eat afterward and a football rolled across the grass before being kicked back toward a storage cart. Everything felt normal. Until Keonho appeared beside him. That wasn’t unusual. The fact that he remained there in complete silence however, definitely was.
For several seconds he simply walked beside him without saying anything. Coming from Keonho, that was concerning enough on its own. When Seonghyeon finally glanced over, he immediately regretted it. Keonho was already staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghyeon asked.
“I’m thinking.”
A sigh escaped him. The evening air had turned noticeably cooler now, students gradually filtering away from the field in small groups as the noise around them slowly faded into the distance. For a brief moment it almost seemed like Keonho might finally drop the subject. Then he spoke again.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Seonghyeon barely reacted. Mostly because this conversation happened at least three times a week.
“About what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The answer was so stupid that a laugh almost escaped him.
“No, seriously.” Keonho adjusted the strap of his bag before continuing. “You’ve been zoning out lately.”
That got his attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something similar. Over the past week different people had made almost identical observations often enough that it was becoming difficult to ignore. Martin had asked whether he was tired. His mother had asked whether something was bothering him. Even the coach had commented on him being distracted during practice yesterday.
At the time Seonghyeon had brushed all of it off. Now however, standing on the sidewalk outside the school while Keonho kicked absentmindedly at loose gravel beside him, he found himself wondering whether they all had a point.
The problem was that he couldn’t figure out what exactly was different. Or rather, he could. He just didn’t particularly like the answer. Because every time he started pulling at the loose thread of the thought, it somehow led back to the same place. The same person. The same question. When was the last time he’d actually talked to y/n?
Not seen her. Not waved at her from the other end of a hallway. Talked to her, a proper conversation. The answer should’ve come immediately. Instead, he found himself drawing a blank.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that really bothered him.
By the time he got home later that evening, dropped his bag beside the door and collapsed onto his bed, the thought was still there. Which was annoying, because he had homework to finish and football practice again tomorrow. He had significantly more important things to think about. Yet somehow, while staring at the ceiling of his room, his mind drifted back to the same thing. He dug deep into his thoughts.
The first time was almost laughably insignificant. Class had just ended, and students were spilling into the hallways at every direction. Seonghyeon had been halfway through putting his books away when he spotted y/n a little farther down the corridor.
She was standing beside her locker, listening to something Haejin was saying. Or rather, dramatically performing. Haejin’s hands were moving so aggressively that even from a distance it looked less like a conversation and more like an emergency press conference.
Without really thinking about it, Seonghyeon started heading that way.
Then suddenly y/n grabbed Haejin by the wrist and dragged her around the corner. Gone. Seonghyeon stopped walking, he had simply stared at the space where she’d been stadning.
‘’Why are you just standing there?’’
He looked over and Juhoon was staring at him.
‘’Nothing-‘’
Juhoon looked unconvinced.
The second time happened during lunch, Seonghyeon had just entered the cafeteria when he noticed y/n sitting at her usual table. For some reason, the sight made him smile.
He grabbed his tray and joined his friends. Halfway through James’s completely unecessary rant about him having to balance both the exams- since he’s a few years older, and football practice, Seonghyeon glanced across the cafeteria again.
The seat was empty, he frowned.
‘’How dare they stack up on exams the second football season gets serious? I can’t be expected to memorize biology and score goals.’’
Yeah that was just background noise for Seonghyeon.
The third time was when it had actually started bothering him. School had ended, and the campus was filled by students and chatter. Seonghyeon, Keonho, Juhoon, Martin and James stood in front of the school, talking while Martin shot the basketball into the hoop continuously.
Suddenly, he spotted y/n coming out of the main entrance. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder, already heading toward the front gate. He considered calling her name, the thought had appeared automatically. Then he paused. Because that would be weird, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said. Hey? Hello? Why have we apparently forgotten how to exist in the same space lately?
Before he could decide, a group of guys crossed between them. By the time they passed, she had already disappeared around the corner. That annoyed him.
He found himself looking for her the next day. Which felt ridiculous, that’s what he told himself while scanning the cafeteria without realizing he was doing it. He didn’t understand why it had bothered him so much.
Everytime he looked up, she seemed to walk the other way. He could’ve sworn she stood wherever he saw her, then poof she’s gone again. He missed talking to her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized y/n hadn’t actually disappeared. She was still around.
The strange thing about time was that it continued moving whether you wanted it to or not.
A few weeks ago, you’d convinced yourself that liking Seonghyeon was some life altering catastrophe. Every conversation felt important. Every interaction lingered longer than it should have. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of energy thinking about things that in hindsight, probably didn’t deserve nearly that much attention.
Now however, life had begun settling back into place. It wasn’t really because your feelings had disappeared, they hadn’t. You still liked him, that much obvious.
The difference was that it felt like your entire existence no longer revolved around it. Somehow, focusing on all ordinary frustrations had made everything else feel smaller. For the first time in a while, you felt like yourself again, which was probably why you agreed to help one of your teachers after class.
It seemed harmless enough at the time. It was just a simple favour, five minutes of your time. Unfortunately, teachers had a very different understanding of the word simple. Twenty minutes later, you found yourself carrying what felt like the entire contents of a storage room through one of the academic buildings.
A stack of folders was balanced precariously against your chest, several textbooks were tucked underneath one arm and a plastic container filled with miscellaneous classroom supplies kept threatening to slide out of your grasp every time you took a step.
You couldn’t see properly.
You couldn’t walk properly.
You were beginning to suspect your teacher had deliberately chosen you because you looked too polite to say no.
The hallway itself was mostly empty. Classes had ended nearly half an hour ago, leaving only the occasional student lingering behind for clubs, sports or whatever mysterious activities seemed to keep people at school long after everyone else had gone home. The combination of limited visibility and questionable balance meant you didn’t notice someone approaching from the opposite direction.
Not until it was too late.
The collision wasn’t dramatic, nobofy went flying across the hallway, well just the stack of folders that immediately tilted sideways, and the plastic container that slipped- oh and a pencil case launched itself onto the floor.
And before you could react, several sheets of paper had already escaped and scattered across the hallway like they were making a run for freedom. For one dreadful second, you simply stood there staring. Of course this was happening. Then a voice spoke.
“Whoa.”
You froze. Slowly, you looked up.
Seonghyeon looked just as surprised as you felt, then he looked down at the disaster surrounding your feet. Then back up at you. Then back down again. A smile appeared.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am.”
You sighed.
“Great.”
The smile widened slightly.
Without another word, he crouched down and began gathering the papers scattered across the floor.
You hated how familiar the sight felt.
A few months ago, seeing Eom Seonghyeon kneeling on a hallway floor collecting your homework would’ve felt absurd. Now it barely registered as unusual. Together, the two of you began collecting the mess. Most of it in silence. The kind that had somehow become normal between you before either of you noticed.
The strange thing was that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t hyperaware of him. You weren’t overthinking every word, you weren’t wondering what something meant. You were simply trying to stop your papers from disappearing underneath a nearby vending machine.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said eventually, handing over another folder “for somebody who was late because of a pen, I feel like this tracks.”
You stared at him then immediately groaned.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.”
“That happened once.”
“You were defeated by a mere pen.”
“I wasn’t defeated.”
“You absolutely were.”
To your annoyance, a laugh escaped before you could stop it. The sound earned a grin from him. The folders had been restacked, the notebooks gathered and the loose papers that had scattered across half the hallway had been retrieved. Only one sheet remained. It had drifted farther than the others. The hallway itself had grown noticeably quieter during the few minutes.
You moved first, or atleast you thought you did. The second you stepped forward, Seonghyeon did too. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously. You stopped, he stopped. The paper remained exactly where it was.
‘’Go ahead.’’
You looked up.
‘’What?’’
‘’You saw it first.’’
‘’No i didn’t’’
‘’You did.’’
‘’I was being polite.’’
‘’You’re never polite.’’
The response left his mouth so quickly that he seemed to realize what he had said only afterward. You stared at him, and he stared back. Then a smile appeared, it was small. The kind that always seemed to show up before he could stop it.
‘’You know what i mean.’’
‘’Do i?’’
‘’No.’’
You smiled- it was stupid. You loved the conversations, you missed them. Both of you moved at the same time again. The result was immediate. Your shoulders bumped together.
‘’Ow.’’
You immediately laughed in shock. He was being dramatic, it was a small bump.
The past few weeks suddenly seemed a little ridiculous. Seonghyeon spent so much time wondering why something felt off only to discover the answer was embarrassingly simple. He’d missed this aswell.
Haejin had never been particularly interested in making your life easier. The first sign of trouble appeared at exactly 5:34 PM on a Saturday.
Your phone buzzed.
Haejin
Can i come overrrr~
You stared at the message. Of course she could, rather it was weird she didn’t show up at your door to ask that.
You
obv
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Haejin
keonho is coming too apparently
You
Oh
Why?
Haejin
because he’s annoying and won’t leave me alone
he just texted me
he’s already on the bus
Before you could gather your thoughts to respond, another message arrived.
Haejin
oh Seonghyeon’s coming too
You nearly dropped your phone.
The thirty minutes Haejin had promised turned into forty three. Not that you were counting. You absolutely weren’t. The problem was that once somebody informed you that Haejin, Keonho and more importantly- Seonghyeon would be entering your house, suddenly every insignificant detail became a problem.
The blanket draped over the couch looked wrong. The cushions looked wrong. The stack of books sitting on the coffee table looked wrong. Even the framed photo sitting on the shelf near the television somehow looked wrong despite having remained in the exact same position for nearly three years. You were in the middle of rearranging the cushions for the third time when a voice spoke from behind you.
‘’Is Haejin coming over?’’
Your mother stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her eyes moved from you to the perfectly arranged couch, then to the freshly folded blanket, then to the coffee table you’d wiped down approximately fifteen minutes ago.
You nodded, before following it up.
‘’And two other friends.’’
‘’That’s fine- Should i go make something? A snackplate? Cut up some fruits?’’
‘’No, that’s okay.’’
The doorbell rang. The sound practically echoed throughout the house. The second your hand touched the doorknob, you could swear your heart dropped, like seriously. The door opened, and Haejin immediately walked inside without waiting for an invitation.
‘’Hello to you too.’’ You said.
‘’Thank you.’’
‘’What?’’
Behind her came Keonho, then Seonghyeon.
For some reason, seeing him standing on your doorstep felt stranger than seeing him anywhere else. Maybe because he’s become so firmly associated with school that your brain momentarily struggled to place him here. There was no football field, no hallway. Just your front porch, and Seonghyeon standing on it looking mildly uncomfortable beneath your scrunity. There was a long pause, it felt awkward.
‘’Hi.’’
Immediately, you wanted to throw yourself into traffic. It was a groundbreaking greeting, really. Thankfully, Seonghyeon wasn’t much better.
‘’Hi.’’
Behind him, Keonho sighed dramatically. ‘’This is painful.’’
The two of them stepped inside while Haejin continued acting like she had lived there for years. Almost immediately, your mother appeared from the kitchen.
‘’Hello, dear.’’
‘’Hi!’’
The response came so naturally that it sounded like a part of a routine they had performed hundreds of times before. Then your mother looked toward the boys. Before Seonghyeon could do anything, Keonho stepped forward.
‘’I’m Keonho,’’
‘’Nice to meet you.’’
‘’And that’s Seonghyeon.’’
A brief silence followed. Seonghyeon looked over, Keonho looked back.
‘’I can introduce myself.’’
‘’You were taking too long.’’
‘’You spoke first.’’
‘’Exactly.’’
Your mother laughed.
‘’It’s nice to meet both of you.’’
‘’Nice to meet you too.’’ Seonghyeon replied, then bowed out of respect, Keonho followed. Hearing him speak to your mother felt oddly surreal. Your mother smiled politely.
The second everyone made it upstairs, the energy somehow shifted.
Maybe it was because school had become such a permanent backdrop to all of your interactions that seeing those same people inside your house felt strangely unnatural. Haejin immediately made herself comfortable. Keonho wasn’t much better.
He wandered around without shame, examining random objects on your shelves with the confidence of somebody who had been granted permission despite the fact nobody had actually given him any. Meanwhile, you found yourself standing near your desk, suddenly hyperaware of everything around you.
The room wasn’t messy. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was yours.
School only allowed people to know certain versions of each other. Hallway conversations. Lunch breaks. Shared classes. Small pieces. Nobody saw what happened outside of that. Nobody saw your room at midnight when you were studying for exams. Nobody saw the stuff lying on your vanity or the old concert tickets tucked into your mirror frame. Nobody saw the photos you had forgotten were hanging on the wall until this exact moment.
And Seonghyeon seemed to notice everything.
Not in an obvious way. He wasn’t walking around inspecting things. If anything, he seemed quieter than usual. While Keonho was busy making himself at home and Haejin was already flopped across your bed scrolling through her phone, Seonghyeon’s gaze occasionally drifted around the room before moving elsewhere again. Small observations. Brief glances. Yet somehow those felt worse. You couldn’t tell whether he was actually paying attention or whether your brain was simply inventing reasons to be nervous.
“You definitely cleaned.”
You immediately looked at Haejin.
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You moved something.”
“I didn’t.”
Haejin’s eyes slowly travelled across the room.
“The cushions downstairs.”
You hated her.
The smile spreading across her face told you she’d won.
“Oh my god. You did move the cushions.”
“I hate talking to you.”
From somewhere beside the bookshelf, a laugh escaped Keonho.
“You cleaned for us?”
“It wasn’t for you.”
The room fell silent for half a second before Haejin started laughing because of Keonho’s reaction. The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Conversations drifted from one topic to another without much direction. Somebody brought up an old teacher. That somehow became a discussion about embarrassing middle school memories. Then football. Then exams. Then an argument, nobody actually cared about the answer. The argument continued anyway.
At some point, somebody stole your blanket. At some point, Keonho and Haejin became invested in a debate so stupid that the original topic had long since been forgotten.
“You are fundamentally misunderstanding the point.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re just wrong.”
“I’m always right.”
“That’s not how opinions work.”
Watching them argue was a bit like watching two people accidentally start a fire and then continue pouring gasoline on it.
Eventually, they ended up sitting on the floor near your television, completely absorbed in whatever nonsense they were discussing now. For the first time all afternoon, the room became quieter. You were sitting near the edge of your bed, scrolling through your phone while the sound of Haejin and Keonho arguing faded into the background. Beside you, Seonghyeon sat comfortably against the wall. Neither of you were really speaking.
The silence wasn’t awkward. A few months ago, silence between you would’ve felt unbearable. Now it barely registered. You scrolled past an old photo without thinking, then immediately scrolled back. A small laugh escaped you.
“What?”
You glanced up.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
You looked back down at the screen.
“It was from middle school.”
“Let me see.”
Without thinking, you handed him your phone but the second you did, you regretted it. Because the photo was awful. Seonghyeon looked at the screen, then looked at you. He smiled.
“What?” His smile widened.
“You look twelve.”
“I was twelve.”
“You look younger than twelve.”
“Give it back.”
You reached for the phone. At the exact same moment he pulled it slightly away, your hand brushed against his. The movement was tiny, it was barely anything. Yet both of you froze for a second. The noise from the rest of the room suddenly felt strangely distant. You weren’t sure why, it was stupid. People accidentally touched hands all the time, nothing should’ve happened.
Then Seonghyeon handed the phone back.
And somewhere across the room, Haejin suddenly yelled:
“THAT’S LITERALLY NOT WHAT I SAID.”
Seonghyeon didn’t realize he was still thinking about it until he walked straight into his bedroom door. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was embarrassing enough that he immediately looked around despite being completely alone. A second later he let out a quiet groan and rubbed a hand over his face.
A few minutes later after showering and changing into comfortable clothes, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed with a towel draped around his neck. His phone had been abandoned somewhere beside him. Downstairs, he could faintly hear the television playing. Everything felt normal. The day was over. There was absolutely no reason for him to still be thinking about it.
Nothing important had happened. They had gone to y/n’s house, wasted an entire afternoon doing nothing productive, listened to Keonho and Haejin argue about things neither of them cared enough to remember and eventually gone home. That was it. Yet every time Seonghyeon tried focusing on something else, his mind drifted right back there again.
The strangest part wasn’t that he had seen y/n’s room for the first time. It wasn’t even that he had spent several hours with her outside of school. It was the fact that every new thing he had learned about her somehow felt oddly expected. Not because he knew those things already, but because they fit.
The way everything looked slightly messy until you paid attention and realized there was a system behind it. Even the way she’d reacted whenever somebody pointed something out. Half embarrassed. Half annoyed. Like she wanted people to know her but only on her own terms.
A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He could already imagine how offended she’d be if she knew he was sitting here psychoanalyzing her bedroom.The thought should’ve ended there, instead another one immediately followed.
The look on her face when Haejin exposed the fact that she had obviously cleaned before they arrived. The way she tried denying it despite the evidence being painfully obvious. Then the laugh she’d let out later. Then the smile she’d been trying not to show when he teased her.
Seonghyeon dropped backward onto his mattress and stared at the ceiling. There it was again. That same problem. Every thought somehow led back to her. It was infuriating, it’s like his brain had no originality.
He had known y/n for what? A couple of months? Yet lately it felt like she kept appearing in places she wasn’t even supposed to be. In random thoughts, in conversations, in moments where he was supposed to be focusing on literally anything else. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. For the first time, Seonghyeon found himself staring directly at a possibility he had been avoiding for weeks. Not accepting it. Definitely not accepting it. Just looking at it from a safe distance. Then immediately backing away.
Nope, absolutely not.
For a long moment he simply layed there with one arm thrown across his face, feeling increasingly annoyed with himself. Because the more he thought about it, the worse his life defense became. Maybe there wasn’t some complicated explanation. Maybe the reason he had spent weeks looking for her in crowded hallways, noticing when she wasn’t around, and wondering why everything felt different lately wasn’t because something weird was happening.
Maybe the problem was much simpler than that, and that’s exactly why he didn’t wanna think about it, didn’t wanna consider it.
The problem started with a pencil.
Not because the pencil itself was important. It wasn’t. The pencil belonged to Keonho, who had somehow managed to drop it three separate times during a single class period. By the third time, the teacher looked ready to launch it out the nearest window.
A few people around the classroom were already trying and failing to hide their laughter, while Keonho seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from becoming someone’s least favorite student.
Normally, Seonghyeon would’ve found this entertaining. He probably would’ve made a comment. Maybe laughed. Maybe joined Martin in making fun of Keonho later. Instead, he was staring out the classroom window, his attention drifting somewhere beyond the teacher’s voice and the half finished notes sitting in front of him.
He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. At least, that was what he told himself. The lesson had become background noise a long time ago, blending together with the scratching of pencils, turning pages and the occasional sigh from students who had already mentally checked out for the day.
Outside, students crossed the courtyard below in small groups. Some were heading back toward the academic building after lunch while others lingered near the benches despite the fact that the break had ended nearly ten minutes ago. From up here everyone looked smaller, moving through familiar routines without much urgency. It was the sort of thing he would’ve glanced at for a second before looking away.
Then movement caught his attention. Someone familiar stepped through the courtyard gate. Immediately, his eyes followed. Which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t recognized her from half a building away. That felt excessive.
The distance alone should’ve made it impossible. He couldn’t even properly see her face from here. Yet somehow he had known it was y/n before he consciously registered any actual details. Before he thought about it. Before he even realized he was paying attention.
She was walking beside somebody. Just some guy from their year that Seonghyeon vaguely recognized. For a moment, he found himself watching longer than necessary. Not because anything unusual was happening. The opposite, actually. They were just talking. The guy said something and y/n laughed before shaking her head slightly. Then the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.
Have they always been friends?
Worked on a project together?
Why was he even thinking about this?
Because he genuinely didn’t care. He shouldn’t, atleast. His eyes remained fixed on the courtyard for another moment before he finally looked away. The strange thing was that nothing about the situation actually bothered him. Y/n was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. She was allowed to have other friends. The thought shouldn’t have occupied more than two seconds of his attention.
The thought lingered for the rest of the lesson. It followed him when the bell rang, when students immediately began shoving books into bags and when Keonho somehow dropped the same pencil again while standing up.
Seonghyeon barely heard Martin laughing about it beside him. His attention had drifted elsewhere. Not toward the courtyard anymore, but toward the uncomfortable realization itself. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have noticed.
A few months ago, y/n would’ve blended into the hundreds of students moving around campus every day. Not really because there was anything forgettable about her, but because she had never given people a reason to look twice. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself. Half the time she seemed perfectly content existing just outside the center of things.
The weather was unusually good, good enough that nobody wanted to spend lunch indoors. The football field, basketball court and every bench around campus were crowded with students taking advantage of the rare sunshine. Conversations echoed across the courtyard.
Seonghyeon sat on a low concrete wall near the basketball court with Martin, Keonho, James and Juhoon. Or rather, everyone else was sitting. Martin had somehow convinced himself he was the next basketball prodigy and had spent the last ten minutes repeatedly shooting the same ball at the hoop missing every time.
“You know,” James said, watching another failed attempt, “at some point this becomes a public safety hazard.”
Martin caught the rebound.
“You people don’t understand greatness.”
“Stick to football, please.”
Martin looked offended.
Beside them, Keonho was lying dramatically across the wall as if he’d just survived a life threatening event.
“I’ve decided something.”
Nobody reacted.
“I’m serious.”
Still nothing.
“You guys never support me.”
Juhoon didn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s because your ideas are usually terrible.”
“See? Exactly what I’m talking about.”
James sighed.
“What realization have you had now?”
Keonho sat up immediately.
“I should get priority in the cafeteria queue.”
‘’Why?’’
‘’Because i’m an athlete.’’
‘’…and so are we.’’
‘’Yeaaaaah- whatever.’’ Keonho immediately leaned back again.
The bookstore had always felt different after sunset.
Because there were fewer people around, or because the street outside became quieter once the shops started closing for the evening. Whatever the reason, everything seemed softer at night. The warm yellow lights reflected against the shelves, the air smelled faintly of paper and old wood and somewhere near the front counter low music played quietly enough that it blended into the background. It was one of the reasons you came here so often. Nobody bothered you. You could spend an hour staring at the same shelf and nobody would question it.
Which was exactly what you had been doing for the last ten minutes. At least until a familiar voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the store. You didn’t react immediately. At first your brain simply registered the sound as familiar. Then a second passed. Then another. And suddenly your head snapped up.
For a brief moment you genuinely convinced yourself you were imagining things. The possibility would’ve been less embarrassing than the alternative. Slowly, you stepped around the end of a bookshelf and glanced down the next aisle. Immediately, your stomach betrayed you.
Because standing near the back of the store was Seonghyeon. Not somebody who looked like him. It was him. Seeing him here felt like spotting a teacher at the grocery store. Not wrong exactly, just unsettling enough to force your brain to restart.
He was standing beside a rolling cart filled with books, listening while the owner explained something. Every now and then he would nod before reaching over to place another book onto a shelf. Judging by how comfortably he moved around the store, this clearly wasn’t his first time here. Then the owner noticed you. His face brightened instantly. “Y/n.”
Oh great, Seonghyeon was turning around too. For a second, surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. The same smile that had become increasingly dangerous for your emotional wellbeing over the past few months.
“Hey.’’
It still managed to make your heart forget how to function. The owner looked between the two of you before immediately deciding this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all week.
“You two know each other?”
The silence that followed felt unnecessarily heavy. Technically, the answer was simple. Still, none of you spoke immediately. Eventually Seonghyeon answered first. “We go to school together.”
The owner looked unconvinced. You understood why. Because there was something suspicious about the way Seonghyeon had smiled while saying it. As if the answer was technically true. Just not the entire truth.
The owner eventually disappeared toward the front of the store after receiving a late delivery, leaving the two of you alone with several half empty shelves and a cart stacked with books that apparently needed to be reorganized before closing. The task itself wasn’t particularly difficult, but the aisle he had assigned you to was.
It was narrow enough that every time one of you moved, the other had to adjust accordingly. At first neither of you paid much attention to it. The conversation flowed naturally. It should have felt normal. In theory, it was normal. Still, somewhere between reaching for the same stack of novels and arguing over whether a book belonged in the mystery section or literary fiction, you became increasingly aware of how little space actually existed between the two of you.
You noticed gradually rather than all at once. One moment you were focused on sorting books, the next you found yourself noticing things that shouldn’t have mattered. The sleeves of Seonghyeon’s hoodie were pushed up to his forearms. His hair kept falling into his eyes every few minutes. Every time it did, he would push it back before continuing whatever he was doing. It wasn’t remarkable.
It wasn’t even interesting. Yet for some reason, your attention kept returning to it. Across from you, Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. He had spent the last several weeks trying very hard not to think too deeply about certain things, only to discover that being alone with you outside school made that task significantly more difficult. At school there were distractions. Friends, classes, teachers, noise. Here there was only the soft hum of the bookstore, the occasional turning page from a customer somewhere in the distance, and you.
You reached for a book resting near the top shelf at the exact same moment Seonghyeon stepped forward to place another back in its place. Neither of you noticed the timing until it was already too late. The aisle was far too narrow for both movements to happen at once. One second you were focused entirely on the shelf in front of you, the next you found yourself stopping abruptly as Seonghyeon did the same. Far too close.
You hadn’t walked into him. Neither of you had. Yet somehow the distance between you had disappeared anyway. The narrow aisle had trapped both of you in the same small space and now neither of you could move without brushing past the other. Instinctively, you took a small step backward. Though, your shoulder bumped lightly against the bookshelf behind you, leaving nowhere else to go. The movement seemed to catch Seonghyeon’s attention. His eyes flickered toward you before immediately looking away again. Then back. That was worse.
Because now he was actually looking at you. Not casually. Not the way he normally did. The kind of look that lasted a second too long. The kind that made you suddenly aware of every inch separating you.
Neither of you moved. Somewhere outside, a car passed by. Somewhere inside, somebody turned a page. Neither sound felt real. Not compared to this. Not compared to the fact that Seonghyeon was standing close enough for you to notice details you never should have been able to notice. The faint scent of his cologne. The slight rise and fall of his breathing. The way his gaze kept dropping for the briefest moments before returning to your eyes again.
Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. A normal person would have stepped away by now. That was the logical thing to do. The obvious thing. Yet for some reason, neither of them seemed capable of being the first one to move. His hand was still resting against the shelf above your shoulder. Not touching you. Close enough that it felt like it.
Close enough that every rational thought in his head had abruptly stopped functioning. He couldn’t even remember what book he had been reaching for. Couldn’t remember what either of you had been talking about thirty seconds ago. All he knew was that you were looking up at him and that suddenly felt like a very torturous thing. The silence stretched. Your eyes dropped briefly, then lifted again.
Mistake.
Because the second your gaze met his again, something shifted. Neither of you moved, yet the distance felt smaller than before. Small enough that for one completely irrational second, the possibility crossed both of your minds at the same time. And judging by the way Seonghyeon’s breathing faltered, he knew it too.
The sound of a stack of books being dropped somewhere near the front counter shattered the moment instantly. Both of you stepped back so fast it almost hurt.
The rest of the evening felt strangely disconnected after that.
You had left the bookstore not long after, mumbling some excuse about needing to get home before it got too late. The owner had teased you for leaving earlier than usual, but you barely remembered what you had said in response. Your brain had been somewhere else entirely.
The walk home should’ve felt familiar. You had taken the same route hundreds of times before. The same streets. The same convenience store on the corner. The same traffic lights that always seemed determined to turn red at the worst possible moment. Yet everything felt slightly off, as if somebody had shifted the world half an inch to the left without telling you.
The problem was that your brain had apparently become incapable of behaving normally whenever he was involved. Every time you replayed the evening, you found yourself stopping at the same moment. Your thoughts kept drifting there on their own. The narrow aisle. The silence. The way neither of you had moved. The way you suddenly became aware of absurd things you never paid attention to before, like how close he was standing or how easy it would’ve been to reach out and touch him.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon made it approximately twelve minutes before realizing he was completely screwed.
The bookstore owner had eventually returned to find him standing in the wrong aisle holding a book he had already shelved three separate times. Seonghyeon wasn’t usually the type to get distracted. If anything, one of the things people liked most about him was how calm he was under pressure. Football matches didn’t stress him out, presentations didn’t stress him out. Exams stressed him out a little, but not enough to make him lose sleep. One interaction with y/n had completely destroyed his ability to focus. The owner had asked him a question and Seonghyeon had stared at him for three seconds before realizing he had not heard a single word.
Every time he thought he had moved on, he would remember some tiny detail and immediately get distracted again. The way she looked up at him. The way she froze. The fact that neither of them had stepped away immediately. That part bothered him most. A normal person would’ve moved. A normal person would’ve laughed it off and continued shelving books. Instead, they had both just stood there staring at each other like complete idiots until somebody dropped books near the front counter and snapped them back to reality.
The days after the bookstore felt strangely normal on the surface and completely unbearable underneath. Y/n would be halfway through listening to Haejin before suddenly remembering the look on Seonghyeon’s face in that aisle and immediately losing track of the conversation. Seonghyeon wasn’t doing much better. Looking for y/n had somehow become a habit. Not a conscious one. His eyes just seemed to find her automatically now, and what bothered him most wasn’t seeing her. It was when he couldn’t.
By Thursday afternoon, students flooded out of their classrooms as the bell rang. Conversations echoed through the hallways while people pushed toward their next lesson. Seonghyeon was walking with his friends, half listening to whatever argument Keonho was currently having, when he spotted y/n a little ahead. She was walking through the crowd. He didn’t think about it. Not really. The words left his mouth before his brain had the opportunity to intervene.
‘’You coming this friday?’’ The second he said it, she turned around.
‘’What?’’
Seonghyeon blinked, for a moment neither spoke.
‘’Where?’’
And suddenly every functioning thought in Seonghyeon’s head disappeared. Apparently, he had skipped an entire conversation.
‘’You know..’’ He started. No, obviously she didn’t know.
‘’The game.’’ She stared. ‘’The football game?’’
‘’Yeah.’’ Only now did Seonghyeon realize how insane this looked. They had never actually discussed her coming. Not once. For some reason though, it had already become a possibility in his head.
‘’Oh.’’ The hallway suddenly felt far too crowded. ‘’You don’t have to.’’ The words came out faster than he intended and he immediately regretted them, because now it sounded like he didn’t care. Which wasn’t true. Not even remotely. ‘’You could- you-‘’ He paused, then looked at her. Actually looked at her. ‘’I’d like it if you did.’’
Y/n’s heart had stopped functioning. There was no reason that sentence should’ve affected her the way it did. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even flirting. Yet standing there in the middle of a crowded hallway, it felt dangerously close to something else. And suddenly she realized he actually meant it.
He wanted her there. A smile threatened to appear, she fought it immediately and failed. ‘’Okay.’’ The answer came out softer than she had intended.
Something shifted in Seonghyeon’s expression. The tension in his shoulders eased and the smallest smile appeared.
By the time you arrived, most of the stadium was still empty. The match wasn’t starting for another hour, leaving the school caught in that strange period between preparation and chaos. Staff moved equipment across the field, a few students wandered through the entrance gates and somewhere deeper inside the athletic building, the football team was getting ready. You honestly hadn’t planned on coming this early. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself. The hallway leading toward the locker rooms was nearly deserted when you spotted him.
Seonghyeon was standing beside a row of lockers, already dressed in his uniform, one hand resting against the metal door while he searched through his bag for something. For a moment, you simply watched. It felt unfair how normal he looked. Like he hadn’t spent the last few weeks slowly becoming the cause of half your problems.
Maybe he felt you staring, because a second later he looked up and smiled. Not the polite smile. Not the one he gave teachers. The real one. The one that always seemed to appear before he could stop it.
“You know the game’s not starting for another hour, right?” The greeting caught you off guard.
“What, you’re kicking me out already?”
“No,” he said immediately, a little too quickly.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here this early.”
You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Maybe I have nothing better to do.”
“That’s depressing.” You stared at him.
“You’re about to play an important match.”
“And you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m helping you stay humble.” A laugh escaped him, and for a moment neither of you said anything else. The conversation should’ve ended there. It didn’t. For some reason, Seonghyeon was still standing there. For some reason, you were too.
“You nervous?” you asked eventually.
“About the game?” You nodded.
“Unless you’re secretly taking a math exam afterwards.” His smile returned.
“A little.” The answer surprised you, it sounded genuine.
“You?” he asked. You frowned. “What?”
“Nervous.”
“Why would I be nervous?” Something shifted in his expression. “Good question.” The look he gave you made your stomach drop because suddenly it didn’t feel like you were talking about football anymore.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. That was the problem. It felt too easy. Too comfortable. The kind of silence that only happened when you genuinely liked being around someone. You looked away first, which immediately turned out to be a mistake because the second you did, you became aware of how close he was standing. Not close enough to be strange. Close enough to matter. When you looked back up, Seonghyeon was already looking at you.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The hallway felt quieter than before, and you couldn’t remember what you had been about to say. His gaze dropped for the briefest second before lifting again. The movement was tiny. It still made your heart nearly stop. For the first time since you had met him, Seonghyeon looked completely thrown off, like he was realizing something at the exact same time you were.
The realization hung between you. Neither of you acknowledged it. Neither of you looked away. The distance somehow felt smaller now. A lot smaller. You weren’t sure whether one of you had stepped forward or if you had simply stopped paying attention to everything except him. Seonghyeon let out a quiet breath. His eyes flickered down again. This time neither of you pretended not to notice. The moment stretched. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for your pulse to start racing. Long enough for him to look like he’d completely forgotten where he was.
Long enough that if either of you moved even slightly-
“SEONGHYEON!”
The shout echoed through the hallway, making both of you jump apart so fast it was embarrassing. A teammate appeared around the corner. “Coach is looking for you.” Seonghyeon genuinely looked annoyed. Actually annoyed. Which somehow made everything worse.
“Yeah.” he muttered. The teammate disappeared again, leaving the two of you standing there in the aftermath of something neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.
Then Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck and let out a short laugh. “I should probably go before he benches me.”
“Probably.”
Then he looked at you properly. Not past you. Not around you. At you.
‘’Stay until the game finishes.’’
You blinked.
‘’What?’’
‘’You came all the way here, it’d be rude to leave earlier.’’ The excuse was terrible, both of you knew it. You were smiling. You gave him a reassuring hum. His own smile softened.
The whistle blew before you were ready for it.
Almost immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The scattered conversations around the stadium disappeared beneath the sound of cheering as both teams surged forward. Whatever relaxed energy had existed before kickoff vanished entirely. Suddenly everything felt louder. Faster. More important. You tried focusing, you really did.
For the first few minutes, your attention stayed where it was supposed to. The ball moved rapidly across the field, players weaving around each other while the crowd reacted to every near miss and interception. It was impossible not to get caught up in it. Even people who barely cared about football seemed invested tonight.
Then your thoughts wandered. Without warning, your mind dragged you back to the hallway. To the silence. To the way Seonghyeon had looked at you. A collective groan erupted from the crowd. You blinked. Apparently you missed something.
“That would’ve been such a good goal!’’ Haejin complained beside you.
“Are you even watching?’’
‘’I am.’’
‘’You’re not!’’
Before you could argue, the game resumed and your attention returned to the field. This time it stayed there for a while.The match itself was good. Really good. Both teams were evenly matched which only made the atmosphere more intense. Every attack felt intense. Every mistake earned a reaction from the crowd. By the time twenty minutes had passed, even you had stopped pretending not to care. A player from the opposing team broke through the defense. The stadium collectively held its breath. The shot missed by centimeters and the entire crowd exploded. Students jumped to their feet.
And before you realized it, you were standing too. For a moment, you just stared then slowly sat back down.
Huh. Maybe football wasn’t completely boring.
The final minutes of the match passed in a blur. The score was tied. Every touch of the ball seemed to pull a reaction from the crowd, every mistake earning groans and every opportunity drawing people to the edge of their seats. Even students who barely cared about football were standing now. The atmosphere had become infectious. Somewhere beside you, Haejin had completely abandoned any attempt at acting normal. She was half standing, half leaning over the railing, reacting to every play as if her life depended on it.
The clock was running down when Seonghyeon received the ball near midfield. The crowd immediately reacted. Maybe it was because everybody trusted him. Whatever the reason, the second he moved forward thousands of eyes followed. Including yours. The play happened so quickly you barely had time to process it. A pass. A turn. Somebody shouting. Then suddenly the ball hit the back of the net. The stadium exploded, the noise that had erupted was unbelievable.
Students jumped to their feet. Teammates rushed across the field. People screamed loud enough to make your ears ring. Somewhere beside you, Haejin grabbed your shoulders and started shaking you like she had personally scored the goal herself. You laughed in surprise.
The first thing Seonghyeon did after his teammates swarmed him was lift his head and look at you. The distance between you was enormous. The field, the track, hundreds of people, yet he found you.
The final whistle blew moments later. The match was over. The celebration wasn’t. Students immediately flooded toward the exits, some heading for the field while others crowded around friends and teammates. The entire stadium seemed alive with movement. You lingered for a while, letting people pass before eventually gathering your things.
You weren’t entirely sure where you were going. Only that suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of people felt overwhelming. The night air was cooler outside the stadium. The noise became quieter with every step until it faded into the background completely. For the first time all evening, you were alone with your thoughts.
You had almost reached the corner of the building when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, it was Seonghyeon. He was still wearing his uniform, still slightly out of breath. He looked at you, the corners of Seonghyeon’s mouth lifted first.
“You were leaving.”
You laughed softly.
“Why does everybody keep accusing me of that?”
“Because you keep doing it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Maybe you would’ve argued. Maybe you would’ve defended yourself. You found yourself smiling instead. The noise from the stadium felt distant now. The world seemed smaller somehow. Reduced to the stretch of pavement between the two of you and the fact that neither of you seemed interested in leaving.
A group of students passed somewhere behind Seonghyeon still loud from the match, still arguing over goals and missed opportunities and who deserved credit for the win. One of them called his name. Normally he would’ve responded automatically. You had seen it happen a hundred times before. Yet he didn’t even turn around. His attention never left you. Something about that made your stomach flip.
For months, Seonghyeon had existed in constant motion. Surrounded by teammates, friends, conversations. There was always somebody looking for him. Always somewhere else he needed to be. Now, after one of the biggest matches of the season, after scoring the winning goal, after spending two hours being pulled in every direction, he was standing here looking at you like the rest of the world had become background noise.
The smile on Seonghyeon’s face faded slightly. Your pulse sped up immediately, you knew. Not what he was thinking, not exactly. However, you knew this moment mattered.
The distance between you felt ridiculous, like it was the only thing both of you could focus on. Every second stretched longer than it should have. Your heart was beating so hard, you became painfully aware of it.
Seonghyeon took a step forward. You hated how quickly your breath caught. You hated how your eyes immediately dropped before finding his again. You hated that he noticed. You were standing close enough to notice details you never should’ve noticed. The faint flush lingering across his cheeks from the match. The way his hair had fallen messily across his forehead. The fact that he looked just as overwhelmed as you felt.
Your hand found the sleeve of his jersey before you even realized what you were doing. The second your fingers curled around the fabric, Seonghyeon’s eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to you. Something in his expression completely softened. Then finally, after a dreadful amount of missed chances and interrupted moments and terrible timing,
Seonghyeon kissed you.
The football field, the crowd, the noise from the stadium, all of it disappeared into the background until there was nothing left except the overwhelming realization that this was actually happening. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it felt like both of you had spent so long circling around this moment that neither of you quite knew what to do once you had reached it. Your grip tightened slightly against his jersey without meaning to, and something about that made his hand find yours.
You had spent weeks turning Seonghyeon into a problem inside your head. Something complicated. Something impossible to ignore. Yet standing here now, there was nothing complicated about it.
Then, your lips crashed against his. Off-center at first, your nose bumping his jaw accidentally before you corrected. You were pulling him closer. Seonghyeon had reacted immediately, his hands reached to cup your face delicately. His lips were warm and softer than you had expected for a boy who felt so intimidating and cold at first. The contrast sent something sharp down your spine.
He shifted one of his hands to your waist, the touch light at first, like he was questioning if you’d pull away. You didn’t, you kissed him harder. He tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and suddenly the kiss fit differently, better, deeper. His chest was pressed against yours. Your heart was pounding, he could feel it. Or maybe it was his own heart.
His thumb was brushing along your cheekbone, tilting your face up to meet his more fully. He kissed you properly now, he matched your energy. He kissed you until his lips were numb, he kissed you with genuine love. He kissed you like he was trying to get inside your skin. He was a mess for you. He took over the pacing, guiding slowly through it.
At some point, neither of you seemed to care how long you had been standing there. When you finally pulled apart, it wasn’t because either of you wanted to. It was because breathing had become somewhat important. The distance between you barely existed. Seonghyeon’s hand remained at your waist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as both of you tried to remember how to function.
You simply looked at each other. Weirdly, after months of wondering and guessing and pretending not to notice, that felt like enough. For the first time since all of this started, neither of you had to question it anymore.
Seonghyeon liked you.
You liked Seonghyeon.
And after everything it had taken to get here, It felt so good.
The next morning felt strangely normal. The school building was still crowded. Students still dragged themselves through the hallways half awake. Somewhere down the corridor, Martin was already being unnecessarily loud before first period had even started.
He was greeting everyone with the biggest smile plastered across his face, he was way too happy at 8:30 in the morning. Not as happy as you though. Your cheeks hurt, genuienly hurt reaching the main building. Everytime you remembered yesterday, another smile appeared before you could stop it. You were very warm, you just hoped it wasn’t obvious externally.
‘’You look happy.’’
You looked up, Seonghyeon was standing beside your locker. Immediately your smile got worse, a strange feeling in your stomach had come from nowhere when you looked at him.
‘’Hi.’’
He smiled.
His hand found yours so naturally it almost sent shivers through your body. His fingers slipping through yours as though they’d belonged there since forever. The action sent a completely unreasonable amount of warmth through your chest.
the two of you started walking toward your classroom. The hallway buzzed with conversation around you, people moving in every direction. A few students greeted Seonghyeon as they passed. He greeted them back automatically. Everything felt familiar. Yet every few steps your attention drifted toward your joined hands again. It was such a small thing.
“You know,” Seonghyeon said after a moment, glancing sideways, “you look less tired today.” You immediately narrowed your eyes. “You said I looked tired.”
“I said you were tired.”
“No.’’
“I meant it differently.”
“Sure.”
You tried very hard not to smile. Failed immediately. Beside you, Seonghyeon looked equally hopeless. The two of you reached your classroom far too quickly. Students were already filtering inside. The bell would ring any minute now. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to acknowledge that. Eventually, Seonghyeon stopped outside the door.
“So.”
‘’So.’’
A smile appeared, and a matching one answered it. Then Seonghyeon sqeezed your hand once before letting you go.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── juhoon who was never good at telling his emotions started crying infront of you after a heated argument between you two
★ bf ! juhoon × fem!reader
word count ── 3.2k
˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! JUHOON GOTTA BE THE PRETTIEST CRIER IVE EVER SEEN LIKE WHY IS HE JUST SO PRETTY ALL THE DAMN TIME 😓😓😓 UGH MY AEGI HES SO PRECIOUS TO ME 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
The fight began the way most disastrous arguments do—not with screaming or shattered glass, but with something deceptively insignificant.
A forgotten text, a delayed response, a sigh delivered with the wrong tone. By midnight, however, the tiny fracture had widened into something jagged and catastrophic.
Rain tapped relentlessly against the apartment windows while the city beyond the glass dissolved into blurred streaks of gold and gray. The kitchen lights remained dim, casting amber shadows across the marble counters and illuminating the tension suspended thickly between the two of you.
You stood near the island with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, nails digging crescents into your sleeves as though physically holding yourself together.
Across from you, Juhoon leaned against the counter in suffocating silence.
That silence again. That unbearable, impenetrable quietness that made every disagreement feel one-sided, like throwing your emotions against a locked door and hearing nothing echo back.
His expression was composed in the infuriating way it always was—controlled, restrained, unreadable. Even now, during an argument that had your chest aching so violently you could barely breathe, he looked devastatingly calm.
You hated that, not because he was cruel, but because you could never tell if he cared as much as you did.
“You could at least look at me while I’m talking,” you said at last, your voice strained from holding too much emotion for too long.
His gaze flickered upward briefly before drifting away again. “I’m listening.”
“That’s the problem,” you replied bitterly. “You’re always listening. Never talking.”
His jaw flexed, a subtle reaction most people would miss.
You didn’t. You noticed everything about him because you had spent months teaching yourself how to love someone who communicated through fragments instead of sentences.
The way his fingers curled meant irritation. The slight tension in his shoulders meant discomfort. The silence meant he was overwhelmed.
Except tonight you were exhausted from deciphering him. “You always do this,” you continued, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. “Every single time we argue, you shut down and leave me to figure everything out on my own.”
“I’m not shutting down.”
“You haven’t said more than five words to me in ten minutes.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, already looking fatigued by the conversation. “You know I’m not good at this.”
A humorless laugh escaped you. “At what? Communicating? Having emotions?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” Your eyes burned. “Then tell me what is fair, Juhoon. Because I spend half this relationship wondering whether you actually want me here.”
That finally made him look at you directly, and the hurt in his eyes was immediate. But instead of softening you, it only made the frustration twisting through your ribs intensify. “You know that’s not true.”
“How would I know?” you shot back. “You never tell me anything.”
His patience began to fracture. You could hear it in the clipped cadence of his breathing. “I show you.”
“You show me in ways I have to analyze like I’m decoding some impossible language,” you said, voice rising. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”
He pushed away from the counter then, agitation radiating from him in restrained waves. “And do you know how exhausting it is feeling like nothing I do is enough for you?”
The words struck harder than expected. You blinked. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to.” His tone sharpened. For the first time that night, genuine anger seeped through his carefully maintained composure.
“It’s always the same conversation,” he continued. “You keep asking for more and more and more from me like I’m failing some test I didn’t even know I was taking.”
“That’s not what this is!”
“Then what is it?” he snapped suddenly. “Because apparently loving you quietly isn’t enough. Remembering everything about you isn’t enough. Being there whenever you need me isn’t enough because I don’t say pretty things every five seconds.”
The accusation stole the air from your lungs. “I never asked for perfect words,” you whispered.
“Could’ve fooled me.” The cruelty in his voice was subtle, not loud nor explosive. Which somehow made it worse.
Your throat tightened painfully. “I just want reassurance sometimes.”
“And I’m telling you I’m trying.”
“You barely talk to me when something’s wrong!”
“Because every time I do,” he said sharply, “it turns into this.”
Silence crashed between you again, only this time it felt vicious. Your heartbeat thudded painfully against your ribs. “You know what hurts the most?” you asked quietly. “I feel lonely even when I’m standing right beside you.”
Something cold flickered across his face then. Exhaustion, the kind born from feeling perpetually misunderstood. “And you know what I’m tired of?” he replied. “Feeling like I have to become someone else just to keep you satisfied.”
Your lips parted. “That’s not—”
“No, listen,” he interrupted, voice rougher now. “I can’t love the way you want every second of every day. I’m not overly emotional. I’m not good with words. And honestly?” His eyes hardened slightly. “Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation, we wouldn’t keep ending up here.”
The sentence landed like a blade driven straight between your ribs. The room went completely still. Juhoon seemed to realize it immediately.
You saw the regret flash across his features the second the words left his mouth. But it was too late, because suddenly every insecurity you had buried deep inside yourself came clawing violently to the surface.
Too clingy, too emotional, too much. Your face went blank in the terrifying way heartbreak sometimes empties a person instead of making them cry. “Wow,” you whispered.
“Baby, I didn’t mean—”
“No.” Your voice sounded distant even to yourself. “You meant it.”
His expression crumpled slightly. “I was angry.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
“It’s not true.”
But now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation. The sentence echoed viciously through your head.
You swallowed hard, suddenly unable to bear the sight of him. Without another word, you turned and grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.
Juhoon straightened immediately. “Where are you going?”
“I need to leave for a while.”
“It’s raining.”
“I don’t care.”
He stepped forward then, panic finally overtaking the frustration on his face. “Don’t do this.”
You laughed softly, but the sound was hollow. “Do what? Leave before I embarrass myself by begging someone to love me correctly?”
His face paled. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“I was frustrated—”
“And I was hurt.”
Your voice cracked at last. Raw devastation bleeding through the numbness settling over you. “You know what the worst part is?” you whispered, eyes glossy now. “I defended your silence for so long. To everyone. I kept telling myself you loved differently, that you cared in ways people couldn’t see.”
Juhoon looked like he physically couldn’t breathe.
“But tonight,” you continued shakily, “you made me feel stupid for wanting reassurance from the person I love.”
The apartment fell deathly silent. Rain battered the windows harder. His eyes glistened with immediate remorse “Please don’t leave angry.”
You stared at him for a long moment. At the boy you loved so desperately it frightened you. The boy whose quiet tenderness had once felt safe. Now it only felt unreachable. “I think if I stay right now,” you said softly, “I’ll say something unforgivable.”
Then you walked toward the door.
“Baby—”
But this time, when he said it, you didn’t stop, and the sound of the door closing behind you felt far too much like something breaking forever.
The night had become glacial by the time you finally wandered back toward the apartment. Hours had passed in a blur of rain-slick sidewalks, blurred streetlights, and thoughts so tangled they felt impossible to unravel.
The city was nearly silent now, stripped of its usual vibrancy, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rush of cold wind biting against your skin.
Your fingers were numb inside your jacket pockets. Your chest hurt worse. The argument replayed relentlessly in your mind no matter how hard you tried to outrun it.
Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation.
The sentence echoed like a bruise pressed over and over again. Part of you understood he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. You knew Juhoon better than anyone. You knew frustration twisted his words sharp sometimes, especially when emotions overwhelmed him.
But another part of you, the quieter, more fragile part—couldn’t stop wondering if there had been truth hidden beneath the cruelty.
Maybe you were too much. Too emotional, too needy, too difficult to love properly.
The thought hollowed something inside you, and somehow, despite all of it, despite the hurt still lodged painfully beneath your ribs—You missed him desperately, pathetically.
It had only been a few hours, yet every second away from him had felt profoundly wrong, as though some invisible thread tethered between your hearts had stretched too far without snapping completely.
By the time you reached the apartment building, exhaustion clung heavily to your bones. Your phone read 2:07 AM.
The hallway outside your apartment was eerily quiet. Even the usual flickering overhead light seemed dimmer tonight.
You stood outside the door for several seconds, staring blankly at the handle while anxiety twisted violently in your stomach. What if he was still angry? What if he regretted everything? What if—
You swallowed hard and unlocked the door anyway. The apartment was almost entirely dark. Only the small lamp beside the couch remained on, casting a muted golden glow across the living room. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls while rain continued murmuring softly against the windows.
And there he was. Your breath caught instantly.
Juhoon was curled awkwardly against the couch cushions, still wearing the same black hoodie from earlier. One arm lay draped over his face while the other rested limply against his stomach, like exhaustion had finally dragged him under after hours of waiting.
The sight alone nearly shattered you. He looked uncomfortable, restless. Like sleep had only claimed him out of complete emotional collapse.
Your chest constricted painfully. Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer. “Juhoon,” you whispered.
No response.
You crouched beside the couch quietly, your heart aching at how pale he looked beneath the warm light. Strands of dark hair had fallen messily across his forehead, soft and disheveled in a way that made him seem unbearably vulnerable.
Tentatively, you brushed your fingers through it. “Baby.”
His eyelashes fluttered faintly. Then slowly, reluctantly, his eyes opened, and your entire body went still.
His eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, wet. Like he had spent hours crying alone in the dark.
Your stomach dropped immediately. “Oh my god…”
The devastation on his face the moment he fully recognized you was almost unbearable to witness. Relief hit him so violently it physically altered his expression. His lips parted shakily.
Before you could even process it, Juhoon surged upright and wrapped his arms around you with desperate force, nearly knocking the breath from your lungs entirely, and then he broke apart.
A strangled sob ripped from his chest so abruptly that it startled you. His entire body trembled violently against yours while another shattered sound escaped him, raw and uncontrollable.
“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” you whispered immediately, climbing onto the couch beside him as your own vision blurred with tears. “Juhoon…”
He buried his face against your neck like he couldn’t bear to look at you directly, fingers clutching the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it almost hurt.
But you didn’t care, because Juhoon was crying. Juhoon, the boy who concealed every emotion behind silence and restraint—was sobbing in your arms like he had been holding himself together by a single unraveling thread.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out brokenly. Your heart cracked clean down the middle. “I’m so sorry.”
Another sob tore through him, rough and uneven. You froze for half a second, overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of his grief.
You had never seen him like this before. Never.
Even during the worst moments of his life, Juhoon had always remained composed in that quiet, self-destructive way of his. He internalized everything. Buried everything. Suffered in silence because vulnerability terrified him more than pain itself.
But now?
Now he was unraveling completely beneath your touch, and somehow that hurt more than the argument ever had.
“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered frantically between shaky breaths. “I swear to god I didn’t mean it like that—I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.”
Tears spilled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. His breathing came unevenly, fragile hiccups interrupting nearly every sentence.
“You left and I just…” He swallowed hard, voice splintering apart. “I thought you were done with me.”
“Oh, Juhoon…”
“I called you like ten times,” he admitted weakly, words muffled against your shoulder. “I kept trying to figure out what to say, but nothing sounded right and I—fuck—”
His voice dissolved into another sob. “I can’t lose you.” The confession was so painfully sincere it made your own tears fall instantly.
You cupped his face carefully, forcing him to look at you despite the embarrassment flickering through his watery eyes.
And god, he looked devastated.
Wet lashes clung together while tears slid endlessly down flushed skin. His lips trembled uncontrollably, breath hitching every few seconds as though his body physically could not calm down now that the fear had finally escaped him, and beneath all that anguish.
Love.
So much overwhelming love it nearly stole the air from your lungs. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered softly.
His expression crumpled further. “I thought I already did.”
You brushed your thumbs beneath his eyes gently, catching tear after tear.
“I know I’m difficult,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know I make things hard because I don’t talk right, but I swear I love you more than anything.”
The sincerity in his voice shattered whatever remained of your anger, because he meant it. Every single syllable.
Juhoon loved with terrifying intensity. He just expressed it differently—through actions, through presence, through quiet devotion hidden in places words could never fully reach.
“I don’t know how to explain things the way you need,” he continued shakily. “But I need you here. I need you.”
Your chest ached so violently it almost felt unbearable. Without thinking, you leaned forward and kissed him softly.
The second your lips touched his, he melted completely. A trembling breath escaped him, shaky and uneven, before his hands slid around your waist with unmistakable desperation. Not possessive, but clinging, almost fragile, like he needed physical proof that you were truly there and not about to disappear again.
The kiss carried remnants of tears and exhaustion and unspoken apologies.
Juhoon kissed you like someone starved for reassurance, every movement hesitant at first before gradually deepening with overwhelming emotion. His lips trembled faintly against yours while his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your hoodie, anchoring himself to you with quiet urgency.
You could still taste salt from his tears. Could still feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing brushing shakily against your skin, and somehow, that vulnerability shattered you more thoroughly than the argument ever had.
When you pulled back only slightly, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the small space between you.
His eyes remained half-lidded and glassy, lashes damp and clumped together from crying. There was something devastatingly defenseless about the way he looked at you now, like every carefully constructed wall he’d spent years building had finally collapsed under the sheer magnitude of loving you.
“I’m sorry too,” you whispered against his mouth.
He shook his head immediately, brows pinching together. “No, don’t apologize.”
“I left.”
“You were hurt.”
“So were you.”
That alone nearly made him cry again. A shaky breath escaped him before he buried himself against you once more, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as though separation itself had become unbearable now.
This time, he didn’t fight the tears. He let them come. Soft, broken sobs trembled through him while your fingers combed gently through his hair, untangling the storm little by little.
“I love you,” you murmured repeatedly against his temple. “I love you so much.”
Every single time you said it, his grip tightened, as though he was memorizing the feeling of hearing it.
Eventually his crying softened into quiet sniffles and exhausted breathing. You pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead. “Come to bed with me?”
He nodded weakly. The two of you moved through the apartment in silence, but it no longer felt hostile. Now it felt delicate, tender. Juhoon never let go of your hand once.
The second you both slipped beneath the blankets, he immediately curled himself against your side, burying his face near your shoulder while one arm wrapped securely around your waist.
Your fingers drifted slowly along his back beneath his hoodie, soothing the occasional tremor still lingering through his body.
The room remained quiet except for rain tapping softly against the windows and his gradually steadying breathing. Then, after several long minutes. “I never think you’re annoying.”
Your heart squeezed painfully. You glanced down at him. His eyes remained closed, voice rough and sleepy from crying. “I like when you cling to me,” he admitted quietly. “Makes me feel… wanted.”
A weak, watery laugh escaped you. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” His fingertips curled faintly into the fabric of your shirt, hesitant and delicate despite the vulnerability trembling beneath the gesture. “When you need me like that,” he whispered quietly, voice still rough from crying, “it reminds me I matter to someone.”
You stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, because suddenly everything made sense. All this time, Juhoon had been loving you with the exact same desperation you loved him.
He just buried it beneath silence because he never learned how to voice it aloud.
Your expression softened entirely. The tension lingering in your chest melted into something overwhelmingly tender as your fingers brushed carefully along his cheek, your thumb grazing beneath his eye where faint traces of tears still remained.
He leaned into the touch instinctively. The sight nearly shattered you.
Slowly, you leaned down and kissed him again. This kiss was different from before, slower, sleepier. Overflowing with forgiveness instead of panic.
Your lips moved against his with lingering tenderness while his breathing softened gradually beneath the warmth of your touch. He kissed you back carefully, almost reverently, as though savoring every second instead of fearing its disappearance.
The room around you had become impossibly still. Only the rain tapping faintly against the windows and the occasional shaky exhale from Juhoon disturbed the silence.
One of his hands slid slowly upward along your side until it rested lightly against your ribs beneath your hoodie. The touch was featherlight, unhurried, his fingertips tracing absentminded patterns there like he simply needed to feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.
Yet even now, wrapped around you beneath dim bedroom lighting, Juhoon continued kissing you with heartbreaking sincerity, as if every unspoken emotion he’d buried for months was finally pouring out through touch instead of words.
Juhoon sighed softly against your lips before tucking himself impossibly closer, his face hidden safely against your neck now. “I love you,” he whispered once more, barely audible.
☆.ㅤ SYN. ㅤ ㅤ──ㅤㅤ your usually shy boyfriend gets drunk for the first time and becomes way too clingy.
ᯓ ࣪ ˖ ִ ★ pairing ── eom seonghyeon , f reader.
needy seonghyeon (?) ⋆.˚
wc: 1,5k
a/n : heyyy guys, this was in my drafts for a while but whatever <𝟑 .ᐟ also keep in mind that i do not support or encourage underage drinking, it may reflect situations that many teenagers are familiar with in real life, but here they are only used for storytelling purposes and should not be taken as encouragement or promotion. thanks. kisses >⩊<
Your room was warm and quiet, lit only by the small lamp beside your bed while the rest of the apartment stayed dark and still around you. You had been half asleep for almost twenty minutes already, curled comfortably under your blanket with your phone abandoned somewhere near your pillow, your eyes barely able to stay open anymore.
Then suddenly, loud knocking echoed through the apartment.
You flinched awake immediately, heart jumping as the sound repeated again, louder this time. For a second you just stared at the ceiling in confusion before slowly pushing the blanket off yourself and getting out of bed.
Who even knocks like that this late at night?
You dragged your feet toward the door sleepily, fixing your oversized shirt a little before unlocking it.
The moment the door opened, Martin almost stumbled inside first.
“Oh thank god,” he sighed dramatically.
Then you saw Seonghyeon beside him.
And immediately froze.
His hair was completely messy, falling over his eyes unevenly like someone had been running their hands through it all night, and his hoodie hung off one shoulder slightly while he stood there swaying just enough for you to notice. His cheeks were flushed pink, eyes half lidded and unfocused, and the second he looked at you, his entire expression softened instantly.
You blinked in surprise. “Is he drunk?”
“Very,” Martin answered instantly.
Seonghyeon frowned slightly beside him. “I’m not that drunk.”
“You almost cried because they changed the music,” Martin deadpanned.
“I liked that song.”
Martin rolled his eyes before looking back at you.
“He would not shut up about wanting to come see you.” He pointed toward Seonghyeon with complete exhaustion. “Like genuinely. Every five seconds it was your name over and over again.”
Your eyes moved back to Seonghyeon automatically and he just stared at you quietly, blinking slowly.
“He missed you,” Martin added teasingly.
Seonghyeon immediately hid part of his face inside his sleeve and you could not help smiling a little.
Martin sighed dramatically again before carefully grabbing Seonghyeon by the shoulders and moving him toward you.
“Here. He’s your problem now.”
The second Seonghyeon reached you, he leaned against you almost instantly, his weight warm and heavy against your shoulder.
Martin pointed at him seriously.
“Do not let him drink again because he’s either gonna ruin the party or start confessing his feelings to random furniture.”
“I was not talking to furniture,” Seonghyeon mumbled.
“You thanked a lamp.”
“That’s because it looked nice.”
You laughed quietly before Martin started walking backward toward the elevator again.
“Good luck,” he called out. “And seriously, keep him alive.”
Then he disappeared.
Leaving you alone with your extremely drunk boyfriend clinging to your shoulder.
For a moment Seonghyeon just stayed there quietly, arms loosely around your waist while his forehead rested against the side of your head.
“You smell nice,” he murmured suddenly.
You smiled despite yourself. “Thank you.”
His grip tightened slightly like he was making sure you were real.
“Missed you.”
The words came out so soft and honest that your chest hurt a little.
“You saw me this morning,” you whispered.
“Still missed you.”
God.
You carefully guided him inside before closing the door behind you, and the second you did, he immediately followed you around the apartment like a lost puppy while you prepared things for him.
You grabbed comfortable clothes from your drawer, placing them neatly inside the bathroom before turning the shower on slightly so the water could warm up.
“You need to shower first,” you told him gently.
Seonghyeon stood beside the sink watching you quietly, looking impossibly tired and clingy at the same time.
Then suddenly he moved closer.
Enough that you had to tilt your head up to look at him properly because of the obvious height difference between you two. Even drunk, he somehow still carried that naturally soft presence around you, except now it felt less controlled.
Needier.
His arms slid around your waist slowly before he leaned down and rested his chin on your shoulder, practically folding himself against you.
You immediately wrapped your arms around the back of his neck carefully, fingers brushing softly through the messy hair at the nape of it.
“It’s okay, babe,” you whispered. “You’re okay.”
He made a quiet sound against your shoulder, almost like a hum.
You smiled slightly. “Was this your first time drinking?”
After a small pause, he nodded.
That made your smile grow instantly.
Of course it was.
Everything suddenly made sense now. The clinginess. The nonstop honesty.
You gently rubbed circles against the back of his neck while he stayed there holding you silently.
Then after a few seconds, he spoke again.
“Babe.”
“Hm?”
He lifted his head slightly just enough to look at you properly, eyes heavy and unfocused but still impossibly soft.
“I love you so much.”
Your heart almost stopped.
Before you could even answer, he leaned down and kissed you.
Harder than usual.
Desperate in a way that completely caught you off guard because Seonghyeon was normally shy with affection, always hesitating before kisses, always getting embarrassed after holding your hand for too long.
But now he kissed you like he could not help himself.
Like every thought in his head had disappeared except you.
You could taste the alcohol faintly against his lips, sweet and bitter at the same time, but you barely noticed because of how tightly he held you.
One of his hands moved up your back slowly while he kissed you again, deeper this time, and your fingers tightened instinctively behind his neck as your breathing started getting uneven.
When he finally pulled back slightly for air, his forehead rested against yours for barely a second before he leaned in again immediately.
Another kiss.
Then another.
Your brain felt completely scrambled by the sudden affection.
“Babe,” you murmured breathlessly against his lips, barely managing to speak between kisses. “Calm down.”
The second the words left your mouth, he stopped immediately.
His eyes widened slightly like he just realized what he was doing.
“Sorry,” he whispered instantly.
You blinked up at him, still breathless.
He looked genuinely flustered now despite being drunk, his cheeks flushed deeper pink than before.
“You just…” He swallowed softly. “You drive me crazy.”
Your stomach flipped painfully.
A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it and you shook your head slightly, still holding onto him.
“I think you’re really drunk.”
“I know.”
But he clearly did not care.
Instead he just hugged you closer again, hiding his face against your shoulder like he suddenly got shy all over again after saying too much.
Which somehow made the whole thing even cuter.
Eventually, after a lot of convincing and helping him not trip over literally nothing, you managed to get him showered and into clean clothes.
By the time you both finally crawled into bed, the apartment had gone completely silent again.
Seonghyeon immediately moved toward you the second he laid down, arms wrapping around your waist while he pulled you close against his chest like he physically could not sleep otherwise.
His face buried itself into your neck comfortably, warm breaths brushing softly against your skin while one of his legs tangled lazily with yours under the blanket.
You smiled quietly in the darkness, fingers brushing gently through his damp hair.
“Better?” you whispered.
He nodded sleepily against your shoulder.
Then after a few seconds, his voice came out soft and tired.
“Still love you.”
Your chest hurt again in the best way possible.
You pressed a small kiss against his forehead before cuddling closer into him, listening to his breathing slowly even out as exhaustion finally took over both of you.
시놉시스 ┆ garage boyband leader!𝒎ar𝘁͟in, ─────⠀preppy f! reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +15k (17.450 and I'm not even sorry, I ate this one up!) ꒰ ⌗ coming of age, slice of life, attempts of rom-com, fluff, and one-sided enemies to lovers ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂
─────⠀slow burn rivals to lovers, mutual pining (hidden under sarcasm), high school setting (South Korea in the big 2004, and i think i kinda pulled off the correct amount of good cringe), band boy x class president dynamic, emotional tension, academic pressure, family conflict (parental slap + divorces), music as love language, heartfelt confessions, teasing + banter, teenage rebellion, emotional vulnerability, light touching (no explicit sexual content), implied attraction, healing through love.
EXTRAS !: PLAY THAT BEAT (Martin's songs for you) ───── FROM MY HEART (Your songs for Martin's) ───── I CAN WAIT FOR US
“Prez! Over here!”
Your nickname cut through the hallway, followed by the hand wave he was doing alongside a smile. Some students who were there glanced, waving less energetically than Yujin—everyone knew you as the 2 time class president. You pulled your bag higher on your shoulder, waving through clusters of lovely outfits, mostly ignoring the flyers taped on every wall: cram school promotions, mock exam countdown, “join the club” posters already, and one for a half-torn band audition, the ink smudged like whoever put it there didn’t even care.
Due to being the last first day of school, you spoke to the school headmaster to have permission to drop the uniforms and wear an outfit, which allowed you to be the only student to give a motivational speech in the gymnasium, but seeing how everyone was comfortable showing their identity through clothes, despite the already packed senior schedule that we will face ahead.
Senior year wasn’t going to be kind; the past students let you all know that.
“That’s a cute outfit.” You playfully did a princess bow, the outfit that you pulled the night before consisted of a white collared button-up shirt under your fitted, long-sleeve blue sweater, covering perfectly your exposed abdomen that your denim mini skirt showed. It was cinched in with a chunky black belt and some white socks with black shoes with a little bit of heel.
“Thank you, Yujin. You don’t look bad, either.” He spun dramatically in place, making his backpack bounce.
“Please. My mom picked this outfit. I had to wear it, otherwise she wouldn’t let me go to our karaoke tradition.” He opened his backpack, pulling out strawberry milk.
“You’re the absolute best,” you said, stabbing the straw through the foil and taking a sip without hesitation.
“So, how was your vacation?”
“It was good. I went to the beach for a week before going to visit colleges with my mom.” he gave a dramatic sigh.
“She is more obsessed with your future than you.” You raised your shoulders, way too used to his words.
“Well, sadly, I have to go along with—”
“Yah, Han Yujin!” The wall made that scream bounce, creating an echo where the two of you froze. As a matter of fact, everybody there did; you saw the unforgettable figure of your friend Leeseo running to you two, and you looked to your right to see the face of pure fear on Yujin’s face.
“What have you done?” you whispered, before he could speak. Leeseo was already trying to hit him. His hands went to your shoulder, and he started using you as a shield.
“Leeseo, stop!” you gasped, trying to wriggle out of Yujin’s grip.
“Oh, hi there, Y/N. Can you please move? I want to kick his ass.” It was comical how everything was going down, cameras shutting off as they captured the first banter of the duo. You decided to enter the class, and a spot near the desk and next to the window was your favorite.
“Leeseo—ouch! Wait!” Both of them entered as she finally left him alone after she gave a pretty hard smack on his back. Leeseo sat next to you, and Yujin took the spot behind you two.
“You idiot, why didn't you tell me that Martin is back?!” Her whisper made your ear raise at the name.
“I didn’t spend time here; I went to the countryside to visit my grandma. How do you know?”
“Because he was getting scolded by the teacher at the entrance.”
“Nothing new, then,” you spoke before you could think. You placed your pencil case and notebook on your desk. Leeseo’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide as if what you just said was the dumbest thing ever.
“Nothing new? Y/N, he was supposed to go to Canada for his senior year; he even spoke about it.”
“Now that you said that,” Yujin put his strawberry milk on his table, leaning between you two. “Yesterday, when I was leaving out to do the groceries for mom, Martin and his dad were discussing it; it looked pretty heated.”
“Oh great, the menace is back.” You keep your eyes focused on what you were writing in your notebook, which consisted mostly of a to-do list of the day.
“Why do you act like this news is a normal Tuesday’s cafeteria menu?”
“Because that’s exactly what it is. Martin gets in trouble like he has been doing for the past couple of years, the teacher yells, and the earth spins. What else is new?”
Yujin chuckled, “Careful tho. Keep talking like that, and he might think you missed him.”
You whipped around, smacking the back of his head with enough power to bother him. “Don’t even joke.”
People kept entering the classroom, some were going straight to their friend group, others to get ready, and a few simply lay on the desk to sleep for a few minutes before the usual first day announcement.
You grabbed your small makeup pouch so you could go to the restroom, standing in the middle sink and smiling at your polished reflection. Pulling the gloss, you painted your lips with a thin layer of gloss, the mascara was next to give volume to your eyelashes, and finally, some blush on your cheeks.
When you were satisfied, you left the bathroom, fixing your pouch, crashing with someone, and dropping everything inside them, you could bet your blush was broken into pieces.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you said, bowing as you rushed to at least some of the remains.
"I can't believe the school role model is wearing makeup, breaking the rules already?" you sighed, still picking up your stuff, your mood completely dropping.
"I take that back, I'm not sorry." You finally got up and looked at what was supposed to be Martin's height last year, your neck hurting slightly as you looked a little more up. Leeseo was right, he got unbelievably tall.
He was wearing a band tee with ripped jeans that looked twice his size, hanging on his hips like they were holding on for dear life. Scuffed Vans dragged slightly as he shifted his weight, the hoodie unzipped and frayed at the sleeves. His hair looked like he’d rolled out of bed on purpose, and the faint smirk tugging at his lips only made it worse.
The outfit made you know that he would be the reason for your headaches for another year.
“Martin Edwards,” you said flatly, clutching your pouch like it was armor.
“Still bowing to people in hallways. How cute,” he drawled back, his smirk spreading slowly with his hand shoved into his hoodie pocket.
“Still getting yelled at by teachers on the first day. How predictable.” You stepped sideways, but he shifted too, blocking your path with a lazy lean against the wall, watching you close your eyes, irritated.
“You know that I can’t help it if they’ve missed me.” He tilted his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
Your laugh came out louder than intended, calming down quickly. “Please. The place was finally quiet without you.”
“Quiet’s overrated.” You could see how his eyes flicked down, lingering on the glossy shine of your lips, making you look down briefly. “Besides, you look better with noise around.”
He leaned in slightly so you were the only one hearing. “Come on, Prez. Admit it. You missed me.”
“I miss the news of you moving to Canada.” You scoffed, you looked at his eyes, and you could see how that challenging look disappeared for a second.
“Damn.” He pressed a hand over his chest like you’d shot him. “Still ruthless with the comebacks. What happened to the sweet, polite, and lovely person?”
“She’s still here, she just doesn’t like you,” you shot back, already making your way out. He appeared next to you, the height difference even more noticeable. You stopped on your tracks, him copying you after.
It was your turn to step forward, your chin high, although it didn’t make you look intimidating. “You’re going to make this year miserable, aren’t you?”
“Depends on how much attention you give me, pretty,” he said easily, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it was nothing, turning the tip of your ears slightly warm.
Before you could say something, the bell overhead rang, echoing through the hallway. The students started invading the hallways, brushing past the two of you with curious eyes.
You exhaled, finally brushing past him to go to your class to hide the pouch, coming back to see him waiting outside the class. “I’m making one thing clear. Give me some free time for our teachers scolding me because of you, I don’t want that on my record.”
You marched your way with your class, heels softly clicking.
“Can’t promise that, Prez!” His voice followed you down the hall.
It was official, this was going to be a long senior year.
Four months passed like a blur, and just like you predicted, everything stacked up to you. Not even a week in, and the classes and teachers nominated you to be the president of the school council. You were about to give up that opportunity for the sake of a slightly peaceful year, but when your mom heard about it, she forced you to keep it, not turning back even when your dad tried to talk her through it.
The school was quick to give you a list of activities you and the committee had to plan, and because of your last events as class president, students were quick to say the same sentence.
“We are having a prom AND a school trip? Y/N, you’re the best!”
Normally, the country itself wasn’t exactly used to having a prom the way other countries did, renting movies to watch on a Friday night was enough to plant the idea in every senior’s head, even yours, not believing that you were the one supposed to make it happen. Thankfully, the first big event on the calendar wasn’t prom—but the spring school trip.
With the help of Yujin’s mom, we secured a short trip of two nights in Gyeongju for the last week of October.
It was 7 pm, and you were walking back home with the rented DVD of 10 Things I Hate About You, ready to drown in ramen and your blankets. The reason? You were tired of council meetings, study schedules, and Martin already racking up three warnings from teachers.
“Why are you in pajamas?” Leeseo surprised you by being in front of your house.
“Because I’m staying at home…?” Your sentence sounded more like a question than you wanted it to, especially because Leeseo was standing at your gate with her backpack.
“Wrong answer,” she said, shoving past you. “Your mom thinks you’re staying at my house for a study-slash-sleepover. I’m telling you, she almost hugged me when I told her we are even reviewing college math problems.”
“What? Leeseo, I’m in pajamas. I bought snacks! I’m committed to my bed tonight.”
“You can change, and the snacks can wait.” She plopped the backpack on your bedroom floor before going straight to your closet, pulling out outfits that seemed fitting to fool your mom even more. “I’m not letting you waste your Friday night watching Heath Ledger for the 100th time.”
“Shut up.”
She threw your pink cardigan in your face. “Come on, your mom needs to see you leave like we are going to church."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Call me if anything happens, okay?” You nodded at your mom before she lightly hugged you. “Thank you for doing this, darling. I know you will match my baby’s commitment to college.”
Leeseo bowed down while you tried to hide your face, your head by lowering it. “Anything to get that 100, I will bring her tomorrow!”
You two started walking out, feeling the gaze of your mom behind you. “When we turn around here, Yujin and his brother are waiting for us.”
And just like she said, Hanbin and Yujin were there, opening the car right when they saw you two. “Were you two creating a summer season collection?”
“Quiet, Yujin. Hi Hanbin,” you said. Hanbin simply smiled at you.
“Where now, to our house?” Hanbin spoke, this time looking at Leeseo.
“Yes, we need to change her clothes,” you said, looking at her, confused.
“But why? I think it’s cute.” You looked down, a pink polo shirt layered under a pastel cable-knit sweater, khaki skirt, and pearl studs.
“Don’t get me wrong, it is cute, but it looks like you will hold a mass on the dance floor.” Now you laughed, already feeling at ease when the wind touched your face. “And then to Martin’s”
Once again, the mood turned down. “Wait—Martin? As in Martin Edwards?”
“Yes. Keonho texted me, and he said his mom’s gone, and his band has their amps set up in the garage. Apparently, half of the school’s going.” Yujin said, and that’s when you looked at Leeseo, who was actively trying to avoid your face.
“Oh my god! I love this song, turn it up, Hanbin!” she screamed.
The car ride to Hanbin’s house wasn’t long. Yujin’s house was empty when you arrived. Leeseo didn’t waste a second—the soft outfit was already in her backpack, so you can wear the black cropped baby tee with a rhinestone butterfly, a pleated low-rise denim skirt, and a chunky studded belt. Your makeup is slightly altered with the use of eyeliner, but since it was a style you have secretly wanted to try for a while, you enjoyed it.
Leeseo opened the door of Yujin’s room. The second you stepped out, both brothers gasped. You rolled your eyes with your face burning at the attention.
“Now that outfit is the one that will take your mom to a coma,” Yujin said. Hanbin punched him softly, and you simply laughed.
It took a few steps to arrive there since they were neighbors, and the bass from the garage was already rattling the pavement. Cars were parked crooked along the curb, kids were sitting on the front lawn with red cups, and some of them, who you recognized as graduates, were drunk.
“This looks safe,” you muttered. Leeseo slipped her arm through yours.
“Relax, it’s just a party. Besides, Martin’s band is playing. It will be good.”
You rolled your eyes. “Martin’s band will probably sound like three lawnmowers in a blender.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
The smell of cheap soju mixed with hairspray lingered in the air; there were some Christmas lights strung along the ceiling, casting the whole space in a warm glow. You moved between people to grab something to drink from the table.
“Noona?”
You turned around, half-expecting another stranger with either a can of soda or a red cup. Instead, it was Keonho—well, another version that was surely not the one you used to watch on council meetings.
It was almost comical the way your eyes widened at the same time, like you were looking at two entirely different people from the ones you’d last seen in pressed uniforms.
“...Keonho?” you blinked, scanning him from head to toe. “What are you wearing?”
Baggy jeans sagging low on his hips, showing a part of his boxers, a chain clinking against his belt loop, oversized sneaker, and a graphic tee layered under a half-zipped hoodie. His gel-free hair was messy, kinda like he came out of an MTV music video. He looked good, you had to admit.
Keonho gawked back at you with the same disbelief. “Me? Noona, look at your outfit.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, suddenly becoming hyperaware of your fit.
You crossed your arms defensively. “At least I don’t look like I lost a fight with my closet… but you look good, I guess.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair. But still… wow. Didn’t think you could look like that. It suits you.”
Before you could thank him, the garage speakers squealed as the music turned down. Keonho’s grin widened instantly. “Anyways, you have to come listen. Cortis is next.”
You arched a brow. “Cortis?”
“The band I joined!” he said, a happy smile showing his pride. “James is on drums, Juhoon’s rhythm, Seonghyeon on keys, I’m bass.”
“Oh, all of you sing?” you asked, following his steps to the garage.
“Sometimes, but the main singer—”
“What’s up, School of Performing Arts of Seoul!” Martin's voice resonated all over the place, the crowd screaming in response.
“Keonho.”
“I know you don’t like him at all, but listen to us for a moment, we practiced a lot.” he did a small pout, you had to nod to see him smiling, and run to his bass.
You scanned the group, eyes stopping on Martin, his guitar strap slung low and standing front and center.
“Thanks for being here. We’re Cortis, and we will do something old since classics never die.”
They surprised you by opening with a familiar riff of one of your favorite bands, blink-182. “All the small things” made the whole garage shake with the force of it, and you had to admit it—it didn’t sound half bad. They were all completely lost in their performance and interacting with people in the crowd who were busy nodding their heads and screaming their names.
The song ended, and the five boys were sweat-slicked and breathless, quickly grabbing a can of soda to quench their thirst. Martin left for a moment, arriving soon after to connect an acoustic guitar to the amps.
You audibly gasped when the familiar melody hit your eardrums. “Wonderwall”.
You moved through the crowd to get a clearer view, spotting Leeseo and Yujin by the first rows, both singing along dramatically the wrong lyrics—you didn’t mean to reveal your love for rock music there, but after securing your spot next to your friends, your body moved first, soon the lyrics easily feel off your lips like you’d been waiting for that exact song all night, far away from your mother.
For the first time, you let yourself loose. They weren’t perfect; the performance itself was pretty raw to the point that the energy could be felt all over the place. Martin looked up mid-chorus, eyes landing on you. You could see how his eyes opened at the view of you enjoying the chaos he was creating. It felt like the noise dimmed, even just for a second, before he went back to singing his heart out.
The night stretched on with more covers, every single one better than the one before. Eventually, the closeness got too much, making you slip through the crowd and push the back door open, stepping outside after grabbing a can of soda. The cool night air hit your face like a relief, although the sound of crickets filling the silence that the muffled music left behind wasn’t exactly your cup of tea.
You exhaled, leaning against the side of the house, closing your eyes for a moment, finally feeling a little sense of peace after what was probably the longest year so far.
“You hiding, Prez?”
You startled, spinning around to see Martin also leaning against the railing, hair damp with sweat, a crooked smile painted across his face. Even outside, he carried the same reckless kind of confidence that made people look twice.
“Not hiding,” you said flatly. “Just avoiding the noise pollution.”
“Funny that you say that, knowing how much you enjoyed back there.” His smile grew at the sight of you trying to play it cool.
You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just… surprised you didn’t completely butcher the songs.”
“Ouch.” He chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand a little closer. “You’re tough to impress.”
“That’s not new information.”
For a brief moment, he didn’t say anything — just looked at you. “Didn’t think I’d see you at one of my shows,” he said, quieter this time.
“Me neither. I didn’t think you’d still be here,” you said, the words coming out before you could even stop yourself. “Wasn’t Canada calling your name?”
You stood there waiting for a silly comment like he always does, just to see your irritating face. But there was nothing but silence, and you were smart enough to know you messed up.
He let out a soft laugh, a bitter one. “Yeah, it was.”
Your silence was a cue for him to continue, which even made you question why you suddenly wanted to hear the rest.
“My dad wanted me there, to finish high school there, the same high school he graduated from,” he said. “Said it’s ‘set me for the future.’, but while he was setting me up, he was setting someone else up too. In another country.”
You froze, for the first time, not having an answer to talk back.
“My mom knew,” he added. “She knew the whole time and just… kept living like nothing happened. So I decided to stay with the person I’m less angry at—while making him angry enough that I like music.”
"He wanted you to be something else when you graduated?"
"Electric engineer. Just like him, so I can help with his company."
You suddenly remember the article that the principal showed one time — Edward Industries’ CEO invests in youth innovation — and the photo of Martin’s father shaking hands with people, smiling like his world was perfect.
“That’s… a lot to live up to and process,” you said quietly.
“Well, you know I’m not great at following instructions.” His lips twitched, but his usual smirk didn’t quite form this time.
You took a sip of the last part of the soda, swallowing it. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know you hate me enough to not care.”
Your breath caught at the way he said it, like it wasn't a joke, but that stung a part of you. You look at him and, for the first time in your eyes, he doesn’t look untouchable or smug. He looked tired.
“I’m so sorry, Martin,” you said softly.
“Don’t be. I’d rather be here playing and producing music with the boys and annoying you.”
You let out a small laugh. “You’re doing a great job at both.”
“Y/N! Are you here?!”
You both turned toward the sound of Yujin’s scream echoing faintly from the other side of the yard. Flashlights from someone’s phone swung through the dark as your friends searched for you.
“Your friends are calling you,” Martin said, stating the obvious. You ran a hand through your hair and twisted it into a messy low bun. He watched the motion quietly, cheeks warming before he could stop himself.
You met his gaze again. “Good night, Martin.”
“Night, Prez.” He added, finally smiling a little bit.
You started to walk away, then paused mid-step to look back over your shoulder.
“I don’t hate you,” you said. “I just hate that the only thing that damages my school profile is your warnings.”
He let out a chuckle, for real this time, his mouth now doing his familiar grin. “Then I guess I’m doing you a favor. Give your résumé some personality.”
You blinked, completely caught off guard, before a laugh escaped you, making his grin widen.
“Hey! Don’t laugh!” he said, though the lack of bite in the tone betrayed him, too focused on the happiness that you radiated outside the school.
From a distance, Yujin called your name again, his voice half-drowned by the music. You turned to glance at the noise, still smiling as you stepped back.
Martin stayed where he was, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you go, putting his hand on his chest to calm it down a bit at the sudden racing of it.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Sitting again at your desk felt like hell. The summer break had been a blur, and what you wished to do the most—relaxing, catching up on your TV shows, and simply not thinking too much about high school—was replaced by college prep books and an endless to-do list dictated by your mother. You manage to sneak out with Leeseo and Yujin only once.
Long story short, you were practically glued to your desk. So the return to school felt more like a choker pressing even tighter around your neck.
“You guys won’t believe what I just saw!” Yujin entered the room, slamming the door closed before running to your spot.
“Yujin, tone it down! Drink some.” You gave him your water, practically chugging it down to ease his thirst.
“Thank you, I came here running as fast as I could.”
“Couldn’t tell." The sarcasm in Leeseo’s voice made him narrow his eyes at her. “Say what you saw.”
Before he could, the door slid open again, and a collective gasp rippled through the classroom.
Martin.
But it was Martin wearing the school uniform properly. Key word: properly. White shirt tucked in, tie actually knotted, blazer neat. The only nods to his usual style were a thick, silver ring on his index finger and the slight, purposeful messiness of his hair that framed his face.
He dropped his backpack onto his usual seat in the back, then strolled casually toward the front to grab a new syllabus. On the way back, he caught Yujin’s eye.
“Morning, Han, Leeseo, Prez.” he nodded coolly, taking a seat on the empty spot.
“That’s what I saw,” he whispered, wide-eyed.
Far from being discreet, Leeseo was already studying Martin, who was playing dumb and doing random poses. “I hate this. Bring back your ‘I hate the system’ attitude right now. That’s my only entertainment in this school.”
Martin looked up, grinning. “Can’t. I’m going for the rebrand. Gotta keep the audience guessing.”
You kept your eyes fixed on your notebook, pretending to write down something important, and you were hyper-aware of the space he occupied beside you.
Then came the knock on the wood right next to your pencil case. “Do I look good, Prez?”
When you finally risked a glance at him, it was enough to have the class eyes on both of you, especially his bold yet teasing stare.
“You look like a normal student. Congratulations.”
The bell rang, and everyone began shuffling to their seats. Martin kneeled in front of you and leaned near enough to whisper, “Thank you, princess.”
Yujin choked with the water again, and Leeseo was just there, wide-eyed and jaw on the floor. You froze, brain stuttering to find something coherent to say after that. It was well known that you hated nicknames like that, but why are you feeling your cheeks warming up so fast? The class started whispering.
Days passed, but something about him had shifted.
He still sat in the back (mostly because of his height), still wore that lazy smirk when teachers called his name, but between the sarcasm and the half-lidded stares out the window, you caught him writing. Even more, he divided the notebook into two, where he had both school material and lyrics alongside some guitar chords. Once, you even saw the corner of a paper titled “CORTIS - Set Ideas!!” when you were delivering lesson papers.
He wasn’t slacking off anymore. He was trying.
And since he was trying, the warnings of your bad leadership were almost nonexistent. And it was weird, mostly because you didn’t know how to feel about it.
By the second week, the girls' bathroom was starting to fill with rumors.
“Cortis is joining the Battle of the Bands next month! I’m going to support Juhoon.”
“Keonho and Seonghyeon are the youngest people to be there.”
“If they go and win, they will break Hamlin's streak of three years.”
You overheard it all, pretending not to listen, but it was inevitable, the emotions for everyone there, since it’s their big “gig”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
At home, though, things stop being simple. Your mother had entered one of her “planning phases,” consisting of color-coded schedules of times to study for the college entrance exam, college catalogs spread across your desk.
“Mother, I’m home,” you screamed. You heard the footsteps of your mother coming from the kitchen. She even has more college catalogs in her hands.
“Y/N, I made a decision. You're going to apply for early admission.” You stopped, looking at her in confusion.
“I thought we agreed that I would not do that.”
“You need to focus. You have the grades; now you need the commitment. No distractions,” she reminded you for the fourth time that week.
"Mother, I have all my study schedules already, and I'm on track for the mock exams. I'm literally planning the school's social calendar while keeping my GPA up. What more commitment do you need that you found the need to make that decision without consulting me?” you said, trying to keep your tone even.
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she snapped, the papers in her hands hitting the table with a dull thud. “I know what’s best for your future. You don’t. You think organizing dances and trips for your classmates is going to help you get into Seoul National?”
You clenched your fists. “It’s not about that! It’s about the fact that you don’t trust me to handle my own life!”
“You’re seventeen, Y/N. You don’t even know what you’ll want in five years!”
“Because you’ve never given me the chance to figure it out!” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your voice breaking slightly.
“I’m going to college and not mess it up like you!” Your mother’s palm slapped sharply on your cheek.
“What’s going on here?!” Your father’s voice came from the hallway. You hadn’t even realized he’d arrived. But you didn’t care.
You pushed past him, tears already blurring your vision as you ran out the door. You could hear him calling your name, but his voice faded behind you, swallowed by the night air.
You didn’t care about your mom.
You didn’t care about the neighbors staring as you rushed down the street, barefoot in house slippers.
You didn’t care about the way your chest tightened with every breath you took.
You just ran.
And when your legs finally gave out, you found yourself in a quiet park. The street lights flickered faintly, the world spinning around you.
Your knees hit the ground first. Then came the sobs. You pressed your palms to the dirt as your body trembled, the sound of your breathing broken and uneven. For once, you couldn’t hold it in.
The pressure, the expectations, the endless need to be perfect, it all cracked open at once. You barely noticed the screams of a familiar tune until a shadow moved a few meters away.
“Y/N! Are you here?!” Martin’s voice didn’t even make you look up at him. The footsteps grew closer until you felt his presence. “God, what’s wrong—”
Your arms wrapped around him, crying even harder. The bag he’d been holding slipped from his hand, hitting the grass with a muffled thud. A few things rolled out, forgotten.
He froze for half a second before his arms carefully wrapped around you as well.
“Hey… hey,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re okay.”
You shook your head against his chest, your sobs muffled by his hoodie. “No. I’m not. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t say anything right away, just held you there as you cried, his hand moving slowly up and down your back. The only sounds were your uneven breaths and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
When you finally started to calm, he shifted slightly. Your eyes analyzed his face, the worry etched across his face—the kind you didn’t expect from him.
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed hard, voice breaking slightly, “My mother.”
His jaw tightened, eyes flicking briefly to the faint redness on your cheek. You saw the flash of anger there. “There’s a bench there, go sit there.”
You did what he said, and when he came to sit next to you after picking up the stuff. He pulled a strawberry milk and gave it to you, thanking him.
“I saw you running,” he said. “I was leaving the supermarket, and I just followed. It looked like you were about to disappear.”
You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t.” His voice softened immediately. “You don’t have to apologize for crashing out.”
You drank up the milk, sighing after.
“I’m just so tired, Martin.”
“I know.” He glanced up at the night sky for a moment. “You don’t have to keep proving you can handle everything. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”
You gave a small laugh. “That’s not really on my schedule.”
“Then it’s time to break it,” he said simply, his tone somewhere between teasing and kind.
That actually pulled a real laugh from you and a faint smile from Martin. His hand brushed the dirt off his uniform pants before doing the same with your knees. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll just sit here.”
You nodded, eyes still wet but calmer. “Thanks for following me, I guess.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Though next time, please don’t make me drop all my groceries.”
You two stayed there for a while; neither of you said anything. You just sat there sharing peace, a feeling none of you felt in a long time, and for different situations.
The night air had cooled a little by the time you both stood up from the bench.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the road. “I’ll walk you home before your dad sends a search party.”
You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. The street was almost empty as you walked side by side, your steps slow and the sound of cicadas blending with the quiet, distant buzz of traffic.
“Again, I’m really sorry,” you said after a couple of steps. “I must have been a burden to you today.”
Martin glanced at you, his expression unreadable in the streetlight glow. “You needed someone to find you. That’s all.”
After a few more quiet steps, you sighed, kicking at a pebble on the pavement. “It’s just not my mother. Everything’s been… too much. The prom planning, the trip, the mock exams—it’s like I can’t breathe without having something due.”
Martin chuckled softly. “Leave it to you to get stressed about fun things.”
“They’re only fun when people actually help,” you said, exasperated. “Even if the committee is completely involved in those two things, the principal is bothering me. I’ve been running back and forth with the school board about budget approvals, and I swear, if one more teacher calls me responsible like it’s a compliment, I’m going to scream.”
“Then scream. I’ll join you.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You? You’d probably turn it into a song.”
“Maybe I already did.”
You looked up at him, but he just shrugged. “We’re working on something for the Battle of the Bands,” he said. “Prize money isn't bad. Thinking of donating it.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Donating? Since when are you that noble?”
“Since I found out how expensive renting a DJ, using massive decorations, and the food is,” he said, giving you a sideways glance. “Keonho is stressed with that too, and we figured if we win, we’ll put some of the money toward your prom fund.”
You blinked, taken aback. “You’d do that?”
“For the school,” he confirmed, but the grin that followed made it impossible to believe him. “Well… mostly for you.”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. “And what exactly do you get out of that deal?”
He took a moment before answering, kicking at the pavement as if he were debating whether to say it. “A date.”
You stopped walking. “A what?”
“A date,” he repeated, meeting your eyes. “With you. Just one.”
You stared at him, heart skipping in that annoying wait it always did around him lately. “You’re joking.”
“Not this time.” His voice had softened, “I’ve kinda liked you for a while, Y/N. Like, since sophomore year, a while”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The words and the mere sight of how he rubbed the back of his neck with the faintest flush creeping into his cheeks were enough to really blow you away.
“You probably thought I was just being annoying all the time… That was me trying to get your attention without, you know, getting expelled for it.”
You blinked at him. “Two years?”
He nodded, starting to walk again. “Two very long and humbling years.”
You looked away at the back of his figure, hiding the small smile that tugged at your lips. Once you reached him, you focused on looking straight.
“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “Just… let me win first. Then decide.”
You huffed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but I’m a ridiculous guy with a plan,” he said, lightly swinging his hips to move your body.
You reached your gate a few minutes later. The house lights were still on, the silhouette of your dad faintly visible through the curtains.
When you stopped, so he did, taking a look at your place for the first time. “You gonna be okay?”
You nodded. “I think so.”
He smiled. “Good. Don’t disappear like that again, okay? I can’t keep rescuing the class president from emotional breakdowns.”
You smirked faintly. “And here I thought you liked being the hero.”
He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Maybe I just like you.”
You froze at the words. You saw how he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“See you tomorrow, Prez.”
“Goodnight, Martin.”
He started walking away. You stood there for a moment, heart beating way too fast for someone who’d just survived a meltdown. Your feet started walking fast to where he was.
“Martin!” He stopped instantly, turning on his heel. The look on his face was equal parts concern and confusion, the grocery bag still dangling from one hand.
You walked up to him, stopping close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Your hand reached for his tie, pulling him down gently.
On your tiptoes, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“I’m really thankful,” you murmured.
Neither of you moved. His eyes widened slightly before that boyish grin spread across his face, causing you to smile back. You stepped back quickly, cheeks burning, and darted toward the gate before he could say anything else.
Once inside, you shut it softly behind you, leaning against the cool metal to steady your racing heartbeat and touching your lips. Curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked through the small hole in the wall that your dad refused to fix.
Martin was still there, frozen in place, and soon enough, he pulled his fist to the sky while walking away, or more like dancing away, down the sidewalk.
“Let’s go!” you heard the scream, and you bit your lip, stifling a laugh of your own.
October came fast, mostly because your parents decided on an uncontested divorce and your dad got the apartment downtown. Yujin jumped when he found out it’s five minutes away from his house. The place felt quieter; your mother had thrown herself into work, and you into whatever kept you from thinking too much: school, council duties, and, against all odds, CORTIS.
Somehow, Martin had managed to stop getting detention every other week. He still mouthed off at the teachers sometimes, wore his ring and the smirk, but he wasn’t the same boy who used to skip class just to nap on the rooftop.
It was truly impressive, you saw how he actually took notes during math, how he waited for everyone after band practice instead of just storming off, how he asked the teacher questions about topics, and even delivered small notes on your desk, ones that make you happy, as if it was a normal thing to do.
Leeseo had caught all that and more, dedicating his free time to watching you watching him, whispering, “You’re so done for,” grinning and doing a couple of mimics with Yujin.
But of course, you denied it every time.
Because no one needs to know that you were actually falling for him.
Still, when the last high school exam ended, everyone started spilling out of the classrooms, screaming “freedom!” the second the bell rang for the end of the day. Everyone stood up joyfully, and from the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Martin coming your way, a bag lazily hanging on his shoulder.
“Everybody listen up!” Yujin shouted, standing on top of a chair and waving his arms dramatically. “Today, it’s the Band of Battles. Let’s all go and support our beautiful high school and CORTIS as a last act of love to this place!”
The whole class erupted in cheers, the rest of the students clapping at his words like he said something revolutionary.
Yujin’s friend, Gunwook, jumped onto a chair too, holding up his hand to point at Martin. “Martin, as the leader, pick a color so we can dress up.”
Martin posed theatrically, pretending to think it through before his eyes looked at you. His grin softened as soon as his fingers brushed the small red bow pinned in your hair.
“I like red today.” The whole class went wild, but his eyes simply scanned the redness that the tip of your ears caught. You tried to act unfazed, but the way he smirked at you made your stomach twist.
His mouth went near your ear, “You can wear whatever you like, you look good in anything.”
By the time the noise died down, so did your heartbeat when he left the classroom, mouthing, “I’ll see you there”. Everyone had plans and was starting to spread the word before heading home to change and go to the event.
You, on the other hand, had to stay behind, for quite a while, actually.
While your classmates flooded out of the building, already buzzing about the performance, you found yourself sitting across from the principal for more than an hour, finalizing the last details for the senior trip next week. Each little break, you looked up at the clock hanging on top of the wall, sighing in relief when he thanked you for your dedication, which was a nice way to say “you work too much” and finally let you go. You were already late, and you at least wanted to arrive one act before the boys.
The hallways were nearly empty now, sunlight slanting through the windows in soft orange streaks. You smiled faintly when you passed a whiteboard where someone had scrawled “CORTIS = Victory!” alongside other words of encouragement.
Your chest felt a little lighter reading it, even making you pull out your camera to snap a picture so you can show it to the band through Keonho later.
You were halfway down the front steps when you saw a woman standing outside the school gates, elegantly dressed in a cream coat and hair pinned neatly back. Without losing the beat of your quick steps, you continued until you felt a presence near you and soon, a hand on your shoulder that made you jump.
“Excuse me,” she called gently, laughing awkwardly at your reaction. “Are you Y/N?”
You hesitated before nodding, “Yes… Do I know you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Martin’s mom.”
You blinked before bowing down; you didn’t expect his mother to look that elegant yet have such an expression that felt oddly familiar.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m the one I should say that, darling. I’ve heard about you,” she said. “Martin speaks of you more than he probably realizes.”
You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face. “Thank you so much.”
“He’s changed lately,” she said. “He comes home earlier, studies, and seems steadier. And I know you might have something to do with that positive change.”
You weren’t sure how to respond. “Well, he’s been working hard in high school and for the band. You probably already know how much it means to him.”
Her smile faltered, just a tiny bit, before speaking again. “Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“About the band?” you frowned, already thinking of what she was about to say.
“Music has always been a phase for him. His father has great plans, engineering, university abroad, to be specific. I was hoping you could talk to him, convince him to take his future seriously again.”
That’s the moment you went speechless. Your mind works ten times faster to choose your words carefully. “With all respect, Mrs. Park. I don't think it's a phase, and I won’t do that. At all.”
“I’m sorry?” she said, confusion flickering on her face.
“I’ve seen him when he’s performing,” you said. “When he’s practicing with the band, when he’s writing lyrics on the back of his notebook, he’s not pretending; he looks alive doing that. It's not just a distraction for him; it’s who he actually is.”
You could see how the first crack in her composure showed, lips parted. “You sound just like him.”
“Maybe that’s because you both underestimate how much he cares about what he does,” you vented. “I get that engineering might have been his father’s and your dream. But music as a whole makes him happy. Whether it’s producing or singing, that’s how he wants to live his life.”
There was a silence for a moment, so you took that moment to inhale briefly and continue.
"Martin listens to music when he’s feeling stressed. He’s not into literature, but he writes such good lyrics that you might even think he’s becoming some kind of poet. And the way he looks when he’s playing? That’s him in his element.”
The woman lowered her head, sighing. “I just don’t want him to throw his future away. Not after everything that’s happened.”
“Maybe this is his future, it just doesn’t look like the one you two pictured.”
“You’re a very smart girl, Y/N,” she finally said.
“I’m just honest,” you replied, offering a small smile.
“That’s even rarer,” she murmured. “I can see why he—” she stopped herself, simply smiling again, “Thank you for being good to him.”
An idea came to you, the backpack that was on your shoulder ended in the middle of you two, taking away the pamphlet Seonghyeon and James had given to promote, and extended to her. “He’s a good person, Mrs. Park. And just like how you believe in him to achieve the engineering future, believe and trust him with his.”
You bowed slightly when she took the paper, walking away to catch the bus that would take you home. Thankfully, you arrived safely.
You kicked off your shoes at the entrance, calling out, “Dad, I’m home!” before leaning down to kiss his forehead as he read through a newspaper on the couch with his work clothes still on.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said with a smile. “You look busy.”
“Always!” you shouted, darting into your room.
They were still scattered with open notebooks and the faint scent of highlighter ink, stuff you’d temporarily promised yourself to forget tonight.
After the divorce, your dad had insisted on helping you “reclaim the place.” He’d driven you to buy new clothes, helped you hang posters, and even tolerated the sparkly beaded curtain you’d begged to put on your door. For the first time in months, the room looked like yours, not your mother’s version of perfection.
You took the quickest shower and got dressed in record time, the white camisole layered under a cropped denim jacket, a mini skirt with a rhinestone belt, and your sports shoes. A knock on your door made you look away from the mirror.
“Come in!” you called, picking some blush on your brush to put it onto your cheeks.
Your dad peeked in, smiling softly as he stepped inside. “Are you still getting ready?”
“Almost done, thanks for driving me there,” you replied, setting down the brush.
He chuckled and sat on the edge of your bed, looking around and whistling. “Wow, you’re really made this place your own.”
You smiled at his reflection in the mirror proudly. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“You also seem different lately. Happier.”
“Maybe because exams are over, both of us are in a good place, and I’m finally hanging out with my friends. Which, by the way, I’m grateful for.”
“Well, you deserve them since you’ve always worked hard,” he smiled. You felt that shift when he was done, suddenly suffocating.
He watched you for a moment, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So… what do you want to ask?” you said, already suspicious.
“Now, why do you think that?” he asked, laughing when you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing him leaning forward with a grin on his face. “What’s his name?”
The mascara wand ended halfway to your lashes. “What's whose name?”
“The boy,” he said simply. “And don’t tell me there isn’t one. I’m not blind. You’ve been smiling more, playing music in your room, and I’m pretty sure he’s the same boy who brought you home that night.”
You covered your face, groaning, feeling your cheeks getting warmer with each second. “Dad, please.”
“So I’m right,” he said, amused that his dad instincts didn’t betray him. “What’s his name?”
The small silence was broken when you sighed softly. “Martin.”
Your dad nodded slowly. “Is that the boy who’s in that band you mentioned, right?”
“Yeah,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. “He’s their leader, and he has been studying with me since middle school. Kind of stubborn. Really annoying sometimes.”
“Huh—” you could tell by how he was clearly unconvinced. “And what makes him so annoying?”
You opened your mouth—ready to list something—but nothing came. Instead, what slipped out was, “He doesn’t quit. Even when everyone expects him to.”
Your dad hummed softly.
“And when he talks about music,” you went on, your mind planting words in a second, “he gets this look… like the rest of the world just disappears, he’s in his own happy place.”
You paused, but somehow the words kept coming. “He’s also funny,” you admitted, taking your hairclips to fix your hair with a smile tugging at your lips. “Not the kind that tries hard, it’s like, half of the time he says something and you can’t even tell if it’s a joke or he’s being serious. It makes you laugh anyway.”
You stood up to pick some rings to match the outfit, continuing to speak. “He’s kind, pretends he doesn’t care, but he remembers things. He smiles with his whole face, and when there’s something he likes, he won’t stop until he gets it.”
“I thought you were saying something about him being annoying, right?”
Heat crept up your neck immediately. “I—That’s not—I didn’t mean—”
“Darling. It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t.”
“Oh my God, please stop talking.” You took your essentials quickly and ran to the front door, waiting in the car immediately.
The drive was calm, the windows cracked open, making the October air carry faint echoes of music from blocks away. The sunset was painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold.
He glanced at you as they stopped at a red light. “Sounds like you really care about him. And so does he.”
“I guess I do,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.
“I would love to meet him properly sometime,” you were about to protest, but he shushed you quickly. “No ‘buts’”
“Fine.” You both arrived at the youth center quite fast. The road was already lined with parked cars, students who didn’t receive a ticket and decided to enjoy from outside, a handful of paparazzi, and a lot of security.
You heard your dad’s whistle under his breath. “Looks like the whole district showed up.”
“It really does.” You clutched your bag a little tighter.
He slowed the car near the entrance, smiling as he glanced at you. “Are you nervous?”
You shook your head quickly. “Maybe a little.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“I’m not performing,” you laughed a little, confused.
He grinned, a hand on top of your shoulder. “Didn’t say you were. But I have a feeling something might happen.”
You rolled your eyes, unbuckled your seatbelt, and checked one last time that you didn’t forget the vip ticket Martin left on your locker.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said, kissing his cheek.
“Anytime, sweetheart. Tell me if you’re going somewhere else, and tell Martin I said good luck!”
“Dad!” You heard his laugh as you walked away, turning around to wave him off before stepping into the noise of the crowd after safely passing security, although you almost fell after a few of them tried to fight security.
The venue wasn’t really one, more like a repurposed parking lot with a stage at one end and strings of lights hanging overhead. Students from different schools packed the space, every single one was excited, waving balloons from side to side or a flashlight.
“Y/N!” Leeseo appeared right in front of you, hugging you, and Yujin arrived a little later. “You just missed like two acts, Hanlim was even better than last year!”
“How did your meeting go?” Yujin asked, and a smile was more than enough for them.
“The trip is completely done, there are no problems.”
“Finally!” Yujin grinned. “We deserve that trip; this year has been trash.”
“Not for Y/N, she finally has a crush,” she sang, Yujin and Leeseo start poking your sides. “You know Martin’s going to show off.”
You rolled your eyes. “He always does.”
But your pulse quickened anyway when the stage lights flickered to red and you saw the MC going to the center of the stage, gaining a scream from the crowd.
“What a performance from Hanlim!” she said. A roar of cheers from a group of students startled you. “Let’s keep this energy up for the next group, from SOPA… give it up for CORTIS!”
The boys walked to the stage, the excitement and screams from the place feeding them. James settled behind the drums, spinning a stick in one hand. Juhoon adjusted his guitar strap, Seonghyeon’s fingers danced over the keys to test it, and Keonho flashed his familiar grin from behind his bass.
Then Martin walked out.
Graphic tee with layered chains, jeans slouching low, sneakers unlaced. Stage lights caught on his chain as he leaned into the mic. “What’s up, Seoul!”
Cheers erupted again, a few girls screaming his name and the other guys. “Tonight, it’s a special night because we’re performing our self-produced song for the world to hear!”
Leeseo elbowed when you immediately started clapping and cheering.
“Enjoy yourself, love. You deserve this!” Martin started playing some guitar chords.
“Crash, smash, rock, mash up
Ooh, take what you want
돈, 멋, 명예, love, and what?
Ooh, take what you want.”
You remember hearing them practice bits of it during free periods when you walked by to give them some snacks and reminding Keonho about little details to fix for the trip.
Hearing it live was very different from it; all of the instruments crashed together in perfect sync, and you finally listened to all five singing together, which was uncommon for bands. Everyone was shouting along, even if they didn’t know the words. In a moment, Martin’s eyes found you. For that split second, you could feel your heart trying to escape from your ribs.
“Some people want this, some people want that
Same here, all seventeen years of my life.”
Martin started walking around to interact with people, standing in front of you three.
“Chased after love, chased after fame.
So now I want the whole world to know my name.”
He winked at you, feeling it like a spark as heat rushed to your cheeks. Yujin started laughing at your face, and Keonho smiled teasingly at you.
A couple of minutes later, the song ended with a burst of applause, Martin running a hand through his hair before grabbing the mic again.
“Alright,” he said, breathless but grinning. “We’ve got one more for you.”
He paused the moment his gaze found you immediately.
You smiled faintly, catching the flicker of nerves in his eyes, and mouthed, “Breathe.”
He huffed out a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting before turning his head to the band. Juhoon leaned into his mic.
“Go for it, dude.” The five boys laughed, Martin turning back to his mic.
“This,” he started, “is one of the many songs I wrote for this girl.” His eyes never left yours. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d have written any of them.
You looked at Leeseo and Yujin on your side; they were smiling already. They knew this would happen.
He stepped back slightly, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder, and nodded toward the rest of the band. “It’s called ‘Iris.’”
"And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't wanna go home right now."
The lyrics drifted through the air, and though he was looking out toward the audience, every few lines his gaze found its way back to you, long enough that it was impossible to look away.
He wasn’t performing anymore. He was confessing to you for a second time.
You felt your throat tighten, fingers twisting around the hem of your jacket, your heart beating full speed, and making you clear of one thing. You were completely in love with that person whom you thought you hated.
"And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am."
The crowd swayed with the melody, arms raised, voices echoing when they learn a little piece of the song. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until he smiled at you mid-line. The final chorus exploded, lights flashing, the crowd roaring. Martin’s voice cracked slightly on the last note—and somehow, it made it perfect. You screamed at the very end, chanting with your friends, “CORTIS!”.
The five joined Martin, bowing down in gratitude with big smiles on their faces. Juhoon was teary-eyed, and you could tell that it moved the rest of the members as they walked out. The MC came back, impressed.
“Wow! Cortis really wants the money. We will have a five-minute break so the judges can decide.”
Leeseo grabbed your arm, eyes wide. “Y/N… I think you just got serenaded.”
“Go see him.” Yujin pointed at the small hallway you could go to. You looked at him, panicking.
“Like now?”
“Yes!” Both of them pushed you there, moving for a couple of minutes before you reach it. You waited for the security to get distracted to enter there, closing it as fast as you opened it.
At a distance, you saw Martin laughing while watching James and Keonho jumping in happiness, James even half-yelling something about “not missing the last chord for once.”
You slipped past the curtain, unsure whether to find him or run before someone teased you for looking like you belonged there.
“Noona!”
Too late. You turned just in time to see Seonghyeon spot you instantly.
His shout was loud enough to catch the attention of all five.
“Prez!” Keonho was the first to move, practically launching himself into your arms before you could even react. “What do you think, Prez?”
You laughed, stumbling back half a step under his weight. “I think you’re all still dangerously hyper.”
“We totally killed it, what do you mean?” Juhoon cut in proudly, slinging an arm over Keonho’s shoulders. James raised his drumsticks triumphantly in agreement, and Seonghyeon grinned from behind the keyboard setup, already pretending to wipe sweat off his brow dramatically.
You shook your head fondly, brushing hair from your face. “You guys were amazing. Really.”
He was standing a few feet away, hair damp with sweat, guitar strap still hanging loose at his side. The grin he wore was boyish, tired, and radiant all at once.
“Occupational hazard,” he said with a shrug, stepping closer. “So? How’d we do?”
“You’re asking the school council president for a review?” you teased.
“I trust your judgment,” he said simply.
“More like his crush judgment,” Seonghyeon spoke, hissing later after Juhoon pinched him.
“Can you leave us alone for a sec?” Martin looked at James.
“You all heard him! Step back, ladies,” you laughed at the funny view of them trying to listen.
The grin softened before becoming quiet again. “So?”
You exhaled, letting yourself smile despite yourself. “You were amazing, Martin. Really.”
He froze for a heartbeat, eyes lighting up. “You mean that?”
You nodded. “Every word.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pretending to play it cool, but the faint flush at the tips of his ears betrayed him. “Guess that means I can cash in on my deal.”
You frowned. “Deal?”
“The one where if we win, you owe me a date.”
You scoffed, trying not to grin. “You haven’t even won yet.”
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “We both know we’re not walking out of here without that trophy and cash.”
You were about to fire back something smart when the loudspeaker crackled to life outside.
“All bands, please gather near the stage! Results will be announced!”
He looked at you and smirked. “Come on, front row like before, Prez.”
The crowd was electric again when you came back, students pressing closer to the makeshift stage, voices rising in chaotic chants. Hanlim High’s band stood on one side, exhausted but smiling; CORTIS stood on the other. You could sense the adrenaline pulsing through their little group.
You stood with Leeseo and Yujin near the barricade, your heart weirdly hammering even though you weren’t the one competing. You three held hands.
“And the winners of this year’s Battle of the Bands…” the announcer said, drawing it out. The entire lot went silent for a breath.
“…CORTIS!”
The explosion of sound was immediate.
Students screamed, threw confetti, jumped, and cheered so loud you could barely hear the band’s name being repeated over the speakers. Keonho dropped to his knees, James banged a drum in celebration, and Juhoon lifted his guitar triumphantly in the air.
Martin just stood there for a second, blinking in disbelief as he grabbed the big cardboard check before looking toward you through the chaos.
You clapped your hands over your mouth, laughing, and he broke into the brightest smile you’d ever seen. Then, like it was instinct, he pointed right at you before turning to grab the mic.
“This one’s for SOPA High, and for the people who never stopped believing in us!” he shouted. “Especially one of them.”
Leeseo smirked beside you. “If you don’t date him soon, I will.”
You didn’t get a chance to reply because Martin had already jumped off the stage into the crowd, swallowed by a sea of cheering hands and students trying to high-five him. You decided not to bother the moment by moving near a corner to breathe properly with Leeseo next to you, who was almost suffocating.
Later, when the crowd started thinning, people made plans to celebrate at a nearby karaoke place. Banners were torn down, the lights dimmed, and laughter filled the streets as everyone drifted away in groups.
You were helping Yujin pick up some discarded signs when you noticed Martin slipping away from the commotion, walking towards you with a smile. Before he could reach you, he paused, looking right behind you.
Following his gaze, you saw her.
His mom.
Standing near both of you, clutching her bag, and if your vision wasn’t playing, you could see her eyes wet from what she’d just watched.
Martin froze when he saw her. For a second, he looked like a little boy again, before taking a slow step forward to be next to you.
“Mom,” he said quietly.
She smiled faintly, her voice soft. “You were incredible.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “You… came?”
“I had some help,” she said, glancing to your side, and your heart skipped when you realized she meant you.
Martin turned slightly. You gave a small bow before stepping back.
“I will give you two some space,” you bowed again before walking to where Leeseo and Juhoon were standing.
When he looked back at his mom, her eyes were already glistening.
“I see what she meant,” she said.
He frowned slightly. “What did who mean?”
“Y/N,” she said. “She told me that music isn’t your rebellion, it’s more like your peace.” Her voice trembled slightly, but her smile didn’t waver. “She was right. You looked… happy. Really happy.”
Martin swallowed hard. “Mom…”
“I’ve been thinking about something for months,” she continued, clutching her purse tighter. “And after tonight, I think I've finally made up my mind.” She paused, steadying her breath. “I’m going to file for divorce.”
His eyes widened in surprise, a sudden feeling of relief occupying his whole body. “You’re serious?”
She nodded. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. And I think you, your father, and I both deserve honesty, even if it hurts.”
Martin’s throat tightened. “I’m proud of you, Mom.”
Her smile wavered, tears finally spilling over. “No, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
He didn’t hesitate, just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. This was the first time in a while he gave and felt a hug that was that tight and overdue.
After a while, she pulled back and brushed his hair from his forehead, her voice quiet. “You’ve grown up so much. And that girl… she’s good for you.”
Martin blinked, glancing instinctively toward where you stood, half-hidden behind the fence. You were talking to Leeseo, occasionally looking at him with your smile.
“She’s a great girl,” his mom added softly. “Don’t let her slip away.”
He smiled, that same shy, crooked smile that only ever showed up when it came to you. “I won’t.”
“Cortis and friends!” she screamed, not even willing to bat their eyelids. “Grab your stuff and get in the car, food is on me.”
As his mom turned to leave for the car, he looked back toward you again. You were laughing now as you watched James running at the word food, the streetlights glinting off your red bow as you tucked your hair behind your ear.
And for the first time in a long while, Martin didn’t feel like the boy running away from everything. He felt like someone finally heading toward something worth staying for.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The school courtyard was anything but calm. Countless rolling suitcases, half-zipped duffel bags, and sleepy students chugging canned coffee like their lives depended on it to keep awake for at least of the way there.
After a weekend of endless messages about CORTIS’ victory on Cyworld and your classmates posting grainy flip-phone photos of Martin grinning with the trophy, it felt surreal that it was finally trip day. The band made sure they cashed the prize and gave you a big amount for the prom if they got to perform again, which you obviously agreed to.
You adjusted your backpack and sighed as Leeseo ran up to you, waving a folded permission slip.
“Can you believe they’re trusting us with three whole nights away from supervision?” she grinned.
“Please,” you said, smiling faintly. “You know half the teachers are going to patrol the halls like spies.”
Yujin jogged up behind her, yawning. “I’m only here for the free breakfast buffet.”
“You’re here because you begged to be in my room,” Leeseo shot back.
“Prez!”
You turned instinctively, only for Keonho to appear out of nowhere, blocking your view with a grin too wide to be innocent. Last time he gave you that type of smile, you were in the director's office.
“Morning!” he said brightly, holding a carton of banana milk. “You want one?”
You frowned, eyeing him. “You hate banana milk.”
“Do I?” He glanced down, pretending to think. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
Before you could answer, Juhoon popped up behind him. “Y/N! Quick question: if a band wins something again, should the prize money go into savings or celebration snacks?”
You blinked. “What?”
“Snacks,” James said immediately, dragging his suitcase past.
“Definitely savings,” Seonghyeon countered.
“Hold on, I didn’t even—”
“Exactly!” Keonho interrupted, looping an arm through yours. “We are the only ones who can settle it. Come on, let’s walk and talk, far away from the buses.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What are you guys up to?”
“Nothing,” they chorused, which was, of course, the most suspicious answer possible.
By the time you reached the front of the boarding area, the CORTIS boys had somehow managed to keep you talking about everything from “the ethics of snack budgeting” to “who snores the loudest during overnight trips” (it was apparently James).
Every time you tried to glance toward the loading buses, one of them moved strategically into your line of sight.
“Okay,” you said finally, crossing your arms. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing’ again.”
Before you could press further, the teachers started calling everyone to board.
“Saved by the bell,” Seonghyeon muttered, pushing his suitcase forward.
You squinted suspiciously at all four of them. “You’re all terrible liars.”
Keonho only winked. “We learned from the best.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as you followed them onto the bus.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The trip flew by in a blur of beach air, sightseeing, and several promposals that only happened when a hundred high school seniors were given freedom for three days straight and allowed their use of free will. You even helped out with Yujin’s promposal to Leeseo, to which she accepted happily.
You found yourself laughing more than you had in months, mostly because the CORTIS boys had taken it upon themselves to make every activity as dramatic as possible.
At lunch, James accidentally tripped and dropped an entire tray of kimbap, dramatically claiming it was “artistic sacrifice.” Juhoon tried to serenade a teacher with a guitar for bonus points on attendance. And the best for last was probably Keonho and Seonghyeon attempting to sneak extra dessert for everyone, only to get caught by the cafeteria lady, who then gave them more because she found them “charming.”
You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, their energy became the highlight of the trip.
Every so often, though, you caught Martin watching you from across the group, who you were impressed by how distracted he looked all this trip, exchanging some words with you now and then.
On the last night, during the “recreation period,” the teachers announced everyone could stay in the courtyard area to watch the sunset and enjoy the small outdoor stage.
You and Leeseo were sitting near the front, sharing a pack of chips on a break after a small duet given by Wonbin and Liz.
“Yujin, what are you moving your head like a meerkat? You’re stressing me out.” Leeseo’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Okay, don’t freak out, but I think something is happening.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, already getting stressed out. You might have changed a little bit, but you were still a little perfectionist.
Music started playing from the speakers, and your mind instantly recognized the familiar brass riff it had.
“You’re just too good to be true…”
Your jaw dropped at the voice of Martin. “Leeseo, is this real?.”
“Oh, yes,” Leeseo whispered, eyes sparkling. You didn’t notice how she was holding a recording camera, pointing it at you.
Martin opened the curtain that worked as a background on the stage, his gaze fully on you. Martin jumped off the stage, mic in hand, grinning as he began to sing the classic with over-the-top theatrics.
“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”
He pointed at you on the last word, and everyone screamed.
You covered your face, but it was useless. Martin was committed. He climbed onto one of the benches, sang to the teachers (who pretended not to laugh), and even slid down on one knee in front of a startled Yujin, who dramatically clutched his heart.
The entire class was upside down as the music built. He ran up the small aisle and stopped right in front of you.
You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Martin—”
He was interrupted by singing directly to you, his grin wider than ever.
“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright…”
You buried your face in your hands, but he gently pulled them away, still singing. The crowd clapped along to the beat, the boys behind him quickly moving. Martin spun around, giving a cue to Juhoon to give him a flower bouquet to go again in front of you, kneeling on one knee.
When the song finally ended, Martin was breathless, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, but his eyes never left yours.
Behind him, James and Seonghyeon were holding a banner, the phrase: “I may not be Shakespeare, but I promise prom with me will be a sonnet.”
The entire courtyard went silent.
He held the mic higher, the faint tremor in his hand betraying the adrenaline rushing through him. Despite the wide grin on his face, you could see his chest rising and falling a little too fast.
“So…” he said, catching his breath. “I think it’s pretty obvious what my feelings about you are.”
“You drive me insane, make me want to be better, even when I swear I don’t care about anything.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “But I do. I care too much, especially when it comes to you.”
A few students in the front row let out small gasps, someone whispering, “Oh my god, he’s serious.”
Martin looked down for a second, the mic brushing against his lip as if he needed that pause to steady himself. When he lifted his head again, there was no smirk this time.e
“Maybe you don’t see it yet despite me saying I had this crush on you that night,” he said, voice softer now, “but when I look at you, it’s like the noise stops. And that’s saying something, coming from me.” The crowd laughed gently, and even you couldn’t help the small smile that broke through your shock.
Then he tilted his head, eyes glinting. “So yeah,” he said, tone dipping back into that familiar warmth, “I had to do this your way because words weren’t cutting it anymore.”
The crowd burst into cheers again, clapping and whistling, chanting your name and his. You were still processing the words, your heart thudding painfully fast, when he looked straight at you again, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
“So, Y/N,” he said, almost shyly this time, pointing at the banner behind him that was shaken by the boys, “will you go to prom with me?”
The crowd collectively held its breath.
You blinked, stunned, then let out a shaky laugh. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”
He grinned, his breath still uneven, voice hoarse from the singing and the nerves.
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
You looked at him, the boy who’d spent half a year driving you crazy and the other half trying to make you smile. Your hand brushed against his as you took the bouquet. “Martin,” you said softly, eyes meeting his, “yes. Of course I’ll go with you.”
The courtyard erupted—cheers, applause, a few whistles from the back. Juhoon and James started playing the outro riff again, and Keonho let out a triumphant, “She said yes!” into the backup mic.
Martin blinked at you like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Wait—really?”
You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. “Really.”
For a moment, he just stared, then he exhaled, his smile breaking into something so bright it made your stomach twist. “I’m—uh—wow. Okay.”
The boys were already pushing him forward, shouting for him to say something cool, but he just chuckled helplessly, scratching the back of his head.
“Hug each other, idiots!” Yujin screamed, and before you could react, Martin’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you clean off the ground.
Your surprised laugh got lost in the roar of the crowd. He spun you once, just enough for your shoes to leave the pavement, and when he set you down, your heart was racing far faster than it should’ve
As the music picked up again, his hand reached out instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek. He looked like he wanted to say more—so much more—but instead, he whispered, “See you at night, Y/N.”
Your frowned. “Wait, what?”
Before you could demand an explanation, Leeseo grabbed your wrist. “No time for questions—let’s go.”
“What are you talking about?” you asked, stumbling after her.
She only grinned. “Operation ‘Date Night,’ obviously.”
“Excuse me, what?”
Yujin was waiting near the dorms, arms crossed like an overexcited manager. “Martin’s orders. You’re not allowed to show up in a school jacket in a romantic setting. Leeseo, you know what to do.”
“On it,” she said, pulling you inside.
Ten minutes later, your room looked like a battlefield of denim, perfume, and lip gloss.
Leeseo had raided your bag, holding up two outfits with the seriousness of a stylist dressing an idol.
“Okay, option one: the floral skirt and cardigan combo. It’s cute, safe, and very student council president. Option two…” She tossed a bundle at you. “Something that’ll make him forget his own lyrics.”
You gave her a look. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re welcome.”
Leeseo was taking her sweet time; everything she was doing was slow and steady, keeping you busy with prom details and suggesting matching colors and opinions for her and Yujin for the event. Which also made you think if Martin is into matching colors.
When you finally looked in the mirror, the second Leeseo screamed in joy, you barely recognized yourself. The simple denim skirt paired with a white tank layered under a cropped cardigan, your hair loose and soft around your shoulders. A thin silver necklace rested at your collarbone.
“Thank you, Leeseo.” You hugged her tightly.
“Anything to see you leaving this school with your first boyfriend and have your first kiss.” You laughed at her tease, face turning red. You left the dorm to start walking to the place, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and you were sure that it was leaving behind streaks of rose and violet across the water.
When you reached the beach, fairy lights were strung between two wooden poles, flickering softly. A small speaker played a slow guitar riff, so it was clear he was there.
And there, sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket with a basket on his side, was Martin.
He wasn’t dressed like the usual; he decided to wear a plain white tee layered under an open gray button-up, dark jeans cuffed at the ankles, and a simple silver chain that glinted every time he moved. His sneakers were scuffed, but clean, and his hair still messy from earlier, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it because he knew you’d recognize him anyway.
He looked up as soon as he heard your footsteps, that same lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” you said, trying not to sound as breathless as you suddenly felt. “So this was your mysterious ‘see you tonight’ plan?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Yeah. The guys helped. Keonho almost set the lights on fire, but we made it work.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you sat beside him. “This is… nice.”
“Yeah?” he asked, trying not to look too eager.
“Yeah,” you said softly, your gaze drifting toward the waves. “Really nice.”
He exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Good. I was worried it’d feel too much.”
“Not at all, Tin,” he laughed at the nickname.
For a while, you talked about everything and nothing while eating. The songs they were writing, the stress of exams finally being over, minus the one for college, and how Leeseo had forced you to change outfits under threat of “fashion failure.”
Martin was quieter than usual. His usual sarcasm softened into warmth, his eyes flickering between you and the sea from time to time.
“You really didn’t have to do all this,” you said at one point, voice gentle.
He shook his head. “I wanted to. I just… wanted you to have a night that wasn’t about expectations or responsibilities. Just… you.”
That made you look up, startled, and for a second, neither of you said anything.
The wind tugged at your hair, and he reached forward instinctively like before, brushing it back behind your ear. His hand lingered, thumb grazing your jaw as his breath caught.
“Martin…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t move away either. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he were fighting himself.
“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, half to himself. “Not unless you—”
Your heart stuttered. “Unless I what?”
He smiled faintly. “Unless you’d actually let me.”
You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, a loud crash echoed from behind the dunes.
“REALLY YUJIN?!” Keonho’s voice.
You both jumped apart, laughing in disbelief.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face. “They were spying?”
Martin ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “I told them to stay in their rooms.”
Another yell followed. “Did they kiss yet?”
You looked at each other, bursting out laughing, really laughing, until your stomach hurt and the tension melted. Martin leaned back on his hands, still smiling. “Guess they saved us from doing something we’d probably overthink later.”
You nudged his shoulder. “Probably.”
He turned to you again, that same soft look from the concert flickering across his face. “Still,” he said quietly, “you make overthinking kind of worth it.”
Your breath caught, but you just smiled. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” he teased.
“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him through your lashes. “Here I am.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Martin and you got closer than ever, and even though it wasn’t official yet, not even your father could deny the chemistry between you two. You spent afternoons studying together, stealing glances over textbooks, and laughing about how far you’d come. The bond grew quietly, in the little things: late-night calls, going out with all of them, and the way he always walked you home after those little evenings, even when it meant taking the long route.
By the time November came around, the entrance exam was long over. The pressure had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of pride and relief. To your fortune, you’d gotten the scholarship for the career you’d always dreamed of, and everyone couldn’t be prouder.
Graduation day was full of bittersweet smiles. You got your physical pictures, one of you and Martin, standing close with your caps tilted while he carried you, another with your best friends, not leaving behind Keonho and Seonghyeon, who came to see you all six of you graduate. All of you are holding onto that perfect moment before life pulls you in different directions.
“Can you please stop looking at the picture with your boyfriend and help me with my hair like you promised?” You turned your head to see Leeseo struggling to remove the hair rollers.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yet,” she moved her eyebrows up and down, happily seeing the look on your face.
Leeseo had barged into your room hours earlier, armed with curling irons, body glitter, and enough lip gloss to coat a car. Your bedroom floor was a battlefield of shoe boxes, safety pins, and half-zipped purses.
“Thank you, now turn so I can help you,” she ordered, tugging at the straps of your satin dress. It was simple but elegant. Soft champagne color, an a-line skirt, and a ribbon that tied at the back. Your silver necklace gleamed faintly at your collarbone, the same one you’d worn at the beach.
“Leeseo, I think my ribs can’t breathe,” you muttered.
“That’s how you know it fits,” she said, completely unfazed. “Now smile. You’re about to make a boy combust.”
“Stop,” you groaned, cheeks already heating.
By the time you finished curling your hair, the doorbell rang, making you both freeze in place.
“They’re here,” she whispered dramatically.
Leeseo grabbed her clutch, smoothing her pastel blue dress. “You ready?”
You exhaled slowly, heart fluttering. “As I’ll ever be.”
When you opened your bedroom door, your father was already downstairs, peeking through the hallway mirror before unlocking it.
The door swung open to reveal Yujin and Martin. Yujin wore a pale gray suit that was clearly too tight around his shoulders, and Martin… Martin was in a black suit jacket over a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows, and his signature silver chain glinting faintly at his collarbone. His hair was swept back loosely, enough to look polished without losing that “Martin” edge.
You heard your dad talking. “Ah, so these are the young men I’ve been hearing about.”
“Sir,” Yujin said quickly, bowing with his usual charm. “We promise to bring your daughter back before midnight.”
Your dad raised an eyebrow. “You'd better. I know where the school is.”
Martin laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I will tell my mom that, sir.”
Then you appeared at the top of the stairs, and for a second—just a second—Martin forgot how to breathe.
He’d seen you in a thousand different ways: annoyed, serious, focused, laughing. But this was new, and it surely made his pulse stutter.
You hesitated halfway down the stairs. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said quietly, eyes following you until you reached the last step.
Leeseo descended right behind you, looking stunning in her powder-blue dress, immediately elbowing you when she caught Martin staring.
“Alright, everyone,” your dad said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, “before you leave, I need a photo. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, you don’t see this in Seoul.”
“Dad—” you began, but he was already grabbing the camera from the counter.
“Line up,” he ordered.
Yujin and Leeseo posed first, grinning widely. Then he waved at you and Martin. “Your turn.”
You exchanged a helpless look with Martin before stepping closer. His hand brushed yours until your dad adjusted the frame.
“Closer,” he said. “You two look like you’re taking an ID photo.”
Martin chuckled softly, sliding an arm around your waist. His hand rested lightly against your back, and you swore your heartbeat could be heard across the room.
Your dad smiled behind the camera. “There we go. Perfect.” Click.
The flash went off, and you both blinked, still standing close, when he lowered the camera.
“Beautiful,” your father said warmly. “Now go, before you make me cry.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see you later, Dad.”
“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said, then glanced at Martin with mock seriousness. “Be safe.”
“Yes, sir,” Martin said, smiling.
“You clean up well,” you said, forcing a casual smile.
“You too. Didn’t know the Prez had a gown in her closet.”
“Didn’t know you owned a shirt with buttons.”
“Touché.”
Yujin cleared his throat loudly. “Okay, that’s enough flirting for the driveway. Mrs. Park’s waiting!”
You turned to see Martin’s mom, sitting in the front seat of her car, waving with a proud smile. “Come on, kids!”
She looked radiant, freer than she had the last time you’d seen her. When you climbed in beside Leeseo, she glanced back at you through the mirror. “You both look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you said, touched.
The car rolled up to the school gym, saying goodbye to his mom before going inside with your arm wrapped around Martin’s. The windows were glowing gold from the string lights inside that were giving out the theme “Golden Memories.” You could already hear the song mix the DJ was creating on the spot.
“I can believe the committee pulled this off,” You smiled proudly, thankful for the art club's offering to help out with the decorations art club did.
“Not bad for a bunch of overworked seniors.”
“You guys are late!”
James started to have his arms, Keonho, Seonghyeon, and Juhoon at his sides, waving calmly near the entrance. You find it funny how James’s tie was crooked, Juhoon was trying to help him fix it, and the other two were holding a notebook that you recognized as Martin’s.
“Nice of you to dress up, boys,” Martin called, grinning.
“Dress up?” Seonghyeon huffed, “It’s not even my graduation, and I look better than the three of you.”
“You girls look great.” Keonho smiled, walking up to hug you first before going to Martin’s.
“Our leader is all grown up. Wearing a tie, bringing a date… next thing you know, he’ll start paying taxes.”
“Don’t curse me like that,” Martin laughed it off.
You looked at Yujin and Leeseo. Despite laughing it off and teasing like usual, it was no news that it was their last big night as CORTIS before graduation. And although they were really committed to the band and set a goal to go a long way, it was their last performance in high school before life pulled them in different directions.
Seonghyeon must’ve felt it too, because when he clapped Martin’s shoulder, his voice wavered slightly. “Let’s have fun today.”
“Oh, we will have fun.” A song started playing, and Leeseo dropped Yujin’s arm.
“Come on, we’re not wasting a good song!” She immediately dragged you to the dance floor, feeling Martin’s gaze behind you.
Leeseo’s infectious energy made you join after a moment of hesitation; even the boys joined in after a few songs. Everyone lost count of how many songs they danced and went inside the circle, and by the time the slow songs rolled in, everyone started to pull their partners.
You were about to sit down, but you caught Martin’s eye once. He smiled at you while excusing himself to cross the floor toward you. The lights dimmed, and your teacher took the stage with a mic in hand.
“Okay, everyone. We are going to do this quickly. Let’s announce your prom king and queen. I need the president of the student council to come to hand the crowns.”
You left Martin to pick up the cushion that had both crowns and stay at the end of the stage.
“To remind all of you, the voting was done by taking paper and writing the name of the person you thought was suitable for the title. Let’s start by naming the king.”
He flipped the card, sighing at the result. He paused for effect. “Martin Edwards.”
Your jaw dropped, watching your friends go wild, shoving him forward as he was in disbelief. He walked to the stage, standing in front of you. You took the crown to neatly put it on top of his head.
“Congratulations, Tin,” he smiled, walking away to stand behind the teacher.
“Now, to our prom queen…” he repeated the pause from before. “It’s my honor to say this. Y/N!”
You blinked, the spotlight turning toward you and your shocked face. Martin went to you quickly, taking your crown and putting it on top of your head. He threw the cushion away to take your hand, interwining your fingers.
“Was this planned?” you said, laughing, slightly red from embarrassment.
“I don’t know. But I guess that makes you my queen tonight, huh?” he teased.
“Don’t push your luck,” you smiled.
“Now, the king and the queen will slow dance. Students, the floor is yours.” The crowd began to sway, and Martin offered his hand, his usual cockiness melting.
“May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”
You tried not to laugh as you placed your hand in his. “Fine. But don’t step on my dress.”
“I’ll try my best,” he said, grinning.
As you both stood in the middle, his hands sat at your waist politely. Thanks to the heels, you could reach enough to wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the back of his hair.
“Can’t believe I came with the queen of prom.”
“Say the king himself, I think we are both lucky,” he smiled. Neither of you spoke for a moment; the song made you replay some memories you had with your friends, and soon enough, with Martin.
“You know,” he murmured finally. “I never really liked dances, even more the ones where my mom used to force me to go for her work.”
You looked up, amused. “Why’s that?”
“Because I never had anyone worth dancing with.” Since you didn’t know what to say, you let yourself sway with him. Your head rested lightly against his chest.
You didn’t even realize that your friends and more couples joined in. You noticed when the music started to fade away. Martin cursed under his breath, looking at you.
“Is it time for your performance?”
“Yeah, I’ll be back. I promise,” he took your hands from his neck, kissing the top of them before going to the stage. You looked to your left, seeing Yujin and Leeseo smiling at you.
“What are you thinking?” you sighed, lovestruck.
“On how I will confess to him after this.” Both of them stopped their moves, the tap of the mic being tested rebounding on the gymnasium.
“We still have a little more than half an hour to end this night. And before we wrap up, let’s welcome CORTIS to the stage.”
The applause was quick to come, them moving on the stage, exchanging nods between them. Martin stepped forward while everyone got their instruments ready.
“Hey, everyone,” he said. “We didn’t plan to play tonight, but this is our last time together before we graduate. So… this is for all of you. For the friend who stuck around, the teacher who, although I knew I wasn’t particularly his favorite student,” the place laughed softly. “They still listened and advised us with warm hearts.”
He paused for a minute, looking at the boys whose eyes were probably as glossy as his. “This is not the end, but a little break before we go all in. Keonho. Seonghyeon, hope we can play at your graduation, and thank you for trusting the band.”
They started with two of their own songs, dancing along with everyone and screaming the songs at the top of their lungs. Energy was never missed when it came to them, even more since they played like it was the last thing they’d ever do, and maybe in a way, it was.
When the applause finally died down, Martin took a sip of water with his members, stepping back to the mic afterward.
“Thank—”
“Wait!” James stopped Martin, who was as confused as the rest of the place, minus the four boys. “There’s one more song.”
Martin walked to him with the rest behind them, covering his mic with his palm. Quickly returning after some clarification.
“This is a surprise,” he stated. “I wasn’t supposed to release this song this soon. I want to thank you guys for creating the instrumental and letting me perform this, and I want to thank my muse for inspiring me to write this song. This is called ‘Everlong’”
The keyboards started, his voice filled the room, and after a couple of verses, Seonghyeon joined.
"And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever be this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang."
You simply stood there, digesting the lyrics while people danced to the beat. You didn’t cry until the last note faded, applauding with a smile on your face. Yujin and Leeseo stood to your sides and then watched the boys on stage, officially tearing up.
You feel bad to realize how loved you were by your friends, and how much you had taken Martin’s silent warmth for granted. He was loud and proud about his feelings for you, even if the tactic at first wasn’t that clear; he later never let you forget you mattered. In moments like this, you finally saw the depth beneath his jokes.
You went to the refreshment table after the set, drinking some soda to calm yourself down.
“There you are,” you heard his voice. He was still a little breathless, and his jacket was on his arms, his shirt sleeves rolled higher.
You smiled, suddenly a wave of nerves rushing through your body at his presence. It was now or never, “I want you to come with me.”
“Where—”
“I have to tell you something.” You grabbed his hand, he instinctively looked at it, and softly bit the smile that was threatening to show.
“Show me the way.” You led him to your table, grabbing your clutch and leaving your crown. You passed the chatter through the back doors that opened onto the empty football field. The night air was crisp, and the stars were faint, but somehow still visible and giving a nice glow to the night.
You stopped standing on one of the bleachers in the field so you could be slightly higher, letting go of his hand to turn toward him.
He smiled, a little confused. “Y/N, if this is about the song—”
“It’s not,” you said, heart hammering. “Okay, maybe it is.”
“Oh my God, do you feel embarrassed? I didn’t mean to—”
“I know what you meant,” you interrupted softly. “And you’re right.”
He frowned slightly. “Right about what?”
You exhale. “That everything feels real when it’s with you.”
You decided to step down the bleachers on time. “I didn’t even realize it at first because I truly believed you were just annoying me, to throw me off and my record. But then you started showing up—not just for me—to everyone. And every time you did, I found myself noticing more.”
“Like…?”
“The way you smile when something finally works for you, how you live your life with no regrets, and how your heart is so pure that you don’t even care if the other person hates you. You are there.”
You took a shaky breath, your hand clutching your purse more. “And somewhere between wanting to hate you and trying not to fall for you. I did.”
Martin’s lips parted slightly, “You mean—”
“Yes,” a small laugh broke through at his pure face of disbelief. “I fell for you, Martin Edwards.”
You could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard, his voice a little rough when he finally spoke.
“Say it again,” he said softly.
“What?”
“My name. Like that.” His lips curved upward, shy and boyish at the same time. “It sounds so pretty when you say it.”
Your cheeks warmed instantly. “You’re unbelievable.”
He chuckled, getting closer to the bleachers, looking up at you. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that—well, not that exactly, but close.”
“I can imagine it after you told me that night.”
“Which, by the way, were those two years of you calling me a nuisance, giving me detention, pretending you didn't look for me at every assembly?”
You laughed, “I had to check if I was going to get called out because of you.”
“I noticed at a distance since you were the only person who actually saw me, even when you swore you couldn’t stand me.”
The wind picked up, making the bleachers creak and your hair sweep across your face. Your hands went to your arms, blaming yourself for being so forgetful and not picking up your sweater from the table. He stood on the deck of the bleacher, and his jacket was quickly placed over your shoulders.
And just what you thought, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear again, with he difference that his hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.
“I didn’t mean to fall for you either,” he admitted, looking down. “But I did. And I don’t regret a second of it.”
You smiled before reaching into your clutch, hand trembling, and pulled out an envelope.
“I was supposed to wait until tomorrow when we go to Yujin’s house,” you said, “but I can’t.”
He took it, puzzled, and watched what it contained. His eyes widened the second he saw the tickets, audibly gasping.
“There’s no way—”
“Two tickets to see Linkin Park in Seoul,” you smiled nervously. “Consider it a date. Come with me on Friday, and don’t say ‘maybe’.”
He reached for your hands. “You really are something else.”
“Something good?” you teased.
He looked at the sky. “You are something out of this world. God, you’re—”
Before he could finish, you leaned up on your tiptoes, your hand finding his tie to pull him down just like before, but this time, you didn’t hesitate.
Your lips brushed his, his breath caught, and then he kissed you back, gentle at first, as if afraid to break the moment. You froze for half a second, feeling your heart pounding so hard you could almost hear it over the faint music coming from the gym.
Your nose bumped his, your fingers trembled against his chest, but Martin didn’t care. He smiled into the kiss, pulling back only enough to whisper. “Wow,”
You nodded, breathless at how his eyes were looking so fondly at you. “That was my first.”
His eyes softened. “Good. Then I’m glad it was me.”
You didn’t even realize you were smiling until he rested his forehead against yours, both of you laughing quietly for no reason other than sheer disbelief.
“OH MY GOD!”
You jumped apart. From the edge of the field, a cluster of silhouettes waved frantically like South Korea two years ago for the World Cup. You hid your face on the curve that connected his neck and shoulder, his arms engulfing you.
“Finally!” Leeseo hissed, hugging Yujin happily while he had a smile on his face.
“Pay up, Seonghyeon.” James snickered, waving a few bills.
“It took you three years, love your perseverance!” Juhoon screamed, and you couldn’t help but laugh from your spot.
“Worth the wait!” Yujin yelled, pretending to wipe fake tears.
You covered your face, groaning. “They were watching?!”
Martin just laughed, “Of course they were. They were looking at us from the gym.”
He turned toward them, raising your joined hands like a victory gesture. The others erupted in cheers, chanting both your names like a ridiculous anthem.
“Also, did I just hear ‘Pay up’?” Martin raised his shoulder, giving away the answer. You huffed, “Can’t believe they’ve been betting on us.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And for once, I don’t mind losing.”
You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”
He looked back at you, his eyes were full of every emotion you were both feeling. “Ridiculously in love with you.”
And before you could think twice, he leaned in again, slower this time, just enough for your lashes to brush his cheek, for you to close your eyes and let the world spin quietly around you.
You didn’t even care if your friends were still watching.
Because under the silver lights of the empty field, with his jacket around your shoulders, hands on your waist, and your heart in a state of pure bliss, everything finally made sense.
And for once—in the middle of all the noise—you didn’t feel like you had to be perfect. You just felt real.
Just like him.
Just like everlong.
─── A PERSON WHO YEARNS IS A PERSON WHO EARNS! I have never written something this big for anyone in a WHILE, but put some romcoms, a playlist, and I'm LOCKED IN. Also, happy cortis blr debut to me, and any grammar mistakes or stuff I missed will be fixed later. love you all and thanks for reading 💞
. ❛ ༉‧₊˚ · Summary ─── An intense making out with your boyfriend James on the dorm’s sofa is a bold choice. But who are we to judge?
. ❛ ༉‧₊˚· Content ─── established relationship · idol au · fluff · reader has braids cause I said so · lap sitting · dry humping · long ass making out · skinship · kissing (obvi) · 2.0k wc
The coffee had gone lukewarm in your hands, but you did not really mind. James had finished his hours ago and left the mug on the floor near the TV, forgotten against the baseboard. You were both sunk deep into his couch, that oversized grey sectional that swallowed people whole, legs tangled under a blanket that smelled like his detergent and the faint trace of the vanilla candle he had lit earlier and promptly ignored.
You had been there since ten, still in your stuff from the gym, your small braids pulled back from your face with a soft band, a few loose ones framing your temples where they had dried weird from your washday. James looked even more undone. Sweatpants riding low on his hips, an old faded tee from some predebut photoshoot, hair still messy from sleep. He looked normal. Not like the guy you had watched on that music show last week, all sharp angles and stage makeup. Just James.
He had the remote but was not really using it. Some autoplay garbage ran on the TV, travel vlogs bleeding into clips of people falling off skateboards, whatever the algorithm decided to serve. Every so often he would laugh, this low huff that vibrated through the couch cushions, and his foot would nudge yours under the blanket like he was checking you were still there.
"You are not even watching," he said, nodding at your phone. You were scrolling through nothing, some food blog you would never cook from.
"I am. That guy just broke his tailbone."
"That was three videos ago."
"Multitasking girlfriend right?."
He smiled, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and stretched. His shirt rode up enough to show his stomach. He did not fix it. He never did. His hand landed on your knee when he settled back down, casual as breathing, thumb rubbing back and forth over the fabric of your leggings. Warm. Distracting.
The afternoon light came through the blinds in stripes, cutting across his shoulders. He looked soft in it, touchable. You felt yourself leaning in before you even decided to, drawn by the smell of his soap and the way he was looking at you, all soft focus and intent.
He noticed. He always noticed. His hand slid up your thigh, not grabby, just present, grounding. "Come here," he said, voice gone quiet and rough.
That was when your brain caught up. You glanced at the door, solid and locked but still, and felt your shoulders tense. "Wait."
He stopped immediately, hand stilling on your leg. "What?"
"What about the others??"
James blinked, confused for a second, then his face cleared into something gentler. "They’re at the studio. They are all at the studio. Training until six. I told you."
"I know, but..." You sat up a little, the blanket slipping to your waist. "What if one of ‘em forgets something? You know they always do. Keonho came back last Tuesday..."
"At four," James interrupted, soft but firm. He sat up too, turning to face you properly, his hand moving to your waist instead. "It was Tuesday at four, yeah, but that was a vocal lesson day. Today is choreography. They do not break from dancing. The choreographer would beat their asses if one of them even thought of leaving."
You bit your lip, still looking at the door. "And the manager?"
"He always calls first." James reached out, his fingers finding your chin, turning you back to look at him. "You know that. He calls. He waits. He complains. He is not gonna just kick the door down." He waited, thumb brushing your jaw. "We are good. I promise."
He was looking at you with that expression, the one that made you feel silly for worrying but also safe for admitting it. His thumb traced your cheekbone, back and forth, patient.
"You sure about that?" you asked, quieter.
"Positive." He leaned in, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the small scar above his eyebrow from some predebut accident he never fully explained. "It is just us. For like three more hours. Just us."
Something in your chest unclenched. You nodded, small and sure.
He smiled again, real and relieved, and closed the distance. His mouth found yours soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that started like a question and got answered yes. His hand at your waist pulled you closer, easy, and you went, shifting up onto your knees so you could lean into him better. The blanket got messed up, kicked aside somewhere to the floor, but neither of you cared.
He tasted like the mint gum he had been chewing earlier, sweet and sharp. One of his hands came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your braids at the nape, not pulling, just holding, learning the shape of them. The other stayed at your hip, thumb tracing circles that you felt through your whole body.
When you pulled back to breathe, he did not let you go far. His forehead rested against yours, eyes half open. "Better?" he whispered.
"Yeah."
"Good." He kissed your nose, then your cheek, then your mouth again, deeper this time, less careful. You felt him smile against your lips when you sighed, embarrassed at the sound, but he just pulled you closer, his hands guiding you until you were fully in his lap, your knees settling on either side of his thighs.
He leaned back into the corner of the couch, taking you with him, his hands moving to your waist to settle you against him. The position brought you chest to chest, close enough that you could feel his heartbeat through his thin shirt. He looked up at you for a moment, really looked, his eyes tracing your face like he was memorizing it. Then he tilted his chin up and brought you down to meet him.
This kiss was different. Hungrier. His mouth moved against yours with purpose, firm and demanding, his tongue sliding past your lips to taste you deeper. His hand slid up your back under your hoodie, palm hot and flat against your skin, while the other cradled your jaw, angling you where he wanted you.
He kissed you like he was starving, tilting his head to get closer, pulling back only to breathe before diving back in, his teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.
You gasped against his mouth, your hands finding the front of his shirt and fisting in the fabric, pulling him closer. He made a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and approval, and his hand at your waist tightened, fingers pressing into your hip. Your braids fell forward around your faces, creating a curtain, and he pushed them back with one hand, his fingers getting tangled in them, gripping slightly as he deepened the kiss.
"James," you breathed when he moved to your jaw, his mouth hot and open against your skin.
"Right here," he murmured against your throat, his voice rough, vibrating against your pulse. He kissed the spot hard enough to bruise, then soothed it with his tongue, his other hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. You felt him everywhere, the heat of him through his clothes, the solid muscle of his chest, the way his hips shifted under yours, seeking friction.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, his mouth swollen and wet. "You good?" he asked, but his hand was already moving again, sliding up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your hoodie.
"Yeah," you managed, your voice sounding strange to your own ears. "You?"
Instead of answering, he kissed you again, harder this time, his hand at your back pulling you down so you were pressed fully against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. His tongue swept through your mouth, tasting, claiming, and you met him with equal hunger, your fingers threading into his hair and pulling slightly. He groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat pooling low in your stomach, and his hips bucked up slightly, seeking pressure.
"Fuck," he breathed against your lips, his hand at your thigh gripping tighter, his fingers digging in just enough to mark. "You feel so..."
He did not finish the sentence. He kissed you again, deeper, his hand sliding up to tangle fully in your braids, gentle with the tension but firm, holding you where he wanted you. His other hand roamed, tracing your spine, your side, the curve of your hip, then sliding back up under your hoodie to touch skin.
You shivered at the contact, his palm warm and slightly calloused against your ribs, and he swallowed the sound you made, his tongue stroking against yours in a rhythm that matched the slow rock of your hips.
The couch creaked beneath you, loud in the quiet apartment, but neither of you stopped. You were too far gone, lost in the heat of his mouth, the way his hands moved over you like he could not get enough, the way his body rose to meet yours with every downward press of your hips. His breathing was ragged against your mouth, his chest heaving against yours, and you could feel his heart hammering, fast and hard.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth down your jaw, your throat, sucking at the skin there hard enough to make you gasp, his hand at your waist holding you steady while the other gripped your hip, guiding your movements. "Tell me," he demanded softly, his voice rough against your skin.
"Yeah?"
"If you want to stop." He looked up at you, his eyes dark, serious despite the flush on his cheeks, the way his hair stuck up where you had pulled it. "Tell me. I will stop."
You shook your head, your braids brushing your shoulders, and rolled your hips down against him deliberately. He hissed out a breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, his grip tightening. "Do not stop," you whispered.
He opened his eyes, looked at you for a long moment, then surged up to kiss you again, his mouth claiming yours with an intensity that made your head spin. His hands moved to frame your face, holding you still for his kiss, his tongue stroking deep, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones.
You felt every point of contact, the warmth of his skin under his shirt, the solidness of his thighs under yours, the hard line of him pressing against you through his sweatpants, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your jaw.
He kissed you like he was trying to consume you, like the afternoon was not enough, like he needed more. And you gave it, your hands fisting in his shirt, your body moving against his, lost in the heat and the weight of him, the taste of mint and coffee and James.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, chests heaving, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands still framing your face. "You okay?" he asked, voice rough, wrecked.
You nodded, your lips feeling swollen, your body thrumming. "Yeah, how about you?."
He made a soft noise, something like satisfaction, and pulled you down against him, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, his face buried in your neck. You felt his heartbeat against your chest, fast and steady, his breathing hot against your skin.
The afternoon sun moved across the floor, striping the coffee table. Neither of you moved to fix the blanket. James's hand traced slow patterns at your lower back, though his fingers still trembled slightly, his body tense beneath you like he was holding himself back.
"Was it good?" he asked again, muffled against your collarbone.
You nodded, your chin brushing his hair, and carded your fingers through the mess you had made of it. "Do I have to answer?"
He held you there, tight and warm, and you both listened to the quiet, waiting for nothing, expecting no one.
martin treats you gently in ways that don't draw attention to themselves. he'd quietly move you to the inside of the sidewalk, switch drinks with you if yours didn't taste the way you expected, or pull your sleeves over your hands whenever they slipped up your wrists. by the time you notice, he's already doing something else.
whenever you stop to admire something, he never rushes you. he'd simply wait beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, listening as though your excitement is the most important part of his day.
JAMES
james believes princess treatment means making you laugh before anything else. no matter how stressful the day had been, he'd somehow find a way to pull a smile out of you, insisting that seeing you laugh was worth embarrassing himself for.
he loves taking candid photos of you not the posed ones ⎯ the moments where you're laughing halfway through a sentence or looking at something with that sparkle in your eyes.
JUHOON
juhoon rarely asks if you need help because he's already notices before you'd do. he'd quietly untangle your necklace, refill your water while you're distracted, or remember exactly where you left off whenever you forgot the story you were telling.
he has this habit of handing the nicer looking piece without thinking. the crispier fry, the prettier pastry, the slice with more toppings. only when someone points it out does he realize he's been doing it all along.
SEONGHYEON
seonghyeon has never been shy about loving you. he'd naturally reach for your hand whenever the two of you walked together, pull you into his side whenever you stood close enough, or absentmindedly play with your fingers while the two of you talked. to him affection has never been something worth holding back ⎯ it simply comes out as naturally as breathing.
he'd always find some excuses to have you close. whether it's resting his chin on your shoulder while you scroll through you phone or quietly wrapping an arm around you waist just because he can, he'd smile as if being near you is his favorite place to be.
KEONHO
keonho somehow has the ability to make you forget whatever had been bothering you. he'd drag you into the most random conversations, convince you to stop by a convenience store at midnight or challenge you to weird games until you were laughing so hard you'd forgotten why you were upset in the first place.
he'd act like the biggest kid whenever the two of you were together, yet somehow become surprisingly reliable the moment it mattered. before you even realized you needed help, he'd already be standing beside you with a quiet, "i've got it."
