Discover Top Posts Tagged with #svt scenario

The Half of It

You run into your childhood friend from your hometown at your part-time job at a café after 6 years, as you’re getting busy as a final year art college student. Will he take you on a new adventure, in the sweetness and bitterness of your life?

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem!reader

Content: college - post college

Genre: Slice of life, comfort, drama, comedy, angst, fluff, affection, friends to lovers, slow burn.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Mentioning Jun as cameo, mentioning Dokyeom in svt, mentioning svt songs, mentioning SuJu songs that covers by svt, a little flashback, mentioning dino predebut, cuddling, deep connection, mentioning lyrical songs, cursing shibal, trauma, lots of playful teasing, intimate sex, intimate kissing, crush and burn crash out dialog, real and fake location & places, food, term Korean language (with explanation), not open ending, you guess it.

Hear me adapt breakfast at tiffany’s materialists heart attack

WC: Ap. 25k

Note: Please feel free to bully my writing in the comments section or ask any questions <3

Inspo song: LADYBIRD, One Confess, Green, Yours, Name.

On her bus ride to the café where Y/n works part-time, she knows that even after getting off, she still has a couple of blocks to walk to reach her destination. Yet, she embraces this routine. Upon arriving, Y/n makes a beeline for the employee locker room, insistent on presenting herself as trim, cheerful, and irresistibly charming—the kind of person who always appears effortlessly put together. She understands that this polished appearance is vital for providing exceptional customer service. She ties her apron around her waist, styles her hair with care, and secures it orderly in place.

Y/n prides herself on arriving 15 minutes early for her shifts. Lately, she has been taking on more evening shifts to accommodate meetings with her academic advisor. She doesn't mind coming home late at night. The routines of serving a diverse array of customers have become second nature to her. As the evening wears on, she steps in to cover for her co-worker at the cashier’s station who has momentarily stepped away.

A male customer walks up, ordering a caramel latte paired with a maple syrup waffle toast. Not particularly tall, there’s an endearing politeness about him, though he seems a touch awkward. She remains oblivious to just how polished and put-together he really appears. With his shirt casually unbuttoned, the undershirt tucked perfectly into his pants, and his slightly long hair falling effortlessly around his face, he exudes an undeniable charisma that she overlooks. After he completes the payment, he still lingers in front of Y/n, as if wrestling with the urge to say something more.

"Excuse me, you are Y/n?...” asked that man.

“Oh... yes??” Y/n was stunned and awkward as she looked at the person while her eyes flicked down to her own nametag.

“Y/n from Yangdong High School, aren't you?" he added.

Y/n locked eyes with him, and instantly a vivid memory flooded back to her.

“Oh are you Lee Chan?” Y/n squinted, then widened her eyes in surprise.

“Yes, I'm Lee Chan... do you still remember me??” he asked again.

“Oh yes… I remember Lee Chan! I thought you had moved pretty far away from here.”

“I went to college near here. I go there often, but this is my first time seeing you. What brings you here?”

Y/n's gaze briefly glanced around. Scan her surroundings, ensuring. Thankfully, no customers were waiting. So she can have a little chit-chat.

“Same actually—Where? SNU (Seoul National University)?” She asked.

“Sogang University. Do you work part-time here?”

The latte and food order arrived more quickly than Chan expected, but he hesitated to interrupt Y/n as she focused on her work.

“This is your order caramel latte and toasted waffle with maple syrup, is that correct?” Y/n neatly arranged Chan's order on the tray. "Yes, I work part-time here, but I don't usually take the night shift, so maybe that's why you've only just seen me here now,” she explained awkwardly.

“Oh okay. Alright, thanks. See you,” he hurriedly ended this conversation.

“Yes, you're welcome, please enjoy have a good day.”

Chan brought his order to his table and opened his laptop to work, just like he always did. Every Friday afternoon, he worked at the café until 10 p.m., one hour before it closed.

Y/n followed her routine with purpose. She efficiently closed the door, organized her equipment, and marched to the bus stop once more. Once she reached her cozy modest apartment, Y/n took a moment to recharge before preparing for her early appointment at the university—a commitment she was determined to keep until graduation. At the beginning of each month, she collected her hard-earned money from her part-time job, meticulously budgeting for her living expenses. She also made it a priority to set aside some money for her mother back home. Before going to bed, Y/n usually calls her mother at least twice a week.

Her cell phone rang to call.

“Hi mom, have you received the vitamin package from me?”

“Why do you send me this so often? Just save your money for your college. I’m totally fine."

“Just take that vitamins and don't forget to exercise, have a little jog in the morning so your body doesn't get stiff.”

“Gosh you're so stubborn—How's your final project coming along? How long will it take you to finish it?”

“About three months from now, why are you asking so many questions? I've just started it.”

“Okay then, don't stay up late too often. Take care of your health."

“Alright mom I will hang up the phone.”

“Eat vegetables!”

“Alright mom bye...”

Upon discovering that her mother had been laid off, Y/n took it upon herself to explore a variety of job opportunities to boost their income, carefully managing her time to make the most of every moment. Thankfully, after months of battling illness that contributed to her layoff, her mother has made a remarkable recovery. However, the financial strain remains, and her mother now channels her passion for painting to earn a little extra money. Although their earnings are modest, they are committed to living within a tight budget.

Y/n refuses to allow their circumstances to dampen her spirit. Instead, she is fueled by determination, believing wholeheartedly that she can tap into her full potential in any endeavor she undertakes. Yet, amidst her resolve, she can't help but wonder about her father, who vanished without a word, leaving no way for her to reach him. Does he ever think of her? Does he long to reconnect, or has he forgotten the cherished memories of her childhood—memories of the joyful moments when he would greet her after a long day at work?

“Dad’s home.. Y/n! I brought banana milk...” her father shouted from the outside door, taking off his shoes to come in.

“Waaah Daddy.. Are you feeling tired and sore, Daddy? Come sit with me! Come sit with me!” Y/n exclaimed from living room. That warm, upper-middle-class living room. Decorated with many wooden elements polished by varnish, filled with furniture with many classic carvings on it. Her father came over, walking towards the room to join her and sat on the sofa beside her.

“Oh my gosh, my legs are so sore,” he said with a groan.

“This part? I'll massage it, it'll definitely heal right away. Don't worry, Dad, my hand massage is very strong,” Y/n said while showing her palm in front of his face.

“Really? I see you want to be a massage therapist when you grow up, eh?” Her dad laugh.

“No, this massage is special for you, it's $5 an hour,” Y/n said firmly. They laughed together, faintly, in her memories.

Y/n refused to bury the warm conversations of her past, which remained deeply ingrained in her heart. She confronted the unsettling thought that her father no longer wanted her in his life. This sadness weighed heavily on her, but she also recognized that her mother was steadfastly by her side—supporting, loving, protecting, and caring for her with unwavering dedication since her father left. Y/n couldn't bring herself to ask her mother about the presence of another woman that surfaced in her parents's arguments from her childhood.

Instead, she embraced journaling as a powerful outlet for articulating her thoughts and documenting her daily life. Today, she recalled meeting Chan, but she realized that dwelling on nostalgia was counterproductive. She was determined not to waste time on people from the past who no longer held a place in her life. She didn't want to squander her thoughts on it. That night, she made a definitive decision: she would not include her school friend Lee Chan in her journal entry. She had to go to the Uni at 7 am the following morning and a part-time job at a record store in the afternoon, which was quite far from her apartment. She recognized that her focus needed to remain on what truly mattered to her.

***

On the weekend after Chan finished his graduation requirements, he spent the rest of it at his favorite place: a roadside café. It was conveniently near campus and on his way home. This café wasn’t just a place to eat; it was his sanctuary for reflection and productivity, where he often sorted through the complexities of his new internship as a production designer. Here, every Friday night, he made detailed lists of his property sets and jotted down critiques to find and fix problems. His work as an intern often weighed on him, but it also brought him a mix of ambition and nervousness. Yet, despite the pressure, he maintained a relaxed outlook on life, striving to enjoy every moment.

As Chan stepped into the calming atmosphere of the café that evening, his gaze was drawn to a figure behind the counter—a strikingly familiar face. Although he had never encountered her at the café before, something about her presence sparked an undeniable connection. With a flurry of thoughts racing through his mind, he approached the cashier, his heart pounding in hesitation over whether to break the silence. The ache to reach out surged within him, igniting curiosity about whether she was a friend from school or merely a doppelgänger.

“Are you Y/n?...” Chan asked.

“Oh... yess.” the girl replied.

Chan recognized her, clearly. Despite a fleeting hesitation, he didn’t find a reason why he felt an undeniable urge to initiate a conversation. Once he gathered his resolve, he struck up a casual chat, and it turned out that his instincts were right. After resolving his internal conflict, Chan continued with his plans for the day without further distraction. By 10 a.m., he was set to head home, gathering his belongings and casting one last glance towards the cashier, hoping to exchange another friendly word. As a formality, as he thought. But he no longer found that girl at the counter. Without dwelling on it, he walked out and headed home.

“Mom I’m home!” Chan shouted after closing the front door, walking through the living room.

“Chan, have you eaten? I left some of your favorite fried chicken I made, eat it.. or, I'll throw it away!” His mother said to him sitting in the living room.

“Aaa why don't you put it in the fridge for tomorrow?” He said whiningly.

“In order for you to eat, why do you always eat so little?”

“Because I've eaten out!” He replied quickly.

"You must eat food that is unclear of how it is made and where it comes from. It will give you a stomachache!"

"What food?! Alright, I'll eat the chicken,” he gave up.

Chan quickly cleaned himself up after eating and got ready for bed. Before turning in for the night, he opened his phone to review the photos from today’s at workplace. He stumbled upon a snapshot of himself and his old friends. A wave of nostalgia washed over him when he remembered a chance encounter earlier this day: a school friend, who turned out to be his old neighbor. Chan felt a warm sense of nostalgia from the memories of his childhood, filled with warmth and joy, flooded back.

"The hibiscus flower bloomed! (Mugunghwa kkochi pieot seumnida 무궁화 꽃이 피었습니다)."

The kids were running around in the field near their house on Sunday afternoon, playing Red Light, Green Light. (The "Red Light and Green Light"/빨간 불 (ppalgan bul) and 초록 불 (chorok bul) is a children’s game where players must freeze when a "red light" is called and move only when a "green light" is called).

"You boys run too fast, we girls are gonna lose often, and that is so not fair," said one of the little girls.

“Okay, let’s change the game to a random team and mix boys and girls, so that we can have balanced team strength,” said one of the boys with his missing teeth.

“How about we play Squid?” (Squid/(Ojingŏ) 오징어: This game involves two teams, attackers and defenders, competing on a squid-shaped field. Attackers aim to reach the "home base" while defenders try to block them) Suggested the little girl.

They began to draw lines on the field. After that, they formed two teams to begin the game. Ready to compete, laughter echoing in the air. Those carefree moments spent outdoors with friends played a prominent role in shaping who he was, when someone shouted from afar.

“Lee Chan, let’s go home! It’s time to eat! I’ve prepared soft mushy food for your missing tooth!” Suddenly everyone burst into laughter at his missing front teeth.

Laughing amusedly, it brought back the vivid memories of his youth spent outdoors, bonding with his friends. How they often roamed together, typically in boy-only or girl-only groups but occasionally enjoying mixed adventures—riding bikes, climbing cherry trees, or running around playing soccer and rugby. When left to their own devices, the boys would explore the riverbanks, eagerly catching fish and tadpoles, while the girls enjoyed themselves with games of cooking and dolls. And there is Y/n. Despite their early companionship, life was slowly pulling them apart, creating invisible barriers as puberty settled in, overshadowing their innocent connections. This separation gave Chan insight into the confusion that had developed in his relationship with Y/n.

As time went on, Chan couldn't shake memories of Y/n. Their paths crossed repeatedly throughout school— initially in different junior high classes and later together in the same classes at high school. Yet, those high school years were a bittersweet reminder of the emotional turmoil he faced. He grappled with resentment toward his alcoholic, abusive father, whose inability to provide stability destroyed the family’s foundation. Relying on his mother’s modest restaurant couldn't sustain them, leading to the sale of their home and the subsequent move to a cramped but affordable shophouse right next to Y/n's. To be honest, their positions are actually back-to-back. Separated by the small backyard and the large, shady tree obstructing the view, the windows of their bedrooms directly faced one another. And from that window, Chan often pondered whether Y/n had ever witnessed the chaos wrought by his father's rage, ignited by the smallest arguments that escalated into terrifying explosions. He felt ashamed merely thinking about it and, at times, too resilient to allow the pain and too strong to surrender to the sadness that crept in. Fuck the alcohol.

In the wake of turmoil, Chan sought solace in new environments—places that were calm, quiet, and devoid of the chaos he had come to know. The cold night brushed against his skin as he found refuge in a dimly lit alley. There, he puffed on the last remaining cigarette in his jacket pocket, reflecting on the countless times he passed Y/n in that dark alley, always unseen by her ignoring gaze. But that night was different; their paths crossed at a convenience store, setting the stage for something new.

“The change is 1$, thank you, have a nice day.” the cashier said.

“Thank you.” Y/n took her change and left the convenience store, making her way home. She moved from the bustling main pedestrian street, then turned onto a residential street, and strode through a narrow, dark alley that she often used as a shortcut. As she approached, she spotted Chan in the distance, smoke curling from his cigarette under the dim lights. The closer she got, the more she noted the tears welling up in Chan’s eyes and the redness of his face.

"I don't want you to remember me finding you like this. Hate to say, but I occasionally overhear you arguing with your father. I won't tell a soul at school. If that's what you worry about every time you see me here pass you by," Y/n said with pity.

Hearing Y/n's words, Chan turned on his heel and walked away, offering neither a word nor a glance. He was utterly indifferent, and their relationship was nothing more than a casual acquaintance—far from close.

The following night, as Y/n immersed herself in her studies, she felt compelled to look out of her window, peering through the trees that obscured her view. It happened again. That unfortunate event. It struck her that perhaps it was time to take a stand. She had observed Chan at school, where he expertly concealed his struggles behind a pristine uniform, a bright smile, and boisterous laughter with his friends. A wave of sympathy washed over her.

Later, on her way home from the convenience store, Y/n encountered Chan at his familiar spot. While he wasn't crying this time, a bruise marred his cheek—a stark reminder of the pain he endured. They found themselves in the playground.

“Here.. compress your bruise with this and treat that wound at the corner of your lip with this,” Y/n said while handing him a plastic bag containing first aid. Then Y/n sat on the swing beside Chan while swinging her legs lightly. It was quiet. Not a word from either of them.

“You know that every human being was not created to be responsible for other people's happiness?” Y/n said.

Chan just quiet while treating his wound.

"It's unfair, isn't it? They're often wrong about it, but they refuse to take responsibility for leaving deep wounds," she added.

“I agreed to come here not to get pity and to hear what I should do, because in reality there is nothing I can do,” Chan said firmly.

“Eeee I know saekkiya (brat)! But I want you to hear this just once from me," Y/n replied.

“What?” he asked sharply.

"Don't you ever feel alone, because many people experience the same thing, but not many can hide it as tanlentedly as you," Y/n explained. Chan frownned. "Indeed, everyone has experiences unpleasant things in their lives, and they leave a lasting impression. But in your case..."

“What?” Chan snapped.

“It feels like the bad thing happened to you too quickly, not perfecteu timing,” Y/n answered.

“Shibal saekkiya (son of a bitch)... If you can't say something nice, it's best to just keep your mouth shout,” Chan said sassy, and she giggled.

“Huft, sorry.”

Y/n swung the swing. Feel the cool night breeze.

"Have you done your math assignment for tomorrow?" Y/n asked.

"Are you trying to make my head hurt even more?" Chan replied, she laughed.

“Sorry.”

The light-hearted exchange that followed seemed to provide a momentary distraction from his suffering. As Chan returned home that evening, he felt a sense of unexpected relief—though he couldn't quite grasp why. He didn’t want to dive into what that feeling meant; it was enough to simply feel it. That would describe their relationship during those school days as nonchalant, almost distant. Chan’s high school years were a torment, yet he held steadfast to a dream: to break free from the cycle of hardship that ensnared his mother and his little brother after graduation. Perhaps one day he might find a way to do it.

School provided an escape, a solace that allowed him to forget the chaos at home. In his heart, he believed that seeking a connection with God and praying for guidance were his only recourses. Then, in a moment that would change the course of his life, the unexpected occurred— his prayers were met with an answer.

Chan's mother successfully saved enough money to ensure they could escape just in time for Chan's graduation. She strongly urged Chan to pursue a college education, driven by her deep-seated fear of him following in the footsteps of his father. This concern weighed heavily on her heart.

In the locker hallway in front of her class, there was Y/n who was opening her locker, followed by Chan next to her, a distance of 3 lockers separating them.

"My mom said your family is moving out. Is that true?" Y/n asked him.

"Why? Do you want to move with us? Because I think that’s my business. Would you mind your own business?" Chan snapped, immediately leaving her and entering the classroom.

Y/n fell silent, questioning whether her boldness in asking something like that on school grounds had put him in an awkward position. But never mind. Platonic relationships with men held no value; it is pointless and worthless, and perhaps they would always be that way. She thinks. That day was the last day of school. They hadn’t crossed paths since, until now, six years later, on this very afternoon, at the café.

“WAAHHH REALLY?... I was really stupid back then, am I? Why was I so cold to her? While she was so kind to me when I... AHHH..." Chan growled, kicking up the blanket. Drowning in guilt. That heartless toxic masculinity.

“Is that why she was so awkward with me that afternoon at the cafe? Or maybe because we haven't seen each other in a very long time. Wait, maybe she still remembers it and is hurt? Does she hate me? AAHH, whatever... why am I even thinking about it? We haven't seen each other in a long time, so it's natural to be awkward,” Chan answered himself, then tried to pull the blanket up and close his eyes. The inner voice in his head appeared, echoing happily, cheering.

“MaYbE bEcAuSe shE's beAuTifuL....” one of the whispers that appeared suddenly from inside his head. Chan got up quickly, grabbed his earphones, and put on some music to help him sleep. Flustered trying to deny the thought. “What’s wrong with you?” He muttered, frowning.

***

Y/n awoke to the persistent sound of her alarm, ready to seize the day. She efficiently prepared for her morning thesis supervision, styling her hair into a neat bun—elegant yet effortlessly casual, not too eccentric, natural with a bit of sloppiness, but far from a shambles person, striking the perfect balance. Her movements were purposeful and sharply precise, radiating a charming energy. Setting a positive tone for the day ahead.

After class, Y/n plunged into her thesis at the campus library, alongside her friends. She understood the importance of social connections, making it a priority to attend events, engage in karaoke, and enjoy girls' sleepovers. These activities were instrumental in maintaining her balance and mental health amid the challenges of her busy life. Maintain her sanity.

That evening, she headed to the record store where she worked part-time. Y/n took charge of her tasks—arranging vinyl records, sorting film tapes, and efficiently managing the register until closing at 10 p.m. Once back at her apartment, she dove into her thesis again, embodying the life of a final-year art student. Boredom was never an option, and the idea of needing someone to provide affection or drive her around barely registered—Y/n was focused on her own path.

“Dating? Ewh. That’s an act of wasting time, but I’m all down for listening yall ugly boyfriend’s stupid stories. Like, what’s the update tho by the way, gimme the tea,” Y/n said, at night sleeping over with her female group of friends.

“I think I’m not that kind of person, like at the moment, who likes... what is it called? Hopeless romantic?” She added.

“Girl, I guess sometimes, besides you're not realizing it, you're too blind to even see it,” said one of her friends.

“Bitch do you even notice the boy who is majoring in literature, the one who’s trying to ask you to come with him to the Seoul Art Exhibition? He’s so totally into you, like he’s so down for your things, but you’re too stupid and then deciding to go with us and make Instagram stories,” another replied.

“Ok, but have you ever looked at him in person? I’m not gonna dating somebody’s grandpa,” she defended.

“It’s okay girl, let your body belong to Jesus only...”

They burst in laughter.

Weekends often found Y/n and her friends enjoying sleepovers, binge-watching movies, chatting, and collaborall budget-friendly activities that nurtured their bond. Y/n never took a day off from work; she simply swapped shifts. This busy lifestyle was a strategic choice, driving her to face her fears concerning her future and her mother head-on.

Her weekly routine was a well-oiled machine: part-time at a café on Mondays, followed by the record store on Tuesdays. Wednesdays found her juggling tasks at a café, while Thursdays brought her back to the record store. Last, friday were once again dedicated to the café. In the midst of this bustling schedule, Y/n carved out time to balance her part-time jobs and studies. There was little time for breathing, but her all of her assignments constantly demanded creative thinking, providing a necessary distraction. The costs of supplies—paper, canvas, paint, pencils, and her 3D artwork—were unavoidable.

Fridays typically boosted Y/n’s enthusiasm, with the weekend on the horizon. She planned to recharge over the next two days, fully aware of her need for self-care. However, this Friday was different; she unexpectedly ran into Chan again. The encounter sparked thoughts of her friend's words from the previous night's sleepover, makes her lingering on that thought.

“What's wrong with him? Is that? Is he like having something for me? Meh, if I keep thinking narcissistically like this, I'm just as stupid as if I’m acting apathetic,” she muttered to herself.

This time, Y/n wasn't serving Chan as a cashier, but as a waitress, delivering his waffles.

“Why did he order the same thing again? And why am I thinking about it so much?” Y/n's thoughts grew louder.

“The order is for Lee Chan? Toast waffles with maple syrup?" Y/n asked and placed the plates from her tray onto a table littered with his laptop and books.

“Oh right,” said Chan.

“Okay, is there anything you would like to add on?” Y/n asked.

“No, thank you,” added Chan.

“Okay, enjoy your time,” Y/n replied with a smile.

Both Chan and Y/n were clearly eager to engage in conversation, yet the palpable awkwardness held them back, both aware that this wasn’t the right moment. They both also seemed to have a big question mark on top of their heads, but they decided to internalize it all. Chan had intended to address their very last meeting, six years ago, perhaps offer an apology, but he certainly wouldn’t wait around until the café closed. That would be too weird.

“Oh really?” Chan muttered to himself. He would look like someone who had a crush on her, especially since the cafe needed time to close. “Wait, why am I haunted by this guilt if I’m not trying to apologize to her? Maybe because I’ve grown a lot of empathy? Forget it! I’m not going to do it. Maybe next week I won’t see her again because of her shift changes,” Chan overthought in his mind.

The next week, Chan found himself arriving later than usual due to work obligations, but fate had him crossing paths with Y/n once again. They even keep fell into that familiar uncomfortable silence, pretending not to recognize each other, as if they were strangers. The tension hung in the air, and the strange dynamic only deepened—those were the thoughts swirling in their heads. Chan seriously considered changing cafés, yet he could not bring himself to embrace the atmosphere of the alternatives.

As he made his way there, he silently wished he wouldn’t meet her, feeling out of place, as if he was sneaking around, like strangely spying on her with lots of curiosity. When he reached the bus stop, he paused, torn between the temptation to take another bus home or to confront the situation by walking to the café. After five minutes of wrestling with himself, he decided to move forward—he wasn’t sure why, but he did.

Y/n spotted Chan entering the café and thought, “Really? What's wrong with him?” Without another moment's hesitation, she dashed to the kitchen and hid. "Jun, cover for me. I need to go to the restroom," she told her co-worker with urgency. Splashing water on her face, she wrestled with her confusion over why Chan frequented her café every week. She wanted to believe he was simply a regular customer, but her friend's words echoed in her mind, complicating her feelings, emotions, and challenging her perception of the situation. “Should I just call in sick and go home? He'll definitely see me running around serving customers if I don't go home now. Why is this cafe so small? Oh well, right, let’s just face it. Why am I so overexcited about this idea of him...? NO. This isn't me,” Y/n muttered as she exited the restroom.

“AAAAAA....”

“WAAAA....”

Y/n and Chan both screamed as they passed each other face-to-face in the restroom hallway.

“Oh Im so sorry, I was very surprised...” bows Y/n to Chan.

“I’m sorry too, I don't mean to shout at you like that...” Chan bows too.

“Aaa no, I'm the one who apologizes for surprising you, Chan...” Y/n bowed again.

“Aaa no, it's okay, really...” Chan replied, raising his hand, making a 'no' gesture at chest level, and bowing back.

Both of their gestures looked very awkward.

“I.. I’m gonna go to the kitchen—please after you,” Y/n said, waving her hand to him as a gesture to let him pass by accompanied by her awkward smile.

“Oh yes please, thank you,” Chan replied, walking past Y/n toward the men’s restroom.

They both paused for a moment at their own destinations. One in the restroom, the other in the kitchen. Both of them were asking themselves, “What's wrong with me?” But they pulled away together and continued doing whatever it was supposed to be.

“I have to finish today's summary quickly, because Y/n will definitely think I'm a creep and will probably change her shift. Yes. I'll change my visit and move to another cafe next week,” Chan muttered to himself in the toilet, sitting still, covering his entire face with his hands. He was truly determined. But for tonight, Chan was forced to focus on summarizing his weekly activities and systematically organizing them, prioritizing his needs. As he worked to maintain his concentration, he reached a point where he needed to set up the set room along with its props and furniture. Chan was pursuing a major in film, a field he was passionate about. While he may have experienced disappointment in his aspiration to become an idol in high school. He enjoyed dancing in secret. Too shy to show it in front of everyone. He is a dancer in his own bedroom. He was determined to channel his love for dance into a different direction, but still in the same entertainment industry. He became increasingly proactive, exploring various aspects of film. His assignments from work required him to venture to different locations for background study, and he welcomed the change. With a heavy workload ahead, Chan felt a sense of relief at the thought of not needing to visit the cafe for the coming week.

***

Meanwhile, since Monday, Y/n contemplated whether Friday would be the day she officially called in sick, delegating the day’s responsibilities to a friend. This internal struggle made her feel both empowered and absurdly narcissistic. And yet, it was only Tuesday, but she needed to make a decision. She hurried to the record store, anticipating a significant amount of cassettes that required organizing. She needed to hurry to the record store—her instincts told her that a mountain of tapes awaited her attention. Relief washed over her upon arrival; her suspicions were confirmed. The store required her to tackle the never-ending task of organizing the recently arrived cassettes, moving heavy cardboard boxes, and straightening up the tidy chaos. The shop, almost echoing with its stillness, was a testament to changing times—thanks to the trend of people turning to online platforms for entertainment—she recognized that only from so many customers now on the hunt for vinyl records to enrich their collections.

“Excuse me, is there a movie tape of the film ‘Possession,’ 1981 here? I've been looking for it in the horror section, and I can't find it,” a customer said to Y/n, who was tidying up the tape box.

“AAAAAA...” Y/n screamed when she saw that customer's face.

“WAAAHH...” the customer followed.

Apparently Y/n shouted again in surprise to find Chan in front of her. And for the second time, Chan was surprised because Y/n was surprised as well.

“Wait, really… sorry… I’m not creeping you out or following you everywhere, I swear…” Chan snapped frantically while bowing to Y/n.

“Aaa no, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was thinking of you that way…” Y/n replied, bowing too.

“Sorry, I always surprise you, I don’t want to give you a weird impression, I mean it!” Y/n added cautiously.

“Oh, please don’t be like that… I’m studying and working in film, so I came here to look for movies,” Chan said.

"Oh yes, of course, sorry, I'll look for the title of the movie you're looking for. Follow me!" Y/n replied.

Chan followed Y/n to the cashier's desk and the store's tape recorder.

"Sorry, what title were you looking for?" Y/n asked.

"’Possession,’ 1981," Chan replied.

"Okay, please wait for a moment," Y/n replied.

"Okay," Chan replied.

Dead silence for a minute.

“Oh I’m so sorry we don’t have that in here,” Y/n said, slightly disappointed with a little awkwardness.

“Oh, okay, that's a hard movie to find, but thanks for your time," Chan said, nodding with a little smile.

“Yes, thank you for visiting!” Y/n replied.

Chan walked out the door leisurely. Once outside, he looked up at the sky and asked himself, “GOD WHY?” as he walked toward the bus stop.

"Good, now I'm making people feel uncomfortable, and what a great thing he's a customer," Y/n chatted to herself at the cashier, looking down gloomily.

When the bus arrived at the bus stop, Chan fell silent as if he'd forgotten something. And sure enough, he was supposed to be looking for two movie tapes. Which meant he had to go back to the record store. What a dilemma.

Ring... the doorbell rang again; a customer had arrived. This time, Y/n remained at the cashier, looking down, but fortunately, she wasn't startled and screamed, just a little surprised.

“Sorry, I forgot to look for one more movie, is there one called ‘A Thousand Clowns’ 1965?” Chan asked.

“Ok please wait, I’ll search it for you,” said Y/n right away.

“It takes a minute or more, I’m sorry the computer is running so low… are you in a hurry?” She added, after looking at the loading line on the screen.

“No, that’s okay, I can wait,” Chan replied charmingly.

“Is that an old computer? Is that why it's very slow to operate?” Chan asked.

“I swear…” Y/n replied with a deep breath, agreeing.

Good thing this tiny little chit-chat is making it less awkward. Finally, the computer stops loading and showing the result.

“Oh, we have that in here, please follow me!” Said Y/n.

“Ok,” Chan follows Y/n, then walks to the aisle section that he doesn’t know where.

“You’re really majoring in film, do you? You keep searching for all these old movies.” Y/n asked.

“Yeah apparently,” Chan replies. “Are you studying here too?”

“Yes, I’m also doing a lot of part-time around here too,” Y/n answers it with more bubbly.

“Gotta make some for extras apparently,” she added with giggles. “Here it is ‘A Thousand Clowns’, 1965, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right, thank you!” He answered.

“Yeah, that’s quite expensive, don’t you think? 25$ for an old movie—Ups, I sound like I underestimate your thing, sorry. Well, good news, you can rent it, I mean if you want to,” Y/n added the chit-chat.

“Oh shoot, you’re right,” he said while looking at the price. “That’s okay, I gotta own it. For my collection too.”

“Is that like ‘one of the masterpieces’?” Y/n asks.

“Yes! And for learning purposes.” He ensures.

“Hmm.. lemme guess, background study setting??”

“Aaand there’s still a lot more than that,—by the way, where you at right now?” Chan asked him more casually.

“Oh ya, I got into SNU (Seoul National University) almost like a three years ago.”

“Oh wow really? What major did you take?” Chan mesmerized by her.

“Meh, I'm just lucky, I guess. I majored in Fine Art,” Y/n replies, followed by Chan’s humming.

As they walk to the cashier. Things are getting better.

“If I may ask, did your family move in together in here or just you?” Y/n asks warily.

“Of course you may,” Chan said. They both laughed, breaking the tension that had been building up.

“We’re moved in here as I got into the university. Mom got a better place for her restaurant, thank god. Are your parents still in Namyangju?” (Namyangju: a city in Gyeonggi Province, South Korea. Half an hour from Seoul) Chan asked and handed over the movie tape as they arrived at the cashier's table.

“Yeah, they’re still in there—so the total is 25 dollars and 50 cents. Would you like to pay it with cash or debit?”

“Debit card, please—wow, how are your parents? Are they doing well?” asks Chan again while giving Y/n his debit card.

“Thank you, they’re doing really well, maybe they’re still remembering you too, you know, you used to have that iconic missing tooth on your front tooth for so long,” Y/n said while pointing at her own two front teeth. They both laugh.

“That’s so embarrassing,” he smiles so cute.

Y/n gave the movies in a paper bag to Chan. “Here it is, your movie.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“And here is your credit card.”

“Thank you. I'm gonna go, and please don’t scream at me if you see me again on this small territory, I swear to god I’m not a creep,” Chan said firmly to Y/n, and then gave her a cute little giggle while walking away.

“I’m so sorry, please, don’t mean it that way,” Y/n said, feeling so embarrassed.

“Oh my thank god,” Y/n muttered to herself as he left.

“What is this? Why is my heart pounding so fast?” Chan muttered to himself as he walked towards the bus stop.

***

The following week, Chan decided to visit the cafe on Wednesday. He wanted to stick to his plan and keep his distance from Y/n. He thought he would have some time away from her, but he was wrong. It seemed like fate had finally given him a break, because Wednesday turned out to be Y/n's shift as well, and they both are gonna be at that place from the afternoon to the evening. This led to another unexpected meeting. Chan kept thinking about their last encounter and the apology he never gave. It was as if that moment was etched in his mind, pushing him to deal with his feeling of regret.

Knock Knock Knock..

“Chan wake up! mom made Gamjatang! (spicy pork bone soup)” said Chan’s little brother.

No response.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK, his brother banging on the door even harder.

“OH, IS THAT REALLY NECESSARY???” Chan shouted.

“Hurry up! Wake up! Come down stairs, I don’t want to get angry because you woke up so late!”

“AAA SHIBAL YOU BRAT!” He flustered, tried to wake up.

Chan wakes up and makes it downstairs. He smells that soup.

“Wah, smells so good mom,” he said as he approached the dining table, joining his brother and his mom.

“It’s already broad daylight. What time did you sleep last night? Did you play that game again until this morning?”

His mom is furious.

“No, I didn’t! I swear!” He fuming.

“Then don’t be, I don’t raise both of you just to get your life is shorter!” While getting him rice.

“Mom, why do you put so much rice in my bowl?” He whining.

“Just eat it! This pork was given by your uncle this morning.”

“Uncle just came here this morning from Namyangju? Where is he now?” Chan asked while looking around.

“He just drops by for a moment and then leaves, he has to go somewhere,” she explained.

“Ohh—I've met Y/n a few times around here. She works part-time. Do you still remember her? She's currently studying at SNU.”

“Really? Wow, how amazing she is! How is she doing now? It must be really tiring working part-time, huh?” His mom said warily.

“Actually, I also met Y/n at two places where she was part-time. So I guess yeah, I think so,” he agreed.

“You should be more grateful, even though you three of you have a useless father, you still...”

“Huh, really?? Where did he go?” Chan snapped in surprise.

“Leaving Y/n and her mother when you were in 3rd grade,” his mother continued.

“Really?? Why am I just hearing this?” He exclaimed.

“Because you men only think about yourself.”

Chan frowned at his mom, but deep inside, Chan burst out crying.

“Wow, it turns out I really am a very stupid person. Of course, when I was in high school, she approached me because… Ah never mind… the most important thing now is that I am not the same person I was 5 years ago. That hormonally unstable teenager,” the sound of Chan’s inner conflict clashed in the middle of the dining table.

***

Before he knew it, it was already Wednesday. After finishing work that day, Chan made his way back to his regular café, but this time with a high sense of confidence; he was certain he wouldn’t run into Y/n that night.

“Order up for Lee Chan, this is your waffle with maple syrup. Is there anything you would like to add? Or you just really a creep?” Y/n said now with a charming laugh.

“WAH ha ha ha ha… now I'm the one who is surprised by you! I swear to god, I'm not—this is just my favorite place to work,” he said with his unique laugh with a distinctive intermittent rhythm.

“Alright, I’ll leave you there in peace,” Y/n said while walking away.

Time slipped away, and soon it was fifteen minutes past ten. Chan prepared to head home, but as closing time neared, the café began to fill up with customers for reasons he couldn't quite understand. As he walked to the door, he caught a glimpse of Y/n at the cashier, glued to serving a customer. Not wanting to interrupt her flow, he decided to keep his distance. Suddenly, a loud shout erupted from the direction of the cashier.

“OKAY, DON’T NEED THE FUCKING ATTITUDE! I JUST WANT MY DRINK!! WHY YOU GUYS ARE TAKING SO LONG THAN YOU USUALLY DO?” shouted that lady.

“I’m so sorry mam, I’m gonna call your drink as soon as it’s ready, I’m so sorry about that,” Y/n said calmly.

“SAVE YOUR ATTITUDE, I HAVE NO TIME! I WANT MY FUCKING DRINK NOW!!”

“Okay we’re very sorry mam.. please wait right over there and then.....” another co-worker back her out. Chan paused, stopped in his tracks for a moment, assessing the situation before continuing his exit, and decided to step away from the café, although his mind couldn’t shake thoughts of that feud. As he made his way to outside.

SLAM!!

A jarring noise made him jump as someone forcefully burst through the door of the dimly lit dead-end alley next to the café. A single flickering bulb provided a faint glow, casting ominous shadows. Chan hesitated, curiosity piquing within him. To his surprise, it was Y/n. Compelled by an unseen force, he moved closer to her.

“You're okay?” said Chan, walking closer to her.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Y/n replied while she lit a cigarette from her pocket.

“We’re facing a lot of people like that, and wonder why they live the longest,” she added.

“Yeah, right. What a day,” Chan said.

They’re leaning on the building cafe wall towards another building on that alley, not looking at one another.

—

“Please tell me I’m suck,” she said.

Shit, think of something to say to make her feel better. What should I say? Chan muttered to himself.

“You’re suck,” shibal, why am I nervous?

“You’re right...” Y/n said in distress.

“But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself tho, especially for Karen... She always burdens a soul beyond what it can bear anyway,” Chan comforted her.

Y/n smiles a little in surprise and chuckles at it.

Shit, it’s funny. What am I saying, gonna baptise her later? Chan muttered to himself.

“Am I talking to a priest right now?” She said in jest.

Chan smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, all those Karens will burn in hell, surely—Huft,” she added.

“Well, I just realized being a waitress is tough, I often have a hard time with some particular objects too when it comes to facing so many people with weird attitudes like that and...”

“Like you're stalking me?” she joked.

“And you’re feeling better after you said that nice thing?” He replied in a second.

“Actually, a bit, you want me to say more of that?” She continued.

They laughed for a moment, then sighed, returning to lamenting their life.

“Well, apparently our occupations have a lot in common,” she sighed.

Chan just smiled a little. And Y/n looks at him. Curiously. Seeking something, a bit of a strange, different from his appearance.

“Oh my wow! Have you gained weight? You’re going to the gym? Any steroid injection?” She surprised.

Chan used to look like a thin wooden stalk, and his movements were flexibly fast, plus his voice was high-pitched back then, almost like a twink. People mistake him a lot for that. Not to mention his hairstyle is a bit. Different. It can be said to be unique. But also weird at the same time. Y/n had never seen a high school boy with shark-tooth zig-zag bangs like that before. Not to mention the top of his head. Maybe he is trying to copy that kid character, 'Alpha' from the movie 'Little Rascals', who has one thick, stiff string straight standing on top of his hair. Very explorative, actually. No one knows why he did that.

“Haa, thanks for saying I look so sharp. Yeah, I bulk up some of a little,” he said with a sneer.

“And you leave that eccentric haircut behind...” Y/n said, pointing her finger to her forehead and the top of her head.

“Yepp... Leave it... burn it to the ground...” Chan answers it with a forced smile. Can’t bear his past embarrassment.

“Nice. Hey, aren’t you like going somewhere? I see you already packed. Or are you following me aga.....in,” teasing her.

Chan smiles with his cute smile and then gives her a lazy look. Turn his body to her, drop his smile, and roll his eyes while walking away from that dark alley, “I’m going home now, bye! Good luck with other Karens tho...”

She’s laughing. “Thanks, see you later, creep,” she yelled.

“HA-HA,” Chan shouted not funny and disappeared from another building.

Y/n finished smoking her cigarettes, tossing the butts aside carelessy without a second thought. She thought thoughtfully about how Chan looked so pulled-together now; a realization that surprised her since she had never thought about it either. Maybe she had been holding back her empathy for all the men in her life. Who knows, good for him.

She pulled her phone from her pocket that vibrated with a low, muffled buzz, and saw numerous messages and calls from her mother.

“Y/n, are you done? Can you please go back to the kitchen, I need your help,” said her coworker.

“Yes, Sorry,” Y/n slipped the phone back into her apron and strode into the kitchen, tackling the stack of glasses in the sink and washing them with determination. After drying them off, she didn’t waste a moment; she collected the cutlery and drinking utensils from the customers’ table, bringing them back to clean with efficiency.

With the café nearing closing time and customers queueing for takeout, she sprang into action. She swiftly cleaned the tables, rearranged the chairs, and mopped the floor, ensuring everything was in order after the last customer departed. Luckily, there was one final bus operating in this very late hour.

Arriving home, Y/n threw herself on the bed, releasing a long, weary sigh, before reaching for her phone, only to discover it was dead. With a hint of frustration, she placed it on the nightstand to charge. Her eyes felt heavy, threatening to close at any moment, but she pushed through and decided to take a shower, needing to wash away the day’s exhaustion before settling in for bed. After wrapping herself cozy in a blanket, she turned on her phone and called her mother. However, Y/n's attention was diverted by a long message notification from her mother informing her that someone had come looking for her father earlier that day. A spark of hope ignited within Y/n at the thought of her father possibly returning home, wanting to see her. It was as if she had been walking down a long corridor, finally spotting an exit door at the end.

But that flicker was abruptly extinguished when she absorbed the unfortunate news: the visitor had warned her mother to vacate their home immediately, as it would soon be mortgaged under her father’s name due to property documents. The urgency of the situation was clear. A wave of helplessness washed over Y/n; her mother had only a week to pack up, and now they would have to shift to Y/n's small apartment.

Instantly, her sleepiness vanished. She jumped from the blanket, made her way to her desk, and grabbed her journal. A whirlwind of thoughts flooded her mind—money, expenses, rent, income, and all her financial burdens. She could feel a tightness in her chest, the air in her room felt stifling, suffocating, as her eyes darted, frantic, searching around for a pen on her desk. Frustrated, she knocked over her glass of writing materials, scattering them across the floor. Picking up a pen that had rolled in the corner of the room, she returned to the desk to jot down her thoughts. But just as she was about to write, she instantly became pensive in the stillness of the night, overwhelmed by a striking realization: her feelings for her father were irrevocably gone.

She stood up and moved to the calendar on the wall, marking the date her mother would arrive at the apartment. She quickly began to reorganize her room, creating space for her mother. Bursting with determination, she pushed aside chairs and tables, cleared out rarely used items, and packed everything into boxes, ensuring everything was neatly stored in the storage room. Dusting every surface was part of her task, and once finished, she flopped onto her bed, watching the morning sun bathe her room in a warm glow through her window, filling her room with brightness—a stark contrast to the sleepless night she had endured.

Without wasting any time, she showered again and prepared for campus to tackle her thesis supervision. After returning home, she threw herself into her work with unwavering focus. Every night till dawn, she stays awake, immediately after returning from every part-time job she has. Worked tirelessly. Very still. Very observant. Very agile. She applied for a freelance graphic designer position. She keeps thinking of getting her home back with all of that money she earns.

Every day was marked by diligence and sharp observation as she raced through her tasks. The record store work was completed with impressive speed, and even her final assignment seemed to be completed even faster. She consciously avoided distractions, even those moments of lighthearted fun, no matter how tempting they were. As if she never put herself in a time-out. This relentless dedication continued for days. Whenever she tried sleeping pills to aid her rest, they proved ineffective, leaving her awake. Nothing can soothe her restless mind.

***

RING! The bell on the door of the record store chimed twice, echoed ominously, and Y/n paused her arrangement of CDs to stride over to the cashier. Two sharply dressed men approached her, their tall and muscular frames exuding an intimidating presence, and an air of authority. They wore neat, slightly casual shirts—one sporting a shoulder bag slung at his waist and the other clutching an envelope filled with files. Their steps were deliberate, loud, and pronounced, sending a slight fear down her spine. Weird, because most of the time, customers who came to that store were people who were always dressed casually, for a relaxed vibe.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Y/n asked, trying to start a conversation, and aimed to find out the reasons why they came to visit. They looked very suspicious. Distrustfully.

One of the men pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope he was holding. His eyes scanned the neatly typed and clipped paper document, while the other casually strolled around the record store. Y/n’s unease intensified.

“Are you Y/n, from the clan Y/n family?” the man asked, then showed her a photo of her face. “Are you this person's daughter?” The man pointed at the photo paper, which then changed to a picture of her father. Y/n stared at the picture with a sharp gaze. Furious, biting the inside of her cheek like a cow chewing its cud.

“No, I don’t know him at all,” she replied, irritated. “Please leave if you have no other business in this place,” she continued, chasing the two people away.

A chuckle escaped from the man who was browsing that store, deriding her tension.

“How dare this brat! She's a brat just like his father,” the man shouted as he approached her and slapped her across the face. Y/n stood frozen for a moment, shocked, her body trembling even more, and her hand instinctively flying to the burning pain and heat that was radiating from her stinging cheek.

“Fuck you! You better leave this place immediately, or I’ll call the police!” she snapped, shooing them away while pointing towards the outside door.

“Ah, I told you not to get too grumpy,” the man holding the document said concerned to the other man.

“You don't even have the permit to ask me those questions in this place!” Y/n snapped again.

“What?” The calm demeanor of the man wavered as agitation took over from hearing her snapped like that. He seized her wrist with a vise-like grip, forcing her to focus on a crumpled document in his hand. Fear panic surged within her; the strength of his grasp was unyielding, she was too intimidated to seek a means of escape, every instinct urging her to fight back.

“We have all the data here, you know, your father, that rotten gambler, messed with the wrong people! I’ll tell you something about him.—He ran away, leaving all his debts behind and only leaving behind information about his family and his meager assets.” He growled.

Y/n immediately slapped that person with her other hand. “Just take the house and leave me and my mother alone, and get out of here!” She’s red and agitated.

With a sudden release of his grip, both men erupted into mocking laughter, tossing the document at her.

“Look at all these numbers! If you report it to the police, it won't do any good; you two will be the ones in jail.—You have two months!” the man snapped, and then they both finally left that store.

RING! The door slammed shut. In an instant, a heavy silence enveloped the room, her body paralyzed amidst the chaos of scattered papers. Her gaze intensified, burning with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—dusty remnants of thoughts left unspoken.

She sank to the floor, her world collapsing under the weight of the things she saw. All the amounts on the paper igniting an unbearable wave of emotion. Rage, resentment, and heartbreak it came an eruption of sorrow mixed with an intense fury that consumed her as she gathered the scattered pages, neatly arranging them in her arms, clutched them tightly to her chest as if that could shield her from her reality.

She pressed her hand against her mouth, stifling her sobs. She mourned for her father, lost, aimless, and adrift. She mourned for her mother, who had to desperately wander around looking for buyers for her paintings. She mourned for the burden of being raised alone by her struggling mother. She mourned for herself, wishing she had never come into this world, believing it might free her mother who struggled so fiercely to escape the clutches of this miserable life. She mourned her meager, futile efforts in the face of her father’s debts and for her own weary endurance of it all. Every tear reflected her anger and despair.

Gradually, her tears subsided, and she resolved to regain her composure. She stood up, lifted her heavy body, and stepped into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her reddened face and swollen eyes. All that was left was to finish her shift at the record store, resolute in her solitude world that had turned so cruel.

***

The clock on Y/n's wrist boldly displayed eleven forty-five. She scrutinized her reflection in the bathroom mirror once more, to confront the reality that had unfolded. Five minutes had passed, spent splashing cold water on her face. This time, she couldn’t ignore the darker bags under her eyes. The shadows cast from her forehead accentuated her deep, sunken eyes and her vacant stare, making it difficult to concentrate on anything around her. Her body felt like it was operating on autopilot, while her internal organs and cells sceamed out for relief. The relentless pounding of her exhausted heart echoed like a war drum, drowning out everything else around her. It seemed that hearing yesterday's news had robbed her of sleep and appetite, forcing her into a relentless cycle of despair. Her mind kept spinning, thinking, looking for a lifeline rope in this expanse of the ocean of misfortune. Searching for some glimmer of hope amid the chaos.

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on her apron. She tightly secured her hair, taming the wayward strands that threatened to betray her presentable appearance. Y/n stepped out, untying her apron and hanging it neatly on a locker hook as she entered the employee lounge.

“I’m going. Don’t forget to take out the trash!” Jun said as he walked out.

“Right,” she answered.

After stepping out of the cafe, Y/n received a call from a friend in her college group. She declined, opting to text back instead, turning down the invitation to sleep over. Energy was a luxury she could no longer afford.

Sitting on a bus stop bench, Y/n waited for a bus that didn’t seem to be coming. It felt as if her body were adrift in the vastness of the ocean, hallucinating. The pressure in her head felt unbearable, weighing her down and leaving her slightly unsteady. Y/n straightened up, resolute in her desire to regain control of her consciousness, as the conflicting thoughts clashed inside her mind. The effects of her experiment with the bottled energy drink she had mixed with black coffee seemed to be no longer working on her.

“You’re okay...”

“You’re gonna be fine... Everything’s gonna be alright.”

“You know what to do... It’s all good.”

“Before you went through it, you always knew this would happen, right? You always prepare for a backup plan.”

“You can’t be like this. Who is the person that your mom can lean on?”

“You can’t be...”

“Tired.”

“You’re not allowed to.”

“You have no time for that.”

“The bus is gonna arrive soon.”

“You’re always so... driven.”

“When was the last time you slept or even ate?”

“No. Don’t count it. You can do this.”

“We’re born once, so we've got to give it our all like this.”

“But if my mom could see me now, maybe she would know I gave it my all.”

“My head is heavy.”

“It hurts badly.”

“My body, you’re so unreasonable.”

“Let me take a bus and go home first?”

“Shit, I can’t breathe.”

“Stay awake.”

“My body, you really mean to get back at me now, right?”

“Okay then, bring it on.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Death is a natural thing for me.”

Blood dripping from her nose. To her clothes. To her trousers on his lap.

“I used to think we should all design our own funerals.”

“It shouldn’t always be at a classic funeral Home.”

“Maybe on a hill with a flower field.”

“I like Dokyeom from that boy group Seventeen a lot.”

“I would want him to sing at my funeral.”

“I want him to sing the song ‘Short Hair’.”

“Because I always cut my hair short to shoulder length. I always feel that song is made for me.”

“It’s a hit song, everyone can sing along.”

“Guest list.”

“My mom and her sister.”

“My group of friends from college.”

“That boy, the one who is majoring in literature.”

“Two of my co-workers.”

“Ten people. That’s it.”

“Not many.”

“I’m not sure whether I want Chan to come or not.”

“I’m sorry mom...”

“I... I died.”

“I broke my promise.”

“But please don’t be sad.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“I can see that all their faces are sad.”

“Everyone, you don’t have to be sad.”

“Death is natural.”

“Just... be sad a little.”

“Shit. Mom, sorry your bloodline got cut off here.”

“I won’t get to sleep over at my girls anymore. It was a really fun night.”

“I won’t get to dealing with that bitch Karen anymore. Shit, they outlive me.”

“I won’t get to stack movie tapes and CDs at that store again.”

“I won’t get to see Chan’s face again. That creep. Actually, I wanted to say congrats now, you actually can live the life that you want. I remember that day back in high school. Glad you finally escaped your dad.”

“And...”

“I feel... a little warm. People from my past wanted to reach me.”

“Shit. Actually, I'm missing out on a lot.”

“My body...”

“I’m sorry.”

“I surrender.”

“I'm sure you won’t forgive me, right?”

“Is it too cliché to say goodbye now?”

“Is this the last thing I see in this life?”

“Beautiful, quiet street.”

As the ringing in her ears intensified, darkness threatened to envelop her vision. Y/n slumped in the bus stop chair, acutely unaware of the curious glances from people passing by, who mistook her for someone under the influence of alcohol. Nothing she can't do but allow anyone to misjudge her on that bench.

***

“Where are you going today, Chan?” His mom is asking from the sofa. As he rushed down from upstairs to go out on this bright morning.

“Aren’t you saying your new project is starting next week?” She added.

“Yeah, I'm going to do some other stuff at the cafe,” he answered.

“Is that where Y/n works part-time, you said yesterday?” She asked again with curiosity.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if she has a shift today. Why?” He replied while putting on shoes from the rack near the front door, not far from the living room.

“Wait!” Said his mother, who immediately got up to get something from the kitchen, put it in a bag, and walked over to him.

“Please give this to Y/n for me,” she said as she handed the bag to him.

“WHY ME??!!” He whined. Because he didn't want to be thought of as if he was gonna be in the 'getting to know' stage with Y/n. That’s crazy. He thinks.

“If Y/n isn’t around, just ask her friend there to deliver it to Y/n or...”

“BUT WHY ME??!” He whined again.

“Her mother has helped us a lot back then, when we were still neighbors, please give this to her...” she explained it calmly.

“Why don’t you just give it to her by yourself then? Why should I?” He snapped.

“You asked Why? You want this? I will give you this,” her patience ran out, she took the sandal off her foot and pointed it at Chan. He had no choice.

***

“Excuse me? Excuse me? Miss, are you okay? Can you respond to me?” An officer pushed through the crowd to awaken Y/n, who had fallen unconscious from the bus stop chair. The onlookers waiting for their bus turned their attention toward her, sensing the urgency of the moment. The officer promptly assessed Y/n's condition and checked her pulse, brushing aside the strands of hair obscuring her face. The officer was shocked to see her face with traces of blood flowing from her nose and splattering onto her shirt and pants. And one of the crowd recognized her and approached her.

“Oh dear god, Y/n! What's wrong with her?” Jun said, approaching in surprise.

“Do you know her, sir?” The officer asked.

“Yes, I'm her co-worker, we work from the same place,” he explained.

“Ambulance unit needed at Gwan-Agsan Bus Stop, Sillim-ro Street. Repeat, Ambulance unit needed at Gwan-Agsan Bus Stop, Sillim-ro Street, immediately! The victim lost consciousness with blood flowing from his nose,” the officer spoke into his remote control. “Do you know if she has any family relatives?” asked the officer to Jun.

“Hmm, I don’t really know. But I’ll ask another co-worker, they might know,” Jun answered.

“Okay, he'll be taken to Seoul National University Hospital. If there's any news from his family, please contact this business card and the hospital immediately,” the officer said firmly while handing him a police business card.

“Right,” Jun nodded.

As the ambulance arrived, the attendants swiftly transported Y/n inside and departed immediately. They connected her to an infused line, monitored her heart rate, and administered oxygen through a tube. Her appearance was alarmingly pale. The attendants took a blood sample from her arm to check her hemoglobin levels upon arrival at the hospital.

Meanwhile, at the same time, a man got off the bus with a bag full of packages, strolling leisurely toward the cafe. He wandered along the pedestrian walkway, occasionally glancing into the large shop windows and adjusting his hair as he checked his reflection. Already look sharp. A little nervous. Upon arriving at the cafe, he went straight to the cashier.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” asked the cashier.

“Order one coffee latte and a toasted waffle with maple syrup, please?” He answered.

“Okay, is there anything else to add?” asked the cashier again.

The man was scanning around curiously, looking towards the back of the pantry through the window that separated that area from the cashier.

“Hmm, excuse me, sorry, is there a staff member here named Y/n?” he went with a different question instead.

“Oh, right, she’s been taking the second shift lately. So she’s not available during the day. Excuse me, but who am I talking to? Is there something wrong?” she was concerned.

“I'm Lee Chan, his friend.”

“Do you know any of her relatives?” Jun jumped in and joined the conversation.

“Yeah, we're from the same hometown. Why?”

***

Chan rushed out of the cafe and flagged down a taxi on the side of the road, directing it straight to the hospital. As he arrived, he went directly to the information center and was promptly informed that Y/n had regained consciousness.

“Does your mother know about this?” Chan asked, sitting in a chair next to Y/n, who was lying on the bed. In the hospital, the room was divided into several cubicles, separated by long, flowing curtains that reached from the ceiling to the floor. Chan spent his time regardlessly, listening intently to her as he questioned her about the circumstances that led to her alarming condition.

“I just finished calling her earlier,” she said, still feeling weak, changing her position, sitting on her bed with an infused line stuck in her hand. “Hey, I wanna tell you something.” She said, as if it were something serious.

“Huh?” Chan was a little surprised.

“I don’t mean to bring this up back to the surface, but I'm glad to see your life now,” she said frankly, with a little smile.

“He died...” he snapped calmly, staring blankly.

“What?” Her smile vanished.

“My dad,” he explained while glancing at her with his eyes.

“Oh,” Y/n is still in shock.

“Don’t need to feel sorry tho. I never visit him anyway. But yeah, luckily things are getting better now. And I have to say thank you for what you did back then,”—“and I'm sorry the last time we met, I'm being too sassy,” Chan added.

“I don’t really remember that. But you’re always so sassy, I guess,” she said with jest.

“People like you annoyed me a lot back then,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, but also we were used to being so unconcerned about each other,” she stated the facts. They both laughed.

—

“I heard about your dad too... sorry,” he said, concernedly.

“Hmm...” Y/n is just humming. “Fuck them. That's just the way life goes,” she added.

“That's just the way life goes,” he repeated, agreeing.

“Will you do one thing for me?”—“Don’t do anything stupid like this again.”—“I’m asking you as your friend,” he asked her softly.

“Hmm...” Y/n answered it with a little smile.

—

“Chan?” She called him and looked at his face. He looked at her, giving her chin up, and raised his eyebrows. “You... what you up to right now?” She asked.

“Why do you wanna know?” He tossed her a question back.

“You have to make a movie soon,” she said randomly, assuring him.

“Why of a sudden? You’re not that dying,” he replied sarcastically.

“I came back from the dead just to see your name on a big screen someday,” she said with her eyes sparkling dramatically. — “Do I get the role?” Y/n giggles limply.

Chan rolls up his eyes and chuckles with a nice, gentle smile. All of a sudden, his heart was beating so fast. What is it? What’s wrong with you? He muttered to himself. It felt like falling on flowers, but he tried his best to hide his feelings from his face. He turned around and took his heavy bag from his mom. He added some fruit too.

“This is for you, from my mom. She insisted that I could bring this to you.”

“Oh, so you are free today?” she asked with a curious smile.

“You’re welcome,” he answered curtly.

“Thank you, Lee Jung Chan,” she gave him a thumbs up.

“Why? You wanna go somewhere?” He asked mockingly.

“Of course, yes, because shibal I’m alive,” she exclaimed.

They both laugh at that late-night convo that turns out to be a really nostalgic clash that charms the heart.

***

In the afternoon, after returning from the hospital, Y/n tossed her bag onto the sofa in her room. She had no intention of lying down all day, but she needed to tackle her final assignment because she had a meeting with her lecturer for guidance the next day. Just then, her phone rang. It was her mother. A wave of anxiety washed over her. She hesitated to answer, knowing her mother might react with terrified worry again after yesterday's incident. Y/n had nearly suffered from cardiac arrest due to exhaustion and malnutrition from neglecting her own needs.

In their last conversation on the phone, her mother informed her that she had secured a permanent job as a laborer in the school cafeteria and was living with her aunt, her mother's sister. Her mother insisted she didn’t really want to bother her, urging Y/n to focus solely on her studies and to stop working part-time. She had even sold the rice fields and plantations inherited from Y/n's grandmother, and of course, with her aunt's approval, to settle her father's debts. While hearing this heavy news brought Y/n a flicker of relief, it also stirred a heavy weight inside her that she struggled to shake off.

“How are you doing there now?”

“I'm starting to continue my thesis again; there's still a month left until the thesis viva.”

“I asked about yourself.”

“I'm fine.”

—

“Mom?”

“Do you have a reason for bringing me into this world?”

“Why would you ask such a question?”

“Aren't you afraid that I’m gonna be a failure?”

“Why should I be afraid?”

“Because if I fail, I will only make your life more difficult.”

"Not at all."

—

“What is your dream really?”

“For you. I live for you.”

“What about yourself?”

“You don't like me helping you?”

“Ya”

“Why? Isn't that a good thing?”

“Yes, but helping people without taking care of yourself makes them feel heavy.”

“But it would be easier if I helped, right?”

“You are you, and I am I. No one can live for another person. I’m sorry, I may not be able to give myself the life that I want. The best life that I wish I could give it for me and for you, but I still need my own life, and so do you.”—“You shouldn’t sacrifice your life on me.”

“On you?”

“You work so hard, you skip meals, skip your sleep, and end up in the hospital. You’ve sacrificed everything for me, but I can’t give you the life that you want. How can I face you? I’m your elder, but I let you take care of me.”

“Who’s taking care of whom? Does it matter?”

“I don’t want to be your burden.”

“Is that why you don’t wanna live with me here?”

“You are not my burden. You’re the only parent that I’ve had. You had to raise me all by yourself, collecting all the money you got from your restless job. Having you as my mom, I feel so proud. You’ve never been a burden to me.”

“It’s because you spend all your time on me. You think you can take care of everything. You don’t think the parents can take care of themselves.”

—

“Do you know what that is called?”

“Good daughter, return the favor?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

“Pity.”

“Why do you say that? We as a family should help each other.”

"Yes, but even so, no one can replace another person's life. Family means trusting, supporting, and caring for each other. I want you to help me only when I ask for it."

“Sorry. Mom, I…” her eyes brimming with tears as she pensively stared.

“I want you to live your life now, not as my daughter, but as yourself. Do you believe me?”

—

“I’m sorry, Y/n… earning money right now isn’t always your responsibility… I’ve told you many times… but you’re so stubborn. So please, this time I want you to stop looking for as many jobs as possible, I want you to have more free time to rest and finish your thesis. I’m sorry I can’t be a parent who is a reliable place, a place for you to hold on to. But Y/n, you have to know, you have the right to have free time at this age, and socialize with your peers more often. Go to the places you want to visit. Please don’t feel guilty because you feel like you can’t always bear to support my life.” — “Please don’t feel guilty because you want to live your own life. That’s your own right. Have I ever told you you’re a burden?”

"No..." Y/n cried silently. Hold her breath. Trapped by her mother's heartfelt expression, it felt so awkward. Odd. Yet touching, reaching struck to the core of her being. She tried her best to hide her crying voice.

"That's why... I will stand still, so you can fly freely without any ties holding on to you. So you can look up there where it's carefree. And if you're tired, you can look back and see how far you have come. Even though I'm not young anymore... but your bright future is one of my dreams too."

Again. Y/n just kept quiet, holding back her tears.

“Whatever you want to be, someone or something, I will always be proud of you and support you. Do you hear me?”

“Ya.”

“Oh yeah? Well, okay then,” her mother said, talking to someone else on the phone. “Give me updates on your thesis, and don’t forget to eat your fruits and vegetables. I’ll be going now. Take care of your health!”

“Alright, mom, bye,” she ended the call.

After hanging up the phone, Y/n curled up into a ball on her bed, tears streaming down her face like a river of anguish. It felt necessary, cathartic. Unbearably bitter. Her thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess. Her mother’s words felt like a tight, warm embrace. The exhaustion that plagued her felt like it was being torn away, piece by piece. The walls she had built around her selfless ego began to crumble under the weight of this realization. Her mother had never said the words "I love you".

Her mother had always moved with action. Cutting her fruit, cooking her favorite meals, sewing loose buttons, buying pretty hair accessories, and telling stories while she sleeps on her lap, cleaning her ears. She made herbal medicine for Y/n’s menstrual cramps and bought her new, warm socks whenever she noticed the ugly old ones. She even picked out books in Y/n’s favorite colors. A relentless cascade of sacrifices.

Y/n had thought these gestures were her mother’s way of showing love. Like some sort of reciprocation. And yet, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that someday she could return it, all of that, a mother's love is an unmatched gift. One that many don't experience. An irreplaceable treasure. A priceless gift from God. One that she couldn’t take for granted. If only that man, who called himself her father, hadn’t ruined them so much. Hadn't taken their home. Their life. His presence only deepened her hatred and her wound. It festered and it devoured every flicker of joy from her past and swallowed them up, dragging it vanished into a large, jet-black sinkhole.

***

The next morning, Y/n woke up feeling lighter than she had in a long time. The day unfolded with a refreshing sense of ease. She thought about her mother's words, saying maybe she should just quit this cafe. Why should she continue putting up with that ridiculous Karen? It would be a liberating choice. Perhaps she could focus solely on her part-time job at the record store, which felt less draining and allowed her more time to dedicate to her final thesis. But who knows, she could figure that out later at her apartment.

As her shift at the cafe came to an end that weekend night, Y/n stepped outside to take out the trash. Her phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Chan—a photo of a bus window showcasing a beautiful city view, with a windmill rising majestically in the background, towering like a hierarchy among the city. Then, she received another message from him: "Do you still want to go somewhere?"

***

On that bright, sunny weekend day, they were strolling down to a theme park, where throngs of people were already forming a lively procession. The air buzzed with laughter and joy as people of all ages, from the elderly to babies, gathered in this vibrant place. This place was also filled with a variety of exciting rides, from those requiring challenging skills to those that got the adrenaline pumping, promising gut-wrenching thrills from dizzying heights for a milder experience.

Among all the attractions, their mission was clear: to conquer every ride, one by one, with no hesitation, as if there was no time for another day. Y/n, fueled by excitement, knew she wanted to dive straight into the adrenaline-fueled rides, like the roller coaster and paragliding. It was best to make the most of their energy while their stomachs were still empty. On the contrary, Chan expressed his fear and questioned if she had tackled these rides before. He was surprised by her hesitation.

“Really? What are you, twelve?—Okay, I’ll ride it myself, you wait here,” Y/n left him, walked a few steps away, then turned around while gesturing the letter ‘L’ stands for loser with her finger on her forehead to Chan.

Reluctantly, Chan followed Y/n onto the rides. She bet him 20 bucks if he could manage to keep his eyes open during that thrilling experience.

As the coaster shot upward with exhilarating speed, Chan couldn't help but try not to shut his eyes tight and let out a scream. The ride froze at the peak—time stood still—before plummeting down in a rush of adrenaline. Chan’s fear was palpable; he couldn't hold it. He clenched his fingers into his palm, then bit one of those fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/n, on the other hand, was in stitches, finding joy in his dramatic reaction, laughing as they careened through sharp twists and turns. After the ride, Chan felt weak, feeling like his heart was going to burst. Y/n repeatedly checked to make sure he was okay. But soon, his face turned deathly pale, and he vomited in the bushes around the ride's exit. Y/n thought he was joking, playing a prank, but her concern immediately crept in. Then, she hooked her hand on his arm and walked out from that crowd, looking for a clear space and a cool, shady place to sit under a tree.

Y/n instructed Chan to sit and catch breath, wait for her while she went to fetch him some water and something to alleviate his nausea. When she came back, she brought not just water, but also soothing aromatherapy oil and a delicious corndog. She unsealed the bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and smell this aromatherapy inhaler,” Y/n ordered, and Chan looked at the corndog that Y/n was holding.

“I’m too nauseous to eat that,” Chan said, looking at her with a yucky look.

"This isn't for you," she said, taking a bite of the corndog. "Close your eyes and stop talking for a moment," she added, sitting next to Chan and eating her corndog, watching the people around them mill about.

—

"Look at that couple over there," said Y/n, pointing her finger.

“Do you want me to close my eyes or open them?” he said weakly, leaning forward in his seat to rest his head on the back of the chair, directing his gaze up to the sky, which he covered with his arm.

“Right, sorry,” she chuckled, but kept talking. “That couple over there looks like they’re just dating, from how shy they are around each other. They’re looking their best for each other. And the one over there looks like they’re newly married; they seem more relaxed, and they don’t take much care of each other’s appearance. And the other one over there, who’s lost their spark, they’re about to enter a stage where one day they’ll start to hate each other, they resent each other, they’ll take each other for granted, and they’ll stop having sex, somehow manage to make a couple kids like the one right over there. Look at that kid crying, and the dads won’t even care. They’ll already get sick of each other. And soon after that, one of them would cheat on another. And then you’re going to fight alone, and then in front of the kids, and then on the street or in a crowded place like this. And then they’re gonna resent the kids for seeing them fight. And then they’ll file for divorce, and after that, they’ll fight again about who owns what, who gets the kid. - And then the kids are gonna end up like us,” she said, laughing. Chan also laughed, hearing her analyzing people while finishing her corndog.

“Are you done? I’m thinking, I want that corndog,” Chan said, opening his eyes. Then they laughed.

“Okay, let’s go,” Y/n replied.

They rose from their chairs to hunt down some corndogs, with Y/n walking in front of him, leading the way. Chan silently looked sadly at her from behind, with sincere pity. Stunned from that very last moment, she spoke. Knowing he can't do anything about it.

They moved on to the safe rides, like the carousel, and indulged in a variety of delicious foods until they were delightfully stuffed. Next, they took hoop throwing, fully aware that a doll awaited if they could land the hoop on the target. Although neither hit the mark, their shared laughter echoed through the air, a testament to their camaraderie. Next, they tried another game, shooting moving targets with toy guns. Despite their efforts, luck wasn't on their side; both of them were also bad at it, and they left empty-handed but bursting with laughter. Ultimately, they decided to abandon the games and use their money to buy a bounty of food and snacks.

"You like vegetable biscuits that much, huh? You bought that many," Chan said to Y/n. They sat down in a dining seating area.

“It’s not the biscuit,” she said while opening them one by one. “There are prizes inside, at least if we don’t get any prizes from this place, I can go out with at least one prize simply from this snack. Now, help me open all of this.” While passing some of it to Chan, and started opening them one by one, until there were only a few packages left, Y/n still didn’t give up.

“Here! I got it!” Chan exclaimed. It is a beautiful silver ring decorated in the shape of a flower.

“Let me see!” Y/n exclaimed as she opened the plastic wrapping that protected it. “Oh no, it’s broken, one of the petals came off.” She held it up and showed it to Chan, then handed the ring to him.

“Oh no! Wait, it can be fixed; I can fix it! It just needs to patch it with a soldier and then reconnect it. Do you want me to fix it?”

“Do you have the equipment?” She asked.

“Yes, I have it at home. I had that tool for some property needs when I was still in college.”

“But your face doesn't define you as a technician, tho.”

“Because I’m not” — “Oh look, that discount karaoke banner! We should go there!” Chan exclaimed.

“You can sing?” She asked in surprise.

“What is this about you that makes you so judgmental?” Chan shielded her sarcasm. They both laugh.

After returning from there, on the bus ride home. She sat on the bus, consciously reflecting on her mother's words about pursuing her own happiness. A smile spread across her face as she embraced the moment. It was exhilarating. The burdens of her life no longer felt heavy; she finally had a clear sense of direction. But this clarity ignited a realization of what her true dream for herself was.

She wrote it in her journal and started planning something new. Like a new chapter awaited her. Should she chase her dream of becoming a ceramic artist? Should she invest in creating an art studio right here in the vibrant heart of Seoul? Or was it time to return to the familiar comforts of Namyangju? She didn't know. The journey she had before been draining. Maybe later, there's a time when she's ready to make a decision and take control of her future, leaving her to grapple with the possibilities ahead.

***

At her workplace that Friday night, Y/n walked towards a customer and sat in front of him while still wearing her apron and holding a tray.

“Are we going to karaoke after my shift?” She said while leaning on her hand, looking at him.

“Are you allowed to sit and chat with customers?” Chan tossed back a question and glanced at her.

“I can’t, I’m busy, can’t you see?” Chan said without looking at her.

Y/n demonstrated the letter 'L' (meaning for Loser) to him again and sighed at him, remaining silent as she watched him work. Chan, sensing her gaze, glanced at her. He stared at her with an indolent expression and sighed back at her.

***

WHAT IS THIS FEELING, WHAT SHOULD I DO? WHAT SHOULD I DOOOO?!

(I GIBUNEUN MWOYA EOTTEOKHAE? MWOYA EOTTEOKHAE?)

(이 기분은 뭐야 어떡해)

~

AJUUU NICE!

(AWWW YEAAHH)

~

VERY NICE! MOOD! MOOD! MOOD!

(GIBUN, GIBUN, GIBUN)

(아주 nice! 기분! 기분! 기분!)

~

AJUUU NICE!

(AWWW YEAAHH)

(Aju Nice by Seventeen is playing)

Chan and Y/n sing together on that long set playlist at that place because of the discount they saw the other day at the theme park. They order a lot of drinks too.

THIS FUCKING WORLD!!

(ILEON BIL-EOMEOG-EUL SESANG)

(이런 빌어먹을 세상)

~

I AM THE ONLY FOOL

(NAMAN HONJA BABO DWAESS-EO)

(나만 혼자 바보 됐어)

(F*ck my life by Seventeen is playing)

They sang at the top of their lungs. Singing as if pouring out their hearts, toasting their journey and life's achievements.

LET'S ALL SING TOGETHER!!

(MODUUUU HAMKKE NOLAE BULEUJA)

(모두 함께 노래 부르자)

~

SO THAT THE POWERFUL SONG CAN COVER UP THE SADNESS!!

(HIMCHAN NOLAES-SOLI SEULPEUM GALYEOJIDOLOG)

(힘찬 노랫소리 슬픔 가려지도록)

~

IT'LL BE OOOKAAAY!!…..

(GWAENCHANH-EUL GEOYAAA)

(괜찮을 거야)

(Circles by Seventeen is playing)

“AARRGGHH WHAT'S WITH THE SONG THO? Why is it so sad?” She whined. Chan laughed at her.

“Are you getting carried away?” He asked in wonder.

Y/n sat down, exhausted, her breath draining from her scream singing. Chan approached her and sat down next to her.

“Huft, shibal ileon bil-eomeog-eul sesang,”she sang F*ck my life by Seventeen again. They burst out laughing.

“Put that microphone away. For real, what's going on?” Chan's hand pushed the mic that Y/n was holding.

"Oh, are we gonna have a session right now? Because I think I'm too drunk for that," she smiled, stoned.

“Just scream, let it all out!” He ordered, embracing her.

“Like what?”

“WOOHOO FUCK! I ALMOST GOT IN THIS GROUP AS A TRAINEE. BUT I DIDN’T BECAUSE LIFE IS SHIBAALL NOW I HAVE TO WORK AS A CORPORAT!!” He shrieks shrilly.

“YOU’RE EVER GOING FOR A TRAINEE?? How can I have missed that?” She screamed, shocked as she was lost for words. But chuckles yakked.

“Of course I won’t tell you, you will bully me,” he said, undoubtedly.

"What? I'm not that mean, I can be sentimental and nice," Y/n was concerned. Chan gave her that flat look again. How could he possibly believe it from a very sarcastic person?

“Cut the shit, now you turn.” He snapped, leaving her outburst of laughter.

“WHY CAN I GET MY DEGREE WITH PEACEFUL PATH SHIBAAALL?! NOW I'M SO CONFUSED TO FIGURE IT OUT!!” She yelled, screeched, and then continued singing.

Chan locked his gaze onto Y/n, his stare unyielding. An intensity in his eyes that spoke volumes. A strange sensation washed over him again, making his heart pound fiercely. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the alcohol, or maybe he was simply worn out from singing. Whatever the reason, he felt his heartbeat quicken, and he pressed his hand against his chest to feel it, hoping that it would slow the beat. He knew he was too drunk to continue singing. Whether it was the alcohol or his intuition, he steps his foot towards Y/n, unsteadily. She was happily dancing and singing all by herself and did not even glance at him.

(Same dream, same mind, same night, by Seventeen is playing)

“Huft, wait, I'm gonna change the songs, we have to tune in to something that lifts up the mood WOOHOO!” She said.

Chan came to his senses and took a step back. His daydream seemed to be shattered.

“Are you okay?” She asked her.

“Yeah, I'm good,” he answered.

“Don’t throw up, that’s disgusting, and stop drinking, come on, show me some of your dance moves!” She said while guessing his unstable movement.

(HOT, by Seventeen is playing)

“LEE JUNG CHAAN SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!!” She cheered him on.

“I can’t dance my head spinning,” he said, very feeble.

“BOO HOO!” she gave him thumbs down. At the same time, he is trying to lie on the floor.

***

After returning from that place at Y/n's apartment, she sat in her seat, placing her bag haphazardly on the floor, leaning her head on her desk. She was in a daze for a long time. Confused by something new that had appeared in her heart, like a ticklish feeling, a sense of felicity, but also strange. She smiled slightly with her dazed look. Then she's struck by the realization and quickly puts the feeling aside, gets up from her seat, shaking her head lightly, throwing away the suspicion, because of the daydream of memories that had happened at the bus stop on the way home a few hours ago.

“Chan! There’s your bus,” Y/n said, standing in front of the bus stop and pointing at the bus that was about to arrive from a distance.

“No, I’ll wait for you to get on the bus first,” he said as he sat slackly in the chair.

"Why? I'm not that drunk; I could still walk up straight. Look at you, already very drunk," she said.

“I’m fine, just sit down here and be quiet, my head is getting swimmy seeing you walking around like that,” he said, his head leaning against the bus stop wall.

Y/n sat beside him, swinging her legs back and forth in the chair. In the silence of the night, the sound of passing vehicles was rare to find.

—

“I love spending time with you,” Y/n said, out of nowhere.

“Ew cringe, but I am indeed fun,” he giggles, while his head is still leaning, and then tilts his head to look at her. She gave him a chuckle, with her brows frowning at his overconfidence.

Behind that coolness denial, Chan's heart was pounding with excitement, blushing, and flustered, which gave him warm fuzzies. Grateful that his rosy cheeks could be covered up by the heat from the alcohol.

And as for Y/n. She was very observant. There was something about that cute smile, with his full, white teeth lined up densely, neatly like corn kernels, the lines on his lips forming a beautiful smile that was as sharply sweet as nectar on a flower, his eyes closed beautifully in the shape of an upside-down crescent, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. She looked at him with something different that night.

Dissolve in how they're tossing each other inside their respective cogitation. The push and pull between each other's companies, showing their energy like ‘the flame that burns the candle and the candles feed the flame’. With Chan’s, it feels like a new adventure beckoned.

As time goes by, that platonic togetherness is inevitable. Fill their days. Until they can't even seem to notice through their daily message chat that they have been through. It keeps flowing, like a very long shopping receipt, exchanging stories about how their days went, then spreading to their families, friends, and then work, college, till random things like finding a frog on the pond, or gummy bears, or a caterpillar on the trees, or a lightning struck, or a cowboy boot in the trash can, or even racist crackheads on the street.

A series of memories continues to be created from everything they did together. From every conversation that was created in a small tented street stall, accompanied by tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes) and soju. Up till how his friendship felt closer, more comfortable, and more connected to Y/n

Presently, regarding Y/n's difficult studies leading up to the viva voce examination, she recounted having to give up one of her jobs—either a cafe or a shop—she was still unsure about the decision. She also talked about how luckily Chan had gone through that college study phase. She is really looking forward to her graduation day. So he then teased her, saying sorry, he’ll be the first one to graduate, as a mock. Because she keeps asking him to explore this township instead of staying home, focused on her thesis. She also often got burned out. Then he cheered her up by treating her to a nice meal on his graduation day.

***

The day arrived on the night of Chan's graduation, where he kept his promise to Y/n. At his favorite grilled BBQ restaurant. That place exuded an air of elegance with its high ceiling, giving a fairly luxurious impression with its warm yellow lights. The seating arrangements are separated by featured wooden box partitions, complemented by beautiful artificial plants above them, enhancing their charm.

On that very special day, Chan donned an ivory wax canvas jacket, which he unbuttoned, with two pockets on the front side, combined with an inner crisp white t-shirt. He paired this with light blue jeans and pristine white shoes. While Y/n looked effortlessly feminine and chic in a grey knitted sweater, fastened with just a single button at the collar. Underneath, she wore a white t-shirt and black loose-fitting pants, accented by a belt with a silver iron buckle. Completing her look, her flat shoes featured pointed toes and a subtle heel. She wore her hair down, styled in a soft, light curly wave framing her face beautifully, and her polished appearance.

Y/n arrived with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of rum as a congratulatory present. It kinda felt a little romantic. Chan had never considered taking her to a place like this before. Their conversation was casual and familiar, just as it usually was. He ended by opening the rum Y/n had given him and drinking it together, but since they still had work tomorrow, they kept their consumption to a minimum.

After leaving the cafe, they passed the indoor skatepark. Y/n felt they should try it as a way to end the evening's festivities. Chan agreed. They entered the skatepark, purchased their tickets, stashed their belongings in lockers, and put on their custom-fit skates in seating area, outside the arena. After lacing up her skates, Y/n stood up but immediately lost her balance and fell. Chan couldn't help but laugh.

“Wow, it's been so long since I've roller skated, I forgot how to balance my body,” she stumped.

“You’re the one who invited me to this place, but you don’t even know how to wear it. You’re so lame,” he laughed.

Unlike Chan, who could put it on perfectly, he helps Y/n got up and stand still. But Y/n still couldn't straighten up and kept falling. And Chan kept laughing at her. His laugh made her laugh too.

“Grab my hand, so we can get into the arena before our time is out,” Chan urged, his voice steady, charming, and commanding. He held Y/n’s hand tightly with one of his. Pulling her to glide at a moderate speed from the swing of his legs around the arena. Y/n clutched his hand tightly with both of hers. As she strolled behind him, she couldn’t look at anything else in that place except him. Her gaze was fixed solely on his figure, his long hair that covered his neck, moving backwards in the wind, amidst the crowd of people on roller skates in that place, amidst the glittering, colorful lights in that place; her heart swelled with warmth. The cold gust of night wind brushed against her cheeks. Time seemed to slow down, freeze, in that moment of his presence, spending time with him, laughing with him. She couldn’t help but ponder why her heart raced with such profound intensity; it felt undeniable.

After that they went home by bus. While waiting at the bus stop that night. The bus took a very long time to arrive.

“Chan, what is your dream for yourself after graduation?” Y/n asked.

"What dream? I already have a suitable job. That question sounds more appropriate for you," he replied curtly.

"Don't be so conceited, you’re not bald yet,” she mocked. He frowned, holding his hairline.

“Are you having a quarter-life crisis?” He asked.

“No, I'm just thinking,” she explained.

—

“Look, there’s a frog! It looks like the one from the picture you sent me. It looks like you,” she said while pointing at it under the tree next to the bus stop.

“That frog belongs in a museum. You should take it home. Quick! Before somebody takes it,” he suggested.

“Ew no!”

“Why? It’s cute. Like me,” Chan said. They burst out laughing.

—

“You want some?” Chan offered Y/n the bottle of rum she had given him.

“Yeah”

—

“Thanks. And thank you for treating me, and congrats, again,” While showing a heart expression with her thumb like an idol’s aegyo. Chan stared at her. For quite a long time. A gentle gaze. Serenely. Wishing for Y/n to stay like that forever, sitting in that chair, so he could continue to stare at her like that. This feeling made him continue to drift in his daydream of looking at her.

“Anytime, I love spending time with you too—you have a special place in my heart,” he said.

“H.. huh?” Y/n was stunned. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Her mind kept spinning, tracing the meaning of Chan’s words. She was fixated on Chan’s gaze, wondering what was on his mind, behind his face that was becoming increasingly familiar—“oh look, my bus has arrived!” Her thoughts suddenly stopped.

“I’m going home—bye,” she said with an awkward smile, and then gawkishly got up from the chair, followed by Chan. Her steps were also awkward, heavy-footed, heading towards the already open bus door. That night, at the bus stop, it was just the two of them.

“Bye,” Chan replied. He walked two steps from the chair he was sitting on, following Y/n. With Y/n in front of him, heading four steps away. Chan stopped looking at her with his heart beating in conflict. The dam in his heart felt like it was about to collapse, break, flood him with the desire to move further. Convince him that he could do it. Then he stepped one foot forward and froze in place with a very alarming doubt. He then moved his foot back again. And continued to look at her from behind.

Chan felt himself sinking deeper into this platonic relationship, but he still kept thinking he couldn’t ask for more. Like, no matter how much he made his path to somewhere. He cannot let that out. There is something in his deepest mind that made him keep thinking about something, like a strong barricade, preventing him from approaching her. If truth be told, it's actually confused him. He can't even grope it, or feel it, or even eventually receive this meaning.

But after he met her again, from that café, he could no longer hold on to whatever ties kept his eager. No matter how hard he always rejects, disbelieves, doubts, and nullifies every decision based on his feelings, his heart cries out for honesty.

Meanwhile, Y/n... As she walked away from the bus stop, the constant pounding in her heart made each step heavier, slower, and more hindered. She was lost in her still-conflicted feelings. But she could only resolutely decide to go home.

And Chan still kept staring at her from behind. Because all he could do was rewind his endless loops of thoughts until this time. This very second. This very minute. This very hour. Questioning if she really felt the same way. Or he's just going to ruin this companionship that he really enjoyed by not trying to bury dead his feelings six feet under. Just then, Y/n turned her head and offered one last smile of farewell for the day, glancing at Chan. Chan, who was still looking at her with his calm gaze, then became sure and steady—something shifted within him. He then took a quick step towards her. Making the smile Y/n gave Chan fall, wondering what he wanted to do. Why was he walking towards her? Is there something wrong?

Chan drew closer, closing the distance until they were merely a foot apart, his wet breath smelling sweet from the rum they had just drunk, spread fragrantly on Y/n's face. He looked deeply into her eyes. With a gentle motion, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her in, tilting his head as he captured her lips with his.

They melted together in that kiss. Both of their eyes closed, shutting out the world around them. Dissolved by a feeling of profound relief, they transcended their uncertainties, as if they had broken free and sent their emotions soaring into the vastness of the universe.

The piercing honk of a bus horn, gasp them from their moment, breaking their enchantment, abruptly halting the kiss. Stunned and confused, they locked eyes, conveying a world of emotions without uttering a single word. In that shared silence, they were oblivious to the world around them, completely absorbed in one another. That night, the stars burst into view, shining with an intensity that mirrored the luminous moon, shaped like a porcelain plate rising majestically above the skyline.

"I have to go," Y/n said while giving each other a warm smile.

She stepped onto the bus. She firmly took a seat by the window, facing the bus stop. In the silence of the stare-down, Chan gave a wave, and so did she, charged with the full atmosphere of their farewell. The smile plastered on Chan’s face was unwavering. As the bus moved on, they continued to exchange smiles. Then Chan slowly went out of sight. Y/n shifted her gaze forward, with her love-struck smile, with her daydreams, with the chemistry in her heart churning. But gradually, the weight of her reality settled in. She slowly lowered her daydreams. Her smile slowly faded, diminished, and vanished. Her head was a mess with a chaotic storm of emotions she couldn’t articulate. Slowly, her face became sad. Frustration flashed across her face as she clenched her hands, grappling. It was as if another version of herself wouldn't allow this to happen. She felt a surge of anger at herself for indulging in hopes that felt fragile. This anger was intertwined with a flicker of fear and a hint of guilt.

Her inner turmoil was so intricate that she sought to pour her thoughts onto the pages of her daily journal. But as she opened it, what could she do? The blankness echoed her struggle. It was so complicated to put into words that she struggled to find even a single word. It made her hate herself even more.

***

Someone is singing Super Junior’s ‘Full of Happiness’ song from a distance loudly.

The promised time has come, it's right in front of you

(약속된 시간이 왔어요, 그대 앞에 있어요)

(yagsogdoen sigan-i wass-eoyo, geudae ap-e iss-eoyo)

~

I'm crying from fear

(두려움에 울고 있지만)

(dulyeoum-e ulgo issjiman)

Chan's little brother woke up this morning to the sound of shrill singing that sent his head spinning. Groggy and frustrated, he forced himself to get up. He sits up in his bed for a while, gathering his wits. Frustration coursed through him at the disruption of his sound sleep. He got out of his room immediately. As he stood in front of his room, his ears honed in on the source of the unwelcome noise. His suspicion was revealed. He strode across the hall to the bathroom door.

You wiped my tears, then you held my hand

(눈물을 닦아주었어요, 그때 내 손잡았죠)

(nunmul-eul dakk-ajueoss-eoyo, geuttae nae sonjab-assjyo)

~

It will happen, happiness to you who were with me

(일어날 거야, 함께해준 그대에게 행복을)

(il-eonal geoya, hamkkehaejun geudaeege haengbog-eul)

He put his ear to the door. Knock knock knock. He knocked on the bathroom door, the annoying sound mixing with the sound of the shower running from inside.

I close my eyes and picture you

(눈감고 그댈 그려요)

(nungamgo geudael geulyeoyo)

The singing still continued. He cringed when he heard the song, "what's wrong with him?" He muttered, frowning.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. He continued to bang the door harder.

“WHAT?” Chan yelled from behind that door.

“QUICK, YOU BRAT!”

“WHY DON'T YOU JUST USE THE TOILET DOWNSTAIRS? IDIOT!”

“EEE SHIBAL! MY TOOTHBRUSH IS INSIDE!”

“QUIET! WE DON’T SHOUT IN THIS HOUSE!” Their mom yelled from downstairs. “Oh my gosh, those two kids are giving me a headache this morning,” she mumbled to herself while removing the head of the salted fish on the couch in the living room. Apparently, his mother heard him singing at the top of his lungs from downstairs, too. Chan’s brother came downstairs listlessly and approached his mother. He threw himself on the couch beside her, sat down, covering his eyes with one of his arms, and waited for Chan to finish using the bathroom.

"What date is your school strip held? Will it clash with your brother's college graduation date?" his mother asked him.

“I don’t know, somewhere next month,” he said as he opened his arms that were covering his eyes, letting them fall limply beside his body.

Chan went downstairs to the kitchen, still wearing his shorts, topless, with a towel wrapped around his hair. He was still singing and dancing. His unchoreographed movements grooving to the sound of himself singing and mumbling as if he were a melomaniac. It followed every inch of the surge of excitement in his heart. This feeling of pleasure began to grow and spread throughout him like poison. He took a slice of bread and held it in his mouth, while he took another slice in his hand and smeared it with strawberry jam. Then he closed the jar of jam, then walked back to his room again, singing loudly, dancing loosely with one hand moving like waves and the other holding the bread. He danced lightly with his spontaneous motion, and several times ‘moonwalked’ like Michael Jackson in front of his mother and his little brother, ignoring their presence, who gasped stock-still at his behavior in the living room across from the kitchen, where they could see him clearly.

As he headed to work, his steps were steady, determined, and cheerful, like the chirping of birds; the warming rays of the spring sun followed him around. The street singers were cheering him on, joining him in their joy. Just like in the movies. His life seemed to have a new direction. His work that day felt easier to endure. The day ended very quickly, accompanied by a bright smile. On the bus ride home, his eyes were drawn to the streetscape, the city lights, and the busy traffic.

His thoughts kept turning to Y/n, about the kiss from last night. He hadn't had a chance to see her today, so he tried calling her, but she didn't pick up; the number he called was inactive. This worried him. Apparently, she also had not answered his text from this morning.

Late that night, Chan's worries led him to rush to the cassette store, straight after work, knowing today was Y/n's part-time shift. Chan arrived just as the store was about to close. Not wanting to disrupt her shift, he intended to wait for her outside. Right after arriving, Chan looked out the window. He saw Y/n inside diligently tidying up the shop to close. A wave of relief washed over him. He saw her move in action at the cashier's desk, then Y/n walked to the outside window to close the curtains and saw him. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Chan waved with a small smile, and Y/n returned his smile, an uncomfortable smile. Y/n immediately packed up her things, turned off the shop lights, and turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'. She got out of that store and then locked the door. Next to the door, Chan waited for her and leaned against the large glass window of the shop.

“Hi?” Chan asked, trying to greet her, who didn’t seem to glance at him at all.

“Hmm...” Y/n just hummed and was busy locking the shop padlock.

“What do you want?” Y/n said calmly, while still locking that store.

“Hmm just wanna talk to you...” Said Chan, a little confused.

“Sorry, I can’t, I’m busy. I have no time, gotta to go.”

“Hey, what’s the matter with you? What happened?” He said calmly.

“Chan, will you please just leave me alone?”

“Where are you going?” Chan pulls Y/n’s hand towards him.

“Let me go Chan.”

“Let’s get something straight,” he firmly still not letting go of her hand.

“Please let me go.”

“Not till we get this settled. Are you serious? Is this real? You tryna avoiding me now? What’s all this rushing out, going somewhere, to finding something? What... what are you looking for?” Chan asked seriously.

“WHY? That’s none of your business about what I’m gonna do. Can you just back off??!!!” She snapped.

Chan stands still, silent.

Y/n walks away, letting go of her arms from his grip.

“Y/n...” Chan's breath hitched, calling out to her.

“What are we?” he asked from a distance.

“What do you want?” She turned her body to him, frozen still while looking intently at him.

“I love you,” he said as he walked closer.

“That’s crazy... what do you think? You own me?” She walked away as if in a hurry to get away from him.

“That’s exactly what I think,” Chan followed her rush steps.

“Then you happen to be wrong!”

“Is that what you really think?” He stopped in his path.

Now Chan thought hard about what was wrong with him. Because he started to feel like he was a tool to divert her feelings of sadness. Asking for him to walk her home, but he has to carry her. Like she pushed him down deeper inside the dark well, wait for her until she wants him, wait like a dog sat down the tree for a squirrel to appear, excitedly, so that whenever she needs him, she would pull him out of there and drop him again whenever she doesn't want him.

“It’s that, because of things you were saying on that theme park?” Chan said in the silence.

Y/n still walking forward leaving him, tried to ignore him.

“It’s your dad, isn’t it?” He asked despairingly.

“NO! You did NOT just say that!” Y/n snapped, quickly pointing her index finger at him. Her gaze seemed to want to devour him whole. Chan looked at her in disbelief with a relieved gesture, as beneath Y/n’s denial, a hint of truth seemed to be revealed.

“Do you think I’m gonna leave you like your...” Chan steps closer.

“HOW... do you know that?” She was outraged, moving closer to him.

“THEN WHAT??” He strikes back. Both of them were stunned in their positions, confined by the hot, roaring atmosphere between them.

“You don’t understand... I... I cannot lose you... So I’m gonna have to let you go,” Y/n said with trembling lips, holding back tears.

“What’s makes you think this would end up like that? Do you think I’m some kind of what? Ruthless?” Chan kept throwing questions, searching for only ‘why.’

“No! I don’t know. Please, let’s just we end up in here,” she begged.

“Y/n, I’m not going to let you do this.”

“You have to.”

“Y/n, I’m in love with you.” Chan took her hand again.

“So what?” She parried it.

“SO WHAT?!... so plenty... I love you.... What’s make you think that we don’t belong together?”

“No. People don’t belong to people.”

“Of course they do.”

“Then let’s see—See when they’re facing the real life, see when they’re getting tired of... You think what you’re doing is that you wanna doing it differently than our parents did. But in reality, people that are decided to live together lead to marriage, and people only get married because people tell them they should, or they’re gonna have trouble with loneliness. So, they started looking at marriage as an option to escape, as if it were something that could give them hope and happiness.”

“So you think everybody's gonna end up just like that?”

“Of course, some others are brave enough to cut the ties, and some others just choose to be cowardly to themselves. Because they think they cannot bear to die alone, so they choose to be trapped in that cage forever” — “and I’m not gonna let anyone put me in a cage.”

“I don’t want to put you in a cage. I want to love you,” he begged.

"IT’S THE SAME THING!”

“No, it is not.”

“Y/n,” Chan calls her gently, almost like begging.

“Stop, just stop! We belong to nobody. And nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other. Now, if I can return your kiss back, I will give it back to you right now. I'm so sorry if you think you’re glad or feeling happy that it happens, but for me... It was a mistake.”

Chan silent. Speechless about what he just heard.

“You know what’s wrong with you? You’re such a coward too. You have no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, ‘Okay, life’s a fact.’ People do fall in love. People do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness. And of course, people fight for that thing; they always do. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. And you’re terrified somebody’s going to stick you in a cage.”

“Please just get off my face,” Y/n said with her eyes getting warm, and her eyes were already glassy enough to launch its teardrop.

“You really don’t realize it, don’t you?.... Y/n, you’re already in that cage. You built yourself. And I’m sorry about what happened to you, I’m really sorry. But there’s nothing wrong with giving a chance to someone who truly wanna love you. I mean it, because my feelings for you didn’t happen in just one night.” — “But suit yourself if this is what you are really going to do. Good luck trying so much to set those feelings aside, because no matter where you trying run from somebody, you just end up running into yourself.”

Y/n was astounded. She can’t move a muscle, down in the mouth. She felt like she had melted and fell onto the deserted pedestrian street in the dark, cold night. Her tears were flowing, accelerating.

“Here. I’ve been carrying this thing around for months,” Chan gave her the ring from that theme park.

“I don't want this anymore,” Chan walks away, leaving her.

Leaving her breath wheezing as if she were drowning in water. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Trapped in a dilemma, caught between her formidable pride and the unyielding truth. She grappled with the belief that true strength lies in independence. She should have stood on her own, proving to everyone that she doesn’t need anybody to be entwined to her so deeply, because co-dependency is a weakness. That’s what shaped her. Or on the contrary. He is awfully, dreadfully right about all of it.

Her hand trembled as she struggled to hold onto the lightweight ring box, letting it fall to the ground. She fist both of her palms. She fought to regain control, searching desperately for the ring, but Chan was moving further away, the distance between them growing. She felt the urgency in her chest as her heart raced. Taking a deep breath, she took one step, then two or three. Briskly. Directly to Chan. She sees some taxis getting closer to him. So she started running so fast. He already got one and ready to just hop on.

“Chan!” Y/n called him out of breath.

Chan looks at her, but he doesn't seem to have enough energy to get back to that argument, too tired for having a pissing contest, so he averts his gaze, and his hand reaches the door of the cab. But Y/n grabbed his hand. Pulled him closer.

“I dropped the ring—I lost it!” Y/n said again. Chan stunned. Listened with feeling, slowly, a sense of rapture.

“Can you help me find it?” Y/n added. He let go of his hand from that door. Turn his body to her. Look at her deeply. His frowning eyebrows started to disappear and were softly raised.

Y/n pulled his hand and started to walk fast, and then ran with him behind her, to get back to the pedestrian where she dropped the ring. “Where do you drop that?”

“Here! I look over here and you look over there.”

They dropped their hands and searched for it carefully. With only the dim, warm light of the street lamps. They put they’re hand to the ground. Groping that hard, cold-textured outdoor tiles. Searching that ring with their bare hands in every corner of that place.

“Screw this! I lost it,” Y/n started to launch her teardrop. She bit her lips to hold back the crying. Chan looks at her so hopelessly.

“Wait...” Chan said and took his cell phone out of his pocket. He turned on the flashlight. Y/n raised an eyebrow in confusion. He placed his phone on the ground, aiming the beam of light close to the surface. Horizontally, so the texture of the road's surface was clearly visible. As if he were looking for broken glass on the floor. He pointed it in various directions around the area. And soon enough, there it was—a glint reflecting from the flashlight.

“There..” Chan pointed to that sparkle. Y/n approaches the reflection of that sparkle and sees the ring. She takes it off the ground and gets up herself while keeping looking at the ring.

She looked at him and found out he was already looking at her first with that long-waiting sight. That intensity made her heart race. She walks closer to him. Slowly. Until she already stood right in front of Chan, one foot away from him. Their eyes were still looking at each other. Y/n looked down, showing the ring she held, then slipped it onto her finger. Chan's gaze shifted to the ring, and one of the corners of his lips lifted upwards. They both looked at each other. With a smile that widened. With a spark of connection deepening between them.

Y/n took his face in her hands, bringing him closer to her, bridging the distance. She brushed her lips against the corner of his lips. His hand held her waist, and his warm breath sent shivers across her cheeks. Y/n tilted her head and brushed the other corner of his lips with hers. Softly and gently. The gentle sweep gave Y/n feelings that she had long suppressed. It felt like an explosive longing. So when he kissed her lips fully, uncontrollable sounds of longing erupted from her heart. The sound of longing to feel loved. She could hear the pounding of blood flowing, racing through her veins, as if the dam that had been holding it back had been breached, unearthing desires unleashed by Chan’s touch.

Chan tightened his hold on her waist, pulled her closer, and their lips met in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of tenderness and grace. Y/n savored that moment. Her hands reached for Chan's neck; his skin felt warm, and they drew their bodies closer together as their hearts beat in collision. She felt Chan's strong body, which was a stark contrast to his own softness. She inhaled deeply Chan's scent, which now felt familiar, because she no longer denied the desire to relish it, to savour it, and to absorb it, and was determined to keep it forever in her life.

***

In his warm hug, Y/n hugged him tightly. His cuddling no longer felt awkward, but incredibly comforting. That night, the warmth of their embrace wrapped in a blanket radiated in contrast to the coldness of her apartment room; it felt like her apartment had never been this cold. Her pillow had never felt this comfortable. Her mattress had never felt this soft and fluffy. Her face was pressed against Chan's chest, and she could hear his heartbeat while her fingers played with the buttons attached to the shirt Chan was wearing. Chan repeatedly kissed her hair while gently stroking her head. Both were lost in thought, in words, in the silence. Chan released his snuggles, shifting his face to align with hers, gazing deep into her eyes with profound affection. Their silent connection spoke volumes.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n said. “You’re the only reason, I know I’m capable of love—You made me brave enough to admit that I wanna be happy, and I wanna be happy with you.”

“Every little piece of you deserves to be loved,” Chan said.—“I love you now, I love you tomorrow, I love you till next year, I love you till the day that I die, it’s a lifetime guarantee, you will receive that certification later.”

They both smiled with a little laugh.

“And I won’t forget it the way I used to, even when things went shit. I make a calendar item every day to keep reminding myself every day that I love you,” he then kissed her gently.

***

Her morning was gently interrupted by a soft tug on her hair. She opened her eyes to the sight of the buttons on Chan's shirt she'd been playing with the last night. She felt his hand tenderly stroking her beautifully loose hair while the other playful fingers danced through the strands. Y/n, still filled with a strong drowsiness, found his motion comforted her more to go back to sleep. She tightened her hug around Chan and surrendered to the allure of slumber once more. Reminding last night's crash and burn made them fall into a very deep, dreamless sleep.

When Y/n woke up, she found her bed empty. Her sleepy gaze scanned the room. Stepping out of her room, which opened directly into the kitchen and living room, she met with the sight of breakfast meticulously laid out on her table and covered by a serving dish. It seemed Chan had cooked it. He had prepared kimchi fried rice (Kimchi Bokkeumbap) alongside egg bread (Gyeran Bbang), artfully arranged on her plate. The apartment felt very quiet, as if she realized Chan had left for work. She sat down and devoured her meal, savoring every bite. "Since when did he get so good at cooking?" she muttered in amazement. Once she finished, she immediately put the dishes away in the sink. The sink was immaculately spotless, not a single piece of cooking utensil left since earlier. Apparently, Chan had already washed and tidied up the cooking utensils after he had cooked.

Once done, Y/n quickly prepared for her day on campus for her final meeting with her thesis advisor. As she packed her bag, her eyes were drawn to her journal. Feeling a little stunned. She then quickly took it, opened the last page she had written, tore it out, and tossed it into the trash. Then she left. No longer need that version of herself, ready to catch a new chapter.

***

Night had set in. Y/n was still busy working on her thesis in the campus library. Her focus is distracted by the ringing sound of her phone.

“I'm right behind you,” Chan said.

Y/n immediately looked behind her. Their eyes meet, chortles. Chan approached him. Sit next to him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked.

Chan accompanied her in the library amidst her hectic schedule. Chan's presence seemed to dispel Y/n's headache.

He kept her in his orbit.

His tight grip on her hand on the way to the restaurant, on the bus home, on the pedestrian walkway. 'He's got hands that make hell seem cold.' Several times, he kissed her hand while they were still holding hands. It all felt like a dream.

“That sucks!” Y/n said as the movie they were watching ended.

“What?! You have really bad taste,” Chan chuckles in surprise.

“Okay, gimme another one movie, I’m down with any genre, you choose, surprise me! You’re an expert,” Y/n replied.

They spent their last busy day together at Y/n's apartment, on the comfy couch, with a full spread of snacks and popcorn. It's impossible to spend time on 'going out somewhere' activities, because they were getting so full of their schedule. Even for tomorrow. And it’s a long day waiting for the weekend.

“I can’t, it’s getting late, you need to rest,” he got up and put on his jacket.

“You have to prepare yourself for your thesis viva next week, and I have work tomorrow, so...” he looked for his bag, leaving that couch, searched, surrounding the room.

“Well, okay,” she said, walking towards the door, opening it, to give him a way out.

“Hey, have you seen my bag?” He asked.

Y/n was already holding his bag and pointing it at him while holding the door open, as if she wanted to chase him away quickly.

Chan packed his things, like his cell phone and wallet, and put them in his pocket. Then he went over to her to get his bag and head home.

“Thank you,” he said as he walked to reach for his bag.

Just before he could catch it, Y/n moved his bag higher above her head, making him miss his bag. She even lifted his bag even higher, making it impossible for Chan to reach it with her playful move, and as that pushed Chan's body closer to her, she kissed him, shut the door, and threw his bag to the floor.

“I have to go home,” he said, and immediately let go of that kiss in giggles.

“Where?” She asked, smiling, and kept on sticking her lips to his, teasingly.

“It’s getting late, I’m gonna be late for tomorrow,” he once again releasing his lips from hers.

“Okay, bye,” she said as she opened the door again.

“I love you,” she said.

On a moment of their playful stare. He smiled at her, shut the door right away, and extended his kiss to her. They were both so much in giggles at that waggishly motion. His kiss became very gentle and careful. Y/n was flying with the pleasure that spread throughout her body. But then, slowly Chan broke the kiss and hugged Y/n tightly. Y/n pressed her cheek against Chan’s chest. Chan’s hug now felt wider, embracing her body as she plunged into a feeling of safety and comfort.

Chan leaned his cheek on Y/n's head. One of his hands gently stroked her head. Playing with the strands of hair that hung loose from the hair tie. He untied her messy bun. He stroked her short, beautifully flowing hair again. Like he’s going to play with her hair forever, he kissed her head with fondness. He makes his body swing right and left very slowly, like a small, soothing dance.

Then Chan stopped at Y/n's eyes. Chan could swear he had never seen eyes as beautiful as Y/n's. Eyes with a gaze as deep as the ocean. The way he looks at her says more than words, with the feelings that cannot be explained in this longing.

Then he reached for Y/n's face and brushed his lips against hers again. Her palms released the hug and moved to his chest. His hands unbuttoned her shirt one by one and slid them to her breasts. Then he moved to the side with his fingers pushed and framed her waist with a rising and falling motion. Chan's kisses became more passionate. Y/n occasionally pushed his chest to ask for oxygen. But Chan gave those breaks so briefly that it made Y/n get pushed slowly with one or two steps backwards against the door. Because of her shove, Chan broke the kiss.

"You okay?" Chan asked. Both of them were panting.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Chan held Y/n's hand and placed it on his shoulder and kissed her again, then carried her on his arm, walking through the kitchen and living room, entering her bedroom, and dropped her firmly, slowly, and safely onto the bed. He took off his shirt, revealing his muscular body with the shadow of his muscle curves from the silhouette of her dark bedroom. Chan continued his kiss on top of that bed. That kiss, creeping over the nape of her neck, Y/n felt his rapid breath on her neck. Y/n was increasingly sure that Chan would show her even more pleasure soon, right after.

***

Morning came unwillingly. She saw Chan sleep soundly beside her. Y/n noticed his straight, firm, soft eyebrows. The long, straight silhouette line of his nose. His sharp eyes were closed tiredly, tightly closed, with jet-black eyelashes. The shape of his sweet lips was like the shape of daisy petals, slightly chapped from last night. Y/n could look at him for hours, wishing this morning would never end. But she has to wake him up. She gets up, searching for her clothes on the floor, on the bed. Wearing it. She kisses Chan on his cheeks. And wake him up.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Y/n asks him.

“You.” Chan awakes, but his eyes are still closed. They smirk at each other. Then he reached for her hand, pulled her in back to bed. Kissing her. But she quickly dodges him.

“You’re gonna be late for work,” Y/n said, trying to get up. But Chan still holds her hand.

“I'm gonna make you some toast,” She added, and gave him one kiss. Unhand him.

“Do you feel befouled?” Chan asks her.

“No, I feel sore,” Y/n answers.

Y/n could see Chan smirking widely. She gave him a light smack on his arm.

"Don’t be so self-satisfied like that," Y/n added. Chan laughs while keeping pulling her hand close to him and kissing her again. The kiss that initially felt playful turned into something else. Y/n broke the kiss and pushed him back onto the bed.

“Toast or nothing?” She said solid. Leaving him laughing, amused.

“Waffles.” He spoke.

“I ran out of maple syrup,” Y/n said while walking away.

“Take some showers, you can wear my sweater!” Y/n yelled from the kitchen.

Chan searched for his shorts, still so sleepy, and walked to the bathroom. Y/n caught him and frowned. He wore his shorts inside out. She made some toast, an omelet, and some cereal. He came back from the shower in Y/n's bathrobe. Chan hugged Y/n from behind, who was setting food on the table. His face leaned on her shoulder, "So American..." he mumbled. She can smell her own shampoo and fresh soap so sharply from him.

Then he sits in the chair, grabs a slice.

“Cook me some local food later, will you?” Said Y/n, then walked towards her room.

“Where are you going?” Chan was confused as to why Y/n wasn’t eating with him.

“I’m going to be late... I have to take a shower…” Y/n yelled from inside the bedroom and came out with another towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry...” Chan said. — “For making you so tired,” he tittered.

“Shut up!” She answers fast.

“Why did you bother making breakfast? Have you eaten yet?” Chan asked.

"Umm, I’m about to..." Y/n answered from inside the bathroom.

Chan stood up from his chair and scanned the kitchen, determined to find a food container. He spotted it on the shelf above the kitchen table—an attractive square stainless-steel container, wrapped in a pink bag with a touch of transparent PVC on the side. He placed the Egg sandwich inside, ensuring it was perfectly nestled alongside some tissues, and filled a tumbler with refreshing drinking water. All the while, he continued chewing on a piece of bread dangling from his mouth. As soon as Y/n finished getting ready, Chan immediately handed the lunch box to her.

“Take this, for you to eat it on the way…” Chan said.

“Wow, thank you so much...” Y/n said, and gave him a brief kiss, then left.

“Bye, carefull!” He said

“Yap, okay bye,” she replied.

Chan finished his breakfast and then went to her room to look for the sweater she had mentioned earlier. He grabbed a black sweater hanging on a hanger in his closet without thinking. He didn't want to mess up or dig deeper into Y/n's neatly arranged belongings—her clothes. So, he chose a gender-neutral hue that he felt would suit him well. A quick thought. Then, he set off to work.

Today was not just another day. This time at work, Chan kept a close eye on his watch, eagerly anticipating the end of the day. He radiated enthusiasm and synergy. His face was more smug, brighter, radiant, and cheerful. He even contemplated jumping into a taxi, unwilling to squander a precious moment waiting for public transportation.

So does Y/n; she couldn't seem to focus on what her lecturer said about her thesis. He couldn't help but feel the atmosphere was incredibly different this morning, like it was crackling with chaos, like it had become increasingly pugnacious, asking for more. Her five senses were becoming sharper and more sensitive. Her body tingled with pleasurable pain in a way she had never felt before. Was this the sensation called lust? This sensation was stronger than the sweetest addiction, more intoxicating than anything. It was truly unexpected; she never even imagined that what a man and a woman did could feel so unspeakably sweet. So beautifully electrifying for the soul, mind, and body.

While her gaze stared at the screen projector in class. A notification sound from her cell phone buzzed. She immediately opened it. It was from Chan, "I think I'll go home early today." Then her thoughts drifted back to last night. In her bed, she unconsciously smirked all by herself.

“You sure?” Chan asked.

“Hmm, Yeah…” Y/n said, out of breath and smiling. Chan put his length into her. A moan inevitably escaped Y/n's mouth. She feels him inside her, so tightly, so sore, she reflexively covered his mouth with the back of her hand to hold back her loud moans.

“You alright?” Chan asks her gently.

“Uh, humm…” Y/n answers it with heavy breath.

She moans back when he gives her some gentle force. Her hands seemed shocked and immediately looked for something to hold. She reached for Chan's back and clasped onto it. His force increases, making them both moan louder, making her hand aggressively explore his back. Memorize every depth texture of the muscles of his back. It pulled him closer to her, made him kiss her neck, and she felt the warmth of his irregular breath. But it’s not enough, the pain was so unbearable, because he filled her so much than she could expect, so one of her hands had to grasp the bed sheets.

Their panting breaths clashed with each other. His thrust is getting deeper, but more slowly and surely. Y/n frowns, raising her eyebrow in pleasure, but still can’t keep her hands to herself, so Chan pulls his head up from her neck to grab one of her wrists and put it down to the side of her face, and hold on to it, while he puts his other hand to her waist. And then he added more speed to his pace and leaned his head back to her neck, while pressing his length slightly upward too, so that she can feel the pressure to her clit so damn good that it helps her reach her climax and it’s getting…..

“Y/n?....” Her lecture snaps her finger to signal her to stay focused on her, wake her daydreaming from last night.

“Can you see here one of the points of the conceptual approach in your thesis is off the mark?” Her lecture added.

***

Y/n checked her phone again with anxiety still swirling within her. She hadn’t replied to his message yet. So she replied by typing, "What's on your menu tonight, chef?" But then she hesitated. She paused for a moment. Which house was he referring to? She deleted the message. Biting her nails. Leg tapping. Her nerves are eating her alive. But since he was in the middle of work, she would probably call him later. For fear of disturbing him.

To keep herself occupied and push her feelings aside, she buried herself in tasks, even though it was futile. Desperate to distract herself. And yet, the sting of love is too distracting. Until finally her shift ends. That night, she opens her phone again. Chan had sent her a photo of his mother's cooking. She immediately drags herself on the floor. A wave of frustration washed over her; it felt like he didn’t share the same urgency in this bursting feeling, wanting to be with her. Or was it just her excitement that was clouding her judgment? The thought of him consumed her, pulling at her heart as she expected more than he was ready to give. So she replied with a simple, "Looks good! *Thumbs up," and left the conversation feeling heavy-hearted.

On the bus ride home, she leaned against the bus window, lost in thought. Her gloomy expression mirrored the darkness outside that glass.

When she arrived in her dark room, she flicked on the light and tossed her bag onto the sofa, tears welling up. She wanted to see Chan so much that it was almost overwhelming. The hysteria she felt almost drove her crazy

“Shit! if falling in love makes me act so fractious like this, then I finally understand what my girls have been saying all this time,” she muttered to herself.

“Screw this,” she muttered to herself. “I need a shower and then it’s time for bed.” Her body is still a little sore from last night, and perhaps what she truly needed was rest. She tidied up and prepped for bed, shutting off all of the lights before wrapping herself in her blanket. It turned out her body did need rest, because she immediately felt very sleepy. She shifted into a comfortable position, but just as sleep threatened to take over, her heart sank— the silhouette of a shadowy figure appeared and stood in front of her door, which was already closed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Suddenly, Y/n screamed in shock.

“AAAAAAAAA!” That person also screamed and reached for the light switch and turned it on.

"Why do you always shout at me like that?" Said Chan, who immediately leaned limply against the door. Shocked.

“WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SCARY SNEAKING AROUND LIKE THAT?!” Y/n shouted at him.

“Sneaking in how? I told you I’d bring my mom’s cooking, you probably didn’t read my message, right?” Chan defended his creepy accusation.

“Oh really?” Y/n replied with some relief.

“You were the one who gave me your room password yesterday. Did you forget?” Chan added more evidence to the judge.

“Right, I forgot.” “My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.” She said weakly. And collapsed back onto the bed. Chan approached her and collapsed onto the bed as well. There was a moment of silence, then the room filled with their laughter. Y/n’s drowsiness disappeared in an instant, perhaps because Chan’s presence increased her serotonin levels. She’s glad he came. The feud in her heart was fulfilling.

“Have you eaten yet?” Chan asks her.

"Ya," Y/n replied.

“When?” Chan asked again.

“This afternoon,” She replied.

“So, you haven’t eaten tonight.” Chan gets up.

“Come on, try my mom’s cooking. It’s been a while since you’ve had home-cooked food.” Chan reached out his hand to Y/n, urging her to get up. Y/n smiled and took his hand.

“My mom cooked galbi and SEOOOOL SOUP WOOOOW…” Chan fell onto the bed by her hand pulling him closer into her and kissing his lips. Chan immediately dodged the kiss and left the bed, running out of the room. Y/n’s smile immediately disappeared in surprise at his rejection. But it turned out that Chan ran to the light switch to turn it off, and ran to her again instantly as he was trying to unbutton the cardigan he was wearing and take it off. Y/n laughed cutely at his behaviour. Chan giggled then kissed her again.

Their passions of lust matched each other. Their anxiety evaporates, unbearable. They didn't even have time to continue undressing. The passionate physical union felt even wilder than last night's solemn, slow burn. Now, undressing didn't feel necessary for these mutual touching activities, as it felt even more pleasurable with the moans mixed with frustration.

Chan brushed his lips against hers, breathless. His hands groped up and down her waist, trying to lift her shirt up and reach her breasts. Y/n pulled at the shirt he was still wearing, bringing him down on top of her. The kiss was incredibly pleasurable for both of them. As dawn broke, they were gently embraced by its warm glow, reminding us of the tender hue of love that connects us all.

***

Y/n opened her eyes in the morning to find Chan already getting ready for work, shirtless, wearing only a towel tied around his waist. He opened Y/n's wardrobe.

“Don't you have a bigger shirt?” He asked once he saw her already awake.

Y/n was still sleepy, but since she didn’t have another campus obligation, she let her eyelids flutter shut again and pointed toward the top shelf of her wardrobe, signalling him. Then she drifted back to sleep. She could feel Chan kiss her forehead gently as he left. It lulled her, shot into a deeper rest.

Y/n woke up from a nightmare she couldn't recall. It felt strange, so she walked out of the room. Chan had once again prepared a beautiful, romantic breakfast for her, perfectly arranged. She savored every bite, feeling grateful until her eyes fell upon a letter waiting patiently on the table. After finishing, she realized there was a letter on the table. It turned out to be Chan who had left the letter. It was from Chan, and she couldn’t resist capturing a photo of it, enamored by the lovey-dovey atmosphere.

As the day wore on, she struggled to focus on preparing for her looming thesis exam next week. She had opened her laptop, preparing to summarize the material, but her thoughts kept wandering. She couldn’t shake her eagerness for Chan’s return, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms. So, she turned on the TV, hoping it would fill the silence of her solitude.

As the evening began to settle in, she picked up her phone. It turned out that Chan had sent her a message that morning—a photo of beautiful, vibrant flowers from a roadside shop. While composing a text back, saying, “I know your favorite color, wait for me tonight,” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed, elated, with butterflies in her stomach. To the point where she sits in front of the door, daydreaming and waiting for his arrival, gripping the letter he had given her that morning.

Caught up in her anticipation, she ignored her surroundings, not even her laptop, not even the unlatched bedroom window, and not even the sound of the TV she had left on about the news program. Like it’s all blared in the background, reporting on a range of topics, including new tourist attractions, local events, crime, government, till a tragic accident that happened this morning in Seoul City, near her district area. Where a man had died after being struck by a drunk driver on the sidewalk just across from a flower shop.

On the other hand, Chan’s mother and his brother were engulfed in a cacophony of grief, screaming in despair and mourning over their unimaginable loss. The din of sorrow in the devastating hospital was a stark contrast to Y/n, who was still waiting for Chan at her door, waiting for him to open it.

In the silence of that night, in her cold room, by the breeze from the open window. By the sound of tree branches rustling in the wind outside. By a letter still clutched in her hand. By the weight of her feeling, she felt longing for him. In that stillness, by the room stood silent, a witness to the profound love between them. Knowing later, she can’t go where he goes.

My thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved

I can live only wholly with you or not at all –

Be calm my life, my all. Only by calm consideration of our exsistance can we achieve our purpose to live together. Oh continue to love me, never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

Ever thine

Ever mine

Ever ours

(Ludwig Van Beethoven to his ‘Immortal Beloved’)

-see you later, Chan.

#svt scenario

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#svt scenario