purinfelix

[purinfelix]

ᯓ★ everyone wants you - p. jongseong

summary: dating a rockstar means sharing him with the world, but when his songs start feeling more intimate than his touch you start to wonder - if everyone wants him, what's left for you? ──────── rockstar! jay x reader || sfw, angst no comfort ... idk what else to say, it's just unresolved angst i was in a mood ok || w/c: 1k

a/n: haven't been able to stop listeining to this song (jeff buckley ilu) and thinking about jay with this concept ... im so obsessed with rockstar jay i fear ...... hope u guys like it too!!

Being with Jay had always meant being his muse.

After all, it was the thing that had first drawn you to him - there was something so alluring about his artistry, about the way he poured his whole soul into his music, like it was his lifeline. It didn't take long for you to learn that he didn't reserve this kind of attention solely for his guitars, though. Rather, it was something innate to his very being, in the way he loved and expressed that love.

And the very first time you heard him sing a lyric you knew was written about you, for you, you understood it instantly.

It was a feeling like no other, being buried deep within a screaming crowd begging for his attention, knowing his eyes were only for you. And when he sang, he did so with so much passion it sounded like it hurt him just to bear it. Your heart soared and wrenched all in one moment at the sight of him up on stage and at the feeling of being so seen.

Quickly, your likeness found its way into his lyrics, his melodies, into the very core of what kept him motivated to keep plucking at his guitar strings until his fingers ached. There was something charmingly freeing about how music was his language of love, and you'd learnt to appreciate it in the way he'd offer you the other bud of his earphone, drum beats with his fingers on your bare thigh, and scribble lyrics onto napkins when you were out at dinner. It amazed you just how lost he got within his own devotion, the way he would let himself get swept up by it, staying in his studio for hours on end, working on songs until they were perfect.

And you were okay with it, because you knew at the end of the night, once he was done giving himself to his craft, he'd come home to you and give himself to you. He'd find his way into your open arms and let you softly kiss the tips of his sore fingers, as if breathing life back into them one by one. There was pride to be had in being his sanctuary and his muse, in being the thing that pushed him to keep working endlessly, tirelessly, bleeding into every line and note - and the same thing that tended to him when it became too much.

But lately that pride had faded.

It felt selfish even to think it. How could you resent such a privilege, to be loved in such a way and be given the chance to live on through his music? But lately, it felt like you lived more in the lines he wrote than in his life.

Sometimes when he came home, it felt empty, even if you were laying beside him in bed, he'd turn around silently, a subtle iciness in his movements you couldn't remember ever seeing before. The first night, you brushed it off, but when it became more regular for him to push past you than to even acknowledge you, you knew something was wrong.

It wasn't your first reaction to be angry, or upset - in fact, your only feeling at all was confusion. It didn't make sense. How could he go from forming melodies about being unable to live without you, your voice, your touch - to pushing you aside in the very same night? You tried your best to remedy this gap between how he spoke about you and how he acted, tried your best to make up excuses in your head, but nothing was enough to soothe the ache that had already begun to settle in your heart.

And in due time, his messages became shorter, the calls less frequent - like he was saving his words, his time, for his music, even if it meant you lost some of it too. He wrote more than he spoke to you, composed more than he called, loved you through lyrics more than through touch. He still came home to you each night, but not in the same way he used to. He'd lie beside you, silent, not really fully there - like he was already busy thinking up his next hit.

And when he did touch you, a cold hand carelessly dragging itself along your jaw, steady gaze on yours - it was like he was studying you more than he was loving you. His hands stayed on your hips, in your hair, but it seemed like you were nothing more than a plastic toy he was describing rather than a real person he was putting in effort to understand.

It hurt, in a silent, stinging way that got stronger with each absence, with each day that passed by in which you could feel something missing between the two of you. It was difficult not to blame yourself, not to try to make up reasons or excuses for his behaviour, but as hard as you tried, you just couldn't make sense of it.

So you stayed, because leaving felt too loud, too ugly, too much like giving up on this, on him. You endured the silent nights, the ghosts of touches, holding onto the hope that maybe someday you might outlive whatever was happening - someday he might look at you and see the person behind his lyrics.

And some nights he'd crawl into bed beside you and as he drifted off, you'd feel a slight tug on your shirt, as if he was, by instinct or habit, pulling you back to his. And you'd let him, pulling him into your arms as you heard his breathing steady, staring at the ceiling and wonder just how long love could survive like this.

Not breaking, just bending, a little more each day.

[purinfelix]

YAYYY YAYYYY IM THE ANON WHO SAID THEY WERE SEATED FOR YOU, AND NOW IM STANDING UP AND APPLAUDING !

part two was saur cute and saur worth the wait <33 seeing hook become an awkward shy guy was the best 😚 thank you for delivering part two~

OMG ANON WELCOME BACKKK <333 THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS truly truly if it weren't for messages like urs i would never have started writing that pt2 i can't thank u enough <3333

[purinfelix]

── .✦ you make me lose my temper - p. sunghoon

or ... 'such a mess together' pt.2! (yes !!! its finally here !!!!) - read pt 1 here

summary : ever since the car ride home, sunghoon's sworn to avoid you at all costs, because just the mere sight of you is enough to make his heart quicken. but how is he supposed to do that when the two of you are forced to work together for a group project? ──────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, more tension, hoon is a downbad idiot, enemies to loversss but stuff actually happens this stime !!!! || w/c: 4.6k

a/n: OMG firstly i just want to say a massive thank u for all the love i received on the first part, i really wasn't expecting it! i know this has been in the works for too long but ... i just really wanted this to live up to the first partttt T__T i hope it does! and i hope u all enjoy it <333 love u all <3333 p.s - thinking of making some spin off texts based off of this concept, lmk if you guys are interested !!!!!

Park Sunghoon had never felt stupid before. 

Sure, he had made small mistakes during quizzes, mistakenly submitted assignments late, once he’d even failed an exam - but none of those had ever made him feel stupid. At least, not in the way he felt right now, hunched over his notes in a secluded corner of the library, his favourite study spot since first year, all the while his thoughts were totally and utterly consumed by one thing. 

You.

It made him angry, unnecessarily so. It was so ridiculous, this entire situation, and his mind had spent countless hours doing mental gymnastics trying to understand it, which only worked to frustrate him even more. And now here he was, twirling his pen and staring at the same question he’d been working on for an hour, unable to drag his mind away from the tiny details of that day, the small, shy smile on your face, the softness in your eyes as you’d waved him goodbye. 

It was so stupid. 

It had been about two weeks since then, since he’d found out the “pretty tutor” his little sister always rambled on about was actually the same girl whose name was always next to his on class rankings. Since he’d driven you home, since he’d caught himself smiling long after you’d left, wondering if you’d made it back safe. He’d tried pushing it out of his head, convincing himself that he was just being polite, that it was a one-off interaction that he would easily forget. But surely one-off interactions weren’t supposed to replay in his mind constantly. 

Born smart, good-looking and naturally charming, most things came pretty easily to Sunghoon, and he’d gotten used to this fact. To most, it sounded like a blessing, but after almost two decades of it, he’d developed a habit of seeking out unlikely challenges - almost as if to prove something. Anything he did, if it seemed too easy, would quickly lose his interest - many hobbies, classes and even people had been lost this way. For Sunghoon, easy and fun were rarely mentioned in the same sentence, and his passion was rarely earned without a fight. 

That’s why starting university had been so exciting, and why he’d been so quick to latch onto academics as his choice of a challenge. There was always a new test to ace, a new class list to reach the top of. It kept him entertained, mostly.

Until he met you, and for the first time, struggled to make even a decent first impression. It was safe to say he was hooked. 

Attention from girls was something he’d grown almost numb to, being fussed and fawned over was irritating and politely declining confessions had become nothing short of a chore. But your attention was a challenge. Just to get you to look at him, he’d have to call you out in the middle of class discussions, and you only ever spoke to him if he outscored you on an exam. And the way you responded, never backing down, never faltering, always ready to fight back with exactly the same amount of fire, only drew him in more. 

For once, he could push someone, and instead of lying down with a polite smile, they’d push back. 

He had never stopped to consider why he wanted your attention so badly, though, not until now, because never before had you given it to him so easily as you had in his car. That shy, almost vulnerable side of you had that he had never seen before, that he’d not had to work for - he had half-expected it to shatter his image of you. But much to his surprise, and ever-growing irritation, it only hooked him in more, like he’d gotten a taste of something he desperately wanted more of. 

He told himself it wasn’t this deep, that he only found you entertaining to annoy, that he was just irritated at you for infiltrating his life in another way - first in class, then in his home with his sister, and now, apparently, in his every waking thought. 

But it was alright, after all, he was Park Sunghoon, and no challenge had ever proved too difficult for him. He’d just steer clear of you for a bit, give it a week or two and let this whole stupid thing blow over so you two could go back to peacefully hating each other like before. Easy. 

At least, that had been the plan. Right up until his professor’s voice echoed out in the lecture hall, in what felt like a death sentence. 

“And for this final project, you’ll be working in pairs, assigned by me.” 

He didn’t even bother looking up from his laptop when he heard his own name called out, continuing to type out his notes with his usual unbothered demeanour. Group projects had never really been his thing, but with his work ethic and the fact that most people did what he said without question, he was sure to ace it regardless of who he got paired with. 

But then he heard your name.

And then he felt his stomach drop. This had to be a mistake.

But when he craned his neck up, eyes scanning the list of pairs projected up onto the screen at the front of the room, there was no mistaking what he saw. Group 4 - Y/N and Park Sunghoon. 

His jaw clenched. Of course, so much for avoiding you. 

He didn’t even have time to process the situation since he soon spotted you, a couple of rows ahead, gathering your things and beelining towards him. The familiar smirk on your face was enough of a sign for him to leap up and hastily sling his backpack over his shoulder, turning for the exit. 

But you were too quick. 

“So,” you hum, catching him right as he made it out into the hallway, effectively trapping him. “Kind of shocked they paired us together, figured they might want to give everyone else a chance for once.” 

Your tone is lighthearted, but once he makes the reluctant turn to face you, you’re surprised by the absence of his usually bold expression. Instead, he struggles to meet your eye, one hand nervously fiddling with the strap of his bag. 

He clears his throat before he speaks. “Yeah,” he laughs awkwardly, and there’s a slight tremble in his voice, one you’ve never heard before. You watch as he cringes at himself, narrowing your eyes at his unusual behaviour. 

You shrug it off, though - you’ve never been one to question his weirdness, and you’re not about to start now, not when it could jeopardise a grade. “So, when are you free to work on it? I was thinking six tomorrow night, I could get us a study room too.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and when he finally looks up at you, his expression is almost unrecognisable. Somewhat shy, as he shifts his weight from one foot to another as if he’s not sure what to do with himself. He lets out a small sigh before speaking, but it’s enough to show you how many thoughts are running through his mind right now.

“You’re really okay with this? With being paired with me?” 

You furrow your brows at how tiny his voice sounds. “Well, I’m not thrilled, but there’s no use in wallowing over it. Plus, I’d rather you as a partner than most of our other classmates.” 

You can tell this isn’t the answer he was expecting from how the tension in his shoulders doesn’t seem to change, but he forces a curt laugh. “Right,” he runs a nervous hand through his dark hair, looking off to the side. “Yeah, six tomorrow sounds fine.” 

Despite his efforts to sound unaffected by being paired with you, you’re too used to his normally cocky behaviour to let it go undetected. And as much as you’d hate to admit it, something about this worries you. “Are you alright?” you say after another eternity of silence, unable to control the tinge of judgment in your tone. 

He straightens up immediately, awkwardly so, like he’s suddenly been caught. He shoots you a quick nod alongside a smile, which would’ve been convincing. That is, if Park Sunghoon ever smiled at you without beating you to something first.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says bluntly, then as if in a rush, “look, I have to go so I’ll just meet you in the library tomorrow, alright?” 

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s speeding down the hall, away from you, and all you can do is sigh in confusion and hope this project won’t prove to be too difficult. 

And Sunghoon shares the same worries, his nerves only compounding as he lets his backpack fall to the floor of his dorm room, watching with an irritated expression as his two friends barrel over each other in laughter. 

“Oh my god, I really can’t,” Heeseung cries out, tears pricking up in his eyes as he rocks back and forth on Jake’s bed, holding his stomach.

“Okay, it’s not that funny,” Sunghoon sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“I should’ve taken a photo of your face when you read the group list, you seriously looked like you’d shit your pants or something,” Jake chimes in. 

Sunghoon can only sigh in frustrated exasperation. It’s not like his friends had never laughed at his expense before, but something about this situation, the people it involved - or more so, the feelings it involved - made him more sensitive than usual.

“So it doesn’t matter to either of you idiots that your best friend’s life is basically over?” 

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Jake sighs, “it’s just a group project.” 

“Plus, the two of you are at the top of the class anyway, so it’ll be easy,” Heeseung says matter-of-factly

“Well, yeah,” Sunghoon exhales, pulling his desk chair over to sit on backwards, resting his chin on his folded arms with a conflicted expression. “But, it’s like whenever I’m around her nowadays, I just can’t think straight.” 

He says it with the tone of a complaint, but the soft confession doesn’t slip past his friend’s eager ears. Jake sits up with a slight sparkle in his eyes - one that Sunghoon has come to recognise far too well as a sign of mischief. 

“You like her?” 

“What, no?” Sunghoon scoffed, like the suggestion itself was too ridiculous to be true, but the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed slightly seemed to say otherwise. 

Jake and Heeseung silently exchange a knowing look as they watch their friend struggle, causing the knot in Sunghoon’s chest to twist tighter, overcome by the sudden urge to defend himself. 

“Look, it’s not that, it’s just that she’s always irritated me, and now I’m upset that we’re being forced to work together, that’s all.”  Even Sunghoon doesn’t sound convinced by his own words. 

“Uh-huh, but you’ve been in group projects with even worse people before, remember that guy last semester who did absolutely nothing, or the girl who messed with your slide formatting minutes before the presentation?” Heeseung points out, “you were annoyed at them, but with her, it’s something different.” 

“Different how?” Sunghoon furrows his brows at his two friends. 

“Like a couple of weeks ago, you seemed so unaffected by her, like you would just study and beat her and maybe throw in a couple of snarky comments, but that was that,” Jake offers, “you never used to talk about her like this.” 

“I don’t know, guys,” Sunghoon sighs in frustration, running a restless hand through his hair as he exhales, “it’s like ever since I gave her that ride home the other day, something’s changed, and then she goes and smiles at me like that and I -” 

“She smiled at you?” Heeseung interrupts. 

“Yeah.” 

“Was it like a tight, kind of ‘I hate you but I’m being polite’ smile?” 

“No, it was real,” Sunghoon stares at the floor in thought,“I think. Like I wasn’t just that annoying guy she wanted to beat in class, like she didn’t actually hate me.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then a soft snort from Heeseung, followed by Jake’s amused voice again.

“Dude, you’re so screwed,” he laughs, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face at his friend’s obvious denial. 

“Shut up.” 

“No, seriously, it took one car ride for you to fall for her?” 

“I don’t- it’s not-,” Sunghoon struggles for a response, before letting out a defeated sigh. “I don’t think it was just that, and I think that’s the problem.” 

“So you’ve liked her for longer, and this whole ‘hating each other’ thing was a play?” Heeseung chimes in curiously. 

“You’re making  me sound like some creep who’s been plotting on her this whole time,” Sunghoon retorts in exasperation, “I don’t know, this whole thing is stupid.” 

“I don’t know if it’s just the situation that’s being stupid,” Jake mutters under his breath, earning him a sharp glare from his friend. He only responds by throwing his hands up in mock-surrender before speaking again. “Dude, all we’re saying is that you need to get it together. The project’s not going anywhere.” 

Heeseung nods in earnest agreement. “Either you keep spiralling or, I don’t know, face your feelings and confess.” 

The very prospect makes Sunghoon’s eyes widen rapidly, an uncomfortable heat creeping up the back of his neck as he gawks at his two friends, shocked that they would even dare to make such a suggestion. “I’m not confessing,” he scoffs in offence, sinking lower into his chair. 

“Up to you, man,” Jake shrugs, “just keep daydreaming about her while pretending to hate her, see how that works out.” 

And with that, the room falls quiet again, the only noises being the dull hum of the ceiling fan and the steady pounding in Sunghoon’s chest. He doesn’t know what to do, just sits there as both of his friends devolve into some mindless conversation about something else, leaving him to brood by himself. 

He couldn’t decide what was worse - the idea of having to pretend that nothing had changed with you, or the very real possibility that something had. And though normally he might’ve been busy being irritated at the thought of Jake and Heeseung being right for once in their lives, he couldn’t bring himself to even worry about it right now. 

Because maybe they were. 

Maybe he had been caught up in this stupid rivalry for so long, obsessed with showing everyone that he hated you, that he hadn’t even realised when it stopped being about beating you and started being about being seen by you. 

And now that he had the chance to be seen by you, up close and personal, while working on this project together, he had no clue how to act. The sudden vulnerability, the feeling for once like you had power over him, made him uncomfortable. 

Tomorrow wasn’t just a study session anymore. It was a battlefield, and he was showing up completely unarmed. 

The library is deadly silent when he walks in, still, calm, everything he feels like his mind isn’t right now. He shoves a clammy hand into his pocket, letting out a shaky breath as he dodges between the shelves in search of you, whilst simultaneously dreading the moment he’ll find you. 

He finally spots you in an empty study room, brows slightly furrowed as you look at your open laptop, papers spread neatly across the table. He makes his way to the doorway, standing there just long enough to make it awkward as he watches you, the way your eyes flicker as you read each line, the way you chew on your bottom lip in thought. It twists at his heart, painfully so. 

You finally glance up, face contorting into a bored sort of irritation at his presence. “You’re late.” 

This bitter tone isn’t anything he hasn’t heard before, in fact, he’s sure he’s said far worse things to you. But right now, when he opens his mouth to respond with his signature smugness, nothing comes out. Instead, he’s only able to mutter a sheepish “Sorry,” as he takes the seat beside yours. 

You pause for a minute, silently noting his uncharacteristic shyness, far too used to his snide confidence not to notice the contrast. Weird. 

You’re not going to let your group project partner get in the way of you and a good grade, though, especially not when it’s him. So you force the two of you through the normal procedures of a group project - dividing up parts, setting up a rough timeline, brainstorming ideas. But throughout it all, there’s an underlying tension you can’t shake. 

Not that you weren’t expecting this to some degree, there’s always been tension between the two of you; anyone could tell you that. But this is different, it’s not angry or mean or deriding, it’s awkward, and a little shy - and it’s practically emanating from every look he gives you. 

You’re in the middle of correcting something he’s written but when you look up, you catch him just staring at you - not obviously, not in that menacing way he used to, like he was thinking of a thousand different ways to knock you down. It’s in a distracted, spaced-out, definitely not paying attention to what you’re saying kind of way. 

You feel your heart quicken against your will, the soft tenderness in his expression catching you off guard. But you pull yourself together quickly, snapping your fingers in front of him. “Hello?” you bark, “Earth to Park Sunghoon?” 

He blinks cluelessly. “What? I heard you.” 

“Heard, yes, but I doubt you were listening.” You sigh in annoyance, “Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously-” 

“I am!” he says suddenly, and despite the two of you being in your own study room, several heads turn towards you both. His eyes dart to them, then back to you, lowering his voice before speaking again with the same insistence. “I am.” 

“Sure,” you shrug, still unconvinced, “just don’t mess this up for me.”

And like that, you return to silence again, the two of you working side by side on your respective parts, not speaking unless it’s a curt question about the project or corrections about parts. Still, though, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something going on here - something more than just this ridiculous rivalry the two of you have been playing at for years. 

Three hours pass like this, and soon the sun has set outside, mirroring the exhaustion you both feel. You let out another frustrated sigh at hitting another research dead end, your tiredness and the suffocating silence whittling away at your patience. Running your fingers through your hair, sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. 

You’re expecting a laugh, for him to call you stupid for not having already found eight academic sources like he has. But it never comes, instead he just sits there, a little surprised as he returns your look, like just your presence is enough to make him nervous.

“Sorry,” you mumble awkwardly, watching as he quickly returns to his work. He’s being weird, polite, quiet - he’s not being the Sunghoon you’ve come to know and despise. 

“Is this because of the thing with Yeji?” you finally say, letting it out like a sigh you’ve been holding in this whole time. Maybe because you have. 

You knew that finding out you tutored his younger sister would change things between you both, the stiff car ride after had been enough to show that. But you hadn’t been ready for it to throw a wrench in whatever twisted thing you two had spent years cultivating. 

You’d come to know Sunghoon, annoyingly so. Everything from being able to predict the exact rebuttal he’d throw out in response to your point in class, to the expression on his face once he saw he’d finally gotten to you. As much as it might’ve pained you to admit, there was a sort of pride you held in being the only one who got to see that side of him, that cocky, over-confident, arrogant side, however annoying it might’ve been. 

But now, it was like you were back to square one, and he was treating you exactly how he treated everyone else. 

“No, it’s not,” he says quietly, shaking his head. 

You narrow your eyes, frustration only growing with his lack of explanation. At this point, you’ve abandoned all hope of getting any more work done, setting your sights solely on squeezing whatever secret he’s hiding out of him. And you’re nothing if not stubborn. 

“Is it because I’m better than you?” you offer, with just enough tease to make him laugh. It’s so quiet you barely catch it, but you do, and it’s music to your ears after an entire afternoon of him acting awkwardly polite. 

“Definetely not,” he says through a smirk, one that makes your heart flutter in a weird way. 

“Then what is it?” you press, “I mean, you used to be able to have full-on arguments with me in class, but now it’s like you can barely look me in the eye.” 

He leans back in his chair, finally tearing his attention away from his work and turning it to you, brows raised as he realises he’s been caught. He lets out a sigh before swallowing hard, eyes darting around the room. 

Jake was right, he was screwed. 

“It’s just,” he exhales unsteadily, gaze fixed on the floor, “I don’t know, everytime I’m around you lately it just feels like I can’t think straight. Like, my heart gets all quick and my face feels hot and it’s nothing like how I used to feel around you, so I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” 

He rambles like he’s losing control, and even if you had any intention of stopping him, you’re not sure you’d be able to with how your words feel caught in your throat. So you just sit there, silently, with a confused sort of expression on your face. 

“It was already driving me crazy when I gave you that damn lift home, and now we’re stuck together in this stupid project.” He continues, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so frustrated. 

“You’ve been avoiding me?” You finally say, just above a whisper.

“Yes,” he sighs, finally looking up to meet your eye, “because I’m afraid of what might happen if I spend any more time around you.” 

You just furrow your brows, urging him to continue. 

“I feel like I’m going to do something stupid again.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like this-” 

And before you even get a chance to figure out what ‘this’ might mean, he’s closed the already tiny gap between the two of you, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. It happens so quickly, so naturally - making you wonder, in that split second, if he’s thought about this moment before. 

But that’s before his lips crash into yours, and your mind goes blank. You feel his other hand in your hair, and soon your hands find their own way to the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in. There’s an urgency in his movements, in the way he keeps pushing himself against you like he’s been holding back on this for far too long.

It’s messy, and desperate, and everything a kiss between two people who’ve spent years hating each other could’ve been. All those arguments, those challenging stares and insults, get swallowed up in a matter of seconds. 

Because he’s kissing you like none of it ever mattered. 

And you? You’re kissing him back without even thinking. 

Suddenly though, he pulls away, his chest heaving and face flushed bright pink. His hand is still on your cheek, resting gently like he’s worried you’ll disappear if he lets go. You’d laugh at him for it, but your hands are still gripping the collar of his shirt. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, studying your face, unsure. 

“Say something,” he pleads breathlessly. 

There’s a moment of silence in which you watch his eyes widen just slightly, your lack of a response spurring on his nerves. And really, you’re not sure what to say. 

But soon, a coy smile spreads across your features as you let out a soft laugh. 

“You’re such an idiot, Park Sunghoon,” you sigh out. The insult comes out as naturally as a breath - though for once, there’s no malice behind it.

Urged on by the sight of your smile, he lets out a relieved laugh before pressing his lips to yours again. Though this time, it’s gentler, like he’s thanking you for not slapping or yelling at him the first time. Like he’s trying to make up for all the times he made fun of you in class, like he’s trying to show you truly, once and for all, just how much you mean to him. 

“You drive me crazy,” he mumbles against your lips, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle in response. 

Finally, you gently push him off you, though his hands find their way into yours quickly, fingers intertwining tightly like he’s refusing to let you go. 

“Help me understand this,” you say softly, and he nods for you to continue, round eyes fixed on yours, like you’re his whole world. “If you’ve felt this way, then why-” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, you don’t need to. Sunghoon has spent enough time around you, thinking about you, watching you - to understand your thought process. “Don’t ask me, I honestly don’t know,” he says, letting out a self-pitying laugh as he drags a hand over his face. 

“I mean we could’ve saved each other a lot of time and stress if we’d just done this last year,” you chuckle. 

“But it’s more fun this way, isn’t it?” 

“I guess,” you shrug with a small smile, pausing for a bit before speaking again. “Yeji is going to be really happy.” 

He laughs, but there’s still a lingering uneasiness in his movements, in the way his thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Was it okay,” he finally says, his voice tiny, “the kiss?” 

You let out another laugh though where there used to be a mocking derision, there’s only endearment. “It’s not an A plus, probably just a pass,” you joke, squeezing his hand. You watc the smile return to his face. 

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.” 

“Next time?” 

“Well, we still have to finish this project, don’t we?” 

You meet him the next day outside the library, same spot, same time, same stupid project. 

But it’s different this time. 

This time he’s there early, before you even, and he’s waiting with a beaming smile and a couple of snacks tucked under hsi arm. And when you turn to see him, your heart flutters so hard it’s ridiculous - though you can’t help but be grateful that you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t. 

“You brought cookies?” you laugh out, hand playing with the strap of your bag to hide your growing nerves. 

He smiles a little shyly, the tension easing from his expression at the sound of your familiar teasing. “It’s the least that I can do now that you’re my girlfriend.” 

The word makes your heart quicken, and you can’t hide the shy smile it forces on your face.  “That’s what we’re calling this now?” 

“Would you rather go back to me hating your guts?” 

“I don’t think you ever did,” you say with a raised brow, quirking your head to the side. 

For the first time in his life, Sunghoon agrees with you, and strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to mind. 

taglist (you all deserve a special kiss for ur support and believing that i'd actually ever finish this part 2 HASDKHN <333) :

@dearestdreamies , @yourfavebrownhead , @soondoongdoriii , @moonsunstar , @iuvnniki , @floating-moon-dust , @jakeslvt , @tobiosbbyghorl , @nekobbin , @sunnyjayjays , @fabulousarepo4 , @chansloverr @ourdaus @psychicdazestrawberry @floating-moon-dust @koobiiiistar

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omg i just woke up and wanted to say ... thank you all sm for 2000 followers !! <33

i actually can't believe it like i hit 1k at the end of last year and that itself already felt massive ... im so grateful to have so many of you guys who support me and my writing even through all the different fandoms ive written for, truly if it weren't for all the love i receive i would not have this creative outlet (as silly as it sounds!). love you all sososo much and thank you eternally.

love, jet! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

p.s. please don't ever feel scared to interact with me, im truly always down for new friends on here so if u want to chat or be mutuals pls just send me a dm, comment or ask !!! <3333

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okok i know its been a long time coming but part 2 of "such a mess together" is happening (aka im forcing myself to finish it bc i feel horrible for how many people have been asking for it) ..... SO ANYONE WHO WANTS TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST !! U CAN LIKE / REPLY THIS POST and I'll add u to it <33333

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PLEASE WE'RE IN DIRE NEED OF PART 2 OF SUCH A MESS TOGETHER

BASDHDASHASD OKOK I DID NOT REALISED PEOPLE LIKED MY FIC SO MUCH !!! LUV U ALL ILL RE-START WORK ON IT OKOK

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MWAH MWAH

YAYYY ILL BE WAITING 😚😚😚

OKKKK <3333

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I CARE I CARE MEMEMEMEME PLS PT 2 OF SUCH A MESS TOGETHER. IM SEATED JUST FOR YOU <3

ANON SHUT UP BEFORE I KISS U OK I WILL BEGIN WORK ON IT JUST FOR U MY LOVELY <33333

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do ppl even gaf if i start working on a part 2 of "such a mess together" .... cus its almost been half a year but like i feel bad that i left it on such a cliffhanger HAHA

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being in the mood to write but not having any ideas to write for is actually the worst EVERRR send requests and ideas pleeeeeaaakkkk 💔

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 i give a second chance to cupid - sim jake

summary: after months of teasing from your friends about your 'awful' love life you finally agree to a blind date they set up - but when it turns out to be a total disaster, you might need the help of the cute barista who's been watching you this whole time ─────── barista jake x reader || awkward fluff, romcom vibes, jake is a dork but also really sweet (what's new) || w/c: 2.3k

a/n: OKAY i actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop like my recent ones have been doing ... 💔 i think this cheesy awkward romcom meetcut just matches jake soo well out of all the enha boys - hope u guys like it!!!

Desperate. Hopeless. A lost cause.

Those were the kinds of words your friends liked to use to describe your love life - but honestly, you preferred to call it “waiting for the right one.” 

Admittedly, there was a little bit of truth behind their harsh words; you hadn’t been on a date in over a year, which, for a university student surrounded by lovey-dovey couples on a daily basis, probably shouldn’t have been the case. For a while, you’d used your high standards as an excuse, combined with the fact that between part-time jobs, society events and your studies, you barely had the energy to waste on men who weren’t worth your time. 

But your friends were tired of you constantly refusing their attempts to drag you out to parties or introduce you to some of their friends, and at last, they decided to take matters fully into their own hands. 

So that’s how you had ended up here - in a booth at a local cafe, waiting for the blind date your friend had arranged for you to show up. Your chest thrummed with nerves as you impatiently checked your hair in your compact mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. At this point, he was almost twenty minutes late, and your patience was beginning to wear thin - noting his amazing first impression as your stomach grumbled in agreement. You could only hope he was good-looking enough to make up for it. 

Quietly, you tried to shake away this pessimism - part of you really did want to take this date seriously, to at least enjoy yourself on it. At first, you had been hesitant at the idea of being set up with a total stranger, but the more you thought about it, the more you found yourself realising that maybe it wasn’t just your high standards or a lack of time that was to blame.

The longer you sat there, checking your reflection or rearranging the napkins on the table, the greater this feeling in you grew - a feeling of resigned hollowness. Like a quiet sort of loneliness that had been creeping up on you for the past year, one that you’d been too busy brushing off to fully realise. But now, you felt it, deep and aching and quietly painful, like you were realising just how high up you’d built your walls now that you were the only one within them. You weren’t hopeless like your friends insisted, but you did miss the feeling of being chosen, of being looked at like you were special - and honestly, you weren’t sure if that was any better. 

And maybe you were just being dramatic, just irritated at being woken up here so early and dragged out here by your friend. But it wasn’t her who had told you to wear your special perfume, the one you normally reserved for special occasions. 

Though now you were sort of wishing you hadn’t. 

“So you know what crypto is, right?” 

It felt like your neck was going to break if you kept on nodding mindlessly - but at this point, you weren’t sure you had any other choice. You force a polite smile onto your face and resist the urge to hurl your iced latte at your date as he launches into yet another man-splaining tirade. What a waste of good perfume. 

You sip at your drink, throwing in the occasional “oh wow” or “that’s crazy” as what was supposed to be a cute first date quickly devolved into a lecture you were struggling to stay awake in. Sure, he wasn’t bad looking, and he wasn’t rude or anything - but you’d be totally lying if you said you were enjoying his company at all. If this were any other situation, you would’ve been out the door as soon as he arrived half an hour late, but you really were trying to give this a go, at least, for the sake of your friend and the effort she’d put in for you.

But it wasn’t your fault that he was making this almost impossible. 

“Anyways,” he continued, oblivious to your obvious boredom, “I told my roommate that I wouldn’t date anyone who doesn’t understand finance. I mean, why would I want to be with someone who doesn’t understand the way the world really works?” 

He lets out a self-congratulatory laugh, taking a long sip of his americano, which he had made a point of ordering without any sugar or cream, as if that made him superior somehow. He looks up at you with an expression you’re assuming is an attempt at flirting, causing you to quickly divert your gaze elsewhere. 

Silently, your eyes wander the coffeeshop, at all the other people there who seem to actually be enjoying themselves, desperate for a way out, a sign, an escape, a mild emergency that would force the two of you out of here, never to cross paths again.

That’s when you lock eyes with him, the barista behind the counter who made your drinks earlier, and who you’re pretty sure has been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time. Strangely enough, your heart flutters in a way you forgot it was able to, as you pause for a bit to watch him. The way his slim fingers move swiftly to work the espresso machine, smooth dark hair falling over one eye. 

His face is already twisted into a sort of wince as he looks at you, presumably at witnessing the horrors you’ve been subject to for the past hour - and you watch as his brow quirks up as if to silently ask, “you good?” 

And you are very much not good. 

Subtly, you jerk your head, shaking it just enough to send out a silent signal for help, alongside a sort of pleading expression on your face that you hope is enough to show off your desperation. And you assume it is, once he nods slightly, because before you register it, he’s walking over to your table.

“Hey, so sorry to interrupt,” he says with a casual politeness as he approaches your booth, turning to you, “but we’ve got a bit of a situation out back with- uh, your car?” 

You blink. “My car?” 

“Yeah, the red one out the back, right? I think they’re threatening to tow it, you should come with me.” 

You don’t even have a car, but you don’t hesitate. 

“Oh my gosh, of course they are,” you sigh dramatically, turning to your date with an exaggerated expression. “I’m so sorry but, I’ve got to go handle this.” 

He furrows his brows, eyes flickering to you, then the barista, somewhat lost but somehow totally buying into your act. “Oh, right of course, that’s cool. We can just uh- reschedule or something?” 

Over my dead body. 

You nod anyway, offering one last polite smile as you slide out of your booth, following the barista behind the counter. He catches your wrist gently, the contact making your heart quicken, as he leads you to what you assume is their supply room, far out of sight of your date. 

Finally, you let out a sigh of relief, relinquishing your freedom. 

“I can’t even begin to thank you enough,” you breathe out, looking down at the floor. The space is small enough that despite both being pressed up to opposite walls, there’s only about a hand's space separating the two of you. 

“Don’t mention it, you really looked like you needed saving.” He lets out a laugh, easy, warm, like he does this every day. 

You drag a hand over your face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this in the first place.” 

“Dating app?” 

“Worse, blind date.”

“Ouch,” he cringes, and there’s a beat of silence where you can tell he’s hesitating about what to say next. “I mean, in the least creepy way possible, I overheard some of the things he said to you and” he twists his face in a way that shows his disapproval. 

“Yeah,” you laugh under your breath, “it was my friend’s idea, they set it up for me since they’re always insisting my love life is hopeless.” You throw up air quotes around the last word, tone dripping with sarcasm - and you hope it does enough to demonstrate the fact that you also think this is ridiculous. He just nods silently, as if he understands.

“It’s just,” you start before pausing for a bit. You look at the ground, letting out a heavy sigh before continuing. “I mean, maybe they have a point. I haven’t gone on a date in a while, but like, I’ve been busy, and I just don’t have the time to waste on guys like … him.” 

You run your hands through your hair, suddenly aware of how silent he’s gone. Looking back up, you catch his gaze, expecting him to be looking off awkwardly, or with a bored expression - but he’s not. He’s looking right back at you, eyes soft, empathetic, and he nods, silently letting you know that he’s listening, urging you to continue. 

So you do. 

“I mean, a part of me was sort of looking forward to this, weirdly enough. I was sort of excited by the idea of getting to feel that spark, those butterflies, just something! But then, he gets here half an hour late and immediately starts talking about crypto, and it’s like all hope left my body.” 

At that, he finally breaks into a gentle laugh, but there isn’t any pity in it like you might’ve expected.

“God,” you breathe out, looking up at the ceiling as you push yourself back against the shelf behind you. “I can’t believe I’m trauma dumping to a random barista in a supply closet.” 

“Trust me, anything’s better than the midday rush my coworkers are probably dealing with right now,” he chuckles. “Plus, this is a very exclusive supply closet; we don’t just let any customer in here.” 

You let out a weak smile, though you don’t know how to come back from the sudden vulnerability you’ve opened yourself up to. There’s a beat of silence before he starts up again.

“Especially not ones who order Americanos to act like they’re better than everyone,” he adds. 

You laugh at that. “Oh my god, thank you.” 

“Seriously,” he grins, looking a little relieved at the sound of your laugh. “The more bitter the coffee, the bigger the ego - it’s barista science.” 

You roll your eyes at his joke, but you’re smiling too - probably for the first time since you got here.  

“I get it, though, that pressure to feel something. Especially after it’s been a while, the silence can get loud after a bit.” His tone is strangely vulnerable, and you find yourself scanning his face for any sign of mockery, only to get total sincerity in return. It makes your breath catch because what he just said, combined with how he’s looking at you right now, makes you feel so seen. 

“Exactly,” you murmur breathlessly. 

And just like that, you recognise it - that flutter in your heart, the flush in your cheeks, the slightly dizzying feeling in your head. 

Oh god, and it’s happening in a supply closet of all places.

“Well, I should probably get going,” you mumble, awkwardly, “before you know, my car gets towed.” 

“Right,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut as if recalling the excuse he made up, “sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind.” 

“No, honestly, it was the best fake excuse to get out of a bad blind date I’ve ever heard.” 

“Well, I hope you won’t need to hear any more of them,” he says hopefully. 

You laugh, “me too.” However, a tiny part of you is weirdly saddened by the interaction ending so suddenly. 

He turns towards the closet door as if to help you out, but hesitates for a minute. His hand springs back, ducking into the front pocket of his apron, where he pulls out a crumpled receipt and pen. You watch, brows furrowed as he scribbles something quickly onto the back of the receipt before folding it and handing it to you. 

You take it, a little unsure at first, and try not to overthink the way your fingers brush for just a second longer than they needed to.

“I’m glad you didn’t feel anything with him,” he says shyly, eyes avoiding yours. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “because then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to come save you.”  

Your heart quickens, and you look down at the receipt. His name, his number, and a little smiley face drawn quickly next to it. You can’t hide the almost goofy smile spreading across your face as you tuck it into your pocket. “Thanks, Jake.” 

“Anytime,” he nods curtly, but as he begins to turn, he bites his bottom lip as if questioning whether to say something else. 

“By the way,” he adds, a little sheepish, “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but that perfume you’re wearing, it’s really nice.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but close it again, a little caught off guard. 

“It smells like the kind of thing someone saves for special occasions,” he continues, eyes fixed on the door handle, as if unable to meet your eye. “I feel bad that you wasted it on him.” 

A slow smile creeps onto your face, the kind that’s hard to fight back. “I don’t think it was wasted,” you say softly, fingers brushing the receipt in your pocket.

This gets him to look up at you again, face beaming and you’re not sure if you’re seeing it right in the dim lighting - but you could’ve sworn there was a faint blush across his cheeks as well. 

And like that, you’re stepping out of the closet, out of that tiny space just big enough for the two of you and back into the real world. Only now your heart feels a little lighter, your cheeks sort of warmer, a strange feeling thrumming in your chest - and even if your blind date turned out to be a total disaster, you couldn’t be happier that it did. 

taglist <33 : @dearestdreamies @nmurark05

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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧!

➜ summary: you just moved into a new building, right across from three loud guys. two said sorry and the third couldn’t care less.

pairing: pshx f!reader,wc: 14k words , genre: enemies to lovers ish, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

The elevator doors swung open, and soon you stepped out into the third floor hallway. You looked like you were moving in, which in your defense…you were. The oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, arms hugging a stack of takeout containers and a cactus you had that had pricked you far too many times, but that didn’t matter. You were finally on your own.

Unit 3B. That was you now. 

Your keys jingled in your palm as you found the door, nudged it open with one knee, and stepped into the apartment you’d stared at for months on rental listings. It wasn’t huge, but it had a little kitchen with enough space for your mum’s rice cooker, and a balcony that caught the sun in the morning. You spun around in the centre of the room, grinning, almost knocking the cactus you had just placed on the counter in the process.

And by nightfall, the place felt like yours. Your fairy lights were strung up across your living room. Your fridge held exactly a bottle of soda, some tuna you had eaten an hour ago and a bag of unwashed grapes. You lit a vanilla candle, the one your best friend, Jungwon, made you promise to use so you'd remember him… even while being so far apart.  But Jungwon hated travelling, so in his mind, you'd basically moved to another continent. 

Jungwon dramatically declared, “You’re practically moving to another country.”

“Jungwon, I’m literally a two-hour train ride away.”

“That’s basically Europe.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory, smiling to yourself.

Still, you were glad you’d made the decision to move. Three years ahead of you… of being on your own, of learning to be independent, part-time jobs, and what you hoped…a future incoming relationship. It should be easy. It should be peaceful. It should be—

“DUDE!!!”

A scream ripped through your wall.

It came from the wall to your right, a thin wall nudged between you and your neighbours. You could hear celebrations. A voice shouted, “THAT WAS INSANE!” followed by a loud thump like someone had jumped off the sofa.

You tried ignoring it at first, burying yourself under the blanket like it could block out noise. But 20 minutes in, another screamed “HE’S OFFSIDE, YOU DUMB—” loud enough to rattle the walls, you snapped.

You threw on your hoodie, jammed your feet into slippers, and marched out the front door like you were storming a battlefield. The hallway was dim and quiet, except for the muffled party behind door 3C. You knocked, hard, but polite.

The door creaked open mid-laughter, revealing three guys mid-snack, mid-game.

“Hi,” you said, tight smile. “Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind keeping it down a little? I’ve got a test tomorrow and it’s kinda hard to focus with all the screaming.”

The one with fluffy hair, cute little eyes, nodded immediately. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. Totally our bad.”

Another one, long lashes and a goofy smile, actually winced. “Didn’t realise it was that loud. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Are you new here?” the first one asked.

You nodded. “I just moved in today, actually.”

“Oh shit. Mrs Kim moved out?”

“Damn, we’re not getting her kimchi anymore, that’s for sure.”

“We gotta eat those store-bought ones that taste like ass.”

The second boy looked at you again, more focused this time. “Oh right! I’m Jake! It’s great to meet you! I’m sorry it happened under… unfortunate circumstances. But we’ll be quieter!”

“I’m Jay, by the way,” the first one added with a small grin, pushing his hair back.

You nodded, smiling slightly. At least they were nice about it. Well, two out of three, anyway.

You glanced past both of them, eyes landing on the third boy slouched on the couch, still holding the controller, gaze fixed on the paused screen like you weren’t even there. His jaw clenched once. No name. No hello. Just a subtle, annoyed glance in your direction before he looked away again.

Cool. So he hates you. That’s cool with you.

The third guy didn’t say anything. Just glanced at you once, then turned back toward the TV.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, lips tight, already backing away.

You returned to your apartment and for a blessed thirty minutes, it was quiet.

Then someone scored a goal and the wall shook again.

You blinked slowly at your ceiling, arms folded under your head like the weight of your patience was finally starting to crush your ribs. Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. You frowned.

And that was literally… how war started.

The next morning, fuelled by petty vengeance and two hours of sleep, you grabbed your pastel pink sticky notes and wrote:

“Dear 3C, I’ve played FIFA before. It is not that damn fun for you to be out here screaming. Please tone it down. Regards, the zombie in 3B.”

You slapped it on their door. Nothing changed.

And the next day:

“Dear 3C, I can’t sleep. Kindly shut up <3 With love, the girl one more sleepless night away from writing to the landlord. 3B.”

You half expected them to ignore it. Instead, you found your note missing by mid-afternoon. Gone. 

For a moment, you felt powerful. Maybe they’d actually listened.

Then 8:43 p.m. hit and someone in 3C scored a goal so loud you swore the bass from their TV made your candle flicker.

Alright. So it was personal now.

You stormed over to their door again, hands on your hips.. It wasn’t that late. You weren’t unreasonable. You believed in joy. In freedom. But right now? Rage was the only thing pumping through your system.

You shuffled down the hall with your bunny slippers slapping against the floor, hair in a claw clip that was giving up. You looked deranged. And for the first time, you were fine with that. You banged on their door.

The door cracked open a second later, revealing Jake blinking like a deer in headlights. His hair was messy. He looked mildly afraid.

“Were… we being loud again?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Ya think?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m so sorry. It’s Sunghoon. He keeps saying it’s not that loud and we were mid-tournament and—”

“Tell Sunghoon that his ego’s not the only thing echoing through these walls,” you snapped, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to study.”

Behind Jake, you heard a familiar scoff followed by a smug voice yelling, “God, she’s so annoying. We were literally whispering.”

You leaned to the side, locking eyes with the third boy slouched on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table like the world owed him something. He didn’t even pause the game this time.

You didn’t know what it was about his stupidly symmetrical face but your blood boiled.

“Tell this Sunghoon guy…his whispering sounds like a screeching cat,” you said flatly, before spinning on your heel and marching back toward your door when you heard his aggravating voice.

“Tell her she’s overreacting over a couple of friends simply trying to have fun,” Sunghoon fired back from the couch, not even raising his voice. 

You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “Well, tell him, his shirt doesn’t match his fucking pants.”

Jake looked helpless, standing between you both like a middle child caught in a divorce.

And then, with that same bored tone, Sunghoon called out again, “Well, tell her… those slippers are the best thing she’s worn all week.”

You stopped.

Jake sucked in a breath.

You slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “Tell him he wouldn’t know good fashion if it came with a user manual and punched him in his freaking face.”

Sunghoon finally glanced away from the TV, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. His lips curved into the most irritating half-smile you’d ever seen.

“Tell her–”

Jake stepped in between again, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. We’re gonna turn the volume down. Like, way down. Like you can’t even hear us tiptoe. Right, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one annoying my neighbors at 9pm on a Friday night. Get some friends.” 

You slammed your door shut.

War was back on.

-

The next morning, your plan was simple. A little petty, sure, but necessary.

You stood outside their door in your pyjamas, holding a fresh pack of neon yellow Post-its since your previous ones were used up by the ongoing Post-It war.The hallway was empty. Your bunny slippers made no sound as you padded up to 3C and stuck the first one of the week dead-centre on the door.

“Dear 3C, just a gentle reminder that FIFA will not feed you, clothe you, or give you money. Kindly shut up. PLEASE. Warmest regards, 3B.”

You smiled to yourself and floated back to your apartment.

That night? For the first time…? Silence. Beautiful, blissful silence. You actually managed to revise two chapters and fall asleep before midnight. You woke up in the morning feeling like a changed woman.

But then you opened your front door.

There, taped neatly to your door, was a blue sticky note with surprisingly neat handwriting.

“Dear 3B, you sound like you narrate your life out loud. – 3C.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Narrate your life out loud?” you muttered. “That’s literally called thinking.”

You marched back into your apartment, flung open your stationery drawer.

“Dear 3C, apologies if my internal monologue disrupted your daily FIFA championship. I only talk to myself because your volume settings make it impossible to hear my own thoughts. With all due respect (and ear damage), 3B."

That afternoon, Jay knocked on your door. You hesitated, then opened it a crack. He was holding a bag of convenience store pancakes in one hand.

“Peace offering,” he said. “Also, I think your notes are hilarious. Jake’s been collecting them. I think he’s making a scrapbook.”

You blinked. “Is this a joke or something?”

Jay shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No! Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing.”

Jake popped his head in from behind, grinning. “Also, your handwriting’s really neat.”

You opened the door a little wider, cautious then shrugged. “You want some… uh… spaghetti? I made it this morning.”

“Spaghetti?” Jay tilted his head.

You nodded. “Yeah. I usually experiment with food. I’m…uh…in culinary school.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re like… a chef?”

“Trying to be.,” you said with a shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious.

They exchanged a quick look before barging in like you'd personally handed them invites at the door.

“That’s so cool,” Jake said, practically bouncing as he flopped onto your beanbag. “I burnt instant noodles last week. Twice.”

Jay wandered deeper into your living room, his gaze landing on the dusty old guitar leaning against your bookshelf. “Dude, check it out! She plays the guitar.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, awkward. “It’s just for fun. I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Jake said, already chewing through a mouthful of spaghetti he’d somehow found, and served himself in a bowl you didn’t remember offering.

You blinked at him. “Did you just—?”

“Plate was right there,” he said through a mouthful. “I took it as a sign.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “She feeds us and plays guitar. She’s better than Mrs. Kim already.”

You sighed and closed the door behind them. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Kim left because of the three of you.”

In between bites, Jake nodded without hesitation. “I think so too.”

“We can be loud,” Jay added, helping himself to another serving.

“Have you thought of… not being loud?”

“We do,” Jay said. “But then we get loud again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Guys, some of us have school and—”

“We have school too,” Jake chimed in, mouth full.

“Okay… some of us care about sleep.”

Jay perked up. “That’s why we got you this.”

He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny box, dropping it into your hands.

You squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“They’re sleep buds,” he said proudly. “They go in your ears and play white noise and, like… ocean sounds or something. Blocks everything out. Even us.”

You stared at the box, then at them.

“Instead of compromising, you got me gear?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. We like you. We want you to be able to sleep… through us.”

Jay gave you a thumbs-up. “It’s called adaptation.”

You looked down at the sleep buds in your hands and then back up at the two of them absolutely inhaling your spaghetti like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You didn’t know whether to kick them out or thank them.

So you just sighed, defeated. “You guys are the weirdest neighbours I’ve ever had.”

Jake beamed. “Aww. You’re the weirdest too.”

And somehow… the next day… they were back.

You opened the door mid-knock, confused, only to find Jay grinning at you.

“What’s for lunch today, boss?” he asked, already halfway through the doorway.

You blinked. “How’d you know I made something?”

“We could smell it,” Jake said, stepping in right behind him, holding up a comically large spoon. “Smells so good. Brought my big spoon today. Came prepared.”

“Uh… I made chowder?”

Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love chowder.”

Jay had already plopped onto the floor cushion, flipping through your Spotify like he owned your iPad. “What kind? Clam? Corn? Pumpkin? Wait… do people put pumpkin in chowder?”

You stared at them, ladle in hand.

“Corn,” you muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen.

Then the day after that… they came again. At this point, it felt less like a surprise and more like a recurring appointment.

“No fucking way. Kimchi stew? This shit is so good!. Jay, you need to try the beef. It’s so soft. How— how’d you get it so soft? Is this like one of those expensive beef? Wakoo?”

“It’s Wagyu, Jake.” You corrected.

“Wagyu~” He sang.

Jay, already mid-bite, nodded with a full mouth. “Can I havefth thefth reshepee?”

You wiped your hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter with one brow raised. “Do you guys ever eat in your own apartment?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Not when you cook like this.”

Jay pointed his chopsticks at you like he was making a closing argument in court. “This is technically your fault. You fed us once. That’s basically a binding contract. We’re best friends now. Aren’t we, Jake?”

Jake nodded, mouth full. “Mhmff. Whatever he said.”

You sighed, setting your elbow on the table and dropping your chin into your hand. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least wash the dishes after.”

Jake saluted you with his spoon like you were the captain of a very tiny, soup-based army. “Yes, chef.”

You looked at the two of them, one already on his third helping, the other stealing more beef straight from the pot, and shook your head.

This wasn’t how your independent, put-together, college life was supposed to go. You were meant to be focused. The mysterious girl on the third floor who only ever came out for groceries and exams.

But maybe… with the two of them barging in uninvited, eating like they hadn’t seen food in years, and treating your living room like it was theirs…

Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.

-

It was 9 p.m. Strangely quiet.

Usually, by now, there’d be at least one goal celebration shaking the walls or someone shouting about a missed penalty. But tonight? Nothing. You didn’t let it bother you. You took it as a win.

The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape. You stepped out into the cool night, cradling your little scissors and spray bottle like sacred tools. Your succulents were arranged in a neat line. A few leaves had started to curl. You knelt down, snipping the dead ends carefully.

You should’ve felt peaceful.

But tonight, something tugged at your chest. 

You missed Jungwon. You missed your mom’s mismatched cutlery and the way your dad always forgot he’d already asked about your grades. Maybe even your pet fish, the one that never did much except float around looking confused.

Jay and Jake were friendly, sure. But they weren’t yours. They weren’t part of your before. They didn’t know the town you came from or the versions of you that existed before now.

And even though you thought you’d settled in... even though you were coping...you were lonely.

Without meaning to, you started speaking out loud — just like you always did.

“It’s fine. You’ll do better tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t feel as lonely,” you said softly as you misted the leaves. “You’ll be stronger. You’re gonna get used to this. You can do it.”

But the lie caught in your throat.

Because you were crying already.

You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, frustrated, betrayed by your own body. You reached for your phone without thinking and hit the contact you swore you wouldn’t keep calling every time you got overwhelmed.

Jungwon answered on the first ring.

“What’s up?” he asked, casual as ever.

“Won…” you breathed out.

There was a pause. Then: “Are you crying?”

“No?”

“I can hear you sniffling, you shit.”

“It’s just—” your voice cracked. “It’s hard. I’m alone all the time. I’ve got no friends. I’ve got no one to talk to. I’m alone, Won.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know…”

There was a pause. You could hear him shifting in bed, his voice soft and serious now. “But think about it this way, okay? You’re barely in your first month. You’re gonna get used to it. You’re gonna find people. You’re gonna build something here. It just takes time.”

You bit your lip. “You’ll visit if you can, right?”

“I’ll visit,” he promised. “Even if it takes two bloody hours.”

“But you hate traveling.”

“For you, I’d suffer.”

You sniffled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll hang up.”

“You’re right because I’m exhausted from basketball. But also… I love you.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I love you too.”

“Chin up. You’re talented and you deserve to be there. You can do this. We’re all counting on you.”

“I know.” You exhaled slowly. “Goodnight, Wonnie.”

“Night.”

You ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, letting the cool night air settle on your skin. The tears had stopped. Your hands still smelled like mint and basil and the faint sweetness of the spray bottle. You stared at your succulents, wondering if they ever got lonely too.

Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, out on the connected balcony, hidden by the divider, someone had heard everything.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d stepped out earlier, just needing air, needing quiet, needing to be somewhere still for once. And then he’d heard your voice. The words that were not meant for anyone else.

And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.

He just stood there in the dark, one hand gripping the railing, heart a little heavier than before.

He understood more than you thought.

And somewhere between your tears and Jungwon’s voice, he changed his mind about you.

-

The next few days, there was absolute silence. Maybe the food had finally worked some psychological warfare on Jay and Jake. Maybe it was their way of returning the favour. Either way, you weren’t about to question it.

You were grateful, to say the least.

Because for the past week, you’d been moping around your apartment. Living alone and striking out as an “independent bachelorette” sounded empowering in theory, but in practice? Maybe you weren’t one of those girlies after all…y’know the ones on Instagram who made solitude look like a season of self-discovery instead of a series of breakdowns.

It was Saturday. You’d spent the entire morning in bed watching a Netflix documentary about some guy swindling people on Tinder, surrounded by crumpled tissue and scented candle smoke that had long turned suffocating. You were still in yesterday’s hoodie, blanket tangled around your legs.

Three knocks echoed at the door.

You lifted your head from the pillow with a groan, barely alive. The sound came again.

Dragging yourself across the living room, you cracked the door open just a sliver, just wide enough to peek through but not enough to reveal the disaster that was your face, your hair, or your pride.

“Uh.” The voice was hesitant. Familiar.

You squinted.

Sunghoon.

You blinked. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying and a full night of narrating your own spiral.

“There was a mix-up with the mail,” he said, holding up a small stack of envelopes.

“Oh.” You extended your arm awkwardly through the tiny gap in the door and grabbed the letters. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, “I can see your puffy eyes through the gap.”

You scoffed, immediately pulling the door closer. “You just have to be a smartass about everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Still standing there. 

“…Are Jake and Jay home?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

His expression twitched, almost amused. “Why? Trying to steal my best friends again or—”

“No,” you deadpanned. “I was just wondering. It’s been… quiet this whole week.”

“They went home to visit their families.”

Oh. Right. Come to think of it, maybe that explained why everything felt extra heavy lately. It was the time of year people usually went home. People surrounded themselves with comfort and familiarity. And here you were, stuck in the city because the train ticket home was just slightly out of budget.

“You didn’t go?” you asked softly.

“Can’t,” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he tilted his head.

“Well,” Sunghoon said slowly, “if you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

The words came with the usual venom but the message behind them landed differently.

You stared at him through the gap in the door. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny, or… sincere, in his own weird, backhanded way. It was strange. You’d only had  three full conversations with the guy. And every single one ended in a WWE tournament.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Are you… being nice to me?”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, he turned and walked back.

-

You finally got up.

There was no movie-worthy breakthrough moment. Just the dull ache in your head from crying too much and the feeling that if you shed one more tear, your eyeballs might actually eject themselves from their sockets. So you moved. You stripped your bed, tossed the mountain of tissues into a trash bag, sprayed half a bottle of disinfectant in the air, and opened every window.

Your apartment looked like it had survived an apocalypse, which, to be fair, was accurate. But you scrubbed it back to life.

By the time you were in the kitchen, your eyes were still a little swollen, but you’d pressed them with cool spoons and a sad little compress until you could see straight again. Kind of.

You pulled out ingredients from your fridge one by one, lining them up like you were preparing for war. Slicing, boiling, julienning, stir-frying. The sound of the pan crackling beneath the glass noodles filled the silence of your apartment. It smelled exactly like it did when your mom used to make it.

You plated it in a wide, shallow bowl. It was delicious. Of course it was. You took pride in it. You always had. Jungwon used to tease you, calling your hands “blessed by Gordon Ramsay” like everything you touched turned into comfort food. You’d swat his arm, trying not to smile as he reached for second helpings before you’d even sat down.

You missed him. You missed your family. You missed not having to eat alone on a day like this.

Your eyes drifted to the door.

Would it be stupid? To bring food to Sunghoon? You’d never really done anything kind for him. Most of your interactions were lined with sarcasm and insults. And yet… that one line of his kept replaying in your head, “If you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

So maybe…maybe he meant it. Or maybe you were just desperate for company and your noodles were starting to get cold.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed the noodles into a clean container, wrapped a rubber band around it, and found yourself standing in front of 3C. Your feet had walked you here without permission. Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, but now… you hesitated. You weren’t here to complain. You weren’t here to yell. And that made it harder.

And just before your knuckles could land on the door, it swung open.

Sunghoon stood in front of you, coat already on, scarf looped lazily around his neck. There was a little shine to his hair like he’d styled it, and he looked surprised, mildly confused to find you on his doorstep without any anger evident in your eyes.

“What?” he said, voice dry.

You blinked, staring at him. You’d never really looked at him properly before. Not when he was this put-together. The gel in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his scarf sat slightly off-center like he’d thrown it on in a rush. You knew he was attractive. You weren’t blind. But seeing him now?

Sunghoon was actually… pretty handsome.

“I—uh—” you stammered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Spit it out.”

“I—uh—I made some… stir-fried glass noodles,” you said, stumbling over every syllable. “And I know how much it sucks being alone on a day like this, so I thought… maybe it’d bring you some kind of familiarity. From home, or something.”

You didn’t let yourself overthink it. You shoved the container into his hands, heart pounding.

“Bye,” you mumbled, before immediately turning around and marching back to your apartment like you’d just robbed a bank. The door clicked shut behind you.

You pressed your back to it, eyes wide.

Shit.

Was Sunghoon actually hot?

-

Sunghoon stood in the hallway, unmoving. The container in his hands was warm and he stared down at it for a couple of seconds longer than he probably should’ve.

Jake and Jay had been raving about your cooking for weeks. At first, he thought they were exaggerating. How good could someone’s food be that it made two of the loudest people he knew voluntarily whisper through a FIFA match?

But he’d seen it with his own eyes, Jake silently fist-pumping the air, mouthing “LET’S FUCKING GO” after a goal, and Jay barely reacting as he scored. They even created a rule: first one to speak puts a dollar in the Silence Jar. A literal jar. With money.

Sunghoon didn’t get it.

And he didn’t particularly care to. Not then.

But now, standing in the hallway in his coat and scarf, staring at the gift you shoved into his hands with flushed cheeks, something felt different.

He had been on his way out, actually. There was a bar nearby, nothing special, just a dim-lit spot with quiet music and decent food where no one bothered him. He usually went there whenever Jay and Jake went back home, like they did this time every year. It wasn’t that he didn’t have family—he did. It just wasn’t… warm. They were always busy. Always somewhere else, even when they were in the same room.

He peeled off his scarf, feet dragging a little as he headed back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He set the container on the kitchen counter, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and opened the lid.

Steam wafted up instantly, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, something subtly sweet he couldn’t name. The noodles glistened. They looked homemade. No, they felt homemade.

He picked up a strand and gave it a tentative taste.

His eyes widened before he could even help it.

It was good. Like stupid good. Like how the hell is this girl not running her own restaurant kind of good. Better than anything he would’ve paid for at that bar tonight.

He stood there in silence, chopsticks hovering mid-air, thinking back.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Three encounters, three arguments. He remembered each one too clearly. The snark in his voice. The way your expression hardened. The notes on the door. 

But it wasn’t really about you.

He hated being called out. Hated being the problem. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the way he’d always felt like he had to be put-together or to say the least…controlled. Your presence threw him off. You were loud in a way that was sincere. You didn’t filter your emotions. You wore your annoyance on your sleeve and your feelings on your face.

It irritated him. It also… made him feel something.

And then there was that night on the balcony.

He hadn’t meant to listen. But when he heard your voice cracking through the divider, talking to someone…maybe it was your boyfriend? Your best friend? Whoever it was about how lonely you were, it hit him harder than it should’ve.

Because he got it.

He felt it too.

Being alone in a crowd. Having people around but never really with you. That weight in your chest that didn’t come from sadness exactly…just the absence of warmth.

Sunghoon felt it more often than he cared to admit. He loved Jake and Jay, loved them to pieces. They were the kind of people who filled a room with noise and an energy he couldn’t really place and who made him laugh even when he didn’t want to.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Someone who just… saw him.

He sat at his kitchen counter, staring at the container of glass noodles still warm with steam curling from the lid. He wasn’t usually impulsive. He didn’t do gestures. But maybe tonight called for something a little uncharacteristic.

He stood and reached up, opening the top cupboard where Jake and Jay kept what they called their “emergency date plates.”. The kind of plates you used to impress someone. They only ever brought them out when trying to convince girls they were not, in fact, living in a borderline condemned apartment flat.

He grabbed two.

And then, before he could second guess it, he walked out into the hallway and knocked. 

Your door creaked open a few seconds later.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

It almost felt like deja vu. Except now, he was you…awkward at the door.

And then it hit him.

He looked at you…like, really looked at you, and for the first time, he realised he’d never actually seen you before. 

You were wearing a soft pink sleeveless dress, the fabric loose and falling just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist. Your hair was tied into a side braid, fringe swept slightly to the side, with a few delicate strands left loose to frame your face. You looked like you belonged in a pastel painting.

Shit.

Were you actually—pretty?

Nope. Nope. Stop that. Sunghoon blinked hard, trying to erase the thought.

Damn it.

You probably had a boyfriend. Someone smart and warm and emotionally available who FaceTimed you every night and wrote you good morning texts. Someone who missed you from back home.

And besides…someone who could cook like you? You could probably bag Jake and Jay at the same time in under a minute if you wanted. Not that you would. But still.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” He held up the plates slightly. “I thought maybe… you could join me?”

He wasn’t good at this. But his voice was steady.

“Only if you want to,” he added, quickly. “I just figured. Y’know. Glass noodles taste better on… plates that aren’t plastic.”

His eyes met yours.

He was trying.

And this time, it was your turn to blink in disbelief.

-

Sunghoon had returned with the container of glass noodles, now a little colder, a little stickier, but still giving off the faint aroma of sesame oil and soy sauce. You’d reheated it and plated it up, slightly embarrassed that the presentation wasn’t what it had been fresh off the stove, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he did, but you couldn’t tell, because for the first five minutes, you didn’t look at each other.

The clink of chopsticks, the occasional scrape of ceramic, and your ceiling fan. It was awkward. You wondered why he even came. Why he asked in the first place, if he was just going to eat in silence.

“So,” you said.

“So,” he said.

You paused.

“You first.”

“No, you—”

“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat and set his chopsticks down. “I—uh—I just wanted to say thanks. For the meal.”

You blinked. “Okay.” You nodded slowly. “You’re… shockingly formal when you’re not pissed.”

“I—” Sunghoon let out a breath and leaned back a little in the chair. “I was never pissed.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“I was annoyed, sure. Who likes being called out?”

“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you said, tilting your head. “But put yourself in my shoes. I have to wake up at stupid o’clock to learn how to make a soufflé or whatever, and meanwhile, I’m treated to surround sound yelling and the occasional ceiling vibration.”

He gave a small shrug. “Well, we haven’t done it in a while.”

“And I’m grateful,” you replied, lips twitching. “Truly.”

“We got a silence jar and everything,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.

Your eyebrows shot up. “A silence jar?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jay implemented it. He said if we keep it up, we’ll have enough for extra toppings on our next pizza night.”

You burst into laughter, the sound surprising even yourself. It came out light and real, and you covered your mouth halfway through. “That’s… honestly? A decent plan.”

“It can be,” he said with a grin starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Until everyone starts trying to play FIFA like it’s an ASMR video.”

“You guys actually whisper?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. You told us to.”

“I didn’t think you would listen,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.

Sunghoon shrugged again, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him. “Well… they changed my mind, so.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking.

That it wasn’t Jake or Jay who changed his mind. It was that night. The way your voice had carried through the gap in the balcony, fragile and cracking. The way you’d said I’m alone, Won like it was something that had been sitting inside you for too long, waiting to spill. He’d realised then maybe he wasn’t just an annoying neighbour to you. Maybe he was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been making things harder for someone who was already trying to hold it all together.

“So…” he said quietly, eyes on his plate, “why are you alone during the holidays anyway?”

“Couldn’t afford a train ticket,” you said eventually. “I mean—I could have, technically. But that’d mean I wouldn’t have enough money left to buy ingredients for my assignments the next few weeks.”

Sunghoon winced. “Oof. That’s rough. Must suck.”

You gave a little shrug. “Yeah. It’s fine though.”

He knew it wasn’t.

There was a pause. He glanced sideways at you.

“If you ever… feel like you need someone to talk to,” he started, voice casual, “you could just knock. I have FIFA.”

You snorted. “Oh, like I’d willingly join that mess.”

“It’s actually really fun.”

“How fun can flinging a ball across a screen with your thumbs be?”

“It is!” he defended, turning fully toward you.

You raised a brow. “I tried once with my friend and it was so boring.”

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t playing it right,” he insisted, already standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“I’m not playing FIFA with you.”

“Come onnn,” he whined, grabbing your wrist and tugging you lightly toward his door.

“God, this is gonna be so stupid,” you muttered, dragging your feet even as you followed him out.

Inside his apartment, the lights were warm, the couch sunken in like it had been through a war. You sat reluctantly, tucking your knees up as he handed you the controller.

“Alright,” he said, sliding in beside you. “This is you—Team Two. All you have to do is use the left joystick to move, the right one to look around. This button to pass, this one to shoot.”

You blinked. “So many buttons.”

“It’s easy! Just follow what I say.”

“Okay… so now I just—?” You pressed a button and immediately kicked the ball out of bounds.

“No, no—move left. Left.”

“I am moving left!”

He glanced over. Your tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, eyes squinted, brows furrowed. He chuckled before he could stop himself, quickly looking away.

Then you screamed, “I DID IT! DID I DO IT?!”

He turned back just in time to see you score.

Sunghoon yelled, jumping up. “Yeah! That was it!”

You stared at the screen, jaw dropping. “Holy shit. I’m amazing.”

He looked at you again, this time longer. Your eyes were glowing, still locked on the TV. Your fingers tapped at the buttons like you already got it down. You bit your lip when you were focused, tongue sticking out just slightly when you were thinking.

And you were cute. So fucking cute.

The match picked up pace. Suddenly it was 2–2, and both of you were leaning in like your lives depended on it. You were yelling at the controller. He was shouting advice. At one point, your knees knocked, but neither of you noticed. The room was loud, just your voices and the music from the game and the way your laughter filled every corner of his flat.

Then it happened.

You scored. 

You screamed, controller tossed onto the couch, and before Sunghoon could register what was happening, your arms were around his neck, squeezing him tight as you jumped slightly in place.

“I WON! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He froze. Your cheek brushed his jaw, your warmth right up against him. His hands hovered midair like he didn’t know whether to hold you back or not.

And then you let go, plopped back onto the couch, and grabbed the controller again like nothing had happened.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his heartbeat stuttered. Sped up like it had been woken from a long, indifferent sleep.

He sat there, silent, staring at you as you shouted at your pixelated team.

And all he could think was well that…he hadn’t planned on crushing on the new girl based on one single positive interaction.

God, he was so screwed.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of almost-conversations.

You and Sunghoon didn’t talk much. Not like that night. Just a few polite waves across the hallway, a quiet “hey” if you caught the elevator at the same time. Respectful nods. The occasional awkward glance if your eyes met for too long.

And then Jake and Jay came back.

And of course, Jake being Jake, invited himself into your apartment before you could even say no.

“I missed your cooking while I was gone,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the dining chair like he’d returned from war.

“Well, today’s your lucky day,” you said, flipping through your assignment folder and squinting at the week’s task. “Because for today’s assignment, I’m supposed to…” you paused. “Make a really mean chicken pot pie.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands, nearly tipping his chair over. “CHICKEN POT PIE?!”

Before you could even blink, he leapt up, yanked your door open, and sprinted into the hallway.

“JAY! IT’S CHICKEN POT PIE!” he yelled like it was a fire drill.

From across the hall, Jay’s voice rang out. “WHAT?! NO WAY!”

And then—another voice joined them.

A quieter one.

“Chicken pot pie?”

You didn’t even have time to react before you were suddenly hosting three grown men in your kitchen, all leaning over your counter.

“Guys,” you said, elbow-deep in flour. “I can’t focus if you’re all staring at me like that.”

“We’re just excited,” Jake grinned, chin in his hands.

“Well don’t be. I’ve never made this before. It might taste like ass.”

“Your hands are basically blessed by Gordon Ramsay,” Jay declared, grabbing a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “It’s impossible for it to taste like ass.”

You laughed, the sound soft and unexpected even to yourself. “Jungwon used to tell me that all the time.”

“Oh he did?” Jay echoed, voice teasing.

Sunghoon stood a few steps back from the others, arms crossed loosely, leaning against your fridge. He hadn’t said much since stepping into your place, but now he watched the three of you.

The way you smiled when Jay made a joke. The way Jake knew where you kept your mixing bowls. The way your eyes sparkled, just slightly, when you laughed about something from home. The way they got it. The way they knew you.

And the way he didn’t.

Sunghoon couldn’t explain it but it made his stomach twist. Tight and strange and uncomfortable.

And then he heard it again.

Jungwon.

Who the hell was Jungwon?

His name sounded too casual. Too affectionate. The kind of name you didn’t just drop without meaning.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just looked down at your countertop, at the flour dusting your hands and the delicate way your fingers shaped the crust, and all he could think was—

Why the fuck did he care so much?

You moved around your kitchen with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to watch. Sunghoon’s eyes were locked on you, the way your hair swayed behind your back as you leaned forward to stir something in the pot, the way your sleeves were pushed up. 

His heart pounded harder than it should’ve. He tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe it was just the smell of garlic and butter making him lightheaded. That had to be it, right?

Except no.

He hadn’t planned on feeling like this today. Not when he woke up. Not when he brushed his teeth and went on his phone and told himself he’d stay in his apartment. He hadn’t even planned on coming over. And that night the two of you shared noodles? He’d chalked it up to vulnerability. Nighttime feelings. Nothing serious.

But now it was noon. He was awake. Sober. And you were still somehow making his chest tighten just by existing within ten feet of him.

God. He hated having a crush.

He didn’t even realise how lost he looked until Jake spoke up from the side, breaking the spell.

“So, is Jungwon finally coming?”

This guy again.

Sunghoon’s head whipped toward Jake so fast it might’ve snapped his neck.

You perked up at the mention, a smile blooming across your face without even trying. “Yeah! He’s coming in two weeks! I actually told him about you guys. He’s kinda excited to meet you.”

That smile. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. You looked like someone who meant it. Someone who missed this guy. Someone who talked to him often.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and looked away, grabbing a water bottle off your counter just to do something with his hands. He twisted the cap a little too hard.

He didn’t know who the hell Jungwon was.

But he already didn’t like him.

“He’s coming over?” Jay asked, his mouth still half-full of pie filling.

“Yeah,” you said casually, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you peeked into the oven. “He’s staying at my place for the week he’s here.”

Staying at your place?

Sunghoon blinked.

He looked around your apartment, eyes scanning every corner like they were going to magically reveal a hidden guest room. But there wasn’t one. You lived in a studio. Everything was in one space. Your bed, your desk, your kitchen, your couch. Except… there wasn’t even a real couch. Just a throw-covered loveseat that barely seated two.

No air mattress in sight. No hidden folding cot. No suspicious lumpy bags that might hold a spare futon.

Just one bed.

His chest tightened.

Where the hell was Jungwon gonna sleep? With you?

He picked at the label on his water bottle, teeth grinding quietly as he stared down at the floor, like it held answers. It didn’t.

He wasn’t even involved with you. This shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother him.

But it did. In the most uncomfortable, teeth-clenching, mind-racing kind of way.

-

You stood in front of the three boys, arms crossed, heart racing slightly under your apron. The chicken pot pie sat on the table…golden brown crust, just the right amount of bubbling over on the sides, the smell of thyme and butter and garlic filling your apartment.

Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon each took a spoonful at the same time like they’d rehearsed it. You watched them, nervous, scanning their faces.

One by one, their expressions lit up. Jake’s eyes widened, Jay let out a satisfied groan. Well… except Sunghoon. Of course.

He stayed still. Always unreadable. But you caught it. The tiny pause, the way his brows lifted just a fraction. He liked it. He just didn’t show it like the others.

“So—” Jake started.

“Good,” Jay finished, already reaching for more.

Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon. Somehow, his opinion was the one you were waiting on. The one you needed.

“So?” you asked, staring at him.

He blinked. “What?”

“How is it?”

“It’s good,” he said, nodding once, tone flat as ever.

Your smile dropped. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What? I just said it’s good.”

“No, you said ‘good’ and then frowned and put your spoon down. Usually it’s ‘It’s good,’ then a second bite. Right, boys?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically, chicken still in his mouth. “She’s right.”

“Totally right,” Jay added, already helping himself to more.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re all being dramatic.”

You scoffed, insulted. “I guess you don’t want seconds then. Tch.”

You clicked your tongue and turned on your heel, storming off toward the kitchen, grumbling under your breath. Your apron fluttered behind you as you moved, and you didn’t look back.

Sunghoon watched your little pout, the way your shoulders stiffened, how you exaggerated every step. He didn’t know why, but he liked your reaction. No, he loved it. He found it ridiculously cute. Too cute, actually. That slight wrinkle in your forehead. The way your voice got higher when you were mad. The tiny stomp in your step.

The moment your back turned, his lips twitched upward. 

When lunch ended and the three of them stood by your front door, Jake and Jay turned to hug you dramatically.

“Never move out,” Jake said into your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you get free food.”

“And precisely why we don’t want you to move out,” Jay replied, squeezing you once more before the two of them shuffled out, bickering as they made their way into their apartment across the hall.

Sunghoon lingered. Just behind you.

You turned, raising a brow. “Aren’t you leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to the floor before settling back on you. Then he paused. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say.

“The chicken pot pie was good. I think…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It reminded me of home,” he added, eyes still on you now, a little softer than usual. “Not in the way where it’s about the taste or anything… it’s just… you cook like home. If that makes any sense.”

You hadn’t expected that.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. You turned away before he could see it, pretending to fiddle with a dish on the counter, fingers uselessly adjusting an already-clean plate.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice low, almost shy.

He lingered for a second longer like he wanted to say more. Then he gave a quiet nod and walked out the door.

-

It was raining.

It was only 4 p.m., but the sky had turned an eerie charcoal grey, clouds rolling thick above the city. Thunder cracked so loud you felt it in your chest, and the wind howled between the buildings, slamming against your windows.

You hated this.

You hated how much you still feared storms even at your age. How useless independence felt when you were stuffing tissues in your ears and jamming earmuffs over your head like you were five again. You turned on every single light in your apartment, lamps, fairy lights, even your microwave light and cocooned yourself under your thickest blanket, barely breathing, eyes wide.

Then the whole building shuddered.

The lights flickered.

And then everything went dark.

You screamed.

Your apartment disappeared into a blanket of pitch black, shadows curling up the walls like ink. Your heart pounded. You scrambled up from the couch, tearing off your earmuffs and patting the walls with shaky hands, trying to find a light switch like that would fix anything.

“Shit,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Shit shit shit.”

You fumbled for your phone. A message popped up from your landlord.

“The building is experiencing a temporary blackout due to the storm. Electricity should resume in an hour. Thank you for your patience.”

An hour? Alone? In this? In the dark? Absolutely fucking not.

You jumped at another violent crack of thunder and instantly rushed out into the hallway. Your blanket trailed behind you like a cape. You beelined for the only door you knew.

You knocked. The door swung open almost immediately.

“No time to explain but I’m shitting bricks here,” you said all at once.

It wasn’t Jake or Jay.

It was Sunghoon.

His brows raised. “The thunderstorm?”

You nodded frantically. “Are Jake or Jay here?”

“They’re asleep.” He glanced behind him, then back at you. “But I could… stay with you. If you want. Until it passes.”

You hesitated.

Then thunder cracked again, louder this time, right above your building.

You flinched. “Okay,” you breathed, defeated.

The two of you sat cross-legged on your couch, sharing a single candle as your only source of light. It flickered between you, casting long, warm shadows on the walls.

“Seems like you’re scared of the thunder,” he said gently.

“Well,” you sighed, voice tight. “I’ve been scared of it since I was younger. It just… gets to me.”

He nodded. “It’s okay.”

You noticed it then…the subtle tremble in his shoulders. He was shivering. From the cold, probably. Your heater wasn’t working without electricity, and the apartment was steadily turning into a fridge. You were wrapped up like a burrito, but he’d come in without anything but a hoodie.

Feeling guilty, you shifted toward him and lifted one side of your blanket.

“Uh…” he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was being pranked.

“Relax. I can see you shivering like a dog,” you muttered.

“Oh.” He blinked, then grabbed the other end of the blanket and scooted in beside you.

Now under the same blanket, his body heat pressed faintly against yours. You sat side by side, knees pulled to your chests.

And then, in a whisper, he said, “You know…”

You looked over at him, startled by the sudden softness in his voice.

“I know I’m not as close to you as Jay and Jake are,” he said, eyes trained on the candle, “but… you don’t always have to find them for help.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m saying…” he sighed, eyes flicking up toward you, and then away again. “Never mind.”

“No, what? Just spit it out.”

He exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I’m just saying… you could ask me for help too.”

You stared at him, your eyes adjusting to the candlelight flickering between you.

“Oh,” you said softly.

There was a beat of silence. You weren’t really sure what to do with that. But you didn’t want to leave it hanging either.

“I’ll be sure to think of you the next time,” you mumbled, barely louder than the rain still pelting the windows outside.

You felt him nod beside you.

You turned your head slowly, resting your cheek against your knees, eyes drifting toward him. His face was tilted down, lashes long and dark as they blinked now and then, just slow enough for you to notice. His jaw had softened a little. He looked calm, in a way you weren’t used to seeing him.

“Would you rather have a million dollars,” you said suddenly, “or have no problems in the world?”

He blinked, confused for a second, then turned his head toward you. His chin was on his knees now too, and with the two of you curled up in the same blanket, inches apart, it felt almost like whispering under covers at a sleepover.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A good one,” you replied, lips twitching. “So answer it.”

He scoffed a little under his breath. “Uh… maybe no problems in the world?”

“Smart answer. Why?”

He paused, “I think people ruin themselves trying to solve problems that shouldn’t be theirs. If I had no problems, maybe I wouldn’t waste time worrying about all the stuff that doesn’t matter.”

You blinked at him. That was… not the answer you were expecting. It was a good one. Way too good, actually.

“Right,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

He looked at you for a second longer before his eyes flicked down. “Your turn. Would you rather go back in time or go into the future?”

You puffed your cheeks out, thinking. “Hmm… that’s a toughie.”

Then your eyes widened, the way they always did when you had a lightbulb moment. “Go back in time!”

“Why’s that?”

“So maybe I’d really weigh the pros and cons of moving to a city where I know no one,” you said with a grin, but it faded slightly at the end.

Sunghoon stayed quiet. 

“You must really feel alone,” he said.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I hear you talking about it sometimes. On your balcony. When you think no one’s listening. You talk about how moving here feels like a mistake.”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not a mistake. I just… miss everything back home.”

“I get it,” he said after a second. “I was like you. Back when I was home, I wanted to leave so badly. Thought being somewhere else would fix everything. But now that I’m here… yeah, I have Jay and Jake, and they’re great, but sometimes I come back to the apartment and everything’s fine and normal and still—I just feel… empty. And I don’t even know why.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

You just watched him. His face had turned thoughtful, distant. His eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere past the flickering candle, past your walls, like he was staring right through the quiet that lived in his chest.

You mumbled, “Well, yeah. But… I also don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean—I’m here doing what I love. Not many people get to do that. And I made friends with three incredibly annoying people in this building.”

He turned toward you again, eyes narrowing playfully. “So we’re friends now?”

Your cheeks heated up instantly. You glanced away, pretending to roll your eyes. “Are we not?”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled softly at the back of his throat. “I’m glad you think we are.”

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “does this mean you’ll finally be nice to me now? Or is that too much character development for one night?”

Sunghoon smirked, eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint. “You want nice? From me?”

“Yeah. Like a full sentence without sarcasm. I feel like that’s a reward I’ve earned by now.”

“You earned a participation medal at best.”

You laughed, nudging him with your knee. “Unbelievable.”

He was already looking at you again—closer this time.

“Hold on,” he said softly, “you have an eyelash on your cheek.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before you could move, he leaned in.

His face hovered inches from yours as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch soft but sure. The pads of his fingers were warm. His eyes, now impossibly close, scanned your face with a kind of quiet focus you hadn’t felt from him before. You swallowed.

Neither of you moved.

Your gaze locked, and the space between you slowly disappeared…inch by inch, breath by breath. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.

Then suddenly, his lips were on yours.

Then it deepened. His other hand pushed the blanket off his head, dropping behind your neck to pull you in, and your hands found their way to his thighs, then to the curve of his jaw. His lips parted just enough, and your pulse jumped as he moved against you.

His hands slid to your waist. He lifted you slightly and shifted you into his lap in one smooth motion. You were now straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he didn’t stop kissing you, not even for a second.

The kiss grew stronger. He tilted his head, hand moving to your chin to pull you even closer, his mouth parting yours with a low inhale as his tongue brushed against yours.

Your hands moved back down, gripping at the soft cotton of his hoodie, when—

Click.

The lights flickered on.

You both froze.

Your faces were still inches apart. 

You slowly pulled back, still on his lap. He blinked, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Like part of him wanted to keep going, and the other part… couldn’t believe you just kissed him like that.

You stared at each other, the silence heavy now.

His hands were still resting lightly on your waist. Yours were still fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Both of you breathless. 

“I need to go back home,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but rushed. His eyes darted everywhere except at you.

You blinked. “Right. Of course!” you said quickly, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. No—totally.”

He shifted awkwardly underneath you, face flushing as he cleared his throat and muttered, “Probably… need a pillow or something.”

It took you a second.

Then you saw the way he was subtly covering his lap with the edge of the blanket.

“Oh.” Your voice came out small. You quickly scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning so hot they could’ve powered your apartment during the blackout.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, already halfway to your door.

And then, Sunghoon stormed out of your apartment.

-

It had been a couple of days since you last properly spoke to Sunghoon. Not for lack of trying. You had…more than once. But each time, he’d give you a quick nod, maybe a polite smile if you were lucky, before promptly power-walking away.

Maybe he just wasn’t feeling what you were feeling. Maybe that kiss was a fluke, something in the heat of the moment. Maybe your little new crush was painfully one-sided.

But you pushed it aside. You had bigger things to focus on.

Jungwon was coming today.

You’d spent the entire morning rearranging your apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom, fluffing cushions and spraying perfume not just on yourself but into the air like it could somehow mask how nervous you were. You even did your hair the way he liked it, soft curls and a side part.

And then, there he was.

The door swung open and your best friend stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand and a grin already on his face.

“WON!” you squealed, running up to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hello, idiot,” he said, his voice fond as he hugged you back, lifting you off the ground with ease.

The shout must’ve startled the boys in 3C, because right on cue, the door across the hall creaked open and out came Jake and Jay, both peeking out.

They spotted you clinging to Jungwon like a koala.

You beamed. “Guys! It’s him!”

“The famous Jungwon,” Jay said, nodding in approval as he stepped out.

“And you must be Jake and Jay,” Jungwon said smoothly, setting you down.

Then came the third.

Sunghoon.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Jungwon turned to him, a friendly smile still on his lips, chuckling. “You must be Sunghoon, then.”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “She just… told me you were like this.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon asked sharply, the scoff nearly audible in his tone.

Jungwon scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing. She just said you were cool,” he said with a shrug, throwing you a teasing look.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

You stood there, suddenly awkward, unsure what the hell had crawled up Sunghoon’s ass. The hostility was as thick as the tension in the air and you hadn’t done anything. Not really.

At least you didn’t think you had.

Just stood there, arms crossed, a stiff expression on his face while Jake and Jay welcomed Jungwon like he was already part of the group. Jungwon, ever the social butterfly, fit in easily, throwing a few jokes around, complimenting the apartment despite its questionable decor, and even teasing Jake about the ugly dinosaur pyjamas he was wearing in broad daylight.

But Sunghoon?

He was frowning the entire time.

You couldn’t figure it out. His jaw was tight, his responses were clipped, and every time Jungwon so much as glanced your way, you saw Sunghoon’s eye twitch.

You walked back to your apartment with Jungwon beside you, chatting excitedly about dinner plans and all the places he wanted to visit during his stay. But when you turned back, just for a second, you caught Sunghoon still watching. Still standing in the hallway.

His arms were still crossed.

And he didn’t look away.

-

Sunghoon stood there, arms folded across his chest like they were the only things keeping him together. He stared ahead blankly, jaw tight, doing everything in his power not to glare a hole through the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Sure, he knew he had a crush on you. He’d known since the chicken pot pie, probably. Or maybe since you wrapped that blanket around his shoulders. Or maybe long before that. But what he didn’t know was who the fuck Jungwon was, and why he was walking into your apartment.

“Dude,” Jake muttered, throwing him a sideways look. “You could’ve at least smiled.”

“I did,” Sunghoon growled, not bothering to hide his scowl.

Jay snorted. “That was barely a smile. You looked like you were in the middle of passing a kidney stone.”

“Why do I even have to be nice?” Sunghoon snapped. “I don’t know him.”

“Because your crush’s boyfriend just came into town,” Jake replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon's head snapped to him so fast you’d think he got whiplash. “Boyfriend?”

Jay raised a brow. “Not denying the crush though.”

Sunghoon ignored him. “Let me ask you again. Boyfriend?”

Jake shrugged. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”

“What the fuck do you mean you guess?” Sunghoon hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “He can’t be her boyfriend.”

“But he is,” Jay said with a shrug and an infuriatingly smug smile.

“No, he’s not. He can’t be. Because she and I…” he paused, realising too late what was about to fall out of his mouth. “…kissed. Three nights ago.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. Jay blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jake finally blurted.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon muttered quickly, suddenly desperate to eat his words.

“You can’t say nothing when you just said everything!” Jake shouted, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Tell us right now!” Jay begged dramatically, gripping his own hair.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flustered. “I—we—kissed. That’s it.”

Jay blinked. “You know we were kidding about the boyfriend thing, right?”

Jake grinned. “Jungwon’s just her best friend.”

“We just wanted to see if you’d admit you liked her,” Jay added, eyes sparkling with way too much joy. “Which you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sunghoon argued weakly. “I just said we kissed.”

“Okay, Mr Visceral Reaction every time we mention Jungwon,” Jake teased.

Jay smirked. “Say it. Say you like her.”

Sunghoon groaned, eyes shut tight as if the ceiling could swallow him whole. Then, finally—quietly, begrudgingly—

“Okay. So what if I like her?”

Jay and Jake immediately turned to each other with identical gasps, smacking each other’s arms excitedly.

“Oh my god, he admitted it,” Jay whispered dramatically.

Jake clutched his chest. “It’s happening.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if you keep acting like this, I’m never telling you anything again.”

“Okay, okay.” Jake raised both hands, trying to suppress a grin. “We’ll behave.”

“BUT I’M SO EXCITED,” Jay squealed.

Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “Starting now.”

Jay nodded solemnly, rubbing his arm. “Sorry. That one slipped.”

Sunghoon sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. “I started liking her last month… when you guys went back home for the week. She cooked me stir-fried noodles, and we ate together. Played FIFA. I don’t know. I just… developed a crush on her.”

“That’s so cute,” Jay and Jake said in unison, stars in their eyes.

“Seriously, can the two of you act normal for like three minutes?”

Jake shrugged, still smiling. “I just didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend before me.”

Jay patted his shoulder. “You’ll get there, buddy.”

Jake tilted his head. “You think?”

“Yeah, you have nice eyes. Great personality.”

Jake beamed. “That’s so kind.”

“Can we please get back to my problem for like a minute?” Sunghoon cut in, glaring at both of them.

“Oh. Right.”

Jay cleared his throat and finally looked serious. “Look. We like her. She’s hilarious, and she makes good fucking food. And let’s be real, you’ve never liked anyone. We’ve been trying to get you to double date with us for years and you just stare at your phone all the time. But with her? You’re like... a guy with actual feelings.”

“But now I’m losing to Jung… whatever his name is.” Sunghoon sighed.

“Jungwon,” Jake said. “And no, you’re not.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like him?” Sunghoon muttered, staring down at the floor.

“Because,” Jay said, “if she did, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Unless she’s indecisive or confused or something. I don’t know.” Sunghoon exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I was just… a moment. And he’s her person.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m telling you—just talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Jay added. “Before you spiral even harder and start writing love songs about her. But if you do, I haved like a couple of guitars you could borrow.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. But somewhere, deep down… a part of him hoped they were right.

-

You were pacing back and forth on your cheap IKEA rug, while Jungwon was laid out dramatically on your bed, arms folded behind his head, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“I’m telling you, he’s avoiding me,” you snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. “We kissed—KISSED, Jungwon—and now he won’t even look at me! I wave, he nods. I say hi, he nods. I breathe in his direction, he—guess what—nods!”

Jungwon hummed, annoyingly calm. “Maybe he’s nervous. Or maybe he wants you to go to him.”

“I do go to him! And then he speed-walks away like I’m the plague!” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Maybe…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “you’re just a shit kisser.”

You whipped around and chucked a throw pillow directly at his smug face.

“Asshole.”

He caught it with a grin, clutching it to his chest dramatically. “I’m just saying. Maybe you scared him off.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t strangled you with this blanket,” you muttered, grabbing another pillow just in case.

Jungwon sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You know, sometimes I forget we grew up together because you’re so unpredictable now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted. “You used to be fearless. Remember that Heeseung guy you had a crush on in middle school?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“You were six, and you walked up to him at recess, said ‘I like your lunchbox,’ then kissed his cheek and ran off.”

“Ah,” you said flatly, “the good old days. That girl’s dead now.”

“She’s not dead,” Jungwon argued, grabbing your wrists and tugging you to sit beside him on the bed. “She’s just… overthinking everything. Look, if Sunghoon doesn’t like you—whatever. But if he does? You’re missing out just because you’re too chicken to tell him.”

You glared. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“I know.” He grinned. “It’s my worst trait.”

“I just—” you exhaled, flopping back beside him. “What if it ruins everything? We literally just got closer. What if I say something and it all goes to shit?”

“Okay, counter-offer.” He sat up straighter. “You tell him, or I will. I will walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and go ‘Hi, my best friend has feelings for you, she also has performance anxiety but can cook a great bowl of chicken noodle soup.’”

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed, swatting at his arm.

“Then do it yourself!” he laughed, dodging your attacks. “Before I start printing flyers and pasting them in the apartment lobby.”

God. Why did he always have to be right?

“Fine.”

Your hand was already on the doorknob, breath caught in your throat, just about to leave when the door across from yours had swung open at the exact same time.

And there he was.

Sunghoon.

You both froze, hands still gripping the doorknobs, blinking.

You cleared your throat first. “Sunghoon.”

He blinked like he hadn’t already been staring. “What?”

You squinted. “Is that the only word you know how to say when I call your name?”

He paused. “Sorry.”

You opened your mouth to say something else but were rudely interrupted by muffled snorts from behind Sunghoon. Jay and Jake’s heads popped out from their doorway like nosy meerkats.

“Hoon,” Jay said in a loud, exaggerated voice, “we need more eggs.”

“Desperately,” Jake added, nodding like this was a national emergency. “Go to the store.”

Then Jungwon peeked out from behind you with an equally suspicious grin. “Oh, and while you’re there, can you grab some ice cream too?”

You and Sunghoon looked at each other.

“What is happening right now,” you said flatly.

Before either of you could respond, four hands shoved the both of you toward the elevator. You stumbled in, the doors sliding shut just as Jay yelled out, “Don’t come back without snacks!”

The elevator stopped at your floor.

Your shoulders brushed as you stood side by side, awkwardly watching the floor numbers light up.

Then, finally, you broke it. “About that day—”

Sunghoon shook his head quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Jungwon.”

You blinked. “What do you mean you won’t tell Jungwon?”

He looked away. “Well, aren’t you like… crushing on him? I wouldn’t want what we did to, you know… ruin your chances or something.”

Your entire face scrunched up. “Won and I? What? Ew. God, no. We’re friends. We grew up together. Thinking about him that way would be like incest or something.”

And just like that, Sunghoon felt like he’d been hit by a shooting star and given a second chance at life. His heart did a full backflip. You were single. You were available. 

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“Why do you suddenly look so happy?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m not.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“We’ve hung out a couple of times and if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you smile this—”

“Cut it out.” He tried to brush it off, biting back the grin. “I’m just glad.”

“Glad about?”

“Glad that I didn’t ruin your chances,” he said nonchalantly, looking up like he hadn’t just panicked thirty seconds ago.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the golden-orange glow of the sunset casting warmth across his cheekbones. He was handsome. Frustratingly so. “Well… because I actually like this other guy.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered.

“I haven’t known him that long,” you continued casually, “but he seems cool. I don’t really know much about him yet.”

“That’s… nice.” Sunghoon turned away quickly, jaw tight. He was definitely grimacing. Please don’t let her see that I’m grimacing, he begged internally.

“Yeah, he’s really tall. Really handsome, too.”

“That’s just…” he exhaled. “Great.”

“He doesn’t seem super friendly but he has a big heart. Even if he tries really hard not to show it.”

“Seems like a swell fuckin’ guy,” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s a pity though,” you sighed dramatically, still watching him. “I wish I could get to know him better.”

“Well… anyone’s lucky to get to know you.” He tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I am.”

You tilted your head. “Not to mention… he lives really close to me.”

Sunghoon’s eyes darted to you. “He does?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, heartbeat accelerating.

“Like how close?”

You took a slow step toward him. “Like… just across the hall close.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “That close.”

Silence settled in the small elevator. You both just stood there, not looking at each other, tension hanging in the air like humidity.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon said, dead serious, “but Jake sleeps with the lights on and Jay doesn’t wash his hair as often as you think he does.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I sleep normal,” he added quickly. “I wash my hair. I do proper haircare—shampoo, conditioner, mask, mist. I could do your routine too. For you. If you want.”

You stared.

“I can’t cook, but I’ll try. I can figure skate. I can spin twice in the air. Jay and Jake? Not even one spin. Jay can play guitar, Jake can sing but I can spin, okay? Without getting dizzy too.”

“Sunghoon.”

“And those idiots never clean up after eating your food. Jay doesn’t use coasters. Jake never makes his bed.”

“SUNGHOON!”

He looked at you, breathless. “What?”

You stepped forward. Slowly. Then, you mumbled, “It’s you.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I like you.”

And for once, Park Sunghoon had absolutely nothing to say.

“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Okay. I—wow. Okay.”

You raised a brow. “That’s it?”

He nodded dumbly. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just—holy shit. You like me.”

You smirked, the smile slowly stretching across your face. “Yes. I like you.”

The elevator dinged. Neither of you moved.

He looked at you again, still dazed. “Hold on, I kinda need a minute.”

You both stepped out into the empty lobby. The sun outside had just dipped below the skyline, casting a pinkish-orange glow through the glass doors. The streetlights flickered on. But you waited.

“It’s been a minute,” you said.

“I know,” he exhaled, hand raking through his hair. “But you like me back, so I kinda need, like… a long minute.”

“Back?” You grinned, the corners of your mouth lifting all the way to your eyes. “So you like me too?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the, uh… word vomit.”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged. “But I didn’t want to assume. Didn’t wanna be narcissistic.”

“I think even if you were,” he muttered, “I’d still think you were pretty cute.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Gross, I know,” he said quickly, face flushing. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

You laughed. “Yeah. But you kinda can’t take it back now.”

“Fine,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re cute. Ugh. I said it again.”

-

A MONTH LATER

Jay and Jake found it fundamentally unfair. They were the ones who got close to you first. They were the ones who complimented you, made you laugh, showed up when you needed help. They loved you first or at least, that’s what they told themselves. But here you were, doors locked for the first time in three months, cooking a full-course meal for Sunghoon to celebrate your one-month anniversary.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Sunghoon told them flatly before slamming the door shut.

“But—!” they shouted in unison, already mourning the steak they wouldn’t get to taste.

Word on the hallway was that you were cooking the perfect medium-rare T-bone steak, paired with your signature brown sauce and a vegetable medley so crunchy and flavourful. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake sat hunched on the couch, scrolling through a food delivery app.

“Isn’t it funny,” Jake said, arms folded, “how we were the ones who befriended her first, and now we’re stuck with Burger King?”

“Life’s unfair, bud.”

Back in your apartment, things were a little more romantic. You’d decorated with fairy lights and candles, the room dimly lit. You were still being frugal, splitting every cost you could. But you’d managed to steal two T-bone steaks from the diner you part-timed at.

Sunghoon showed up in a black and white tuxedo, looking like he’d taken the prom theme you had placed as a joke a little too seriously.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“And you look absolutely handsome,” you grinned.

He walked over to the table and took in the spread. “Okay, what do we have?”

“I made the steaks, obviously, and then there’s the vegetable medley… and your favourite—mashed potatoes,” you giggled.

Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “How did I get so lucky?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

He laughed. “The guys are pissed, by the way. You made me all this, and they’re over there with cold fries.”

“What?” you said, surprised. “I made them something too! Don’t worry.”

“You did?” he raised a brow.

“I had a feeling they’d be hungry if you were over here.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that. They’re grown men.”

“Yeah, but technically my assignment this week was pasta and I have too many leftovers.”

“They’re spoiled by you.”

“And so are you.”

“True, but I’m your boyfriend. They’re just two annoying shitheads constantly trying to butt in.”

“I’ll be quick. I’ll just drop the dish off and come back.”

“No,” he said, standing. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

He kissed your forehead, grabbing the lasagna you’d tucked into the fridge. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“He walked across the hall and opened the door to Unit 3C.

Inside, Jay was mid-rant. “I just don’t get it. Sunghoon isn’t even that hot.”

“I mean, he is,” Jake added, “but she deserves better, you know?”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I can hear you two idiots.”

They both froze, turning around sheepishly. “We were just joking. We love you, man.”

He held up the dish. “And to think I came here bearing gifts from my girlfriend.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that lasagna?”

“She felt bad we were eating good without you, so she made you dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Jay gasped. “Sunghoon, I don’t mean to be pushy, but please marry her.”

“I can’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “Not when you two are constantly inserting yourselves into my relationship.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll back off. Just—can we have the lasagna?”

“And can you tell her we love her?”

“I am not telling my girlfriend you love her,” Sunghoon snapped. “I’ve barely worked up the nerve to tell her that myself.”

“Wait,” Jake said suddenly, “you haven’t told her you love her yet?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“So… you don’t love her?”

“I do,” Sunghoon replied, almost too quickly. “I just don’t want to come on too strong if she’s not ready.”

Jay and Jake shared a glance before shrugging.

“What?” Sunghoon asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake cleared his throat. “It’s just… she already said it.”

Sunghoon looked up. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied casually. “You texted her about picking up those heat packs for her cramps, and she went all soft and whispered, ‘God, I love him so much.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Sunghoon stood frozen in the doorway, the dish in his hands suddenly weightless.

You loved him.

“So… you’re saying I should tell her?” he asked, voice quiet, almost unsure.

Jay and Jake both nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Especially if it makes her our sister-in-law,” Jay added, grinning.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “God, the two of you can be so annoying.”

“But you still love us,” Jay shrugged. “So what’s the point of complaining?”

He hated that Jay was right.

Back in your apartment, Sunghoon sat across from you, completely transfixed. You were dressed in a soft pink satin dress that shimmered every time you moved. It hugged your shoulders delicately, the neckline simple, elegant. Your hair was curled softly, pinned loosely on one side with a vintage clip, and your lips were glossed just enough to make him stare longer than he should’ve.

And God, you looked so beautiful.

He tried to pay attention. He really did. But his heart was too loud, his thoughts too full. How was he supposed to say it?

Sunghoon had never told anyone he loved them before. Not seriously. Maybe to his mom years ago, right before he left for the city. But this? This felt entirely new.

Because sitting in front of him was someone who made every quiet part of his life feel loud again. You filled in the spaces he didn’t even know were missing. You made his apartment feel less cold, his world a little less grey. And the way he loved you—God, it wasn’t something small. It wasn’t a flicker or a passing crush. It was all-consuming and terrifying and the best damn thing he’d ever felt.

He loved you like it was muscle memory. Like even if he forgot everything else, his hands would still reach for yours and only yours.

“Hoonie,” you interrupted gently, frowning. “You’re not listening.”

He blinked back into focus. “Sorry,” he murmured, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What?” you looked up at him, ur big eyes shining. 

Sunghoon unknowingly smiled, his eyes dripping with honey, god he loved you. He wanted to say that. So badly.

“I…I just–uh–feel…that,” His voice trailed off. “You look really beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do. But especially tonight.” He hesitated, the words stuck behind his teeth.

You smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”

-

Later that night, the two of you were in Sunghoon’s apartment along with Jay and Jake for the usual game night. 

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your prom-night dress bunched awkwardly around your knees, mascara slightly smudged from earlier laughter, hair pinned half-up. Sunghoon sat slouched in the beanbag beside you, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration. Jake was lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, and Jay had somehow made himself horizontal on the couch.

You and Jake were a team. Sunghoon and Jay were not handling that well.

“Revive me!” Sunghoon yelled.

Jay shouted back, “I’m busy trying not to die, dumbass!”

Button mashing intensified. Trash talk flew across the room.

“VICTORY!” Jake screamed, leaping up like a madman.

You followed suit, springing to your feet and clambering up onto the coffee table in your dress. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS!” you yelled, pointing dramatically at Sunghoon. “THAT’S RIGHT, LOSERS!”

Jake joined you on the table, doing a badly timed robot dance. The two of you jumped in sync, yelling in triumph, while Jay groaned into a throw pillow and Sunghoon watched with a hand covering his mouth, half to hide his smile, half to suppress a laugh.

“You’re all bark, no bite!” you called, face flushed, hair falling loose. “Your character died fourteen times, Hoonie.”

“I let you win!” he shot back, grinning as he sat up straighter. “I was being a gentleman.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “Real chivalrous of you, sir died-14-fucking-times.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual. Then, without a word, he stood and walked out of the room.

You blinked. That was...odd. 

You gave Jake a gentle shove off the table and followed Sunghoon into the hallway. He was pacing outside, one hand in his hair, the other fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

“Hoon?” you asked, stepping out and gently closing the door behind you.

He jumped slightly, turning toward you. “You scared me.”

“You okay? You just left so sudden…”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just trying to figure out how to say something.”

You tilted your head, arms crossing over your chest. “Say what?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug.

Your expression softened. “Are you mad at me?” You sighed. Maybe your little victory dance had been a bit much. “Hoonie?”

“No, baby, I could never be mad at you,” he said quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…”

You stepped closer, teasing lightly, “Do you want me to redo my victory dance? I could. You just have to beatbox, and I’ll take it from there.”

That made him laugh.

“Come on,” you grinned, starting to move your body in the most ridiculous way. “I’m pretty sure I should’ve been a dancer instead of a chef.”

He laughed again, this time louder and then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

You blinked. Your smile faded. Your brain, for one impossible second, completely short-circuited.

“Did you just say you love me?” you asked, heart hammering.

His eyes widened in sheer panic. “No?”

“I heard it.”

“You misheard.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, practically vibrating. “You love me. You love me!”

“Fine!” he burst out, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I do! I love you, okay?”

You smiled, “You do?”

“Of course! I love the way you talk too fast when you’re excited. I love how you make my idiot friends feel like they matter. I love that you make me feel whole. That when I’m with you, I don’t feel hollow anymore. You… you make me feel like I’m not empty.”

You grinned so wide it hurt. “That’s because you’re not.”

“I used to be,” he said helplessly, gesturing vaguely like he was mourning his past self. “I was mysterious. Brooding. Sexy, even. And now? Now I smile at cat videos you send me on TikTok. Look what you’ve done to me. This is all your fault.”

You scoffed, “My fault?”

“Yes! Who else could it be?” he said, breathless, like the truth had been waiting at the edge of his tongue for too long. “You walk into my life with that stupidly perfect smile, that laugh that makes everything feel lighter, those eyes that somehow hold the whole damn sky and now I’ve got feelings. Big ones.”

He took a shaky breath, pausing for a minute.

“I used to think I was fine on my own. But now? I get out of bed just because I know I might see you. I hear your knock and my whole day lights up. For the first time, I feel like I know what living really means. It’s you. Loving you. That’s it.”

You leaned in and kissed him right in the middle of his rant.

He blinked, dazed.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who usually says nothing,” you murmured, forehead resting against his.

“I do it when I’m nervous,” Sunghoon whispered, and then kissed you again.

“I find it cute,” you mumbled between kisses.

Sunghoon grinned into the next kiss, backing you up step by step toward your apartment door, his hands finding your waist. “God,” kiss “I love you,” another kiss “so much.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “You’re very handsy for someone who claimed to be brooding and mysteriou.”

“I told you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he reached behind you, fumbling for the door handle, “you ruined me.”

Your back hit the door with a thud. He fumbled with the knob like he was drunk on you, eventually pushing it open and guiding you inside.

He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

You were still laughing into his kiss. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you dropped onto it with a squeak.

He climbed over you, hands on either side of your waist, face flushed, heart in his throat.

“I fucking love you,” he said again, like it wasn’t real until he repeated it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”

[purinfelix]

OKAY JAKE WON (BARELY) but lowk i had already started writing the fic with him in mind anywayssss but !!! it's almost done !!! if anyone wants to be added to the taglist pls commenntttt <333

ok i have a fic idea and i feel like it could suit any of the 02z (its very meetcute, awkward romcom vibes) sooooo ill let yall vote !!!!

[purinfelix]

— boyfriend texts with sunghoon

"hey siri, how do i tell my boyfriend psh to stop eating my food?"

pairing: boyfriend!park sunghoon x reader

author's note: canon he definitely kicks his feet and giggles when he texts you

[purinfelix]

ok i have a fic idea and i feel like it could suit any of the 02z (its very meetcute, awkward romcom vibes) sooooo ill let yall vote !!!!

[purinfelix]

hope u guys dont mind more angsty/conceptual-ish fics bc i have a jay one cooking rn that's literally no plot just feelings .... but i feel like those sorts of fics never do that well so im feeling lowk discouraged askjdnaksjdn

[purinfelix]

YOU ASK FOR REQUESTS AND I SHALL GIVE. since most riki aus r often w him being the ‘nonchalant’ guy, what if its switched.. riki being riki who is the most troublemaking, silly, goofy, wont-get-off-your-tail guy while the reader is always keeping to herself, quiet. but when they get close shes a whole diff person

just for me - n. riki ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

summary: you and ni-ki's friendship makes no sense, but maybe that's what makes it so special ─────────── extroverted ni-ki x introverted reader || fluff, wholesome, college au || w/c: 1.5k

a/n: I LOVE THIS IDEA AAA i think so many people forget about how silly and cute niki can be when he's around someone he's comfortable with so i loved writing thissss hope u enjoy pookie!! <333

To most people, it didn’t make sense for you and Niki to be friends. 

Almost everyone on campus knew who Niki was, and those who didn’t had at least heard stories. It was hard not to, with the way he was constantly getting told off for chatting loudly during class - on the rare occasion that he actually showed up - or bounding down halls like he was on a mission, his backpack barely hanging on one shoulder, the other arm slung around whichever friend he’d dragged into his chaos for the day.

Most often, he could be found at the campus basketball courts, dunking on his opponents and then making sure everyone heard about it after. He was the kind of person who naturally demanded people’s attention wherever he went - loud, unfiltered, and almost annoyingly attractive.  

You, on the other hand, had yet to be late to a single lecture and could almost always be found in your favourite front-row seat. People typically only heard your voice when you’d answer questions, and even then, you only said what was needed to get your point across. Sure, it might’ve had something to do with shyness or introversion, but more than anything, you just preferred the peace that came with quiet - the control you felt when enjoying your own company. 

It was just your luck that Niki seemed to like your company almost as much as you did.

“Doesn’t he annoy you?” One of your friends whispered in a hushed tone as you left class together, being greeted by a familiarly lanky figure waiting out in the hallway. 

You don’t blame her confusion because, a couple of weeks ago, you would’ve reacted exactly the same way. He did annoy you, at first at least - you had always reserved a special kind of irritation for people like him. People who showed up late to things, were disorganised and loud for no reason, who always seemed to be disrupting things for others without so much as a modicum of guilt. 

But it was difficult to be so snarky when you were slowly trudging home from an almost 10-hour-long study session at the university library. And it was there, when you were dragging your feet along the dimly lit pavement, that you heard Niki’s voice calling out to you. Lifting your head just enough, you saw him bounding quickly towards you, chasing after a stray basketball.

It hits your feet, but you don’t move, seemingly frozen in place. He jogs up to you, scooping it up in his arm casually before turning to you.

“Sorry about that,” he says in between pants, and it hits you that this is the first time he’s actually spoken directly to you. 

“All good,” you mumble curtly, without much thought. 

You’re waiting for him to turn back around, to just leave this tiny insignificant interaction between two people who should be strangers at just that. But he doesn’t - instead, he stands there silently, as if studying you, running a hand through his hair. 

“Can I help you?” you ask, and it comes out a little meaner than you’d intended. You blame this on your exhaustion, hours of studying muddling the lines between what’s polite and not - though you can’t deny the sudden shyness you feel under his attention. 

“No, sorry,” he pauses, caught off guard by your tone, “you just look sorta tired, are you alright?” 

It’s your turn to be surprised, the sudden concern in his words feeling so alien that you’re unsure of how to respond. “Yeah,” you breathe out, “I mean, I’ve been at the library almost the entire day, so I am kind of tired.” 

The laugh you let out is almost self-depracating, an attempt to make light of your pathetic admission, and you wait for his response - for him to mock you for being such a nerd, or a try-hard. But it never comes.

“Wow,” he says instead, somewhat impressed, “you work really hard in class, don’t you.” 

You raise your head to catch his eye, trying to study his expression for any signs of mockery. “I mean, I guess.” 

Behind him, you spot his group of friends huddled around watching the two of you talk from a distance, presumably waiting for their ball to return to their game. 

“Your friends are waiting.” You shove your hands in your pockets, unsure of what else to do with them. 

“Oh, right,” he says calmly, and with a swift motion, he tosses the ball over to them, but doesn’t go to join them. There’s a beat of silence, the awkwardness of the whole situation heavy. 

Then, after what feels like forever - “You don’t have that little keychain today.” 

Your brows furrow as you look up at him in confusion. “What?” 

He blinks, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Uh- just, you know that little stuffed keychain you have? I’ve seen it before, on your bag, I think - it’s, it’s not there today.” 

You stare at him for a moment, genuinely at a loss for words. It’s such a small, stupid detail, something that no one else has ever pointed you - not your classmates, not even your friends. But somehow, he of all people noticed. “Oh, the little bear?” 

“Yeah!” he smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, that sounded creepy. You just always had it when you walked past the courts - I thought it was cute.” 

You don’t really know what to say, but before you realise it, your cheeks are warming up and a smile is tugging at your lips as if threatening to break through. 

“Thanks,” you say softly, but earnestly, “I think it fell off somewhere.” 

He offers a small frown. “That sucks, I thought it suited you.” 

There’s a weird flutter in your chest that you try not to think too much about. He glances over his shoulder at his friends, and you take that as your cue for the conversation ending. 

“Well, I’ll uh- see you aro-” 

“Are you headed home now?” 

You nod without thinking.

“Mind if I walk with you?” 

You nod again. 

And you hadn’t really thought much of it then, but that walk proved to be the first of many. What started as a rare one-off encounter turned into something regular. Turned into meeting before class for drinks, into late night study sessions, which were basically you tutoring him - and once you both came to the conclusion that his grades were a lost cause, even later night snack runs. 

Something strange happened when you were around him.  You let yourself say things without filtering them in your head first, you laughed louder, and more often. Being around him felt a little less restrained, a little less quiet. 

And now here he was, waiting for you outside your class to take you to the newly opened cafe you hadn’t shut up about. 

“He’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to seem,” you say, turning to your friend with a small shrug. 

“I mean, no offence, but he’s Niki,” she sighs, like that explains everything “the only times I hear about him is people complaining about him tanking their group assignment, or whatever went down at his last party. I mean, you saw those photos, who even thinks ot hire a bouncy castle for a 19th birthday party?” 

You let out a soft chuckle that contrasts your friend’s incredulous tone, but she doesn’t stop.

“He’s never on time for class, I mean, I don’t think he even knows our professor’s name.” 

“Well, he’s never late to meet me,” you say, watching as she shoots you one last look - half confused, half resigned- before leaving. 

“Hey,” Niki says through a smile, waving you down, “ready to go?” 

“Of course,” you say, beaming up at him as he falls into step beside you like he’s done a thousand times before - like he belongs there. 

“Oh wait,” he says, stopping just before you reach the building’s door, “got you something.” 

He slings his backpack around, rummaging around in the mess inside it for a bit as you stand there, curious. Finally, he pulls something out with a dramatic flair, dropping it into your hands. 

You look at it - a tiny stuffed bear keychain, a little squished, but adorable nonetheless. Your breath hitches. 

“I know it’s not the same one you lost,” he says sheepishly, “but I saw it and it reminded me of you. Plus-” 

He holds up his own keys which you now notice has the exact same bear, just in a different colour. You stare at it, then back at him. 

“Twins,” he smiles. 

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers curling around the bear as you attach it onto your bag quickly. “You’re unbelievable,” you laugh. 

“Unbelievably thoughtful,” he corrects, shrugging smugly as you continue to walk beside him.

To others, it shouldn’t have made much sense - and really, it didn’t.

But whenever he flashed you that warm smile, or laughed honestly at a joke you made, one that really wasn’t that funny, it all seemed to make sense, at least to you - and that’s all that mattered. 

taglist for niki fics! <333 - @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96 @jenjnk @nocturnebite @nodoubtily @teireiii @starniras