honeyscara

[honeyscara]

Hi guys. TW for attemped su!c!d&

Ik it's been a while and I'm so sorry. A few months back i tried to take my life since i was really depressed. My family found out and yea we talked it out and my dad made me promise never to do that again.

I've been getting a little better but still haven't gotten the motivation or energy to write fics. I'm just trying to catch up on college work and heal.

Again so sorry for disappearing

[honeyscara]

Hi!?!!!! Are you alright ???? Are you still alive??? Halllo??? I’m sorry but I’am ( we are) worried about you 🤨🫶🏻

Hi so..

I’m really sorry for disappearing without any explanation. I’ve been struggling with my mental health lately and it’s been hard to find the energy to write. I think I need some time off..maybe another week to rest and try to feel a little better

Again I'm so sorry and thank you everyone for supporting my works. Appreciate yall sm<33

[honeyscara]

Chapter 12

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

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The next day came like a storm that hadn’t broken yet.

By the time you stepped into school, the halls were buzzing with whispers, tension hanging in the air like smoke before a fire. Every corner you passed, someone was murmuring about the same thing:

Baku’s open challenge to Baekjin.

You’d heard it before you even reached your classroom.

“You heard? Eunjang’s top dog called him out.”

“No way… that’s suicide.”

You hadn’t even reached your first period when you saw the texts:

Gotak: yo. baku actually did it. he challenged baekjin openly.

Juntae: we convinced eunjang to help us out too

Gotak : meet us after class. coffee shop?

That whole day felt like walking through static. Your thoughts were a mess—part worry, part disbelief, and a bit of awe too. Baku rarely pulled stunts like this, but when he did, it meant one thing: he was serious.

The second the final bell rang, you grabbed your things and bolted. The city air hit your face the moment you stepped out of school, but it didn’t slow you down. You walked fast—almost ran—to the coffee shop the three of you always met at.

It was a small place, tucked behind a bookstore. Familiar. Comforting.

When you walked in, the smell of roasted beans hit you first, warm and earthy. Gotak was already there, slouched on a couch with a milkshake in his hand and earbuds in, bobbing his head to whatever was playing. Juntae sat across from him, a healing bruise blooming across his cheekbone. He looked up the second the bell over the door rang, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“There she is,” he said, smiling tiredly.

You dropped your bag onto the seat next to him and collapsed into the chair, a little breathless. “Is it true?”

Juntae nodded. “He went to Baekjin’s school and called me out.”

Gotak let out a low whistle. “It’s gonna be war”

You offered a small, distracted smile, fingers tightening around the cup in your hands. Your heart was racing, not just from the news about Baku's challenge but you felt restless, the ache of unresolved moments. All this felt uneasy. Especially since sieun wasn’t here

Juntae glanced at you, noticing the way you kept checking your watch. “You okay?”

You nodded, then let out a small sigh. “I’ve got cram classes now.."

“Right, you mentioned that,” Gotak said with a slow nod. “Guess someone’s gotta keep their grades up.”

You stood, grabbing your bag, a bit reluctant to go but knowing you had to. “Text me if anything happens, okay?”

“We will,” Juntae promised, giving you a reassuring smile.

You left the café with one last glance at the empty seat where Baku usually sat. He hadn’t shown up today. You hoped he was just visiting Sieun quietly.

~

Cram school was a blur of whiteboards and half-heard formulas. The teacher’s voice faded in and out as your eyes kept darting between the clock and your silent phone.

Until it buzzed.

You glanced down instinctively and your breath caught in your throat.

Baku:

He’s awake.

Sieun woke up.

The classroom noise vanished, drowned out by the sudden ringing in your ears.

You didn’t even think. Your bag was half-zipped, your books still on the desk when you stood up and rushed out, barely muttering an apology. Your teacher called after you, confused, but you didn’t stop.

Your feet hit the pavement hard, over and over again as you ran. Faster than you’d ever run in your life.Your legs ached. Your lungs burned. But all that mattered was getting there.

Sieun was awake.

And no matter what, you had to see him.

You burst through the hospital's main entrance, lungs burning, legs sore from running straight from cram class. The corridors were chilled with sterile air and that familiar clinical scent clung to everything. But none of that mattered.You just needed to see him. Your eyes scanned the waiting area up ahead.

There they were.

Baku. Gotak. Juntae.And standing in front of them, was Sieun

Juntae noticed you first. “y/n” he called out, voice soft but surprised.

The others turned—Gotak’s eyes widening slightly, Baku giving a nod—and finally, Sieun’s head turned toward you.

You stared at him, the dull fluorescent lights casting soft shadows over his features. His face was paler than usual, but the moment your eyes met his, something warm stirred inside you. His lips curled up ever so slightly into a rare, gentle smile.

Your breath hitched. Eyes filling with tears you had barely held back the whole day. Without thinking, you walked toward him, your legs shaky beneath the weight of disbelief and emotion.

“Sieun…” your voice cracked softly as the tears slipped down your cheeks.

Carefully—oh so carefully—you reached out and hugged him, mindful of his injuries, wrapping your arms around him like he might disappear if you didn’t. He stiffened for just a second, as if surprised, but then his arms came up slowly… and he held you.

His touch was warm. Gentle. One hand hesitated at your back before beginning to softly caress it, comforting and quiet.It was the kind of embrace that said everything words couldn’t. You pressed your face into his shoulder. He was warm.

Behind you, you heard a voice scoff.

“Why are you crying like a kid?” Baku muttered, arms crossed.

You sniffled, your face still buried in Sieun’s shoulder, and replied without looking back, “Don’t act like you didn’t cry either.”

Baku straightened, scoffing, “I didn’t.”

“Baku is such a crybaby too,” Gotak chimed in immediately, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

That made everyone chuckle—even Sieun let out the softest breath of a laugh.

The tension in the room cracked open, replaced with something warm and familiar. You finally pulled back from Sieun, just enough to see his face properly. His eyes were a little tired, but clear. Focused entirely on you.

He reached up, fingers gently brushing away the tears on your cheeks with his thumb. His touch was soft, the pads of his fingers lingering slightly longer than necessary, like he still wasn’t sure if this was real. But then his gaze shifted—and his expression was serious.

His thumb paused just under your eye as he took in the fading bruises on your face, the discoloration along your arms, the marks left behind from the night before.

His brow furrowed.

“What happened to you?”

You looked down instinctively, but quickly put on a smile—reassuring, even if your heart still felt a bit raw. “It was just a small fight. I’m okay now. Baku and Gotak showed up before anything serious happened.”

He didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched subtly, his hand hovering as if wanting to check your injuries but unsure if he should.

“Really, I’m okay,” you said more softly.

Still, he frowned, worry clearly etched in his tired eyes. So you leaned in, and without thinking too much, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was meant to shut him up—and it worked.

Sieun went still.

His entire body tensed as if someone had unplugged his brain and rebooted him. His ears turned visibly red, and for a moment, all he could do was blink at you like you'd just short-circuited his system.

You couldn’t help but laugh through your remaining tears. “There. Now stop worrying.”

He stared at you, flustered, eyes wide. “You… you…”

“Me what?” you teased, grinning.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. “N-Nothing…”

Sieun was still standing there, blinking in stunned silence, his hand slowly drifting up to the spot on his cheek where you kissed him. His face had gone a shade pinker, his lips parted ever so slightly like he still embarrassed and surprised.

That’s when Baku leaned in with a wide grin. “You okay there, Romeo?”

Gotak burst out laughing, clapping Baku on the back. “Look at him. The Sieun, speechless!”

Juntae chuckled under his breath, arms crossed. “I'm happy for you both"

Before Sieun could even defend himself, Gotak suddenly said with a mischievous smirk, “That wasn’t even a lot. They probably did way more that one time when—”

Your eyes widened. You instantly lunged toward him and slapped your hand over his mouth. “GOTAK!”

His eyes twinkled with mischief above your hand, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

Baku’s brows rose, interested. “Huh? What time?”

“Nothing!” you blurted out too quickly.

Juntae burst out laughing. “Oh my god, y/n, you look like you’re gonna explode!”

Sieun’s ears turned red. “Wait, what time?”

Everyone cracked up, including you—though you were still hiding your burning face behind your hands. The hospital waiting room echoed with laughter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt just a little bit lighter.

And Sieun… he was awake, flustered, and smiling.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505 @xh01bri @ruruyinn

[honeyscara]

Chapter 11

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

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You stared at him—at Geum Seongje—like he was something unreal.

The smoke curled around his face again, shadows playing off his sharp jawline as he lit another cigarette with the same calm, measured flick of his silver lighter. The soft click echoed in the wrecked room, where groans of the half-conscious thugs barely registered anymore. He didn’t even glance at them. Like they were dust beneath his shoes.

He dropped himself lazily into the armchair like it was a throne, one leg propped over the other, his posture a strange mix of grace and danger. The glow of the cigarette tip pulsed in the dim light as he exhaled slowly, the scent of burnt tobacco filling the air, mixing with the sharp sting of blood and sweat.

You sat there for a second—your clothes clinging to your skin, hands still trembling, heart racing in your chest. Then you crawled over to Juntae, who had tried and failed to sit up on his own. He winced, leaning on your shoulder as you carefully helped him onto the couch. His lip was split, his cheek swelling fast, but he was still conscious, still stubbornly holding himself together.

Seongje’s gaze followed your every move, flicking between you and Juntae with a quiet sort of amusement. Not mocking—just… observing. Like he was watching a scene in a movie, waiting for the next twist.

You could feel his eyes on you. Heavy and Curious.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face, fingers shaking slightly, and turned to look at him. The question had been clawing at the back of your throat since the moment he appeared. Since he stepped in like some wild card no one asked for.

“...Why?” you finally asked, voice hoarse but steady.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Why did you help us?”

Your words hung in the smoky air.

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, cigarette between two fingers, one eyebrow raised, a faint smirk tugging at his lips like he was enjoying the fact that you were asking him that.

Seongje exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing briefly in the dim room. Then, he tilted his head, the smirk never quite leaving his lips.

“I liked your guts to fight…” he said, voice smooth and low, laced with an odd blend of amusement and something else you couldn’t place.

His eyes trailed over you—slowly, deliberately. And you felt it. The heat of his gaze dragging across your disheveled appearance, lingering where your shirt hung open slightly from earlier. Your blazer still lay crumpled somewhere on the floor, and in all the chaos, you hadn’t even realized how exposed you were until now.

You stiffened and quickly tugged your shirt close, your hands clutching the fabric tight against your chest as your face burned—not with shame, but a guarded kind of fury. His eyes met yours again.

“Don’t worry,” Seongje added casually, flicking ash to the ground as his voice dipped slightly. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

His words, though unexpectedly respectful, did little to ease the tight knot in your chest. You still couldn’t understand him. This man—this dangerous stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, saved you and Juntae from something horrible… and now sat there like he owned the room.

Why?

You stayed silent, your breathing uneven as you glanced toward Juntae, still bruised and trying to stay conscious on the couch. None of this made sense.

As if reading your thoughts, Seongje chuckled, the sound dark and relaxed.

“Baku should be here by now,” he muttered, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray on the nearby table. “Baekjin must’ve told him.”

You blinked at him still confused as to why he wanted to help. Then–

The sudden sound of metal screeching made you flinch.

The old garage shutters were yanked open in one swift, aggressive motion, cold air rushing into the suffocating room. Your eyes darted toward the entrance, heart pounding again until you saw them.

Baku. Gotak.

They burst in like a wave, all fury and motion. Gotak’s eyes immediately found Juntae slumped on the couch, his face battered and bruised. Without missing a beat, he rushed to him, voice strained and furious.

“Shit—Juntae!”

You moved fast, despite the aches crawling up your limbs, crouching beside them to help. Together, you and Gotak carefully lifted him—Juntae let out a weak groan, his head rolling slightly. Gotak slung his arm over his shoulder and carefully hoisted him onto his back.

He looked over at you, gaze sharpening.

Your shirt was still partly unbuttoned. Your skin was scratched, flushed from the struggle, and you could still feel the grime of rough hands and violence lingering on your arms and legs.

Before you could say a word, Baku had already stepped forward, silent but swift. He pulled off his jacket in one motion and draped it over your shoulders, his movements surprisingly gentle.

“Can you walk?” he asked, voice low, urgent.

You nodded shakily, clutching the jacket tighter around yourself.

“Go,” Baku told Gotak, nodding toward the exit. “Take him back. We’ll follow.”

Gotak didn’t hesitate. He adjusted Juntae’s weight on his back and made for the door with the same urgency he entered with.

Baku grabbed your arm, guiding you toward the exit. You stumbled a bit, and his grip steadied you, firm but not forceful. But then—just as you both neared the door—he stopped.

You followed his gaze.

Seongje was still lounging in the armchair like the chaos hadn’t touched him at all. His cigarette now burned low between his fingers, the ash dangerously long but somehow still intact. His cold eyes met Baku’s with a glint of mischief.

“…Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Baku muttered, his jaw tightening, “but thank you.”

Seongje’s lips curled into that same lazy, crooked smirk.

“I don’t understand,” he said, tapping the ash off, “how you’re the top dog at Eunjang.”

Baku’s brows furrowed slightly. You glanced at him, surprised.

Seongje lazily nodded toward the doorway—toward where Gotak had carried Juntae—and then at you.

“That guy with the glasses,” he said, voice smooth, “and her.” His gaze swept over you briefly before he leaned back again. “They’ve got guts. They’re more like top dogs.”

There was a strange sort of respect in his voice, even if his smirk remained.

Baku let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he started moving again. “Yeah. I’m not the one on top,” he muttered. “But thanks.”

He tightened his grip on your arm, his tone quiet but urgent now. “Let’s go.”

And without another word, he pulled you out of the garage and into the night.

The walk back was heavy with silence.

The tension clung to your skin, thicker than the night air. Every step felt like it echoed the chaos you'd barely escaped, the sting of bruises and fear still fresh. Gotak carried Juntae on his back with a quiet determination, his grip firm as he trudged forward without a word. Baku walked beside you, his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders.

But the silence didn’t last.

“…Tak-ah, let me down. I’m fine,” Juntae suddenly croaked.

All of you stopped in your tracks.

Gotak froze and turned his head slightly, frowning. “Are you serious? You can’t even walk straight, bro.”

Juntae squirmed a little, insisting stubbornly, “I’m okay. I can walk. Really.”

Gotak gave him a long, assessing look, then sighed in resignation. He crouched, letting Juntae down gently. Juntae winced as his feet hit the pavement, but he straightened up with all the pride he could muster—still trembling slightly, face swollen, one eye almost shut, but trying.

Then it happened.

Baku and Gotak both turned around and stepped directly in front of you and Juntae. Their postures were stiff, their expressions darkening into something serious—concern masked by the urge to scold.

Baku crossed his arms. “Yah,” he said, voice sharp but low. “How did you guys even end up there?”

Juntae scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I had torn a paper from Daesung Motorcycles. It had…proof.”

You picked up where he left off, your voice a little hoarse but steady. “So I suggested we take it to the police.” You glanced away. “But then… they caught us.”

There was a beat of silence.

Gotak let out a dry, disbelieving chuckle. “You guys are such lunatics,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fucking insane.”

Juntae gave a lopsided smile, still out of breath. “Sieun is such a lunatic too,” he added quietly, almost innocently.

That one line made everyone fall still again.

The reminder of Sieun’s absence hit like a wave. You felt your stomach twist, thinking of him lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines, his voice quiet and tired the last time you tried to visit. No one spoke for a moment. The weight of his absence settled into the cracks between your words like dust.

Then Baku looked at you again.

His brows were furrowed, his gaze flickering over your face, then downward—at the bruises on your arms, the scraped skin, the way you wrapped his jacket around you tighter. There was something restrained in his voice when he finally spoke.

“Y/N…are you okay?” He hesitated. “They didn’t…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

His jaw tightened. His eyes searched yours for an answer, as if he couldn’t bring himself to ask aloud but needed to know all the same.You felt your throat tighten.

You swallowed hard, staring at the ground for a second before you could speak. Your voice came out quiet—barely more than a whisper.

“..no..Seongje helped us.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as the memory came back in flashes—your blazer ripped off, their hands on you, the helplessness, the way your voice cracked as you screamed at them. You felt sick. The phantom feeling of those hands still clung to your skin, like grime you couldn’t scrub off. You didn’t dare look up. Your breath hitched just slightly.

Baku stepped forward without a word, and before you could react, his arms wrapped around you—strong, steady, a little shaky. He pulled you into his chest like he was trying to protect you from the whole world.

Gotak followed without hesitation, slipping in on your left, resting his chin on your head, arms wrapping around both you and Baku.

Juntae—limping and bruised—stepped forward too, his arms looping around from the other side as he leaned his forehead gently against your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”

None of them said much.

They didn’t need to.

Their warmth surrounded you, a shield against everything that had happened. For a moment, you just stood there, breathing in the scent of asphalt, cheap cologne, and tobacco, letting their quiet comfort hold you together.

And finally you let yourself cry. Silent tears, burning hot, falling into Baku’s shirt as their embrace held firm.

They weren’t letting go. Not until they were sure you were okay.

You pulled away slowly from the embrace, your cheeks damp, your hair clinging to your face. Your arms dropped to your sides, and you gave them a small smile—still a bit broken, but grateful.

“…So embarrassing,” you muttered under your breath, voice cracking slightly. “But… thank you, guys.”

Baku gave you a half-smile, ruffling your hair gently. Gotak nudged your shoulder with a small snort.

“We’re your friends, dummy,” he said with a teasing grin. “It’s not embarrassing. What’s embarrassing is crying alone. We don’t do that, yeah?”

You let out a soft laugh at that. Juntae just smiled, his lip still split, but his eyes warm. His face was swollen, bruises blooming like dark purple flowers across his skin.

Gotak frowned as he turned to look at him. “But seriously, dude you need a doctor. Your face is a crime scene.”

“I’m fine,” Juntae said immediately, waving it off with a pained chuckle. “I’ll survive.”

“Barely,” Baku muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

“I just…” Juntae took a shaky breath, then looked at the rest of you with eyes full of something tender. “Can we go see Sieun first? Just for a bit. Please?”

The silence that followed wasn’t even a debate. You didn’t need to say it out loud.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Let’s go.”

And so the four of you began walking—quietly, together—under the soft glow of the streetlamps. The sky had dimmed into a smoky blue, and the night felt gentler somehow, after everything.

None of you spoke much, but there was comfort in just being beside each other. Like even after the worst of it, the world hadn’t completely shattered—because the people beside you were still here.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505 @xh01bri

[honeyscara]

Chapter 10

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

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Cw/tw: this chapter is gonna be a little heavy,mentions of sexual harassment, violence, blood

The stench of gasoline and oil hit you like a slap as you were dragged into Daesung Motorcycles. The same place you’d seen on Baekjin’s phone.

The place where the page had come from.

You kicked and fought until your knees hit the grimy cement floor. They forced you to your knees, holding your arms back as you screamed for Juntae. He was being dragged too—his blazer torn, his nose bloodied, eyes dazed.

“No—no, stop! Don’t hurt him!” you cried, voice already breaking.

But they didn’t listen.

One of the men holding you back chuckled. “You should’ve stayed in school, sweetheart.”

The biggest guy walked toward Juntae. With the ease, he slammed a fist into Juntae’s stomach. Juntae cried out, coughing as he crumpled forward. Another hit to his ribs. Another to his face.

You screamed. “STOP IT!!”

Juntae’s hand weakly reached out, still clutching the now-crumpled paper.

“Oh? What’s this?” one of the men sneered, snatching it from him. “This what you brought to the cops?”

You tried to lunge forward, but the men held you tighter, your shoulders aching under their grip. You watched helplessly as the man pulled a lighter from his jacket pocket, flicked it open.

The flame danced inches from the paper.

“No-No!!” you begged.

But they smiled, enjoying your panic. The fire caught.The paper curled, blackened.

Juntae coughed blood onto the floor as the ashes fluttered down like mockery.

Tears threatened to stream down your face as you screamed again, voice hoarse and raw.

And then—

They let go of you.

Like it was over.

You were still on your knees beside Juntae, your trembling hands hovering over his bruised face. He groaned faintly, eyes barely open, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. The ashes of the paper still floated in the air, dancing mockingly in the dull, flickering light of Daesung Motorcycles.

The man who had burned the paper wasn’t done. He stepped forward again, pulling out his phone, his thumb already dialing.

You stared, confused and terrified.

The man crouched beside Juntae, shoving the phone against his face. “Talk.”

The line clicked.

Then a voice, cold and sharp as steel, slithered through the speaker. “its me baekjin.”

Your heart dropped. Juntae blinked slowly, trying to focus.

“Did you really think some little paper would be enough?” Baekjin’s voice was calm—eerily calm.

“You already destroyed it,” you whispered, your own voice shaking.

Then, just when it felt like all hope was gone, Juntae rasped out, blood in his teeth, voice low but firm—

“I took a picture of it.”

The room fell dead silent.

Even the guy holding the phone went still.

Your eyes widened. You turned to Juntae, stunned—and for a moment, hope flared in you.Smart. So damn smart.

You mentally screamed your praise at him.But then—Baekjin’s voice came again, flat, icy, without even a second of hesitation:

“Then die.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“No—no, wait—!” you cried out.

But it was too late.

The men around you moved in an instant.

Two of them grabbed Juntae by his collar and yanked him off the ground like a ragdoll.

“you fuckers!” you screamed, struggling against the hands restraining you, your nails clawing at their skin, your throat raw.

But your pleas were drowned by the sound of fists slamming into Juntae’s body. Again. And again. His body jerked with every hit, his breath knocked out of him, blood splattering across the cold cement. His phone clattered uselessly to the floor, still on the call.

Then the man who had dialed Baekjin crouched beside Juntae again. Juntae’s face was a bloodied mess, but his eyes—though heavy—were burning with defiance.

“Give it to us,” the guy snapped. “Delete the picture.”

Juntae spat blood near the guy’s shoe. “No.”

The man’s eyes flared with fury. His hand curled into another fist, but before he could strike, your own voice cut through.

“Stop—stop! I—”

Every eye turned to you.

And this time… they really looked.

Your breath hitched.

You felt it—the weight of their stares. The air thickened. You instinctively tried to shrink into yourself, your arms wrapping around your body. That’s when you noticed their gazes trailing down your form, lingering. Hungry.

A chill slid down your spine.

You hadn’t realized until now—until it was far too late—that these weren’t just any Union dogs.

You knew them.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Recognition hit like a slap.

They were the same guys from that bowling alley. The ones who had laughed too loudly, stared too long, brushed past too close. You hadn’t thought much of it then—just creepy guys with too much attitude.

But now…

Now those same eyes were staring at your bare legs. In the chaos, your skirt had ridden up, exposing more than you ever meant to show. You tried to tug it down, shame heating your face, but the fear paralyzed you. You scrambled back, trying to crawl away on your elbows and knees, but your legs felt like jelly and the cement scraped your skin.

One guy took a slow step forward.

“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

Two of them grabbed you—rough, impatient hands on your arms and waist, yanking you back like prey. You kicked, thrashed, screamed, but they were stronger. You felt your limbs being pinned again.

Juntae saw everything—despite his broken state, he lifted his head and yelled hoarsely, “Hey leave her out of this!!”

He tried to move, but his body collapsed under the weight of his injuries.

“Touch her and I swear—” he croaked, but his threat dissolved into a coughing fit, blood staining his shirt.

They shoved you roughly down onto the worn-out couch, your blazer flung aside like it meant nothing. The stench of oil, smoke, and sweat filled the room, thick enough to choke on. Two of the union thugs closed in on you, sneers stretched across their faces as their shadows loomed.

“Stop it! Get off her!” Juntae’s voice cracked through the warehouse, raw and panicked as he tried to rise again—only to be kicked down hard. The thud of his body hitting the ground made your stomach twist. "I'll delete–"

“Juntae, don’t give in!” you shouted, voice hoarse, desperate. “Don’t don’t you dare!”

But your own words started to crumble as hands grabbed at your arms, pinning you. You kicked, thrashed, even bit at one of them, drawing a startled curse. You did everything you could to fight, but your limbs were burning, your breathing erratic. You felt your shirt tugged at, trembling fingers fumbling with buttons.

Panic choked you.

Then—

BANG.

The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot. Everyone in the room froze.

All heads whipped toward the noise. A small side door creaked open slowly, light spilling across the floor. From it stepped a familiar figure—tall, cold, eyes sharp with disdain.

Seongje.

He walked in with his hands in his pockets, casual like he’d just woken from a nap. He eyed the room lazily, taking in the chaos.

“You fuckers,” he muttered, voice low and venomous. “Are so loud.”

Seongje stepped fully into the room now, the weight of his presence crashing over everyone like a tidal wave. A half-burnt cigar rested between his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face. He looked like he had all the time in the world, even in the middle of a mess like this.

He exhaled a stream of smoke before finally speaking.

“I’m Geum Seongje,” he said, voice deep, slow, and laced with mockery. “You motherfuckers really don’t know when to stop.”

The room stiffened. Some of the guys backed up a little. Others tried to puff their chests up, but none dared move.

Then his eyes landed on you.

The bruises. The open shirt. The way your arms were still struggling to shield yourself. The raw fear in your eyes.

He looked at Juntae—bloodied, curled slightly on the ground, his fists still clenched as if he had anything left to fight with.

Seongje’s gaze darkened. He removed the cigar and tapped the ash onto the floor.

“Tch. Just give them the picture,” he said bluntly, as if bored by the whole ordeal.

Juntae stirred, about to speak—maybe to protest—but your voice tore through the air before he could.

“No!!” you screamed, voice cracking under rage and exhaustion. Your arms trembled, not just from fear but from fury.

Seongje blinked, a little taken aback.

“don't you dare touch her” Juntae coughed out from the floor, lifting his head despite the blood trailing from his mouth.

That made Seongje chuckle, quiet and dangerous.

“Okay,” he said lowly, rolling his shoulders as he let the cigar drop to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. His tone had changed—he was no longer mocking. Now he sounded deadly.

In the split second before anyone could react, he moved.

Fast.

One of the guys holding you didn’t even have time to turn his head before Seongje’s fist collided with it—hard. The sound of knuckles cracking against bone echoed. The man staggered back, blood gushing from his nose.

The other grabbed for something, but Seongje ducked, twisted, and slammed his elbow into the thug’s ribs, knocking the wind out of him. In one swift movement, he swept the guy’s legs out, sending him crashing to the floor with a groan.

Someone lunged from behind, but Seongje caught him mid-swing, twisting his arm till it popped and tossing him across the room like trash.

“Get off,” he growled, turning toward the last one still near Juntae—the one who’d burned the paper.

That guy raised a metal rod. “Don’t come closer—!”

Crack.

Seongje punched him so hard he flew and hit the wall. The rod clanged to the ground uselessly.

Then there was silence.

All the men were on the floor, moaning or unconscious. You sat there breathless, shirt half-open, hair sticking to your face with sweat, too stunned to move. Juntae was slumped against the wall, blinking in disbelief.

Seongje stood in the middle of it all, adjusting his sleeves calmly, like he’d just finished a light workout.

He turned to you and Juntae, wiping a bit of blood from his knuckles.

“You two,” he said, with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, “are more trouble than I expected.”

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

Chapter 9

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

《prev chapter next chapter 》

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, far too clean for how broken you felt inside.

You sat outside Sieun’s hospital room, body hunched forward, your trembling hands clutching the hem of your blood-stained shirt. The soft whir of machines inside the room, the muffled beeping of monitors—it all felt like a cruel reminder that Sieun was alive… but barely.

Your tears wouldn’t stop. They rolled down silently now, leaving faint trails along your cheeks. Your chest ached, every breath shallow, as if part of your heart was trapped behind that closed door.

Sieun’s mom was inside the room, her face pale and hands clasped tightly together in front of her lips. She hadn’t said a word, just stared at her son like she was begging him to open his eyes. Your own mother stood beside you, one hand gently on your shoulder, the other wiping at her tears as she looked on with helpless sympathy.

You couldn’t look up.

You didn’t want to see the pain on their faces—it mirrored yours too closely.

Then, the elevator chimed softly.

You looked up, barely registering the sound of rushed footsteps until three familiar figures came into view.

Gotak was first, out of breath and wide-eyed. Juntae was behind him, lips parted in shock, and Baku trailed in last—his expression unreadable, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his forehead still bleeding from that fight earlier.

All three of them—Gotak, Baku, and Juntae stood silently beside you, their expressions grim as they looked through the glass window of the hospital room. The light inside cast a pale glow over Sieun’s still form, wrapped in wires and IV lines, a bruise blooming dark across his temple. He looked so small in that bed, and it didn’t feel real.

You sat on the bench just outside, your eyes swollen and red, lips trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. But the moment you glanced up at his unmoving figure again, the dam broke all over again.

Baku, quiet and composed despite the storm swirling behind his eyes, moved closer and gently patted your back. The weight of his hand was grounding—steady and warm. It was the kind of silent comfort that said I’m here without needing words. You leaned slightly into the touch, grateful for something solid, something that didn’t feel like it was falling apart.

None of the boys spoke. Not a single word passed between them. They weren’t just here as friends—they were here as family.

Eventually, the four of you moved to sit down along the hallway wall, waiting for Sieun’s mom to return with updates. Your mom had left earlier, promising to come back after handling work—but her absence left a hollowness beside you that made everything ache a little more.

Juntae, sitting besides you, reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of tissues. He didn’t say anything—just leaned forward, his hand stretched out toward you, offering them with a soft, understanding look.

You took the tissues with a small, tearful smile, whispering a hoarse, “Thanks,” as you wiped under your eyes, trying—and failing—not to cry again.

Gotak sat with his arms crossed, head tilted back against the wall, even his usual bright expression was gone. He wasn’t joking. His gaze kept drifting to the closed door.

And Baku… Baku was staring at the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, brows furrowed deep. Whatever storm was raging inside him, he was doing his best to hold it back—for your sake.

The hallway lights flickered slightly above you, and the distant sounds of hospital staff and beeping monitors filled the air, but in that little stretch of space, a quiet warmth settled. Despite everything, atleast you weren’t alone.You were surrounded by the people who cared about him too.

.

.

.

The door at the end of the hallway swung open with a soft click.Sieun’s mother stepped out, shoulders rounded with exhaustion, eyes red-rimmed from tears she’d tried to hide. The four of you rose at once—Gotak straightening first, Juntae beside him, Baku taking a single step forward, and you wiping hastily at your cheeks.

Baku’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “How is Sieun doing?”

She managed a weary smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s stable,” she whispered, then glanced at the clock on the corridor wall. “Don’t worry—go home. Your parents must be waiting.”

Baku shook his head. “It’s okay… we’re Sieun’s friends.”

At that, something in her expression shattered. Her shoulders trembled, and she clutched her hands as though it were the only thing keeping her standing. When she spoke again, her voice flatered around every word.

“Please… stop being friends with Sieun.”

The hallway went silent but for the distant hum of fluorescent lights. You understood. Part of you had known she might say it—yet hearing the plea aloud felt like a blade sliding between your chest.

Baku’s lips parted in protest, but no sound came.

Her gaze swung to you, soft but desperate. “Y/N,” she said quietly, “I know you don’t want to… but please, it's for your own sake, i don't want your mom to get worried so please...”

Your breath caught. The world shrank to the thin line of pain on her face and the echo of her words ringing in your ears. You opened your mouth, wanting to promise you’d never leave him, never abandon him when he needed you most. But the grief in her eyes pinned the words to your tongue.

So you nodded. A small, broken gesture.

Tears pooled again, blurring the hallway lights into stars as she turned away—walking back toward the door, toward the son she was terrified of losing.

Around you, the boys stood motionless, every heartbeat loud in the heavy silence. You pressed the crumpled tissues to your eyes, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape, wishing you could promise her everything would somehow be okay—wishing you could believe it yourself.

~

Two days had passed, yet the weight of everything hadn’t lessened—it only pressed harder on you with each breath.

The streets blurred around you as you walked, backpack heavy, shoes scuffing against the pavement like your legs were moving on autopilot. School had come and gone in a daze. You barely remembered your classes, the stares from classmates, or the murmurs in the hallway about some stupid rumours. All you could think about was Sieun—his broken body, the glass window separating you from him, and the way his mom’s voice had trembled when she asked you to stay away.

You’d tried visiting again. Just once. But his mother hadn’t even opened the door fully this time. Her eyes had softened with regret, but she didn’t waver. “I’m sorry,” she’d whispered through the gap. “Not yet.”

So you were walking home with a hole in your chest, waiting for the bus in the pale orange light of late afternoon. The sun felt far too warm for a day that felt so cold.

You didn’t even notice someone standing a few feet away until a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N?”

You blinked and looked up, startled.

Juntae was standing near the bus stop, his school bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His expression was more serious than usual, a quiet concern in his eyes.

“I’ve been calling you since you turned the corner,” he said, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You forced a small nod, though the tightness in your throat made it hard to say anything.

His gaze softened. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Then you noticed the paper in his hand. It was creased, edges slightly torn, but something about the logo on the top made your stomach twist.

“What’s that?” you asked quietly, pointing at it.

He held it up. “It’s from Daesung Motorcycles. I managed to rip this from a stack before we left that day.”

Your eyes widened. “You—what?”

He nodded, eyes scanning the page. “It’s not much, but there’s something here. Names. Dates. Some weird numbers… could be payment records or something. If we get lucky, this could be enough to put some heat on the Union.”

Hope flickered in your chest for the first time in days. You stepped closer, voice firmer now. “We should give it to the police.”

Juntae hesitated for half a second—then nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking the same.”

You both stood there in silence, the wind picking up, ruffling the page in his hand. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a fragile thread of something to hold onto. It wasn’t much but it gave you hope to end all this union bullshit.

You and Juntae hurried to the nearest police station, the page clutched tightly in his hand like it was your last lifeline. Every step there felt like running against gravity—like the world didn’t want this truth exposed.

The station was cold and impersonal. An officer behind the desk barely looked up when Juntae placed the paper down, explaining everything—what Daesung Motorcycles was really doing, what you saw, what this paper could mean.

The officer flipped through the page with disinterest, then sighed. “This could be anything. You need more than this to start an investigation.”

“But we saw it!” you argued, your voice trembling with urgency. “They’re laundering money, stealing. This is real—”

“We can’t investigate a place like that based on one ripped page. That’s just not how things work,” the officer said, sliding the paper back across the counter.

A punch to the gut.

Defeated, the two of you walked out of the station, the sun already dipping behind the buildings. Juntae was quiet, holding the paper again like it had lost all its power.

“I really thought they’d listen,” you muttered, your voice hollow. “What’s even the point? They won’t believe us unless someone dies in front of them.”

You stopped walking, fists clenched. “Maybe we should just stop. I’m tired, Juntae. I don’t know how much more we can do—”

You didn’t even hear them approach.

“Yo,” a low voice called out behind you.

You turned.

Four guys. All dressed casually, but their eyes were sharp—too sharp. The kind that made your instincts scream.

“run.…” Juntae whispered, stepping slightly in front of you.

The Union members.

Before you could react, two of them lunged. You tried to run, but arms wrapped around your shoulders and waist, dragging you back. You screamed, kicking and struggling, but they were too strong.

“Juntae!” you cried out.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

Yoon gamin and yeon sieun would be a terrifying duo in a fight

Cause gamin has the strength and sieun had the intelligence. It almost reminds me of skk from bsd

I just watched study group and I can't stop thinking about whc. It's a really good drama like whc ( minus the trauma) . Study group is more funny which I loved.

If anyone wants to watch a drama like whc I'd say study group is awesome

Anyways thank you for listening to my small little rant<33

[honeyscara]

About honeyscara ^᪲᪲᪲

My name is samara but I prefer the nickname sam or sammy.[she/her]. I'm bisexual

I'm studying fashion design and am currently in my 1st year. I'll be starting my 2nd year soon though

My birthday is on 15th sept( same as Felix and Jae from day6 hehe). I'm 18 atm

Huge anime and kpop/kdrama fan here

Also like rock bands and vkei

I used to play a lot of video games but now I just watch gameplay on yt. Antony Chen is my favorite atm. I still play genshin during holidays tho

Used to be a gacha kid

Hobbies

I love music & dance. I kinda wanted to do ballet as a kid. I also used to play the piano but now I wanna learn the electric guitar

I know how to crochet a little

Reading, I really like horror or thriller stuff. Even some classical stuff (bsd fan here)

Speaking about thriller, I like watching horror shows or true crime podcasts(Stephanie soo is my fav)

Fandoms

These are just my favs

Anime: bungo stray dogs, Haikyuu, demon slayer, Nana, aot, jjk

Kpop: stray kids, seventeen, itzy, xdinary hereos, p1harmony, riize, twice, idle, bts, ateez, nct, aespa,

Kdramas: whc, twinkling watermelon, duty after school, Mr queen, alchemy of souls, tomorrow, true beauty

Alice in borderland

Fnaf

Tlou

Bands: wave to earth, green day, artic monkeys, set it off, ac/dc, 5sos, Cass, TV girl, maneskin, chase Atlantic, the neighborhood, queen

Singers: gracie, marina, mitski, conan, Chappel, Billie, mac, lana

Vkei: bucktick, dir en grey, grand rodeo, lucklife

[honeyscara]

Hii, do you accept request? I saw a post on tiktok about seong-je doing it with reader while wearing his glasses on, and I was wondering if you can write a fic about it? Anyways, it's okay if you don't. Have a good day sweetie!

Hii anon, I do take requests

Men with glasses are so hot for no reaso especially Seongje like??🫠🛐

For my “teasing” Seongje fic, I actually imagined him keeping them on while doing it but never mentioned it lol

I’m working on a Seongje fic atm, so I’ll definitely keep this idea in mind<3

Hope you’re having a great day too!!

[honeyscara]

Chapter 8

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

《prev chapter next chapter》

Cw: this chapter us gonna be angst, mentions of blood, also s2 spoilers!!

The air grew heavier with each passing second.

You sat still beside Sieun, your back straight, every nerve in your body on edge. The bowling alley, once loud and buzzing, felt distant now—as if the room you sat in had been pulled into another dimension, one laced with tension too thick to breathe through properly.

Then the doors opened with a soft hiss.

Baekjin stepped in.

He walked calmly, almost too calmly, his presence commanding silence without saying a word. His school uniform was still pressed, collar sharp, posture perfect—he looked exactly like the top student everyone once whispered about. But something in his eyes was different. Colder. Emptier.

Your breath hitched.

Baekjin’s gaze flickered briefly to you. Just a glance. But even that was enough to make your shoulders tense.

Then he looked at Sieun.

And stared.

Neither of them said a word for a moment.

Baekjin sat down directly across from the two of you, his movements graceful, calculated, like someone trained to never give anything away. He leaned back slightly in the chair, one arm draped over the backrest, legs crossed neatly—completely unbothered.

His silence spoke louder than any greeting.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," Baekjin finally said, voice calm and smooth—but cool. Detached. Like this was just a formality.

Sieun didn’t flinch. He met Baekjin’s gaze head-on, voice steady but low.

"I had to ask you something."

Baekjin didn’t blink.

Sieun inhaled sharply, then said with deliberate weight, “I don’t know why a top student like you would be in the Union.”

The words cut through the space between them like a blade. You felt your throat dry up as the atmosphere shifted—Baekjin’s eyes narrowing, just slightly, like he was trying to decide whether Sieun deserved an answer.

But he didn’t speak.

He just stared, as if daring Sieun to press further.

Sieun leaned forward, his tone firmer this time—challenging, but not loud. Just sharp enough to slice through the thick fog of silence.

“Humin knows the reason, doesn’t he?”

Baekjin’s jaw ticked.

And still, he said nothing.But something about the look in his eyes told you: the conversation had only just begun.

Then, Baekjin let out a scoff—quiet, humorless.

“Do you think I’m doing this because Baku knows everything?” he asked, voice sharp, tinged with something darker. “That I’m scared of him talking?”

His lip curled ever so slightly in disdain.

Sieun didn’t blink. “No,” he said firmly. “Humin knows everything about you. That’s why you think of him as your only friend.”

Baekjin’s expression barely shifted, but something in his eyes twitched.

A beat of silence passed.

Then Sieun added, softly—but with a bitter edge that cut deep, “But would Baku consider you his friend too?”

That hit home.

Baekjin didn’t speak. Not at first.

Instead, he reached into his blazer pocket and slowly pulled out his phone, eyes still locked with Sieun’s as his fingers moved over the screen with practiced ease. The tension climbed higher with every swipe, your pulse rising.

He turned the screen toward you both.

A video.

Your stomach dropped.

Gotak and Juntae scanning the files at Daesung Motorcycles. Your eyes widened in horror, breath catching in your throat. “No...” you whispered, panic creeping in like a shadow under the door.

Baekjin then said flatly. “My boys will be there soon.”

And in that moment, you knew.

The guys who left earlier. The ones who made your skin crawl with unease.

That’s where they’d gone.

Sieun’s jaw clenched hard, his whole posture going rigid beside you. His hand, which had been resting near yours, curled into a fist on the table.

He glared at Baekjin now—burned through him with a look so sharp, you swore it could cut steel.

Baekjin’s eyes gleamed with a quiet, calculated malice as he slowly leaned in, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. The air around him felt heavier—more dangerous.

“You said I had to separate the variables, right?” he murmured, tone eerily calm. “But I found an easier way.”

He paused, then added with a chilling smirk:

“If I remove the variables... it’s even easier.”

His gaze drifted meaningfully to you—lingering for a fraction too long. That look made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You instinctively reached for Sieun’s hand, gripping it tight.

Sieun didn’t flinch.

But his fist, clenched on the table, trembled slightly as his glare deepened. His jaw locked. The muscle there twitched.

Without a word, he stood—his body a shield between you and Baekjin. He pulled you up with him, gripping your hand tightly as he turned to leave.

But Baekjin moved.

Effortlessly, he stepped into your path, blocking your way with infuriating calmness.

“Last time,” he said, voice low, “Baku left... to save all of you.”

He tilted his head just slightly, eyes narrowed.

“Can you do the same?”

He glanced at you again, slower this time.

“Can you save your girl... and your friends?”

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Sieun’s patience finally snapped.

His eyes darkened, and without hesitation, he reached for a pen resting on the counter behind him. In a single fluid motion, he lunged forward, arm swinging as he aimed to strike Baekjin.

But Baekjin moved like a shadow—effortlessly sidestepping. His hand shot out, catching Sieun’s wrist just before the pen made contact. He snatched the pen mid-air and flung it to the ground with a clatter.

The corner of Baekjin’s lip curled slightly as he said coolly, “Why are you scared, Sieun?”

Sieun didn’t reply. He just stared, breathing heavy, shoulders tensed—ready to explode.

Then he turned, grabbing your hand again, trying to walk away.

But your eyes caught movement—someone approaching behind from the side entrance.

“Sieun? Y/n?” a voice called out.

You both froze.

Baku.

He stood there, wide-eyed and confused, slowly walking toward you. “What are you guys doing here?”

Neither you nor Sieun said a word.

Baku’s voice suddenly rose, rough with frustration. “I said, what the hell are you doing here?!”

His steps quickened, and without warning, he grabbed both you and Sieun by the arm, dragging you with sharp urgency through the exit.

You flinched at the harshness of his grip but bit your tongue, knowing this wasn’t the time.

Once the three of you were outside—under the dull, flickering streetlamp—Baku shoved Sieun’s shoulder and let go of you roughly.

“Why the hell are you guys here?!” he shouted again, voice cracking with anger and concern.

You took a shaky breath, stepping between him and Sieun, your heart pounding. “Gotak and Juntae… they’re at Daesung Motorcycles,” you said quickly. “We need to save them… t-the union members are already on their way.”

Your voice cracked at the end, eyes stinging.

Baku's expression shifted. His face dropped as the weight of your words hit him like a blow to the chest. He glanced at your arm—the one he’d just gripped too tightly—then a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Shit…”

The air turned cold. Heavy.

Behind you, the door of the bowling alley creaked open again.

A voice called out, smooth yet cutting, laced with mockery and challenge.

“Park Humin.”

You turned just in time to see Baekjin step outside, his figure backlit by the warm lights behind him. His school uniform still pristine, his face calm—too calm for someone so dangerous. His hands were in his pockets, posture relaxed, but his eyes were locked onto Baku like a hawk circling its prey.

Baku didn’t even flinch. His gaze didn’t leave Baekjin as he growled lowly, “Sieun. Y/N. Go save them.”

Your eyes widened. “Baku—”

“I said go!” he snapped.

But you didn’t move. Not yet.

You looked at Sieun, and he looked back at you. You could see it clearly in his eyes—he didn’t want to leave either. It felt too familiar. And leaving Baku to face Baekjin alone felt wrong.

Baekjin took a step forward. The streetlamp above flickered once, casting eerie shadows across the pavement.

Baku turned to face you both, his voice softer now—but resolute.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at you first, then Sieun. “So go.”

His words carried something deeper than reassurance—it was trust. He was placing his faith in the two of you.

You bit your lip, heart hammering in your chest. Then, finally, you nodded.

You reached out, grabbing Sieun’s hand.

He squeezed it back.

And without another word, you turned and took off into the night, your footsteps pounding against the pavement, Sieun running beside you, breath ragged.

The night air tore at your lungs as you ran, your hand still tingling from Sieun’s grip just moments before. Streetlights flickered above, casting shifting shadows along the sidewalk. Your legs burned, heart hammering so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of your own breath. Every step felt heavier than the last, your body pushed to its limit with fear and urgency.

Then—your foot caught the edge of a loose curb.

You stumbled forward, hands scraping against the concrete as you hit the ground with a thud. Pain lanced through your palms, but you barely registered it. Gritting your teeth, you scrambled up, brushing dirt off your knees, your breaths coming in sharp, panicked bursts.

“I’m slowing you down,” you managed to choke out. “Go ahead, Sieun. I’ll catch up—just go!”

He paused, torn, his brows furrowed with hesitation. But you gave him a small nod, trying to mask the sting of frustration and guilt in your chest. You didn’t want to be the reason anything went wrong.

Finally, he turned and kept running—reluctantly, his figure disappearing around the corner as you pushed yourself forward.

You ran as fast as your legs would allow, but your breathing was ragged now, your chest tight. The cold air bit at your skin as the pounding of your footsteps echoed down the deserted street.And then you saw him again.

Your steps faltered.

Sieun stood at a crosswalk ahead, completely still.His phone was pressed to his ear, his shoulders stiff, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Time felt like it stopped for a second.

His expression—shocked, broken—made your stomach twist.

“Sieun!” you tried to yell, but your voice barely carried.

Then you heard it.

The distant growl of an engine—too fast, too loud.

You turned your head.

A truck.

shit.

Your heart dropped like a stone in your chest. The headlights glared through the dark, approaching too fast. Your instincts screamed. You tried to move faster, to shout louder, but your legs felt like they were sinking in mud.

And Sieun still wasn’t moving.

The world slowed into a silent, merciless blur. You saw it before it happened— the glare of headlights,the metallic screech of tires,the way Sieun’s body jerked slightly, as if realizing just a second too late.

And then—

The impact.

His frame flung forward like a ragdoll, limbs weightless. Then crashing against the pavement with a sickening thud that echoed through the hollow street.

Time stopped.

Your scream ripped out of your throat before your mind even caught up.

“SIEUN!!”

Your legs buckled but moved anyway—you ran, faster than you ever had, stumbling to your knees beside him.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing the blood-matted hair from his forehead. His eyes were shut, lashes fluttering like he was barely hanging on. Blood pooled beneath his head, seeping into the cracks of the road like spilled ink.

“Sieun—no, no, no, stay with me—” you sobbed, cradling his broken body, your voice cracking like glass. His chest was rising. Barely. Shallow. Uneven.

He was still breathing.

You pressed your forehead to his, tears spilling down your cheeks, hands gripping his jacket like it could anchor him to life.

“Please—someone, help!!” you screamed into the empty night, your voice raw, frantic. “Please—he’s still breathing—help us!!”

But there was no response. Just the faraway hum of city noise, and the flickering streetlamp above, casting a pale, cold glow on the boy in your arms.

“Don’t do this, Sieun… Please,” you whispered through sobs. “..please don’t leave me—please…”

Your tears fell on his cheeks as his breathing continued, faint but present.

You held him tighter, rocking slightly, your body shaking uncontrollably as you begged the universe not to take him away.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

Hi! Congratulations, I’m so truly happy for you and I hope you’re having great day🫶🏻

Aww thank you so much!! 🥹 💕hope you’re having an awesome one too!!🫶"

[honeyscara]

Chapter 7

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

《prev chapter next chapter》

The sun was beginning to set as you and Sieun walked side by side, the orange glow casting long shadows across the quiet streets. The last few days had been a little tense, a strange shift settling among your group, mostly Baku—who was usually loud, teasing, and annoyingly sweet—had grown oddly distant.

You glanced at Sieun, who had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead.

“…Sieun?” you asked gently.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the road. “Yeah?”

“Is Baku okay?” you asked. “Any idea where he's gone?”

Sieun’s steps slowed slightly before he answered, voice low and serious. “...He joined the Union.”

You stopped walking altogether, the words hitting you like a cold wind. “What..he actually did?!”

Sieun finally looked at you, his gaze steady. “He didn’t tell anyone....”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Why… why would he join them?”

Sieun sighed, his expression conflicted. “He thinks he can help that way. That maybe he can protect us, by being inside. He’s wrong, but… I get why he did it.”

You bit your lip, the concern blooming in your chest now doubling. “did you ask Hyoman? Did you… meet him?”

“Yeah,” Sieun nodded. “The meeting was short. He told us where baku is.”

You tilted your head. “where is he?”

Sieun exhaled. “Daesung Motorcycles. That’s where he’s been lately.”

There was a pause. The wind rustled through the trees, and for a moment, the weight of everything threatened to fall on top of you both.Then, as the two of you approached the intersection near your neighborhood, Sieun suddenly slowed and came to a stop.

“I need to go see Baekjin,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

You frowned. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Sieun glanced at you, shaking his head almost immediately. “No. Go home.”

“What? No,” you said firmly, stepping forward. “I’m coming with you.”

Sieun’s expression tensed. “It’s not safe—”

“And Baku is my friend too, Sieun. I care about him just as much as you do.”

Sieun let out a frustrated breath. “That’s not the point—”

“Then what is?”

“I don't want you getting hurt, okay?!” he suddenly snapped.

The street fell silent. Your breath hitched, the sharp edge of his voice cutting deeper than it should have. You blinked, stunned, your expression falling.

Sieun immediately realized what he’d done. His shoulders slumped as the fire in his tone vanished just as quickly as it came.

“…I didn’t mean to—” he muttered, eyes wide, panicked now.

You looked down at your feet, your voice quieter. “I just… don’t want you to go alone.”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the right words. Guilt twisted his features. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

You stepped forward gently, reaching for his hand. His fingers curled against yours almost instinctively.

“We’re in this together, remember?” you said softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. “You, me, and everyone else. I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

Sieun’s eyes softened, his body finally relaxing as he looked at you.

“…Okay,” he finally breathed. “Let’s go together.”

.

.

.

The neon glow of the bowling alley lights spilled out into the street as you and Sieun approached the entrance, the muffled sound of pins crashing and low chatter echoing from within. You clutched the edge of Sieun’s jacket a little tighter, nerves fluttering in your chest. This wasn’t like the quiet walks home or your cozy study sessions—this place felt unfamiliar, laced with danger.

Sieun walked in first, his posture straight and composed, but you could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he was on edge too. You followed close behind, your hand still lightly gripping the fabric at his side.

The smell of oil-slicked lanes, old soda, and too much cologne hung heavy in the air. Laughter and conversations buzzed in every corner of the room, but as soon as Sieun stepped in, several heads turned.

A few guys near the snack counter nudged each other, their gazes flicking toward him. One of them muttered just loud enough for you to catch, “That’s the punk who wrecked Seongje, right?”

Another snorted. “Yeah, that’s him. Looks smaller in person.”

Then two guys stood and made their way toward you. One of them was broad-shouldered and quiet, but it was the other who caught your attention first—taller, leaner, with uneven eyes that gave him a constantly amused, almost unhinged expression. He smiled, the kind that made your skin crawl slightly.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes locked onto Sieun. “You the lunatic who beat up Seongje?”

Sieun said nothing, his expression blank.

The guy stepped closer and casually extended a hand. “I always wanted to meet you, man. You’ve got guts.”

There was a moment of silence. You looked up at Sieun, waiting to see what he’d do. But Sieun didn’t even glance at the guy’s outstretched hand.

“Where’s Baekjin?” he asked coldly, his voice sharp and to the point.

The smile on the guy’s face faltered for a split second, but the amused glint in his eyes didn’t fade. The air around you seemed to tighten, like a thread being pulled just a little too taut.

“Why do you wanna meet Baekjin?” he asked, voice still light, but laced with something colder now—like a warning beneath a joke.

Sieun’s expression didn’t shift. “I’ve got something to tell him,” he said, cool and flat. “Nothing to say to anyone else.”

That hit a nerve.

The broad-shouldered guy standing beside uneven eyes tensed, his jaw twitching slightly as his eyes narrowed. His fists clenched at his sides like he was ready to swing without needing much of a reason.

Uneven eyes tilted his head slowly, his gaze drifting. Then he noticed you—still standing behind Sieun, half-shielded by his frame, clutching his jacket, quiet but clearly there.

His eyes lit up, amused and curious. “This your girl?”

Your heart lurched. The tone he used was too casual, too amused, like he already knew the answer and just wanted to see Sieun squirm.

In a flash, Sieun’s hand moved protectively in front of you, barring you from their line of sight.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he said, voice low and warning, eyes locked on them like a trigger waiting to snap.

That was enough to make the two guys pause. They backed off just a little—but not without letting their eyes linger. You could feel it. Like being picked apart under a microscope. A cold ripple moved through you, discomfort prickling at your skin.

Then the broad-shouldered one, quiet till now, muttered something under his breath—something crude about girls getting in the way.

It was barely audible, but Sieun heard it. His entire posture shifted—shoulders squared, fists clenched, his body jolting forward like he was seconds from pouncing.

“Sieun,” you whispered urgently, grabbing his sleeve. “Don’t.”

His jaw clenched hard. The heat radiating off him was palpable, but he stilled at your voice, breathing through his nose as he tried to keep himself in check.

Once he’d calmed just enough, he looked back at the two guys. “Where’s Baekjin?”

Weird Eyes laughed softly. “Chill, man. He’ll be here soon,” he said, motioning toward the lanes. “Why don’t you relax a bit? Play a round. Hang out.”

Then, as he turned to walk back toward his group, he glanced over his shoulder at you again—eyes trailing a little too long.

Sieun’s hand found yours instantly, his grip firm as he pulled you toward one of the side tables without a word. You followed, sitting close beside him as he sat down stiffly, jaw still clenched.

You didn’t say anything. Just placed your hand lightly over his under the table, giving him silent comfort as you waited for Baekjin to show up—hoping the night wouldn’t spiral further than it already had.

A few tense minutes passed.

You sat quietly beside Sieun, your fingers still lightly brushing against his under the table. The muffled sounds of crashing pins and raucous laughter from the other side of the bowling alley did little to ease the pit in your stomach. Sieun hadn't said a word since he sat down, his posture rigid, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Then, cutting through the ambient noise, a phone rang.

The guy with the uneven eyes—still loitering a few tables away—answered it with an unbothered hum. But the moment he muttered the name "Baekjin," both you and Sieun snapped to attention.

Your gaze met Sieun’s for a second, and you knew he felt it too—something wasn’t right.

The guy ended the call quickly, then stood up. A few of the others followed, exchanging glances like something had been set in motion that you weren’t part of. The odd-eyed one threw a smirk toward the bar before jerking his chin at one of the guys.

“Keep an eye on the place,” he muttered casually, like it was nothing. Then his eyes drifted, landing on you.

“Wait here. Baekjin will be here soon,” he said, tone light, but there was something too smooth in the way he said it. His group's eyes lingered on you a second too long, scanning your face, then your legs, like they were memorizing you.

A cold shiver trickled down your spine.

Sieun straightened beside you instantly, his hand tightening on yours under the table like he’d sensed it too.

The group made their way out, the automatic doors hissing open and shut behind them.

Then… silence.

Only the sound of pins falling in the distance.

But the room felt colder now.

Wrong.

You looked at Sieun again. He hadn’t moved—but his jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable, and his free hand was resting on his thigh, fingers twitching slightly.

“…Something’s off,” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything. Just gave the faintest nod.

And now all you could do was wait—and hope Baekjin showing up didn’t mean things were about to get worse.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

300 FOLLOWERS!?!?

THANK YOU ALL SMM🥹🥹💜

[honeyscara]

Chapter 6

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

《prev chapter next chapter》

The day circled on your calendar arrived with a knot in your stomach.

Departure – 14:35.

You’d woken early, pretending it was a normal morning—coffee, half‑hearted breakfast, a glance at your phone every five minutes. Just after nine you texted him:

you: safe flight.

you: …don’t forget to eat the plane food even if it’s gross.

you: message me when you land? please?

His reply had come a few slow minutes later.

sieun: I’ll try.

sieun: take care.

Two lines. No little jokes, no teasing. Just I’ll try—and your chest had felt hollow ever since.

By noon you were curled on the sofa in the quiet of your living room, his just‑right hoodie pulled over your knees. Rain tapped against the window in sporadic bursts. The clock on the wall seemed louder than usual.

13:45—he’d be boarding.

14:10—running down the runway.

15:00—somewhere above the clouds.

You pressed your phone to your chest, eyes burning, wondering if he’d already felt the plane lift, if he was staring out at the disappearing city the same way you were staring at the dark glass of the window.

Then—ding‑dong.

The doorbell sliced through the silence. You jolted upright, heart pounding. Maybe Gotak with consolation snacks, or Baku with an ill‑timed joke, or Juntae shyly checking on you.

You shuffled to the door, wiping at your eyes, and pulled it open and..

forgot how to breathe.

Sieun stood on the step, damp from the drizzle, suitcase nowhere in sight. His hair stuck slightly to his forehead, and his backpack drooped off one shoulder as though he’d run the whole way.

You stared at Sieun, soaked at your doorstep, blinking as your mind raced to catch up.

“I… didn’t go,” he said softly.

You took a shaky breath, eyes flicking to the absence of his suitcase. “But… how” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. “You were supposed to be on the plane.”

“I was already at the airport,” he started, voice low. “Boarding was about to start… I was just sitting there, thinking about everything. About leaving. About you, the guys...suho.”

His fingers twitched at his side like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“And then Juntae called me.”

You blinked, surprised. “Juntae?”

“Juntae said it wasn’t my fault...what happened to suho wasn’t my fault...” His voice cracked a little at the end. “He told me to stop punishing myself.”

Then, his shoulders trembled slightly.

"You guys knew..." He began and you give him a small nod

He tried to blink it away, tried to laugh it off. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled, voice cracking. “I just… I didn’t know what to do.”

You stepped closer, eyes widening as tears finally slipped down his cheeks.

Without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight hug. His body tensed at first—caught off guard—but then he melted into you, arms locking around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, fingers gently threading through his hair. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone anymore, Sieun. You’re allowed to stay. You’re allowed to be happy.”

He didn’t say anything for a while—just buried his face in your shoulder, quiet sobs escaping as he clung to you. You rubbed slow, comforting circles into his back, your own eyes stinging with emotion.

"I was scared I would mess everything up" he murmured against your skin

“You didn’t, you never did sieun...it was never your fault” you whispered, pulling back just enough to cradle his face in your hands. Sieun’s breathing slowly steadied in your arms. The tear tracks on his face glistened faintly in the soft afternoon light that fell on him. You still held his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks tenderly, not saying anything, just being there.

There was a minute of silence before he leaned his head on your shoulder again, a little more calm this time.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, and it was such a simple, silly thing, but it made you laugh under your breath.

“You’re kinda heavy,” you replied teasingly, and he made a soft, grumbly sound as he flopped against you even more dramatically.

“Shut up,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

You both stayed like that for a few more moments—quiet, content, wrapped in each other and the weight of everything unspoken slowly being replaced with comfort.

Then your phone buzzed on the table.

You glanced at it and saw the group chat lighting up with messages from Gotak, and Juntae.

You laughed and showed the screen to Sieun. He stared for a second before groaning and burying his face again.

“Do not reply to them,” he grumbled.

“So I should definitely reply,” you teased, already typing back.

~

The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sterile that always made your stomach twist with unease. The hallway lights buzzed faintly above, casting pale light over the floors and the quiet stretch leading to Suho’s room.

Sieun had been silent the whole ride there.

Now, the two of you stood just outside the glass window of Suho’s room. Machines beeped steadily beside his bed, a small rhythm that somehow made the silence feel heavier. Suho looked peaceful, but too still. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, a stark contrast to the last time Sieun had seen him—alive, loud, stubborn.

Sieun’s hand was curled into a fist at his side. His expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on Suho through the glass.

“I didn’t go,” he muttered quietly, voice low and rough with guilt. “I couldn’t.”

You looked at him, your heart aching.

“I couldn’t just leave like that.Not after everything.”

He exhaled shakily and added, “I wish he was awake. I wanted you to meet him.”

You glanced at Suho, then at Sieun—his jaw clenched, his shoulders tense like he was holding back everything he didn’t know how to let out.

Without a word, you reached for his hand and gently intertwined your fingers with his. His palm was warm and trembling slightly. You gave it a small squeeze and stepped closer, pressing your shoulder against his.

“he will be fine,” you whispered, your voice soft. “I'm sure.”

He looked at you then, eyes glassy but no tears falling—just that quiet weight of emotion sitting behind his gaze.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The only sounds were the gentle hum of machines behind the window and the occasional distant footsteps of nurses passing through the corridor.

Sieun finally let out a soft sigh and rested his head lightly against yours.

“Thank you… for coming with me.”

“no..thanks for letting me come along,” you murmured.

Sieun hands entangled in your and he breathed just a little easier—grateful, hurting, but no longer alone.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

I love how you writeee!! pls make more seong-je fics like that 💋

Thank youu anon🥹

And yes I will be writing more for seongje

[honeyscara]

Chapter 5

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

《Prev chapter next chapter》

Cw: things just get a little suggestive and intense

Somehow, everything quietly fell back into rhythm. You didn’t bring up the almost-kiss. Neither did Sieun.

But the air between you two felt different now. You still met up at the café or your place for those “study” sessions. The books were open, sure, but half the time the two of you ended up sitting in a quiet kind of comfort, heads tilted toward the same page, knees brushing every so often like it wasn’t a big deal.

You got closer with the rest of the group, too. Baku would check in on you now and then, either through texts or casually bumping into you near your school gate. He even introduced you to Juntae properly the next time you hung out at that same café you met him and Gotak in.

“Hey,” Baku had grinned, nudging the quiet boy beside him, “This is the girl I told you about...you know..Sieun’s—.” You nudged him hard before he finished what he was about to say.

Juntae gave you a shy nod. “I’ve heard... a lot.”You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.

Eventually, it became a little routine. On weekends, you'd meet up—sometimes all five of you, sometimes just Baku and Gotak grabbing late-night snacks with you near the bus stop, or Juntae sending you memes at 2am with zero context. It was… nice. A strange little found-family sort of nice.

But with Sieun—it was different.

You’d be sitting in your room, the hum of the ceiling fan above, your voice quietly explaining a math formula he already knew. And just when you’d be packing up to leave, he’d pull something out of his bag—your favorite drink, or a slice of cake from that tiny bakery you once mentioned in passing.

“I walked past it on the way here,” he’d say, not meeting your eyes, pretending it was nothing.

But his ears were a little pink. And your heart always beat a little faster.

You’d take it with a quiet thank-you, fingers brushing his just slightly, and in that small moment—sweet and soft—you’d know. He cares about you.

~

Today was just like any other study session or so you thought. It was supposed to be normal. Notes, maybe some quiet bickering over who solved a question faster, and then heading home before sunset. But there was a weight in your chest the whole day, ever since Sieun texted you:

"Can you come over after school? I need to tell you something."

The message hadn’t seemed dramatic. But knowing him, it was impossible not to feel nervous.

You were already running late, and of course, it had to pour just as you got off the bus. The rain had caught you halfway down his street, and by the time you reached his door, your clothes were damp and your hair stuck to your skin in a way that made you shiver.

Sieun opened the door before you even knocked.

His brows furrowed at the sight of you. “You’re soaked.”

“I tried to run,” you mumbled, stepping inside, “But the mud had other plans.”

Without a word, he turned and walked into his room, returning a few seconds later with a hoodie—his hoodie. He held it out toward you with a calm expression, but his ears were just a little red.

“Change,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll get you a towel too.”

You accepted it gratefully and ducked into his room. The scent of laundry detergent clung to the hoodie, but so did something softer—something undeniably him. You slipped off your wet clothes and wore the hoodie.

It wasn’t oversized.

In fact, it fit just right, maybe even a little short on the sleeves and hem. You stared at your reflection in surprise. It wasn’t unwearable, but it definitely wasn’t long enough. You tugged it down instinctively.

Just then, there was a light knock on the door.

“Hey,” Sieun’s voice came through, muffled, “I forgot you're a little taller... I got you a pair of sweatpants too.”

Your heart fluttered.

You cracked the door open just enough to take the folded pair from his hands. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, ears pink.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, before gently shutting the door and changing the rest of the way.

When you stepped into the living room, Sieun glanced up and this time, his eyes visibly paused.

He didn’t say anything, but you noticed it: the way he blinked once, then quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. A flicker of pink rose to his ears again.

“You good now?” he asked, quieter this time.

You gave a small nod, clutching the warm cup he’d already set on the table for you.

“Yeah. Thanks… for the clothes.” You sat beside him, the hoodie brushing lightly against his arm as you did.

He just hummed in response.

You took a sip of the water, trying to ease the heat in your chest. The hoodie still smelled like him. You could feel the slow rhythm of your heart thudding against your chest, louder in the silence between you both.

He hadn’t said much since you sat down. You let the quiet stretch for a while, but eventually, you turned slightly toward him, knees almost touching.

“So…” your voice was soft, hesitant. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sieun’s gaze dropped to his hands, which were loosely clasped in his lap. His thumb fidgeted, rubbing along the curve of his knuckle. For a moment, he didn’t respond.

You waited, watching the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly. That nervous, guarded expression was one you didn’t see often. He usually held himself with that cool indifference, like the world couldn’t touch him. But now, he seemed almost....scared.

Finally, he exhaled.

“My mom wants me to go abroad. To study.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

The glass in your hands tilted ever so slightly, and a few droplets of water spilled over the rim. You nearly dropped it. You quickly set it back on the table with a small, clumsy clink before staring at him in disbelief.

“What…?” The word barely left your lips.

Sieun still wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked on the floor, jaw tense. His fingers curled slightly into his palm.

“She said it’d be better. More opportunities...A fresh start.”

Your throat tightened. A fresh start. Somewhere far away. Somewhere without you. The thought twisted deep in your chest.

“Oh.” It was all you could manage at first.

He finally glanced at you, and the moment your eyes met, something in your expression made him falter. You hadn’t realized you were gripping the hem of his hoodie tightly in your fists until he looked down.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you whispered.

Sieun looked guilty, really guilty. He let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

The words hit him harder than he expected. They were so soft — barely a whisper — but they carried so much hurt. And it was your voice. That same voice he’d grown to seek out in crowded rooms, the one that always reached him even when he pretended not to care.

Sieun stared at you.

He should’ve told you.

But how was he supposed to explain it?

That he didn’t want to leave? That he didn’t want to leave you?

That ever since that day — the day you cried in front of him, the day he wiped away your tears and almost kissed you — he hadn’t stopped thinking about you? That even in the quiet moments when you sat beside him during study sessions, scribbling notes or muttering to yourself, you made everything feel less heavy?

Sieun swallowed hard.

He couldn’t find the words. His throat felt tight, his head a mess of thoughts.

Would telling you change anything? Would it make it worse when he had to go?

Would it even matter?

God…

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t. His eyes just stayed locked on yours, and the longer he looked, the worse it got.

He didn’t want to lose this. Lose you.

You were still waiting. Still waiting for him to say something.

And then without giving himself another second to hesitate—

Sieun reached forward, grabbed your face gently but firmly in both hands, and pulled you in.

His lips met yours in a deep, desperate kiss.

It was slow at first — unsure— but when you didn’t pull away, when your breath hitched against his lips, something inside him broke loose.

His fingers curled in your hair, pulling you just a little closer. His other hand held the side of your face, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw, anchoring him in this moment.

You tasted like the faint sweetness of the drink you’d had earlier, but more than that, you tasted like something he was terrified to lose. Not again. He didn’t want to be separated from you too.

Sieun’s kiss deepened, his hands trembling just slightly as they moved from your face to rest gently on your waist. His touch was tentative, almost shy—like he was afraid to cross a line but couldn’t help himself. Your breath hitched as his fingers traced light, careful patterns along the curve of your side, sending a thrilling warmth through your body.

You shifted closer, heart pounding, your own hands finding his chest as if to anchor yourself in the moment. His lips parted just enough to let yours explore slowly, every brush feeling electric and full of promise. His shyness was palpable, eyes flickering nervously to yours whenever you made a move, silently asking if this was okay.

You smiled softly against his mouth, whispering reassurance in the only way you could—by leaning in and capturing his lips again, deeper, more confidently. Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, encouraging him without words.

One of his hands slid slowly from your waist up beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin—hesitant at first, then bolder when he felt the way you leaned into his touch.Your breath caught again as his thumb stroked lightly along your side. The sensation was almost maddening in its softness. You let your own hands wander, slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie to feel the heat of him—the dip of his waist, the strong line of his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a quiet, shaky breath against your lips, forehead tipping gently to yours.

Just as his hand slid a little lower, exploring the small of your back, the sharp ring of the doorbell shattered the intimacy like a sudden splash of cold water. Both of you froze, eyes wide and breaths caught.

Sieun pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed a deep pink as you both heard the familiar voices of Gotak and Juntae from outside.

You barely had time to pull away before your mind went into full-on panic mode. Your heart was racing, cheeks burning hot as you scrambled to fix yourself.

“Shit, what do we do? They'll see me” you whispered urgently, eyes wide as you watched Sieun hesitantly move toward the door.

He lingered there, hand hovering over the lock, clearly debating whether to let Gotak and Juntae in or not. You could almost hear your own frantic thoughts echoing in your head.

Suddenly, Gotak’s voice came through the intercom, a little annoyed but playful: “Sieun, come on, we wanna hang out! And seriously, why weren’t you answering your phone? And have you heard from y/n? She wasn’t picking up either!”

Sieun sighed and, after a brief pause, unlocked and opened the door.

Gotak barged in, muttering under his breath, “Dude, why weren’t you picking up? And why’d you take so long to open the door? And y/n wasn’t picking up too”

Juntae followed, both of them scanning the living room—and then their eyes landed on you.

You, sitting on Sieun’s couch, wrapped in his hoodie and sweatpants... The room instantly dropped into a heavy, awkward silence.

Gotak’s mouth twitched as he struggled to hide his surprise, while Juntae’s eyes flicked back and forth between you two, trying to process the unexpected scene. You swallowed hard, cheeks flaming hotter than ever as Sieun stood beside you, looking equally flustered but trying to play it cool.

The moment stretched, thick with tension, before Gotak finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a low, teasing chuckle.

“Well damn, I didn’t realize I was interrupting a K-drama finale!” he announced, hand over his heart. “Are we in season two already? What did I miss? A confession? A kiss? A steamy s–”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it straight at him. “GOTAK YOU–!”

He let it hit him full-force, dramatically stumbling back “THIS IS ABUSE. I was right all along!”

You groaned and covered your face with your hands, but you were laughing despite the burn in your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Sieun and Juntae stood frozen like NPCs that hadn’t been given a script.

Sieun cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact, while Juntae shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sooo,” Juntae finally said, glancing between you and Sieun, “we actually came to, like... hang out. That’s still allowed, right?”

You peeked out from behind your fingers. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Hangout. Let’s do that. Please. Now.”

Gotak raised an eyebrow. “You trying to escape the scene of the crime?”

You kicked another pillow toward him. “You want me to throw the couch next?”

He held up both hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up! Dang, you’re violent when flustered.”

Still red-faced but determined to salvage the day, you stood up and dusted off your borrowed clothes. “Let’s all go out to the basketball area,” you said, shooting a look at Sieun. “Fresh air. Move around. Burn off some of this awkwardness.”

Sieun gave you the tiniest grateful nod while Juntae exhaled like he'd been holding his breath since walking in.

“Sounds good,” Juntae said quickly.

“Basketball court?” Gotak grinned, hopping to his feet. “Cool, cool”

You ignored him and walked to grab your phone from the counter, muttering, “I should’ve punched you.”

Behind you, Sieun quietly handed you your shoes with a small smile. You met his eyes briefly—and though neither of you said anything, your pink faces said plenty.

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii @violetwitchmcu @reiofsuns2001 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @slovesyouuu @k1ttyjuice @ellaaa505

[honeyscara]

I loved this analysis so much

food as a symbol of suho and sieun’s relationship in weak hero class 1

this is inspired by @dearmyloveleys’ analysis of the symbolism of food in whc1. please go read their post first, or at least after—it’s beautiful, insightful and will make what i’m about to say make much more sense.

food is involved in a lot of suho and sieun's pivotal moments of connection. the first is when sieun apologises to suho for trying to hit him when he prevented him from crossing the line.

this interaction lays the ground for the relationship the two of them will build over the rest of the first season. it's the moment suho refutes sieun's assumption that he is just another one of the boys at school out to get him. unknowingly, he creates the first crack in sieun's walls.

the food sieun goes on to buy him is a lunch at the school cafeteria (comedy king). although it's not at all what suho meant or expected, he has no problem eating it. over this meal they share, they get to know each other, and we get to hear the first little joke sieun makes in the show:

through food, they make their way into a conversation, through conversation they make their way into humour, and through humour into connection.

suho loves and enjoys food so much, it’s genuinely one of his biggest joys in life. and what he does immediately as he gets closer with sieun is feed him and share with him this joy of eating good food.

when he feeds him that ssam wrap, he says “hands make the food taste better”, but what isn’t explicitly said is that being fed by hands that love you is something different and something more.

suho makes it intensely obvious that the way to his heart is food, and food is what he ends up using to bulldoze his way through sieun's walls. and this loud and eager manner of suho's works on sieun instantly. as op pointed out, the smile in his eyes says everything: no one has ever shown him care so unrelentingly, no one has ever refused to give up on sieun so adamantly. and it means everything.

sieun takes notice of suho's intense love for food very quickly, which is made clear when he brings suho the ox knee soup he so craved to the hospital—and he doesn’t just bring food to suho, but yeongi as well.

that’s how this whole situation gains another dimension: it’s not just about sieun being attentive to suho and showing him care through food, it’s also about how suho affects sieun and begins to bring out of him the warm-heartedness that has always been there, but never had anywhere to go.

he notices and says as much: “you’re so warm-hearted. your eyes. the way you act, talk. and your face.” but what he doesn’t know is that this is his effect. he is not the one who made sieun loving and warm, but he is the one that gave him a place to finally express it, albeit in his rough, yet quiet and subtle way.

and the smile this earns him from sieun is a smile of relief, of being seen, of joy and freedom, it's sieun revealing his heart to suho for the very first time—and the way there was utterly interwoven with food.

when they feed each other, they not only sustain each other, they connect, they tell each other something more than what can be expressed in words, and through food, they both slowly carve themselves a home inside the other's heart.

while we’re here, i need everyone to take a second and look at sieun watching suho eat:

(no need to analyse this. that's sieun's first love. i feel crazy.)

moving on:

if we are to look at suho as someone who spreads joy and light through food, a big part of this being him delivering it to people, then the instance in which he brings sieun along to help him at his job is just another, more active way of him showing sieun how to express the care he feels for other people and spread joy himself; by making him do it the exact way suho himself does it.

it’s a subtle bonding moment like no other—doing something positive for the people around you together (even if they paid for it, lol.)

an instance that might go unnoticed the first time you watch (i know it did for me) is when for suho's birthday, sieun cooks him seaweed soup.

really, it symbolises a crucial moment in their relationship. the first time we see sieun give food to suho is the cheap school lunch, the second time is ox knee soup and the third is the seaweed soup.

lined up this way, these three instances can be viewed as symbolic of the stages of sieun and suho's relationship.

when sieun buys suho that school lunch, it's nothing special—it's cheap, likely not that good, and bought out of a sense of obligation.

the ox knee soup is a meal sieun orders, picks up and delivers himself—and it's the exact thing suho craved. it's thoughtfulness, gratitude, friendship and fondness, all expressed through a meal delivered to suho's hospital bed.

the seaweed soup is food sieun cooks himself for suho. it's the final stage, a most intimate act a person performs for the people close to them. made with his own hands, it one of the most subtle ways to show care and love. bearing in mind that only hours after this, sieun goes into a fight completely alone against an entire group in suho's place, this meal serves to symbolise the fact that their bond has become unbreakable, that they would risk it all for each other.

and the most shattering part of this: the same way we never see suho eat the soup, sieun never gets to express all the tenderness, love and care he feels for suho directly to him. he's taken away from him too quickly for that. all of that unexpressed warmth, devotion and affection stays brimming inside sieun, until we see it spill out of him in the form of violence, pure rage and then life-altering grief.

to end off, i want to discus one more instance in which food comes into play as a symbol in whc1, in arguably one of its most devastating scenes:

first, it’s suho who declines, and we see sieun’s face drop—

—and it’s not just in temporary disappointment that he can’t make plans with a friend. it’s in a sense of unease that signals that this is the moment after which nothing will ever be the same: suho blatantly refusing to go get food, when from the beginning he has been the one always loudly and enthusiastically suggesting it and without fail agreeing to it.

then, beomseok declines as well. we could look at this as just another instance where no matter how there sieun is and how much understanding and friendship he offers beomseok, all beomseok ever saw and wanted was suho, so if he’s not going, he has no interest in going either.

both of the boys leave the classroom and sieun is left alone once again, dread blatant on his face, audible in the piano tune in the background that turns slow and quiet, until it fades out completely—and that’s when we know: this was the last good moment the boys will ever have together. it was the beginning of the end.

whc1 has managed something i haven’t seen in a while—to quietly and implicitly tell a story of such depth, to pour such symbolism into every line, every shot and camera angle, every expression on the actors’ faces and through this make the blatantly violent and loud scenes that much more impactful in a new and different way.

especially when it comes to the characters’ inner feelings and their relationships to each other, barely anything is ever told explicitly, and still nothing goes unnoticed if you’re willing to pay attention, even as a casual viewer.

i’m so grateful to every person who worked on this show and i hope they know we see with just how much love and care it was created.

thank you op for inspiring this <3