You, Again
pairing - idol!vernon x f.reader (prof. skateboarder)
summary → seoul after midnight is full of strange things, and apparently hansol vernon chwe. somewhere between city nights, skate parks, and conversations that never seem long enough, familiar faces become something more.
word count → 6.6k
warnings ! non explicit/ no major warnings apply (some kissing), chance encounters, minor mentions of fame/ public life, reader is more noncholant than vernon, city nights-late night conversations, vernon catching feelings first, reader just goes with the flow, the moment between friendship and something else ft. the city being a wingman itself, no major plot just a short piece
Rain rolled through Seoul in scattered waves, loud against concrete and glowing neon signs, turning the streets of Hongdae slick and reflective long after midnight. Most people had already disappeared indoors, tucked away in bars or waiting beneath awnings for the weather to let up.
You preferred the city like this.
The streets smelled of wet pavement, cigarette smoke, and fried food drifting from places that never seemed to close. Your headphones rested around your neck instead of over your ears, the bass from the underground set you'd just finished still humming faintly in your chest.
It hadn't even been a real gig. Just a friend asking you to fill in for thirty minutes at a basement venue packed shoulder to shoulder with art students, skaters, and people too pretty to look accidental. Nobody there cared if you won olympic gold, they just cared that you mixed the best hits so they could dance all night long.
Your oversized hoodie clung damply to your arms as you adjusted the skateboard tucked beneath one elbow and pushed open the convenience store door. The familiar chime rang overhead, and warm air greeted you instantly. You exhaled quietly, brushing rainwater from your sleeve as you wandered toward the refrigerators in the back. Your knees ached pleasantly from skating earlier, and there was still a faint smear of silver glitter on the side of your hand from someone at the venue grabbing your wrist while shouting over the music.
You barely looked up while reaching into the refrigerator, eyes scanning rows of brightly colored cans as cold air spilled across your hands. The skateboard tucked beneath your arm shifted slightly when you leaned forward, the edge of the deck clipped a can sitting near someone else's outstretched hand.
Time seemed to slow for half a second, the aluminum can popped from the person’s grip and fell forward toward the floor.
Your body reacted before your brain did. Years of catching yourself mid fall, grabbing boards before they shot into traffic, adjusting balance in fractions of seconds. Your hand shot out instinctively, fingers wrapped around the can inches before it hit the ground.
The motion felt so natural you barely registered it had happened until you straightened again with the drink secure in your grip. A drop of condensation slid down the side of the can onto your wrist as you took in the choice of drink being grape flavored.
"Damn." A low voice sounded beside you. “You got reflexes.”
You glanced up for the first time, and there he was.
Hansol Vernon Chwe stood half turned toward you in an oversized charcoal hoodie and a dark baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Headphones hung around his neck. He looked taller up close than you'd expected. Mostly, though, he looked tired.
Not celebrity tired, but genuinely exhausted. No makeup or cameras, just faint shadows beneath his eyes like he'd been awake for far too long.
You handed him the can. "Occupational hazard."
His brows lifted slightly. For half a second, you could tell he was trying to place your face, before the thought passed.
You turned back toward the drinks. Behind you, you heard him laugh quietly under his breath. The sound surprised you enough to glance over again.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing," he said easily. "You just caught that scary fast."
"I'd hope so."
You shut the fridge with your hip, a peach flavored energy drink now in your hand, and headed toward the chip aisle.
You were aware of him moving through the store too. Never quite near enough to feel intentional, but never far enough to ignore. The strange familiarity of a late night stranger.
Outside, the rain hammered harder against the windows. You groaned softly when you saw it.
"Seriously?"
The cashier offered an apologetic comment about the storm getting worse.
You paid for your food anyway and stepped outside beneath the awning. Rainwater streamed from the edge of the roof in thick silver lines, trapping everyone there in little pockets of silence. You leaned your skateboard against the wall and pulled open the bag of chips as you began snacking on them.
A minute later, the convenience store door chimed again. Vernon stepped outside holding the can you caught and a cup of ramen, settling beneath the awning a polite distance away.
For a while, neither of you spoke. Cars hissed through puddles, and somewhere down the street muffled bass vibrated through the rain. You ate quietly while scrolling through songs on your phone.
"You DJ or something?"
You looked up seeing him nodding toward your wrist as you glanced down at the faded neon band still wrapped around your wrist.
"Oh." You shrugged. "Sometimes."
"What kind of music?"
"Depends how annoying the crowd is."
That earned another laugh from him. The sound was soft, rough around the edges with exhaustion, and embarrassingly satisfying to pull from him.
You stole another glance at him while pretending not to. Onstage or on camera, Vernon always seemed distant in a way you couldn't quite explain. Cool without trying too hard, but standing beneath fluorescent convenience store lights at nearly two in the morning, he just looked like another insomniac avoiding going home.
"You look familiar," he said suddenly.
"Do I?" You raised an eyebrow, not making eye contact with him.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your face beneath the hood, not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was trying to place a memory that sat just out of reach.
"I think so."
"Maybe you've seen me lose a fight in public."
The response caused him to smile properly, it threw you off for a second. He was just.. pretty, in a way that felt slightly unfair to have to process in real time.
"No," he murmured. "You don't seem like you lose those."
For some reason, the words settled warmly in your chest.
The rain only worsened. With a dramatic sigh, you sat down beneath the awning, and he followed a moment later, taking a seat a few spots away.
Not close enough to presume, but enough to continue talking within a comfortable distance as he ate his ramen.
"What about you, why are you out at this time of night?" you asked after a minute.
“Mhm.” Vernon shrugged lightly, letting out a sigh. “Just had some things to do.”
"Tough night?"
He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes briefly closing. "Long night."
You understood that tone immediately. The kind of exhaustion that settled somewhere deeper than physical.
You cracked open your drink, raising it for him to see. "Try the peach flavor next time," you said, nodding toward the grape can in his hand. "That one tastes like cough syrup."
He stared down at it. ".. I almost did choose peach."
You laughed quietly and for a strange second, the city around you softened.
For a strange second, everything felt simpler. The noise of the city faded into the background, leaving only the steady rhythm of rain and the quiet company of someone who expected nothing from you.
Then headlights slowed near the curb, your uber stopping at the curb just a few feet away from the awning. You stood, grabbing your skateboard, turning back towards him as he reluctantly drank from the grape flavored can.
"Looks like freedom." Vernon said, glancing toward the car before looking back at you.
"Guess so." You opened the door, then paused halfway inside. "Good luck with the cough syrup."
His mouth twitched upward. "And you with.." he gestured vaguely toward your skateboard, "..whatever dangerous occupation you have."
You smirked before slipping into the car, and a moment later you were gone, leaving him beneath the awning with nothing but rain and unanswered curiosity.
A week later, Seoul was colder.
Not winter cold yet, but enough for people to pull sleeves over their hands and walk faster through the streets at night. The Han River reflected fractured strips of light beneath the bridges as the last trains came and went above the water.
You should’ve gone home an hour ago. Instead, you’d stayed out skating with a couple friends near the river until your legs felt heavy and your hoodie smelled faintly like smoke from somebody’s cigarette break. By the time you split up, your ride had already left.
So now you stood at a near empty bus stop at 1:07 in the morning, your skateboard propped against your shoe while a cold wind lifted strands of hair from beneath your beanie.
Your headphones played softly enough that you could still hear traffic, the sound of the bus finally pulling up with a hydraulic sigh.
Warm air hit your face as you climbed aboard, only a handful of people were scattered throughout. An exhausted university student asleep against the window, two drunk men whisper arguing, and an older woman holding grocery bags in her lap.
You headed automatically for the back. Dropping into the middle seat of the last row, you balanced your skateboard between your knees and rested your forehead briefly against the cool glass behind you as the city began moving again outside.
Neon signs blurred together as the city moved around you, passing by in fragments of convenience stores glowing late into the night, empty crosswalks, and alleyways still darkened by rain.
Your body ached pleasantly from skating. For a while, you let yourself drift. Then the bus slowed again, and the doors hissed open as a few passengers got on.
Someone climbed aboard wearing an oversized dark hoodie and headphones around his neck.
You blinked once, almost certain the late hour was making you see things, but there was no mistaking him. Vernon stood at the front of the bus, tapping his transit card against the reader with the same tired expression you’d seen beneath the convenience store lights a week ago. His cap sat low over his eyes, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame, headphones resting around his neck like he’d just stepped away from another long night.
His eyes scanned the mostly empty bus before landing on you, and a faint look of recognition crossed his face. It wasn’t the reaction of someone caught off guard so much as someone pleasantly surprised to find a familiar face in an unexpected place.
The bus wasn’t crowded by any means. There were empty seats scattered throughout, enough that he could’ve sat almost anywhere. Instead, after a brief glance around the aisle, he made his way toward the back and settled into the row directly adjacent from where you sat.
Then he looked over his shoulder.
“Hey.” He tipped his head up in a greeting.
“Hey.”
As the bus pulled away from the curb, neither of you felt any immediate need to fill the silence. It sat comfortably between you this time, carrying a sense of familiarity that hadn’t been there a week ago.
You lowered the volume on your headphones, leaving one ear uncovered. Beside you, Vernon rested his head back against the seat, his gaze drifting toward the windows.
“You always out this late?” he asked eventually.
“You always ask strangers personal questions?”
His mouth twitched slightly. “You keep calling me a stranger like you haven’t criticized my choice of beverage.”
“That’s true,” you admitted. “Very intimate of us.”
A soft laugh escaped him, carrying a warmth that felt strangely at odds with the cool, distant image people often attached to him. Sitting here on a nearly empty bus, he didn’t feel like a celebrity at all, just a tired guy with kind eyes and an unexpectedly easy smile.
Then the bus hit a pothole unexpectedly.
Your skateboard slipped sideways, rolling against your shoe before tipping awkwardly into the aisle.
“Shit!” You lunged forward too slowly, Vernon catching it before it could fully slide away further.
He turned the board automatically to hand it back, only for the movement to falter midway. His attention had snagged on the underside of the deck. The stickers weren’t exactly subtle. The faded Olympic rings peeling at the edges, the tiny Korean flag decal worn nearly white from years of use, and old competition tags still hanging near the trucks despite every reason they should’ve fallen off by now.
You watched his gaze move between each detail, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly as the pieces began to fall into place. His eyes lifted back to yours, recognition settled across his face, slow and certain this time, followed closely by realization.
“Wait.” You already knew that tone. There it is. “You’re that skateboarder.”
You rested your chin in your palm dramatically.
“Devastating. My secret identity has been compromised.”
He ignored that completely, still looking at the board.
“You won gold.”
“Technically.” You shrugged one shoulder, the movement made the silver rings on your fingers glint beneath the bus lights.
Vernon flipped the board slightly in his hands, inspecting the damage along the edges. “You still use this one?”
“Not in competitions anymore.”
“It looks destroyed.”
“It has personality.”
“It has trauma.”
That caused an actual laugh out of you. Loud enough that the university student a few seats ahead stirred slightly in their sleep. You covered your mouth immediately, grinning despite yourself, and Vernon looked pleased with causing it.
“You knew who I was the whole time, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly.
You tilted your head. “You’re in one of the biggest groups in the world.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I was being respectful.”
“You let me sit there trying to figure out where I knew you from.” He narrowed his eyes at you.
“You seemed committed to the mystery.”
He stared at you for a second before laughing quietly under his breath. You watched the city lights slide across his face through the windows.
It was strange. People usually slipped into roles the moment they recognized each other; idol, athlete, celebrity, brand. But sitting beside him now, none of that felt real. It just felt normal, like talking to someone you’d somehow already known longer than you should have.
“What were you doing out?” he asked.
“Skating.”
“At one in the morning?”
You looked at him flatly. “You were at a convenience store eating ramen at two in the morning.”
“Fair point.”
“What about you?” You asked in return.
“Studio.”
“Magic in the making?”
He sighed dramatically this time. “Unfortunately. Just hitting a roadblock in creativity.”
You nodded and leaned back into your seat while the bus carried on through the city. The silence between you settled and shifted naturally, giving way every so often to quiet conversation about music, travel, and favorite neighborhoods at night. At one point Vernon admitted he watched competition clips during tour downtime because everyone backstage got weirdly competitive about sports.
“You watched skateboarding voluntarily?” you asked skeptically.
“Mostly I liked watching people fall.”
You laughed again. “Psychotic.”
“I’m serious. It’s impressive.”
“You know what? That’s actually fair.”
The bus slowed toward your stop. You reached forward and tapped the button near the pole, the familiar ding echoed overhead. You stood, pulling your skateboard from Vernon’s hands.
“So what’s your name?” he asked, a small smile forming. He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it said properly anyway. You answered him and he nodded slowly like he was committing it somewhere mentally.
“Vernon.”
“Yeah,” you said dryly and playful. “I got that one already.”
He laughed under his breath again as the bus doors hissed open and cold air rushed inside. You stepped backward toward the exit, pausing just long enough to point lightly at him.
“See you around, convenience store boy.” Then you hopped off the bus.
A second later, Vernon looked out the window just in time to see you push off onto your skateboard, disappearing down the glowing sidewalk beneath the city lights.
The dance practice room was quieter than usual. Not empty, never empty, but caught in one of those rare in between moments where rehearsal chaos had temporarily paused. Sneakers lay scattered near the mirrors, water bottles lined up along the floor, and a faint hum lingered from the speakers even though the music had long since stopped.
Vernon sat against the mirrored wall with one knee drawn up, his phone angled slightly away from the others. A video played across the screen, skateboard wheels against concrete and the wind tugging at your hoodie. Your laugh sounded faintly in the background after you nearly slipped off a rail and caught yourself at the last second.
Your videos weren’t polished in the way sponsored content usually was. They felt like they were edited at three in the morning with too much energy and not enough sleep. City lights blurred across the screen, camera angles shook unexpectedly and songs changed halfway through clips because you apparently got bored.
It didn’t feel like the polished, carefully curated content that usually filled his feed. It felt like your life unfolding in real time, unfiltered and unapologetically yours.
“Yo, what are you watching?” Vernon barely glanced up.
“Just TikToks.” A head immediately appeared over his shoulder anyway, Chan narrowed his eyes at the screen.
“Since when do you watch TikTok like it’s a documentary?”
“It’s not that serious.”
But Chan had already spotted the skateboard. “Ooh wait. She’s kinda cool.” Before Vernon could respond, another voice cut in.
“Who’s cool?”
Mingyu wandered over holding a water bottle, curiosity already written all over his face. Minghao followed beside him, quieter as always. Mingyu leaned closer, observing the video playing.
“Wait.” His eyes sharpened. “Isn’t that the girl who won gold?”
Vernon paused, Minghao tilted his head.
“Olympic skateboarding?” Minghao asked, Mingyu nodded immediately.
“She’s all over my algorithm. I’ve seen her edits before.”
Vernon let the video keep playing as they lingered around him.
“Yeah it’s her,” Vernon said.
The answer came easily enough, but something about it made Minghao shift his attention away from the screen and onto him instead. To anyone else, it probably would’ve sounded completely normal, but Minghao knew him too well for that.
It wasn’t what Vernon had said so much as the way he’d said it- quiet and thoughtful, carrying a faint softness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Subtle enough that most people would’ve missed it, except Minghao didn’t.
It wasn’t excitement or a casual interest either.. just something.
Minghao didn’t say anything immediately. Instead he simply watched Vernon for a moment.
“What?” Vernon finally asked.
“Nothing,” Minghao said lightly. “You just sounded a little different when you said that.” Before Vernon could answer, Seungcheol’s voice echoed across the room.
“Gyu, Chan, come help move this speaker.”
Mingyu groaned. “Why is it always me?”
Chan was already backing away. “Because you’re strong.”
“That’s not a reason!”
They disappeared toward the other side of the room still arguing, leaving the air noticeably quieter behind them. Minghao dropped down beside Vernon. For a moment neither spoke, until Minghao decided to push a little.
“So what’s going on in your head?”
Vernon sighed. “Nothing.”
Minghao hummed like he didn’t believe him for a second, Vernon looking back down at the screen. The video had looped again, playing cuts of your skateboard under the lampposts of a city park. He locked his phone as he sat it down and turned to his left looking at Minghao.
“I’ve run into her twice.” Minghao stayed silent as he listened to him intently. “First time was at a convenience store. It was raining and I didn’t know who she was. We just talked and then I saw her again on a bus.” Minghao leaned back slightly. “That time I realized who she was. Famous skater and gold medalist.”
Vernon paused, his gaze dropping briefly to the floor. His thumb tapped absently against the edge of his phone as he searched for the right words. “The thing is, she knows who I am and I know who she is. We’re both public enough that it should’ve felt weird, but it didn’t. It felt like meeting someone before all of that mattered. Like for a few minutes I wasn’t an idol and she’s not a record holding skater. We were just two people killing time in a convenience store while it rained.” He smiled faintly. “I don’t know. She just felt warm.”
Minghao nodded slowly, taking in what Vernon was saying. Across from him, Vernon sat with his forearms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor between his shoes as if he were still trying to untangle the feeling himself.
“She let me think she didn’t know who I was.” That was the part he couldn’t stop thinking about. Not the convenience store or the bus, not even finding out she was an olympic gold medalist. Just the simple fact that she’d known exactly who he was and had treated him like it didn’t change anything.
“I don’t really know her,” he admitted. “But I kinda hope I see her again.”
Minghao studied him for a second before smiling faintly, then he patted him once on the back. “She sounds sincere.”
Vernon let out a quiet breath.
“You’ve already met her twice,” Minghao said. “Third time’s the charm.”
Vernon looked over at him. “That feels very optimistic.”
“I prefer intentional.”
Vernon snorted. “Intentional?”
“Manifestation. Positive energy. Trusting the universe.”
“You sound like an Instagram caption.”
Minghao grinned. “And yet here you are hoping to see her again.”
Vernon rolled his eyes, Minghao pushing himself to his feet.
“Relax. Let the universe work its magic.”
Minghao didn’t say anything else. He just stood, stretching slightly before stepping away. Vernon didn’t move right away, he stayed where he was, like something in him hadn’t finished processing the conversation.
A week later, Seoul felt different. The rain was gone, leaving behind a crisp kind of night air that bit just enough to make people pull their sleeves over their hands and walk a little faster. Streetlights spilled gold across glass storefronts, and the city moved in soft reflections instead of noise.
You stood outside a small record shop you’d passed more than once but never bothered to go into. It was tucked between a café and a vintage clothing store, the kind of place you only noticed if you were walking slowly enough to care.
Your skateboard rested against your leg as you lingered on the sidewalk, gaze drifting from your phone to the record shop’s front window.
The place was still open, a little surprising for nine at night. You considered moving on. There was a skate park a few blocks away, and that had been the original plan. A few hours of skating, maybe some food afterward, then home.
You’d always told yourself you’d go in eventually. Eventually, apparently, was tonight. It’s not like the skate park would be going anywhere. Shifting your board beneath your arm, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The bell above the door chimed softly when you finally stepped inside. Warm air hit you first- slightly dusty, comforting in a way only old places ever were. Vinyl was stacked in uneven towers along the walls, and somewhere deeper in the shop, jazz hummed low through hidden speakers.
You exhaled softly, taking in the warmth of the shop as you drifted deeper between the aisles. Your gaze skimmed over stacks of vinyl and handwritten recommendation cards until it snagged on a figure a few rows ahead. A familiar man, head slightly tilted, one hand trailing along the spines of vinyls as if he were considering his options without any real intention of choosing one. He looked more like he was passing time than shopping.
At the sound of your footsteps, he glanced up, and there you were.
For a second, Vernon just stared. Not because he was shocked to see you, but because some stubborn part of him had spent the entire week wondering if he would.
Minghao’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.
Third time’s the charm. Let the universe do its thing.
Vernon had rolled his eyes at the time. Now, standing in the middle of a record shop he almost hadn’t come to, he was beginning to think Minghao might actually be in tune with the universe.
His mouth twitched slightly before he could stop it. The universe, apparently, had a sense of humor.
“Hey,” he said. You blinked once before a look of amusement filled your face.
“Convenience store boy.”
“Bus girl.” Vernon smiled, you let out a soft snort at that.
You stared at him for a second. “Do you just appear places now?”
“I was here first.”
“That’s exactly what someone who appears places would say.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re making a lot of accusations for someone who keeps running into me.”
“Maybe Seoul just isn’t big enough for both of us.”
“Could be.”
“Tragic, honestly,” You joked. He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing the options.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “One of us should probably leave.”
But neither of you left.
The record shop settled back into quiet around you, jazz crackling softly through old speakers while people drifted between aisles like they had nowhere better to be. Whatever awkwardness might’ve existed between two people who’d only technically met twice never really had the chance to land.
Maybe it was because neither of those encounters had felt like the beginning of anything. There had been no grand introductions, no careful first impressions, and no effort to be charming. Just two strangers crossing paths at odd hours of the night, finding themselves a little more familiar with each meeting than the last.
You noticed it after a few minutes. Vernon wasn’t hovering, and he wasn’t crowding your space, but he also wasn’t disappearing into other parts of the store.He never moved close enough for it to feel deliberate, but whenever you drifted toward another aisle, he seemed to follow naturally, as though continuing the conversation mattered more than whatever record he had originally been looking for.
“What do you usually listen to?” he asked. You tilted your head slightly.
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“Why?”
“Because music opinions are irreversible.” He let out a quiet laugh.
“Okay. Least favorite artist.”
“That’s even more dangerous.”
Before long, the aisles had become little more than a backdrop to the conversation. You drifted from one topic to the next, arguing over overrated artists, defending albums that only worked after dark, mourning songs ruined by overexposure, and ranking movies whose soundtracks were somehow far better than their plots. The discussion never settled anywhere for long, and the two of you never seemed eager for it to end.
At one point Vernon picked up a record, flashing it your way. You narrowed your eyes instantly at the cover.
“No way.”
“What?” He asked, almost offended.
“You listen to them?”
His brows lifted slightly. “You sound very judgmental.”
“You don’t look like you listen to them.” You shrugged as you skimmed through another crate.
“And what do I look like?”
You turned and studied him for a moment, gaze flicking over him like you were separating image from reality. “Like you’re used to being looked at,” you said, “but not really used to being seen.”
Vernon let out a quiet laugh, but it slowed halfway through like his brain had caught up to what you actually meant. He looked at you for a second, then away again, rolling the thought around like it didn’t quite have an easy place to land.
By the time you reached the register, both of you were holding small stacks of records. Outside, the night had deepened while you were inside. Streetlights stretched across the pavement in long gold lines as you stepped out together.
Then came that pause, the kind that always shows up when two people technically don’t have a reason to keep standing next to each other anymore.
You shifted your skateboard slightly beneath your hand, Vernon rubbing the back of his neck once.
“So..” he started, then stopped. You watched him with quiet amusement as he tried again. “Are you doing anything after this?”
You shrugged lightly. “Not really. I was gonna go skate for a bit.” His expression changed immediately, interest flickering in before he could hide it. “There’s a park a few blocks from here, usually empty around this time.”
“Cool.” He nodded.
You could practically see it, the split second hesitation, the decision he wasn’t making yet.. so you made it for him.
“You wanna tag along?” His head lifted immediately.
“Yeah,” he said, like the answer had been waiting there the whole time. “I’d like that.”
The walk there felt easier than it should’ve. Not rushed or quiet in an awkward way either. Just two people moving through the city like they already knew how to exist in the same space.
The streets didn’t feel empty so much as paused between movements. Traffic lights cycling for no one, signs buzzing softly above shuttered doors, the air carrying sound from blocks away instead of the ones you were on.
Somewhere between turns, the conversation loosened. Movies, snack combinations, and random opinions that didn’t matter enough to be argued properly, but still somehow were.
You mentioned a movie you liked despite its rating, Vernon scoffed almost immediately.
“You’re telling me that changed your life?”
“It did.”
“It has like a thirty-four percent rating,” He argued.
“You don’t understand cinema.” You rolled your eyes.
“You don’t understand quality control.”
You bumped your shoulder lightly into his as you let out a laugh. It was brief, easy to pretend it meant nothing, but neither of you moved away after it happened.
By the time you reached the skate park, the city had thinned out. A few people lingered near the edges, most already packing up for the night. The concrete stretched open under pale lights, almost quiet enough to hear the distant traffic instead of it blending into everything else.
You stepped off the path first and dropped your skateboard onto the ground with a soft clack.
“Watch this.”
Vernon’s attention followed instantly. You didn’t skate like you walked, there was nothing careful about it anymore, just instinct. Speed built under your feet as you pushed off, the board snapping cleanly against concrete as you moved into the space like it belonged to you.
The board cracked against the concrete as you popped onto a ledge, spun cleanly, and landed without a wobble. You barely slowed before flowing into another trick, then another, each movement blending into the next with the kind of confidence that only came from years of practice.
Each landing sharper than the last, hoodie shifting slightly with every movement, hair slipping loose from beneath your beanie as you moved through the park like you weren’t thinking at all. Like you didn’t need to. When you finally slowed and rolled back toward him, you were breathing a little heavier, but smiling anyway.
“Well?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. Vernon shook his head once, a grin already pulling at his mouth.
“That looked awesome.”
Something in your expression softened at that..small, but real.
“You wanna try?” His eyebrows lifted immediately.
“I don’t know how to skate.” He admitted.
“So?” Your shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“That feels like important information.”
You laughed and stepped closer, holding out your hand. “I’ll teach you.” For a second, he just looked at it, and then he took it.
His hand was warm against yours despite the chill hanging in the night air. You guided him onto the board, keeping it steady beneath your foot as he tested his balance for the first time. There was a hesitation to his movements, a cautious concentration that felt strangely endearing, as though every instinct in his body was telling him this was a terrible idea while he stubbornly tried anyway.
“Okay,” you said. “Just stand.”
“This already feels like a bad idea.” His tone was weary, the board slighting wiggling from underneath him.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.”
You snorted softly, adjusting his shoulders a little without thinking too much about it. “Relax your knees.”
“Why?”
“So when you fall, it hurts less.”
“That’s comforting,” He said sarcastically. You laughed again, and for some reason he looked like he liked hearing it more than he should’ve.
He pushed off and immediately looked like someone negotiating a truce with gravity. The ride was wobbly, uneven, and completely lacking in grace, but he was moving.
“Wait-“ you started, then blinked. “Okay, you actually got it.”
Vernon turned toward you with immediate satisfaction. “Not terrible?”
“Don’t push it,” You teased.
“I think you’re witnessing raw talent.”
“I think you’re witnessing beginner’s luck.”
“You’re a hater.”
“I’m realistic.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of what?” You scoffed at his comment.
“My natural ability.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the board chose that exact moment to wobble violently beneath him.
“Oh no,” You uttered, watching the scene unfold in front of you.
“Wait!” Vernon yelled out as his balance disappeared instantly. His weight dropped too fast, and he went down hard enough to catch himself on his hands before fully hitting the ground. A breathless laugh from him followed immediately.
“Jesus Christ.”
You were already crouching in front of him before he even finished laughing. “Are you okay?” He looked up at you, still laughing like he couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or entertained.
“I think my dignity just left my body.” He joked, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “You saw that though? I had it for like a second.”
“You did.” Your voice softened a little as you said it. “Falling’s normal.” And then you kept talking- easy, automatic, like you were just filling space without thinking about it. Stories about learning tricks, about falling, about getting back up without really caring how many times it took, but Vernon wasn’t really hearing all of it anymore.
Not properly at least, because his focus had narrowed without him noticing.
The way you were crouched in front of him, close enough that the world behind you blurred into something unimportant. The way your expression didn’t change even after he fell, or the way you looked at him like it wasn’t a big deal.
Like he wasn’t.
Vernon wasn’t thinking. At least, not in any useful way. His thoughts had dissolved somewhere between your laugh and the way you were looking at him now, crouched in front of him beneath the glow of the park lights. You were still talking, still smiling, and completely unaware of the fact that he’d stopped hearing every word. All he could focus on was you. The realization arrived without warning and hit him with enough force to steal the air from his lungs.
He liked you. More than he should and more than it made sense after three chance encounters and a handful of conversations.
Before he could question it, and before he could convince himself it was a terrible idea, he reached up and gently cupped the side of your face.
Your words faltered, and for a brief moment, neither of you moved.
Then Vernon closed the distance between you. The kiss was soft and fleeting, born entirely from impulse. The kind of kiss that happened before caution had a chance to intervene, before logic could remind him of all the reasons he shouldn’t, and the second it ended, he knew exactly how reckless it had been.
For a second, surprise held you still. Then, instead of pulling away, you found yourself meeting him there, leaning into the moment before you’d fully had time to think about it.
It wasn’t much. Barely a movement at all, but it was enough. Enough for Vernon to feel it and enough for the realization to settle somewhere deep in his chest and make everything infinitely worse in the best possible way.
He pulled back like reality snapped into place all at once. “Oh my god,” he said immediately, hand already dropping like it didn’t know where to go. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just did that.”
“It’s okay—”
“No, I shouldn’t have—”
“I said it’s okay.” You reached out without thinking, fingers lightly catching his wrist, causing him to freeze.
Your voice softened slightly. “It surprised me,” you admitted. His expression was already panicked, like he was preparing for consequences that weren’t coming, then your mouth curved just slightly. “But I liked it. You’re a good kisser.”
He stared at you completely still. Then let out a laugh that sounded half disbelieving, half relieved.. cheeks already turning pink.
“Oh my god.”
You chuckled, as he covered part of his face briefly like that might fix anything. You stood first, still smiling, and held a hand down toward him.
“Come on, athlete.”
He took it and just like that, something shifted.. but didn’t break.
The tension didn’t turn awkward, it just softened. Like it had finally become something usable.
The rest of the night unraveled easily after that.
He tried again on the skateboard like he had something to prove now, and you walked beside him laughing every time he managed even a few seconds of balance.
You didn’t let the kiss sit heavy between you and neither did he. It just became part of the night, something that happened and then got folded into everything else.
By the time you started heading back toward the main streets, the city had quieted further.
Storefronts glowed warmly against the darkness, and the streets stretched ahead in long, empty ribbons of pavement as you walked side by side. The conversation never really landed on anything important. It slipped between favorite foods, albums you loved for no defensible reason, and movies you’d both spent years insisting were better than they actually were.
Somewhere along the way, neither of you noticed how much ground you’d covered. Not until the road ahead split in two directions.
You slowed first, your board resting against your leg. “My place is that way.”
He nodded toward the opposite side. “My bus stop’s over there.”
The pause that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just aware the night was coming to an end, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step out of the moment.
“I guess this is goodbye for tonight,” you said.
“Yeah.”
He shifted slightly, hands in his hoodie pockets, gaze dropping to the pavement for a second. Then you held out your hand.
“Gimme your phone.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Your phone, convenience store boy.”
He handed it over without arguing. You opened his phone icon and typed quickly, then gave it back.
“My number,” you said simply. “Text me.”
He looked down at the screen for a moment and smiled.
“Okay.”
When he looked back up, you caught him staring a little too long.
“What?” he asked.
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You’ve got something on your face.”
“Where?”
“Right..” You stepped forward, leaning in just enough that he didn’t have time to think and kissed him. Quick, light, and confident in a way the first one hadn’t been. Then you pulled away immediately.
“Got it.”
Vernon blinked as if his brain was struggling to catch up with the fact that you’d just kissed him and immediately acted like nothing had happened.
Then the color hit his cheeks, the kind that spread so quickly it made your chest ache with amusement. You couldn’t help but giggle, a soft flirtatious victory. Because for the first time all night, Vernon looked completely and utterly unprepared. His mouth opened slightly, like he intended to respond, but no words came.
You decided not to wait for them, a grin still tugging at your lips, you dropped your skateboard onto the pavement, stepped onto it, and pushed off backward.
“See you later, convenience store boy.” Two of your fingers raising to your forehead as you flicked them away in a salute to him.
Vernon was still standing there when you rolled away, staring after you with an expression that only made your stomach flutter as if a storm of butterflies was unleashed.