#choi yeonjun imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyorouis · 4 months ago

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── ✦ blue back into me.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis ⸝⸝ and in that darkness, you realized that the boy you loved was already gone.

꒰ genre⸝⸝ heavy angst, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, lovers to (??) fluff, suggestive (slight) pairing⸝⸝ bf!yeonjun x afab!reader (soobin, beomgyu, jay, sunghoon, and jungwon mentioned) wc⸝⸝ 27.4k warning⸝⸝ this story contains themes of emotional distress, heartbreak, regret, and bittersweet endings. it explores the complexities of love, self-worth, and the weight of unspoken expectations. proceed with care if sensitive to these themes. tune in⸝⸝ blue back into me playlist ୨ৎ ꒱

seventeen. you were seventeen years old when he first held your hand. your childhood best friend, yeonjun.

it was a cool autumn evening, the kind where the air carried a faint crispness, and the fading sunlight painted the world in hues of gold and amber. you were walking back home from school, his backpack slung over one shoulder, your shared laughter echoing down the quiet street.

it wasn’t the first time your hands had brushed—years of friendship meant countless high-fives, casual nudges, and playful shoves. but this time, his fingers lingered, tentative but steady, until they intertwined with yours. his palm was warm, a contrast to the chilly air, and you felt your cheeks burn.

“what?” he asked, looking at you with that familiar grin, though his eyes held something softer, something new.

“nothing,” you mumbled, though your heart was racing, your steps slower now, as if to make the moment last longer.

but to understand how you got there—to that perfect, terrifying, wonderful moment—you’d have to go back to the very beginning.

it was a sweltering july afternoon, the kind of heat that made the neighborhood pool the most coveted spot in town. your parents had taken you there to cool off, but between the towering slides, the screaming kids, and the endless sea of unfamiliar faces, you quickly felt out of place.

“stay close,” your mom had said, her voice barely audible over the chaos. but curiosity got the better of you. you wandered toward the deep end, mesmerized by the older kids diving effortlessly into the water.

that’s when you realized you were lost.

“mom?” you called out, your voice trembling, but the crowd swallowed your words.

“are you okay?”

you turned to see a boy about your age, dripping wet with a towel slung around his neck. his dark hair clung to his forehead, and he had an air of confidence that felt out of place for someone so young.

“i’m—i can’t find my parents,” you admitted, tears threatening to spill.

“don’t cry,” he said quickly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “my dad’s the lifeguard here. i can help.”

he grabbed your hand without waiting for a response, his grip firm but reassuring. weaving through the crowd like he owned the place, he led you to the lifeguard station, where your parents were frantically scanning the pool.

“found her near the diving boards,” he announced casually, as if it were no big deal.

“oh, thank goodness!” your mom exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. “thank you so much, young man.”

he shrugged, flashing a grin that showed off his slightly crooked front teeth. “just doing my job.”

you stared at him, a mixture of awe and embarrassment swirling in your chest. “thanks... uh...”

“yeonjun,” he said, giving you a mock salute. “and you are?”

you mumbled your name, feeling suddenly shy under his confident gaze.

“nice to meet you,” he said, ruffling your hair like you were old friends. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

you didn’t think you’d actually see him again. but the universe, in its strange sense of humor, had other plans.

a week after the pool incident, your mom handed you a carton of eggs with the kind of authority that made refusal impossible.

“take these to the new neighbors,” she instructed, her hands on her hips as if to emphasize the importance of the task. “we’ve been meaning to welcome them for weeks. honestly, it’s a little embarrassing we haven’t yet.”

“why can’t someone else do it?” you grumbled, eyeing the carton as if it were some impossible burden.

“because your brothers are useless at remembering their manners, and you need to learn to be neighborly,” she retorted. “just go.”

so there you were, trudging down the driveway in the sweltering heat, clutching the eggs like they might explode if you weren’t careful. the whole way, you muttered under your breath about how unfair it was to be roped into such chores.

the house next door was modest but welcoming, with a small garden out front and a wind chime that tinkled softly in the breeze. you hesitated for a moment, debating whether to knock and run just to avoid the awkward conversation. but you weren’t a coward. squaring your shoulders, you knocked.

the door swung open almost instantly, and there he was.

“lifeguard!” you blurted out, your brain short-circuiting.

the boy from the pool—the one who had found you when you were lost and made it look so effortless—stood in the doorway, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

his eyes widened in recognition, then crinkled with amusement. “oh, it’s you!”

you stood frozen, staring at him like he’d just stepped out of a dream and into your reality.

he leaned casually against the doorframe, his presence somehow both relaxed and magnetic. “uh, it’s yeonjun,” he corrected, though his tone was playful. “but yeah, that’s me.”

“you live here?” you asked, your voice higher-pitched than you intended.

“since, like, five months ago,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “your parents never told you?”

“they might have mentioned something,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating under his gaze.

the truth was, your parents had mentioned the new neighbors. several times, actually. they’d even hinted that you should introduce yourself, but you’d always found an excuse. you swore you’d never seen him before—how could you have missed someone like him?

but as if reading your mind, yeonjun smirked. “you know, i’ve seen you around.”

“what?”

he shrugged, crossing his arms. “you’re always out in your yard. playing badminton with your friends, arguing with your brothers, sitting under that big tree when you’re reading.”

your mouth fell open. “you’ve been spying on me?”

“spying? no.” he grinned, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “just... noticing.”

“creepy,” you shot back, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

“says the person who called me ‘lifeguard’ instead of my name,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you wanted to argue, but the words stuck in your throat. instead, you thrust the carton of eggs toward him, desperate to end the conversation before your face combusted.

“here,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “welcome to the neighborhood or whatever.”

his grin widened as he took the carton. “thanks. i guess this means we’re officially neighbors now.”

you nodded, taking a step back, but before you could escape, he added, “by the way, nice to finally meet you properly. next time, don’t wait five months to say hi.”

“i didn’t know you existed!” you protested, your voice more defensive than you’d intended.

“sure you didn’t,” he said with a laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief.

as you turned to leave, your stomach fluttered in a way that annoyed you. yeonjun. your neighbor. the lifeguard. apparently, the boy who’d been noticing you long before you even realized he was there.

you swore under your breath as you walked back to your house. this was going to be... interesting.

and that was just the start of your friendship with yeonjun.

what began as a coincidental meeting soon became the foundation of everything you knew. yeonjun wasn’t just your neighbor anymore; he became your partner-in-crime, the person who knew all your quirks, and the one you always looked for when the world felt heavy.

elementary school was where it truly began to solidify. it wasn’t long before he was waiting for you outside your house every morning, backpack slung over one shoulder, a grin that could rival the sun spread across his face.

“you ready?” he’d ask, even though you were always the one who wasn’t.

“give me a minute!” you’d shout from the doorway, fumbling to tie your shoelaces while he laughed at your chaos.

on the walk to school, he’d talk your ear off about the most random things. dinosaurs, video games, the newest episode of his favorite cartoon.

“do you think velociraptors were actually that smart?” he asked one morning, kicking a rock down the road as you walked.

you frowned, considering it. “probably not as smart as they show in movies. but maybe smarter than chickens.”

“chickens are terrifying, though,” he countered, and you couldn’t argue with that.

over the years, those small conversations turned into deeper ones. he was there when your parents started fighting more than usual.

one night, after your dad slammed the front door and your mom locked herself in her room, you found yourself sitting on the front steps, arms wrapped around your knees.

yeonjun climbed over the fence separating your houses like it was the most natural thing in the world, plopping down beside you. “what happened?”

you didn’t even need to explain. you just leaned your head on his shoulder, and he let you sit there in silence until the tears stopped.

“you know they love you, right?” he said softly, breaking the quiet.

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you whispered.

he nudged you gently. “hey. you’ve got me, though. and i’ll always love you. even when you’re super annoying.”

you laughed, even though it was shaky. “thanks, lifeguard.”

“don’t call me that,” he groaned, but he was smiling.

then there was your first heartbreak. yang jungwon, the quiet boy from the football team, had somehow wormed his way into your heart during your freshman year of high school.

“he’s cute,” you admitted to yeonjun one day, watching jungwon from across the cafeteria.

yeonjun squinted at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “he’s... alright, i guess.”

“just alright?” you teased.

“what? you want me to call him hot or something?” yeonjun shot back, rolling his eyes.

but when jungwon broke your heart a few months later—something about “not being ready for a relationship”—yeonjun was the one who showed up with your favorite snacks and a stack of your favorite movies.

“he’s an idiot,” yeonjun declared, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor. “anyone who can’t see how great you are doesn’t deserve you.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes.

“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” he said firmly, tossing a popcorn kernel at your head to make you smile.

it worked.

your friendship with yeonjun wasn’t just about the big moments, though. it was the small things, like the way he got along with your brothers, soobin and beomgyu, as if they were his own siblings.

“hey, yeonjun, wanna join our soccer game?” beomgyu asked one saturday afternoon, already tugging him toward the backyard.

yeonjun glanced at you, and you shrugged. “go ahead. i’ll cheer when you lose.”

“me? lose?” he scoffed. “not happening.”

you sat on the porch steps, laughing as he and your brothers turned the yard into a chaotic battlefield. it was like this all the time—yeonjun seamlessly fitting into every part of your life.

and then there were the sleepovers.

it started as a summer tradition when you were twelve. either you’d sneak over to his house with a bag of snacks, or he’d show up at your door with a stack of dvds.

“what are we watching tonight?” he asked one evening, flopping onto your living room couch like he owned the place.

“something scary,” you said, holding up a horror movie.

he groaned. “why do you always pick the ones that’ll make you scream?”

“because it’s funny,” you said, grinning.

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. halfway through the movie, when a jump scare made you yelp and grab his arm, he smirked. “told you.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his arm.

those nights always ended the same way—falling asleep on the couch, the tv still playing in the background, and waking up to the sunrise spilling through the windows.

“what do you think happens after high school?” you asked him once, staring at the ceiling in the dim light.

“like, after college and everything?” he asked.

“yeah.”

he was quiet for a moment before saying, “i don’t know. but i think as long as we’re still friends, it’ll be okay.”

you turned your head to look at him, and the softness in his expression made your chest feel warm. “yeah,” you agreed. “it’ll be okay.”

and for years, it was. you and yeonjun, inseparable, unshakable. a friendship that felt like it could withstand anything.

you just didn’t know how much it would be tested.

time came when you were both seventeen. you were both seventeen years old when he first held your hand.

yeonjun, your childhood best friend. the boy who had been by your side through scraped knees, whispered secrets, and endless summer nights. the one who had seen you at your most vulnerable, who always knew how to make you laugh even when the world seemed too heavy.

it was a cool autumn evening, the kind that made you want to linger outside just a little longer, soaking in the last traces of warmth before winter took over. the air smelled faintly of woodsmoke, and the streetlights had just started flickering to life, casting golden halos over the quiet neighborhood.

the two of you were walking back home from school, the weight of textbooks in your backpacks offset by the lightness of your conversation. yeonjun had his backpack slung over one shoulder, the strap threatening to slip off with every step, but he didn’t seem to care.

“i still can’t believe you actually said that to mrs. cho,” you said, shaking your head, the memory of the afternoon making you laugh.

yeonjun grinned, his signature dimple making an appearance. “what? someone had to call her out. her explanation didn’t even make sense.”

“you’re unbelievable,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “you just love stirring the pot.”

“and you love watching it happen,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

“maybe,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

the conversation faded into a comfortable silence as the two of you continued down the street, the only sounds coming from the crunch of leaves beneath your sneakers and the occasional distant bark of a dog.

then it happened.

it wasn’t the first time your hands had brushed—years of friendship meant countless high-fives, playful shoves, and absentminded touches. but this time, his fingers lingered, tentative but steady, until they intertwined with yours.

your breath hitched, the warmth of his palm contrasting sharply with the coolness of the air.

“what?” he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. his voice was casual, but there was a softness in it that wasn’t usually there.

“nothing,” you mumbled, your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

you tried to focus on the sidewalk, on the way the leaves scattered with each step, but all you could feel was the way his thumb gently brushed against yours, as if testing the waters.

you should have let go. this was yeonjun, your best friend, the boy who had been there through everything. but instead, you found yourself holding on tighter, your steps slowing as if you could somehow stretch the moment out longer.

the streetlights seemed brighter tonight, or maybe it was just him. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the way the golden light softened his features, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the way his dark hair fell messily across his forehead.

“have you always been this handsome?” the words escaped before you could stop them.

yeonjun stumbled slightly, his eyes widening as he turned to look at you. “w-what?”

“uh... nothing,” you blurted, your face heating up as you quickly pulled your hand from his.

“wait—” he started, but you were already backing away, your house just a few steps away now.

“s-see you tomorrow!” you called over your shoulder, practically sprinting up the porch steps and yanking the door open.

yeonjun stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring after you with a mix of confusion and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“see you...” he murmured, his voice barely audible as the warmth of your touch lingered on his hand.

he glanced down at it, flexing his fingers absently. his cheeks felt strangely warm, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping him.

when did her voice change? he wondered. you used to sound so squeaky and high-pitched, like a little mouse. but now? now your voice seemed softer, warmer, wrapping around him in a way that made his chest tighten.

it’s just puberty, he told himself. that had to be it. hormones or something. it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed you before—you were his best friend, after all. but lately, things felt... different.

like the way you’d smile at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. or the way your laughter seemed to linger in the air, making his heart race for reasons he couldn’t explain.

he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he turned to head home. but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to the way your hand fit perfectly in his, the way you looked at him under the streetlights, and the way he had to fight the sudden, inexplicable urge to kiss you.

“what’s happening to me?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

but deep down, he already knew the answer. and it terrified him just as much as it thrilled him.

the transition was slow, like the gradual change in the seasons. one moment, yeonjun was still your best friend—the boy who knew everything about you, the one who could make you laugh even when you felt like crying. and the next, he wasn’t.

it started small, subtle. at first, it was just the little things—holding hands for a few seconds longer than usual, the gentle brush of fingers when you passed something to him, or when you’d sit side by side, letting the warmth of his presence fill the space between you without a word spoken.

but over time, those little moments grew into something more, something undeniable. it was in the way you’d talk for hours, hands intertwined as you both sat on your porch, watching the stars slowly appear one by one. it was the way yeonjun would absentmindedly play with your fingers, tracing patterns on your skin while talking about nothing and everything all at once.

it was the quiet smiles you exchanged when you thought no one was looking, and the way your heart fluttered when his thumb brushed over your palm.

but none of this was ever spoken aloud.

it wasn’t until one evening, when you were sprawled out on the couch with your brothers, that you were forced to face it.

you had just settled in, the sound of the tv filling the living room while the three of you snacked on popcorn, when beomgyu, who had been unusually quiet for the past few minutes, suddenly broke the silence.

“so,” he began, his voice casual, but you could tell by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he was up to something. “is yeonjun your boyfriend?”

your stomach dropped, your heart racing as your eyes widened. you shot him a look, but beomgyu was still looking at the screen, pretending to be uninterested.

you didn’t know how to respond. not when your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts at once. you couldn’t deny the fact that yeonjun felt different now—more than just your best friend. but was he your boyfriend?

you glanced at yeonjun, who was sitting beside you, his attention still on the tv but with a slight tension in his posture that wasn’t usually there. his hand was resting near yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at it, neither of you moving.

“y/n?” beomgyu asked again, his tone light but insistent. “is he?”

you didn’t know what to say.

“i—I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. your fingers curled into your palm, a nervous habit, as you struggled to find the right words. “i... don’t think so?”

but as you said it, a strange feeling bloomed in your chest. you looked at yeonjun again, this time noticing the way his lips pressed together in a tight line, as if he was holding something back. he didn’t say anything, but you could feel the unspoken tension between you, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

your heart started to beat faster.

what was this? what had changed?

beomgyu must’ve sensed the hesitation in your voice because he didn’t push further. instead, he threw a wink in your direction, a playful grin on his face as he nudged your shoulder.

“if you say so,” he said teasingly, then leaned back, returning to the tv as if nothing had happened.

but you couldn’t focus on the show anymore. all you could think about was yeonjun, sitting beside you with his hand inches from yours.

when your brothers finally left the living room, giving you some much-needed space to think, you were left alone with yeonjun.

you sat in silence for a long moment, the air between you thick with unspoken words. your heart was pounding in your chest, and every breath felt heavy. you finally turned to him, finding his eyes already on you, a look of uncertainty in his gaze.

“yeonjun,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “are we... something else now?”

his gaze flickered, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. but you could see the way his hand fidgeted nervously by his side, the way his fingers twitched, like he was waiting for you to say something.

finally, he let out a breath, his voice quieter than usual. “i don’t know,” he said honestly. “i’ve been wondering the same thing.”

you swallowed, your heart doing an odd flip in your chest. you hadn’t expected him to say that, and yet... it made sense. because how could it not be strange? you had both changed, and now you were walking this fine line between friendship and something more.

“it feels different, doesn’t it?” you whispered, your gaze dropping to your hands. “like, we’re not just... friends anymore. but we’re not... i don’t know what we are.”

yeonjun let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it. just a trace of uncertainty. “yeah. it feels different to me too.”

for a long while, neither of you spoke. you both just sat there, side by side, in a silence that was no longer comfortable, but still familiar.

finally, yeonjun shifted, turning to face you more fully. his expression was soft, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find something there.

“y/n,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “i... don’t want to mess things up between us. i’ve known you forever, and i don’t want to lose that.”

you swallowed hard, nodding as you turned to face him fully. “me neither,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly. “but i can’t pretend like things are the same anymore. i don’t want to lose you either, yeonjun. but...”

“but?” he prompted, his voice gentle.

“but... i don’t know what this is either,” you said, the words coming out before you could stop them. “i don’t know where this is going.”

yeonjun gave you a small, uncertain smile. “maybe that’s okay,” he said softly. “maybe we don’t have to know right now.”

you took a deep breath, letting his words settle in your chest. maybe it was okay not to know. maybe it was okay to just take things one step at a time.

you met his eyes, your gaze steady now, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of the moment—the shift in your relationship, the change that was inevitable but still terrifying.

“we’ll figure it out, right?” you said, your voice soft but determined.

yeonjun smiled, the familiar, comforting smile that you had always loved. “yeah. we will.”

and with that, everything felt a little lighter. not perfect, not yet, but perhaps this is just the start of something more. something neither of you had expected.

the days following that conversation were filled with the same routine—talking for hours, hanging out with your brothers, laughing at jokes only the two of you understood—but everything felt different. there was a new kind of tension hanging in the air between you and yeonjun, something both thrilling and terrifying.

the little touches, the shared glances, the moments when your hands brushed—those things still happened, but now they carried a weight neither of you had ever acknowledged before. the silence between you two wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t as comfortable either. you both had the same question hanging between you, unspoken, and it seemed impossible to ignore.

it was a quiet saturday evening when it all finally came to a head. the sun had set, leaving the sky painted in shades of deep blue, and you were sitting together on your porch. the cool night air wrapped around you both, but the warmth of yeonjun’s presence was enough to make it feel like the world had paused. your brothers had gone out, leaving you and yeonjun alone, a rare occurrence these days.

he was sitting beside you, his elbow resting lightly on the arm of the porch chair, and you were leaning back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you. for a while, neither of you said anything. you just stared at the stars, lost in your own thoughts.

finally, yeonjun broke the silence.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

you turned to look at him, heart suddenly racing. there was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before, something that made your stomach flip.

“yeah?” you responded, your voice barely louder than his.

he hesitated for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as if he were trying to find the right words. the air between you felt thick, like the world was holding its breath.

“i’ve been thinking a lot,” he started slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “about us. about everything.”

you swallowed, unsure of what to say, but you didn’t look away either. the words you had both been avoiding were finally hanging in the air.

yeonjun took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t want to make things complicated, y/n,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “but i can’t keep pretending that i don’t feel... something more. i can’t keep pretending that i don’t care about you in a way that’s different from anyone else. because i do. i do care about you.”

your heart was hammering in your chest, but you didn’t speak. you just watched him, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest, filling the spaces you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

yeonjun’s eyes softened as he continued, his voice trembling slightly. “it’s scary, y/n. but i don’t want to keep hiding how i feel. i don’t want to lose you, but i can’t ignore it anymore. i’m in love with you.”

the words hit you like a wave. for a moment, everything stood still. time froze, the world faded away, and it was just the two of you, sitting in the soft glow of the streetlights, the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i—i don’t know when it happened, but... i feel the same. i think i’ve felt the same for a while now.”

his eyes widened in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. but then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—soft, relieved, and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you do?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to hear the wrong answer.

“yeah,” you breathed, your heart feeling lighter now, the weight of uncertainty finally lifting. “i’m in love with you too, yeonjun.”

and then, just like that, it felt like everything clicked.

without another word, yeonjun closed the small distance between you, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar way that now felt like the most natural thing in the world. you smiled at him, your heart soaring with something new—something beautiful.

“i’ve wanted to hear you say that,” yeonjun murmured, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “i’ve wanted to say it for so long.”

you chuckled softly, feeling like you were floating. “me too. i just... didn’t know how.”

he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for the first time, you felt the certainty that this was right. there was no doubt, no fear. just the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the soft rhythm of your hearts beating together in the stillness of the night.

“i don’t want to lose you, y/n,” he whispered, his voice full of raw sincerity. “i don’t care what happens next. i just want to be with you.”

“you won’t lose me,” you replied softly, your voice steady and full of conviction.

and in that moment, everything else faded away. there was only yeonjun, and only you, and the love that had bloomed between you in the most unexpected of ways. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

by the time of senior year at high school, both of you had already stepped into the roles that would define the rest of your high school lives: you, the school council president, and yeonjun, the captain of the basketball team. your schedules were packed—meetings, practice sessions, classwork, and the looming pressure of college applications—but somehow, despite the chaos, you both always found time for each other.

you remember one afternoon, a particularly grueling day of school, when the bell rang to signal the end of your final class. your brain was fried, your body sore from the endless meetings and responsibilities, but there was one thing you were looking forward to: lunch.

you glanced at your phone, seeing the message from yeonjun: "meet me at the usual spot. got 20 mins before practice."

it wasn’t much, but to you, it was everything. you texted back quickly: "see you there."

you headed to the courtyard behind the school, the spot where you’d spent so many of your afternoons together—hidden from the chaos, just the two of you, surrounded by the world but not quite a part of it. yeonjun was already waiting for you when you arrived, leaning against the wall, his hoodie pulled up over his head to shield him from the autumn wind.

“hey,” you greeted him, smiling, already feeling your heart lighten at the sight of him.

yeonjun grinned, his eyes lighting up when they landed on you. “hey, it’s been a minute, huh?”

you nodded, collapsing beside him. “feels like we’re ships passing in the night with our schedules lately.”

“yeah, i’ve been so swamped with basketball, i barely have time to think,” he said, leaning back against the brick wall, his hand finding yours instinctively. "but right now, all that matters is this."

you squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “me too. this is the best part of my day.”

there was something so simple, so perfect, about the moments when it was just the two of you. the world could spin around you, and as long as you had this—just being together—it didn’t matter.

the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. you sighed dramatically. “i wish we had more time,” you said, your voice tinged with a little sadness.

“me too,” yeonjun said softly. He shifted, pulling you into a brief, but tight hug. “but i’ll see you tonight, right? i can’t wait to just... be with you, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

you nodded, burying your face in his chest for a moment before pulling away. “of course. see you tonight.”

as you parted ways to go back to your respective duties, you felt a bittersweet tug in your chest. senior year was supposed to be the most exciting year, but sometimes, it felt like you were both drowning in expectations. between your responsibilities as president, his duties with the basketball team, and the pressure of college applications, it was hard to carve out enough time for each other. but when you did, it felt like everything.

that night, after you had managed to get through your meeting with the council, you finally collapsed into your bed, exhausted but happy. you barely had time to change out of your uniform before yeonjun was at your window, tapping gently with his knuckles, his face glowing from the soft light outside.

you slid the window open, and his familiar face filled your view. “hey,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “got a few minutes to spare?”

“you know i always do for you,” you replied, smiling as you climbed out of bed to open the window wider. yeonjun stepped inside, and you both sank into your comfort zone—no pretenses, just the two of you in your shared space.

“i missed you,” yeonjun admitted quietly, his hand finding its way to your back as you both sat on your bed.

“me too,” you said softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “it feels like forever since we just... hung out.”

he chuckled. “we’re busy, aren’t we? but at least we have tonight.”

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “yeah. tonight’s for us.”

for the next hour, you talked about everything—everything that wasn’t the stress of school or college. you found yourselves laughing about ridiculous things—like how you both dreamed of going to universities far away from each other just so you could become those long-distance couples who “would make it work,” only to be met with hilarious glances from your friends.

“so, what’s your dream university?” yeonjun asked, his eyes soft with curiosity.

you glanced up at him. “hmm, i’ve always wanted to go to stanford, but i think i’ll end up at somewhere more practical. how about you?”

yeonjun smiled, his expression thoughtful. “i always thought i’d be good at ucla, but i’ve been looking at nyu too. new york would be crazy.”

“oh, so we’ll be on opposite sides of the country?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“maybe,” yeonjun grinned, poking your side. “but i’ll make it work. as long as you’re with me, i’ll figure it out.”

you stared at him, feeling something stir in your chest. “yeonjun... if i get into nyu... would you... really?”

he turned to you, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “of course. wherever you go, i go. i’ll always make time for you. we’ll figure it out.”

a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him. it was soft, lingering—an unspoken promise to keep fighting for each other, no matter what life threw at you.

the night grew quiet as you lay beside each other, tangled in blankets, your fingers still intertwined. the silence between you felt natural, comfortable. you spoke in soft murmurs about your futures, about your hopes and fears, but through it all, there was one constant: you had each other.

and that was all you really needed.

as the weeks passed, things didn’t slow down. you both threw yourselves into your respective roles with all the energy you had. but in the middle of it all, there was always a moment for the two of you—lunch breaks, stolen kisses, late-night texts, and moments just like this, when you could talk about your dreams and plans without the pressure of the world bearing down on you.

one late night, after an exhausting student council meeting, you and yeonjun found yourselves at your window again, sitting in the stillness of your room.

“you know, no matter how busy we get, i want to always make time for this,” yeonjun said quietly, his arm around your shoulders.

“me too,” you whispered, smiling. “you’re my rest.”

he laughed softly. “and you’re mine.”

and in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you knew that no matter where life took you, you would always find your way back to each other.

midway through senior year, time seemed to slip faster than it ever had. it was as if the days were being written in invisible ink—one minute, you were discussing college applications, the next, you were at a university's entrance exam with yeonjun, sitting side by side in a room full of nervous energy, but somehow, both of you found peace in the shared silence.

you both had chosen paths that were worlds apart: you, determined to follow your dream of becoming a nurse, and yeonjun, with his passion for film and the arts. it was a strange contrast, but it was one you never questioned, never thought of as anything other than perfectly you and him.

one evening, months before the entrance exams, you were sitting in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the scattered papers around you. yeonjun had come over to study, though neither of you were really studying—just quietly existing in each other's company, as you often did.

“so, have you decided?” yeonjun’s voice broke through the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“hmm?” you asked, glancing over at him. he was flipping through his sketchbook, clearly distracted by his thoughts.

“nursing. still?” he asked, his eyes catching yours, filled with a mixture of curiosity and understanding.

you nodded.

yeonjun hummed, a small smile playing on his lips. “it’s a good choice. i can totally see you in scrubs, saving lives and looking all badass.”

you chuckled, tossing your pen onto your desk. “and you? still film school?”

“yep,” he grinned, “i have always wanted to make films. tell stories in a way that makes people feel something, and i don’t think i could do anything else.”

you leaned back in your chair, gazing at him thoughtfully. “i love that. you’re so passionate about it. i think it’s the perfect choice for you.”

yeonjun’s eyes softened as he set his sketchbook aside, moving closer to you. “and you’re going to be an amazing nurse. i can already see it. you’ve got this caring side... it’s something special.”

you blushed slightly, not used to him being so sincere, but it made your heart flutter. “thank you, love,” you whispered.

he reached over, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek. the moment felt like a soft breath in a noisy world.

“we’re really different, aren’t we?” yeonjun murmured, his eyes tracing the contours of your face, as if committing this moment to memory.

you smiled. “yeah, but somehow, it works. we’re... stupidly compatible, aren’t we?”

yeonjun chuckled, his thumb brushing over your lips. “yeah, we are.”

you couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all—without thinking, you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. the kiss was gentle, lingering, full of promises and unspoken words. it wasn’t grand, but it was everything you needed in that moment—simple and real.

“we’ve got this, huh?” yeonjun whispered as you pulled away, his forehead resting against yours.

“yeah, we do.”

college entrance exams loomed closer, and the weight of the future hung heavily over both of you. but somehow, amidst all the stress, you found little pockets of time for each other. moments of relief, of warmth, of shared smiles.

one afternoon, a few weeks before the exams, you both made a spontaneous decision to visit a couple of universities for your applications. you weren’t sure if it was the best use of your time—especially with your council duties taking up most of your schedule—but it felt like a moment of freedom in an otherwise chaotic year.

yeonjun, ever the spontaneous one, had suggested, “let’s go to the city. we’ll check out some campuses and maybe grab lunch afterward. just... breathe, you know?”

you’d agreed instantly.

walking around the campuses, you couldn’t help but feel the gravity of the future pressing in on you. but every time you caught yeonjun’s eye, a quiet reassurance settled in your chest. no matter what happened, you had each other.

as you visited one school after another, you both joked about what your lives might look like in the future. yeonjun, with his usual mischievous grin, would point to buildings and say, “this will be my studio. i’ll make my first movie here.”

you laughed, teasing him, “i thought you said you wanted to film in new york?”

“eh, i’ll make it work. i’m flexible,” he said with a wink, before pulling you closer by the hand. “and you’ll be in the hospital, saving lives. i’m already picturing you as the hottest nurse on the floor.”

“oh, stop it,” you said, but your cheeks flushed anyway.

it was simple moments like that—walking through crowded campuses with him, your fingers intertwined—that made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

the sound of papers shuffling and the faint hum of your office filled the room as you glanced at the clock. the game was starting in a few minutes, and you were still stuck at your desk, wrapping up council work. your phone buzzed, pulling your attention away from the endless to-do list. it was yeonjun.

yeonjun: game's about to start. you coming, right?

you: still at the office, love. trying to finish this proposal.

yeonjun: what? i thought you said you'd leave early today!

you: i tried! something urgent came up. i'm so sorry.

yeonjun: don’t stress. just… do your best to get here, okay?

you: i’ll be there, promise. even if it’s late.

yeonjun: okay… but if i don’t see you in the crowd, i’m blaming you if i miss a shot.

you: you’re gonna be amazing. now stop worrying about me and focus, mr. team captain.

yeonjun: only if you swear you’ll come.

you: i swear.

yeonjun: alright, i love you!

you smiled softly at the screen, mouthing “i love you more”, his nervous energy practically radiating through the text.

the clock ticked on, and you worked faster than you’d ever thought possible. your thoughts were divided—half on the council report in front of you, half on yeonjun. you couldn’t miss his last game, not after how much it meant to him.

finally, you slammed the folder shut and grabbed your bag, practically sprinting out of the office. the gym was only a ten-minute walk from school, but it felt like an eternity as you weaved through the crowds.

the stadium buzzed with electric anticipation, the crowd roaring as yeonjun’s basketball team prepared for their final game of the season. it was his last game as team captain, the culmination of years of dedication, and everyone could feel the weight of the moment. everyone except yeonjun, who was too busy scanning the stands, his heart sinking with every empty seat he saw.

he’d checked three times already, his eyes searching frantically for you. but you weren’t there.

he tried to shake off the disappointment, telling himself you were probably caught up with your council responsibilities. it wasn’t like you to break a promise, but the weight of senior year had been heavy on both of you. “it’s okay,” he murmured to himself as he adjusted his jersey, “i’ll win this one for her.”

the game started, and the first half was brutal. the opposing team was relentless, and though yeonjun played with his usual precision, something was off. his passes weren’t as sharp, his shots just a bit too cautious. his mind kept wandering back to you. where were you?

by halftime, his team was trailing by six points, and the coach’s pep talk barely registered in yeonjun’s ears. all he could think about was how much he wanted you to be there, to see him play one last time.

but then, as the second half began, everything changed.

by the time you arrived, the first half was already underway. the crowd’s cheers echoed through the stadium as you slipped into the stands, scanning the court for him.

there he was. yeonjun, in his captain’s jersey, his movements fluid but tense. his eyes flickered to the stands every few seconds, as if he were looking for something—or someone.

you waved frantically, hoping he’d see you.

it wasn’t until a timeout was called that his eyes finally landed on you. yeonjun stepped onto the court, ready to push through his nerves, when his eyes caught a familiar figure slipping into the stands. it was you. you were breathless, still dressed in your school blazer, your hair slightly disheveled from rushing, but you were there. and you were smiling at him. even from the distance, you saw the shift in his expression—the relief, the spark of determination. he grinned, just slightly, before turning back to his team.

the second half began, and yeonjun was unstoppable. it was as if seeing you had flipped a switch inside him. every play was sharper, every pass more precise. you could barely keep up with the game, your voice hoarse from cheering.

the final moments of the game were nail-biting. the score was tied, and the clock was ticking down. yeonjun had the ball, weaving through defenders, his eyes locked on the hoop. the gym seemed to hold its breath as he took the shot—a clean, perfect arc that sent the ball straight through the net.

the buzzer sounded, signaling their victory, and the crowd erupted into cheers. yeonjun’s teammates swarmed him, clapping his back and yelling in celebration, but his eyes weren’t on them.

his gaze darted to the stands, searching for you. and then he saw you, your arms extended wide, your smile brighter than the gym lights.

without a second thought, yeonjun broke away from his teammates and sprinted toward you. the crowd blurred into nothing as he reached you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” he murmured against your hair, his voice tinged with relief and disbelief.

you laughed softly, still catching your breath. “well, i was able to come here at halftime. something came up in the office, and i had to grind it out for 30 minutes.”

yeonjun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face. “oh, love, you don’t have to explain,” he said, a smile breaking across his lips. “what matters is you’re here now.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “so cheesy, mr. mvp.”

he chuckled, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before he tilted his head and kissed you. it was a kiss filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say—the gratitude, the relief, the love.

you pulled away first, a soft laugh escaping your lips as his teammates called him back to the court for the celebration.

“we’ll celebrate later, yeah?” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

you nodded, your smile unwavering. “i’ll wait right here.”

yeonjun hesitated, his hand lingering in yours, as if letting go would mean the moment would disappear.

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

he groaned playfully, leaning in to steal one last kiss, short and soft. “god, i love you,” he whispered, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“i love you too,” you replied, and with that, he finally let go, running back to his teammates with a grin that could rival the sun.

as you watched him join the celebration, your heart swelled with pride and love. he turned back to look at you one last time, mouthing, “wait for me.” and you knew, no matter what came next, you’d always be there for him—just as he’d always be there for you.

after the game, the celebration was in full swing. the locker room had been a frenzy of cheers and shouts, the sound of victory carrying out into the hallways. yeonjun had barely made it through his team’s congratulations before he slipped away to find you waiting in the gym lobby, exactly where you said you’d be.

the second he spotted you, his smile lit up the entire room.

“there’s my good luck charm,” he said, pulling you into another hug, this one softer but no less tight. his jersey was damp from sweat, but you didn’t care. the warmth of his arms, the lingering adrenaline from the game—it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

“mvp and a charmer,” you teased, poking at his chest. “you’re on fire tonight.”

“and it’s all because of you,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to make you blush.

“stop being so cheesy,” you mumbled, shoving him lightly, though you didn’t pull away.

he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “never. now, let’s go celebrate. my treat.”

you ended up at a cozy little diner near campus, one you both loved for its late-night snacks and quiet booths. the place was nearly empty, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of dishes creating a soothing backdrop.

yeonjun slid into the booth beside you instead of across, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“what are we having, champ?” you asked, flipping through the menu.

“everything,” he said, leaning his head against your shoulder. “we earned it.”

“we?” you raised an eyebrow, but the fondness in your tone gave you away.

“yeah, we. you were there, weren’t you? cheering me on, looking all cute in the stands?” he said, his voice dropping slightly, the teasing lilt making your cheeks heat up.

you nudged him, trying to hide your smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you love it,” he shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

the food came, a mix of fries, milkshakes, and whatever comfort food you could order without thinking. you shared everything, stealing bites from each other’s plates, laughing over nothing and everything.

at one point, yeonjun reached over to wipe a smudge of ketchup from your lip, his thumb lingering for just a second too long.

“you’re staring,” you said, your voice softer now, the playful edge replaced with something more vulnerable.

“can’t help it,” he said, his smile small but genuine. “you’re beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered all the same. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are, stuck with me,” he said, leaning in just close enough that his breath fanned against your skin.

“who says i’m stuck?” you challenged, though your voice betrayed you, a little breathless under his gaze.

he didn’t answer, not with words. instead, he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and sweet, the kind that made time seem to stop.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, “thank you. for being here, for everything.”

“always,” you said, your hand finding his under the table, your fingers lacing together.

the walk home was quieter, the night air crisp against your skin. yeonjun draped his jacket over your shoulders despite your protests, his arm looping around your waist as he guided you down the familiar path.

“so,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “what’s the plan now? sleep? movie marathon? or...” his voice dipped, playful but suggestive, “something else?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t push your luck, mr. mvp.”

“hey, can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, grinning as he squeezed your side.

when you finally made it to your place, yeonjun didn’t let you go right away. he leaned against the doorframe, his hands resting lightly on your hips as he looked at you, his expression softer now.

“i mean it,” he said, his voice low. “tonight was one of the best nights of my life. and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“you’re sappy,” you teased, though your smile betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“only for you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again, this one deeper, leaving you both a little breathless.

when you finally pulled away, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, you whispered, “you coming in, or are you just gonna stand out here all night?”

yeonjun laughed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “lead the way, love.”

you led yeonjun into your room, the soft click of the door behind him signaling a shift in the air. the night outside was quiet, the world hushed as if giving you both the space to exist only in this moment.

he tugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, his movements unhurried but purposeful. his eyes found yours across the room, and the way he looked at you—soft, adoring, with just the slightest edge of something deeper—made your breath hitch.

“come here,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

you stepped closer, and as soon as you were within reach, his hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly into him. his touch was warm, grounding, the slight roughness of his fingertips brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

“you know,” he began, his lips quirking into a half-smile, “i don’t think i��ll ever get over how beautiful you look when you’re just... here. just being you.”

“you’re hopeless,” you replied softly, but your heart was racing.

“and you’re perfect,” he said, his tone so sincere it made your cheeks heat.

his hands slid up your back, guiding you closer until there was nothing between you but the rise and fall of your breaths. his forehead pressed against yours as his fingers traced idle patterns against your skin.

“yeonjun...” you whispered, your voice trailing off as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

the world seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, his hands anchoring you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option. your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading through the soft strands of his hair, pulling him even closer.

he guided you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you sank down, your hands tugging him with you. he followed willingly, bracing himself with his arms on either side of you, his weight a comforting presence.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. “more than okay.”

he smiled then, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, and leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot just below your ear. the soft, trailing kisses sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the quiet sound that escaped your lips.

his name fell from your mouth like a prayer, and it only spurred him on, his touch becoming more confident but never rushed. he moved slowly, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as his hands slid to your waist, his thumbs brushing the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the words making your cheeks flush even as they filled you with warmth.

you tugged him up, your lips finding his again in a kiss that was soft yet urgent, your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt. he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “we don’t have to rush anything.”

“i know,” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid thrum of your heart. “but i trust you, yeonjun. with everything.”

his expression softened, and he leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, pouring every unspoken word into the connection. time seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like a declaration—a quiet but certain acknowledgment of the love you shared, a love that was yours and his alone.

after the finals, you and yeonjun had been caught in the chaos of college applications. despite the hectic schedules, the two of you always found moments to spend together, whether it was studying side by side, sneaking in late-night phone calls, or holding hands during walks to clear your minds.

when the acceptance letters came, excitement quickly mingled with a bittersweet feeling. you’d both been accepted into universities in new york, but they weren’t the same one. you had hoped, deep down, that fate would place you in the same halls, but it seemed like it had other plans.

“it’s okay,” yeonjun reassured you one evening as you lay curled up on his bed, your head on his chest. his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your back. “we’ll figure it out. new york isn’t that big, and we’ll still be close enough to annoy each other whenever we want.”

you laughed softly, the sound muffled against his shirt. “but what if it gets too hard? what if we’re too busy?”

he tilted your chin up, his eyes meeting yours with the kind of certainty that made your chest tighten. “then we’ll make time. besides, I already have a plan.”

“a plan?” you asked, raising a brow.

“we’ll live together,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you blinked at him, surprised. “together?”

“yeah,” he said, grinning. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

the reassurance in his voice soothed the small ache that had settled in your chest.

when senior graduation came, the bittersweetness of the moment was palpable. the ceremony was a blur of caps, gowns, and speeches. when your name was called, you walked across the stage to receive your leadership award, the applause echoing in your ears. but it wasn’t the applause that made your heart swell—it was the sight of yeonjun standing in the crowd, clapping the loudest, his smile brighter than anyone else’s.

“congratulations, president,” he teased later as he met you outside the auditorium, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that lifted you off your feet.

“thank you, mr. mvp,” you shot back, grinning.

as the night wound down and the celebrations faded, yeonjun leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “i have something for you,” he said softly.

“oh?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“i’ll give it to you later,” he said, his smile tinged with mystery.

later turned out to be when the two of you were alone in your room, the soft glow of your bedside lamp casting warm light over the space. yeonjun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box, handing it to you with a slightly nervous smile.

your fingers trembled slightly as you opened the small red velvet box he’d handed you. inside, resting on the cushion, was a shiny key. confusion knit your brows together as you looked up at him.

“what’s this for?” you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

yeonjun’s gaze softened, his lips curling into that familiar, heart-melting smile that he reserved just for you. “our home,” he murmured.

your breath hitched. “our home?” you echoed, the words feeling surreal as they left your lips.

he nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned closer, his voice warm and steady. “yeah. for college. i’ve been saving for a while, and with the consolation prize from the mvp award, i was able to pay the down payment for an apartment in new york.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed, emotions welling up in your chest. the effort, the thoughtfulness, the sheer love behind his gesture left you speechless.

“it’s not huge or anything,” he continued, chuckling nervously. “but it’s ours. one room—our room. and there’s a little kitchen, a cozy living area, and—”

you didn’t let him finish. overwhelmed, you leaned forward, your lips finding his in a kiss that was soft but filled with every ounce of gratitude and love you couldn’t put into words. you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you launch yourself into his arms, holding him as tightly as you could. “yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

he held you just as tightly, his hand coming up to gently cradle the back of your head. “hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

“i can’t believe you did this,” you said, pulling back slightly to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

“of course, i did,” he said, his smile warm and unwavering. “i told you—we’ll figure it out. i just wanted to make sure we had a place that felt like home, no matter how busy things get.”

his breath caught for a second before he melted into you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb gently swiped away a stray tear that had escaped. you pulled back just slightly, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, voice trembling. “you didn’t have to—”

“but i wanted to,” he cut you off gently, his eyes searching yours. “i know we’re going to different universities, and that scares me too. but i want us to have something that’s ours. a place where we can come back to each other. where you don’t have to worry about missing me because i’ll always be right there.”

a fresh wave of tears threatened to fall, but this time you laughed through them, shaking your head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah,” he said, grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

you nodded, letting out a soft laugh as you pressed your lips to his again, your hands framing his face this time. he kissed you back slowly, his lips moving against yours like a silent promise. when you pulled back, your voice was barely audible, thick with emotion.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” you said.

“funny,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i think the same thing about you every day.”

the two of you sat there for a moment, the red velvet box now forgotten on the bed. yeonjun shifted, lying back and pulling you with him until you were resting against his chest, your legs tangled together like they always seemed to end up.

“our home,” you repeated softly, the words feeling warm and hopeful.

“our home,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you couldn’t hold back anymore. you kissed him again, your lips meeting his in a soft but fervent expression of everything you couldn’t put into words. he kissed you back just as deeply, his hands coming up to frame your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting together, you whispered, “i love you so much.”

his smile widened, his own voice soft as he replied, “i love you more.”

and just like that, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and the promise of a future together in the key you held, the world outside didn’t seem so big or so daunting anymore. it was you and yeonjun—just as it had always been, and just as it always would be.

the days following graduation were a whirlwind of packing, paperwork, and last-minute errands. the reality of leaving for college loomed closer, and while the excitement of starting a new chapter in new york buzzed in the air, there was an undercurrent of bittersweetness as you prepared to leave the familiar behind. every corner of your room, every street you walked with yeonjun, every little mundane routine now carried a weight it hadn’t before, like it was all slipping through your fingers faster than you were ready for.

yeonjun, of course, had a way of keeping you grounded amidst the chaos. he made the busy moments feel lighter, turning even the most tedious tasks into something memorable.

“who knew packing could be this romantic?” he teased one afternoon as you sorted through a pile of old clothes. he was lounging on your bed, flipping through a magazine you’d almost thrown out, while you tried to decide which t-shirts to keep and which to donate.

“romantic?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “how exactly is this romantic?”

“because it’s us,” he said simply, setting the magazine down and leaning on his elbows. “even folding laundry with you feels special.”

you threw a balled-up sock at him, laughing when he dramatically pretended to dodge it. “you’re such a dork.”

“a dork you’re moving to new york with,” he reminded you with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

sometimes, though, the moments weren’t about productivity at all. they were about soaking in the last bits of quiet together before life inevitably got busier. one afternoon, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the floor of your nearly empty bedroom, surrounded by boxes. the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over everything. yeonjun reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a framed photo of the two of you from your junior year.

it was from one of your first official dates—a trip to the local fair. in the picture, you were laughing at something, your head tilted toward him, while he grinned at the camera, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“this one’s coming with us,” he said decisively, holding it up like it was the most important thing in the room.

you scooted closer, peering at the photo. “obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “i can’t believe you still have that goofy grin in every photo.”

“what can i say? you make me happy,” he said, his tone teasing but sincere.

you nudged him with your shoulder, a smile tugging at your lips. “cheesy.”

“but true,” he countered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

the kiss lingered for a moment longer than either of you expected, and when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours. “i know we’ll be busy with school and everything, but... this? us? it’s what keeps me grounded,” he said softly.

you reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “same here,” you admitted. “no matter how hectic things get, we’ll figure it out. together.”

he smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your chest tighten in the best way.

later that evening, as the two of you sat on your bed, surrounded by half-packed boxes and the remnants of your childhood room, yeonjun pulled out his phone and started playing a playlist he’d made for you.

“what’s this?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“a soundtrack for new york,” he said, grinning. “thought we could use some good vibes for the road trip.”

“you’re really planning everything, aren’t you?”

“of course,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “i want to make sure it’s perfect for you.”

you didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment, you knew that as long as you had him, it already was.

when the day finally came to move, the two of you stood in the doorway of your new apartment, staring at the blank canvas that would soon become your home. the faint hum of the city buzzed through the open window, a reminder that this was the beginning of something new, something entirely your own.

“it’s perfect,” you said softly, stepping inside and letting your fingers trail along the smooth surface of the kitchen counter.

yeonjun set down the box he was carrying and walked up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist like they belonged there. “it’ll be even better once we make it ours,” he murmured, his chin resting on your shoulder.

you leaned back into him, letting the warmth of his presence settle your nerves. “ours,” you repeated, the word feeling both unfamiliar and deeply comforting.

the day passed in a flurry of activity—unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and debating over the smallest details. yeonjun insisted the couch should face the window to take advantage of the natural light, while you argued it would make more sense angled toward the wall where a TV could eventually go.

“we don’t even have a TV yet,” he pointed out, laughing as he balanced the couch on its side to test your suggestion.

“but we will,” you shot back, hands on your hips as you watched him struggle. “and when we do, you’ll thank me.”

“sure, sure,” he teased, finally setting the couch down in what he begrudgingly admitted was a decent spot.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the apartment was still far from finished. there were half-unpacked boxes stacked against the walls, and the dining table was still in pieces in the corner. yet, somehow, it already felt like home.

later that night, as you lay on the bed—the only piece of furniture you’d managed to fully set up—yeonjun pulled you close, his arm draped over your waist and his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. the mattress was still bare, and the faint smell of fresh paint lingered in the air, but none of that mattered.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with exhaustion, “i was worried this would feel too fast or too much, but it doesn’t. it just feels right.”

you turned to face him, your fingers brushing the hair from his forehead, smoothing it back as his eyes met yours. “that’s because it is right,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your certainty. you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow and lingering, a reflection of everything you felt but didn’t need to say out loud.

when you pulled back, yeonjun’s eyes searched yours, his expression tender in the dim light filtering through the window. “thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

you frowned slightly, your brows knitting together. “for what?”

“for believing in us,” he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hip. “for making this feel like the best decision i’ve ever made.”

your chest tightened, a wave of emotion washing over you as his words settled in. “you don’t have to thank me for that,” you said, your voice breaking just slightly as you tried to contain the depth of what you felt. “i’d choose us every time.”

his smile was soft, almost shy, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “me too,” he whispered against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

you lay there for a while, tangled in each other as the city lights outside cast a soft glow over the room. his fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, and you found yourself lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“this is it, huh?” you murmured after a moment, your voice filled with both awe and disbelief.

“this is it,” he confirmed, his hand finding yours and threading your fingers together.

it wasn’t perfect yet—there were still boxes to unpack, challenges to face, and a lifetime of moments to fill the space you now called home. but as you drifted off to sleep in yeonjun’s arms, the quiet hum of the city serving as your lullaby, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. and that was more than enough.

the first few weeks of college were a blur for both you and yeonjun. between adjusting to new schedules, navigating unfamiliar campuses, and diving into coursework, it was easy to feel overwhelmed. yet, despite the demands of your separate universities, the two of you were determined to make your relationship the anchor that kept you steady.

every morning started the same way: with yeonjun’s groggy voice mumbling your name from the other side of the bed. “five more minutes,” he groaned one morning, his face buried in the pillow.

“you said that ten minutes ago,” you teased, tugging at the blanket he had wrapped around himself like a cocoon. “if you don’t get up now, you’re going to miss your bus.”

he groaned louder, finally rolling onto his back with his hair sticking out in every direction. “this is why i need you around. without you, i’d probably just sleep through life.”

“and here i thought it was my charming personality that won you over,” you replied, grinning as you threw a pillow at him.

breakfasts during the week were a chaotic rush of toast, coffee, and sometimes sharing a banana as you both scrambled to get out the door. but weekends were a different story entirely. saturday mornings became your time to slow down and just be together.

one saturday, yeonjun decided he was going to make pancakes. “how hard can it be?” he asked, confidently holding up the box of pancake mix.

“famous last words,” you muttered, watching him as he squinted at the instructions on the box.

the first pancake came out lumpy, the second one burned, and by the time he attempted the third, the kitchen was filled with smoke. “maybe i should take over,” you suggested, biting your lip to keep from laughing as yeonjun fanned the smoke detector with a towel.

“absolutely not,” he declared, his determination shining through the chaos. “i’m going to make at least one decent pancake if it kills me.”

eventually, he managed to make a stack that was somewhat edible, and the two of you sat at the kitchen table, laughing as you drowned the pancakes in syrup to mask their slightly charred taste. “see?” he said, pointing his fork at you. “i told you i could do it.”

“sure,” you replied, smirking. “with a little help from mr. syrup and ms. butter.”

in the evenings, no matter how hectic your days had been, you always made time to reconnect. some nights, you’d cook dinner together, bumping into each other in the tiny kitchen as you experimented with recipes you found online. one night, yeonjun insisted on making pasta, only to realize halfway through that you were out of garlic.

“how am i supposed to impress you without garlic?” he lamented dramatically, holding up the empty container.

“you’ll just have to rely on your charm,” you teased, handing him a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.

other nights, you’d order takeout and sprawl out on the couch, sharing stories about your classes and professors. “my econ professor is a literal drill sergeant,” yeonjun said one night, his head resting on your lap as he scrolled through his phone. “he assigned a ten-page paper on the second day of class.”

“sounds like a nightmare,” you said, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair. “at least you don’t have to deal with group projects.”

“ah, the classic college experience,” he replied, smirking. “if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. i’ll intimidate them with my charm.”

“yeah, i’m sure your puppy-dog eyes will really strike fear into their hearts,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he grinned, reaching up to pinch your cheek. “don’t underestimate these eyes. they’ve gotten me out of plenty of trouble.”

some nights, you didn’t do much of anything at all. you’d curl up on the couch, the tv playing softly in the background, and just talk. those conversations ranged from the mundane—like what to cook for dinner the next day—to the profound.

“i think i’m starting to figure out what i want to do,” yeonjun said one night, his voice thoughtful as he stared at the ceiling.

“oh yeah? what’s that?” you asked, turning your head to look at him.

“something creative,” he said. “i don’t know what exactly, but i want to make things that mean something to people.”

you smiled, reaching over to take his hand. “you’re already amazing. whatever you choose, you’ll be great at it.”

he turned his head to meet your gaze. “and you? what’s your big plan?”

you hesitated, shrugging. “i don’t know yet. but i think as long as i’m happy and i have you, i’ll figure it out.”

he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “we’ll figure it out together.”

and that’s how it went. your days were hectic, filled with classes, assignments, and the occasional stress-induced breakdown. but your nights were yours—little pockets of time where the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you. no matter how busy life got, you always found your way back to each other, and that was all that mattered.

the love between you and yeonjun wasn’t loud or flashy; it was in the little things, the small, unspoken acts that made life a little easier, a little brighter. the kind of love that wasn’t about grand gestures but about being there for each other in the moments that mattered most.

one night, after pulling an all-nighter for a paper due the next day, you stumbled into the apartment looking like a zombie. your backpack hung off one shoulder, barely clinging on as you trudged through the door. your eyes were red and puffy, and your hair was a chaotic mess that even you couldn’t care to fix. yeonjun was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he saw you, his face shifted into a mix of concern and tenderness.

“you look like you just survived a war,” he said, setting his phone down and standing up to meet you.

“it feels like i did,” you mumbled, dropping your bag unceremoniously to the floor before collapsing onto the couch.

yeonjun followed you, crouching in front of you so he could look into your eyes. his hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “did you eat anything today?” he asked softly, his voice full of worry.

you shook your head, too drained to explain that you hadn’t even thought about food between your back-to-back classes and endless study sessions. without another word, yeonjun stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. you leaned back against the cushions, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of the couch, and let out a long sigh.

a few minutes later, yeonjun returned with a steaming bowl of ramen, the smell immediately making your stomach growl. he had even added a soft-boiled egg and a sprinkle of green onions on top, the way he knew you liked it.

“here,” he said, sitting down beside you and holding out the bowl. “eat this. it’ll help.”

you blinked at him, the exhaustion momentarily replaced by a wave of gratitude. “you didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“shh,” he said, cutting you off as he grabbed the chopsticks and guided them toward your lips. “just eat. no arguments.”

you opened your mouth obediently, letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the broth spread through you instantly, soothing the ache in your chest and stomach. as you continued eating, yeonjun stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving you. he made sure the bowl didn’t tip, nudging it closer whenever your hands started to falter from sheer exhaustion.

“you’re too good to me,” you said between bites, your voice heavy with emotion.

“someone has to be,” he replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “you don’t exactly make it easy for yourself.”

when you finished, yeonjun took the empty bowl back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. he handed it to you, watching as you drank before gently pulling you to your feet.

“come on,” he said, his arm slipping around your waist to steady you. “you’re going to bed.”

“but i still have—”

“nope,” he interrupted, guiding you toward the bedroom. “whatever it is, it can wait. you need to rest.”

once you were in bed, yeonjun pulled the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in like you were the most precious thing in the world. his hand lingered on your forehead for a moment, checking for any signs of a fever.

“sleep,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “i’ll wake you up in time for class.”

you closed your eyes, the weight of the day finally lifting as his warmth and care enveloped you. as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have someone like yeonjun—someone who always knew exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know it yourself.

the next morning, you woke up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, casting a gentle glow across the room. for a moment, you just lay there, trying to remember where you were, what day it was, and why you felt so much better than you had the night before. as your mind cleared, you realized that yeonjun had kept his promise. you weren’t exhausted anymore, the weight of the all-nighter lifted by the sleep you’d gotten.

you stretched, feeling the satisfying crack of your back, and turned to check the time. to your surprise, it was still early. your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you reached over to grab it, seeing a message from yeonjun.

“good morning sleepyhead. i’ll make sure you’re not late for class, promise.”

a smile tugged at your lips as you texted back.

“thanks for last night. i actually feel human again.”

a few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

“of course. now get up, i made you breakfast.”

you blinked, confused at first, before the realization hit. breakfast? he actually made breakfast? with a groan, you pushed yourself out of bed and pulled on your robe, heading for the kitchen. as soon as you walked in, you were hit with the delicious smell of eggs and toast, and you saw yeonjun standing at the stove, flipping something in the pan.

“good morning,” he said, turning around with a bright smile. “i didn’t burn it this time, i swear.”

you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “you made breakfast?” you asked, a little in awe.

“yep. i thought i’d take care of you for once,” he replied, setting the plate down on the table. “i wasn’t sure what you wanted, so i made a little of everything.”

the table was laid out with eggs, toast, some fruit, and a pot of tea. it wasn’t anything extravagant, but the care he put into it made it feel special. you sat down, feeling a warm rush of affection for him.

“this is perfect,” you said softly, picking up your fork. “thank you.”

yeonjun sat across from you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “you’re welcome, but only if you promise to eat it all. i spent a solid twenty minutes on the eggs.”

“deal,” you said, taking a bite. “these are really good. did you learn how to make eggs from youtube?”

“i might’ve watched a few videos,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “but it’s not as easy as it looks. i almost ruined them, actually.”

you laughed, feeling a little lighter than you had the day before. as you ate, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came with time spent together. it was these moments, the quiet ones where you didn’t need to say much, that made you feel the most connected to him.

after breakfast, yeonjun stood up to clean the dishes, but you stopped him. “i’ll do it,” you said, getting up from the table.

“no, i’ve got it,” he insisted, pushing you back toward the couch. “you just relax. you’ve got a long day ahead.”

you rolled your eyes but let him take the dishes anyway, knowing he wouldn’t relent. as you sat back down on the couch, you scrolled through your phone, mentally preparing for the day. it wasn’t until yeonjun finished the dishes and returned to sit beside you that you realized something: you weren’t dreading the day like you usually did after an all-nighter.

you felt light. you felt like you could handle whatever came your way. and you realized it was because of him—because yeonjun always knew how to make everything feel easier, how to make the hardest days seem a little less overwhelming.

he nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. “ready to go?” he asked, offering his hand.

you smiled, taking his hand as you stood up. “yeah. but only because you’re with me.”

he grinned, that familiar, comforting smile that made your heart flutter. “always,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “i’ll always be with you.”

and as you both walked out the door together, side by side, you knew that no matter how hard the day might get, as long as yeonjun was by your side, everything would be okay.

and then the rainy days.

rainy days were never your favorite. you hated the way the damp air clung to your skin, the cold chill that seemed to seep into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. but the thing you hated most was carrying an umbrella. it always felt too bulky, too inconvenient, and you’d often complain about it when the weather turned. the thought of lugging around an umbrella for hours just didn’t sit right with you, and yet, you always ended up doing it.

but then there was yeonjun.

yeonjun, who somehow made it his personal mission to make sure you never had to carry an umbrella again. he had noticed early on how much you disliked it, how you’d sigh and grumble when it started raining, and how you’d leave your umbrella in your bag, trying to avoid the hassle of opening it. and so, whenever the weather turned gray, yeonjun was there, always with an umbrella in hand, ready to protect you from the downpour.

one particularly rainy afternoon, you were at the library, buried under a mountain of books, trying to finish an assignment that had been eating up your time all week. the rain had started coming down in sheets, and you could hear it tapping against the windows, the sound almost rhythmic. you were so focused on your work that you hadn’t even noticed your phone buzzed until a few minutes later.

yeonjun: stay put. i’m on my way.

you frowned at the message, glancing out the window. the rain was relentless, and the idea of walking to the bus stop in it made you groan. you texted back, halfheartedly: it’s fine, i’ll be okay.

but yeonjun didn’t take “it’s fine” for an answer. he knew you too well. just as you were packing up your things, trying to brace yourself for the walk, you saw him.

he walked into the library, his hair damp from the rain, his coat slightly clinging to his shoulders from the wetness. despite the storm outside, there he was, with that same soft, confident smile that always seemed to make your heart skip a beat. and in his hand was the umbrella.

“yeonjun,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest despite the chill in the air. “you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

he just shrugged, looking at you with that playful glint in his eyes. “and let you walk in the rain? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “seriously, i can handle it. it’s not that bad.”

he shook his head, holding the umbrella up over both of you as you stepped outside into the downpour. “i’m not letting you handle it. you’ll catch a cold.”

“yeonjun, you’re going to get soaked,” you pointed out, as the rain continued to fall heavily.

“don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice light. “i’m fine. now, let’s go.”

as you walked together toward the bus stop, yeonjun adjusted the umbrella, tilting it more toward you to make sure you stayed dry. you couldn’t help but notice how his shoulder was getting soaked, the water dripping down his sleeve, but he didn’t seem to care.

“yeonjun,” you scolded, trying to nudge the umbrella back toward him. “stop. you’re getting wet.”

he looked down at you with a mischievous grin. “stop worrying about me. i’m taller. i can handle a little rain.”

you shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “you’re impossible.”

but even as you scolded him, you secretly loved how thoughtful he was. it was in the little things he did, the way he always thought of you before himself, the way he made sure you were okay before he even considered his own comfort.

the two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, the sound of the rain falling around you and the soft shuffle of your footsteps filling the space. yeonjun’s shoulder kept getting wetter, but he never complained. he just kept that same warm, steady smile on his face as he focused on making sure you were dry.

as you neared the bus stop, you glanced up at him, realizing how lucky you were to have someone like him. someone who would go out of his way, rain or shine, to make sure you were okay.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your voice soft.

as you neared the bus stop, you glanced up at him, realizing how lucky you were to have someone like him. someone who would go out of his way, rain or shine, to make sure you were okay.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your voice soft.

yeonjun’s smile was gentle as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with affection. “you don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone sincere. “i’ll always be here for you, rain or shine.”

you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at his words. it was moments like these, when he wasn’t saying much but his actions spoke louder than anything, that made you realize just how much he cared. you stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his presence, even with the cold rain still pouring down around you.

when the bus finally arrived, you both got on, settling into your seats in comfortable silence. as the bus ride went on, you found yourself leaning into him, the chill from the rain still lingering on your skin. yeonjun’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently as if to reassure you that he was still there, still taking care of you.

when you reached your apartment, you both hurried inside, eager to escape the dampness of the rain. the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the cold air outside. yeonjun hung his wet coat on the rack, then turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours. there was a softness to his gaze, but also something deeper, something more intense.

without saying a word, he closed the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face. the cold from the rain still clung to his skin, but it didn’t matter. you could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the connection that was always there, but tonight, it felt stronger.

and then, he kissed you.

it started slow, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment. but as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, the need for each other rising with every touch. the coldness of the rain outside was quickly forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours. you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

you pulled away for a moment, breathless, but yeonjun wasn’t ready to stop. his lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you let out a soft gasp, your hands tangling in his hair. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate space.

“yeonjun…” you whispered, your voice shaky from the intensity of the kiss.

“shh,” he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. “let me take care of you.”

the night stretched on like that, the two of you lost in each other, the coldness of the rain replaced by the warmth of your bodies.

yeonjun wasn’t the only one who cared. you had your ways of looking after him too.

one evening, after he came home from a long day of classes and basketball practice, he flopped onto the couch with a groan. “i think my legs are going to fall off,” he muttered, collapsing onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

you walked over and sat beside him, already feeling the exhaustion radiating from his body. your hands instinctively reached for his shoulders, finding the tightness in his muscles. “let me help,” you said softly, beginning to knead the knots that had formed after hours of practice and running.

he let out a deep sigh, his head dropping forward as you worked on his neck. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

you smiled as you pressed a little harder, working your fingers into the tension. “someone has to take care of you,” you said, your tone playful yet affectionate. “besides, you deserve it. you’ve been working so hard.”

he groaned again, a contented sound escaping him as the pressure of your hands began to soothe his sore muscles. “if you keep doing this, i’m going to start thinking you’re an angel sent to fix me,” he joked, but his voice held a softness that made you melt.

you leaned forward slightly, your hands gliding down his back, finding more areas that needed attention. “well, i’ll take the credit for now,” you teased, “but seriously, you need to rest more. basketball practice and schoolwork don’t have to take over everything.”

“yeah, but you know me,” he said with a lazy smile, “i’ve got to keep pushing myself.”

“you’re allowed to take a break,” you replied, pressing your thumb into a particularly tense spot. “you can’t always be the one pushing forward.”

“i know, i know,” he muttered, clearly enjoying the attention. “but with you taking care of me like this, it makes it all worth it.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “i don’t mind,” you whispered. “i love looking after you.”

he turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a look that made your chest tighten. “remind me to marry you one day,” he said, his voice low but filled with sincerity. though his words were light, there was a warmth in his tone that made your cheeks flush.

you chuckled, the soft pink of your cheeks growing deeper as you continued to work on his shoulders. “maybe i will,” you teased, giving him another kiss on the top of his head, this time lingering for a moment longer.

he smiled, his eyes half-lidded in contentment as he relaxed further into the couch, letting you take care of him. “well, i’m glad to know i’ve got someone like you looking out for me.”

you leaned back, letting your hands rest gently on his shoulders as you gazed at him with a soft smile. “always,” you whispered. “always.”

and when yeonjun found out he’d earned a spot on his university’s basketball team—and a scholarship to go with it—he couldn’t contain his excitement.

“i did it!” he yelled, bursting into the apartment and nearly tackling you in a hug. you barely had time to react before he had you lifted off the ground, spinning you around with an energy that made your heart race.

“yeonjun!” you laughed, your breath caught in your throat as you clung to him for support. “put me down!”

he didn’t seem to hear you at first, still caught up in his excitement, but finally, with a wide grin on his face, he set you down gently, his arms lingering around you, pulling you closer as if to keep you in the moment with him.

his eyes sparkled with an intensity that made your heart swell. “i made the team,” he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and pride. “and i got the scholarship. i can’t believe it.”

you cupped his face in your hands, your smile spreading across your face as you looked at him. “i’m so proud of you,” you said, your voice filled with affection. you could see the relief and happiness radiating from him, and it made your chest tighten with joy.

“i couldn’t have done it without you,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer as he looked into your eyes, as if to say he truly meant it.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around him. “yes, you could’ve,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “you’re incredible on your own. but i’m glad i could be here for you.”

he grinned, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you loved so much. “well, it’s nice to know i have someone cheering me on, even when i feel like giving up.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands still resting on your hips, holding you in the quiet joy of the moment.

later that night, after a celebratory dinner of takeout and a cheap bottle of wine you’d picked up from the corner store, you sat on the couch, the soft buzz of the alcohol making the evening feel even more relaxed. the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you both, and yeonjun was sitting close, his arm draped over your shoulder, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin.

as you clinked your glasses together, toasting to his success, yeonjun looked at you, his expression softening as he set his glass down on the coffee table. “i really couldn’t have done it without you,” he said again, his voice lower now, filled with a quiet sincerity that made your heart flutter. “you’ve always been there for me, supporting me through everything.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you deeper than you expected. you swallowed and smiled, brushing your thumb over his hand. “i’m just glad i could be here. i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. “you’ve always believed in me, even when i didn’t believe in myself,” he murmured. “i think that’s what really pushed me to make it this far.”

you snuggled into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “you were always capable of this,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. “i’m just lucky enough to be here to see it.”

he smiled, his hand moving to your back as he held you closer. “i’m the lucky one,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “i’ve got you by my side.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe you as you drifted in the comfort of each other’s presence. this was the beginning of something bigger, you knew that for sure. yeonjun’s dreams were starting to take shape, and you were right there with him, cheering him on every step of the way.

“we’re going to celebrate even more when you win that first game,” you said with a smile, lifting your head to look at him.

he grinned, his eyes filled with determination. “you bet we will,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips, sealing the promise of everything that was to come.

and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

your first holiday together in your shared apartment was a mix of chaos and magic. neither of you had much experience decorating, but that didn’t stop you from going all out.

“this tree is way too big for our living room,” yeonjun said, struggling to fit the massive tree you’d picked out into the corner. the branches brushed against the walls, threatening to knock over the lamp you’d just placed there. his arms were outstretched, pushing and pulling, but the tree stubbornly refused to settle in any position that seemed reasonable.

“it’s perfect,” you insisted, standing on tiptoe to hang a glittery ornament on one of the branches, your voice laced with excitement. the ornament wobbled a little before it hung straight, and you stepped back, admiring the sparkle it added to the already glowing tree. the sheer size of the tree seemed to make the space feel even cozier, despite the crowded corners.

yeonjun sighed dramatically, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “i swear this tree is going to be the death of me.” he gave one last push to the tree, stepping back with a satisfied grunt.

you grinned, crossing your arms. “you’re being dramatic. it’s just a tree.” you tilted your head, amused by his antics. you loved how seriously he took the decorating process.

“just a tree?” he echoed with a raised eyebrow, glancing around at the pile of decorations scattered across the floor. “this tree has taken over our apartment.” but even though he sounded like he was about to explode from the absurdity of it all, his smile never faded, and his eyes never lost the warmth that made everything feel right.

the two of you spent hours decorating, laughing as you tried to get the garland just right and joking over how many ornaments were too many. you baked cookies, the smell of cinnamon filling the air, though some of them came out a little more “crispy” than intended. yeonjun claimed they still tasted good, but you both secretly agreed that the burnt ones were more “charmingly imperfect” than actually edible.

after the decorating madness came the argument over which christmas movie to watch. you wanted the classic, sentimental feel-good film, while yeonjun argued that something more fun and lighthearted would set the mood. you went back and forth for a while, teasing each other as you fought over the remote.

finally, you settled on one of your favorites, the perfect blend of sweet and funny, and collapsed onto the couch together. the tree twinkled softly in the corner, and the lights flickered like a thousand little stars. the living room was cozy, a small sanctuary filled with warmth and laughter.

yeonjun pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. you let out a content sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the warmth of his embrace. the movie played on, but you didn’t care about the plot anymore. you were too busy soaking in the simple joy of being with him. this was your moment, and nothing else seemed to matter.

“this is nice,” yeonjun said quietly, his voice low and filled with affection. he sounded like he was holding onto the moment as tightly as you were, and you felt your heart swell with the realization that this was more than just a holiday. it was a promise, a shared dream of building something together.

“it is,” you agreed, your voice thick with the warmth of the moment. your head rested against his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat was the perfect lullaby, steady and calming. it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you.

as the credits rolled on the movie, yeonjun turned to you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more vulnerable. you looked up at him, your heart suddenly racing. “thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a weight to it that made your stomach flutter.

“for what?” you asked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, though your heart was already bracing for something deeper.

“for making this place feel like home,” he replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you with such tenderness that it took your breath away. he leaned down and kissed your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering long after he pulled back.

your chest tightened, a feeling of overwhelming affection blooming inside you. “merry christmas, yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with everything you couldn’t quite express in words.

“merry christmas,” he echoed, his arms tightening around you, pulling you even closer. it was as if he never wanted to let go, as if he was afraid that if he did, the moment would slip away. and in a way, you felt the same. this was a memory, a feeling you wanted to hold onto forever.

those moments, as small and simple as they were, were the foundation of your love story. they were proof that love didn’t have to be extravagant to be meaningful. it was in the way you took care of each other, celebrated each other, and found joy in the everyday. in the way you decorated a too-big tree and laughed over burnt cookies. in the way you bickered over movies and then forgot about it in the warmth of each other’s arms. in the way you created a home together, not with things or grand gestures, but with moments that felt like they could last forever.

and that, you realized, was what made your love so special. it was the quiet, unspoken moments. the feeling of being seen and cared for. the promise of forever in a simple kiss, a shared holiday, a memory that would live in your heart long after the tree came down.

after that first holiday together, things fell back into the usual rhythm. the excitement of the new year faded into the mundane, but there was something undeniably comfortable about it. yeonjun was still adjusting to the pressures of college life—balancing basketball with his studies—and you were still trying to navigate the demanding courses that felt more overwhelming with each passing day. but through it all, yeonjun was always there, offering you support, his quiet understanding a constant presence in your life.

as the weeks went on, yeonjun began introducing you to his friends from college—jay and sunghoon, his teammates from the basketball team. you hadn’t made many friends of your own since starting college. truth be told, you hadn’t felt the need to. you had yeonjun, who was both your boyfriend and your best friend, and that was enough for you. the thought of making new friends seemed like a burdensome task, especially with how difficult school was for you. besides, yeonjun had a way of making everything feel less daunting. if you had him, you didn’t need anyone else.

jay and sunghoon were easy to get along with, full of energy and charm. whenever they came over to your apartment, they’d crack jokes, teasing yeonjun in the way that only close friends could. at first, you found their easy camaraderie a bit intimidating. they had their own group, their own world, and you felt like an outsider, just tagging along. still, yeonjun always made sure to include you in their conversations, trying to draw you out of your shell.

“come on, join us,” jay would say with a grin, nudging you as he and sunghoon sprawled on the couch, already deep in conversation about the latest basketball game. “you’re not just gonna sit there and watch us, right?”

you’d laugh awkwardly, still unsure of how to interact with them. “i’m just... i don’t know. i don’t want to interrupt.”

yeonjun would look over at you, his gaze warm. “you’re not interrupting, babe. we want you here.”

but despite his reassurances, you still felt out of place. their friendship was effortless, while yours with yeonjun felt like the only bond you needed. college was hard enough without having to deal with the complexities of socializing. you had your own quiet space in your shared apartment, and that was where you felt most comfortable. the outside world could be chaotic, but here, in the quiet of your home, you had everything you needed.

still, yeonjun’s social life kept growing. as a rising star on the basketball team, he was constantly invited to parties and events, surrounded by people who admired him. at first, he’d ask you to join him, a hopeful look in his eyes. “come on, babe. you can’t just stay home all the time. you’ll have fun, i promise.”

but you’d always find a way to decline. “i’ve got so much work to do,” you’d say, your voice soft but firm. “i’ll just get in the way.”

yeonjun would frown, but he never pushed. he understood. “i get it,” he’d say. “but you’re always welcome to come with me. it’s no fun without you.”

most nights, yeonjun would go to the parties without you. you’d be left in the apartment, working late into the night or watching tv shows alone. you never minded it too much, but there was a small part of you that felt disconnected from his world, from the life he was building outside of your shared space.

then, one night, you decided to go with him. it wasn’t that you were suddenly interested in the party scene; it was more that you didn’t want to keep missing out on the parts of his life that mattered to him. you didn’t want to be the one left behind.

when you walked into the party, the noise hit you first—the thumping bass of the music, the laughter and chatter filling the room. yeonjun, ever the popular one, was immediately surrounded by people. friends from the basketball team, classmates, strangers—everyone seemed to know him. and everyone seemed to gravitate toward him. they complimented him on his latest game, joked around with him, and made him the center of attention. and there you were, standing on the edge of it all, watching as he effortlessly navigated the social maze. you felt small, invisible even.

people would glance at you, nod politely, but then turn their attention back to yeonjun. it wasn’t that they were rude, it was just that they were so enamored with him, so focused on him, that you felt like a shadow in the background. you smiled awkwardly, trying to join in on conversations, but it was clear that you didn’t belong in their world. the attention always circled back to yeonjun, and you were left in his wake.

you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered. when you finally left the party with yeonjun later that night, you didn’t say much. you just followed him home, lost in your own thoughts. you couldn’t deny it—yeonjun had changed. college had changed him. and though you loved him with all your heart, there was a part of you that felt like you were losing him, piece by piece, to the world outside.

the night ended quietly. yeonjun had drunk a bit more than usual, and when he came home, he was tipsy, his words slurring as he apologized for the night. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, stumbling toward the couch. “i didn’t mean to drag you into that... i should’ve been more considerate.”

you smiled softly, helping him onto the couch. “it’s fine, yeonjun. i’m just glad you’re home safe.”

you made him a quick meal—something light, just enough to help him sober up. as you set the plate down in front of him, he looked up at you, his eyes heavy with sleep. “thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “you’re always here for me.”

you brushed his hair out of his face, your fingers gentle. “of course i am. i love you.”

he smiled sleepily, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you sat there beside him for a while, watching him rest, feeling the quiet warmth of his presence beside you. there was a peace in those moments, in the simplicity of taking care of each other.

the next morning, yeonjun was up early, as usual, for basketball practice. he leaned over and kissed you softly on the forehead before pulling himself out of bed. “i made breakfast,” he whispered, his voice hushed with sleep. “i love you. i’ll see you later.”

you smiled, watching him leave with a mixture of affection and a little sadness. you weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the parties, or maybe it was the growing distance between you two that had been slowly creeping in. but in that moment, you felt the weight of everything that had changed.

you stayed in bed for a little while longer, content in the quiet of the apartment. yeonjun was busy with basketball, and you had your own work to focus on. life had become a series of routines—mornings filled with breakfast and soft kisses, nights spent working or watching tv shows alone. and though there was still love, there was something missing, something that neither of you could put into words. yet, for now, you were content with what you had.

in the end, that was all that mattered. at least for now.

the small changes continues to crept in, so subtle at first that you almost didn’t notice them. at first, it was just a little shift. yeonjun’s calls became shorter, his voice a little more distracted, as if something was always pulling him away. the long, late-night conversations you used to have, talking about everything and nothing at all, started to dwindle. texts, once a constant stream throughout the day, now took longer to respond to. sometimes, you’d send a message and wait hours for a reply, and when he did get back to you, it was often just a quick “sorry, been busy” or “talk later, okay?”

you rationalized it, convincing yourself that it was just a phase. he was adjusting to his new life, balancing basketball, studies, and everything else that came with being a college student. this was normal, right? everyone went through it. he still made time for you, didn’t he? he still called, still checked in. it wasn’t like he was ignoring you, it was just... life.

but with each passing day, the silence between you two seemed to grow a little longer. the warmth you’d once shared felt more distant, and though you tried to ignore it, the feeling of being left behind slowly began to creep in.

you tried not to make a big deal of it. after all, yeonjun was still yeonjun—the guy who’d once held your hand in the middle of the chaos, who had kissed you softly under the glow of the christmas tree. he was still the one who had promised that no matter what, he’d always make time for you. but promises, you were beginning to realize, were sometimes harder to keep when life got in the way.

one evening, you were sitting on the couch, flipping through the pages of a textbook that you were supposed to be studying, but your mind kept drifting. your phone sat beside you, silent, and for a brief moment, you wondered if you should call him. but then, you caught yourself. what would you say? would he even have time to talk?

just as you were about to return your focus to the textbook, your phone buzzed. you glanced at it, and your heart gave a small, hopeful flutter when you saw yeonjun’s name. but as you opened the message, your smile faded a little.

“hey, sorry i’ve been distant. i know you’re probably wondering what’s up. practice is killing me lately, and there’s a lot going on. i miss you though. i’ll call when i get the chance, okay? see u when i get home.”

it wasn’t the first time he’d apologized, but it still stung a little. you typed out a response quickly, wanting to be understanding, but the words felt heavy on your fingertips.

“it’s okay. i know you’re busy. i miss you too. just... don’t forget to eat, okay?”

you stared at the message before sending it, unsure if you had said too much or not enough. but once it was out there, you hit send, watching the little dots appear as he typed back.

“i’ll make time soon, promise. ah, i need to get back to practice. i’ll see u at home.”

you hoped that was true. you really did. but deep down, there was a part of you that feared it wouldn’t be that simple. life didn’t always give you the luxury of time. sometimes, it took more than promises to make things right.

that night, you tried to go to sleep early, but your mind wouldn’t quiet. you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the days in your head. yeonjun’s growing distance, the way his attention seemed to be drawn elsewhere. the parties he went to, the late-night practices, the endless commitments that seemed to pull him farther and farther from you.

the next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. yeonjun had already left for practice, and his usual good morning text was waiting for you. “i love you. have a good day, babe. i’ll see you later.”

it was the same text, the same words, but they felt hollow now. like something was missing. you sighed, pushing yourself out of bed and starting your day, but the weight of the silence lingered.

you told yourself it was just a phase. just a small bump in the road. things would get better. you had to believe that.

later that afternoon, yeonjun finally called. his voice sounded tired, a little strained, but it still made your heart race when you heard it. “hey,” he greeted softly, “how’s your day going?”

“it’s going,” you replied, trying to sound upbeat. “just studying, you know. how about you? how’s practice?”

“exhausting,” he muttered, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “i swear, coach is trying to kill us. but it’s all good. i’m just ready for a break.”

you both fell into an easy rhythm, but even then, there was a slight tension in the air, something unspoken hanging between you. yeonjun was trying to be present, but his mind was elsewhere, and you could tell.

“so, i was thinking,” yeonjun began, his voice light, “maybe we could go out this weekend. just the two of us. i know things have been... busy, but i miss spending time with you.”

your heart fluttered at the thought. it was a small gesture, but it meant everything. “that sounds nice,” you said softly. “i’d love that.”

you both talked a little longer, but eventually, the conversation came to a close. yeonjun had to go. “i’ll text you later,” he promised, his voice warm, but hurried. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, your fingers lingering on the phone after the call ended.

but as you put the phone down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, just out of reach. and no matter how much you tried to hold on, you couldn’t ignore the fact that things were changing. slowly, imperceptibly, but they were changing all the same. but then that weekend came, and you were waiting for yeonjun to come home from basketball practice. he’d texted you earlier, a quick, excited, “start getting ready, babe, i’ll be home in thirty minutes.” you could practically hear the smile in his words, and your heart fluttered in response. the thought of finally having a night for just the two of you—a break from the silence, from the distance that had quietly seeped into your relationship—felt like a balm for the ache you hadn’t admitted was there.

you’d planned this evening in your head all day. maybe you’d go to that small italian place he’d been wanting to try. maybe you’d walk hand-in-hand through the park afterward, laughing at his bad jokes, stealing kisses under the streetlights. or maybe you’d stay home, light a candle, and eat takeout on the couch while watching a movie. it didn’t matter what you did. all that mattered was that it would be just the two of you, uninterrupted.

you got ready quickly, excitement buzzing in your chest. you pulled out the dress he’d once told you was his favorite—the one that made him look at you like you were the only person in the world. as you zipped it up, you smiled at your reflection, imagining the way his eyes would light up when he saw you. carefully, you applied your makeup, each brushstroke deliberate, the anticipation building with every passing second.

you checked the clock. twenty minutes. you sat down on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling idly through social media as you waited. thirty minutes wasn’t long. you glanced at your phone again, watching the seconds crawl by.

but thirty minutes turned into forty-five. then an hour.

at first, you told yourself it was fine. practice might’ve run late. maybe he got held up talking to the coach or his teammates. you sent him a quick text—“hey, are you okay? let me know when you’re coming.”—and put your phone back down, determined not to let the creeping worry ruin your night.

but the hour became two. the excitement that had filled you earlier began to wane, replaced by a heavy, uneasy feeling. you checked your phone again, but there was no reply. no missed calls, no messages.

you paced the small living room, your mind racing. what if something had happened? what if he’d gotten hurt? what if he needed you?

you sent another text, this one shorter, more direct. “yeonjun, are you okay? please call me.” you hesitated before pressing send, staring at the words on the screen. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted to call him, but you stopped yourself. you didn’t want to seem clingy. you didn’t want to overreact.

three hours.

the makeup you’d carefully applied felt like a mask now, heavy and suffocating. the smudged eyeliner traced faint shadows beneath your eyes, and your lipstick had faded into uneven patches, a cruel reminder of how much effort you’d put into tonight. effort that now felt wasted. standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you stared at your reflection, your chest tightening with every passing second of silence from your phone.

your fingers trembled as you reached for a makeup wipe, the motion robotic, devoid of the hope that had fueled you hours ago. the coldness of the wipe against your skin matched the dull ache in your chest, and as you began wiping away the remnants of your effort, the doorbell rang.

your heart leapt, an involuntary burst of hope surging through you. you dropped the wipe and sprinted to the door, not caring about the uneven streaks left on your face. this was it. he was here. he was finally here.

you swung the door open, breathless, ready to greet him with relief and maybe a little anger for making you wait so long. but instead, you froze.

yeonjun was slumped between jay and sunghoon, his teammates from the basketball team. his head lolled forward, and his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks were flushed, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp with sweat. the sharp, unmistakable scent of alcohol hit you before they even spoke.

“the team had a small gathering after practice,” sunghoon said softly, his tone almost apologetic. jay offered a half-smile, awkward and sheepish. “he, uh... overdid it a little.”

a knot formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. “thanks for bringing him back,” you murmured, stepping aside to let them in. your voice sounded strange to your own ears—calm, steady, like this was normal. like you weren’t breaking inside.

they helped ease him onto the couch, his limbs limp and uncooperative. jay adjusted a pillow under his head, while sunghoon muttered a quiet, “sorry about this,” before they both left, closing the door softly behind them.

and then it was just you and yeonjun.

you stood there for a moment, staring at him sprawled across the couch, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open. this was supposed to be your night. the night you’d been holding on to all week. the night that was meant to remind you that you still mattered to him.

but here he was, drunk and incoherent, too far gone to even remember the promise he’d made to you.

with a sigh, you went to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and soaking it in warm water. you knelt in front of him, the ache in your chest spreading to every corner of your body. as you gently wiped his face, his hand suddenly shot out, weakly grabbing yours. his touch was clumsy, his grip loose, but the desperation in it made your breath catch.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. “i’ll make this work, i promise. don’t leave me. i love you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you could stop yourself, tears began to spill down your cheeks. they came fast and hot, blurring your vision as you stared at him. don’t leave me. the irony of it twisted something deep inside you.

you wanted to scream at him, to shake him awake and ask if he even realized how much of yourself you’d already given up just to hold on to him. instead, you wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, your voice breaking as you whispered, “i love you more than you know.”

you wanted to say more—to tell him how much it hurt to feel like you were slipping further and further down his list of priorities. to tell him how scared you were that you’d already lost him, even though he was right in front of you. but the words wouldn’t come. they were lodged in your throat, a lump of fear and sadness that refused to budge.

yeonjun’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evening out as he slipped into unconsciousness. you sat back on your heels, the damp towel still clutched in your hands. the silence in the room felt deafening, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

the dress you’d chosen so carefully now felt suffocating, its fabric clinging to your skin in all the wrong ways. you stood up, peeling it off and pulling on an old sweatshirt, comfort replacing the pretense of a perfect evening.

you sat on the floor beside the couch, knees pulled to your chest, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing. this was supposed to be your night. but instead, it was just another reminder of how much you were losing him—to basketball, to his teammates, to a life that no longer seemed to have space for you.

is this what love is supposed to feel like? you wondered. like holding on to something that’s slipping through your fingers, no matter how tightly you try to grasp it? when did this start? you thought. was it when you got into the basketball team? or was it when he started seeing a new world—a world without you in it?

you stayed there until the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, too afraid to move, too afraid to let go.

yeonjun had always been your sunshine—a warm, steady presence in your life. but lately, that warmth had dimmed, replaced by something heavier, something unfamiliar. he was still sweet, still kind, still yeonjun, but there was a distance you couldn’t ignore.

he would still hold you, kiss your forehead, and call you by the nickname only he used, but it felt different now. his arms around you weren’t as tight, his kisses weren’t as lingering, and his words carried a shadow, a flicker of something unspoken.

at first, you told yourself it was just stress. college was demanding, basketball even more so. he was balancing so much, and you didn’t want to add to his burden. “it’s just a phase,” you whispered to yourself at night, staring at the ceiling. “we’ll get through it. we always do.”

but the gnawing doubt in your chest refused to quiet.

you tried to brush it off when he came home late, exhaustion written all over his face. you told yourself it was nothing when his replies to your texts became shorter, more rushed. you didn’t say anything when he started canceling plans, apologizing with that boyish grin that always made your heart ache.

“next time, i promise,” he’d say, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before running off. and you’d nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

and then there was his social media—photos of him with his teammates, candid shots of him laughing, carefree and radiant. the way his smile stretched wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners. you double-tapped the pictures, your stomach twisting as you scrolled through them. it wasn’t jealousy that stung. it was the realization that he looked happier there, surrounded by them, than he did with you.

you stared at the pictures for too long some nights, tracing his smile with your thumb. “why don’t you smile like that with me anymore?” you whispered to the screen, your voice breaking.

one evening, as you sat across from him at dinner, you tried to bring it up. the words felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed them out anyway.

“yeonjun,” you started softly, setting your fork down. “do you ever feel like... like we’re not the same anymore?”

he glanced up, startled. “what do you mean?”

“i mean... i don’t know. you just seem... different,” you said, your voice faltering. “like you’re happier when you’re not with me.”

his brows furrowed, and he reached for your hand across the table. “that’s not true,” he said firmly. “you know how much you mean to me.”

“do i?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

his grip on your hand tightened. “of course you do. babe, come on. i’m just... i’ve been busy, you know? with school and basketball. it’s a lot.”

“i know it is,” you said, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “but it feels like... like i’m not part of your life anymore. like i’m just... here.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “that’s not fair. you know how much i’m trying.”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears. “are you? because it doesn’t feel like it, yeonjun. it feels like you’re trying for everything else but us.”

his expression hardened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “i’m doing my best, okay? what more do you want from me?”

“i want you,” you said, your voice cracking. “i want the yeonjun who used to light up when he saw me, who used to make me feel like i was his whole world. but now... now i just feel like i’m in the way.”

the silence that followed was deafening. he looked at you, his jaw tight, and you could see the conflict in his eyes.

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally said, his voice quiet but strained.

“i don’t either,” you whispered, the tears spilling over now.

that night, you lay in bed, staring at the empty space beside you. yeonjun had fallen asleep on the couch, his face turned away from you. the ache in your chest was unbearable, a hollow, gnawing pain that refused to fade.

you thought about the boy who used to send you good morning texts before his eyes even opened, who used to surprise you with your favorite snacks and kiss you like he couldn’t get enough. where had he gone?

“when did we become like this?” you whispered into the darkness, but the silence offered no answers.

it happened on a whim. you’d planned to visit yeonjun at college, surprising him after weeks of missing each other. the idea had felt romantic in your head, like something out of a movie. you imagined his face lighting up, the way he’d pull you into his arms and kiss you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

but reality had other plans.

you arrived on campus in the late afternoon, nerves buzzing in your chest as you texted him.

“hey, surprise! i’m here. can’t wait to see you. where are you?”

the response didn’t come immediately. five minutes passed, then ten. your excitement began to waver, the anticipation souring into unease. finally, your phone buzzed.

“oh, you’re here? uh, i’m with the guys right now. can we meet up later?”

you stared at the screen, rereading the words until they blurred. the lump in your throat was sudden, sharp, and unyielding.

“sure,” you typed back, your fingers trembling. “later sounds good.”

you found a bench near the quad and sat down, watching groups of students walk past. they laughed, chattered, and moved with purpose. you felt like a ghost, sitting there in the middle of it all, invisible and out of place.

later turned out to be hours.

the sky had darkened by the time he finally texted again. “hey, done now. where are you?”

you forced a smile when you saw him approaching, his stride casual, his face devoid of the excitement you’d hoped for. he pulled you into a hug, but it was brief, his arms loosening too quickly.

“hey,” he said, his voice warm but distracted. “sorry about earlier. the guys wanted to hang out.”

“it’s fine,” you lied, trying to ignore the sting in your chest.

he offered to show you around campus, and you agreed, hoping it would salvage the visit. he walked you through the library, the basketball courts, his favorite spots. his words felt rehearsed, like he was giving a tour to a stranger.

“this is where we hang out after practice,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of benches. “and over there’s the coffee shop. their caramel macchiato is insane.”

you nodded, laughing at his jokes, smiling at his stories. but it felt hollow. the natural rhythm between you—the effortless connection that used to make everything feel right—was gone.

you wanted to grab his hand, to tell him you missed him, to ask if he missed you too. but something held you back, a quiet voice in your head whispering, “don’t ruin it.”

the breaking point came as you walked through the quad. yeonjun’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out mid-conversation.

“sorry, it’s just the group chat,” he said, his eyes flicking to the screen. his fingers moved quickly, typing out a reply.

you watched as his face lit up, his smile brighter than it had been all evening.

“everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“yeah,” he said, glancing up briefly before returning to his phone. “the guys are just making plans for tomorrow.”

“oh,” you said softly, the word barely audible.

he didn’t notice the way your shoulders slumped, the way your gaze dropped to the ground.

that night, as you both sat on the edge of his dorm bedcourt bench, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“yeonjun,” you said, your voice trembling.

he looked up from his phone, startled by your tone. “yeah?”

“do you even want me here?” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

his eyes widened. “what? of course i do. why would you ask that?”

“because it doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice cracking. “i planned coming here to see you, and it feels like... like i’m just in the way.”

he frowned, setting his phone down. “babe, come on. you know that’s not true.”

“do i?” you shot back, tears welling up in your eyes. “because you’ve barely looked at me all night. you were more excited texting your friends than you were to see me.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his tone defensive. “i’ve been busy, okay? college is a lot. basketball is a lot. i’m trying my best.”

“trying your best?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “yeonjun, you didn’t even know i was here until i texted you. and when i did, you made me wait for hours while you hung out with your friends.”

“what was i supposed to do? bail on them?” he asked, his voice rising.

“yes!” you shouted, the frustration and hurt boiling over. “just once, i wanted to feel like a priority. like i mattered more than your stupid group chat or your teammates or—or anything else in your life right now.”

his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“i want you to say that you still love,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “because i don’t feel like you do, i can’t feel you anymore.”

he didn’t respond. the silence was deafening, a chasm opening up between you that felt impossible to cross.

you stood up, grabbing your bag. “i should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“wait,” he said, reaching for you. but his hand fell short, his hesitation palpable.

you looked at him one last time, searching his face for something—anything—that would make this hurt less. but all you saw was confusion and guilt.

“i’ll see you at home,” you said, walking out the court grounds before he could say anything else.

the tears didn’t fall until you were outside, the cold night air biting at your skin. you wiped at your cheeks, your heart shattering with every step you took away from him.

that night, he indeed came home. you lay on your side, back facing the door, pretending to be asleep. the sound of keys jingling outside made your heart sink, followed by the soft click of the door unlocking. his footsteps were uneven, heavy, the telltale signs of someone who had too much to drink.

you kept your breathing steady as he shuffled into the room, setting down his things with a clumsy thud. the bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside you. the familiar scent of him was there—cologne, warmth—but it was drowned out by the sharp reek of alcohol.

you felt him hesitate, then slowly, carefully, he reached for you. his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

“i love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

you bit your lip, fighting the tears already forming in your eyes.

“i love you,” he said again, this time pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

you stayed still, your heart aching with every word.

you knew what was coming next—he always wanted to see your face when he said it. you felt his hand gently nudge your shoulder, urging you to turn toward him. you closed your eyes tightly, pretending to be lost in sleep.

“i love you,” he said once more, this time kissing your forehead.

and then you felt it—a warm, wet drop landing on your cheek. it wasn’t yours.

he sniffed, the sound muffled but unmistakable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “i’m so sorry.”

your chest tightened painfully, the urge to open your eyes and hold him overwhelming. but your mind held you back. you didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want to face the reality that had been slowly unraveling between you.

you stayed like that, motionless, as his tears dampened your skin. his grip around you tightened as if he were holding on to the last shred of what you used to be.

and in that fragile, heart-wrenching silence, you made a wish—a desperate, aching hope—that tomorrow would be better.

but it wasn’t.

the next morning, you woke to the sound of his alarm blaring. he groaned, fumbling to silence it. for a brief moment, as he stirred beside you, you thought things might be different.

“morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“morning,” you replied softly, forcing a smile.

he kissed your temple—a gesture that used to make your heart flutter. now, it felt routine, mechanical.

“i’ve got practice,” he said, already reaching for his phone.

“do you have time for breakfast?” you asked, hopeful.

he glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing. “sorry, no. i’m running late. i’ll grab something on the way.”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “okay.”

he left in a rush, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and an ache that refused to leave your chest.

days passed, and nothing changed. if anything, the distance grew wider.

he came home later and later, always with an excuse—practice ran long, group projects, a quick drink with the guys. you tried to be understanding, to hold on to the love you’d built together, but it felt like grasping at smoke.

it was your anniversary. three years together. you’d spent the day hoping—hoping that maybe he remembered, that he’d come home early with flowers like he used to, or text you something sweet and simple like “can’t wait to celebrate tonight.” but the hours dragged on, and with each passing minute, hope turned into a quiet ache.

you thought about the way it used to be. last year, he’d surprised you with a picnic under the stars, even though he hated the cold. he’d spent weeks planning it, down to the little thermos of hot cocoa and the playlist of your favorite songs. he’d held your hand, kissed you like the world was ending, and told you how lucky he felt to have you.

this year, there was nothing. no message, no plan. just the familiar sound of keys in the door around midnight.

when he stumbled in, the smell of alcohol hit you before you even saw him. he was drunk again.

“yeonjun,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

he didn’t even look at you at first, too busy fumbling with his phone. when he finally glanced up, his expression was tired, almost annoyed. “yeah?”

“do you know what today is?” you asked, your heart pounding.

he frowned, clearly trying to think. “uh… thursday?”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears pricking at your eyes. “it’s our anniversary, yeonjun.”

his face fell, guilt flickering across his features. “shit, i—i’m sorry. i forgot. practice ran late, and then the guys—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “don’t give me excuses. just… don’t.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples. “look, i’ll make it up to you, okay? we can do something this weekend.”

“this weekend?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “do you even hear yourself? it’s like i’m not even a priority to you anymore.”

he set his phone down, finally looking at you fully. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to say that you still care,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “because it doesn’t feel like it. it feels like i’m just… here. like you’re living this whole other life without me, and i’m just waiting on the sidelines.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “you know how busy things have been. i’m doing my best.”

“your best?” you repeated, the words tasting bitter. “your best feels like nothing, yeonjun. i feel like nothing.”

his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

the silence that followed was unbearable. you grabbed your coat and headed for the door, your vision blurred with tears.

“where are you going?” he called after you, his voice laced with frustration.

“i need air,” you said without looking back.

outside, the cold air bit at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the pain in your chest. you walked aimlessly, the weight of everything crashing down on you. it felt like the world was moving around you while you were stuck in the same moment, stuck in the same suffocating silence.

and then, as if the universe was mocking you, the rain started pouring.

“shit,” you muttered, pulling your coat tighter around you. you didn’t care that you were getting soaked; the rain was almost a relief, hiding the tears streaming down your face, hiding how broken you felt. you didn’t know where you were going or what you were doing. all you knew was that you couldn’t be inside with him anymore. you couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it was slowly killing you from the inside out.

you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until someone grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

“what the hell are you doing?” yeonjun’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red and swollen, his body shaking from the cold or maybe something deeper. it didn’t matter. all that mattered was that he was here, standing in front of you, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were still miles apart.

“what am i doing?” you shot back, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “what are you doing, yeonjun? because it feels like you’re not even here anymore.”

his grip on your arm loosened, and for a moment, he just stood there, rain dripping from his hair, his eyes too tired to be angry. “i’m trying,” he said finally, his voice cracking, raw with something you couldn’t name. “i’m trying so fucking hard, and it’s still not enough.”

“then tell me!” you cried, your hands trembling. “tell me what’s wrong because i’m so tired of feeling like i’m the only one fighting for this. i can’t keep doing this alone. i can’t keep pretending like i’m not suffocating.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours as if he couldn’t bear to face you. “i’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m scared of losing you, of not being good enough for you. and i know i’m screwing it all up, but i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know how to be what you need when i don’t even know what i need anymore.”

your heart shattered at his words, at the vulnerability in his voice that mirrored your own. “yeonjun…”

“i hate the team,” he said suddenly, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for far too long. “i hate basketball, but it’s the only thing keeping me in school. if i quit, i lose my scholarship, and then what? and then there’s you—perfect, brilliant you. you deserve someone who has their shit together, not… not me. not someone who can barely keep their head above water.”

you blinked, the words hitting you like a physical blow. the rain was coming down harder now, but it didn't matter. the storm inside you was far worse. you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. the weight of it all—the expectations, the fear, the silence between you two—felt too much to bear. your chest tightened, your hands still trembling, but you forced yourself to speak anyway.

“don’t you dare say that,” you said, voice low but fierce, despite the cracks that were starting to show. “you think you’re the only one who’s scared? you think you’re the only one who feels like they’re falling apart?”

yeonjun flinched at the intensity in your voice, but you couldn’t stop now. you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “i’m fucking terrified too, yeonjun. i’m so scared that i’m losing you, but it feels like i’m already too late. i’m already lost, and you’re so busy drowning in your own shit that you can’t even see me anymore. i’m not perfect, okay? i’m not perfect, and i don’t need you to be either.”

he looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. “but i’m not—i’m not good enough for you. i can’t even make this work. everything’s falling apart, and i don’t know how to fix it.”

“yeonjun, stop!” you snapped, taking a step forward, the distance between you two feeling both so close and impossibly far. “you’re not some fucking project. you’re not some puzzle that i need to fix. i never asked you to be perfect. i never asked you to be someone else. i just wanted you. but right now, i don’t even know who the hell you are anymore.”

the words were out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. the hurt on his face was too much, and for a second, you thought you might break. but then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i don’t know who i am either,” he said, his words so raw they almost cut through you. “i don’t know who i am without basketball, without the team, without the scholarship. i don’t know who i am without you, without this... us. but it’s like i’m losing everything. everything’s slipping through my fingers, and i can’t keep pretending like i’ve got it all together when i’m barely holding on.”

the pain in his voice mirrored your own, and it was too much. too much to hear, too much to process. you wanted to scream, to break down, but instead, you took a deep breath and steadied yourself. you didn’t know what you were fighting for anymore. you didn’t know if this love, this relationship, was even enough to save either of you.

“i can’t do this anymore, yeonjun,” you said, your voice quieter now, broken and defeated. “i can’t keep waiting for you to see me. i can’t keep waiting for you to choose me. it’s killing me. it’s killing me, and i’m not sure how much longer i can take it.”

he stepped forward then, his eyes pleading, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to touch you, but he hesitated. “please, don’t say that,” he begged, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “please, don’t leave me. i don’t know what i’m doing, but i swear to god, i’m trying. i’m trying to be what you need, but i don’t know how. i don’t know what the hell i’m doing, but i swear to you, i’m not trying to hurt you. i’m not trying to push you away.”

you took a step back, the pain in your chest tightening like a vice. “you don’t have to try, yeonjun. you don’t have to be perfect. you don’t have to be someone you’re not. i just need you to see me. to fucking see me, for once. but you’re too busy chasing this thing that doesn’t even matter. and i’m standing here, falling apart, and you can’t even hear me.”

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the tension hanging between you like a thick fog that neither of you could cut through. yeonjun’s eyes were wide, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, anything to make it better, but he just stood there, trembling, as the rain continued to pour.

finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t want to lose you. i don’t want to lose us.”

“but we’re already lost, yeonjun,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “we’re already lost. and i don’t know how to find my way back to you. i don’t even know if i can anymore.”

his eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if he was about to say something, but no words came. instead, he just stood there, the rain soaking through his clothes, his face pale and lost. and for a moment, you both just stood there, drowning in the silence, unable to find a way back to each other.

the apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made your chest ache. the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that kept the emptiness from swallowing you whole. you stood in the doorway, dripping wet, your clothes clinging to your skin, the cold biting into you like a punishment. you didn’t know why you came back here—maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was that small, pathetic part of you that still believed he’d come back.

you curled up on the couch, your body trembling as exhaustion seeped into your bones. your eyes stung, but no tears came. you’d cried too much already, screamed into the rain until your throat was raw. now, all that was left was the heavy weight in your chest, pressing down, suffocating. you closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget, to sleep, but the ache refused to leave.

yeonjun came home that night. it was late, far later than he should have been out, but that was who he had become—always running, always avoiding the things that mattered. he stepped inside, the click of the door barely audible in the suffocating stillness. his head hung low, his steps hesitant, like he already knew what awaited him.

and then he saw you.

you were still in the same clothes you’d worn in the rain, your body curled into the corner of the couch like you were trying to disappear. your hair was a damp mess, your face pale and tired even in sleep. his breath hitched, and for the first time in what felt like years, he broke.

tears spilled down his face before he could stop them, hot and relentless. his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor beside you, his hands trembling as they hovered over you, unsure if he even had the right to touch you anymore.

you had waited.

he didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve you.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper, broken and raw. “god, i’m so sorry.”

his fingers brushed against your cheek, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face. you stirred but didn’t wake, your breathing soft and steady. he wished he could freeze this moment, hold onto it forever, because he knew it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

he gathered you into his arms, cradling you as if you might shatter. you felt so small, so fragile, and it killed him to think he had been the one to make you this way. he carried you to the bathroom, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was afraid the weight of his guilt might crush you.

he ran the bath, the water warm and soothing, and gently began to clean the remnants of the storm from your skin. his hands moved with a tenderness that made his chest ache, his mind replaying memories he hadn’t dared to touch in so long—the first time he’d held your hand.

he remembered the way you’d laughed at his stupid jokes in high school, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when you talked about your future. he remembered how you used to hold his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, how you’d believed in him even when he couldn’t believe in himself. somewhere along the way, he had lost that version of himself, and in doing so, he had lost you too.

and now, here you were, and he didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken.

he dressed you in clean clothes, his hands careful as if you were made of glass. he tucked you into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and sat beside you, his gaze fixed on your face.

the moonlight spilled through the window, casting a pale glow over the room. it illuminated the tear tracks on his face, the hollow look in his eyes. he sat there for hours, his thoughts a storm he couldn’t quiet.

he thought about the person he had become—the way college and the weight of adulthood had twisted him into someone unrecognizable. he thought about how he had pushed you away, how he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers.

and he realized, with a clarity that cut deeper than any pain he’d ever felt, that he couldn’t keep doing this.

he couldn’t keep dragging you down with him.

you deserved better.

you deserved someone who could love you the way you deserved to be loved—freely, fully, without the weight of their own broken pieces. and he wasn’t that person, not anymore.

he sat there until the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. and then, with a heavy heart, he stood, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “and i’m so sorry that wasn’t enough.”

by morning, the bed beside you was empty. the hollow ache in your chest returned as you reached out instinctively, only to feel the cold, unwelcoming sheets beneath your fingertips. the room felt colder than it should have, the silence pressing against you like a second skin.

you lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that he was still here, that maybe he’d just stepped out for a moment. but deep down, you already knew. the absence was too loud, too final.

you stumbled out of the room, your legs heavy and unsteady, your heart pounding with a mixture of dread and disbelief. the faint smell of breakfast wafted through the air, a cruel reminder of normalcy. your feet carried you to the kitchen, where soobin stood at the stove, his back to you.

he glanced over his shoulder when he heard you enter, his expression softening with something that felt like pity, and it made your stomach churn. “yeonjun already left,” he said quietly, his voice gentle, as if trying not to shatter you.

your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “to where?” you asked, your voice small, barely audible.

“he said he’s going home for a while,” soobin replied, turning back to the pan in front of him. his tone was calm, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it, like he didn’t fully understand yeonjun’s decision either.

“what about college?” you pressed, the desperation in your voice growing louder, more tangible.

soobin hesitated for a moment before shrugging, his shoulders rising and falling in a gesture that felt like resignation. “he didn’t say anything about it.”

you stood there, frozen, the weight of yeonjun’s absence pressing down on you like a physical force. your chest felt tight, your breaths shallow, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse under the weight of it all.

without another word, you turned and walked back to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy, your shoulders slumped in defeat. the door clicked softly behind you, and you sank onto the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the blanket as if it could somehow ground you.

your gaze wandered aimlessly, and that’s when you saw it—a folded piece of paper resting on his bedside table, almost as if it had been left there deliberately. your heart skipped a beat, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest despite everything.

with trembling hands, you reached for the note, your fingers brushing against the edges of the paper as you unfolded it slowly, as if you were afraid the words inside might break you.

the handwriting was unmistakably his—messy and rushed, the ink smudged in places, as if he’d been in a hurry or had second-guessed himself while writing. your eyes scanned the first few lines, and your heart clenched painfully.

my love,

i don’t even know where to begin. writing this feels like the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do, but i owe you the truth, even if it’s long overdue.

i’ve been failing—not just myself, but you. i see it in your eyes, in the way your smile doesn’t reach them anymore. and i hate myself for being the reason why.

do you remember when we were in high school? when everything felt so simple, and all i wanted was to make you laugh? back then, i thought i could be someone worthy of you. but somewhere along the way, i lost that part of me. the weight of expectations, the pressure of being enough—it’s crushed me, and i let it pull us both under.

i’ve been selfish, holding onto you when i knew i was hurting you. you deserved someone who could stand by you, someone who could be your anchor, and instead, i became the storm.

i’m sorry. for all the times i wasn’t there when you needed me. for the nights you cried yourself to sleep while i was too lost in my own struggles to notice. for losing sight of the person i wanted to be for you.

i don’t know how to fix this, but i know i need to start with myself. i need to figure out who i am, to rebuild the pieces of me that have fallen apart. and i can’t do that while dragging you down with me.

so i’m leaving—for now. i don’t know how long it’ll take, but i promise i’ll come back when i’m ready. when i can be someone you deserve, someone who can stand beside you without making you carry my burdens.

if you’ll still have me when that time comes, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. but if you’ve moved on, if you’ve found the happiness i couldn’t give you, i’ll understand. all i want is for you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

i love you, more than words can say. and i’m sorry that my love wasn’t enough to keep us whole.

forever yours,

yeonjun

the letter slipped from your trembling hands, fluttering to the floor like the weight of your heart. you sat there, staring at the words, letting them carve deep into the fragile spaces of your soul. his voice lingered in your mind, echoing in the quiet of the apartment, every word a wound, every line a bittersweet caress.

you should’ve felt angry. you should’ve screamed, cried, broken something. but all you could do was sit there, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you traced the memory of his voice in your head, the way he used to call your name like it was something sacred.

soobin knocked lightly on the doorframe, pulling you out of the spiral. “are you okay?” his voice was soft, cautious, like he was afraid you might shatter.

you nodded weakly, though your chest ached with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. “i just... i need a moment.”

he hesitated but nodded, leaving you alone with the silence.

hours passed, or maybe just minutes—you couldn’t tell anymore. eventually, you stood, pulling on a jacket before grabbing the letter and folding it carefully, tucking it into your pocket like it was the last piece of him you had.

the air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly. you ended up at the park you used to visit together, the one where he’d pull you onto the swings and push you higher until you screamed at him to stop, laughing through the fear.

you sat on one of the swings, gripping the cold metal chains. the wind whispered through the trees, carrying fragments of memories you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

for the first time, you let yourself cry. not the quiet tears you’d hidden from him late at night, but the kind of sobs that shook your whole body, the kind that left you gasping for air. you cried for the boy who had once been your world, for the man he had become, for the pieces of yourself you had lost in loving him.

when the tears finally stopped, you looked up at the sky, the stars shimmering faintly through the clouds. you took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill your lungs, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could breathe again.

you pulled the letter from your pocket, smoothing the creases with gentle fingers. you read it once more, the words less sharp now, softened by the tears that blurred your vision.

he wasn’t coming back—not yet, and maybe not ever. but you couldn’t let your life remain frozen in this moment, in this grief.

you stood from the swing, the letter still clutched in your hand, and walked away from the park. each step felt lighter than the last, as if you were shedding the weight of what could’ve been.

you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you had yourself. and that was enough.

gyo's note: hi, loves! it’s been a while since i’ve written something like this, and honestly, it feels so personal, at least for me, because i had experienced a lot like them, where i eventually lost him in the process, and i had to actually stop writing from time to time because it gets the better of my emotion (literally cried writing this piece). this story came to me during one of those late-night overthinking sessions (you know the ones). thank you for reading and for always supporting me—it means the world. i’m also working on finishing alumni homecoming kai, and planning on posting my first series for beomgyu! but will probably stick to posting some of my pending drafts i’m not sure, but stay tuned for those! if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo

261 notes · View notes

binniesbooks · 9 months ago

Text

• SANDWICH

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 6.8k

pairings Nickjudyz!TXT x fem!reader

warnings reader was described as poor, Yeonjun and Soobin being loaded, growing alone, self relieving, oral sex (Soobin receiving), slight cum eating, squint to see some fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint once more, pet names, degradation, boob kink for Soobin if you squint again lol, bigcock!Soobin, bigcock!Yeonjun, virgin!reader, threesome, double vaginal penetration (hit me up if I forgot something)

faye's note took me not only a week to finish this! Omg! Nevertheless, HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS! Thank you so much guys, I love you all! 😭❤️ Please continue on supporting me and my fics. I promise to hold an event soon if we reach another milestone :> Cheers🥂!

Growing up alone, you've done everything to survive. Even when you were still a child, you worked for yourself. Doing laundry for the neighbors, helping the market vendors, walking pets—doing anything just so that you could earn a small profit.

Now that you're a college student, you've been hired by the school cafeteria due to the dean's empathy. You have a small space in the cafeteria for your small business, selling sandwiches. Every break time, lunch, and when you were vacant, you would quickly make your way to the school cafeteria to sell your products. You've been selling other foods too, like juice drinks and chips, but mainly sandwiches.

You would always wake up early in the morning to prepare everything you needed for your products.

"How much for a sandwich?" A tall, handsome man stood in front of your stall while you were busy cleaning your table.

"2 500 won, each," you smiled at the guy before you.

"I'll get two, please," he said as he pulled out his wallet.

"I'll just wrap it!" You cheerfully answered, not wanting to show how tired you are.

You're basically tired, not just today. But just tired of your whole life. Many times you tried ending it, but you always chickened out. And nothing changed. You struggle with your daily life. You can barely pay rent and your other bills. If it wasn't for the financial assistance given by the school dean and your side hustles, you surely wouldn't have been able to manage.

"Thank you! Enjoy your snack!" You cheerfully thanked the guy as you bowed down.

"Hyung! Come get your snack!" You heard the tall male call for someone over the other side of the cafeteria. Your gaze moved towards the other male. He's a little shorter than the first one. But he has a quite pretty face: pouty lips and captivating eyes. Handsome, yes.

"Yup! They're our seniors. They're also known as the Nickjudyz." You later found out from your friend that they were your seniors; they are a year older than you, and they were both scheduled to run for the presidential position on the student council for the upcoming election. Not that they wanted it, but actually, the campus dean had assigned both of them to different party lists at that. So basically, they didn't have a choice at all.

"Nickjudyz? What does that mean?" you questioned.

"You haven't heard of the animation movie Zootopia? They were the epitome of Nick the Red Fox and Judy the Rabbit," your friend explained. "Yeonjun's features were like those of a fox, and Soobin's a rabbit. Aren't they cute?" she added, giggling.

So the taller one was Soobin, and the one with sharper looks was Yeonjun, you understood now. "Nickjudyz..." you mumbled.

That night, you watched Zootopia, taking notes on the characters. And the next day, your sandwiches were Zootopia-themed. You were really waiting for the two of them to come and buy from you again.

However, luck was not on your side. When you weren't able to see them around, you felt sad. They were the reason you made your sandwiches Zootopia-themed.

You were about to close your stall when the shorter guy, Yeonjun, was running towards you. "Sandwich! Two!" he shouted with a wide grin. "Uhm, do you still have some?" He scratched the back of his head, realizing you were about to close your stall.

"I, uh, kept two pieces, actually. I thought you might come again." You hesitated at first.

"Nice! We just came out of the dean's office, and we hadn't managed to eat anything, you're a lifesaver," Yeonjun sighed in relief, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

After those times, you always got to sell your sandwiches to them. You even grew closer to them thanks to the short interaction you get to share with them every day. Sometimes, Soobin would be the only one to come, sometimes, it's just Yeonjun, sometimes they are both standing in front of your stall, buying themselves a sandwich. They became your regular customers.

"How about I recruit you to be my secretary on my party list? I still haven't recruited my secretary yet," Yeonjun suggests when he buys from you again one time.

You didn't know why you answered, though. It's not like you actually wanted to be a part of the student council. Maybe it was because of his pretty eyes and his cute pout. "I-i'll think about it."

He smiled and went away, skipping.

The next day, Soobin also suggested the same. "I already recruited her, Soob." Yeonjun wrapped his arms around the taller guy.

"Hyung, that's unfair!" Soobin pouted, only for Yeonjun to chuckle. "Oh! I have an idea!" he exclaimed.

"And that is?" Yeonjun looked at him, confusion written on his face.

"Why don't we let her choose from the two of us, instead?" Soobin chimed.

You froze from wiping the glass cabinet for your sandwich. "Wait, you're actually letting me choose between your party lists?" you asked, stunned at Soobin's suggestion. The two males just nodded at you.

Yes, you had built some connections with them. You can even consider it friendship, well, that's what they've said to you too. But to choose between the two of them to support, you think it's unfair. Especially since they were both good friends to you.

"Gosh, how can I? It's unfair," you groaned, Yeonjun chuckled.

"You can just think about it, but remember that if you don't choose me, you'll tear my heart apart," he pouted.

"See? That's what I'm saying! I don't want anyone of you to feel bad," you sighed, spraying Yeonjun with water from your bottle sprayer.

Soobin hummed, sipping on the canned soda in his hand. "Maybe you can choose if you got help from the both of us," he suggested.

"Come to think of it. Lately, I've been too busy with my business that I wasn't able to catch up again on some of my activities." You sat down on your chair, removing your apron. "Since you're both my seniors, how about you teach me?" you added.

"Like, tutor you or something?" Soobin said, turning over to you. You quickly nodded. "I might consider your request if you do so," you grinned.

Long story short, Soobin and Yeonjun both agreed on giving you a tutoring session.

It's been almost a week. The session went well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just them teaching and assisting you.

You always do your sessions at the school's library or the town's public library. Anywhere but your house. You know the three of you won't fit in that small studio. Considering they are tall towers, you often tease them with this, in which they often rebut you that you're just short.

"Should we end it here today? I mean, I still have a part-time job to go for at 6," you glanced at your phone secretly—the screen broke and an old model—you don't want them to see that, at least.

Actually, they were far out of your league, even just as friends. Sometimes, you would even think about not showing up near them anymore, but guilt would always eat you up. They've been so good to you, they like to help you out at your stall sometimes when they are free.

"Say, how many side hustles do you have? I don't mean to offend you, but why do you need so many jobs?" Yeonjun, showing his little curious side, tilts his head a bit. Is he confused? Maybe. Is he mocking you? No, his eyes doesn't tell you that.

You sighed, not wanting to hide your situation anymore, not with how his curious eyes were boring holes in your face. "For weekdays, I go to school, and work at the cafeteria for some time," you paused, looking at Soobin, who was staring at you too for a while now. "At 7, I work at a convenience store down my street, and clock out at 12."

Soobin's eyes were full of concern. "Do you even have time for yourself? Time to study? Time to rest?" he shoots.

You shook your head and continued to speak, "I study for a bit, and I sleep before 2, then wake up at 6 again to prepare for my business, given that our class starts at 8 in the morning."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Yeonjun frowns after knowing you could barely rest.

"It does not end there yet," you chuckled. "On Saturdays and Sundays, I work at a cafe from 6–12 in the morning, work at the laundry shop from 1-4 in the afternoon, head straight here for our sessions, and catch a night of restaurant work from 6–11."

You could pick their jaws off the floor. You chuckled at their reaction. "Are you still alive? Tell me if I'm talking to a ghost..." Yeonjun hugs himself dramatically. "Hyung, don't be like that." Soobin slaps his shoulder, emitting a whine from the older man.

"I should get going now, see you on Monday!" You quickly got up to your feet and waved at them as you ran outside.

That Monday, you saw yourself working with the two males at your stall. They were the ones selling your sandwich. And since they've got the face, the reputation, and all, your sales suddenly skyrocketed. You needed to run to the nearest store near your school to buy what you needed to restock.

"Achoo!"

"That's your 99th time sneezing today, little angel," Yeonjun said, without turning to face you, still busy cleaning the glass cabinet.

"I'm okay, don't worry - Achoo!"

The next day, you were nowhere to be found. The sandwich stall was not open and no sneezes could be heard.

"Bin, I just realized... We actually have no way to contact her," Yeonjun was tapping his fingers on the cool steel table of your stall.

"I wonder what happened to her," Soobin sighed, rummaging through your stall, foolishly hoping to find some way to contact you.

"Let's go to the faculty, I have an idea," Yeonjun suggested.

"What? No, we can't disclose any information about students to other students, so no," the school administrator declined his request.

"Pleeeasseee, sir," Yeonjun begs, only to be declined again.

"Uhm, she's... She's my secretary for the election, so I need to have her information, at least," Soobin butts in.

"Your name?" The admin asked Soobin.

"Soobin. Choi Soobin, sir."

The two of them quickly ran out of the faculty as soon as they got what they needed. Quickly excusing themselves from their respective classes, claiming they have some emergency to tend to.

You woke up to the irritating ringing of your doorbell. You were not expecting any visitors today.

"Goodness, who could it be..." You stood up only to fall back down on your bed again because of dizziness. You felt the drilling pain on your head again that you had felt since last night. You shiver, pulling your jacket to yourself, yet you can feel yourself so sticky because of sweat.

"Who is--" Your eyes widened the moment you were met with two tall guys standing in front of your studio. You quickly slammed your door and leaned against it.

'What the hell are they doing here?! How did they find me? Oh my god!' You panicked, screaming inside your head.

"Angel," you heard Yeonjun whisper, "Can we come in?"

"H-how did you find where I live?" you asked. Dumb question. They could just ask around the faculty. "Dummy," you whispered to yourself, facepalming yourself.

You opened the door and peeked at them. "Hi, hehe," you awkwardly smiled at them.

"C-come in..." You opened the door wide, welcoming them to your small studio.

"We're gonna let ourselves in," Soobin mumbled, removing his shoes from the doorstep.

Their eyes were welcomed by a small bed that could barely fit two people in the corner. A small study table is beside it, stacked with books and a broken phone on top, and with a small dresser near the bed.

A single-seater dining table on the other side with some instant foods and a portable stove.

Their eyes roamed a little more. A closed door, they assumed, was the rest room, just sat near the doorstep.

"I... I don't think my place is enough to fit the three of us..." you fidgeted, sitting on your bed as your head spun again, making you shut your eyes tightly.

"You were sick after all," Soobin commented. "I'll just go out, I'll come back quickly," he said as he carefully stepped out of your place.

"So... This is where you live?" Yeonjun sat on the chair at your dining table. You meekly nodded. "All of those side hustles for this place?" he added.

You know he does not mean to offend you once again, yet you felt yourself getting embarrassed. "I barely survive... Even from those multiple part-time jobs. N-not to mention that—cough, excuse me.. I am paying loans too," you explained as you lay down on your bed, feeling your body burn up again.

Your gaze returned to Yeonjun when you heard him talk.

"Buy cough medication as well, Bin. And, oh, a few fruits too if you don't mind."

"Why are you looking for me, by the way?" you asked, pulling the blanket to cover yourself.

"We were worried, of course. How can we not? Plus, we weren't able to eat a sandwich today," he smiled, even though he knows you're not looking at him.

Yeonjun stood up. "Towels," he said.

You looked at him confused. "Huh?"

"Where are your towels?" he asked himself.

You pointed at the dresser, "Lowest part."

"I can't believe my tongue didn't taste any of your sandwiches today, angel. Do you know how much I crave for it every day?" You heard the water running in your restroom for a moment.

Yeonjun gently pats the wet towel on your forehead, wiping your face as well. He even hesitated at first to wipe your neck, shaking his head in the process.

"Don't you have any classes?"

"We do, but we excused ourselves. What can we do? We have an emergency at home," he smiled at you.

"Dummy, this ain't your home, Mr. Pouty Lips," you chuckled.

"Why not? Look, I even have a patient here at home," he says, tucking your straying hair behind your ear. His hand gently grazed your face, and you unconsciously leaned on his cool hand.

"Your hand feels cool..." you mumbled, squirming under the blanket. He then cupped your face, gently rubbing your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel relaxed beneath his touch.

"Pretty little angel." His voice was faint, even lower than a whisper.

"I'm back." Yeonjun snapped his head towards the door as Soobin closed it behind him. "How is she, hyung?"

"She fell asleep, she's burning hot, though." Yeonjun placed the towel on your forehead. "Hey Bin, you know how to make porridge, right? We should at least make her something warm."

You woke up again, but this time it was because of resounding murmurs filling up the small room.

"Hey angel, you're up?"

"You're still here?" you grunted as you tried your best to get up, receiving a helping hand from Yeonjun.

"You have to eat," Soobin says as he walks towards you with a plate with porridge in a bowl. "It's still warm, you'll feel better," he adds.

Soobin sat on the side of your bed, still holding the plate. Yeonjun stacking your pillows for you to lean on, as he ordered you to scoot back.

"Open your mouth y/n," Soobin scooped a spoonful of porridge.

"I can do it, you know," you chuckled.

"Please let me."

Soobin fed you the porridge he cooked. Yeonjun was at your table, peeling and slicing some fruits. "You should've taken care of yourself more," Yeonjun nags.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pouty Lips," you said as you flashed a smile at him. "I don't have any choice but to work."

You have been sick many times, but no one has ever been there to take care of you. No one cooked for you but yourself. You buy medicines alone, even when you are burning up. You needed to do your chores even when you got too dizzy to stand up. "I'm grateful to you two, this is the first time I have experienced being cared for."

And that's when they realized they needed to take care of you. That's when it registered in their minds that they needed to stay beside you. You're their precious little angel, whom they needed to take care of. A fragile person who still needs someone to be their companion.

"We're heading home for now, okay? We'll be back tomorrow, please rest a lot." His once captivating eyes were now full of worry, and his pouty lips became more pouty as he talks to you.

"Go now." Your smile wasn't forced at all. It was genuine. Your heart thumps as you recall how they took care of you. You were floating on cloud nine.

Yeonjun walked outside first, and Soobin stopped midway, turning back as he quickly tracked back towards you. "If anything happens, call me... please," he handed you a small note in which you assumed was his number.

Yeonjun came back the next day early in the morning just to see Soobin cooking breakfast while you were sitting on your bed like you'd've been awake for the past few hours.

"Is this why you weren't answering your phone?" he asked.

"Sorry, hyung, y/n called me in the middle of the night. Her temperature went up," the taller man sighed.

Yeonjun sat beside you, placing his hand on your forehead. "Do you feel okay now?" he asked as he cupped your face, his face merely an inch away from yours. You nodded, but you didn't even pull back. Maybe it's because his cool hands were on your cheeks, or maybe you were just feeling too hot. You actually don't know. All you knew was that you were feeling butterflies from his touch.

You watched how his pretty lips parted, how his tongue glossed his lips.

Which is to blame? You, who maybe, have a tiny crush on him that makes you wanna kiss him? Or Yeonjun, that may or may not be, doing this on purpose while his face was way too close to yours?

You tightly shut your eyes. Were you assuming a kiss?

"Angel, food is ready," he announced, standing up from your bed.

You opened your eyes, and you watched him look at Soobin, as they seemed to talk with their eyes.

"I'm glad it's Saturday today. There's nothing else to do." Soobin stretches his feet, plopping down on your bed after eating. "I feel so sleepy," he muttered, his eyes fluttering close.

Yeonjun lay beside him, closing his eyes with a smile plastered on his face. You, on the other hand, just came out of the bathroom.

You placed your hands on both of your waists. "How am I supposed to rest now? You're hogging my bed."

Soobin pretended to snore as he let Yeonjun hide on his back, trying to hold back his snickers.

Maybe you could let them rest. It won't hurt to let them rest after receiving a lot of favors.

"I have a test this coming Thursday, I don't know if I would be able to pass the test," you sighed, poking at the watermelon slices Yeonjun placed in front of you.

It's been more than a week since you were sick. You were now invited over to their place for your tutoring session. It only occurred to you that they're not just friends, they were roommates too.

"You can do it, I know you can, you've been studying a lot," Soobin cheered, stopping for a while from writing in your notebook.

Yeonjun picked up a piece of watermelon barehanded, making it touch your lips. "How about a little gift if you pass the exam, little angel?" he suggested, "Aahh," and asked you to open your mouth at the same time to feed you.

His fingers grazed your lips a little more than expected, and he proceeded to lick his fingers with the left-over juice of the watermelon. "What do you say?" Yeonjun leans forward to you, his hands propped on the table in their living room.

You meekly nodded. No noise, just a simple nod and a lip bite that didn't escape Soobin's and Yeonjun's sight. "W-what gift though?" you asked, trying to straighten your posture.

"Soob, any suggestions?" He peered towards the taller male, only for Soobin to answer with a "Shhh, secret," and a smile.

Yeonjun chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Surprise, little angel, it's a surprise."

You were aware of their subtle advances, actually. Especially how clingy and touchy Yeonjun was. But you were just letting it slide. You don't give it plenty of attention.

But you have already admitted it to yourself. You're swooning over them. They're your good friends, though, and that's why you kept on pushing your lingering feelings back.

The session went well that day too. Not to mention that you're no longer rushing because they already asked you to drop some of your side hustles. You were hesitant at first because how are you going to pay your bills now? But you ended up listening to them and their pouty request. How could you say no? Why would you dare say no, rather?

Thursday came quickly, and taking the biology test first thing in the morning felt like walking on fire and broken glasses barefoot. You could feel the sweat dripping down your forehead and your heart thumping. You even called all the saints, gods, and goddesses you knew to help you answer the test. If looks could kill, flies would be all over your teacher's body.

The following day, your test papers were given back to you. You were too scared to open the folded piece of paper. That's why you kept it like that between the pages of your notebook. You even brought the notebook with you when you went back to your stall to sell your sandwiches.

In the midst of the crowd at lunch, you saw the two tall guys walking towards you once again. As if on cue, they waved at you the moment they met your eyes. You could clearly picture bunny ears and a foxtail over their figures as you chuckled to yourself. "Silly guys," you whispered to yourself.

Soobin was the one who noticed the notebook on the side. He was trying to fan himself with your notebook when your biology test results came flying out from your notebook.

"What's that?" Yeonjun asked as he saw Soobin opening the folded paper.

"Woah! I knew you'd ace the test y/n," he exclaimed, making you snap your head towards them with a confused look.

"Did our surprise gift make you motivated?" Yeonjun taunts, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

"T-that... I..." You were out of words. From what Yeonjun had said and from knowing you actually got a perfect score from your biology class, which you dearly hated from the start.

"It looks like we need to give here our prize, hyung," Soobin smiled. They look at each other knowingly. They know what you deserve. "Shall we head out first?"

Yeonjun and Soobin head home first, ahead of you. They said they wanted to take a stroll at the mall to buy something as your prize, and they just told you to head straight to their place tomorrow afternoon.

You were able to sleep soundly that night. Knowing that you can ace tests only if you focus on your studies. You felt proud of your achievement, given that you don't usually do well in your biology class. You even planned on making the two guys a special-made sandwich to thank them for their work. However, you were actually planning on turning down their request. You couldn't stand choosing between the two of them. You would rather back down than choose.

You were actually expecting something more of a material gift. Maybe a book, a chair, or something you could use inside your small studio. And the gift you were about to receive was the last on your list.

"Fuck princess, why are you so good," Soobin hummed while guiding your head.

"You should be more gentle, Bin. Remember, she still needs to choose who she wants to serve under," Yeonjun chuckled while caressing your dainty finger as he placed your hand on his tenting bulge.

You glanced at your hand on his bulge, and your gaze went up to his eyes. Yeonjun tilted his head, "What is it, pretty angel?"

You swore, and your stomach swirled. Little did they know, whenever they called you these names, you felt a little weaker in your knees.

How did it happen that a visit to their place would end up with you in their bedroom?

You rang the doorbell at their apartment's door, clutching onto the paper bag of the special sandwich with a wide smile on your face. Yeonjun opened the door, rubbing his eyes. He looks like he just woke up from an afternoon nap. Until you realize he's not wearing a shirt. His bare and toned body is displayed in front of you.

"Hi angel, sorry, we were asleep. A friend visited earlier and got us drunk," he apologizes. "Come in."

"Fuck, my head is spinning," he muttered to himself.

"Uhm, should I just come back next week? Do you want to rest for now?" worry and nervousness were visible on your face.

"No, please come in. You don't mind taking care of us too, right?" he smiled, picking up the bottles and cans on the table.

"Where's Soobin?"

"The room over there, do you mind waking him up? I'll just clean this." Some takeout boxes were scattered around the floor, and spilled drinks and sauces were also around.

"Soo-"

"Ahh fuck, y/n... More... You feel so good... Ahh.." You were stunned when you pushed the door open. Soobin was sitting down on the side of his bed, clutching the hem of his t-shirt up to his chest, while he gently stroked his shaft.

"C-come on pretty... I n-need more..." Soobin lolled his head back, letting go of his shirt to use his other arm to support his body as he tightly gripped the bedsheet.

"D-do you need h-help?" You actually don't know why you asked it. You should've just closed the door and pretended that you saw nothing.

Soobin peers over you, "Fuck, didn't know you're already here... Shit sorry, I need you y/n." His lower lip caught between his teeth, sweat forming on his forehead as his fringe sticks.

Like clockwork, you slowly managed to get near him.

"But... But I think you're drunk... I don't think this is right..." you chirped, trying to fight your desires with reality.

"I'm sober. I swear, fuck.. How can I not be when all I can think about was how you," he paused, pressing down on his slit, "Fuck!" He looks up at you once again, "All I can think about was h-how you m-moaned my name when you c-called me that night." He was once again reminded of how you moaned and chanted his name, calling for help, your pants, and heavy breaths when you called the night when your temperature went up.

A pinkish tint washed your face as you thought about how you did your best to call him.

You slowly knelt down between his legs, not breaking eye contact. Your hand slowly wraps around his cock as he draws back his hand.

"You're so p-pretty. I'm sorry I'm m-making you d-do this." You shook your head and flashed him a smile.

"Y-you want this?" Soobin raised your hand to stop you for a while.

"I.. that.. probably..." You weren't able to form any coherent words about how scared you are to admit you have a little crush on them.

"Please. Please tell me you w-want this t-too, If you-"

"I do. I-I do want this. No, I want you, actually... You... And Yeonjun too. Just.."

"Just?"

"It's just that, I can't admit it. You're both good friends of mine. I can't afford to lose our small friendship just because I like the both of you," you bit your lower lip as you retract your hand and place them both on your knees, preparing yourself to receive some hate comments.

"How am I supposed to hold back after knowing you want me? Oh god, you'll be the death of me..."Soobin caressed your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his length.

You look up at him, your eyes full of innocence made him curse all the non-liviing things from hell.

"W-wanna fuck your throat so bad, princess," Soobin muttered, rubbing his shaft on your cheek.

"She's so pretty, I want to ruin her." Your gaze flits toward the voice, it was Yeonjun. He was leaning on the doorframe, watching the two of you exchange a little talk.

"Fucking pretty, hyung. And smart too. She deserves a gift, right?" Yeonjun nodded with a smirk playing on his pretty face.

"She's a good and honest little angel, she deserves a good gift."

Yeonjun marched his way towards the bed. The bed dipped under his weight when he sat beside Soobin.

And this was when you found yourself in that position, between Soobin's legs and reaching for Yeonjun. The sandwich on the paper bag, long forgotten, was splayed on the floor.

You lightly rubbed your hand on Yeonjun's pants, making him hiss under his breath. Your eyes flitted to Soobin, you watched him alternate between biting his lower lip and gaping his mouth.

"I-i'm gonna... y/n, 'm close-- Fuck!" Soobin's hips stutter, stilling for a while inside your mouth. Hot liquid sliding through your tongue.

"C'mere," Soobin quickly pulled you up, crashing his lips on yours.

"Let him taste himself, pretty," Yeonjun taunts.

You lightly open your mouth, letting some of his essence slip through your lips, swallowing the remaining on your tongue. Soobin moaned in your mouth, teeth almost clashing at each other, lips swollen from biting.

Soobin pulled away, his forehead on yours, chasing his breath. "God, it tastes weird," he mumbles.

You felt a hand on your waist, it was Yeonjun's. He was guiding you to sit on his lap.

"Make me cum."

You left a peck at Soobin's lips once more before straddling Yeonjun. Not wanting to be left behind, Soobin tugged at the hem of your shirt. "Can you remove this?" he asked, eyes begging.

You quickly slip out of your shirt. A red hue paints his cheeks as he tries to reach out for the strap of your bra, snapping it open.

Yeonjun then pushed your hips down on him to feel you, making you startled. "Mmhh, feels good, fuck," he sighs. His pouty lips look so delectable as you see him gape his mouth.

Your eyes don't want to leave Soobin, giving him a few glances as he strokes himself languidly while watching you.

"Pretty, never thought you could do something like this, you're not as innocent as you look, yeah?" Yeonjun's eyes were flying towards Soobin, as if asking for some approval, as he continued to guide your hips to grind above him.

"She's dirty, hyung," Soobin chuckles.

"I-i'm not, ahh-" you tried to retaliate, only for Yeonjun to buck his hips up.

"If you're not, then why are your nipples so perky?" Yeonjun smirks, rolling your nipples between his fingers, emitting soft whines from you that made Soobin leak out once again. Of course, he was reminded once more about that night.

"Look at her grinding above you even if when you're not holding her waist, hyung," Only then did you realize that Yeonjun's hands were no longer on you. You're moving on your own accord. No guidance at all.

You felt shy as you stilled your hips, hiding behind Yeonjun's neck. Were you this desperate? Were you this dirty? Just like what they've said?

Yeonjun lifted your skirt, landing a soft spank on your ass, making you yelp at his neck. "Why'd you stop?" He then squeezed your ass as he landed another spank.

Yeonjun raised your body for a bit, only to see how wet his sweats were. It's not from him, of course. You watch the ends of his lips curl up.

"Baby, look at the mess you've made," Yeonjun coos. Soobin reaches for your skirt to unzip it. Your baby pink underwear has now turned dark because of how wet you are.

You bit your lower lip as you look at Soobin, eyes glossy, seeking help, and cheeks beet red. You wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

"Oh, look at my pretty angel, Bin, she's about to cry."

Soobin chuckles, "Don't make her cry, hyung. You're such a menace."

"Continue moving then, save your tears for later," Yeonjun remarked, letting you drop down on his lap once again.

"No, baby, I'm not guiding you. Move on your own," he added as he shook his head when you still didn't move. Oh god, the embarrassment you've been feeling ever since you've stepped inside Soobin's room.

You grab both of his shoulders as you dance above his lap.

"Fuck w-wait, that's --" Yeonjun's hand flew over his mouth to clutch on it, his head lolling back with only a single arm supporting his body.

If there's something Yeonjun considers a weakness, it's when a girl moves in a circular motion on his lap. And you hit the jackpot on your first try.

A few more moves, and he found himself convulsing underneath you. His eyes were blown up when you looked at him. He looked so fucked out. Quickly moving to his side, he also looks down at his lap. You both witnessed how the wetness of his cum stained his sweats. The gray color slowly darkened as the liquid spread out.

You were the one who initiated the kiss this time, giving his pouty lips wet kisses, to which he responded back with a weak hum while he held your face.

Soobin pulled you back over him. "Sorry y/n, can't just stay still and watch you with him." Soobin discarded his shirt on the floor.

"Stop hogging her to yourself, Bin," Yeonjun chuckled at the younger's action and words.

Soobin carefully laid you down on his bed, latching his mouth on your boob, while he gently massaged the other one.

"Move over a bit, baby, need to feel you," Yeonjun lays down on his side beside you, flipping you to turn sideways. Soobin was still sucking on your chest while he moans out his hunger for you.

The pouty guy hugs your waist, littering love bites on your neck. Leaving splotchy red marks all over your nape and shoulder.

You never thought about having an active sexual life, given that you're too busy and focused on making ends meet. Let alone having two guys at the same time.

The tall guy in front of you leaves the same thing around your cleavage while he humps on your thigh. His shaft feels heavy on your skin.

Yeonjun's hand trails down your waist to your clitoral area, rubbing in a circular motion to hear you whimper his name.

"Y-yeonjun," you whimpered under your breath.

"I'm here, focus," your hips jerked when he slowly slid his finger inside your pussy only to pull it out again.

"Bin, wanna stretch her out? I want to feel her already," he grunts. The taller male complied, he scooted up and raised your leg.

"So wet, damn," he dipped his fingers inside you, and just like Yeonjun, he quickly drew it back, giving his fingers a lick to taste you.

"She's sweet, hyung, holy shit. But as much as I want to taste you, I also want to feel you around me, y/n."

The first stretch felt like your body was being torn apart. You quickly lean your head toward Yeonjun, and your hand reaches back. Fingers tangled on his blonde hair as you give it a pull, mouth agape at how big Soobin feels inside.

"So wet 'n tight," Soobin grunts as he keeps on pushing inside you.

"H-hurts! S-soob, it h-hurts!" you cried out as you reached for him, clawing his chest.

"I'm only h-halfway inside, mmpp!" Soobin winces at the pain from your scratches and how your pussy snuggled his thick cock. He holds your face to drown your moans and cries in his mouth as he quickly pushes inside you.

He pulled away as both of you pants as if you had run a hundred miles.

"Y-you're choking me," Soobin moves a little, making you whimper once more.

"B-bin you're t-too big," you pout.

You felt something poking your entrance once, making you peer over to your back. You were met with Yeonjun's fucked-out gaze.

"Need to feel you," Yeonjun shuts his eyes as he pushes slowly.

"W-wait! I can't! Ahh! Hurts!" You thrashed around, making Soobin moan with the pressure.

"S-stay still, y/n!" Soobin hugs you closer to him, "We will all get hurt, stay still, fuck," his abs clenched with how stimulated he was. He signaled Yeonjun to continue pushing in.

Your mouth latches on Soobin's shoulder, biting on his open skin.

"Fuck!" They shouted in unison. Soobin felt the sting of your teeth sinking into his skin, but he tried to endure it. Yeonjun, on the other hand, felt how tight it was inside you.

The two males stilled for a while. Letting you get used to their sizes. Their shafts aren't a joke. Girthy. Long. Thick. Something that would definitely stretch out a tiny pussy like yours.

"'m sorry, angel, sorry..." Yeonjun whispers while he caresses your waist. Soobin planted kisses on the top of your head, your teeth are no longer sunken in his shoulder. But you felt weak between them. Your small and frail body looks like a paper stuck between two big books.

"B-bin, move. S-slowly please," you pleaded as you looked up at him.

His gaze softens as he looks at you. "Why do you have to beg so prettily? I might cum just looking at you," he says, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He then raised your leg once again and started to move slowly. His grunts, your whimpers, and the squelching sound resonate inside his room.

"Angel, who thought that selling a mere sandwich would end up with you being sandwiched between me and Soobin, hm? So fucking good," Yeonjun grunts as he starts to thrust from behind. "You're so tight, baby, fuck."

Soobin tried his very best to stay as quiet as possible, just letting small yet slutty moans, whines, and whimpers. The friction he felt from your wet pussy and Yeonjun's length at the same time was too much for him. He knows he won't last long, but he silently challenged himself not to cum yet.

"You're so greedy, princess. Look at you taking two cocks at the same time. Greedy and dirty."

"My angel is such a whore. A cock slut," Yeonjun snickers, grunting afterwards when he thrusts again.

"Tight virgin pussy."

Their words made you dizzy. Dizzy enough to unconsciously chant their names alternately. Your hands are flying everywhere, clawing and clutching anything within reach as they litter your body with a lot of red marks.

"Please please please wanna cum, please I wanna cum!"

"Oh, you're asking for permission?" Soobin questioned.

"Fuck, are you into begging, pretty?" Yeonjun grunts behind.

"P-please let me cum, I'm gonna-- please!"

You yelped when you end up squirting because of how they simultaneously thrust inside, making you feel stimulated.

"What a dirty girl, for real," Yeonjun sighs, kissing your shoulder.

"Wanna cum inside her, hyung," Soobin was gripping the plush of your thigh as he continuously thrust.

"N-no! Please! I'm not taking a p-pill!"

"Please baby, we'll take care of you, we promise," Yeonjun's hand wrapped around your neck, his thrusts becoming more sloppy.

"Please, wanna fill you. Wanna fill you so bad with my cum," Soobin's nails dug on your skin as he held your thigh tightly.

Yeonjun's grip on your neck made your mind cloudy, and you nodded at whatever they were saying. Not sure about what you were agreeing to.

"H-hold it, Bin, i-i'm close too."

You were a moaning mess. Dizzy, mind hazy, eyes cloudy. Your body was limping as you felt hot liquid spurting inside you, along with guttural moans and deep grunts coming from the two males.

"Sorry," you heard them apologize and slowly pull out before your eyes flutter.

Maybe this gift could be the best thing you ever receive in your entire life.

And a cleanly wrapped small box was sitting on the edge of Soobin's table.

@binniesbooks 2024

taglist: @babymochibeargyu @beomiracles @lizibizi @inkigayocamman @izzyy-stuff (tagging sum of my fave moots and friends 😖💞)

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memorabxlia · 3 months ago

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Christmas Morning ━ 연준

genre: smut summary: you give your boyfriend an early morning christmas gift warnings: blowjob, language, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), riding (def forgot something) pairing: boyfriend!yeonjun x fem!reader wc: 1.2k a/n: DAY 10!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

You woke up to the soft glow of Christmas morning, the room bathed in that quiet, magical light that only comes when snow blankets the world outside. The air smelled faintly of pine from the tree in the corner, and the faint sound of carols played somewhere in the distance. You stretched lazily, feeling his warmth beside you, and turned to see him still asleep, his face soft, his breathing even.

But then your eyes dropped lower, and you noticed it.

The outline of his cock, hard and straining against the blankets, tenting the fabric in a way that made your stomach clench with desire. You bit your lip, your heart starting to race as you let your hand drift down, brushing lightly over the bulge. He shifted in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.

Good.

You didn’t want him awake. Not yet.

You slid down in the bed, the sheets rustling softly as you moved, and you peeled the blanket back just enough to expose him. He was already hard, his cock resting against his stomach, the tip glistening slightly. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you didn’t hesitate, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the head, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

He stirred, his hips lifting slightly, and you smiled to yourself, wrapping your hand around the base of him as you took him into your mouth, your lips sliding down his length with practiced ease. You started slow, teasing him with light sucks and gentle strokes, your tongue dragging along the underside of him as you pulled back, only to sink down again.

“Mmm…” he mumbled, still half-asleep, and you felt his hand brush against your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as you worked him deeper, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it,” you whispered, pulling off just long enough to speak before taking him back in, your hand working in tandem with your mouth as you felt him start to harden even more, his cock swelling against your tongue.

“God, that feels good…” he groaned, his voice still heavy with sleep, but you could hear the edge of desperation creeping in, the way he was trying to hold back, to let you control this.

You hummed again, the vibration making him shudder, and you picked up the pace, your hand tightening around him as your mouth moved faster, your lips sealed tight as you sucked him in, your tongue working over the sensitive spot just beneath the head.

“Fuck, fuck…” he gasped, his hips lifting off the bed now, his hand tightening in your hair as he held you there, not pushing, just wanting to feel you. You let him, your eyes fluttering closed as you focused on the feel of him against your tongue, the way he filled your mouth, the subtle salty taste of him as he grew harder, thicker.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough now, strained, and you felt a thrill run through you at the words, at the way he was falling apart because of you. You pulled back again, your lips slick and swollen, and you looked up at him, your eyes locking with his as you took him back in, your tongue swirling around the tip before sinking down again, taking him as deep as you could.

“Jesus… I’m not gonna last…” he warned, his voice tight, and you smiled around him, your hand moving faster now, your mouth working him in time with your strokes, and you felt him tense, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he came, his release spilling into your mouth as he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.

You swallowed, your lips still wrapped around him as you milked him through it, your hand slowing as his body relaxed, his grip on your hair slackening as he collapsed back onto the bed, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You pulled off, licking your lips as you sat back on your heels, watching him as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded but still fixed on you, his expression a mix of awe and satisfaction.

“Merry Christmas,” you said softly, your voice teasing, and he laughed, a low, breathless sound that made your stomach flutter.

“Best fucking present ever,” he muttered, his voice still rough, and you grinned, leaning down to kiss him, your lips still tasting of him as he reached up to pull you closer, his hands sliding down your back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

You knew this wasn’t over. Not yet.

But for now, you were content to just lie there, wrapped in his arms, the warmth of his body against yours as the snow fell softly outside, the world quiet and still.

“Take me again,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and urgent, and you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest as you moved to straddle him, your body pressing against his as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

“You’re insatiable,” you teased, your voice breathy as you leaned down to kiss him again, your body pressing against his as you felt him harden beneath you, his cock already straining against your stomach.

“For you? Always,” he muttered, and you laughed, the sound muffled as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down to grip your ass as he lifted you, guiding you onto him, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance as you sank down, taking him in, your body stretching to accommodate him as he groaned, his hands tightening on your hips.

“Fuck…” he breathed, his voice ragged, and you smiled, your hands braced on his chest as you started to move, your hips rolling as you took him deeper, your body trembling with the intensity of it.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you rode him, your nails digging into his chest as he thrust up into you, his hands tightening on your hips as he guided you, his body moving in time with yours as you lost yourself in the rhythm of it, in the way he filled you, stretched you, made you feel so fucking good.

“Cum for me,” he growled, his voice low and rough, and you gasped, your body tightening around him as you felt it building, the tension coiling in your stomach as he thrust up into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Oh God…” you moaned, your head falling back as you came, your body shaking as he thrust into you again, his hands gripping your hips as he drove you over the edge, your release washing over you in waves as he groaned, his own release following close behind, his cock pulsing inside you as he came, his hands tightening on your hips as he held you there, his body trembling beneath yours.

“Fuck…” he breathed, his voice rough, and you collapsed against him, your body still trembling as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay there, your body still connected to his as the world outside faded away, the only sound the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

❥﹒ txt taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice @amarecerasus

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itaehynz · 1 year ago

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three’s a choi charm! ♡

PAIRING: choi line x fem!reader.

GENRE: socmed + written

CONTENTS: summer romance, choi line are cousins, taehyun and hueka are y/n’s bestfriends + others, multiple endings, written chaps, slice of life, fluff, angst, comedy, nonidol!au, reader is mingyu’s younger sister, jungkook is choi line’s older cousin, what would this be w/o profanity, . . .

SUMMARY: school’s out and it’s time for summer! also known as the ‘hottest season of the year’ so in hopes of finding a hot, potential soulmate, you go on tinder and match with three people! who shall you end up with in the end?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: a new smau!!!! woohoo!!!! choi line falling in love w/ reader & doing everything to get them, whew. there’s going to be endings where you end up with each member so don’t worry about that! i hope you all enjoy this one :D

STATUS . . . on hold! (taglist: open!)

SCHEDULE . . . mondays, wednesdays, fridays @ 1:30pm est!

FEAT . . . rest of TXT, LE SSERAFIM’s Yunjin, ITZY’s Ryujin, ATEEZ’s Wooyoung, ENHYPEN‘s Heeseung, BTS’ Jungkook, SVT’s Mingyu!

PROFILES: lost causes | got dat dawg in me ⁉️ | older bros

yj’s ending. | sb’s ending. | bg’s ending.

TAGLIST: @https-yeonjun, @sugaringgcaramel, @boba-beom, @ur-mother-realnotclickbait, @yawn-zi, @txtbrainrot, @soobsfairy444, @wonunuwoo, @coconutjjun, @headlockimnida, @dinosluver, @gwookie, @yourenzoo, @bunnyeonny, @eclipse-777, @lun4kazumii, @h00nerz, @soobjvn, @bam2gyuuuu, @gardnhee, @sugawara-levi, @miekesmellark, @zeizeisjy, send an ask or shoot me a dm to be added! ^^ (bold — can’t be tagged)

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jynzzn · 3 months ago

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love and affection

pairing : husband!yeonjun x wife!f!reader genre : fluff

wc : 990

note : not proofread.

The rain continued to pour relentlessly outside showing no sign of stopping any soon, creating a soothing rhythm that filled the room. As the night deepened, the temperature dropped making the air a bit chilly. After mindless hour of scrolling through his phone, Yeonjun, who had been sitting on the couch beside you letting out a sigh as he tossed his phone aside and stretched his arms above his head.

Looking over at you who's still engrossed in your romance book since after dinner. Yeonjun was struck by how focused and concentrated you looked, completely lost in the world of reading. Finally, he cleared his throat breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

" You've been reading that for hours. Are you going to put that down and pay attention to me now? "

You, who's been too caught up, tear your gaze away from the book and looked at him. " Why? Jealous 'cause I've been paying attention to the book more than you? " Clearly trying to riled him up because when he's already bored out of his mind, he'd rather cling onto you.

His eyebrows furrowed at your reply, a pout forming on his lips as he continued to stare at you. "What? Jealous? Of a book? No way!" But his expression says otherwise, and you know it.

" Sure you're not... "

" Oh come on... "

You just chuckled at behavior knowing that he's just in a clingy mood right now and decided to test it further. You closed your book and got up from the couch before making your way to the bedroom. " I'll continue reading this in the bedroom. "

Yeonjun's eyes followed you as you got up from the couch and headed upstairs. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at your sudden departure. " Wait a minute, you're just gonna ditch me like that? No good night kiss or anything? " He called after you.

But no response from you, all he heard is that the door being closed meaning you're already in the room. He muttered a curse under his breath and wait until he make a decision to got up from the couch and made his way upstairs to the bedroom.

The moment he opened the door, he already see you getting all comfortable on the bed as you continued to read your book, again.

" Baby, you can't just ignore me like this! " He whined, like a kid who's been denied to have their favorite candy. Seeing that you continue to ignore him, he walked into the room and closed the door before making his way to the bed, where you are.

"Baby," he called, tugging on your shirt, but your constant ignorant was getting to him.

Meanwhile you on the other hand, wanted nothing but to gave in to him. Though, maybe you actually want him to suffer a bit without your affection.

Yeonjun had reached his limit. His patience was running thin, and with a firm but gentle motion, he snatched the book from your hands and set it aside on the table. Without a word, he shifted closer to you, his gaze intense as he laid himself down on top of you on the bed. The weight of his body pressed against yours, and you felt his arms encircle you, effectively locking you in place as if to ensure you couldn’t escape his attention.

" Now, may I have your attention, please? " He pleaded, looking up at you with the puppy eyes, one that you can't resist. " Please ? Pretty please? You know you want to give me your attention. "

Yeonjun nuzzled into your chest like a cat seeking attention from its owner. He then looked up at you with the same pleading eyes again but this time a pout forming on his lips.

You couldn't ignore the fluttered in your chest when he looked at you like this. With a reluctant sigh, you spoke. " Fineee ". The once pout on his lips now turning into a full grin when you gave in to him.

" Knew it." Yeonjun said, a winning smile on his lips. " Now, how about a kiss...wait , kisses because you ignore me earlier? It's only fair like this, right? Or maybe type of kiss that happen in the book you read? " He said , waggling his eyebrows at you that only earn a smack on the shoulder from you.

" Ow- oh how cruel! All I want is a kiss from my beautiful wife and she hits me! Cruel woman.. " He shake his head in mock disappointment, as if truly wounded.

You scoffs, crossing your arms. "Maybe if you stopped being such a drama king, I'd consider it." He gasps, clutching his chest like you just stabbed him. "Drama king? Me? I’m merely a devoted husband, yearning for a little affection."

You raises a brow at him. "A little affection? You act like you’re starved." Yeonjun sighs dramatically. "I am starved. Deprived. Neglected!" You rolls your eyes at him , tilting your head. "Fine. Here."

He barely has time to react before you leans in—only to stop an inch away from his lips. Instead, you flicks his forehead.

"Hey!" He scowls, rubbing the spot.

"What? I technically gave you attention."

"Cruel. Absolutely cruel. Marrying you was both the best and worst decision of my life."

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a real kiss this time—only for him to suddenly pull back with a smirk.

"Oh? Now you want to kiss me?" he teases, tilting his head. "After all that cruelty?"

You roll your eyes. "Fine. Forget it, then." You said, about to pushed him off from you but he make no move to get off from you.

"Ah-ah, too late. I’ve suffered enough, compensation is required," he murmurs before finally closing the gap, stealing the kiss himself.

26225

jynzzn note : my draft is full of unfinish writing.. ahaha...

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cbeargyu · 27 days ago

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the mysterious boy I met yesterday.

summary: after mysteriously traveling to the past, y/n meets yeonjun—a boy she was never meant to love. bound by time and torn by fate, they fall for each other knowing their days are numbered.

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

tags: time travel, angst, slow burn, romance, emotional hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending (turned sweet).

warnings: grief, trauma, memory loss, mentions of death, emotional distress, hospital scenes, crying, found family, soulmates au.

notes: i recently watched the girl who leapt through time and, as someone who’s always been obsessed with the idea of time travel, i couldn’t stop thinking about it. it left me with that nostalgic ache only stories like that give. so i decided to write my own version of a time-travel romance, loosely inspired by the movie’s premise. i’ve also always had a soft spot for stories set in the late 80s or 90s—there’s something so emotionally raw about that era, so this felt like the perfect blend of everything i love. this fic is very dear to me. i hope it makes your heart ache in the best way.

wc: 19,6k💀💀💀

seoul, 2017.

your last year of high school. new city. new house. same mother.

you spend the entire afternoon unpacking. the house smells like fresh paint and floor polish. the sound of cars and distant sirens floats through the open window as you fold clothes into drawers and pull books out of boxes with quiet precision. your mother’s already out—work, of course.

it’s always work.

you’re halfway through arranging your bookshelf when you notice the small box, shoved at the very back of your closet.

it’s dusty, floral, and closed with a delicate pink ribbon, now faded and fraying at the edges. you pause, frown. you don’t remember packing anything like this.

you hesitate.

but curiosity wins.

you open it slowly, careful not to rip the ribbon. Inside: old letters, photos, movie tickets, and folded stationery that still smells faintly of perfume. you realize this isn’t yours. these are your mother’s things.

you sit down on the floor, cross-legged, and let yourself explore.

among the old documents, tucked inside a faded envelope yellowed by time, you found something unexpected—a marriage certificate.

the paper was brittle, edges frayed and stained with age, but the writing was still legible in parts. your mother’s name was printed clearly: choi nari, written in graceful hangul beside the box labeled bride. but your eyes were drawn to the space marked groom. the name there had been violently scratched out, covered in thick black ink, as if someone had been desperate to erase it.

you remembered, vaguely, a moment from your childhood—your mother once muttering that your father had changed his name to sever ties with his family, something about an inheritance, disapproval, a scandal she never fully explained. the only clue left on the torn paper was a partial surname at the bottom—just enough to read: “...bin.” the rest was lost. after his death, your mother had legally reclaimed her maiden name, kim, burying his memory under years of silence. but now, holding this document in your hands, the pieces began to tremble in your chest—uncertain, unresolved.

the letters are written in your mother’s neat cursive, signed with hearts. there are photos, grainy and sun-kissed, showing young faces in school uniforms laughing in courtyards, holding umbrellas in the rain, posing with peace signs.

you start flipping them, one by one. no names. just dates on the back.

until you find the last one.

it’s your mom. her hair is longer, parted and soft around her face. she’s wearing a high school uniform, standing with a boy slightly taller than her. his hands are clasped behind his back. they aren’t touching—but the tension between them feels real. tender. almost sacred.

you turn the photo over.

March 15th, 1991 – my first love, Choi Soobin.

your breath catches.

you read the name again.

choi soobin?

you’ve never heard that name before. not once. and your mother doesn’t just forget names—she erases them. just like your father. just like everything else.

you slide the picture back into the box, hands slightly trembling, and stash the whole thing deep in the back of your closet. you don’t throw it away. no—you’re not ready for that.

you want to ask her.

but you’ll wait for the right time.

one week later...

that night, you come home late from another day of school. it wasn’t terrible, just... lonely. your new classmates were polite but distant. you introduced yourself with a fake smile, laughed at the right moments. you’re good at pretending.

the place is quiet. too quiet.

dinner is quiet.

you sit at the kitchen island in an oversized hoodie, legs tucked up on the stool, hair still damp from the shower. a reheated bowl of rice and kimchi stew steams in front of you, but you’re not really hungry. you scoop at it absentmindedly as the soft glow of the television flickers across the small living room.

the news is on.

the anchor’s voice is calm, too calm for the words she’s saying.

"today marks the 25th anniversary of one of the country’s most devastating railway accidents... the train, traveling from seoul to incheon, derailed shortly in the afternoon, resulting in the death of all passengers aboard. rescue efforts lasted several days. one individual was never found."

your chopsticks freeze mid-air.

the image that flashes on screen—a twisted rail line, charred metal, grieving families—makes your stomach twist. you swallow hard, suddenly nauseous.

"how awful…" you whisper to yourself.

etched in the corner of the grainy footage was the date of the tragedy: november 12th, 1992.

a strange, unexplainable ache blooms in your chest. It lingers for a second too long.

you grab the remote.

click.

click again.

cartoons fill the screen—bright, loud, ridiculous. a character falls face-first into a pie. you force a laugh and shove a spoonful of rice into your mouth, but the food tastes like paper.

you pretend it’s fine.

you pretend everything is fine.

the door clicks open.

you turn your head.

your mother walks in, heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor, blouse crisp, makeup untouched despite the hour. she always looks like she’s heading into court—even at 9 p.m.

she doesn’t say hello.

she walks straight to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out the container of stew. you watch her in silence as she spoons food into a bowl and places it in the microwave, her back turned to you.

when she finally faces you, she raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"what’s with the face?" she asks, blunt as always.

you blink, then smile nervously.

"i found something today. while unpacking."

her hands stop. just for a second.

"it was this box. really cute. floral. tied with a ribbon. it was buried in my stuff, but it wasn’t mine. i think it was yours."

you pause.

"there were letters… photos. one of them caught my eye. you were in your school uniform, next to this guy. you looked… happy. it had a date on the back. march 15th, 1991."

you smile, hesitant.

"it said… ‘my first love.’”

your mother straightens up slowly, staring at you with an expression you can’t read.

"you went through my things?"

"it was in my things. i thought it was mine at first, i just—"

"you shouldn't go through what isn't yours."

her voice is ice.

"you had no right to open that."

"it was in my room!"

"it wasn’t yours!"

"how was i supposed to know that?! i thought maybe it was something you left for me—god knows you never leave anything else.”

her expression hardens.

"don’t turn this into something it’s not."

"something it’s not?!" your voice breaks, raw and high. "you never talk about anything. not about your life. not about him. not about dad!"

that name hits like a bullet.

she turns her back to you, but it’s too late.

"i don’t remember him," you say, quieter now, but trembling. "i don’t remember his voice, his hands, his laugh. i don’t even know what it felt like to be held by him."

she doesn’t turn. she doesn’t move.

"i had to memorize his face from one picture—one, mom—before you threw it out like garbage!"

her fists clench on the counter, knuckles white.

"i did what i had to do."

"no. you did what was easier for you. you pushed everything down and shut me out with it."

she spins to face you, eyes wild now, cracking.

"what do you want me to say?! that i was broken?! that every day i woke up alone, wondering how to feed you, how to work, how to breathe while everything i loved was gone?!"

you flinch.

but you don’t back down.

"i didn’t ask you to be perfect. i just wanted a mother. not a robot. not a cold wall. just someone who gave a damn."

her lip trembles. she hides it behind a scoff.

"you think i don’t care?"

"you don’t act like it!"

the words cut, sharp and true.

"i needed you, mom. all these years, i needed someone to tell me it was okay to miss him. to miss you."

her eyes shine with something unsaid. something heavy. but she swallows it back down.

she always does.

"you shouldn’t have opened that box."

her voice is flat again. walls up. steel drawn.

you laugh bitterly.

"right. god forbid i see even a glimpse of who you used to be before you turned to stone."

you push the stool back with a screech and storm off toward your room, throat burning, chest hollow.

behind you, your mother stands frozen in the kitchen, bowl untouched, stew long gone cold.

the door slams shut behind you, the sound dull but heavy, like a sentence being passed.

you stand still for a moment, your hands still trembling, your heart in shambles after the fight with your mother. the entire house feels like it’s holding its breath, as if it too sensed that something inside you just broke… again.

you walk slowly to your room, dragging your feet, your chest aching with a pain that’s too familiar. you collapse onto your bed, not even crying at first—just lying there, staring at the ceiling, as if the cracks in the paint might give you some kind of answer.

why can’t she just talk to me? why does it feel like she hates me?

the questions pile up, pressing down on your chest until that lump in your throat finally bursts. the first tears fall quietly, warm against your cheeks. then more come, and more, until you're curled in on yourself, sobbing with that kind of grief that comes from years of swallowing it down.

you hear your own voice echoing back at you:

"i had to memorize his face from one picture—one, mom—before you threw it out like garbage!"

it still hurts. and it’s true. your father died shortly after you were born. you don’t remember him—his voice, his scent, the way he held you. nothing. your mother never wanted to talk about him, as if erasing him would protect her from the pain.

but it left you with an emptiness.

you wipe your face with your sleeve, eyes puffy, nose red, and sit up slowly. still shaking, you walk to your closet.

it’s there.

the box.

that wooden box with the delicate, girlish design, half-hidden among your things, like it’s been waiting for this very moment.

you hold it in your hands. It’s heavier than it looks. the surface is slightly warm, as if someone had touched it recently—like it has a heartbeat.

you kneel in front of the open closet. your clothes sway lightly on their hangers, as if a breeze had passed through… but there are no windows open.

then you feel it.

the air shifts.

it starts as a soft vibration, barely there, like the whisper of a memory. then the scent hits you: something floral, old, like perfume soaked into love letters tucked away for decades. goosebumps rise instantly across your skin.

you squint into the closet, through the folds of hanging fabric, and you see it.

light.

a faint golden shimmer, pulsing gently, like someone lit a candle behind the wall.

you step forward, the box still in your hands. your fingers, trembling, press against the doorframe. just as you open your mouth to speak—maybe to ask what’s happening—

a single tear falls from your cheek and lands on the box.

there’s no explosion. no lightning.

just a heartbeat.

loud.

deep.

like the whole world exhaling through your chest.

the air grows heavy. your vision warps, the room tilting, folding in on itself. the walls ripple like water disturbed. you grab the edge of the closet for balance, but your knees buckle. everything spins. the sound of your breath is swallowed by something bigger.

and then—

darkness.

the spring air carried that distinct scent of dust, freshly sharpened pencils, and the faint trace of someone’s perfume lingering in the hallways. the school buzzed with life—lockers slamming shut, giggles echoing down the corridor, chalk scraping across boards in classrooms behind closed doors.

you walked slowly, your fingers tightening around the straps of your bag. your school uniform felt unfamiliar against the skin, the pleated skirt too stiff, the blouse too crisp. you kept your head low, eyes scanning faces that looked like they belonged in old photo albums. everything around your screamed nostalgia—except it wasn’t nostalgic to you.

because somehow...

you were actually here.

in 1991.

the bell rang, signaling the end of second period. students poured out into the hallway, some dragging their friends by the arm, others glued to books or snacks from their lockers. you leaned against a wall, trying to breathe, trying to blend in—trying not to freak out.

that’s when you saw him.

he moved through the crowd like he wasn’t part of it. calm. unbothered. a little detached. he wore the same school uniform, but his shirt was slightly untucked, and the headphones resting around his neck gave him this effortless, rebel-cool aura. a soft beat leaked from his walkman. his features were sharp, perfectly carved, lips full and eyes that looked like they knew things they weren’t supposed to.

he stopped in front of you, holding a thick envelope in one hand.

"y/n, right?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

you blinked, nodding slowly, your brain still trying to keep up.

"this came from the main office," he said, offering her the envelope. "you're transfer paperwork, apparently."

before you could even respond, you blurted out:

"wait—do you know someone named choi soobin?"

his eyes twitched. his expression shifted—barely—but it was there. a flicker of something.

then, with the most unimpressed smirk, he rolled his eyes.

"oh great," he muttered under his breath. "another one of my cousin's admirers. they just keep coming."

and just like that, he turned and walked away, sliding the headphones back over his ears, music rising in volume as he vanished into the tide of students.

you clutched the envelope to you chest, heart pounding. you looked around, dazed, but no one was paying you any mind.

once you found an empty bench behind the old gym building, you sat and opened the envelope with trembling fingers. inside was more than just a transfer form.

there was a letter.

it was handwritten. neatly. carefully. and it read:

"if you’re reading this, it means you made it. welcome to 1991. you’ll need to be careful from here on out. you cannot draw attention to yourself. do not talk about the future. do not ask too many questions. blend in. play your part. Go to the boarding house owned by mrs. son after school. she’s expecting a new girl. room 3 is yours." this is not random. you’re here for a reason. i will send more instructions soon. don’t trust just anyone. and above all… be ready to make difficult choices. some things in the past are meant to stay broken. others… need to be fixed. —a friend".

you stared at the letter, hands trembling.

what the hell was this?

why you?

what were you meant to fix?

you leaned back against the wall, looking up at the sky, your thoughts a chaotic mess.

your mind drifted to the photograph.

to her mother’s smile.

to the name: choi soobin.

and then… you eyes fell back on the letter.

was this real?

was this destiny?

your fingers brushed over the ink once more, and you whispered, almost to yourself:

"what am i supposed to change…?"

the final bell rings, and you stumble out of your last class like your brain’s just gone through a blender.

your head spins.

not just from the math formulas on the chalkboard or the endless chatter of your new classmates—but from the reality you still haven’t quite processed.

you’re in incheon. in 1991. in your mother’s freaking hometown.

the streets outside the school are buzzing with students. some run toward the corner shops for snacks, others grab their bikes, wave at friends, shout and laugh like nothing in the world has changed.

you, on the other hand, can barely keep your balance.

you blink slowly, your body moving on autopilot, trying to look casual, like you belong. but everything around you feels… off.

the way they talk.

the way they think.

the weird obsession with cassette tapes and soda in glass bottles.

even the smell in the air is different—less metal, more earth.

you’re overwhelmed. but you can’t fall apart yet.

you’ve got instructions. a destination.

you're still holding that damn envelope like it’s your last lifeline.

you turn a corner, heart pounding, and almost crash straight into someone.

“woah, again?”

it’s him.

the boy from earlier.

same walkman around his neck, same flawless face, same i-don’t-care energy wrapped in a school uniform that somehow fits him too well.

he eyes you with amused disbelief.

“are you seriously still carrying that?” he says, pointing to the envelope in your hands. “you’ve had that thing all day.”

you blink at him, still disoriented.

you have had it all day.

“i—i was going to read it again,” you mumble. “there’s an address. i’m supposed to go there but i don’t know how—”

“ugh,” he interrupts, sighing dramatically. “fine. lemme see it.”

you hand him the letter, fingers brushing his just for a second. his eyes skim the address, then glance back at you.

“i’ll take you. that place isn’t far.”

you exhale in relief, muttering a soft thank you.

you start walking together.

at first, it’s silent.

then the boy starts talking, throwing random comments into the air like confetti.

“you talk kinda weird, you know that?” you look at him. he’s not wrong.

you’ve spent all day trying not to sound futuristic. no slang. no weird expressions. no “lol”.

you force a smile.

“i’m not from here.”

“no kidding.”

“i mean—not from incheon.”

he raises a brow.

“then where?”

you scramble for a name and blurt out the most far-off place you can think of.

“ulleungdo.”

he stops walking and turns to look at you, blinking.

“ulleungdo? that island barely has electricity.”

you nod slowly, then force a cough like it explains everything.

“exactly. we’re... still catching up.”

he stares at you like you’re a walking mystery, then shakes his head and chuckles.

“makes sense. that explains why you look like you’ve never seen a vending machine before.”

you both keep walking.

for a second, the air is easier to breathe. almost normal.

but then, your mind slips—just for a second—and you ask:

“hey… who’s your cousin?”

he squints.

“what?”

“earlier. You said i was ‘another one in love with your cousin.’ who is he?”

he rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed.

“ugh. choi soobin. everyone’s obsessed with him. he’s perfect this, perfect that—blah blah blah.”

your heart stops.

soobin.

your mother’s first love.

you freeze mid-step. he walks two paces ahead before realizing you’re no longer beside him.

he turns around, eyes narrowing.

“why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

you force a shaky laugh.

“no reason. just… remembering something.”

he looks at you for a long moment, then shrugs.

“whatever. just don’t ask me where he is. i’m not your tour guide to the ‘soobin fanclub.’”

you say nothing.

the letter in your hand suddenly feels heavier. like it’s burning.

you wonder what’s waiting for you in that house.

you wonder who wrote the letter.

you wonder if fate is playing games with you—or if this has always been the plan.

you walk the rest of the way in silence, the streets of incheon glowing in the golden haze of dusk.

and somewhere, deep down, something tells you: this is only the beginning.

the street narrows as you follow him down an alley of uneven cobblestones, the golden dusk pouring through the lattice of tangled telephone wires above. the neighborhood is quiet—older, slower than the city blocks around your school. the homes here wear age like a badge, wooden gates slightly weathered, tiled roofs sagging slightly under the weight of time. you pause outside a low two-story house with faded red shutters and a blue mailbox shaped like a cat.

the boy nods toward it.

“this is the place.”

you look at it, blinking in disbelief.

it’s not just any house.

it feels like a storybook. like someone reached into your memories and tried to replicate what “home” should’ve looked like.

the wooden gate creaks when he pushes it open, and before either of you can step forward, the front door swings wide with surprising force.

an old woman, short and sturdy with perfectly permed gray curls and dressed in a floral hanbok apron, stands in the doorway.

her face lights up when she sees you.

“ah! you must be mr. hong’s niece, where are you from, little girl?”

you freeze. then bow quickly, hands by your sides, trying to remember every etiquette lesson your mom ever mentioned about greeting elders in korea.

“yes, ma’am. that’s me, i am from ulleungdo"

mrs. son eyes you up and down, then lets out a soft chuckle.

“you’re awfully pretty for a country girl. and different. too polished. hm.” her eyes narrow. “still, you look good. very lovely, actually.”

you’re not sure whether to smile or feel insulted. was that a compliment? or just passive-aggressive commentary wrapped in lace?

you smile awkwardly and bow again.

“thank you…”

“anyway,” she continues, waving her hand, “someone dropped off your belongings this morning. they’re in your room already.”

your heart skips.

“my belongings?”

you glance at the boy, confused. he just shrugs, completely uninterested in the mystery.

but your mind races.

what belongings?

when you arrived here—wherever here even is—you had nothing. not even the clothes on your back, which had changed without you realizing.

before you can ask more, yeonjun steps back, hands shoved in his blazer pockets.

“well, i got you here. i’m out.”

“wait—!” you call out, stepping toward him.

he’s already at the gate, lifting it slightly so it doesn’t scrape. you rush after him, your shoes crunching on the gravel path.

“you never told me your name.”

he stops mid-step and turns, looking slightly amused.

“I didn’t?”

“no.” you reach for his arm gently, fingers brushing against his wrist. his skin is warm, his pulse quick beneath your fingertips.

yeonjun looks down at where you’re touching him. his eyebrows lift. a tiny smirk threatens the corner of his mouth, like he’s not used to girls being this forward—and definitely not ones who stare at him like you do.

“yeonjun” he said. “choi yeonjun"

you meet his eyes.

“thank you, yeonjun.”

it’s the way you say it. soft. sincere. like it matters.

he’s caught off guard, the confident, untouchable energy around him faltering for just a second. his mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something, but then he shuts it again and just gives you a small nod.

“don’t get lost.”

and with that, he slips out the gate, turning the corner and disappearing into the fading light.

you’re left standing in the path, the sky streaked with orange and plum above you, a dusty breeze rustling the loose ends of your borrowed school uniform.

behind you, the house waits.

inside it, a room with your things. dropped off by someone who knows exactly where—and when—you are.

and somewhere, tucked inside your thoughts like a whisper you haven’t heard yet, a name echoes.

soobin.

the boy your mother once loved.

you exhale slowly and turn back toward the house.

the room is small but cozy, with warm wooden walls and a low ceiling that creaks softly under your footsteps. you close the door behind you, leaning against it for a second, your heart pounding—still not from the walk, but from everything. the entire day. the time jump. the unfamiliar warmth in yeonjun’s voice when he said your name. the letter burning a silent promise in your hands.

you glance at the small suitcase perched neatly at the foot of the futon bed. It looks old-fashioned—stitched leather with tarnished brass buckles and a handle that has seen better days. kneeling before it, you slowly open the latches, the sound loud in the quiet of the room.

inside, folded with surgical precision, are several sets of clothes.

your fingertips run across the fabrics: simple blouses, high-waisted pleated skirts, a pastel pink cardigan, a cream-colored sailor-style school uniform that looks almost identical to the ones you saw the other girls wearing today. everything smells faintly of lavender and time.

at the very bottom, nestled between a pair of plain flats and a pair of canvas shoes, you find a small envelope with your name written in neat, slanted hangul. you lift it gently, your breath hitching.

you sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress dip beneath your weight, and unfold the letter.

the handwriting is delicate, old-fashioned. like someone took the time to write it with an ink pen, letting every word sink into the fibers of the paper.

"y/n, you must be confused. stay calm. there is a reason you are here. follow the instructions i send you. you are in the year 1991, in incheon—the city where your mother grew up. things are not as simple as they seem, but you mustn’t let anyone know the truth. you will blend in. your belongings have been provided. more will come. every step you take will be guided. do not ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to. there are things in the past that need your presence. be patient. be brave. soon, i will ask you to change something. until then… wait." -H.

your hands tremble slightly as you finish reading.

a chill runs down your spine.

who wrote this? how did they know where you’d arrive? why do they speak like they’ve done this before?

you fold the letter slowly, slipping it back into the envelope. your mind reels, swimming with questions that claw at you from every direction. there’s no logic, no explanation. one moment you were crying in your closet, and the next… here. in a world you’ve only heard about from your mother’s fading stories, wrapped in decades-old nostalgia and distant memories.

you don’t realize how long you’ve sat there, dazed, until a voice calls out from downstairs.

“dinner time, girl! come eat before it gets cold!”

mrs. son’s voice, clear and commanding, startles you into motion. you rise, smoothing your borrowed skirt, tucking the letter under your pillow like a secret you’re not ready to share with even the walls.

When you step into the kitchen, you’re met with the scent of something savory, thick and warm and unfamiliar. the room is bathed in soft golden light from a low-hanging bulb, casting everything in a nostalgic glow. mrs. son stands behind a small wooden table, setting down bowls and plates with practiced ease.

you stare at the food, recognizing almost nothing but finding it all intoxicatingly fragrant. there’s bubbling jjigae, a perfectly round plate of jeon with scallions poking through the golden batter, neatly arranged namul side dishes, and a mound of rice that glistens as if each grain were kissed by steam.

“don’t just stand there like a scarecrow,” she chuckles, motioning for you to sit. “eat, girl. you need energy. you’re too pale.”

you sit slowly, murmuring a thank you, and begin to eat. the first spoonful of stew burns your tongue but floods your chest with warmth. each bite is an exploration, a memory you never lived tasting its way into your bloodstream.

between spoonfuls, mrs. son starts talking—not directly to you, but more like letting the stories she’s carried her whole life spill into the air.

“you remind me of someone, you know. a woman who stayed in this house years ago. pretty thing. big eyes like yours. she was in love.”

you look up, surprised.

“she fell for a sailor,” she continues, “a local boy with a wild laugh and a heart full of the sea. he promised her the world. even got her a ring. but…”

she pauses to sip her barley tea.

“…before they could marry, his boat went down. storm off the coast. they say he drowned. some say he never wanted to return and used the sea as an excuse.”

she smiles sadly.

“but i saw her every night on that porch, waiting. right up until winter took her away too.”

you set down your chopsticks, the story making your chest feel tight.

a part of you aches for this woman you’ve never met.

a part of you wonders if the sea has a habit of stealing men who promise forever.

you stare down at your bowl, your appetite gone.

nothing makes sense.

not the past.

not the stories.

not your own existence in this strange, beautiful fragment of time.

the only thing you know for sure is this:

you’re not here by accident.

and someone, somewhere, is watching.

the day was already strange enough.

the 90s school uniform felt tight in places it shouldn’t, your socks kept sliding down no matter how many times you pulled them up, and your ponytail was starting to come loose from all the running around trying to figure out where your classroom was. you were still trying to adjust to the rhythm of this strange new world — a world that smelled like chalk dust, cassette tapes, and kimchi stew floating through the hallways.

you were walking through the back courtyard of the school, holding a borrowed notebook to your chest, when you missed the curb.

you fell.

it wasn’t elegant.

you hit the concrete hard, knees and elbows scraping against the rough ground. your notebook flew a meter ahead, your bag tipped over, and just as you tried to push yourself up, a sudden gust of wind blew from behind. and just your luck — you were wearing the uniform skirt that flared out slightly when you walked.

now, it flared up.

wide. high. completely.

right in front of a boy.

not just any boy.

his eyes widened comically as he froze mid-step, staring for a split second — a dangerous, deadly split second — before whipping his head to the side, red creeping across his neck all the way to his ears. He stumbled back with his arms up as if you were pointing a gun at him.

you screamed.

“YAH! don’t just stand there like a pervert — HELP ME!”

your voice cracked from the sudden mix of pain, panic, and fury. the boy flinched as if slapped, then scrambled forward, offering a trembling hand.

“i–i wasn’t trying to see anything!” he stammered, clearly about to pass out from sheer embarrassment. “the wind—! it just—! i didn’t—!”

you ignored his babbling, more concerned with your burning face and aching knees. but as he helped you stand, you got a good look at his face. that face.

the perfectly shaped lips, the soft, clean skin, the dark brows, the long lashes casting shadows across his cheeks... and those eyes.

those exact eyes from the photo.

your mother’s photo.

it was him. choi soobin.

in the flesh. younger, alive, real.

you gasped.

he tilted his head. “are you okay? you look pale—”

before you could respond, a loud thud interrupted the moment.

a soccer ball came flying out of nowhere and hit soobin square in the face.

he made a startled sound before falling flat on his back.

you stared at his sprawled form on the ground. “what the hell—?!”

moments later, both of you sat side by side in the school infirmary. the scent of alcohol pads and ointment filled the air. you were perched on the edge of a stiff bed, rubbing antiseptic into your scraped knees, wincing each time it stung. beside you, soobin sat with tissues crammed up his nostrils, his head tilted back and a faint blush still clinging to his cheeks.

the nurse — a woman with overly plucked, razor-thin brows, blunt bangs curled under with all the strength of a hot iron, and lips lined in dark brown pencil — shook her head.

“thank goodness it’s not broken,” she sighed, inspecting soobin’s nose. “you boys with your sports… always causing accidents. and you”—she turned to you—“keep your skirt down next time, young lady. what do you think this is, a fashion show?”

you blinked, mouth falling open in disbelief.

this place… this time… these people.

it was like you had fallen into a very vivid, sometimes painful, sometimes embarrassing dream. and now, the boy from your mother’s past was sitting beside you, sniffling through a nosebleed.

and you still had no idea what you were doing here.

soobin blinked at you, still slightly dazed from the hit. his nose was no longer bleeding, but the tissue stuffed under his nostrils made him look even more like the schoolboy he was. you were about to say something—maybe thank him, maybe apologize, maybe ask if he was okay—when the infirmary door creaked open.

“bin!” came a familiar voice, far too loud for the sterile silence of the room.

yeonjun.

he stepped in with an armful of paper bags and small boxes—colorful wrappings, handwritten notes, tiny trinkets peeking through. gifts. you watched as he strutted over to soobin’s bed with an exasperated groan.

"seriously? you just got here and you’re already collecting fans again?” he teased, tossing one of the bags onto soobin’s lap. “what is it this time—handmade chocolates or love letters?”

soobin groaned and rolled his eyes, muttering something about it being a misunderstanding, but you weren’t listening anymore.

yeonjun had looked up. His eyes landed on yours. recognition flashed across his face like lightning.

“you—”

he didn’t finish. he just stood there, blinking, mouth slightly parted like the pieces of his memory were trying to click together.

you didn’t think. you just acted.

ignoring the sting of your scraped knees, you jumped off the bed. the linoleum was cold beneath your socks, but your voice came out warm, too bright, too casual.

"hey, um… yeonjun, right?” you said quickly, your cheeks heating under his stare. “do you want to grab something to eat or… i mean, you helped me earlier and i—well, i don’t know anyone else here.”

he looked confused at first, almost suspicious. then a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “you sure? you're not gonna faint on me or something?”

you laughed, awkward and real. “i’ll try not to.”

he shrugged. “fine. you’re lucky i’m hungry too.”

so the two of you walked out of the infirmary side by side. the late afternoon light spilled down the corridor in golden streaks, warming the tile beneath your feet. the air smelled faintly of antiseptic and school uniforms.

you were just about to ask him where he thought you could find something sweet from a local bakery when—

click. click. click.

footsteps. fast. familiar.

you turned at the sound, heart stuttering. your eyes caught a silhouette at the end of the hallway, the light from the windows casting her in soft profile.

it was her.

your mother.

but not as you knew her.

she was younger. smaller. her hair was long and tied half-up with a little bow. she wore the school uniform, the same one you had seen in the photograph. she didn’t look like a stern, cold lawyer. she looked like a girl.

she giggled. and then you heard his laugh.

soobin’s.

they stepped into the infirmary together, talking—laughing. you couldn’t hear the words, just the sounds, but it was enough to send a strange ache through your chest.

you had never heard her laugh like that before.

not in your life.

not once.

and in that moment, as yeonjun rambled beside you about the best tteokbokki stand near the school gates, you couldn't even process a word.

your stomach twisted.

your mother. soobin. that laugh. that moment.

and you—

you were caught between two worlds.

the red broth bubbled quietly in the small metal pot between you. the scent of chili, garlic, and sweetness filled the air as you leaned over the table, watching the glistening rice cakes dance in the simmering sauce. yeonjun, sitting across from you in his white school shirt with the sleeves rolled up, poked at one of them with a wooden skewer and raised his brow at you.

“you ever tried tteokbokki before?” he asked, eyes flickering with curiosity as he blew softly on the piece.

you shook your head, almost too eagerly. “not like this,” you murmured after the first bite, eyes widening. the heat was perfect, the chewiness addictive, and the flavor—intense but somehow comforting. “god… it's actually good. like really good. everything back in my—” you caught yourself, heartbeat spiking, “—my time is just so artificial and bland. like, processed. rancid, almost.”

yeonjun tilted his head, mouth halfway open with the next bite. “your time?” he echoed, blinking slowly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

your breath caught in your throat. shit.

“i mean—my town! my town,” you laughed, too quickly, waving your hands. “back in my town. it's really rural and… old-fashioned, i guess? i’ve been studying a lot of history too for exams. i read so much about the different historical eras, i think the word ‘time’ just slipped in.” you forced another laugh and stuffed your mouth with a rice cake, cheeks burning.

yeonjun stared for a second longer than was comfortable, and then snorted. “you’re weird,” he muttered around his own bite, though his lips curled into a faint smile. “but you’ve got a point. food tastes better before the big corporations mess it up.”

you nodded quickly, relieved at the shift. the tension melted a bit between the spice and the conversation, the kind that warms not just your stomach but something deeper—something that makes the loneliness of waking up in the wrong decade feel just a little less heavy.

as you sat across from yeonjun, the last few pieces of tteokbokki slowly disappeared from the pot. the spicy warmth lingered on your lips, but your mind was far from the food. you couldn’t stop replaying that scene in your head—your mother’s laughter, sweet and girlish, echoing behind the infirmary doors. and beside her, soobin, smiling back like they were already familiar with each other.

you chewed slowly, lost in thought, until the question slipped out before you could stop it.

“what’s soobin like?”

yeonjun looked up sharply, brow raised, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. “oh? so now we’re talking about him?”

you blinked. “no, no—it’s not like that.”

“right,” he said, drawing the word out, clearly not believing you. “let me guess—you’re using me to get close to him?”

your jaw dropped. “what? no! It’s not even for me.” you scrambled for an excuse, mind racing. “it’s for… my friend. she’s interested in him. but she doesn’t really know how to approach him. so i was just curious. you know… to help her.”

yeonjun leaned back, arms crossed, clearly amused. “a friend, huh?”

you nodded quickly, trying to keep your face neutral. “yeah. she’s… shy.”

he squinted, eyes narrowing like he was trying to read through your soul. “well, if you want the truth… he’s a total playboy,” he said with a completely serious expression.

your heart dropped. “really?”

yeonjun burst out laughing, almost choking on his soda. “god, you’re so gullible.”

you glared at him, cheeks heating up. “you’re such a jerk.”

he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still grinning. “no, seriously. he’s just a normal guy. chill, kind of awkward sometimes, but popular. everyone likes him. probably because of his face,” he added with a playful grimace. “also… his parents are loaded. like, seriously old money. but he doesn’t act stuck up about it or anything.”

you nodded slowly, absorbing every word. soobin… a boy born in privilege, admired by many, and yet—somehow—your mother had laughed beside him like they shared something deeper. you stared down at your drink, the fizz catching the light.

if soobin was already so adored… did that mean your mother had been one of his admirers too?

a strange ache bloomed in your chest, something between curiosity and dread.

you twirled a piece of tteokbokki with your chopsticks, still digesting everything yeonjun had said about soobin. the conversation had taken a strange turn, light and teasing at first—but your mind couldn’t let go of something he’d just casually mentioned.

“if soobin’s parents are rich,” you started, voice careful, “and they’re your uncles… then your parents must be rich too, right?”

the moment the question left your mouth, you felt the air shift. yeonjun's expression changed—subtle, but impossible to miss. his gaze dropped to the table, and he took a deep breath, the usual spark in his eyes dimming.

you opened your mouth, instantly regretting it, but he spoke first. “i live with my grandmother.”

that wasn’t what you expected.

you blinked. “with your parents too?”

he shook his head slowly. “no. just her.”

you rushed to fix your words, hands slightly raised. “i mean, that’s not weird or anything. a lot of families live with their grandparents. it just makes the family bigger, right? i only live with my mom and—”

he interrupted, voice calm, but distant. “my parents died.”

the words hit like a brick wall. your breath caught in your throat.

“it was a plane crash. when i was ten. they were coming back from the u.s.,” he continued, his voice softer now. “they’d been checking out places to live because we were supposed to move there together. but the plane… didn’t make it.”

silence blanketed the table like a thick fog. even the sounds of the street outside—distant laughter, scooters, the clink of bowls—felt suddenly muted.

you looked down at your lap, unsure what to say, but before you could even mutter an apology, yeonjun smiled. not forced, not bitter—just… gentle.

“it’s okay,” he said, looking up again. “i’m happy. my grandma takes good care of me. she runs a barbecue restaurant nearby. you should come by sometime. i’ll sneak you extra meat.”

your heart ached a little at his warmth. he was so open, so strong, despite everything.

you forced a small smile, eyes searching his face. “how old are you?”

“i’ll be eighteen soon,” he said, straightening a little with pride. “last year of high school. next year, i’m taking the csat. gonna try for a university in seoul.”

“that’s impressive,” you said genuinely.

“yeah, well… someone’s gotta get out of incheon,” he grinned, and the mood lightened just a bit again.

you didn’t know what to say after that, so you just kept eating, the tteokbokki no longer hot but still comforting. and all the while, your thoughts wandered—about soobin, about your mother, about how the hell you'd ended up here. but more than anything… you found yourself wondering just who choi yeonjun really was underneath all those layers.

that night, the air in incheon was unusually still.

you walked slowly down the quiet streets, your belly full of spicy tteokbokki and your mind spinning from yeonjun’s unexpected vulnerability. it had left a mark on you—how easily he smiled through pain. and the way he talked about soobin, half mocking, half affectionate… it made your chest tighten again. your mother’s laughter echoed in your ears, youthful and bright like wind chimes, paired with soobin’s soft chuckle. a sound you never imagined you’d hear.

you paused just outside the small gate of the son house, your temporary home in the past. the night air carried scents of distant grilling meat and flowers you couldn’t name. everything felt unfamiliar and familiar all at once. stepping inside, you slid the door shut gently behind you and walked up to your room.

but the moment you pushed open the door, your breath hitched.

there, neatly placed on your pillow, was another envelope. cream-colored, slightly yellowed like old parchment. your fingers trembled a little as you picked it up, the weight of the paper oddly heavy in your hands.

you sat on the floor, your back to the wall, and opened it slowly.

inside was a single folded sheet. elegant, slanted handwriting greeted you.

"there are things that must happen in their rightful time, and you are here to ensure they do. do not underestimate the importance of choi soobin. the first love always leaves the deepest mark." — H.

you stared at the letter for a long time.

your heart thudded violently in your chest.

choi soobin. the name might as well have been carved into your skin at this point.

was this… was he the reason you were sent here?

the connection to your mother felt too strong to ignore. her maiden name. that tragic love story mrs. son had told you earlier—the one about the sailor and the girl he never got to marry. was that somehow related?

was soobin him?

you reached for the tattered marriage certificate you'd found hidden in your mother’s things earlier. the ink-smudged name of the groom was still unreadable. all you had was a surname—choi. and now, soobin. was it all falling into place? or was your mind inventing connections where none existed?

you pressed your head back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed. “this can’t be real…” you whispered.

you hadn’t even had time to question how you ended up here. one moment you were in your mother’s room, digging through old boxes of memories, and the next… thrown into a version of korea you’d only read about in textbooks. no explanation. no instructions. Just instincts and heartbeats.

and now letters?

your thoughts swirled in chaos, and for the first time since arriving, your resolve faltered.

what if messing with the past had consequences?

what if you were the reason your mother’s love story ended in heartbreak?

what if you were supposed to stop something… or start it?

you pulled your knees to your chest, pressing the letter against your mouth to stifle the rising panic. the room was dark, quiet, humming with a kind of stillness that only came before storms.

and somewhere deep down, you knew:

whatever mission brought you here... it was only beginning.

time moved differently here.

days passed like water slipping through your fingers—slow and heavy, yet gone before you could truly grasp them. you’d started to adapt. your accent had softened, your posture adjusted. you walked with your hands folded in front of you like the other girls. you learned to bow at the right angle, to accept the stares without flinching, and to hide the flicker of your modern instincts when someone used a phrase you’d only seen in dusty textbooks.

in a way, you became someone new. but you never stopped looking over your shoulder, never stopped clutching the growing stack of letters from mr. hong like lifelines.

the latest one arrived tucked between the pages of a history book in the school library, hidden where only you would look. the handwriting, as always, was precise and calm—like a teacher’s, or perhaps a soldier’s.

“it is time to begin. you must guide your mother. help her open her heart to choi soobin. but beware—any alteration of their bond may cause irreversible changes to the future." H.

you read the letter three times, the words branded into your thoughts.

it made your heart ache with confusion.

soobin. always soobin.

you hadn’t seen much of him. he was in a different class, and so was your mother. both of them seemed to float in and out of your orbit like stars you couldn’t quite reach. you’d catch glimpses in the hallway—soobin, surrounded by classmates, a quiet but steady force of gravity. your mother, younger and nothing like the sharp, tired woman you grew up with. she was shy, always fidgeting with her sleeves, eyes lowered, cheeks turning pink when someone said her name.

and yeonjun… yeonjun had become your anchor.

you still didn’t know how it had happened, but one day, you were laughing at his terrible drawing of a teacher during lunch break, and the next, you couldn’t imagine surviving this world without him. he was the only one who could pull you back from the anxiety of feeling like you didn’t belong. the only one who let you be your strange, out-of-place self and still grinned like he was lucky to know you.

but that letter.

that letter twisted your insides.

because if you helped your mother fall in love with soobin… what would that mean for you?

would you vanish?

would your entire existence be erased?

you didn’t want to think about it. not now. not when your life here had finally started to feel like something real.

still, the next day, you found her.

she was standing behind the old school building, near the edge of the soccer field, half-hidden behind a low tree. the spring breeze tugged at her cardigan and sent petals fluttering to the ground. you followed her gaze and, unsurprisingly, found soobin on the field, laughing with a group of boys, his shirt a little untucked, his smile careless and devastating.

you stepped beside her slowly. she flinched when she noticed you.

“oh! you scared me,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

You smiled. “sorry. i didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

she looked down, embarrassed, brushing hair behind her ear. “i was just… watching.”

you waited a moment, then leaned in closer. “do you like him?”

she went still. Her face turned crimson. “n-no! i mean… maybe. he’s… kind.”

you tilted your head. “do you want help?”

her eyes met yours—young, hopeful, unsure. “with what?”

“to… get closer to him,” you said, forcing a calm tone even as your stomach coiled with doubt. “maybe i can help.”

you didn’t know why you offered. maybe because the letter told you to. maybe because there was something sweet about her innocence, about the way she twisted her fingers together like love was something too big for her to hold.

or maybe you just wanted to understand.

to see what could have been.

to believe that everything wasn’t just coincidence.

as she nodded shyly, hope blooming across her face, you felt something cold drip down your spine.

what if she really did fall for him?

what if he loved her back?

what if they married—and you… never existed?

but the letter burned in your pocket like a second heartbeat. you had to trust it. trust that whoever—or whatever—had sent you here knew more than you did.

you forced a smile and said softly, “let’s start with a smile. next time he walks by.”

she looked at you with wide eyes. “just that?”

You nodded. “you’d be surprised what a smile can do.”

but you weren’t thinking of her when you said it.

you were thinking of soobin.

of the moment his eyes met yours for the first time.

and of how your whole world had started to change since.

the evening had that golden hue, the one you only get when the sun starts to sink behind the old buildings, casting everything in a nostalgic warmth. you’d organized the dinner with care. a simple yet modern spot: a small restaurant that served american-style burgers, with metal tables, hanging lights, and a jukebox playing soft romantic ballads in the background.

you thought it would be the perfect setting.

they just needed to coexist, relax, laugh a little. if your mom and soobin could spend time together, maybe you'd fulfill the letter’s request. maybe you could keep moving the pieces without altering the whole game.

yeonjun arrived first, greeting you with his trademark crooked smile and a pack of gum in hand. then came your mom’s friends, followed by soobin, and lastly, your mother, who looked absolutely lovely without realizing it—her hair loose, a navy blue dress with a white collar, and her cheeks flushed, as though simply being here made her nervous.

everything seemed fine… at first.

they all took their seats at a round table. you were between soobin and one of your mom’s friends. your plan was clear: give them space. let them talk, let something spark between them. but it didn’t go as planned.

the friends started whispering among themselves, yeonjun was animatedly talking about a movie he wanted to watch, and somehow, you ended up talking to soobin. again.

it was easy to talk to him. too easy.

both of you ordered the same burger, without even knowing it. you both took the pickles out at the same time and set them aside. at the first bite, you both chewed in sync, making a little involuntary sound of pleasure.

“mmm…”

“mm-hmm…”

you exchanged glances and chuckled. without realizing it, you both reached for napkins to wipe the same spot on your right cheeks at the exact same moment.

“what the hell?” one of your mom’s friends exclaimed, pointing at you both with a smile. “you two choreographed this or what? you look like twins! no, wait—clones!”

everyone laughed, except your mom.

“yeah,” yeonjun murmured, leaning on his elbows, watching you both closely. “even now, you’ve both got food on your cheeks... like two little rabbits.”

the laughter died down. you quickly wiped your mouth and glanced over at your mom.

that look.

you knew it too well. furrowed brows, clenched jaw, eyes cold and full of something between anger and discomfort. you’d seen it a thousand times, when you were younger, when you came home late, when you did something “out of line,” when you weren’t the daughter she needed you to be.

you knew what was coming.

and it came.

she stood up from the table without a word, grabbing her purse with force and walking out of the restaurant hurriedly. the others stared after her, soobin looked around confused, and yeonjun sat up in his seat, about to stand.

you reacted first.

you bolted after her, pushing the restaurant door open, the cold evening air hitting your face. you caught up to her on the sidewalk, calling her name. it felt strange to say her name out loud, like it wasn’t even the right name for her anymore.

she turned to face you abruptly, her eyes wet.

“are you mocking me?” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. “did you really think i wouldn’t notice? you used me. you just wanted to get closer to soobin, didn’t you? used me to play your game.”

you froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“n-no… it’s not like that,” you stammered, looking down at the ground as if you were twelve again and she had just caught you breaking something. “i don’t care about soobin, i swear. i just… wanted to help you.”

she didn’t answer, just stood there, eyes drilling into you with that piercing gaze.

you swallowed hard and said the first thing that came to your mind.

“it’s yeonjun.”

her expression softened slightly. barely noticeable.

“what?”

“i… i like yeonjun.”

she blinked, clearly caught off guard. you could feel the air change.

“what?”

“i... i like yeonjun.” you bit your lip nervously, not entirely sure of what you were saying, but the words felt right somehow. “not soobin. it’s yeonjun.”

you could feel your chest tighten as your mother processed your words. she blinked in surprise, before letting out a small, incredulous laugh.

“yeonjun?” she repeated, eyes widening. “you like yeonjun?”

you nodded sheepishly, the words coming out in a rush. “yeah, i mean… i think i do. but i’m not sure. i’ve just… been thinking about him a lot. you know, he’s kind of—well—different. i feel comfortable around him, i guess.”

you didn’t even realize yeonjun had been listening in from behind a nearby wall. he had been standing there, eavesdropping quietly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

your mother looked at you, and for a brief moment, her anger softened. “i thought you liked soobin…”

you quickly shook your head. “no, not at all. i don’t even see him like that. you know, like how people do with someone famous or something. it’s just not the same…”

suddenly, there was a rustling noise behind you. you turned around to see yeonjun step out from behind the wall, his expression unreadable. you didn’t know if he had heard everything, but from the way his eyes locked with yours, you could tell he had. your cheeks burned.

“i, uh...” yeonjun scratched his head awkwardly. “you didn’t have to tell her that, you know.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but your mother didn’t wait for you to speak. she turned away, the tension still thick in the air.

“i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but... if you really like him, then go for it. i won’t stop you.” her voice was cold, the finality of it stinging. “but don’t use me for your own plans.”

you reached out instinctively, but she was already walking off, her steps quick and purposeful.

you felt a sharp pang in your chest. you hadn’t meant to hurt her.

but in that moment, yeonjun stood beside you, his presence oddly comforting despite the awkwardness of the situation.

the days blurred by as you found yourself caught in the web of your own actions. you had committed to this, to helping your mother—nari—conquer soobin, following the exact instructions hong had given you in that letter. you didn’t dare stray from the plan; it was your duty, a responsibility you couldn’t afford to fail. so, day by day, you found yourself subtly maneuvering your mother closer to Soobin in every possible way.

you'd suggest small moments where they could talk, push nari into soobin’s orbit, casually organizing group hangouts, dinners, or even study sessions. every time they spoke, you’d make sure there were just enough quiet moments where they were alone, hoping for that spark to ignite.

but as the days passed, yeonjun grew suspicious. he was noticing things, and it wasn’t hard to tell. there was something off about the way you acted, like you were always just a little too eager to get your mom and soobin together, like you were pulling invisible strings behind the scenes.

“why do you always look so nervous when i ask about you and soobin?” yeonjun had asked one evening, his eyes narrowing as he watched you carefully.

you froze, unsure of how to answer. you didn’t want to tell him the truth—not yet. it felt impossible to explain, and you certainly couldn’t let him in on the secret. not when it was still so fragile, so delicate.

“i—” you hesitated, then quickly changed the subject. “it’s nothing. just… weird timing, i guess.”

yeonjun wasn’t convinced. “no, it’s not nothing. you’re acting strange, and i don’t buy your story.”

his suspicion lingered, and his questions began to cut a little too close to the truth. you knew you couldn’t keep this up forever. and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. not yet.

“i'm just… doing what I have to do,” you said quietly, your voice barely a whisper. “it’s... a duty, yeonjun. a matter of life or death.”

he blinked in confusion. “a duty? what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you sighed, rubbing your forehead in frustration. “i’ll tell you everything. just not now. i’m not ready yet. but i promise i’ll explain. saturday night, at your grandmother’s restaurant. we’ll talk then.”

yeonjun hesitated but nodded, as if he could sense the gravity of what you weren’t saying.

saturday night arrived quickly. you walked into the cozy, warm restaurant, the smell of grilled meats and spices thick in the air. yeonjun’s grandmother greeted you with a kind smile, and yeonjun led you to a quiet corner. he could tell you were nervous—hell, you were practically shaking with anticipation as you prepared to share your secret.

the moment the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath.

“so,” yeonjun started, leaning forward. “you said you were going to tell me everything. i'm listening.”

sou swallowed hard. there was no turning back now. you couldn’t run from this anymore.

“i—uh... i’ll start from the beginning,” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “a while ago, i found a photo between some old boxes when we were moving. it was a picture of a guy. he looked like he belonged in the past, like he didn’t fit in with the time i'm from.”

yeonjun furrowed his brows. “a guy?”

“yeah,” you nodded, the memories flooding back. “he’s… soobin. and my mom—she’s been acting weird, too. i started paying attention. i mean, she’s not like herself. she’s not the same person i remember. and it’s not just her attitude—there’s something deeper, like a whole other life she’s hiding. but it wasn’t until i found that picture that everything started making sense.”

yeonjun’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “so, this guy, soobin... he’s important, right? but why are you involved? you’re talking about your mom like she’s not... your mom.”

you froze. his question hung in the air, thick and heavy. did he really get it? could he possibly know?

“i—i’m not from here, yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “i’m not from this time. i’m not even from this place.”

he blinked, a frown spreading across his face. “what do you mean? are you—”

“i’m from the future,” you interrupted, your words tumbling out in a rush. “from 2017. i was sent back here, to help my mom, nari. you see, in the future, things went wrong. a lot of things. i was... i was told that if i didn’t do this, something would happen that could ruin everything.”

yeonjun stared at you in disbelief, his face pale as he tried to process what you had just said. “you’re from the future? like, actually? you’re not joking right now?”

you shook your head, watching his expression change from skepticism to pure confusion.

“i’m not joking. i know it sounds insane, but it’s true. and soobin… he’s connected to it all. i think he’s the key to everything.”

“soobin?” yeonjun’s voice was barely a whisper. “is he your—your father?”

the question hit you like a punch in the chest. you had thought about it, briefly, in your mind, but hearing him ask the question was different. it felt real, like it was something that needed an answer.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck in your throat. “i—i don’t know,” you admitted, the words trembling. “my dad... he was choi taesang. i found papers—an old marriage certificate. i even found a small part of his name, ‘bin,’ that matched soobin’s. my mom told me my dad changed his name because of some family issues, inheritance problems... but he died when i was little. i never knew him.”

you stared down at your hands, the weight of the past pressing down on you. “i’m not sure if soobin is my father, but i need to figure this out. i have to help my mom... i have to make sure things happen the way they’re supposed to.”

yeonjun sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed everything you had just told him. the silence stretched between you both, thick with uncertainty.

finally, he exhaled sharply. “so... what happens if you don’t do this? what happens if you fail?”

“i don’t know,” you whispered. “but i can’t take that chance. my existence depends on it.”

yeonjun stayed silent for a long moment, staring directly into your eyes. the disbelief that had once filled his expression seemed to melt away, replaced by something else. it wasn’t confusion anymore. there was a sense of determination now.

“i’ll help you,” he said, his voice confident, almost defiant, as if nothing could stop him. “i won’t let you disappear. i won’t let you face this alone.”

the declaration took you by surprise, and for a moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders lighten slightly. but at the same time, deep inside, something else stirred—sadness. because the simple fact that he was willing to stand by you in all of this meant one thing: sooner or later, you’d have to part ways. If this whole thing worked out, if your mission was fulfilled, your return to the future would be inevitable, and that would mean disappearing from his life, like you’d never been there.

yeonjun looked at you, a playful gleam lighting up his eyes. “in 26 years, i’ll be an old man, and you’ll still be a little kid. just imagining myself as an old man is enough to depress me.” he chuckled lightly. “26 years sounds so far away, but that’s when i’ll need to have everything figured out, right? i need to be satisfied with my life by then.”

you let out a light laugh, the weight of the conversation easing just a little. he was right, though. twenty-six years were a long time in the future, and that was when all of this would come to a head. but he was right. he had to fulfill his dreams and live his life, just as you had to. it made the whole situation feel... less heavy, for a moment.

yeonjun’s tone softened again as he looked at you. “i don’t fully understand your situation, but i know you’re under a lot of pressure. your life depends on this, doesn’t it?”

you nodded, a deep sigh escaping your lips. “it does. i don’t know what’s going to happen, but it feels like i’m running out of time. i... i don’t even know how to explain it.”

you looked at him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “i’ll tell you everything,” you said softly. “come with me to the house where mrs. son is. i’ll show you all the letters. i’ve been keeping everything hidden, but i can’t keep this secret anymore. i’m sorry, mr. hong, for telling you all this... but i just couldn’t anymore.”

later that evening, you and yeonjun found yourselves sitting at the small kitchen table in mrs. son’s house. the air was thick with the weight of the truth you had just revealed, and it was starting to settle in for both of you. the letters, the photo of soobin, the strange messages from hong, and the terrifying idea that you could disappear from the timeline—it was a lot to process. but now, you were facing it all with yeonjun at your side.

yeonjun, still looking a little incredulous but trying his best to absorb everything, leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours for more clarity. "so, if you really are from the future, then... what happens there? what’s it like? What should i be worried about?"

you sighed deeply. the weight of the situation pressed down on you, but you could tell yeonjun was trying to understand, and that made it a little easier to talk. “the future is... weird. so much has changed, and so many things that we take for granted here—like technology—just didn’t exist when i was growing up. it’s all connected. everything is connected.”

yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “connected how?”

you shifted in your seat, gathering your thoughts before continuing. “like, some major things happen in history, things that change the way the world works. like... 9/11.

yeonjun looked confused. “9/11? is that... some sports event?”

you shook your head with a small, sad smile. “no. it was a huge terrorist attack in the united states, and it affected people all over the world. it’s something that... well, it's just a big moment in history. but, for you, it doesn’t really matter. it didn’t affect your life here. in fact, a lot of the things that matter there... just don’t affect you yet.”

yeonjun scratched his head. “that’s... strange. i don’t know much about world events like that.”

“yeah, i guess it’s not on your radar yet,” you replied, “but there are other things, too. football—soccer, i mean—becomes a huge deal in the future. International matches, world cups, they get so much attention. some players... they make history, you know?”

yeonjun perked up, leaning forward now. "wait, really? like who? who makes history?"

you looked at him, a bit taken aback by his sudden interest. “well, in 2002, south korea made it to the semifinals of the world cup. it was a huge deal. the entire country was celebrating. people were so proud of their team.”

yeonjun’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “wait, seriously? south korea in the semifinals? that’s insane!”

you laughed, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm. “yeah. It’s like one of the proudest moments in sports history here.”

yeonjun’s face lit up even more as he absorbed the significance. "i can't wait to see that happen in the future. when it does, you’ll have to remind me, okay? i’ll throw a big celebration for it! just wait, i’m going to be ready to party!"

it was an unexpected reaction, but it made you smile. despite all the heavy stuff you were dealing with, yeonjun’s excitement about something so simple—celebrating a victory in a future that hadn't even happened yet—felt comforting. for a moment, it was like things weren’t so complicated. like he was still just a normal guy with normal dreams.

you could tell that, despite his earlier confusion, yeonjun was beginning to feel more at ease with the whole situation. “it’s going to happen, just not right now. but hey,” you said, “maybe we can actually watch it together. i mean... if i’m still around.”

yeonjun nodded, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “we will. and i won’t let you disappear. not on my watch.”

it was said half-jokingly, but the sincerity behind his words was clear. you both sat there for a moment, allowing the silence to settle, but it wasn’t awkward. it felt... comfortable, like the weight of the truth was finally beginning to feel a little more bearable. yeonjun, despite all the confusion, was on your side. and that meant more to you than you realized.

“so,” yeonjun started, breaking the silence, “what’s next? what are you going to do with all this?”

you looked at the pile of letters on the table, still half-distracted by everything that had happened. “i don’t know yet. but i think i have to help my mom with soobin. i’m supposed to—well, the letters say it’s important. i just... i don’t know why. it’s all so weird.”

he leaned in closer, his tone serious now. “i don’t understand it all, but i get that you’ve got something you need to do. and i’ll help. whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. together.”

there was a sense of resolve in his voice now, a shift from the playful teasing earlier. he was no longer just a friend caught in the middle of your confusing life. he was someone who genuinely wanted to help you, someone who was willing to dive into the chaos with you and not back down.

and for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope—hope that things might actually work out, no matter how strange and twisted your situation seemed.

the days passed, and as you and yeonjun continued to help your mother and soobin grow closer, you found a sense of tranquility in the small moments that blossomed between you both. you had done it. you’d helped them get to this point, this delicate moment where your mom was finally smiling in a way you had never seen before. the bond between her and soobin was undeniable, and watching it grow made your heart swell. it was a feeling you couldn’t quite explain—like a mix of pride and relief that you had completed a part of your task, something that had been weighing on your shoulders from the very beginning. but you weren’t just a passive observer anymore. you had become part of their story.

and on that day, march 15th, when your mom and soobin posed for their first photo together, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle in your chest. it was a moment you had carefully worked towards, a culmination of your efforts to see them happy, to see them closer. you were the one who took the picture, the one who captured their smiles—their shared joy that lit up the frame. they didn’t know it yet, but this photo would become a symbol of so much more than just a casual memory. it was a milestone, a turning point in all their lives.

you stood behind the camera, the lens capturing the gentle moment between them, and your eyes shifted to yeonjun, who was standing next to you. “you think they’ll be okay?” you whispered, adjusting the focus of the camera.

he looked at you with a soft smile, his voice gentle. “i think so. they’re finally seeing each other for who they really are.” his words were comforting, and you couldn’t help but feel that warmth expand.

but as you stood there, camera in hand, it wasn’t just their happiness that lingered in your heart. yeonjun, who had been standing next to you the entire time, his shoulder brushing against yours as you captured the moment, made the whole day feel like it was meant for the two of you. you had become part of something larger than yourself, something far beyond just the letters and the tasks hong had laid out for you. you had become a part of this world, a world that, in its own way, felt like it belonged to you and yeonjun.

days later, you found yourself sitting in your room, carefully sorting through the photos. there were the ones with your mom and soobin, their smiles as wide as the world itself. but then, there were others—the ones you had taken with yeonjun. the ones that seemed so simple, yet carried so much weight. you had never intended to take those pictures, but in the rush of moments, you had. there was the one where you both were riding his bike down the narrow, windy streets, laughing as he swerved the bike just to hear you squeal in fear. or the one where you were sitting on the school rooftop, your legs dangling over the edge as you whispered things about your time, things that felt like secrets shared between two souls who had no business existing in the same moment. those were the photos you’d kept—hidden in a little corner of your heart, tucked into the back of your mind.

you hesitated before pulling one of the pictures from the pile, the one where you were wrapped in yeonjun’s arms as he rode the bike. his face was full of joy, eyes crinkled in a grin, while you were buried in the back of his jacket, your face flushed from the wind and the thrill. you thought about whether it was allowed, whether it was okay to keep such a thing, but in that moment, you didn’t care. this photo, this simple image of you and yeonjun, held something more. something you didn’t have words for yet.

you tucked it carefully into your bag, your fingers grazing the edges of the photo one last time before you turned your attention back to the other picture—the one of your mom and soobin. you felt your heart tighten as you looked at her face, her expression softer than you had ever seen it. there was a glow there, an undeniable happiness that hadn’t been present before. she looked younger somehow, the years of hardship fading away beneath the tender light of a new love—of the first fluttering steps into something that could only be described as the beginning of something beautiful. you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotion wash over you. the woman who had always been so strong, so independent, was now looking at soobin with a softness that made her seem... fragile in the most endearing way. her cheeks flushed with the warmth of her newfound feelings, and her eyes sparkled with the innocence of someone discovering love for the very first time. it was almost impossible to imagine, but there she was, looking at him with a glow that almost seemed surreal.

you didn’t hesitate. you handed the photo to her, watching her take it with trembling hands, eyes scanning it like it was the most precious thing in the world. she looked at soobin, then back at the photo, and then back at you. for a moment, she didn’t say anything, and you almost wondered if she had even noticed the way her face changed. but then she smiled—a smile that wasn’t forced or polite. it was genuine, a smile that came from deep within her, and you realized, for the first time, that maybe you had finally done the right thing.

as the days passed, the air around your relationship with yeonjun grew lighter. you found yourselves spending more and more time together, and each moment seemed to deepen the connection between you both. It was something unspoken, an invisible thread that kept pulling you toward him, no matter how much you tried to resist it. there were moments when it felt so natural, so easy. riding on his bike—your arms wrapped around his waist, your face pressed against his back, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. he never seemed to mind. and when you helped him out at his grandmother’s restaurant on weekends, scrambling around the kitchen and laughing as you tried to juggle orders, it felt right. it felt like home.

“thanks for helping me today,” yeonjun said, a smile tugging at his lips as you wiped your hands on your apron. he stood next to you, leaning against the counter, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

“of course,” you answered, glancing up at him with a playful smile. “what else are friends for?”

he grinned back, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something you both avoided acknowledging. “friends, huh?” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

“yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned back to the counter, not daring to look him in the eye.

and when the two of you snuck away from class to spend a few stolen minutes on the school’s rooftop, your legs dangling over the edge, it was like time stood still. you’d share bits of your world with him—small things, like the way your phone had changed from an old flip model to a sleek, glass-covered touchscreen. or the way people started using the internet for everything, even their grocery shopping. but when you spoke about the past, about the things that would come to pass, there was always that look in his eyes—one that made your heart beat faster, as though he was hanging on to your every word, each story you told drawing him closer.

“so… the first man on the moon, huh?” yeonjun asked, a twinkle in his eye as he leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “that’s a big deal in your time?”

“it is,” you answered softly, nodding. “it changed the way we see the world. the idea that we could be more than just earth-bound.” you paused, catching your breath before continuing. “it was… a promise. a promise that anything is possible.”

yeonjun’s gaze softened as he absorbed your words, the weight of them hanging in the air between you. there was something unspoken in that moment, something fragile, like the threads of a story yet to be fully told. you were both trapped in this moment, floating in the same strange space, neither of you daring to say what was on your mind, but both of you feeling it all the same.

“maybe one day we’ll go to the moon,” he said quietly, a light laugh escaping his lips. “wouldn’t that be something?”

you smiled, your chest swelling with a feeling you couldn’t name. maybe one day. maybe one day, you and yeonjun would do just that.

under the clear early-winter sky, you and yeonjun lay side by side on the worn-out blanket he had brought to the rooftop of the shared house. It was one of those nights that felt like it belonged in a diary—quiet, cold, intimate, and framed by a dome of stars so dazzling they seemed ready to spill from the heavens.

the night sky was purer than anything you'd seen in your own time. no pollution. no smog. no glowing cities to wash it all out. just the two of you, and a universe that felt infinite.

“the stars…” you whispered, eyes wide, fixed on the constellations. “they’re so beautiful here. so clear. in the future, you can’t see them like this anymore.”

yeonjun turned his head to look at you. his gaze was soft, filled with that quiet curiosity he always seemed to have when it came to you. “really? not even on clear nights?”

you shook your head, a breath slipping from your lips like smoke in the cold. “not even then. the city lights drown everything out. it’s like the stars have disappeared completely.”

he was quiet for a moment, watching the sky as if trying to memorize it for you—like he could bottle the night and give it to you to take home. then his voice dropped low, barely louder than a thought. “what do you think would’ve happened… if you’d never come here? if you hadn’t time-traveled?”

the question caught you off guard. your fingers brushed against his, half-consciously seeking him out on the fabric between you. “i don’t know,” you admitted truthfully. “maybe… we’d have never met.”

yeonjun let out a soft laugh—not teasing, just warm and tinged with something bittersweet. “yeah… i probably would've kept going with my life. not knowing someone like you even existed.”

“that sounds really sad,” you murmured.

he turned onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to face you fully. the starlight reflected in his eyes, making them shine. “y/n,” he said quietly, “i think i was born just to meet you.”

your heart clenched. the words hit you in a way that felt too big for your chest. cheesy. ridiculous. impossible. but still—so honest it hurt.

you smiled, cheeks flushed pink from more than just the cold. “maybe i was born to travel through time… just to meet you.”

he blinked slowly, then grinned. “so destiny was playing matchmaker, huh?”

“looks like it,” you said, nudging his shoulder.

it wasn’t a confession. not really. but the space between you shifted, electric and fragile. there were no titles, no labels. just the quiet knowledge that you felt the same—unspoken, yet undeniably there.

since your arrival, months had passed. it was now early 1992. your mother and soobin were officially dating, a real couple. it felt surreal. every time you looked at them, you could feel your mission inching closer to its end.

yeonjun was starting to prepare for university applications. his excitement was contagious—he’d talk about moving to seoul, walking through huge lecture halls, making music with other artists. sometimes he’d describe it so vividly you felt like you were already there with him.

“you should come with me,” he said one afternoon while helping you dry bowls at the restaurant. “if you’re still here when school starts.”

you blinked at him. “you mean… to seoul?”

“yeah. why not? you can live in a rooftop apartment next to mine. we’ll eat cheap ramen together. i’ll walk you to your classes.”

your laugh was quiet. “i don’t even know if i’ll still be here. if my mom’s already dating soobin, maybe… maybe it’s almost over. maybe I’ll be sent back soon.”

his smile faltered a little. “right…”

there was a beat of silence before he asked it again—the question that lingered over both of you like a shadow.

“do you think soobin’s your dad?”

you exhaled slowly, eyes falling to the sink. “i don’t know. i wish i did. But i won’t know anything until i go back and… ask her. for real.”

yeonjun nodded, lips pressed tight. you could tell he hated the unknown, hated that all of this—the time you had together—was out of your hands.

still, he leaned in closer, his shoulder bumping yours. “whatever happens… i’m glad we met.”

you tilted your head toward him. “even if i disappear one day without warning?”

he looked at you, eyes unwavering. “even then.”

and in that moment, beneath the stars of a world untouched by time, your hands found each other again. fingers interlaced, quiet and certain. there were no promises. no confessions.

but you both knew the truth.

even without a name, this—whatever it was between you—was real.

though soobin and your mother acted like shy high school sweethearts—barely daring to hold hands in public, cheeks flushed at the simplest touch—you’d heard him once when he thought no one else was listening.

“i want to take you to meet my parents,” soobin had said, voice steady but soft. “i want their blessing. i know we’re young, but i’ve never been so sure about anything.”

your mother had stared at him, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. and you… you had frozen behind the door, hand on your chest, trying to breathe quietly.

it wasn’t just puppy love. soobin meant it. he was serious about her. about a future with her.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. was this… really your father?

you didn’t know what to feel. or say. or even think. all you could do was watch. hope. wait for time to untangle itself beneath your anxious feet.

through it all, yeonjun had been patient with you. so sweetly patient it almost hurt. he never rushed you, never asked for more than you were ready to give. he held your hand when you offered it. stayed close when you needed someone to lean on. you were happy—so achingly, dizzyingly happy—but every so often, reality would fall on you like cold water.

you weren’t meant to stay here. not forever.

you didn’t belong in the past.

if you stayed, who knew what chaos you could cause? butterfly wings and hurricanes. your existence here was a ticking bomb—you just didn’t know when it would explode.

letters from mr. hong still came, even after your confession to yeonjun. he didn’t mention what you’d done. he didn’t seem angry or hurt. just distant. polite. almost like a mentor trying to keep things strictly professional now.

but then… in may, a letter came that chilled you to the bone.

"this will be the last letter, but it doesn’t mean your mission is over. you may stay in the past for weeks, or months, even after this. but something dark is coming. something that will shake the foundation of everything you’ve protected until now. in august, during the farewell party for the senior students… something will happen. be alert. watch closely. whatever happens, protect them." -H.

your eyes scanned the paper in panic, fingers trembling.

you memorized every word. you carried the letter folded tight in your bag, your pillow, your pockets. you barely slept. you watched your mother like a hawk, stuck to soobin’s side more than ever. you hoped it was paranoia. that maybe nothing would happen.

but august arrived.

and so did the storm.

the night of the farewell party was warm and buzzing, the air thick with the joy of students celebrating the end of a chapter. you wore a borrowed dress, hair tucked up, eyes scanning every face. yeonjun stayed close. you could feel his hand grazing yours whenever you drifted.

then, it happened.

scream. loud. sharp. ripping through the music.

you turned and saw soobin—face twisted in rage—hitting a boy again and again. the boy on the floor was bleeding from the mouth, gasping, trying to block the blows. around them, students scattered, screaming. a teacher tried to pull soobin back, but soobin was gone. blind with fury.

someone yelled your mother’s name.

uou turned and saw her—shaking, pale, clothes torn at the shoulder, crying.

and then the cops arrived.

sirens. chaos. lights blinding.

they took soobin in cuffs. he didn’t fight it. he just turned to look at your mother, blood on his knuckles, and said, “i’m sorry.”

everything spiraled after that.

you learned later what had happened. the boy—older, drunk—had cornered your mother. tried to force himself on her. soobin had found them just in time.

but justice wasn’t simple.

soobin’s father, a well-known senator, came crashing down with fury. his name had been dragged through mud. his son in a scandal. a fight. a girl.

he beat soobin the night he got home. soobin showed up days later at your mom's house, face swollen, lip split. he said nothing. just hugged your mother and cried.

and then came the final blow.

his father announced that after soobin’s brief juvenile sentence, he’d be sent to the u.s. for good. a fresh start. a new life. a university abroad.

he was forbidden from seeing your mother again.

she wore the promise ring on her finger still. tiny, silver, nothing flashy—but it shimmered like a thousand diamonds when the light hit it. soobin had given it to her just weeks ago.

“i’ll marry you one day,” he’d whispered. “i swear.”

now she barely left her room. she stopped eating. stopped smiling. her eyes were always red.

you watched it all unfold. helpless. like your chest was being split open from the inside. you thought this was it. you thought this was the end of your mission—and that you’d failed.

maybe you were supposed to stop it. maybe this was the event. maybe this was what you were meant to prevent.

but now it was done.

and you hadn’t stopped it.

one night, after crying so hard your body physically ached, you found yourself in the backyard, curled up on a bench, arms wrapped around your knees.

yeonjun found you there.

he didn’t say anything. he just sat beside you, then gently pulled you into his chest. his arms wrapped around you like a shield. you buried your face in his sweater and sobbed. he stroked your hair slowly, patiently, as if telling you without words: i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.

“i think i ruined everything,” you whispered, voice raw.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly.

“i didn’t stop it. i didn’t protect them.”

“you’ve done more than anyone ever could,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "you’ve loved them. that matters. that always matters.”

you closed your eyes.

and for the first time since august began, you let yourself fall apart. safely. in yeonjun’s arms.

even if everything else was crashing down, at least—for now—he was still here.

the months slipped by like smoke between your fingers.

from august to october, the colors around you changed—summer golds fading into autumn reds, then the gray hush of early october. but inside the house, inside your mother's room, it was always winter.

she tried to smile. tried to live. you made her tea, left her notes, held her hand through silences that stretched across entire afternoons. but you couldn’t force her heart to forget.

she had been in love with soobin since the very first day.

it had been fast. intense. a fire that lit her from the inside out—and now, after being torn apart so cruelly, she was trying to breathe through the ashes.

“everything i felt for him was real,” she whispered one night, curled beneath her blanket like a ghost of herself. “i’ve never loved someone like that. and now he’s gone.”

he was gone. living on the other side of the world. his father had made good on his promise—sent him to the u.s., far from everything that made him human. from her. from you.

at first, letters came. they were sweet, hopeful, full of aching promises.

but then they stopped.

you weren’t sure if he was being watched, controlled, or if he’d been forced to forget her by the cold grip of his powerful family. all you knew was that her mailbox stayed empty. and your mother stayed broken.

but in your corner of this spiraling world, there was yeonjun.

yeonjun, who saw you even when you tried to disappear behind your guilt. yeonjun, who didn’t ask for more than what you could give. who held your fears gently in the curve of his palm and waited for you to breathe again.

he was the only one who could calm your unraveling thoughts.

but even that peace became fractured. as october arrived, he pulled away—not emotionally, but physically, lost in piles of paperwork and meetings and test prep for university in seoul.

days would pass without seeing him. you waited, restless. you’d grown addicted to his presence, to the way his voice softened your panic and made the world feel less heavy.

so when he finally said through the phone “let’s have dinner tonight. just us,” your heart skipped like a stone over water.

it was a sunday evening.

the sun had set early, painting the sky in smudges of burnt orange and deep plum. the air was crisp but not cold, the kind that wrapped around your skin like a silk scarf. the streets were quiet, glowing under amber streetlamps, trees shivering slightly in the breeze.

he waited for you at the tteokbokki place—the same spot where you'd first laughed over spicy sauce and nervous glances months ago.

but this time… he looked different.

he’d styled his hair back with gel, revealing the full line of his forehead and the soft arch of his brows. it made him look older, more refined. dangerous, even. the boyish charm hadn’t vanished—it had evolved, carved into something breathtaking.

you blinked, stunned. “you… you look so hot.”

he nearly choked on his water, laughing. “what?”

“i mean it. the hair. it suits you. you look like a model or something.”

his cheeks flushed red. “you can’t just say that and act normal.”

you leaned forward, smug. “i just did.”

the tension melted into warm laughter, echoing between the tiled walls of the tiny restaurant. it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

then, you picked up a piece of tteokbokki, holding it in your chopsticks. “say ‘ahh~’.”

he gave you a playful side-eye. “are we really doing this?”

“yes,” you grinned. “we’re method acting as a couple. you need to commit.”

he opened his mouth with a dramatic sigh. “ahhh—”

you fed him the piece, your fingers brushing his lips by accident, and you both burst out laughing. it was ridiculous. silly. but the way he was looking at you—it wasn’t silly at all.

then he said it.

“i love you.”

the world stopped.

your smile froze on your lips. time seemed to fracture around you, holding its breath.

before you could speak, he continued, voice lower now, almost trembling.

“i know you’ll leave. i know this isn’t your world. but you have something that belongs to you. me.” he reached across the table, took your hand. “even if our time is short… i want to spend it with you. i don’t want to regret not saying it. i don’t want to spend the next 26 years wishing i had.”

your throat tightened. your fingers gripped his.

“i like you, y/n. I like you so much it hurts. and if the universe tears us apart, i’ll be reborn just to find you again. in every timeline, i’ll search for you. always.”

your heart beat so fast it hurt. your mouth was dry. your body frozen.

but he wasn’t waiting for permission anymore.

he stood, leaned over the table, and kissed you.

softly. slowly. like the world didn’t matter.

his lips tasted like tteokbokki and heartbreak, sweet and fiery all at once. your eyes fluttered shut. everything blurred. the restaurant, the lights, the soft chatter of other customers—all vanished.

there was only him. his mouth against yours. his breath brushing your cheek. his hand cradling the side of your neck with delicate reverence.

the world spun.

but for the first time in months, you didn’t care.

you kissed him back. you kissed him like he was the only thing anchoring you to this moment.

because maybe he was.

you started a relationship without labeling it. no one asked, “will you be mine?” they just... were. and that was enough.

no promises, no declarations. only two hearts quietly choosing each other in the midst of borrowed time.

yeonjun didn’t push you. he never asked for forever. he just gave you his time—every second of it. and you, with a heart full of fear and a mind screaming you don’t belong here, you gave him everything you could.

your moments, your awkward laughs, your unsure hands, your kisses that tasted like soft desperation, your half-written thoughts and unfinished dreams.

every date felt like a stolen lifetime.

one warm afternoon, he took you to the park with an old checkered blanket and a thermos full of hot chocolate. he brought his vintage camera and snapped pictures of you while the sun painted you in gold.

“you look like a memory,” he said, looking at you through the lens like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

another night, you strolled through the streets hand in hand, fingers tangled loosely, like a promise never spoken.

you passed by old storefronts and flickering streetlights, until you found a small cinema playing black and white films.

he held your thumb the whole time, tracing slow circles into your skin, and you weren’t even watching the movie— you were memorizing the way his jaw looked in the flickering light, how he leaned close when he laughed.

on a lazy saturday, he took you to a dusty secondhand bookstore tucked between an old pharmacy and a fruit shop.

you two hid between shelves, reading poetry aloud, laughing when he made up the endings, and somewhere between the little prince and a forgotten romance novel, he kissed you again— slow, reverent, like you were made of something holy.

some mornings, you just stayed home.

he made pancakes in a worn apron with a bunny print, and you danced around in oversized socks, hair a mess, and he’d tell you, “you’re my favorite song.” and you’d whisper back, how am i supposed to leave this?

but you didn’t say it out loud. you didn’t have to. you both knew.

and still—he stayed.

and still—you loved him.

while yeonjun became your calm, your anchor, your mother began to slowly stitch herself back together.

not in grand gestures. not overnight. but little by little.

she stopped crying in the mornings. she let you brush her hair again.

she smiled at breakfast, not because she was over soobin, but because she remembered how to feel sunlight on her skin.

you watched her heal. you watched her reread soobin’s old letters with trembling fingers, tears still fresh, but her spine straighter.

“i’ve never loved someone like that before,” she confessed one night while folding laundry, voice soft as dusk. “it all happened so fast… it was real. i know it was.”

and you nodded, because you saw it— the way they looked at each other like time was a thief.

and you were living that same story now. with your own boy. your own impossible love.

except you didn’t know how yours would end.

only that it had already changed you. forever.

it was thursday. early. too early.your eyes were heavy, your limbs sluggish with the weight of not enough sleep.

your mind replayed the night before in soft flashes— you and yeonjun lying side by side, talking about everything and nothing. he told you he'd be leaving at dawn to catch the train to seoul. his csat exam. he had smiled when he said it, eyes wide with excitement and nerves.

“i’ll take the 6 a.m. train,” he whispered. “i want to be early… less stress that way.”

you’d nodded, fingers brushing his. you kissed him—sleepy and slow—and told him good luck. told him you’d buy cake and celebrate when he came back. he grinned, “then now i’m more excited about the cake than the exam.”

your chest ached gently with the memory. how warm his voice had sounded. how real he’d felt.

you went about your morning like any other. brushed your teeth. took a quick shower. you padded downstairs, hair still damp, the floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet.

mrs. son was already up, bustling in the kitchen, apron tied neatly at her waist. the scent of warm broth and toasted rice filled the air. you walked past her to the small calendar on the wall.

she reached it before you. ripped off yesterday’s page in one clean motion. november 12th.

you froze a second. something tugged at your gut. but you shook it off.

“need help?” you asked, voice light.

“set the table, darling,” she said, smiling.

you did. poured the tea. laid out the bowls. and sat down across from her.

she talked casually as you ate. about the weather. the street cats.then she looked up from her spoon and grinned.

“you really won the lottery with that one, huh? so handsome, your yeonjun. if i had met someone like him in my youth…” she sighed dramatically.

you laughed. but there was a tremble in it. because this wasn't your youth. and it wasn't your time.

you were borrowing this moment. and somewhere inside, you knew the clock was ticking.

after breakfast, you stayed in the living room, watching a slow moving drama with mrs. son. she liked to yell at the characters, complain about the villains, cheer for the lovers. you leaned your head against the cushion, letting her voice wash over you, but your mind drifted again.

to his voice. to his train. to his smile as he said “see you tonight.”

and then—

the screen cut to static. just for a second. then the image returned, but it wasn’t the drama anymore.

breaking news.

you sat up.

a smoky image filled the screen. metal twisted into grotesque shapes, a train on its side, the ground scorched and steaming. bodies—blurry—too blurry— sirens. flashing lights.

your blood went ice cold. your lungs forgot how to breathe.

“the train… the train from incheon to seoul has… derailed—”

and you knew. you didn’t need them to say it. you knew.

the flashback hit you like a bullet— “the tragic accident of the incheon-seoul express…” your own voice, from before. before all of this.

“no.” the word spilled from you in a whisper. then louder. “no—no—no—YEONJUN!”

mrs. son barely had time to react before you were on your feet, heart slamming against your ribs like it wanted to shatter them, legs moving without direction—without control.

you burst out of the house, wind clawing at your skin, eyes blind with tears.

how could i be so stupid? you knew. YOU KNEW. you had the date. the place. the headline burned into your memory. and you let him go.

your breath tore out of you in gasps as you flagged down the first taxi you saw. the driver looked at you wide-eyed as you shouted,

“the train wreck—take me there. please—now.”

“miss, they won’t let you near it. police closed everything. it’s chaos—”

“my boyfriend is there!” your scream cracked your throat raw. “he’s in there—i have to get to him—i have to—”

he drove.

but you were already breaking. from the inside out. because the pieces were fitting together, one after another like cruel clockwork.

you could save your mom. you could save soobin.

but not him.

yeonjun. your bright light. your stolen season of peace. and you’d let him go with a kiss and the promise of cake.

god, why didn’t you say don’t go? why didn’t you scream the truth

you pressed your forehead to the car window, watching the blur of streets race past, but all you saw were his eyes. his hands. his smile.

the memory of his “i love you” slammed into your chest like a truck.

your vision tunneled. everything felt muffled. your body was still moving, still trying, but some part of you had already shattered.

you felt it. a cold certainty deep in your bones.

he was gone. and you’d known it. and you couldn’t stop it.

the sobs started in your gut—ugly, loud, and you curled into yourself in the back of that taxi, screaming his name as if the wind might carry it back in time and stop him from boarding that train.

but time, as always, didn’t listen.

the taxi barely slowed when you pushed the door open.

"hey! miss! what the hell—!" you didn’t hear the rest. your feet hit the pavement hard and fast. cars honked around you, drivers yelling, but none of it registered.

you ran.

the train station loomed ahead, a warped silhouette behind smoke and flashing lights. traffic had collapsed around it—cars trapped in a gridlock of sirens and screams. people were everywhere, shouting, crying, pacing the sidewalks with phones pressed to their ears, desperate for news.

but you only had one thought. one name.

yeonjun.

your breath tore from you in bursts as you shoved through the crowd, ignoring the sting of elbows and the heat of panic. you had to find him. he was here.

he was—

a loud honk split the air behind you.

you turned your head— just a flicker— and saw it.

a car.

too fast.

too close.

your eyes widened. you didn’t scream. just a choked, helpless whimper as your knees locked in place.

then—

impact.

your world tilted. the sky spun. your body flew—weightless— before slamming into the ground with a sickening crack.

pain.

then nothing.

voices.

screams.

doors slamming.

tires screeching.

everything faded—

the colors, the sounds, the smell of smoke and burning metal. all of it fell away, until even your mind went quiet.

you gasped awake. your scream pierced the sterile silence of the hospital room. your body jolted upright, limbs flailing beneath thin sheets, the ache in your chest unbearable.

"YEON—"

but the name—

the name—

what was the name?

you froze, heart hammering wildly as tears welled in your eyes. there was a face. a smile. soft brown eyes that crinkled when he laughed. warm hands. a voice that said “i love you” in the quiet.

but the name. what was his name?

a soft thud.

your mom—

startled awake from the small couch by the window.

“baby—baby, you're awake! oh my god—" she rushed to your side, holding your trembling hands.

you blinked at her. tried to speak, but your throat burned.

the door burst open. nurses flooded in, followed by a doctor with a clipboard and calm urgency.

“heart rate’s spiking—she’s in shock—prepare a sedative—” no. no. you didn’t want to forget.

you clung to the face in your mind. you bit your tongue to stay conscious. you tried to picture him— his eyes, his laugh, the way he said your name.

but the details blurred. the voice faded. and worst of all— you couldn’t remember what you used to call him. what he used to call you.

your body thrashed on the bed until the needle slid into your arm. warmth spread through your veins, thick and heavy, dragging you down.

you sobbed. not from pain— but from the terrible emptiness blooming inside your chest. something was gone. someone was gone.

when you woke again, it was quiet.your mother sat beside you, stroking your hair with gentle fingers. her eyes were red.

“you scared me,” she whispered. “you passed out two nights ago. i found you by the closet. you wouldn’t wake up.”

two nights?

your lips parted.

your voice came out hoarse.

“two nights…?”

“yeah. the doctor says you were dehydrated. exhausted. they ran some tests, but…” she paused. her brows furrowed. “they think it might have been psychological. you were… crying in your sleep.”

your mind raced. no—no— you were gone for longer than that. you lived another life. with another family. with him.

but the memories were slipping like sand through your fingers.

“i was somewhere else,” you murmured, barely audible. your mother leaned in.

“what, sweetheart?”

you shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “i—I was in the past. i was with… with…”

his face.

for a moment it was there again.

just a flicker.

but when you tried to focus—

when you tried to hold it still—

it scattered like dust.

you choked on a sob.

what kind of cruel joke was this?

you remembered how it felt.

the love.

the joy.

the heartbreak.

but not him.

not even his name.

you wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into yourself on the hospital bed.

“mom…” your voice cracked. “i think i lost someone important.”

she looked at you with quiet confusion, not understanding what you meant. but how could she?

how do you explain losing a person you’re not even sure existed anymore? how do you mourn someone your mind won’t let you remember?

but your heart knew. somewhere deep down, in a place no medicine could reach— it knew.

and it hurt like hell.

a month had passed since you were discharged from the hospital. the doctors said you had collapsed from shock, that maybe it was stress, dehydration, or a neurological response. none of them had a real explanation for why you’d been unconscious for so long, or why, when you finally woke up, you whispered a name you couldn’t remember and cried for someone who didn’t exist.

your body had recovered. you could walk, eat, shower, smile if you really had to. but something inside you felt... disconnected. sometimes you would stare out the window for hours, not even noticing the sun moving across the sky. sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night with tears on your cheeks and an ache in your chest that wouldn’t let you breathe. other times you felt like a ghost living in your own skin—aware, but not present.

you couldn’t ride the train again. even the sound of one passing in the distance made your knees weak and your hands tremble. it was irrational. you knew that. but every time you tried, something deep inside screamed at you not to go. a primal terror wrapped around your ribs and wouldn’t let go. maybe it was trauma from the collapse. maybe it was something you brought back with you. you weren’t sure anymore.

you tried to convince yourself that none of it had happened. that it was just a vivid dream your brain created while you were unconscious. it had to be, right? people don’t just fall into different timelines. they don’t leap through summers that never existed, meet boys with eyes like galaxies, or change the past. yet, no matter how many times you repeated that logic to yourself, it never stuck. something in you knew it had been real. and that knowing haunted you.

you had changed. you were quieter now, reserved. you spoke only when necessary and often found yourself zoning out in the middle of conversations, eyes unfocused as if you were somewhere else entirely. school felt like noise. people buzzed around you, but you couldn’t keep up. your grades dropped. you didn’t care. you didn’t connect with anyone. making friends felt pointless when your heart still lived in a different time.

your relationship with your mother had shifted too. after your collapse, she was visibly worried, almost overly attentive—but you couldn’t let her in. not after everything. not when you remembered her as the teenage girl you met that summer, crying into your arms, struggling through heartbreak. that memory clashed too harshly with the woman sitting at the dinner table now, asking if you’d done your homework. you had built a wall between the two of you, and she didn’t know how to climb over it.

and then, one evening as you both sat eating dinner in silence, the question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“is soobin my father?”

the fork in her hand froze mid-air, and her eyes flicked to yours, wide and sharp with alarm. her mouth parted slightly in surprise, brows furrowing in clear discomfort. you regretted asking immediately—until her expression softened. she sighed and set the fork down, folding her hands in her lap as she looked at you with a strange mixture of vulnerability and nostalgia.

“no,” she said quietly. “he’s not.”

your stomach twisted, unsure if the answer brought relief or disappointment. she looked away for a moment, as if remembering something from a dream of her own.

“soobin... was someone i knew in high school,” she continued. “he was sweet. shy, but in a charming way. he helped me get through something really hard. i remember this girl who was there too—she supported me, made me feel less alone—but i can’t remember her name now. it’s strange. i remember her eyes, her voice, but... not her name.”

your throat tightened. that was you. but you said nothing.

“soobin and i dated for a while. we thought we were meant for each other. but life had other plans. he left for the united states. we tried to stay in touch, but... things faded. i fell apart for a while. but eventually, in college, i met someone else. your father. choi wonbin.”

the name hit you like a wave. your eyes widened, heart stuttering in your chest. wonbin. not soobin. and that explained everything. that was why you hadn’t vanished when soobin left. that was why the timeline remained intact. your existence had never depended on him. your mother smiled softly, almost laughing to herself.

“i know, i know. soobin, wonbin—it sounds ridiculous. just a coincidence,” she said. “but sometimes... life is full of coincidences that somehow make sense.”

for the first time in weeks, the tension in your shoulders eased. it was as if a door had opened. as if something that had been stuck finally began to shift. and for the first time since you returned, you felt a sliver of peace.

a week later, a package arrived for you. it was small, lightweight, and addressed in delicate handwriting. your fingers trembled as you opened it. inside, you found a single letter. your breath hitched the moment your eyes recognized the script. it was his.

mr. hong.

“y/n, it wasn’t a dream. you really did travel through time. the reason you’re still alive and well is because you followed the path that was meant to be. everything happened as it had to. even the painful parts. even the losses. you played your part with courage, with love. thank you. now, rest. beautiful things await you. this is my final goodbye. live, y/n. truly live. —hong.”

your vision blurred as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. you clutched the letter to your chest, heart aching with a grief that had no words. you didn’t know why it hurt so much. only that something inside you had broken open. maybe it was because it had been real. maybe because it was over. maybe because someone had finally said thank you.

a few days later, your homeroom teacher called you into his office. you weren’t in the mood for anything. you shuffled into the room with tired steps and blank eyes.

“we have a transfer student,” he said with a warm smile. “i’d like you to show him around. since you’re both new, maybe you can help each other.”

you nodded absently, barely paying attention. your gaze drifted to his desk—a black pen, a leather-bound notebook—and something about the handwriting on the paper caught your eye. your stomach flipped. before you could say anything, he stood up suddenly.

“ah—excuse me, i have to take this call. meet him while i step out, alright?”

and then the door opened.

you turned.

your breath left your body.

there he stood.

tall. familiar. too real to be real.

ear piercings gleaming. airpods in. hands buried in his pockets. that same effortless cool. the exact look you remembered, etched into every corner of your heart.

he smiled at you—soft, warm, and impossibly alive.

“hi,” he said, voice smooth and gentle. “i’m yeonjun. son yeonjun. please take care of me.”

your knees buckled. your lungs stopped working. your heart screamed.

“you’re real,” you whispered.

he stepped closer without hesitation, taking your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

“i told you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, “i was born to meet you. and i’d follow you through time. in every line. every world.”

you choked on a sob as the tears spilled over. he wiped them away with quiet tenderness.

“we were meant to find each other. no matter when. no matter where.”

your arms wrapped around him, and he pulled you close—tight, grounding, safe. you buried your face in his chest and breathed him in. he smelled like summer rain and all the moments you thought you’d lost.

he tilted your chin, looked into your eyes with infinite softness, and kissed you. gently. surely. like it was always meant to happen.

and in that kiss, everything returned—every laugh, every memory, every promise unspoken.

outside, the rain began to fall. soft. steady.

but inside the room, wrapped in his arms, you felt the warmth of a hundred summers.

and this time, you knew with your whole heart—

you were home.

363 notes · View notes

bee-the-loser-recs · 11 months ago

Text

✩✮✩ My Yeonjun One-shot Fic Recs ✩✮✩

★ 11.58pm By @agustdiv1ne 4.9k, Yeonjun x reader x Taehyun, frat boys TXT, friends to ???, threesome, poly situation, stoners, recreational marijuana, smut, car sex, slight fluff

★ Candy hearts By @agustdiv1ne 10.5k, childhood friends to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, angst, friendiversaries, long term pining, watching the person you love date someone else

★ 12:43 a.m. By @agustdiv1ne 2.9k, college party, past hook-ups, slight angst, plot, love confessions, fluff, friends to lovers, smut

★ "Pictures I posted on my IG story just for my crush to see" By @lost-leopard-beanie SMAU, college au?, fluff, humour, cute trend, Yeonjun is pining after reader

★ Texts with bf!Yeonjun By @blue-jisungs SMAU, established relationship, texts between reader & Yeonjun, fluff, humour, mentions of Boynextdoor

★ Long distance bf Jjunie + the pictures he sends you By @moamidzyism SMAU, established relationship, long distance relationship, fluff, slight suggestiveness, cute pictures

★ With you, even a fall is beautiful By @restlessmaknae 3.4k, slice of life au, dance studio, first meetings, meet cute, fluff, dancing

★ Too young By @loveliestfelix 3.4k, ex-friends to potential lovers, angst, fluff, mentions of divorce and cheating, reader has a child & shitty ex-husband, TXT friends

★ First for everything By @choiwonder 0.6k, new established relationship, implied spending the night together, teasing, fluff, clingy, in love

★ Don't move, honey By @wonustars 5k, college au, popular/social Yeonjun, shy/asocial reader, smut, slight fluff, mutual feelings, opposites attracts, slight jealousy, angsty

★ Thoughts on food truck chef!Yeonjun x office worker!reader By @blackhairedjjun Drabble, meet cute, mentions of overworking, sweet relationship build up, subtle flirting

★ Cliche By @heart2beom Best friends to lovers, fluff, crack, a little angst, jealousy, mutual pining, emotionally dumb Yeonjun

★ Bad impression By @txt-trash 9.4k, college au, playboy!Yeonjun, catching feelings, smut, slight fluff, jealousy, initially disliking one another, college parties, cold reader, whipped

★ Former lover's dance By @txt-trash 10.5k, college au, both Yeonjun & reader are dancers/choreographers, ex fwb to lovers, smut, slight fluff

★ 5% tint By @dearlyjun 1.2k, sugar daddy!Yeonjun, college student reader, smut, slight fluff, being proud of a test result, car sex

★ Quiet By @aerasx 1k, established relationship, birthday gifts and plans, smut, Yeonjun's birthday, slight fluff

★ Playing hard to get with Yeonjun at the hybe picnic By @kimbappykidding Idol Yeonjun and reader, fluff, angst, mentions of Joshua from Svt, hybe picnic setting, mutual interest, jealousy, getting together

★ Just for tonight? By @koqabear 3.8k, college au, college parties, pwp, strangers to lovers, bad boy Yeonjun, smut, slight angst, marijuana use, shitty Park Jongseong

★ Nights like these By @koqabear 7.7k, Yeonjun x reader x Taehyun, roommates au, fluff, drinking, discussions of past hook-ups, smut, love confessions kind of

★ Attention By @koqabear 5.8k, rockstar au, Yeonjun x reader x beomgyu, established relationship between Yeonjun and reader, smut, pwp

★ Princess treatment By @ghstzzn 3.8k, Yeonjun x reader x Taehyun, college au??, friends w/benefits, clubbing, slight drinking, smut, kind of fluff, poly in a sense

★ Pretty eyes By @banggyu0308 4.7k, Taehyun x reader x Yeonjun, non-specified au, art student reader, established relationship between Yeonjun & reader, smut, slight fluff

★ Our little darling By @sophvilla Yeonjun x reader x Soobin, unspecified au, bf Yeonjun, best friend Soobin, smut, threesome

★ Busy signal & Fit check By @biteyoubiteme 4.7k and 3k, Yeonjun x reader x Kai, established relationship, polyamorous, smut, slight fluff, suggestive photos, trying on outfits, gifts from a partner

#bee's recs #bee's navigation #txt fic recs #txt fics #tomorrow x together imagines #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt smut #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun imagines

305 notes · View notes

dr-solomon · 2 months ago

Text

DRAMA CLUB [1/2]

literature and dirt, snow and sweat, cigarettes and philosophy, rotten arts with cold urges and pure desire.

or w: professor!yeonjun × f!reader, teacher-student relationship, smut*, angst, age gap, possessiveness, jealousy, manipulate, overthinking, smoking

*dom/sub, public & unprotected sex, slight fingering, biting, breeding kink, size kink, dirty talk,

- a long period of time was written in fragments and memories -

enjoy🚬

You believed that the city you lived in was made of rain, sometimes when it drowned you and sometimes when it swept you off your feet. The rain must have been taking advantage of the fact that snow hadn't been able to bind the birds for years. And hadn't there really been someone for years whom the snow deemed worthy of building a tiny horizontal house on the eyelashes?

The relief of finally finishing the small-scale competition that you had regretted participating in so many times, this time you could enjoy the sweet drops, but you hadn't even listened to music for a week to finish it in your head too. Because your brain had never experienced this feeling before, it kept likening it to regret.

You were avoiding the possibility that it was all about your professor who accompanied you in your work because remembering him was, above all, tense.

Before too many things.

Too many feelings.

He had the rules and temperament of a potential olympic coach, but you could never say he was rude and believed that this detail was something that gave rise to a problem between you.

About how gently he killed.

He did not comment on any of the works you presented to him for weeks. He neither praised them nor denigrated them. And that was the worst of it. He kept the pressure fresh on you, he had everything in his eyes to make your legs tremble on his doorstep. He kept his silence, always leaving you alone with your own head, alone with yourself, and on some rotten nights you thought a lot that this was the most dangerous thing anyone could do to you.

He was actually really interested in everything you presented to him. Most of the time you caught him in the middle of his work but he stopped whatever he was doing and read every one of them. Without hearing the part where you told him that you could come back to him later and sometimes he would nod his head at that and keep reading.

He demanded meticulous work, he took his profession seriously. In ways that kept you on your toes. You've heard rumors that he generally doesn't take a student or even just any person seriously, and your time with him certainly confirmed that.

He trained on you, sometimes even sacrificing his cigarette hours, but you never understood. Was it because you managed to make him take you seriously or because you were under his responsibility?

It was the first day you broke your promise to yourself that you would try to get a break and try to get away from all this complicated art. You were told by a stranger that Choi Yeonjun, your literature professor, was waiting for you in his office.

You pushed into the back of your mind how the rhythm of your heart has changed and prepared yourself for everything until your steps ended at his door.

His dull face, his voice that sounded calm no matter what he said, serious no matter what he told, the way he leaned against his desk, the way his glasses were like a weapon on his face...

And the eyes.

You knew there was no way to prepare for it.

The smell of coffee wafting up the whole staircase disappeared when you entered the professor's room. His computer was turned off, there were a few familiar papers on his desk and no eye contact had yet been made. The time you stood there in silence waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing was painful.

When you noticed the water droplets glistening on his black jacket and that his hair was a little wet, you knew it was a gift from the rain. He was standing in front of the window reflecting the light gray air like a wet and monochrome monument.

Nervousness or excitement climbed to the top when he got up from his desk and handed you one of the papers lying there.

And with the opposite slowness, the feeling fell, floating in the void.

“Congratulations.”

His voice warmed your heart with the gentlest tone. Your eyes wandered dazedly all over the paper and the words you read at random said nothing.

A few dry sentences could not compare to his proud look. The whole painful process stopped expanding in your head. That warm moment when you felt it was worth it is still precious.

It was there that you first felt the presence of something behind all the chaos, something that might have lived and grown inside you but hidden from you.

What was all this blood, sweat and tears really for?

Because seeing that you had made him proud made you unable to finish reading the paper in your hand.

“I talked to your teachers...” He parted his pillowy lips and began to speak. A little blurry. He told you that from now on you will be supported by a group of teachers so that you can keep your talent alive without competition and that you can choose whoever you want among them for your own work.

Just the other night, as you looked at the crumpled paper trash in your room, the scene of you saying 'Never again' came back to you. But at that moment you had no more vivid detail than the knot of excitement in your stomach.

“I'm... I'm curious,” you swallowed, trying not to say the wrong thing while at the same time trying not to stutter. “I heard you have a team with the boys. Won't you continue?”

The idea of continuing to work with him flashed through your mind. It would have been hard enough to start over with another teacher when you had already caught your enthusiasm with him, and now that you had reached him, or felt that you were getting close to him, you didn't think you could make such a change.

He shook his head. “Boys ain't shit.” his hands slid into his pockets as he smiled slightly. “You can count on a young girl's passion.”

The sentence created a small but intense silence. He kept his eyes on yours and you almost sweated not to break it.

“And of course that's up to you.” he added as he looked down at your tight grip on the paper.

You wanted to hear more from him, whether it was to keep his eyes on you or because you had had that first intimate conversation.

The fact that he had created this whole process so that you could bring out the best in you came to the forefront of your mind, and you acknowledged your admiration for him.

But on that day, you were not even ready to witness how your deep admiration for his perfection was secretly building and growing itself in secret from you.

Every day the hard school path would meet a variety of shoes and sometimes cry, welcoming puddles of water.

Every Thursday, you would have a crossword puzzle in your bag for this sight. You usually did this kind of activity in the library, which would remain the best decision as the city had already made it clear that it would be more welcoming to the cold this year.

But since you never knew where you might see the professor, you put your puzzle in your lap, in the huge garden that looked like an oil painting that is still wet.

There was a void in your mind ever since you had finished working with him. The fact that you no longer needed to go to his room felt strange.

It really was like a dream.

Everything that the speed at which he enters and exits your life does to your mind.

Your brain had already started making passive plans to somehow see him again, but when he showed you one of those Thursdays that he wasn't out of your life yet, you thought that your poor organ would have no choice but to explode one day.

“Mind if I join?”

Whatever was going on in your head stopped when you heard his thick but always gentle voice behind you.

It's always been like that. He could always silence everything. You're still not sure if you gave him that power or if he was more powerful than you thought.

You weren't thinking about any of this when he asked if there was anything fun in your puzzle, and you weren't going to think about it yet.

The garden thing had worked somehow and that was all that mattered. You quickly ran your eyes over the paper in front of you and read one of the questions.

Sodium chloride.

It was distracting to takes in his scent after what seemed like a long time.

“It start with the letter 'S', has four words.”

“Soul?” he murmured, the philosophical playfulness in his tone widening your smile.

“I don't believe in soul.” You accompanied him and the first proper eye contact took place there.

“Oh.” He smiled slightly as he took off his left glove and placed it on the matte black bench. “Salt, then.”

He taught you on that damp bench that he could make you smile easily. At such pleasant moments, you couldn't help squeezing your pen.

“Can I smoke?” he asked in a soft tone and you hummed. You turned the paper over and pressed it harder in your lap and listened to the fleeting sound of his lighter as you moved the pen over the paper.

And the salt worked.

His breath, already like smoke because of the cold, had now turned into a real and denser smoke. He looked at your sweet smile and then at your puzzle.

“But don't forget that,” he murmured as he put the cigarette between his lips again. “Anything that contains sodium is a salt.”

“So the soul?” you chuckled. “Anything that contains soul is a salt, too?”

It was really worth stopping and watching him looking at the pine trees that were home to the raindrops and making you witness his silent chuckle for the first time.

“It could be sugar, too.” he sighed and tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at you again.

Your rosy cheeks.

Unless it was true that your eyes met in a different way at least once in absolutely every communication, you had nothing but the fact that the professor's eyes were very beautiful. He licked his lips and, with some hesitation, handed you his cigarette.

You were sure he thought you were the only student in this yard or in the whole school who spent their breaks doing crossword puzzles, and you were sure he wouldn't talk about it. Is that how you lured him here?

You timidly brought your hand to his and your thumbs brushed softly against each other as you gently took the cigarette from him. The brief and contrasting contact of his cold hand with your warm one made him look into your eyes again.

“Aren't you cold?” he asked. You nodded before taking a slow drag from the cigarette. “I'm used to this city.”

The warm smoke hovered over your face, you didn't want him to notice your hands that started to tremble slightly. “You don't like winter?” you asked.

His hand, nobly wrapped in a leather glove, rested on his thigh, not giving the question much thought. “For me, it's just cleaning the ice stalagmites on the window.”

He spoke quite frankly, although it is true that sometimes he walked slowly in the rain on purpose. But then he should have stopped walking around like a dark prince and being so suited to winter.

Choi Yeonjun often showed after that day that he had all kinds of complexes and philosophies that made you think he became a professor of literature by mistake.

"Fencing sword?"

"Foil."

"A group of crows?"

"Murder."

The crossword puzzle didn't become a cliché between you, but it resembled it a lot.

While you were asking him about things you knew and eagerly chasing how he pronounced different words, his hot cigarettes got used to shifting between each other's fingers. Not between your lips. Maybe it even tried to delay the extinguishing process a little longer.

Out of respect for your fire.

And, as you continued to solve your crossword puzzles in the following days, you always encountered 'a group of crows'...

Murder.

Your habit of being alone with your head has progressed day by day. It was fed by the fact that it seemed like something was going to happen but nothing did.

Putting the fact that you were his student or younger into the equation made you roll your eyes every time.

You didn't think either of you cared about that.

You've never seen a teacher like him.

No, you've never seen a smart man before. It was really upsetting the balance.

It really did.

It had been almost two weeks since you last saw him, but there was no getting used to his absence, no stopping to think about him.

He wasn't giving you anything, not even anything resembling a healthy communication.

At a moment when the fact that you would never have found him if he hadn't come and found you was getting on your nerves, you went back to solving puzzles in the library like you used to.

And indeed you went through a period of time where you were determined to cancel the part of your head reserved for him, that is, to do yourself a favor.

This went as far as choosing another literature professor for your works.

In fact, in the whole story, the last moment you thought about your sanity was when you made that decision.

You did it even though you knew that if you saw him, if you saw just one of his perfect details again, you would surely lose to him.

And it went well first.

But in those overwhelming moments when you thought you were living everything in your head, he was there to come out of nowhere and change the rhythm of your heart again.

On the second floor, the only balcony overlooking the backyard of the campus was always the quietest place for you to review your notes. You still don't know how he guessed you were there.

In one of your later, almost sweet memories, he silenced all these questions forever by making a romantic remark about you being an open book for him.

Choi Yeonjun came to the balcony to smoke quite normally. He took the cigarette from his lips to greet you and decided not to light it yet. His turtleneck and the jacket that is always there, his beautifully combed hair and of course his scent... At first you thought your stomach was tightening with excitement, but then it seemed more realistic that it could be longing.

All the chaos in your head has been replaced by a sweet silence and a void that feels really good. All the questions and possibilities and minor crises disappeared.

Then he lit a cigarette and you found yourself in a very normal conversation with him. It was a relief. Sometimes it felt like his voice was stroking your hair.

There was no echo of anything.

Only Choi Yeonjun.

“You worked with Mr. Darcy?” His lips curled upward, indicating that he knew the fresh news. “Smart choice.” He leaned back against the balcony railing and put one hand in his pocket.

It felt reassuring that he was interested in your work.

“His poems are published in almost all the university literary magazines.” You smiled back and gave a little explanation as to why you had chosen Mr. Darcy.

His smile was sincere and small on his lips, “He's a great man.” the thick smoke seeping between them turned into one of the clouds in the gray sky.

“I suppose so.” It would be a feat to pull your gaze away from his mouth. “I like his energy.”

His half-lidded eyes and thoughtful gaze made him look madder than ever, but there was no one who wouldn't trust the smile on his face.

“Oh, you'll like him even more.”

And of course his sentences.

You sighed, noticing that you have never had a conversation with him that made him smile this long before.

This didn't seem suspicious at first.

“I was a little hesitant... It's comforting to hear your positive thoughts about the professor."

Because you trust him.

Even if you have to find your voice to make that statement... Even in the most casual conversation you have with him, maybe even a 'good morning'.

It was a foreign feeling that he could only narrow his eyes for a second and now cause this. It grew even bigger in your stomach when he turned his head before you, breaking the eye contact.

He didn't say anything, kept smoking next to you and did nothing to make you think that something was going on in his silence, but you certainly did.

Because the silence grew with each passing minute and you couldn't leave his side even if you realized that it was swallowing you sweetly.

He wasn't even looking at the sky, but he should have told that it might rain in the evening. Or why he didn't look at the sky. Why he doesn't look at you. Why he looks like he's going to talk and doesn't.

Just one word. For your sleep.

“I don't usually leave my office at this hour.”

Finally.

“I read a book. Always. Every day.”

Your left hand was a fist for a long time, long enough to make sure you left fingernail marks on your palm. It only made you clench your fist tighter. Your eyes briefly meet again as he details his routine for the first time.

“Today...” you mumbled, so many questions running through your mind. Curiosity and excitement continued to color your cheeks. If he was here today instead of in his office... “Why?” you asked weakly.

He put out his cigarette.

You couldn't say you had the patience for even the shortest silence, but you let the professor watch the sky.

“You know what it's like not to be able to focus.” he began quietly. “A person, a sound, a feeling... something eats your brain alive and sometimes it does it very quietly. Every detail of what you're holding in your hand, or where you're looking, is all jumbled together, ready to explode, but you're not allowed to damage anything.” He took his eyes off one of the huge buildings or just the stray clouds and looked directly into your eyes. “It's like being cursed.”

At this point, instead of thinking that something was happening in the silence just a moment ago, you started thinking that it was not a silence at all. Whatever he was doing right now, your heart was the first part of you to react sharply.

A person, a sound, a feeling... “Which one?”

Yeonjun of course caught the weakness of your voice. All his students knew that he didn't talk much and was slow and selective even when he was explaining things.

“None of them.”

But he taught only you that his eyes could look like that too.

“It's just,” his voice grew a little thicker. “To think that I share you.”

He confessed just before he turned his head towards the city and for a second you felt you couldn't swallow. He shouldn't have seemed so strong even when he was talking about a weakness. He shouldn't have described something he shouldn't have felt so well.

He shouldn't have described your insides.

Witnessing that it was not all in your dreams and writings, you could not let the silence choose you this time.

That gentle frequency where you can hear the scream of flowers when they are plucked.

“If,” you swallowed. His posture, his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the floor, nothing has changed. But now that you knew him a little more, you knew he was sincerely curious about your answer. “if you want me to... I won't choose him."

Just a second.

Yeonjun's discomfort about sharing you was clearly a step. But yours was not only another step, it had the audacity to include an invitation. Your decisive sentence, delivered in your most broken voice and part of you, left the professor speechless.

When he slowly lifted his head and turned to you, the meeting of your eyes was unlike any other before. Long suppressed desire and everything silenced fought invisibly between the two of you.

No matter how cool he still looked, you saw the way his lips parted slightly. The way his foxy eyes darkened at these unexpected words from you.

His slow step towards you made your knees touch together. Every time he approached you and brought you under his shadow, it became more and more obvious how big he was.

A quick check of the empty schoolyard and the empty balcony, you tensed for a second but this was dispelled by the touch of his soft fingertips on the right side of your neck.

He had seemed so sincere at the beginning of the conversation that now it all seemed like a dream as he gently caressed the sensitive skin of your neck with a feeling in his eyes that you couldn't identify.

“Don't.” he whispered.

The breath you were holding was released almost in a small gasp and your fist slowly broke.

Not with a sigh of relief.

The ache in your palm harmonized with the ache in your crotch. Your gaze that fell on his lips harmonized with his gaze that fell on yours.

Certainly not with a sigh of relief.

Don't.

Don't find yourself a new professor and stay with him, he'll teach you everything he knows.

Your face moved to nuzzle his, perhaps for a belated kiss. But something different shone in his eyes as he blocked you by pulling his head back slightly.

You bit your tongue nervously, his always reassuring cologne making you feel in sweet danger this time and only feeding your desire.

“Say it.” he whispered again, his palm slid across your skin with seductive gentleness and his thumb touched your throat.

Your noses almost brushed each other, there was something about the way his bangs brushed your forehead.

Something terrible was happening to the rhythm of your heart, you could feel it beating like a weight in your chest.

“I,” you began, as much as your breath would allow. His eyes were telling you not to keep him waiting, looking at yours with lack of patience.

“I won't.” your voice came out as a whisper. “I'll go on with you.” you supported your sentence by adding and watched his lips part slightly. He squeezed your neck for a second, and the one or two stars that shone in your eyes with sincerity and surrender became his fairies with knives.

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Calmly, you explored the shape of each other's lips with a warm pressure.

Professor kissed you just like that, without moving. It resembled a deep respect. An intense respect for you, for your art and your beauty. As if he could not skip it, as if he had to bestow this calm kiss on you.

His thumb rubbed against your chin, crushing your heart.

He pulled back just an inch, unable to open his eyes because you were sighing against his lips.

His finger pressed a little on your chin, parting your lips, he took your lower lip between his lips with a warm sound.

And seconds later when he leaned in and captured your lips for a real kiss, your back arched, your shoes touched his.

Your lips moved to learn each other's taste as they parted, and they certainly did so with a curiosity that had been there for a long time.

Your hands clung to his biceps, not knowing what to do. As soon as he felt it, he grasped your wrists softly and lowered them back down. The move you didn't expect only added to your heat as his hands cupped your face gently and his tongue pressed against yours.

Yeonjun was in control.

He was tilting your head to deepen the kiss and entwining your tongues together. You moaned quietly into his mouth between wet sounds, biting his lower lip and he liked it.

Your feet were now completely between his. He had one hand on your lower back pressing you against his body and he hissed at how small you were in his arms.

The messy kiss continued to make your bodies tremble. Yeonjun's mouth slid over yours, panting, and he put your trembling hands on his neck in that moment when you parted for a moment.

You didn't let each other breathe, nothing seemed more important than your desires.

Yeonjun's strong hands gripping and squeezing your hips and almost wanting to wrap your legs around his waist made you feel tiny.

You always wished he could make you feel that way by kissing you.

Because it was a relief to feel that at least he needed you when he was like this.

That it wasn't really in your head.

You've dreamt several times about that scene of him grabbing your face and attacking your mouth when you're sweeter than he imagined.

Or you thought about it so much during the daytime that you could no longer distinguish reality.

You could no longer distinguish between right and wrong.

And of course that balcony where you traded your last piece of yourself with your mind for a taste was in a hurry to become a trap of memories.

On the second Tuesday, when the strange diligence of the whole class made you feel guilty, you used the cafeteria for the first time and bought a few coffees to keep your eyes open.

This feeling was not because you were not studious. It was just... You were thinking that your distraction could be worse than all their troubles.

After 1 week of not going to that balcony and the noisy places you were exposed to made you want to cry, you dragged yourself to the stairs.

But they joined in, too.

When the memory of the kiss that had already played over and over in your mind became sharper with each step. You were on the verge of going back a few times.

Every inch of his lips, which he often licked, rarely parted, and when he did part them, they would extract precious sentences, had marked yours. For minutes.

He made them ache even when you returned home, he had put a dark rose on them that would live a little.

You felt it.

You clearly felt that he couldn't get enough.

His arms, stunned for the first time, and his hands grasping you with a strong urge. How good they felt on you...

You felt your insides stirring with longing. With something fresh, as if he was waiting for you on that balcony for another kiss.

And it was too early to talk about the kiss because-

“Oh, Y/n!”

Mr. Darcy smoking on the balcony wasn't even the last thing you expected. You were almost scared by his big smile... Or of Choi Yeonjun, who was leaning on the balcony right next to him.

Coming out of the dark world inside the building caused the white sky to hurt your eyes and this was a good cover for your stunned state.

You planned to give Mr. Darcy a quick smile and get the hell out of here so as not to disturb them, or because of some detail about Choi Yeonjun that made your hands tremble.

But he insisted. “Come here, please.”

If only the poor man had known about the conversation because of him and the primitive kiss on this a week ago.

“How's it going?” he asked cheerfully as he put out his cigarette.

When Yeonjun smokes, he usually stares at a specific area or thing that he has chosen as his victim and rarely looks away. That's why it took you a while to feel his gaze on you.

Your heart was still beating too fast to turn in that direction.

“Exams.” was the only word that came out of your mouth and you bit your tongue immediately afterwards.

Mr. Darcy adjusted his scarf as he made a candid comment about the system. It was obvious why he was popular with young students. He was the only teacher you have who makes you feel that he really loves his job.

“But I see you in the library a lot.” He narrowed his eyes and slowly folded his hands in front of him.

If you woke up very artistic that day, you would definitely stop by the library for puzzles and random doodles.

Did Choi Yeonjun know about this?

Was watching the hot smoke on his jet black coffee. Occasionally you would catch a whiff of his scent mingling with the smoke from the cigarette he held in the same hand. You were dying to know what he was thinking and maybe your palate was itching to kiss him again.

“You passionate princess...”

Mr. Darcy said something about 'literature for a better world', but that 'princess' made your heart skip a beat. And not in a good way.

You looked at Choi Yeonjun as the rest of the sentence blurred.

It was almost a reflex.

Everyone was used to Mr. Darcy's dramatics, and he really was a sincere man who cared about the future of his students... But for a moment you couldn't even smile at him, let alone speak.

Your lips parted but no words came out. This hesitation worried you, especially since there wasn't even a tangible reason for it.

Yeonjun slowly pressed his lips together. You saw that his eyes were now on the floor. But when your silence lasted a little too long, he looked at you and your eyes met for the first time.

The cool air that the balcony shares with the sky overwhelmed you.

You thought that white might be the scariest color.

The reality of his effect on you made you dizzy for a moment.

You felt that you were all alone in the middle of the huge space you had reserved for him in your head. You didn't know if he would have gotten you out of there if you had asked him, if he would have comforted you, if he would have told you that you were not really alone in this.

Until one day, sitting at one of the desks reserved for students in his office, you decide you can't be quiet anymore.

“Professor.”

You made a real effort to slowly close the book in front of you. Choi Yeonjun's office, now familiar to you, overwhelmed you along with everything else.

The professor hummed without looking at you and you felt yourself tense as you looked at the work he was doing on his desk. “Wh...”

Always hated it when your voice trembled. “Why?”

But this time you were determined to speak.

“All these mixed signals.”

When you got his attention you took a deep breath, but it didn't seem to relax you. “I feel tired and...”

His eyes, his eyes...

“And...”

You watched as he slowly leaned back, didn't know how he managed to look so out of his mind and so calm at the same time.

You never knew what he was feeling.

There was something dangerous in his eyes, but there was also a kind expression on his face that made you think he found you cute like that.

Yeonjun licked his lips. “Why don't you take off your shirt?”

One second. Again.

A reminder that he had the rhythm of the whole story in his fingers?

The sound of a sharp intake of breath came from between your lips to his ear, and it was clear that the older one was pleased.

This move, which you never expected from him, made your stomach ache sweetly.

Today, unlike before, his semi-messy hair gave you both heaven and hell, and the desire to tug it between your hands and ruin it even more took over your body with the help of rough scenarios.

You were surprised when your hands found your shirt without hesitation. You couldn't find the huge build-up inside you that wanted to be angry with him and you slowly undressed in front of your professor, without breaking eye contact. It didn't even occur to you afterwards that you hadn't bothered to unbutton all the buttons slowly and what really was the mind at this point?

As your hair slowly fell down your back and across your breasts, you let his eyes roam over every detail to explore your upper body.

Now that Yeonjun was no longer smiling, the urge to go further was irresistible.

The moment your hands touched the zipper of your skirt, his eyes met yours sharply and took your breath away.

“No.” velvet, authoritative voice.

The amount his eyes darkened sent a wave of insane pleasure through your stomach.

He was affected.

You had no problem playing the game by his rules.

Because he was affected.

He was from the beginning.

The mocking expression that slowly began to take over his face was seductive. Your cheeks glowed with sweet colors as you placed your hands back on the table where you were sitting.

He took a long look at your breasts, as much as your bra would allow, before his eyes returned to his laptop. “Alright,” a few keystrokes, ”you can go on.”

Like this?* He didn't seem to care. Speaking while one of the occasional gusts of wind from the fan running passively in the room was now touching your skin at the best angle and being watched by Choi Yeonjun...

The rest of the world has disappeared.

Your mind has erased.

“I've spent all my school years,” you swallowed, ”trying to pursue different feelings.”

But where are all the sentences you formed on the way here?

The professor's murmur and his little smile. “I have to be part of this thing.”

Your eyes locked for a few seconds as he picked up his pen and pulled his agenda in front of him.

“What?” you asked weakly.

“You know,” And he spoke without haste. “Having a memory of a time in college when you couldn't stop having sex with your professor or something.”

Your hands instantly clenched the edge of the table, the assertive sentence you didn't expect from him made your insides tremble.

You realized that this game was special for you.

Your lips parted slowly, timidly.

“Actually, I didn't think about it....”

Confessions.

"...until I worked with you”

“Why?” The sound of the pencil moving across the paper continued. “Are all your other teachers too young to meet your principles?” he paused for a moment, looked into your eyes and added: “Princess.”

All this mockery he was spinning in the air was achieving its purpose in the best possible way. His eyes lingered for a while on the sight of you frowning slightly. You understood the implication, of course, but you didn't know how to describe what was in his eyes. Discomfort? Jealousy?

...Asshole?

You felt overwhelmed. “Yeonjun-”

“Do you want to take off your bra too?”

His voice was very gentle even though he interrupted you, clearly not letting you talk about it.

He was confusing you and doing it in a way that warmed your body. You sighed as your fingers obediently undid your clasp. You couldn't figure out what the secret was to feeling safe with him. There you saw for the first time that this state of desire could be your undoing.

The relief in your rib cage rippled through your whole body. The bra slipped through your fingers and fell softly to the table. Your hair slowly covered your breasts as your body tilted slightly.

It was definitely more seductive that way.

The professor rests his elbows on the table and pressed his lips to his clasped hands. Every piece of clothing that came off of your body added to your damn divinity. There was something really troubled about his expression.

For the first time.

As his eyes roamed over every inch of your breasts, your hands just trembled, not knowing what to do.

After weeks and weeks of relentless desire, submitting yourself to him filled your body with excitement.

All that intense excitement built up in your stomach as you watched him rise heavily from his desk. You rubbed your palms against your skirt and watched with bright eyes the steps approaching you. It was harder to sit up straight your head high with his light perfume now wafting through your nose.

With the eyes watching your chest.

He stood right in front of the table from where you were sitting. You were sure you had never felt the warmth you felt with him.

The professor's left hand in his pocket, his right hand slowly rose. Gently touching your neck, pushing aside your hair that covered your breasts.

He always had something with your neck.

He could make out the moles on your smooth skin, he could see up close that he was burning your body. His index finger slid down your neck with the sensation of a feather, down to your right breast and pressed against the bud.

“You won't stop, will you?” his hand touched your neck again. His quiet whisper disappeared over your lips, causing you to part them, wanting a kiss. “You'll keep going?” he whispered again as he traced your lips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck and tilting your head back.

Anything for the closeness of your faces to make you squirm.

He wet his lips slowly with his tongue and met your eyes that looked at him needily. With a cruel nudge. “You will keep playing with my mind?”

He lightly tugged on your hair as if he was really waiting for an answer from you.

“You.” a warm breath hit Yeonjun's lips from you this time. ”You're tougher.”

At this. At whatever this bullshit is.

He listened to you intently, not even blinking. That's what made your voice weak. “And lucky... if you're still in your right mind...” Because I am not.

The impact of your sentence was reflected directly in the professor's eyes and it took your breath away. You didn't think there was anything you could control anymore.

His grip on your hair loosened. His closeness was like ice on your skin, burning everywhere it passed.

Seconds later his open mouth pressed warmly into the hollow of your neck. You clung to his neck with need before his warm lips moved lightly over your thin skin and you almost cried at the intense contact.

His left hand cupped your breast and bit the sensitive skin of your neck. You wanted to know what the little sounds he stole from you could make him do. Your eyes closed and your lips trembled for a second as his tongue darted out and licked where he had bitten. “Please.”

His hand slipped over your nipple and grabbed the left side of your ribcage. His lips brushed your earlobe for a second and made you tremble. Your naked upper body was already trembling against the fabric of his jacket.

You held onto his shoulders as his hands moved slowly to pull your hips a little more towards him. It was arousing to hear you both breathing heavily.

You captured his lips in a timid and needy move, he placed his hands on either side of your legs and leaned into your kiss.

He let you take whatever you wanted from his lips and urged you to do so.

When his head tilted to the right, yours tilted to the left and when his tilted to the left, yours tilted to the right.

With raw desire.

Excited and longing to kiss him a second time, you wrapped your arms around his neck and ruffled his hair. The wet sounds of your kiss filled the room and made you hear your hunger for each other.

That made you hear his longing for this too.

Yeonjun nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. Your lips immediately pressed together again and Yeonjun continued licking the inside of your mouth, wetting the hot pulse between your legs.

There was no taking a moment to catch your breath. Even in that moment when you were gasping for breath, you sucked each other's lips or chin messily.

He put one hand on your knees, which you pressed together, spread them nicely and stepped between them. His hands went under the fabric of your skirt and crawled along your upper thigh.

“Fuck-” he hissed as his fingers reached your bare thighs. And the detail that broke your minutes-long kiss was that moment when he realized there was nothing under your skirt.

“Have you been like this all day?” he spoke breathlessly, not even realizing how hard he was gripping your thighs.

Shyness added to the dark pink color of your cheeks, you pulled his hair weakly.

“Look at me.” he said, hands rubbed against your inner thighs, giving your stomach a thrill that made your back straighten while making you spread your legs more.

You couldn't look into his eyes, especially when his left hand touched your pussy.

“Tell me.” he whispered sharply as he pressed his index finger against your clit, making you jump. “I was going to see you being naughty and put you on my desk?” he whispered as his lips brushed against your cheek. You felt him caress your wet bundle of nerves as he pulled your head back slightly and looked into your eyes. “Huh?” Yeonjun's lips brushed against your left cheekbone and lightly bit there.

You gasped against his face. The sensitivity wouldn't let you stay still and almost made your mouths collide.

“Was I going to fuck you from behind with your skirt on?” his fingers spread your wetness nicely over your lips and hissed at the sensation.

His finger lightly patted your temple twice. “What's going on here?”

He didn't let you close your eyes.

As his hand slid over your face, his fingers poked teasingly at your entrance. Your foreheads almost touched. “Oh, little one...” his thumb slid over your lower lip, pressing against your warm tongue, his eyes fixed on your pink mouth. “You don't even know if it will fit.”

His voice, thick with desire, continued to burn your crotch. Your knees unconsciously tightened on either side of his hips, your heavy breath warm on his finger. Your eyes met as your lips wrapped weakly around his finger.

He looked carefully at your rosy cheeks, your lips red from being kissed by him and the tears in your eyes. When he slowly withdrew his finger from between your lips, there was a low wet sound.

His hand cupped your chin, tilted your head back slightly and captured your mouth for a passionate kiss.

The new foreign sensation, the new different sensation, was a noble contradiction in itself. You felt that if he took a step back, you would feel cold.

Even the brief moment he pulled back to take off his jacket brought tears to his eyes.

Yeonjun clearly wanted you and was clearly hesitating.

You put your hand on his hand resting on your upper leg. “Please.” you whispered under your breath.

He watched as a drop of tear slid down your cheek, squeezed your leg and unconsciously you squeezed his hand back.

Every detail of you made him dizzy.

“Y/n-”

“Please.”

And then you felt that his fingers were now really digging into your leg.

He cursed under his breath, didn't think he could get the image of you crying and begging him there on the table out of his mind for a long time.

And the voices are now wetter.

“Can you keep quiet?” he asked, squeezing your hand for a second. You could see in his eyes that having to ask this was torture. All those little noises you were making alone had him addicted.

You nodded your head. “I can.”

Not because you believed you could.

You watched him unbuckle his belt, and it was one of the most gut-wrenching feelings you'd ever had.

You watched with your mouth open as he grasped his cock without concern for any other time-wasting detail. Your felt your hips pressed against the table.

He lifted your skirt slightly and positioned himself between your legs. When his hands went down to grip your hips, the head touched your clit and you shuddered. “Ah-”

He lifted you slightly off the table and you gasped at how easily he could do it. You held onto his shoulders and your grip tightened as he rubbed his head against your clit again. Your lips parted but you tried not to make a sound.

Just breaths.

Your body, trembling in his hands, tried weakly to press down. Within seconds you stole a sound from his throat as his cock rested against your entrance.

“Love,” he whispered. “Slowly.”

You nodded, he gripped your hips tighter. It warmed your heart to hear him say 'love' when he rarely even called your name.

Another new sensation added to desire.

Yeonjun squeezed your hips hard as he easily settled your body onto his shaft. You landed on the table as you took him completely and he pressed his hips against you with a growl.

“Ahh-” you clung tightly to his neck. Your foreheads pressed hard together for a few seconds. You could barely see his open mouth. Your wet walls not only take him nicely but started to clench around him and you felt that your body was no longer under your control.

He gasped, lifting his head to entwine your tongues together, pressed his hips against you.

His lips brushed against your chin, you shivered at the hoarse sound he made when he bit there to block a sound from his throat.

He pulled back and slowly pushed inside you again. Your noses brushed each other, you gripped his shirt tightly on his second thrust.

It drove him crazy how tight you were. The madder he got, the tighter he held you. You felt that he could make bruises on your thighs.

When he felt it too, he relaxed his hands a little, his palms applying a warm pressure to your skin.

He made you wrap your legs tighter around his hips, just before he starts thrusting into you at a hot pace.

You just wanted more.

The sound of his belt swishing through the air every time his hips hit you, the sweat slowly glistening on his forehead and the way his mouth opens as he watches you.

The sound of the rain outside reached your ears with a humming sound. You interrupted that soothing sound with your dirty voices.

Your thighs were contracting in a way they would ache later, warm from rubbing against him.

“Y-yeon...”

Hearing his name from your mouth made him go harder. Since you usually call him 'professor', it hit him differently.

The first thing he unconsciously imagined.

“Yeonjun...” You cried his name, your body started to accompany him with tiny jumps.

He barely swallowed, slowed down a little and started to move you on his cock, squeezing your hips. You looked so beautiful bouncing there that it was impossible not to lean into your ear. “Y/n.”

His voice thick with desire gave you your name, just as you did.

You kept your mouth closed but your head fell back a little in pleasure. He could feel your wetness intensifying.

Yeonjun sped up as he slowly licked the recess of your neck offered to him.

He pushed deeper and deeper to reach every spot inside you. This turned your breathing into a desperate sound that got louder and louder and you lost yourself as he hit your cervix for the first time.

“Ah!” your walls clenched around him tighter than before and your nails left marks on the nape of his neck.

Yeonjun watched your face, waiting in the position where he pressed against you. “There?”

He loved the neediness of your little body when you answered him by climbing more into his lap. You buried your face in his shoulder like a baby, he took you completely in his arms.

Your skirt squeezed between his belly and yours, swaying with your body. You cried against his shoulder as Choi Yeonjun fucked you hard at a delicious pace.

“Do you like it?”

He bit back a small smile when you dripped almost simultaneously with Yeonjun's question. “Oh.”

“I-”

“I know.” his gentle voice. "I know..." his lips brushed your earlobe. “You're doing so well.” he praised you and urged you to wet his cock more.

Your face buried in his neck and you bumped into each other faster there, not knowing what time it was.

It was impossible to keep your voice down as you came, scratching his shoulders.

And the professor, thinking it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, growled at it, not caring about the thinness of the walls.

He hurriedly pressed your body against the wall. His hands gripped your thighs tightly and he came inside you as you panted against each other's faces.

You felt that the sensation could make your eyes roll back in your head as your belly warmed in waves.

Now your heads were spinning sweetly with the magic of orgasm, while your panting harmonized with the sound of the rain outside.

When Choi Yeonjun touched you fully for the first time, you knew it wouldn't be the last.

When he lifted your skirt to look at you while he was still inside you.

When he held you until you stopped shivering.

When he cleans you up nicely.

Neither of you spoke except for small things.

The realization that all the thin walls could be a door to a completely different world made you think many times what you had gotten yourself into.

But no matter what, chasing that feeling that screamed in your veins that you were always waiting for this moment would be the only occupation of your days from now on.

✔️ part 2 coming soon

❤️

©dr-solomon

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