✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of alcohol and drinking, smut, tipsy/intoxicated sex, reader tries to play hard to get and stand up for herself but fails miserably, situationship? unprotected sex (pls wrap it yall…), mirror sex, dirty talk, sunwoo’s hitting it from the back, fingering, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, marking, flirty sunwoo, hints of jealousy from reader, brief mention of him being a manwhore, some angst
✦ word count: 7.1k words
✧ synopsis: you should’ve known pursing a relationship with a rising rockstar wouldn’t be easy. nonetheless, you can’t stray away.
✦ note: you can view sunwoo in this as a master manipulator/sleeze or a genuinely clueless, but ultimate simp for you— it’s up to the reader’s interpretation ;)
The raw, bitter taste of the liquid you just downed burns your throat, face grimacing slightly as a result.
Even more so when you don’t have a chaser, or even a lime on standby to counteract the strong taste.
But it’s honestly fitting. On the inside, you’re feeling sour. Pissed that you’ve found yourself here at this night club.
It was jam-packed, filled to the brim with people. They roamed freely around the room with laughter despite the overstimulation from the music booming and having to push past the crowd huddled together like sardines in a can.
Mostly everyone were either already, or on the verge of being wasted from sipping on alcoholic beverages, and/or doing unspeakable substances in the crappy restrooms. You also can’t forget about the stench of weed that clung onto the attire of some. And the clouds in the air every minute or so when people took hits of their flavored vapes despite them being banned in this joint.
That was the typical scene for a place like this, so you shouldn’t be annoyed. If anything, you should be blending into the environment like the rest. But that’s not particularly what’s grinding your gears.
No, what’s irritating you is the fact that you’ve yet again ended up here solely for one man:
Kim Sunwoo.
He’s the reason why you’ve been spiraling almost every day from thinking about him. The reason why you can’t bother to even think about accepting the advances of someone else trying to hit on you, or even consider the thought of being physically involved with another body. Sunwoo is the reason why you keep coming back here.
You first met him months back. During that time, he had just started getting small gigs at local bars and clubs for his band, Crimson Longing, or CL for short.
You liked to go out every now and again for some drinks with your friends, not really for the music, but just to get drunk while hanging out.
And during one of those fateful nights you did such, you encountered him. With his charms, he had convinced the owner to let him debut on a small stage with his other members, Changmin and Juyeon.
Although they were just starting out, their talents shown off instantaneously drew attention. Juyeon on drums, Changmin on bass, and Sunwoo front and center, serving as the lead singer, accompanied with his electric guitar.
It was difficult to not have ones eyes glued to the group. There was this fire inside of them that was exuded through their performances. The energy carried while performing was captivating.
They visibly had a passion for performing and being in the limelight. The talent was there, showing off diverse direction within their performances and music. Although their genre was mostly rock, they did present elements of hip-hop and r&b sprinkled in some of their songs.
Sweat soaked the boys’ clothes and beaded down their foreheads well after every performance. They gave 110% each and every time, their energy infectious, expanding off into the crowd.
On stage, they’d engage with the audience, communicating with the dolled-up girls through flirtatious winks, and shouting out scintillating or cheeky commentary that made the audience howl and raise the roof with noise.
Not only were they skilled on their respective instruments, but they also were easy on the eyes. Dangerously alluring with that combo of gorgeous looks and being talented musicians.
I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to or fall for these young guys in a band? Their styling consisted of dark, edgy attire and loads of accessories. They definitely looked the part of hot rockstars.
The clothing they wore corresponded with their cunning and chiseled faces. Their appearances stood out as intimidating with seductive undertones— especially their lead singer. He seemed like a mischievous-looking fucker.
Surprisingly enough, you ended up catching his eye.
Well… it shouldn’t have been surprising considering how much of an effortless charmer he was towards the girls up front that would bat their lashes, all provocative, and go as far as to shamelessly throw their bras on stage.
Whether or not he actually collected groupies and sought out for mindless fun with starving strangers, or was just a major tease remained a mystery to you to this day. Regardless, he fed into the attention he received with ease, even if he was just playing a role to the public.
From your very first glance and initial impression of him, you figured he was a man-whore. You have an idea of what the spotlight does to people’s ego, and no guy that looks like that is bound to be very ‘boy next door’ if you will.
Even so, you were no different than any other girl that got an ounce of attention from him. After countless games of eye tag, he eventually invited you back stage.
Your curiosity got the better of you, and although you were wary of him, your conscience advised you to fuck around and find out.
He complimented you, filled your ears with lines you wanted to roll your eyes at because you bet he has used them on other girls. Though, your cheeks and core flushed from the flattery otherwise.
You strived to remain nonchalant and not seem easy to his obvious advances, but he was a sweet talker. A very good one at that. You fell victim to his charisma, letting him butter you up and eventually have a taste of you.
The confirmation on whether or not he had his fun with other girls and just anyone was never clear. Nonetheless, you let him hit every time you attended one of his gigs. His efforts to woo and beguile you worked in his favor.
One night with you simply wasn’t enough. He found himself searching for your presence in the crowds. Suddenly you inhabited a spot in his head, and the songs and music he was performing were fueled with even more passion and enthusiasm because of you.
You were a wonderful fuck to him. Constantly being tantalized by the image of you, whether you were standing right in front of him, yards away, or even in your absence.
The demeanor you possessed was intriguing. He needed you to keep coming back for more of him. He needed you to make his nights and rock your world the way your beautiful ass deserved.
There was never a proper establishment or any communication regarding what this relationship meant, or was. You simply attended the clubs to watch him perform and end the night with hot and sweaty sex as often as you could.
You bit your tongue when it came to your second guessing or feelings that weren’t sexual. And you still persisted seeking out for him, never getting enough of him.
While everyone reeked of a little too much cologne and the devil’s lettuce, you reeked of desperation.
There was practically no contact outside his gigs, so you really only saw him in the dark, stuffy, and crammed place(s) where he delivered exhilarating shows. Followed by meeting you backstage in his room to have your own private and special show, his adrenaline pumping miles a many.
But as time went on, you grew exhausted.
Exhausted from coming to see him just for sex, no matter how delicious the dynamic was during it. Exhausted that you did all this for a boy who doesn’t bother to make efforts to see you outside backstage rooms. Exhausted that Kim Sunwoo roamed your mind day and night, driving you bonkers because he was too beautiful, dreamy, talented…
But it seemed like he didn’t care for you in the outside world.
You wanted more. Of course you fell hard for him. It doesn’t help that lately Crimson Longing is getting loads of gigs out of town, in various cities far, far away. News outlets reported that they’re being granted a ticket to a record deal.
Chances of them going global were going to skyrocket. He’s too invested into his career. You’re not blaming him. He’s got a real kick for music, and deserves all the success.
It’s hurting your heart, though. And you can’t go on with this chase that led to nothing but temporary thrill and emptiness when not around him. It feels degrading.
An end needs to be put to this. How could you be an idiot, letting this drag on for as long as it has?
That’s why you’re here. Another shot gets downed by you, alcohol coursing through your veins, hopefully giving you strength to survive the night.
Everything then happens so fast: The lights dim, music from the DJ fades out and ceases, noise simmering down to where only hushed voices were heard.
Once the instruments of the anticipated group were audible, the crowd bustled in shouts and cheers that only grew thunderous when the spotlight shined on the three boys of Crimson Longing.
From that point on you sorta blacked out. You weren’t near the front, but your view of the band was still decent.
The hyped-screams drowned out in your head from how the band swooped your attention. Yes, their songs and skill were engrossing, but that damn Kim Sunwoo took your breath away.
He managed to pull you into a trance. His airy, cool-toned, raspy voice alone was enough to trigger your senses, your brain flashing memories of past-conversations and sexual encounters.
That gorgeous human being knew all of your sweet spots— where you liked to be kissed, and used just the right amount of pressure with his hands, lips, and hips. It was only natural for you to keep coming back for more when he had a masters degree in fucking. How could you not get flashbacks?
He’s the male equivalent of a siren. He lured you in thanks to all of his smashing qualities. You were left hypnotized, steered into his direction, losing all good senses that tried to advise you that maybe fucking around with a rockstar wouldn’t be good for your heart.
Especially now as you know how it feels to have him inside of you, molding into you almost perfectly and providing you orgasmic sensations that were indescribable and unmatched. You got too comfortable. That dick of his has been good to you.
But it was never enough, it never was. Irritation and anger hits you when you think about the gaps and the silence he’s left you to fill. Was it really all worth it for one good night every once in a while?
You were drowning. He inevitably seduced you. Feelings on your part started becoming too much, Kim Sunwoo drowning any other thought you could possibly have.
All over one man.
“Shittttt, the crowd’s on fire tonight! You guys are getting us rock-hard.” Sunwoo’s words into the mic steals your attention. He tantalizingly grabs his crotch, smirking with a raise of a brow. Of course, the crowd only becomes louder.
That just pissed you off even more. How could you be so dumb to rage inside in jealously for him doing his job? He had an audience to please and rile up. The assets he possessed were an advantage to him. Who wouldn’t drop their panties or bark for some attention from a young, handsome rockstar?
Typically someone in his position wouldn’t be tied down to one person. But he had that claim on you. An imaginary string ties and pulls you to him, stuck on him unless you give yourself the strength to cut it off. It’ll only bother you if you let it.
This situationship is consuming you when it didn’t feel, nor was real apart from the physical aspect.
You had to cut him off.
———————————————————————————
Their set lasted a little over an hour. Crazy how you’d stick around just for Sunwoo. But at least their music actually was good, and you may have had one or two more drinks to pass time.
As already expected, one of Crimson Longing’s staff members found you and escorted you to the back. This became a routine whenever you’d attend their local shows. You’d walk down the familiar path to Sunwoo’s dressing room, stares of other locals eyeing you with jealousy and curiosity, whispering gossip regarding your relationship with the band.
Up to a certain degree, it did make you feel special. But was it really so gratifying to be basically used and feel degraded? As well as perceived as a slut or threat by the regulars? (They would never have the balls to say it to your face, though.)
The bustle of the club continued and music muffled the closer to his room you got. The effects of the alcohol were getting to you. There’s luckily no anxiety, but your body and mind feels numb and fuzzy, coordination growing weak.
Once you arrive to his room, the staff leaves you to it. You silently thank him and don’t even bother knocking, inviting yourself in with ease.
In that room lies Sunwoo reclined in a chair, glass of what you presume to be alcohol in one hand while a rag is dabbing the back of his neck in the other.
The intrusion prompts him to look up, smirking when he sees your form.
“There’s my baby. Come here.”
It’s irritating how the cadence of his voice, the pet-name, and viewing him in the flesh for the first time in awhile strikes lightning to your core. You were weak when it came to him.
Shutting the door, you’re left separated from the outside world with him. With a serious look, you approach him closer.
He smiles and lets out a small laugh once you’re directly in front of him. Shamelessly, his eyes rake over the length of your body. A black leather jacket kept your arms covered while your slip-on mini dress of the same color exposed your legs. That paired with the stunning makeup on your gorgeous face was a sight for sore eyes.
“Look at you, all dolled-up.” he nods, man spreading and bringing his glass towards his mouth, taking a generous sip.
Your expression remained dull while he looked so smug. He’s so annoying, but clearly not enough when your gaze lowers front and center at his crotch. The leather material of his pants caging your favorite toy looks too appealing. Your eyes don’t rest there for long, but Sunwoo of course saw where your pupils followed, making you feel pathetic and predictable.
It’s sweltering in here, you think to yourself. He still appears smug, and moves his now-empty glass and sweaty rag over to the table by his side. Like the needy-flirt he is, he rubs both hands over his thighs and pats them, gesturing for you to come and sit over him.
You really wanted to stand on business, but with the alcohol ingested, it’s lowering your inhibitions. You truly did miss his touch, and craved long for his physical affection.
That smirk of his was stupid and gave you the urge to slap it right off, but it was also infectious. It had you pursing your lips to withstand letting your lip corners curl.
Like the weakling you are, there you go inching towards him. You sat your behind and weight over one of his thighs, legs draping over his other. Like clockwork, your arms hooked around his neck to ensure security.
A hand of his moves to the small of your back, while the other rests over your thigh. He looks pleased, bouncing his leg a few times, pupils blown and thirsty for your attention. His dark eyes study your face like you’re a work of art, in awe to have gotten his hands on you.
That’s one thing about Sunwoo you do treasure. His ability to make it seem like you’re the only girl worthy of his time.
“Liked the show?” he murmurs. His low voice and full lips irresistible to you, making you choke back a whimper.
The tension’s unbearable to fight; your body already betrayed you. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your lips finally end up on his.
The makeout is passionate. Sunwoo does no attempt to hide his heavy breaths just from kissing, and your fingers tangled through his damp hair, too caught up in the taste of one another after being distant.
The different liquors you each have consumed tonight are exchanged through the wet kisses. If you weren’t already intoxicated enough, you definitely were now. Your senses were being overly stirred right now. The alcohol’s left you dehydrated, but Sunwoo is reviving you again.
“Was thinking ‘bout you the whole time.” he breathes out in between the zealous lip-locking.
While multiple factors are causing your mind and body to stupefy, you do indeed process what he has said.
Hilarious.
So comical that you bitterly laugh, separating your lips from his.
Sunwoo merely hums and raises his brows in levity, assuming you laughed from how funny the alcohol’s got you feeling.
“Don’t play with my feelings, baby girl.” he teasingly whines.
Wow. How ironic!
It doesn’t click that that’s not the case until he gravitates towards your soft appendage for more, surprised when you dodge another round of kisses. Genuine confusion floods his features, and you’re avoiding eye contact now, frowning.
“What’s up?” he questions now that the mood’s changed.
Your throat feels parched, straining to vomit out all the feelings you have about this whole situationship out of you. You’ve pondered day and night for awhile now about all the things you’ve wanted to say to him face-to-face, to perhaps truly end it all. But right now, you can’t.
“You can talk to me.” he utters barely above a whisper.
You really don’t want to kill your buzz right now. He looks so sweet and actually attentive, but one sweet moment can not possibly make up for the hollowness in your heart and question marks in your mind when he’s not with you. There’s got to be more for you outside of a very passionate but quick fuck every once in awhile.
“You know… if you really missed me, you’d actually make an effort to see me outside of these four walls.” you broke your silence.
He frowns a little at that, taken aback by your confession.
“If you’re just using me for quick fucks, go ‘head and tell me now. I’m a big girl, I can handle it, superstar.” you spat out, cheeks growing hot from the harsh words, angered to have allowed a boy to get in your head this bad.
He stares at you dumbly, lips parted slightly like he’s processing what you’re saying— or trying to come up with some good excuse.
You realize you really shouldn’t have even came here or given him the time of day, so you attempt to get off him, but he just holds you tighter and pulls you back down into him.
“Let me go!” you snapped at him, but respectfully, Sunwoo wasn’t going to let you go that easily.
“Hey— hey…” he calls to you, your expression exasperated. Unable to escape his hold, you at least turn you peeved face away from his own. But of course, he reaches out to carefully cup your jaw, directing your gaze back on him.
“You’re not just a quick fuck, baby.” he breathes out.
“Look, I’m sorry that i’ve been distant and haven’t shown you proper respect and love. I’ve been so busy— but that’s no excuse. I know that.”
His eyes appear to carry sincerity, but you’re still full of annoyance, as this wasn’t going to be solved right away.
“I know we never clarified whatever the fuck this is, but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t do casual. I shouldn’t have messed around with you in the first place.” your eyes grew glossy from the hot tears stinging to rain down. God, this was so embarrassing.
Sunwoo bites his lip, eyebrows slanting slightly in seeing you like this. “No— I want you. Don’t say that.” he pleads gravely.
“There’s a ton of other girls out there that are waiting to fuck you. Go shoot your shot with one of them.” you grumbled.
With that, you forcefully escape his arms, aggressively pushing off him and standing up. Unfortunately, you’re only able to get a few steps away before Sunwoo also gets up to speed in front of you.
Shock is filling your face initially when he drops his knees to the ground, now having to look down to meet his eyes. He’s dropped to this vulnerable position, demonstrating his desperation to keep you here with him. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily like that. He’s too hooked to let you walk out of his life.
“Sunwoo, get your ass up— don’t do that.” you scoffed with a frown. You didn’t want him to make this harder for yourself.
Though, seeing him get on the ground so abruptly, now looking up at you with big, glassy-looking eyes, pinched at your heart. Him in this position was a complete 180 from the confident and tough exterior he presented otherwise.
“I don’t and won’t touch anyone that isn’t you. You gotta believe me, baby girl.” he voices, feeling feeble in the moment but tone strong and laced with urgency.
There’s still doubt inside you even with his words, your throat tight and starting to gnaw on your lip to keep your sensitive ass under control.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been too caught up in my lifestyle to not do more for you. Fuck— I do care about you. Please don’t leave me— please…” his voice cracks, pleading for the life of him.
A hot tear or two manages to spill past your eye. The hurt tone in his voice and rawness of this scene is tugging at your heart, slowly cracking the icy coldness of the front you’re trying to uphold and have felt through the silence while apart.
His remorseful eyes continue to stare at you, visibly distressed and waiting for any sound from you. After a rousing performance, here he is unexpectedly on his knees, wishing that you wouldn’t walk away.
You’re not sure if he really gave a shit about you or was just this desperate for your pussy specifically, but the current sight of him like this might be enough to ultimately end the conversation of his behavior here.
You’re melting for this unforeseen vulnerability. Of course you’d not allow the radio silence and confusion you were left with to be forgotten, nor believe your feelings were not valid. But something about this side of him is making you think you should give him some grace.
Maybe you should reconsider being hasty about this. You were sorta drunk and although you weren’t sober, you’d like to think that you’re self aware and conscious of the decisions you make. You’re glad you just got some of those pent up feelings released, and now you need to do it via another outlet.
“I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll do better from—”
“I’m not going anywhere, but I will shove you if you don’t get up, boy.” you cut him off with a strict tone, leaving him wide-eyed at your words, not delaying in getting on his feet once he’s processed your threat.
He looks hopeful when he’s up, exchanging stares that carry uncertainty for what should happen next.
There is certitude that you each wanna fall into the established drill of allowing your bodies to talk through fiery sex. Especially while the liquor dispersed through your systems.
Neither of you dare say a word for a moment, until you can’t take it anymore and break that silence by stepping forward and extending an arm out to grab hold of the choker he wears, tugging at the material even if it’s too tight and yanking him towards your mouth.
He lets free a strangled gasp and whimper while he stumbles a bit as you guide him to you. You don’t waste more time further and push his plush lips against yours.
Breathlessly, he kisses you with no hesitance, devouring you with just as much urgency as you pucker with. Your hand that pulled at his leather choker snakes back and upwards into his nape, fingers mindlessly swirling and twisting his locks.
Teeth clash in between the frantic kissing, noses bumping together, breaths and hearts racing from the great need of sultry contact.
His hands dance all over your body, fumbling as he’s too caught up in chasing your lips and incapable of keeping them in one spot. They roam freely all over your silhouette and physical features, relishing every bit of you.
Actions are speaking loudly, exchanging lust for one another just through making out. Extra desperate after your confrontation and his newfound sensitive side that you’ve unlocked.
It’s almost as if you two are dehydrated. Not only from the liquor, but mostly from the absence of one another.
You bite, drink up, and swallow the taste of his mouth— tongues colliding, saliva exchanging, and teeth nibbling. At the speed and sloppy rate you’re moving, you two appear as a horny mess.
But you needed him. Caving to the pleasure and sweet, sweet attention Sunwoo could grace you with. Only he was capable of satisfying your needs and wants.
And he was just as addicted to you.
The kisses alone had you moaning, more so when his mouth began trailing away from your lips down to your neck. His lips cherishing and sucking one of your most-sensitive spots has prolonged, breathy sounds leap out of your mouth.
It’s body-shivering, those wet kisses turning your mind into static as he sucks intently until he’s left a mark that’d turn dark reddish-purple.
You didn’t even care, fingers tightening around his strands of hair and digging into his back, too consumed in the sensation, crumbling and aching for him to not let up.
That voice from earlier shouting doubts is too far away in the back of your mind. Now, all that enthralled you was those notorious moves of his, growing wet. You can’t refuse his luscious attention, softening and relaxing for him with open arms and drowning out any possible coherent thought you could have.
“There’s alot I need to make up for, but lemme do the easiest thing right now, hm?” he voices as he finishes leaving one of his marks, earning a whiny hum out of you.
So then you’re quickly pushed into a vanity, your backside facing fiery heat from his frontside. The neck kisses and fondling of your body doesn’t stop as he simultaneously with ease begins to remove all articles of clothing.
The sound of desperate breaths mingles with one another’s layers being pawed off and flung aside.
You meet one another’s eyes through the mirror once every piece of clothing has been discarded, skin on skin contact with him pressed up against your back, rock-hard cock glutted with excitement.
Both of his veiny hands settle over your breasts, balancing them and groping the flesh. You bite down gently on your lower lip, hairs on your skin raising and thighs squeezing together when his fingers roll your sensitive and undeniably tender nipples.
You softly moan, his movements natural yet stimulating, especially with how you have a clear view of the scene thanks to the mirror in front.
It has you shutting your eyes to bask in how he felt you up, but only for a split second before he suddenly tugs and pinches with a firm pressure, making you immediately open them, mewling and pouting at him through the reflection.
“Hey.” his warn comes out low but strong, sending a whirlwind-like sensation towards your core.
“Keep ‘em open for me. Wanna see those eyes when you take my cock.” he rasps, hands switching from your mounds to your hips, holding and rubbing along your sides like a trophy. He keeps his eyes on the prize that is your body, no intent to remove his sight on you, compelled that he gets to have you like this: Fully naked in all your glory, determined to fuck you like you deserve, and treasure you like he should.
“Put it in, woo. Please, baby.” you pleaded, your eyes and pussy full of ache, ravenous to be stuffed and banged by his cock.
Teasing and being a cheeky shit was one of his favorite hobbies, but he thinks he’ll have to move on quick with the foreplay, for he is also itching to fuck you.
His lips dip towards the side of your neck, licking your sensitive skin before pressing a generous kiss into the spot.
“Yes ma’am.” he affirms, simpering as he backs up just a bit to grab hold of his cock, running his fist along it to warm it up for you, evenly distributing viscous fluid that is already sitting pretty over his tip.
Normally you’d scoff followed by giving him a playful shove whenever he’d call you that, but he doesn’t allow any moment for that, slapping his dick up against your entrance.
That raises a squeal out of you, mouth gaping and body sizzling just from the outside contact of his manhood.
From that moment on, your body is on fire with lust. He drags his cock head over your folds, and then finally slides it past your slit.
“God!” you cried out from the anticipated-missed feeling. There is a mixture of the intensity from the slight pressure that came with the initial stretch and impact of your hole becoming jammed with his hard length.
“Not my name but close enough.” he titters, moving a hand to your lower tummy and patting it gently once he’s fully inside you.
Once again, you’d like to smack him for his response, but the beginning movement of his cock in-and-out past your walls knocks the wind out of you.
Your mind is blurred, not a single proper thought able to be formed when you’re becoming consumed in the feeling of your pussy so full and gorged.
Your walls greedily sucked him in, pleased with his entrance into you. Even though it’s embarrassing to admit, you were too attached to him.
Nothing beats having Sunwoo’s cock drilling you to climax, his broad frame up against you, his heavy grunts and breaths that emphasized how worked up he gets over having sex with you.
“Who’s that pretty girl, huh?” he voices breathily, nodding at the mirror, gesturing at the reflection of your figure. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, lips parted and growing close to drooling like a fool from how good he’s hitting it.
You don’t even think he was looking for an answer from you, but you should know better by now.
Suddenly he strokes into you with extra emphasis, lifting his hand from your abdomen to get a grip on your chin, making you squeal.
“Answer me, hm?” he grunts, hand still holding your face firmly. Your eyes are hazy, growing moist from how beyond turned on you are.
You look at yourself in the mirror with vulgarity, entranced especially when he slides his thumb over your lower lip, playing with the appendage by tweaking and strumming it, even going as far as to trace the outline of your bottom teeth.
“Hm?” he sounds out again, growing impatient.
“Me! it’s fucking m—me!” you moaned, eyes practically rolling back. Sunwoo was too fucking good at making sex incredible, feeling so sexy in your body and in this position.
“My good girl.” he praises lowly, letting go of your face and attaching both of his hands to your hips,
You’re growing weak, knees buckling as he knocks the sense out of you from behind. Losing your breath as he’s relentless with his pace.
You let yourself rest your elbows on the vanity for support, now bent over.
There’s no complaint from him. The change gives him a crystal clear view of your entire backside.
He grips your hips extra mean; the view of your body at this angle and the clapping of your cheeks charges the animal inside of him.
“Mine.” he growls, obsessed with the way your hot walls cling onto him during his out strokes, and the whiny, puffing noises that never cease.
There had to be something to slow down and interrupt your buzz though, as the startling noise of a phone going off joins your lewd sounds.
After a few seconds, it registers to you both that it’s coming from Sunwoo’s phone, but he refuses to acknowledge it, too immersed in chasing one another’s high.
However, you cannot ignore the pesky repetition of his ringtone that is killing the vibe and makes you anxious as it’s on-going.
“Sunwoo, just answer it. It may be important.” you sigh out with distress.
His thrusts let up and then cease, copying your sigh and then pulling his aching cock out of you.
“Fuck.” he groans, all frustrated as he jogs lightly to go pick up his disruptive device that’s sitting on a glass table— he really needs to keep it on silent.
Meanwhile, you pull yourself back up, puffing out some air, looking at your state, almost snapping out of your carnal mood.
Almost.
“What?” he bites out, clearly irritated.
You figure out quickly that it’s one of his band mates.
He moves back over to the vanity with phone up to ear, making you follow his movements through the mirror.
“I’m kinda busy, y’know?” he voices to the other end, startling you (even though you saw him coming) when he presses his front against your back.
From that point, you can’t even care or pick up on whatever the conversation may be about. Not with how Sunwoo’s still-hard cock digs against your lower back, not able to behave while on call and sliding his free hand around your front.
You attempt to give him a warning look through the mirror, but he just has a wolfish grin plastered, hand lowering until it reached your abandoned cunt.
He finds your clit while speaking to whomever. Your body quivers as he teases it by tapping it at first, then begins to use two fingers to rub at your delicate bud— all while he’s chatting it up over voice call.
If you thought this was naughty as is, Sunwoo decides to apply more pressure to his ministrations, making you lean back into one of his shoulders, growing feeble from his persistent playing while simultaneously trying to keep quiet in hopes that his band mate on the other end doesn’t hear a single smutty peep.
It only gets (yummier) worse for you when he pushes those fingers past your wet folds, holding your breath and clutching the edge of the vanity table to suppress the gasp that would follow under normal circumstances.
You wanted to curse him out so bad for being indecent and audacious enough to play with your pussy while being on the phone, incapable of keeping his hands to himself.
But your body always responded cordially to him. Your pussy dripped and squeezed for him. Your heart thumped to where you could practically hear it, and you fell into a state of bliss, palpitating and growing faint as he treated your body lavishly, making you feel wanted and most importantly: gratification.
His fingers dug into you, diligently swirling them and hitting the walls of your moist canal.
It’s so sick how he’s finger-fucking you now while on the phone, keeping conversation while he without issue entertains you both with diving his fingers into your sacred spot.
You’re growing flushed as he chuckles lightly at something that was said on the other line, winking at you through the reflection when you look at him with creased brows and a silent, wide mouth.
“Nah, man, don’t wait up on me. I already got plans; I’m bringing my girl to my place tonight.”
Those words come down on you and fill you with wonder and immense euphoria. Like a dog when they hear the rustle from a chip bag. Like a kid entering a candy store.
You tried to hide the kick you get out of hearing that he’s going to bring you to his place for the first time ever by biting down on your lip to prevent a dreamy smile or eager whimper.
You couldn’t control your body, though. Once those words were processed, your pussy throbbed and clenched his digits excitedly.
He continued sliding them in and out of you, a curse word slipping past his lips as your hot cunt swallows his fingers. Fuck, you responded so well to him.
He’s leading you closer and closer to your core snapping that it doesn’t even click to you when he ends the call until the loud thud of his phone hitting somewhere random in the room gets you to jolt.
“So, that made my baby happy? Yeah?” he teases, referring to the reaction you gave his fingers.
He smirks as he continues to drive his fingers into you, curling them with a slight but noticeable increase in speed, adding the zapping sensation of thumbing at your clit to fuck with you further.
You respond with breathy mewls, letting your noises free of constraint now that he’s got all of his attention back on you, no one else listening anymore.
The squelching of his digits swimming in and out your wetness and the way he’s tickling and brushing those sensitive spots makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open, breaths uneven as you’re unable to deal with the heaviness inside your core, relief approaching.
You know for a fact Sunwoo knows when you’re ready to cum, so it pisses you off when he decides to pull out and cease his ministrations, walls going from clenching around his fingers to nothing, already missing the feeling.
“Hmphhh! I was getting close!” you whined with your head thrown back, voice trembling, almost to the brink of tears. Your poor body and mind couldn’t take this. How could he be so annoying?
You feel like this is a game to him. He got off on seeing how worked up and fussy you’d get when he deprived or teased you until you were begging or scolding him. It showed him that you really did enjoy his touches and presence.
He tsks at you, calming you down by inserting those lathered fingers of his into your mouth, making you hum at the sudden invasion.
“I know, I know.” he coos, your eyes shining with hunger and want. You taste yourself on his fingers, purring at the act, but still aching as your cunt rages in jealousy from being abandoned.
Thankfully, he always delivers and fulfills your desires in the end. In the blink of an eye, his fingers are pulled from your mouth and he grabs his cock, shoving it back inside your warm, swollen pussy.
“Sunwoo!” you cried out as he squeezes his thick length past your folds once again, making you bend over like you were earlier.
“Yeah, baby? I’m right here.” he voices, leaning down and over your back, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder before raising back up and attaching his hands to either side of your hips.
And then resumed the physical exertion of slamming his cock into you, sliding in out of your juicy hole like there’s no tomorrow.
Moan after moan was drove out your mouth from his steady rhythm. His stroking is utterly heavenly as he hits your spongy spot over and over again, some thrusts done with extra strength than the last.
He grasps at your hips and pulls himself into you repeatedly, his own breaths rough and heavy, ascending off the hotspot that encloses his cock, both of you wet with fluids and pre cum, too thrilled out.
The penetration of his dick has your hole crammed with fullness of meaty length, all from the guy who makes you go nuts, but ultimately has your senses swooning and letting him grant you pleasure that’s intoxicating.
“You’ll cum for me, right?” Sunwoo growls, still fucking you with passion.
Your muscles spasm, everything beginning to tighten up. It’s like your nerves are on fire, and you feel this heaviness that needs to unleash.
His cock ridges slide back and forth, poking and hitting your pussy repeatedly until he makes you break, tension growing, and clenching as the peak was so close that you could practically taste it on your tongue.
“Cum, let go for me.” he rasps.
And with that, you do. Your core snaps and you melt into relief, twitching as your release pops and coats his cock, moaning breathlessly throughout the come down.
Sunwoo still pushes through his orgasm despite the way you grip his cock so fucking tight. Your orgasm and reactions has him grunting curse words, being the cherry on top to lead him to his own orgasm as well.
Your body is basically limp as he still pounds into you from behind, muscles spasming involuntarily.
His painfully-hard cock is so bloated, bullying your pussy how you both like, but you don’t know how much more your body can handle, way-past sensitive since you already came.
“Sun—Sunwoo! I can’t…” you weakly whimpered.
You know he needed to cum, and wanted him to. But god, was your pussy beat. Your eyes were tearing up from him finishing up his business.
“Yes you can, baby. Mhm— almost there.” he voices brokenly, his hips stuttering, jerking into your dripping cunt.
A couple more thrusts and he’s spurting out his cum, pulsating and growling as his sack empties out, perspiration all over his body.
He carefully drapes his body over yours on the vanity desk, loud heart beats and burnt out bodies clashing together.
His weight on top of you lowkey crushes you, but you can’t seem to care enough.
After a minute or so of just breathing, he brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, kissing your lobe before whispering lowly into it.
“I meant what I said on the phone by the way.”
Your heart that was on track to revert back to normal beats, picks up pace again at the mention of that, breaths shaky.
“Come home with me, baby girl.”
God, look at how the night’s ending; not what you had originally planned.
You thought it was finally time to leave him. Attempt at forgetting and moving on. But he found his way inside you again, and you truly believe he’d treat you better from now on, knowing what’s on the line and knowing what he has the possibility of losing.
The familiarity drives you insane, as much as it makes you sane.
synopsis » three years, limited communication. usually you would listen to your mum. but not this time. not when your heart still inevitably belongs to kim sunwoo. it's just that...does he still have space for you in his life?
pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader
trope/au » friends to lovers, slight strangers to lovers, (implied) rich girl x (not so) poor boy, non-idol au, slight high school au (flashbacks), university/college break au (is when the story takes place)
genre » super fluffy, hurt/comfort >>>>>>, SLOW-BURN (just look at the wc...), sunwoo and reader are blind and soooo lovesick for each other that i got really pissed at them both (...and i wrote them-), sunwoo takes care of reader so well, the boy is super in love with you, photographer sunwoo who loves to look at pictures of you (and him)
word count ; estimated reading time » 27,768 ; ...i am so sorry-
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » slightly suggestive, toxic family dynamic (reader with mother), mentions of unknown sharing of live locations, kissing, assuming others' feelings/thoughts, reader and sunwoo being unsure of themselves, swearing, insecurities, pet names (bubs), reader implied to be physically shorter and smaller than sunwoo, proofread chapter-by-chapter
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'
hmm...honestly, i'm not too sure how to start off with introducing this story 🥀 you're about to read a story that i've had in my drafts for a very long time because 1) i've been scared to write it and 2) i didn't have a lot of energy to write a story that means so much to me.
this story is a very dramatised way of what my life could be like if i followed my heart more. a happy ending...? maybe? we'll never know because we never know where life takes us. my mum is actually one of the biggest supporter in my life so the reader's mother role in this story is like a 'what if my mum wasn't the person she is?' 🥹 i'm super thankful for her, but sometimes i think about what would it be like if i got more support, you know? and sunwoo in this story? he represents everything that i would have chased if i wasn't so easily controlled by the world.
i'll forever be stuck with the 'if only i did it' but maybe-just maybe-i'll learn bit by bit to do what i want to do ❤️🩹 so here i represent you cupid's mistake's sibling and my longest fic by date to be published 🫂
thank you to everyone who listened to me yap about this baby and happy birthday, kim sunwoo 💗
ONE: SHE'S WHAT?!
It's a peaceful morning for Millie who has decided to reward her early mornings by sleeping in for the Sunday. Tomorrow, a new weekday would begin and rest is essential if she wants to deal with energetic primary school children for another week. Habitually, she reaches for her phone on the bedside table, scrolling through less important messages until one immediately rids any tiredness from her system.
"What?!" Her back springs from the mattress, eyes wide on the photo message from you.
Smiling like nothing matters in the world.
With a peace sign beside your face.
Beside you, an oval-like window.
Outside, blue sky and white clouds.
You're on a plane.
And judging by the way you decided to send this to her, Millie can only assume you're on the way here. Back to Korea. Back to your homeland where you haven't set foot for three years. You missed Christmas, your birthday, New Year and even Halloween with your best friend and her high school sweetheart as well as your cousin, Eric Sohn. Sure, care packages were sent and video calls were made despite time and body clock differences, but nothing can beat being in the same place with your loved ones.
Other than the fact that Millie had to borrow her mum's car without much explanation, the only thing she could think about is your unplanned arrival.
"How annoying." She isn't sure if she's talking about you or the traffic piled up nearer to the airport. "And the parking fee, too?! I'm going to make her pay for that..." A fake, somewhat menacing smile makes its way on her face at the double-digit fee at the first hour.
Regardless, you're still her best friend, and even though she has so many ways of scolding you, Millie would be there whenever you needed her. On the way, her mind couldn't help but wonder about the answers to your actions. You're not necessarily the type to do something so unplanned, yet at the same time, maybe she should've expected this with your insistence in coming back.
To come back to breathe Korea's air. To be back to celebrate all those missed occasions. To eat ramen with Eric by the Han River. To go on a shopping spree with her and regret the low figures of your bank account later.
Or to come back because you miss a certain someone.
Millie heaves a sigh, relaxing her shoulders and leaning against her seat. Her eyes drift to the photograph on her dashboard: a group graduation photo. There's a bittersweet feeling for the boy who has his arm wrapped around your lower back. Kim Sunwoo’s smile is not what they should be paying attention to, but his other clenched fist by his side, and the spark gone from his eyes.
"Can't blame him," a sombre smile forming on her lips. "Kim Sunwoo is a coward who has been pining for you for a long time, you know?"
It’s excruciating for everyone to watch you and Sunwoo hopelessly in love for the longest time. She and Eric promised not to involve themselves too much during high school, believing that there was still a lot of time to be spared. As time passed, so did the lingering wish that she at least nudged in some way. Given the external circumstances, though, would anything have changed even with her or Eric’s interference?
"The world isn't fair to you both. It sucks."
The grip on the leathered steering wheel supports Millie’s words. A few seconds later, another thought emerges, and her grip loosens. The fact that you're here, assumingly through your actions, could it be?
That you're trying to at least be fairer to your heart?
TWO: HALF OF THE GROUP REUNITED
It's totally unplanned- well, to a certain extent.
You were fully awake when you booked that plane ticket, fingers dragging across the cold touchpad. You were aware of putting in the dates of your one-way flight, clicking away. You were aware of the last minute packing accompanied by the sunrise, yawning mid-way.
Even on the plane right now, as the flight attendant asks you to put your window cover back up, you're aware of how the letters surrounding you will change. People will speak in Korean, almost foreign to you now. But that's okay. Because you're home. At the very least, with your heart racing like crazy, you've stepped foot into the place you've been longing for.
With that, not only the place but also the people. The ones you've missed dearly. The ones you kept in touch with for your years abroad; the ones that you were on the brink of losing as well.
"Oh," kind of breath taken with the bustling pace of the airport.
The adrenaline has run out as your shaking legs make it hard for you to walk. The shops within the airport have slightly changed, some undergoing renovations so you couldn't even take a peak. You chew on your bottom lip at the unfamiliarity of your homeland, wondering if this anxiety will fade. When your phone is spammed with messages, you know it will soon.
WTFKFJFFJ
HUH?!??? WDYM YOURE JN THE AIR?
BITCH WIPE THAT PRETTYS LIFTLE SMILE OFF YOUR FACR
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY DAY OFF INSIDE THE FUCKIMG HOUSEEWTFFFFF
WE HAVE A LOT TO TALK ABIUT MISSY
"Some things didn't change," you chuckle as you react to Millie's messages. Before you can go through all of them, your screen flashes with your cousin's name, bright and clear with the profile picture you haven't changed since high school.
"You’re in Korea?!" His surprised voice blasts through the speaker. You flinch, distancing your phone away from your ear. "Girl, why didn’t you tell me?! Did you tell Millie?! Or Sunw-”
"Not even a 'hi' or 'hello'?" Grumbling at the lack of greeting. "Millie is picking me up soon, okay? I'm gonna have to listen to her yapping, so spare me the double lecture, Eric Sohn."
"You have no right to use my full name!"
Arguing with Eric over the phone like this, without seeing his wide eyes and flared nose feels weird as you're so used to videos. But you reassure yourself that this is better as you'll be able to see all of that first hand soon anyway.
"Ok, well, surprise? I'm in Korea!"
"No shit, you're in Korea?!" Eric cheers on the other line. "Clear your schedule out today! And tell Millie to pick me up after! Actually, you should come to sleep over at my house today!"
Right...the accommodation problem. There isn't one, especially when Eric is offering. But you also did promise yourself to muster the courage to at least go home, greet your parents first (and maybe get their lectures first and foremost) before going out to clear your head afterwards.
They don't know you're here.
You’ve gathered all your wages for the plane ticket, even upgrading your check-in weight for the one-way ticket. Millie is the first person to know of your arrival, and you only hope that it stops with Eric, but you're beginning to doubt that with his excitement. At this point, his whole neighbourhood would know of your return.
You've been dreading to see them, but you know dragging it out would be worse. You're in trouble for going against their words big time. For all you know, they could send you back without another word. "I have to tell my parents I'm here, Eric."
Your voice is low, head hung down as you stare at your lap. Eric realises the severity of the situation by your tone. Are your parents even going to let you live after showing up like this? Your parents are strict, expecting obedience with no explanation needed. The only difference is that the man isn't always home, and you hope that’s the case this time too so that you'll only deal with one thing at a time.
“You bitch!!” The booming voice attracts bystanders and takes you out of your thoughts. You couldn’t even identify where the voice came from when your back takes the weight of friendship. “You are so dead!”
“Let me live!” Smacking Millie’s hands away.
“You let me live! I’m supposed to be rotting in bed, yet it’s twelve. I haven’t eaten breakfast, you’re here without a warning and-”
“Okay, I’ll buy you food! Just let me go!”
THREE: BELLY FULL, WALLET FULL
You swear that getting free food has been Millie’s plan all along. What made it worse is that you had to pay for your cousin, who you’re also convinced is on a mission to clear your wallet. As the two lovebirds chomp on their food with satisfying hums and thumbs, you know that some things didn’t change. With your three years abroad, Eric did visit you once in a while, and so did Millie last year. Both still stayed pronounced in your life.
“You booked the ticket three days ago?” Eric exclaims with a full mouth. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Whatever. I know you’re happy that I’m here.”
But the truth is that you knew that if you left it for too long, you would never have gotten on the plane. The ticket is expensive despite factoring the cheapest date and time. Even so, you know it’s best this way.
“And so? Are you going home, or are you staying over at my place?”
You shrug at the question. “I think I’ll just go home and break the news today. There’s no point dragging it on for longer.”
“Or your mum doesn’t have to know,” Millie suggests.
“Got a tracker app on my phone. It’s not gonna work. Honestly, I'm sure they know that I'm here and waiting for me.”
It’s a grim reminder for the couple who stops chewing on their food, solemn eyes on their half cooked beef. They understand that being abroad, it’s not a bad thing to keep a GPS tracker on your phone. They would understand and agree with that, but in reality, your mum has kept a tracker on you ever since you had a phone.
Throughout high school and twenty-four-seven, she sent messages when they knew you weren’t going to make it home before curfew. As your friends, they try their best to keep their thoughts calm, respecting the set boundaries. Deep down, they’re sick of your controlling parents, and Millie rolling her eyes is an indication of it. Your shoulder bumps into her intentionally, giving her a smile that isn’t quite genuine.
Millie dropped the topic, moving onto one that she had been dying to ask since she picked you up. “Does he know? Did you tell him that you’re here?”
No name has been given, but everyone at the table knows exactly who is being referred to. The table is quiet; only the meat crackling on the stove and the loud ventilation of the overhead vacuum hide your nervousness. Millie spots your fingers playing with the cuffs of your sleeves, finding out the answer herself.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, Millie,” a blatant lie. “He really did limit his interactions with me for the past three years,” a painful truth following.
“Why are you here then? I know you’re not here just because you miss us. Or Korea. Or that you’re homesick.”
Hesitancy fills you, your voice refusing to come out. “I don’t know,” you repeat your denial.
“I know you know,” Millie called you out. “You know what? This isn’t productive,” she chugs the rest of the water in her cup, distributing the rest of the food between three plates. “Hurry and eat. We’re going somewhere.”
FOUR: A GLIMPSE OF HIM
The streets outside slowly shift from familiar buildings to new ones. At first, you thought that maybe being away from Korea was to blame, but looking at the street name and the GPS on Eric's phone, you're sure that you've never stepped foot in this area. Asking the purpose of why you're at this seemingly random street that has been shut down multiple times, Millie’s “you'll see” becomes the routine answer.
The side of your head leans onto the window, eyes gazing over the new sight. Even though nobody’s telling you anything, you can't help but be mesmerised by the new buildings. The purpose of this ride becomes evident when Eric secures a side road parking directly in front of a camera shop. From the exterior, the paint job is pristine and smooth. Either the weather hasn't eroded the white colour, the owner repaints often or the paint has some tough defense.
Millie peeks through the rearview mirror, your raised eyebrows wanting an explanation. “We're here. Get out of the car.” She and Eric hop off, prompting you to do the same.
The car door shuts in one swing, but your arms flail exhausted next to your body. “I still don't understand why we're here-” It seems like Millie is growing impatient with your lack of analysing your surroundings.
Your best friend holds both your shoulders firmly, aligning your body with the camera shop. At first, your head shakes at your tattered reflection, and your mouth opens to complain until the figure inside the store shifts your attention from yourself to them.
On the opposite side of the glass, Kim Sunwoo kneels to be on the same eye level as a weeping child. His hair is jet black, unlike the brown that you last saw him with. His strands are all over the place, not an unusual sight when it comes to him. Your fingers twitch as your instinct from high school comes, recalling all the times you parted his hair neatly, brushing his bangs out of his view. Sunwoo’s distinct toothy smile calms the child, the parent beside him heaving a sigh of relief. But for you, you stop breathing for a while, breath taken away by the sight that you have missed the most.
“It's actually him…” Your eyes refuse to blink in fear that he might disappear.
Three years seems to be enough to change some things while others stay the same. However, the lingering feelings that you have for the boy just by a flash of his smile resurfaces. Suddenly, you know coming back is the right choice, but seeing Sunwoo right now isn't just yet.
“This store is his,” Millie informs softly beside you. “It’s a small store but never his efforts. Did it all by himself.”
You audibly gasp at the news. You could imagine all the hard work Sunwoo had put into the store, both mentally and physically. The privacy inside the store is partly protected by a cloudy sticker, but shelves of his products peek out, lenses of cameras on display, waiting to capture someone's memories.
As the sunlight reflects off a lens, you let the light guide your feet forward. You let your feet gravitate closer, curiosity piqued at the store before you. The first step is easy, but the second displaces the light from its position.
"I'll come back tomorrow. I'm sure he's tired and doesn't want to see anyon-"
“Go and talk to him,” Eric cuts you off. “Besides, it's his birthday today.”
"We’re gonna go buy a cake really quick. You go on ahead and surprise him," Millie encourages with a slight push on your lower back.
Your eyes flicker to your two best friends, smiles reaching their eyes as their gazes point to the entrance door. They don't spare you a chance to rebut, linking their arms and skipping away. The 'open' sign has just been flipped away by its owner, and even through the clouded glass, the full body stretch that Sunwoo rewarded his tired muscles with relaxes your heartbeat. Your feet slide towards the door, cold fingertips reaching the metal handle. All you need to do is push, and the hinge of the door will welcome the cooler air inside. It would also give you a proper introduction to the boy that you have been missing.
And that's all you want.
You just want to see Kim Sunwoo again properly. So your arm pushes against the curved surface, feet stepping into glossy tiles from gravel. The room is minimalistic, with barely a speck of dust infiltrating the crevices of the shelf. The walls are kept clean and white, seemingly expanding the room. Each shelf is neatly polished, and the names of the products, along with the price written to avoid confusion. Various levels of shelves, ranging from the floor to the ceiling, to fully glassed cabinets for display surround the room’s perimeter. The goods are placed neatly in rows, the label facing the front to greet the customers with no doubt of what they're looking at. The space wafts of musky cologne and new cardboard behind the front desk. Just from a single glance, Millie is right: it's obvious that Sunwoo put his all into this store.
Then the cashier table: slightly less organised, stationery scattered all over the papers that hid the surface of the white table. It brings a nostalgic smile to your face, knowing that Sunwoo is still as messy. The number of times you gulped did nothing to the tears that gathered around the bottom of your eyelids, and you tried your best to stop them from escaping. Behind the desk, the owner sits and clicks away on his computer for a little longer. When he registers the tapping on the floor to not be his impatient ones, he looks away from the big screen.
“Sorry, we're clo-”
The customer service smile that Sunwoo has prepared, the higher pitch and the louder volume vanish at the sight of you. His eyes widen, making sure that he's not hallucinating from the lack of sleep, his lips parting. The hand on his mouse clatters when he stands, feet rooted to the ground as he proceeds to stare and blink at your presence.
“Hi…” are the only words that come out from your lips as you will yourself deeper into the store. Soon enough, you're centimetres away from the other side of the desk Sunwoo stays stuck at. You held onto your bag as tightly as your chest is starting to feel with his stare.
"A-Am I dreaming? Are you real...?” A hand sweeps his hair back. “W-What is going on...?"
Your heart swells at his reaction. At the very least, it's nice to know that he isn't kicking you out. "I came back this morning. Millie picked me up,” shrugging your shoulders away as if it wasn't a big deal.
But to Kim Sunwoo, it is. It's a very big deal.
His eyes scan over your figure, dressed lightly in the coming warmer months. Your fashion style didn't change from memory, and neither did the way your eyes sparkle. Sunwoo steps out from behind the counter, his blue hoodie and long baggy pants coming into full view. He's dressed very casually, contrasting the professionalism of having a job, and that's so Kim Sunwoo of him.
No barrier stands between you and Sunwoo now. You didn't think you would be reaching into your bag today as you had no expectations of seeing him. A box rests on your palm as you extend it towards Sunwoo. The boy averts his gaze to your wonderful wrapping skills.
“Happy Birthday, Sunwoo,” you congratulate him. “Just a little something from me to you.”
He left your arms hanging for a while, his forgetting how to move from his side. Your heart grows wary as he examines your handwriting of his name on the tag, your arms slowly retracting back to yourself. Before you can, Sunwoo mutters his gratitude, finally accepting your gift. You release the tense breath, shoulders loosening with the touch of his skin.
Then, you announce something that would drastically change Sunwoo’s schedules, “I'm home.”
FIVE: (SOMEWHAT) EXPERT ADVICE
Eric and Millie show up with a fully decorated cake with declarative toppers a few moments after. The four of you clutter around the front desk, devouring dessert before the main dinner meal. Conversations are loud, not letting silence take over at the reunion. You and Sunwoo haven't interacted much ever since the other two came, but you're satisfied with the shared moment now. Smearing cream onto each other's faces, photos clicking to capture the tradition, blasting music from Eric's phone as Millie fills the unknown lyrics with gibberish.
It's so nice to be home like this.
You didn't realise the eyes stuck onto you the whole time, stolen glances on top of it as the past two hours flew by. Sunwoo didn’t expect to close the store with a bright smile with sweet remnants on his face from the last few days of exhaustion. Today, though, the only thing exhausted is the storage space of his phone.
“Let's go for a proper dinner!”
“Convenience store dinner?” You add on to Eric’s words, “Just like back in high school.”
“Broke dinner,” Millie agrees with the idea.
Your eyes shift to Sunwoo, waiting for his answer. It's then that you notice him already striding away. “You guys go on ahead. I need to head back first. Thank you for today.”
To say that your heart drops at his answer is an understatement. Did Sunwoo really not want to be near you that much? Did you possibly ruin his day? You automatically occupy your mind with such thoughts, missing the way he turns his back to start walking the opposite way, and the last glance he spares your way. You take notice of his deflated shoulders, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you had to force yourself to look away to save the rest of your heart.
“Actually, I just remembered that I left something at Sunwoo’s house! You two go on ahead!” Eric attempts to be subtle, but not with how he rushes to blurt out his words.
Millie takes notice of your clenching hands, sympathetic eyes falling onto you. “He's not happy to see me, I guess," a lifeless chuckle followed after.
"Don't be ridiculous," Millie reassures. "He's just shocked, that's all."
"But he looks kind of disturbed with me being here, you know? Maybe he doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. He has spent the last three years barely texting me after all…"
Millie has always been the friend to say otherwise to your negative thoughts. She has an almost perfect success rate in making you feel better whenever you feel down, but this time, she's speechless. There’s nothing that she can offer other than an engulfing hug, letting some of your tears fall onto her shoulder while she pats the back of your head. No one knows why Kim Sunwoo decided to cut you off from his life.
And that’s what Eric Sohn wants to know, or at least confront him about.
"Way to go, Sunwoo.” Eric’s remark is snide, a hint of amusement but also expectancy of his treatment towards you.
Sunwoo scowls at his company, "Stop it, Eric."
"Why don't you give her a chance? Your heart a chance?"
“Yeah? Don't you remember what she went through because of me?"
Eric scoffs, disbelief at a past event that Sunwoo has evaluated negatively without hearing your side. He turns to his friend. "What did she go through, Sunwoo? When was there ever a time when she was sad with you?"
His steps pick up, wanting to avoid this conversation for the nth time, "Maybe not with me, but because of me."
"Really?” Her tone rose sharply, "Because as far as I remember, the only time she was sad because of you was when you weren't there to see her off at the airport because you apparently overslept.” A grimace makes its way to Sunwoo’s face. “As if anyone believed you.”
Sunwoo shakes his head, fist wanting to wreck havoc, "It doesn't matter. None of that matters. She's going to leave again, and we’ll be out of touch. It's better that way."
"You're an idiot,” Eric raises both hands in despair. "Give your heart a chance because for the last three years, all I see in your eyes is longing." And you need to see the same thing in her as well, the cousin thought to himself.
“Give it a chance only for it to break?”
His best friend decides to ignore the comment, phone lighting up with a reminder set for tomorrow's events. “The festival is tomorrow,” Eric raises a corner of her lip, plotting something in his head. “You're on pick-up duty.”
“What? No!”
“You can't just wait for the right circumstances to come, you coward.” The two friends arrive at the end of the shared road. Eric waves his exit, leaving a flabbergasted Sunwoo behind, intending to cut the birthday boy some slack. But true friends being true friends, his words still leave him with no mercy after all. “Some are made.”
SIX: TAKE ME AWAY
The last time you attended the mentioned beach festival was four years ago before you left. It was the last year of high school, stakes running high as students buried their noses into teared-up textbook pages. With how harsh each page flip gets with each passing second, it’s a miracle that the page is still intact with the book’s spine.
The memory seemed so distant yet everytime this time came around each year, you couldn’t help but to long for it. For now, academics is for another country and you're not there right now. You occupy the next half an hour on your phone in bed, scrolling through social media when the annual beach post festival reminder pops up on your screen.
“Oh…” Your thumb hovers to the comments section, scrolling through countless usernames tagging their loved ones to inform them of the event. “Should I go…?” But then the no company makes you swipe the app close, “Nevermind.”
Laying on your side, you’re met with your wall, allowing your mind to wander. You recall the time Sunwoo stubbornly got hurt a few years back just so that you could attend the festival, desperately wanting to take you. The dry air transports you back to the time when you surrounded yourself with the glossy finish of your chemistry, psychology and human biology books spread on your massive study table.
“This is so…” You let your sentence trail off, telling your conscious mind to read the next sentence, to just hold on for another page.
The headphones are ripped out from the comfort of the top of your head, now dangling pathetically around your neck as you rest your forehead on the staggering amount of words. Doing this non-stop for three hours without a break is not effective, but you can't bring yourself to rest.
You knew you should’ve gone to the library, but you needed to be able to say the words out loud for memorisation. You knew you should’ve studied in the cafe, but the aroma of chocolate and coffee would empty your wallet. You knew you should—
“Ouch!”
The thudding exclamation came from the left, where your open window is. Judging from the location of your room being on the second floor, you deduced that something (or rather, someone) must have injured themselves. Instinctively, your hand reaches for your phone to inform the guards, but it halts at the familiarity of the voice.
You cautiously approach the window, a pillow in hand as a (not so effective) weapon for whoever is waiting on the other side. Your head takes quick dips in and out of the sight of the outside world, a glimpse of a blank-haired boy sitting on the ground. Deeming it safe, half of your lower body is out of the comfort of your cooler room, the golden hour highlighting your face. Just as you expected, the boy looks defeated at the fact that he can’t reach your window’s apron, his butt glued to the soil and a hand clamped on the side of his head.
Sunwoo hasn’t noticed your presence, mumbling incoherent curses to himself as he continues to massage the pain out of his head after falling for a second time. You chose not to break the self-talk that the innocent boy is doing, now pacing around the area in a small, endless circle to the point that he could leave his trails on the grassed area. A hand slaps over your mouth, keeping the volume of your chuckles as minimal as you can as you hear the adorable self-encouragement.
“Ah, crap! I gotta be quick!”
“Wait, it’s six already?!”
“Okay, okay, okay. I’m getting a grip now! Let’s do this!”
You watch Sunwoo retreat a bit further from the wall of your house, a small smile appearing on your face as you see a similar expression start to take over his face, yet comparatively, it’s different and so much more genuine. If the raised corner of your lips is full of hesitancy, negativity and is fictitious, he holds the meaning of confidence, positivity and perseverance. It’s one of the many things that you love about him, and the rays of heaven shining down on him make you melt into the thought of Kim Sunwoo every time.
Maybe it’s not something that a ‘clueless eighteen-year-old’ should think about, as your mother says, but the heart knows the truth. But all it takes is one person to make you feel the emotions that you can't receive and feel in this household. Your shoulder muscles relax, and the weight in your chest lifts whenever Sunwoo is within reach.
“Kim Sunwoo…” fingers clenching the painted window frame, “when will you ever leave me alone?”
The easy answer to that is never.
Simple and true—just like your love for him and his love for you.
Clouded in your thoughts, you lose track of Sunwoo’s attempts to break in. Another exclamation breaks your daydream, and you feel bad for almost laughing at Sunwoo’s misery.
“What do you think you're doing?” Making your presence known to the boy downstairs.
It’s interesting to see how his smile sprouted more as he craned his neck up so much that you worry about the cramp that will arise later on. The beam plastered on his face takes your breath away.
“This makes my life easier!” Sunwoo jumps around like a child at the sight of you. “Come on! Let's go!”
The slight shake of your head and scoff tells Sunwoo your first thoughts, “You know I can't, Woo,” and it dulls the radiant atmosphere that he has been emitting.
“I’ll bring you back.” No doubt about that, and for some reason, it’s a miracle that your parents have never caught you. “Your parents won't even know,” he reinforces his will of bringing you out.
“It’s funny how you say that when you can't even enter through my very open window.”
“I’m sorry that I haven’t mastered the art of floating,” he sassily remarks with an eye roll. “Come on! Eric and Millie are waiting!”
It's scary to even think about running away with an ominous presence behind you, even though your mum is away for the next few days. With how much you’ve been cooped up between your four walls, you could recite the little scratches on the wall, the same ones that made your mum throw a tantrum to the painters who you believe did their job as best as they could. In the end, those hard-workers end up leaving with no pay, stinging you that you share the same genetics as one of the two figures in your life that you’re supposed to be able to trust and look up to.
“It's okay, Woo…” your mind already reciting the reactants to carboxylic acid, “but thanks for the offer.”
“Just two hours!” Holding up corresponding fingers to you. “Then I'll take you back home! Now jump, and I'll catch you! Promise!”
You know very well that Sunwoo wouldn't let you fall, however the height is crazy for you and his words aren't the most trustworthy. “With what muscles?!”
“Hey! You know I wouldn't dare to drop you!” He retaliated with his two arms up to the sky.
His open arms tempt you to do as he says instead of taking the long way down, even though the difference in time between the two routes is barely different. You find yourself sitting on the ledge of your window and in Sunwoo’s arms seconds later. The warmth of the sun is nothing compared to the hold he has on you, body shaking as he sets you on your feet. Your hand clamps on his t-shirt, eyes welling up at the caring orbs he has for you.
“See? Told you I would catch you.” The loose strands of your hair are tucked behind your ears. Sunwoo exhales at your tears, thumbs wiping them away, “You can cry if you want.”
“Mhm…” You nod whilst still keeping eye contact with him.
“It's okay,” he shakes his head at the threatening waterfall, “cry it out.”
His hand pushes you to his chest, fingers lightly massaging the back of your head. “It's just…I can't…”
“Yes, you can,” he argues. “You're the smartest person I know, and you're going to do well. I promise.”
“You’ve been promising me a lot of things…”
“Because you’re worth all of them.”
You got caught that day as your mum finished her business earlier than expected. Unfortunately, that was also Sunwoo’s first meeting with her. A beautiful day turning into a mess. Needless to say, the restrictions placed upon you increased, and freedom immensely decreased. You could no longer hang out with anyone after school, not even in the library during the weekends. The want to see your friends outside of the school only increases when you knew you were leaving, but your parents stood their ground.
And now, all grown up, sometimes when you're given the ability to do what you want, you simply can't.
Outside your house is a different story. Sunwoo paces around outside your gate, rewriting his text to you for the third time. “Or I could just turn back and go home!”
During his mental breakdown, the text accidentally sends, and the ‘seen’ receipt appears almost straight away. “...WHAT?!”
im outside…?
You've never skipped down the stairs, stumbled over the air and almost embarrassingly face-planted to the ground. The click of the front door opens, revealing the crease between your eyebrows, eyes scanning your front yard for the unexpected visitor. The little wave outside your property catches your attention. Sunwoo is leaning on the hood of his car outside your fence.
With a touch of the button, the front gates creak open, and you usher Sunwoo in as you hurriedly slip on shoes, once again almost stumbling. Sunwoo's head shakes at your invitation, pointing at the ground as he offers you a reassuring smile.
You watch Sunwoo attending his phone, the device against his ear. Your phone rings shortly after, Sunwoo's name on your screen. Your thumb clicks on the green button with no hesitation.
“You look tired.”
It's such a wonder how he's able to catch your expression from far away. But truthfully, he couldn’t. Sunwoo just knows everything about you, including the implications of your slightly draping shoulders.
“My mum chewed me out for coming without notice and, I quote, ‘Running around Korea before heading home first' and also said that I'm ungrateful,” you shrug at last night's lecture. “But what's new? She's kind of always like that.”
Sunwoo hums, “I'm proud of you.” You’re taken aback from the words, not fully understanding them. With your silence, Sunwoo takes it as a cue to explain, “That you came back here because you wanted to. You always obeyed your parents, which to a certain extent is good, but I’m sure you know what’s good and bad for you now.”
“Oh…” your neck hangs low, kicking the small rocks away from the sill of the door. A faint smile grows as you begin to acknowledge your bravery in coming despite being afraid of the “what ifs. “Thank you, Sunwoo.”
Sunwoo nods, a tender gaze overlooking your figure from afar. “You can take a nap in my car if you’re still tired…if you want…”
An eyebrow rises at the question, bringing your head back up see Sunwoo shrugging his shoulders. “Are you asking me out?"
"Maybe," he chuckles, and you see the way he shifts his sitting in slight excitement, eyes fondly setting on you. "The annual beach festival is today. You haven't gone in a while, and I was wondering if you want to go with us again. Eric and Millie are there already."
Your eyes widen, wondering at the perfect timing of it all. If your phone was fragile, it would have shattered underneath your grip. You stand stunned for a minute longer, and there's a beat of the crows cawing in the background. Sunwoo nervously fidgets with his keys as he waits. After a while, he misinterprets the silence, slowly getting up to leave.
“I-I guess you're busy. It's okay-"
"No!" You shout, and Sunwoo hears your echo without his phone. He hears you stuttering an apology and then, "Give me ten minutes…"
The image of the whole complete group in his head makes his heart warm. He nods. "Take as much time as you need. I'll be waiting."
SEVEN: STICKS AND GEMS
"I didn't know you got your license,” you finally address after a song ends. “And a car.”
"There were a lot of places I wanted to go to. It's more convenient to drive.”
Some of those words are true; Sunwoo just left out the part about how he wishes that someday, you’ll be a part of the said drives. You would be in the front seat, helping him with navigation, and he would take pictures of everyone, mostly you. A trip was supposed to happen as a graduation present for the four of you. But with three left, it didn't seem worth it to go anymore.
With how crowded the festival is compared to years ago, it’s a miracle that Sunwoo was able to find parking. You do have to thank the children for being tired earlier, leaving a few bays free. Millie and Eric holler across the street, the girl jumping into your arms after crossing. While you're occupied with Millie’s arm around your neck dragging you into the festival, Sunwoo took a breather with your retreating figure.
“Wasn't so hard now, was it?” Sunwoo rolls his eyes at Eric's grin. “You gonna tell Millie to stop stealing your girlfriend?”
“Wha-” Sunwoo sputters. “She's not my girlfriend.”
“Alright,” Eric shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
Eric’s grin stays on for the rest of the night as the two boys follow you and Millie behind. Sunwoo has his hand tucked into his hoodie pocket from the wind. His hood also shielded his face from the night breeze. Yet, it's not enough to hide his fond eyes and mellow smile if you turned back. Nothing could hold Sunwoo back from showing you that look, so if you did turn back, he would be completely exposed with no proper excuse for why his cheeks were dusted like the sunset’s pink.
Your gasp takes his out of his trance, feet ready to run and take your hand incase of danger. When he follows the object of surprise, he exhales with relief.
“Tornado potatoes!” You run out from Millie’s embrace, joining the long queue of the food truck.
It's a signature food of the core memory between you both. Even without you for the past years, he has never forgotten to grab a stick for himself. Knowing you’re safe, Sunwoo retreats his foot from running.
A couple of nudges to his hip have him turning to the culprit. “Go accompany her in line.” Millie raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Don't be a coward, Sunwoo.”
Sunwoo’s mouth opens, ready to come up with a thousand excuses on why he shouldn't, but he takes all of them back. Because he wants to. He wants to accompany you in line. He wants to be with you, even if it's just for a few seconds. So he nods without complaint, not looking back to the couple.
"Damn," Eric crosses his arms, impressed. "Our boy is still as whipped as before."
"Arguably even more." Millie squints her eyes at the faraway couple, particularly Sunwoo, who has an adoring gaze stuck on you. "He's an idiot."
"They're both idiots," Eric corrects. "I say we leave my lovesick cousin and best friend and have fun ourselves."
Millie is delighted with the suggestion, linking Eric by his arm away from you and Sunwoo. Meanwhile, you’re occupied with the spices, oil and fried goodness in the air when Sunwoo makes his appearance known. You jolt with widened eyes, slowing softening into a pair of crescents.
“Don't go running off like that,” he courageously takes your left hand with his right. “You worry me.”
The physical touch leaves you speechless, warmth rising to your cheeks. You spare him a curt nod before looking away to hide your flustered look.
“Sorry, I haven't eaten this in ages, so I’m excited.”
“Rock, paper, scissors and the loser pays?”
The deal is sealed after three rounds, and Sunwoo’s wallet is closer to zero. As you're distracted with your win, he doesn't miss the opportunity to tighten his hold on you, continuing with light conversation as the line progressively gets shorter. Holding Sunwoo’s hand becomes normal, and you forget how it feels without. You eventually let go for a better grip on the almost empty stock, not leaving a single worth of cent behind.
Now, you're exploring the place with Sunwoo beside you. Your shoulders occasionally bump into each other, knuckles likewise brushing. All this sends Sunwoo's heart reeling, craving your touch even more. Eric and Millie are unreachable, as expected. Sunwoo grumbles curses to your cousin after reading his peace sign emoji text, knowing this is all a set-up. You all agreed to meet up along the shore a few minutes before the fireworks show, but for now, he'll take this opportunity with you.
“Where should we go?”
Sunwoo shakes his head, pocketing his phone to give you his full attention. “Anywhere you want.”
His hand is back into yours, unaware of the effect it has on you. You found it difficult to focus on the stalls and decorations with your being so close to Sunwoo. Your gait is throwing you off-centre, feeling the boy's deep chuckle beside you by his hold.
“Want a piggyback ride?”
“No!” You would have taken it as it would be an opportunity to hide yourself but your heart cannot take any more than right now.
“Someone's excited,” an elderly voice calls out.
"Grandma Lee!" You run over to the stall with the familiar face. "You're still here!"
"Of course! You know that handmade accessories are my life!"
"And I'm so glad it has stayed that way!"
Grandma Lee spares a greeting to Sunwoo, which was reciprocated, bowing to the woman with respect. You were both regulars at her annual stall. Grandma Lee sells handmade hair accessories with fine precision and detail. Her hard work always leads to her supply being out of stock in most festivals she's at, and it's no surprise to either of you. Sunwoo and you always spent the rest of your money here following food, and with the designs in front of you today, it seems like today will follow the trend from previous years.
"I haven't seen you in so long, dear," referring to your absence. "Sunwoo told me you've been studying abroad and are very busy."
You're surprised to hear that. Not because of her caring nature, but because Sunwoo talked about you. "Yes, I’ve been abroad," stealing side glances to Sunwoo as he busied himself with the designs in front of him.
"I'm sure you have been working very hard! Please take one as a gift!"
"Oh no, it's okay-"
"Follow my words, dear. Hard work should always be rewarded. I'm sure you have been working very hard that you haven’t been able to come home.”
You wish you could open your heart to rebut how untrue it was. You were close to doing so until the elderly woman stood from her chair, reaching over to pat your head.
All words blur under her care. "Thank you…” With a satisfied nod from the kind elderly, you begin to search the racks and shelves of handmade accessories.
The contemplation is written all over your face, so Grandma Lee tries to help. "I recommend these because they’re different designs from what Sunwoo has gotten you before.”
The boy next to you freezes, his eyes intentionally looking towards the end of the table closer to his claim. His fingers slip away from yours, lips growing dry as he tries to ignore your stare. You gulp and turn away, eyes running through the designs to distract yourself.
The truth is, whenever you visit this place with Sunwoo, he has never gotten you anything. He wanted to, but you always beat him to the payment first. So Grandma Lee’s words could only really mean one thing.
"You bought me things?" You finally ask with a tender voice, still not looking at him.
Sunwoo’s nod just caught on your peripheral. “I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable. I wanted to send it over but then always wanted to give it to you face to face, and I know I should have just sent it over because that would have been more special to receive it straight away but-”
"Hey, hey,” your palm blankets the back of his hand, thumbs soothing across his knuckles. You keep your eyes to your hands. “I’m just thinking about how you thought of me…”
His heart breaks at that. Of course, you would think this way. After all, he's the person that would leave you on delivered, sometimes, seen for ages after promising to stay in close touch. The pain on your side isn't truly understood until now when, just by one look, Sunwoo could tell that you're holding your tears back. Your hands shake, breath doing the same.
“I always think of you,” he confessed genuinely. “Always.”
You don't know why you think you had to search his eyes for any lies when you finally lock yours with his. “Me too,” you confess back. “I always think about you too.”
Those simple words mean everything to him and you. Lighthearted laughter fills the atmosphere while Grandma Lee sits away to give you both space. She reminisces her youth and love now far away through the two young adults who have their fingers intertwined fondly. Joint attention is now back on her work. With how much Sunwoo asks you to reconsider your choice, it gets you wondering what he has bought for you, and the knowledge makes your heart flutter.
In the end, Grandma Lee gave you more than just a hair clip, not letting you or Sunwoo spend anything on her priceless work. You’re both left with a pout on your lips when she wouldn’t even accept the offer of buying some warm food to munch on. The woman even joked about calling security if you didn't leave immediately. After giving your hands a light and reassuring squeeze, you promised to visit next year and left. An enveloping hug is the only thing she would accept from you both, but that’s all the woman wants from her most loyal customers.
Sunwoo’s phone is bombarded with texts from Eric telling him that he’s by the shore, readying for the fireworks in around half an hour. “Do you want to grab any quick snacks before meeting up?”
“I should be fine,” occupied by the small bag of goods in your hands.
You’re barely paying attention to your path, and Sunwoo has to distribute his attention to you and the crowd around him. This would surely be a good reason to hold your hand, right? It’s for your safety, and he’s worried about you. After another moment of contemplation, Sunwoo acted on his thoughts, slithering his right arm around your lower back and resting his palm on your waist. He pulls you closer to him, and you almost drop everything.
In this way, walking through the crowd becomes easier, even with shaky legs at the subtle touches on the dip of your waist, similar motions like the one you gave him earlier. Kim Sunwoo is learning from you. Your confidence rubbed onto him, and you relished the way your bodies were close to each other despite making walking a difficult task.
The plastic bag that was near your chest lowers to your thigh as you now pay attention to Sunwoo’s cologne, stealing glances without moving your head too much. He’s busy looking around for Eric and Millie, as you busy yourself with his well-sculpted features. Sunwoo’s touch didn’t do much in terms of making you more aware of your surroundings, but with you in his arms, it’s much safer than before.
“Oh. My.” Millie tugs on Eric’s sleeves, her jaw dropped by you and Sunwoo close together.
Eric blinks at the sight. “Well, that happened.” Millie slaps Eric’s bicep in excitement. “Yes, baby, we’re all excited.” The two quickly rush to make space on the blanket.
Millie pats the space on her left for you, a smirk on her face which makes you mouth her to leave you alone. To Millie, waiting for you to take your shoes off felt like a lifetime. She pulls you down by an arm, a knowing eyebrow rising as you swat your hand in the air.
Sunwoo takes his place next to your left quietly, knees folding to his chest, “So nice to have all four of us here.”
“Well,” the girl beside you starts, “for now.”
“Millie, stop ruining the moment!” You reprimanded.
Sitting down side by side resurfaces memories. It's warming when you think about how you are all connected by this event: Millie meeting Eric here when she was working at one of the stalls and you meeting Sunwoo a year after. It's like everything wanted you all to be together. In the vast view where the waves sing with the birds at sunset, they wanted you all to sit together to admire the changing time.
Sunwoo’s fingers traced along the zipper of his camera bag, contemplating taking it out. The waves sparkle under the golden rays, and it’s breathtaking. However, it’s not breathtaking enough to take his attention away from the person beside him. Your smile makes it harder for him to divert his eyes away. Eric eyes the bag to reassure the boy before redirecting his eyes to you. Sunwoo chuckles instead of cursing at him, finally setting his camera.
Sunwoo first starts with capturing the calmer waves and landscapes. Eric followed, ready with multiple poses, and then he and Millie as per the former’s request. There's a playful scowl on his face when the couple displays their affection in public, but at the back of his head, he can't help but be healthily jealous of the love they share. Satisfied with his work, Sunwoo clicks through his masterpiece, mentally choosing which to print for his photo album.
You lean over to his screen, “You've still got it,” complimenting his skills. “I'm glad to see that you still love photography. It has always been your hidden passion in high school.”
“Couldn't let go of it,” Sunwoo nods. “Hence the store as well.”
He shifts his seating position from you, stopping near the edge of the blanket. The lens reflects your face, Sunwoo clicking multiple times to your random poses. You’ve always been a natural when it comes to taking pictures. For you, the photographer is an important factor in the quality of your picture. There’s no way you could fully relax if you didn’t know the person behind the camera well. Because of that, you haven’t gotten your picture taken by anyone for a long time, yet it feels like second nature when Sunwoo gives you pointers on what he should do as he adjusts his settings. Again, his work never lets you down.
“You should sign up for competitions again like what you did in high school.”
“I did. Four of them.” Sunwoo powers his camera off, spreading his legs out with his hands behind him for support. “I won them all.”
“Sunwoo!” You exclaim, clapping generously for him. “I knew it! You should hang up the certificate or trophies at work! And the pieces you won along with it!”
“N-No, it's embarrassing…”
“No, it's a good idea! You not only have the technical knowledge for cameras but also photography skills. I'm sure a lot of people will love it and be assured that the owner has a clear talent for photography as well!”
Your compliments make Sunwoo retreat his blushing face behind his propped-up arms on his knees. “M-Maybe,” he takes the credits. “Want to see the pieces? I have them here.”
In a heartbeat, you nod at his offer. Sunwoo walks you through the failed photos, telling you the reasons and how he made the next shots better. You’re used to seeing portraits as it was Sunwoo’s specialty. Knowing that his skills have comfortably extended to landscapes makes you immensely proud of the immersed boy in his hobby.
Amid conversations and the dropping temperature, your body searches for warmth, unconsciously resting your head on Sunwoo's shoulder. Beside you, Sunwoo lays the side of his head on top of yours, relaxing at how you paid attention to all his words. The saltiness of the sea is washed out by your perfume and shampoo, and it took everything for him to not turn his head to yours to press a quick kiss.
It’s only when the sky explodes with warm, bright colours that you lean away, allowing his heart to come back to normal rhythm. However, like before, his eyes are stuck on your side profile. His fingers jitters, close to lifting themselves for his lens, but he helps the urge down. He decides to keep this scene for himself.
Sunwoo wants to share your beauty with the world, eyelashes fluttering with regretful blinking at missing a millisecond of the fireworks. He wants to show you off, but he wants to keep this scene to himself.
Humans can be selfish sometimes. And Kim Sunwoo is human.
You’re aware of the eyes falling upon you, so you attend to them to see Sunwoo’s affectionate eyes. Your breath hitches at the sweetness dripping from his orbs, and you pay attention to the colours of the sky painting their way to his honey-like skin.
“You’re really pretty.” Sunwoo’s deep voice resonates in the air. When he realises his words, his cheeks turn a deep red.
“Sunwoo…”
His hand lightly directs your head back to his shoulder, giving him the comfort that he needs. “Stay close to me, please,” his voice weakening with each second. He gulps the bile down his throat. “I’m sorry that I was cold yesterday when you visited the store. I’m sorry…” Sunwoo repeats the apology a few more times, and you lift your head away from him.
Sunwoo bites his bottom lip, unable to face you in shame. Unexpectedly, a palm cups his cheek, tilting his face to you, “I forgive you, Woo.” Your thumb pulls on the skin of his chin to release the bite. “Stay close to me, okay?”
A final nod is all he manages to give. With bodies gravitating towards each other and hearts lighter, you watch the sky bloom with sparks that reflect on your orbs. To you, Kim Sunwoo is in your peripheral view, but to him, you’re at the centre of his.
EIGHT: SEALED DEAL
As per Eric and Millie’s hopes, Sunwoo is the one to drop you home. Millie makes you promise to video call when you settle back home, and you roll your eyes playfully, promising the girl anyway, with whatever she wants to talk about. Now, you’re back in Sunwoo’s passenger seat.
"When did you open the store?"
It's a question that you're curious about and you find that after tonight, starting a conversation with Sunwoo is much easier.
"I worked for a year and a half after graduation and spent all my savings on it.”
He remembers the time of taking transport in the humid summer, missing the bus to bathe in his sweat. In winter, he would bathe in his sweat on the bed, fighting a fever. All of it turns into fond memories during silence in the store, reminiscing his little efforts that went a long way and paid off.
"Eric and Millie helped with the decorating.” Sunwoo was about to stop there. Until, “It would have been better if you were with us.”
It's a mutual feeling. How will you even begin to make up for that lost time? You give him a slow nod, lost in your thoughts. "It was really lonely abroad. I had friends and a lot of company, but something was missing."
The red light halts the car, and the sound of the engine rests for a little while. It's not until now that Sunwoo can finally steal a side glance at you. Your hair frames your face, and even though he's unable to get a proper look because of the night, he can hear your nails clashing anxiously against each other.
"Like?" He dared to continue, and he had to bite his tongue to reprimand himself.
"Millie's mischief, Eric's energy," your fingers stop moving, "and everything about you."
The green light pumps the engine back to life, the buzzing filling the air once more with another layer. You didn't expect an answer from Sunwoo. You're just glad you got your feelings out.
“You’re here now. It’s better now, right?”
Your head whips to his side, and for the first time, Sunwoo’s lips stretch from ear to ear genuinely. “Right,” you answer with a mirroring facial expression.
This is it. This is the Kim Sunwoo that you know.
The rest of the ride is mixed with light singing and swaying. Sunwoo kept the beat by tapping his finger on the wheel and you on your thigh. You tried your best to keep yourself interested in the scenery outside, but with the mellow, higher tone that Sunwoo sings with the love songs on the radio, he eventually becomes your scenery. It's only halfway through one of the songs when Sunwoo gradually turns the volume down, the uninviting tall black gates causing his engine to halt. You stay in your seat, reasoning to stay until the song is over. But two, three and four songs pass after your claim.
Sunwoo had an idea of why you're rooted on the seat of his car. If he could, he would drive you back to his house, somewhere you loved to spend time, for the rest of the night. Yet, the last time he did that was really the last time. He couldn't stop blaming himself for that day he took your freedom away with the introduction of stricter curfews and rules.
"You should go in. It's going to be curfew soon,” he finally managed to say.
"Oh, right..." Your voice trails off with disappointment. Your hands take the latch of his car door to exit, and you're ready to pull until he stops you.
Per his request, you stay seated as Sunwoo exits instead. Your head follows his figure, disappearing when he takes something from the back of the car. Sunwoo comes around your side of the door, opening it for you. Other than the smile that reaches his eyes, his gratefulness for today is conveyed with the bouquet he prepares in his hands. Your lips parted at the colourful petals.
“I was supposed to give this to you before, but I was just so flustered and now they look ugly and destroyed and I'm so sorry and-"
"They're pretty. Thank you, Sunwoo,” you reassure his worried rambles. Sunwoo extends his hands to you, hands brushing at the exchange. "Can you take a picture of me with them?"
Surely his phone has space for one more photo. Don't fail on me now phone! And fail it didn't, as he was able to quickly delete an app for immediate storage. As expected, Sunwoo directs you with poses and angles, snapping the best shots of you and his gift. You're left scrolling at the new pictures sent to your phone, feet tapping on the cement excitedly.
You pocket your phone, taking a moment to appreciate the flowers in front of you. The sweet scent surrounds you, and you push the gift closer to your chest. Some petals fall, withering from time. As much as you want to think you have more time than them, you don't know what the future holds.
So you at least try to control a bit. You want to make up for the lost time somehow.
"Can I come to help you at work tomorrow?” The suggestion is followed by rustling plastic by your hold. “I promise I won't bother and actually help."
It's an interesting request to Sunwoo. If he agrees, then he would be able to see you more. "It's your holiday. You should be relaxing."
"Being with you is relaxing,” you state surely. “I just want to be around you."
"How about I pick you up after work?”
"How about you just let me work with and help you tomorrow?”
Sunwoo chuckles, knowing he won't win against you. Besides, losing to you on this isn't a bad idea. He leans over to you slightly, bending his back to reach eye level and towering over you. "The moment you distract me, you're out."
The way your eyes lit up from his words is a sight that he wants to see all the time. "Deal!"
NINE: TRACED FEELINGS
Despite looking forward to the next day, maybe you were looking forward a bit too intensely, as you couldn’t fall asleep fast. As a result of your overexcitement, you overslept and are indeed running late. Regardless, you still willed your legs to dash to the bus stop and shop to avoid ‘clocking in’ later.
“Morning!”
“You’re late.” Sunwoo tries to be stern, but his facade breaks seconds after with a welcoming smile.
“Now you know how the teachers felt like in high school with you,” the boy concedes, hands up in the air. “What am I helping you with today?”
“It’s getting a bit busier, so I’ll get you on POS, unpack some deliveries and record appointments for photoshoots or any of the sort that anyone needs.”
“Sounds good to me!” You skip your way behind the front desk, setting the space for the day.
Sunwoo being Sunwoo, you're not surprised at the clutter. He manages to keep the rest of the store clean, but how does he even function with all this scattered paperwork? You can't even see the material of the table, and you're convinced the folders below the papers are for decoration.
“Guess I'll start by cleaning and sorting this out then.”
You don't get far with your cleaning, only grabbing a few sheets draped against his stationary cup until a picture frame comes into view. The pictures are sized smaller than usual to make maximal use of the frame. Upon closer inspection, you recognise most of these pictures as the ones on your phone: the late night getaways, the sleepovers, the birthdays and Christmas Eves, the prom and the graduation photos. They're all here.
What really stood out? Most of them were only you and Sunwoo, and not group ones with Eric and Millie.
“I wasn't the only one who kept them…”
For the longest time, you thought so. You thought that you were the only one who cared to swipe through the photos. You're starting to get a clear picture now that Sunwoo didn't truly cut you out of his life despite limited texts. Yet, that only deepens your confusion even more.
Why would he have this if it at least felt like he was trying to avoid you?
You push the thought aside at the approaching customer. You try to be enthusiastic despite the questions in your head, keeping a mental note to ask Sunwoo later. Maybe the universe heard your silent pleas to keep yourself intact from your worries as customers rushed in to keep you busy. Sunwoo himself becomes increasingly busy on the floor, while you support his business with your limited photography knowledge.
Sunwoo exceeded his daily goal; no surprise from the accumulated sweat on his forehead and neck. You slump your body onto the table, cheeks chasing the surface for coolness. Your mouth is desperate for hydration after talking non-stop with the higher pitch that comes with customer service. Just like he's reading your thoughts, he hands you a bottle, which you gladly gulp the contents of.
A satisfactory sigh comes after emptying half the bottle, “That was refreshing.”
“Was busier than I thought. It was a good idea to have you here. You even cleaned up the space.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn't work with it,” he shakes his head fondly at your slightly lecturing tone.
“You should go eat. We didn't manage to have a proper break.”
It's only now that you notice the sunset illuminating the upper half of the store. The emptiness in your stomach makes itself known when it grumbles, and Sunwoo tries to hold his laughter. It's a calming moment as the sunlight sets on his tanned skin, making your heart skip a beat. His smile is radiant, brighter than the sun. His eyes: clear, unlike the past few cloudy days.
“You really didn't forget about me,” you voice out weakly, a smile lifting just the same. Your fingers trace the curves of the frame, gulping silently. “I just thought I was the only one who held on to these memories.”
You expect Sunwoo to change the subject, or at least let the subject die quicker with a fast reply. But instead he fishes for his phone in his pocket, “My laptop and phone wallpaper are us too."
Your eyes shift to his genuine voice. However, you could no longer make out the emotions behind his eyes. Sunwoo reveals his phone’s lock screen, and he minimises apps to show his desktop wallpaper. He observes you next to him, making sure he catches every little detail on your face as you set your eyes upon his personalisation. You’re mesmerised at the number of pictures that he has, some you've never seen before. Your upper body bends over closer to the desktop to observe each shot.
"This is where we first met,” pointing at the familiar beach shore. "My favourite place in the whole world.”
Is it a coincidence that it's yours too?
“Well, second,” Sunwoo takes back. Your eyebrows furrow at the changed ranking. “Wanna know the first?” You nod, expecting more words from him, words mixed with pictures of his number one place.
Instead, you got it all through actions. Sunwoo steps behind your seating form, his arms enclosing you around your waist. The back of your head rests against his broad chest, heartbeat resonating to you while he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Your perfume indulges him into relaxation despite his daring act, but your skin heats up when you grow aware of his hand slightly hovering your clothed stomach.
“This is my first,” he rasps out. “Being in your presence.”
You stutter in your breathing, eyes welling up in the same way that your chest is filled with contentment. The feeling surges throughout every part of your body, and it’s only when you fully give your weight over to him that Sunwoo intertwines his fingers from both hands, pulling you into his embrace closer.
But it’s not enough. For him, it’s not close enough.
He’s forced to let go. The seat you’re on spins around, and you hold onto Sunwoo’s shoulders for support. Sunwoo lowers his body, sweeping you off your feet with an arm supporting the back of your thighs as he now sits on the cushion. Instinctively, your right arm encircles his neck, and in the next second, you’re comfortably taking a seat on Sunwoo’s lap. Sunwoo makes sure you don’t slide off with his right hand supporting your left thigh near his knee. His left arm stays around your back, making sure you won’t fall backward either. His plump lips brush against your jawline delicately, and you notice his breathing smoothing out as he rests against you. Mindlessly, your index finger traces his nape, drawing random shapes on his skin, occasionally massaging his scalp to relax his muscles. It seems like Sunwoo couldn't get enough of your touch, arms pulling your lower body flush against his until he no longer could.
“Is this okay?” With his nod, he allows himself to find solace in your presence, and you eventually slide your hand to ruffle and mess with his hair.
Close contact like these is not unusual. In the past, in a crowd full of people or no one but air, you would dash towards Sunwoo the same way. Your voice would call out for him first, letting your presence known from afar before jumping into his figure. Every morning before school, bear hugs and back hugs are common occurrences. But ever since you told Sunwoo about moving, the skinship was reduced to holding hands and brief hugs. As it became routine, you forgot just how fast your heart could beat just by the two hands on your body. You don’t hate it though, not one bit.
“Sunwoo?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I please see you?” You're worried all of this is a dream.
“Just a little more.” His nose nudges your neck. “I don't want this to end now…”
You feel the same way, playing with the ends of his hair soothingly. Sunwoo almost dozes off at the occasional traces on his skin, heart content with your little hums.
“It’s been years since you’ve held me this close.” Your voice surprisingly didn't waver at your emotions. Tears are brimming along your eyelids, but a blink pushes them back to hide them. “I missed you holding me close like this.”
“I missed it more,” he whispers to your skin.
“We don't have to end the day together now…” You felt his lips stretching against your skin with the suggestion.
“That's true,” his eyes lulling to close once more. You didn’t expect him to agree, pulling your neck away to face his blushing face with widened eyes. “Let’s not end the day together now, hm?”
You agree immediately, fearing that he would take back his words if not. The boy connects his forehead with yours. The proximity makes your fingers shake, eyes jolting to anywhere but his well-defined features. Sunwoo too, knowing that this is the first time in a while that he’s holding you so close, flutters his eyes shut to focus on the lines you’re trailing on his skin, lulling between consciousness and dreamland.
If only he paid attention to the path of your fingers, he would have known the eight letters that you have always kept deeply within, the third and seventh letter replaced with a heart.
TEN: COOLED TEA AND MOMENTS
Sunwoo’s home is quaint, just like how you remembered it. During those times after school when the library overwhelmed you, his bedroom was where he would tuck you in for an afternoon nap. His back leaned against his bedframe on the floor, playing games with no sound. After a well-deserved slumber, Sunwoo will tickle you awake. Sometimes, amid the booming laughter, the boy would get pulled into the mattress, toppling next to you as you use this chance to close your eyes once more on his chest. Occasionally, Eric and Millie would catch his adoring eyes at your smushed cheek. The couple would get a threatening glare, but they knew Sunwoo couldn’t move unless he wanted to wake you up.
His house is nowhere as big as yours, yet the love inside is bigger than any other building you know. Some of the furniture has shifted, some replaced. For you, the feeling of being safe in the place that you’re supposed to call home is unfamiliar.
Here, a step into his house is enough to know that it’s filled with love.
The evidence hung on the walls, capturing fond memories of the family of a nervous boy trailing behind you who quietly observes your reactions. It’s arranged thoughtfully, a framed memory since he was a baby up to now where he poses for a picture behind the till of his shop.
Sunwoo observes your smile growing each time your eyes move to a different part of the house. From the wall where he would blush when you pointed out how sulky he looks with the bucket hat, the dustless sofa, snow white cupboards, to the neatly arranged flower on the centre of the dining table, just enough for his family and one guest. It’s evident that, once again, the owner takes immense care of their home.
It’s so unlike your house, where there would be expensive art pieces placed in what you always thought to be the most inconvenient places—or maybe that’s just because you’re clumsy. Your mother’s glare from the upper levels whenever a person walked in the door would make them cower, having their hands tightly held together in front of their bodies, and a mental note taken not to ruin the house.
You continue inside the house with Sunwoo's guidance, careful of the furniture and making sure that you don’t touch anything that you’re not supposed to. Observing the behaviour of many guests in your house has caused you to exhibit the same behaviour, generalising each household to be the same. It makes Sunwoo giggle when you fold the silhouette of your outfit closer to the centre of your body.
“W-What?” You look back with pursed lips. “I don’t want to accidentally drop anything.”
“You’re not going to,” he comments, making a turn to the kitchen after giving a fond smile. “I don’t have much to drink.”
“It’s okay. Just water is fi—”
“So,” he turns his back to you, opening one of the overhead cabinets to grab some sweet white grains, “you don’t want cooled tea?”
It leaves you warm to hear Sunwoo recite your favourite beverage like that. The little satisfaction smirk he gives when he knows you well, the way he rolls his long sleeves up to his elbows to reveal his defined veins as he fills the kettle for the teabags, all leave you breathless. He isn’t doing anything significant, yet the pounding against your chest is telling you otherwise. As you know, the heart never lies.
You halt in the living room. The black screen of the television dimly reflects your figure; Sunwoo just caught barely on the side. Unknowingly, you stare at his reflection, your eyebrows relaxing and the corners of your lips rising to the music passing his lips. You catch a glimpse of his puckered lips as he whistles; it makes you wonder what he’s thinking about to make such a cheerful timbre.
It makes you wonder if he ever thinks about you as much as you think of him.
“Hey,” the metal spoon stops clinking against the glass, Sunwoo diverting his eyes to you. “Do you mind if I move the coffee table?”
Sunwoo cranes his head to one side at the question, but to your wide grin, who was he to break your interesting desire to move furniture? Besides, he’s curious about your idea as well, especially with the way that frees your hands at his approval, discarding your items onto his couch and dirty carpet.
The new arrangement leaves the space between the couch and the television empty, big enough for you to twirl around freely. Sunwoo arches his eyebrows, still trying to figure out your intentions. Two mugs clink against the moved table, his hands on his waist after. A doting and affectionate gaze falls upon you. The boy sees your arms swing side to side, eyes sparkling brightly at him when you turn around from the moment of freedom.
When was the last time you smiled like this?
“You look happy,” he comments, only to have you take fast, small strides toward him. When his hand is within reach, you take it into yours. “What are you doi—”
It's a bit awkward and very timid. Sunwoo’s shoulder freezes, and he almost faceplants on the wooden floor with the pull you exert unexpectedly. “Dance with me,” you suggested, guiding his open palms on the dips of your waist, “for old time's sake.”
A quick, cloudy flash passes his eyes, contrasting your brighter, clearer ones. For a moment, your smile slips away when he averted his focus as quickly as his protective instincts that balanced him from falling. You didn’t let go of his hand that was loosely on the side of your body, and Sunwoo gulps at the tightening hold.
“Don’t be nervous,” you assure him after the evident gulp travelling down his dry throat. “We’ve danced like this before at our graduation party.”
Sensing the tension in the air, Sunwoo clears his throat. “I-I haven't showered for like two days,” a measly excuse for you to give his yearning heart a moment to breathe. “This is embarrass—”
“Sunwoo, are you happy?”
It comes out a little croaked, a little suffocating on your end. Your heart clenches at the distance he has maintained since you left. It’s nothing like high school when he would search for your eyes amidst crowding hallways and classrooms, looking forward to having you in his arms. It’s nothing like high school because your bodies are still, and there seems to be no sort of longing in his eyes like yours does for hi—
“I am,” a quiet breath drew in from his nose, “very.”
The tears that were about to fall onto your frowning face seem to retreat. Your eyes trail up from his chest, reluctantly meeting his eyes, scared of what emotion he may show you when you get there. However, when you do meet the glimmering orbs that you fell in love with more than three years ago, it does feel like youth washes over you again.
It feels like you never left and that you just finished your graduation a few minutes ago.
Sunwoo nods firmly, his lips slowly but surely showing the same crescent smile that his eyes have. Your chest relaxes, lowering along with your shoulders. It hurts him to know that he may have hurt you. He rakes his head for ideas, wanting more than nothing for you to feel comfort in his presence, in his arms—safe and happy, just like how he wishes that you would always be.
Sunwoo relaxes in your presence, completely letting go of the weight in his mind and heart for the first time in three years. It makes your breath hitch, stopping your inhale mid-way. Though his larger hand is still shaking on your waist, his thumb still manages to give soothing rubs. His left foot takes a step to the side, his right following with the motions, inviting you to start moving too. Sunwoo unclasps your hands behind his neck, taking one of them into his hand.
Your breath stutters once more when he cups the back of your hand, placing your palm to his cheek. It’s a place that you didn’t expect that you could lay your touch on, but Sunwoo guiding it there willingly sends your emotions into a frenzy that only amplifies more when he closes his eyes and lays his lips onto your open palm like it’s nothing. He plants his palm onto his cheek after, and it took everything in you not to collapse.
“Do that again, Sunwoo…”
The boy took a good look at you for a while, searching for any reluctance in your eyes. There’s a flash of longing in his eyes when he pulls your lower body closer to his, your arms bending to bring his face closer to yours. Sunwoo places his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and focusing on the cooler air that he inhales. You follow suit, soon feeling his lips on your forehead. The feeling is too short, and it leaves you wanting more.
“Again…”
Your voice is fragile, and so is your mind as you ask him for another touch. Sunwoo heeds your wants, this time kissing the tip of your nose. He even swipes his nose with yours after, resting his forehead to yours with no intention of pulling away.
“Again…”
This time, nothing happened. Sunwoo’s bangs rub against your skin as he shakes his head, and he catches your downturned lips.
“I can’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
“Because you might regret the next place that I want to kiss you at.”
He leaves his reasoning open-ended, but you’re not up for that. You lean away from Sunwoo, craning your head slightly to match his height. You’re wrong about you being the only one who longs for him between you two. Sunwoo bites his lips, eyeing the way your lips are only centimetres away from him. The only thing he has to do is to dip his head down, and he would claim your soft lips for himself. Sunwoo doesn’t make his staring subtle, and you’re left pulling him closer by his nape to press a peck onto the tip of his nose this time.
It’s all so heart-stopping for you, and it reminds you that Kim Sunwoo has never left your heart. Just a few days back, and he still had the key to your heart.
“I won’t,” you affirm with a voice only louder than the shoes that glaze over the carpet beneath you both.
The little world you built for yourself bursts with the doorbell. The sound clangs him awake, making his eyes widen, almost as if he wasn’t aware of the slow dancing that you two were sharing. He rips himself out of your warmth, and your limbs freeze mid-air where you once held him at the harsh pull.
He looks away, eyes tightly shut as he curses himself in his head. “M-Maybe my dad forgot the key!” Running away from you—as he has always done from the very start.
Peeking through the peephole, it’s obvious from the leather jacket that it’s not the person that he is expecting. The unknown visitor churns his stomach, his instincts telling him that this situation isn’t going to be a good one for him. When he opens the door, Sunwoo is greeted with the smell of money in the form of a bright outfit and gold touches.
“May I help you?”
He manages to greet the stranger after a single gulp, feeling small with the huge sunglasses that cover half of the visitor’s face. Sunwoo didn’t need to see his eyes to feel the intimidating, judging ones directed at him from the lavish man who finally flicks his sunglasses off, a pair of stone-cold eyes behind it.
“Where is she?”
Taken aback by the lack of mannerisms, Sunwoo stutters before his train of thought comes back. The uninvited guest clad himself in a branded suit, mocking Sunwoo’s casual attire. Even so, status is forgotten when his instincts tell him to shut the door alarmingly. A raised eyebrow and a striking peer from the intruder prompt the feeling even more.
“Sorry, but I’m going to ask you to leave.”
An amused scoff, “Excuse me?” Tucking his luxurious eyewear into his blazer’s pocket, “Answer my questi—”
“Sungjin?”
Sunwoo turns his body towards your wavering voice. As soon as his eyes laid on your figure that was approaching the door’s threshold, a part of him just wanted to grab your wrist, praying that you wouldn’t step outside his home. But you did all that for him because you stayed frozen a few centimetres away from the front sill of the building, shock written all over your face and voice.
The finally named man finally shows his bright smile, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of your uninjured state—he, however, did frown at the sight of your casual clothes. “Hey,” greeting you and ignoring Sunwoo’s shaking orbs, “You were unreachable and I was worri—”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I tracked your phone.” Your heart drops at the invasion of privacy. The device around your fingers feels like it could mould to a different shape due to your anger. “You have to understand! You weren't responding to my messages!”
“Sungjin…” you shake your head, your eyes talking for you in this incredible situation, “We're not anything for you to be able to do that.”
“I know, but I promised your parents that I’ll protect you and make you mine.” He trips over his words, his polished shoe even coming into contact with the wooden floor of Sunwoo’s entrance walkway. “Besides that, I'm just worried about you. Let's get out of this dirty place. I'll get you some foo—”
“I'm staying.”
“What?”
Your palm extends out towards him, and the barrier keeps you away from the crestfallen face that he displays. “Please just...” you reach the door, beginning to close it on him, “leave me alone.”
Throughout the whole confrontation, Sunwoo held onto the door for support and his whole being focused on the words exchanged. So, when you’re the one who decides to swing the door with your strength, Sunwoo nearly stumbles and faceplants onto one of the panels of the decorated timber. A silence envelops you both, the boy taking glances at you before quickly averting once more. It’s not until the sound of the tyres drives away from his driveway that Sunwoo decides to replace the sound with something softer than the shouts of the angry engine.
“You have a boyfr—”
“I'm not dating him, Sunwoo,” cutting his words off quickly. “I don't like him even a little bit.”
He does believe you; he really does. But having a taste of your mother’s wrath, he couldn’t help but nod at the ant that casually passed by the tension-filled atmosphere. “L-Let’s get you out of here…” Snatching his jacket on the arms of the hanger to the point that the furniture almost fell out of balance. “I'll take you to a nice restaur—”
“I want to cook,” you declare, stopping his fumbles. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten food without preservatives.”
“I don't have any ingredients…”
“I'll bake then,” turning your back to the exit and your ‘duties’. Already a step ahead of Sunwoo, you plant your feet in the kitchen where the jar of sugar used earlier still hasn’t been returned. “I'll whip up some of those shortbread cookies that Eric, Millie, and you loved so much back then.”
“You really shouldn't be her—”
“Can I borrow some clothes?” Condensation starts to form on your hands and wraps around the glass jar in your hand. Your voice quietens. “It's too uncomfortable to bake in this.”
You turn your back on Sunwoo completely, afraid of rejection first and foremost. To be more specific, you’re scared of being rejected by Sunwoo. You’re stubborn, he knows that---so you hope that he could also be on the same wavelength as you for once and be stubborn by letting you stay. If you turned back, you could see the happiness in his smile, but inevitably, the hint of worry was reserved just for your tense back.
“Okay,” footsteps receding to his room, a list of his oversized shirts in his head that he could lend to you. “Hold up a second…”
You’re aware that Sunwoo hasn’t been able to see your trembling lips and your massive control to keep your breathing rate consistently normal. When you assume that you’re out of his sight, you let all the tension in your body release, your once-blurred vision clearing as a tear escapes. The room spins slightly, your palm landing firmly onto the stone top in front as droplets start to make themselves evident to his humble home.
And as Sunwoo comes back, whatever thoughts you had are shoved away to live in the moment with him. He leaves you to change and soon his familiar laundry detergent changes from the perfume scent on your body. The classy perfume is no match for the cheap detergent yet your heart easing at being engulfed with Sunwoo’s baggy clothes.
The familiarity drives you insane, as much as it makes you sane.
ELEVEN: HEARTBREAK OR HEART BREAK?
The drive back to your house is quiet and to put it simply: boring and lonely. After a whole day with mischievous Sunwoo, how could you not feel this way?
Sunwoo purposefully hits your elbow when you measure the dry ingredients, continuing to do so even when you throw a handful of flour at his face, some even getting trapped in his long black strands. He returns the favour, laying the same ingredient on his palm before bringing it in line with his lips, blowing it straight to your face without notice.
It was fun, to say the least.
The kitchen cleanup was hell, with dry ingredients all over the crevices between the table, the wall and the floor, but also on both of your powdered faces. Dare you say a quarter of your time spent under his roof was cleaning up the mess that left his dad’s jaw slack open with confusion and surprise after a long day at work. You remember scurrying out of Sunwoo’s arms when a gasp is heard from the entry hallway, but Sunwoo tightens his hold on your waist, gleefully greeting his father despite the hits and shoves on his chest.
Just thinking of it makes the heat rise to your skin once more, both your hands on the top of your steering wheel as you continue your drive into the silent night. The way his father remembers you just by the back of your head, inviting you with open arms for a hug, made you melt into his parental warmth. The man even joined in with the chaotic atmosphere, grabbing the pile of flour on the benchtop that was supposed to be in the bin. Sunwoo’s yelps and complaints play in your head, a deep chuckle from his dad following after as he sticks his tongue out.
It was…different, to say the least.
Because your parents would never treat outsiders like that; they wouldn’t even be like that with you. The scene repeats in your head like a broken recorder, but it's one that you would never throw out. Even when you park perfectly in your designated spot, you sit with arms by your side, head between the crescent headrest, with the radio and its song. You stare blankly at the closing black gate, sealing off the entrance for the rest of the day as you know you’re the last member of the family who arrived home. The warm light flashes as a safety measure in the night, telling everyone to be careful of the moving metal—if only the warmth of the light is as inviting as the building beside you.
You flip the sun visor down, making sure that you leave no traces of baking ingredients for anyone to question your appearance. Sighing after checking, your hands blindly ruffle the inside of your bag for the spray bottle of your usual everyday perfume. Before you can flick the crown of the bottle, the remnants of the laundry detergent that isn’t yours linger between the strands of your hair, reminding you of the joy you felt when Sunwoo bashfully passed you a long oversized shirt to borrow. You remember the tips of his ears flashing red and the enamoured smile that took over your face as your fingers traced the raccoon picture on the front of the shirt.
“Cute,” you snicker, continuing to make fun of him in your head.
The cap of the small decanter clicks close and is shoved back into the darkness of your purse. Your heels finally click on the uneven stone, mentally preparing the excuses in your head as you are five minutes past your curfew. If only you knew there was no need to cook up any excuses because you couldn’t even slip your feet out of the straps of your shoe, your mum blocking the staircase where all the bedrooms of the house would be.
No greetings are said, not from you and most definitely not from your mother.
“Come here,” she commanded, inciting a gulp from you as you tried to steady your disordered mind. You stand within reach in front of her, trying your best to look into her emotionless eyes.
You knew then that she knew what you had been up to.
“Sungjin told me where you were earlier today.” The glare deepens. “Kim Sunwoo.” The name comes out venomously, her arms coming up to the cross, disappointed by the old friend that you spent time with. “Do you wish to be as foolish as that boy?”
The words stir something up in your obedient self. “Is my happiness foolish to you?”
“You're a child, and your definition of happiness has not matured,” she spits out. “Your manners are repulsive. You decide to come to Korea unnoticed, kick Sungjin out and bring shame to the family. You think breaking the rules gives you adrenaline, but in the long run, it's nothing.” You thought it was over until she delivered the final blow, “Especially not with a boy like him.”
“Explain that please, because Sunwoo is not nothing.” You clench on your bag’s strap, the material creaking at the pressure. “He's not just a boy to me.” Your voice grew dangerously louder. “He's held me in his arms, and he wouldn't let go unless I would initiate the first move. He's told me words that make the weight in my chest bearable. He's smiled at me to remind me that the world is not as grim, dark and ugly as I thought it might be. Yes, he’s not perfect, but he’s human, and he’s making an effort to make it better.”
“Foolish,” not a bit of mercy in her tone. “Those are all things that another person can give.”
Your eyelids fall in frustration, shutting them close to rid of the coming headache. Words never worked on your mother, and pairing that with how she hates Sunwoo, you knew nothing would come out of this. “It’ll never be the same,” you mumble under your breath. “Other people will never be him.”
“Thankful for that one,” she heaves an exaggerated relief. “No one should have entered that prestigious high school by kicking a filthy ball.”
"Sunwoo was a star player, mum. He even played for the youth state team. He's more capable than you think, so please stop assuming negative things about him!” You can’t believe that your tone raised, though not dangerously, but it ended sharp enough for a flare to start in her eyes.
The metal around his fingers grazes across the side of your face. “I don’t care what you want from me. You’re going back overseas."
"No,” you stood your ground despite the sting on the side of your face.
“This is your final warning. Go back and never associate yourself with that dog ever again."
"Don't call him that-"
“Hear this then,” you gulp at the sinister smile, her hand lowering away from your face to your hollow chest. “You don’t go back? Fine. But that puny bicycle shop? It's only a couple thousand dollars to buy.” A dark aura reminds you once more of how powerless you are at the bottom of the family hierarchy. The lady of the house made her figure in the house clear when she leans in to your stammering breaths, “Can you handle being the person that crushes his dream?”
TWELVE: FACING THE TRUTH & PROMISES
Your first attempt of telling your friends about moving failed as expected. You couldn’t get your lips to form the right shapes, awkwardly playing it off each time the topic came to mind. The thought of being far away from everyone made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do to follow your parents. The storm in your head causes Millie to jolt at the slam of metal against metal, hand over her chest to grasp her rapidly beating heart.
"Whoa," she nervously raises an eyebrow with a stiff smile. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," you mumble uninterestedly. Yet your words aren’t uncomfortable when your forehead hits the locker once more. The metal is disgustingly lukewarm; no coolness is provided to your head like you wanted.
"Are you just Sunwoo-deprived?"
You grumble at the teasing tone, "No, I'm not Sunwoo depriv-"
"Because he’s walking down the hallway right now, just so you know."
Your back immediately straightens, head turning everywhere for the messy untucked uniform and loose tie around the neck. To your expectations, some of his hair strands are out of place, and it completes Sunwoo's everyday look. The boy pats his pockets for his phone while you clutch your books against your chest firmly, waiting for him to notice your staring. Usually, you would run up to him, but you're needing assurance from him that it's okay to leap into his arms without any other words.
Millie also stood confused at your still self, turning her head between Sunwoo and you alternatively. She sighs at your fastened foot tapping, deciding to pop on his phone:
someones waiting for you dumbass
look up from your phone
Sunwoo's lips form a circle shape, eyes searching for you as he pockets his phone. At the sight of you, his lips curl up, just like his eyes. But then, his expression falls when he catches the pout on your lips and deflated shoulders a few steps away. It’s only when he extends his arms to his side that your foot stops tapping, and you shove your belongings to Millie.
You hop to Sunwoo's arms, leaping onto his arms. "Whoa there," he twirls you briefly with his arms wrapping around your middle. Sunwoo lands you on your feet safely, "Why'd you just stand there today? You usually just run to me."
Your shrug didn't convince Sunwoo, and the fact that you weren't letting go of the hug to bury your face into his chest only complicates him more. Sunwoo hums for now, threading his fingers between your locks.
"You know you can't lie to me, right?" The grip around his body tightens. "When you're ready, I'll listen. Whatever it is."
You nod to his chest, ears against his calming heartbeat. "Promise?"
It's now that Sunwoo realises whatever is troubling you isn't a simple matter. It won't go away with a good night's sleep and not with a hearty meal. You only ask him to promise you when things weigh you down heavily, and the last time you did this was when you pulled all-nighters for an upcoming test. You made him promise to let you take a nap on his shoulder after it was all over.
Sunwoo stops playing with your hair, tenderly placing his palm on the side of your neck. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and you pull away to meet his kind, gentle eyes. His thumb traces along your jawline as he places a kiss on your forehead. All the voices in your head died down, and your mind could finally rest.
That's Kim Sunwoo's effect on you. And it's powerful, just like his words: "Promise."
The sight when you broke the news wasn’t pretty. Eric found out from his dad, and Millie found out by accidentally eavesdropping on Eric confronting you about hiding it for so long. And Sunwoo? Sunwoo was standing not too far away, body still at the news. Of course, he congratulated you, however, he can’t fully say that he meant it. Following the realisation of his growing feelings, he wants you to stay.
The world weighed on you heavily as you drove to Sunwoo’s store. You feel like such a stalker, observing Sunwoo sharing knowledge about his passion to a customer down the street. Last night flashes back, and you can't help but flinch as if your mother’s hand, clad in golden rings, hits your now-healed cheek. You turn away, refusing to remember Sunwoo's bright smile as he waves at the little kid who jumps excitedly at her fixed camera. The mother thanked him before crouching to calm her child from disturbing other people in the store.
Maybe it’s a sign from the universe because after the satisfied customers leave, Sunwoo feels the attention on him outside. If it was even possible, Sunwoo’s smile expands infinitely at the sight of you. He wouldn’t tell you, but he spent the entirety of last night placing your cookies on his prettiest plate, stacking the perfect circles on the porcelain and shifting icing sugar to make the dish look more photogenic. His camera app dominates his screen time as he takes the physical memory precious time, setting the food as his lock screen and wallpaper- he regrets not taking a photo of you with it.
The muscles under your eyes twitch, feeling a waterfall. Unfortunately, Sunwoo’s eyes aren’t that good at spotting your sadness from across the road, jogging to your car in the empty traffic. You were still drowning in your thoughts that you didn’t realise his approaching presence, eyes dulling then widening slowly with his approaching figure from the corner of your eye. His knuckle taps on the glass to grab your attention, and you roll your window down to face him with slightly quivering lips.
“Are you stalking me?”
His hair strands are a mess, typical with a towel hanging from his neck and the creased button-up shirt. Sunwoo isn’t afraid to show this side of himself to you. Back in high school, he made it a habit to show up like this because you would be the one fixing his uniform and saving him from detention.
You prepared the rehearsed smile, forcibly pushing last night’s events out of your head. “Just wanted to see you working…”
Sunwoo raises one of his eyebrows at the unique reason, the corresponding corner of his lip doing the same. He leans in, an arm resting on the gap where the motorised window would be. His bangs dance due to the air conditioning of the car, the strands flowing freely.
“Kinda creepy, don't you think?”
He’s truly going to make you faint. One wrong move and his lips would probably be touching yours, and usually, Sunwoo would be the one to back away, but he was so entranced by you that the proximity didn’t even cross his mind. And once you turn away, his smirk flattens, lips disappearing between the rows of his teeth.
“Are you busy? Can I come in?” The sentence trails off but doesn't manage to go unnoticed by Sunwoo.
Though heartbroken at how you didn’t spare a glance at him, Sunwoo nods and fixes his once-bending posture. “Of course,” he invites you. “It was delivery day today, so it's very messy. Don’t tell me off! It’s not my fault!”
You give him the benefit of the doubt for now, nodding unconvincingly at him. The boy is prepared to defend himself when the entrance bell rings. You retreat behind the computer, ready to put sales through, while also admiring Sunwoo. The noises surrounding you blur as you keep your eyes on him. Emotions welled up in your throat, your mum’s voice ringing once more. You snap back to the present moment when the customer accidentally drops her film refills.
Sunwoo came standing to your right after. “You alright?”
You nod, but then sigh when you know that you can’t fool Sunwoo into thinking otherwise. “No,” your voice is broken with honesty.
“Let’s talk about it.” He offers, spinning you around to face him. Sunwoo pulls the gas lift on the chair to lower you closer to his eye level when he kneels to you. Your shaky hands on your lap are stabilised with Sunwoo’s blanketing them. “I’m all ears for you, hm?”
“Maybe later, customers might come in and-”
“You’re right. I should flip the sign to ‘closed’-”
“Don’t do that, you lazy raccoon.”
The animal nickname that you gave him slipped out unexpectedly, and Sunwoo is pleasantly surprised hearing the animal that has been associated with him coming from you. His stare on you softens endearingly landing soft on your widened eyes. You lower you head to your thighs, hiding your flustered look.
“Can’t catch a breath whenever I’m with you, bubs.”
Two can play the game when Sunwoo calls you with the nickname that he has specially for you. A deep red blushes across his cheekbones, yet Sunwoo tries to hide his nervousness by clearing his throat. He sucks in a wave of air through his mouth, momentarily chuckling and proud of himself for finally calling you with the familiar name.
His thumb constantly offers soothing swipes on the back of your hand. “I have something for you.” Sunwoo’s other free hand rummages through his things.
A box is what he extends to you. Inside, Grandma Lee’s accessories, keyrings that remind him of you, small plushies from claw machines that he overspent on, and handwritten letters from his yearning heart are what he has packed inside over the years. Every single piece differs yet compliments the other if you were to use all of them at the same time. Wordlessly, Sunwoo takes a clip and slides the bottom part of it across your scalp, adjusting it accordingly on you. The smile he offers is a mix of affection and disbelief that his gifts have finally made it to you. It didn’t end there, as he pulled out three similar-sized photo books from under the table beside him.
“It’s flimsy because I made it, but these are photos that I took when you weren’t here.” Sunwoo lays each book one by one, stacking them up while your one free hand holds onto them dearly.
That’s all it took for the tears to finally fall. You flip through the albums of pictures that he has compiled when you were away. Three thick books, each one for a year each. He documents the shenanigans that you have missed, hoping that you would know how much he thinks of you. He slips in a few scenes of views that you would enjoy, and arbitrary captures such as him accidentally pressing the shutter button. It’s all silly and fun. With Sunwoo’s calming voice and the tears leaving your eyes, there are so many things roaming in your mind.
“I’ve always wanted to give this to you. I didn’t want you to be left out.” Sunwoo takes the books away from you, leaving them on the counter, “But this little one is the most precious thing I have.”
Sunwoo’s voice fades out near the end. You gulp. “What is it?”
The boy almost didn’t want to let go of the final gift that he has for you. Unlike before, Sunwoo is reluctant to open the book, “Pictures of just us. And you. I look at it whenever I miss you. Open it later when you're alone.”
The one small book is filled to the brim, minus the last page. Most of them are candid pictures, some funny but overall mostly ones that made his heart race with just one look. It’s only when Sunwoo lifts you by the chin that you finally have the strength to look up to his eyes.
The pads of your fingers dig into the sides of the small book on your lap, muscles shaking with the force. Sunwoo feels all of this, heart shattering into pieces at your agony. Inside your mind, he knows something is in your mind, but he doesn’t know what it is. However, he does know that you deserve an explanation for all of his questionable past actions. Sunwoo lifts his bottom from the back of his lower limbs, lifting himself closer to you. He kisses your forehead, lingering on your skin before speaking up.
“Three years,” your body freezes at the familiar timeframe, “that’s how long I’ve been a coward for. Truthfully, anyone would argue longer. But for the three years that I’ve barely texted you back, had any contact with you, causing you confusion and pain, I really am sorry for it all, bubs. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”
You shake your head, an incredulous scoff hitting your lips, “Why’d you do it?”
“Because you deserve so much better than me,” his voice low and daggers deep into your heart. “I knew from the very start that your mum hates me, and I get it. I snuck you out and stopped you from studying. But I was selfish and told myself that what your mum thinks isn’t what you think. But then, when we got caught that day and you couldn’t go out anymore…”
His voice fades as the air becomes heavier the more Sunwoo makes his heart lighter. Even so, you appreciate the enlightenment, and you would gladly take his worries, carrying them together. After all, when carrying something alone becomes crushing, another hand is just what is needed.
“I felt guilty for it all, and I guess I didn't know how to handle it. You’ve always loved going out, but after what happened, you couldn’t step one foot outside the house unless it was for school. I took your freedom away. So when I heard you were going, I took it as an opportunity to let you go.” Sunwoo searches for any emotion on your face: anger, sadness- just anything.
But then you bravely lift the corner of your lips, and your touch blankets his jawline. “I loved that day, Sunwoo. You took nothing away from me. You have no idea how glad I felt to be out of that house.”
Sunwoo lived in ‘what ifs’ till now about that event. What if he didn't take you out? What if he just third-wheeled Eric and Millie? What if he turned away after the first failed attempts? With your words, he finally lets all of it go, knowing your side of the situation. His knees give out, and he repositions his body on the floor, now cross-legged with his elbows on his thighs.
Your head shakes, eyesight blurring at Sunwoo’s audibly sniffles below you. When you lean your body to kneel in front of him, you embrace Sunwoo tightly. Your timbre soothes him, sweet nothings naturally sending his heartbeat crazy. Tears soak your collar where Sunwoo homes at, and the familiarity of seeking comfort with one another hits you like a wave.
“I was very happy that day, Sunwoo.” Your hold on his body tightens. “Were you?”
His bangs rustle against your fabric. “Very.”
“I'm glad then.” That's all you needed to hear. “Because the best thing in my life is seeing you happy.”
Sunwoo pulls his body away and clasps your shoulders, “I was happy because I was with you.” A tense gulp before continuing further, “You're the best thing in my life.”
Your eyes sparkle from the brimming tears around your eyes. The flustered boy uses his thumb to wipe them away, apologising for making you cry along with him.
“I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”
There it is: A request for a promise. “Did you know that when something is weighing you down, you start to ask me to promise things?” You still at the accuracy of his words, lower lip chewed in denial. “So I’ll promise you that if you promise me something back.”
Sunwoo guides your breathing, eyes trained on your lips only a few centimetres away from him. He tries his best to meet your eyes again, diverting immediately to hide the love hearts in his.
“Okay,” you agree between sniffles.
“Whatever choices you make from now on, you make them for yourself, not others.”
Choices. There are so many of them that we make in life. The easy, rudimentary ones to the life-changing, difficult ones. It's never been your forte as you're used to following what others have chosen for you. You're not used to taking your path, at least not without proper permission to do so.
“And if I fall?”
“I promise I'll be there to catch you.” Sunwoo offers his pinky finger out to you, hoping for you to take it.
You spend the next few seconds staring at it, teardrops passing the tender cheek where your mum’s hand was yesterday. Sunwoo’s hand starts to falter, but just before he uncurls the rest of his fingers, you capture and curl his pinky with yours.
“I promise.”
THIRTEEN: WHEN KARMA STRIKES
A few days have passed since that day. After closing the store, Sunwoo was able to fulfil your wishes for a convenience store dinner with your phone propped up against the window to watch anime. It's a miracle the workers didn't kick you both out with the booming reactions to the show.
If you did get kicked out, would the adrenaline that you and Sunwoo matched crash immediately? Would you notice your subconsciousness linking your arm with his? Would you notice the stolen glances by your side?
Because after that day, you avoid Kim Sunwoo like a plague.
Eric and Millie too were left on delivered for hours on end. It drives Sunwoo crazy to be on the receiving silent end this time, and he feels that karma has rightfully gotten him. He can’t complain; if anything, he should put up with this to understand everything that he put you through thousands of kilometres away.
His day off started with multiple attempts to get a hold of you. The pillow mutes his groans while the mattress mutes his flailing limbs. Apart from the fact that he's bored, he's missing you a lot after expressing his feelings that day at the shop. He curses internally, and he knocks a box that has been sitting on his bedside table.
The thud on his floor is met with a concerned knock on his door. “Are you alright? I thought you were auditioning to be Tarzan.”
The son shrugs at his father, “More like a dinosaur, but I'll take it.”
The man at the door shakes his head at his child, rolling his eyes playfully. His shoulder leans on the doorframe, eyes scanning the messy room. He stills at the photo frame of his full family on his son’s desk.
The elder’s chin nudges towards the photograph, "You definitely got your love for photography from your mum,” approaching Sunwoo’s desk. “She said that pictures made everything last forever, and she always wanted to look at them whenever she misses that particular time.”
The man rarely talks about his wife. Maybe it's his way of coping. Maybe that's his sign of moving on. Either way, Sunwoo knows that his dad holds his wife with strong regard and love as he stares at the photograph. The top part of the frame becomes dust free from his quick sweep across the wood.
“That’s why she loved taking pictures of us. So that when she left, we would never forget all the things we did with her.”
His lips dries at the thought of you. The bedsheet under his palm creates a whirlpool of wrinkles, creasing the fabric. Sunwoo has always loved taking pictures of you from the very start, it wasn’t only because you were leaving. But when he knew you were, he did start to take a lot more.
“But it hurts sometimes.” Now sitting up on the bed, he has a better view of his unopened birthday present from you on the floor. “It hurts to look at pictures of someone that you love.”
Being an active parent even before his wife’s passing, Sunwoo’s dad has the fatherly instinct on the same level as the motherly instinct that is commonly known. Those instincts only became better after being the only parent left for him. And so, just a single look at Sunwoo’s distraught expression, the dad nods as he believes that he has an accurate idea of what’s troubling his son.
“Have you ever told her that you love her?” Sunwoo’s face shoots up to his dad, eyes wide open. The silence is all his dad needs to know. “So you haven’t,” he concludes for himself. “That day when you both were cooking together, I could tell from your eyes. It's how I looked at your mum.”
“There’s no point telling her anyway,” he defends himself fuitely. “I’m not good for her.”
“Now, who dares make my son think that way?” The father ruffled the boy’s hair as Sunwoo grumbled. “The only words that matter in this situation are hers.” No other words are said when he steps closer to the door, giving Sunwoo the room to evaluate his behaviour. "Don't ever look at your pictures with anyone and regret anything, son."
FOURTEEN: TIES BROKEN
You’ve been staring at the cover of the smaller photo album for the last few minutes, trying to will yourself to flip to the first page. Every time your finger brushes the the cover, it retracts as if they’re trying to save you from something: from heartbreak, from the pain, from running back to Sunwoo’s arms and ruining everything in his life because of your selfishness.
“No,” stepping away from your desk and pacing around the room.
Your steps are just as fast as the thoughts ruminating and bouncing in your mind. It’s so disruptive that it overpowers the insistent knocking on your door. The person outside runs out of patience, revealing their furrowed eyebrows.
“Get out of your room,” your mum demands over your thoughts. “All the guests are coming soon. Sungjin is coming soon too and you haven’t done anything but shower. Don’t make others wait because of you.” With that, the door slams, and your body jolts at the resonating sound that you would assume you’re used to by now.
You turn your head away from the door, not yet processing your emotions over the past few days. You didn’t give yourself the space and time because you’ve been scared that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Back then, if you ever felt the need to break down, you did it in the comfort of someone’s arms. Now, that thought will forever remain a wish. No one can no longer catch you as you break down, and the loneliness in the open room starts to hit you minimally. Before your knees gave out, you crash yourself onto the bed, folding your knees to your chest as you take the next few seconds to deny reality.
“I miss you already, Sunwoo.”
And he misses you dearly too, and he’s acting on it. With this dad’s words motivating him, he manages to throw small pebbles onto your window pane. The constant thuds of familiarity on wood pulls you to directly face the sun despite puffy, sensitive eyes. You squint to adjust to the lighting, looking down to see a certain puffed-out boy outside. His smile widens at the sight of you, beaming brighter than the golden hour setting before your skin. Your eyebrows knit, and it doesn’t take long before his smile slowly flattens at your shaking head. His fist clenches by his side, mustering the courage to stand his ground.
“Front door?” He asked, full of hope. “Please?”
Sunwoo leaves you space to think: to reject or to accept. The former you found excruciating to voice out, but the other option shouldn’t be challenged. All you need to do is to say the word that you said earlier when you’re faced with his photobook, but instead, your head nods, already imagining the relief of Sunwoo holding your figure tightly. You decide that his suggested place to meet is one of the many ways to be in his arms because you learnt from your experiences. You stashed a rope made by tying blankets into your wardrobe for times like these. One end of the rope is tied to one of the bed legs, and the rest of the tail is out of the window. The fabric hits Sunwoo on the head, causing momentary blackness and confusion until he notices the knots leading up to your window.
“Wait, wait, wait-” He flails his hands to you, “Hold on!”
Your feet dangle over the edge of your window, looking down at Sunwoo, who readies himself to catch you. Sunwoo tugs the rope, teaching you how to climb down without hurting yourself. You follow his words, except for the fact that you let go of the rope earlier than he expected, almost tumbling him to the floor. Whilst Sunwoo balances himself and you from the force, you immediately nestled your face into the crook of his neck. Your arms around his neck pull him to you closer, and Sunwoo has no problems with leaning down to make sure you’re more comfortable.
His fingers comb through your hair, goosebumps arising all over you. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“You said you would always catch me.” Your ragged breath hits his skin. No other words are heard from you as his collar dampens to your tears. “So I have nothing to be afraid of.”
Supple lips meet the crown of your head. “Have you been crying alone?” A little nod from you shatters him, “You should’ve called me so that you weren’t alone.” Calling him might be a stretch, considering that you haven’t even texted him, but it was worth the try of reassurance. “I couldn’t reach you, and I was missing you a lot.”
It’s only now that Sunwoo realises that those words never left his mouth. He has showered you with lots of love and attention ever since you came back, but his words haven’t been the best at showing it. You grip the back of his loose shirt, only continuing to sob quietly in his presence.
His teeth trap his bottom lip, a humourless chuckle hitting the shell of your ears, “Selfish, right? After all that I did.”
You want to agree with him. Maybe it’s possible for the negative connotations of human selfishness to modify when it comes to love because if this is human selfishness, then he should be selfish more often.
Your hug around his neck makes it almost impossible for Sunwoo to see any part of you except the top of your head. He doesn’t push for anything else, understanding that he’s the only shield that you have from the world. Sunwoo waits for your breathing to even out, using the exhalation hitting his skin as an indication. An arm finds homage by circling your lower back, and his free hand massages your scalp with the tips of his fingers. His contact grounds you further from the physical stability he provided.
“What’s going on, hm?” You shake your head, not knowing if it’s in for denial or refusal. You thought he would leave it there, but the hand on your head slides to cup your cheek, pulling you slightly away from him. “Look at me, please.”
You can’t. Not when you have no idea what you would tell him if you did meet the eyes that hold your whole world. From afar, the gates to your house creak open, and the roaring engine swallows your whimpers and Sunwoo’s heartbeat despite the proximity. Gushes of praises at your two-storey house and the flirty tone of the woman churn your stomach as you imagine how she exaggerates her puckering lips loose to greet your mum.
“Where’s my soon-to-be daughter-in-law?”
Sunwoo swears if it wasn’t for you needing him at the moment, he would have popped in from the side of the house and introduced himself despite potentially making the situation worse. He wants to tell the unknown lady that you’re not her daughter-in-law; or at least that’s what he wants. But with no further communication from you two, and how you’re holding onto him like you’re running out of breath, his chest tightens at the sure feeling that something is not right.
“She’ll be out soon!”.
His eyes flare, turning his head to the side where the voices are, and there’s a prominent vein that runs along the side of his neck when you slightly tilt your head towards him. You’ve never seen Sunwoo with such emotion before, and your hold around his neck loosens to bring his attention back to you. Almost immediately, the fire dies, and his gaze softens towards you. His thumb caresses the side of your neck. A battle unfolds between your desires and protecting the boy that your heart belongs to. Your head only becomes increasingly hotter with how he presses his forehead on yours, something that you should be used to but never did. You hope with your chest kissing his, your rapid heartbeat goes unnoticed; because of him, and your emotions threatening to burst.
The slightest movement alarms him. His bangs tickle your forehead as he shakes his head. “Don’t go…”
There’s a lump in your throat, and you keep your eyes on his sneakers. “You know I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” he confirms. “Not unless you want to.”
To Sunwoo, it’s his subtle way of reminding you of the promise you gave him. For you, his words are enough to jumble your thoughts.
“I have to or else your shop-”
“My shop?” If Sunwoo thought he wasn’t understanding you before, he has completely lost you now. “What does my shop have anything to do with this?” You bit your tongue while prying yourself from his grip. Sunwoo did let go, but you couldn’t will yourself to widen the gap by more than two steps. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
You shake your head, fists clenched beside you. “You have to go, Sunw-”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” A layer of moisture forms on his eyes. “Please talk to me.”
How could you? How could you tell him of your mum’s words from a few days ago? How she basically made you choose between being with him or taking away his happiness? How could you possibly make him choose? You know how much the store means to Sunwoo from his and returning customers.
You don’t want to be the one to take everything away from him. Not when nothing was his fault in the first place. Though hesitant, your head inevitably shakes at him, and Sunwoo could crumble and break into pieces.
"I’m so sorry, Sunwoo.”
"For what?"
You hope your shoulder shrug is enough to let this conversation go. Your throat constricts with the way Sunwoo grits his teeth, eyes training into you. You force yourself to make something up. For your voice to let an excuse out. Just anything; anything to let this topic pass.
"For coming back and making you uncomfortable. For hurting you like this and-"
“Stop,” his voice pierces into your words. “You're not making me uncomfortable, and you're not hurting me at all. If anything, that's me to you.” Tears start to well up, threatening to fall with each word that comes from his heavy heart. “I know I haven't been the best person, and I know I haven't made up for that, but I can't do that if I'm going to lose you.”
Lose.
The thought had crossed his mind a lot the past few days, but he never said it aloud for fear of hearing it. The word being spoken only makes the situation real, and you're aware of the clenching in your chest. Your heart beats against your eardrums, and the world slightly shifts, deafening the chirps of the birds soaring freely across the hues of red and orange.
Sunwoo’s palms rest comfortably on your shoulders. “I’m so scared of losing you. Of letting you slip away…”
With his words, anyone could safely assume that he’s the one that needs the comfort more than you. The single drop strikes across his cheek but doesn’t break his courageous smile. Instead, it only pushes the tears behind your eyelids to fall. Your thumb swipes his endless tears. His eyelashes flutter, breath shuddering at how gentle you're treating him. All Sunwoo does is stare at you while you take hold of his face.
“Don't be scared,” your voice breaks halfway. “I came back because I missed you so much. I never blamed you for distancing yourself from me. I'm just so sorry that you felt so guilty because of me, and I don’t want you to feel like that anymore."
Panic paints Sunwoo’s face when your hand flops to your side. You slip past him, walking towards the front of the house. As you passed, Sunwoo caught a glimpse of your wavering lips, orbs shaking towards the mud and soil. His fear prompts his hand to reach your upper arm desperately.
You shake his grip off rather harshly, turning around with streaming tears. "You said you were happy, Sunwoo. Don't take it back now."
"Because you were in my arms! I had everything that I wanted when you asked me that question!” Sunwoo’s voice rasps with each exclamation. Each breath surges with pain at each breath but he forces himself to blink his tears away. “Are you walking away because you want to? You promised that you would act on what you want…”
The reminder is grim, and your smile is all the more fake. The way you shrug your shoulders lifelessly is enough to tell you that you have broken your promise, and Sunwoo is left frozen with nature, blowing his body side to side with it. With his condition, a gust of wind is enough to topple him over.
“Some promises were meant to be broken…”
When you drag your feet across the soil, you’re partially aware that your mum will eventually find the trail of dirt across her marbled floor. You mentally prepare yourself for the questions, unlike your preparation to cut ties with Sunwoo with the words hung in the air.
Each step takes a part of you. Each step makes your body numb to the chilling wind. Each step is a confirmation of leaving him. Each step is full of your love for Sunwoo. Sometimes, letting go could be the answer to everything.
Never once did you turn back to face him and you ignore the urge to glance your eye to the side when you make a turn to the front door. If you did turn, you would have gotten your final glance of your first and last love. But you would see nothing but the way he hides his face from the world behind his palms, tears trailing down his arms.
FIFTEEN: PROTECTOR AND DEFIER
The day before your flight was your graduation party. Everyone knew of your departure by then, and Sunwoo knew when you both danced to the mellow music that he’s deeply in love with you. His realisation and the timing of it all resulted in him being dazed in his thoughts ever since the news of your leaving.
Your body sways with Sunwoo, and with how united you are with him, your departure is momentarily forgotten. Your dance partner being slightly out of the present moment has been a look that you have gotten used to. He knows that it’s not your choice. He knows it's for your best interest, knowing well that studying abroad would give you a great advantage in the job industry. He’s powerless, completely defeated by your parents’ valid reasoning. Running out of time, he finds himself thinking of a future without you rather than savouring the present with you.
Each song passes with no prolonged eye contact from Sunwoo, so your hands cup his nape. Your warmth sent goosebumps up his skin, and he diverted his eyes from the graduation poster behind you to your eyes. A weak smile stretches his lips when he realises the crease between your eyebrows.
“What are you thinking about?”
Would kissing your forehead be too much right now? Would it ease your mind like how his mind would? In the end, Sunwoo only offers a head shake. “How we first met.”
Sunwoo watches his words bring a big stretch from your lips from one ear to the other. You could taste the fried potato from that day, the wind growing stronger as you come closer to admire the waves of the sea, and the saltiness infiltrating your nose. The way that you and Sunwoo met was a little messy, and if it wasn’t for Sunwoo cutely panicking from his actions, you and him would probably be enemies.
That day, Eric and Millie were only starting to date, and you decided to give the new couple some extra space; you were also saving yourself from being a third wheel after being stuck with them for hours. It’s so excruciating to see their flirty remarks and not-so-innocent touches after mutual pining for so long. As the three of you reach the coastline, you slowly slip away from the couple, venturing the area yourself. It was just you and your snack against everyone’s delightful chattering. Everywhere you go, even the ones that are alone like you, content smiles lit the place brighter than the stalls and the colourful decorative lanterns. You wander almost aimlessly, not paying much attention to your surroundings.
When repetitive shutter clicks near you, your shoes plant themselves into the sand. You held the remnants of your snack tightly, ready to use its stick for self-defence. Your body whips to the side, trying to find anyone near you holding a camera. The person holding the camera is still unaware of the panic he accidentally caused. He leisurely clicks through his snapshots, rapidly clicking through the frame-by-frame shots of the beach and its setting sun as the background. He hopes that he can capture even the slightest movement of the sun going to sleep for the day. He did, but he also captured the way your clothes leave after-images as you turn around. Your facial expression is blurry, but that’s not a problem when you approach him soon after, a raised eyebrow suspicious of his work.
Prompt explanation and recognition of being in the same school is the beginning of your friendship. That’s also the first time that he showed his work to anyone else than his dad. It gave him great relief to hear your compliments. Ever since then, you and Sunwoo have seen each other at school more often, and he joins you as a third wheel to Eric and Millie.
“I’ll never forget your face that day,” you chuckle at how wide-eyed Sunwoo was, stuttering and panicked.
You both spent some time recollecting the early events of your friendship. When the memories grow closer to the present time, that’s when Sunwoo refuses to meet his eyes to yours as much as he can. His steps are no longer matching the music, and he holds the side of your body loosely.
Your heart breaks into pieces, knowing that the news of your leaving affected him much more than you thought. “Let’s take a little break.” You pull him away from the crowd.
Sunwoo rests on a chair while you leave for refreshments. The boy hangs his face low, sweating palms clamping onto his knees and fingers tapping hurriedly on his thighs. Shutting his eyes only rid him of the physical world, and he’s already imagining every day without being able to easily see you. The biggest transition after high school was only supposed to be how he wouldn’t see you every day from eight to three.
That’s it. It should’ve been just that.
Should he confess now? Would it burden you? Would it cause his friendship with you to rift apart permanently?
You’re only a few steps away from a deeply distressed Sunwoo. Your grip on the cup could have shattered it, the same way your heart is at the current moment. When you were finally in front of him, you placed the cup on the table next to you, crouching on the floor to look up to Sunwoo. You tried calling his name, but he barely gave a reaction. Your hands soothe over his hand, thumbs running along his skin. No words were exchanged, not when drops of water landed on the back of your hands.
“I’ll miss you…”
You nod, voice starting to betray you. “I’ll miss you more. I’ll text you every day.” Sunwoo dips his forehead to yours. “I promise.”
The hug that he indulges you with after dropping you off is the last one. Sunwoo was absent at the airport the next day, only sending you a quick text minutes before your flight took off. Even though the plane had access to the internet connection, your message to him would be left on delivered for a few more days and left on read for weeks after.
In between the chaoticness of a new life and unfamiliarity, missing Sunwoo had to be one of the hardest challenges that you had to overcome. Sometimes, during calls, Eric or Millie would slip his name nonchalantly, unaware of the situation. The weight of everything crashed down on one call, and the mention of his name was your final straw.
Sunwoo regrets not seeing you off. He let his insecurities beat him. If he was brave enough to confess his feelings, would you have stayed? If he important enough for you to stay?
He has looked for ways to blame staying in his bed and missing sending you off to your external circumstances like your parents. But he knew deep down that your parents wouldn’t stop him despite their hate for him. He wishes you would hate him for only reaching out during special days and practically ignoring you otherwise. But deep down, wishes for the opposite.
Kim Sunwoo has done regrettable things for the past three years.
It’s been a week since he cried for you. Maybe the world is telling him that he’s too late, and he doesn’t blame anyone. The world has given him many chances, and so have you. Maybe this is the time that he would learn to live with his actions. Maybe the world won. Maybe the world wanted him to feel hopeless and lost, the same way that he made you feel for three continuous years.
Sunwoo lets himself off with an extended time of rotting in bed. The ceiling became the medium for his mind to replay his favourite moments with you; and what life might have been with you. The pillow collects his silent cries. It's only when his hand outstretches and knocks a box that he faces reality.
Puffy eyes and fatigue reach for the now slightly dented box. Sunwoo has been avoiding opening your birthday gift but still keeps it by his side when he musters his courage to open your hard work for him. The ribbon shimmers from the evening shine outside, yet it never reflected in his orbs. His finger pulls on one of the long tails, inhaling deeply for the contents inside. A handmade raccoon keychain stares at him with its starstruck eyes and wide smile. If Sunwoo had a mirror every time he laid his eyes on you, he would know that the raccoon is indeed himself. A gulp passes his throat as he shakily lifts his gift closer to him, tender eyes examining the effort that you’ve put in. The slipped note from you congratulated him for his special day, wishing him lifelong happiness and health, as well as an apology if you didn’t do well with his gift.
“Yeah right,” he shakes his head with a smile, holding the raccoon close to his chest. “Lifelong happiness without you,” his palm clenches at the thought, “how am I going to do that?”
Kim Sunwoo loves challenges. He loves doing them too because he knows that you’ll support him on his journey, and waiting for him at the finish line. But if your finish line is his start line, then he would never take on those challenges.
Getting a wink of sleep was a miracle, and his dad would cheer if Sunwoo even left his room. His health declines, and the time he spends flipping through his photos increases. The familiarity of those photos makes him sane, as much as it makes him insane. The past week hits him when his messages are left undelivered even through multiple resends. You left the group chat, and your profile in multiple social media accounts are hidden from Sunwoo’s. You disappeared from his physical and technological world. The only thing he truly has of you now are the time that he spent with you in framed pictures and his memories.
“Fuck,” he humourlessly chuckles. “Is this what I get for being a coward?”
The beeping and ringtone of his phone blares through his room. Sunwoo isn’t fazed by the sound replacing the silence. He swipes his thumb to accept the call without sparing a glance at the caller’s ID.
“Hel-”
“Please tell me she’s with you!”
Beside him, Millie's distant voice is frantic at another person being able to bring good news on the statement Eric shouted to him earlier. Sunwoo’s back straightened, trying to piece together the limited amount of information from the two’s lack of air.
“Eric, what’s going on?”
“She’s not at home, Sunwoo! And we’ve been looking for her for a while now, and Auntie is getting so furious! I have no idea where she is! No one does, and she left her phone here and-”
“Okay, Eric. Take a deep breath,” Sunwoo traps his phone between his ear and shoulder. He stashes his essentials in his hoodie’s pockets. “I’m coming over now. Just hold on.”
Eric couldn’t get a word out when the line cut dead. Sunwoo drives over to your house, probably speeding past the limit numerous times; he decides a fine and demerits points are much better in the current situation. With every turn and adjustment on his stick shift, sweat rolls down the side of his face and forehead. The red lights seem like an eternity, and the green is faster than a blink. Taking a different route probably took longer than if Sunwoo just stayed put and waited a little bit more for the road to clear, but he’s not risking staying seated and watching the sun set with each second that passes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he impatiently taps on the steering wheel at the road accident adding delay to his journey.
A mix of different coloured cars flooded the front gates of your house, some parked inside. By the door, Eric and Millie stood timidly side by side to an angry woman. The older one jabbed her index finger at Eric’s forehead, and just from his back view, Sunwoo could feel his emotions threatening to burst. It’s only when she directs her attention to Millie that Eric pushes her back behind him.
“Don’t touch her,” Eric warns. “We’re all trying to find her here. Let’s not start another conflict, Auntie.”
“If you had monitored her properly and made sure she hung out with the right people outside the house, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” Her gaze burns straight to Millie. “People like you and Kim Sunwoo! You’re the reason why she’s gone!”
“Auntie, I’m sor-”
“I’ll find her.” Sunwoo’s calm and determined voice cuts through the booming voice.
Kim Sunwoo takes the stairs with his chin up high, advancing closer to the three. The fourth person behind the door made his presence known, striking Sunwoo’s chest with his arm. No words were exchanged between the two, keeping their lips tight as each other’s existence surges and rages the bloodflow throughout their body.
“Get out, Kim Sunwoo.”
“This isn’t your house,” he spat out venomously, “whoever you are.”
Sungjin is ready to take Sunwoo into his own hands when the older man interrupts them. “How dare you come here?”
His turns away from Sungjin to his friends, relaxing his stern look momentarily before facing the cross-armed woman. There she is in all her glory, with her face decorated with the best products and her body complete with the best brands. It turns out that those are not necessarily what makes a person arrogant, but instead, it’s the way she keeps her chin high to him at the top of the stairs. The way her eyes travel down to him and his baggy, non-branded clothes. It’s the way that her one leg extends to the side, ready to shoot him down. Sunwoo has never been face-to-face with your mum, only hearing stories. Maybe that should’ve made him cower, but for you and him, he’s sick of the world pulling you both apart.
“I never liked you, Kim Sunwoo. You distracted my daughter from her studies. You never even completed university. You don’t even have the money to own a proper vehicle. How dare you come here when you’re the reason why she has been misbehaving throughout the past few years of her life?”
Eric and Millie hopes for Sunwoo to keep his composure. Contrary to their expectations of Sunwoo giving into her words, Sunwoo shuts his eyes, dampening the force of the external world. Just like the past week that he spends thinking about the dear times he has spent with you, he consciously recollects ones that would help him stand his ground.
From the time you made it clear that you still think of him: “You didn't forget about me…I just thought I was the only one who held on to these memories.”
To the times when his actions brought you relief: “You have no idea how glad I felt to be out of that house.”
Or your selfless nature: “I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”
To the ones that your ‘selfish’ self wants: “I came back because I missed you so much. I never blamed you for distancing yourself from me.”
To the ones that trust and lean on him: “You said you would always catch me. So I have nothing to be afraid of.”
To the one who cares for him: “I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”
And ultimately, to the one question that he finally has the heart to say aloud: “Sunwoo, are you happy?”
“No,” he firmly confirms. “I’m not happy.”
His words didn’t match the question that the woman asked. The blatant way that Sunwoo ignores her question only pushes the woman to break Sunwoo further. “You don’t deserve to be happy after all that you’ve done, Kim Sunwoo.” The woman won when Sunwoo nodded, a smirk slowly forming on her face. A scoff follows her victory, “Then be on your way-”
“Maybe you’re right. I don’t deserve to be happy after all the trouble I caused her. It’s the reason why I always thought that your daughter deserves someone better.”
“Past tense?” An eyebrow raises at his confidence. “You still don’t deserve her, Kim Sunwoo.”
“Maybe,” he reiterates the word. “But I wasn’t the one who made her apologise to me for something that isn’t her fault. I wasn’t the one to make her look over her shoulder every time she followed her heart. I wasn’t the one who made her think that she couldn’t lean on her family.”
Eric had to hold his laughter back at his best friend’s words. His nods to Sunwoo’s words, making the latter spare him a glance. Sunwoo meets the eyes of his best friend carefully walking backwards to the bottom of the stairs. Millie nudges his shoulder, pointing to the keychain hooked around one of his pants’ belt loops and mouthing about how their little boy has grown. It took Kim Sunwoo a few years to say these words out loud. But a win is still a win. Sunwoo reaches the bottom of the stairs, still keeping his body facing Sungjin and your mother. When he has enough space from Sungjin, Sunwoo keeps his arms to his side as he bows to the older one.
“Your daughter made me promise that I’ll be happy for the rest of my life,” he lifts his head steadily leaving the group with newfound determination to keep his words, “so I’ll be on my way to do that.”
Finally, Sunwoo’s back greets her. “You pursue my daughter or even be near her ever again, and I will close your shop.”
That keeps his feet planted to the ground. His shop is way out of context, just like how it was a week before. This time, however, Sunwoo isn’t lost in following the situation. This information must have been something that you’ve carried by yourself, and he comes up with a ton of reasons as to why you would never dare tell him the truth. He knew something was up. He wanted to dig further but never had the chance to. His actions right now are what pulled the trigger, and he steps in the much-needed ‘trap’ that your mother would never want him to know. The elderly man smirks, expecting another bow with pleas and whimpers.
Yet, as the sun is on its way to sleeping for the next few hours, Sunwoo encapsulates its scorching heat just for her as he turns his head. “You can try,” he shrugs. “I’m confident that I can protect everything that I care about from now on.”
SIXTEEN: WHEN THE SEA MEETS THE TEARS
As much as you hate to admit it, roaming out without your phone and jacket isn’t the best way to rebel against your mum. You're shivering in the sunset breeze, and your ankles, deeply buried in the scorching sand, are now numb. The thought of taking your shoes off was good, but you couldn’t find the energy to put them back on despite them being beside you.
Before you, the sun is slowly setting. Your watch tells you that you've been roaming for almost two hours with no hints of boredom. The bird chirps its departure song, and the melody fades across the horizon. The wooden bench underneath your fingertips grounds you with the help of the cooling wind, but you welcome it with closed eyes. Your shirt dances, making you tuck your skirt tight beneath your thighs.
The time when Sunwoo sneaks you out for the festival comes to mind. The act was thrilling, especially after working every single drop of your brain juice and overworking yourself to the bone. You drown yourself in your thoughts, the sun making your forehead unnecessarily warmer. You're afraid to face the place that bought you both together; the waves crashing only push your tears out more.
"Should I go now?" You distantly wonder. "Probably," You answered your question.
You didn't leave just yet, though, staying just a little more before the inevitable lecture when you get back home. For some reason this time, you're not scared. You're not scared of your mum shouting at you, pressuring you to go back overseas and never to step foot in Korea unless she wants you to. You're not scared of getting to the airport and saying goodbye to Eric and Millie until your mum tells you to come back. You're not scared of the work that the new semester will put on you and the stress you'll be under.
You're scared of your mind repeating the scene from last week when a certain boy decides to speak his mind- no, his heart. His words replay in your mind millions of times. The worst thing to see is a distraught Sunwoo, and it kills you that you’re why he is. It took a lot of self-control to walk away without looking back. The weight of your words only sunk during dinner time, and you had to excuse yourself from the table as you ruined your makeup. The girl stares at you blankly in the mirror, with no life or spark; Sunwoo has always been the one who put them there. Sungjin trails behind you and makes it his goal to understand the meaning of your distress. He promises to treat you better, better than Sunwoo could ever do. Yet, getting treated better by Sungjin isn't what you wanted, and it'll never be that.
Kim Sunwoo. Truthfully, if you could say anything, you just want to be with him.
It’s only when your mind convinces your mum’s threat is worth it for the greater future that you finally passed out for the rest of the night. Even so, you wish you could take everything back. You wish you could spare him a glance, maybe mouth the three words you’ve kept away for so long. Kiss him on the forehead, cheek and maybe his jawline. Pull him close and let him rest on your chest. To snuggle against him both when the world is loud or silent; his heartbeat will deafen them anyway. Spoil him with his favourite food and things. Split the workload at his shop; a measly excuse to see him more during the twenty-four hours. Shower him with lots of love and affection until you’ve reached the end.
It seems that heaven has been listening to your yearnings. Silicone slaps the gravel footpath behind you the volume and pace alerting you to turn towards a heaving boy. His neck stops turning at the sight of you and his steps gradually slows. Sunwoo ruffles the bangs stuck to his forehead, wiping any excess sweat and taking in the salty air. The corners of his lips lifts dearly, pumping his fists into the air to celebrate his correct hunch on where you would be.
"Called it," he shrugs after steadying his breath. "Knew you'd be here."
You didn't respond, keeping a straight face towards him before returning to the vast ocean. If you knew heaven was listening, you wouldn't wish for his presence right now. You're tired, speechless and overwhelmed with your audacity of running away from home. Your shoulders comes into contact with cotton, his gentle cologne behind you mixing in with the saltiness of the sea.
"It would suck to get sick.” He adjusted the fit on your figure, tying the sleeves loosely together to keep his jacket from slipping.
He walks towards the front of the bench, and you expect him to take a seat next to you. Sunwoo blocks the calming waves with his chest before kneeling to face you at eye level. As expected, you turn your head any other way than to him, but Sunwoo doesn’t miss the eyes void of emotions. Even with your favourite gummy smile of his, you still wouldn’t catch him a glance. A pout grows on his face when you ignore him, but the boy doesn't give up. His gaze lingers on the familiar photo book on your left. A calming smile overtakes his face, glad that at least you had it close to you like all the times that book was for him.
Sunwoo takes the heel of your foot, dusting leftover grains and dust away before slipping the spare sandals he bought to your feet.
“What are you doing?” You murmur weakly.
“Taking care of you just like how you always do to me.” Sunwoo takes your half-buried sneakers out of the sand, shaking them from any grains before setting them nicely against to watch the scenery. “Done,” satisfied with his work.
Your eyes are dull at the last bit of sunlight that shines over his hair. It prompts you to lean towards him, pressing a chaste kiss on the crown of his head. Despite looking away, you catch Sunwoo admiring your face from the corner of your eye. The pink and orange reflecting on your skin only awes him more, stealing all of his attention to you. Your palms are clenched together on your lap.
His eyes widen, perplexed at your act. “W-What was that for?”
You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Just repaying you for all the times you kissed me.”
Then he chuckles. You wish you could record it so that you could play it whenever you want to. Your fingers push and fidget against each other, catching Sunwoo’s attention. He slips his hands between yours, pushing them away from each other. His fingers link with yours determinely, the same way he lifts his chin to look at you.
“Look at me, bubs.” You did the opposite, neck touching your chest. It leaves him crestfallen.
The only part of Sunwoo that you could see is his lower body, knees deep in the sand. It’s only with the breeze that your gift from him slightly sways, chest and grip tightening at the smiling face.
“Ddeonu…”
It’s a faint word, but Sunwoo caught it. “Is that the name of this little guy?” You spare him a nod. “You made him so cute. Just like me.” Sunwoo’s ability to lift your mood at any given time and place is truly remarkable. It was one of the first qualities that you fell in love with. Maybe it was the playful wink he throws in; maybe it's just him. “Did you flip through everything yet?”
You immediately knew what he was referring to, and you couldn’t bring any good news for him. It’s the truth, and you hope Sunwoo would be so disappointed that he would stand up and walk away. All you need is for him to tell you how much he hates you for not being able to do such a simple task, and you can go on with your life-
“Good.”
That’s the complete opposite reaction that you expected from him. Without a chance to go against him, Sunwoo traps your body between his arms by placing his hands next to your thighs. He pulls his upper body, drawing his face closer to you. It’s not the distance that makes you lean backwards, it’s your final attempt to hide your red and puffy eyes from the loneliness and weight that you’ve been carrying for years. But there he is: the love of your life so close to you that all you need is a few centimetres to claim his lips. Your hands find each other ones more, tightly shutting your eyelids.
“No, please,” his voices out painfully and in desperation. Stray hair is tucked behind your ears and he hushes his wishes, “Look at me, please. Look at me with those eyes that I love the most.”
“You don’t have to take care of me anymore, Sunwoo. I know you said that you would make it up to me, but you really don’t. I understand why you did what you did, and I ge-”
“But you don’t understand how I feel about you. I know that because you haven’t read the last page. Please look at me, bubs.” Midway, your breath gets stuck in your throat when Sunwoo nudges the side of his nose against yours. “Please?” You give in to Sunwoo. Immediately, his eyes glimmer when he meets yours. “Why didn’t you tell me about your mum and my store?”
A crease forms between your eyebrows. “How’d you know about it? Did you…visit my house earlier?” Silence grows louder than noise as affirmation. “Then, you should know what’s best for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats. “You should’ve told me.”
“And then what?” You ask exasperately. “What would happen after, Sunwoo? Would you climb the fence and try to break in through my window? Catch me in your arms? Smile at me like the world hates us being together? It's not high school anymore! We're adults with responsibilities, and you wouldn't do th-”
“Yes, I would’ve,” he intently phrases.
Sunwoo clenches his fist, knuckles pushing on wood. He could feel his heartbeat against his ears, thumping as erratically behind his chest. You scoff at his words, and it leaves his shoulders slumping. Yet, that’s all he needs to finally voice out the words that he associates with you.
“I would,” he tucks your strands once more, cradling your jawline and draws you in. He breathes just above nature, confessing his feelings, “because I love you. I've been in love with you for years.”
Sunwoo watches as your eyes widen, lips gaping apart all the same. Tears form, trickles and creeps. Your stuttering feeds on Sunwoo’s fear that he's lost you forever. But as each second passes, he wants you to know explicitly something he has been hiding for years on end. Now, with half-lidded eyes on your lips, Sunwoo patiently awaits for you.
“You're worth the world to me,” he interrupts. “The store won’t close if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if it does, then I can reopen somewhere else. I’m confident that I can protect everything that I love, including you.” The gift from his belt hoop is unhooked, and Sunwoo tilts the soft toy so that its smiling lips land on the corner of your lips. “Ddeonu is confident too.”
He slips his favourite gift into your hands, patting and directing his head kiss your hands. Sunwoo continues to keep you at the centre of his view, brushing your hair through his fingers and bopping your nose lovingly. As soon as you let out the softest laugh between your sniffles, Sunwoo responds with a similar sound that dissipates all your worries. When your head lifts to face him eye-to-eye, Sunwoo is the one who turns his head sideways. A deep shade of pink brushes across his cheekbones, and he traps his lips between the rows of his teeth. The redness only spreads throughout his face and neck when you press a peck on his cheek.
Another one.
And another one.
Until he finally stands and lifts you off the bench with an arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. Along with your satisfying laughter, the pull you have by embracing your arms around his neck is what confirms to Sunwoo that this is reality. Still in his arms, Sunwoo takes a seat, sitting you on his lap. You bask under the remnants of the golden hour close to him. You rest your head on the crook of his neck.
"You're going to get hurt, Sunwoo,” clenching his shirt at the thought. “I don’t want that.”
"Life without you will hurt. I know that much.” You hum, drawing random shapes on his top. "What about you? What does a life without me mean for you?”
Your finger stops, gulping, “Nothing.”
Sunwoo caught a whiff of your shampoo when he craned his face to you. “Why?”
Plump lips kiss the tip of your nose, cheeks rising at the fleeting touch. “Because I love you. I love you so much that it drives me crazy, Sunwoo.”
If you thought Sunwoo couldn’t get any redder than before, he did. His skin heats up, and your body feels the effect your words had on him. It leaves you chuckling instead, teasing him with kisses along his neck as he shivers under your touch. You’re caught up in your act that it caught you off guard when Sunwoo’s arm behind you suddenly pulls away. With the momentum and your surprise, the smirking boy takes this moment to respond to the love you’re showing him.
Sunwoo claims your lips, eyelids closing to focus and savour the shape of your lips. He leads, pulling away slightly to dive back in. The boy pulls you back up, and you adjust to the pace he sets for you. He shudders and groans each time you pull away for air. Your breath is taken away by how the hand behind you wraps around your lower back, and the other guides your face to keep his lips locked with yours. It’s a little messy with occasional nose bumps, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sunwoo either. Not with the way you intentionally place your hand over his heart, feeling his little heart jump at his affection with you.
When his lips aren’t busy on yours, he presses his lips to your face, whispering sweet nothings. “You’re so beautiful,” he admires before diving back in. “I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”
Kim Sunwoo had years of loving to make up for. He’s ready, but he needs to make sure you are.
"My beautiful girl, are you ready for the endless messages now?"
You fill his ears with an amused giggle, "As long as you send me a picture of yourself every day."
"You bet I will," sending another playful wink. "I'm sure you don't want to miss out on this handsome face."
You roll your eyes playfully, Sunwoo feigning fake offense. The book beside him comes to his mind.
He spares a glance at it before looking back at you. “Want to look through it?”
"Together?" He accepts your request with a kiss.
The sun sleeps for the rest of the night, the moonlight experiencing their love for the first time. It smiles beautifully to the laughter of the couple pointing at the funny pictures taken by the photographer himself. The ones that Eric and Millie took capture all the times that they might’ve been blind; or at least that is what the two believe whenever they see the now-couple together. Sunwoo screenshotted conversations between him and his two best friends reprimanding him about his behaviour towards you. Beside those screenshots, he wrote his reflection, spilling his heart in ink; some faded from his tears.
Before flipping to the long-awaited last page, Sunwoo had his hand over yours while you flipped it. In the end, you understand why Sunwoo is glad that you didn’t see it before he confesses. The three words being said are much powerful than the lettering. But something that words couldn’t convey is how there’s a space for a picture.
The outline is a rough sketch of the dimensions, and inside is written: If you accept my heart…? Hopefully…
The next thing to do is to clear. In selfie mode, you, Sunwoo and Ddeonu pose to the phone’s camera. Sunwoo can’t wait to tell his dad and everyone else whenever he looks back on this snapshot that this is his favourite photo out of all the snapshots of you and him. You too, would claim the say with the addition of the calming waves and the warmth of his body against yours.
Within his frame, both digitally and physically, together with him.
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'
join the taglist here » @deoboyznet @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet @haneul-and-clouds @sanaxo-o @littleroaes @sunlightwoo @dearly-somber @cuppasunu @cupidjyu @jaehunnyy
genre » 18+ ONLY; MDNI PLEASE! 🔞 fluff...? (some of sunwoo's gestures for you can be seen in that way), ...sunwoo is kinda in love to be honest
word count; estimated reading time » 2540; ~10 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » public sex (hotel balcony) and mentions of past public sex, dom!sunwoo, sub!reader, dirty talk and praising (sunwoo to reader), orgasm denial (sunwoo to reader), multiple rounds (two written, allusions to more), kissing and marking (both), pet names (baby girl, baby boy, slut, brat), sunwoo calling reader pretty and beautiful, sunwoo implied to be physically bigger and taller, sunwoo carries the reader, rough sex, swearing, begging (reader to sunwoo), nudity (both), fingering (sunwoo to reader), boob play (sunwoo to reader), sunwoo holds reader's wrists down at the end, mentions of masturbation (sunwoo about reader), creampie
navi/masterlist!! 🤍
thank you for hyping and helping me with this one @hursheys @mosviqu 😭
The moment the electric lock flashed green on the booked hotel room, clothes were flung and skin to skin were made before skin to fresh fabric. Kim Sunwoo smirks at your neediness for him, the way his finger smoothly glides along your folds confirming the fact even more. As always, he always knows how to rile you up, especially with the amount of orgasms he's taken away from you in the past hour.
"Stay still," a husky groan behind you reminded, "pretty little girl."
You whimpered at the pet name, your back arching, palm full of the sheets and chest fluttering at the wet kisses trailing down your spine. Sunwoo’s arm that was around your waist pulled you up to sit against the broad of his chest. His heating skin only intensifies the need around your body, your thighs shaking at the rubbing around your clit. Now practically sitting on his hard length, the new position was able to brush a deep place that had never been touched. The slightest movement occurred from his hip and the boy smirks at how you rest your head against his shoulder.
"That's it, baby girl," licking the side of your neck. His teeth nibble on your skin, the same teasing way he flicks and ghosts over your defined nipples and kneads your boobs in his hands. "Louder," he presses on as he grows harder inside of you.
"S-Sunwoo-" Your words were taken out, replaced by the heaving of breaths and moans filling the hotel room. "Let me ride you. I need you so bad.” The idea is cunning to him and he couldn't help but hiss at the mental image of being able to fully see the way you would take him, eyes locked to his as you only increase the pleasure for you both.
"What's the magic word?"
"Please, pretty boy. Let me ride y-"
Turns out Sunwoo is more impatient than you are and you feel the way his length hardens more inside your gummy loosening walls, stretching and knocking on the very first stages of your orgasm. Sunwoo flips to change his position, laying gracefully over the bed with you hovering above him, but unfortunately for you, the slight moment when he needs to pull out to get into position makes you frown.
He chuckles, "Don't be so disappointed. You like my cock so much that you just want me in you all day. That's why you call me every single time, don't you?" Your attempt to take a breath halts halfway when you realise that Sunwoo doesn’t align his member to your hole, instead making your poor clit grind against the top parts of his needy, veiny length. "A-Ah..." He rocks your swollen clit against himself, satisfyingly bringing you up and down, his tip disappearing behind your folds and reappearing again gloriously.
Your lower body is starting to shake again and your hands leveraged for his abs, nails slightly digging into his skin. It only urged Sunwoo to grind further, pressing your hips down to him as he started to enter you slightly but pulled out before hitting your spot.
"P-Please, fuck me properly." You're out of your mind at how he plays you, half-hooded eyes staring at him in the low lighting of the room. His mischievous smile shows that he will stop playing with you, but not too soon. Desperate for release, you start to retaliate a bit, going against the guidance of his grip to keep him snug inside you. A smack lands on one of your ass cheeks and the impact makes you moan. It only gets worse for you when he completely stops matching your neediness, keeping your hips in place and taking your building orgasm once more.
Cries and pleas fill his ears. "Stop being a brat," demanding and strong even though his eyes tell you otherwise; if only your eyes were opened. "I'll give you what you want so be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Be patient." You were half-listening, your nods stuttering along with your lower body that starts to shake in anticipation. Your head hangs low, moaning louder and nails engraved to his abdomen.
Until he completely raises his upper body from the mattress.
“W-What are you doing…?" Craving the pleasure he skillfully gives and smacking his chest in frustration. Your legs instinctively wrap around his pelvic area when he completely stands from the bed, clinging onto him as your energy slowly but surely runs out at the relentless rounds that have been going on between him and you.
Sunwoo gives a fake emphatic pout, puckering his lips for a kiss instead. He brushes his lips wherever he can, chuckling at how contrasting the top part of your body is displaying soft love but how the lower part of your body is still connected, your cum dripping along his length as he holds completely still. It’s hard for him to not thrust, but he loves keeping you on edge just for a bit longer. He kisses your tears away and the soft treatment he's giving you makes you forget of your throbbing need only for a split second as he tends to you in a different way. You close your eyes to feel his tongue swirling yours. The need to feel every part of him is evident, your arms wrapped around his neck tell him your desperateness and Sunwoo caresses your waist.
"That's for not calling me for so fucking long," he breathes out. "I was starting to get upset that you haven't called me for a while. Am I a joke to you?
Teeth clash, nose nudging and the way you run out of breath faster than ever makes Sunwoo snicker. "You were being annoying," you bite back. "Fucking me in random places whenever you wanted to."
Your face heats up as you remember the way Sunwoo would wiggle his eyebrows each time, a tongue poking on the inner side of his cheek before he took you to ride him for the first time in the unisex toilet, the front and backseats of his car, his bedroom with the door open and his parents just downstairs, in your house against the window, in the dressing room of a store where he ended up buying the dress he ripped off you, in the empty lecture room at university (let’s hope the recording system wasn’t on), or even fingering you during your lecture (you’re thankful the content is recorded). All those places he moulded his length into you, breaking you apart and putting you back with searing kisses each time. His controlling nature excites you, that's why you haven't been able to call him. You secretly hoped he would go even wilder if you didn't.
Driving to your house, putting you on your shoulder and driving to the nearest hotel that he has booked has gotten to be the least public sex you've had; or so you thought. Sunwoo’s act of cradling your soft skin against his body while he opens the curtain and clicks the balcony door open has become the most public and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. You immediately knew that if other visitors (or even the passersby as you weren’t too far from the ground) were to look anywhere towards your side, they would be able to see you and Sunwoo in intimate detail.
“Oh my God,” you mutter at the wind grazing against your back.
“You want to do it out here?” Suggesting a little show for everyone. “I can give the walkers a show if I bend you over, I guess,” he shrugs. “But I need to see you as I cum inside because it’s the best seeing you fall apart for me.”
Sunwoo feels the way you start to pool at that, and he thrusts slightly after you throb at his length. The whimpers against his neck from his baby girl rile him, especially with how you're clinging onto him and grinding against his chiselled front. Sunwoo taps on the side of your thigh, a motion telling you to land back on the ground. He wastes no time, cupping a hand around your mouth while his index lays vertically against his lips, winking at you. Your hands immediately fly to the wooden railing behind you and Sunwoo takes this as a time to blanket his hand over yours before slowly testing and setting a comfortable, stable rhythm.
“H-Here?” The wind messed up Sunwoo’s hair, and his overgrown bangs only made it hard for you to even set eyes on his orbs; but fuck did he look all the more attractive.
‘Here,” he affirms as a corner of his lip rises, smug and confident. “Shh,” he hushed. “Taking me like a good girl?” Chuckling at your rapid nods, “Or like a dirty little slut?”
Crocked, broken moans could still be heard behind his palm when you finally met his lust-filled eyes. You tried to distract yourself from the thrill of someone walking over to the balcony and catching you but you couldn’t help but grow louder when you looked down at Sunwoo’s veiny length entering you, slowly pulling out and pushing in twice as fast. High-pitched squeals match each time he hits you where you’re most needed.
“Is that how good I feel?” Raising an eyebrow, impressed at how you were able to nod. “My pretty baby girl taking me so well either way.”
As much as you’re pushing him closer and closer to painting your walls white, he needs more stimulation. Whether stimulation is given to him or he gives it to you to drive you insane, it doesn’t matter, but Sunwoo has always been one to spoil you. He takes his hand away from your mouth and immediately the volume, moans, whines, groans and pleas you let out are already pushing him one step closer. He increases his pace, skin slapping on each other and leaning over to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. This decreases the distance between you and him more, and your tender clit gets more attention and love.
“I-I’m so close…” You etched out between broken sobs.
His eyes shut tight, nodding at your words. “You can do it.” It’s the first time he’s permitted you to completely let go. His thumbs brush over your knuckles, reassuring you that he’s close too and would love you to finish first; he loves spoiling you first before himself. “Come on,” pushing himself faster, “Let go for me,” harder, “Don’t worry, it won’t be your first.”
On cue, the image of him not letting you take a break is the trigger to you cumming, Sunwoo still pulsing around you as you did so. The boy hisses at the throbbing motions as you refuse to let go of his cock, tightly wrapping him around you. His hands tightly grip your wrist, the other pulling you still at the final drag he takes inside you as he empties all of him into you, twitching against your pulsing walls.
You feel the way he fills you up, chest stuttering and out of breath. Both your eyes widen when he moves again, needy groans filling your ears. “Sunwoo…” He shakes his head, shutting you up with a searing wet kiss. He plays his tongue around yours, drowning all your noises.
“Not yet,” he heaves. Not when he hasn’t fucked his girl in so long. The amount of times he’s jerked himself off to the thought of you, the way you cry for him and the way that his dick is only satisfied with you are the only things that he replayed in his head every night, moaning your name with furrowed eyebrows.
He retreats inside, sitting on the bed and adjusting his lying position as you sit on him once more. This angle pushes you to your second orgasm, creeping up slowly but surely. Your tightly shut eyes make you appreciate how deep he is as he starts to pound up against you.
His eyes gazed at your glistening folds and pulsing pussy. "See?" He leans and observes your lacked jaw. "In the end, you don't care where I fuck you," chuckling when you meet his thrust halfway. Your muscle shaping for him makes your hole shake, wetting his length and making it easier for him to slide further. "You just care about me," a thrust up, "and the way that I fuck you wherever you want to," another thrust, "and I guess," an eyebrow raises as he prepares his next move, "whenever I want to fuck you."
Sunwoo gets you ready for another release, teasing your sensitive bud by rubbing, flicking and pinching your folds as he pounds into you. This is the first time he's seen your expression from below, and the image is so much better than seeing you under him. In the end, he's just a boy who wants to see how you can move yourself to match his thrust. His dick only hardens with the fact that you're so fucked out that you're unable to fully grind against him.
"F-Fuck me..." Chest heaving at his control. "O-Oh-" He found it. The place that makes you fold for him every time. Your grip flies to his shoulder, eye contact never faltering other than when your eyes shut at the tears rolling down your cheek. Sunwoo aims there each time and you let out choked screams at the building pleasure. "S-Shit.” The stimulation makes the sex easier, eyes widening at the intense pleasure.
"Shit," he smirks at your tightly shut eyes, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "Don't hurt yourself, baby girl," cupping your cheek and pulling your bottom lip. "Let me hear you," Sunwoo increased the pace of his hips and swirls your tender clit, and you had no choice but to follow his orders. "You're so fucked out and beautiful."
You whine at his words, squeals bouncing around the room when Sunwoo tugs on your nipple with his teeth. He fondles every part of you with intense want, intense need. The added attention is when your lower body starts to tense and relax uncontrollably, gushing out the startings of your liquid and the smacks of your body becoming louder and more accurate each second. Your neck falls, and screams hit the ceiling.
He hums against the valley between your breasts, "Does my sweet girl want to cum again?"
"Yes!"
His hand cups your jaw, directing your pleading gaze to his similar ones. "Can she promise me that she'll contact me more and won't deprive me of this sweet pussy?"
"Yes!"
Despite the need, he knows your words hold truth. "I'm gonna cum inside you. Need your body to remember a part of me."
You don't object to that as he pulls you to another kiss, muffling and taking your moans down his throat. It's not long before your body swallows his second load inside, overflowing onto the sheets that he for sure would love to take home; maybe even replacing his as he jerks off to your scent. Your body falls slack after but Sunwoo doesn't pull out again. Your walls pulsate around him and it's when you realise that he's not getting any softer inside of you.
You realised the implications of that, "Fuck-"
You’re flipped against the mattress in a clean sweep, head now comfortably deep into the pillow and Sunwoo re-enters as soon as you hit the bed. "You've been ignoring my calls for too long and I’m way too deprived of you right now," Both wrists are pinned under his open palms, "And this dick needs some more love from his home, baby girl."
18th fic for my anniversary event | requested by anon
wc: 1.4k, fwb, smut (mdni), a lil angst, hurt/comfort, y/n is emotionally constipated, sunwoo is in love, fingering, piv, aftercare
a/n: it's been so long since these were requested & i'm so sorry for the wait >_< i'll be slowly picking up the remaining requests for this event!
event masterlist | tbz masterlist
You don’t care about him. Sunwoo knows, he knows it so well. And yet he’s waiting for you again, sitting on the off-white bedsheets at that stupid motel. The neon signs are flickering outside the window, harsh colors blending into the bright lights of the city. And he waits, because you called. After three weeks of silence, you finally called. This isn’t healthy, not for him because he’s too far gone in all the wrong ways, and not for you because you’re using him as a distraction from problems you don’t want to face. Sunwoo can’t fix them for you, but he would. He’d do a lot of things for you, if you just say the word, and that’s the whole problem. You’re never kind when you call him up. By now he knows the names he can expect from you all too well. Idiot. Asshole. Dumbass. Loser. Maybe he is too lenient with you, maybe he shouldn’t just accept whatever you’re giving. But he knows this isn’t about him, he knows you just need a place to vent your anger and Sunwoo is willing to be whatever place you need. He doesn’t make plans on weekends anymore, because there is always that chance of you calling and he knows he would prioritize you over anything else. He’d cancel it all just to spend three nights at this godforsaken motel with you. If he takes a moment to be honest with himself, he’ll have to admit that there’s nothing good coming out of these meetings, and his own unmet expectations have long started to take a toll on his life. Maybe he should draw a line. Maybe he should let you go.
But then there’s knocking on the door, taptap tap, and he jumps to his feet so quickly it makes the mattress squeak.
He has barely opened the door when he already feels your lips on his in a messy and desperate kiss. It makes him stumble backwards and he just so manages not to lose his footing. You throw the door shut behind you and discard your jacket on the floor and then you’re right back with him again, your hands tangling in the hair at the back of his neck as you devour his lips.
“What’s up, loser?” you say when you finally pull away and you try so hard to sound cool and aloof, but Sunwoo can hear the voice crack waiting to happen and he can see the red beneath your eyes.
“I have a name, you know,” he replies but he knows you won’t take the comment seriously. He never says it like he means it, so of course you’re not compelled to react accordingly.
“You think I remember that?”
“Right.” Sunwoo huffs a laugh. You’re obviously just saying that, but he thinks it’d be nice to hear you call his name sometimes. He’s too scared to make demands though, too scared one wrong move will make you delete his number and look for a different source of entertainment. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d surprise him and stay. But he can’t take that risk. So he goes back to kissing you, his hands on your waist pulling you into his body and sneaking underneath the fabric of your top.
“Hurry,” you complain, when he’s taking his sweet time kissing down your neck, “you don’t have to treat me like some virgin.”
He’s not. He’s treating you like a person, but it’s no use arguing with you, so he lets you push him onto the mattress. You shimmy out of your shoes and pants and pull your top over your head and then you straddling his hips in nothing but your underwear that embraces your body in all the right ways.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, his hands naturally finding their way to your hips again.
“Shut up,” you reply as you unbutton his shirt and toss it aside. For a brief moment your fingers are roaming his upper body, cold fingertips that leave goosebumps on his warm skin, but then your impatience wins and you start to fumble with his jeans. You don’t make him take it off, you’re not wasting your time on that. Instead you push it down just enough to get your hands on him. Sunwoo lets out a moan when you touch him, moving in a way you know will get him hard, and the proud little smile on your lips makes him think he should stop trying to hold back his little sighs and noises. In a matter of minutes if not seconds, you have him all hot and bothered, but of course you wouldn’t let him cum like that. You crawl back to the edge of the bed, fishing out a condom from the pocket of your jeans that are lying on the floor, and then make quick work of opening the wrapper and rolling it on.
“Wait,” Sunwoo holds onto your hips as you hover above him, your panties already pushed to the side, ready to take him, “let me prep you first.”
You roll your eyes, grab his wrist and shove his hand between your legs, your juices soaking his fingers. “I’m wet enough, it’s fine,” you insist, but he still lets his digits run through your folds before slowly pushing them into you. He marvels at the small little noises you let out for him, crumbling so easily under his touch despite your insistence that it isn’t necessary.
“Enough already,” you press out between choked moans when he curls his fingers in a way he knows you love, and this time he relents, his own impatience to feel you making it easy to give in.
When you finally sink down on him, he thinks he's in heaven. You let out a whimper as he bottoms out, giving yourself a moment to adjust to him before you start moving. His fingertips dig into your flesh, the pleasure building up in him again with the roll of your hips. He’s close again way too quickly with you moving on top of him. He can’t cum yet though, not if you haven’t reached your high yet, so he moves one of his hands down to where you’re connected, rubbing circles on your clit that have you clenching around him.
“Close,” you sigh, your movements growing more and more sloppy. He bucks his hips into you to help you out as your legs start to lose strength, never stopping his ministrations on your clit. When you finally reach your orgasm, you clench so hard around him that it pushes him over the edge too. You ride your highs out together, your head falling onto his shoulder as you try to catch your breath.
“Fuck,” you mumble into his skin and then you slowly move off him, letting yourself fall onto the mattress. He takes another second to compose himself before he disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later, a wet washcloth in hand.
“You don’t have to do that,” you say as he wipes down your body, but he can tell you secretly like it by the way you close your eyes and relax into his touch. It grows quiet and peaceful between the two of you and Sunwoo thinks you fell asleep, but then you speak up once more.
“I missed you, Sunwoo.” He almost doesn’t trust his own ears, but when he looks into your hooded eyes they are already looking right back at him. He’s at a loss for words, stopping all movements and staring at you.
“Didn’t you miss me?” you ask when he stays silent, “At least a little bit?” You’ve never been this vulnerable with him before.
“I missed you,” he finally replies, setting aside the washcloth and cupping your cheeks, “I missed you so much.” He gently kisses your temple and your eyes flutter shut, “So don’t make me wait so long anymore. Let's do things properly.”
But your eyes stay closed and you don’t reply. Sunwoo knows you’re not asleep. He knows you’re just running away from a moment that felt a bit too intimate for comfort. And he lets you. He’ll wait again; he can wait some more.
♡ pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this ♡ event masterlist | tbz masterlist
genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.
warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.
word count: 31k
a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.
spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!
they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)
August 2007
The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.
Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor.
You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school.
Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good.
The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue.
His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.
“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile.
His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging.
Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?
Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.
It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.
“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…”
“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.
“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”
Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus."
“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–”
“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”
The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”
He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…
“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious.
Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?”
Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.
He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.
to. my first time getting drunk
April 1999
Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.
Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more.
What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego.
“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears.
He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.
“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”
Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.
“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.
You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.
The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.
“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine.
“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”
“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin.
Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.
“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders.
Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.
“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”
Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.
Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.
Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.
“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”
His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist.
He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice.
“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.
“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.
It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.
“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”
Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.
“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.
“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”
Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.
“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.
“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.
“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”
“You look grumpy.”
“I’m just worried,” you note.
“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him.
“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed.
The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.
There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”
“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.
“Hm?”
“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.
“Yes.”
The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.
“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.
“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”
“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.
“No.”
“Okay.”
That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.
It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.
to. my first detention
September 1999
Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.
Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning.
Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time.
Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.
The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.
Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago.
How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.
Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.
“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”
“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”
“Sir, I really–”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in.
And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you.
His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.
Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.
He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.
Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.
Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.
can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.
Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied.
I can join!! i could use some froyo
You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.
you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind
The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?
Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.
I just like things to be fair. I came late too :((
He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing.
weirdo.
You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops.
Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.
Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”
“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”
“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.
“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.
“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth.
You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.
His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life.
“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.
“Yeah,” he shrugs.
He did not.
“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.
“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.
“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.
There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.
Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.
In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.
But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.
…maybe his sister was right.
Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.
August 2007
“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.
It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad.
What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no?
It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be…
“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.
The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.
“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?”
That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”
“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”
“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.
“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.
“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.
That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”
“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.
“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.
“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”
Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”
Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious.
He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.
“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”
“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.
“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”
“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.
The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.
“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.
“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”
to. my first dance
November 1999
“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.
“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”
“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”
“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with.
When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.
“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him.
Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms?
He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.
Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”
And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position.
But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…?
It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?
Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first?
“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male.
“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”
“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.
“Why?”
“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”
The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.
Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go.
“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.
“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks.
“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”
Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position.
“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.
“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.
“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”
That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”
“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.
The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure.
“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself.
Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity.
“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.
“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)
“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.
“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.
“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.
“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions.
It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.
“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.
A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well.
Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.
“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.
He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.
Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”
His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.
Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral.
“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room.
Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”
The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.
How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?
to. my first date
January 2000
The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.
Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that.
The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.
Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.
The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.
“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.
It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.
“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure.
One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.
He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.
“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.
“It won’t?”
“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.
Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”
There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N.
Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.
“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.
He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.
Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.
There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.
“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.
“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his.
The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?
“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.
“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.
Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.
And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.
“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.
“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.
“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“Great.”
“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.
There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura.
“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.
“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.
“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.
The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.
Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact.
He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.
“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.
Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)
“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.
Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.
“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek.
That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.
“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”
Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be.
“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.
“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)
“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest.
Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.
Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.
Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.
August 2007
It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.
Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go.
Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right?
It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago.
Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?
The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”
And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.
“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.
“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.
“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.
“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.
“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.
It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.
You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.
“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”
Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.
Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.
“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.
“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”
“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home.
“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll.
“Well, is it any good?”
Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”
“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”
“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.
The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.
“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.
“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.
“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries.
“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.
As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.
“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”
Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.
This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?
“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”
“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.
Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.
“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.
It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again.
So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.
Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think.
“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.
You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.
Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.
There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).
Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.
Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully.
Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.
“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure.
“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.
“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.
“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.
Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.
“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”
“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.
“Wanna bet?”
“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening.
A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.
“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”
His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious.
“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”
“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.
“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.
“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”
Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.
Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”
“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”
Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”
“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”
Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.
“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”
to. my first kiss
March 2000
His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”
“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.
“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.
“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together.
It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.
“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.
“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week.
And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.
Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.
The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.
“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.
“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions.
“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed.
Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.
“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”
“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure?
“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)
“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.
“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.
“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.
“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.
“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”
“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging.
A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?
“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.
You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.
Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware.
But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.
He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.
“You know what? Just forget–”
“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.
Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”
“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”
“Okay.”
You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving.
Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.
When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.
The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.
Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips.
“You know you can kiss back, right?”
“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.
“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.
And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.
“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more.
He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.
A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.
The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.
“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.
“Was it that ba–”
Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.
He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.
He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.
He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.
Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.
And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,
he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything.
You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.
And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.
August 2007
You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.
You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back.
“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter.
It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome.
“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself.
Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.
But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”
“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.
“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.
“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.
“Anything specific?” he asks.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.
“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.
You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.
The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn’t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter.
He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.
Maybe you have more time now.
The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.
“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.
“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”
“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.
“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?”
“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.
“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.
“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.
“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”
“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.
Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”
The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”
“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.
“Oh, as if–”
“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.
Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.
“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”
Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.
Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer.
Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.
Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.
Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch.
You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.
A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin.
You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.
“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”
The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past.
“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.
Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.
Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat.
Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.
“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.
“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything… bye!”
Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.
Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”
to. my first girlfriend
May 2000
Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.
Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game.
Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.
It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at.
It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.
Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried.
Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you.
His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.
Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.
Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.
The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.
“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.
And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.)
Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.
Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play.
The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.
Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.
“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything.
“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug.
“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious.
You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.
And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)
The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”
A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.
He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit.
And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face.
You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.
“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”
You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.
“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.
That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.
Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.
to. my first lover
August 2000
The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.
He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait.
Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.
“Is everything alright?” you ask.
“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”
You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”
Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life.
Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.
“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.
“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”
“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.
“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”
“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.
He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.
Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.
Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.
“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture.
“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.
Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features.
“You did!” you nod, grinning back.
It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support.
There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.
“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.
“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.
“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.
“What is it?”
“What is what?”
“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.
The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”
“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.
Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.
“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.
“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.
“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”
Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.
“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.
“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”
Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now.
As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?
When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.
Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely.
He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.
He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence.
His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.
He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close.
Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.
Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin.
Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.
Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting.
“Are you sure?”
He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.
“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”
The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.
“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you.
“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.
Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.
In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.
to. my first love
September 2000
Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.
Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.
And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.
He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…
Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.
If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain.
If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.
He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all.
He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.
He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.
When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane.
For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.
He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.
What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.
He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice.
Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house.
“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…
Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.
Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.
When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.
The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?
Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.
When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…
When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again.
He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too.
“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.
Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.
Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?
It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.
What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York.
September 2007
“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”
The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.
“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.
You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.
His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”
“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.
“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.
All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.
And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time.
“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.
Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.
“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”
So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment.
You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though.
“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”
“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”
His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken.
Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.
Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore.
Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”
The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.
“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.
Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”
“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”
“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you.
“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.
“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.
“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”
“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.
“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.
“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.
“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”
“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”
“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”
“I didn’t even like you back then!”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”
“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”
“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.
Cute and clueless, you think.
The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.)
This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training.
This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.
You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.
“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”
Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.
His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”
“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.
“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.
“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”
The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content.
They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.
Genre/warning: toxic relationship, both are in the wrong, a curse word, angst, kissing, slight fluff at the end, pov changed from second to first in the middle. None aside from that.
Sana: my first entry for my 500+ followers event! Thank you @eclipsaria yu baby for requesting this hehe. Thank you to @mars101 for beta reading!
Giving a ride to a stranger wouldn’t hurt, right? That’s what you thought when you gave a ride to Sunwoo but what you did not expect was your relationship to go from a stranger to maybe something as time went by.
It all felt so innocent at first. Late night calls, texting each other good morning as the first thing in the morning to the two of you making out in the backseat of your car.
But it was as if something snapped between the two of you. The relationship which you had developed with each other felt more like a burden than anything else.
From late night calls to late night arguments. It was always something petty, something which other people wouldn’t mind in their relationships but you both did.
You both knew it was wrong, that there was miscommunication but you just didn’t want to admit it.
That’s what you were doing right now in Sunwoo’s apartment. What started out as an apology from Sunwoo’s end for being a jealous boyfriend went to you, confronting him about the texts he received from the same girl.
“I told you that it’s nothing, didn’t I?” Sunwoo snapped back at you once he had enough of your yelling and accusations, “She’s just a friend, Y/N. Nothing more, nothing less.” He replied more calmly.
You scoffed quietly while rolling your eyes, “Friends don’t text and call each other late at night nor do they send I love you texts to each other on a daily basis!” Sunwoo stared at you for a moment, his gaze calculating.
“Did you go through my phone? Without my permission?” He asked, his voice eerily soft. Getting no reply from you, he chuckled almost as if he was impressed, “Gosh you’re so insecure about our relationship.” Sunwoo said as he moved his hands through his hair.
“I am insecure? Says the one who’s always jealous and possessive!” Sunwoo glared at you menacingly when you said that.
“I wouldn’t have been so possessive if you knew how to behave when in a relationship!”
“I never want to see your face again, jerk.” I mumbled as I stormed out of the apartment angrily.
“Yeah sure! We’re over for all I care!” Sunwoo yelled back and slammed the door shut.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
I looked down at my phone when I heard it vibrating. I sighed when I saw Sunwoo’s name flashing on the screen.
Sunwoo???: let’s work it out, okay? Don’t just leave me like this. Received 1:43 AM
Sunwoo???: Could you please answer? Received 1:43 AM
Sunwoo???: look I know I behave like a jerk sometimes but just hear me out? Please? Received 1:44 AM
Sunwoo???: I know you’re reading the texts Y/N…Received 1:44 AM
Sighing in annoyance, I grabbed my phone and switched it off. Not wanting to look at the texts he was sending.
Standing up from my desk, I went into the kitchen to make myself some coffee to stay awake.
“Y/N open the door!” I flinched when I heard Sunwoo’s voice right outside my apartment door as he continually rang the doorbell.
Turning off the stove, I marched towards the door to open it, “Do you not know—” I stopped talking when Sunwoo immediately kissed me the moment I opened the door.
Stepping back in the middle of the kiss, I let Sunwoo enter my apartment as he closed the door with his foot.
Looking down at me, Sunwoo placed his fingers under my chin as he let out a sigh, “I am sorry for the way I behaved.” He mumbled under his breath before kissing me again.
Our lips moved in sync as I entangled my fingers in his hair, his hands cradling my face as he pulled me closer towards him by my waist.
Pulling away, I placed my forehead on his, “You cannot just kiss me after every argument we have.” I said with my eyes closed.
“You still liked it.” He said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the kitchen. “So what? You still need to make up for it.” I replied, my attention on the stove as I started preparing coffee for the both of us.
“I can do that.” He whispered in my ear as he hugged me from the back. “You know I love you, right?” Sunwoo mumbled while placing a kiss on my forehead.
I looked up at him and nodded slightly because no matter how toxic we were together, there was no one who would be a better match for us than the two of us.
I would always find myself in his arms by the end of the day, him apologising for things he didn’t do or something he messed up in with me nodding along to his sweet nothings knowing we’d fuck up again. Sooner or later.
-> pairing. younger model!sunwoo x stylist!reader (f)
-> genre. fluff, suggestive, humor, model!au
-> rating. 13+
-> w/c. 1181
-> warnings. lil’ suggestiveness, past! Jacob x reader
-> a/n. Forgot that this banger existed
-> collection. song-fic
-> started. ???
-> fin. May 28th, 2021 @ 21:31
-> edited. Thurs., Jan. 25th, 2024 @ 12:22
-> divider credit. @saradika-graphics
Your relationship with Jacob Bae isn't anyone's business, but especially not Kim Sunwoo's.
Being a well known stylist means taking pride in your work. Seeing Jacob—your ex—put into someone else's outfit makes you jealous only because he used to wear yours. And he looked good in your stuff... Not that he doesn’t look good now—
"Y/N, hello? Earth to Y/N?" Sunwoo waves his hand in front of your face with an irritated glare.
Muttering something under your breath, you look up at your new model with a forced smile, fake laughing before pulling his tie tighter, to the point of choking him.
Sunwoo's eyes widen and he chuckles like he always does when he gets on your nerves. You take a few steps back to admire his fit, looking it over and ultimately deciding that the tie isn't working. You rip it from around his throat; you have zero tolerance for bad clothing. Sunwoo gasps and clutches his neck.
You flinch, moving your hands by his neck and face before pulling back. "Sorry, Woo... Are you alright?"
He scoffs with a smug grin. "Yeah, noona. I'm fine."
You roll your eyes at him, a smile spreading over your features when you finally realize what's missing. You rummage through your jewelry and pick a silver bracelet and ring, strutting back determinedly.
"Hand," you order in what Sunwoo calls your super-stylist voice, which he has described as authoritative and demanding. It comes as no surprise when he obediently holds his hand out to you, watching in vague curiosity while you take his hand to slip the ring onto his ring finger before attaching the bracelet to his wrist.
Taking a few steps back for what seems like the hundredth time today, you clap and squeal in excitement. "Sunwoo, I think we got it!" you yell, Sunwoo chuckling as he shakes his head.
The cream jacket, plain white shirt, black jeans and dress shoes fit so perfectly with the make-up artist’s work that you can't help but be filled with pride.
Sunwoo smirks now, raising a brow playfully. "Noona... You're staring."
You punch his arm, laughing and shaking your head. "Whatever, idiot. Go and get your pictures taken."
He nods excitedly, walking off to the photographer, leaving you looking after him.
"Hey, Y/N. Sunwoo treating you well?"
You whirl around, biting your lip anxiously. "Hey, Cobie."
Jacob smiles, staring.
You laugh awkwardly and shrug, wiping your palms off on your pants. "He's a sweet guy. A pain in the ass at times, but I guess his good looks make up for it. At least when he's blabbing I have something to look at, right?"
Jacob laughs, and eventually you join in due to the pure contagiousness of it. After your laughter dies down you just kind of stand there in awkward silence, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watch Sunwoo pose for the camera.
You and Jacob… accidentally made out during work-hours a few months prior, which you got punished for by being assigned to a new model. (It was that or get fired, so…)
After the stress of being found out and getting a warning from your higher-ups, you ended the relationship. The company assigned nosy 21-year-old Kim Sunwoo as your new model.
He was undeniably handsome and two years younger than you; a model in his prime. He wore your outfits perfectly, and his pictures came out glorious. He gained a lot of attention on social media, and so did you—being his stylist and all.
It'd been six months since then, and you were working together better than ever, but Sunwoo still had no idea about why Jacob was re-assigned. You wanted to keep it that way, especially since, despite feeling the occasional stab of jealousy towards Cobie and his new stylist Minyoung, you had (unsurprisingly) developed feelings for Sunwoo.
"Noona!" Sunwoo calls with childish delight, beckoning you over as he leans over the editor to see his pictures. You excuse yourself with another awkward nod, jogging off and joining Sunwoo.
"Did they come out good?" you ask, laughing when he shoulders you playfully in response. The editor, Jae, shows you one of the pictures and you have to stop your jaw from falling open.
Sunwoo has arm above his head, the bracelet catching the light just right with his lips slightly parted, staring seductively at the camera.
"Waaah..." you sigh, shaking your head as you clap slowly.
Sunwoo laughs, shoving you gently. "Stop it."
"No, seriously, Sunwoo…! These are great!"
You’re in disbelief. You can't fathom how good he looks!
"Wouldn't be possible without your work," he says, winking.
Your face burns as you elbow him in his side with a warning hiss, bowing to Jae and muttering a quick well done before storming off to the hallway and exiting through the back.
You lean against the concrete wall, a relieved sigh leaving your lips as you fan your face.
"That was a close one," you mutter distractedly, choosing not to stop your mind from imagining everything underneath Sunwoo's clothing...
"Y/N?"
You jump with a yelp at the sound of Sunwoo's voice, glaring at him as he evilly snickers. You whine softly, crossing your arms over your chest. "Stop scaring me, damn it!"
Sunwoo pulls at your heartstrings with one of those damned laughs of his. You wait until he finishes laughing before looking at him with an annoyed pout. "What were you thinking, Woo? Winking at me during a shoot?"
"What? You don't think I've noticed the way you look at me, noona? The way you touch me?” He backs you against the wall, “As if I'm forbidden fruit…”
You swallow nervously, backing up with each step he takes towards you. He pins you between him and the wall, inches away from your face. He leans forward, his lips closing in on you, nearing. Your breath picks up in anticipation, and when they finally connect, a jolt of electricity goes through every nerve in your body.
Sunwoo's fingers graze your thighs, and you whimper into his mouth. How embarrassing.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest as he holds you close. You had always admired his plump lips, and damn do they taste good.
Sunwoo rests your foreheads together before he pulls away completely, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips are slightly parted, kiss-plump.
You sigh, your hands on his chest. Sunwoo keeps watching you thoughtfully, never once taking his eyes off your face. After thinking for a bit you meet his eyes, cupping his cheeks.
"This needs to happen again—"
"I agree." Sunwoo smirks, leaning in again but stopping to look at you like a lost puppy when you put your finger to his lips.
You smile softly, running your finger over his lips and down his jaw. "But not at work. At work we have to be professional, okay?"
