idk anything about tws nor what this guy sounds like.. so im kinda just freeballing and going off of one clip of him talking lmfao sorry this isnt rlly rough and sorry if this wasnt what u wanted
synopsis:
everyone wants dohoon. he’s effortlessly charming, untouchable, and the popular guy. inspired by rude by hearts2hearts, you’re the one who simply doesn’t care. you refuse to just be another girl on his list. but somehow, when he’s forced to prove that you’re not just a game to him, that he actually means it, you start to fall for him too.
author’s note: rude by hearts2hearts has genuinely been my latest obsession the moment they released it and i thought it was so fitting for this kind of story. i’ve been quietly working on it ever since, and i can’t wait to share this with everybody!!
The last bell of the day had rung maybe two minutes ago, which means the hallway is now alive as usual with the hustle of students freshly out of class. Sneakers squeak against the tile, lockers slam shut, and friends holler at each other from across the corridor. You’re leaning back against the cool metal of your locker with one earbud tucked in as you scroll through your phone mindlessly.
Across the hall, Dohoon and the rest of the basketball team move down the hall like they own the place, as per usual. They’re talking over each other and laughing too loudly, and as they walk past, conversations happening around them pause for the second. Girls leaning against lockers glance up, some whispering to each other, others pretending to check their phones while clearly watching them go by. Dohoon’s eyes travel down the hall as he walks, and instantly, he spots you leaning against your locker, a loose strand of hair tucked behind your ear and framing your face. His steps slow almost immediately before he stops right in front of you. You notice his shadow first, stretching across the floor toward you, and then his sneakers, which stopped right in front of you.
Finally, you lift your head wordlessly, taking out your earbud slowly. He smirks like he’s been caught, but his eyes reveal his interest nonetheless.
“I was gonna say hi”
“You were?” you repeat, your tone flat with disinterest.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
He keeps his eyes trained on you, waiting for you to fall at his feet the way people usually do.
“You didn’t notice me?”
But instead of shrinking under his attention the way he probably expects, you simply look at him with indifference.
“Were you expecting me to?” you say, already lifting your hand to slip your earbud back into your ear.
He’s looking at you strangely, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re actually being serious.
“Most people say hi,” he says. Behind him, the conversation among his friends has died down. They’re all watching now, waiting for the usual outcome where the girl laughs, bats her eyes, and plays along.
Instead, you reply, “Most people have low standards then.”
And just like that, you push yourself off the locker and walk past him.
You don’t see the way his friends stare wide-eyed after you. You don’t hear Shinyu mutter, “Did she just…?”
You definitely don’t see the slow smile spreading across Dohoon’s face as he turns to watch you disappear into the crowd, thoroughly intrigued now. You don’t notice that for the first time in what feels like forever to him, he watches someone walk away from him instead of the other way around.
And for some reason, that makes him want to follow.
—
Dohoon doesn’t seem to understand the concept of “no.” Or at least, he thinks it doesn’t apply to him.
So a few days later after that hallway interaction, it shouldn’t be a surprise that you walk into class to find him sitting in the chair beside your desk, one leg stretched assertively into the aisle. Not in the back where he usually sits with the rest of his friends. He doesn’t say anything when you approach. Instead, he just glances up as you pull out your chair as if silently checking your reaction. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll acknowledge him first.
You don’t. You set your bag down and start flipping through your notes like the seat next to you isn’t suddenly occupied by the most talked-about guy in your grade.
Later that day, in the lunch line, he appears as a presence just behind your shoulder. You step forward. He does too. You move your tray along the rail. He does the same. In fact, he’s close enough that if you took a step backward, you’d probably bump right into him.
“You’re avoiding me,” he says one afternoon as he slides back into his newly claimed seat in the classroom
You don’t look up from highlighting your notes.
“You flatter yourself.”
Everyone knows that Dohoon is charming. Effortlessly so, as a matter of fact. He’s the kind of student teachers shake their heads at with a tired smile but never actually punish. The kind who gets called out but talks his way out of getting in trouble just by flashing a grin paired with some sweet-talk.
Moreover, girls tend to orbit around him, and he knows exactly how to keep them there. When someone talks to him, his eyes focus on you like whatever you’re saying is the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. He remembers small things people mention. He makes you feel like you’ve caught his attention in a way no one else has. He’s good at that. And it makes you feel singled out and special.
But he never really promises anything. There’s no official label. No public declaration. Just lingering glances, conversations that seem meaningful on the outside, hangouts that happen here and there. And then eventually, they taper off in a way that makes the girl start wondering if she imagined it all in the first place. By the time she realizes, he’s already gone, laughing at someone else’s joke across the hallway. Already leaning against another locker.
The thing is, he dosn’t even look like someone you’re supposed to dislike. If anything, the way he moves from girl to girl only feeds into his persona. As if being chosen, even briefly, is proof you were special enough to catch his attention in the first place. That’s his reputation: the boy everyone swears they won’t fall for but inevitably swoon over. But you’ve seen enough to know better.
He leans back in his chair.
“Let me take you out.”
“Why?”
He stares at you like you’ve just asked him something confusing, something no one’s asked him before.
“Because I want to,” he says, bewildered.
“You want a lot of things,” you reply without even sparing a glance. “Doesn’t mean you get them.”
He’s caught slightly off guard, though you don’t notice. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.
“You’re different,” he insists.
“Do you say that to every girl? If you’re bored, go entertain someone else,” you say as you slide your stuff back into your bag. Then you stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
And you leave him there, sitting with his fingers still curling against the edge of the desk. His eyes linger on the empty chair across from him, on the tiny eraser markings adorning the table. He’s still staring at the space you just vacated, confused, because that’s not how this usually goes.
This time, the wheel slipped out of his hands before he could do anything about it. And he doesn’t know how to feel about being out of control for once.
—
A week later, he tries again.
The classroom erupts into movement as students gather up their belongings to leave. Conversations spill into the hallway before people even reach the door. You take your time packing your things, but as you step past the doorway, Dohoon steps into view immediately. Leaning against the wall just outside the door, his arms are folded loosely across his chest. He falls into stride beside you instantly.
“Are you always this difficult?” he asks, a hint of amusement apparent.
“Are you always this persistent?” you hit back.
“For you? Apparently.”
“You don’t like me,” you start. “You’re just here because I’m not obsessed with you. And until you figure out if you’re really interested in me or just bored, don’t ask me out again.”
Then you turn and head down the stairs, leaving Dohoon where he is. Hands at his sides, he watches as you disappear into the moving cluster of students until he can’t see you anymore.
—
Students flood through the halls as the last class finally ends. Voices overlap with the sharp clang of lockers and the shuffle of shoes against the polished floor. Dohoon stands with Shinyu and youngjae, who are in the middle of arguing about something completely pointless that happened during basketball practice yesterday. Dohoon has already tuned them out. Instead, he’s staring down the hallway simply because there’s nothing better to look at. That’s when he sees you.
You’re standing near the stairwell with one hand hooked around the strap of your bag, clearly about to leave for the day. Except someone’s blocking your way.
Dohoon recognizes him immediately. Minjae.
Second-year. Starting forward on the soccer team. Loud, cocky, and generally known for being the kind of guy who thinks rules don’t really apply to him just because he’s popular.
Youngjae leans forward, following Dohoon’s line of sight, and notices right away.
“Wait, isn’t that Minjae?”
Dohoon doesn’t answer. His attention stays fixed on the scene unfolding down the hall. Minjae has one arm propped against the wall beside you, seemingly casual, but clearly with the intent to assert himself.
“So,” Minjae says confidently. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
You look at him. Your expression is completely unimpressed.
“Oh. Have you?”
“Yeah,” he continues, like the answer is obvious. “You’re kind of hard to catch, to be honest.”
You nod but don’t say anything else. Minjae clears his throat and tries again.
“I think you’re cute,” he says. “So we should hang out sometime. I’m free this weekend.”
“You want to hang out?” you ask, pursing your lips together in mild confusion.
“Yeah,” he says, “like a date.”
The confidence in his voice makes it sound like he already thinks that it’s a done deal. Dohoon, on the other hand, watches your reaction carefully. You’re not blushing or laughing nervously in your hand like one would expect you to in that situation. Instead, you sigh quietly, like someone had just asked you a question you’ve already heard too many times.
“No.”
Minjae blinks.
“No?”
“No,” you repeat.
For a second, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that answer. Then he laughs, trying to recover.
“Come on,” he asserts. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” you ask calmly.
“You know, playing hard to get. It’s okay. I know you’re into me.”
You almost roll your eyes.
“I’m not playing anything. I’m saying no,” you say flatly without hesitation.
Minjae glances around, suddenly aware that people might be listening. The way you brush him off seems to irritate him as his eyes narrow at your attitude.
“You know most girls would kill for me to ask them out, right?”
“Then go ask them instead,” you say, unfazed in the slightest.
The bluntness of your response hits like a slap in the face.
“How can you be so sure?” Minjae scoffs, his outward facade evaporating instantly.
“Because I don’t want to associate myself with guys who treat people like garbage. Or guys who think they’re somehow above everyone else.”
Minjae lets out a short laugh.
“You’re seriously judging me over rumors?”
“Believe what you want,” you say.
You step slightly to the side, clearly ready to leave.
“I’d rather not waste my time.”
He scoffs again as he pushes away from the wall.
“Whatever,” he mutters in an attempt to save face. “You’re not even my type anyway.”
Minjae clearly expects that to catch you off guard, or at least to prompt some kind of reaction.
Instead, you simply reply, “Good. That makes this easier for the both of us, then.”
Then you turn and continue down the hallway toward the exit, where A-na and Yuha are standing, waiting for you so that you can leave together.
A couple of students nearby laugh under their breath. Minjae shoots them an irritated glare before stalking off in the opposite direction, and Dohoon can’t help but let out a laugh as well.
Back by the lockers, Shinyu lets out a low whistle, muttering, “Damn.”
“She’s a badass for that,” Youngjae says, shaking his head. “Minjae was always annoying. I don’t know how anyone stands him.”
Dohoon doesn’t say anything. His eyes are still in a trance, watching the hallway where you were just standing.
Who does she think she is? he thinks automatically. But he’s not annoyed. If anything, he’s impressed.
Dohoon finally looks away from the hallway. But the curiosity doesn’t go away.
—
The party comes a week later on a Friday night. You can already hear it even from halfway down the street. Bass pulses through the neighborhood like the thrum of a heartbeat, vibrating through the pavement beneath your shoes. The house itself glows brightly with blazing porch lights flashing through windows fogged from the heat of too many bodies inside. Every time the front door swings open, laughter spills out along with shouted greetings and the clinking of bottles knocking together.
The place is already overflowing by the time you step inside. The air smells like a dizzying mix of sugary drinks, cheap cologne, someone’s perfume lingering in the hallway, and the greasiness from the pizza lying on the kitchen counter. Heat clings to your skin almost immediately, the room thick and humid as bodies press shoulder to shoulder.
You have to slide sideways through the crowd just to make it past the doorway. Your shoulders brush against the people around you, and the fabric of your skirt grazes someone’s denim jacket as you make your way through the hallway. Somewhere behind you, someone whoops loudly as the song switches to one that’s even more bass-boosted, and the opening chords send half the living room into a chorus of cheers.
You’ve always enjoyed parties like this. You thrive in the chaos, in the energy humming through the air and pulsing through your body. There’s something freeing about being swallowed up by a crowd as you dance with your friends without having to care about anything else.
“(Name)!” Stella shouts as she spots you from across the room. She’s already rushing over, squealing as she throws her arms around you.
“Stella!” you laugh as she hugs you excitedly, bouncing excitedly up and down. “You look so good!”
“Girl, you too!” A-na exclaims, hurrying over to join the hug.
Tonight you’re wearing something simple: a cropped top and a miniskirt. Nothing particularly dramatic. Yet you’re completely oblivious to the ways eyes follow you as you move through the room. You barely make it halfway to the kitchen before a couple of guys make their way over to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. One leans casually against the wall behind him while another offers you a drink from the cluttered line of plastic cups and half-empty bottles.
You accept it out of politeness, the cold rim of the cup chilling the tips of your fingers. The drink smells distinctively of something sweet mixed with something sour. After a moment, you set it down without taking a sip, though you entertain their conversation easily with just the slightest hint of playfulness in the way you respond.
Across the room, Shinyu nudges Dohoon in the side with his elbow.
“Isn’t that the girl you like?”
Dohoon barely glances up at first. The house is packed with people; there’s nothing unusual about seeing another familiar face in the crowd.
But when his eyes follow the direction that Shinyu was referring to, they land on you. And he freezes instantly.
The lights above your head catch in your hair as you laugh at something the guy in front of you just said. He can’t quite make out what you were saying, but it doesn’t take much to notice the confident, relaxed way in which you carry yourself. What he notices even more, though, is the distance. You’re not leaning into the guy’s shoulder, even though he clearly looks eager for you to. You’re not touching his arm either. Dohoon finds himself smirking before he can stop himself.
You hadn’t mentioned you’d be there. Though, he realizes a second later, why would you? Still, the sight of you here is entirely not what he expected when he decided to drop by for a bit, and Dohoon stands up a little straighter, suddenly feeling more conscious of himself and the party as a whole.
And then you feel it, that familiar sensation of being watched. Your eyes look past the guy in front of you until they land across the room. Right on Dohoon. A flicker of surprise crosses your face. You didn’t expect him to be there either, staring at you like that.
Then, just as quickly, you look away. The conversation in front of you resumes as the guy says something else that elicits a smile from you again. But Dohoon doesn’t stop watching. Not until Shinyu’s voice cuts through the music.
“Dude.”
Dohoon’s head snaps away. Without thinking, he pulls his phone from his pocket, the cool glow of the display lighting his face as he pretends to scroll.
“Why aren’t you talking to any girls?” Shinyu asks over the music.
It’s a fair question. Normally, by now, Dohoon would have made his way through half of the house already. On most nights, a girl would be right by his side at this point. But tonight, he’s still standing alone and half of the party has already passed.
“Don’t feel like it,” he replies with a shrug.
But he knows exactly what would happen if he tried to act normal tonight. He’d fall back into his usual flirting. Maybe you’d notice, maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, it would feel like proving your point.
Across the room, you’re now laughing with your friends again as red, blue, and green lights flicker across the walls. And suddenly, Dohoon realizes he doesn’t want to be here anymore. So he leaves. While everyone continues drinking and hooking up all around him, he slips quietly down the hallway and pushes open the back door. The cool night air rushes over him instantly, washing away the heat clinging to his skin. Behind him, the door swings shut with a dull click that instantly muffles the music into nothing but the distant thud of the bass.
You don’t notice at all. Your friends drag you toward the living room, closer to the speakers where the beat pounds through your chest and vibrates against your ribs. It isn’t until later – maybe forty minutes, maybe longer – that someone mentions it offhandedly.
“Crazy that he dipped already, huh?” A-na says, leaning closer so you can hear her over the music.
You tilt your head.
“Who?”
“Dohoon!” Stella calls from beside her, cupping a hand around her mouth in an attempt to make herself sound louder.
“He left?”
Your face contorts in confusion. It was so incredibly unlike him. He’s typically the kind of person who stays until the very end, with different girls trailing after him one by one. Though you’d never really witnessed it yourself, all kinds of stories about him reached you long before you ever cared enough to pay attention.
“Yeah,” she says, “it’s so weird that he left early.”
Your gaze moves over the crowded living room, past the cluster of people dancing and taking pictures together, toward the kitchen where you’d been standing earlier before you can stop yourself. You can barely make out faces under the flashing lights. Maybe he stepped outside for a moment. Maybe he’s hooking up with a girl in a deserted hallway. But eventually, you accept that he’s nowhere to be seen.
—
The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand. Your arm stretches to reach for it as you rub your eyes.
A message. From Dohoon.
kim dohoon: did you get home safe?
Everything from the night before rushes back at once. You remember the music, the dancing, the laughter, but you also remember the strange feeling simmering in your chest when you realized he’d already left.
you: yeah
Your fingers hover for a moment before you type again.
you: why did you leave?
His reply comes almost immediately.
kim dohoon: didn’t feel like staying
You stare at the screen before the corner of your mouth lifts into a knowing smirk. Liar.
You know he isn’t saying the whole truth. The Dohoon everyone knows would never leave a party without a reason, and definitely not without flirting with half the girls first. But something about the way he’s holding back now sends a small, unsettling flutter through your stomach.
Because if he’s actually trying, if this is real effort, then suddenly, the situation feels a lot less simple.
—
After that, Dohoon starts to actually show up for you. If he says he’ll meet you after class, he’s already there before you can even step foot outside of the door, leaning against the lockers with his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s been waiting for a while. And when you walk together through the hallways, he’s matching your pace deliberately, his shoulder brushing yours every so often as students move around you.
At lunch, he starts remembering what you normally grab before you even reach the front of the line. Some days, there’s already a drink sitting at your seat when you sit down. If you mention something once, like an assignment you’re worried about, weekend plans you have with your friends, or something random you said in passing, he’ll bring it up again later like he actually remembered.
None of it feels overly performative, and if anything, it feels strangely normal. He’s still the same Dohoon everyone else knows. Except now, when you glance up across a crowded hallway, his eyes are already looking for you.
Even if he’s not acting obvious about it, it’s hard for people not to notice his behavior. At lunch, Dohoon, Shinyu, and a couple of his friends gather around their usual table. One of them, Kyungmin, leans back in his chair as he eyes Dohoon with exaggerated suspicion.
“Something’s off,” he says, pointing his fork toward Dohoon. “Are you actually serious about (Name) this time? Or are you just messing around for the fun of it?”
Dohoon just shrugs as he pokes the food on his tray.
“Come on,” Jihoon groans dramatically. “Anyone can tell that you’re literally whipped.”
The table erupts into laughter. Normally, Dohoon would laugh along with them and brush it off with some careless comment, something like “Relax, I’m just playing. I don’t even like her like that.”
But this time, he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his head slightly and says, “And so what if I am?”
They quiet down immediately.
“Wait, are you actually serious about this?” Youngjae asks. “Don’t try to lead her on just to dump her later.”
“I actually think he’s serious this time,” Shinyu confirms. “Remember that party last week? He didn’t pay attention to a single girl that tried to flirt with him. It was really odd.”
“Wow,” Jihoon says, leaning forward in disbelief. “You’re really serious this time.”
Dohoon just shrugs again, but this time, a small smile lingers on his face.
—
It’s raining by the time you step outside after school. And it’s not a light drizzle, either. The rain falls hard and steady, pouring from the sky in silver sheets that blur the parking lot into a gray haze. Water droplets splash against the pavement and gather in shallow puddles that ripple endlessly with every drop. The air is tinged with the smell of wet asphalt and damp grass.
You stand beneath the awning outside the school entrance in front of the wall where the concrete overhang offers some protection from the downpour. Students rush past in scattered waves. Some sprint for their cars with backpacks pulled over their heads, while others huddle beneath umbrellas blowing backwards from the wind.
Conveniently, your sister texts just as you pull out your phone to message her.
carmen unnie: i’m still stuck at work
carmen unnie: can you see if any of your friends or mom can drive you?
carmen unnie: sorry!
Of course. You sigh quietly and slip your phone back into your pocket.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
You turn your head to see Dohoon standing beside you, his dark hair slightly damp from the mist drifting in under the awning.
“You follow me around now?” you ask.
He glances at you, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of mouth.
“Not on purpose, clearly. I didn’t know you’d be here”
A small laugh escapes you as he looks back out at the rain.
“Who’s picking you up?” he asks.
“My sister,” you say. “Though she just texted that she’s going to be late.”
“How late?”
“She’s still stuck at work, so probably pretty late,” you reply.
He studies you for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He taps something quickly before turning the screen toward you, displaying the GPS app.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
He doesn’t explain. Instead, he asks, “What’s your address? I’ll drive you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“You live in the opposite direction.”
“So?” he says. “Plus, who knows how long you’ll be standing out here for.”
Before you can respond, he pulls out an umbrella from his backpack and holds it out toward you.
“What?”
“Open it,” he says. “Unless you want to walk to my car in the pouring rain.”
You sigh softly before opening it, raising your arm so the umbrella covers both of you. He notices the way your arm is reaching at an awkward angle, and without saying anything, he reaches over to take the handle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he does. The brief contact sends a small ripple of goosebumps up your arm that has nothing to do with the cold.
He holds the umbrella over both of you as you hurry through the rain. When you reach his car, the rain is hitting his jacket in steady taps while he waits for you to climb in first. You glance at him as he starts the engine.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
His eyes stay on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
After that, neither of you say much. The only sound inside the car is the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth. And as you sit in the silence, you can’t help but realize that something between the two of you has changed.
—
Later that week, you’re standing in the bathroom before you go to your next class. You lean toward the mirror as you comb your hair with your fingers, smoothing a stray piece back into place.
The door swings open behind you. Two girls walk in mid conversation as their voices reverberate against the tiled walls. They don’t seem to notice you standing there.
“Did you see them at lunch?”
“Yeah,” the second girl scoffs. “It’s so weird.”
Your hand pauses for half a second before you continue fixing your hair.
“I don’t get it.”
“Me neither. She’s not even his type.”
“Give it a month,” the first girl says.
“Please,” the other laughs. “It won’t even take that long. He’ll get bored. He always does.”
They burst into another fit of giggles.
“And the only reason why he’s into her is because she acts like she doesn’t care. Other than that she’s not much different from everyone else.”
That’s when you’re certain they’re talking about you. Their voices fade away as you stare at your reflection. You press your lips together as your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter immediately.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is just temporary.
You take a breath.
It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter, you tell yourself.
By the time the girls leave, the door swinging shut behind them, you’ve already gathered yourself again. You straighten up, push the thought aside, and walk out of the bathroom after them.
—
Music rattles the glass bottles scattered across the kitchen counter, the sound swallowed by the roar of voices and laughter filling every corner of the house. Colored reds and blues and sickly neon purples flash intermittently across the walls as students party shoulder to shoulder.
You hadn’t planned on staying long. Just stop by for a moment, take a few cute pictures with your friends, say hi to people you know, then leave. But soon thirty minutes turn into an hour and then an hour and a half.
You weave through the crowd with ease, slipping between clusters of people like you belong exactly where you are. As you enter the room, you spot him across from you immediately.
Dohoon is standing near the far wall with a group of his friends. A drink hangs from his fingers, and someone beside him tells a story that has the whole group laughing. But the moment his eyes sweep across the room and land on you, he’s instantly distracted as his eyes stay glued to you. He takes you in – the way that you look, the way your hair falls around your shoulders.
He watches you for a moment longer before handing his drink to Youngjae, who’s right beside him. Jihoon claps him on the back as he pushes away from the wall. Dohoon starts making his way toward you, moving carefully between groups of people like he’s trying to keep it casual and not at all obvious.
You pretend not to notice until he’s standing right in front of you.
“You came,” he says.
“Yeah, I did.”
He laughs softly at that, the sound nearly lost under the pounding music. For a while, you both hang around each other comfortably. He stays near you, close enough that if you stepped sideways, you’d bump into him. People notice; they always do. Glances flicker your way from across the room. Curious looks from classmates who are clearly trying to figure out what’s going on between the two of you.
“Yo, Dohoon!”
It’s one of the louder guys from your grade. Martin. He stumbles over, clearly having had a little too much fun. He swings one of his arms around Dohoon’s shoulders like they’ve been friends forever before his gaze lands on you.
“So what’s this then?”
You just smile at his question. You can feel the way nearby conversations start to quiet as a few heads turn discreetly in your direction.
“Are you two like, official or what?” Martin asks, gesturing between the two of you with a wide grin.
You don’t look at Dohoon right away. Instead, you lift your cup and take a slow sip, making sure to keep your expression nothing but neutral. Let him answer. See what he says.
Dohoon hesitates, not long, but long enough. Then his mouth moves before he can think his answer through.
“We’re just talking,” he says with a small shrug.
Just talking.
The words echo loudly in your ears.
Someone nearby snickers and you hear a voice mutter, “Knew it.”
Martin laughs like his suspicion has just been confirmed. You just smile.
“Yeah,” you say, “just talking.”
Then you step away from him. You slip back into the crowd, where Stella and A-na are waiting, before anyone can say anything else. You grab another cup at the drinks table that you don’t really want just to give your hands something to do.
A-na’s saying something to you, but her voice sounds far away and muffled over the thoughts replaying in your head. Your mind keeps circling back to the same sentence.
We’re just talking.
Flashbacks from the past week start replaying in your head, whether you want them to or not. Dohoon leaning against the lockers outside your classroom. Him walking beside you between classes, even when it meant talking the longer route to his own. The way he’d driven you home in the pouring rain, even though you lived in the complete opposite direction. The umbrella tilted over your head while rain soaked through the shoulders of his jacket. At the time, all of it had felt intentional. Like he was trying. Like maybe he meant it after all.
You swallow as you tighten your grip around the red plastic cup in your hand.
Maybe it hadn’t meant as much as you thought.
“(Name)?”
A-na’s waving a hand in front of your eyes. You realize she’s looking at you expectantly.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, forcing out a small smile. “What were you saying?”
You try to listen this time, you really do. But his voice keeps playing at the back of your mind.
Just talking.
Why were you even surprised? Technically, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But maybe it was the way he said it so easily. Like everything from the past week meant nothing more than having a few simple conversations. Like all of it had just been part of the routine he knew how to do simply because that was what he was used to. You had started to believe it was different this time, but now you just feel stupid for it.
A few minutes later, you and the girls are pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front door. The quiet of the outside feels jarring after the music that was just blaring in your ears for the past few hours. Stella and A-na are still laughing about something that had happened earlier that night.
You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself as you start walking. For once, you don’t have a clear answer waiting in the back of your mind. You don’t know what to think anymore. And more than anything, you really don’t know what to do next.
—
The rumors reach you the next day. Word spreads like wildfire among the halls, flitting through conversations. If anyone is looking at you differently, you don’t notice. It isn’t until lunch that you’re finally made aware of what everyone’s been whispering about.
You’re sitting with your friends near the tall windows lining the cafeteria wall. The room is filled with the noise of voices overlapping, trays clattering, chairs dragging against the floor, and the occasional outburst from different tables across the floor.
“Did you study for the history test?” A-na asks from across the table.
“Yeah,” you reply with a small shrug. “Actually, I took it this morning. It wasn’t too bad.”
Yuha groans dramatically.
“Speak for yourself. I barely even finished the study guide. I don’t even want to think about how that test went.”
She then launches into a rant about her math teacher and the incessant amount of homework she has from that class, and the entire table joins in with their own complaints. Juun and Ye-on join her to grumble about their own classes.
Except Stella hasn’t said much. You notice it when you glance over and see her pushing the noodles around her tray with her fork instead of actually eating them.
“What’s up with you?” you ask, turning to face her.
“Nothing,” she says quickly.
“I was just thinking,” she adds.
You raise a brow.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
Stella sighs as she sets her fork down at the edge of her tray.
“It’s probably nothing,” she says finally, her voice dropping a little.
“Just tell me.”
She hesitates again, glancing around the room before turning back to the table.
“Someone said they saw Dohoon last night,” she says.
“At the party?”
You’re confused. That doesn’t sound strange at all – you were literally there with him for most of the night.
“Yeah,” she says slowly, “but after we had already left.”
“And then?”
“They said he was with a girl,” Stella continues carefully. “Not you.”
You purse your lips together.
“And apparently, he looked really interested in her. Like, she was basically drooling over him and he didn’t stop her.”
Your stomach drops.
“What girl?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” Stella says. “It could literally be nothing. You know how people exaggerate about stuff like this all the time.”
You bite the inside of your cheek in apprehension.
“Yeah,” you say.
“But I just thought I should tell you,” she adds gently, “especially since I heard people talking about it today in class.”
You nod once as the conversation from the bathroom earlier that week comes rushing back.
Give it a month. He’ll get bored. He always does.
You stare at the food sitting untouched on your tray.
She’s not even his type. She acts like she doesn’t care. That’s the only reason why he’s into it.
Their laughter replays tauntingly in your memory.
“Hey,” A-na adds. “It might not mean anything.”
“Right,” you reply automatically.
You had told yourself from the very beginning that you didn’t need anything from him. That unless he actually expressed his sincerity, unless he made it clear, you weren’t going to expect anything. But somewhere along the way, you let yourself believe him anyway.
He had texted you this morning, actually. A quick message asking you where you went last night and if you got home safe. You ignored it. And before lunch, you saw him in the hallway between classes. His expression brightened automatically at the sight of you as he waved the moment he noticed you were there. You only offered a small smile in return. You didn’t miss the flicker of confusion on his face, but before he could say anything, you had already made your way back to the classroom.
His voice sounds through your mind again, louder than the cafeteria around you.
We’re just talking.
Normally, you would’ve been annoyed by something like this. You would’ve rolled your eyes, gotten defensive, maybe even snapped back. After all, it would just be another guy who didn’t know his place. But this time, you don’t feel angry. You just feel dejected at the idea that he wasn’t really all that different from the person everyone said he was. And more than anything, you can’t help but blame yourself for convincing yourself otherwise even when everyone else had warned you.
—
When you reach your classroom, Dohoon is already sitting in the chair next to yours with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. The moment he sees you approaching, he looks up and smiles.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply as you slide into your seat.
You make sure to keep your voice as normal and like the way it always is as much as possible.
He asks you how your morning classes were. You tell him they were fine. You ask if he understood the homework for this class. He groans and complains about how pointless it is. From the outside, nothing about the conversation sounds strange. But something about it feels off, and Dohoon can’t quite put his finger on why.
Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at your notebook more than you are at him. Or in the way you answer his questions, politely responding but turning back to the teacher right after.
At some point during class, he leans over to whisper something about the lesson. But instead of leaning toward him the way you usually would, you stay sitting upright in your chair with your hands folded loosely on your desk. It’s subtle, barely noticeable. But it’s all that Dohoon ends up thinking about for the rest of class. By the time the final bell rings that afternoon, the strange feeling has settled uncomfortably in his chest.
He finally works up the nerve to say something just as you’re packing your bag to leave.
“You heading out?”
“Yeah,” you say, looking at him with a small smile before making your way out of the classroom.
You’re already halfway down the hallway when Dohoon catches up.
“(Name).”
You slow down, though mostly because the hallway is crowded and you don’t really have much of a choice. He falls right into step beside you. At first, he just studies your face as the two of you walk toward the exit with the rest of the students.
“Did I do something?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been kind of, I don’t know, weird all day.”
You look away at his words. If only he knew how hard you were working to not be word despite everything.
“No?” you let out, as you settle on denying him.
He exhales through his nose, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it.
“You’re just acting differently.”
“Really? I feel like I’m acting the same,” you persist. You don’t know how else to continue the conversation.
“No,” he says immediately. “You’re not.”
That makes you stop walking. Students weave around the two of you in the hallway as you turn to face him.
“I’m just doing what you said,” you say as you cross your arms loosely at your chest.
His brows pull together.
“What I said?”
“You said we’re just talking,” you remind him. “So I’m just talking to you. Like right now.”
Dohoon just stares at you for a second. Then the realization hits.
“Oh. That’s not what I meant,” he says.
“That’s what you said.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face as the implications of his own words sink in. This time, Dohoon doesn’t have a quick response ready. You start to turn away. His hand moves before he can think about it.
“Wait.”
His fingers close gently around your wrist. You pause, your gaze dropping briefly to his hand before lifting back to his face. He lets go immediately.
“I messed that up,” he admits.
Your expression doesn’t change.
“At the party,” he continues quickly. “I didn’t think about how it would sound. Everyone was looking and the question just- I said the easiest thing instead of the right thing.”
“You know why it bothered me?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head.
“Because you act like I matter when it’s just us,” you say. “But the second someone else asks about it in front of everyone, suddenly it’s nothing.”
You keep your voice steady. Inside though, your thoughts are racing as you freak out internally from the confrontation unfolding in front of you, though you refuse to let any of it show.
“It’s confusing. And I don’t want to waste my time figuring out what you actually mean.”
“It’s not nothing,” he says immediately.
“Then why did you say it like that?”
He opens his mouth before closing it again. Because the answer is embarrassingly simple. He didn’t want to deal with what it meant. The fact that somewhere along the way, it stopped being casual. Somewhere along the way, he actually ended up falling for you, despite everything he stood for in the past. And admitting that out loud, in front of everyone, would’ve meant having to deal with that uncertainty.
Before he can stop himself again, he steps a little closer, lowering his voice so that the people passing by won’t hear him.
“I like you,” he says, certain. He adds quickly, “And I know that probably doesn’t fix last night.”
You stare at him, completely caught off guard. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say. But he keeps going before you can say anything.
“I was stupid,” he admits. “And if I made you feel like you didn’t matter, that’s on me. I just needed to tell you properly.”
You’re still staring at him as you try to decide whether or not what you just heard actually counts for anything.
“That’s great,” you say finally.
Dohoon frowns at your words.
“That’s it?”
“That night, I don’t think you hesitated because you were nervous,” you begin slowly. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you hesitated because you didn’t want to face reality and deal with what it would actually mean if you said yes.”
“Still, you had other options,” you continue. “While you could’ve said you liked me, you also could’ve said you didn’t want to answer. You could’ve literally said anything else. But instead, you said the one thing that made it sound like I don’t matter.”
“I know,” Dohoon says. “I messed up.”
“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad,” you add. “I just wanted you to understand why it felt so wrong from my side. Because from the outside, it seemed like you proved everyone right.”
You take a breath before continuing.
“A few days before the party, I caught a few girls in the bathroom badmouthing whatever it is we have going on right now. They said that you were going to get bored of me eventually and that it wasn’t going to last.”
Dohoon’s already shaking his head before you can finish your sentence.
“And the first time someone asked you about me in public, you made it sound like I was nothing,” you say, your voice quieter now.
“That’s not true,” he says immediately. “And what those girls said in the bathroom, that’s definitely not true either.”
His voice is firm now.
“I don’t see you as just a phase or a fling. I like you. Not just when it’s convenient, and not just when no one’s watching. I genuinely like you. I just didn’t say it the right way. I panicked. That night, everyone was staring and the guy was being loud and I just, I didn’t think before I spoke.”
You study his face carefully, searching for any hint that he’s just saying what you want to hear. But then you think back to the way he always saves the seat next to him in class. To the times he draped his jacket over your shoulders when the classroom gets too cold. The random texts about how the cafeteria is serving your favorite, even though you never remember telling him what it was. The afternoons he stayed behind with you after school when you were stressing over exams. And the day it rained so hard the streets were flooding a little, when he still insisted on driving you home, even though it meant going completely out of his way. He wasn’t always perfect, but it wasn’t like he didn’t try. Deep down, whether you want to admit it or not, you know he didn’t put in that effort for no reason.
“To be clear,” you say after a moment, “I’m not asking for a title or anything right now. But, I also don’t want to spend my time with someone who’s embarrassed to admit the truth whenever someone asks them.”
The relief on his face appears immediately. For the first time since yesterday, Dohoon feels like he might still have a chance, like he might not have ruined everything.
“It’ll never happen again,” Dohoon reassures. “I’ll do it right this time.”
And he means it. From the very beginning, he knew that if he wanted to be with you, he couldn’t treat it like something just for the fun of it. But the more he got to know you, the more he realized that you were actually someone he didn’t want to lose at all.
He hesitates before adding, “If you let me.”
“Well,” you finally say, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “you have a lot to make up for then.”
“Yes ma’am!” Dohoon exclaims immediately.
His response is so fast and so unnecessarily dramatic that you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes you before you can stop it.
Dohoon grins, clearly pleased that he managed to get that reaction out of you.
“Wait,” you say before you can finally relax. “One more thing.”
“I heard a lot of people today saying you were with a girl at that party after I left,” you say carefully. “That you were flirting with her. So if you’re into her too, I’m not going to hold you back.”
He looks at you for a moment, thoroughly confused. Then, he realizes.
“That’s not what it was,” he says quickly. “I actually meant to clear that up with you today after I heard people talking about it. I was worried you’d hear about it and get the wrong idea. That day, I wasn’t flirting with her at all. In fact, she came up to me and started talking, and I told her I wasn’t interested.”
“Oh. That’s not what I heard,” you say.
“Yeah, I noticed,” he says. “What I actually said was that I liked someone else. And somehow, everyone decided to turn that into me flirting.”
“You told her you liked someone else?” you repeat.
“Yeah.”
“And who exactly is this mysterious person?”
For the first time since you stopped him, a faint smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.
“You really need me to spell it out?”
You shrug, turning as if to walk away.
“Well if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just leave then. You can go find that girl instead.”
You’re clearly teasing him, but the second you take a step, he panics.
“No – wait, wait,” he exclaims, reaching out instinctively. “I was talking about you!”
“Relax,” you say, laughing at the way he freaked out. “I was just kidding.”
“Just so we’re clear,” he says, nudging your shoulder as the two of you finally push through the doors and step outside. “I meant it when I said I’d take this seriously.”
The late afternoon air is cooler outside, and the last groups of students trickle down the steps and across the parking lot.
“I sure hope you did,” you tease.
And this time, you know you can trust him.
—
Basketball practice ends with the final echo of the coach’s whistle. The team disperses quickly after that, with some heading straight for the showers while others collapse onto the benches with exhaustion. Dohoon grabs a towel from his bag and drapes it around his neck. He wipes the sweat from his face before reaching for his water bottle.
“Alright,” Jihoon says suddenly, tossing his water bottle onto the bench next to Dohoon. “Serious question.”
He points at him as Dohoon takes a sip of his own water.
“What’s going on with you lately?”
Dohoon doesn’t even look up as he rummages through his bag.
“What do you mean?”
A few of the other guys perk up at their conversation.
“I mean,” Keonho says, leaning back against the bleachers, “you’ve been leaving right after practice. You skipped Minjae’s party last weekend too.”
“And,” Seonghyeon adds with a grin, nodding towards Dohoon, “every time I see you, you’re with her.”
Dohoon rolls his eyes slightly.
“Mind your business.”
Jihoon just watches him, clearly entertained.
Down the bench, someone elbows the guy next to him.
“Wait, are they actually a thing now?”
"Not yet," Dohoon says after a moment, "but hopefully soon."
“No way,” James blurts out, pushing himself upright so he’s sitting up straighter. “Bro actually folded.”
“There’s no way he’s being serious,” someone says with a laugh. Minjae’s best friend, of course.
“I bet ten bucks he’s going to lose interest in like three days,” another guy calls out.
A few of them snicker.
“Yeah,” Keonho chimes in. “You’ve never lasted longer than what, two weeks?”
“She’s not a fling,” Dohoon says simply, finally looking up. “It’s different this time.”
James raises his hands in mock surrender, though he’s still grinning.
“Relax, we’re just saying. Your track record isn’t all that great.”
“Seriously,” Minjae’s friend says. “You can’t blame us for thinking that this is just another phase.”
“Yeah,” someone adds, leaning forward. “Fifteen bucks says he’s moved on already before finals.”
A few guys laugh again.
“No, I think it’s serious this time,” Jihoon says, glancing at Dohoon before looking back at the others.
Dohoon shakes his head as he gathers the rest of his stuff.
“She’s not some kind of bet,” he says, his voice clear.
“So what, you’re like locked in now?” Minjae’s friend asks, still not convinced.
“I like her,” Dohoon clarifies. “And I don’t plan on messing that up anytime soon.”
“Damn,” Seonghyeon laughs. “He’s actually down bad.”
“Shut up,” Dohoon mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it.
None of them notice the figure standing quietly just outside of the gym doors.
You hadn’t meant to hear everything. You were just passing by the gym to grab Juun’s water bottle, the one she had texted you about leaving there earlier. But then you heard your name. And then the betting. So you stayed, just long enough to hear everything that Dohoon said.
Inside, the guys start grabbing their things as you hear them stand up and walk towards the door. That’s your cue. You push open the double doors and exit before anyone can come through the entrance. By the time Dohoon leaves a few minutes later, the hallway is already empty.
—
The carnival sprawls across a wide, grassy field, buzzing with the cheerful chaos of the crowd. Stalls line winding paths, each one bursting with colorful lanterns, flashing lights, and the sweet scent of sweet treats and sizzling street food. The soft thrum of a distant stage where live music plays carries through the space. You, Dohoon, your friends, and his friends decided to visit one weekend after school as a way to hang out together.
Stella is already dragging A-na and Ye-on toward another stand, and all three of them are juggling skewers and cups like they haven’t eaten in days. Yuha and Juun hang back a little as they angle their phones out to take pictures. Off to the side, Dohoon and everyone else joke around as they scramble to keep up.
Your eyes linger when you walk past one of the booths with a ring toss game. Glass bottles line the middle, and shelves are stacked high with oversized plushes that look a little too nice to be won fairly.
Dohoon notices and motions for you to follow him.
“You’re not winning that,” you say immediately, though you follow him anyway.
“Says who?” he fires back immediately.
“Says me. Those things are always rigged.”
“That doesn’t apply to me,” he replies, already handing over some cash to the person running the game. “I always win these.”
You cross your arms, pretending to look unimpressed.
“Right.”
Dohoon picks up the first ring and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to look serious. He tosses. It hits the neck of the bottle and bounces right off.
He grabs another one. Misses again.
You press your lips together, clearly holding back a smile.
“I thought you always win,” you tease.
“Relax,” he mutters, grabbing the last ring.
He tosses it, and it lands cleanly over the bottle.
Dohoon turns to you as a small, satisfied grin spreads across his face. He looks as if he just knew it would happen eventually.
“So, which one do you want?” he asks, pointing at the selection of plushies ranging from teddy bears to bunnies to puppies.
“I don’t know,” you admit, still a little surprised that he managed to win one in the first place. “Which one do you want?”
“You pick,” he says easily. “It’s for you anyway.”
You hesitate for a second and then point.
“The teddy bear. The one with the heart.”
The vendor reaches up and hands over a cream colored stuffed bear hugging a pink heart. The plushie looks a lot bigger than you expected when it’s actually in Dohoon’s hands. He turns back to you and holds it out.
“Told you I’d get one.”
You look at him. Then down at the bear. Then back at him again.
“It kind of looks like you,” you say, obviously joking as you take it from him.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I’d like to think I’m way better looking.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think.
“Mmm. I don’t know about that…”
“Give it back then,” Dohoon exclaims, reaching out to take it back.
You laugh at his betrayed expression and shake your head as you pull it towards you immediately.
“It’s mine now!”
Dohoon watches you and laughs, smiling at your antics.
—
By the time the sun has fully set, the group has settled across the grass lawn. Stella’s already lying down and using Ian’s arm as a pillow. Yuha, A-na, and Ye-on sit nearby as they chat over ice cream.
You end up sitting between Juun and Dohoon with your new plushie sitting on your lap.
Then, the first few fireworks go off. A sharp crack sounds, followed by colors of gold blooming across the sky. The light flickers across everyone’s faces. You tilt your head back with everyone else, watching the bursts of reds, pinks, and greens against the navy sky.
“Hey.”
You turn your head to Dohoon, who’s already looking at you.
“What?” you ask.
Another firework bursts overhead, lighting his face for a split second. You can’t help but think about how good he looks right now.
He just stares at you like he forgot what he was going to say the moment you looked at him.
“You’re holding it like it’s actually yours.”
You blink and look down at the bear in your lap.
“It is mine.”
He nods toward the plushie.
“I could still take it back, you know.”
You pull it a little closer instinctively.
“No you can’t, it’s already mine.”
“Pretty sure I paid for it.”
“But you gave it to me. And plus, I picked it out, which is arguably much more important,” you reason.
He laughs quietly and shakes his head.
“Unbelievable.”
You glance back up toward the sky.
“Thanks,” you say after a second.
He looks at you again.
“For what?”
“For today. It was fun.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyes lighting up. “I’m glad. I had lots of fun too.”
For a while, both of you stay silent as you continue watching the fireworks light up the sky.
“Hey,” Dohoon says again.
You glance at him, already expecting him to say something unserious again.
“What now?”
“Well, I was thinking,” he starts, then pauses, like he’s trying to get the words right. “About what you said before.”
“That could mean a lot of things. What did I say?”
“About not wanting to waste your time,” he clarifies.
You don’t say anything right away, but your fingers curl a little tighter around the teddy bear in your lap.
“I meant it when I said I’d do things properly,” he continues.
“So,” he says, a little unsure for once, “can I be your boyfriend?”
“You’re asking me?” you say like you just want to make sure you heard him right.
“Yeah,” he says, “I am.”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
You nod, smiling at the way he looks so nervous.
“Yeah,” you say softly.
Then he lets out a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair.
“So does that mean I get that back?” he asks, pointing at the bear again.
You immediately pull it closer to your chest.
“No.”
He pretends to let it go but reaches over like he’s about to grab it anyway. You turn your body away instantly.
“Dohoon. Do you really want it that badly?”
“No, no, I’m just checking,” he says, a grin wide on his face.
“You’re actually unbelievable.”
He shrugs, completely unbothered.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re my girlfriend now anyway.”
You shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. Another firework lights everything up in a soft gold hue before fading again.
Somewhere behind you, your friends are still talking, laughing, completely caught up in their own conversations.
Slowly, your head moves so that it’s resting gently on his shoulder. Dohoon doesn’t say anything. He just smiles and adjusts so that you’re comfortable. Your fingers brush against his before settling there. Fireworks continue to go off one after another, but you don’t bother looking this time. Not when you already know what it looks like. And right now, just being with Dohoon feels much better than anything else you could've asked for.
yn makes it exactly three steps past the school gate before the universe decides to intervene. not five, not six. three.
"ID?" the guard asks, already holding out his hand, bored but prepared, the stance of a man who has seen too much and is ready for more.
easy, automatic, muscle memory. yn reaches for his pocket without even looking, already mentally moving on to the next part of his day—then freezes.
he pats the pocket again, slower, more intentional. like maybe he just missed it the first time. then the other pocket, then the jacket, then the bag. zip open, rummage, fingers digging through chaos. zip closed, unzip again because maybe it respawned?
nothing.
absolutely nothing.
yn lets out a laugh, sharp and awkward, because that’s his default setting when panic hits. the kind of laugh that says i’m fine while actively not being fine. "okay, wait," he says quickly, already dropping his bag to the ground. "this is fixable. this is very fixable."
he starts pulling things out one by one like he’s filming a what’s in my bag vlog for an audience that did not ask, notebook, charger, pencil case, loose pens that should have been in the pencil case, another charger that he forgot to return to kyungmin three weeks ago, a crumpled receipt, and a sticky note that just says buy milk with no context.
he holds up the empty bag and peers inside like the id might be hiding in a corner, embarrassed. "i didn’t forget on purpose!" yn blurts, words tumbling out fast. "i wrote it down. i reminded myself. like, a lot. there were notes involved. multiple notes. this wasn’t negligence!"
the guard sighs, rubbing his temple like this exact sentence has been spoken to him twelve times already today. "week one," he mutters. "everyone’s still adjusting." yn’s eyes light up instantly, hope flickering back to life. "so i’m good?"
"you’re allowed in," the guard says, already pulling out a clipboard and a pen.
"but i’m logging this." yn’s smile freezes mid existence. not gone. just buffering. "logging… how?"
"failure to present id," the guard replies. "warning today. follow up if it happens again." yn nods way too fast, like speed alone will fix this. the guard waves him through without looking up. "don’t make it a habit."
yn steps onto campus like he just won a court case on a technicality. he straightens his bag, adjusts his jacket, fixes his hair in a reflective window. he walks with confidence that is completely undeserved, chest lifted, stride purposeful, like a man who absolutely did not almost get turned away at the gate.
he passes the main building. the bulletin board layered in too many posters. club sign-ups, event announcements, motivational quotes that feel vaguely threatening. the vending machines that are somehow already empty. he’s replaying the interaction in his head, polishing it. in his version, the guard laughed. maybe clapped a little. maybe said 'wow kid, you’ve got a good heart.'
six minutes later, his phone buzzes.
yn does not stop immediately. he takes two more steps first, like maybe ignoring it will undo whatever this is. like if he pretends hard enough, the universe will get embarrassed and take it back. then he sighs and pulls his phone out.
he stares at the screen.
blinks once.
then again, slower. like the words might rearrange themselves out of pity.
"no," yn says quietly.
then louder. "no?"
he scrolls. refreshes. nothing else. just the same message sitting there confidently, aggressively calm. he looks back toward the gate like the guard might still be watching, like this is all an elaborate social experiment designed specifically to ruin his morning.
his phone buzzes again. same notice. same tone. somehow more disrespectful. yn exhales hard, long, dramatic. "oh," he mutters. "logging means detention. that’s fun. that's a fun interpretation."
he pockets the phone and keeps walking, but slower now. betrayed. wounded. spiritually inconvenienced. students pass him, laughing, complaining about classes, holding their ids like responsible people. every lanyard feels personal.
he rereads the email. room 214, four o’clock.
of course it is. room 214. the room that exists exclusively for people who almost had it together. the room where dreams go to reflect. yn turns around slowly, shoulders sagging, every step heavy with the weight of irony. a man who tried his best and still lost.
halfway down the hallway, he opens his notes app. there they are. three identical lines. bold, merciless, haunting.
BRING ID.
BRING ID.
BRING ID.
he stares at them like they might explain themselves, like one of them might apologize.
"this is actually insane," yn mutters to no one, his thumb hovering uselessly over the screen. he locks the phone, slips it back into his pocket. stands there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the ground like it might open up and swallow him whole.
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NOTE: just a heads up, this is completely fictional! this is my first ever smau fic (and my first fic overall), so I’m still learning. thank you for checking it out, and I hope you enjoy! 🫶
synopsis: you’ve been constantly professing your love to your childhood friend ever since you were 12. you weren’t expecting anything but the usual rejection, but maybe some things don’t always stay the same…
word count: 2.0k
a/n: i hope u enjoy! <3
You and Shinyu have been inseparable since you were kids.
Well, in your mind, anyway.
You’ve been adamantly professing your undying love for him since you were at the ripe age of 12.
You know, adult activities and all.
At first, he rejected you every time.
A little awkward, a little inexperienced but unmistakably firm.
But as time went on, rejection grew harder to administer, and Shinyu couldn’t tell if it was because you grew more annoyingly persistent as you aged, or if he was simply too used to you.
One thing he did know is that he loved to see you smile, even if it was when you were deliberately riling him up or when you deemed yourself more capable than you actually were.
That bright innocent smile that made his breath hitch each time.
He convinced himself it was due to allergies, but his heart argued otherwise. Not that you needed to know that.
Today, you were seated on the grassy plane of the community park. You found a perfect spot. Top of the small slope, in the way of the wind’s trajectory, overlooking the smaller section made for children half your age.
Your fingers plucked a petal.
“He loves me,”
Then another.
“He loves me more.”
You continued the process until a small girl on her way to the children’s park, no older than 8 years of age, ran past you whilst yelling you were doing it wrong.
You ignored her and plucked another petal from the daisy.
“He loves me,”
Pluck.
“He loves me more…”
You stared at the bald flower, registering the result.
Gasping quietly, you sprang up on your feet, flower still in hand. A victorious grin stretched on your face as you lifted the stalk of the daisy like it a was trophy.
“Yes! I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“Ah!” You startled, falling to the ground like a withered plant. Shinyu’s kind eyes peered down at you in mild curiosity, a calm expression on his face.
“You—you scared me!” You placed a hand on your chest, puffing a load of air out of your cheeks.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.” He said lowly, beginning to approach your sprawled form on the grass.
He crouched close to you, revealing the white shopping bag he was clutching.
“I got us some juice and jellies. You said you were craving some earlier.”
He pulled the items out of the bag with ease and you just continued to monitor him from your spot.
Gosh, he had this weird ability of making the simplest things look attractive.
Ugh, life wasn’t fair.
And as if the Earth heard your lament, the wind blew past the both of you, gently shifting Shinyu’s light bangs and exposing just a touch of his forehead.
Then it hit you too, throwing your hair completely out of place and making you look like you were just finished fighting an unknown entity.
The favouritism was beyond ridiculous.
The bright sound of Shinyu’s laughter carried past your eardrums. His hands covering half his face as he attempted to appear unaffected, but your glaring face was making it hard not to react.
You huffed in frustration, diligently accepting the juice carton he gave you.
“So,” he started, voice at the usual calm decibel he always used when speaking to you. “what is it that you knew?”
He poked a hole in the juice box with his straw, softly bringing his lips to it. His eyes slid to capture yours, a sign to show he was listening attentively. As always.
You sucked on your own straw intensely, purposefully avoiding his eye contact.
This time, you chose to act oblivious.
It’s always been the same anyway.
You confess, he outright rejects you. Sometimes you can’t help but wonder how this one sided chase had gone on for so long.
The spark in your eyes dimmed by a fraction.
Maybe it was time to move on. After all, one day he was going to end up finding the person that made his heart flutter. The person that lit up his winter nights with warm smiles and his scalding summers with refreshing laughter.
One day… Shinyu would no longer be there anymore. With you. Casually conversing at the park.
Taking a dramatic and dragged out sigh, you slowly shook your head, the wind rustling through your strands.
“Nothing.”
Shinyu’s eyes remained on you. An uneasy feeling churned in his stomach.
You’ve never answered like that before. You’ve never kept to yourself when it came to him. You’d always speak your mind no matter how controversial your thoughts were. It was practically his first time hearing you say the word “nothing” as a response.
His lips tugged to the side.
“Are you sure?”
The smoothness of his voice stirred your heartstrings and you nearly gave in in less than a second.
Gosh darn it, he’s good! A master of persuasion!
(No, you’re just really whipped.)
You bit your lip, then dug your hand into the bag of jellies, purposefully filling your mouth with the sweets.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s totally nothing.” You manage to mumble out, mouth still full.
He looked at you.
You could feel yourself growing warm, and it wasn’t the change in the weather.
Waving your arms in front of you to hide yourself, you gently took a hold of his face, manually turning it away from you.
A teasing smile threatened to find his lips. One corner had already began lifting upwards.
He turned to you again.
You turned him back.
A breathy chuckle escaped him.
“If you don’t want me to stare at you all day, tell me what it was you were thinking.”
You relented, shoving another handful of sweets in your cheeks.
He sighed, continuing his stare.
“I feel like there’s been this awkward boundary recently… with us, I mean.”
You continued chewing, eyes focused on the kids playing on the swings far ahead.
“Don’t you feel it too?” He questioned you lightly, bringing his face right next to yours.
You choked on the sweets.
What’s worse was that you couldn’t even die in peace. Shinyu laughed at you quite loudly, but he still had to the decency to pat your back.
The same traits you had fallen for when you were 12.
“Dang it…” you coughed out to yourself.
“You okay?”
You nodded, shooing his hand away.
To help you recover, you went for a sip of your juice box.
“Speaking of, it’s been a while since you’ve confessed to me.”
You choked again.
Nearly spitting your juice out, you glared at him, swallowing harshly.
He shrugged, looking at you with those big, shiny eyes, like he didn’t just purposefully try to end you twice.
Wiping the corner of your lips with your sleeve, you exhaled softly through your nose. Your eyes once again trained on the playground below.
“I think I’m done playing around.”
The wind gently picked up, it’s breeze caressing your skin.
Shinyu went quiet.
Then, almost hesitantly, he asked.
“What do you mean?”
You stayed silent for a long time. Pondering over your shared memories.
Were you just being delusional?
Were you just purposefully sticking by his side to delay the inevitable?
The sound of shuffling at your side.
You lazily veered your attention to find he had moved a tad bit closer.
You raised a brow.
“Well, if you’re not going to do it,” he nervously looked to the side before finding you eyes again. An unfamiliar sense of determination. “I will.”
You blinked.
“Huh?”
“I like you.”
The wind picked up again, like it was trying to carry the confession away from you before you could grasp it and never let go.
Your stare lingered. Shocked orbs completely absorbed in his dark ones. Lips gaping like a fish out of water.
“Wh-what?”
“I like you.” He repeated firmly. That familiar resolve that you were so used to hearing with the opposite kind of words.
A disbelieved sound left your throat.
“You…like me.”
“I like you.”
“How?”
At your response, Shinyu hesitated.
He wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.
Was he too late?
Had you already moved on?
He bit his lips. Slowly playing with his slender fingers. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his nerves.
“I’m sorry that I made it hard for you.” He whispered.
“I was just… scared.”
“When did you…”
“At 16 I pretty much knew.”
You gaped at him.
“You had me confessing to you for this long?!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“I don’t think I am?!”
You ran your hands down your face.
“Oh my gosh, my poor young heart.”
He bowed his head in shame.
“Shinyu?”
His gaze rose to meet yours in a rush.
“Yeah?”
“You’re an idiot.”
And with that, you launched yourself at him.
“Wait—”
Throwing your hands around his large build with a bit too much force, the both tumbled off the edge rolling down the small hill, unintentionally.
“Oh no—”
Instinctively, his hand went to shield your head.
“Oof!”
By the end of it, you were on top of him, releasing a painful groan. Your two squished bodies now at the foot of the hill.
“And you called me the idiot.”
Your eyes narrowed at him.
“Shut up.”
His arms remained wrapped firmly around you. A comforting shield.
“Don’t you usually say I need to talk more—”
You were so close that when you tried to get off of him, your lips gently brushed against his own.
He froze.
A short breath escaped him, eyes slowly trickling down to your lips.
Your own breath hitched, watching him revel in the brief feeling of your lips on his.
Leaning forward, Shinyu went for the close—
“Mommy! Why are there two people kissing?!”
You separated with urgency.
Immediately creating a 50 metre gap between you.
You dusted off the small traces of grass on your clothes. Shinyu awkwardly coughed into his hands, then stretched his back like he was actually just exercising all along.
The little boy that witnessed the whole ordeal quickly fled the scene, you mentally cursed, watching his little body scurry off to his mom.
You deadpanned.
“So uh,”
Shinyu spoke from afar, his voice raised so you could hear him.
He pointed to a random direction.
“Wanna go for a walk?”
“Yup!”
You both ran up the hill to collect your snacks.
“Let’s pretend no one saw that.” You whispered as you grabbed your empty juice box.
“Agreed.” He held the rest of the stuff.
You started to walk up ahead before a gentle hand gripped yours.
Shinyu looked at you for a split second, his eyes averting to the trees up ahead.
“Um, you don’t have to answer now but—”
You slapped a hand across your mouth.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I completely forgot to say it!” You squeezed his hand in yours.
“My answer never changed,” you fully turned to him, briefly letting go of his hand.
“I like you, Shinyu! Please go out with me!”
The exact same phrase.
The exact same tone.
To the exact same target.
Some things never changed.
Shinyu found your outstretched arm, watching how you presented your empty juice box instead of the usual daisies you would offer him during each confession.
He snorted, releasing a small chuckle.
Taking your hand back in his, he held it up to his cheek, his eyes melting into yours.
“It’s the first time someone’s confessed to me with an empty juice box. I think my heart just fluttered.”
You grinned.
“I’d be honoured to be yours.”
He finally said yes.
12 year old you would probably be foaming at the mouth if she saw this.
He took a step forward. “Does that mean I get to properly kiss you now?”
You couldn’t even reply if you wanted to. Soft and fluffy, the taste of sugared candy and fruity drinks. His lips met yours with a long awaited harmony of unspoken feelings.
You could feel his warmth when you pulled away. His forehead against yours.
Short and cozy.
“Mommy! Look! Look! They’re doing the smoochies!”
Oh, for crying out loud!
You turned to each other, both already planning an escape route.
“My place?”
“Your place.”
And with that, the two of you ran away, hand in hand, giggling like little children. Your radiant smile brightening up his spring skies.
