hi my loves!! thank you so much for your patience and for bearing with me during my unexpected hiatus. unfortunately, i had to deal with some personal matters that i can't go into (nothing bad, i promise!), and balancing everything with school ended up taking up much more time and energy than i had anticipated. i didn't expect such a significant increase in workload over the past month, and i apologize for the suddenness and how long it took for me to get back to you all.
that being said, i'm really happy to say that i'm finally back!! in the last few days, i've been quietly working on some of my works that have been in progress for awhile, specifically the '6 WAYS TO APPROACH LOVE' series, which i'm hoping to wrap up soon.
i'm super excited to be back, but i wanted to be transparent and preface that i'm still working through my wips, so requests will be slower to complete until at least mid to late june. still, please keep sending them in -- i absolutely love seeing everyone's ideas!
thank you all sm for giving me grace and for your kind understanding; i can't wait to be more active again 💗
6.3k | youngjae birthday special | choi youngjae x reader
warnings + add info:
medical au, tws's choi youngjae, shinyu, and kim dohoon featured, izna's tomioka mai, bang jeemin, choi jungeun featured, mentions of blood, severe injuries, and death (not mc)
**MEDICAL TERMS NOT TO BE INTERPRETED AS FACT**
i highly recommend scrolling to the bottom for medical terms and definitions and having that for reference as you read so that it makes more sense!
synopsis:
for years, you and Youngjae have been inseparable: first as young and naive medical students, and then as residents navigating the brutality of life as a newly-graduated doctor. in a profession where it’s clear that tomorrow is never guaranteed for many, maybe some things are too important to leave unsaid.
author’s note:
happy belated birthday to our youngchuni! may 22 bring greater happiness, health, and growth 💗💗
The announcement crackles just as you’re halfway through the world’s worst vending machine coffee. Everyone moves at once. You shove your coffee onto the counter and grab gloves.
“Twenty-three-year-old male,” a paramedic announces. “High-speed rollover. Hypotensive en route. Suspected internal bleeding. GCS dropping.”
Your attending physician, Dr. Shin Junghwan, turns to you immediately.
“You’re on airway.”
“Got it.”
Across the department, the trauma doors burst open. Right behind the incoming gurney, Dr. Choi Youngjae arrives. Dark blue surgical scrubs sit beneath his white coat, his hair a mess, and his trauma pager clipped crookedly to his waistband. Second-year general surgery resident.
“Okay, let’s move. Dr. (Name), airway. Surgery team, assess abdomen and pelvis. FAST exam now.”
You move to the head of the bed immediately.
“Can you hear me?” you ask the patient loudly.
The man groans weakly. Blood runs down the side of his face.
“Sir, stay with me.”
You check his pupils while oxygen gets hooked up beside you. Across the bed, Youngjae presses gloved hands against the patient’s abdomen.
“Rigid,” he mutters. “Possible intra-abdominal bleed.”
You don’t even look up before responding.
“Pressure’s eighty over forty.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
The ultrasound probe lands in your attending’s hand.
“Positive FAST.”
Internal bleeding.
Youngjae’s voice cuts through, saying, “We need OR prep now.”
Junghwan nods.
“Agreed.”
Suddenly, monitor alarms erupt. The patient’s heart rate spikes. His oxygen drops. His blood pressure plummets. He gurgles suddenly, choking on blood.
Another senior Dr. Kim Dohoon, Youngjae’s attending, instructs immediately, “Intubate.”
You’re already moving.
“Etomidate ready.”
A nurse places the laryngoscope into your waiting hand. You lean over the patient with intense focus.
“On my count,” you say. “Push meds.”
Youngjae appears beside you without you even needing to ask. One hand moves to stabilize the patient’s neck. He’s reliable as gravity.
“Tube,” you say.
It’s already in his hand before you finish the world. The tube slides in smoothly.
“Good color change,” a respiratory senior confirms. “Breath sounds bilateral.”
Relief floods through you for a brief second before the monitor screams.
“Pressure’s still dropping!”
Youngjae swears under his breath. He’s already thinking ahead.
“He’s bleeding out.”
“Surgery, take him upstairs now,” Junghwan instructs.
The trauma team mobilizes immediately. As the bed starts rolling, Youngjae keeps up right beside it as he fires orders toward his intern.
“Call OR two. Massive transfusion protocol. I want vascular aware and ready before we even get upstairs.”
Then, he glances back at you.
“You coming up after stabilization?”
You’re technically supposed to stay in the ED. But your attending answers before you can.
“Yeah. She’s good in trauma recovery.”
Youngjae nods expectedly. The gurney disappears through the doors, and with it, the adrenaline finally starts draining from the room. You exhale as you pull your gloves off.
Bang Jeemin, a nurse beside you, laughs tiredly.
“You two are freakishly in sync.”
“What?”
You’re too tired for your brain to wrap around what she’s saying.
“The surgery resident,” she clarifies. “Dr. Choi Youngjae. You guys always work well together. It’s like you’re silently communicating.”
Before you can answer, another pager goes off somewhere down the hall. Another emergency and incoming patient. The night moves on.
—
The surgery waiting room vending machine spits out a bottle of water at 9:42 am. Youngjae stares at the machine for a second longer just as you walk by.
“Long shift?”
Youngjae glances up. You’re still in scrubs from the overnight call, but your surgical cap is gone now. Your hair is slightly flattened on one side from where you probably slept against a wall for twenty minutes in between. You’re balancing a coffee cup in one hand and a small pack of crackers in the other.
“You look terrible,” he says.
You hand him the cup of coffee.
“So do you.”
You slide down the wall beside him outside of the PACU doors with your knees pulled close to your chest. For a while, neither of you speak. Machines beep in a steady rhythm inside various recovery rooms. Nurses pass by periodically. The morning light spills brightly through windows at the end of the corridor. The patient from the trauma surgery survived. Barely, but he did.
“How long was he unstable after we got upstairs?” Youngjae asks.
You open the crackers.
“Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five.”
He purses his lips together slightly. You know exactly what he’s thinking because you were thinking it too. We almost lost him.
Youngjae leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes for a second.
“You did good in there,” you say quietly.
His eyes open again immediately. Not because he’s embarrassed by compliments, but because somehow, he believes them when they come from you.
“You too,” he answers.
You split the crackers between yourselves in silence. Both of you have long gotten used to this kind of predicament.
Youngjae finally takes a sip of coffee and grimaces.
“You forgot the sugar.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“I put two,” you insist.
“You usually put three,” he points out.
“You remember how many sugars I put in your coffee?”
Youngjae looks down at the cup.
“You remember mine too.”
Well, he isn’t wrong.
Before you can respond again, his pager beeps.
“Multiple burn and smoke inhalation victims inbound. Structure fire. ETA three minutes. Trauma teams report immediately.”
Youngjae stands instantly. You’re already on your feet. Whatever peaceful moment between you disappears instantly, replaced by the urgency of said emergency.
The emergency department flurries into action. The patients come in coughing, half-conscious, skin streaked with soot, oxygen saturations dangerously low.
“Fifteen-year-old female, trapped in second-flood collapse, heavy spoke exposure!”
“Carbon monoxide suspected!”
Stretchers roll past rapidly. You’re positioned at trauma bay one. Junghwan doesn’t need to look at you twice.
“You’re on airway.”
You nod.
“Got it.”
Across the bay line, Youngjae scans incoming patients as he mentally maps out which ones are going to need the OR, which ones are most likely not going to make it, and which ones he can maybe still attend to.
His eyes flicker to you for half a second. Then the first patient reaches your bay. She’s barely conscious. Her face is blackened with soot. Labored breathing. Wet, raspy coughs that sound harsh and wrong. Her oxygen saturation is dropping fast.
“Airway swelling likely,” Dr. Choi Jungeun from the respiratory department says quickly. “Smoke inhalation injury.”
You move immediately.
“High-flow oxygen. Prepare for early intubation.”
Smoke inhalation is tricky because airways tend to swell fast after thermal injuries. Sometimes, they close completely only hours after being exposed. So you don’t wait.
The patient gasps panickedly.
“It’s okay,” you say softly as your hand stabilizes her head. “We’re going to help you breathe.”
She tries to nod but fails.
“Etomidate and roc ready,” you call out.
A nurse hands you the meds as her attention stays fixed on the monitor. Behind you, Youngjae is already managing another incoming burn patient in the adjacent bay. You can hear his voice cutting through the noise.
“Check for circumferential burns. If chest restriction, prep escharotomy consult.”
Your patient starts to deteriorate slowly.
“O2 sat dropping seventy-eight.”
“Bag her,” you order.
The mask goes on. Ventilation begins. Her chest barely rises. It’s too tight.
“The swelling’s worsening,” Jungeun warns.
You don’t wait.
“Intubation now.”
You position yourself with the laryngoscope ready. The airway is already narrowing. You can tell from the visible swelling. This is the dangerous part. If you miss, you don’t get a second chance.
“Hold,” you say.
And just as you begin, a voice from the adjacent bay cuts in.
“Pressure’s dropping!”
Youngjae.
Hearing his voice steadies your hands.
“Tube ready,” you say. The insertion is fast and precise.
“Good placement confirmed,” Jungeun calls.
The patient’s oxygen stabilizes. Barely, but it’s enough. You sigh with relief.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been treating emergency patients, dealing with smoke inhalation, burn wounds, IV lines, fluid resuscitation, and airway protection.
At one point, you pass by Youngjae between bays. He’s covered in soot now too from working with patients all day. His scrubs are darkened with streaks at the sleeves.
“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs as he passes by.
You nod.
“Yeah.”
And you’re both gone again.
It’s near the next morning when the last of the incoming victims are confirmed to be stabilized. The ED looks wrecked. You’re washing black residue from your hands when Youngjae comes up behind you. For a moment, the only sound is the sound of water running.
Finally, he says quietly, “I saw your intubation.”
You glance at him.
“What about it?”
“It was clean.”
You let out a breath that sounds like a laugh.
“You know, your escharotomy consult call was louder than the entire department.”
He smiles at that.
You turn around to wipe your hands dry with a paper towel.
“I’m clocking out now,” you say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Have a good rest.”
You just nod and walk back out.
—
You first knew Youngjae from medical school. You were both sleep-deprived first-years standing outside an anatomy lab at seven in the morning. You had forgotten your goggles, and Youngjae had an extra pair.
Back then, medical school felt like an uphill battle every day. Every exam felt like it would be the one that would finally expose you as someone who didn’t belong there. Every practical assessment left you convinced that you’d somehow made it in by accident. Everyone around you seemed smarter, more prepared, less terrified. Including, and especially, Youngjae.
The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even trying to seem impressive and above everyone else. While everyone else boasted about their grades and research and who managed to sleep the least amount of hours, Youngjae never bothered to join in. Yet somehow, all eyes would go to him anyway every time the professors talked about high-achieving students. Including you.
“Do you understand this?” you had asked one night.
You had been staring at a physiology diagram that might as well have been written in another language for the past thirty minutes.
Youngjae looked up from his notes.
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Well, that’s better than me,” you laugh. “I got nothing.”
You ended up studying together that night. Then again the next week. Then again after that. Over time, he became a constant in your life. He was there during exam weeks, failed practicals, that time you cried in a deserted stairwell after receiving an awful grade. He was there when you passed the board, and he was there when you opened your residency match results with shaking hands. Every major milestone somehow included him.
Once, a classmate walked into a study room, found the two of you nodding off over your textbooks at five in the morning, and immediately asked, “So when are you guys going to get together?”
You and Youngjae had sprung apart instantly, both equally horrified.
“Never!”
The answer came so fast from both of you that she burst out laughing.
By the time medical school ended, you and Youngjae had practically known every single thing about each other. Neither of you thought much about anything at all. Those were just normal things for friends to know. Weren’t they?
And then residency started. Life moved much faster. Some friendships faded with time. People transferred. People quit. People burned out. Yet Youngjae remained through all of it. Maybe that was why neither of you ever crossed the line. Medicine took enough from people already. Sleep. Time. Relationships. Families. Entire years of their lives. The thought of risking the one constant thing you had for feelings that might not eventually survive felt reckless above anything else.
So you didn’t do anything. But you expressed it in the coffee you left in the break room with his name scrawled on a sticky note. In checking in after particularly difficult shifts. In celebrating each other’s birthdays, Christmas, New Years, and every other major holiday together whenever either or both of you were stuck on call. Over time, they became moments that stayed engraved in the depths of your memories. Moments that you hold on to with the tiniest bit of hope that one day, maybe something would change.
—
The case is already six hours in. They’re halfway through vascular repair from trauma due to a sudden collision. The fatigue is wearing everyone down to the point where patience starts running thin. Youngjae has been scrubbed in the entire time. His arms ache under the sterile gown. His eyes burn behind his mask. Sweat has completely soaked through his cap. But his hands have been steady.
“Clamp,” the surgeon requests.
Youngjae reaches for it. The clamp is taken from his hand and repositioned aggressively.
“Don’t hesitate.”
The attending doesn’t even look at him when he says it.
You’re on anesthesia today and currently positioned behind the sterile barrier where you’re supposed to be managing ventilation, blood pressure, and medications while surgery does its work. Right now, your attention is split between the monitors and him. His shoulders are slightly too rigid with tension.
“Blood pressure’s trending down,” you call out calmly. “Ninety over fifty-eight.”
Everyone looks back to the patient.
“Volume up. Check blood loss,” the attending instructs.
You see Youngjae’s hands again as he turns to the surgical field. His fingers pause for just too long.
“Don’t freeze on me now,” the surgeon demands. “See? That. That right there. If you can’t keep up, scrub out.”
Behind the drape, you notice how his focus fractures just a little bit from the statement. You glance at the vitals, then back at him.
“Pressure’s stable,” you say. “You have time.”
Youngjae’s head tilts slightly. That isn’t an anesthesia comment. That’s you. And he hears it exactly the way you mean it. Slow down. You’re okay.
The procedure continues like nothing happened. Hours later, the case finally closes. The patient is stable enough for transfer. By the time Youngjae’s scrubbed out, you’ve already moved onto your other duties. Sitting in the break room is a cup of coffee with his name next to it. No note or anything. But he knows who it’s from.
—
“Time of death 3:18 am,” Junghwan says quietly.
You step back automatically, your hands still suspended in the air as if you’re hoping the work isn’t finished yet. But the monitor shows the flatline clearly. The curtain is closed gently. It’s a young patient, too. You swallow hard.
Nurse Jeemin brushes past you quietly to gather documents.
“You did everything you could,” she offers.
“(Name).”
Junghwan says your name just to make sure you’re still there. You nod in response.
“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.
“Come on,” he says gently. “Take your gloves off.”
You don’t remember moving to the sink, but suddenly, you’re there. Water runs over your hands as you scrub them hard. Too hard. You turn off the faucet, but the silence afterward is far worse. The patient’s face keeps flashing through your head over and over again.
Youngjae finds you in the break room ten minutes later. He’s still in surgical scrubs from the OR, evident by the mask still hanging loose at his neck.
For a moment, he just looks at you. You don’t ask how he knows. He just does. You lower yourself down on a chair, and he follows.
“It doesn’t get easier,” you whisper.
“No,” he agrees. “You did your job.”
“I know,” you continue.
But I didn’t. I didn’t save them. So I clearly didn’t do my job properly. You want to say it out loud, but there’s no way you’d allow yourself to offload all of that emotional baggage onto Youngjae. He has his own duties to worry about, and that’s already more than enough.
Instead, you stare at the table in silence. Youngjae doesn’t push. That’s another thing about him. He has the ability to comfort you even when he’s sitting in complete silence. His presence is more than enough.
“How old were they?”
Youngjae is still looking straight ahead. You swallow.
“Nineteen.”
Youngjae closes his eyes briefly. Too young. You both know it.
“My attending once told me that some surgeons have egos big enough to believe that every life is theirs to save. Obviously, not everyone is like that. Some people, most people, simply beat themselves up over it when it doesn’t happen because it feels like they’ve failed,” he starts.
He continues, “Then he told me that’s not how medicine works.”
You hate that sometimes everyone can do everything in their power and still lose.
Eventually, Youngjae stands up when his pager goes off again.
“You should try to eat something,” he says, looking down at you.
You immediately make a face. He points at you.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That expression.”
You crack a small smile on your face.
“Go,” you tell him quietly. “Before you get punished for not arriving in time.”
“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “I’ll see you later.”
That alone is enough to get you through the next hour. He’s as certain and reliable as the sun that rises each morning. He always finds his way back to you. And you realize with dread that you’ve come to depend on that far more than you maybe should.
—
The wedding means you finally get a small break from residency. Only for a few hours, but still, you’re counting your blessings. One of your friends from medical school, Dr. Tomioka Mai, a dermatologist, is getting married to her longtime boyfriend, and she had invited you along with a smattering of other alumni. Including Youngjae.
When you enter the venue, you realize that this would be the first time that you’d see Youngjae wearing something other than scrubs in almost six months. Right on cue, he steps within your line of sight, and you have to tear your eyes away before he can catch you staring. Your cheeks redden in embarrassment. It’s unfair how good he looks in his dark suit and styled hair.
The event is filled with people from medical school that you haven’t seen in years. You smile and wave happily at old friends and classmates that you maybe haven’t seen since graduation years ago. And the ceremony is short but nothing short of beautiful. Your eyes tear up as Mai and her husband give each other their vows. Mai had always been one of the exceptionally kind ones that you had gotten to know, and you consider yourself lucky to be friends with someone so precious.
Afterward, everyone spills out into a larger conjoined room for the reception.
“Mai unnie!” you squeal as you finally make your way to the bride.
“(Name)!!” she exclaims. “Oh I’m so happy that you made it!”
“Of course, I couldn’t miss it,” you reassure excitedly as you bring her into a warm hug.
And all of a sudden, it feels as if nothing has changed since medical school. Mai pulls back so that she can take a proper look at you.
“Are you still completing your residency?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “On the bright side, my second year is almost finished.”
“Well, that’s definitely good news,” she smiles.
“We really need to catch up sometime,” you say. “Whenever I can catch a break, that is.”
“I get it,” Mai replies understandingly. “It’s never really over until it’s over, right?”
“Definitely.”
She leans in closer as she whispers, “So, how are things with you and Youngjae? Are you finally together?”
“See… it’s complicated,” you start before you’re interrupted.
“Don’t tell me you’re still not together?” she exclaims, causing a few nearby heads to turn.
Thankfully, Youngjae is well out of earshot on the other side of the space. You look around nervously.
“Shhh, lower your voice a little, Mai. And yes, nothing’s happened since the last time you saw us together at med school.”
“But why?” she questions, bewildered. “Anyone could see that you’re perfect for each other. He never saw any other girl the way that he saw you. Even now. Earlier, I noticed that he couldn’t look away from you during the ceremony.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was honestly quite obvious. I bet he was so stunned by how beautiful you are all dressed up,” Mai laughs endearingly.
“You’re so kind,” you reply, laughing as well.
“Oh, hey!” Mai exclaims.
Her eyes follow someone behind you as you watch her wave someone over.
“Youngjae! Come over!”
Mortified, you turn around just as he appears right beside you.
“Congratulations, Dr. Tomioka. You two make a lovely couple,” he says.
“Oh please, drop the formalities,” she waves. “Just call me Mai.”
She holds her hands out in front of her and gestures.
“You know, there’s going to be dancing over there on the dance floor. You two should totally dance! Otherwise I’m worried no one is going to bring the energy. Since we’re all alumni and such anyway, right?”
You laugh awkwardly as you narrow your eyes pointedly at her. She smiles cheekily in response.
“Well, I’ll have to be off now. I gotta go greet some more people real quick.”
And just as she leaves, the music starts playing. Contrary to what Mai had said she expected, which you suspect was just a ruse to get you to comply, guests rush onto the dance floor as if they’re in sync. You groan quietly at her antics.
“Why is it always me?” you mutter to yourself.
A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“Well?”
You look up to see a hand gestured out in front of you. Your eyes follow the outstretched hand until they meet with Youngjae’s.
“A dance?” he repeats.
Before you can open your mouth, he reaches out for your hand and takes it in his grasp. You gasp slightly as he pulls you onto the dance floor along with everyone else. Around you, people continue to laugh and talk and celebrate. But all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand and the fact that he still hasn’t let go. His cologne still smells the same as the one he wore during medical school. You blink that thought away, horrified that you somehow still remember.
You want to say something to melt away the awkwardness.
“This is nice.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
You can feel his eyes still trained on you.
“So was getting yelled at by Dr. Kim yesterday,” you add quickly. “Nice to be somewhere else.”
He raises his eyebrows at you in amusement.
“Right,” he says.
On the drive home, you find yourself still replaying the feeling of his hand in yours far more than what is probably healthy.
—
It’s a good thing that Mai’s wedding was the day that it was, because the next day, a blizzard is unexpectedly forced to hit in the late evening. You’re so caught up in your shift that you don’t even realize how bad the weather is until you look outside and discover that the parking lot has completely disappeared beneath heaps of snowfall.
Every road is closed. Staff can’t leave, and replacement shifts can’t arrive. Everyone is stuck. Doctors and nurses scramble to figure out temporary sleeping arrangements. Every single couch is taken up. Even the conference rooms are filled. Some people literally sleep in office chairs.
You finally finish your fourteen-hour shift and reach the residents’ lounge around midnight only to find that every bed and remotely comfortable surface is occupied. You stare at the situation quietly in despair. All you want after such a long shift is to find a space to sit down.
“I found a room.”
You turn around. Youngjae stands in the doorway holding two blankets. Five minutes later, you’re carrying your bag down the hallway. The room is tiny, with two narrow beds, one desk, and a lamp. Youngjae tosses a blanket onto each bed.
“There.”
You sit down, and the mattress creaks. It’s funny because you spend so much time together at work, yet you’re almost never alone like this. Youngjae changes into a hospital t-shirt and lies down first. You turn away quickly when you realize.
Finally, the lights are turned off, and darkness fills the room. You stare at the ceiling as the sound of snow hitting the windows suddenly seems to magnify. Youngjae is six feet away. Maybe five feet. Maybe less. Not that you’re measuring. You can feel the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.
“You awake?”
His voice cuts through the silence.
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
He laughs softly.
“Remember first-year anatomy?”
“Oh no,” you groan.
“You dropped your forceps.”
“I know exactly where this is going.”
“They landed on Dr. Han’s shoes.”
“He threatened to fail me!” you exclaim.
Youngjae’s laughter fills the room. And suddenly, you’re back in medical school. Back before residency made everything complicated. Memories come flooding back one by one. Study sessions, exams, awful professors. At some point, your eyes start getting heavier, and your responses slow down.
“(Name)?”
“Hm?”
A pause stretches long enough that you’re starting to think he’s fallen asleep.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Your heartbeat quickens as you freeze, staring into the darkness. Youngjae doesn’t say anything else. And neither do you.
Some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Especially when you’re standing directly on top of them
—
The snow is still there three days later, but the blizzard cleared up the very next day. Everyone is still catching up from the storm and the staff shortages. You haven’t had a day off, and neither has Youngjae, though that’s hardly unusual.
Except now, whenever you pass a window, you find yourself remembering what happened that night. I’m glad you’re here.
You haven’t talked to Youngjae since. You excuse it on the fact that you’re simply too busy, and so is he. Which isn’t exactly wrong. The ED is already crowded when you arrive. Two doctors call in sick in one day. You haven’t sat down once. Around noon, Youngjae is cleared to leave. You think nothing of it, except that hopefully, that means you will be too.
The call comes forty-seven minutes later. You’re reviewing a patient chart post-op when your pager sounds. You don’t think much of it; after all, it happens dozens of times a day. The ED begins preparing automatically as nurses and residents gather.
“Multi-vehicle collision…”
Someone beside you asks for equipment, and you hand it over automatically. The report continues.
“Male driver. Unconscious on scene.”
You keep writing.
“Approximately twenty-eight years old.”
Your pen stops for a second before continuing.
“University Hospital identification badge recovered at scene.”
The pen slips from your fingers and clatters loudly against the desk. Nobody notices amidst all the action. The report keeps going.
“Believed to be hospital employee.”
Your heart begins pounding.
There are thousands of hospital employees. Thousands. This means nothing, you tell yourself.
The ambulance arrives six minutes later. Six of the longest minutes of your life. You spend the entire time telling yourself that you’re being ridiculous. By the time the trauma bay doors burst open, you’ve almost succeeded.
Then the paramedics wheel the stretchers inside. And you see him. Everything stops. Everyone’s voices mixed in with the continuous beeping of monitors starts ringing in your ears.
His face is streaked with blood, and bruising is already spreading across one side of his forehead. His eyes are closed. Motionless.
Your knees nearly give out. Someone says your name. You don’t hear them. Someone says it again. Louder this time. It’s Junghwan.
“(Name).”
He’s staring at you.
“Step out.”
His words hit like a slap.
“What?”
“You can’t be on this case.”
“No,” you say immediately.
“(Name).”
“No, please,” you say, even though you know the regulations.
Yet you find yourself standing outside the trauma bay doors, your report taken from your hands. The waiting is worse. Much worse than any treatment or operation you’ve ever been a part of.
Updates arrive painfully slow. No brain bleed. Thank God. Multiple fractures. Concussion. Internal injuries. Surgery required. Stable.
You’re still standing outside of his operating room at midnight. Two hours later, the doors finally open. The surgeon steps out. Your heart has been pounding so hard that it hurts.
“He’s okay.”
The relief hits you so intensely that you grab onto the nearest chair before your legs betray you completely. If the surgeon had walked out and said anything else, you wouldn’t have survived.
You’ve loved Youngjae for years, and not once have you ever said it aloud. If it was any other outcome tonight, you would have lost that chance forever. But before you can dwell any further, the nurses wheel Youngjae out. You’re moving to follow instantly. In his hospital room, you can finally get a proper look at him. The sight nearly stops your heart. Bandages are wrapped around his forehead. The bruises are now dark and swollen on one side of his face. He looks so vulnerable and fragile in a way no one could imagine.
—
Youngjae doesn’t wake up that night. Or the next morning. The doctors assure you repeatedly that it’s expected, even though you technically know it yourself. His body needs rest from the concussion, the medications, the surgery. That doesn’t make the waiting easier. You’ve taken the next few days off even though you rarely touch your PTO.
Around noon, the sun shines brightly into the room. You haven’t slept, but you don’t care. Quietly, you reach forward and take his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his before you can second-guess anything. No one is around to see, so you start talking. Your voice sounds strange after so many hours of silence.
“You scared me,” you confess.
Your thumb brushes against his knuckles. No response. Of course not. You lower your gaze.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”
Your throat tightens involuntarily. You swallow and try again.
“When they brought you in…”
Your eyes burn, and you blink rapidly.
“I couldn’t help you. I wasn’t allowed to.”
A shaky sigh escapes you.
“Do you know how much I hated that?”
You stare at your joined hands.
“I think I’ve loved you for a really long time. I just kept waiting.”
Waiting until it was far too late.
A tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away immediately. You’re annoyed, exhausted, embarrassed even though he’s literally unconscious.
“You don’t have to say anything back. You know, you’re kind of terrible at conversations right now.”
You smile weakly at that and squeeze his hand gently. Your forehead comes against the edge of the mattress. Just for a minute. Just until your eyes stop burning. At some point, without realizing it, you fall asleep with your hand still in his.
Hours pass. When Youngjae finally forces his eyes open, disoriented and exhausted, the first thing he sees is you asleep beside his bed with your hand holding his like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.
At first, Youngjae thinks he’s dreaming. But the beeping coming from various monitors seems too real. He feels pain, but the meds tone it down a little, at least for now, so that it doesn’t feel sharp and rather muffled. He frowns slightly. The movement hurts. His eyes drift downward, which is when he sees you curled awkwardly in the chair beside his bed, fast asleep with one arm folded beneath your head and the other stretched across the mattress so that it’s wrapped around his. The second he notices, it all comes back to him. Snow. Brakes screeching. Sirens. Then nothing.
His thumb lifts weakly above your hand. The effort feels ridiculously heavy for such a small movement. But he does it again and again, taping your hand until your eyes open shortly after. The first thing you think of is how badly your neck hurts from sitting in such an awkward position. But the moment you notice that Youngjae’s awake, you sit up so fast that your chair nearly tips over.
“You’re awake,” you exclaim, standing up immediately only to sit back down.
“Hey,” he whispers hoarsely.
You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You just keep staring at him with your mouth open and eyes widened in speechlessness.
“You okay?”
The question is so absurd coming from him that you don’t even know what to say. The relief is so overwhelming that you almost mistake it for anger at his ridiculous question. Your eyes sting, so you look away immediately, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed.
“You scared me,” you say as you stare at the ground beneath your feet.
He seems completely unsure what to say.
“You got into a car accident. I watched them bring you in. I couldn’t even help.”
Your gaze drops to your hands sitting limply in your lap.
You continue, “You were unconscious for almost a day.”
You swallow and take a pause so that you can compose yourself, but it doesn’t really work. It feels like you’re using as much power to will your tears to withdraw back into your eyes.
“I really thought I was gonna lose you there,” you whisper quietly because you just couldn’t say it any louder.
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
“I don’t remember,” you answer honestly. “I lost track somewhere.”
“You should’ve gone home,” he insists.
“You know I would never be able to do that.”
Youngjae just nods. His eyes drift away toward the windows on the other side of the room.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “While you were out, I said I love you.”
He whips his head around at you instantly, wincing at how fast he moved. You refuse to look him in the eye. Absolutely not. Instead, your fingers fidget as you stare at the wall next to you.
“Oh.”
Embarrassment floods your entire body.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” you say rapidly. “Not here, and definitely not now. I’ll leave you to rest.”
You get up from your chair, but you haven’t even taken a step away before Youngjae’s hand is on your wrist. As a result, he’s sitting up now, and the effort it took to move that drastically doesn’t even hit him until he’s actually up.
“Wait, (Name).”
You can feel him watching you. You stay turned away.
“I love you too,” he says softly.
You forget how to breathe. You forget how to think. It feels like you’ve forgotten everything except those four words.
“Turn around,” he begs. “Please.”
You have to blink away the tears that are welling up.
“Oh my god.”
Youngjae smiles at the sight.
“Oh my god,” you repeat, now embarrassed at your reaction as you fan your face.
“That’s your response?”
“Oh shut up.”
Youngjae laughs softly and then immediately regrets it as his hand moves to touch his ribs.
“Don’t laugh,” you instruct.
“Easier said than done, that’s for sure.”
“You almost died,” you say aloud.
Youngjae looks down at your hands, which are joined now with his. He squeezes them gently.
“I know,” he replies.
“I kept waiting for the right time to say something. But then everything snowballed until we were way too busy in residency for me to even try. And then eventually it took me so long that I just talked myself out of it. In a way, I just couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of what we already have. It was selfish of me,” you admit. “But then, I finally had the realization yesterday that I just couldn’t put it off anymore.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” Youngjae starts. “I was just as selfish as you for not doing anything either. All these years, I’ve loved you. Ever since the first day of medical school, where I saw you for the first time.”
“I love you,” you reply. “So much.”
“Me too,” he says. “So I’m assuming we’re together now?”
“i would hope so,” you laugh weakly.
—
“Morning, Dr. (Last name)!”
“Good morning,” you reply.
“How are you, Dr. Choi?”
“Doing well, and you?” Youngjae says.
Nurses greet you as you walk down the hospital halls with Youngjae right beside you. At the top right of your scrubs sits a shiny nameplate for each of you:
Dr. (Full name) – Anesthesiologist (Trauma and Recovery)
Dr. Choi Youngjae – Trauma Surgeon
You’ve long adjusted to your new role as an official independent doctor alongside Youngjae. But what still manages to catch you off guard sometimes is the hand that brushes yours occasionally as the two of you navigate medical life side-by-side. Through it all, the two of you still remain together, as if it had always been meant to be this way. Maybe it was.
Youngjae glances over.
“What?”
You hadn’t realized that you were smiling.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“You’re about to be late,” you urge as you try to shoo him away.
“I still have ten minutes!” he whines.
You roll your eyes, but there’s affection behind them. The elevator doors slide open, and Youngjae steps inside first to hold the door for you.
“Such a gentleman,” you tease.
“I know.”
“Yet you still leave your socks everywhere at home.”
Yes, the two of you moved in together. And now, you’re getting to experience firsthand the joys of finally living with a man.
“That was one time,” he protests, but it’s futile.
One glare from you and he’s already pressing his lips together in surrender.
“I’ll see you later,” he says as the elevator dings and the doors slide open again.
You smile immediately. As always, as certain and reliable as sunrise.
all relevant medical terms used:
Level one MVC
MVC: motor vehicle collision
Level one trauma: most severe trauma (patient critically injured and may die)
Hypotensive: low blood pressure, severe blood loss, shock, internal bleeding
Attending: a fully trained, senior doctor who supervises residents
GCS dropping: Glasgow Coma Scale measures consciousness, so dropping means worsening brain function
FAST exam: a rapid bedside ultrasound done in trauma cases checking for internal bleeding around heart, lungs, and abdomen
Positive FAST means they found internal bleeding
Rigid abdomen usually signals internal bleeding
Laryngoscope: a medical tool used to see the vocal cords during intubation
Intubate: very high-pressure procedure in emergencies where a breathing tube is placed into the airway so a machine can breathe for the patient
Etomidate/roc: medication for intubation/sedative used to rapidly knock a patient unconscious and relax muscles or tube placement
PACU: Post-Anesthesia Care Unit
Oxygen saturation (O2 sat): a number showing how much oxygen is in the blood, with low numbers meaning dangerous breathing problems
Bagging: using a mask and squeeze bag to push air into a patient’s lungs manually
Escharotomy: a surgical procedure used in severe burns where tight, burned skin is cut to allow the chest or limbs to expand and restore circulation/breathing
ED: emergency department
Volume up: giving fluids or blood to increase blood volume/stabilize blood pressure
6.3k | youngjae birthday special | choi youngjae x reader
warnings + add info:
medical au, tws's choi youngjae, shinyu, and kim dohoon featured, izna's tomioka mai, bang jeemin, choi jungeun featured, mentions of blood, severe injuries, and death (not mc)
**MEDICAL TERMS NOT TO BE INTERPRETED AS FACT**
i highly recommend scrolling to the bottom for medical terms and definitions and having that for reference as you read so that it makes more sense!
synopsis:
for years, you and Youngjae have been inseparable: first as young and naive medical students, and then as residents navigating the brutality of life as a newly-graduated doctor. in a profession where it’s clear that tomorrow is never guaranteed for many, maybe some things are too important to leave unsaid.
author’s note:
happy belated birthday to our youngchuni! may 22 bring greater happiness, health, and growth 💗💗
The announcement crackles just as you’re halfway through the world’s worst vending machine coffee. Everyone moves at once. You shove your coffee onto the counter and grab gloves.
“Twenty-three-year-old male,” a paramedic announces. “High-speed rollover. Hypotensive en route. Suspected internal bleeding. GCS dropping.”
Your attending physician, Dr. Shin Junghwan, turns to you immediately.
“You’re on airway.”
“Got it.”
Across the department, the trauma doors burst open. Right behind the incoming gurney, Dr. Choi Youngjae arrives. Dark blue surgical scrubs sit beneath his white coat, his hair a mess, and his trauma pager clipped crookedly to his waistband. Second-year general surgery resident.
“Okay, let’s move. Dr. (Name), airway. Surgery team, assess abdomen and pelvis. FAST exam now.”
You move to the head of the bed immediately.
“Can you hear me?” you ask the patient loudly.
The man groans weakly. Blood runs down the side of his face.
“Sir, stay with me.”
You check his pupils while oxygen gets hooked up beside you. Across the bed, Youngjae presses gloved hands against the patient’s abdomen.
“Rigid,” he mutters. “Possible intra-abdominal bleed.”
You don’t even look up before responding.
“Pressure’s eighty over forty.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
The ultrasound probe lands in your attending’s hand.
“Positive FAST.”
Internal bleeding.
Youngjae’s voice cuts through, saying, “We need OR prep now.”
Junghwan nods.
“Agreed.”
Suddenly, monitor alarms erupt. The patient’s heart rate spikes. His oxygen drops. His blood pressure plummets. He gurgles suddenly, choking on blood.
Another senior Dr. Kim Dohoon, Youngjae’s attending, instructs immediately, “Intubate.”
You’re already moving.
“Etomidate ready.”
A nurse places the laryngoscope into your waiting hand. You lean over the patient with intense focus.
“On my count,” you say. “Push meds.”
Youngjae appears beside you without you even needing to ask. One hand moves to stabilize the patient’s neck. He’s reliable as gravity.
“Tube,” you say.
It’s already in his hand before you finish the world. The tube slides in smoothly.
“Good color change,” a respiratory senior confirms. “Breath sounds bilateral.”
Relief floods through you for a brief second before the monitor screams.
“Pressure’s still dropping!”
Youngjae swears under his breath. He’s already thinking ahead.
“He’s bleeding out.”
“Surgery, take him upstairs now,” Junghwan instructs.
The trauma team mobilizes immediately. As the bed starts rolling, Youngjae keeps up right beside it as he fires orders toward his intern.
“Call OR two. Massive transfusion protocol. I want vascular aware and ready before we even get upstairs.”
Then, he glances back at you.
“You coming up after stabilization?”
You’re technically supposed to stay in the ED. But your attending answers before you can.
“Yeah. She’s good in trauma recovery.”
Youngjae nods expectedly. The gurney disappears through the doors, and with it, the adrenaline finally starts draining from the room. You exhale as you pull your gloves off.
Bang Jeemin, a nurse beside you, laughs tiredly.
“You two are freakishly in sync.”
“What?”
You’re too tired for your brain to wrap around what she’s saying.
“The surgery resident,” she clarifies. “Dr. Choi Youngjae. You guys always work well together. It’s like you’re silently communicating.”
Before you can answer, another pager goes off somewhere down the hall. Another emergency and incoming patient. The night moves on.
—
The surgery waiting room vending machine spits out a bottle of water at 9:42 am. Youngjae stares at the machine for a second longer just as you walk by.
“Long shift?”
Youngjae glances up. You’re still in scrubs from the overnight call, but your surgical cap is gone now. Your hair is slightly flattened on one side from where you probably slept against a wall for twenty minutes in between. You’re balancing a coffee cup in one hand and a small pack of crackers in the other.
“You look terrible,” he says.
You hand him the cup of coffee.
“So do you.”
You slide down the wall beside him outside of the PACU doors with your knees pulled close to your chest. For a while, neither of you speak. Machines beep in a steady rhythm inside various recovery rooms. Nurses pass by periodically. The morning light spills brightly through windows at the end of the corridor. The patient from the trauma surgery survived. Barely, but he did.
“How long was he unstable after we got upstairs?” Youngjae asks.
You open the crackers.
“Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five.”
He purses his lips together slightly. You know exactly what he’s thinking because you were thinking it too. We almost lost him.
Youngjae leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes for a second.
“You did good in there,” you say quietly.
His eyes open again immediately. Not because he’s embarrassed by compliments, but because somehow, he believes them when they come from you.
“You too,” he answers.
You split the crackers between yourselves in silence. Both of you have long gotten used to this kind of predicament.
Youngjae finally takes a sip of coffee and grimaces.
“You forgot the sugar.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“I put two,” you insist.
“You usually put three,” he points out.
“You remember how many sugars I put in your coffee?”
Youngjae looks down at the cup.
“You remember mine too.”
Well, he isn’t wrong.
Before you can respond again, his pager beeps.
“Multiple burn and smoke inhalation victims inbound. Structure fire. ETA three minutes. Trauma teams report immediately.”
Youngjae stands instantly. You’re already on your feet. Whatever peaceful moment between you disappears instantly, replaced by the urgency of said emergency.
The emergency department flurries into action. The patients come in coughing, half-conscious, skin streaked with soot, oxygen saturations dangerously low.
“Fifteen-year-old female, trapped in second-flood collapse, heavy spoke exposure!”
“Carbon monoxide suspected!”
Stretchers roll past rapidly. You’re positioned at trauma bay one. Junghwan doesn’t need to look at you twice.
“You’re on airway.”
You nod.
“Got it.”
Across the bay line, Youngjae scans incoming patients as he mentally maps out which ones are going to need the OR, which ones are most likely not going to make it, and which ones he can maybe still attend to.
His eyes flicker to you for half a second. Then the first patient reaches your bay. She’s barely conscious. Her face is blackened with soot. Labored breathing. Wet, raspy coughs that sound harsh and wrong. Her oxygen saturation is dropping fast.
“Airway swelling likely,” Dr. Choi Jungeun from the respiratory department says quickly. “Smoke inhalation injury.”
You move immediately.
“High-flow oxygen. Prepare for early intubation.”
Smoke inhalation is tricky because airways tend to swell fast after thermal injuries. Sometimes, they close completely only hours after being exposed. So you don’t wait.
The patient gasps panickedly.
“It’s okay,” you say softly as your hand stabilizes her head. “We’re going to help you breathe.”
She tries to nod but fails.
“Etomidate and roc ready,” you call out.
A nurse hands you the meds as her attention stays fixed on the monitor. Behind you, Youngjae is already managing another incoming burn patient in the adjacent bay. You can hear his voice cutting through the noise.
“Check for circumferential burns. If chest restriction, prep escharotomy consult.”
Your patient starts to deteriorate slowly.
“O2 sat dropping seventy-eight.”
“Bag her,” you order.
The mask goes on. Ventilation begins. Her chest barely rises. It’s too tight.
“The swelling’s worsening,” Jungeun warns.
You don’t wait.
“Intubation now.”
You position yourself with the laryngoscope ready. The airway is already narrowing. You can tell from the visible swelling. This is the dangerous part. If you miss, you don’t get a second chance.
“Hold,” you say.
And just as you begin, a voice from the adjacent bay cuts in.
“Pressure’s dropping!”
Youngjae.
Hearing his voice steadies your hands.
“Tube ready,” you say. The insertion is fast and precise.
“Good placement confirmed,” Jungeun calls.
The patient’s oxygen stabilizes. Barely, but it’s enough. You sigh with relief.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been treating emergency patients, dealing with smoke inhalation, burn wounds, IV lines, fluid resuscitation, and airway protection.
At one point, you pass by Youngjae between bays. He’s covered in soot now too from working with patients all day. His scrubs are darkened with streaks at the sleeves.
“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs as he passes by.
You nod.
“Yeah.”
And you’re both gone again.
It’s near the next morning when the last of the incoming victims are confirmed to be stabilized. The ED looks wrecked. You’re washing black residue from your hands when Youngjae comes up behind you. For a moment, the only sound is the sound of water running.
Finally, he says quietly, “I saw your intubation.”
You glance at him.
“What about it?”
“It was clean.”
You let out a breath that sounds like a laugh.
“You know, your escharotomy consult call was louder than the entire department.”
He smiles at that.
You turn around to wipe your hands dry with a paper towel.
“I’m clocking out now,” you say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Have a good rest.”
You just nod and walk back out.
—
You first knew Youngjae from medical school. You were both sleep-deprived first-years standing outside an anatomy lab at seven in the morning. You had forgotten your goggles, and Youngjae had an extra pair.
Back then, medical school felt like an uphill battle every day. Every exam felt like it would be the one that would finally expose you as someone who didn’t belong there. Every practical assessment left you convinced that you’d somehow made it in by accident. Everyone around you seemed smarter, more prepared, less terrified. Including, and especially, Youngjae.
The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even trying to seem impressive and above everyone else. While everyone else boasted about their grades and research and who managed to sleep the least amount of hours, Youngjae never bothered to join in. Yet somehow, all eyes would go to him anyway every time the professors talked about high-achieving students. Including you.
“Do you understand this?” you had asked one night.
You had been staring at a physiology diagram that might as well have been written in another language for the past thirty minutes.
Youngjae looked up from his notes.
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Well, that’s better than me,” you laugh. “I got nothing.”
You ended up studying together that night. Then again the next week. Then again after that. Over time, he became a constant in your life. He was there during exam weeks, failed practicals, that time you cried in a deserted stairwell after receiving an awful grade. He was there when you passed the board, and he was there when you opened your residency match results with shaking hands. Every major milestone somehow included him.
Once, a classmate walked into a study room, found the two of you nodding off over your textbooks at five in the morning, and immediately asked, “So when are you guys going to get together?”
You and Youngjae had sprung apart instantly, both equally horrified.
“Never!”
The answer came so fast from both of you that she burst out laughing.
By the time medical school ended, you and Youngjae had practically known every single thing about each other. Neither of you thought much about anything at all. Those were just normal things for friends to know. Weren’t they?
And then residency started. Life moved much faster. Some friendships faded with time. People transferred. People quit. People burned out. Yet Youngjae remained through all of it. Maybe that was why neither of you ever crossed the line. Medicine took enough from people already. Sleep. Time. Relationships. Families. Entire years of their lives. The thought of risking the one constant thing you had for feelings that might not eventually survive felt reckless above anything else.
So you didn’t do anything. But you expressed it in the coffee you left in the break room with his name scrawled on a sticky note. In checking in after particularly difficult shifts. In celebrating each other’s birthdays, Christmas, New Years, and every other major holiday together whenever either or both of you were stuck on call. Over time, they became moments that stayed engraved in the depths of your memories. Moments that you hold on to with the tiniest bit of hope that one day, maybe something would change.
—
The case is already six hours in. They’re halfway through vascular repair from trauma due to a sudden collision. The fatigue is wearing everyone down to the point where patience starts running thin. Youngjae has been scrubbed in the entire time. His arms ache under the sterile gown. His eyes burn behind his mask. Sweat has completely soaked through his cap. But his hands have been steady.
“Clamp,” the surgeon requests.
Youngjae reaches for it. The clamp is taken from his hand and repositioned aggressively.
“Don’t hesitate.”
The attending doesn’t even look at him when he says it.
You’re on anesthesia today and currently positioned behind the sterile barrier where you’re supposed to be managing ventilation, blood pressure, and medications while surgery does its work. Right now, your attention is split between the monitors and him. His shoulders are slightly too rigid with tension.
“Blood pressure’s trending down,” you call out calmly. “Ninety over fifty-eight.”
Everyone looks back to the patient.
“Volume up. Check blood loss,” the attending instructs.
You see Youngjae’s hands again as he turns to the surgical field. His fingers pause for just too long.
“Don’t freeze on me now,” the surgeon demands. “See? That. That right there. If you can’t keep up, scrub out.”
Behind the drape, you notice how his focus fractures just a little bit from the statement. You glance at the vitals, then back at him.
“Pressure’s stable,” you say. “You have time.”
Youngjae’s head tilts slightly. That isn’t an anesthesia comment. That’s you. And he hears it exactly the way you mean it. Slow down. You’re okay.
The procedure continues like nothing happened. Hours later, the case finally closes. The patient is stable enough for transfer. By the time Youngjae’s scrubbed out, you’ve already moved onto your other duties. Sitting in the break room is a cup of coffee with his name next to it. No note or anything. But he knows who it’s from.
—
“Time of death 3:18 am,” Junghwan says quietly.
You step back automatically, your hands still suspended in the air as if you’re hoping the work isn’t finished yet. But the monitor shows the flatline clearly. The curtain is closed gently. It’s a young patient, too. You swallow hard.
Nurse Jeemin brushes past you quietly to gather documents.
“You did everything you could,” she offers.
“(Name).”
Junghwan says your name just to make sure you’re still there. You nod in response.
“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.
“Come on,” he says gently. “Take your gloves off.”
You don’t remember moving to the sink, but suddenly, you’re there. Water runs over your hands as you scrub them hard. Too hard. You turn off the faucet, but the silence afterward is far worse. The patient’s face keeps flashing through your head over and over again.
Youngjae finds you in the break room ten minutes later. He’s still in surgical scrubs from the OR, evident by the mask still hanging loose at his neck.
For a moment, he just looks at you. You don’t ask how he knows. He just does. You lower yourself down on a chair, and he follows.
“It doesn’t get easier,” you whisper.
“No,” he agrees. “You did your job.”
“I know,” you continue.
But I didn’t. I didn’t save them. So I clearly didn’t do my job properly. You want to say it out loud, but there’s no way you’d allow yourself to offload all of that emotional baggage onto Youngjae. He has his own duties to worry about, and that’s already more than enough.
Instead, you stare at the table in silence. Youngjae doesn’t push. That’s another thing about him. He has the ability to comfort you even when he’s sitting in complete silence. His presence is more than enough.
“How old were they?”
Youngjae is still looking straight ahead. You swallow.
“Nineteen.”
Youngjae closes his eyes briefly. Too young. You both know it.
“My attending once told me that some surgeons have egos big enough to believe that every life is theirs to save. Obviously, not everyone is like that. Some people, most people, simply beat themselves up over it when it doesn’t happen because it feels like they’ve failed,” he starts.
He continues, “Then he told me that’s not how medicine works.”
You hate that sometimes everyone can do everything in their power and still lose.
Eventually, Youngjae stands up when his pager goes off again.
“You should try to eat something,” he says, looking down at you.
You immediately make a face. He points at you.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That expression.”
You crack a small smile on your face.
“Go,” you tell him quietly. “Before you get punished for not arriving in time.”
“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “I’ll see you later.”
That alone is enough to get you through the next hour. He’s as certain and reliable as the sun that rises each morning. He always finds his way back to you. And you realize with dread that you’ve come to depend on that far more than you maybe should.
—
The wedding means you finally get a small break from residency. Only for a few hours, but still, you’re counting your blessings. One of your friends from medical school, Dr. Tomioka Mai, a dermatologist, is getting married to her longtime boyfriend, and she had invited you along with a smattering of other alumni. Including Youngjae.
When you enter the venue, you realize that this would be the first time that you’d see Youngjae wearing something other than scrubs in almost six months. Right on cue, he steps within your line of sight, and you have to tear your eyes away before he can catch you staring. Your cheeks redden in embarrassment. It’s unfair how good he looks in his dark suit and styled hair.
The event is filled with people from medical school that you haven’t seen in years. You smile and wave happily at old friends and classmates that you maybe haven’t seen since graduation years ago. And the ceremony is short but nothing short of beautiful. Your eyes tear up as Mai and her husband give each other their vows. Mai had always been one of the exceptionally kind ones that you had gotten to know, and you consider yourself lucky to be friends with someone so precious.
Afterward, everyone spills out into a larger conjoined room for the reception.
“Mai unnie!” you squeal as you finally make your way to the bride.
“(Name)!!” she exclaims. “Oh I’m so happy that you made it!”
“Of course, I couldn’t miss it,” you reassure excitedly as you bring her into a warm hug.
And all of a sudden, it feels as if nothing has changed since medical school. Mai pulls back so that she can take a proper look at you.
“Are you still completing your residency?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “On the bright side, my second year is almost finished.”
“Well, that’s definitely good news,” she smiles.
“We really need to catch up sometime,” you say. “Whenever I can catch a break, that is.”
“I get it,” Mai replies understandingly. “It’s never really over until it’s over, right?”
“Definitely.”
She leans in closer as she whispers, “So, how are things with you and Youngjae? Are you finally together?”
“See… it’s complicated,” you start before you’re interrupted.
“Don’t tell me you’re still not together?” she exclaims, causing a few nearby heads to turn.
Thankfully, Youngjae is well out of earshot on the other side of the space. You look around nervously.
“Shhh, lower your voice a little, Mai. And yes, nothing’s happened since the last time you saw us together at med school.”
“But why?” she questions, bewildered. “Anyone could see that you’re perfect for each other. He never saw any other girl the way that he saw you. Even now. Earlier, I noticed that he couldn’t look away from you during the ceremony.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was honestly quite obvious. I bet he was so stunned by how beautiful you are all dressed up,” Mai laughs endearingly.
“You’re so kind,” you reply, laughing as well.
“Oh, hey!” Mai exclaims.
Her eyes follow someone behind you as you watch her wave someone over.
“Youngjae! Come over!”
Mortified, you turn around just as he appears right beside you.
“Congratulations, Dr. Tomioka. You two make a lovely couple,” he says.
“Oh please, drop the formalities,” she waves. “Just call me Mai.”
She holds her hands out in front of her and gestures.
“You know, there’s going to be dancing over there on the dance floor. You two should totally dance! Otherwise I’m worried no one is going to bring the energy. Since we’re all alumni and such anyway, right?”
You laugh awkwardly as you narrow your eyes pointedly at her. She smiles cheekily in response.
“Well, I’ll have to be off now. I gotta go greet some more people real quick.”
And just as she leaves, the music starts playing. Contrary to what Mai had said she expected, which you suspect was just a ruse to get you to comply, guests rush onto the dance floor as if they’re in sync. You groan quietly at her antics.
“Why is it always me?” you mutter to yourself.
A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“Well?”
You look up to see a hand gestured out in front of you. Your eyes follow the outstretched hand until they meet with Youngjae’s.
“A dance?” he repeats.
Before you can open your mouth, he reaches out for your hand and takes it in his grasp. You gasp slightly as he pulls you onto the dance floor along with everyone else. Around you, people continue to laugh and talk and celebrate. But all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand and the fact that he still hasn’t let go. His cologne still smells the same as the one he wore during medical school. You blink that thought away, horrified that you somehow still remember.
You want to say something to melt away the awkwardness.
“This is nice.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
You can feel his eyes still trained on you.
“So was getting yelled at by Dr. Kim yesterday,” you add quickly. “Nice to be somewhere else.”
He raises his eyebrows at you in amusement.
“Right,” he says.
On the drive home, you find yourself still replaying the feeling of his hand in yours far more than what is probably healthy.
—
It’s a good thing that Mai’s wedding was the day that it was, because the next day, a blizzard is unexpectedly forced to hit in the late evening. You’re so caught up in your shift that you don’t even realize how bad the weather is until you look outside and discover that the parking lot has completely disappeared beneath heaps of snowfall.
Every road is closed. Staff can’t leave, and replacement shifts can’t arrive. Everyone is stuck. Doctors and nurses scramble to figure out temporary sleeping arrangements. Every single couch is taken up. Even the conference rooms are filled. Some people literally sleep in office chairs.
You finally finish your fourteen-hour shift and reach the residents’ lounge around midnight only to find that every bed and remotely comfortable surface is occupied. You stare at the situation quietly in despair. All you want after such a long shift is to find a space to sit down.
“I found a room.”
You turn around. Youngjae stands in the doorway holding two blankets. Five minutes later, you’re carrying your bag down the hallway. The room is tiny, with two narrow beds, one desk, and a lamp. Youngjae tosses a blanket onto each bed.
“There.”
You sit down, and the mattress creaks. It’s funny because you spend so much time together at work, yet you’re almost never alone like this. Youngjae changes into a hospital t-shirt and lies down first. You turn away quickly when you realize.
Finally, the lights are turned off, and darkness fills the room. You stare at the ceiling as the sound of snow hitting the windows suddenly seems to magnify. Youngjae is six feet away. Maybe five feet. Maybe less. Not that you’re measuring. You can feel the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.
“You awake?”
His voice cuts through the silence.
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
He laughs softly.
“Remember first-year anatomy?”
“Oh no,” you groan.
“You dropped your forceps.”
“I know exactly where this is going.”
“They landed on Dr. Han’s shoes.”
“He threatened to fail me!” you exclaim.
Youngjae’s laughter fills the room. And suddenly, you’re back in medical school. Back before residency made everything complicated. Memories come flooding back one by one. Study sessions, exams, awful professors. At some point, your eyes start getting heavier, and your responses slow down.
“(Name)?”
“Hm?”
A pause stretches long enough that you’re starting to think he’s fallen asleep.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Your heartbeat quickens as you freeze, staring into the darkness. Youngjae doesn’t say anything else. And neither do you.
Some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Especially when you’re standing directly on top of them
—
The snow is still there three days later, but the blizzard cleared up the very next day. Everyone is still catching up from the storm and the staff shortages. You haven’t had a day off, and neither has Youngjae, though that’s hardly unusual.
Except now, whenever you pass a window, you find yourself remembering what happened that night. I’m glad you’re here.
You haven’t talked to Youngjae since. You excuse it on the fact that you’re simply too busy, and so is he. Which isn’t exactly wrong. The ED is already crowded when you arrive. Two doctors call in sick in one day. You haven’t sat down once. Around noon, Youngjae is cleared to leave. You think nothing of it, except that hopefully, that means you will be too.
The call comes forty-seven minutes later. You’re reviewing a patient chart post-op when your pager sounds. You don’t think much of it; after all, it happens dozens of times a day. The ED begins preparing automatically as nurses and residents gather.
“Multi-vehicle collision…”
Someone beside you asks for equipment, and you hand it over automatically. The report continues.
“Male driver. Unconscious on scene.”
You keep writing.
“Approximately twenty-eight years old.”
Your pen stops for a second before continuing.
“University Hospital identification badge recovered at scene.”
The pen slips from your fingers and clatters loudly against the desk. Nobody notices amidst all the action. The report keeps going.
“Believed to be hospital employee.”
Your heart begins pounding.
There are thousands of hospital employees. Thousands. This means nothing, you tell yourself.
The ambulance arrives six minutes later. Six of the longest minutes of your life. You spend the entire time telling yourself that you’re being ridiculous. By the time the trauma bay doors burst open, you’ve almost succeeded.
Then the paramedics wheel the stretchers inside. And you see him. Everything stops. Everyone’s voices mixed in with the continuous beeping of monitors starts ringing in your ears.
His face is streaked with blood, and bruising is already spreading across one side of his forehead. His eyes are closed. Motionless.
Your knees nearly give out. Someone says your name. You don’t hear them. Someone says it again. Louder this time. It’s Junghwan.
“(Name).”
He’s staring at you.
“Step out.”
His words hit like a slap.
“What?”
“You can’t be on this case.”
“No,” you say immediately.
“(Name).”
“No, please,” you say, even though you know the regulations.
Yet you find yourself standing outside the trauma bay doors, your report taken from your hands. The waiting is worse. Much worse than any treatment or operation you’ve ever been a part of.
Updates arrive painfully slow. No brain bleed. Thank God. Multiple fractures. Concussion. Internal injuries. Surgery required. Stable.
You’re still standing outside of his operating room at midnight. Two hours later, the doors finally open. The surgeon steps out. Your heart has been pounding so hard that it hurts.
“He’s okay.”
The relief hits you so intensely that you grab onto the nearest chair before your legs betray you completely. If the surgeon had walked out and said anything else, you wouldn’t have survived.
You’ve loved Youngjae for years, and not once have you ever said it aloud. If it was any other outcome tonight, you would have lost that chance forever. But before you can dwell any further, the nurses wheel Youngjae out. You’re moving to follow instantly. In his hospital room, you can finally get a proper look at him. The sight nearly stops your heart. Bandages are wrapped around his forehead. The bruises are now dark and swollen on one side of his face. He looks so vulnerable and fragile in a way no one could imagine.
—
Youngjae doesn’t wake up that night. Or the next morning. The doctors assure you repeatedly that it’s expected, even though you technically know it yourself. His body needs rest from the concussion, the medications, the surgery. That doesn’t make the waiting easier. You’ve taken the next few days off even though you rarely touch your PTO.
Around noon, the sun shines brightly into the room. You haven’t slept, but you don’t care. Quietly, you reach forward and take his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his before you can second-guess anything. No one is around to see, so you start talking. Your voice sounds strange after so many hours of silence.
“You scared me,” you confess.
Your thumb brushes against his knuckles. No response. Of course not. You lower your gaze.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”
Your throat tightens involuntarily. You swallow and try again.
“When they brought you in…”
Your eyes burn, and you blink rapidly.
“I couldn’t help you. I wasn’t allowed to.”
A shaky sigh escapes you.
“Do you know how much I hated that?”
You stare at your joined hands.
“I think I’ve loved you for a really long time. I just kept waiting.”
Waiting until it was far too late.
A tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away immediately. You’re annoyed, exhausted, embarrassed even though he’s literally unconscious.
“You don’t have to say anything back. You know, you’re kind of terrible at conversations right now.”
You smile weakly at that and squeeze his hand gently. Your forehead comes against the edge of the mattress. Just for a minute. Just until your eyes stop burning. At some point, without realizing it, you fall asleep with your hand still in his.
Hours pass. When Youngjae finally forces his eyes open, disoriented and exhausted, the first thing he sees is you asleep beside his bed with your hand holding his like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.
At first, Youngjae thinks he’s dreaming. But the beeping coming from various monitors seems too real. He feels pain, but the meds tone it down a little, at least for now, so that it doesn’t feel sharp and rather muffled. He frowns slightly. The movement hurts. His eyes drift downward, which is when he sees you curled awkwardly in the chair beside his bed, fast asleep with one arm folded beneath your head and the other stretched across the mattress so that it’s wrapped around his. The second he notices, it all comes back to him. Snow. Brakes screeching. Sirens. Then nothing.
His thumb lifts weakly above your hand. The effort feels ridiculously heavy for such a small movement. But he does it again and again, taping your hand until your eyes open shortly after. The first thing you think of is how badly your neck hurts from sitting in such an awkward position. But the moment you notice that Youngjae’s awake, you sit up so fast that your chair nearly tips over.
“You’re awake,” you exclaim, standing up immediately only to sit back down.
“Hey,” he whispers hoarsely.
You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You just keep staring at him with your mouth open and eyes widened in speechlessness.
“You okay?”
The question is so absurd coming from him that you don’t even know what to say. The relief is so overwhelming that you almost mistake it for anger at his ridiculous question. Your eyes sting, so you look away immediately, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed.
“You scared me,” you say as you stare at the ground beneath your feet.
He seems completely unsure what to say.
“You got into a car accident. I watched them bring you in. I couldn’t even help.”
Your gaze drops to your hands sitting limply in your lap.
You continue, “You were unconscious for almost a day.”
You swallow and take a pause so that you can compose yourself, but it doesn’t really work. It feels like you’re using as much power to will your tears to withdraw back into your eyes.
“I really thought I was gonna lose you there,” you whisper quietly because you just couldn’t say it any louder.
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
“I don’t remember,” you answer honestly. “I lost track somewhere.”
“You should’ve gone home,” he insists.
“You know I would never be able to do that.”
Youngjae just nods. His eyes drift away toward the windows on the other side of the room.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “While you were out, I said I love you.”
He whips his head around at you instantly, wincing at how fast he moved. You refuse to look him in the eye. Absolutely not. Instead, your fingers fidget as you stare at the wall next to you.
“Oh.”
Embarrassment floods your entire body.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” you say rapidly. “Not here, and definitely not now. I’ll leave you to rest.”
You get up from your chair, but you haven’t even taken a step away before Youngjae’s hand is on your wrist. As a result, he’s sitting up now, and the effort it took to move that drastically doesn’t even hit him until he’s actually up.
“Wait, (Name).”
You can feel him watching you. You stay turned away.
“I love you too,” he says softly.
You forget how to breathe. You forget how to think. It feels like you’ve forgotten everything except those four words.
“Turn around,” he begs. “Please.”
You have to blink away the tears that are welling up.
“Oh my god.”
Youngjae smiles at the sight.
“Oh my god,” you repeat, now embarrassed at your reaction as you fan your face.
“That’s your response?”
“Oh shut up.”
Youngjae laughs softly and then immediately regrets it as his hand moves to touch his ribs.
“Don’t laugh,” you instruct.
“Easier said than done, that’s for sure.”
“You almost died,” you say aloud.
Youngjae looks down at your hands, which are joined now with his. He squeezes them gently.
“I know,” he replies.
“I kept waiting for the right time to say something. But then everything snowballed until we were way too busy in residency for me to even try. And then eventually it took me so long that I just talked myself out of it. In a way, I just couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of what we already have. It was selfish of me,” you admit. “But then, I finally had the realization yesterday that I just couldn’t put it off anymore.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” Youngjae starts. “I was just as selfish as you for not doing anything either. All these years, I’ve loved you. Ever since the first day of medical school, where I saw you for the first time.”
“I love you,” you reply. “So much.”
“Me too,” he says. “So I’m assuming we’re together now?”
“i would hope so,” you laugh weakly.
—
“Morning, Dr. (Last name)!”
“Good morning,” you reply.
“How are you, Dr. Choi?”
“Doing well, and you?” Youngjae says.
Nurses greet you as you walk down the hospital halls with Youngjae right beside you. At the top right of your scrubs sits a shiny nameplate for each of you:
Dr. (Full name) – Anesthesiologist (Trauma and Recovery)
Dr. Choi Youngjae – Trauma Surgeon
You’ve long adjusted to your new role as an official independent doctor alongside Youngjae. But what still manages to catch you off guard sometimes is the hand that brushes yours occasionally as the two of you navigate medical life side-by-side. Through it all, the two of you still remain together, as if it had always been meant to be this way. Maybe it was.
Youngjae glances over.
“What?”
You hadn’t realized that you were smiling.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“You’re about to be late,” you urge as you try to shoo him away.
“I still have ten minutes!” he whines.
You roll your eyes, but there’s affection behind them. The elevator doors slide open, and Youngjae steps inside first to hold the door for you.
“Such a gentleman,” you tease.
“I know.”
“Yet you still leave your socks everywhere at home.”
Yes, the two of you moved in together. And now, you’re getting to experience firsthand the joys of finally living with a man.
“That was one time,” he protests, but it’s futile.
One glare from you and he’s already pressing his lips together in surrender.
“I’ll see you later,” he says as the elevator dings and the doors slide open again.
You smile immediately. As always, as certain and reliable as sunrise.
all relevant medical terms used:
Level one MVC
MVC: motor vehicle collision
Level one trauma: most severe trauma (patient critically injured and may die)
Hypotensive: low blood pressure, severe blood loss, shock, internal bleeding
Attending: a fully trained, senior doctor who supervises residents
GCS dropping: Glasgow Coma Scale measures consciousness, so dropping means worsening brain function
FAST exam: a rapid bedside ultrasound done in trauma cases checking for internal bleeding around heart, lungs, and abdomen
Positive FAST means they found internal bleeding
Rigid abdomen usually signals internal bleeding
Laryngoscope: a medical tool used to see the vocal cords during intubation
Intubate: very high-pressure procedure in emergencies where a breathing tube is placed into the airway so a machine can breathe for the patient
Etomidate/roc: medication for intubation/sedative used to rapidly knock a patient unconscious and relax muscles or tube placement
PACU: Post-Anesthesia Care Unit
Oxygen saturation (O2 sat): a number showing how much oxygen is in the blood, with low numbers meaning dangerous breathing problems
Bagging: using a mask and squeeze bag to push air into a patient’s lungs manually
Escharotomy: a surgical procedure used in severe burns where tight, burned skin is cut to allow the chest or limbs to expand and restore circulation/breathing
ED: emergency department
Volume up: giving fluids or blood to increase blood volume/stabilize blood pressure
hii guys i'm so sorry to interrupt the posting schedule but some family matters came up and unfortunately i will have to step away from tumblr for a few days... i will try my best to finish posting the rest of the stories for 6 ways to approach love asap but i will likely not be as active in the next few days. again i'm so so sorry i will def make it up to you guys 🙏🙏🫶
hello! just wanna pop in and say i love your work after recently discovering TWS and getting into them and them just wrecking me! your fics help me rewind after long days ( its so scrumptious! ) lwk been shaking to tell you this i reread ur guidelines like 10 times (more like 3 lol)to see if im doing this right and if i could follow you uh who said that?.?
anyways you and others inspire me to become a better writer ! i thank you a lot for that. kk byeeee i wish you a good day/night!
hiii omg this is so sweet 🫶🫶 haha don't be afraid to interact w me i promise i'm not scary lolol
it makes me so happy to know i inspire you
like me?? inspire other people?? hello?? you're too kindddd 💗💗 have the best day!
𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎
Three years of saying no. Six months of finally saying yes, and counting. It only takes one moment. One rumor. One mistake. Before it all comes crumbling down. So you do what you think is right. But some choices don’t protect what you love; they’re the very thing that hurts it.
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
SECOND PART IS HEREEE 🫣 I can’t believe this is my first official story for km thats lowk insane anyways I hope you enjoy!!
Reply to join the taglist (specify perm or series only)!
The first time he said it, you genuinely thought he was joking.
“I like you.”
Kyungmin said it so easily, so casually, as if it wasn’t something that could potentially ruin both of you.
You remember staring at him from across the small table with your fingers still curled around your drink.
“You shouldn’t.”
You liked him too – you still do.
He just laughed disbelievingly.
“That’s your answer?”
You had simply said, “It’s the right one.”
But he didn’t drop it. Kyungmin was never the type to back down once he decided something mattered to him. And this was no exception. Even though both of you were still active trainees, which technically means whatever he’s insinuating is the last thing you’d ever be allowed to do.
Yet you still hung out as if nothing had changed. Late night walks looked like him in a hoodie and you with a cap pulled down as low as possible. Dates meant sitting side by side on a bench like strangers.
You told yourself it was harmless. Even when he checked behind him multiple times out of habit, of fear of getting caught.
You weren’t his girlfriend. He wasn’t your anything. Not even when he bought you a drink without asking, when he texted you did you get home safe?, when he insisted on hanging out.
You didn’t stop him; you never did. You didn’t stop yourself either. Even though you were actively putting both of your careers at risk.
—
One night, he finally decided it was time to ask again.
You were sitting on the curb outside a random convenience store, sharing instant noodles because that was all both of you wanted due to your strict trainee diets.
“Why not?”
Kyungmin nudged your knee with his.
“You keep telling me no but you never tell me why.”
You stared at the steam rising from the cup. Because the answer was so obvious, yet you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to say it aloud because then it would mean it was really true.
“Because we’re both trainees.”
He frowned.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t date. No one has to know.”
“Yes, it definitely does,” you said, finally looking at him. “It means everything. We’re going to have fans. A company we’re contractually bound to. A reputation we have to protect.”
“And?”
“And I would never want to get in the way of that. Come on, Kyungmin. Let’s be serious for a second. This is your dream we’re talking about. And mine too.”
Kyungmin watched you for a long second.
“I like you either way,” he persists quietly. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t think that’s enough. You can’t change my mind. I’ll just keep waiting until you can say you feel the same.”
“That’s really not how it works,” you say, your exasperation hiding how touched you felt deep inside. What did I ever do to deserve this?
“Are you telling me to move on? Because that’s not fair. You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“If you’re asking what I think,” you say, “I think I’m the worst possible choice for you.”
He didn’t confess again after that. But he didn’t leave either. If anything, he got more persistent. He still showed up in your practice room after he finished training with exhaustion written all over him. He still asked about your day first. He listened. He reached for you without thinking – your sleeve, your wrist, the edge of your hand.
You never pulled away.
And then the company found out. They were bound to at some point, with both of you training under Pledis. At least it wasn’t fans. But that didn’t make it any better in your eyes.
Kyungmin called you that day.
“They don’t know anything,” he clarified. “I denied everything. They just think we’re friends.”
“That’s good,” you replied, which you meant. You hadn’t gotten a chance to meet with the higher-ups yet, but you assumed they would say the same thing.
You couldn’t find the words to describe the relief you felt at the time. But at the same time, that relief only cemented your decision to gradually pull away. It was easy, you told yourself. At least, it was easier to create distance rather than having it forced upon you.
Kyungmin didn’t fail to notice.
“You’re avoiding me,” he confronted one day.
You didn’t even try to deny it.
“What? No, I'm just really busy these days.”
“Stop beating around the bush,” Kyungmin insists.
“Well what do you want me to say? You’re not gonna like it either way.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Because we’ve talked about this before,” you say exasperatedly. “I’m just being realistic about how this is going to end.”
“And you’ve decided that already?”
“Haven’t you?” you shot back. “You think our company will be okay with this if they find out the truth?”
“But this is my feelings we’re talking about. Can’t I at least get a say? You’re not even giving me a chance,” he said, frustrated.
“I’m telling you to not ruin everything we’ve both worked for. Look clearly, Kyungmin. You’re going to regret it if it ends up impacting your career.”
“And you?”
“I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere. We just can’t cross the line,” you replied. Every word that came out of your mouth hurt your heart more and more to say. But it had to be said.
“You’re not going to ruin anything,” he insisted.
“Then you’re not thinking clearly.”
“Or maybe you’re just scared.”
“Of course I am,” you admitted. “I’d have to be stupid not to be.”
“I’m scared too,” he said, his voice full of the sincerity that he never bothers to hide from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away.”
“It should. It’s what’s best for both of us.”
You hated the way he looked at you. Like you’re worth all of it, even the fallout that will inevitably happen, the scandal that will ultimately be released on the Internet, the raging fans that would tear him apart. Like the decision is already made in his eyes.
And you, you had to hold yourself back with everything you had, because if you let yourself believe him, even for a second, you wouldn’t be able to stop.
—
A year later, you say yes.
You meet in places no one would look twice at. Late hours, dark lighting, dates that worked around his schedule. But the thing is, Kyungmin isn’t a trainee anymore; he’s an idol now, and so are you. Three months after you distanced yourself, he debuted with TWS, and you silently cheered on the sidelines. You had sent him a text congratulating him, to which he responded almost instantly. Then, two months later, you debuted as well with ILLIT. Which means everything you were afraid of could come true any time. But right now, you couldn’t care less about the risk.
“Stay still.”
“I am still,” you mumble, though you’re obviously not.
Kyungmin huffs out a small laugh in front of you, his fingers outstretched as he tries to wipe at the corner of your mouth.
“You keep moving,” he insists.
“Because you keep missing the spot,” you counter.
“I’m fixing it.”
“You’re literally being dramatic. There’s barely anything there,” you argue as you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the darkened window beside you.
“You’re just being uncooperative,” he shoots back.
His fingers brush your skin one last time before he leans back, satisfied.
“There.”
You squint at your reflection.
“I literally look the same.”
“Say what you want,” Kyungmin laughs.
The cafe that you’re tucked in is small enough that there’s no one who bothers to pay attention to the two of you sitting in the corner. With barely more than a few occupied tables, soft music humming in the background, and dim, ambient lighting, it didn’t take long for this place to become the usual spot for you and Kyungmin. He’s always liked places like this, where he can just be himself without having to worry about prying eyes.
“You’re staring again,” Kyungmin notes.
“I’m not,” you deny, even though you absolutely were. Who could blame you?
“You are.”
You reach for your drink as an excuse for you to look away.
“Can you blame me?”
Six months in, yet sometimes, you still can’t believe that you’re dating Kyungmin. The Lee Kyungmin. As in he is your boyfriend and you are his girlfriend.
“You’re being weird,” he says.
“Well, lucky for you, you’re dating me now,” you grin.
“Unfortunately,” he adds, completely unfazed by the glare you shoot at him.
It’s evident that any sort of distance that once existed between you is long gone now. There’s no hesitation when he reaches across the table to steal a bite of your food from your plate. No second thought when your knees brush under the table. No pretending when his arm settles around your shoulders during late-night walks.
“You’re tired,” you observe after a moment.
Kyungmin shakes his head immediately.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“You almost fell asleep on the bus on the way here,” you point out.
“I was just resting my eyes.”
“You were snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Kyungmin protests.
You tilt your head, clearly not believing it.
“Okay, well maybe a little,” he concedes.
You laugh, and something in his expression shifts at the sound, as if he’s savoring the sound or memorizing the sound or maybe even both.
“Come here,” you murmur, patting the empty space next to you.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he slides into your side of the booth, his shoulder pressing against yours as you shift to make space. You tilt your head, letting it rest against his shoulder, and he relaxes into you in response. His hand finds yours, his fingers slipping between yours like they’ve done it a thousand times. You trace absent patterns against his skin with your thumb, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.
Outside, a car passes. Somewhere behind the counter, laughter erupts from the employees.
“You know,” Kyungmin says after a while, his voice soft. “Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re actually dating.”
“Kyungmin, it’s been six months,” you say incredulously, though you can kind of see where he’s coming from.
“Well yes, I’m aware, but you were so adamantly against it at the beginning,” he clarifies.
“I had my reasons.”
“Yeah, I know. I get it. But now that you’re with me, you’re not allowed to leave, okay?”
“Yes sir!” you tease playfully.
“I’m serious,” he insists, nudging your hand. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”
You tilt your head slightly so that you’re looking up at him. Just looking at him washes away every lingering fear or doubt you could possibly ever have.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” you reassure gently.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You are.”
And that’s more than enough.
—
The bell above the cafe door barely makes a sound when you step out. Kyungmin follows right behind you. It’s quiet out here, just like it was inside. At first, neither of you say anything, but his hand finds yours instinctively.
Someone passes by on the other side of the sidewalk. They don’t even glance your way, but your hand slips out of Kyungmin’s immediately, as if it was never there in the first place. You sense the way his fingers curl around empty air before realizing what just happened. You can feel him staring at you, but you keep looking straight ahead like nothing happened.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. But a second later, his hand brushes yours again, his touch gentler and fainter, like he’s checking that it’s okay to hold your hand again.
You don’t think much of the pair passing by on the other side just like anyone else, but you don’t fail to notice how Kyungmin automatically reaches up to pull his beanie down over his head and eyes even lower than you thought possible.
“Let’s go this way,” he says under his breath as he walks closer to the sidewalk hidden from the streetlights, and you follow him.
He walks you a little farther than usual when you get to your dorms.
“You’ll text me when you get in?" he asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’ll see you?”
“Yeah,” he replies, closing the distance with his arms wrapped around you.
And then he’s gone.
—
You drop your bag by the door and kick your shoes off without thinking. Your mind is still outside, back on the street where you were with Kyungmin. Back in that split second where his hand tightened and then let go.
You sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at nothing. The last thing you would ever do is blame Kyungmin. It makes absolute sense what he did; of course it did. He had to be careful. You do too. You’ve always known what you were getting into the moment you said you wanted to be with him. So why are you still thinking about it?
Your fingers curl slightly in your lap. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm and steady. Gone just as quickly as it came.
You sigh slowly.
If someone recognized us
The thought comes uninvited.
If they took a picture…
Your stomach tightens. You imagine it: blurry photos, speculation blown up on the internet, people assuming the worst in the situation. Your chest feels a little too tight now. You think about everything that the two of you have. Everything you’ve both worked for. And yet, you could ruin it all so easily. Just by the simple act of standing next to him.
You shake your head as if trying to push that thought away. You should text him; you said you would.
you: i’m homeee
He replies almost instantly.
kyungmai: get some rest baby
You smile at his text. Of course that’s what he says. He makes everything seem so easy; he always has. As if none of this is as complicated as you’re making it seem.
You lie back against your bed and stare up at the ceiling, your phone still glowing next to you.
Everything is fine. Nothing has changed. And yet, if something happened, you wouldn’t ever be able to forgive yourself.
—
The next time you see him, it’s at his dorm. Kyungmin and you agreed to do a movie night after a long week just to unwind. He shows up right after practice ended, a cap pulled low over his eyes and his hoodie thrown on over it.
“Did you start it without me?” he asks, nodding toward the TV when he enters his living room.
“Obviously not,” you scoff. “I’m not that evil. I just got here a few minutes ago.”
“Mm,” he hums. “That’s debatable.”
You nudge his arm as you pass him, heading back toward the couch. He follows without thinking and drops down right beside you. The movie starts a second later, some romcom that just released a few days ago.
Kyungmin sinks into the cushions and slings one arm lazily across the back of the couch behind you. After a few minutes, he shifts so that he’s closer, like he always does, until your sides and pressed together.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
This time, you pause for barely a second before leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder like you always do. He doesn’t react to your hesitation, and instead, he just adjusts slightly so you’re more comfortable. His arm slides down to rest around yours, pulling you in.
“Better,” he mumbles, eyes already focused on the screen.
Your fingers find his sleeve, lightly gripping the fabric instead of his hand. You try your hardest not to think about it, but the more you try to avoid it, the more it keeps clinging to your thoughts.
The movie plays on. Some scenes flash across the screen, but you’re already tuned out. Instead, you’re aware of everything else, like the warmth of him beside you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and the way he’s leaned into you without thinking.
Your gaze drifts elsewhere from the screen and settles somewhere on the flickering light surrounding it instead.
What would I even do if Kyungmin were to get in trouble?
The thought comes back too easily.
You shift just enough to create the smallest bit of space between you without realizing it. Not enough that anyone would question it, but enough that you feel it. Kyungmin just follows your movement instinctively and closes the gap again without even looking away from the screen. Like there’s no reason not to.
You let your hand slip away from his sleeve and rest it in your lap instead. A second later, his fingers brush against yours, searching for the familiar feeling again. He touches your hand gently like a silent request without even looking at you.
You hesitate again, but then you let him take it. His fingers intertwine with yours in a way that makes you feel grounded, as if everything should feel normal. But it doesn’t. Because all you can think about is how easily it could all be taken away.
Halfway through the movie, Kyungmin shifts and stretches slightly before leaning his head against yours.
“Are you tired?” you murmur.
“A little,” he admits. “It’s been a long day.”
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” you say quietly.
He turns his head just enough to glance at you.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
You shrug, eyes staying on the screen.
“You’re exhausted. Plus, you’re more likely to get caught.”
“I don’t care. I wanted to see you,” he says simply like there’s no other answer.
You nod, but you don’t respond. Then, his thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if he’s not even aware that he’s doing it.
“Did something happen?” he asks after a moment.
His eyes are still trained onto the screen, his expression relaxed. The question asked more out of instinct rather than suspicion.
You shake your head.
“No.”
He hums softly, accepting it just like that.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t push. Right here, in the peacefulness of your dorm, everything is the same. And maybe, for him, it hasn’t. Kyungmin leans further into you, his eyes half-lidded now.
“Wake me up if I fall asleep,” he mumbles.
“You’re already falling asleep,” you point out softly, knowing you have absolutely no intention of waking him up with how much rest he needs to get.
“No I’m not,” he whines, a small pout forming on his lips.
A soft giggle escapes your lips. He settles against you closer than before if that was even possible. Your thumb brushes against his hand slowly like you’re memorizing it. Even though you’re so close, the proximity only feels temporary.
Soon enough, by the time the credits roll at the end of the movie, Kyungmin’s already dozing off. His hand is still holding onto yours loosely, not letting go even in his sleep.
His phone vibrates, breaking the silence and tranquility.
Kyungmin stirs beside you, blinking himself awake. It takes him a second to register where he is, what’s happening, and then he reaches blindly for his phone on the table.
His phone buzzes again. He squints at the screen, the brightness blindingly light.
“I have to take this,” he murmurs, his voice deeper and rough with sleep. “It’s my mom.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” you reassure.
He pushes himself up so that he’s standing right outside of the living room, at the doorway.
“Hello?” he answers, his voice dropping even lower.
You don’t mean to listen. You really don’t. But it’s not like his voice is unnoticeable against the eerily silent dorm. You’ve pulled out your phone, but his words still cut through clearly, which is why you immediately notice how his tone changes.
“Yeah, I’m out…”
A pause.
“No, I’m not – I told you, I’m just – ”
He cuts himself off. You glance over at where he’s standing. He’s turned more away from the living room now. One hand runs through his hair as he straightens his posture, evidently a little more tense than before.
“I know,” he says. “I get it.”
Another pause, longer this time. You look away, your heart beating a little faster.
“I’m being careful,” he adds, clearly annoyed.
Your fingers curl slightly into the nearest pillow next to you. You can pretty much guess what he’s talking about now.
“I said I got it,” he continues, his voice firm. “No, it’s not like that… it’s not something you need to worry about.”
On the other end, his mother's voice is far from clear, her words indistinct, but the cadence is enough to express her insistent attitude.
Kyungmin exhales slowly.
“I know what’s at stake,” he says. “I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”
You don’t even bother to distract yourself by scrolling on your phone, your thumbs frozen and hovering. The more he talks, the more you convince yourself that it’s what you think it’s about. Our relationship.
You’ve met his mother before, way back when both of you first became trainees. Even back then, she adored you and doted on you like crazy. But after knowing her for so long, you’re aware of how protective she is of Kyungmin, him being her first son and all.
“I have to go,” he says after a moment, even though you’ve been silent this whole time. “I’ll call you later.”
Another pause.
“...Yeah, I will.”
The call ends. Then Kyungmin turns back around with his expression already smoothed over, as if the conversation never even happened.
“Sorry,” he says, walking back over. “She was just nagging again.”
“Yeah?” you reply softly. “It’s okay, if I were her, I’d nag too.”
“Hey!” he laughs.
You laugh along with him, but your mind is still somewhere else, where everything’s clearly at stake.
—-
You don’t usually come by their practice room. Whenever you hung out with Kyungmin, he was the one who came to you, mostly because he couldn’t seem to stay away for long. Not that you minded. If anything, you loved his clingy side.
Today, though, Kyungmin had asked you to come over because they had ended practice early, and since they ordered food, he offered for you to join them. So you did.
You could hear them way before you even reached the door. Music was still playing from a speaker, and Jihoon and Dohoon were bickering while stomping around while Youngjae and Shinyu were lost in their own world. Only Hanjin was calm – Kyungmin was impatiently waiting for you.
“Ayy, look who finally decided to show up,” Hanjin laughs the moment you peek your head in.
“Long time no see,” Youngjae adds with a wave.
“Yeah, you should come by more often,” Shinyu agrees. “It keeps Kyungmin sane.”
“Hey!” he exclaims.
You barely make it two steps through the door before Jihoon exclaims, “Food’s here! Who wants to get it? Not me!”
Everyone reacts at once, their voices overlapping as they try to get out of having to go down to the lobby.
You laugh, suggesting, “I’ll go. I’ll be right back.”
The hallway is much quieter in comparison to the chaos inside. So much so that you can hear the sound of your footsteps echoing a little as you walk. The elevator dings softly when it opens, and you step inside. When the doors open again, the lobby comes into view, a large bag of takeout sitting at the front desk. A staff member nods when you approach and slides the bags toward you without much thought.
“Thank you,” you say as you gather the items carefully.
It’s a bit heavier than you expected, and you have to readjust your grip so that you can carry it properly. As you reach the elevator corridor again, you hear hushed voices down on the other end.
“It’s just… they’re at a really critical point right now…”
You recognize one of them as one of TWS’s managers, while the other seemed to be just another HYBE staff member.
“They’re finally gaining traction,” the other continues. “This is when things matter the most.”
“Exactly,” the one you assume is a manager agrees. “They can’t afford to have any sort of controversy or popularity decline right now.”
Then, quieter, she continues, “Especially not something like a dating scandal.”
“It doesn’t even have to be real,” the staff member adds. “Rumors alone are enough to cause problems. Fans are watching everything, and one mistake – ”
She scoffs softly.
“You know how it goes, I’m sure.”
Conveniently, the elevator doors slide open at that moment, and you disappear inside before you can hear anything else. Before you can think too much about it.
—
By the time you make it back to the practice room, you’ve already masked everything with a neutral expression.
“Finally,” Dohoon groans the second you walk in. “I’m starving.”
“It hasn’t even been that long,” you shoot back.
Kyungmin’s already beside you and taking some of the containers from your hands. Eventually, food gets passed around, and conversations pick back up again.
—
You decide it’s time. The only thing that was holding you back was the thought that Kyungmin wouldn’t be expecting it at all. Knowing him, it would hit him even worse. But you can’t keep doing this. Not when you know what it could cost him.
A few days later, Kyungmin comes over after your practice session finished. It was almost two in the morning, and you were sprawled on the floor, your muscles aching and your back nearly giving out from running the same choreography over and over again. Kyungmin drops down beside you without hesitation, mirroring your position on the floor.
Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Kyungmin.”
“Yeah?”
He props himself up on his elbow, looking at you.
You take a breath. You have to say it now.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
“What?”
He lets out a small laugh like he just misheard you.
“I’m serious.”
You’re sitting up fully now. His smile fades all at once.
“Why?” he asks.
You look down at your hands, then back at him.
“I… I lost feelings,” you lie. It’s easier that way.
“Don’t lie to me,” Kyungmin says immediately.
There’s nothing that gets past him when it comes to you, especially after all these years.
“I’m not.”
“Then look at me,” he presses. “Look at me and say you don’t like me. That you don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
Your throat tightens.
“Kyungmin, I – ”
“Exactly,” he cuts in. “That’s not how you feel. So why are you doing this?”
“It’s for the better,” you insist. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“Okay then,” he says finally.
If that’s what you want, he won’t take that away from you. He stands, brushing himself off and smoothing his pants before walking toward the door.
Your chest tightens with every step that he takes.
“See you around, I guess,” he says, looking back at you for one last time before he leaves.
—
Two weeks. Two weeks since you last spoke to him. Two weeks since you broke up with him. You hadn’t seen him since, though you did run into Dohoon once in the hallway. Both of you had locked eyes, then bowed awkwardly before quickly moving on. His members definitely knew, as did yours.
But schedules didn’t stop just because you decided to end your relationship with him. So you throw yourself into work instead. You added practice sessions, more vocal lessons, dance monitoring with your performance director, and more. Your comeback is still technically weeks away, but it feels closer every day. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s easier this way, to stay busy and not think.
You finally allow yourself to take a break. You have an hour of downtime before you need to get to your next session. So you decide to monitor some of your own videos on YouTube just to kill the time. But a TWS video pops up right on the home page. One of their recent group livestreams was uploaded online. Your fingers move to click on it before you can register anything.
As usual, they were chaotic as they celebrated a recent anniversary. Kyungmin was too, but you could see how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. For a second, he would be laughing along, but then right after, he would zone out again. There were faint shadows underneath his eyes that you swear weren’t there before. You only realized simply because you were so used to seeing his face. No one else would have probably noticed; you see it because you know him.
You close the video, but it doesn’t help. Because he’s everywhere you look, even in the littlest, most irrelevant moments of your day. All you could see was him. You saw him in the latest KiiiKiii cover you watched Iroha dance to because you knew was itching to cover the same song. You heard him in the songs playing on the radio because all you could think about was how well his vocal tone would compliment the music.
Still, you tell yourself you did the right thing. You have to believe that. You need to let go, and you need to move forward. You have a demanding job to get to, fans to interact with, and a team who’s counting on you. You can’t just spend the rest of your life moping and mourning what could have happened if circumstances were just slightly different.
—
You don’t expect to get a call from her, of all people. You almost don’t pick up. Guilt creeps through your body the moment you see the caller: Kyungmin’s mom.
“Hello?”
“Hi sweetie, it’s Kyungmin’s mom,” her voice rings clear through the phone. It’s warm and familiar all at the same time.
“How have you been?”
Hearing her voice relaxes you a little. You were always close with her, especially throughout your trainee years. Their family basically became family friends with yours. But once you and Kyungmin both became idols, it was harder for you to keep in touch.
“I’m doing well, how about you?” you reply, trying your best to force your voice to sound cheerful.
“I’m doing good,” he says. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”
“No, of course it is! I always love hearing from you,” you reassure.
“Well, I’ll just get to it then,” she starts. “Kyungmin told me what happened. You know, at first, I’ll admit I was hesitant. I thought you two were just blinded by your attraction for each other and were ignoring the bigger, more realistic problems, with you being idols and everything. Kyungmin doesn’t usually tell me much, but I’ve been watching him. I can tell when something clearly matters to him, and I have to say, he cares about you so much. For good reason, too. I know you’re the reason why he still takes time out of his day to text me even when he’s so busy with his idol activities. Looking back, it makes me feel so reassured knowing that he has someone like you by his side.”
You stay silent, listening. Your chest tightens at her words, which only make you miss him more.
“Obviously, I don’t want to pressure you into doing or saying anything. I respect your decision. But I know my son. And I think I may have been wrong initially. I just thought you should know,” she finishes.
“Thank you, Ms. Lee,” you say. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Of course,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you properly in ages. You should come over some time and visit. Sometimes Kyungmin’s brothers still ask for you, you know.”
You laugh a little at that. His brothers were just like him, with the exact same mannerisms, just more evil. Being with them was like having two little Kyungmins running around.
Her words linger long after the call ends. In the process of protecting you and him, you had hurt him as well. To you, it feels less like you trying to save him from the inevitable and more like you just hurting him before anything could happen.
You weren’t supposed to feel regret. You were supposed to feel certain. But now, you’re not so sure.
—
That night, you text Kyungmin.
hey, can we talk?
You had prepared for the worst. You don’t even expect a response, much less an offer to meet up in person.
A soft knock breaks through the silence in your dorm. He’s here.
You stand up and cross your room in a few quick steps before opening the door. Standing right outside, Kyungmin is there, a bag in his hand and his hood pulled up.
“Hi,” you offer, your voice small.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice equally quiet.
“Oh, um, you can come in,” you add quickly. “We can talk inside.”
He walks in quietly and follows you to the living room.
You sit at opposite ends of your couch. It’s the furthest you’ve ever been from him when sitting on the same furniture.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you start.
Kyungmin’s turned so that he’s facing you with his knees tucked into his chest.
“But now I see I’m wrong. I spent the past few weeks thinking about it, and I realized it wasn’t fair to you that I kept pushing and pulling back and forth. I was just thinking about the future and hypothesizing about what could happen instead of looking at what was right in front of me – you.”
“I understand, though,” he reassures. “I always did. Even back when you were still a trainee. You’re more than valid for having these concerns.”
“I was just trying to protect you, protect us. You know, there were staff in the hallway that day when I ate dinner with you and the members. They were super adamant on your group not being able to afford any issues, like controversies or any dating rumors. Hearing that, it reignited what I initially feared, so I just ran away out of fear again. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair to you.”
“Everything has a possibility of going wrong,” he says. “But I don’t think that should mean I just walk away from everything, especially if it’s something I want. Especially if it’s risky. I’d rather try and deal with whatever happens than walk away and eventually regret it later.”
“I’m just scared,” you admit.
“I know,” he replies. “Come here.”
He motions for you to come right next to him as he shifts so that he’s sitting properly. You close the distance as your head drops into the crook of his shoulder. His arm wraps around you carefully, hesitant at first, then tighter when you don’t pull away. You curl into him with your knees tucked under you.
You finally notice the plastic bag he had brought with him now sitting on the table in front of you.
“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at it.
“Just a little something I got,” he says, straightening slightly as he reaches for it, his other arm still loosely around you.
“Here.”
He pulls out a stuffed animal: a bunny with droopy ears.
You were so caught off guard that a soft laugh slips out of you.
“For me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “In hopes that it would help convince you to take me back.”
“Kyungmin…” you murmur, your hand reaching up to hold the bunny. “You didn’t have to. If anything, I should be the one asking you.”
You turn to him fully now.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend again?”
“Of course baby”
He agrees without hesitation, like it’s the easiest answer in the world.
His arms come around you again to pull you in close. This time, you don’t hold back at all when you hug him back. For a while, neither of you say anything.
After a while, you ask, “What if something does happen though? What are we going to do?”
“We’ll just deal with it,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I know you didn’t do it to hurt me.”
He pauses before he continues.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “I thought about it, over and over again. I was scared, and I still am. But I trust you. I trust us. Whatever happens, I know we’ll get through it.”
You feel him nod against your head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur into his shoulder.
Your arms wrap around him, and he does the same just as tightly.
—
A few days later, you’re sitting on your floor with your phone in your hand, rereading your conversation with him for what feels like the hundredth time.
Everything is great. He texts you when he can. He sends random updates whenever he thinks of you, like pictures of food, complaints about practice, voice notes where he sounds two seconds away from falling asleep.
You press your lips together as you lock your phone and set it down beside you. Just saying sorry doesn’t feel like enough. So you decide to do something about it.
His practice room is empty when you step in. You double-check your surroundings before slipping inside. You set everything down as quickly as you can. You had gotten some of his favorite items and assembled them together in a small basket. His favorite snacks, drinks he always reaches for, a new hoodie he had been eyeing, and in the center, tucked carefully in between everything else, a bunny. You had gone out and found a similar one for him.
You can’t stay since you have to get back to your practice, so you leave and text him once you’re safely out.
you: go to the practice room when you’re free
You don’t expect him to call so soon. Barely twenty minutes after you’ve already returned to your own practice room, your phone starts vibrating against the floor.
“Did you do this?”
His voice comes through breathless.
“Maybe,” you say, drawing out the end of the word teasingly.
You can practically picture him standing there, taking everything in and piecing it together.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to make up for everything,” you reply.
“Thank you baby,” he says softly.
You lean back against the wall behind you, letting your head rest against it. On his end, you hear a small sound as he sets his phone down for a second, pulling items out of the basket one by one.
“Oh my god, you even got me a bunny?” he says, laughing.
“I had to,” you insist. “Now we’re matching.”
“Come see me later?” he asks.
“Okay,” you agree instantly.
“I’ll text you when practice ends, okay?”
“Yeah. See you then?”
“Yeah. I love you baby, see you soon,” he says.
Heat rushes to your face instantly, flushing even redder than it was when you ran back from his practice room to yours.
“I love you more baby,” you reply quickly, hanging up the phone immediately after so that he can’t say it back again.
For the first time in weeks, you’d never felt happier.
𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎
Three years of saying no. Six months of finally saying yes, and counting. It only takes one moment. One rumor. One mistake. Before it all comes crumbling down. So you do what you think is right. But some choices don’t protect what you love; they’re the very thing that hurts it.
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
SECOND PART IS HEREEE 🫣 I can’t believe this is my first official story for km thats lowk insane anyways I hope you enjoy!!
Reply to join the taglist (specify perm or series only)!
The first time he said it, you genuinely thought he was joking.
“I like you.”
Kyungmin said it so easily, so casually, as if it wasn’t something that could potentially ruin both of you.
You remember staring at him from across the small table with your fingers still curled around your drink.
“You shouldn’t.”
You liked him too – you still do.
He just laughed disbelievingly.
“That’s your answer?”
You had simply said, “It’s the right one.”
But he didn’t drop it. Kyungmin was never the type to back down once he decided something mattered to him. And this was no exception. Even though both of you were still active trainees, which technically means whatever he’s insinuating is the last thing you’d ever be allowed to do.
Yet you still hung out as if nothing had changed. Late night walks looked like him in a hoodie and you with a cap pulled down as low as possible. Dates meant sitting side by side on a bench like strangers.
You told yourself it was harmless. Even when he checked behind him multiple times out of habit, of fear of getting caught.
You weren’t his girlfriend. He wasn’t your anything. Not even when he bought you a drink without asking, when he texted you did you get home safe?, when he insisted on hanging out.
You didn’t stop him; you never did. You didn’t stop yourself either. Even though you were actively putting both of your careers at risk.
—
One night, he finally decided it was time to ask again.
You were sitting on the curb outside a random convenience store, sharing instant noodles because that was all both of you wanted due to your strict trainee diets.
“Why not?”
Kyungmin nudged your knee with his.
“You keep telling me no but you never tell me why.”
You stared at the steam rising from the cup. Because the answer was so obvious, yet you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to say it aloud because then it would mean it was really true.
“Because we’re both trainees.”
He frowned.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t date. No one has to know.”
“Yes, it definitely does,” you said, finally looking at him. “It means everything. We’re going to have fans. A company we’re contractually bound to. A reputation we have to protect.”
“And?”
“And I would never want to get in the way of that. Come on, Kyungmin. Let’s be serious for a second. This is your dream we’re talking about. And mine too.”
Kyungmin watched you for a long second.
“I like you either way,” he persists quietly. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t think that’s enough. You can’t change my mind. I’ll just keep waiting until you can say you feel the same.”
“That’s really not how it works,” you say, your exasperation hiding how touched you felt deep inside. What did I ever do to deserve this?
“Are you telling me to move on? Because that’s not fair. You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“If you’re asking what I think,” you say, “I think I’m the worst possible choice for you.”
He didn’t confess again after that. But he didn’t leave either. If anything, he got more persistent. He still showed up in your practice room after he finished training with exhaustion written all over him. He still asked about your day first. He listened. He reached for you without thinking – your sleeve, your wrist, the edge of your hand.
You never pulled away.
And then the company found out. They were bound to at some point, with both of you training under HYBE. At least it wasn’t fans or netizens. But that didn’t make it any better in your eyes.
Kyungmin called you that day.
“They don’t know anything,” he clarified. “I denied everything. They just think we’re friends.”
“That’s good,” you replied, which you meant. You hadn’t gotten a chance to meet with the higher-ups yet, but you assumed they would say the same thing.
You couldn’t find the words to describe the relief you felt at the time. But at the same time, that relief only cemented your decision to gradually pull away. It was easy, you told yourself. At least, it was easier to create distance rather than having it forced upon you.
Kyungmin didn’t fail to notice.
“You’re avoiding me,” he confronted one day.
You didn’t even try to deny it.
“What? No, I'm just really busy these days.”
“Stop beating around the bush,” Kyungmin insists.
“Well what do you want me to say? You’re not gonna like it either way.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Because we’ve talked about this before,” you say exasperatedly. “I’m just being realistic about how this is going to end.”
“And you’ve decided that already?”
“Haven’t you?” you shot back. “You think our company will be okay with this if they find out the truth?”
“But this is my feelings we’re talking about. Can’t I at least get a say? You’re not even giving me a chance,” he said, frustrated.
“I’m telling you to not ruin everything we’ve both worked for. Look clearly, Kyungmin. You’re going to regret it if it ends up impacting your career.”
“And you?”
“I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere. We just can’t cross the line,” you replied. Every word that came out of your mouth hurt your heart more and more to say. But it had to be said.
“You’re not going to ruin anything,” he insisted.
“Then you’re not thinking clearly.”
“Or maybe you’re just scared.”
“Of course I am,” you admitted. “I’d have to be stupid not to be.”
“I’m scared too,” he said, his voice full of the sincerity that he never bothers to hide from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away.”
“It should. It’s what’s best for both of us.”
You hated the way he looked at you. Like you’re worth all of it, even the fallout that will inevitably happen, the scandal that will ultimately be released on the Internet, the raging fans that would tear him apart. Like the decision is already made in his eyes.
And you, you had to hold yourself back with everything you had, because if you let yourself believe him, even for a second, you wouldn’t be able to stop.
—
A year later, you say yes.
You meet in places no one would look twice at. Late hours, dark lighting, dates that worked around his schedule. But the thing is, Kyungmin isn’t a trainee anymore; he’s an idol now, and so are you. Three months after you distanced yourself, he debuted with TWS, and you silently cheered on the sidelines. You had sent him a text congratulating him, to which he responded almost instantly. Then, two months later, you debuted as well with ILLIT. Which means everything you were afraid of could come true any time. But right now, you couldn’t care less about the risk.
“Stay still.”
“I am still,” you mumble, though you’re obviously not.
Kyungmin huffs out a small laugh in front of you, his fingers outstretched as he tries to wipe at the corner of your mouth.
“You keep moving,” he insists.
“Because you keep missing the spot,” you counter.
“I’m fixing it.”
“You’re literally being dramatic. There’s barely anything there,” you argue as you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the darkened window beside you.
“You’re just being uncooperative,” he shoots back.
His fingers brush your skin one last time before he leans back, satisfied.
“There.”
You squint at your reflection.
“I literally look the same.”
“Say what you want,” Kyungmin laughs.
The cafe that you’re tucked in is small enough that there’s no one who bothers to pay attention to the two of you sitting in the corner. With barely more than a few occupied tables, soft music humming in the background, and dim, ambient lighting, it didn’t take long for this place to become the usual spot for you and Kyungmin. He’s always liked places like this, where he can just be himself without having to worry about prying eyes.
“You’re staring again,” Kyungmin notes.
“I’m not,” you deny, even though you absolutely were. Who could blame you?
“You are.”
You reach for your drink as an excuse for you to look away.
“Can you blame me?”
Six months in, yet sometimes, you still can’t believe that you’re dating Kyungmin. The Lee Kyungmin. As in he is your boyfriend and you are his girlfriend.
“You’re being weird,” he says.
“Well, lucky for you, you’re dating me now,” you grin.
“Unfortunately,” he adds, completely unfazed by the glare you shoot at him.
It’s evident that any sort of distance that once existed between you is long gone now. There’s no hesitation when he reaches across the table to steal a bite of your food from your plate. No second thought when your knees brush under the table. No pretending when his arm settles around your shoulders during late-night walks.
“You’re tired,” you observe after a moment.
Kyungmin shakes his head immediately.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“You almost fell asleep on the bus on the way here,” you point out.
“I was just resting my eyes.”
“You were snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Kyungmin protests.
You tilt your head, clearly not believing it.
“Okay, well maybe a little,” he concedes.
You laugh, and something in his expression shifts, as if he’s savoring the sound or memorizing the sound or maybe even both.
“Come here,” you murmur, patting the empty space next to you.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he slides into your side of the booth, his shoulder pressing against yours as you shift to make space. You tilt your head, letting it rest against his shoulder, and he relaxes into you in response. His hand finds yours, his fingers slipping between yours like they’ve done it a thousand times. You trace absent patterns against his skin with your thumb, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.
Outside, a car passes. Somewhere behind the counter, laughter erupts from the employees.
“You know,” Kyungmin says after a while, his voice soft. “Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re actually dating.”
“Kyungmin, it’s been six months,” you say incredulously, though you can kind of see where he’s coming from.
“Well yes, I’m aware, but you were so adamantly against it at the beginning,” he clarifies.
“I had my reasons.”
“Yeah, I know. I get it. But now that you’re with me, you’re not allowed to leave, okay?”
“Yes sir!” you tease playfully.
“I’m serious,” he insists, nudging your hand. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”
You tilt your head slightly so that you’re looking up at him. Just the sight of him washes away every lingering fear or doubt you could possibly ever have.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” you reassure gently.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You are.”
And that’s more than enough.
—
The bell above the cafe door barely makes a sound when you step out. Kyungmin follows right behind you. It’s quiet out here, just like it was inside. At first, neither of you say anything, but his hand finds yours instinctively.
Someone passes by on the other side of the sidewalk. They don’t even glance your way, but your hand slips out of Kyungmin’s immediately, as if it was never there in the first place. You sense the way his fingers curl around empty air before realizing what just happened. You can feel him staring at you, but you keep looking straight ahead like nothing happened.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. But a second later, his hand brushes yours again, his touch gentler and fainter, like he’s checking that it’s okay to hold your hand again.
You don’t think much of the pair passing by on the other side just like anyone else, but you don’t fail to notice how Kyungmin automatically reaches up to pull his beanie down over his head and eyes even lower than you thought possible.
“Let’s go this way,” he says under his breath as he walks closer to the sidewalk hidden from the streetlights, and you follow him.
He walks you a little farther than usual when you get to your dorms.
“You’ll text me when you get in?" he asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’ll see you?”
“Yeah,” he replies, closing the distance with his arms wrapped around you.
And then he’s gone.
—
You drop your bag by the door and kick your shoes off without thinking. Your mind is still outside, back on the street where you were with Kyungmin. Back in that split second where his hand tightened and then let go.
You sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at nothing. The last thing you would ever do is blame Kyungmin. It makes absolute sense what he did; of course it did. He had to be careful. You do too. You’ve always known what you were getting into the moment you said you wanted to be with him. So why are you still thinking about it?
Your fingers curl slightly in your lap. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm and steady. Gone just as quickly as it came.
You sigh slowly.
If someone recognized us
The thought comes uninvited.
If they took a picture…
Your stomach tightens. You imagine it: blurry photos, speculation blown up on the Internet, people assuming the worst in the situation. Your chest feels a little too tight now. You think about everything that the two of you have. Everything you’ve both worked for. And yet, you could ruin it all so easily. Just by the simple act of standing next to him.
You shake your head as if trying to push that thought away. You should text him; you said you would.
you: i’m homeee
He replies almost instantly.
kyungmai: get some rest baby
You smile at his text. Of course that’s what he says. He makes everything seem so easy; he always has. As if none of this is as complicated as you’re making it seem.
You lie back against your bed and stare up at the ceiling, your phone still glowing next to you.
Everything is fine. Nothing has changed. But if something happens, you wouldn’t ever be able to forgive yourself.
—
The next time you see him, it’s at his dorm. Kyungmin and you agreed to do a movie night after a long week just to unwind. He shows up right after practice ended, a cap pulled low over his eyes and his hoodie thrown on over it.
“Did you start it without me?” he asks, nodding toward the TV when he enters his living room.
“Obviously not,” you scoff. “I’m not that evil. I just got here a few minutes ago.”
“Mm,” he hums. “That’s debatable.”
You nudge his arm as you pass him, heading back toward the couch. He follows without thinking and drops down right beside you. The movie starts a second later, some romcom that just released a few days ago.
Kyungmin sinks into the cushions and slings one arm lazily across the back of the couch behind you. After a few minutes, he shifts so that he’s closer, like he always does, until your sides and pressed together.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
This time, you pause for barely a second before leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder like you always do. He doesn’t react to your hesitation, and instead, he just adjusts slightly so you’re more comfortable. His arm slides down to rest around yours, pulling you in.
“Better,” he mumbles, eyes already focused on the screen.
Your fingers find his sleeve, lightly gripping the fabric instead of his hand. You try your hardest not to think about it, but the more you try to avoid it, the more it keeps clinging to your thoughts.
The movie plays on. Some scenes flash across the screen, but you’re already tuned out. Instead, you’re aware of everything else, like the warmth of him beside you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and the way he’s leaned into you without thinking.
Your gaze drifts elsewhere from the screen and settles somewhere on the flickering light surrounding it instead.
What would I even do if Kyungmin were to get in trouble?
The thought comes back too easily.
You shift just enough to create the smallest bit of space between you without realizing it. Not enough that anyone would question it, but enough that you feel it. Kyungmin just follows your movement instinctively and closes the gap again without even looking away from the screen. Like there’s no reason not to.
You let your hand slip away from his sleeve and rest it in your lap instead. A second later, his fingers brush against yours, searching for the familiar feeling again. He touches your hand gently like a silent request without even looking at you.
You hesitate again, but then you let him take it. His fingers intertwine with yours in a way that makes you feel grounded, as if everything should feel normal. But it doesn’t. Because all you can think about is how easily it could all be taken away.
Halfway through the movie, Kyungmin shifts and stretches slightly before leaning his head against yours.
“Are you tired?” you murmur.
“A little,” he admits. “It’s been a long day.”
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” you say quietly.
He turns his head just enough to glance at you.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
You shrug, eyes staying on the screen.
“You’re exhausted. Plus, you’re more likely to get caught.”
“I don’t care. I wanted to see you,” he says simply like there’s no other answer.
You nod, but you don’t respond. Then, his thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if he’s not even aware that he’s doing it.
“Did something happen?” he asks after a moment.
His eyes are still trained onto the screen, his expression relaxed. The question asked more out of instinct rather than suspicion.
You shake your head.
“No.”
He hums softly, accepting it just like that.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t push. Right here, in the peacefulness of your dorm, everything is the same. And maybe, for him, it hasn’t. Kyungmin leans further into you, his eyes half-lidded now.
“Wake me up if I fall asleep,” he mumbles.
“You’re already falling asleep,” you point out softly, knowing you have absolutely no intention of waking him up with how much rest he needs to get.
“No I’m not,” he whines, a small pout forming on his lips.
A soft giggle escapes your lips. He settles against you closer than before if that was even possible. Your thumb brushes against his hand slowly like you’re memorizing it. Even though you’re so close, the proximity only feels temporary.
Soon enough, by the time the credits roll at the end of the movie, Kyungmin’s already dozing off. His hand is still holding onto yours loosely, not letting go even in his sleep.
His phone vibrates, breaking the silence and tranquility.
Kyungmin stirs beside you, blinking himself awake. It takes him a second to register where he is, what’s happening, and then he reaches blindly for his phone on the table.
His phone buzzes again. He squints at the screen, the brightness blindingly light.
“I have to take this,” he murmurs, his voice deeper and rough with sleep. “It’s my mom.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” you reassure.
He pushes himself up so that he’s standing right outside of the living room, at the doorway.
“Hello?” he answers, his voice dropping even lower.
You don’t mean to listen. You really don’t. But it’s not like his voice is unnoticeable against the eerily silent dorm. You’ve pulled out your phone, but his words still cut through clearly, which is why you immediately notice how his tone changes.
“Yeah, I’m out…”
A pause.
“No, I’m not – I told you, I’m just – ”
He cuts himself off. You glance over at where he’s standing. He’s turned more away from the living room now. One hand runs through his hair as he straightens his posture, evidently a little more tense than before.
“I know,” he says. “I get it.”
Another pause, longer this time. You look away, your heart beating a little faster.
“I’m being careful,” he adds, clearly annoyed.
Your fingers curl slightly into the nearest pillow next to you. You can pretty much guess what he’s talking about now.
“I said I got it,” he continues, his voice firm. “No, it’s not like that… it’s not something you need to worry about.”
On the other end, his mother's voice is far from clear, her words indistinct, but the cadence is enough to express her insistent attitude.
Kyungmin exhales slowly.
“I know what’s at stake,” he says. “I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”
You don’t even bother to distract yourself by scrolling on your phone, your thumbs frozen and hovering. The more he talks, the more you convince yourself that it’s what you think it’s about. Our relationship.
You’ve met his mother before, way back when both of you first became trainees. Even back then, she adored you and doted on you like crazy. But after knowing her for so long, you’re aware of how protective she is of Kyungmin, him being her first son and all.
“I have to go,” he says after a moment, even though you’ve been silent this whole time. “I’ll call you later.”
Another pause.
“...Yeah, I will.”
The call ends. Then Kyungmin turns back around with his expression already smoothed over, as if the conversation never even happened.
“Sorry,” he says, walking back over. “She was just nagging again.”
“Yeah?” you reply softly. “It’s okay, if I were her, I’d nag too.”
“Hey!” he laughs.
You laugh along with him, but your mind is still somewhere else, where everything’s clearly at stake.
—-
You don’t usually come by their practice room. Whenever you hung out with Kyungmin, he was the one who came to you, mostly because he couldn’t seem to stay away for long. Not that you minded. If anything, you loved his clingy side.
Today, though, Kyungmin had asked you to come over because they had ended practice early, and since they ordered food, he offered for you to join them. So you did.
You could hear them way before you even reached the door. Music was still playing from a speaker, and Jihoon and Dohoon were bickering while stomping around while Youngjae and Shinyu were lost in their own world. Only Hanjin was calm – Kyungmin was impatiently waiting for you.
“Ayy, look who finally decided to show up,” Hanjin laughs the moment you peek your head in.
“Long time no see,” Youngjae adds with a wave.
“Yeah, you should come by more often,” Shinyu agrees. “It keeps Kyungmin sane.”
“Hey!” he exclaims.
You barely make it two steps through the door before Jihoon exclaims, “Food’s here! Who wants to get it? Not me!”
Everyone reacts at once, their voices overlapping as they try to get out of having to go down to the lobby.
You laugh, suggesting, “I’ll go. I’ll be right back.”
The hallway is much quieter in comparison to the chaos inside. So much so that you can hear the sound of your footsteps echoing a little as you walk. The elevator dings softly when it opens, and you step inside. When the doors open again, the lobby comes into view, a large bag of takeout sitting at the front desk. A staff member nods when you approach and slides the bags toward you without much thought.
“Thank you,” you say as you gather the items carefully.
It’s a bit heavier than you expected, and you have to readjust your grip so that you can carry it properly. As you reach the elevator corridor again, you hear hushed voices down on the other end.
“It’s just… they’re at a really critical point right now…”
You recognize one of them as one of TWS’s managers, while the other seemed to be just another HYBE staff member.
“They’re finally gaining traction,” the other continues. “This is when things matter the most.”
“Exactly,” the one you assume is a manager agrees. “They can’t afford to have any sort of controversy or popularity decline right now.”
Then, quieter, she continues, “Especially not something like a dating scandal.”
“It doesn’t even have to be real,” the staff member adds. “Rumors alone are enough to cause problems. Fans are watching everything, and one mistake – ”
She scoffs softly.
“You know how it goes, I’m sure.”
Conveniently, the elevator doors slide open at that moment, and you disappear inside before you can hear anything else. Before you can think too much about it.
—
By the time you make it back to the practice room, you’ve already masked everything with a neutral expression.
“Finally,” Dohoon groans the second you walk in. “I’m starving.”
“It hasn’t even been that long,” you shoot back.
Kyungmin’s already beside you and taking some of the containers from your hands. Eventually, food gets passed around, and conversations pick back up again.
—
You decide it’s time. The only thing that was holding you back was the thought that Kyungmin wouldn’t be expecting it at all. Knowing him, it would hit him even worse. But you can’t keep doing this. Not when you know what it could cost him.
A few days later, Kyungmin comes over after your practice session finished. It was almost two in the morning, and you were sprawled on the floor, your muscles aching and your back nearly giving out from running the same choreography over and over again. Kyungmin drops down beside you without hesitation, mirroring your position on the floor.
Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Kyungmin.”
“Yeah?”
He props himself up on his elbow, looking at you.
You take a breath. You have to say it now.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
“What?”
He lets out a small laugh like he just misheard you.
“I’m serious.”
You’re sitting up fully now. His smile fades all at once.
“Why?” he asks.
You look down at your hands, then back at him.
“I… I lost feelings,” you lie. It’s easier that way.
“Don’t lie to me,” Kyungmin says immediately.
There’s nothing that gets past him when it comes to you, especially after all these years.
“I’m not.”
“Then look at me,” he presses. “Look at me and say you don’t like me. That you don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
Your throat tightens.
“Kyungmin, I – ”
“Exactly,” he cuts in. “That’s not how you feel. So why are you doing this?”
“It’s for the better,” you insist. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“Okay then,” he says finally.
If that’s what you want, he won’t take that away from you. He stands, brushing himself off and smoothing his pants before walking toward the door.
Your chest tightens with every step that he takes.
“See you around, I guess,” he says, looking back at you for one last time before he leaves.
—
Two weeks. Two weeks since you last spoke to him. Two weeks since you broke up with him. You hadn’t seen him since, though you did run into Dohoon once in the hallway. Both of you had locked eyes, then bowed awkwardly before quickly moving on. His members definitely knew, as did yours.
But schedules didn’t stop just because you decided to end your relationship with him. So you throw yourself into work instead. You added practice sessions, more vocal lessons, dance monitoring with your performance director, and more. Your comeback is still technically weeks away, but it feels closer every day. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s easier this way, to stay busy and not think.
You finally allow yourself to take a break. You have an hour of downtime before you need to get to your next session. So you decide to monitor some of your own videos on YouTube just to kill the time. But a TWS video pops up right on the home page. One of their recent group livestreams was uploaded online. Your fingers move to click on it before you can register anything.
As usual, they were chaotic as they celebrated a recent anniversary. Kyungmin was too, but you could see how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. For a second, he would be laughing along, but then right after, he would zone out again. There were faint shadows underneath his eyes that you swear weren’t there before. You only realized simply because you were so used to seeing his face. No one else would have probably noticed; you see it because you know him.
You close the video, but it doesn’t help. Because he’s everywhere you look, even in the littlest, most irrelevant moments of your day. All you could see was him. You saw him in the latest KiiiKiii cover you watched Iroha dance to because you knew was itching to cover the same song. You heard him in the songs playing on the radio because all you could think about was how well his vocal tone would compliment the music.
Still, you tell yourself you did the right thing. You have to believe that. You need to let go, and you need to move forward. You have a demanding job to get to, fans to interact with, and a team who’s counting on you. You can’t just spend the rest of your life moping and mourning what could have happened if circumstances were just slightly different.
—
You don’t expect to get a call from her, of all people. You almost don’t pick up. Guilt creeps through your body the moment you see the caller: Kyungmin’s mom.
“Hello?”
“Hi sweetie, it’s Kyungmin’s mom,” her voice rings clear through the phone. It’s warm and familiar all at the same time.
“How have you been?”
Hearing her voice relaxes you a little. You were always close with her, especially throughout your trainee years. Their family basically became family friends with yours. But once you and Kyungmin both became idols, it was harder for you to keep in touch.
“I’m doing well, how about you?” you reply, trying your best to force your voice to sound cheerful.
“I’m doing good,” he says. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”
“No, of course it is! I always love hearing from you,” you reassure.
“Well, I’ll just get to it then,” she starts. “Kyungmin told me what happened. You know, at first, I’ll admit I was hesitant. I thought you two were just blinded by your attraction for each other and were ignoring the bigger, more realistic problems, with you being idols and everything. Kyungmin doesn’t usually tell me much, but I’ve been watching him. I can tell when something clearly matters to him, and I have to say, he cares about you so much. For good reason, too. I know you’re the reason why he still takes time out of his day to text me even when he’s so busy with his idol activities. Looking back, it makes me feel so reassured knowing that he has someone like you by his side.”
You stay silent, listening. Your chest tightens at her words, which only make you miss him more.
“Obviously, I don’t want to pressure you into doing or saying anything. I respect your decision. But I know my son. And I think I may have been wrong initially. I just thought you should know,” she finishes.
“Thank you, Ms. Lee,” you say. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Of course,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you properly in ages. You should come over some time and visit. Sometimes Kyungmin’s brothers still ask for you, you know.”
You laugh a little at that. His brothers were just like him, with the exact same mannerisms, just more evil. Being with them was like having two little Kyungmins running around.
Her words linger long after the call ends. In the process of protecting you and him, you had hurt him as well. To you, it feels less like you trying to save him from the inevitable and more like you just hurting him before anything could happen.
You weren’t supposed to feel regret. You were supposed to feel certain. But now, you’re not so sure.
—
That night, you text Kyungmin.
hey, can we talk?
You had prepared for the worst. You don’t even expect a response, much less an offer to meet up in person.
A soft knock breaks through the silence in your dorm. He’s here.
You stand up and cross your room in a few quick steps before opening the door. Standing right outside, Kyungmin is there, a bag in his hand and his hood pulled up.
“Hi,” you offer, your voice small.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice equally quiet.
“Oh, um, you can come in,” you add quickly. “We can talk inside.”
He walks in quietly and follows you to the living room.
You sit at opposite ends of your couch. It’s the furthest you’ve ever been from him when sitting on the same furniture.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you start.
Kyungmin’s turned so that he’s facing you with his knees tucked into his chest.
“But now I see I’m wrong. I spent the past few weeks thinking about it, and I realized it wasn’t fair to you that I kept pushing and pulling back and forth. I was just thinking about the future and hypothesizing about what could happen instead of looking at what was right in front of me – you.”
“I understand, though,” he reassures. “I always did. Even back when you were still a trainee. You’re more than valid for having these concerns.”
“I was just trying to protect you, protect us. You know, there were staff in the hallway that day when I ate dinner with you and the members. They were super adamant on your group not being able to afford any issues, like controversies or any dating rumors. Hearing that, it reignited what I initially feared, so I just ran away out of fear again. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair to you.”
“Everything has a possibility of going wrong,” he says. “But I don’t think that should mean I just walk away from everything, especially if it’s something I want. Especially if it’s risky. I’d rather try and deal with whatever happens than walk away and eventually regret it later.”
“I’m just scared,” you admit.
“I know,” he replies. “Come here.”
He motions for you to come right next to him as he shifts so that he’s sitting properly. You close the distance as your head drops into the crook of his shoulder. His arm wraps around you carefully, hesitant at first, then tighter when you don’t pull away. You curl into him with your knees tucked under you.
You finally notice the plastic bag he had brought with him now sitting on the table in front of you.
“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at it.
“Just a little something I got,” he says, straightening slightly as he reaches for it, his other arm still loosely around you.
“Here.”
He pulls out a stuffed animal: a bunny with droopy ears.
You were so caught off guard that a soft laugh slips out of you.
“For me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “In hopes that it would help convince you to take me back.”
“Kyungmin…” you murmur, your hand reaching up to hold the bunny. “You didn’t have to. If anything, I should be the one asking you.”
You turn to him fully now.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend again?”
“Of course baby”
He agrees without hesitation, like it’s the easiest answer in the world.
His arms come around you again to pull you in close. This time, you don’t hold back at all when you hug him back. For a while, neither of you say anything.
After a while, you ask, “What if something does happen though? What are we going to do?”
“We’ll just deal with it,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I know you didn’t do it to hurt me.”
He pauses before he continues.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “I thought about it, over and over again. I was scared, and I still am. But I trust you. I trust us. Whatever happens, I know we’ll get through it.”
You feel him nod against your head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur into his shoulder.
Your arms wrap around him, and he does the same just as tightly.
—
A few days later, you’re sitting on your floor with your phone in your hand, rereading your conversation with him for what feels like the hundredth time.
Everything is great. He texts you when he can. He sends random updates whenever he thinks of you, like pictures of food, complaints about practice, voice notes where he sounds two seconds away from falling asleep.
You press your lips together as you lock your phone and set it down beside you. Just saying sorry doesn’t feel like enough. So you decide to do something about it.
His practice room is empty when you step in. You double-check your surroundings before slipping inside. You set everything down as quickly as you can. You had gotten some of his favorite items and assembled them together in a small basket. His favorite snacks, drinks he always reaches for, a new hoodie he had been eyeing, and in the center, tucked carefully in between everything else, a bunny. You had gone out and found a similar one for him.
You can’t stay since you have to get back to your practice, so you leave and text him once you’re safely out.
you: go to the practice room when you’re free
You don’t expect him to call so soon. Barely twenty minutes after you’ve already returned to your own practice room, your phone starts vibrating against the floor.
“Did you do this?”
His voice comes through breathless.
“Maybe,” you say, drawing out the end of the word teasingly.
You can practically picture him standing there, taking everything in and piecing it together.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to make up for everything,” you reply.
“Thank you baby,” he says softly.
You lean back against the wall behind you, letting your head rest against it. On his end, you hear a small sound as he sets his phone down for a second, pulling items out of the basket one by one.
“Oh my god, you even got me a bunny?” he says, laughing.
“I had to,” you insist. “Now we’re matching.”
“Come see me later?” he asks.
“Okay,” you agree instantly.
“I’ll text you when practice ends, okay?”
“Yeah. See you then?”
“Yeah. I love you baby, see you soon,” he says.
Heat rushes to your face instantly, flushing even redder than it was when you ran back from his practice room to yours.
“I love you more baby,” you reply quickly, hanging up the phone immediately after so that he can’t say it back again.
For the first time in weeks, you’d never felt happier.
𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎
You were only trying to make things easier for him. But what happens when every step back feels like rejection and every silence sounds like nothing but distance?
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
First part of the series is officially out!! This is my first ever series so I’m super excited 🤗🤗 HOPE U GUYS LIKE ITTT
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“Is it all resolved then? Have they been reported?”
The voice carries quietly from the end of the dorm hallway.
“Okay, that’s good then. Keep me updated. I’ll let you know if anything else happens,” it continues.
The voice slips through the low whir of the air conditioner and air purifier in Shinyu’s room. Whoever it is is clearly trying their hardest not to be heard. Still, he recognizes it immediately. One of their managers.
“Hey, are you still there?”
Your warm voice brings him back to your call through the phone.
“Yeah, sorry,” he murmurs, already pushing himself off the bed. “I thought I heard something. Give me a second.”
He steps into the hallway with his phone still pressed to his ear, not bothering to mute it. The manager looks up when he approaches, a slightly surprised expression etched alongside the tiredness evident on his face.
“Oh, you’re still awake? I just got off the phone with the company.”
Shinyu leans against the wall, all ears.
“There’s been an uptick in sasaeng sightings lately,” the manager continues. “I noticed someone lingering around at your schedule today with the boys, so I reported it. The company will probably set up a meeting later this week just as a precaution. Safety reminders, that kind of thing.”
Shinyu nods in agreement.
“Got it. Thanks for letting me know, manager-nim, and for filing that report. I didn’t even notice. Although now that I think about it, Dohoon and Hanjin did mention their suspicions about something similar last month too. I’m glad the company’s taking it seriously.”
“Yeah,” the manager agrees with a sigh. “Just be careful when you’re outside. And get some sleep tonight, okay? Let’s just hope it dies down soon.”
“I will.”
Shinyu lingers for a second before turning back to his room, making sure to close the door quietly behind him so that he doesn’t wake a sound asleep Youngjae in the next bed.
When he brings the phone back to his ear, you’re still waiting on the other end of the line.
“Did you hear that?” he asks softly.
“Most of it,” you whisper back. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”
He runs a hand through his hair as he sinks back down on the bed.
“I’m fine, it’s nothing new,” he says. “It’s comeback week, so we’re out a lot more trying to get to our schedules and music shows here and there. Stuff like this is much more likely to happen around this time.”
“Still,” you continue. “It sucks that you have to deal with that on top of such a busy schedule. Just report anything that feels off, okay? Even if it seems small.”
“Of course.”
“You know, I might try to come to one of your music shows this week,” you offer, changing the topic.
Shinyu’s lips curve up in a slight smile.
“Yeah? That’d be nice,” he says. “You don’t have to come backstage, though. You’d have to be up at, like, the crack of dawn.”
“We’ll see. Don’t worry about me. The comeback’s more important right now” you reassure.
“You know that’s not true,” Shinyu counters immediately.
He leans back against the headboard, exhaustion clearly finally catching up to him now that he’s in bed, which doesn’t escape your notice.
“You sound tired.”
“A little.”
“You should sleep. I bet you’re barely at the dorms.”
“You too. Do you want to sleep on call?” Shinyu murmurs.
“Wait, yeah, of course I do,” you agree.
The camera angle shakes slightly as you move to lie comfortably under the covers. You make sure to prop the phone up on its side right next to your pillow.
“Goodnight, Shinyu,” you whisper softly.
“Goodnight baby,” he replies.
He’s out almost instantly, and the last thing you see before you drift off is the peaceful look on his face with his eyes finally closed and at rest.
—
The company building is alive with activity when you arrive. You had dragged yourself out of bed at seven-thirty in the morning just to make Shinyu lunch. Now, standing in the elevator, the lunch box is neatly packed in a paper bag, the outside still warm from the stove.
You check your phone out of habit. No new messages. He said he had practice earlier. That’s totally fine – you’re not here to stay long anyway. Just to drop the food off and maybe see him for a minute, if he happens to be on break. If not, that’s okay too.
You barely make it down the hallway toward their practice room before someone calls out, “Hey!”
You turn around to see his manager, who’s already walking toward you from the other side.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, though his expression remains flat and indifferent, not at all matching the emotion he should be feeling based on what he just said.
You always knew his manager was known for being stoic and rather straightforward, mannerisms hardened by the fast-paced, unforgiving industry that encompassed his job. Not to the members though, no, he always treated them with utmost care. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d notice that he would loosen up a little, still composed, but certainly not as uptight.
Today was evidently not one of those days.
“I was just – um, well, I just brought a quick lunch for Shinyu,” you explain, gesturing to the bag in your hand.
His gaze follows your hand, then back at you, his expression still unreadable. You curse yourself internally for your horrible fortune in meeting him when you were already so close to making it to the practice room.
“He’s in rehearsal right now,” he says firmly.
You kind of get the idea that the manager really, really doesn’t want you here. You nod quickly.
“Oh, it’s totally okay. I can just leave this here,” you offer.
“You can just leave it here,” the manager repeats, echoing your words with finality. “He’s pretty busy. It’s best not to interrupt.”
You’re aware he’s not accusing you of anything. There’s nothing wrong with him simply doing his job by staying practical and professional anyway.
“Here, I’ll take it,” he says, reaching out for the bag.
You hand it over immediately.
“Thanks.”
That was clearly your cue to leave, so you turn around to head back the same way you came.
—
As promised, you arrive promptly at seven in the morning to the Music Bank recording studio. Even though Shinyu insistently told you not to worry about coming, you knew better than to listen. All you could think of is the surprise and pure elation on his expression when you finally get to show your face and surprise him.
The familiar halls are buzzing with staff moving between rooms, stylists rushing past with hangers filled with clothes, idols getting their hair and makeup, and comeback challenges being filmed near the iconic stairs, the glow of the vending machines lined up against the wall providing bright LED lighting to the photos idols took to post on their SNS later.
Right when you turn to TWS’ hallway, you’re stopped. Again. By their manager. This time, his distaste seems far more palpable.
“Oh, hi again,” he greets you hurriedly, clearly in the middle of a discussion with a few of the recording staff listening intently to what he has to say.
You nod politely in hello and continue toward their dressing room.
Just as you near the entrance, the manager calls out, “Wait one second!”
So you pause and turn around as he quickly approaches.
“Are you here to see Shinyu?”
Maybe you’re just fooling yourself again, but you swear his disapproval is unmistakable this time.
“Yeah, I told him I might stop by just for a bit,” you answer. “Just to say hello, since I’m gonna be hanging around in this area of the city anyway.”
“About that, he actually said not today,” the manager claims. “He doesn’t want to be distracted.”
You listen silently as he continues, “Sorry. If you need anything, I can pass it along if you’d like.”
“No — no, it’s all good,” you reply quickly, the meaning of his words still hanging heavy in your mind.
It doesn’t sound like him at all, at least you didn’t think it did. But… it also could. Comeback week is notorious for being extremely exhausting. You’ve heard it in his voice, felt it in his mannerisms, seen it in the delayed and shorter messages he sent you. Not that you minded at all. This was simply just how work was like for a public figure. But the last thing you wanted would be to add on to his burden.
Knowing him, there’s a chance he would prioritize work; as a leader and the oldest, you knew he had an unimaginable amount of responsibility to bear.
Inside, Shinyu’s sitting in front of the mirror as staff touch up his makeup. Through the barely open door, the sound of his manager’s voice with someone else drifts through the crack. A woman, maybe? But they were too far for him to make out clearly, much less the words they were saying, though he could hear snippets of conversation being had.
“Were you talking to someone?” he asks as his manager steps inside.
“Hm? Oh, no, just the staff to make sure everything’s on schedule,” his manager says.
“Ah, okay.”
And that was it.
You find yourself standing outside right at the entrance after what was probably your shortest visit ever into the recording building. You stand there for a second, phone in hand, unsure as to whether or not you should text Shinyu. Maybe a message would help, but you’re not sure.
You type: i stopped by but u were busy
You stare at the words before deleting them. No, that would come off the wrong way for sure.
You type again: hope it goes well!
Your finger hovers over the “send” button before you press it, watching as the message delivers instantly. You tuck your phone away before you can overthink it again.
Behind you, inside the building, everything continues as normal. Idols finish their schedules while staff run around trying to make sure everyone is in their designated places.
And somewhere upstairs, Shinyu’s still getting ready, completely unaware that you were ever there at all.
—
By the time TWS finishes filming their stage, the waiting room is a mess of bags, clothes, and belongings strewn around everywhere. Staff herd them around as they try to tidy everything as much as possible.
That’s when it hits him. You said you’d come today. Shinyu frowns, straightening up as he tries to remember. He didn’t see you today at all.
“Hey, manager-nim,” he calls.
“Yeah, Shinyu?”
“Did (Name) come by today?” Shinyu asks.
“Uh – no, I didn’t see her today,” the manager answers, his words tinged with hesitation that Shinyu completely misses. “Did you text her?”
“Right, I should do that.”
Shinyu unlocks his phone to see the text you had sent him around an hour ago.
baby: hope it goes well!
His brow knit slightly. It’s not like he’s super pressed that you couldn’t make it or anything. It’s just strange when he recalls how eager you were to come. And without even a text telling him that you couldn’t make it?
He types out: were you busy? and sends it after much deliberation.
Your response comes pretty fast while he’s on the way back to the company with everyone else.
no, not really
Why didn’t you come around then? Shinyu couldn’t help but feel a little confused. What do I even respond? Do I confront her about it? Is it even a big deal?
Finally, he settles on: oh okay :)
The moment the message is sent, he regrets it. The text sounded so distant and strangely polite. Not like the way he talks to you at all. For a second, he considers calling you. But a quick scan across the car shuts that idea down, as he’s the only one awake – everyone else is completely knocked out from the early morning.
He locks his phone. He’ll talk to you later.
—
You’re already home by the time your phone buzzes. You glance at it.
baby: oh okay :)
What does that even mean?
For a moment, you think maybe he’s typing another message, but it never comes. You sigh quietly, setting your phone back down beside you. You’ll just contact him later when he’s gotten some rest.
But even a day later, your texts just feel different. And you know he can feel it too. No one’s cracking silly jokes or making fun of the other person. You scroll up to a string of messages from earlier in the week. He had just finished making fun of you for your boba order. Not like there’s anything wrong with taro milk tea, but apparently Shinyu has particularly strong opinions. A small grin appears on your face at the memory.
Now it’s just short one-liners. A good morning here and there. Reminders to eat food and to bundle up for the cold weather.
How did everything change so fast?
—
The next time you go to the company, it’s because he asked you to. You’re standing in the lobby with a small tote bag in hand. It wasn’t anything crazy, just something he forgot at the dorm and needed for practice. He’d texted you earlier just to see if you happened to be free and in the area, and of course, you said yes.
You don’t have to wait long before he appears. Shinyu rounds the corner, a hoodie thrown on over his slightly messy hair. The moment he sees you, his entire expression softens.
“There you are,” he says.
“Hi,” you greet, holding the bag out toward him. “Here you go.”
He takes it, his fingers bushing yours briefly in that familiar way.
“Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this fast.”
“I wasn’t busy,” you reply quickly. Then, like an after thought, you ask, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, right?”
“What?”
“I mean, because you’re supposed to be at practice right now,” you clarify quickly. “I was just wondering.”
“What do you mean? I was the one who asked you to come,” he says firmly. “You’re not interrupting anything.”
“Right,” you nod. “Okay.
Usually, this is where you’d ask how practice is going. Maybe tease him a little. Maybe he’d ask you something too.
Instead, you add, “I should go, though. You should get back to practice. I have to clock into work later, so might as well.”
“Already?” Shinyu asks, a small whine evident in his voice. He always looked forward to you whenever you visited. Obviously mainly because he got to see you, but also because it coupled as a convenient excuse to take a short break before getting back to work. Who could blame him anyway?
“Yeah,” you say, stepping back. “Good luck with practice!”
Now he’s really confused.
“Wait – ”
“Shinyu!”
A staff member calls from the room down the hall.
“Coming!” he replies instinctively, leaving the hallway empty.
—
That night, your phone lights up with a notification under Shinyu’s name
do u wanna call?
You stare at it. You want to say yes. Immediately yes. You always do. But then, you think back to his schedule and how busy he is.
you: maybe not tonight
you: you can get some rest?
you: we can def do it another day :)
Back at the dorms, Shinyu reads your message. If he was a little confused earlier in the week, now he’s absolutely bewildered.
He types: i’m not that tired its okay
But deletes it quickly. If you don’t want to call, he’s not going to push it. After, he drops his phone onto the bed beside him as he stares up at the ceiling.
Since when do you say no to calls? Is it maybe… do you not want to see me anymore? Or worse… did you lose feelings?
It doesn’t make sense. None of it does.
—
This time, for Show Champion, Shinyu makes sure you’ll be there. He texts you the day before, and then again the morning of. Even a reminder a few hours before he knows you’ll be there. There’s not backing out today – not that you were planning on it. So you show up, this time, just as a part of the audience.
Before their recording starts, you step out briefly to use the restroom. The hallway is crowded, but you make your way through to the restrooms.
Just then, Shinyu steps out into the hall as he’s mid-conversation with Dohoon, a ghost of a laugh still evident in his eyes. Relief flickers across his face when he notices you.
Normally, you would have gone to him in an instant. But then you remember again. He didn’t want you there last time either. Your feet stop just for a second. Then you force yourself to keep moving. Finally, you lift your hand in a small wave before disappearing off to the restroom.
The last thing you catch is the way his smile falters. Your chest tightens as the door swings shut behind you. You feel awful, genuinely. But you tell yourself that it was the right thing to do. At least until promotions are over.
On the other hand, Shinyu’s still standing there where you left him. He knows you saw him. He saw your wave. But then you just left. You didn’t come over. You didn’t even try.
Do you not want to be seen with me?
Normally, it wouldn’t even cross his mind; it doesn’t even sound right. But then again, lately, nothing really has. And he doesn’t know which part of it all is worse: the thought itself or the fact that he feels as though he can’t even prove it wrong.
—
He doesn’t wait this time. He can’t afford to.
By the time filming wraps up, Shinyu is already scanning the hallways for a glimpse of your face. You were here, he literally saw you. So where did you go?
“Shinyu!”
“Give me a second,” he says, already moving away.
He doesn’t even know where he’s going at first, just back the way he came, past the dressing rooms and the waiting area.
And then he sees you at the far end of the room near the exit. You stand by the wall as you adjust your bag, clearly about to head out.
Relief hits him first. Then frustration follows immediately.
“(Name)!”
You turn at the sound of his voice and freeze. He’s already headed straight for you.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he asks, not bothering to hide the agitation in his voice.
“Doing what?” you reply, caught off guard at his question.
“That,” he says, waving his hands around like he doesn’t even have the right words for it, “like earlier, when you just, I don’t know, left.”
Your grip tightens around your bag.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Look, I have to go back with everyone else right now,” he says, his voice tight, “but we’re talking tonight. Okay?”
He doesn’t even wait for you to nod before he’s walking in the other direction.
—
Shinyu heads straight to his room the moment he gets back; he meant it when he said he was going to resolve everything tonight. He exhales and then taps your contact icon. It rings once. Twice. And then you pick up.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hey,” he replies, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the side of his bed. “Are you home?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Me too, I just got back.”
And then you both fall silent. You’re still on the line, but neither of you speak. Neither of you hang up either, just waiting for the other to say something first.
Shinyu finally asks, “Can we video call?”
“Yeah,” you answer quietly.
He waits for you to accept the call before your face appears on his screen. You’re sitting on your bed with your knees pulled in and your phone propped up right beside you.
“Hi,” you say again.
“Hi.”
Another pause.
Shinyu leans back against the headboard and runs a hand over his face.
“Okay,” he starts. “I don’t even know where to start.”
You give a small, uncertain smile.
“Me neither.”
At least that part’s mutual.
“Then I’ll just say it,” he decides. “Why have you been acting like this?”
“Acting like what? What do you mean?” you reply, frowning.
“I don’t even know, but like as if I’m off-limits or something. Like you don’t want to see me anymore,” he says. “I’m sick of it.”
“What do you mean? I do want to see you,” you say earnestly.
“Like for example, that day when you said you would see me at Music Bank. You said you were coming, and then you didn’t. Which I’m not mad about you not coming, and I never want you to feel like you’re obligated to come to my shows all the time. But it’s just you didn’t say anything about it to me, and when I asked if you were busy, you said ‘not really’ so I just – I just didn’t get it.”
You blink at him, confused to say the least.
“Wait, I did come that day…”
“What?”
“I came,” you repeat, your words slower now. “I remember it clearly. I showed up and was just about to enter your dressing room like half an hour before you had to go on stage, but your manager stopped me. He said you told him you didn’t want to see me that day so I should just go back.”
Shinyu sits up straighter, his face closer to the screen now.
“My manager?”
You nod.
“So then I just left, since I had work anyway. I figured you were just really busy.”
“No,” he says immediately. “I didn’t say that at all. I didn’t even know you were there.”
“Really?” you ask.
“Wait,” he mutters, thinking back. “I remember him talking to someone down the hall that day. The door was cracked open a little bit so I could kind of make out a woman’s voice, but when I asked him, he said it was just a staff member.”
He lets out a breath of frustration in disbelief.
“I really thought you didn’t want me there,” you admit quietly. “So I just didn’t bring it up again.”
Shinyu leans back again, shaking his head.
“I had no idea,” he says. “I just thought you didn’t come.”
“You know, a few days before that, I came to drop off food for you too,” you add.
He nods.
“Yeah, I remember. That kimbap was really good, by the way.”
“Thanks,” you smile. “Well, the same thing happened. Your manager stopped me again. Said you were busy and shouldn’t be interrupted. So he took it from me. I’m assuming he gave it to you?”
Shinyu frowns.
“He told me you dropped it off,” he says. “I just thought you didn’t want to come up.”
“Really? I was right outside the door. I just thought I wasn’t supposed to or something…” you trail off.
Now everything makes sense.
“Is that why you’ve been acting like that?” he asks. “Like when you came to drop something off and left right away? And earlier when you just waved and walked off instead of coming up to me?”
You nod again.
“I thought I was crossing a line or something. With you being so busy during the comeback, I figured I should just back off until you weren’t as busy.”
“That’s not true. If anything, after a long day or before I have to go to schedules, you’re the only person I want to see. Trust me, being with you is what I look forward to the most. I love spending time with you whether I’m tired or not.”
“Me too.”
“You got up super early to make that lunch box, didn’t you?” Shinyu asks suddenly.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal – ”
“Oh my god,” he groans softly, dragging a hand over his face. “And you didn’t even get to give it to me yourself.”
“It’s fine,” you say, “seriously. It’s not like it’s your fault or anything.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For not asking more. I just didn’t want to pressure you. I thought maybe you just didn’t feel like coming.”
“No, it’s really not your fault. I should've said something too instead of just assuming.”
“You know, when you waved earlier and left, I thought you maybe didn’t want to be seen with me.”
Your eyes widen.
“What? No – ”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know that now. But that’s also why I didn’t want to push too much, because I didn’t want to push you away.”
“Oh my god… I was trying to do the exact opposite. There were so many people around that I didn’t want to be obvious or distract you.”
Shinyu lets out a small laugh.
“We were just caring for each other but going about it in the wrong way.”
“Yeah,” you say, laughing. “Pretty much.”
“So… we’re good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you reply. “We’re definitely good.”
“Okay,” he says. “When are you free?”
“Free? Isn’t your schedule literally packed?”
“Well, just for like an hour. Or less,” he clarifies. “Nothing too crazy. Just – I just want to see you properly.”
“I have work tomorrow, but I could probably come by after?”
“What time”
“Is nine good? I can bring food, that way we can eat together.”
He nods immediately.
“Just for a bit,” you add. “You still need to rest.”
“I can just rest after,” he says.
You roll your eyes at that.
“Shinyu,” you say pointedly.
“No, I'm serious. Also, don’t worry about the food. I got it.”
“Fine then,” you say, giving in.
“And I’m going to talk to him,” Shinyu adds after a moment.
You tilt your head. Who?
“My manager,” he clarifies. “Because what he said to you was not okay. What he did was more than not okay.”
“Okay, yeah,” you say, then hesitate. “But just, be careful with how you come off. He is still your manager, after all. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“No,” he cuts in calmly. “What he did was a violation of trust. He was the one who caused this miscommunication.”
“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”
For the first time in days, it feels like a weight has finally been lifted.
—
Most of the lights are off in the company building when you arrive. Shinyu’s sitting on the floor when you walk in, his back against the mirror with a hoodie thrown on. His bag is tossed off to the side, and there’s a pile of takeout waiting patiently in front of him.
He looks up the moment the door opens.
“Hey,” you say, stepping inside.
“Hi baby,” he replies, already getting up and crossing the room in a few quick steps.
He pulls you into a hug without hesitation, arms wrapping around you tightly.
You laugh softly, a little surprised.
“You look excited.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he says, not letting you go right away.
You smile into his shoulder.
“It’s been, like, two days.”
“Still,” he mutters.
You gently pull back, slipping your hands into his.
“Aren’t you hungry?” you tease as you tug him toward the food.
When you both sit down, he sits so he’s right next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours and knees brushing. You open the containers and for a while, the only sounds in the room are rustles of plastic and containers and utensils.
After a few minutes, he speaks again.
“I talked to him earlier.”
You glance over.
“Your manager?”
He nods, reaching for another dumpling.
“Yeah. It wasn’t really a big deal. He said he didn’t realize how it came across.Apparently he was too focused on making sure the comeback was running smoothly that he overlooked the bigger issue. Remember the sasaeng incidents? He said he was worried that it could potentially affect us and that we would then get in more trouble. Not that it’s any excuse, of course. He wanted me to tell you he wants to apologize in person.”
“That sounds like him, I guess,” you agree.
“He said he’d be more careful,” Shinyu adds. “And that he wouldn’t speak for me like that again.”
You nod, relieved that it was resolved without any issues.
“Okay.”
“So that means the next time you see me, you’re not allowed to just wave and run,” he teases, nudging your shoulder.
“I didn’t run!” you protest.
“Oh come on, you basically did.”
“Fine, whatever,” you concede, a smile on your face.
At some point, you shift even closer without realizing, your head coming to rest against his shoulder. He leans into it like it’s second nature. The containers between you are nearly empty now, and there’s only a few minutes left before Shinyu has to get back to work. But until then, it’s just the two of you, sitting side by side on the floor with nothing in the way.
𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎
You were only trying to make things easier for him. But what happens when every step back feels like rejection and every silence sounds like nothing but distance?
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
First part of the series is officially out!! This is my first ever series so I’m super excited 🤗🤗 HOPE U GUYS LIKE ITTT
Reply to join the taglist (specify perm or series only)!
“Is it all resolved then? Have they been reported?”
The voice carries quietly from the end of the dorm hallway.
“Okay, that’s good then. Keep me updated. I’ll let you know if anything else happens,” it continues.
The voice slips through the low whir of the air conditioner and air purifier in Shinyu’s room. Whoever it is is clearly trying their hardest not to be heard. Still, he recognizes it immediately. One of their managers.
“Hey, are you still there?”
Your warm voice brings him back to your call through the phone.
“Yeah, sorry,” he murmurs, already pushing himself off the bed. “I thought I heard something. Give me a second.”
He steps into the hallway with his phone still pressed to his ear, not bothering to mute it. The manager looks up when he approaches, a slightly surprised expression etched alongside the tiredness evident on his face.
“Oh, you’re still awake? I just got off the phone with the company.”
Shinyu leans against the wall, all ears.
“There’s been an uptick in sasaeng sightings lately,” the manager continues. “I noticed someone lingering around at your schedule today with the boys, so I reported it. The company will probably set up a meeting later this week just as a precaution. Safety reminders, that kind of thing.”
Shinyu nods in agreement.
“Got it. Thanks for letting me know, manager-nim, and for filing that report. I didn’t even notice. Although now that I think about it, Dohoon and Hanjin did mention their suspicions about something similar last month too. I’m glad the company’s taking it seriously.”
“Yeah,” the manager agrees with a sigh. “Just be careful when you’re outside. And get some sleep tonight, okay? Let’s just hope it dies down soon.”
“I will.”
Shinyu lingers for a second before turning back to his room, making sure to close the door quietly behind him so that he doesn’t wake a sound asleep Youngjae in the next bed.
When he brings the phone back to his ear, you’re still waiting on the other end of the line.
“Did you hear that?” he asks softly.
“Most of it,” you whisper back. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”
He runs a hand through his hair as he sinks back down on the bed.
“I’m fine, it’s nothing new,” he says. “It’s comeback week, so we’re out a lot more trying to get to our schedules and music shows here and there. Stuff like this is much more likely to happen around this time.”
“Still,” you continue. “It sucks that you have to deal with that on top of such a busy schedule. Just report anything that feels off, okay? Even if it seems small.”
“Of course.”
“You know, I might try to come to one of your music shows this week,” you offer, changing the topic.
Shinyu’s lips curve up in a slight smile.
“Yeah? That’d be nice,” he says. “You don’t have to come backstage, though. You’d have to be up at, like, the crack of dawn.”
“We’ll see. Don’t worry about me. The comeback’s more important right now” you reassure.
“You know that’s not true,” Shinyu counters immediately.
He leans back against the headboard, exhaustion clearly finally catching up to him now that he’s in bed, which doesn’t escape your notice.
“You sound tired.”
“A little.”
“You should sleep. I bet you’re barely at the dorms.”
“You too. Do you want to sleep on call?” Shinyu murmurs.
“Wait, yeah, of course I do,” you agree.
The camera angle shakes slightly as you move to lie comfortably under the covers. You make sure to prop the phone up on its side right next to your pillow.
“Goodnight, Shinyu,” you whisper softly.
“Goodnight baby,” he replies.
He’s out almost instantly, and the last thing you see before you drift off is the peaceful look on his face with his eyes finally closed and at rest.
—
The company building is alive with activity when you arrive. You had dragged yourself out of bed at seven-thirty in the morning just to make Shinyu lunch. Now, standing in the elevator, the lunch box is neatly packed in a paper bag, the outside still warm from the stove.
You check your phone out of habit. No new messages. He said he had practice earlier. That’s totally fine – you’re not here to stay long anyway. Just to drop the food off and maybe see him for a minute, if he happens to be on break. If not, that’s okay too.
You barely make it down the hallway toward their practice room before someone calls out, “Hey!”
You turn around to see his manager, who’s already walking toward you from the other side.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, though his expression remains flat and indifferent, not at all matching the emotion he should be feeling based on what he just said.
You always knew his manager was known for being stoic and rather straightforward, mannerisms hardened by the fast-paced, unforgiving industry that encompassed his job. Not to the members though, no, he always treated them with utmost care. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d notice that he would loosen up a little, still composed, but certainly not as uptight.
Today was evidently not one of those days.
“I was just – um, well, I just brought a quick lunch for Shinyu,” you explain, gesturing to the bag in your hand.
His gaze follows your hand, then back at you, his expression still unreadable. You curse yourself internally for your horrible fortune in meeting him when you were already so close to making it to the practice room.
“He’s in rehearsal right now,” he says firmly.
You kind of get the idea that the manager really, really doesn’t want you here. You nod quickly.
“Oh, it’s totally okay. I can just leave this here,” you offer.
“You can just leave it here,” the manager repeats, echoing your words with finality. “He’s pretty busy. It’s best not to interrupt.”
You’re aware he’s not accusing you of anything. There’s nothing wrong with him simply doing his job by staying practical and professional anyway.
“Here, I’ll take it,” he says, reaching out for the bag.
You hand it over immediately.
“Thanks.”
That was clearly your cue to leave, so you turn around to head back the same way you came.
—
As promised, you arrive promptly at seven in the morning to the Music Bank recording studio. Even though Shinyu insistently told you not to worry about coming, you knew better than to listen. All you could think of is the surprise and pure elation on his expression when you finally get to show your face and surprise him.
The familiar halls are buzzing with staff moving between rooms, stylists rushing past with hangers filled with clothes, idols getting their hair and makeup, and comeback challenges being filmed near the iconic stairs, the glow of the vending machines lined up against the wall providing bright LED lighting to the photos idols took to post on their SNS later.
Right when you turn to TWS’ hallway, you’re stopped. Again. By their manager. This time, his distaste seems far more palpable.
“Oh, hi again,” he greets you hurriedly, clearly in the middle of a discussion with a few of the recording staff listening intently to what he has to say.
You nod politely in hello and continue toward their dressing room.
Just as you near the entrance, the manager calls out, “Wait one second!”
So you pause and turn around as he quickly approaches.
“Are you here to see Shinyu?”
Maybe you’re just fooling yourself again, but you swear his disapproval is unmistakable this time.
“Yeah, I told him I might stop by just for a bit,” you answer. “Just to say hello, since I’m gonna be hanging around in this area of the city anyway.”
“About that, he actually said not today,” the manager claims. “He doesn’t want to be distracted.”
You listen silently as he continues, “Sorry. If you need anything, I can pass it along if you’d like.”
“No — no, it’s all good,” you reply quickly, the meaning of his words still hanging heavy in your mind.
It doesn’t sound like him at all, at least you didn’t think it did. But… it also could. Comeback week is notorious for being extremely exhausting. You’ve heard it in his voice, felt it in his mannerisms, seen it in the delayed and shorter messages he sent you. Not that you minded at all. This was simply just how work was like for a public figure. But the last thing you wanted would be to add on to his burden.
Knowing him, there’s a chance he would prioritize work; as a leader and the oldest, you knew he had an unimaginable amount of responsibility to bear.
Inside, Shinyu’s sitting in front of the mirror as staff touch up his makeup. Through the barely open door, the sound of his manager’s voice with someone else drifts through the crack. A woman, maybe? But they were too far for him to make out clearly, much less the words they were saying, though he could hear snippets of conversation being had.
“Were you talking to someone?” he asks as his manager steps inside.
“Hm? Oh, no, just the staff to make sure everything’s on schedule,” his manager says.
“Ah, okay.”
And that was it.
You find yourself standing outside right at the entrance after what was probably your shortest visit ever into the recording building. You stand there for a second, phone in hand, unsure as to whether or not you should text Shinyu. Maybe a message would help, but you’re not sure.
You type: i stopped by but u were busy
You stare at the words before deleting them. No, that would come off the wrong way for sure.
You type again: hope it goes well!
Your finger hovers over the “send” button before you press it, watching as the message delivers instantly. You tuck your phone away before you can overthink it again.
Behind you, inside the building, everything continues as normal. Idols finish their schedules while staff run around trying to make sure everyone is in their designated places.
And somewhere upstairs, Shinyu’s still getting ready, completely unaware that you were ever there at all.
—
By the time TWS finishes filming their stage, the waiting room is a mess of bags, clothes, and belongings strewn around everywhere. Staff herd them around as they try to tidy everything as much as possible.
That’s when it hits him. You said you’d come today. Shinyu frowns, straightening up as he tries to remember. He didn’t see you today at all.
“Hey, manager-nim,” he calls.
“Yeah, Shinyu?”
“Did (Name) come by today?” Shinyu asks.
“Uh – no, I didn’t see her today,” the manager answers, his words tinged with hesitation that Shinyu completely misses. “Did you text her?”
“Right, I should do that.”
Shinyu unlocks his phone to see the text you had sent him around an hour ago.
baby: hope it goes well!
His brow knit slightly. It’s not like he’s super pressed that you couldn’t make it or anything. It’s just strange when he recalls how eager you were to come. And without even a text telling him that you couldn’t make it?
He types out: were you busy? and sends it after much deliberation.
Your response comes pretty fast while he’s on the way back to the company with everyone else.
no, not really
Why didn’t you come around then? Shinyu couldn’t help but feel a little confused. What do I even respond? Do I confront her about it? Is it even a big deal?
Finally, he settles on: oh okay :)
The moment the message is sent, he regrets it. The text sounded so distant and strangely polite. Not like the way he talks to you at all. For a second, he considers calling you. But a quick scan across the car shuts that idea down, as he’s the only one awake – everyone else is completely knocked out from the early morning.
He locks his phone. He’ll talk to you later.
—
You’re already home by the time your phone buzzes. You glance at it.
baby: oh okay :)
What does that even mean?
For a moment, you think maybe he’s typing another message, but it never comes. You sigh quietly, setting your phone back down beside you. You’ll just contact him later when he’s gotten some rest.
But even a day later, your texts just feel different. And you know he can feel it too. No one’s cracking silly jokes or making fun of the other person. You scroll up to a string of messages from earlier in the week. He had just finished making fun of you for your boba order. Not like there’s anything wrong with taro milk tea, but apparently Shinyu has particularly strong opinions. A small grin appears on your face at the memory.
Now it’s just short one-liners. A good morning here and there. Reminders to eat food and to bundle up for the cold weather.
How did everything change so fast?
—
The next time you go to the company, it’s because he asked you to. You’re standing in the lobby with a small tote bag in hand. It wasn’t anything crazy, just something he forgot at the dorm and needed for practice. He’d texted you earlier just to see if you happened to be free and in the area, and of course, you said yes.
You don’t have to wait long before he appears. Shinyu rounds the corner, a hoodie thrown on over his slightly messy hair. The moment he sees you, his entire expression softens.
“There you are,” he says.
“Hi,” you greet, holding the bag out toward him. “Here you go.”
He takes it, his fingers bushing yours briefly in that familiar way.
“Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this fast.”
“I wasn’t busy,” you reply quickly. Then, like an after thought, you ask, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, right?”
“What?”
“I mean, because you’re supposed to be at practice right now,” you clarify quickly. “I was just wondering.”
“What do you mean? I was the one who asked you to come,” he says firmly. “You’re not interrupting anything.”
“Right,” you nod. “Okay.
Usually, this is where you’d ask how practice is going. Maybe tease him a little. Maybe he’d ask you something too.
Instead, you add, “I should go, though. You should get back to practice. I have to clock into work later, so might as well.”
“Already?” Shinyu asks, a small whine evident in his voice. He always looked forward to you whenever you visited. Obviously mainly because he got to see you, but also because it coupled as a convenient excuse to take a short break before getting back to work. Who could blame him anyway?
“Yeah,” you say, stepping back. “Good luck with practice!”
Now he’s really confused.
“Wait – ”
“Shinyu!”
A staff member calls from the room down the hall.
“Coming!” he replies instinctively, leaving the hallway empty.
—
That night, your phone lights up with a notification under Shinyu’s name
do u wanna call?
You stare at it. You want to say yes. Immediately yes. You always do. But then, you think back to his schedule and how busy he is.
you: maybe not tonight
you: you can get some rest?
you: we can def do it another day :)
Back at the dorms, Shinyu reads your message. If he was a little confused earlier in the week, now he’s absolutely bewildered.
He types: i’m not that tired its okay
But deletes it quickly. If you don’t want to call, he’s not going to push it. After, he drops his phone onto the bed beside him as he stares up at the ceiling.
Since when do you say no to calls? Is it maybe… do you not want to see me anymore? Or worse… did you lose feelings?
It doesn’t make sense. None of it does.
—
This time, for Show Champion, Shinyu makes sure you’ll be there. He texts you the day before, and then again the morning of. Even a reminder a few hours before he knows you’ll be there. There’s not backing out today – not that you were planning on it. So you show up, this time, just as a part of the audience.
Before their recording starts, you step out briefly to use the restroom. The hallway is crowded, but you make your way through to the restrooms.
Just then, Shinyu steps out into the hall as he’s mid-conversation with Dohoon, a ghost of a laugh still evident in his eyes. Relief flickers across his face when he notices you.
Normally, you would have gone to him in an instant. But then you remember again. He didn’t want you there last time either. Your feet stop just for a second. Then you force yourself to keep moving. Finally, you lift your hand in a small wave before disappearing off to the restroom.
The last thing you catch is the way his smile falters. Your chest tightens as the door swings shut behind you. You feel awful, genuinely. But you tell yourself that it was the right thing to do. At least until promotions are over.
On the other hand, Shinyu’s still standing there where you left him. He knows you saw him. He saw your wave. But then you just left. You didn’t come over. You didn’t even try.
Do you not want to be seen with me?
Normally, it wouldn’t even cross his mind; it doesn’t even sound right. But then again, lately, nothing really has. And he doesn’t know which part of it all is worse: the thought itself or the fact that he feels as though he can’t even prove it wrong.
—
He doesn’t wait this time. He can’t afford to.
By the time filming wraps up, Shinyu is already scanning the hallways for a glimpse of your face. You were here, he literally saw you. So where did you go?
“Shinyu!”
“Give me a second,” he says, already moving away.
He doesn’t even know where he’s going at first, just back the way he came, past the dressing rooms and the waiting area.
And then he sees you at the far end of the room near the exit. You stand by the wall as you adjust your bag, clearly about to head out.
Relief hits him first. Then frustration follows immediately.
“(Name)!”
You turn at the sound of his voice and freeze. He’s already headed straight for you.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he asks, not bothering to hide the agitation in his voice.
“Doing what?” you reply, caught off guard at his question.
“That,” he says, waving his hands around like he doesn’t even have the right words for it, “like earlier, when you just, I don’t know, left.”
Your grip tightens around your bag.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Look, I have to go back with everyone else right now,” he says, his voice tight, “but we’re talking tonight. Okay?”
He doesn’t even wait for you to nod before he’s walking in the other direction.
—
Shinyu heads straight to his room the moment he gets back; he meant it when he said he was going to resolve everything tonight. He exhales and then taps your contact icon. It rings once. Twice. And then you pick up.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hey,” he replies, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the side of his bed. “Are you home?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Me too, I just got back.”
And then you both fall silent. You’re still on the line, but neither of you speak. Neither of you hang up either, just waiting for the other to say something first.
Shinyu finally asks, “Can we video call?”
“Yeah,” you answer quietly.
He waits for you to accept the call before your face appears on his screen. You’re sitting on your bed with your knees pulled in and your phone propped up right beside you.
“Hi,” you say again.
“Hi.”
Another pause.
Shinyu leans back against the headboard and runs a hand over his face.
“Okay,” he starts. “I don’t even know where to start.”
You give a small, uncertain smile.
“Me neither.”
At least that part’s mutual.
“Then I’ll just say it,” he decides. “Why have you been acting like this?”
“Acting like what? What do you mean?” you reply, frowning.
“I don’t even know, but like as if I’m off-limits or something. Like you don’t want to see me anymore,” he says. “I’m sick of it.”
“What do you mean? I do want to see you,” you say earnestly.
“Like for example, that day when you said you would see me at Music Bank. You said you were coming, and then you didn’t. Which I’m not mad about you not coming, and I never want you to feel like you’re obligated to come to my shows all the time. But it’s just you didn’t say anything about it to me, and when I asked if you were busy, you said ‘not really’ so I just – I just didn’t get it.”
You blink at him, confused to say the least.
“Wait, I did come that day…”
“What?”
“I came,” you repeat, your words slower now. “I remember it clearly. I showed up and was just about to enter your dressing room like half an hour before you had to go on stage, but your manager stopped me. He said you told him you didn’t want to see me that day so I should just go back.”
Shinyu sits up straighter, his face closer to the screen now.
“My manager?”
You nod.
“So then I just left, since I had work anyway. I figured you were just really busy.”
“No,” he says immediately. “I didn’t say that at all. I didn’t even know you were there.”
“Really?” you ask.
“Wait,” he mutters, thinking back. “I remember him talking to someone down the hall that day. The door was cracked open a little bit so I could kind of make out a woman’s voice, but when I asked him, he said it was just a staff member.”
He lets out a breath of frustration in disbelief.
“I really thought you didn’t want me there,” you admit quietly. “So I just didn’t bring it up again.”
Shinyu leans back again, shaking his head.
“I had no idea,” he says. “I just thought you didn’t come.”
“You know, a few days before that, I came to drop off food for you too,” you add.
He nods.
“Yeah, I remember. That kimbap was really good, by the way.”
“Thanks,” you smile. “Well, the same thing happened. Your manager stopped me again. Said you were busy and shouldn’t be interrupted. So he took it from me. I’m assuming he gave it to you?”
Shinyu frowns.
“He told me you dropped it off,” he says. “I just thought you didn’t want to come up.”
“Really? I was right outside the door. I just thought I wasn’t supposed to or something…” you trail off.
Now everything makes sense.
“Is that why you’ve been acting like that?” he asks. “Like when you came to drop something off and left right away? And earlier when you just waved and walked off instead of coming up to me?”
You nod again.
“I thought I was crossing a line or something. With you being so busy during the comeback, I figured I should just back off until you weren’t as busy.”
“That’s not true. If anything, after a long day or before I have to go to schedules, you’re the only person I want to see. Trust me, being with you is what I look forward to the most. I love spending time with you whether I’m tired or not.”
“Me too.”
“You got up super early to make that lunch box, didn’t you?” Shinyu asks suddenly.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal – ”
“Oh my god,” he groans softly, dragging a hand over his face. “And you didn’t even get to give it to me yourself.”
“It’s fine,” you say, “seriously. It’s not like it’s your fault or anything.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For not asking more. I just didn’t want to pressure you. I thought maybe you just didn’t feel like coming.”
“No, it’s really not your fault. I should've said something too instead of just assuming.”
“You know, when you waved earlier and left, I thought you maybe didn’t want to be seen with me.”
Your eyes widen.
“What? No – ”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know that now. But that’s also why I didn’t want to push too much, because I didn’t want to push you away.”
“Oh my god… I was trying to do the exact opposite. There were so many people around that I didn’t want to be obvious or distract you.”
Shinyu lets out a small laugh.
“We were just caring for each other but going about it in the wrong way.”
“Yeah,” you say, laughing. “Pretty much.”
“So… we’re good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you reply. “We’re definitely good.”
“Okay,” he says. “When are you free?”
“Free? Isn’t your schedule literally packed?”
“Well, just for like an hour. Or less,” he clarifies. “Nothing too crazy. Just – I just want to see you properly.”
“I have work tomorrow, but I could probably come by after?”
“What time”
“Is nine good? I can bring food, that way we can eat together.”
He nods immediately.
“Just for a bit,” you add. “You still need to rest.”
“I can just rest after,” he says.
You roll your eyes at that.
“Shinyu,” you say pointedly.
“No, I'm serious. Also, don’t worry about the food. I got it.”
“Fine then,” you say, giving in.
“And I’m going to talk to him,” Shinyu adds after a moment.
You tilt your head. Who?
“My manager,” he clarifies. “Because what he said to you was not okay. What he did was more than not okay.”
“Okay, yeah,” you say, then hesitate. “But just, be careful with how you come off. He is still your manager, after all. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“No,” he cuts in calmly. “What he did was a violation of trust. He was the one who caused this miscommunication.”
“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”
For the first time in days, it feels like a weight has finally been lifted.
—
Most of the lights are off in the company building when you arrive. Shinyu’s sitting on the floor when you walk in, his back against the mirror with a hoodie thrown on. His bag is tossed off to the side, and there’s a pile of takeout waiting patiently in front of him.
He looks up the moment the door opens.
“Hey,” you say, stepping inside.
“Hi baby,” he replies, already getting up and crossing the room in a few quick steps.
He pulls you into a hug without hesitation, arms wrapping around you tightly.
You laugh softly, a little surprised.
“You look excited.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he says, not letting you go right away.
You smile into his shoulder.
“It’s been, like, two days.”
“Still,” he mutters.
You gently pull back, slipping your hands into his.
“Aren’t you hungry?” you tease as you tug him toward the food.
When you both sit down, he sits so he’s right next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours and knees brushing. You open the containers and for a while, the only sounds in the room are rustles of plastic and containers and utensils.
After a few minutes, he speaks again.
“I talked to him earlier.”
You glance over.
“Your manager?”
He nods, reaching for another dumpling.
“Yeah. It wasn’t really a big deal. He said he didn’t realize how it came across.Apparently he was too focused on making sure the comeback was running smoothly that he overlooked the bigger issue. Remember the sasaeng incidents? He said he was worried that it could potentially affect us and that we would then get in more trouble. Not that it’s any excuse, of course. He wanted me to tell you he wants to apologize in person.”
“That sounds like him, I guess,” you agree.
“He said he’d be more careful,” Shinyu adds. “And that he wouldn’t speak for me like that again.”
You nod, relieved that it was resolved without any issues.
“Okay.”
“So that means the next time you see me, you’re not allowed to just wave and run,” he teases, nudging your shoulder.
“I didn’t run!” you protest.
“Oh come on, you basically did.”
“Fine, whatever,” you concede, a smile on your face.
At some point, you shift even closer without realizing, your head coming to rest against his shoulder. He leans into it like it’s second nature. The containers between you are nearly empty now, and there’s only a few minutes left before Shinyu has to get back to work. But until then, it’s just the two of you, sitting side by side on the floor with nothing in the way.
𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒
Misread signals and outside opposition. Crushed dreams and dividing conflict. Impossible choices and the brink of losing the one you love the most. They echo like warnings you can’t possibly ignore.
Every story teeters between love and heartbreak. But how much can one hold on before everything falls apart? The question was never if it would hurt, but how much – and whether any of them will make it through without ending in tragedy.
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
Hi my loves! 😚 In celebration of TWS’s upcoming comeback, I’ll be releasing a countdown series leading up to the official drop of NO TRAGEDY. From 4/22 to 4/27, each day will feature a fic inspired by a TWS member and their corresponding message from the NO TRAGEDY Track Sampler.
𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝙎
4.22 Shinyu – Signals may cross
4.23 Kyungmin – Many will oppose
4.24 Dohoon – Not all dreams come true
4.25 Jihoon – A small conflict may escalate
4.26 Hanjin – Nothing you desire will be possible
4.27 Youngjae – Something precious may be lost
6 different paths that diverge. 6 different types of pain. 6 stories of love that were never meant to be easy. 6 ways to approach love.
Reply to join the taglist (specify perm or series only)!
𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒
Misread signals and outside opposition. Crushed dreams and dividing conflict. Impossible choices and the brink of losing the one you love the most. They echo like warnings you can’t possibly ignore.
Every story teeters between love and heartbreak. But how much can one hold on before everything falls apart? The question was never if it would hurt, but how much – and whether any of them will make it through without ending in tragedy.
𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀
Hi my loves! 😚 In celebration of TWS’s upcoming comeback, I’ll be releasing a countdown series leading up to the official drop of NO TRAGEDY. From 4/22 to 4/27, each day will feature a fic inspired by a TWS member and their corresponding message from the NO TRAGEDY Track Sampler.
𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝙎
4.22 Shinyu – Signals may cross
4.23 Kyungmin – Many will oppose
4.24 Dohoon – Not all dreams come true
4.25 Jihoon – A small conflict may escalate
4.26 Hanjin – Nothing you desire will be possible
4.27 Youngjae – Something precious may be lost
6 different paths that diverge. 6 different types of pain. 6 stories of love that were never meant to be easy. 6 ways to approach love.
Reply to join the taglist (specify perm or series only)!
synopsis:
of course, you and shinyu fight right before he has to leave for a schedule overseas. until he gets back, you’re both left trying to make sense of everything without the comfort of each other. when he finally comes back, it might be your only chance to say everything that was left unfinished.
author’s note:
wrote this as i was taking a break from my ongoing fics but i promise i will be answering your requests soon!
You’ve checked your phone too many times to count.
No new messages. Not from him.
It’s been a full three days of almost no contact. The most you’ve sent was a short “Make sure to stay warm” and a “Have a safe flight” sent when you knew he was at the airport with the rest of TWS.
Now, you’re sitting on the floor outside of his dorm with your back pressed against the wall and knees pulled into your chest. You had overestimated when he would get back. You thought he’d already be at the dorms by now, but you soon realized that wasn’t the case. Still, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer, since you’re here already. So you scroll through your texts with him for what feels like the fiftieth time today.
You just miss him so much.
You’ve thought about texting him again. But you didn’t want to disturb him while he’s in Japan for his overseas schedule. And plus, it would be better to talk things out in person.
So instead, you lock your phone again and let your head fall back against the wall. The cool surface presses into the back of your head, but it doesn’t do much to calm the way your thoughts keep circling back to the same place over and over again. Back to that night.
You squeeze your eyes shut. You hadn’t meant for it to turn into a fight. It wasn’t supposed to.
Three days ago, he was sitting beside you when you had visited him last in the dorms at his request, his eyes glued to whatever schedule his manager had sent. You remember watching him for a second before saying anything. Maybe he’d look up on his own. He didn’t.
“Are you even listening to me?” you asked finally, trying your best to not sound irritated.
He blinked, like he’d just remembered you were there.
“What?” he replied.
“I’ve been talking for like five minutes.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back down at his phone again. “Just give me a second. They keep changing things for Japan.”
So you waited. You sat there for what feels like ages as he typed away on his phone. You found yourself trying to rehearse what to say in your head, trying to figure out how to say what you needed to without making things worse and messing everything up. You knew he was stressed, with the upcoming performance in Tokyo, but you didn’t want to not say anything at all.
“It’s just, you’ve barely talked to me all night.”
He finally looked at you fully, his brows furrowed in what you interpreted as annoyance.
“I’m busy.”
“I’m not saying you’re not,” you said quickly. “It just feels like you’re, I don’t know, somewhere else.”
He looked away, letting out a quiet laugh that didn’t sound amused at all.
“I have an overseas schedule in less than a day,” he said. “Of course I’m somewhere else right now.”
“Okay,” you said. You paused, unsure if you should keep talking or just stay silent.
“I don’t know what you want from me right now,” he continued. “I’m doing everything I can. You think this is easy for me?”
Now you felt wronged. And frustrated. It wasn’t like you didn’t get it.
“I didn’t say that,” you replied, trying your best to not get worked up.
“But you’re acting like I’m the one messing up here,” he pointed out.
“Why are you trying to turn this into some big thing? God forbid a girl just wanted her boyfriend to listen to her when she’s talking. If you’re so busy, then next time just don’t invite me over. If that’s what you wanna be like, I’ll just leave,” you said, standing up.
“Fine, then go. You’re the one who said something first, so don’t try to spin it on me and blame me for being annoyed.”
You didn’t even know what to say at that point. You swallowed and looked away for a second before facing him again.
“Yeah, maybe this just isn’t working right now,” you managed to get out.
“What?” he asked. His eyes had gone cold, as if he didn’t expect that from you.
“I didn’t mean,” you started, panic already rising as the weight of what you just said dawned on you. “I just meant, like in the moment, and with everything going on right now, maybe – ”
His phone rang. The sharp sound cut right through your sentence.
“My manager,” Shinyu muttered as he looked at the caller's name.
You watched as he stood up, answering the call with his back turned sideways to the wall.
“Yeah, I’m coming down,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
He hung up and grabbed his bag. You were freaking out internally at that point. You didn’t mean break up, if that was what he was thinking. That was the last thing you wanted.
“Shinyu,” you called out.
He paused, hand on his door. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
“I’ll text you when I land,” he said.
And then he left.
You still haven’t been able to forget the look on his face that night.
I didn’t mean it, you keep thinking to yourself, over and over, as if that would somehow travel over to him, thousands of miles away in Tokyo.
—
Shinyu wasn’t doing any better.
When he got to the hotel from the airport, the first thing he did was flop down onto the bed with his hands over his face, still in his jacket. He opened his phone to his messages. The last thing there was your name at the top.
Your words echoed back in his head.
“Yeah, maybe this just isn’t working right now…”
He hadn’t let himself think about it at the airport or on the plane, with the staff and members around him to distract him. But now, sitting here with nothing else on his mind, it came back all at once.
You were right when you said he wasn’t really there. Right when you said he hadn’t been paying attention. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you even if he was stressed.
He should text you. He should fix it. He unlocked his phone, and your chat opens instantly, like it’s been waiting.
He typed: I didn’t mean what I said earlier
He stared at it, and then deleted it.
He typed again: I’m sorry
He deleted it again.
Nothing sounded right. It didn’t feel enough.
And then there’s the other thought, one he didn’t want to admit out loud.
What if that wasn’t just frustration? What if you were already halfway out the door, and he just gave you the final push?
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Hyung, we’re heading down now,” one of the members called from outside. “Manager said ten minutes.”
“Okay,” he answered automatically.
Shinyu grabbed his phone again before standing, hesitating only briefly before opening your chat once more to text you that he landed.
And then he locked his phone and pushed himself off of the bed. There was still a schedule to attend, after all. But it didn’t make him feel less worse about the situation.
—
“We’re here,” someone says.
It wakes Shinyu up, his head resting against the glass. One by one, the members step out, stretching and grabbing their bags from the trunk. Shinyu follows last.
They head inside together, shoes scuffing against the floor. Their voices echo in the hallway as they make their way up.
Shinyu adjusts the strap of his back on his shoulder as they turn the final corner, and then he sees you.
You’re sitting on the floor right in front of his door, your head leaned against the wall like you’ve been waiting for a while. For him.
“Were you here this whole time?” he asks immediately.
You straight up at his appearance, giving a small, sheepish nod.
“Well, I thought you were back already, but it seems I got the times mixed up,” you clarify.
The members notice the tension left over from your fight, their conversations trailing off as they look between the two of you.
“We’ll go in first,” Youngjae says, leading the way as the rest follow, moving as fast as they can to give you and Shinyu your space.
Doors open and close down the hall, and then it’s empty again. Silence falls over the two of you, just you and him.
“Come inside,” Shinyu says softly as he holds the door out for you. “We can go to my room.”
You push yourself up from the floor and follow him quietly after slipping off your shoes at the entrance. The door closes behind you with a soft click.
You walk into his room first, and once inside, you turn around to face Shinyu, who’s taking his jacket off near the entrance.
“Hi,” you say cautiously as he turns back to you.
Maybe the apprehension was obvious in your expression, because Shinyu opens his arms without hesitation, motioning for you to come over.
“Come here,” he says quietly.
You hug him instantly as tightly as you can, like you’re afraid he might disappear again if you don’t. He wraps his arms around you, and immediately, tears are brimming as you try to blink them away rapidly.
“I’m sorry,” you rush to say, though your voice is muffled against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean what I said that night, I didn’t mean it like that at all. I was just frustrated, and I – ”
“I know,” Shinyu reassures softly, one hand coming up to the back of your head to hold you closer, if that was even possible. “I know.”
“That was probably the worst thing I could’ve said and I didn’t even think and then you had to leave and I couldn’t fix it and – ”
“Hey.”
Despite everything, his voice is gentle as he cuts you off.
You pull back just enough to look at him. Your eyes are still a little glassy, and your lashes are still a little damp. He exhales quietly at the sight.
“I know you didn’t mean it,” he reassures, his voice more firm this time.
His thumb brushes under your eye to catch a stray tear before it falls.
“I didn’t handle it well either,” he admits. “You were right; I wasn’t listening. Even before you said anything, I wasn’t paying attention at all. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to talk to me.”
“I just missed you,” you say, your voice quieter now.
“I missed you too,” Shinyu says. “Even more after I left. I’m sorry I made you feel like you didn’t matter.”
“You didn’t make me feel like I didn’t matter,” you clarify quickly as you shake your head. “Just, I don’t know, a little ignored I guess.”
“Still,” he murmurs.
“So, we’re good, right?” you say, wanting to make sure you hear it from him.
“Of course,” Shinyu answers immediately. His hands are still resting on your arms. “Unless… is there anything else on your mind?”
“Well, no, I just don’t want this to happen again,” you say truthfully.
“Yeah, me neither.”
He pauses before continuing.
“I think I just didn’t say anything about how stressed I was. I thought it would just go away without me having to say or do anything. But then I ended up taking it out on you,” Shinyu admits.
“And I think I waited too long to say something about how I felt. I kept telling myself to just be understanding, that it would all pass, but then it all kind of, just, built up.”
“Exploded,” he offers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah.”
For a moment, you just look at him, and he looks right back.
“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me,” you add. “About how you feel, or when you’re stressed. You can always talk to me.”
“I’ll try not to shut you out when things get overwhelming. And when you need reassurance, I’ll make sure you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being misunderstood again,” Shinyu says.
“I like that,” you agree, a small smile now on your face.
“So it’s a deal?”
“Deal.”
Then his hands slide down to gently take yours as he laces your fingers together.
“I really didn’t like not talking to you,” Shinyu admits after a moment as he glances down at your joined hands.
“Me neither,” you say quietly. “Can we agree to never do that again?”
“Please,” he nods, exhaling softly as he gives your hand a small squeeze before looking back up at you. “So you waited here the whole time?”
“Well, for maybe 20 minutes? I thought you were going to arrive an hour earlier than you did, so,” you say.
You hesitate, then add, “I also wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me if I texted first.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Shinyu asks, his brows knitting together a little.
“I didn’t know what you were thinking after that night.”
His expression shifts to that of apologetic in the way he looks at you.
“I was thinking about you the whole time,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to say anything without making it worse.”
“Same,” you mumble.
Then he tugs you closer until there’s barely any space left between you, his arms naturally wrapping around you again. He guides you both back until you’re sitting on the edge of his bed.
synopsis:
of course, you and shinyu fight right before he has to leave for a schedule overseas. until he gets back, you’re both left trying to make sense of everything without the comfort of each other. when he finally comes back, it might be your only chance to say everything that was left unfinished.
author’s note:
wrote this as i was taking a break from my ongoing fics but i promise i will be answering your requests soon!
You’ve checked your phone too many times to count.
No new messages. Not from him.
It’s been a full three days of almost no contact. The most you’ve sent was a short “Make sure to stay warm” and a “Have a safe flight” sent when you knew he was at the airport with the rest of TWS.
Now, you’re sitting on the floor outside of his dorm with your back pressed against the wall and knees pulled into your chest. You had overestimated when he would get back. You thought he’d already be at the dorms by now, but you soon realized that wasn’t the case. Still, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer, since you’re here already. So you scroll through your texts with him for what feels like the fiftieth time today.
You just miss him so much.
You’ve thought about texting him again. But you didn’t want to disturb him while he’s in Japan for his overseas schedule. And plus, it would be better to talk things out in person.
So instead, you lock your phone again and let your head fall back against the wall. The cool surface presses into the back of your head, but it doesn’t do much to calm the way your thoughts keep circling back to the same place over and over again. Back to that night.
You squeeze your eyes shut. You hadn’t meant for it to turn into a fight. It wasn’t supposed to.
Three days ago, he was sitting beside you when you had visited him last in the dorms at his request, his eyes glued to whatever schedule his manager had sent. You remember watching him for a second before saying anything. Maybe he’d look up on his own. He didn’t.
“Are you even listening to me?” you asked finally, trying your best to not sound irritated.
He blinked, like he’d just remembered you were there.
“What?” he replied.
“I’ve been talking for like five minutes.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back down at his phone again. “Just give me a second. They keep changing things for Japan.”
So you waited. You sat there for what feels like ages as he typed away on his phone. You found yourself trying to rehearse what to say in your head, trying to figure out how to say what you needed to without making things worse and messing everything up. You knew he was stressed, with the upcoming performance in Tokyo, but you didn’t want to not say anything at all.
“It’s just, you’ve barely talked to me all night.”
He finally looked at you fully, his brows furrowed in what you interpreted as annoyance.
“I’m busy.”
“I’m not saying you’re not,” you said quickly. “It just feels like you’re, I don’t know, somewhere else.”
He looked away, letting out a quiet laugh that didn’t sound amused at all.
“I have an overseas schedule in less than a day,” he said. “Of course I’m somewhere else right now.”
“Okay,” you said. You paused, unsure if you should keep talking or just stay silent.
“I don’t know what you want from me right now,” he continued. “I’m doing everything I can. You think this is easy for me?”
Now you felt wronged. And frustrated. It wasn’t like you didn’t get it.
“I didn’t say that,” you replied, trying your best to not get worked up.
“But you’re acting like I’m the one messing up here,” he pointed out.
“Why are you trying to turn this into some big thing? God forbid a girl just wanted her boyfriend to listen to her when she’s talking. If you’re so busy, then next time just don’t invite me over. If that’s what you wanna be like, I’ll just leave,” you said, standing up.
“Fine, then go. You’re the one who said something first, so don’t try to spin it on me and blame me for being annoyed.”
You didn’t even know what to say at that point. You swallowed and looked away for a second before facing him again.
“Yeah, maybe this just isn’t working right now,” you managed to get out.
“What?” he asked. His eyes had gone cold, as if he didn’t expect that from you.
“I didn’t mean,” you started, panic already rising as the weight of what you just said dawned on you. “I just meant, like in the moment, and with everything going on right now, maybe – ”
His phone rang. The sharp sound cut right through your sentence.
“My manager,” Shinyu muttered as he looked at the caller's name.
You watched as he stood up, answering the call with his back turned sideways to the wall.
“Yeah, I’m coming down,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
He hung up and grabbed his bag. You were freaking out internally at that point. You didn’t mean break up, if that was what he was thinking. That was the last thing you wanted.
“Shinyu,” you called out.
He paused, hand on his door. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
“I’ll text you when I land,” he said.
And then he left.
You still haven’t been able to forget the look on his face that night.
I didn’t mean it, you keep thinking to yourself, over and over, as if that would somehow travel over to him, thousands of miles away in Tokyo.
—
Shinyu wasn’t doing any better.
When he got to the hotel from the airport, the first thing he did was flop down onto the bed with his hands over his face, still in his jacket. He opened his phone to his messages. The last thing there was your name at the top.
Your words echoed back in his head.
“Yeah, maybe this just isn’t working right now…”
He hadn’t let himself think about it at the airport or on the plane, with the staff and members around him to distract him. But now, sitting here with nothing else on his mind, it came back all at once.
You were right when you said he wasn’t really there. Right when you said he hadn’t been paying attention. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you even if he was stressed.
He should text you. He should fix it. He unlocked his phone, and your chat opens instantly, like it’s been waiting.
He typed: I didn’t mean what I said earlier
He stared at it, and then deleted it.
He typed again: I’m sorry
He deleted it again.
Nothing sounded right. It didn’t feel enough.
And then there’s the other thought, one he didn’t want to admit out loud.
What if that wasn’t just frustration? What if you were already halfway out the door, and he just gave you the final push?
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Hyung, we’re heading down now,” one of the members called from outside. “Manager said ten minutes.”
“Okay,” he answered automatically.
Shinyu grabbed his phone again before standing, hesitating only briefly before opening your chat once more to text you that he landed.
And then he locked his phone and pushed himself off of the bed. There was still a schedule to attend, after all. But it didn’t make him feel less worse about the situation.
—
“We’re here,” someone says.
It wakes Shinyu up, his head resting against the glass. One by one, the members step out, stretching and grabbing their bags from the trunk. Shinyu follows last.
They head inside together, shoes scuffing against the floor. Their voices echo in the hallway as they make their way up.
Shinyu adjusts the strap of his back on his shoulder as they turn the final corner, and then he sees you.
You’re sitting on the floor right in front of his door, your head leaned against the wall like you’ve been waiting for a while. For him.
“Were you here this whole time?” he asks immediately.
You straight up at his appearance, giving a small, sheepish nod.
“Well, I thought you were back already, but it seems I got the times mixed up,” you clarify.
The members notice the tension left over from your fight, their conversations trailing off as they look between the two of you.
“We’ll go in first,” Youngjae says, leading the way as the rest follow, moving as fast as they can to give you and Shinyu your space.
Doors open and close down the hall, and then it’s empty again. Silence falls over the two of you, just you and him.
“Come inside,” Shinyu says softly as he holds the door out for you. “We can go to my room.”
You push yourself up from the floor and follow him quietly after slipping off your shoes at the entrance. The door closes behind you with a soft click.
You walk into his room first, and once inside, you turn around to face Shinyu, who’s taking his jacket off near the entrance.
“Hi,” you say cautiously as he turns back to you.
Maybe the apprehension was obvious in your expression, because Shinyu opens his arms without hesitation, motioning for you to come over.
“Come here,” he says quietly.
You hug him instantly as tightly as you can, like you’re afraid he might disappear again if you don’t. He wraps his arms around you, and immediately, tears are brimming as you try to blink them away rapidly.
“I’m sorry,” you rush to say, though your voice is muffled against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean what I said that night, I didn’t mean it like that at all. I was just frustrated, and I – ”
“I know,” Shinyu reassures softly, one hand coming up to the back of your head to hold you closer, if that was even possible. “I know.”
“That was probably the worst thing I could’ve said and I didn’t even think and then you had to leave and I couldn’t fix it and – ”
“Hey.”
Despite everything, his voice is gentle as he cuts you off.
You pull back just enough to look at him. Your eyes are still a little glassy, and your lashes are still a little damp. He exhales quietly at the sight.
“I know you didn’t mean it,” he reassures, his voice more firm this time.
His thumb brushes under your eye to catch a stray tear before it falls.
“I didn’t handle it well either,” he admits. “You were right; I wasn’t listening. Even before you said anything, I wasn’t paying attention at all. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to talk to me.”
“I just missed you,” you say, your voice quieter now.
“I missed you too,” Shinyu says. “Even more after I left. I’m sorry I made you feel like you didn’t matter.”
“You didn’t make me feel like I didn’t matter,” you clarify quickly as you shake your head. “Just, I don’t know, a little ignored I guess.”
“Still,” he murmurs.
“So, we’re good, right?” you say, wanting to make sure you hear it from him.
“Of course,” Shinyu answers immediately. His hands are still resting on your arms. “Unless… is there anything else on your mind?”
“Well, no, I just don’t want this to happen again,” you say truthfully.
“Yeah, me neither.”
He pauses before continuing.
“I think I just didn’t say anything about how stressed I was. I thought it would just go away without me having to say or do anything. But then I ended up taking it out on you,” Shinyu admits.
“And I think I waited too long to say something about how I felt. I kept telling myself to just be understanding, that it would all pass, but then it all kind of, just, built up.”
“Exploded,” he offers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah.”
For a moment, you just look at him, and he looks right back.
“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me,” you add. “About how you feel, or when you’re stressed. You can always talk to me.”
“I’ll try not to shut you out when things get overwhelming. And when you need reassurance, I’ll make sure you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being misunderstood again,” Shinyu says.
“I like that,” you agree, a small smile now on your face.
“So it’s a deal?”
“Deal.”
Then his hands slide down to gently take yours as he laces your fingers together.
“I really didn’t like not talking to you,” Shinyu admits after a moment as he glances down at your joined hands.
“Me neither,” you say quietly. “Can we agree to never do that again?”
“Please,” he nods, exhaling softly as he gives your hand a small squeeze before looking back up at you. “So you waited here the whole time?”
“Well, for maybe 20 minutes? I thought you were going to arrive an hour earlier than you did, so,” you say.
You hesitate, then add, “I also wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me if I texted first.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Shinyu asks, his brows knitting together a little.
“I didn’t know what you were thinking after that night.”
His expression shifts to that of apologetic in the way he looks at you.
“I was thinking about you the whole time,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to say anything without making it worse.”
“Same,” you mumble.
Then he tugs you closer until there’s barely any space left between you, his arms naturally wrapping around you again. He guides you both back until you’re sitting on the edge of his bed.
y'all icl i've been working on this jihoon special fic for his bday for AGES it just isn't ready but i rly can't delay posting it any further... i fear it may never make it out of my drafts 🥲🥲💔
synopsis:
everyone wants dohoon. he’s effortlessly charming, untouchable, and the popular guy. inspired by rude by hearts2hearts, you’re the one who simply doesn’t care. you refuse to just be another girl on his list. but somehow, when he’s forced to prove that you’re not just a game to him, that he actually means it, you start to fall for him too.
author’s note: rude by hearts2hearts has genuinely been my latest obsession the moment they released it and i thought it was so fitting for this kind of story. i’ve been quietly working on it ever since, and i can’t wait to share this with everybody!!
The last bell of the day had rung maybe two minutes ago, which means the hallway is now alive as usual with the hustle of students freshly out of class. Sneakers squeak against the tile, lockers slam shut, and friends holler at each other from across the corridor. You’re leaning back against the cool metal of your locker with one earbud tucked in as you scroll through your phone mindlessly.
Across the hall, Dohoon and the rest of the basketball team move down the hall like they own the place, as per usual. They’re talking over each other and laughing too loudly, and as they walk past, conversations happening around them pause for the second. Girls leaning against lockers glance up, some whispering to each other, others pretending to check their phones while clearly watching them go by. Dohoon’s eyes travel down the hall as he walks, and instantly, he spots you leaning against your locker, a loose strand of hair tucked behind your ear and framing your face. His steps slow almost immediately before he stops right in front of you. You notice his shadow first, stretching across the floor toward you, and then his sneakers, which stopped right in front of you.
Finally, you lift your head wordlessly, taking out your earbud slowly. He smirks like he’s been caught, but his eyes reveal his interest nonetheless.
“I was gonna say hi”
“You were?” you repeat, your tone flat with disinterest.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
He keeps his eyes trained on you, waiting for you to fall at his feet the way people usually do.
“You didn’t notice me?”
But instead of shrinking under his attention the way he probably expects, you simply look at him with indifference.
“Were you expecting me to?” you say, already lifting your hand to slip your earbud back into your ear.
He’s looking at you strangely, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re actually being serious.
“Most people say hi,” he says. Behind him, the conversation among his friends has died down. They’re all watching now, waiting for the usual outcome where the girl laughs, bats her eyes, and plays along.
Instead, you reply, “Most people have low standards then.”
And just like that, you push yourself off the locker and walk past him.
You don’t see the way his friends stare wide-eyed after you. You don’t hear Shinyu mutter, “Did she just…?”
You definitely don’t see the slow smile spreading across Dohoon’s face as he turns to watch you disappear into the crowd, thoroughly intrigued now. You don’t notice that for the first time in what feels like forever to him, he watches someone walk away from him instead of the other way around.
And for some reason, that makes him want to follow.
—
Dohoon doesn’t seem to understand the concept of “no.” Or at least, he thinks it doesn’t apply to him.
So a few days later after that hallway interaction, it shouldn’t be a surprise that you walk into class to find him sitting in the chair beside your desk, one leg stretched assertively into the aisle. Not in the back where he usually sits with the rest of his friends. He doesn’t say anything when you approach. Instead, he just glances up as you pull out your chair as if silently checking your reaction. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll acknowledge him first.
You don’t. You set your bag down and start flipping through your notes like the seat next to you isn’t suddenly occupied by the most talked-about guy in your grade.
Later that day, in the lunch line, he appears as a presence just behind your shoulder. You step forward. He does too. You move your tray along the rail. He does the same. In fact, he’s close enough that if you took a step backward, you’d probably bump right into him.
“You’re avoiding me,” he says one afternoon as he slides back into his newly claimed seat in the classroom
You don’t look up from highlighting your notes.
“You flatter yourself.”
Everyone knows that Dohoon is charming. Effortlessly so, as a matter of fact. He’s the kind of student teachers shake their heads at with a tired smile but never actually punish. The kind who gets called out but talks his way out of getting in trouble just by flashing a grin paired with some sweet-talk.
Moreover, girls tend to orbit around him, and he knows exactly how to keep them there. When someone talks to him, his eyes focus on you like whatever you’re saying is the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. He remembers small things people mention. He makes you feel like you’ve caught his attention in a way no one else has. He’s good at that. And it makes you feel singled out and special.
But he never really promises anything. There’s no official label. No public declaration. Just lingering glances, conversations that seem meaningful on the outside, hangouts that happen here and there. And then eventually, they taper off in a way that makes the girl start wondering if she imagined it all in the first place. By the time she realizes, he’s already gone, laughing at someone else’s joke across the hallway. Already leaning against another locker.
The thing is, he dosn’t even look like someone you’re supposed to dislike. If anything, the way he moves from girl to girl only feeds into his persona. As if being chosen, even briefly, is proof you were special enough to catch his attention in the first place. That’s his reputation: the boy everyone swears they won’t fall for but inevitably swoon over. But you’ve seen enough to know better.
He leans back in his chair.
“Let me take you out.”
“Why?”
He stares at you like you’ve just asked him something confusing, something no one’s asked him before.
“Because I want to,” he says, bewildered.
“You want a lot of things,” you reply without even sparing a glance. “Doesn’t mean you get them.”
He’s caught slightly off guard, though you don’t notice. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.
“You’re different,” he insists.
“Do you say that to every girl? If you’re bored, go entertain someone else,” you say as you slide your stuff back into your bag. Then you stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
And you leave him there, sitting with his fingers still curling against the edge of the desk. His eyes linger on the empty chair across from him, on the tiny eraser markings adorning the table. He’s still staring at the space you just vacated, confused, because that’s not how this usually goes.
This time, the wheel slipped out of his hands before he could do anything about it. And he doesn’t know how to feel about being out of control for once.
—
A week later, he tries again.
The classroom erupts into movement as students gather up their belongings to leave. Conversations spill into the hallway before people even reach the door. You take your time packing your things, but as you step past the doorway, Dohoon steps into view immediately. Leaning against the wall just outside the door, his arms are folded loosely across his chest. He falls into stride beside you instantly.
“Are you always this difficult?” he asks, a hint of amusement apparent.
“Are you always this persistent?” you hit back.
“For you? Apparently.”
“You don’t like me,” you start. “You’re just here because I’m not obsessed with you. And until you figure out if you’re really interested in me or just bored, don’t ask me out again.”
Then you turn and head down the stairs, leaving Dohoon where he is. Hands at his sides, he watches as you disappear into the moving cluster of students until he can’t see you anymore.
—
Students flood through the halls as the last class finally ends. Voices overlap with the sharp clang of lockers and the shuffle of shoes against the polished floor. Dohoon stands with Shinyu and youngjae, who are in the middle of arguing about something completely pointless that happened during basketball practice yesterday. Dohoon has already tuned them out. Instead, he’s staring down the hallway simply because there’s nothing better to look at. That’s when he sees you.
You’re standing near the stairwell with one hand hooked around the strap of your bag, clearly about to leave for the day. Except someone’s blocking your way.
Dohoon recognizes him immediately. Minjae.
Second-year. Starting forward on the soccer team. Loud, cocky, and generally known for being the kind of guy who thinks rules don’t really apply to him just because he’s popular.
Youngjae leans forward, following Dohoon’s line of sight, and notices right away.
“Wait, isn’t that Minjae?”
Dohoon doesn’t answer. His attention stays fixed on the scene unfolding down the hall. Minjae has one arm propped against the wall beside you, seemingly casual, but clearly with the intent to assert himself.
“So,” Minjae says confidently. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
You look at him. Your expression is completely unimpressed.
“Oh. Have you?”
“Yeah,” he continues, like the answer is obvious. “You’re kind of hard to catch, to be honest.”
You nod but don’t say anything else. Minjae clears his throat and tries again.
“I think you’re cute,” he says. “So we should hang out sometime. I’m free this weekend.”
“You want to hang out?” you ask, pursing your lips together in mild confusion.
“Yeah,” he says, “like a date.”
The confidence in his voice makes it sound like he already thinks that it’s a done deal. Dohoon, on the other hand, watches your reaction carefully. You’re not blushing or laughing nervously in your hand like one would expect you to in that situation. Instead, you sigh quietly, like someone had just asked you a question you’ve already heard too many times.
“No.”
Minjae blinks.
“No?”
“No,” you repeat.
For a second, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that answer. Then he laughs, trying to recover.
“Come on,” he asserts. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” you ask calmly.
“You know, playing hard to get. It’s okay. I know you’re into me.”
You almost roll your eyes.
“I’m not playing anything. I’m saying no,” you say flatly without hesitation.
Minjae glances around, suddenly aware that people might be listening. The way you brush him off seems to irritate him as his eyes narrow at your attitude.
“You know most girls would kill for me to ask them out, right?”
“Then go ask them instead,” you say, unfazed in the slightest.
The bluntness of your response hits like a slap in the face.
“How can you be so sure?” Minjae scoffs, his outward facade evaporating instantly.
“Because I don’t want to associate myself with guys who treat people like garbage. Or guys who think they’re somehow above everyone else.”
Minjae lets out a short laugh.
“You’re seriously judging me over rumors?”
“Believe what you want,” you say.
You step slightly to the side, clearly ready to leave.
“I’d rather not waste my time.”
He scoffs again as he pushes away from the wall.
“Whatever,” he mutters in an attempt to save face. “You’re not even my type anyway.”
Minjae clearly expects that to catch you off guard, or at least to prompt some kind of reaction.
Instead, you simply reply, “Good. That makes this easier for the both of us, then.”
Then you turn and continue down the hallway toward the exit, where A-na and Yuha are standing, waiting for you so that you can leave together.
A couple of students nearby laugh under their breath. Minjae shoots them an irritated glare before stalking off in the opposite direction, and Dohoon can’t help but let out a laugh as well.
Back by the lockers, Shinyu lets out a low whistle, muttering, “Damn.”
“She’s a badass for that,” Youngjae says, shaking his head. “Minjae was always annoying. I don’t know how anyone stands him.”
Dohoon doesn’t say anything. His eyes are still in a trance, watching the hallway where you were just standing.
Who does she think she is? he thinks automatically. But he’s not annoyed. If anything, he’s impressed.
Dohoon finally looks away from the hallway. But the curiosity doesn’t go away.
—
The party comes a week later on a Friday night. You can already hear it even from halfway down the street. Bass pulses through the neighborhood like the thrum of a heartbeat, vibrating through the pavement beneath your shoes. The house itself glows brightly with blazing porch lights flashing through windows fogged from the heat of too many bodies inside. Every time the front door swings open, laughter spills out along with shouted greetings and the clinking of bottles knocking together.
The place is already overflowing by the time you step inside. The air smells like a dizzying mix of sugary drinks, cheap cologne, someone’s perfume lingering in the hallway, and the greasiness from the pizza lying on the kitchen counter. Heat clings to your skin almost immediately, the room thick and humid as bodies press shoulder to shoulder.
You have to slide sideways through the crowd just to make it past the doorway. Your shoulders brush against the people around you, and the fabric of your skirt grazes someone’s denim jacket as you make your way through the hallway. Somewhere behind you, someone whoops loudly as the song switches to one that’s even more bass-boosted, and the opening chords send half the living room into a chorus of cheers.
You’ve always enjoyed parties like this. You thrive in the chaos, in the energy humming through the air and pulsing through your body. There’s something freeing about being swallowed up by a crowd as you dance with your friends without having to care about anything else.
“(Name)!” Stella shouts as she spots you from across the room. She’s already rushing over, squealing as she throws her arms around you.
“Stella!” you laugh as she hugs you excitedly, bouncing excitedly up and down. “You look so good!”
“Girl, you too!” A-na exclaims, hurrying over to join the hug.
Tonight you’re wearing something simple: a cropped top and a miniskirt. Nothing particularly dramatic. Yet you’re completely oblivious to the ways eyes follow you as you move through the room. You barely make it halfway to the kitchen before a couple of guys make their way over to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. One leans casually against the wall behind him while another offers you a drink from the cluttered line of plastic cups and half-empty bottles.
You accept it out of politeness, the cold rim of the cup chilling the tips of your fingers. The drink smells distinctively of something sweet mixed with something sour. After a moment, you set it down without taking a sip, though you entertain their conversation easily with just the slightest hint of playfulness in the way you respond.
Across the room, Shinyu nudges Dohoon in the side with his elbow.
“Isn’t that the girl you like?”
Dohoon barely glances up at first. The house is packed with people; there’s nothing unusual about seeing another familiar face in the crowd.
But when his eyes follow the direction that Shinyu was referring to, they land on you. And he freezes instantly.
The lights above your head catch in your hair as you laugh at something the guy in front of you just said. He can’t quite make out what you were saying, but it doesn’t take much to notice the confident, relaxed way in which you carry yourself. What he notices even more, though, is the distance. You’re not leaning into the guy’s shoulder, even though he clearly looks eager for you to. You’re not touching his arm either. Dohoon finds himself smirking before he can stop himself.
You hadn’t mentioned you’d be there. Though, he realizes a second later, why would you? Still, the sight of you here is entirely not what he expected when he decided to drop by for a bit, and Dohoon stands up a little straighter, suddenly feeling more conscious of himself and the party as a whole.
And then you feel it, that familiar sensation of being watched. Your eyes look past the guy in front of you until they land across the room. Right on Dohoon. A flicker of surprise crosses your face. You didn’t expect him to be there either, staring at you like that.
Then, just as quickly, you look away. The conversation in front of you resumes as the guy says something else that elicits a smile from you again. But Dohoon doesn’t stop watching. Not until Shinyu’s voice cuts through the music.
“Dude.”
Dohoon’s head snaps away. Without thinking, he pulls his phone from his pocket, the cool glow of the display lighting his face as he pretends to scroll.
“Why aren’t you talking to any girls?” Shinyu asks over the music.
It’s a fair question. Normally, by now, Dohoon would have made his way through half of the house already. On most nights, a girl would be right by his side at this point. But tonight, he’s still standing alone and half of the party has already passed.
“Don’t feel like it,” he replies with a shrug.
But he knows exactly what would happen if he tried to act normal tonight. He’d fall back into his usual flirting. Maybe you’d notice, maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, it would feel like proving your point.
Across the room, you’re now laughing with your friends again as red, blue, and green lights flicker across the walls. And suddenly, Dohoon realizes he doesn’t want to be here anymore. So he leaves. While everyone continues drinking and hooking up all around him, he slips quietly down the hallway and pushes open the back door. The cool night air rushes over him instantly, washing away the heat clinging to his skin. Behind him, the door swings shut with a dull click that instantly muffles the music into nothing but the distant thud of the bass.
You don’t notice at all. Your friends drag you toward the living room, closer to the speakers where the beat pounds through your chest and vibrates against your ribs. It isn’t until later – maybe forty minutes, maybe longer – that someone mentions it offhandedly.
“Crazy that he dipped already, huh?” A-na says, leaning closer so you can hear her over the music.
You tilt your head.
“Who?”
“Dohoon!” Stella calls from beside her, cupping a hand around her mouth in an attempt to make herself sound louder.
“He left?”
Your face contorts in confusion. It was so incredibly unlike him. He’s typically the kind of person who stays until the very end, with different girls trailing after him one by one. Though you’d never really witnessed it yourself, all kinds of stories about him reached you long before you ever cared enough to pay attention.
“Yeah,” she says, “it’s so weird that he left early.”
Your gaze moves over the crowded living room, past the cluster of people dancing and taking pictures together, toward the kitchen where you’d been standing earlier before you can stop yourself. You can barely make out faces under the flashing lights. Maybe he stepped outside for a moment. Maybe he’s hooking up with a girl in a deserted hallway. But eventually, you accept that he’s nowhere to be seen.
—
The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand. Your arm stretches to reach for it as you rub your eyes.
A message. From Dohoon.
kim dohoon: did you get home safe?
Everything from the night before rushes back at once. You remember the music, the dancing, the laughter, but you also remember the strange feeling simmering in your chest when you realized he’d already left.
you: yeah
Your fingers hover for a moment before you type again.
you: why did you leave?
His reply comes almost immediately.
kim dohoon: didn’t feel like staying
You stare at the screen before the corner of your mouth lifts into a knowing smirk. Liar.
You know he isn’t saying the whole truth. The Dohoon everyone knows would never leave a party without a reason, and definitely not without flirting with half the girls first. But something about the way he’s holding back now sends a small, unsettling flutter through your stomach.
Because if he’s actually trying, if this is real effort, then suddenly, the situation feels a lot less simple.
—
After that, Dohoon starts to actually show up for you. If he says he’ll meet you after class, he’s already there before you can even step foot outside of the door, leaning against the lockers with his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s been waiting for a while. And when you walk together through the hallways, he’s matching your pace deliberately, his shoulder brushing yours every so often as students move around you.
At lunch, he starts remembering what you normally grab before you even reach the front of the line. Some days, there’s already a drink sitting at your seat when you sit down. If you mention something once, like an assignment you’re worried about, weekend plans you have with your friends, or something random you said in passing, he’ll bring it up again later like he actually remembered.
None of it feels overly performative, and if anything, it feels strangely normal. He’s still the same Dohoon everyone else knows. Except now, when you glance up across a crowded hallway, his eyes are already looking for you.
Even if he’s not acting obvious about it, it’s hard for people not to notice his behavior. At lunch, Dohoon, Shinyu, and a couple of his friends gather around their usual table. One of them, Kyungmin, leans back in his chair as he eyes Dohoon with exaggerated suspicion.
“Something’s off,” he says, pointing his fork toward Dohoon. “Are you actually serious about (Name) this time? Or are you just messing around for the fun of it?”
Dohoon just shrugs as he pokes the food on his tray.
“Come on,” Jihoon groans dramatically. “Anyone can tell that you’re literally whipped.”
The table erupts into laughter. Normally, Dohoon would laugh along with them and brush it off with some careless comment, something like “Relax, I’m just playing. I don’t even like her like that.”
But this time, he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his head slightly and says, “And so what if I am?”
They quiet down immediately.
“Wait, are you actually serious about this?” Youngjae asks. “Don’t try to lead her on just to dump her later.”
“I actually think he’s serious this time,” Shinyu confirms. “Remember that party last week? He didn’t pay attention to a single girl that tried to flirt with him. It was really odd.”
“Wow,” Jihoon says, leaning forward in disbelief. “You’re really serious this time.”
Dohoon just shrugs again, but this time, a small smile lingers on his face.
—
It’s raining by the time you step outside after school. And it’s not a light drizzle, either. The rain falls hard and steady, pouring from the sky in silver sheets that blur the parking lot into a gray haze. Water droplets splash against the pavement and gather in shallow puddles that ripple endlessly with every drop. The air is tinged with the smell of wet asphalt and damp grass.
You stand beneath the awning outside the school entrance in front of the wall where the concrete overhang offers some protection from the downpour. Students rush past in scattered waves. Some sprint for their cars with backpacks pulled over their heads, while others huddle beneath umbrellas blowing backwards from the wind.
Conveniently, your sister texts just as you pull out your phone to message her.
carmen unnie: i’m still stuck at work
carmen unnie: can you see if any of your friends or mom can drive you?
carmen unnie: sorry!
Of course. You sigh quietly and slip your phone back into your pocket.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
You turn your head to see Dohoon standing beside you, his dark hair slightly damp from the mist drifting in under the awning.
“You follow me around now?” you ask.
He glances at you, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of mouth.
“Not on purpose, clearly. I didn’t know you’d be here”
A small laugh escapes you as he looks back out at the rain.
“Who’s picking you up?” he asks.
“My sister,” you say. “Though she just texted that she’s going to be late.”
“How late?”
“She’s still stuck at work, so probably pretty late,” you reply.
He studies you for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He taps something quickly before turning the screen toward you, displaying the GPS app.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
He doesn’t explain. Instead, he asks, “What’s your address? I’ll drive you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“You live in the opposite direction.”
“So?” he says. “Plus, who knows how long you’ll be standing out here for.”
Before you can respond, he pulls out an umbrella from his backpack and holds it out toward you.
“What?”
“Open it,” he says. “Unless you want to walk to my car in the pouring rain.”
You sigh softly before opening it, raising your arm so the umbrella covers both of you. He notices the way your arm is reaching at an awkward angle, and without saying anything, he reaches over to take the handle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he does. The brief contact sends a small ripple of goosebumps up your arm that has nothing to do with the cold.
He holds the umbrella over both of you as you hurry through the rain. When you reach his car, the rain is hitting his jacket in steady taps while he waits for you to climb in first. You glance at him as he starts the engine.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
His eyes stay on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
After that, neither of you say much. The only sound inside the car is the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth. And as you sit in the silence, you can’t help but realize that something between the two of you has changed.
—
Later that week, you’re standing in the bathroom before you go to your next class. You lean toward the mirror as you comb your hair with your fingers, smoothing a stray piece back into place.
The door swings open behind you. Two girls walk in mid conversation as their voices reverberate against the tiled walls. They don’t seem to notice you standing there.
“Did you see them at lunch?”
“Yeah,” the second girl scoffs. “It’s so weird.”
Your hand pauses for half a second before you continue fixing your hair.
“I don’t get it.”
“Me neither. She’s not even his type.”
“Give it a month,” the first girl says.
“Please,” the other laughs. “It won’t even take that long. He’ll get bored. He always does.”
They burst into another fit of giggles.
“And the only reason why he’s into her is because she acts like she doesn’t care. Other than that she’s not much different from everyone else.”
That’s when you’re certain they’re talking about you. Their voices fade away as you stare at your reflection. You press your lips together as your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter immediately.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is just temporary.
You take a breath.
It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter, you tell yourself.
By the time the girls leave, the door swinging shut behind them, you’ve already gathered yourself again. You straighten up, push the thought aside, and walk out of the bathroom after them.
—
Music rattles the glass bottles scattered across the kitchen counter, the sound swallowed by the roar of voices and laughter filling every corner of the house. Colored reds and blues and sickly neon purples flash intermittently across the walls as students party shoulder to shoulder.
You hadn’t planned on staying long. Just stop by for a moment, take a few cute pictures with your friends, say hi to people you know, then leave. But soon thirty minutes turn into an hour and then an hour and a half.
You weave through the crowd with ease, slipping between clusters of people like you belong exactly where you are. As you enter the room, you spot him across from you immediately.
Dohoon is standing near the far wall with a group of his friends. A drink hangs from his fingers, and someone beside him tells a story that has the whole group laughing. But the moment his eyes sweep across the room and land on you, he’s instantly distracted as his eyes stay glued to you. He takes you in – the way that you look, the way your hair falls around your shoulders.
He watches you for a moment longer before handing his drink to Youngjae, who’s right beside him. Jihoon claps him on the back as he pushes away from the wall. Dohoon starts making his way toward you, moving carefully between groups of people like he’s trying to keep it casual and not at all obvious.
You pretend not to notice until he’s standing right in front of you.
“You came,” he says.
“Yeah, I did.”
He laughs softly at that, the sound nearly lost under the pounding music. For a while, you both hang around each other comfortably. He stays near you, close enough that if you stepped sideways, you’d bump into him. People notice; they always do. Glances flicker your way from across the room. Curious looks from classmates who are clearly trying to figure out what’s going on between the two of you.
“Yo, Dohoon!”
It’s one of the louder guys from your grade. Martin. He stumbles over, clearly having had a little too much fun. He swings one of his arms around Dohoon’s shoulders like they’ve been friends forever before his gaze lands on you.
“So what’s this then?”
You just smile at his question. You can feel the way nearby conversations start to quiet as a few heads turn discreetly in your direction.
“Are you two like, official or what?” Martin asks, gesturing between the two of you with a wide grin.
You don’t look at Dohoon right away. Instead, you lift your cup and take a slow sip, making sure to keep your expression nothing but neutral. Let him answer. See what he says.
Dohoon hesitates, not long, but long enough. Then his mouth moves before he can think his answer through.
“We’re just talking,” he says with a small shrug.
Just talking.
The words echo loudly in your ears.
Someone nearby snickers and you hear a voice mutter, “Knew it.”
Martin laughs like his suspicion has just been confirmed. You just smile.
“Yeah,” you say, “just talking.”
Then you step away from him. You slip back into the crowd, where Stella and A-na are waiting, before anyone can say anything else. You grab another cup at the drinks table that you don’t really want just to give your hands something to do.
A-na’s saying something to you, but her voice sounds far away and muffled over the thoughts replaying in your head. Your mind keeps circling back to the same sentence.
We’re just talking.
Flashbacks from the past week start replaying in your head, whether you want them to or not. Dohoon leaning against the lockers outside your classroom. Him walking beside you between classes, even when it meant talking the longer route to his own. The way he’d driven you home in the pouring rain, even though you lived in the complete opposite direction. The umbrella tilted over your head while rain soaked through the shoulders of his jacket. At the time, all of it had felt intentional. Like he was trying. Like maybe he meant it after all.
You swallow as you tighten your grip around the red plastic cup in your hand.
Maybe it hadn’t meant as much as you thought.
“(Name)?”
A-na’s waving a hand in front of your eyes. You realize she’s looking at you expectantly.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, forcing out a small smile. “What were you saying?”
You try to listen this time, you really do. But his voice keeps playing at the back of your mind.
Just talking.
Why were you even surprised? Technically, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But maybe it was the way he said it so easily. Like everything from the past week meant nothing more than having a few simple conversations. Like all of it had just been part of the routine he knew how to do simply because that was what he was used to. You had started to believe it was different this time, but now you just feel stupid for it.
A few minutes later, you and the girls are pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front door. The quiet of the outside feels jarring after the music that was just blaring in your ears for the past few hours. Stella and A-na are still laughing about something that had happened earlier that night.
You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself as you start walking. For once, you don’t have a clear answer waiting in the back of your mind. You don’t know what to think anymore. And more than anything, you really don’t know what to do next.
—
The rumors reach you the next day. Word spreads like wildfire among the halls, flitting through conversations. If anyone is looking at you differently, you don’t notice. It isn’t until lunch that you’re finally made aware of what everyone’s been whispering about.
You’re sitting with your friends near the tall windows lining the cafeteria wall. The room is filled with the noise of voices overlapping, trays clattering, chairs dragging against the floor, and the occasional outburst from different tables across the floor.
“Did you study for the history test?” A-na asks from across the table.
“Yeah,” you reply with a small shrug. “Actually, I took it this morning. It wasn’t too bad.”
Yuha groans dramatically.
“Speak for yourself. I barely even finished the study guide. I don’t even want to think about how that test went.”
She then launches into a rant about her math teacher and the incessant amount of homework she has from that class, and the entire table joins in with their own complaints. Juun and Ye-on join her to grumble about their own classes.
Except Stella hasn’t said much. You notice it when you glance over and see her pushing the noodles around her tray with her fork instead of actually eating them.
“What’s up with you?” you ask, turning to face her.
“Nothing,” she says quickly.
“I was just thinking,” she adds.
You raise a brow.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
Stella sighs as she sets her fork down at the edge of her tray.
“It’s probably nothing,” she says finally, her voice dropping a little.
“Just tell me.”
She hesitates again, glancing around the room before turning back to the table.
“Someone said they saw Dohoon last night,” she says.
“At the party?”
You’re confused. That doesn’t sound strange at all – you were literally there with him for most of the night.
“Yeah,” she says slowly, “but after we had already left.”
“And then?”
“They said he was with a girl,” Stella continues carefully. “Not you.”
You purse your lips together.
“And apparently, he looked really interested in her. Like, she was basically drooling over him and he didn’t stop her.”
Your stomach drops.
“What girl?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” Stella says. “It could literally be nothing. You know how people exaggerate about stuff like this all the time.”
You bite the inside of your cheek in apprehension.
“Yeah,” you say.
“But I just thought I should tell you,” she adds gently, “especially since I heard people talking about it today in class.”
You nod once as the conversation from the bathroom earlier that week comes rushing back.
Give it a month. He’ll get bored. He always does.
You stare at the food sitting untouched on your tray.
She’s not even his type. She acts like she doesn’t care. That’s the only reason why he’s into it.
Their laughter replays tauntingly in your memory.
“Hey,” A-na adds. “It might not mean anything.”
“Right,” you reply automatically.
You had told yourself from the very beginning that you didn’t need anything from him. That unless he actually expressed his sincerity, unless he made it clear, you weren’t going to expect anything. But somewhere along the way, you let yourself believe him anyway.
He had texted you this morning, actually. A quick message asking you where you went last night and if you got home safe. You ignored it. And before lunch, you saw him in the hallway between classes. His expression brightened automatically at the sight of you as he waved the moment he noticed you were there. You only offered a small smile in return. You didn’t miss the flicker of confusion on his face, but before he could say anything, you had already made your way back to the classroom.
His voice sounds through your mind again, louder than the cafeteria around you.
We’re just talking.
Normally, you would’ve been annoyed by something like this. You would’ve rolled your eyes, gotten defensive, maybe even snapped back. After all, it would just be another guy who didn’t know his place. But this time, you don’t feel angry. You just feel dejected at the idea that he wasn’t really all that different from the person everyone said he was. And more than anything, you can’t help but blame yourself for convincing yourself otherwise even when everyone else had warned you.
—
When you reach your classroom, Dohoon is already sitting in the chair next to yours with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. The moment he sees you approaching, he looks up and smiles.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply as you slide into your seat.
You make sure to keep your voice as normal and like the way it always is as much as possible.
He asks you how your morning classes were. You tell him they were fine. You ask if he understood the homework for this class. He groans and complains about how pointless it is. From the outside, nothing about the conversation sounds strange. But something about it feels off, and Dohoon can’t quite put his finger on why.
Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at your notebook more than you are at him. Or in the way you answer his questions, politely responding but turning back to the teacher right after.
At some point during class, he leans over to whisper something about the lesson. But instead of leaning toward him the way you usually would, you stay sitting upright in your chair with your hands folded loosely on your desk. It’s subtle, barely noticeable. But it’s all that Dohoon ends up thinking about for the rest of class. By the time the final bell rings that afternoon, the strange feeling has settled uncomfortably in his chest.
He finally works up the nerve to say something just as you’re packing your bag to leave.
“You heading out?”
“Yeah,” you say, looking at him with a small smile before making your way out of the classroom.
You’re already halfway down the hallway when Dohoon catches up.
“(Name).”
You slow down, though mostly because the hallway is crowded and you don’t really have much of a choice. He falls right into step beside you. At first, he just studies your face as the two of you walk toward the exit with the rest of the students.
“Did I do something?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been kind of, I don’t know, weird all day.”
You look away at his words. If only he knew how hard you were working to not be word despite everything.
“No?” you let out, as you settle on denying him.
He exhales through his nose, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it.
“You’re just acting differently.”
“Really? I feel like I’m acting the same,” you persist. You don’t know how else to continue the conversation.
“No,” he says immediately. “You’re not.”
That makes you stop walking. Students weave around the two of you in the hallway as you turn to face him.
“I’m just doing what you said,” you say as you cross your arms loosely at your chest.
His brows pull together.
“What I said?”
“You said we’re just talking,” you remind him. “So I’m just talking to you. Like right now.”
Dohoon just stares at you for a second. Then the realization hits.
“Oh. That’s not what I meant,” he says.
“That’s what you said.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face as the implications of his own words sink in. This time, Dohoon doesn’t have a quick response ready. You start to turn away. His hand moves before he can think about it.
“Wait.”
His fingers close gently around your wrist. You pause, your gaze dropping briefly to his hand before lifting back to his face. He lets go immediately.
“I messed that up,” he admits.
Your expression doesn’t change.
“At the party,” he continues quickly. “I didn’t think about how it would sound. Everyone was looking and the question just- I said the easiest thing instead of the right thing.”
“You know why it bothered me?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head.
“Because you act like I matter when it’s just us,” you say. “But the second someone else asks about it in front of everyone, suddenly it’s nothing.”
You keep your voice steady. Inside though, your thoughts are racing as you freak out internally from the confrontation unfolding in front of you, though you refuse to let any of it show.
“It’s confusing. And I don’t want to waste my time figuring out what you actually mean.”
“It’s not nothing,” he says immediately.
“Then why did you say it like that?”
He opens his mouth before closing it again. Because the answer is embarrassingly simple. He didn’t want to deal with what it meant. The fact that somewhere along the way, it stopped being casual. Somewhere along the way, he actually ended up falling for you, despite everything he stood for in the past. And admitting that out loud, in front of everyone, would’ve meant having to deal with that uncertainty.
Before he can stop himself again, he steps a little closer, lowering his voice so that the people passing by won’t hear him.
“I like you,” he says, certain. He adds quickly, “And I know that probably doesn’t fix last night.”
You stare at him, completely caught off guard. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say. But he keeps going before you can say anything.
“I was stupid,” he admits. “And if I made you feel like you didn’t matter, that’s on me. I just needed to tell you properly.”
You’re still staring at him as you try to decide whether or not what you just heard actually counts for anything.
“That’s great,” you say finally.
Dohoon frowns at your words.
“That’s it?”
“That night, I don’t think you hesitated because you were nervous,” you begin slowly. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you hesitated because you didn’t want to face reality and deal with what it would actually mean if you said yes.”
“Still, you had other options,” you continue. “While you could’ve said you liked me, you also could’ve said you didn’t want to answer. You could’ve literally said anything else. But instead, you said the one thing that made it sound like I don’t matter.”
“I know,” Dohoon says. “I messed up.”
“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad,” you add. “I just wanted you to understand why it felt so wrong from my side. Because from the outside, it seemed like you proved everyone right.”
You take a breath before continuing.
“A few days before the party, I caught a few girls in the bathroom badmouthing whatever it is we have going on right now. They said that you were going to get bored of me eventually and that it wasn’t going to last.”
Dohoon’s already shaking his head before you can finish your sentence.
“And the first time someone asked you about me in public, you made it sound like I was nothing,” you say, your voice quieter now.
“That’s not true,” he says immediately. “And what those girls said in the bathroom, that’s definitely not true either.”
His voice is firm now.
“I don’t see you as just a phase or a fling. I like you. Not just when it’s convenient, and not just when no one’s watching. I genuinely like you. I just didn’t say it the right way. I panicked. That night, everyone was staring and the guy was being loud and I just, I didn’t think before I spoke.”
You study his face carefully, searching for any hint that he’s just saying what you want to hear. But then you think back to the way he always saves the seat next to him in class. To the times he draped his jacket over your shoulders when the classroom gets too cold. The random texts about how the cafeteria is serving your favorite, even though you never remember telling him what it was. The afternoons he stayed behind with you after school when you were stressing over exams. And the day it rained so hard the streets were flooding a little, when he still insisted on driving you home, even though it meant going completely out of his way. He wasn’t always perfect, but it wasn’t like he didn’t try. Deep down, whether you want to admit it or not, you know he didn’t put in that effort for no reason.
“To be clear,” you say after a moment, “I’m not asking for a title or anything right now. But, I also don’t want to spend my time with someone who’s embarrassed to admit the truth whenever someone asks them.”
The relief on his face appears immediately. For the first time since yesterday, Dohoon feels like he might still have a chance, like he might not have ruined everything.
“It’ll never happen again,” Dohoon reassures. “I’ll do it right this time.”
And he means it. From the very beginning, he knew that if he wanted to be with you, he couldn’t treat it like something just for the fun of it. But the more he got to know you, the more he realized that you were actually someone he didn’t want to lose at all.
He hesitates before adding, “If you let me.”
“Well,” you finally say, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “you have a lot to make up for then.”
“Yes ma’am!” Dohoon exclaims immediately.
His response is so fast and so unnecessarily dramatic that you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes you before you can stop it.
Dohoon grins, clearly pleased that he managed to get that reaction out of you.
“Wait,” you say before you can finally relax. “One more thing.”
“I heard a lot of people today saying you were with a girl at that party after I left,” you say carefully. “That you were flirting with her. So if you’re into her too, I’m not going to hold you back.”
He looks at you for a moment, thoroughly confused. Then, he realizes.
“That’s not what it was,” he says quickly. “I actually meant to clear that up with you today after I heard people talking about it. I was worried you’d hear about it and get the wrong idea. That day, I wasn’t flirting with her at all. In fact, she came up to me and started talking, and I told her I wasn’t interested.”
“Oh. That’s not what I heard,” you say.
“Yeah, I noticed,” he says. “What I actually said was that I liked someone else. And somehow, everyone decided to turn that into me flirting.”
“You told her you liked someone else?” you repeat.
“Yeah.”
“And who exactly is this mysterious person?”
For the first time since you stopped him, a faint smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.
“You really need me to spell it out?”
You shrug, turning as if to walk away.
“Well if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just leave then. You can go find that girl instead.”
You’re clearly teasing him, but the second you take a step, he panics.
“No – wait, wait,” he exclaims, reaching out instinctively. “I was talking about you!”
“Relax,” you say, laughing at the way he freaked out. “I was just kidding.”
“Just so we’re clear,” he says, nudging your shoulder as the two of you finally push through the doors and step outside. “I meant it when I said I’d take this seriously.”
The late afternoon air is cooler outside, and the last groups of students trickle down the steps and across the parking lot.
“I sure hope you did,” you tease.
And this time, you know you can trust him.
—
Basketball practice ends with the final echo of the coach’s whistle. The team disperses quickly after that, with some heading straight for the showers while others collapse onto the benches with exhaustion. Dohoon grabs a towel from his bag and drapes it around his neck. He wipes the sweat from his face before reaching for his water bottle.
“Alright,” Jihoon says suddenly, tossing his water bottle onto the bench next to Dohoon. “Serious question.”
He points at him as Dohoon takes a sip of his own water.
“What’s going on with you lately?”
Dohoon doesn’t even look up as he rummages through his bag.
“What do you mean?”
A few of the other guys perk up at their conversation.
“I mean,” Keonho says, leaning back against the bleachers, “you’ve been leaving right after practice. You skipped Minjae’s party last weekend too.”
“And,” Seonghyeon adds with a grin, nodding towards Dohoon, “every time I see you, you’re with her.”
Dohoon rolls his eyes slightly.
“Mind your business.”
Jihoon just watches him, clearly entertained.
Down the bench, someone elbows the guy next to him.
“Wait, are they actually a thing now?”
"Not yet," Dohoon says after a moment, "but hopefully soon."
“No way,” James blurts out, pushing himself upright so he’s sitting up straighter. “Bro actually folded.”
“There’s no way he’s being serious,” someone says with a laugh. Minjae’s best friend, of course.
“I bet ten bucks he’s going to lose interest in like three days,” another guy calls out.
A few of them snicker.
“Yeah,” Keonho chimes in. “You’ve never lasted longer than what, two weeks?”
“She’s not a fling,” Dohoon says simply, finally looking up. “It’s different this time.”
James raises his hands in mock surrender, though he’s still grinning.
“Relax, we’re just saying. Your track record isn’t all that great.”
“Seriously,” Minjae’s friend says. “You can’t blame us for thinking that this is just another phase.”
“Yeah,” someone adds, leaning forward. “Fifteen bucks says he’s moved on already before finals.”
A few guys laugh again.
“No, I think it’s serious this time,” Jihoon says, glancing at Dohoon before looking back at the others.
Dohoon shakes his head as he gathers the rest of his stuff.
“She’s not some kind of bet,” he says, his voice clear.
“So what, you’re like locked in now?” Minjae’s friend asks, still not convinced.
“I like her,” Dohoon clarifies. “And I don’t plan on messing that up anytime soon.”
“Damn,” Seonghyeon laughs. “He’s actually down bad.”
“Shut up,” Dohoon mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it.
None of them notice the figure standing quietly just outside of the gym doors.
You hadn’t meant to hear everything. You were just passing by the gym to grab Juun’s water bottle, the one she had texted you about leaving there earlier. But then you heard your name. And then the betting. So you stayed, just long enough to hear everything that Dohoon said.
Inside, the guys start grabbing their things as you hear them stand up and walk towards the door. That’s your cue. You push open the double doors and exit before anyone can come through the entrance. By the time Dohoon leaves a few minutes later, the hallway is already empty.
—
The carnival sprawls across a wide, grassy field, buzzing with the cheerful chaos of the crowd. Stalls line winding paths, each one bursting with colorful lanterns, flashing lights, and the sweet scent of sweet treats and sizzling street food. The soft thrum of a distant stage where live music plays carries through the space. You, Dohoon, your friends, and his friends decided to visit one weekend after school as a way to hang out together.
Stella is already dragging A-na and Ye-on toward another stand, and all three of them are juggling skewers and cups like they haven’t eaten in days. Yuha and Juun hang back a little as they angle their phones out to take pictures. Off to the side, Dohoon and everyone else joke around as they scramble to keep up.
Your eyes linger when you walk past one of the booths with a ring toss game. Glass bottles line the middle, and shelves are stacked high with oversized plushes that look a little too nice to be won fairly.
Dohoon notices and motions for you to follow him.
“You’re not winning that,” you say immediately, though you follow him anyway.
“Says who?” he fires back immediately.
“Says me. Those things are always rigged.”
“That doesn’t apply to me,” he replies, already handing over some cash to the person running the game. “I always win these.”
You cross your arms, pretending to look unimpressed.
“Right.”
Dohoon picks up the first ring and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to look serious. He tosses. It hits the neck of the bottle and bounces right off.
He grabs another one. Misses again.
You press your lips together, clearly holding back a smile.
“I thought you always win,” you tease.
“Relax,” he mutters, grabbing the last ring.
He tosses it, and it lands cleanly over the bottle.
Dohoon turns to you as a small, satisfied grin spreads across his face. He looks as if he just knew it would happen eventually.
“So, which one do you want?” he asks, pointing at the selection of plushies ranging from teddy bears to bunnies to puppies.
“I don’t know,” you admit, still a little surprised that he managed to win one in the first place. “Which one do you want?”
“You pick,” he says easily. “It’s for you anyway.”
You hesitate for a second and then point.
“The teddy bear. The one with the heart.”
The vendor reaches up and hands over a cream colored stuffed bear hugging a pink heart. The plushie looks a lot bigger than you expected when it’s actually in Dohoon’s hands. He turns back to you and holds it out.
“Told you I’d get one.”
You look at him. Then down at the bear. Then back at him again.
“It kind of looks like you,” you say, obviously joking as you take it from him.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I’d like to think I’m way better looking.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think.
“Mmm. I don’t know about that…”
“Give it back then,” Dohoon exclaims, reaching out to take it back.
You laugh at his betrayed expression and shake your head as you pull it towards you immediately.
“It’s mine now!”
Dohoon watches you and laughs, smiling at your antics.
—
By the time the sun has fully set, the group has settled across the grass lawn. Stella’s already lying down and using Ian’s arm as a pillow. Yuha, A-na, and Ye-on sit nearby as they chat over ice cream.
You end up sitting between Juun and Dohoon with your new plushie sitting on your lap.
Then, the first few fireworks go off. A sharp crack sounds, followed by colors of gold blooming across the sky. The light flickers across everyone’s faces. You tilt your head back with everyone else, watching the bursts of reds, pinks, and greens against the navy sky.
“Hey.”
You turn your head to Dohoon, who’s already looking at you.
“What?” you ask.
Another firework bursts overhead, lighting his face for a split second. You can’t help but think about how good he looks right now.
He just stares at you like he forgot what he was going to say the moment you looked at him.
“You’re holding it like it’s actually yours.”
You blink and look down at the bear in your lap.
“It is mine.”
He nods toward the plushie.
“I could still take it back, you know.”
You pull it a little closer instinctively.
“No you can’t, it’s already mine.”
“Pretty sure I paid for it.”
“But you gave it to me. And plus, I picked it out, which is arguably much more important,” you reason.
He laughs quietly and shakes his head.
“Unbelievable.”
You glance back up toward the sky.
“Thanks,” you say after a second.
He looks at you again.
“For what?”
“For today. It was fun.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyes lighting up. “I’m glad. I had lots of fun too.”
For a while, both of you stay silent as you continue watching the fireworks light up the sky.
“Hey,” Dohoon says again.
You glance at him, already expecting him to say something unserious again.
“What now?”
“Well, I was thinking,” he starts, then pauses, like he’s trying to get the words right. “About what you said before.”
“That could mean a lot of things. What did I say?”
“About not wanting to waste your time,” he clarifies.
You don’t say anything right away, but your fingers curl a little tighter around the teddy bear in your lap.
“I meant it when I said I’d do things properly,” he continues.
“So,” he says, a little unsure for once, “can I be your boyfriend?”
“You’re asking me?” you say like you just want to make sure you heard him right.
“Yeah,” he says, “I am.”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
You nod, smiling at the way he looks so nervous.
“Yeah,” you say softly.
Then he lets out a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair.
“So does that mean I get that back?” he asks, pointing at the bear again.
You immediately pull it closer to your chest.
“No.”
He pretends to let it go but reaches over like he’s about to grab it anyway. You turn your body away instantly.
“Dohoon. Do you really want it that badly?”
“No, no, I’m just checking,” he says, a grin wide on his face.
“You’re actually unbelievable.”
He shrugs, completely unbothered.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re my girlfriend now anyway.”
You shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. Another firework lights everything up in a soft gold hue before fading again.
Somewhere behind you, your friends are still talking, laughing, completely caught up in their own conversations.
Slowly, your head moves so that it’s resting gently on his shoulder. Dohoon doesn’t say anything. He just smiles and adjusts so that you’re comfortable. Your fingers brush against his before settling there. Fireworks continue to go off one after another, but you don’t bother looking this time. Not when you already know what it looks like. And right now, just being with Dohoon feels much better than anything else you could've asked for.
